Brad shrugged, stuffing a piece of party pizza in an already full mouth. “Gubble owwahj?” He said through his food.
“A couple hours?” I said, looking at the clock. “Jeez, it’s almost nine-thirty. What the hell are we going to do for two hours?”
“I got a fun idea,” Janet said.
‘Uh-oh,’ I thought, nonchalantly taking another bite of my wing.
“We should call Franky and cop some coke.”
I almost laughed, but maintained my poker face. First caffeine and now cocaine, Janet was pulling out the big guns.
Helen grimaced and looked at Janet. “Cocaine? Why would you want to get Cocaine?”
“Oh lighten up, Prudence,” Janet said, using an old nickname Helen hated. Apparently, in high school, Helen never drank or did drugs, so the kids used to call her Prudence. “We’ll just do a few lines, that’s all. I think it would be fun.”
Brad said, “Franky’s not home, Janet. He’s at that bachelor party I was supposed to go to.”
“Isn’t that at the V.F.W.?” Janet said, “The one right down the end of the street?”
Brad shrugged. “Yeah, so what?”
“So why don’t you just drive down the street and buy some blow from him,” Janet said, walking over to Helen and putting a cup of instant coffee in front of her. The good stuff was still brewing.
Brad took another piece of party pizza out of the box, shrugged and took a bite. “I’m naked and I’m eating,” he said.
“Well, I want some coke. Finish eating and get dressed. I’m sure Harry will take the ride with you, won’t you, Harry?”
“Me? I’m naked and eating, too.”
Janet folded her arms. “Let me put this another way, guys. If I don’t get a few lines of nose candy to cheer me up then we are all done for the night.”
Brad swallowed hard. He looked at me and said, “You up for a ride, Bro?”
I nodded and tossed my chicken bones on a plate.
“Before you go, Harry,” Helen said, smiling, “I need to speak with you alone.”
“Alone?” I said, frowning at her. “We all fucked in front of each other. I don’t think we have anything left to hide.”
“Oh, Harry,” She said, standing up and walking toward the living room. “Just come in the other room with me for one minute.”
I frowned and shook my head. Still upset by her harsh words, I didn’t want to hear a goddamned thing Helen had to say. “It will have to wait until we get back.”
“Please, Harry. It’s very imp–”
I shouted, “It will have to wait!” cutting her off.
Helen turtled. She hated it when I yelled, but I really didn’t give a damn.
Brad and I got dressed in the kitchen, putting on our discarded clothes, and I hung Janet’s discarded coat on a hook. We left.
Making a coke run, especially just to give Janet a fighting chance at winning the ass fucking contest in her head, was not on my wish list of things to do on foursome night. Still, Brad and I needed a break from sex. We had both pumped huge loads into each other’s wives and it does take some time to reload, especially after such extremely explosive orgasms.
Hell, Brad had two of them monster orgasms, thanks to my wife. I could almost see that all his energy had been sapped out of him by Helen. His eyelids drooped as he drove us in his pick-up to the V.F.W. post.
It convinced me that maybe a few lines of coke wasn’t such a bad idea.
When he parked the truck, I said, “Want me to wait?”
“No, come on in. I’ll introduce you and we’ll grab a beer. Franky’s a shitbag, but he’s also kind of funny.”
Brad worked as a carpenter, and this guy, Franky, was the son of a wealthy contractor, Brad’s boss. I knew his father was rich and I had heard Franky was fat and that he dealt drugs, but that’s all I knew about him.
We walked into the bar of the V.F.W. and it was full of an older crowd, maybe a couple dozen men and women, mostly over fifty. Brad turned and walked down a wide staircase, motioning for me to follow.
The basement was a huge banquet hall and there were about forty people down there, all men. A giant banner sign above the stage read; “Rest In Peace, Ronnie”
The stage at the far end of the hall was full of musical instruments without any band members in sight, but “Saturday Night Special” by Skynyrd was playing loudly through a PA system.
There were a couple of restrooms on the left wall, a closed bar that stretched the entire length of the far right wall and what looked like the entrance to a kitchen in the far corner on the right side of the stage.
The huge banquet hall itself was mostly empty.
The men were eating, drinking and laughing at several long banquet tables set up near the stage.
A short, fat Italian looking guy in his mid-thirties saw Brad as we approached, smiled, raised his hand and got up from his chair. His thick, black curly hair was cropped too short on the sides and not enough on top. I smirked in amusement.
The guy looked like a were-poodle.
Franky flaunted a thick, gold Figaro necklace on the outside of his white dress shirt and black tie, with a matching gold bracelet on his fat wrist. My Dad was a pawnbroker and those had to be worth at least three grand.
He wore a frumpy, black three piece suit and black dress shoes, but despite all that he still looked like a slob. “Hey, Bradley, you fucking made it, Dude!”
He strode quickly at Brad with his arms wide and they hugged.
“No, Franky,” Brad said, breaking off the hug. “I’m sorry. I can’t stay. I just wanted to grab a $40 baggy from you.”
Franky looked truly disappointed. “That blows, Dude… but I guess it’s just as well. The stripper is late, but the whore I hired cancelled last minute. Fucking cunt.” He chuckled, shaking his head. “At least we’ll get to see some titties, though, right?”
“You hired a whore?” I said, chuckling and shaking my head. Of course he did, frigging low-life.
Franky looked at me. “Who is this handsome guy?” he said, holding out his hand. I shook it.
“This is my friend, Harry,” Brad said, “Harry, Franky. Franky, Harry.”
“Oh, yeah,” Franky said, not letting go of my hand. “You’re his friend with that old barn. Nice to finally meet you, Dude”
I had asked Brad a few months back for a quote from Franky’s father on either repairing or demolishing the giant, old barn on my property. They still hadn’t come to look at it.
“Yeah you, too,” I said, trying to let go of his hand.
He wouldn’t let go.
Pointing at me with his other pudgy hand and peering closer at my face in amazement, he said, “The fuck, Dude. You look just like–”
“Don’t say it!” Brad shouted, cutting Franky off and putting his hand out between us as if to block the words.
I inhaled and pushed the air out my nose, frowning, and instantly annoyed. This happened to me all the time, ever since the year after high school, when the asshole actor who looked just like me achieved superstar status.
Brad pulled his hand back. Smiling in relief, he said, “Harry hates it when people say that. Get’s him in a pissy mood.”
“Really? But he looks just like him,” Franky said. “I mean his hair is longer and darker, and maybe he’s a bit taller, but he looks just like Tom fucking Cruise. It’s uncanny.”
This time Brad winced.
I ripped my hand out of Frankie’s grasp, and said, “Where the fuck did you hire a whore to work a bachelor party, asshole? Whore’s-R-Us?”
Franky’s eyes popped wide. Then he chuckled nervously and shook his head, looking a bit stunned. He started talking in a higher pitch and a lot faster “No. No, Dude. She’s just an escort. I promised everyone here a free blowjob. Was going to pay the bitch four grand for forty BJ’s, too. That’s $100 per cock, and all rubber coated. I mean, shit, even I would do that for four G’s.” He chuckled again, but looked a little uncomfortable with his own joke. “I mean, I’m not gay or anything, but four G’s is four G’s, right? I mean… I mean that’s more than generous for a whore. Right? Am I wrong? Yet the fucking cunt backed out on me… made me look like a loser.” He looked nervously back and forth at Brad and I, clearing his throat.
I nodded, as an evil notion suddenly occurred to me. “What if I could get a beautiful woman here within the hour who would not only give them all head… she’ll do it without any condoms, and she’ll swallow all their cum?”
Both Brad’s and Franky’s mouths dropped open.
“How much is that worth to you, Franky?”
“You serious, Dude? She’ll go bare back and chug the charlie… on forty dudes?”
“Jesus, Harry,” Brad said. “You’re not thinking…?”
I nodded, not taking my eyes off Franky, I answered Brad’s question. “Yes, I am, Brad. I’m thinking Helen.”
Brad said, “That is so fucked up, Harry. You can’t be serious.”
Franky said, “Shit! For that I’d pay you like… six grand?”
“Eight grand.”
Franky scowled, shaking his head. “Six grand is way over my budget already. I can’t do eight. What’s this girl look like, anyway, old and fat? Probably an ugly old hosebag, right?”
“She’s gorgeous,” I said. “Looks just like Marilyn Chambers in her prime, only with a much hotter body.” Glancing over at my still shocked looking friend, I said, “Tell him, Brad.?”
Brad set his jaw and shook his head. “No way. I don’t want any fucking part of this.”
I frowned and said, “Just trust me, then. She’s absolutely gorgeous.”
“Coke whore, then?”
“Nope. Housewife.”
Really?” Franky said, licking his lips. “She’s pretty, too? Looks something like Marilyn Chambers?”
“Not something like. Same face, but fuller lips and a better body. And not just pretty, either. She’s smoking hot.”
Franky swallowed hard. “Oh boy, I wish I could pay more. I really do, but I can only afford the six grand.”
“Okay,” I said, “Six grand and throw in two grand worth of coke.”
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