by Lisa Wells
Her breath caught in her lungs as she contemplated having sex with yet another stranger. Neverfail had been the wrong stranger. If she chose the right stranger this time, what would happen? It was an erotic, yet disturbing, question.
The couples she arranged fantasies for did not actually have sex with strangers. They were just pretending to be strangers.
She, on the other hand, planned on pursuing the real thing.
A makeup artist came on stage, powdered her nose, and reminded her to sit up straight.
Lacey nodded and reminded herself to ooze an attitude of sexual confidence.
She shifted into an elegant pose and stuck out her 34 C’s. Up until a month ago, when she was buying panties for Neverfail, she had been a 34 B. The pushy sale’s clerk measured her and discovered she was actually a 34C. With the right bra, she could appear to be a 34D. ‘Appear’ being the operative word.
Now, the sight of those 34 C’s spilling ever so purposefully out of her scandalously low-cut, pink blouse gave her the needed boost to remind herself of the vamp she was acting out. Or at least, the snarly-vamp she was going to be acting out for the next seventy-two hours.
When the clock struck hour seventy-three, she would morph back into a good girl with big boobs, looking for Mr. Right, marriage, and children. Or perhaps, just a good girl with big appearing boobs.
“Lacey in three.” Matchmaker stopped talking to the audience and prepared for the cameras.
The director counted down and the lights and show went back into action.
Matchmaker turned to her and winked. “Lacey are you ready to ask your first round of questions?”
Lacey smiled into the camera. With a pulse-pounding fear, she spit out her first question. “Bachelor Number One, if you could compare your penis to a vegetable, what vegetable would it be?”
I can’t believe I just said penis on national TV.
The audience exploded in laughter. The heat of embarrassment seared her cheeks. She faked sophistication and fanned herself with her fingertips. She couldn’t afford to be distracted by embarrassment. Focus was needed.
“Lacey, every year I plant a small garden in my back yard. I love to grow zucchini. A good one is well shaped and firm. So, I’m going to go with zucchini. I don’t suppose you’re going to tell me which vegetable you would compare your breasts to in return are you?”
He answered her question with no sign of discomfiture. It was as if he agreed she had every right to know the size of his penis.
Do guys care if a girl’s boobs are Miracle Bra enhanced or God given?
Of course they do. Quit dreaming. Size matters in both sexes.
“No. I get to ask the questions,” Lacey replied while visualizing the size of a zucchini and mentally placing Bachelor Number One in the well-hung category.
“Bachelor Number Two, how about you? Which vegetable would you compare your penis to?” Her voice was practically purring the question. Who knew faking it could be so easy?
Okay, she did. She had fooled Neverfail with no trouble.
Bachelor Number Two cleared his throat noisily before replying. “Lacey dear, that’s easy. A carrot. Long and hard.” He put a lot of emphasis on the words long and hard.
Lacey arched her eyebrows and added another to the well-hung category. Men obviously liked talking about that part of their body.
“Bachelor Number Three, do you have an answer?”
“Darling, no matter which vegetable family you place it under, let’s just say you wouldn’t put me back in the vegetable bin to pick out a better one.”
Lacey’s eyes scrunched together in confusion. She wasn’t sure how to categorize that noncommittal answer. “Bachelor Number Three, you do realize the best baby carrot in the bin is still just that - a baby carrot?”
The audience laughed.
Matchmaker interrupted before Bachelor Number Three could respond. “Bachelor Number Three, don’t answer that. It’s time for a break.”
Lacey was disappointed. She wanted to hear his rebuttal. She found him to be vaguely disturbing. Even if he was a redneck.
Matchmaker turned to her. “Great question. Way to capture the audience and glue them to their television sets. I knew, when I read your bio, you would be a spitfire. If only I was twenty…”
She opened her mouth with a rebuttal and he held up his hand to stop her.
“Okay, forty years younger.”
The break was short. Lacey resisted the urge to bite her nails. Strange and disquieting thoughts kept racing through her mind. She tangled her fingers in her hair and started twirling.
“3, 2, 1, and we’re on.”
Lacey looked into camera number four, as directed, and smiled seductively.
Thank God Mom and Dad are out of the country.
She was pretty sure they would not approve of her line of questioning. They were pretty open-minded, as parents went, but no parent could be expected to approve of their daughter asking a guy about the size of his penis in public.
“Lacey, your first question was intriguing. Are you ready for your second round of questions?” Matchmaker was very good at working the audience. Lacey decided that was why he was still hosting the Dibs Dating Show.
“Yes, I would like to start with Bachelor Number Two.” She flipped a stray strand of hair out of her face as she recalled Number Two’s answers.
Mr. Carrot you arouse the bunny rabbit in me.
The show should provide pen and paper so contestants could keep track of each bachelor’s answers.
“Have at him.” Matchmaker did a cornball gesture of cupid shooting a bow and arrow. The audience cheered.
“Bachelor Number Two, if you were going to renovate an old building to become a brothel, what elements would you be sure every bedroom had?”
“Lacey, a pole is a must. There is nothing sexier than watching a woman who knows how to dance a pole.” He paused until the clapping died down. “Plus, I would make sure each room had an emergency button in case things got out of hand and the woman needed someone to come to her rescue.”
Genuine sincerity was evident in the way he voiced the whole rescue issue. Lacey was intrigued. Pole dancing was doable as potential fantasy fling material. Her throaty laugh rippled through the air.
“Bachelor Number One, do you prefer your woman to be athletic since you are an athletic instructor?”
Mr. Zucchini on Miracle Grow.
“Lacey, I like my women to be like your name. One moment sweet and romantic, the next moment hot and steamy.”
Lacey gave the audience a thumbs down gesture along with a grimace of displeasure. Bachelor Number One’s answer had been a bunch of macho nonsense. It sounded like something Marty…
She halted the thought before it was transformed into a visual. “Bachelor Number Three, I love a man who can sing. If I asked you to sing me a song, what song would you sing?”
Mr. Best Baby Carrot in the bin. Yawn.
“There’s a little ditty out there about liking my women on the trashy side. I always like to sing it to women on the first date. It sets the mood.” His deep voice hypnotized her into fantasies of honey and white sheets.
The audience’s laughter brought Lacey out of her visual fantasy. She frowned when his words sunk in.
“Lacey, are you getting a good feel for our bachelors?” asked Matchmaker.
All of the cameras swung toward her for a close-up shot of her expression. She quickly erased the frown creasing her forehead and replaced it with exasperation. “I’m not sure. I wish they were hooked up to lie detectors so I would know when they were stretching the truth.”
Or better yet, electric currents and I can zap them when I don’t like their answers.
“Bachelors, did you hear that? Lacey is in search of the truth.”
“Always.”
“Of course.”
Lacey heard two responses. Who didn’t respond?
And why didn’t, whoever he was, respond?
Of cour
se, can I blame him? Matchmaker’s, “in search of the truth,” comment makes me sound like an Evangelist.
“We’ve got time before our next commercial break for you to ask your third question of the bachelors.”
Lacey looked over her list of questions. Her stomach was clenched. Which one would get an honest response? Panic was rioting through her. She clamped down on it with a great deal of difficulty. Question number eight popped out at her. It wasn’t a flirtatious question.
Chapter 6
“Bachelor Number Three,” Lacey paused and replayed his answers in her head. Not that she was ever likely to forget his answers. He was the baby carrot, I like my women trashy, man. She hoped his answer to this question would put him back in the running to be her Dibs man. “Did you graduate in the top half of your class or the bottom half?”
I do like that voice of yours.
Maddison had outlawed this question saying it didn’t matter how smart the guy was. In the end, the two agreed to disagree.
Lacey liked a guy who could carry on a conversation. Sex could only take up so much time in a seventy-two hour period. And, they may have to talk it up during sex to help her find her orgasm.
“Baby doll, that’s an easy one. Without a doubt, it was the bottom half.” His tone suggested pride in his lack of educational success.
Baby doll? You called me baby doll? When was the last time someone called me baby doll? That would be never. And, definitely never by a smooth, whiskey voice.
“Bachelor Number One, how about you?”
Forget Bachelor Number Three. Concentrate on the two doables. Literally.
Bachelor Number One is Mr. Zucchini and Mr. Sweet and Steamy name nonsense. Which leads me to ponder; does a big dick trump a shallow personality?
“I was in the top ten percent of my graduating class.”
Lacey gave that response a nod of approval.
“Bachelor Number Two?”
Mr. Dance my pole and long hard carrots. What’s not to like about you?
“I was Valedictorian.”
Valedictorian? Lacey had never had sex with a valedictorian. Was that reason enough to pick her Dibs date? Kamikaze butterflies began free-dives in her stomach.
“Well, we’re down to your final question. Right after the next commercial break, you can try to narrow it down to just one guy.”
When the cameras were off, Lacey stood up. The lights in the studio were hot. Sweat was threatening to break out. An image of herself hugging the contestants with sweat stains under her arms had her throwing her arms out wide to cool them off.
What she needed was a vision of herself having an orgasm with one of the bachelors. A visual would help her know which one to pick.
No visual came to mind.
It would be so nice to demand her imagination act upon her calling and not on its own calling.
She was down to the final question.
The one she was going to ask was an irrelevant question, considering she was just going to spend a weekend with the guy having sex. But still, she wanted to know their opinion.
It was question number ten, and it had a big black line drawn through it.
Maddison had done a last minute check of Lacey’s questions and thrown a fit over it. She lectured Lacey all the way to the airport on all of the reasons she shouldn’t ask it. Best friends were sometimes a real pain in the ass. The two of them couldn’t even agree to disagree on this one.
“We’re back. It’s time for Lacey’s final round of questioning. Lacey, are you ready?”
Lacey took a deep breath and nodded her head. She sat up straight, squared her shoulders, stuck out her boobs, glanced down at her boobs and smiled, and then asked, “Bachelor Number Two, how do you feel about marriage?”
Does Mr. Valedictorian still translate into nerdville?
“I’m all for it if the two people can’t live without each other.”
“Bachelor Number One?”
Top ten percent is probably a better bet, smart but not too smart.
“I think marriage is a natural extension of two people who love one another.”
“Bachelor Number Three, how do you feel about marriage?” Gutter half. Does gutter half have any place in my game plans? I could probably forego brains if his body is brick hard. Damn, I should have asked them all if their bodies were closer to putty or bricks.
“Darling, I’m not much into it myself.”
Not much into what? What had she asked him?
Oh, yeah. Marriage.
Figures. You’ve given me nothing to work with Bachelor Three. Nada. Zilch.
“Lacey, that’s it,” Matchmaker said, as all the cameras swung back toward Lacey. “You’ve asked your questions and heard their answers. You have three bachelors, and you can place your Dibs on only one of them. We’re all wondering which one it’s going to be?”
The audience shouted out responses at her.
Matchmaker held up his hand to stop her from responding. “We’ll find out who Lacey Valentine picks after this commercial break. So, don’t go away.”
Lacey turned to the audience and tried to decipher what they were shouting.
Which bachelor thought it was a natural extension of love? Was it number one or two? Damn, she couldn’t remember. She was finding it hard to remain coherent with all of the shouting from the audience.
Lacey panicked. All of their answers twirled like a tornado around in her head. How was she supposed to pick a guy based on four questions?
Matchmaker got her attention and cued that she was on far quicker than she was prepared for.
“We’re back with Lacey Valentine, Fantasy Coordinator. Lacey, do you know who you would like to have Dibs on?”
Lacey was ready with her choice.
Her mouth opened to answer.
Nothing came out.
Silence screamed at her to make a sound.
I wish that damn camera operator would stop waiving his arms so frantically. I can’t concentrate.
“Lacey, we’re waiting.”
“Matchmaker, can I take them all home for a trial run?” Lacey asked in an attempt to stall.
Which one was she going to pick? Her brain and gut were arguing ferociously with one another.
Matchmaker and the audience laughed. “Sorry, Lacey. Just one.”
Lacey put on a pretty pout for the audience. “It is just so hard. I love guys who can sing. But then the thought of a penis that can be compared to a zucchini is intriguing. Of course, a man who is thoughtful enough to put an emergency button in his brothel obviously has a good heart.”
“Audience, Lacey is struggling with her decision.
Regrettably, it’s her job to make one.”
Lacey closed her eyes and pictured her pick. The audience grew silent. Tension settled on her shoulders. “I would like Dibs on Bachelor Number…” Her eyes flew open. Clear of doubt. She knew which one she had to pick.
“Stop,” yelled the camera operator. He held up his hand for Lacey to stop talking.
Lacey frowned in frustration. I don’t want to stop. I know who I want.
Matchmaker was handed a card to read.
“Oops, my bad,” he said to the audience and then turned back to Lacey. “Lacey, this week we have a surprise for you. We are now equipped to do an audience poll. So, before you tell us your choice, let’s poll the audience to see who they would choose.”
He turned to the audience. “Audience, your buttons are on the arm rest of your seat. Select your choice now. Will it be Bachelor Number One, Two, or Three?” he asked dramatically.
The audience hummed with excitement as they made their choices.
“Lacey, here’s how this is going to work. You can go with your pick or you can go with the bachelor the audience wants you to choose. Which will it be?”
“Who did the audience choose?” Lacey wasn’t fond of surprises like this. This surprise was only going to make it that much more complicated to make a choice, considering her ch
oice had changed three times in two minutes before settling on her choice.
“Ahh.” He shook his head like a wise sage at her. “She wants to know whom the audience picked. Lacey, I’m sorry. I can’t tell you that until after you make the decision.”
Lacey frowned. She wasn’t one to take chances. She knew her choice. Had stuck to it for at least 40 seconds. She would go with the guy she picked. “I’ll go with my choice.”
Matchmaker looked disappointed. “Okay Lacey, write it down on this piece of paper and hand it back to me.”
Lacey took the paper and pen and wrote down her choice. Folding it neatly, she handed it back to him.
“Then let’s see who the audience thought would be right for you.”
There was a dramatic drum roll. “Lacey, the audience chose Bachelor…Number…Two.”
Lacey didn’t know whether she should be relieved or worried. Bachelor Number Two?
“Is Bachelor Number Two the one you picked?”
“No.”
The audience groaned in disappointment.
“Very interesting, because seventy percent of the audience chose him. Tell us, which bachelor did you chose? Did you choose Bachelor Number One or Bachelor Number Three?”
Lacey’s lashes fluttered closed on a quick second-guessing of her choice. Opening them slowly, she responded, “Three. I took dibs on Number Three.”
There was silence. Silence so loud it hurt her ears.
A light came on indicating to the audience it was time to applaud.
They did. But, it was scattered, off-beat applause.
Matchmaker nodded at her as if he knew all along that Bachelor Number Three would be her pick. He quit nodding when his hair shifted to the right from the - I told you so head movement. “Are you ready to meet the two you didn’t choose?”
Her breath was stuck in her throat. “Not because I didn’t want to. You only allowed me one.” Lacey made an attempt to will the fear into nonexistence.
Not working.
“Bachelor Number One, would you come on out please?”
Lacey watched a tall, dark haired man walk around the curtain. His bulky, muscular frame screamed weightlifting and muscle building products. Lacey held out her hand to shake his.