Dedicated to a muse of the finest order—Lady Ashely

 

Bada Bing                        by: Kimberli Nicole McCarthy © 2001

 

"You’re always such a lame ass."

"Screw you Bob, I don’t feel like doing it."

"C’mon Johnny, why not? It’ll be fun."

"I don’t even like the show."

"You don’t even watch it, so how do you even know?"

"I don’t watch it because I don’t like it."

"Whatever. Why do you have to be a wet blanket all the time?"

"The fact that I don’t want to get dressed up in some dopey costume doesn’t make me a wet blanket."

"You’re right," said Bob, rubbing his chin with his hand and furrowing his brow, "it makes you a fuddy duddy."

"Shut up, loser."

"Stick in the mud."

"Asshole."

"Lame ass."

"You already used that one!!!"

"Fine. Yellow belly."

"I can’t hear you!" Johnny said, covering his ears with his hands.

"Pussy boy."

"LA LA LA LA JOHNNY CAN’T HEAR THIS!"

"Pussy boy pussy boy pussy boy–"

"LA LA LA LA—"

"Pussy boy pussy boy pussy boy,"

Jill had heard just about enough.

"WILL THE BOTH OF YOU, FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, STOP ACTING LIKE EIGHT YEAR OLD MORONS?"

"Eight year old morons?" asked Bob, with great surprise and offense.

"Granted, Jill," said Johnny, "we may be acting like eight year olds, but I’d say we have intellects that far surpass the average eight year old."

"In any event," said Jill, unamused, "it’s time for you to both get over it. Bob, if Johnny doesn’t want to dress for school on Friday, he doesn’t have to. And Johnny, if you want to be a lame ass, fuddy duddy, yellow bellied, pussy boy wet blanket your whole life, that’s your right."

Every year it was the same. Bob and Jill Ashely, Franklin High’s cutest faculty couple, would organize the Halloween theme day at the school, and every year John Watson would protest that he didn’t want to participate, only to succumb at the last possible second, thus assuring that his costume would be a thrown together piece of crap that barely resembled the required theme. But, there was no denying that dressing in silly costumes for halloween promoted school spirit, and Johnny, at 27, was still bucking for tenure, so promoting school spirit was always of the utmost importance to the young English teacher.

"I don’t understand why we always have a stupid theme, why we can’t just dress as whatever costume we want."

"Because silly," said Jill, "then we’d have what we had in the past, twenty five witches and thirty vampires. For a bunch of teachers, this faculty has zero creativity, and so it’s up to us to provide a little direction."

"Yeah silly," sneered Bob.

"But who’s ridiculous idea was it to come up with television characters for a theme?"

"It was mine, asshole," Jill was even less amused than she had been earlier.

"And why, on earth, does the English Department have to represent the Sopranos? High school kids shouldn’t even be watching that show?"

"You want to get wit’ da program?" asked Jill in her best toughguy accent, "or you wanna get whacked?"

"Fine, fine, which one do I have to be?"

"Easy," said Bob, "you’ll be the idiot...Tony Jr."

 

* * * * *

 

And so it was that on the Friday morning before Halloween, Johnny "Mr. Watson" Watson found himself walking into school with a Limp Bizkit concert shirt, baggy jeans, and a stupid look on his face.

"Who are you supposed to be?" asked Janey from fourth period creative writing.

"Tony Soprano Jr. C’mon Janey, stop laughing"

"You don’t look anything like him. You call that a costume?"

"You want a C minus?"

"Did you come up with this idea yourself?"

"Of course not, but I’m the youngest in the department, and I guess I don’t look like anyone else from the show."

"Whatever," said Janey, "at least you don’t look stupid." Something in the way she was laughing told Johnny that she didn’t really mean it.

Johnny’s thoughts about how stupid this all was and how much he hated Halloween were interrupted by the vision of out of control sexpot beauty that was coming his way.

Walking towards him in a tight leopard minidress, sky high high heels, hair teased to Kalamazoo, and more jewelry, perfume and makeup than you could shake a stick at, was Jill Ashely. Johnny didn’t watch the show that often, in fact he had just borrowed the DVDs from Bob to catch up, but he watched enough to know that she was dressed as the young wannabe mobster Christopher’s girlfriend. Jill was quite a sight, but she was almost too much to look at. What really took his breath away was the woman walking next to her.

Next to her was Carmela Soprano. In the couple of times Johnny watched the show, he never really thought twice about her, but seeing her now, he was absolutely floored by her beauty. Her blond hair was perfectly coiffed into a big, yet somehow refined, hair style that he guessed must have involved a lot of pins, a lot of hairspray, and a lot of time with a beautician. She was wearing a gold flecked business suit, that would have been sophisticated if not for two things: the fact that the top three buttons of the jacket and blouse were unbuttoned, showing some pretty sweet cleavage, and the fact that it was shiny gold. She was balanced perfectly on a pair of gold high heel shoes, which added a sexy little wiggle to her step and allowed for a peek at her carefully painted toenails. She would have gone blind from the glitter of her countless rings, bracelets and earrings, but her gold framed sunglasses, which were currently perched in her perfect hair, would provide protection if necessary. Thank god they weren’t on, though, because her glittering hazel eyes threatened to melt them with their erotic gaze. Perfectly painted, her made-up face and glistening red lips pursed in a delicious little smirk must have been the product of a professional artist. Johnny had never before been one to notice accessories, but the gold beaded purse she clutched in her hand caused an odd stirring in his loins. Or maybe it was the long, painted finger nails on her slender hands that did that. The woman on the show was attractive, but the woman before him was a drop dead, gorgeous, take off your shoe and bang it on your head three times knockout. She was graceful. She was exquisite. She was giving him a boner.

She was—OH SWEET JESUS! THROW MY ASS IN THE CRAYOLA FACTORY AND COLOR ME SURPRISED, I CAN’T BELIEVE THIS!!!!

She was his neighbor, his co-worker and friend, Mr. Bob Ashely.

 

* * * * *

 

"Good morning A.J.," Carmela said in an incredibly feminine and sexy North Jersey accent, "I’m hear for parent teacher conferences."

Johnny would have spoken if he could have picked his jaw off the floor.

"I think he’s a little shy today," said Jill, her mouth furiously chewing the grape flavored gum.

"Holy shit, Bob, that’s amazing."

"Isn’t it?" said Bob, in his regular voice, which threw Johnny for another loop. "When Jill came up with the idea, I thought she was nuts. But then she convinced me last night that I look more like Carmela than any of the other characters."

"That’s right," she said, "and I wish you could have worn that cute little babydoll to school today."

Johnny thought about what Jill just said, thought about how amazingly convincing Bob looked, and he really wished his boner would go away. Johnny’s thoughts were interrupted by the floor, which provided for an uncomfortable landing place when he fainted.

 

* * * * *

 

"Johnny, honey, wake up?"

The soothing, comforting, sensual voice called to him.

"Johnny, honey, c’mon, wake up."

He could smell the sweet perfume on the wrist of the hand that softly slapped his cheek. Is that a slap or caress?

"Honey, it’s all right."

Johnny opened his eyes, and focused on the warm hazel eyes of the beautiful woman who kept calling him honey. Boy, he thought, she really looks like the Sopranos lady, only prettier.

"Good, we brought him back," said Bob in his regular voice, cradling his fallen comrade’s head in his beautifully manicured and bejeweled hands. His voice seemed to bring the spark of recognition back to Johnny’s eyes. This spark was followed by the same confused look the poor kid had a few minutes ago. Johnny’s body went limp again as he faded back into unconsciousness.

 

* * * * *

 

Well that wasn’t so bad, Johnny thought, the kids liked Pride and Prejudice a lot more than I thought they would.

Another day of classes done, Johnny headed to the teacher’s lounge to pick up his things on his way home. And then it would be off (well across the street actually) to Bob and Jill’s for the party.

Johnny laughed a little at the recollection of the day’s events. He had never fainted before, and had to admit to himself that it was pretty funny. These thoughts fell out of his head the second he walked into the teacher’s lounge.

In the year 2001, two women kissing is in no way shocking or new. Especially to Johnny, who had spent about three hundred trillion nights flipping the channels, hoping for some hot lesbian action on Cinemax.

Of course, he had never seen it in person.

Until now.

Jill’s heavily teased head was thrown back in passion as Carmela slowly and sensually kissed her neck and cleavage. Jill’s ridiculously long fingernails dug into the side of Carmela’s tight gold skirt. Two sets of long, nylon clad legs intertwined in a passionate swirl. When their red, moist lips finally met in a deep, hot kiss, Johnny felt the blood rush back toward his throbbing manhood.

He stood still, staring.

Sensing someone in the room, Carmela broke the kiss, and looked at Johnny.

"Johnny," she said, "lock the door honey."

Johnny opened the door, set the lock, and stepped into the hall, slamming it behind him.

"Johnny," he heard from the other side of the door.

"What," he panted.

"I want you to come in here and lock it behind you, silly."

It was Carmela talking, and Johnny knew Carmela’s real deal. But her voice was so sexy and inviting. Knowing he shouldn’t he knocked on the door again.

Carmela answered, and with one finger motioned for him to walk in. Jill was sitting on the window sill, her legs parted slightly, stretching out to the floor.

Carmela walked slowly back, sliding effortlessly onto the desk, crossing her long, sexy legs.

Johnny set the lock again, slamming the door behind him.

I don’t give a shit who she really is, thought Johnny, I just know I want her.

Johnny closed in, and she opened her legs to accept him. Her thighs wrapped around his hips as their lips met in a fiery embrace. There are times for soft, gentle kisses, and times for ravishing lip locks, and this was definitely the latter. Their lips and tongues danced in perfect rhythm. She ran her hands through his hair and his slid down her back, to her thighs, to her sweet, sweet ass. She threw her head back and called out his name as he kissed her neck and nibbled her ears. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see that Jill had begun fondling her breasts and hiking up her skirt. She was going to pleasure herself to this sight.

She could feel Johnny’s raging hard cock against the inside of her thigh. She instinctively reached for it and massaged it through his jeans.

"Does A.J. like it when Mommy touches him?" she purred.

"Hold it. Wait just a second." Johnny interrupted, "c’mon guy, there’s nothing hot about incest."

"Okay, okay," she assured him, "forget I said it."

The minor delay did not decrease the passion. Johnny’s kisses were hard and sexy and full of lust. His hands were firm and sure and sent shivers down her spine. Clothes were certain to be ripped off in the coming seconds.

"Oh Johnny," she whispered in his ear.

"Oh, oh, oh---hey wait a minute, what do I call you."

"Huh?"

"Well I’m not calling you by your real name, that’s too freaky."

"Fine lover," she purred, trying desperately to keep the fire going, "call me Carmela."

"Not gonna happen. That’s just not a hot name, it turns me off."

"Okay," she said, thinking that if this guy wasn’t so cute she’d claw his eyes out, "how about Ashely?"

"You mean your last name?"

"No fuckface, I mean my first name. My first name is Ashleigh, therefore making my name Ashleigh Ashely. I’ll give myself the middle name Von, so actually it’s Ashleigh Von Ashely. You happy now?"

"Oh yeah," he said, the devil in his eyes, "that is HOT!!!!"

To her delight, he was still rock hard in her hand. She wanted to finish this before he ruined it, because her loins were trembling with anticipation. Their bodies quickly regained their rhythm, their hands searched hungrily again. She looked deep in his eyes and licked her lips seductively as she unzipped his zipper, his cock springing free.

"Johnny?" Jill asked.

"Johnny, are you alright."

Johnny was brought back to reality by the inquisitive voices of his neighbors, still in each other’s arms, still both looking like beautiful women.

After further contemplation Johnny would wish he opened the door before he turned to run through it. It would have done a lot less damage to his nose. But that thought would come later, because he was too busy grappling over the cum that was running down his leg. He hadn’t creamed without contact since he was thirteen, and he was sleeping then! As he ran to his car, he tried to convince himself that he was looking at Jill when he exploded.

 

* * * * *

 

It didn’t take a lot of effort for Johnny to convince himself of two things on the ride home; first, that he had obviously experienced a mind altering head wound when he fainted this morning, and that his severe concussion was the reason that he was mistakenly turned on by what he thought was a lesbian encounter, and second, that there was no way in hell, heaven, purgatory, reincarnation, or any other plane of existence that he was going to that party tonight.

And so he found himself, at ten p.m. that evening, sprawled on his couch in boxers and a tee shirt, watching some tube. As he tried to concentrate on REO Speedwagon’s Behind the Music, he heard the feint sounds of the siren’s call. He flipped to E! and was momentarily distracted by the loveliness of Ms. Jules Asner. Yet, somewhere, the sirens kept singing. The Match Game reruns, the Crocodile Hunter and Emeril all tried in vain to rid the mesmerizing tune from Johnny’s head, but it was not to be subdued. Losing control of his ability to dictate the movement of his own body, Johnny walked to the shelf on the side of the television, reached behind the Braveheart DVD, and found the source of the intoxicating call. In his hands he held the complete DVD set of the first season of the Sopranos, which Bob and Jill had lent him just last week.

 

* * * * *

 

Around midnight, the party started breaking up, not because of disinterest, but in deference to the neighbors of the townhouse complex.

Jill was busy congratulating herself and her husband on another great party, while Bob was busy admiring himself in the mirror. Bob loved it when Jill dressed him up, he always had. He loved it even more that drunk ass Mr. Jensen spilled punch all over the gold suit he’d worn to school. Of course, with his hair and makeup so perfect, and it being only ten-thirty, he’d just HAVE to wear something of Jill’s. He’d look so foolish in his own clothes.

Maybe it was the wine or because Halloween was such a good excuse, but Bob threw caution to the wind and grabbed a dress he knew his wife wouldn’t miss. He also thought about how lucky he was to have a last name that was a girl’s. He always cooed quietly inside when someone called him Ashely.

Jill’s sister had exquisite taste, and Bob had fond memories of the way the dress looked on Jill at the wedding. Bridesmaids have so much fun, he thought to himself.

Again, maybe it was the wine, or because Halloween was such a good excuse, but no one seemed to think it strange when Ashely descended down the stairway, resplendent in her spaghetti strapped floor length pink satin gown. The slit up the side showed a wonderful range of her long thin leg. It’s too much, Ashely thought. But then again, I’m too beautiful.

Cleaning up, Jill admired Ashely’s figure in her old bridesmaid dress.

"That dress is sooo early nineties," she quipped.

"Jealousy will get you nowhere," Ashely replied, striking a hands on hip runway pose.

"Speaking of jealousy, where’s Johnny?"

"What do you mean, jealousy?"

"I mean that the way he reacted to seeing us smooch today, he definitely wanted to be one of us, but I’m not sure which?"

"Get out of here," said Ashely, "he was staring straight at you and your slutty little leopard get up." Ashely delighted in her lie, secretly thrilled that he had obviously passed himself off so well. The way Johnny stared, Ashely knew he was her’s for the taking. Silly boy.

"You think he was too embarrassed to come?" asked Jill.

"Of course not, I bet he came all over himself just thinking about it."

"I’m serious…I don’t know…but I think we really freaked the poor kid out. And he’s such a little cutie. I hope he doesn’t get all awkward on us."

"Tell you what, I’ll run over and make sure everything’s alright."

"That’s a good idea."

 

* * * * *

 

In the five years that Johnny taught at Franklin High, and lived across the street from his fellow teachers Jill and Bob, the three had become very close. Jill and Bob were only seven years older than Johnny, but when they met the kid he was barely two weeks out of college, so the couple were as much mentors as friends to the young teacher.

They showed Johnny the ropes in both a school and town that were foreign to him, and as corny as it seemed to acknowledge, they really were family to him. They were the only ones Johnny trusted to feed his cats while he was out of town, and the only people he trusted with a spare key to his apartment for those not so infrequent moments that he locked himself out.

Maybe it was the complete concentration he devoted to the television screen, which he managed to pause at just the precise moment that it looked like Carmela was actually looking at him from the Jersey suburbs and begging him for sex, maybe it was the Barry White blaring from his stereo, or maybe it was the fact that his hand had worked his stiff penis to the point of explosive ecstasy, but Johnny hadn’t heard the knocking.

Ashely, on the other hand, heard the noise from the other side of the door, and knew that Johnny was home and from the volume, had to be awake. Ashely also knew that Johnny was not in the company of a young lady. Not because Johnny lacked the charm necessary to woo the girls to the point of consent, quite the contrary, she knew that despite his goofy exterior, he had a magnetism that was both effective and undeniable. Rather, Ashely remembered from Bob’s countless conversations with John that the young teacher’s golden rule was to always sleep at the woman’s house. That way, in his thinking, you could always be the one to decide when to part company. He’s cute, she sighed to herself as she unlocked the door, but the poor kid’s got a lot to learn.

 

* * * * *

 

Ashely in the door, Carmela on the screen, Barry on the stereo, Johnny on the couch naked with his dick in his hand.

A whole lot was going on, and the first thought that came to mind was, that’s a beautiful gown.

Her mind raced furiously but paused on the following thought: he’s jerking off to a vision of me. Ashely couldn’t figure out whether to be disgusted or flattered. She was surprised to find she was a little bit of both.

Ashely gasped, told Johnny she-was-sorry-for-barging-in-but-she-just-wanted-to-make-sure-she-was-alright, and turned to rush out. She stopped dead in her tracks as she heard his voice behind her.

"Ashely, I’m glad you came, and I assure you princess, that I am alright."

She was facing the door, her back to the bizarre sight she had just stumbled upon. She knew she had to leave, but she couldn’t move.

She heard his footsteps from behind, and she heard breathing. She couldn’t tell if it was her’s or his.

When his hands fell upon the back of her hips, she was surprised at how strong they were. She had shook his hands a million times but they never seemed this powerful. As she felt his breath on the back of her neck, and the goosebumps formed on her arms, she couldn’t remember recalling before that his breath smelled sweet. As she felt his manhood strain against the top of her ass, she thought that it seemed a lot bigger than the penis she caught a quick glance at in the locker room at the gym. As his strong arms wrapped around her, softly spun her, and pulled her toward him, she knew it was Johnny, but somehow it wasn’t. At least it wasn’t a Johnny she’d ever noticed before.

Her hands connected around the back of his neck as he pulled her face towards his. She tried to say that this was a mistake, but as her lips parted, they were met by his. She’d been kissed a thousand times before, but she never lost control like this. Never felt he knees go out, never had to hang onto shoulders for dear life. She melted into his embrace, she gave herself completely to his power. There was no denying it, she would do absolutely anything Johnny wanted right now, and she hadn’t the slightest ability, or desire, to resist.

Johnny, she said in between kisses, I want you inside me.

She looked into his blue eyes, wrapped her sight around his beautiful little smile. She knew that if she gave him everything she had, he would guard it jealously, and protect her from any pain ever again.

He swept her into his arms and walked her across the room, laying her gently on the couch. He knelt beside her, and took her in from her feet to her hair, gazing longingly and lovingly the whole way. His stare intoxicated her. She grabbed feverishly for her clothes, wanting to rip them off, but he caught her wrists, and placed them gently above her head. He slowly removed her sexy pink heels and softly massaged her feet. He kissed her ankle, and calves, knees, thighs. He moved his head to her chest and playfully licked at the top of her cleavage. He traced his tongue across her chest to her neck. He nibbled her lobes and she felt his hot breath in her ear. He kissed her forehead, both cheeks, the tip of her nose. His strong hair cupped the back of her neck at the base of her skull, and lifted her face to his. Their lips met again, and again she felt a shockwave through her body. The gentle kisses grew fiercer, more passionate. She sucked hungrily at his tongue. She felt his hand trace her leg, up to her thigh, between her legs stopping just short of their destination. Her back arched in a spasm of pure lust. She thought that she had been loved before, but learned for the first time that a kiss planted just right on her red, accepting lips, could forge an explosive climax. For the first time as a woman, she knew exactly what it was to be wet.

She sprang to her feet, catching him by surprise. He seemed about to apologize, so she place a finger on his lips, guiding him with her other hand to sit on the couch.

He sat, and she walked three paces away, then turned to face him. Looking him in the eyes, running her tongue seductively across her glistening lips, she reached behind her neck to loosen the clasp. The dress fell to her ankles, revealing her pink panties and bra. His eyes were fixated on hers, which avoided any embarrassment she might feel if he saw her mess. She took two of the sexiest little hip swaying steps she could muster, and without losing eye contact, fell to her knees, her hands landing squarely on each of his quadriceps. Her eyes fell from his eyes to his pulsing, throbbing, begging cock.

Johnny, she asked.

Yes Ashely.

Please don’t think I’m a bad girl, but I’d really love to suck your cock.

His eyes told him all she needed to know, but she wanted to make absolutely sure.

Johnny she said, her eyelashes batting up and down, can I suck your cock?

She didn’t wait for an answer.

Her lips gingerly touched the top of his head. Her tongue explored delicately, tasting a drop of his precum. She kissed gingerly and circled the head with the tip of her tongue. As she continued, she heard his passionate groans. She looked up, met his eyes, pushed her hair blonde back behind her ear, and enclosed her mouth around his manhood. She kept her eyes on his as her head bobbed up and down his iron shaft. Her hand circled the base, guiding her mouth. She moaned softly as she tasted him. The intense throbbing told her that she was doing this well, and she smiled ever so slightly. As she continued up and down, in and out, tasting him, loving him, feeling him in her mouth, her blond locks fell around her face. His hips moved faster, rising to greet her red lips and painted fingernails. His strong hands massaged her head. They didn’t force or guide her head, just provided support. She hoped he would never cum. She moaned again and her hand worked his cock and her lips, mouth and tongue tasted his love.

A quick, hard convulsion was followed by an intense stream of his warm, salty juice. She swallowed it, savoring every drop. He was finished, but she couldn’t seem to let go as he softened in her grasp. He lifted her to his lap, looked in her eyes again, put his hand in her hair, and kissed her again, deeper and more passionate than before.

Ashely watched as what looked like an abnormally abundant amount of semen pumped out of Johnny’s dick, forming a geyser that landed across his chest and stomach. If she could have drawn her eyes away from this amazing sight, she would have seen the look of complete horror on his face.

The next thing she knew she was in bed, next to Jill, stripped naked. She curtly told Jill that Johnny was fine and forced all other thoughts out of her mind in a monumental quest for sleep. Just as she finally drifted off, she hoped that Johnny hadn’t seen the hardon through her gown as she stood in his doorway staring at his naked body masturbating.

 

* * * * *

 

Three weeks later, Johnny had not acknowledged to his buddy that he had grown hard watching him kiss his wife or that when he had caught him beating off, he was beating off to an image that reminded him of Ashely.

That was just fine with Bob, who thought that any mention of such events was unnecessary and that Ashely should take some time off.

Everything came rushing back to Johnny as he stumbled home after a night of pool and beers with some gym teachers.

He always knew that from a certain spot in the parking lot of the complex, if you craned your head just so, he could see into Jill and Bob’s bedroom. Of course, he always avoided any late night glances out of respect for his friends. Respect was out the window tonight, courtesy of Jim Beam.

He felt a familiar yet disturbing stirring in his loins as he discovered that Bob was no where to be found tonight, and that Ashely had come for a "just girls" visit. Ashely was painting her toenails, separating her cute little toes with cotton balls, while Jill brushed and styled her blonde hair.

Wig, thought Johnny.

Shutup dude, it’s her hair, it’s not a wig.

Stop talking to yourself you freak.

I will if you will.

Then we’re agreed.

Then I bid you adieu.

Adieu.

Johnny needed a closer look.

Squatting on the railing on the deck in the back of his best friends’ house was an unnatural position for so many reasons this particular evening. To Johnny’s chagrin, he couldn’t quite position himself to look in the window. To his surprise, he could hear every word the girls were saying.

From what Johnny could gather, the ladies were having a much needed heart to heart. They had been friends for almost as long as Bob and Jill had known each other, and for the first time, Ashely was expressing the need for something more than sapphic fulfillment. Jill noted with a bittersweet tone that her best friend had finally hit puberty and was ready for boys. She promised to support Ashely, so long as Ashe kept her infidelities to men, who Jill understood had something she could not offer. Johnny heard what sounded like hugging, but he was busy trying to control another of his raging hard ons. When Jill announced that they were going to "The Arena" on Saturday night to "pop Ashely’s cherry", Johnny’s diabolical plot began to form.

 

* * * * *

 

Johnny looked himself up and down in the mirror. Doubts disappeared from his mind as he looked at his industrial workboots, just longer than Daisy Dukes denim shorts, the leather vest exposing his bare chest, and the sandy blonde seventies male wig and moustache that completed the look.

That’s right, he thought, I look totally gay, and no one can tell who I am.

Jill looked up and down at Ashely, and she knew she had outdone even herself. Ashely’s yellow little sundress hugged her breasts and hips in all the right places. The strappy platform sandals screamed for attention. The makeup was perfect, utterly feminine without descending into camp. The curly blonde bob brought to mind a pre-Russell Meg Ryan. Jill guessed it would take roughly one point two seconds for Ashely to find a willing man.

Ashely had downed four drinks, all bought by separate, incredibly horny looking men of varying degrees of attractiveness, and she started thinking that none of these men had what it takes. None of these were the handsome, young, bright, yet a little goofy type of guy she would do anything for. Just admit it, she thought, none of these guys have anything on ----

Ashely spit out a mouthful of amaretto sour as her eyes fell on the ridiculous caricature of a Village People-esque gay man. Who is this jackass, she thought, and why is he walking over here.

Nice, thought Johnny, she’s eyeing me and she has no idea who I am. Once I score with her, I can tell her who I really am and pretend that she tricked me into doing this, and that now that I’ve realized the truth, I can be open minded and go on fucking her brains out for the next twenty years. And the whole time, it was she that seduced me, not me who is the weirdo pervert.

"Hey handsome, I haven’t seen you around. You new here?" Ashely asked out of sheer amusement at the buffoon before her.

"Funny you should ask," Johnny replied, smiling inwardly at his brilliant ruse, "I just moved here from San Fran, and I’m looking for a little genetically born lady to show me around. And let me tell you something girly, you definitely look to me like you were born a girl, and you’re ready to party."

A ton of bricks fell on Ashely as she listened to the jerk off speak.

"Well Mr. San Fran," she purred, cuddling up to him and tracing a fingernail on his chest, "I know someone who could show you a great time."

"And who’s that Little Darlin’?"

"His name is Mr. Watson, he’s an English teacher at Franklin High, do you know him?" She smiled as Super Gay Man choked on his beer.

"Uhh, well, no, I never met any Johnny Watson."

"Who said anything about Johnny?"

Johnny thought of the many responses he could summon.

He used what came naturally, and ran from the bar screaming like a seven year old girl.

 

* * * * *

 

Johnny woke to find himself in the same situation he’d been in for the last 22 hours. Rolled in a fetal position, staring at a picture of Carmela Soprano in Entertainment Weekly, and listening to love songs by Journey.

There was no need for him to do anything else. Nowhere to go. Nothing to do. Just stay here and wallow in his own jackassery.

He was broken out of his self-pitying trance by a knock at the door.

"I didn’t order any goddamned pizza!" he yelled.

The knock continued.

"Go away!"

It continued.

"Son of a bitch," he yelled twice, first at the intruder at the door and second at the leg of the couch that so brutally whacked his bog toe.

Johnny got to the door and thought about the fist pounding he would lay on the jerk who kept knocking.

He opened the door.

The black high heels gave way to the black stocking clad legs, which rose to the hemline of the skirt, a few inches above the knee which was a lovely part of the sexiest little black cocktail dress he had ever seen which showed off a phenomenal pair of breasts which sat about a foot below a bewitching face of unparalleled beauty and grace with its red pouty lips and big sprarkling come hither eyes, a face that was framed with cascading blond waves of movie star quality.

Johnny jammed the pen he was holding into the side of his leg, just to make sure this wasn’t another stupid fantasy.

"Johnny," Ashely asked, "aren’t you going to invite me in."

The trickle of blood running down his leg told him this wasn’t a dream. He smiled.

"Please come in."

 

 

 

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© 2001 by Kimberli Nicole McCarthy. All Rights Reserved. These documents (including, without limitation, all articles, text, images, logos, compilation design) may printed for personal use only. No portion of these documents may be stored electronically, distributed electronically, or otherwise made available without express written consent of the copyright holder.