Breakfast at Cassandra's

Brittany Flowers was 73 years old in 1982, but the former Hollywood beauty - star of over 20 feature films back in the '30s and '40s - was still stunning.

Her piercing blue eyes and blonde locks (albeit, dyed) fully complemented her youthful and perky spirit.

She appeared in T.V. shows and movies in the '50's and '60's and by the late '70's, Ms. Flowers owned a health-food store and did various charity work.

She still had so much on her plate that she required a personal assistant.

Enter Harold Melbourne.

Harold had been bouncing around from place to place in Hollywood, trying to find steady work while he waited for his acting career to take off.

Working for Brittany was fun and easy, not too taxing.

Most of the time, he took and made a lot of phone calls, made appointments, ran errands. Brittany still entertained a lot so it was up to Harold to make sure the eight-bedroom house was clean, immaculate, and stocked with various foods and liquid refreshments.

Harold was 34 years old, Brittany 73. But she always went out of her way to prove she was still "hip."

She fiddled with a Rubik's Cube now and again, played Duran Duran, even bought an Atari for the large-screen television in the spacious living room.

***

Harold lived at the house to make things easier and provide a steadier flow.

On many evenings, the two would just hang out at the house and take in a movie, a way of coming down from the stresses of the day.

The movies spanned from PG-rated, family flicks, to more raunchy, R-rated ventures.

Harold squirmed in his seat a bit when one evening the two watched Porky's, as he wasn't used to taking in such a flick with a woman of Brittany's age. But he did get a kick out of how she thought the film was a riot, laughing at every sex-based punchline.

Over a span of six months, the two had become chummy.

Every Sunday, they met with a crew of Brittany's old pals, both male and female, at Cassandra's Diner in downtown Hollywood, not far from where Brittany's star graced the Walk of Fame.

***

Coffee kept flowing one particular Sunday morning at Cassandra's, meaning everyone was a bit more hopped up than normal.

"Hey, Britt, how is Marvin Harding these days?" asked Bert.

Brittany gave a wry smile.

"I have no earthly idea, Bert," she responded.

"I thought you would know," he kidded.

She scoffed at that suggestion.

"Maybe you should know," she fired back.

"Who are we talking about?" asked Estelle, Brittany's co-star in 'Dancing the Night Away,' many years back.

"Marvin Harding," Jimmy informed.

"Oh," Estelle said. "Ooohhhhh..."

"Yeah, that Marvin Harding," the heavy-set, chain-smoking Jimmy kidded further.

Estelle and him had a laugh.

"Jeez," Brittany said aloud, "the last time I saw Marvin was probably...the shoot of Mr. Chism, and that was..."

"19...68 I wanna say?" Bert pondered.

"I think so," Brittany added. "Yeah, yeah, because it was when the studio moved to - "

"That's right," Bert agreed.

All kinds of chitter-chatter broke out between the group, having to do with this Marvin character, but Brittany and Bert spoke loud enough that eventually their voices were the only ones heard.

"Britt, what was his official title?" asked Joan.

"How do you mean?" she said, with a teasing smile.

"I mean...he was just...always there, but he wasn't an actor was he?" Joan went on.

"Art used him as an extra quite often," Bert clarified.

Brittany chuckled.

"He was an extra extra extra," Bert kidded, as some got the joke, some didn't.

"Is that how he made his living?" Joan persisted.

Brittany shrugged.

"That and various appearances...sideshows," Bert kidded.

Brittany now gave into a more hearty chuckle. She couldn't help it.

"He was just always...THERE," Estelle laughed.

"And yet he wasn't really an actor," Peggy chimed in.

"The last I heard of Marvin," Brittany informed, having to dig a bit in her memory bank, "was when he was a blackjack dealer in Vegas, and that was maybe around '71 or '72..."

"Dealing some Seven Card STUD," Bert kidded.

Harold just sat there quietly, finishing the final few buttery bites of his pancakes.

Brittany gave him a sympathetic smile, as he was pretty clueless as to what - or moreover who - they were talking about.

"I remember when he was trying to get...uh, how do you say...validation?" Bert asked.

"He didn't get enough of it at those parties?" Brittany fired back, with a laugh.

"No, I remember he actually called - " Mark began but was cut off.

"Yeah, and they said they didn't do that," Reggie answered.

"Harold's sitting there thinking, 'what the fuck are these old farts talking about?'" interjected Bob.

That crass remark ushered in the loudest, raucous laughter yet.

Soon, the subject changed.

***

Brittany drove herself and Harold back home, casually cruising down Nixon Way.

"I love big cars," she remarked, speaking of her brand-new, gold-painted Cadillac Eldorado. "Feels like I'm in my living room."

"Britt, I have to ask, what was all the hub-ub about Marvin Harding?" he offered.

Again, the mere mention of his name prompted a giggle.

"Marvin...oh I don't even know how to start," Brittany began, with a laugh.

"Marvin was, I guess you could say, a hanger-on," she admitted. "He made his way by bartending, doing odd jobs, but like Peg said, he was always around...He...was an extra in several movies..."

Her voice wavered, unsure if she wanted to tell Harold the whole story about good old Marvin.

She took a deep breath and pushed forward.

"Well, as you know, Harold, the conversation at Cassandra's isn't always PG-rated," she said with a laugh.

"It was Hollywood, ya know?" she said, pausing a good few seconds for affect.

She sighed.

"Wild parties, drinking...," she said of that era, trailing off.

"Marvin was known...," she began, but again gave in to fits of chuckles.

She was fighting an uphill battle but bravely pushed forward.

"Harold, Marvin was notorious around Hollywood for having a big - I mean, an outrageously huge, uh...schlong," she finally divulged.

Harold had the wind knocked out of him with this news.

"I mean," she began, already starting to crack up. "It was his claim to fame, I guess you could say."

She chuckled, and then there was quiet for a moment. Harold didn't know how to respond, but he had to say something.

"Did...you see it?" he wondered aloud.

"Oh, everyone that knew Marvin saw it, I can assure you," she laughed. "Everyone at that table saw it, without question. Marvin loved to display it. Like a proud parent (laugh)."

Before Harold could even ponder how or when this would happen, Brittany went on, at great length.

"See, a few actresses I knew would actually book Marvin at their parties, just to make an appearance," she explained. "They would PAY him to show up (laugh). After some time, and many drinks, one of the women would urge Harold to, ahem, show, his gift...And yeah, he would just, unzip his fly, take out his exceptionally long dork, and those who hadn't seen it before were floored. Those who had seen it...I think were still floored (laugh)..."

'What the fuck is happening?!' Harold thought to himself amusingly. Much to his surprised, Britt further embellished her recounts of these tales.

"Sometimes, he would simply just...take it out, and that was that," she said bluntly. "Other times, he would pick it up and swing it around (laugh). It had, oh what's the word - windmill. It had a definite windmill quality to it (snort). It was captivating, I have to say."

"Jesus," Harold laughed.

"It was an absolute elephant trunk of a penis," Brittany continued. "Too bad porn wasn't back then what it is today 'cause...Marvin could have given John Holmes a run for his money. Marvin really could have pedaled his wears..."

Harold's mind was spinning. He still hadn't gotten past this news from Brittany, and now she openly referenced BIG male porn stars. Wow, she really was hip.

"Now I never saw Marvin actually measure his anatomical gift, but he put it out there - he claimed - that (laugh)...fully hard, his penis was 16 inches long," she explained.

The credibility-defying figure only made her crack up even more. Facts and figures seemed to matter little. Moreover, it was the naughty, girlish enthusiasm Brittany displayed in her story telling that had Harold so drawn in.

"Now that sounds, a little sketchy, but...I have to say I wouldn't discredit it," she laughed, speaking of the measurement. "Marvin was usually completely flaccid when he took it out and it...it hung a goooood distance down, south of the equator (laugh)..."

She started cracking up again.

"He used to joke that he had to feed it peanuts," she said, laughing like a teenager.

Harold's average-sized but fiercely-aroused member was now pushing hard against the inside of his trousers. The more this sexy, alluring 73-year-old beauty carried on about the hey days of Hollywood and Marvin Harding's memorable member, Harold wanted to find a quiet place and masturbate himself to a euphoria-inducing spasm.

"Oh, but anyway, any thoughts on lunch for later?" she asked easily, able to change subjects without any difficulty.

Harold was having a tougher time.

"Um...I don't know," he pondered.

His head was still spinning.

***

Over the next couple weeks, Harold was assigned to organize Brittany's attic.

There were various plaques, old dresses, a rocking horse...several board games.

Typical attic stuff.

But then he found an ancient but still usable film projector, and with it a big cardboard box filled with dusty film reels.

He gave them a whirl.

Harold watched a few. There was no sound, but the images still came through pretty clear.

Some were of Brittany at a lake, others were from her playing with her two nieces.

Then, without warning, Harold stumbled upon a real gem.

In this one, Brittany walked through a dark house, talking and smiling with whoever was filming.

They walked into a brightly-lit ballroom, and into the company of several nude men.

Completely nude.

Harold's jaw almost hit the basement floor, and he was in the attic.

He was in shock, and very, very aroused.

It was 30-something-year-old Brittany, mingling and talking with several bare-ass-naked men. She was dressed formally in an evening gown.

Some of the men were average build, some were buff.

From what he could make out, Harold counted about seven or eight men - all nude, and 10 or so regally-dressed women.

Holy Fucking Shit. When and where did this party take place???

Harold couldn't resist. He pulled down his trousers and underwear and began stroking his already hardened rod.

He knew he wasn't gonna last.

Little did he know, he was soon to have unexpected company.

The loud clickety-clack of the projector did a good job of drowning out the sound of the barefoot Brittany quietly slinking up the ladder to the packed attic.

She approached, peering over Harold's shoulder.

"Harold? Are you...masturbating in my attic?!" she questioned, more amused than offended.

Harold, comically, shot his load all over his pants as he hastily tried to put his pecker back in his trousers.

Brittany laughed as though they were watching Porky's again.

"I didn't ruin it for you, did I?" she even asked.

He apologized profusely, but she waved him off. She acted as though she should be apologizing to him.

"Oh, my God, you found my old movies!?" she rejoiced, as Harold noticed she used the word movies, plural.

"Harold, I have to tell you the story behind this," she calmly remarked, as if she was simply suggesting a topic for tea time.

"C'mon, you bad boy, let's head down," she offered, as the two descended from the attic, with Harold very much on a high.

TO BE CONTINUED...