#41 Bessie
Bill had witnessed my nasty divorce. I suppose everyone at the company had. The endless maze of cubicles that I had to navigate each morning was always buzzing with hushed voices. The only word that I could make out was "cuckold." It was as if they were chanting it in those whispered voices. I could feel them staring at me. My ears would grow red, my pace would quicken.
I could only interpret Bills decision to send me to the annual shareholders’ convention in ‘Vegas as a sympathetic gesture. I was merely a junior executive and my presence at the convention was clearly unnecessary. But here I was, lying on the California king-sized bed, staring out through the huge panoramic window at an ocean of brilliantly lit neon lights. The complementary silk bathrobe felt great against my skin as did the silk sheets on the enormous bed. I shook the champagne flute and watched the little bubbles rise to the surface. "Perhaps the convention wasn’t such a bad idea after all" I thought. I heard the bathroom door open and I looked over just in time to see Bessie tip-toe out and shut the light off behind her.
My attendance at the convention was Bill’s idea, the hooker, however, was mine. She seemed to be everything that the flier had promised. Cowboy hat, leather chaps, bullwhip, bandanna scarf, and…whoa!!! What tha’ phelching moses fish was that?! No mention had been made of a tumble weed! She just stood there like she was modeling it! That was the biggest "bush" I’d ever seen! Suddenly the whole "Get Bushwhacked" part of the flier made sense. Geeze! I’d paid for some hot one-on-one action…not to get double-teamed by some hot cowgirl and…and Richard Simmons! It was too late to back out now.
Her unsightly muff was likely as rough as steel wool! I could not bear the thought of having it grind against me. It’d probably cause me to chafe or something. I thought quickly. "Ah yes!" I exclaimed. Bessie squinted and nodded apprehensively as I made my request. She seemed annoyed and impatient as she removed the chaps and handed them to me.
I could only interpret Bills decision to send me to the annual shareholders’ convention in ‘Vegas as a sympathetic gesture. I was merely a junior executive and my presence at the convention was clearly unnecessary. But here I was, lying on the California king-sized bed, staring out through the huge panoramic window at an ocean of brilliantly lit neon lights. The complementary silk bathrobe felt great against my skin as did the silk sheets on the enormous bed. I shook the champagne flute and watched the little bubbles rise to the surface. "Perhaps the convention wasn’t such a bad idea after all" I thought. I heard the bathroom door open and I looked over just in time to see Bessie tip-toe out and shut the light off behind her.
My attendance at the convention was Bill’s idea, the hooker, however, was mine. She seemed to be everything that the flier had promised. Cowboy hat, leather chaps, bullwhip, bandanna scarf, and…whoa!!! What tha’ phelching moses fish was that?! No mention had been made of a tumble weed! She just stood there like she was modeling it! That was the biggest "bush" I’d ever seen! Suddenly the whole "Get Bushwhacked" part of the flier made sense. Geeze! I’d paid for some hot one-on-one action…not to get double-teamed by some hot cowgirl and…and Richard Simmons! It was too late to back out now.
Her unsightly muff was likely as rough as steel wool! I could not bear the thought of having it grind against me. It’d probably cause me to chafe or something. I thought quickly. "Ah yes!" I exclaimed. Bessie squinted and nodded apprehensively as I made my request. She seemed annoyed and impatient as she removed the chaps and handed them to me.
posted by Reckless at 1:06 PM
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