Priscilla – my love

The woman ignored the ringing phone as her fingers
moved furiously on the keyboard. On the third ring, she
grabbed an open cigarette pack and expertly shook one
cigarette free from the pack, with one hand as the other
hand picked up the phone. Still staring at the PC’s display
monitor, she answered “Washington Post. You’ve got the
City Desk, Hampton.”

The caller’s soft reply startled the reporter “Hi Trish. Got
time to spend a few minutes with an old buddy?”

An impish smile lit up the woman’s normally tightly
pursed lips as she recognized the caller’s voice “Bryan
Patterson, you old has-been. What stump did you drag
yourself out from under? Do you still have your nose so far
up Priscilla’s ass that you can’t blow your nose without
giving her an enema?”

His voice quaked slightly, as if he was fighting back tears
“No, it’s over between us We’re still friends and see each
other occasionally, but …”

She lit her cigarette, letting it dangle between her lips as
she hunched over a small mound of research paper spread
across her desk “Well.., look I’m sorry. I didn’t know.
Why don’t you come by and I’ll buy the first round of beer.
Then we can talk about old times and forget about those
romances that didn’t work out.”

His voice sounded a little more cheery “I’d like to do that
but I can’t. Look I need a favor – a big favor. Can you take
a break and talk to me -sort of like old times?”

She pushed her messy mane of thick curly hair back with
one hand as she glanced around to see if any supervisors
were in the room. Leaning down over her desk a little more
to muffle her voice so that nearby reporters wouldn’t hear
her, her voice dropped to just above a whisper “You want
some dirty talk – some phone sex, do you, my friend? What
have you got in your hand?”

His loud reply was almost a scream “NO! I want to talk!
TALK! You’re the only one that I trust and know that I can
open up with. Come on Trish, it’s me and I need your

She sat up straighter and blew a hard cloud of cigarette
smoke like a steam engine, from the side of her lips.
Changing her tone of voice to a more professional sound,
she tried to hide her chagrin at misunderstanding him and
his obvious rebuff of her very personal overture “Look
Bryan, it’s twenty minutes till press time and I’ve got a
story to get out. How about a beer after work? I get off in
three hours.”

There was no answer and she paused as she tried to figure
out what was bugging him. At one time, she knew him
quite well – as inside out as two frequent lovers could
know each other. It wasn’t a `sleep with me every night’
type of relationship, but a `you’ve had too much to drink
and why don’t you spend the night in my bed’ type of
relationship. Both of them would get up and go their
separate ways the next morning as they fought each other
for the choice newspaper reporting assignments. If it
hadn’t been for that nerdy librarian, Priscilla Larzing and
her big, innocent doe-looking eyes, Bryan and Trish would
have continued their every two-three weeks all-night
sexual release pattern and Bryan would still be working at
the paper as a reporter.

Glancing up at the clock, she saw that her deadline was
fast approaching and her story needed a little more re-
writing. Holding the phone against her ear with her
shoulder, she began typing as she picked up where his
phone call had interrupted her. Recognizing that he hadn’t
answered her question nor said anything in over five long
seconds of silence, she asked “Bryan, are you alright?”

His choked-up voice indicated that he wasn’t alright
“Trish, I have to talk to someone. Do you know Gary

The sound of her keyboard-clicking stopping signaled that
he had re-grabbed her attention. Her simple “I wish. He’s
the man of mystery – the sultan of sex – the man that’s got
every woman in town fawning over him.”

His voice became slightly higher pitched as he tried to
regain his composure “Well, I know all about him. I know
his secrets. And that’s why I have to talk to you. I have to
tell someone – someone that I trust – about his evil

His voice became louder and more excited “He’s pure evil –
the devil incarnate on Earth. And he must be exposed.
That’s why you must listen to me. YOU MUST WRITE

His sudden sobbing shook her up almost as much as his
outburst. Looking at the clock, she knew that if she
listened to her upset friend, she would miss her deadline.
For just a moment, she considered her responsibility to
her work, then she quietly said “Bryan, it’s alright. I’m
going to put you on hold, get someone to finish this article
for me, and then I’ll pick up the phone back in Mac’s
office. Just hold on for two minutes and let me get some

His sobbing voice choked out the words “thank you.”

She pressed the hold button, grabbed a junior reporter,
gave him thirty seconds of explanation and instructions on
the story, then grabbed her pack of cigarettes, her coffee
cup and her steno pad. She rushed back into an empty
editor’s office and sat down at his desk before picking up
on the on-hold line.

“Bryan, I’m back. Now what’s going on with Gary Franks?
What do you know about him and how did you become
involved with him?”

His voice was very calm “I met him through Priscilla.”

Trish laughed out loud “Priscilla? That wallflower knows
Gary Franks?”

His crisp words indicated that she’d hit a sore point “You
know nothing about her. You hate her simply because I fell
in love with her.”

If he could’ve seen Trish’s angry eyes, he would’ve known
that he was right. However, her professional cool voice
replied “That has nothing to do with it. I hated her before I
found out that you were cheating on me with her.
Afterwards, I just had a larger reason to hate her besides
the fact that she’s a stupid, fucking overweight, ugly nerd.
She spends all day pouring through a couple of hundred
books to find some dumb obscure fact and then feels good
about her contribution to society. Face it, Bryan, she’s a
loser. Look at her closely and you’ll see what I see, Bryan.
She is the world’s worst sloppy dresser and can’t even put
her lipstick on correctly. She might be able to instantly
find forty-two different ways to put on mascara in her
research books but the way that she looked every day that
I saw her at work, shows that she doesn’t know shit about
making herself look presentable. I’ve seen whores with
better color coordination and more up-to-date hairstyles. It
hurt me to know that you left me for her.”

Bryan’s voice became softer, more apologetic “Look, I’m
sorry that I hurt you. You know that I didn’t do it on
purpose. It just happened between us. When I became
involved with her, I was stuck on that long multi-part story
and needed a lot of research. I spent a lot of time down
there in the research department with her going through
file cabinet after file cabinet. We became very good friends
and she began to open up to me, revealing the real her,
instead of that dumpy little woman that everyone thought
she was.”

“Shit, you mean to tell me that the stupid bitch had a
fucking personality that she kept hid from everyone. Let
me run out here and get them to stop the presses. This is
front page material.” Trish’s voice was both loud and
sarcastic as she lambasted her former co-worker.

“Shut up. I called you to talk to you, not to be screamed
at.” Screamed Bryan through the phone again.

Her knuckles became white as she clinched the phone
handset tightly, letting the hard plastic absorb her anger.
A second later, she put a phony smile on her face so that
her voice sounded more cheery “Sorry, just had to let you
know that talking with anyone about her is about as
enjoyable as working in Mac’s office after he’s had beans
for lunch.”

His real laugher indicated that her joking had broken the
tension. For a moment, both of the giggled and reminisced
about the famous Mac’s stinky farts. Then he said “But I’m
wasting time, which is something that I don’t have. Let me
tell you the story as I would write it, for you to think about
it, then you can write it the way that you feel is best.”

She shook out another cigarette and chain-lit it from her
almost finished cigarette as she flipped her notebook to a
clean page. With the new cigarette dangling from her lips,
she suggested “I’m all ears.”

“Where do I start? I suppose that I owe you an answer and
reason as to why I moved in with Priscilla and quit the
paper. Yes, you were right. I was sleeping with her and
ignoring your suggestions for a date. After my first full day
working in the Research Department on that current
project, I was all burnt out. As I staggered out of that
dusty file depository, all dirty and eye-strained from hours
of staring at faded documents, she grabbed my elbow and
led me to the nearest bar. And you know my weakness for
alcohol and its side-effect on me. Give me three beers and I
become so horny that even Hillary Clinton looks good to
me. If it will make you feel any better, it took five beers
before I became horny from being around her. I tried to
ignore it but the little head began making suggestions to
me – lewd suggestions about seeing if I could convince her
to let me tit-fuck her. But before I had a chance to
remember my Catholic upbringing, I was marching out of
that bar with a six-pack under my arm and my hand
tucked down the back of her panties, feeling her chubby
little warm ass. I admit it was my suggestion that we go
somewhere and fuck but she surprised me when she


“Sorry, but I think so. It’s important that you understand
the relationship that we had at first, then you’ll see why
I’m surprised at the way that she changed when she met

She sipped her coffee, before responding “Ok, so tell me
how you fucked her, but first I have a professional
question. Did she have as much hair on her boobs as she
had on her upper lips?”

The ten seconds pause startled Trish. She glanced at the
lit-up button to make sure that he was still on the phone,
then he said, “I’ll pretend that I didn’t hear that. And she
wasn’t into tit-fucking or other `weird’ sexual act, as she
called them. But for the record, she had a decent body –
not nice, but decent. Not great but it was functional and
able to service most of my needs. As for the other facts,
she’s twenty-seven years old, and she’s been heavy all her
life. But at five-foot six, her thirty pounds overweight
looked like more. As for her upper lip, she had a few wild
hairs that she kept under control with tweezers. And no,
there was no thick pad of curly chest hair on her boobs.
But I didn’t fall in love with her because of her body; I fell
in love with her because of her mind. After she got over her
initial shyness with me, I discovered that she had the most
brilliant mind that I’d met. She could reel off facts all night
long and discuss anything from Plato’s philosophy to
naming all of Elvis’s number one hits, to naming all of the
Little Rascals – Spanky, Buckwheat, Alfalfa, Carla etc. I
screwed her that first night and wished that I had more
beer as I started sobering up, recognizing whom was
sharing my bed. But later laying there in the dark, with
her naked body lying next to my equally naked body,
talking about life and dreams, I recognized that there was
more to her than just the bookworm that we joked about.
She had a truly wonderful personality. I made love to her
again, but this time it was because I wanted her, not
because I was drunk.”

“Out with it, Bryan. End the suspense. How many times
did you pump her?”

“Only twice that first night. Then I went home and mulled
about allowing myself to become romantically involved
with her. I had to go back to the Research Room the next
morning and work beside her all day and I kept asking
myself how I allowed myself to lower my personal
standards to sleep with anyone that looked the way that
looked everyday. I kept questioning my judgement as I
looked at how she looked that day. As soon as my work
shift was over, I slipped out the back door, although she’d
been hinting that she’d like a beer after work. I rushed
home, not trusting myself, and promised myself that I
wouldn’t have any more personal involvement with her.
But I came back to her bed that next evening which
started our affair. Two weeks later, you found out about us
and raised hell.”

“What did you expect? I thought that we had something
special and you rubbed shit in my face.”

“Come on, Trish. We were only friends.”

“Yeah, if I’d got pregnant from being `only friends’ with
you, would you upgrade our relationship as being
something special?”

“Trish, we both told each other that our careers came first
and neither of us wanted a relationship. It was a mutual
decision to keep our relationship to an occasional fuck

“Yeah, well I lied.” The snappy quick comeback from Trish
revealed that the discussion was getting a little too
personal for her.

“I’m sorry. I know that won’t change things. Let me sum
up my relationship with Priscilla quickly and I’ll try not to
hurt you. I fell in love with a dumpy, frumpy unkempt
woman because it was her brilliant mind and charming wit
that captivated me. When you turned against me, she was
there to comfort me and to help me with my work-related
problems. When I got the job offer to write the book on the
Royal family, she supported my decision to quit the paper
and work on the book full time. She moved in with me and
not only helped me with the research, but opened up new
insights for me to think about into the personalities of the
Royal family. I got enough up-front advance from my
publisher to hire her to work full-time as my researcher, so
we both worked out of our shared apartment. And then
Gary Franks came to town with his sexy harem of
beautiful women.”

“He does have a harem of beautiful perfect women. Most
men either hate him or want to be him because of that
mob of perfect woman-flesh that accompanies him
everywhere. As a woman, I can’t personally see why all
those women find him so irresistible.”

“Priscilla and I were in a restaurant. I’d promised her a
decent meal when we reached a certain milestone and was
paying off my debt. He walked in, surrounded by twelve of
the most beautiful and sexy women that I’d ever seen in
my life. I’ve attended several beauty pageants during my
reporting days and seen lots of attractive women before,
but this was different. Every woman in his party could be
rated as a perfect ten. It’s something when one perfect
woman walks into a room, but when twelve of them walk
in – it was absolute paradise. I’ll admit that I had a ragging
hard-on by the third woman and was seriously considering
pounding my pud when the last one walked by.”

Trish laughed a hearty laugh “Yeah, that’s the way that I
hear it too. Mac called them the `Prime Pussy Parade’ one
day when we were thinking about doing a Style section
article on him and his women. I’ve heard that other men
have been affected that same way and that’s part of the
mystery of Gary Franks – what’s he got that can attract
and hold such beautiful women?”

“After they walked by us and sat down at a nearby large
table, I felt like grabbing Priscilla and throwing her up on
the table and relieving myself right there on the spot. I was
very aroused but knew it wasn’t the time or place. But I
resisted the desire and watched the table of women as they
sat down. Then one of the women caught my eyes. I saw
her staring at me as if she recognized me. I stared back
and she gave me a faint smile as if to say `who the fuck do
you think you are’ but she kept looking my way. After they
placed their order, she leaned over and whispered
something to Franks, then I saw him look at my table. I
pretended that I was more interested in my salad but when
she strolled over to my table, I had to hold back the drool.
At a distance, she was perfection. Up close, she was a
perfect goddess. She had long dark hair, thick eyelashes,
vibrant green eyes, pouty kissable lips and a dress two
sizes too small for her luscious Playboy centerfold body.
Did I mention that she had nice breasts? She stood beside
our table and asked `Hi, I’m Marcie Greene. Do you
remember me?’ It’s an understatement to say that you can
never forget anyone as attractive as her, but my mind was
whirling with thousands of brilliant witticisms as my lips
replied `No.’ She laughed a sexy bimbo-type laugh and said
`Sorry, I was talking to your friend.’ I turned my head to
see who she was talking about – after all; there was just
Priscilla and me. Then I heard Priscilla say `I used to know
a Marcie Green. She was a Financial Major at Harvard
when I was doing some research there.’ I don’t know who
was more surprised – Priscilla or me – when the woman
giggled `that’s little ol’ me.’ This woman looked like the
stereotyped teenage boy’s fantasy woman and Priscilla
remembered her as being nothing more than an ugly-
ducking Financial Wizard from Harvard. You can see why I
was stunned.”

“I’ve heard that rumor before. That most of the women are
women who’ve got the brains and education to do anything
that they want, but instead choose to be Frank’s bimbo-
like girlfriends.”

“It’s true. They all act like bimbos but when you ask one of
them a highly technical question, they can reel off an
answer that’ll stun you coming from their lips. They
remember every thing but act dumb. But back to my story
– Marcie giggled and grabbed Priscilla like they were long
lost sisters. I was wishing that it was me that she was
rubbing those magnificent hooters against my chest while
Priscilla was looking at me slightly confused over Marcie’s
shoulder as if she was saying `who the fuck is this’. Then
Marcie turned to me and hugged me as she declared `any
friend of my good friend Priscilla, is a friend of mine’.
Needless to say, I was in seventh heaven with all that
fantastic female body rubbing against me. Then Marcie sat
down at our table and began catching up on old times with
Priscilla. I thought that she would talk about stock market
fluctuations or something appropriately nerdy, but she
was laughing and giggling about how the two of them had
wasted so much time with their noses buried in books. It
was Marcie’s vivacious personality that directed the very
short discussion about what both women had been doing
since those college days. Marcie quickly let us both know
that her days of being a `brain’ were over and she was out
to enjoy life and to live every moment to the fullest. I was
shocked but not as much as Priscilla. Then he came over
to our table.”