by Star Jones
Channing looked up, surprised. What had happened? And from her tone, he knew she wasn’t inviting him back to her little apartment for some torrid sex.
“Okay,” he said. “Let me get the check.”
“Yeah, you do that,” she said. She rose from the table. “I don’t feel well. I’m going to catch a cab back home and go to sleep.” She picked up her pocketbook and her jacket and started toward the door.
“Lizette!” Channing said. Should he follow behind her? But she didn’t even turn around as she walked past the bar, pushed open the door, and left the restaurant. Just like that, she was gone. Channing stood next to the table, his thoughts in a jumble. What the hell had just happened?
The waiter appeared at his side like magic. “Is everything okay, sir?” he asked. Channing stared blankly at the waiter for several seconds. Maybe he should have chased after her; maybe that’s what she expected him to do. But she didn’t act like that’s what she expected at all.
“Sir?” the waiter repeated. Channing really noticed him for the first time. He sat back in his chair, realizing now that all the diners around him were staring.
“I’ll just take the check, please,” he said softly, absentmindedly patting the little voice recorder in his suit pocket.
Though Atlantic City liked to see itself as the Las Vegas of the Northeast, anyone who had spent more than five minutes in Las Vegas knew that this was far from the truth. Atlantic City’s shabby boardwalk was to the Vegas strip as a McDonald’s fish sandwich was to lobster. Nevertheless, performers and comedians based in New York appreciated the presence of Atlantic City as a local venue and cash cow that didn’t require a daylong plane ride to reach. Zip down in a limo, do a show, grab the cash, maybe lay your head in a nice room, get up the next morning, and be back in the city in time for brunch.
Rain, Dara, and Molly climbed into a limo early Saturday morning for the car ride along the Jersey shore with snacks, alcohol, and an abundance of good energy. Molly had awakened in a much better state than when she had gone to bed. They planned a day of spa treatments, great food, and a little blackjack in the casinos. Rain and Molly were in rare form in the car, doing abbreviated versions of their routines, making Dara laugh so hard that one time the mimosa she was drinking actually came out of her nose. When Molly poured her first drink, Dara put on her doctor hat for a second and looked on disapprovingly, worried about the interaction of the alcohol and the pills. But Rain was watching her and knew what she was thinking. She frowned at Dara and stage-whispered the words “Lighten up!” Dara shrugged and decided to let it go.
And let it go she did. At one point, after all three were sufficiently buzzed, they started rolling down the windows of the limo and flashing their tits at cars passing by with solitary male drivers.
“I can’t believe I’m doing this!” Dara said, falling back on the seat and giggling like a little girl. “I haven’t done anything like this since my college days!”
“And when exactly were your college days, Dara, like six months ago?!” Molly said as she crammed her own twin DDs back in their bra. “Why are you two flashing men, anyway? Shouldn’t you be flashing broads?”
They heard the earsplitting honk of a tractor trailer and peered out through the darkened glass. They could see a truck driver grinning down and waving at them from the right-hand lane.
“Dara, show him your ass!” Rain said.
Dara looked over at her lover, who had that familiar wicked gleam in her eye. “My ass?” Dara repeated.
“Yeah, your ass! That’ll get him so excited he might drive off the road!” Rain said. She looked toward Molly for confirmation. Molly nodded eagerly.
“Yeah, show him your lovely ass, darling! Why not?” Molly said. “Don’t worry—I don’t think his dick would be long enough to reach you from the right lane.”
Dara hesitated. For some reason, flashing tits seemed to be a lot more casual than flashing her ass. But then again, ass flashing was how this all started. That’s what a “moon” was, after all. As she sat up and started fidgeting with the buckle on her belt, cheered on by the whooping of Molly and Rain, Dara said, “Oh my God, if my parents could see me now! I think they would conclude that I was spending too much time around you gentuza blanca!”
Dara pulled her jeans down to her knees. She put her fingers inside her panties, prepared to pull them down too. She looked at Rain. “Panties on or off?”
Rain hesitated for just a second. “Panties off, bitch!” she yelled.
Molly and Rain looked through the window and saw that the truck driver was still peering down at them.
“Looks like he’s ready and waiting for you, Dara!” Molly said.
“Okay, let’s do it!” Rain said. Dara pulled her panties down to her knees, kneeling on the seat with her ass poised.
“My God, Dara, you do have a great ass!” Molly said.
Rain pressed the button to again roll the window down. When it reached halfway, Dara moved backward and stuck her large, round ass through the opening. She even wiggled it to make it jiggle a little. Molly and Rain looked out at the trucker, whose face creased with a grin so big it looked like he had just won the lottery. He gave them a thumbs-up, then honked his horn five times in appreciation of Dara’s prodigious posterior. Up in front, even the limo driver could see Dara’s ass protruding from the window in his sideview mirror. He also wanted to honk his appreciation.
After about ten seconds of the most glorious moon the New Jersey Turnpike had ever seen, Dara fell back in the car, laughing so hard she could hardly breathe. She tried to pull her panties back up but was having a hard time of it through the giggles. Molly and Rain, giggling uncontrollably themselves, both reached down and helped her pull up her panties and her jeans. When Dara sat up, the three of them all looked at one another, then started laughing again.
“By the way, Dara, what did you call us?” Molly said. “Gentuza blanca? What does that mean?”
Dara grinned. “It’s the perfect name for the two of you,” she said. “It means white trash!”
The ladies finally calmed down as the limo approached Atlantic City, the skyline of ornate casinos rising up in the distance, beckoning all to come dump their hard-earned cash. Dara and Rain were very pleased about Molly’s emotional state, but they weren’t taking anything for granted. They made a pact that one of them would be with her at all times over the weekend—they weren’t to let Molly out of their collective sight until she closed her eyes that night to go to sleep.
Molly and Rain each took the stage at Caesars and killed. They had the crowd eating out of their hands. It was an impressive performance by each of them. Their styles were different enough that a Rain Sommers–Molly Stein double bill was a great one-two punch of woman-centered, snarky, insightful comedy, the kind that made you laugh so hard that you feared you might vomit but also had you still thinking about their observations, and Molly’s snarky songs, days and weeks later.
When the show was over, Molly and Rain were on such a high that they insisted the three of them try their hand at blackjack. But an hour later, their pocketbooks about a thousand dollars lighter, but their spirits still floating, they moved on to Dusk, the nightclub at Caesars, one of those strobe-lit, flashing, pounding joints that try to bludgeon the clubgoers into believing they are having fun. The three of them hit the dance floor together, shaking their booties and screaming wildly to the infectious house music spun by the DJ, a skinny white kid with way too many tattoos. Though everybody on the floor pretended to be busy dropping it like it was very hot, Molly, Dara, and Rain still managed to attract a lot of sideways stares. Most of the clubgoers tended to be tourists—much more so than at a club in New York City—so these three well-known stars moving wildly on the dance floor were bound to draw some notice.
“Ladies!” The three of them looked up at the same time to see a very tall, heavyset white guy approaching with a huge grin on his face. Dara thought he looked familiar—a thought that was confirmed when
Rain shrieked happily and vaulted herself into his big arms.
“Roger!” Rain screamed. He picked her up and swung her around on the dance floor, narrowly avoiding taking out several dancers in the process. He finally put her down and she came back to Dara and Molly with a big grin on her face.
“Ladies, I want to introduce you to the third-best comedian in the country, Roger Mason! Me and Roger go waaay back. This is my girlfriend, Dara. I told you all about her. I’m glad you’re finally getting a chance to meet her!”
Roger took Dara’s hand and bent over to give it a delicate kiss. She wasn’t sure whether the gesture was real or was meant to be amusing.
“I’ve seen a couple of your specials on HBO,” Dara said. “You’re a funny guy. You were at Bally’s tonight, right?”
Roger nodded. “I must tell you, you look even more beautiful in person than you do on that television show,” he said. Then he turned to Molly. “And of course I know who this is. I’ve been admiring this lady forever, and I can’t believe that this is the first time we’re meeting.”
He took Molly’s hand and planted a kiss on it. Molly found herself drawn to him. Though she usually seemed to wind up with men smaller than she was, she had always wondered what it would be like to be with a very large man who could make her feel small in comparison. Roger was enormous—easily six-six and well over three hundred pounds. His size was a big part of his act. He called himself Jolly Roger and Roger the Giant.
“You better watch it—you start kissing my hand and I might not let you stop!” Molly said.
“I start kissing your hand and I might not be able to stop,” Roger said, grinning pleasantly at Molly.
Rain and Dara shot each other a look, each wondering what was going on so quickly between these two. They were not accustomed to Molly showing any kind of attraction to men—in effect, she was the perfect third wheel for a lesbian couple. So they both were taken aback—and extremely pleased—by her bold flirtations with Roger Mason.
“You ladies mind if I join you on this here dance floor?” Roger said.
“We weren’t going to let you sit down, even if you wanted to,” Molly answered.
Dara looked over at Rain again. Was Molly drunk?
All three of them watched Roger as he started feeling the music. For such an enormous guy, Roger was very light on his feet. He snapped his fingers and smoothly moved his legs and feet to the beat, even throwing in some impressive hip shaking. Molly grinned, delighted at the way he moved.
Rain moved in closer to Dara, wearing her devilish smile, the one she gave the audience before an especially naughty joke. “Hey,” she said, putting her mouth near Dara’s ear, “maybe we could get Molly laid tonight!”
Dara wanted to laugh and tell Rain that was ridiculous, but when she looked over at the new pair, suddenly it didn’t seem so far-fetched. They were smiling in each other’s faces and had the body language of a couple who wanted to get much more familiar with each other.
Dara nodded. “That would be awesome!” she said, grinning at Rain.
A half hour later, Dara and Rain had moved to a table near the dance floor, where they could giggle and watch Molly and Roger send out major fuck-me signals to each other. “Shit, I can’t believe this!” Rain said. “If I would have known she’d be into him, I would have set this up years ago! I didn’t think Molly cared whether she ever saw another dick again!”
“She’s not that old,” Dara said. “I’m sure she gets urges. She must have decided to just keep them squelched. But that’s not healthy at all.”
Rain shook her head and squeezed Dara. “Ever the doctor, right? So I guess that means the doctor is prescribing a big, fat penis for Miss Stein? Take two hot beef injections and call me in the morning!”
Out on the dance floor, Roger had moved in close behind Molly. He had his arms around her and her ample behind was pressed up against his crotch—well, maybe about eight inches south of his crotch, since Molly was about five-five. But it was still close enough to his crotch for Molly to feel a bulge start poking her in the back. The sensation unnerved her slightly, but she didn’t pull away. She was enjoying the feel of his big arms too much.
“You know, I think I’m too old for you,” Molly said, tilting her head up toward him so that he could hear her over the pounding music.
Roger snorted. “Nice try, lady, but I know exactly how old you are—forty-five. I’m forty-three, darling. Two years sounds to me like a match made in heaven.”
“Hmm, what else do you know about me?” Molly asked.
“I know that you are single. I know that you are the funniest woman I’ve ever seen. I know that you are also quite intelligent, though you try to hide it sometimes with the jokes. I also know that you are the sexiest forty-five-year-old comedian I’ve ever seen.”
Molly felt herself blush. She wasn’t used to all this gushing male attention. She also wasn’t used to feeling a big erection bulging into her back. She couldn’t help but let her mind wander to Roger’s size. It was probably real big, maybe too thick for her to get her whole hand around. Molly blushed some more, embarrassed that she had let her mind go there. But she couldn’t deny the tingle that she was starting to feel in her lower belly.
“Well, certainly I’m too big for you,” she said. She was eager to hear his response to that one.
Roger snorted his amusement again. “Lady, apparently you didn’t get a good look at me. I’m not exactly Mick Jagger over here. I’m kind of a big guy. Speaking from experience, I’d be a little afraid for a small woman with me. Not only would I be afraid I’d squash the little thing, but I also might split her in half!”
Molly thought that last line was an unmistakable reference to his penis size, wasn’t it? He seemed to be confirming in his funny Roger Mason way what she suspected, that his tool was proportional to the rest of his enormous body. Molly felt flushed, like an oven door had just been opened in front of her. She couldn’t be sure if that was arousal or a premenopausal flash, what one of her friends called her “personal flame.”
“Well,” she continued, “just because you’re big doesn’t mean that you necessarily like big women. I know some big guys who prefer little, itty-bitty women.”
“Yes, true,” he said. He moved in closer to her, so close that she could feel his breath pass over the nerve endings in her ear, sending a tingling sensation racing down her spine. “But that definitely doesn’t apply to me. I like having something to hold on to. A lot of something.”
With that, Roger gave Molly a squeeze. She emitted a little girlish squeal—and was a bit embarrassed that such a noise came from her mouth. She pressed up against him even harder. Molly was still in a state of disbelief that this was happening to her. It had been so sudden. Just twenty-four hours earlier, she thought she was about to die. Now she was in the big, sexy arms of a man who was acting like he wanted to devour her.
When Molly felt like she was about to faint from arousal, she pulled away from him and turned around. She had to be careful here—there could be paparazzi lurking somewhere with a camera. Or some wannabe paparazzi looking for a big score. They weren’t exactly in the VIP section of some secluded Manhattan club. This was Atlantic City, the spiritual home of all sorts of drifters and losers from up and down the East Coast.
“I think I need to sit down,” Molly said. She walked toward the table where Dara and Rain were sitting and watching. Molly got the sense that Roger was watching her ass as she moved. She was glad that Rain and Dara had talked her into wearing the dress, even though it was more clingy than she was comfortable with. She had to squeeze her butt into a pair of large Spanx in order to make the dress look right. She put a little extra sauce in her step, giving Roger a good look at her butt in action.
“Wow, girl, you were doing your thing out there!” Dara said as Molly sat down. Roger took the seat next to her.
“Roger, I forgot how good a dancer you were!” Rain said. “The two of you looked like you’ve been dancing toget
her for years.”
Again Molly felt herself blushing. She enjoyed the way Roger’s arms felt wrapped around her. She wondered where this evening was headed. And, more important, was she ready for it?
“Listen, Dara and I are going to go back up to our room now,” Rain said. “We’ll leave you two down here to burn a hole through the dance floor—or wherever else you might find yourselves tonight!” She grinned at Molly, then leaned over and gave Roger a kiss on the cheek.
“Looks like it’s just us chickens,” Roger said with a chuckle. He turned to Molly and stretched his arm around the back of her chair. “Hey, I wish I could have caught your show tonight. I haven’t seen you in about four or five years. The first time I saw you was one night at Dangerfield’s. It was maybe like fifteen years ago. Let me tell you, you killed that night. I was blown away. Seriously. Not only were you fuckin’ hilarious, but I thought you were sexy as hell. I’ve been following your career ever since.”
Molly was terribly flattered. Sometimes she forgot that she actually had a strong base of fans out there in the world.
“That’s so nice of you to say,” Molly said, blushing for about the tenth time in the past hour. “I’m surprised I didn’t see you in the crowd. It’s probably hard for you to blend in, I’m guessing.”
Roger laughed. “Yeah, I do stand out. Like a one-legged man in an ass-kicking contest!”
“I always loved that joke!” Molly said.
“Yeah, me too!” Roger said. They grinned at each other. Roger saw an opportunity. He leaned in closer. “Do you want to get out of here, maybe go somewhere a little more quiet and have a drink?”
Molly nodded. She took a deep breath. “I know just the place,” she said. “My room. I got alcohol and I got quiet.”
Roger grinned. “That sounds like a fabulous idea,” he said, rising from his chair and holding out his hand to her. Molly took it. They remained holding hands as Roger led her through the dance floor and out of the club. Molly felt her heart fluttering.