Me, You, My Wife, and Yours Pt. 06

The place exploded with clapping and stomping.

The door to the kitchen swung open as we approached, and Brad appeared, waving and shouting, "In here!"

We moved as fast as we could while still hugging. After we burst into the kitchen, Brad closed the swinging door and locked it by pushing a deadbolt up into the doorframe.

Helen and I came to a halt, spent and out of breath. We rested, both breathing heavily and still clinging on to each other. Helen saw Janet in the room with us, nodded and smiled at me in relief, resting her forehead on my shoulder in thanks as we both continued trying to catch our breath.

"Brad!" I said, as I got my wind back. "This is fucking insane." I rubbed my wife's back. "I can't fucking believe this. Let's get Helen... and Janet... right the fuck out of here."

Helen nodded again and hugged me tighter.

Brad grabbed my shoulder, and leaned in close. "Harry, listen!" he said, his voice low and intense, "Franky is out of his mind. After we saw this huge crowd, I told him Janet would have taken him up on the deal for eight grand instead of Helen, but that there were just too many men now so we were leaving, and he freaked the fuck out on me." Brad's voice got even more intense as he clenched his teeth, put his mouth closer to my ear and whispered. "He fucking threatened to kill us if we didn't do it."

Helen heard this and spun her head to look at Brad.

"Kill us?" I said loudly, both shocked and amused. "That fat little wimp? Right." I scoffed and chuckled.

Brad shook his head, looking deadly serious. He glanced over and nudged his head at the entrance to a dark corridor at the far end of the kitchen. It had a lit exit sign above it and two very serious looking men in suits stood there. They looked like they were guarding it.

"He left those guys... told them not to let anyone leave."

"Not let anyone leave?" I said, realizing something much bigger was happening here. Alarmed, I said, "What the fuck, Brad! Who are these people?"

Brad shrugged. "I had heard rumors that Franky was a nutjob and in the mob, but I never believed any of them.... until now." Brad frowned and shook his head, looking distraught. He whispered, "Franky... he looked like... like a complete psychopath. When he threatened to kill us I fucking realized what a nutjob he really was."

"What exactly did he say, Brad?" Helen asked. "Maybe he was just... bluffing... trying to scare you."

"Yeah," Brad said, "Well it worked. He said you and Janet were going to suck a shit-ton of cocks tonight or he'd bury all four of us under the foundation of his Dad's next strip mall."

Helen's eyes got wide and I wished Brad hadn't shared that with her, but Brad kept rambling on, looking even more upset than Helen.

Brad said, "These guys all have fucking guns!" He swore under his breath and shook his head. "I don't know what the fuck Harry and I got you and Janet into, but it's bad... and I am so fucking sorry."

"Fuck that weasel," I said. "We're not doing it. The deal is off."

"Harry," Brad said. "Franky will kill us." Brad sounded and looked badly shaken, and he didn't scare easily. Up until that moment I had never even seen Brad nervous before. "I saw it in his eyes. He's a... psychopath."

I frowned at him. nodded. and whispered back. "I believe you, Brother... but I'll get the girls out of this. You'll see. Just trust me."

Helen shook her head. In a frantic whisper she said, "No! If he's a psychopath, Harry, we should call the fucking cops."

Brad shook his head. He nodded it in the direction of two heavy set guys I didn't know who stood by the kitchen stoves and seemed to be in a very heated discussion with each other. Brad whispered, "That's Franky's brother and father standing over there, Ron Solitto and Ronnie Junior. Ronnie Junior's the Chief of the fucking Burrilleville Police Department."

Helen seemed ready to panic. She said in a loud voice, "Harry.... what do we do?"

"I'll think of something," I said, rubbing her arms.

"No, Harry! They'll hurt you. Janet and I will just...we'll just have to do what they want us to do. I mean, we were going to do it anyway. Don't say anything. Let's just do this and get it over with. It's just... there are so many frigging men. That crowd is... I'm scared to death.... but it seems like our only--"

Talking over her, I said, "Helen! No. I will get you and Janet out of this! Trust me! You're NOT doing this. Neither of you are getting forced into blowing a fucking banquet hall full of men. That's not happening. Just stay calm and trust me."

Looking around, I saw Janet in her trenchcoat, the blond stripper, her tall, black bodyguard and the two Ronnies, one around forty and the other in his sixties. Both of them were fattish and resembled Franky, but in completely different ways.

Helen spotted Janet again, broke away from me and ran right to her. "Janet!" she cried, throwing her arms around her. Janet returned the hug.

"I am so sorry," Helen said, nearly in tears. "Please forgive me. I'll do anything."

"It's okay. I'm sorry, too," Janet said, frowning and nodding repeatedly. "We're in a world of shit here, Helen. But I am so happy you and Harry came. I'm so freaked out. I should have listened to you and at least got something else to wear." She let out a nervous giggle. "Look at me. I can't stop shaking... and I'm naked under this damn coat but I'm sweating like a pig. It is so fucking hot in this thing."

Helen nodded, smiling. "It's okay!" She held her hand out to me as she said, "I have the bathrobe and I brought some other things for you to put on. Harry, bring me the bag."

Outside the kitchen another man's voice had been speaking to the crowd over the P.A. system, but I hadn't been paying attention to anything he said. Then a band started playing Magic Carpet Ride by Steppenwolf. It wasn't Steppenwolf. This band, whoever they were, sucked.

The crowd cheered for them anyway.

As I brought the bag to Helen, I looked over at the two Ronnies and said, "Is there a back door, Gentlemen? We're all leaving."

"Not until Franky talks to you," the younger Ronnie said. "He just finished settling the crowd down. He should be here any--"

"Settling the crowd down?" I said, getting heated. I handed the bag off to Helen and dropped my video equipment on the floor. "You call what he fucking did out there settling them down?"

"Whoa!" Ronnie Junior shouted. "I'm sorry, Mr. Cruise," But I think Franky did a damn good--"

I lost it, shouting over him. "I am NOT fucking Tom Cruise! Look closer! Are you people all blind or crazy?"

Ronnie Junior seemed confused and more than a little annoyed at me. "You're not Tom Cru--?"

"No! I'm not! And my wife isn't Marilyn Chambers, either. Franky lied to you. Apparently, he lied to the whole fucking town."

"But... but you look just like--"

"I'm not him!" I yelled.

"But Franky said--" the younger one began.

The older one cut him off.

"No, Ronnie," he said, "While you were up on stage, Brad and Janet told me the folks who might be coming were just a couple friends of theirs, nobody famous. Franky did... exaggerate." The older man stepped forward and held out his hand to me. "Hello. I'm Ron Solitto, Ronnie's and Franky's father. Nice to meet you. Harry, right?"

I nodded and shook his hand.

"Sorry for all this. My son Franky is always trying to impress people, and it looks like he went way off the rails this time. Ronnie and I were just discussing how we should handle this clusterfuck. You, Brad and both your wives have my sincerest apologies."

"Thank you for that," I said, nodding and pulling my hand back. "So what about that back door?"

Franky's voice shouted, "Don't we have a fucking deal, Dude?" He walked out of the shadowed corridor at the far end of the kitchen. "I mean, your wife was supposed to blow forty guys for eight grand. What the fuck happened to that?"

If he wasn't so far away I would have punched Franky right in his fat face. Instead, pointing at the crowded function hall through the kitchen door, I shouted, "That fucking happened, asshole! What the hell were you thinking?"

Franky stopped over ten feet away from me, throwing his hands up in surrender. "You're right! Just calm the fuck down. Okay?" He shrugged and said, "I called a few people and asked them if they wanted their dicks sucked. I said Marilyn Chambers was doing it for publicity. Then someone announced it at the outdoor concert in the next town over, and this shit really snowballed. After that things got a little crazy, I admit, but I think I fixed--"

"A little crazy!" I shouted, "A little crazy? This is an insane fucking shitshow! The whole tri-state area is out there. Our deal is off. That fucking mob is dangerous!" I stopped shouting, took a deep breath and blew it out. "Look," I said, my voice lower but not calmer. "Everybody. This is over. Brad and I are taking our wives home. Neither of them are blowing anybody. We'll just slip out the back door.... and I suggest everyone else do the same."

Franky yelled, "We can't, Dude. I collected fifty bucks a head. They would murder me. Anyway, I fixed everything. I can pay you all a lot more now. We have these three girls and my cousin Tommy is bringing his crew down with five more whores from his Boston stable. So, everything is covered. That's eight fucking girls. That should be more than enough to handle--"

"We're fucking leaving!" I shouted. Looking at Brad, I wagged my head at our wives and said, "Let's go."

Brad nodded.

The blond stripper shouted, "What the heck, Franky! Oh my gosh! I can't do this all alone!" She stomped toward Franky and waved her skinny arm back at Helen and Janet. "You said I'd have a bunch of other girls to help. Now the only two who showed up are going? The heck with that! Keep your money and your coke. I'm leaving, too."

"Everybody stop!" Franky shrieked, sounding unhinged. He shook his head, and took a couple big breaths. In a less deranged, but still loud voice, he shouted, "I fixed everything, Brandy! Nobody is fucking going anywhere until you all fucking listen to me!"

The stripper folded her arms, and timidly backed away from his shouting, retreating closer to her bodyguard. From that angle and with that wide-mouthed, overly dramatic look of exasperation on her face, Brandy looked just like a very young Kelly Ripa.

(AUTHOR'S NOTE: Years later, when I first saw Kelly Ripa co-hosting the Regis Philbin Show, I jumped to my feet in my living room and yelled, "Holy shit! It's Brandy!" completely convinced that Kelly Ripa really was Brandy, the stripper/coke junky/whore who had participated in a wild suckfest on that hot July night back in 1989. I doubt myself now, but only because of how crazy it seems. Still, their ages matched, their looks and voices definitely matched, and some things I heard her say also make my outrageous theory not so outrageous. As she spoke to my wife and Janet a little while later she mentioned that she was a psych student in college, but that she travelled "up" to Rhode Island on weekends where nobody knew her so she could strip, make money and have fun. I looked it up and Kelly Ripa attended Camden College for psychology in New Jersey at that very same time in 1989. It's less than a five hour drive from there "up" to Rhode Island. Also, she said something about having once had a good job as a normal dancer that paid even better than stripping. Kelly Ripa had been a paid dancer on television in her teens. How many teens get a good paying job as a normal dancer? I rest my case. These clues all indicate that this hot young blond was, in fact, the real Kelly Ripa. If so, then what she did that night is a filthy secret, I am certain, she will take to her grave, but I'm here to tell you every sordid and luscious detail. Just keep reading.)

I paused at Franky's outburst and listened, but with no intention of staying.

"So, here's the deal," Franky said, "I have the door money. With my six g's it's more than thirty grand for you three girls to split. Over five hundred dudes showed up. I know that's a lot, but we can do it. With eight girls lined up in here they can file through eight at a time and get their dicks sucked." Franky smiled maniacally and cackled. "It will be the greatest fucking bachelor party ever."

"That's completely insane!" I said. "You're fucking crazy. We're out of here." Turning to Brad and our wives, I said, "Let's go. Now!" I stooped down to pick up the camera equipment.

Franky's face twisted up into an angry and deranged looking grimace. He pulled the biggest handgun I had ever seen out of his jacket and pointed it at me.

Someone gasped and I froze.

"Nobody's fucking going anywhere!" Franky screamed. He grabbed his belt and pulled up his pants, keeping his nickel plated canon trained on me. His face relaxed, that deranged grimace changing into a more normal look of anger. In a calmer voice, he said, "If you try to leave or say another fucking word, Harry - just one fucking word - I will shoot you right in your face and make every horny asshole out there line up and fuck your pretty wife. You got that, Chief?"

I nodded, realizing for the first time what I was dealing with and why Brad had been so intimidated. This guy really did seem insane. Even his father and his brother looked shaken.

"Now drop that shit and stand up."

I did. Helen and Janet were clinging on to each other, looking absolutely terrified.

"We're going to wait for my cousin Tommy and his crew to show up with his whores and then were going to start sending guys through this kitchen eight at a time. If they're too drunk to get it up or they can't finish in a few minutes then my cousin's boys will toss them out the back door. Now," he unzipped his fly and fished around inside his pants. "I believe your wife owes me a great blowjob. It better be the greatest of my life. Let's see what she can do."

Helen looked horrified.

Raising and waving my hands frantically at Franky, I got his attention. He paused his search for his cock, looking annoyed.

"What?" he said.

I pointed at my mouth.

I didn't know if he would really shoot me in the face for talking, but I didn't want to find out.

"What?" Franky asked again louder, lowering his gun.

"Look at her, Franky," I said. "My wife's terrified. It would be all teeth. Let the girls relax... just for a few minutes. Maybe even have a few drinks. Then my wife will give you a proper blowjob." I looked over at Helen. "I am so sorry I got you into this, Helen... but can you do that for me, Baby... I mean... in a little while?"

Helen, still looking terrified and with her chin quivering, nodded at me. Tears flowed down her cheeks and I wanted to die. I had gotten her into this.

Franky said, "No. She's blowing me now." He turned to Helen with that deranged grimace back on his face and he screamed, "Get over here, you fucking cunt! Get over here and suck this FUCKING co--"

"Franky!" Ron senior shouted, cutting him off. "Where are your goddamned manners, Son? This is supposed to be a party.... for your brother. You are scaring the living shit out of this poor woman. Now stop being such a rude host. I am sure these ladies will do everything you want them to after a few drinks and some laughs." He looked back at Helen and Janet who were still clinging tightly together. "Right ladies?" They both nodded. "See. Now put both your fucking guns away and let these poor girls relax for a little--."

Suddenly, there was a loud knock on the kitchen door. Franky looked toward it. Spotting something through the small square window in the door, his deranged grimace instantly vanished and he smiled. "Oh, shit!" he said, "Tommy's already here." He looked at Brandy's bodyguard who was standing closest to the door, wagged his pistol and said, "Let him the fuck in, Poochie."

Poochie, apparently Brandy's bodyguard's name, turned and unlatched the deadbolt on the kitchen door.

Putting the gun in his vest holster, zipping up and adjusting his pants, Franky walked toward the man who entered, a taller, fatter, older and balder version of himself. "Tommy!" he said, putting his arms out.

They hugged.

"You got here quick, Tom. The fuck, did you fly?"

"You said to hurry," the bigger man said, his voice gravelly, but only a little deeper than Franky's. "I loaded everyone in the party bus and we came."

A parade of five asian girls and a black girl filed into the kitchen followed by three more thugs in business suits.

The Asian girls were all dressed like prostitutes, high heels, halter tops, mini skirts and shorts. The black girl was a bit older and dressed normally in a blouse and slacks.

As if nothing had just happened, Frankie turned to everyone in the room, smiling and announced, "Hey, everyone, this is my big cousin Tommy!" Pointing at each person, Franky said, "That's Brandy, the sweet young blond stripper I told you about. She just turned eighteen and she agreed to blow this fuckton of guys. Fucking Brandy-new junky whore." He cackled excitedly. "God I love crack. Oh, and that's Harry. Looks just like Tom Cruise, right?" He looked for Tommy's reaction, who nodded his head. "See! I told you... and that's his hot fucking wife who looks like Marilyn Chambers. Great set of tits on her, too! She was just about to blow me. Supposedly gives fantastic head. Anyway," Franky pointed at Brad and Janet. "That's my buddy from work, Brad and his wife Janet. What a doll, right? She's going to be sucking dick, too."

Tommy looked confused. "These guys are okay with that? I mean I've had plenty of ho's with husbands before, but never with their husbands on a shoot... while their wives are fucking, sucking and whoring. I don't know. Are you sure that won't be a problem, Franky?"

Franky looked at me and Brad. "I don't know? Is that going to be a problem? Maybe you guys should leave. Do you want to leave? You can wait in the parking lot. I'm guessing your wives will be done in three... maybe four hours, tops."

There was no way in hell I was leaving Helen. "No," I said. "No problems. We like watching our wives with other men."

Brad squeezed Janet's arm and shook his head. "No problems," he said. "We're good."

I could tell by Brad's stiff tone he was upset, but nobody else seemed to notice.

Tommy shrugged. He clapped Franky on the shoulder. "Let's get these girls ready for action, then. We have a suckfest to film. This one's going to be the biggest one we ever..." He looked around. "Hey! Franky... where the fuck's your film crew?"

Franky looked lost. He shrugged and shook his head at Tommy.

"What the fuck, Franky!" Tommy said, grimacing in disgust. "How the fuck are we supposed to make any money without a film crew?"

Franky pointed at my camera on the floor. Looking at me he asked, "Hey, isn't that a video camera, Dude?"

Reluctantly, I nodded.

Franky smiled. He looked back at Tommy and said, "There. We can use that."

Tommy shook his head, frowning in disgust. "Okay," he said, "Total shit, but it will have to do. I'll have Billy grab mine, too."

He stepped forward, put his hands on his hips and looked all around at the kitchen. In a loud voice he announced, "Let's get all these overhead lights turned on!" Pointing at one of his men, he shouted, "Billy, go get the whole video setup and the sack full of knee pads and blankets out of the van for these girls. This floor is ridiculous!" Pointing at the black woman, he said, "Jessica! Round up the ladies and get them ready. You have enough bullets, right?" She nodded. "Good. Remember, just one little sniff each and a half hour between doses. I don't want any of these bitches passing out on me. They've got at least a couple hours work ahead of them."

With Tommy busy barking out orders and everyone else distracted with helping him set the room up, Brad, Helen, Janet and I huddled up together.