I plopped down on the couch next to Andrea who was busy watching Nika pace back and forth in her bra and panties. Nika's rum and coke steady spilling out of one side of the glass and then the other.
"I am sick and tired of these broke ass...broke down, no good man-whores thinking they own us! I NEED SOME SPACE? What the hell is that suppose to mean? We just met last Friday at the club! He wasn't saying that when he was knee deep in my pussy," Nika growled almost to herself.
"Maybe your pussy punch was so extreme that he needs spaaaace to regroup," I said chuckling while air jerking an invisible cock.
Nika snapped back, "What would you know, you live in the movies. The last sex you had was with a RedBox!"
"Girl that ain't what he mean, he means to say 'thank-you for bendin' over for me shorty, but I'll catch you on the flipside' or some old machismo shit like that," Andrea said matter-of-factly. "Besides I know the perfect spot where we can catch us some 'mute dick'," she added.
Nika stopped in her tracks, took a sip and asked "Now where might we find some non-talking, dickslingin', finger-poppin', unattached piece of male meat?"
"Exactly, at the male meat market. I hear there is one underneath of Rodeo Drive. They got motherfuckers just hangin' around like ducks in Chinatown. Yours for the fuckin, the pluckin, and the tastin."
I gave this deep thought before scanning Andrea's face to see that she was dead serious. I hopped off the couch and took a sip of the steady evaporating rum and coke. "You mean to tell me that there is a market full of men on display underneath the ritz and glamour of Rodeo Drive?"
"Shit, that's what all them rich lonely housewives do; they buy six or seven pairs of shoes, a big-ass hat, a rolex for the hubby away on 'business,' and then they go underground for an order of doggie-style and a side dish of cunnimongus."
"That's cunnilingus you idiot," I added.
"Cunnawhateva, I'm in," Nika blurted out before spanking her ass cheek and heading into the bedroom to get dressed. I just gave Andrea my official nod which meant I was in.
We all dressed in our sock-em dead slut attire fully equipped in leather, latex, and go-go boots. I secretly slipped Nika's camcorder into my purse just in case I wanted to document the night. The ride was long considering none of us ventured to Beverly Hills often, more like never.
I think the only time I had ever even seen it was either when Axel Foley was raising havoc or when Julia Roberts got punked at that little shop. Damn, I wonder if Richard Gere will be hanging on a hook. Even the rumors about gerbils couldn't turn me off.
We parked in an all day lot for more money than I think Andrea's 94' Cavalier cost her. She had some crazy ass map she got off the internet. The sun was beginning to set, thankfully, because we looked fit to be arrested. As if the crazy looks weren't enough.
Movies about prostitution rarely focus on the subplot of the weary on-lookers, it's s always about the guy in the hot car with money hanging out of is handkerchief pocket.
We followed the map, which led us to a boutique that seemed more like a consignment shop compared to the other stores. We entered feeling the most comfortable we had felt since we parked.
Inside was one of the most beautiful women I had ever seen with a body like Halle Berry and a mouth like Kelly LeBrock, I smiled to myself remembering "The Woman in Red." She was tall or at least appeared to be in her expensive sling-backs and skin-tight pants suit.
Andrea wasted no time before spitting out "Where's all the men at. My Independence Card kicked on today and momma needs to fill herself up with some m-e-a-t!" I expected an appalled look from this exotic creature but she laughed the sweetest laugh before pointing us to a stairwell in the back.
I swear we were going down these stairs forever before hearing the hustle and bustle of an underground city. My first impression triggered the memory of downtown Mars in "Total Recall," I was just waiting to see a mutant guy hanging around with three dicks.
There were old-fashioned carts, like the tonic salesmen from the wild west, plexi-glass boxes filled with men and even carnival stages with men doing tricks. There were dicks, balls, and butt holes as far as the eye could see. Our first stop was the "Boy Boutique" filled with young men fresh out of college posed on various antique pieces of furniture. They were all stamped with price tags.
"Dammmmnnn, even if we all three put our life savings together, we couldn't afford his fresh-ass Harvard cock," I said pointing to the glistening tan body propped at an old roller desk. Andrea reached down and held his goods as if she was weighing his cock and balls expecting the price to be per a pound.
Andrea approached the salesman who was a short stocky balding Jewish fellow and she whispered "Can you please direct me to the section that sells the defunct male merchandise. I don't care if they ain't got no arms, teeth, and legs as long as they're cheaper and can still get it up."
He looked confused but kindly told us that there were all shapes, sizes, and prices along the avenue and that we would do best to continue window shopping.