Meetings 03

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Nis 8, 2021 // By:analsex // No Comment

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Opening page….headlines…King of Country weds Empress of Erotica in early morning ceremony…dated…August 12th 2005….pics follow of the two lovers, gloriously happy…two whole years of gloriously happy…note, you don’t usually see one without the other…his music tours…her book tours…they were everywhere together…

November 23rd 2007…Blow Out Extreme…Empress of Erotica was once petty thief, crackhead, part time prostitute…King’s move…Tabloids have re printed every scrap of my teenage survival by theft, every last crackhead’s story about how I survived my last two years of high school…it was obvious no one wanted the truth…just how bad they could spin the stories…I watched the man I love begin to doubt me, to avoid me…since I still haven’t come to terms with that shit myself, I can’t tell him it was all bullshit….all a false accusation made by someone I’d trusted…someone who finally broke on the witness stand and told the truth….exonerated…all charges dismissed…and then I can’t tell him any of it…because he left me…vanished…won’t talk to me on the phone…

November 30th 2007…have retained B. Krystovic, private investigator, to find out who dragged this shit out of its grave to ruin my life…I really hope Boris can track this scum sucking cunt-o-potomous down so I can file charges against them for slander and defamation of character…I can skin them alive for destroying the one perfect thing I had in my life…I hope this fifty grand is enough to start him off…god, I miss him…oh, Keifer…come home…let me tell you the whole truth…please, come home…

December 31st 2007…I waited, hoping he’d come back tonight, New Year’s Eve…I ended up bawling alone in the living room of our once shared apartment here in Nashville…I packed my clothes, my laptop, wiped the runner of snot hanging from my nose, flung it across the doorway, seeing it land grossly in the bushes….got into my Grand Marquis and drove home…to find a lair to lick my wounds…by six am, I was just west of Chattanooga, heading hard for Atlanta…skirting the mountains and the memories….

January 7th 2008…it’s been a week since I left…I slept in my jam packed car, hidden between eighteen wheelers for most of three nights…I just wanted home…where I knew I’d find a safe place…I’d called Helena, she had a spare room, not a problem, no questions asked…anytime…so, she’s waiting for me, two hours away, while I write this…Keifer, how could you NOT SEE what happened? How could you not see the manipulations of a threatened, terrified woman-child who’s terrified of losing her daddy, and his money, completely? How could you run from me? From us? Must be great to have never made choices and sacrifices to ensure your survival…if only you were here…I think I’d swing for the bleachers, aiming for your mouth…god, I miss your mouth…god, I miss you…since Dad passed, you were the only male I trusted…betcha you didn’t know that…foster fathers sometimes like their fourteen year old step daughters a little too much….I would avoid him like the plague…but he’d come find me…he tried…he failed…he got a broken foot…I wish you were here with me….why do I still love you? You ran…you coward…someday, you’ll face me…someday…until then, I hate you, you fucking coward….

January 10th 2008…well, I’m as settled as I can be…warm, fed, snug in Helena’s spare bedroom…under surveillance by her psycho feline extraordinaire with the huge green eyes…coffee in my new mug, just the way I like it…new day…starting positive…or at least trying to…by remembering little things, simple things…hoping this positivity distraction exercise crap takes my mind off how much my heart hurts…how could you leave me hanging? You let me fall. All alone….rock bottom? …no, but a level close by with deliciously jagged spikes…positive…the breeze through the trees, dear god this is bullshit! I want to see him…I can’t decide if I want to beat him to death with a bat or fuck him again…no, we didn’t fuck…well, yeah, okay we did…and I wanted him…only fucking him…target practice tomorrow…Helena says she’s got a surprise for me…I’d rather have chocolate and wine….until I puke…until I saw the ring, the pendant…and I collapsed into keening wails of agony….

January 11th 2008…Helena woke me at six-thirty…crowing for the first real snow storm of the season…thank heavens, the landlord provided a plow service for everybody, or I’d have been out there shoveling…as it was, I instigated a snowball fight with the other tenants that left us frozen, sore from laughing and in great spirits…with my fingers numb with cold, I raced up the three flights to Helena’s nest…something was up, as she was slamming pots and pans around…one of the ten thousand tabloids sat on the island…the last known picture of Keifer and I …damn, even yelling and furious, he’s still magnificent…but a coward…wish I could’ve cebeci escort thrown a snowball at his head right now…headline pondered ‘What happened?’ …bullshit regurgitated…it’s only purpose, to wound…all over again…keep going little girl…Boris has the goods on you…documentation…how you tried to break me…guess what?…where I come from, we don’t break…we don’t quit…ever…so as my tender heart still throbs and aches at the sight of your father, my resolve to prove the setup…to set you up little girl, show daddy just how fucked up in the head you really are…

January 15th 2008…sat down at my laptop this morning…thinking I’d add this tidbit…I still am hopelessly in love with him…I watched him on the awards show last night…wished I could’ve been there with him…saw the emptiness in his eyes, with every acceptance speech…saw the little psycho bouncing happily on the other side of her Mama…that’s her plan?…seriously?…I know for a fact he tolerates his ex’s presence, only to spare his other two kids…I knew he’d never trust that viper…and the stupid, idiotic fuck ups in my past were worse than cheating on him….repeatedly???….W T F?!!…Keifer…come to me…let me show you something…

February 2nd 2008…Ari called today…her bosses like the prelim…even the title…The Adventures of Slut Girl……Whore Extraordinaire…she says the check’ll be electronically deposited in my account by noon tomorrow…which means I’ve got six months to throw poor old Slutty all over the country, fucking almost anyone….almost anywhere…throw darts at the map…Helena said no darts…pushpins…yeah, yeah …eyes closed I dug out three pins poked one here, one here, and one there…I picked three more pins…there, there and down there…I opened my eyes…seeing three blue pins…which meant men only…one in Tennessee…one in Georgia…another in Montana…how the fuck am I getting Slutty up to Montana?…could she be on her way to bang that RCMP officer she met skiing?…hmm…two yellow pins…which meant multiple partners, male or female, or both…one just north of Mt Vernon, Ohio….the other just east of Mammoth Lakes….and a single pink…girl on girl…well now…

April 22nd 2008…wow…been a busy girl the last couple of weeks…Helena dragged me into her charity group…that doesn’t sound right…her group of friends who volunteer time and love for their charity…once a week I went out to a planning meeting, brainstormed over dunkie’s coffee and muffins…okay, I’ve been eating the fat free ones when Helena’s around…they suck, but I eat them…the past few weeks, Slutty’s been more than willing to let me shove her haphazardly around the country, fucking her way anywhere she wants to go…I’ve a load of new material…not just the six push pins more like twenty…So what? Slutty deserves a rampage….and I’ve three more months until deadline…oh god, why did I open that box? I even wrote Pandora on it, so I’d know…never to open it again…never to see the glossy green stones in their crust of diamonds…avoiding the heart ache of knowing my husband is cross country touring his new album…best of luck to you my love…

April 25th 2008…got really drunk last night celebrating the new album’s success…ending up puking and crying for her…thank god only Billy was here…unfortunately for me Billy was here…pics of me passed out with some floozie Billy paid showed up this morning in this week’s tabloid trash…god, please don’t let her see this…I want to go home…wherever she is, is home…

July 3rd 2008….family bash…cook out…pool party…tons of relatives I haven’t seen in ages…tons of excuses as to why my handsome husband is touring in the USO overseas…god, my teeth ached by the time the finale rolled through…

July 10th 2008 submitted eighteen stories out of the thirty two I wrote…let them choose the best eight…contract celebration with Ari and Skye…got really fucking drunk and bawled my eyes out over Keifer for four hours…fell asleep beside the toilet…great night!

October 5th 2008…cover design is complete…printing is scheduled for next week…holy shit…my second book is about to be fucking published…should be out with all the necessary fanfare and brass bands by just after Thanksgiving…in time for Christmas sales…don’t ask me…I just write this shit…and collect the money….sometimes….

December 27th2008…almost a year has passed since I’ve laid eyes on my husband…and it still hurts…and I still love him…in spite of his cowardice…I wish he were here with me tonight…I’m in Charleston, SC…first stop on my tour…I wish I could share this bottle of champagne with him…celebrate with him how my book just took the number one spot on the N.Y. Times Best Sellers List…in less than two weeks…god, Keifer…how I miss you…

December 28th 2008…flying out of O’Hare…her new book…it’s number one cebeci escort bayan on the Times…hot damn…gotta buy it…god, I miss her…her skin…her laugh…I wonder if she had champagne…I bet it would taste like her…how did I fucking lose her? I listened to a frightened stupid girl…still listening…god, she knows how to make me hard with every word…damn…I really can’t read this on the flight…tonight…when I’m alone…when I can dream of her…

February 10th 2009…’Where are they now?’ …tabloids…regurgitating my separation…showing recent pics of my man…looking thin…looking tired…looking hassled as he’s followed by his ex-harpy and her psycho clone…oh, my baby…seeing you like this makes my heart ache…

April 17th 2009…awards night for me…joy…some best new erotica shpiel…whatever…I got to dress up in a fancy shmancy gown that was crusty with those sparkly crystals…got to be professionally made over …make-up and hair…even I had to admit, I was fuckin hot…by the end of the night, I’d been invited to six suites…and yet, I went home alone…to wish for my husband…recent tabloid photo of him, clutching my new book to his chest, as the Harpy shrieked about something behind him…really Key? Seriously? …I wish you’d grow back that pair you had and boot that fuckin leech to the gutter where she belongs…I wonder if he’ll see this show when it airs?…hmmm…I wonder…

June 6th 2009…I was flipping through the channels, drinking steadily…and there was my sweetness, my angel…she won Best New Author in Erotica…damn, she’s beautiful…I lifted my half empty whiskey glass to her sexiness on the screen, toasted her success…god, why did I ever listen? Why haven’t I gotten rid of these shrews who plague me daily with incessant bullshit…I want my angel…I want my sweetness…I want more whiskey…

June 28th2009…staying with Danyela for a while so Helena can get laid…she’s a yuppie in the most definite sense…executive producer of Dancing around the Stars…all by thirty one…she’ll kill me if she thinks I’ve told anybody her age…she’s fucked like that…she’s got this goofy as shit great Pyrenees setter mix that’s teaching me to love again…her bf Jeff is okay for a hunky little fireplug…he’s a producer on the same show…but I’m not supposed to say anything…fuck it…it’s my diary….

July 5th 2009…hanging with Jeff and his family…my head is still pounding from the margaritas last night…Jeff tells me he’s got news…takes me into the screened in cabana, beside the shrieking kids…I’ve got Keifer Hammond, signed…my still drunk brain was slow to put two and two together…but it got there eventually…maybe, just maybe…if they were put in the same space…

July 12th2009…fuck…made a bet with Dani…if I win she pays half my yearly royalties…if I lose I have to do her show…fuck….fuckfuckfuckfuck…please let them win…what the fuck was I thinking?!! I wonder if I can weasel out of it by playing the ‘I was too drunk’ card? …fuck….goddamned underdogs…I’m so fucked…I’m going to have to fucking dance…on fucking t.v. …she’s fucking dancing around the house…too many people would notice if she vanished…fuckfuckfuckfuck….god help us all…

January 18th 2010 …the contract for Dani’s show just got delivered….schedule enclosed she wrote…fuck you and fuck your schedule too…trifling wench…ugh, a bet’s a bet….I signed…I was going to dance…hopefully better than a gazelle with a wooden leg…

January 19th 2010…collected contract without getting beaten to a pulp…oh, if this doesn’t work out, she’s gonna kill me…she’s gonna kill me anyway…as soon as the final line up comes out in a week…at least when it does come out, I’ll be in Cabo with Jeff…is this how it feels to have a contract out on your life?…god, she scares me sometimes…

January 26th 2010…the final line up…dear god…my husband’s name is on this…this has to be a mistake…called Dani…left a voicemail from hell for her…Helena won’t forgive me for breaking her Waterford bowl…fuckfuckfuckfuck….why now?

January 26th 2010…junior shrew brought me a telegram as I was getting into the car to go to the airport…I looked up at the mansion I’d built for senior shrew…knew I’d never be coming back…knew if I wanted to continue adding days to my sobriety, this wasn’t the place…I wanted my angel…I sat back in the leather seat, opened the telegram…the final line up list…holy shit…she’s on this list…called Stan, made him double check it with the executive producer, Danyela Somethingorother…no mistake…she’ll be there…god, please…let this be the way to get her back…to get her to love me again…to make her hear my apologies, which I know will never be enough…please…

March 12th 2010…after two weeks of dodging her phone calls, it’s time to pay the piper…meeting with all four escort cebeci celebrity contestants…please don’t let her get me alone…be professional, not a quaking chickenshit…security is just a call away…John Stamos, Kimberly Williams Paisley, Keifer Hammond and Dari St. Michel…at least I finagled it for Boris to be her partner…she likes him…hope Boris’s buddy Anna enjoys working with Keifer…hope he’s been off the sauce…dear god, they just looked at each other…I swear I saw lightning flash…

March 12th…first day of rehearsals…dear god he’s gorgeous…he’s been bashful for the last hour, glancing over, watching me with Boris…hide the hurt with a smile and a laugh, Boris just nuzzled in Russian behind my ear…did I notice Key’s eyes flash? Why yes, yes I did…he’s paired with Boris’s best girl, Anna Babanin…she’ll keep his mind in the game…there were other people in the room, but there he was…Boris would nudge me gently to bring me back around to focus on the rudimentary basics…waltz, foxtrot, box step…how am I not supposed to ache, wanting to trade places with Anna, without even a word spoken between us yet…

March 12th…dear god, why can’t I breathe? …she’s right there for fuck’s sake…six feet…god, I can smell her perfume…how do I get to her? …please…come back to me…

Through the first week of rigorous training, both Boris and Anna had had enough of our individual whining and threw us together.

“C’mon mouthpiece, you keep cursing me and you’re the one with two left feet!” Boris was snarling at me, when Anna shoved a pissed off and reluctant Keifer into our little studio. “Problems with him?”

“He’s being a whiny bitch. And I’m tired of him stepping on my feet…on purpose. All week, size twelve prints all over my poor toes. Even Baryshnikov wasn’t this cruel.” Anna replied in Russian. “Let’s make them dance together!”

“Not a bad idea.” Boris replied in English. “Dari, you and Keifer will practice together today. One hour our routine. One hour theirs.”

We looked at each other warily, anger and mistrust sparked between us already, not the best motivators for dancing. Every flub, every misstep brought vicious comments from both Boris and Anna, with the repeated “Begin!” I began to hate. Even though I could see the sweat pouring down Keifer’s neck, I just couldn’t settle. I felt like one of a pair of Tasmanian devils, facing off over a kill.

“Damn it! What exactly is so difficult that you two oafs can’t get this simple routine down! Begin!” Boris snarled. Keifer dropped his hands to his sides. “I said, begin!” even as I saw the exhaustion in his eyes, I couldn’t help myself.

“C’mon, let’s go.” I sneered up at him.

“Shrew.” He mumbled back.

“Oaf!” As soon as the word was out of my mouth, I knew the powder keg had just been lit. His hands grabbed, just enough to remind me of his totally unfair size advantage, spun me, and didn’t miss a step. I felt him hard against me as he dipped me deep, felt that frisson of excitement only he gave me. Face to face, when the dance ended, panting, he whispered one word.

“Thief.”

Red. All I saw was red. I felt my fist connect with his jaw, though it felt like a cement block. I don’t remember leaving, or the walk back to the hotel. I remember screaming and crying at that picture of us I took everywhere.

“Dude, that was supremely uncalled for.” Boris said, after I walked out the door.

“Not really.” He shrugged, collecting his gear.

“Anna, will you join us for dinner?”

“This business or the other?” she asked.

“The other.”

“Only if you get me red meat.”

“Done. Keifer, I know a lot more than you think. This, this is my passion.” He said, motioning to the studio. “My real line of work is as a private investigator.”

“A PI? Seriously?”

“Hey, it pays the bills…and the salaries. Join us for dinner, I have a lot to tell you about.”

“Alright, I’ll go.”

Over dinner, Boris and Anna, set the entire case out on the table for him to read. They explained how their client (me) had wanted to prove that stupid mistakes in her teen years didn’t mean that the tags of youth still stuck. They showed him the charitable donations, the charities founded, the honorable life their client has led since high school. They also showed him, without a doubt, where and why this ancient history had been unearthed and by whom.

“My own daughter. Knew that girl needed counselling when we split. Now what?” he sighed, totally heartbroken.

“Now, you decide if you want your wife back.” Anna said softly, laying her hand on his forearm.

The next morning, five a.m. came like a bomb. Boris invaded my room, howling and snarling like a rabid tiger, scaring the shit out of me.

“One of these days, you crazy Bolshevik, you’ll bring coffee, like a normal human.” I groaned, heading for the shower.

“Ah, my babushka, men who bring you coffee are lovers, while I, I am your tormentor, your torturer. Now hurry the fuck up!!” he laughed.

Dressed, with a single cup of coffee in my system, we walked up to the studio. In the main hall, Tessa, Keifer’s oldest daughter, waited, pacing. When she saw me passing with Boris, she snarled as I went by.

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