SEX ON PISMO BEACH by Tweet

by ATLANTIC LIBRARY PRESENTS Jackie Christian

  “Wow…that’ll be great exposure for me to debut my new songs,” Fox had smiled, gamely. But in many ways, Fox was intimidated about doing it.

  For weeks now, Fox had tried not to think about the fact that her fan base was growing up and slipping away by drowning herself in booze and sex.

  Originally, she’d set her sights on January’s man—the gorgeous Adam Crown. But after she realized that he didn’t want to be unfaithful to Jan-Jan no matter how Fox batted her huge green-gray eyes or “accidentally” brushed up against him, she’d spent a wild night dancing alternately with two of Warm Leatherette’s sexiest men—filthy rich executive Noble Sinatra and the club’s ace bartender, muscle-body and marijuana-provider, Julio Castillo.

  Both men had been ravenous to fuck the gorgeous biracial song bird. But when Julio alluded to the fact that all of Fox’s hit songs sounded like rip-offs of Rihanna’s singles—that effectively shut down any interest Fox had had in doing the “bed dance” with him.

  Noble Sinatra, on the other hand, was more than just fine to look at—he possessed great wealth and power.

  Fox wasn’t telling anyone, but now that she was broke from her manager mishandling her money and now that her latest record were bombing on the charts due to her lack of singing skills, her new dream was to have a man like Adam Crown and be richer than god. She wanted to be a mogul like she imagined January was.

  And with that in mind, she’d taken big, hairy handsome Noble to her bungalow and winced with delight as the Italian stallion fucked her first up against the wall with her summer dress still on—then naked during a steamy shower in which they’d held on tongue-kissing one another as hot water beaded the top of their heads—and then last but not least, he’d fucked her in her bed.

  All through it, Fox had pretended that Noble was really Adam Crown and Noble had pretended that she was Daisy, but neither had uttered the name of their fantasy lover.

  In Fox’s mind was the hope that Noble Sinatra would be arrested by her beauty and want to become her Papa Sinatra—but when it was over; he’d barely spoken to her as he left.

  “Hey, Fox?”

  Suddenly standing beside her at the swimming pool, football star Jared Presser was waving his hand in front of Fox’s eyes.

  “Jared, my favorite sports star—you’re back at Warm Leatherette!”

  “And you’re looking fine as hell in that bikini,” the blue eyed quarterback replied as his stare literally ate her up. Jared didn’t care what anybody said—biracial women were the finest of all fine women in his opinion—and he’d found himself wanting more from Fox than he’d ever wanted from any of the chicks at Warm Leatherette. So far, however, he’d mostly gotten flirtatious smiles and a few dances in the disco, but not much else.

  “January is about to get married in Atlanta. Aren’t you going?”

  “Sure.”

  “You don’t sound too excited about it.”

  “You know what would really excite me, Jared? Is if you and I were the ones getting married.”

  “Come on,” laughed Jared. “I thought I saw a tabloid somewhere with you and that singer Chris Brown on the cover.”

  Fox wanted to pour on the tease by saying she had sucked Chris Brown’s dick, but she didn’t dare spread that one. Instead, in a baby’s voice, she cooed, “I want somebody to marry me, Jared…so they can fuck me.”

  Seductively, she wiggled her body on the lounger as the football star tried ignoring serious intensity of the music video babe’s stare. He wasn’t after all the controversial type who flaunted interracial marriage and he certainly didn’t like the idea of having to give up his many women all around the country. But Fox was serious.

  “Don’t you want to fuck me, white boy?”

  “Hell yeah, you know I do.”

  This airhead motherfucker is filthy rich, Fox thought, ambitiously. With a laugh, she told him, “Here—rub me down.”

  With a hard-on in his swim trunks, Jared Presser massaged sun block on Fox’s pineapple-colored legs and belly as she said, “Just think if I owned and ran Warm Leatherette—or a place like it. I’d love to take this place from January.”

  “You’re not sounding realistic.”

  “I know I’m not, but how can I get out of this mess?”

  “What mess?”

  “My life…”

  When night fell and Fox’s curiosity about Daisy got carried away with fantasies concerning what it would be like to both praised and mysteriously unknown, she decided to tie a veil over her face and twirl around in it as though she were a belly dancer.

  “Isn’t this how you got to the top, January—by being an exotic dancer?”

  Still wearing her sexy two piece bikini as she twirled in the veil, Fox wandered down to the Clinton Library and got Julio to let her get on stage. He didn’t know who she was, but the way she moved, wrapping her legs around the pole and waving her honey-pineapple colored body for every guy to get horny over and whistle at—he definitely wanted to see more of her on the poles.

  “Hey mystery girl—now that Ling Mae’s gone, we could really use a hot young stripper who’s willing to show it all. You got a name under that veil?”

  “Sure. Just introduce me as…let’s see, what’s a good month? March, April, June…that’s it! April. I want you to call me April.”

  ~*~

  “Oh my god!” gasped Tiger Holden as designer V. Vickers opened the stall allowing January to walk out wearing a flowing tight-fitting Grecian-styled Autumn Mist tube wedding gown with a twenty foot train. “You look absolutely amazing!”

  “Beautiful,” Tiger’s boyfriend E-Joe clapped.

  “I don’t look too fat?”

  “Every bride should have curves and ass,” E-Joe told her. “Anybody with two eyes can see that you’ve got the body and face of a Playboy centerfold. You are fucking gorgeous!”

  And she really was so pretty. Her large almond brown eyes sparkled with hope as she said, “I’ve made so many mistakes in my life; I’ve changed so much. I just want to be happy this time.”

  “You will be,” Tiger told her. “We’re all going to be happy.”

  And with that remark he looked at E-Joe. Finally, they’d made love the other night. The two of them discovering that they both were “tops”—each taking a turn giving head and slicking up the other’s bottom with K-Y Jelly. But now that they’d done the roses, wining and dining bit, Tiger found that he wanted more. It was now legal, after all, for gays to marry in California. And with January’s lavish nuptials just a day away Tiger decided that now was the time to pop the question.

  “She ended up choosing a different gown than the one she modeled,” E-Joe remarked as January and her designer left in separate limos. “But no matter what she wears tomorrow, she is going to be so breathtaking.”

  “I hope she won’t be the only one who’s breath is taken away,” Tiger said as E-Joe turned around to find Tiger’s hand in his face, a velvet jewelry box in his palm. It was flipped open to reveal a thirty-eight carat blue diamond engagement ring.

  “E-Joe Bradford…will you be life partner?”

  Immediately, E-Joe shot it down. “What about my career?”

  “We could pull a Janet Jackson. Have a secret marriage. No one has to know.”

  “I can’t risk it,” E-Joe told him. “If the millions of women who read ‘Soap Opera Digest’ were to get the news that Victor St. Nicholas was homo with their morning coffee—oh man, I don’t even want to think about it. And don’t forget the white gay boys in West Hollywood who’d be pissed that I married a black guy instead of my kind. You know how prejudiced some of us gays can be.”

  “All I know is that I’m in love with you, E-Joe.”

  “I love you, too, Tiger. I want to spend my whole life with you. But I can’t risk losing my fan base. Women are my bread and butter and they don’t take this shit lightly.”

  Tiger held his head down to hide the tears welling in his
eyes as he snapped the ring box closed.

  He had no idea that there was an even bigger shock to come.

  Here Comes the Bride

  “Who talked me into wearing white?” January demanded breathlessly.

  “I did,” her Granny September replied, “Because to me this is your first real marriage. And since nobody’s ever married May Day, February or Granny September, you have to wear the white for all of us. Now shush up, child, so I can finish painting this huge sassy mouth of yours.”

  May Day carefully fastened the final loom of Japanese Ivory pearls around her daughter’s glossy chignon, then clasped her hands together as Yves Malle, who had flown in from Paris to give January away, attached the pearl and baby’s breath wedding veil to January’s crown so that it fell backwards and flowed in unison with the train of her gown.

  “Jan-Jan, no tears yet!” the old man laughed in a heavy French accent. “You haven’t walked down the aisle yet, you’ll ruin your grandmother’s artwork on the eyes.”

  “I know…but when my mother cries, I can’t help it.”

  May Day had tears, but she was also grinning. She said, “Something old, baby girl…”

  She pressed January and February’s baby rattles into her daughter’s hand tying them to the bouquet.

  Something new—Fendi’s gift, an ankle bracelet.

  Something borrowed—Granny September’s pearl earrings.

  Something blue—a single blue rose.

  “And a silver dollar in her shoe,” May Day said, tucking one in. “I just know that February is looking down from heaven, smiling on this. It’s her spirit that brought you and Adam together.”

  ~*~

  San Clemente, California

  On the morning of January’s wedding in Atlanta, February Foster woke up searching her brown fingers for a ring. When she didn’t see one, she snapped. “I’m supposed to be getting married today; it’s in all the papers!”

  Ashy, bald and crazed, she got up just before dawn, waking and forcing Blanca Castillo to take her children and leave the house. When Blanca tried to argue with her, February said, “Radio just announced that somebody’s slaying the Crown family. Take Beavis and Butthead’s car and drive as fast as you can.”

  An hour after Blanca had escaped with her children, February continued her murdering spree. She lifted up the bed sheet that covered the sleeping tattoo covered body of Beavis and Butthead and aimed her head like a mad dog, viciously biting his dick!

  He leapt awake, shouting in outrageous agony—but when he saw February lifting up the butcher’s cleaver and saw that it was already dripping with blood, he lost his voice.

  Eyes bulging and her mouth twisted in a snarl, February shouted, “Guess who’s coming to dinner, Otis Crown?”

  “It’s not time!” Beavis and Butthead hollered back in confusion. “There’s two more days before Mardi Gras.”

  He thought to beg for his life. But once he saw the chopped off heads of old lady Critter and ghost-white Cathy propped against his doorway, he knew that it was too late.

  “Your son’s marrying a black girl!” February screeched with insanity. “Guess who’s coming to dinner, Otis Crown? Your precious son is marrying a black girl!”

  “I’m not Otis Crown!”

  February chopped him across the skull, then sliced him repeatedly—S-lick, S-lick, S-lick.

  Somehow, as though she were channeling some ancient memory, she threaded the three heads together using belt for rope. Between the crucifixes already carved in each forehead and the rolled back eye balls that she washed until they were fish belly white, it made for a pretty necklace. But by noon—February was planted in the living floor sobbing uncontrollably.

  She realized that these heads weren’t the Crown family heads she’d made a necklace out of.

  “The devil tricked me into doing it,” February muttered. “He wants to stop me from going to Pismo Beach and bringing the salvation that suicide bombers can bring.”

  Flames flickered in February’s mind, flames that had the power to cleanse and remove the love of money from all the devilish rich people.

  Grabbing the keys to Critter’s station wagon and clutching them in a tight fist, she vowed, “I’m coming Warm Leatherette. I’m coming to save you.”

  ~*~

  Buckhead-Atlanta, Georgia

  Otis Crown had never let reporters and paparazzi swarm his estate grounds this thoroughly—but the purpose was to get as many loving photos as he could muster of himself embracing and grinning cheek to cheek with the daughter-in-law from hell. Then he would cleverly dispose of January, but not by killing her.

  “I’m going to do something that will ruin her public image and force Adam to abandon her at the same time,” he’d told Queenie as she was fixing his tie.

  “He worships the ground she walks on, Otis! He’ll never leave her.”

  “Oh yes he will. After I show him who she really is.”

  “All I ask,” Queenie said gravely, “is that she disappears forever.”

  Minutes later, the four hundred guests gathered on either side of the Crown Lake gazebo came to their feet as the Atlanta City Symphony Orchestra broke into a formal royal rendition of the European march “Tannheuser” by Wagner.

  The bridesmaids, including Daisy, Ling Mae, Fox Holden and Deborah Crawford Gower clutched their bouquets as uniformed security escorts draped the women’s shoulders with buttoned matching diamond linked velvet stoles before enjoining their arms for the march.

  Adam Crown, handsome and erect in a black Bonaventure tuxedo with gray Fox captain’s vest and Bavarian cuff links, swallowed the lump in his throat and set his gaze on the white horse drawn carriage as it entered the Crown gates and circled Queenie’s winter-snowed cherry blossom trees lining Crown Lake before pulling towards the landing party at the gazebo walk way.

  Adam’s best man, his handsome younger brother Winston Crown, accepted the ring from the child bearing pillow and Tiger Holden escorted May Day to what would be their place beside the bride as she took her vows.

  Trumpet and bag pipe players marched down either side of a red carpet followed by Queenie’s appointed ring bearer and flower girl—then with sunny blue skies and light snow on the ground—the uniformed security men marched the bridesmaids down the aisle.

  Unexpectedly, Noble Sinatra got an erection when Daisy and Ling Mae passed by, simultaneously glancing in his direction. He couldn’t wait to make Daisy his wife, yet not having been caught for raping Ling Mae made him think that he might also have opportunities in the future to fuck the younger sister again, only in future times, he imagined it would be consensual.

  Ling Mae turned white as a sheet looking at him, but Daisy nodded, smiling gracefully.

  Noble mouthed the words, “I love you.”

  And then there was Fox Holden—girlish and drop dead gorgeous as she made eyes at Noble Sinatra, Jared Presser, bartender Julio and soap star E-Joe Bradford before finally making it up front to set her seductive gaze on who she really wanted—Adam.

  Sexily, Fox scanned the groom from head to toe, her tongue etching her bottom lip as the folds between her loins got moist with desire.

  If it hadn’t been for the orchestral crescendo queuing the bride, Fox wouldn’t have noticed that the Pastor officiating the ceremony—Otis Crown himself—was gesturing with his eyes and nose for her to stop looking at his son so lustfully. What was with these young girls today, Otis wondered?

  But then—here was January. A mountain of snowy white fabric as a guard opened the door to her carriage, and along with Yves Malle, helped her to get out, stand erect, and walk without tripping over her train all at the same time.

  Adam Crown looked at her as though he were seeing his heaven coming to rescue him from his life. Truly, the love in his eyes warmed even the branches of the trees as it swept across the minions blanching their faces with awe.

  Draped in a gown of antique white lace with half a mil
lion dollars in pearl looms accenting her curvature from her ankles to hip to waist to wrists to neck and chignon—January floated elegantly in time with the orchestra, her train suddenly endless as it was carried by a choir of little girl angels in chiffon white and silver bows.

  Knowing that Papa Sinatra was there through Yves Malle, January squeezed his arm upon reaching the altar and let it go.

  Like some fairytale that she had never dared to dream about, Adam lifted January’s veil. As languidly as the music, his gaze rooted not just his sight, but his very soul to the need in January’s eyes. Gently placing the ring on her finger, Adam Crown vowed, “Nothing about this moment…will ever change.”

  “And you, January…do you vow that nothing about this moment will ever change?”

  “Yes. So help me god, I vow that nothing about this moment…will ever change.”

  And after the rings were on—Adam took green stems of an African gardenia from his pocket and tied those around January’s finger.

  “With the power and blessings of god,” announced Otis Crown for all to hear. “I now pronounce you Crown and Crown…you may kiss your bride!”

  Doves were released overhead and everyone began cheering, but Adam and January couldn’t hear a thing.

  In a flurry of tears, as though they’d waited six eternities for that moment, they kissed and kissed.

  But for as deeply as they kissed, the eyes of Otis Crown bore into the side of January’s brown face like a ray of living hatred. Silently he made his own vow—that not even god could save her now.