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Thunder Cunt

Equal amounts of dreams and deception litter the City of Angels…

“Fuck, girl.”

“Fuck girl, nothing. Do it.”

A seemingly stupefied Rochelle uttered that scripted, semi-defiance as she sifted through her queen’s bag of tricks. The large, leather duffel bag contained an assortment of play things that would cause anyone to blush, including the freakiest incarnation of Las Vegas’ Carrot Top.

“What do you want it for?” Rochelle asked.

“You know damn well, girlfriend,” Rikki replied.

Rikki remained stock-still as she readied herself. The straps that supported her, and bound her wrists and ankles, held her body hovering in place. They also provided any that dared with a perfect view. Rikki glanced at the large, dripping phallus hanging between her partner’s legs; the same silicone toy that she had been ferociously pummeled with mere seconds ago. Rikki was now hoarse, but pumped, primed, and ready to go. However, Rochelle was none too pleased that she was ordered to halt shy of the money shot.

The suspended woman then approvingly nodded as Rochelle pulled out something that was more commonly used for cheering at early twentieth-century collegiate football games. Rochelle carefully eased the narrower end of the plastic megaphone into Rikki’s naturally scruffy, cranky cooch. Through her widely spread legs, Rikki pulled herself forward and held the backs of both knees. Rochelle then readied herself and held the amplification cone in place.

“Stand back!” Rikki grinned as she curled forward a bit more. “They don’t call me Queen La Queefa for nothing!”

Rochelle pursed her lips as she turned away, fighting to contain a similar and equally humorous release.

“Get ready for some sweet sounding cuntry music,” Rikki gloated as she continued to oversell the scene.

In the background, the muffled giggling had already begun.

“I am woman, hear me roar!” the star screamed as her body finally burped, rattling the set with, as Guinness World Records should have authenticated, but declined the assessment invitation as mere twisted pornographic publicity, the loudest pussy fart known to human kind. P.T. Barnum would’ve been impressed. The echo reverberating on stage sounded like a cross between a yodeling duck and a puckered sphincter blowing wet raspberries into a trumpet.

This… was Rikki’s money shot.

“Cut!” yelled the director. “That’s a wrap everybody! Great job, ladies!”

The gurgling hush of the crew now exploded in laughter, some of whom had to clutch their sides in agony. Others were howling at the scriptwriter-turned-director who had used his fingers. He knew it was coming. They all did. But the poor man had sensitive hearing. However, it’s what her fans wanted and they paid handsomely for it. To the producers, it was a solid gold record.

Not so discretely, and with dramatic mocking, Rikki then whispered to herself, “Aaand… scene.”

≈ ≈ ≈

“Did you bring the hot sauce?”

“I did. I also brought extra, if you want,” Rochelle said as she opened the grease-stained, brown paper bag to show Rikki. “I know how much you like it.”

The two women then sat in silence, looking out across the Pacific Ocean, as they ate their lunch. From their bench, high on the cliff above the water, the women fueled their bodies and souls with the best Los Angeles had to offer – California sun and pseudo-authentic Mexican cuisine from a nearby food cart. It was a good day by any measure.

“Did I ever tell you why I like to come here?” Rikki asked.

“Maybe, but I don’t remember.”

Rochelle focused on her taco, squeezing out more hot sauce as she waited for Rikki to continue.

“Many a dream has come here to die. Girls filled with those fanciful thoughts of fame and fortune, stardom, legacy, and immorality. When they realized that they'd have to fuck their way to reach the first rung of that infamous ladder of success, some couldn’t take it and returned home, wherever that was. Others, feeling like complete failures, having eventually realized that fucking their way wasn’t enough, came here.”

“That’s pretty dark,” Rochelle replied while looking at Rikki, now anticipating, but not hoping for, a morbid story or reference during lunch.

“I’ve lost count how many girls have jumped. Too many, I suppose. If it’s not this cliff, then it’s that one over there, or over there.” Rikki performed like a Price Is Right model, using a quick-wristed turn to draw Rochelle’s attention to the neighboring cliffs.

“They all look the same when you’re falling, I suppose. The cliffs, I mean. But some would say it’s the cost of doing business. A price to pay for culling the overcrowded, wannabe thespian herd.”

“That’s sick,” Rochelle said, while briefly imagining what going splat felt like. She felt the shiver of desperation those women must have felt before leaping. She then wondered if their minds changed as they plummeted to their death.

“I know. It’s cold,” Rikki replied, still staring straight out at the slowly disappearing horizon. “But like most things in life, there’s some truth to it. Expectations and unfulfilled dreams have a habit of kicking one’s mortal ass.”

Both observed a mourning moment of silence as they returned to their meals. Only the gulls above, the crash on the rocks of the waves below, and the constant hum from the stream of vehicles behind, perforated their peace. Neither had negative thoughts; only visions of optimism. Rochelle waited until she finished her lunch before she spoke again. She had waited, just in case her mentor had more wisdom to share.

“Do you come here to remember?”

“I do, but not why you think. I come here to remember why I came to LA, and the sacrifices I made. I don’t come here to remember how or why those chose to leave.”

Rikki then looked at her mate, her friend, her protégé. “This place reminds me that I can’t give up on my dream. If I get down on myself or life, I need to pick myself up and work a little harder. Some say, we should work smarter. Maybe so. But my dreams will come true. I know it.”

Rochelle put the greasy wrappers, spent packets, and dirty napkins in the paper bag and moved it to the end of the bench. She then slide next to Rikki and put her head on her friend’s shoulder. She wanted to prolong their moment a little longer. Tacos and sun. And a pocket full of Ben Franklin’s after the morning shoot. There was no rush to leave. Not now. Reality was waiting for them as soon as they stood up.

Rochelle was a clichéd waitressing find, but she was okay with that. She was lucky to have found, or rather, to have been found by Rikki, who brought her under her wing. Rochelle knew she was fortunate. It could have gone a very different, very dark way.

“I’m nervous about tomorrow,” Rochelle whispered. “Are you going to come with me to the audition?”

“What time?”

“They said eight, but I’m going to get there early. I want to give them ample opportunity to say yes. The more they see of me, the more likely they’ll want me, I hope.”

“Eight!” Rikki laughed. “Sorry Darlin’, but that’s a bit too early for me. And you should really go to your first audition by yourself. Live it. Breathe it. Experience it. Learn from it for the next time and those after that. Eventually, you will get chosen. You’ve got to believe that. Besides, I’ve got a thing tonight. I’ll be out late.”

Rikki kissed Rochelle on the forehead as they both watched a group of windsurfers jostling for position in the waves. There was a chaotic peacefulness about them. They understood the power of the sea and the dangers of what potentially lurked below, but the group criss-crossed like a school of well-choreographed dolphins. The colorful sails twisted and turned like stands of hair in the breeze, and their boards left a frothy, French-braided wake behind. The dance was unexpected harmony.

“I’ll be thinking of you,” Rikki laughed, “But from the comforts of slumber in my warm bed.”

There was another silent pause before Rochelle spoke again. Rikki was now stroking Rochelle’s hair like one would with a small child or dog. She was also running her fingers along the tattoo on the back of her neck, tracing the juxtaposed shields of Melpomene and Thalia. During her senior year, everyone in her high school drama club got one.

“Do you ever worry that what you do, what we do, undermines us? Does it prevent others from taking us seriously?”

“Never,” Rikki adamantly replied. “It only will if you let it.”

“But what you do, what you did today, don’t you worry you’ll always be known as that woman?”

Again, without any hesitation, Rikki responded the same way. Never. To her, it was a stepping stone. A paid acting gig. Acting begets more acting. It was just a matter of time before she got her break. Rochelle got lucky, but she too will need to learn patience. To take the good with the bad. It had been over three years and seemingly hundreds of auditions. But Rikki knew, she absolutely knew, it would eventually happen.

After a few more moments, the women stood and walked back to Rikki’s fading, convertible VW bug. If either had paid attention to their surroundings, they would have seen that another body had been found. The headline in the newspaper vending machine screamed, KILLER STRIKES AGAIN. But it had nothing to do with them, so to them, it didn’t matter.

≈ ≈ ≈

While she stood against the old brick building, staring at the full moon, Rikki thought of home. Some nights, if she concentrated through the screams of profanity and rushing sirens, she could still hear the wind whistling through the corn stalks. It was like a symphony and many, dreamy nights, it played her restless mind to sleep.

She wondered what her mom was doing at that moment. Could she see the same moon? Probably not. She was more likely plucking decapitated chickens with the neighbor ladies, clucking on about something they shouldn’t have been gossiping about. Or she was washing the dinner dishes, or something else farming or more domestic. But she was most certainly serving her man. Her mom was a hard worker, a dutiful mother, and an obedient wife. Rikki knew she was one of those three, but not the latter two. That’s partially why she left home. She was also a dreamer. Her mother was not.

It seemed like a lifetime ago. It was also another life. She missed both of them dearly, but especially her dad. She missed the smell of his Black Cat pipe tobacco. She missed his smiling eyes and his warm bear hugs. She missed his flawed, but sincere advice. But she had made her decision, and he had made theirs. He said that she had embarrassed the family. He kicked her out and told her not to return. Rikki knew that she could never, ever go home again. She had no fall-back plan either. Rikki felt she was destined to live and die in LA. Just like the movie. And she’d do anything she had to, to survive.

The scorch of the summer sun had long gone down, but the blackened streets held the sun’s energy and it radiated into the evening air. It was another beautiful night by tourist brochure standards. To those working the streets, it was a sticky, sweat shop mess. And it was like clockwork. Punch in. Punch out. The same damn thing, over and over and over again. To many, there was no sight of end, or hope in sight.

As the car slowed, Rikki leaned forward with her cat-eyed glare and mischievous curled up corner of a smile. When the car stopped, she quickly walked over before another girl did. As she bent over, the seam of her sun dress rubbed high against her thigh, and when she leaned in the open passenger window, her bare breasts rested on the opening for the driver’s viewing pleasure.

“Find what you’re lookin’ for?”

The nervous man smiled. “Yes. I have.”

Rikki wanted to call the man, Jimmy. Jimmy was her first boyfriend, her first love. But she left him behind to follow her dream. He was a sweet farm boy back then, but now was a married man with a couple of young kids. She heard there were plans for more. He always said he wanted a big family. Rikki thought she did not. Maybe two was enough for him. Maybe not. Leaving Jimmy was the only decision that she ever regretted. Damn it. She missed that Jimmy boy too.

The anxious man unlocked the door and motioned for her to get in the car. She did, without hesitation. He seemed innocent. Safe and unassuming, but he had preconceived expectations. They always did. However, he seemed uncomfortable with them. She thought it was probably his first time.

“Drive.”

“Where to?”

“Just drive.”

As he pulled back into traffic, Rikki looked at the other ladies lining the street. Talking. Leering. Clamoring for their next trick. They probably thought that Rikki had bagged another fan. They all knew who she was. They always assumed the johns knew too. But usually, the men had no clue. To them, she was just another piece of rented meat.

“I’m… I’m sorry,” the nervous man stuttered. “I’ve never done anything like this before.”

“Me neither,” Rikki giggled.

She then cozied up to her man of the evening. Her light attempt at humor seemed to lift a little of the weight from the man. His wedding ring most certainly still held part of him down. She needed him to relax or he wouldn’t enjoy her company. Rikki forced out all of her previous thoughts, and focused on what she was going to do next.

“Take us to the motel near the movie studios. The baby blue one with the rooftop terraces. You can see the ocean from up there. Do you know the motel I’m talking about?”

He said he did. Rikki knew that he probably would. You don’t see those kinds in Nebraska.

His family most likely spent the morning on a movie studio tour. Then, for the remainder of the afternoon, they rode amusement rides and played games at the adjacent park. Cranky and exhausted, the kids probably passed out right after dinner and would sleep through the night. Their mother was probably dozing off too, but the man said he wanted to get a drink or something. He’d be back in a jiff. That was his excuse to leave. She’d say don’t be too long. He’d say he wouldn’t be. She’d then fall asleep, and like their children, would be out for the rest of the evening.

He then left with his naughty intentions. It was something he couldn’t do back home. It was too small a place. Too many people knew him. It was too risky. Here, no one knew him. He’d seek out something he was no longer getting at home, especially after the kids were born. It had caused a rift in their already shaky relationship. In a couple hours, he’d return pleasured before she woke, and she’d not be any the wiser. It was like clockwork, or so he had hoped.

Rikki placed her head on his shoulder as he carefully drove to the motel. He feared getting pulled over or worse, getting into an accident. How’d he explain that, he wondered. Or worse, how’d he explain who he had kept company with that evening?

The men usually spoke very little, just the basics, so Rikki didn’t speak much either. She usually followed their lead, but she could be chatty if they wanted chitchat. She knew his type and she also knew what he wanted. It was the same thing she did. She wanted to be wanted. But it would cost him dearly.

They drove to the end of the parking lot and he parked in front of their room. He got out first and walked around to the other side and held open the car door for Rikki. She smiled as the door swung open, and then swung out both legs with knees locked together, and stood up. She then rose on her tip toes, whispered her appreciation, and kissed the gentleman on the cheek.

He unlocked the room door and again held the door open, allowing Rikki to walk in first. They were familiar surroundings. Standard double-sized bed. Flat screen on a credenza. Square mirror behind the television. Bathroom opposite the entrance. Chair under the window which was next to the door. Darkly-patterned, high-traffic carpet. Orange drapes and matching bedspread. Faded, peeling paint on the walls. Water stains on the ceiling. And the obligatory stench of mold and old tobacco. Black Cat, she thought.

“I’m sorry. I don’t have much time.”

“I understand,” Rikki smiled.

She tossed her purse on the chair and placed her hands on the broad shoulders of her gentleman caller. She directed him to the foot of the bed and then wrapped her arms around his neck. As she pressed her large breasts into his body, his hands searched for a place of comfort and found her rounded backside. He cautiously rested them there as they kissed.

After a few moments, Rikki stepped back, looked at the man, and bit her lower lip. She was acting giddy and it gave him butterflies. She slowly unbuttoned his dated Tommy Bahamas pineapple-covered shirt, something better suited for Hawaii than LA, and ran her fingers through the nest of his blonde, All-American hairy chest. She kissed him again, then circled and licked each of his nipples before moving south. When her hands found the waist button on his beige cargo shorts, a quick twist and unzipping dropped them to the floor. She again looked at him while biting her lower lip. His boxers contained an all-too-familiar healthy package.

It had been a long time, possibly more than a year since his wife had taken him in her mouth. Rikki knew that and she did not hesitate. After tugging down his boxers, she wrapped her lips around his thick cock, swirling her tongue along both sides until he became engorged. It didn’t take long before his muted whimpers became moans and his cock became rock.

With him still in her mouth, Rikki helped the man out of his sandals and pushed him back onto the bed. She pulled off his shorts and underwear, and then pushed her head down, taking his entire length past the back of her throat. She was a gifted fellator, as one would expect from a struggling actress and part-time porn star. She continued to rise and fall on his sword but she knew this was not why he was here. It’s not in her mouth where he wanted to cum.

With her date throbbing and fully erect, Rikki stepped out of her sundress and heels, and mounted the splayed out man. She would begin with a first course of outercourse, sliding her slick pussy up and down his length as she pressed his cock against his belly. He played with her large breasts, cupping and holding them, then pinching her nipples which caused her to moan. It didn’t take long for her to generate the much needed wetness. Artificial lubricant was not needed. In fact, she had produced so much that it had greased her back entrance. That was the real reason for his visit.

Rikki continued to slide back and forth, while watching the man’s tormented face twitch each time his cock neared and probed either opening. She teased him with access, with each pass allowing just a little hint of what was to come. With her hands on his chest, clawing at it like a cat against a scratching post, she dug her nails into his skin as she prepared for his rear entry.

She raised enough of her straddled body for his cock to stand up. She then aligned her ass with the fat head and slowly lowered onto it. That initial stretch, that pressing against her tight, knuckled opening, always made her insides tingle. And knowing what she was doing for someone like this man always pleased her. It made her feel less of a fraud. This wasn’t scripted. This was real life. She could tell that he appreciated her and her efforts.

As he slowly exploited and filled her ass, his smile grew quickly. By the time he was completely inside, his grin had stretched from ear-to-ear. The pleasure he received was priceless. For her, his pleasure was payment enough because her moans were real too. Oh, how she missed this.

Her ass rocked back and forth, causing her tight grip to clutch along his thick shaft. She moved slowly, savoring every inch and second of their shared experience. Once Rikki found her rhythm, she leaned forward and interlocked her fingers in his, in his outstretched arms which were above his head. Rikki didn’t feel like she was fucking a john, but felt like she was making love to a familiar stranger. It was the most pleasure she’d had in months, if not since she left Nebraska. It had been too long for her too.

“Tell me when you’re going to cum,” she whispered as she nibbled on his neck.

Rikki repeatedly gripped and re-gripped her fingers in his as she quickened her pace. She continued kissing his neck and face, and her ass squeezed his cock as hard as it could. She wanted to give him multiple sensations and not just a single-point contact fuck, but a sensational fucking he’d remember. Rikki soon realized that she was close too.

Rikki rocked her pelvis, grinding hers into his, with her engorged and highly-excited clit keeping contact with his body. She felt the building of an orgasm. It was bubbling up from deep inside. It was unexpected but very welcomed, and it was going to be intense. Her burgeoning climax beckoned her so she began moving faster. He joined in the race and his hips began meeting hers each time Rikki rocked back to take him deep. He now was on the edge too.

“I’m almost there,” he winced, barely able to speak.

“Me too,” she said, moaning through her effort.

With their fingers still interlocked, he sat up, reached for her ass, and pulled her body off of the mattress. His strength allowed her to lift her legs so she could unfold them. She then wrapped her legs around his back and locked her ankles behind him.

“Fuck, I missed this,” he whined before his body tensed and began blasting her ass with cum.

“I told you to tell me… you asshole,” Rikki cried as his orgasm triggered hers.

He released her hands but still held her ass, and she wrapped her arms around his neck. Their bodies now trembled together, shuddering in unison like the symphony of corn or the dance of the windsurfers. Once again, there was harmony in the world.

The man eventually weakened and began to recline, so Rikki released her crossed legs from his back. She collapsed on top of him, with his thick, farmer-boy’s cock still nestled tightly inside her snug ass. He wrapped his arms around her back, neither of them wanting him to let her go. He had once before and it was his first and worst regret.

“It won’t be long now,” she said.

“I know,” he replied. “We’re almost there.”

“Hold me tight,” Rikki begged as she pressed her slippery body against his sweaty chest. “Just a little longer. Please? I can sleep for a few hours before I start my shift. I might as well start with this room. At least I know what to clean.”

Like the streets and the porn set, Rikki knew it was temporary. Another way to make ends meet. She remained optimistic, she had to, and it was much easier after tonight.

“The kids are young,” he then whispered. “They’re resilient. They’ll grow to love you as their own.”

≈ ≈ ≈

“Well, how did it go?” Rikki asked an exceedingly bubbly Rochelle.

“Oh Rikki, they loved me!” Rochelle beamed. “They really, truly loved me!”

“Oh my God, Rochelle, that’s wonderful! I’m so happy for you! When’s the call back?”

“Tomorrow. I’m so fucking nervous. And excited. And nervous. Oh fuck, Rikki, I think this might be my big break.”

Rikki gave her friend a huge congratulatory telephone hug, but then cautioned her.

“You may not want to hear this now, but it’s best you hear it from me. Until you are officially given the part and the contract is signed, it’s still fair game. This town is brutal. Cut throat. Dog-eat-dog. People are cunts. I don’t want to steal your thunder, but it’s best you prepare. Prepare for both the call back and hopefully the offer, and prepare for the possibility that another actor swoops in and takes the part. Do you understand?”

Rochelle said that she did. She then asked her friend, her mentor if she would help her prepare. Rikki had been through this many times before. More than ever, Rochelle needed her friend’s help and asked if she’d read lines with her.

“Oh course,” Rikki said. “Start from the beginning. Tell me what they said. Tell me what you did. Tell me what they want. Tell me everything. I’m on my way.”

≈ ≈ ≈

Rikki heard the approaching footsteps. They were hurried and angry. She prepared herself. It was about to get ugly. She stood at the edge, again looking at the disappearing horizon into the ocean.

“Bitch! You stole my part! You jealous piece of shit! Just couldn’t be happy for me, could you?”

“That’s not true. They only wanted to compare us, to see who fits better for the part.”

“You lying, duplicitous, malevolent cunt!” Rochelle fumed. “You didn’t even tell me you tried out for the part.”

“I tried, but… “

“Liar! You’re a fucking novelty act, you know that? You’re not a real actor. Never were. Not even in high school. You could only find a job cleaning rooms and farting out your twat on camera. Queen Fucking La Queefa! You Rikki Reynolds, are a goddamed cunt of the worst kind.”

Rochelle’s tirade finally exhausted her. After the climb and the yelling, she was out of breath. She had been thinking about this confrontation ever since she got the call from the studio. She now stood next to her mate, her friend, her mentor, looking out at the Pacific. She was shaking with adrenaline and disbelief. It was over. Them. Everything. All of it.

“Are you done?” Rikki calmly asked.

“Fuck yah. And we’re done. I trusted you. I even did that humiliating gay-for-pay crap, like you suggested. I should have just focused on real acting.”

“You would have starved.”

“Fuck you!” Rochelle gasped. “Don’t you fucking dare. You’re not my savior. You stabbed me in the back. You threw me under the bus.”

Rochelle then felt the crash of a wave of emotion. She put her hands over her face and began to sob.

“Kids are resilient,” Rikki informed. “They’ll come to love me like their own.”

“What?!?”

“And besides, why would I throw you under the bus when I could do this?”

Rikki calmly watched her friend fall away from her push. Rochelle’s flailing body bounced off several jagged outcrops before it exploded on the rocks below. Rikki watched and waited until the third, foamy wave finally took her away. The Pacific had claimed another tragic victim.

Like any real actor would, Rikki extended her solemn pause to observe destiny’s taking of another competitor. Rochelle too had left the safety of the Nebraska corn fields, but her journey ended with her very own, clichéd Los Angeles tragedy, or so the story would be told.

It takes a certain, crafted ability to wear the veil of deceit. Hollywood pays handsomely for that skill. They call it acting, and Rikki felt that it was her time to collect. She had paid her dues. Three fucking year’s worth. A small corner of the world would soon say goodbye to Rikki Reynolds, and the rest of it would say hello to the lovely and talented, Debbie Hoskins from Hicksville, Nebraska.

Without shedding a tear, Debbie turned her back on a friend and faced her City of Angels, and its infamous hills of Beverly and Hollywood. She finally made it. Her first real acting job. She now truly felt that she belonged.

Debbie then walked to the bench and sat next to the waiting man. He had already opened the grease-stained, brown paper bag and added hot sauce to her pseudo-authentic Mexican fare. The tortilla was made with good old Nebraskan corn.

She noticed that he had rolled the paper and placed Rochelle’s forged note in between the boards of the bench. Later that day, someone would find it and call the police. Long before then, the authorities would have already received his call informing them that his distraught wife had disappeared.

Jimmy now quietly ate his lunch. While doing so, he caressed the back of Debbie’s neck, tracing the juxtaposed shields of Melpomene and Thalia, just as he had done in high school. Today, their lives were both darkly comedic and horrifically tragic, and unequally so, but he was comfortable with that. They both were.

As Debbie had rehearsed for exactly this moment, she took a bite of her taco, chewed it a few times, and then before swallowing, she whispered to herself, “Aaand… scene.”

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