by Don Quine
Obviously, the vest worked if you were sitting or standing, it just didn’t offer all the options that were available when you were mobile and on the move. After several minutes of Manny’s pitch about how he had enough inventory to hire and outfit a dozen local people that he’d train to demo The Workout Vest at the Bash with a flash mob routine, which was why his pilot budget was so inexpensive at $16,430.
Nicole asked, “How many handles?”
Manny said, “Eight with the foot straps and they work every body part.”
Nicole removed her vest, sat down at a folded table and went over some notes.
“Manny, looking at your project plan, I like that you have intellectual property protection and that The Vest sells for under a hundred. Your near-term margins aren’t great because you’re using American labor for limited online production, but if you up-level your site for custom orders only, start at $195 with optional personalized features, create some celebrity-seen-working-out media, then launch a mass market line for half that, I think you can build a brand that walkers will run to.”
“Exactly!” Manny said, his vision confirmed. “You think Chuck Norris would be interested?”
Nicole said, “Oliver, if you agree that The Vest could create a workout craze, be a trendsetter that startup money will find impossible not to invest in, then let’s show Manny how we feel!”
Nicole grabbed a front handle on her Vest, pulled it up with her right hand, and held her thumb up while she waited for Oliver to raise his.
But Oliver couldn’t. It was like his handle was stuck or something. He pulled on it, frowned, “I don’t know about this, I mean seriously, this could be . . .” He struggled some more as Manny turned pale, at which time Oliver suddenly raised the handle smoothly for a thumbs up, and shouted, “. . . a really big Winner!”
There were lots of vest hugs, Nicole kidding how Oliver seldom played pranks, but when he did they almost always had happy outcomes.
CHAPTER 45
The end of July, end of Round eight, and it was Elfri’s turn.
Wayne did his Mighty Tiny Vits routine on Monday.
On Tuesday, the Sweet Gourmet sold Star Talk and Treats.
Leah’s GlobeFash got showcased on Wednesday.
Manny pitched The Workout Vest yesterday.
Now it was Friday with only the month of August left before the Bash, and Elfri was nervous. But it was all good. It made her focus on what she had to do.
She was glad that Oliver and Nicole had no problem with Will being there. Pops helped her stay centered, Will’s voice going off in her head and reminding her to be open and stay real.
The Quonset hut was set up like a TV talk show, with folding chairs for guests to look at the set, which, like all the pilot presentations, was made of wood, cardboard, and inexpensive materials. Elfri sat behind a little table with a big glass jar on it filled with slips of paper. Nearby was displayed a portable fire pit with fan-blown fiber flames and an outer shell with seats that had illustrations of a teenage Slumber experiencing close encounters with Sky in strange and sensual settings.
Elfri explained to the guests that Dream Zoo was a comic book for kids.
It was different than Dream Lovers, which was a comic book for young adults, even though they had Slumber starring in both of them, one younger and one older, each with their own look because both comic books had different target audiences that offered different product spinoffs.
Elfri was dressed like the adult Slumber.
Her hair was in long wavy locks of gold and silver, she had on shades with soft pink frames and dark lenses, red lipstick with sharp edges, and she wore the outfit Leah designed for her. A crop top with mini shirt. Both white. The white top served as a background for a scattering of bright blue eyes. The white skirt featured dark green ones. The eyes had dramatic eyeliner, eye shadow, and mascara applied to each one to make them special, and they all complimented Elfri’s eyes, which you could see when she took her shades off from time to time to look at everyone and emphasize a point.
Using a pin-mic hooked up to some speakers that let her talk intimately to her audience, Elfri told them she wanted to build a model for a retail storefront in a mall: Dreamers Only. It would offer an online membership club for both of the comic books that would be cross-promoted through a Dreamers Only talk show produced at the store.
Membership benefits included access to the latest issues and back issues of all the comics, discounts on products, and special rates on Dreamers Only Dream Circles that Elfri would take on tours in a newly designed Dreamland Express that carried with it the new Dreamside Companion.
The Companion was the portable fire pit, option of butane or air-blown fiber flames, like the one Elfri was sitting at, only the model for the Bash would be made of fiberglass. The two outer shells could be snapped onto the fire pit frame depending on whether the Circle was for kids or younger adults, Dream Zooers or Dream Lovers.
Elfri asked her guests to take a look at the shell illustrations for the Dream Zoo Companion with a young Slumber encountering Nightdare adventures with Imaganimals. Then compare that with the Dream Lovers shell illustrations: an older Slumber dancing in a sexy cloud with Sky, the two of them rescuing star-bathing mermaids from surfer sharks on a bejeweled beach; holding hands under a heart-shimmering sky as they pranced through a garden of passionate plants.
The illustrations were in back of the pilot material pages they all had, including costs, margins, and budgets.
“I’ve detailed customer acquisition costs and the value of that customer in terms of profit margin, the two primary considerations for a subscription e-commerce business.”
Elfri went on for ten minutes without even Hunter saying a word.
She explained that guests would be invited onto her show that were known for being dreamers who would talk about how they made their dreams come true. Not just celebs, but unknown people with amazing stories.
Viewers would send in their dreams that Elfri would pull from the jar, select three to be on the show and sit around the Dreamside Companion set with Slumber and the special guests that would be interviewed for the show in the store’s featured attraction, The World Of Dreams.
“On page 5 you’ll see The World Of Dreams room. It’s a space where art and technology help connect people to the power and playfulness of lucidity. I’ll need help with the technology part. The Dreamers Only show can premiere on YouTube and enjoy exposure on other digital platforms like Kid Genius, Toon Goggles, and Popjam.”
Elfri took off her shades.
“Questions?”
CHAPTER 46
The bakery counter of A Pot Shop had a long wait line.
Fred ordered four snickerdoodle cookies, two peanut butter brownies, and a half-lid of Ghost Train Haze. It was busy, but the shop had a mellow vibe. While she waited for her order to be bagged, Fred glanced at the wall TV where a couple of stoners discussed the munchies, but like most of the patrons in the shop, her attention was held by the young stud with jet-black locks sitting in a white leather chair.
He wore mountain boots, a Rolling Stone tee, and fig leaf briefs that everyone in the shop stared or nodded at, some asking what’s up with that. Others saying it promoted nudism, which had a long history in Lake Meadows.
The stud was friendly, chatted while he strummed a guitar. Like Sonny did. Only this guy strummed better than Sonny and he didn’t look like a dickhead. He looked like a stud.
Maybe he managed the shop. Or owned it. For a moment Fred was tempted to introduced herself, then the clerk who waited on her called out “Sally”, waved at Fred and pointed to the cashier.
The cashier asked for photo ID, and returned Fred her credit card and A Pot Shop bag.
“Thanks for shopping with us, Miss Singleton, we value your business highly,” he said.
Fred nodded and left the shop.
>
It was Fred’s first visit to Lake Meadows since Reimer fucked up. Fred told the Uber driver she’d be waiting out front of the Bronze Antler B&B in Joseph at 4 p.m., that would give her a good hour to get up to the lake. She was going to drive up on her own, but parking would be a bitch, so she parked her car on a side street in Joseph, around the corner from the Bronze Antler.
For her first time back in eight years, not counting the quick hop she made in the security van to check out Ventures Nest for Sonny to play a Forest Ranger, Fred decided to arrive in Lake Meadows as Sally Singleton.
She could have chosen to be Allison Hedrick, a nurse’s aide from Medford, or a real estate agent from Bend, June Stiles; but Fred thought Sally Singleton was the way to go in this trendy tourist trap.
Sally was created to be a classy young widow from Depoe Bay, had a townhouse and sailboat at the harbor, along with a driver’s license, American Express, Visa, and cards to her country club, health spa, and Starbucks.
Sally dressed like a yacht club yuppie, wore a white lace halter playsuit, blue linen loafers to match her belt, sun bonnet and shades that were offset by an orange Hermes Birkin handbag with its iconic silver lock.
Only the lock was stainless steel because the Hermes handbag, like the IDs, was a fake.
Sally fit right in with the artsiefartsies.
There were lots of hippie types, too, that were probably into the Disco Never Dies scene going on at Strikes To Spare.
Leaving A Pot Shop, Fred popped an Adderall, realizing there was still so much to see. Glad that it was only a topical excursion. She’d come back during the week when things were quieter, get a better take on things. Look into what the Crazy Ideas Bash was all about, check out the colorful poster she took from a shop and folded in her purse.
It was nearing sunset and Fred had spent nearly two hours walking down Wonder Way to the last block on Main where the edgier shops were, now she had to figure out whether she was into walking four blocks back up on the opposite side of the Streat.
Or simply chill, text the Uber guy, have him meet her in front of the Nature Lovers motel where he dropped her off, but she’d be an hour late. With all the razzle-dazzle it was hard to think about anything except how hip, slick, and cool Lake Meadows had become. Everyone checking out the shops and each other, tricked out tourists with their heads up their ass.
Fred’s eyes caught a pretty guy with spiked rainbow hair, backpack and a skateboard, she saw him do an easy dip into the handbag of a gal standing in front of The Vape Salon, the freaky hair and a gay laugh distracting his handiwork beneath the skateboard. The sneak thief slipped a smart phone and wallet into his cargo pants, waved the atomizing gal peace, worked his way across Main Streat, exchanged the spiked hair piece for a Life Is Gay cap, passed the skateboard to a chick with purple pigtails who disappeared into the crowd along with him, but in the opposite direction.
Pros.
Made Fred think about the guy in Vegas she saw at a show a few years ago, after she dropped off a cutie with diamond dentures to a jewelry tycoon from Lebanon. The pickpocket’s name was Apollo. Like the mission. A fantastic showman. He would shake hands with people in the audience, crack jokes while he removed their rings, watches, and wallets.
Sometimes a long, unrolled condom.
Fred crossed Main Streat, decided to check out the elegant Adult Store, green-coiled snakes logo on its deep red awning.
There was a long line by the entrance and a crowd around its big storefront window. She squeezed her way up to the window as a young guy said to a young woman that reminded Fred of herself ten years ago.
“That is totally insane!” said the wide-eyed woman. “Fucking unreal!”
Fred peered in the window and watched a man and woman simulate unique sexual techniques in slow motion. It was Hannah and Hank, the attractive contortionists wearing skimpy underwear adorned with the store’s logo.
Fred felt her clit quiver.
The sexy young hostess smiled, “Welcome to the EcoErotica Emporium—Your Passionate Nature Playground. We apologize for the wait.”
The hostess extended her hand that had fingers with nails painted green and red to match the bra and panties and stilettos that she wore, nothing more.
The adult store was luxurious enough for the third floor at Neiman-Marcus. It was busy, but not pushy-shovey busy like it’d be if everyone waiting in line outside got in all at once.
“May I direct you to any particular area of pleasure, pretty woman?” the hostess asked. “We have a Kinki de Montparnasse lingerie sale.”
Fred told the hostess she needed a new dildo.
CHAPTER 47
Wendy Robinson was a hot little number with a bubble butt who showed Fred the Real Feel Deluxe. The Emporium associate explained that the lifelike vibrating dildo had a staggering 10.5 inches of insertable length. Wendy licked her lips before mentioning, “The Real Feel penis is thick and plush from head to testicles with a firm vibrating core and a soft yielding exterior.”
Fred bought the Deluxe and told Wendy she was a little embarrassed to ask, but she had to put down her twelve-year-old Weimaraner last month and was missing his firm companionship.
Fred wondered with a whisper if the store carried any animal sex toys.
Wendy assured Fred that her question was one she should never need to whisper, that Randall Roberts, the owner of EcoErotica, and many of their best clients were pet lovers. Were outspoken about Zoophilia. People who love their pets sexually needed to take a stand. Get some laws changed.
Also, Wendy had recently lost her collie, Sassy, who was buried in the town’s pet cemetery, a lovely spot that made you think about unconditional love.
Wendy walked Fred to the rear of the Emporium where a room called The Bestiality Boutique featured more than fifty different models and styles of animal dildos that blew Fred away.
She thought Wendy was going to show her a selection of canine dildos. Poodles and Pit Bulls. Not anatomically correct and artistically embellished phalluses of kangaroos, crocodiles, and elephants.
Wendy handed a whale dildo to Fred, pointing out the rippled purple vein details on the pink phallus.
“The Orca’s shaft is sixteen inches in length, which is two inches longer than the longest human penis.”
“That’s remarkable,” Fred said like she was Sally Singleton with upper-crust charm, checking out the Orca’s nut sack.
“The human penis world record belongs to an American guy named Jonah Falcon, who’s in his mid 40s. I saw him on Howard Stern, lives with his mom and grandmother,” Wendy said.
“Poor soul,” said Sally. “African American?”
“No, he’s a white dude and his penis is nine and a half inches soft, just under fourteen hard.”
Wendy slapped her sweet ass playfully.
“Imagine taking that big boy for a ride?”
Wendy giggled and Fred joined her. Girlie giggles.
She’d probably never use it, but to continue the con and get tighter with Wendy, Fred bought Hellmutt, a medium-sized doggie dick with a sizable knot.
The inflatable model that squirted.
Fred left the Emporium with her dildos, a free tube of SlickLick lubricant, and some very useful information.
As she headed toward the bowling alley on the opposite side of Main Streat across from Wonder Way, she took note of how the quaint stores and contemporary shops made good neighbors; stylish bistro snuggled between a barbershop and a funeral home.
Fred passed the bistro, wanted to stop and join the party going on in the restaurant patio, people eating delicious-looking appetizers and talking and laughing.
The smart looking stud from the head shop was part of the party.
Fred lingered for a moment like other tourists, watched the mix of young and older people have fun, looking smart and sure of themselves.
An interesting group in a town that was holding genuine appeal.
Strikes To Spare was filled with locals and tourists done up like hippies who grooved to The Village People cover band. Randall was up front doing the funky chicken until the Y, the M, the C, and the A came up and everyone on the disco dance floor threw up their arms to form the song’s iconic letters, going bananas in their hot pants and bell-bottoms. When Y.M.C.A. ended, Randall and his party returned hip humps from the band and then sat down at tables near the stage.
Fred stood outside the Easy Does It bar, sipped a Screwdriver and watched Randall chat and drink champagne, pop Austin Powers balloons.
She spotted Randall right away because Wendy at EcoErotica told her he’d be decked out in a pink psychedelic jacket with gold chains and a Garfunkel wig.
Fred stood in the bowling alley bar and felt like a million bucks. Her first time in town to check things out and bingo! Randall Roberts was rich, into zoophilia, laughed when he said he made no boners about it. He had a snobby sense of humor.
Fred had videos of him with a gorgeous Collie named Sassy licking Randall’s balls in the shower. But since Randall was so open about it, question was would he be threatened enough to pay fifty grand to keep the videos from going viral, which is what Reimer thought they were worth.
Like Reimer had a clue.
The black leather Village People cop tapped his billy club on the mic and said, pointing his finger all around the dance floor, “I’m asking this once and only once, any of you people got the balls to be a genuine . . . “
The cop stuck his billy club by his groin, erected it as the crowd roared, “. . . Macho Man,” and the band ripped into the classic.
Fred put down her drink, slung the fake Hermes handbag over her shoulder, and boogied out onto the dance floor.