Junkfood Noir

Chapter 6, “A Tale of Two Richards”

Gamble stepped onto the balcony to light up a cig when he noticed two partygoers humping like drug-fueled rabbits in the dark of the midnight sky.

Her bent over the railing. Face down, skirt up.

Him standing behind. Pants around ankles, hips doing a dance.

Gamble stood and watched them for several minutes before she on the bottom looked up and noticed him standing there.

“Oh shit—” she started to push Mr. Rabbit back and slide her skirt down

“Don’t worry about it baby,” he whispered. “He works in porn, he sees this shit all the time.”

Not quite, Gamble thought to himself, but the reassurance seemed to work. She nodded at Gamble then let her head drop back down. Mr. Rabbit pounded on.

“Gamble?” A woman’s voice interrupted his cigarette and gaze.

“Gam—oh there you are!” Gina stepped onto the balcony.

She threw a disdainful glance towards the impromptu lovers. “Hey asshole, if you get any jizz on my fucking deck, I’m going to make you clean it up with your tongue. “

“He. Might. Like. That.” Came Miss Rabbit’s voice between thrusts.

Gina turned her attention back to Gamble.

“What are you doing out here my naughty boy?” She placed her arm around him. “Get yer cute lil butt back in there, I want you to meet someone.”

He had been in Hollywood for almost a month now. He met Gina the first week in town while hustling outside a diner in WeHo. She had taken pity on “her little cowboy” and invited him in from the rain to buy him a cop of coffee. Later, in the wee hours of the morning, he found himself crashing out on a futon in her modest North Hollywood apartment.

“I want you to meet someone,” she repeated, dragging him through the throng of party-goers.

She stopped in the kitchen and pointed out the man bent over her counter, snorting a long rail of coke through a little pink bendy straw. Several well-endowed party bunnies stood around him cooing and clucking, waiting for their turn to bat.

“Gamble, I’d like you to meet Dick Johnson,” she paused then practically whispered, “he’s in the biz.”

The man stopped mid-snort and looked up at Gamble. A brief, awkward silence then, “Call me David, please! All my friends do.”

His thin, creepy lips curled back into a smile. He shrugged off the pouting whores and extended the straw to Gamble.

“Join me?”

Gamble turned to look for some sort of approval from Gina, but she had already disappeared back into crowded living room.

Later, after leaving David in the bathroom, he found Gina drunkly making out with four or five frat bros on the couch. Her shirt had been yanked down around her waist, leaving her expensive tit-job on display for the onlookers.

He sat down in front of her and put his hand on her knee.

“How long you going to tease these poor boys,” he grinned.

“Go away Gamble,” she growled between kisses.

“C’mon, you gotta do it. You know you do.”

Gina sighed, then shoved her boy toys aside.

“You always have to ruin it, don’t you?”

“That’s half the fun,” he winked at her.

Gina glared at him for a moment, then flashed a wicked smile.

“You’re always right, dear,” she admitted.

She stood up and slowly spun in a haalf circle to face the boys on the couch. All eyes in the room turned to her as she began an impromptu striptease.

“You want this?” she asked them.

No words, just a cascade of nods and drunken smiles.

“Of course you do puppies,” she smirked and jerked her pink frilly top up and over her head.

Her body shook and shimmied as she slowly drew the zipper of her jeans downwards towards an awaiting prize. The couch boys leaned ever closer, their teeth grinding and their glassy eyes locked on her grinding swaying hips.

The zipper continued it’s downward trajectory, revealing a jungle of dark hair that betrayed her dye job.

And then the punchline.

The jeans fell down around her knees and a giant cock, one that would surely make John Holmes himself stop and take notice, flopped flacidly between her well toned thighs.

There was a combined gasp from the couch boys. One of them may have even lost the contents of his stomach all over the hardwood floor. Gamble didn’t notice, he was too busy smirking at Gina.

“Touchdown!” He hollered at her.

The couch boys quickly scampered off the couch in search of somewhere to hide. One of them might have claimed he “knew all along”.

Gina jerked her jeanss back up and threw an arm around Gamble’s shoulder.

“Oh well,” she sighed. “One day I’ll find my prince.””Of course you will,” he told her.

“What about you, cowboy? How come we’ve never hooked up?”

Gamble just smirked and kissed her.