long and loose and it curled coquettishly around her
shoulders. She looked gorgeous and stunning and I felt like a frump
in a potato sack standing next to her. I really had to get to the gym more
often , I thought
morosely, sucking in my stomach.
Roger was dressed immaculately too, but really, who cared what he
wore? Nobody paid him any attention. All eyes were on Ms Busty, not
him.
I bundled them into the 4WD and we sped
off, parking in the priority bay at the conference centre again.
Once more, Garrett hurried forward to greet them, enveloping them
in his devoted attention. We whisked them to the HUMP Productions
booth without further delay, where the morning panned out much the
same as yesterday’s had.
“ Everything okay, Tilly?” asked Barb in a kind, confidential voice
as we escorted them from their booth to the auditorium.
“ No, not really,” I admitted, rather
subdued.
“ I thought you seemed a bit down today. Man
problems?”
“How did you guess?”
She laughed. “They’re usually the cause of
all of a woman’s problems. Was your guy being a jerk?”
“ Yep. That’s a good word for him. Though I
would probably add arrogant in front of it.”
We didn’t have a chance to say any more,
Roger and her having to ascend the stage to the enthusiastic
welcome of the cheering crowd.
I barely even watched what was going on up on the big screen.
One of their ‘favourite’ scenes was showing, another one where
Roger pumped Barb and another two women endlessly and mechanically,
all of them looking quite bored. Instead, dark thoughts filled my
head about Heller and the precise scathing words I was going to
blast him with when I saw him again tonight. Or maybe I’d just lock
my flat door and refuse to speak to him all together. I couldn’t
make up my mind which action would give me greater satisfaction and
a greater salve to my hurt feelings.
Fully occupied with those doleful considerations, the
time slipped by quickly and it seemed like only a blink later that
Barb and Roger’s presentation was over for another day. On our
return to the HUMP Productions booth, we could hardly fail to
notice a new entertainer present in the arcade near the booth. I
actually cracked a smile for the first time that day as we watched
a guy dressed in a giant penis costume – a startlingly realistic
and rather terrifying representation of one – wiggling and dancing
passionately to the thumping music that played all day throughout
the centre. Realising he had an audience, a small group of other
patrons now also milling around him, the entertainer performed for
us with gutso. His unbridled enthusiasm for putting on a show and
cheeky features left none of us unsmiling. It was such a ridiculous
sight that it was impossible, even for someone currently as grumpy
as me, to not be amused.
Barb and Roger, after smiling at the
dancing penis a few
minutes longer, gave Bick a break while they ate their lunch inside
the booth. We leaned on the barriers surrounding the booth, joined
by the thick-necks, and watched the entertainer finish his routine,
warming to our spatter of applause. He bowed graciously, a
difficult task in his tall, rigid suit. Having had some
spectacularly crappy jobs myself in my past, I had a real
appreciation for anyone doing their very best in such
circumstances. After the other spectators wandered off, he came
over to us, his young face flushed with effort.
“ Hi,” he said, leaning on one of the
barrier poles too.
I smiled at him while Bick high-fived him, saying, “Good job, man.
Tough gig.”
“ It sure is,” he said, taking off his
‘helmet’ and running his fingers through his damp, curly ash-brown
hair. He had friendly hazel eyes and a ready smile. “But when you
want to be a dancer, you have to take what you can get.” He swiped
at his forehead. “It’s really hot in this costume. I wouldn’t have
to work so hard if my partner had bothered to turn up for work
today. We’re supposed to be
shoulders. She looked gorgeous and stunning and I felt like a frump
in a potato sack standing next to her. I really had to get to the gym more
often , I thought
morosely, sucking in my stomach.
Roger was dressed immaculately too, but really, who cared what he
wore? Nobody paid him any attention. All eyes were on Ms Busty, not
him.
I bundled them into the 4WD and we sped
off, parking in the priority bay at the conference centre again.
Once more, Garrett hurried forward to greet them, enveloping them
in his devoted attention. We whisked them to the HUMP Productions
booth without further delay, where the morning panned out much the
same as yesterday’s had.
“ Everything okay, Tilly?” asked Barb in a kind, confidential voice
as we escorted them from their booth to the auditorium.
“ No, not really,” I admitted, rather
subdued.
“ I thought you seemed a bit down today. Man
problems?”
“How did you guess?”
She laughed. “They’re usually the cause of
all of a woman’s problems. Was your guy being a jerk?”
“ Yep. That’s a good word for him. Though I
would probably add arrogant in front of it.”
We didn’t have a chance to say any more,
Roger and her having to ascend the stage to the enthusiastic
welcome of the cheering crowd.
I barely even watched what was going on up on the big screen.
One of their ‘favourite’ scenes was showing, another one where
Roger pumped Barb and another two women endlessly and mechanically,
all of them looking quite bored. Instead, dark thoughts filled my
head about Heller and the precise scathing words I was going to
blast him with when I saw him again tonight. Or maybe I’d just lock
my flat door and refuse to speak to him all together. I couldn’t
make up my mind which action would give me greater satisfaction and
a greater salve to my hurt feelings.
Fully occupied with those doleful considerations, the
time slipped by quickly and it seemed like only a blink later that
Barb and Roger’s presentation was over for another day. On our
return to the HUMP Productions booth, we could hardly fail to
notice a new entertainer present in the arcade near the booth. I
actually cracked a smile for the first time that day as we watched
a guy dressed in a giant penis costume – a startlingly realistic
and rather terrifying representation of one – wiggling and dancing
passionately to the thumping music that played all day throughout
the centre. Realising he had an audience, a small group of other
patrons now also milling around him, the entertainer performed for
us with gutso. His unbridled enthusiasm for putting on a show and
cheeky features left none of us unsmiling. It was such a ridiculous
sight that it was impossible, even for someone currently as grumpy
as me, to not be amused.
Barb and Roger, after smiling at the
dancing penis a few
minutes longer, gave Bick a break while they ate their lunch inside
the booth. We leaned on the barriers surrounding the booth, joined
by the thick-necks, and watched the entertainer finish his routine,
warming to our spatter of applause. He bowed graciously, a
difficult task in his tall, rigid suit. Having had some
spectacularly crappy jobs myself in my past, I had a real
appreciation for anyone doing their very best in such
circumstances. After the other spectators wandered off, he came
over to us, his young face flushed with effort.
“ Hi,” he said, leaning on one of the
barrier poles too.
I smiled at him while Bick high-fived him, saying, “Good job, man.
Tough gig.”
“ It sure is,” he said, taking off his
‘helmet’ and running his fingers through his damp, curly ash-brown
hair. He had friendly hazel eyes and a ready smile. “But when you
want to be a dancer, you have to take what you can get.” He swiped
at his forehead. “It’s really hot in this costume. I wouldn’t have
to work so hard if my partner had bothered to turn up for work
today. We’re supposed to be
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