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Bethany didn't write this story and that is the greatest tragedy of all. She'd earned a scholarship to UCLA for journalism and poetry, and the one short story she allowed me to read struck me as sensual, razor-sharp and pure genius. It was frighteningly angry, but also vulnerably deep. If she wrote the story you're reading now it would've been a work of art both loved and hated, but ultimately loved, as Beth was. Hopefully I've captured a fraction of her spirit, we'll see.

She stopped writing in her second semester at UCLA, deciding her teachers were full of shit and losing a scholarship. Her sister, who I always found to be jealous of Beth and quite nasty about it, suggested Beth try modeling, since no matter how badly Beth fucked up, she'd always be too pretty for her own damn good. That's roughly the same time I met Beth, and to my knowledge she hasn't written anything since. So this is Bethany as I knew her, unpredictable, sexy, opinionated, strong, poetic, passionate, and wife.

About eighteen months ago, after fighting horrible Labor Day traffic leading into Santa Monica, I came home to find Beth tapping a pen on a glass desk, transfixed on my computer screen. She was dressed in her thin white sweats but had apparently skipped yoga class.

"Beth? Everything cool?"

"No it isn't cool. Look what Sherri just sent me."

On the monitor glowed a professionally lit picture of Beth laying face down on a pool table with her ass raised in the air. She wore a pair of black lacy panties with eight-ball graphics centered over her butt. Her ass took up most of the frame with her torso hidden behind, making it impossible to tell if she wore anything else. Her head lay off to the side, her black hair hanging partially over her face, and she stared back at me with steely blue eyes and a far from innocent smile. In the background stood the out of focus mid-section of a man wearing a suit and holding a full shot glass. But the overtly sexual focal point was her gorgeous juicy ass in the tight eight-ball undies. I grew hard the instant I saw it.

"I knew when I let that huge asshole talk me into this shot it would end up going to print. Brad pushes it, and I'm not the only one who says so. If I give him a little cleavage he asks to lose the whole top. So the one time I let the jerk 'try something a little more exciting' this is what happens."

"What's Sherri say?"

"She thinks it's great!" Beth threw the plastic pen at the monitor. "She says it's nice to see me loosening up, and that it should be a huge boost to my career."

"Is she right?"

"It doesn't matter––she's supposed to have my back."

Sherri is my wife's lesbian agent and has continued to represent my wife despite Beth's reputation of being difficult to work with. Looks-wise, my wife is well aware she's out of everyone's league, and typically behaved icy cold towards any man bold enough to flirt, which photographers like Brad loved to do. She also got a little soapboxy whenever they nudged the shoot in a sexual direction, and I can only imagine how annoying that was. On one occasion she violently scribbled lipstick all over her own face and affectively ended the session. It's not that Beth had real issues with men­­––trust me, our sex-life was sound and there were several lovers before me––it's more or less she felt competitive with them, and hated being trivialized into a pretty face and cute tits by a masterful photographer executing his vision.

"Look, Sherri loves a good ass as much as I do. Face it––you have a great ass, take pride in that."

"Really? Well Sherri sent the type that goes with it. Read it!"

The shot was intended for a Svedka Vodka ad, and the top line would read, 'It's you're shot!' and then continued at the bottom of the page, 'Take it!'

"OK, its suggestive, but-"

"Suggestive? People are going to open up a magazine and see a full page invitation to fuck me."

I laughed, which didn't help the situation.

"Look baby, you have the most deep seductive eyes, like a poet's, every shot of them makes me want to fuck you, too."

That's not the same and you know it."

"Maybe not, but I still think you're making more out of this than you need to. And like Sherri says, you're getting a bit of a reputation so this might help alleviate it and line up a little more work."

"So you're totally OK with––well like Parker staring at this when it goes to print."

Parker was my big macho friend and boss who really liked to talk up the ladies.

"I'm fine with that."

"Really?" She suddenly smiled, totally holding back laughter. "And what if he took it into the bathroom and pulled out his disgusting little worm and started jacking off and making that monkey face he makes every time he says 'Let's get it on!'" Beth could barely finish without completely cracking up.

"I'm not even going to entertain that thought."

"What if he tells you about it afterwards? 'Oh man, Beth's ass looked so righteous in that ad, I had to totally stroke myself!"

We were both cracking up now.

"This is precisely why you freak out over stuff like this––you think every man behaves like a Viagra stuffed horn-dog."

"But if he did, you'd be fine with it?"

"Yes, because it's my shot, not his, and I'm taking it!"

I picked her up and carried her laughing into the bedroom as I took one last look over my shoulder towards her picture on the screen. Damn I wanted that ass in a bad way, and the lucky man I was, I soon had it!

I quickly pulled off her jeans and tossed her on the bed. I then jumped on top of her and made out for a minute before grabbing her leg and posing her like the ad.

In an effeminate voice I used the words of Brad the photographer. "Let's try something a little more exciting, shall we?"

"Very funny, but Brad is more of the Parker type." I slapped my hands on her tight butt cheeks. "He's all muscle and gross, fake-baked tan, and he can barely keep it in his pants long enough not to hit on every model he works with."

"Really?" I yanked her underwear down. "I guess that makes sense, only a straight man could truly grasp the beauty of your booty." I then spanked that beautiful booty to accentuate my point. "Goddamn I love your ass." I leaned down and bit it, and bit it hard enough to make her yelp.

"The photo has you a little worked up, does it?"

"If you only knew."

I quickly buried my face between her cheeks and feasted on her creamy snatch. The thought of my feisty wife submitting for a photo drove me wild. She laid face down, ass up, and totally surrendered to a devouring of her lady parts. As I brought her towards orgasm I stopped just long enough to ask a favor––let the ad go through. And when she surprisingly agreed to it, my dick turned full-on concrete. I quickly dropped my pants and stuck my cock in her juicy little depot, making her hum like she'd sunk into a warm tub.

"You really are all the same. Even my own husband sees me as nothing more than some hot piece of ass he can stick it in."

I pumped her doggy style as hard as I could and teased back, "You cook a pretty good meal, too,"

I was always horny for my wife, but that Svedka Vodka photo turned me into a real sexual deviant. As a result we did it almost every night for two weeks straight, and then another straight week when the ad finally went to print.

I've been referred to as weird, but only by friends and always in an endearing way. It's actually one of the reasons Beth fell for me. What I'm about share next, however, would've certainly caused Beth to either shake her head in disgust or laugh herself to pieces.

I was on a business trip in Maine, representing my company at a boat convention, and in the evening I clicked through cable channels from my hotel room bed. While I never caught the name of it, I happened upon a softcore action flick on Cinemax that changed my life forever. It featured Arab terrorists holding a general's daughter hostage, and a secret-ops team commanded by a James Bond wannabe who was called in to rescue her. The top billed Actress was the chick playing the kidnapped daughter, but it was a female soldier serving the American team who was absolutely the best looking. In fact, she was way too hot to be in such a cheesy skin flick, and I only watched in the off chance she'd shed a few clothes.

Then about three-quarters into the film, the secret-ops team traced a terrorist internet broadcast announcing the execution of the general's daughter, which led them to an old factory in the Middle East. Time was of the essence, and the American team of black clad assassins stealthily raided the abandoned factory.

The hot soldier had a slightly tighter outfit than her fellow assassins, and her steely blue eyes and pink lips glowed from the slits in her black ski mask. She positioned herself on the top most catwalk and functioned as sniper while the rest of the men searched ground level. Just as she locked sight on an Arab patrolling a row of shipping crates, a huge hand grabbed her from behind.

After a blurry second she was suddenly held by one terrorist while an enormous bearded Arab reached for her mask. Her knee met with his groin, which obviously hurt but ultimately just angered the giant into shoving her back against the wall. His hands then patted over her chest until he felt something strange underneath her jacket, and tore it open to find a pair of tits.

So I got my wish, the scathing hot girl actually showed her goods. They were every bit as beautiful as the rest of her, and her awesome military posture presented them quite proudly.

The huge terrorist did rip off her mask then, and revealed her pretty steely eyed face. He smiled brutishly and she spit right between his eyes. They briefly stared each other down––clearly only one would live to end of the film, and given the fact she was a super secret-op, odds were in her favor despite the current predicament. The big Arab then grabbed a handful of short stylish blonde hair and dragged her down the catwalk, while the second guy trailed excitedly behind.

In the kill room where the general's daughter was held, the terrorist leader received word on his ear-piece that an American soldier had been captured. He then ordered them to take the daughter away and start the camera recording.

The secret-ops commander had just spotted the guy patrolling the shipping crates and whispered to his team something must be wrong if their girl hadn't taken him out. A soldier operating a laptop and tracking the broadcast reported the execution had begun. They all watched over his shoulder as the terrorist leader appeared on the little screen and blamed the tyranny of American Pigs for what they were about to witness. The small team jumped into action, shooting the terrorist guard and desperately looking for the kill room.

Back inside the kill room, the female soldier was carried through a huge steel door. To my surprise she was completely naked, with two men carrying her legs, two men carrying her arms, and the big guy still holding her by the hair. They flipped her onto her stomach and set her on a table placed in the center of an otherwise empty room. It was too short for her to lie on, so she had to kneel. They tied her hands and one guy pressed her face against the cold metal table top, which left her ass sticking straight into the air. There were roughly eight terrorist all jumping around her excitedly and chirping a bunch of nonsense.

For a moment I thought they were going to gang rape her, and I actually grabbed the remote control to spare myself the grizzly sight. But this was a softcore action flick filled with bad jokes and nothing quite so dark, so I braved the outcome, banking the cool sexy soldier would be saved by her commander and troops.

The terrorists then argued about the best way to execute their alternate victim on live Internet, going back and forth between shooting, hanging, or stabbing her to death. Through the entire film the terrorist were these bungling dumb-shits, and their leader had grown increasingly annoyed with them.

The huge Arab she'd spit on earlier suddenly let out a shrieking war-cry and produced a hand grenade from his jacket pocket. The rest of the men watched in disbelief as the giant man tore out the pin with his teeth and ran up behind the hot soldier. With her ass still raised in the air he slammed a meaty paw on her squishy cheek, and punched the grenade into her asshole. They filmed it from the side, making it appear as if his whole hand plunged in. She gritted her teeth and her eyes grew intensely wide, while another Arab kept her head to the table and the big guy struggled to dig his arm deeper into her butt. It was a joke out of an Austin Power's movie at this point, and they went to the extreme of having him burry his oversized arm all the way up to his elbow, causing his jacket sleeve to bunch up at the crack of her ass. The Arab holding down her head yelled out, "Fire in the hole!" and everyone dropped to the ground and hid in the corners of the small windowless room. The big guy then began to pull his arm out only to find she'd clenched her ass and trapped his hand inside. As concern emerged in his eyes, he braced his free hand roughly on her ass cheek and struggled to yank out the arm lodged deep inside her bowels.

Despite the fact it was all filmed as a joke, the implications of it were just so wrong that I shouted out loud in my hotel room, "Who thinks up this shit?" I mean, I'd fallen for this cool hot girl in the last sixty minutes. While her commander banged every bimbo informant they met, she'd roll her eyes and stay true to the part of the steely-eyed, tough soldier who performed most of the killing, and then without warning, she's suddenly naked on a table with some giant dude trying to rip his arm out of her ass in the most ridiculous, humiliating scene ever imagined.

The Arab finally leaned his forehead against the top of her butt, tightened his grip on her left cheek, made the scariest face you've ever seen and, screaming, popped his arm free and dove for the floor.

Outside, her commander stormed the factory halls in search of the kill room, until the soldier with the lap top again alerted him to the events of the broadcast. The commander turned white as he realized the naked girl with her ass in the air and a grenade up her butt was not the daughter, but rather his favorite soldier.

Then came a shot of the terrorists huddled on the floor with their fingers in their ears, waiting for the loud pop. And as orchestral thunder built up, I was shown a cropped frame of her ass crack that rapidly zoomed out to her entire body kneeling on the table, surely an indicator she was about to blow.

The image on the soldier's laptop turned into static right as they all heard a loud bang from across the building, and immediately charged in that direction.

Meanwhile, the terrorist were coughing as they got back on their feet in a smoke filled room. The leader ordered them to retreat out the back door as the big bearded Arab landed a hand on his shoulder. He asked the leader if he'd made Allah proud, and the leader angrily scolded he'd almost killed them all. He then looked disgustedly at the giant arm with the sleeve still bunched up around the elbow, and carefully poked it away from his shoulder with a gun—obviously not keen on being touched by the same arm used to defile the girl's asshole.

The terrorist escaped that incident, but after they outrageously offed the hot soldier I stopped paying attention

Instead I puzzled over the girl who played the female soldier. It blew me away that a good looking talented actress would agree to such demeaning warped scene. While the violence was so toned down the grenade apparently vaporized her into smoke, the nudity was damn sure real. She may have only acted as if some guy's hand was jammed way up her ass, but the guy's other hand was squeezing on her butt cheek, and he was clearly into his role. And during her final shot, the very brief close up of her butt, the extreme bend at her waist meant her ass cheeks were pulled apart just enough to expose her cute little anus to the camera. I doubt she realized how much could be seen at the time, but zoomed in so close there was no way any viewer missed it. So not only did she show bush, something the other actresses failed to do, her asshole made a cameo. In a mere five minutes I saw her in a completely different light. Undoubtedly that scene limited her career, too, because no matter what roles she took afterwards or how great she acted, she'd always be remembered as the girl who had a grenade shoved up her ass. I'd even bet my house someone's made a looping gif of the big Arab punching the grenade up her keester, which routinely gets attached in angry forum postings, because there can be a no bigger, toe-curling fuck you than that.

I fell asleep early that night and in the early morning I dreamt of the movie. Dreaming, I watched the cast filming the grenade scene as if I were one of the crew. The crazy part is the hot soldier happened to be played by my wife, and I suddenly realized why I'd been so attracted to her in the first place. It took seeing Beth in the role to recognize how much the soldier reminded me of her. Beyond sharing the same gorgeous steely blue eyes they didn't look much alike, but they both possessed a cool scathing attitude and an untouchable allure, they both way out classed everyone around them and they both didn't take crap from any man. And like the character in the film, my wife is the last person in the world to have her bare ass in the air before a room full of men, yet there she was.

They were about to film the scene where the huge Arab inserts the grenade, when Beth stopped them to argue how the scene made no sense, because her character would never let herself end up at the mercy of a bunch of imbeciles. I had to admit, she did look out of place kneeling there naked with her ass presented to the room like... well like she had in the ad for Svedka Vodka. And it dawned on me––the way she'd posed on the pool table with her ass taking up two thirds of the frame came surprisingly close to the girl getting fisted on the metal table. Perhaps I was incorrect in thinking my wife would be the last person in the world to do this scene. My dreaming brain further merged reality with fantasy by adding the eight-ball panties she wore in the photo shoot, which now hung around her knees so Remy, the actor playing the big Arab who fists her, could do just that.

The actors in my dream grew annoyed with my wife for delaying the shot, and most wandered about the tiny room grumbling. What my wife missed was the longer she delayed filming, the longer she had to stay in that position, and the longer the cast and crew would stare at her perfectly displayed asshole, which they unabashedly did.

The director argued the scene was not only relevant, but the most gratifying scene of the film. He asked Remy for his opinion, and he whole-heartedly agreed.

The thing about my wife is she loves to hassle men for behaving like men, and challenging the director actually put her in a good feisty mood, so with a wry laugh she asked the entire cast and crew, "So everyone here would rather the bad-ass female take a grenade in her butt than hold her own with the terrorists. You all really think that's what my character deserves?"

They did, and Remy joked, "And not just your character."

She laughed. "You huge silly asshole, Remy, so you'd actually want to shove a grenade up my butt."

"More so by the minute."

That cracked up the entire room, including her.

"Guys are so fucked up. Fine, let's film this already."

The director then cried action and Remy squeezed her butt cheek and jammed his fist in, while my wife gritted her teeth and groaned "Uh, Uh, Uh, Umph!" She rolled her head towards me, and with a piercing stare and wicked smile, asked, "You do realize you're dreaming about some guy shoving a fist inside me, don't you?"