All of the following is complete and total fiction. Not a word of it occurred, nor would it.
The Perks of Being a Podcaster
by MrMaxLord
(MF, MFMF, oral, cons, gloryhole)
Chapter 14: Anna Kendrick
*****
"Now folks, I bet you're wondering how we top last week's guest," I said to the crowd. "I mean, we had Alexa Bliss. We had the Raw Women's Champion, the Goddess of WWE. Is it even possible to get better? Well, let's just say yes so our next guest doesn't get a bruised ego. She's the star of Pitch Perfect 3 and she saved the best for last on her press tour. Give it up for Anna Kendrick!"
The crowded cheered loudly as the petite woman came out on stage, taking a seat next to me, a bright smile on her face.
"Wow, nice applause. I hope you guys are getting scale for that performance," Anna remarked as she settled in her seat. "Thanks for the buttering up too. I love getting an ego boost from a sub z-grade celebrity podcast host."
"Hey, be nice or no free scotch."
"I totally meant d-grade. Yep. Bart Curry, D-Grade celebrity. 100% Kendrick certified."
"That's better." I replied smile. "Now, for the drinks." I clapped loudly and soon after, out came Logan, dressed, very begrudgingly so, in a french maid outfit. Vinyl, of course, complete with stiletto heels. He had a silver trey with a bottle of Johnny Walker Black and two glasses.
"I hate you both SOOOO fucking much right now," Logan said into my mic as he placed the tray down. "So fucking much."
"Hey man, I told you not to bet against Kendrick in fucking naming showtunes of all things," I said. "Dude, the chick was on Broadway when she was like ten or something."
"Twelve, actually." Anna replied. "Oh, and sugar tits? Come here please."
Logan turned to her, the annoyance on his face glowing like a lighthouse. He awkwardly walked over to Anna, the audience s well as myself and Anna getting a kick out of him trying to keep his balance in the heels.
"Yes, mistress?" Logan said, completely failing at hiding his embarrassment. Anna took out a couple bucks and stuffed them down the front of the outfit.
"Just for being such a doll," she laughed. With one final look of hilarious contempt, Logan shuffled off stage and Anna and I clinked our glasses of scotch. "Wow, I wouldn't expect a D-grade show to have such good taste in booze. Usually when I'm on its PBR and Cheetos."
"Well, we do still have some Cheetos in the back if you want our maid to bring us some."
"Nah, I'll save that for later. Can't ruin a good laugh too quick."
"Good thinking. Now, before we can get to really talking, let's get the shameles plug out of the way."
"Oh of course. Well, Pitch Perfect 3, last of the trilogy that was totally not planned but hey, it worked. Um, I'm obviously back or I wouldn't be going from city to city on no sleep promoting it. So's Brittany Snow, Rebel Wilson, Hailee Steinfeld. Whole gang is back, so it's like a reunion tour without the infighting or heroin. It's got beautiful, amazing women with great voices, explosions, fight scenes, everything short of a lightsaber so I'm hoping we at least hit the top three in the first weekend because there's no way we're toppling the Force."
"Wow, some honesty in a plug, nice."
"Come on, even I'm going to see Star Wars that weekend."
"Now, with that out of the way, we're just gonna shoot the shit. Since our tech guy is busy strutting his stuff serving us food and drinks, we're just down to our conversational skills."
"Shit...we're in trouble."
"Well, I think we can dig ourselves out. I think I have a good question. "How come you don't tweet about masturbating in a movie theater anymore?"
"Well, honestly there hasn't been anything that makes me want to reach out and touch myself lately." she responded. "Plus the stares. Eye contact too soon and the moment's gone. At least as far as public masturbation goes. I mean we've all been there, right?"
"Oh, totally." I replied. "So, next question,handcuffs."
"Christ, do you get all your questions from watching other, more successful shows?" she asked, getting a laugh from the audience.
"Eh, it's worked so far."
*******
"You know, maybe we should just keep you as the cocktail server," I said to Logan, still in his maid gear.
"The moment I get out of this outfit I'm shoving these six inch heels up your ass sideways." he replied.
"Well, before you do that you need to completely pay up," Anna added, an evil-yet-ridiculously cute grin on her.
"No, you said I didn't have to!"
"Yes! I only said you didn't have to do it front of the audience." Anna sat down, waving Logan to come towards her. "Now, pay up sugar tits."
"Fine," he grumbled. He walked over to the couch and began to awkwardly dance for her. "Happy birthday to you..."
"No, I want the voice too," Anna said. "Don't make bets like this if you have a problem with ponying up."
Logan groaned, then cleared his throat. "Happy birthday to you," he sung, doing the worst Marilyn Monroe impression I'd ever heard. "Happy birthday to you. Happy birthday Mr. President. Happy birthday to you."
"Woooo!" Anna yelled, clapping loudly. "Thatta girl!"