Fascination!

Montreal

June, 1990

Quebec's largest city is one built on bilingualism. Back in the mid-18th century, after the British took Canada from the French, the locals there were prepared for a forced English assimilation.

Fortunately, the American Revolution made the Queen's loyal subjects rethink their approach to Quebec. In a brilliant placating maneuver, the British passed the Quebec Act in 1774, providing the Quebecois with a charter of rights allowing them to keep their French language, culture, and Catholic religion.

Meaning that from the very beginning of Quebec's history, bilingualism has been an act of compromise, built on an understanding that peacefully shared physical space is more important than a specific shared language.

This made Barney Bussett's move to Montreal that much easier. He wasn't the sharpest tool in the shed, and he surely wasn't learning French anytime soon.

After all, language wasn't that important to the horny gals who frequented "Balançoire Banane" every Tuesday and Thursday night. It was how Barney Bussett, known better as "Sharp Shooter," could shake his buns.

Barney's routine seldom changed but it never left the women unsatisfied.

Born and raised in Texas, Bussett dressed as a cowboy, gun holster and all, and slowly and seductively stripped off every last garment, all the while dancing and gyrating to M.C. Hammer's "U Can't Touch This."

In true Bussett style.

Barney's chiseled, sculpted frame, oiled and pumped to perfection, was eye-pleasing to the ladies. They also loved how he swung his cock.

"Your devotion to the helicopter just makes me smile," one brunette said to him as he came off stage at the end of a set.

"He just swings it around and around and around," said her friend.

Barney was grabbed by the arms and taken to a table of five eager women, in town for a wild bachelorette party.

"We're each gonna take turns stroking your cock, and then we want you to shoot all over Brenda," Tina outlined for him, mincing no words.

As planned, each woman had a tug at Bussett's pulsating prick.

"In contrast to my favorite song, ladies, you CAN touch this," he joked, proudly sticking out his fat, sturdy erection.

That always got a laugh.

He brought the small but jovial crowd to a fevered pitch when his long, hot eruption drenched the bride-to-be, splashing all over her cleavage and neck.

"This was a blast," gushed one of the friends.

Barney was loving life.

Bussett was a hard worker who lived for nights like these. And he was a budding playwright to boot.

It was a long road to get here.

*************

Temple, Texas

June, 1982

"For the 18th time, Bussett, no!," Sheila exclaimed, slamming down her empty shot glass and demanding another.

"Pleeeeeeeeeeeese, it's just a small part," he pleaded.

Sheila sighed.

"Dallas 2?! What the fuck kinda name is that for a play?" she asked sarcastically.

Now it was Barney who sighed.

"Look, it's science fiction, but with a sexy twist," he enticed.

"I read the script, Bussett. It's...kinda interesting, but...," she went on.

"But what?" he asked.

"But I'm not an actress!" she insisted.

"Sheila, it's an amateur play, at an amateur playhouse," he told her.

Further contemplation led Sheila to this resolution.

"Look, Bussett. You're a fun guy. I like hanging out with you. I like watching you dance around in that thong at 'Guns of the Dusty Planes (laugh).' And I have to admit, you're pretty good in the sack. But this just isn't something I wanna do, okay?"

The look of dejection on his face told the story.

"Okay," he mumbled.

She kissed the top of his head and left The Cactus. The bartender came over to refill Bussett's glass of Meister Brau, but he waved him off.

"I thought the work was over when I finished writing this play," he said to the bartender. "Now, the real work has begun - casting this frickin thing."

The bartender looked at him. He studied him.

"Wait. Aren't you the guy who crashed the Temple Ghost Tour bus into a tree?" he wondered aloud with a smile.

"Ugh, I'll just take the check," Barney said.

"That was funny as fuck. We were watching that on the news here," he howled. "Hey, everybody! It's the guy who crashed the Temple Ghost Tour bus into a tree!"

There was clapping and laughter.

"Eh, pour me another," Bussett figured.

The bartender smiled.

"This one's on me, fella," he said.

*************

"Okay, okay, so, the player controls an insect-like creature called a Yar who must nibble or shoot through a barrier in order to fire his Zorlon Cannon into the breach," Doug eagerly informed the young gentleman, roughly 18 or 19, who was considering buying the aptly described game.

"The objective," Doug said, taking hold of the controller and proceeding to give quite a tutorial while he played level after leve, "is to destroy the evil Qotile, which exists on the other side of the barrier. The Qotile can attack the Yar, even if the barrier is undamaged, by turning into the Swirl and shooting across the screen.

"I mean, in early levels, the player is warned before the Swirl is fired and can retreat to a safe distance to dodge the attack. The Yar can hide from a pursuing destroyer missile within a 'neutral zone' in the middle of the screen, but the Yar cannot shoot while in the zone. The Swirl can kill the Yar anywhere, even inside the neutral zone."

"Uh-huh," the young man managed to get in, in between passionate, informative bursts from Doug.

"To destroy the Qotile or the Swirl, the player has to -," Doug went on, but was interrupted.

"I think I'll take it," the young man said.

"Cool, cool," Doug answered, walking him over to the register.

The transaction was finalized and Doug had himself another sale.

"'Dig' Doug, you are a heck of a salesman," Dick complimented him.

"Eh, wish I was making them. Not selling them," Doug had to admit.

"You still writing that one game?" Dick asked curiously.

"Yeah, but it's a vast universe," he said. "It's gonna take a long time to lay the groundwork."

Dick looked at his Casio watch.

"You workin' over at Krendy Krafts tonight?" Doug asked.

"Yeah," Dick answered, realizing that was coming up in a hurry.

"You can hit the road early, Parker Brothers. We're dead today anyway," Doug relieved him.

"Awesome, man. Thanks," Dick said. "I owe ya one.

*************

Australian adverts for the Commodore Computer used a tune speaking the words: "Are you keeping up with the Commodore? Because the Commodore is keeping up with you."

Try keeping up with Deborah Krendall. But Dick Parker was trying his best.

She was going a mile a minute, in an impromptu meeting she had with him in her office at Krendy Krafts right before Dick started his evening shift. Doris and Dolores were up front, managing the 6 p.m. rush.

"Dick, this computer...is gonna change my life," Deb went on.

She got out from behind her desk, pulled up a chair alongside his, crossed her stocking-clad legs, and handed him a hefty stack of papers, stapled together in the upper left-hand corner.

"What is this, a book?" he joked.

"A contract," she smiled lovingly.

Dick thumbed through it.

"Dick, you can read all of it later," she urged, suggesting he maintain focus on her. "The gist of it is...I would love to explore this new friendship with you."

She said it so lovingly, so seductively, so excitedly.

"Dick, what you said to me yesterday in the car, I really took it to heart," she shared. "I had a rough go of it for a while, going through the divorce.

"So the last three years or so, I feel like I'm finally getting back to ME. What makes me happy. I'm dating again, I'm hanging out with friends again, and I still can't believe I own my own store!"

"Stores," Dick said, emphasizing plural.

"Yes, stores! And with that," she smiled, "I have to admit, I've been on a bit of a power trip lately (laugh)."

He just smiled.

"So, yesterday, hon, when you...just...opened your heart to me and said you'd love to just...fully submit to me? Hon, that just...that just made me feel so good inside," she revealed. "Truth be told, it got me really excited."

"It got me excited too," he told her.

"Pff, I...I could tell," she laughed, referencing his big explosion on the way home. "Never thought I would need windshield wipers on the INSIDE of the car."

"I'm sorry, Goddess Deborah," he sulked.

"Aww, hon, it's okay," she cooed, with an adorable chuckle. "I think it's amazing you had anything left! After your eruption at Open Woods."

She rubbed his leg gently.

"Dick, I think this could be amazing - for both of us," she said, uncrossing her legs and then crossing them back over.

It was usually Deb's large breasts that stole men's glances, but her legs were something special too, as Dick took always took notice of.

Deborah Krendall was thorough with everything. A relentless, careful planner. So leave it to her to draw up an entire contract when it came to this new dominant-submissive friendship between her and one of her subordinates.

"It's completely discreet, hon. No one has to know," she insisted. "This contract is just my way of...laying everything out. What's expected of...us, our friendship...and what's expected...of you."

"Yes, mam," he replied dutifully.

She grinned.

"You can take a look, hon," she said, urging he peruse the contract.

So excited, his heart racing, he glanced each page over. His eyes caught certain parts.

"What does (DRESS CODE APPLIED) mean?" he asked.

She grinned again, this time even wider, and naughtier.

"That means, Dick, I will decide what you are wearing that day, whether we're...hanging out at my house watching music videos, or, maybe doing a late shift here at the store after everyone has left," she explained.

"I want Open Woods to be a regular habit for us, hon? I really enjoyed that and want to experience that again. And frankly, hon, I want to see you more," she said, referring to seeing him nude, and adorably vulnerable. "You are just so sweetly submissive in that state, and I love that."

Now, it was him smiling.

"I even...and I hope you don't mind, hon, but I used you as a topic of discussion on a date last week," she revealed.

"A date? Who is this lucky gentleman?" he asked.

"Cliff Bettleston? Ever hear the name? Big oil tycoon, hon," she said. "Well, Rooland Oil and some wildcatters snatched up a lot of their territory but nevertheless, Cliff does pretty well for himself."

"I bet," Dick said.

"But I mentioned that I have a nudist friend who frequents Open Woods with me, and...he got really excited," she shared. "So excited that, well...we spent the night together...on our first date!"

Dick jumped back in his seat. He was happy for Deb, and happy she would share such news with him.

"Way to go, Deb," he rejoiced.

"Truth be told, hon, he's a lot like you," she said with a smile.

She felt compelled to follow that up.

"Minus the 13-inch penis," she added, plain as day, with no real humor involved.

Nevertheless, Dick chuckled.

"But what he does have, he knows how to use it, lemme tell ya," she raved.

"Wow, a successful boyfriend, my own franchise...a willing submissive," she said, smiling warmly at Dick. "Deborah Krendall, you have come a long way..."

Just then, a light knock at the door. Deb suggested whoever it was come in.

The door whooshed open.

"Deb, I am so sorry but this...wick isn't burning," she said, holding up a large-jar candle. "This woman wants a return."

"That's fine," Deb said without question. "Let her pick one out."

"Dick, what are you doing here?" Doris asked. "You're usually not in at night."

"We had to go over a few things," Deb said.

Doris left to go back to the front.

Deb smiled warmly at Dick, and they shook hands.

*************

Deb sent Dick over to Muggs to get some coffee for the troops.

He didn't know he was being lulled into a practical joke.

He glanced over at Texas Totes, saw Nancy leaving for the night. From a distance, she didn't seem all that bad. Deb made her out to be a monster, but she definitely had her reasons.

Dick pulled the door to Krendy Krafts open, backing into the store while holding a tray of four steaming-hot coffees.

As he walked up to the registers, he was shocked to see both Doris and Dolores, draped in white sheets.

"Ooooooooooooo," they moaned, dancing about.

"Dick, I think the store is haunted," Krendy voiced, with mock concern.

Dick stopped in his tracks, and smirked. He had to hand it to them. He rewarded their efforts with a slight laugh.

"Ha, ha, very funny," he said halfheartedly, playing along but not overly joyed to be mocked.

The sheets came off the girls.

"Dick, Deb told us - you saw the Lake Ghost," Doris exclaimed.

"What did he...or it...say to you?" Dolores asked, with Dick not knowing if she was really curious or just teasing him more.

"He said...ugh, forget it," he said, disgusted, handing out the coffees.

Although he didn't really want to give Doris and Dolores more ammunition right now with a hefty dose of caffeine.

"Dick, listen to this," Krendy offered, pulling out a few sheets of paper from her purse and unfolding them. "There is an eye witness account here. This is from 1976 - I had to get it off microfiche. My editor at The Telegram remembered writing this. 'Kramer recounted seeing the apparition right along the shoreline.' Now listen to this, Dick. 'He was dressed in a long, black coat, the kind you would see a fisherman wear on a wet, stormy night. I tried to make small talk. He said he hadn't caught anything all day. He kicked at the sand, started to sing a sea shanty I couldn't quite make out the words too. I walked a bit, and when I turned around, he was gone. Without a trace.'"

Dick was...sort of blown away.

"Wow. That's...exactly what I described," he noted.

"See? Dick, we poke fun but...you might have seen something," Deb said, shrugging her shoulders, as if to say, she didn't really believe in the ghost, but wasn't going to pass judgement on those who did. "There are a lot of accounts from people who say they saw 'The Man in the Coat.' You're in good company, hon."

Doris took a few more sips of her coffee before voicing her opinion.

"They say that...experiences of supernatural phenomena are most likely to occur in threatening or ambiguous environments," she shared, pulling from her memory bank some tidbits she learned in a class at Temple Junior College, used to fill out her electives.

"Hmmm. Did you feel threatened, Dick?" Deb posed.

"Not particularly," he replied.

"Well, a clothing-optional beach is definitely an 'ambiguous environment,'" Dolores figured, with a hearty laugh.

"I would say so," Deb agreed.

"Oh, what else was it that they said...something like...those who have paranormal experiences? I think they scored higher on scales measuring empathy and a tendency to become deeply absorbed in one's own subjective experience," Doris went on.

"Dick, you have been going through a lot of inner reflection these days. Well, with Baylor, and architecture?" Krendy rationalized.

"Yeah," he managed.

"Oh!" Doris belted out, startling the other three.

The big-bosomed assistant manager sprung to life.

"Jesus, Doris," Dick laughed.

"Sorry, you guys. Kind of scared ya," she laughed. "No, but...the guy...who...he was the first person to circumnavigate the globe single-handedly," Doris began. "He swore - SWORE - that he saw and spoke with the pilot of Columbus's ship the Pinta."

The other three nodded, unsure what to believe.

"I remember hearing about Mt. Everest climbers stranded in snow holes, hallucinating rescuers...and survivors of sinking ships counting extra persons in their lifeboats...that sort of thing," Dolores shared.

Again, a comfortable silence, as everyone pondered the events.

"Well, I know this. Two people that were DEFINITELY real were Holly and Nancy. They were nice, weren't they, Dick?" Deb shared.

"Yeah, they were cool," he agreed.

"I'm giving them tennis lessons," Deb laughed.

"No!," Dolores replied.

"Yes! I haven't given tennis lessons in...oh, boy, 10 years maybe, but...I'll fit it in," she said. "And Holly and Nancy said they'd see us again at Open Woods so..."

Doris and Dolores giggled.

"Where did U see it?" Dolores wondered aloud, speaking of U Parker.

"U KEPT seeing it. Several times. So many times in fact, that he sold The Rusty Nail," Krendy raved.

"Wow. And it was a fisherman?" Dolores said with a smile.

"No. U described seeing an apparition, more of a spirit sort of thing," Krendy laughed. "Knocking over big bags of flower, pots and pans (laugh)..."

"What is it with you Parker guys seeing ghosts?" Dolores laughed.

"I don't know! It's not my fault. I didn't want this," Dick laughed.

"Dick, lemme ask you a question. When your T.V. goes to complete fuzz late at night, do you hear voices coming out of it?" Doris joked.

"No, I don't," Dick fired back.

"Dick, do you have poltergeists at home too?" Dolores jumped on.

"Okay, okay, we've teased Dick enough. Let's get to work, okay?" said Krendy, turning into a boss once again.

It would be a busy but lighthearted night at Krendy Krafts.

*************

"Take it off! Take it off!" Jeanette screamed, shouting loud enough to be heard over Duran Duran's "Girls on Film."

The Cactus was closed for the night, with only a few patrons still left.

Stew, the bartender, poured Jeanette and her two friends one more shot each, and Bussett one last beer.

Bussett, however, was UP on the bar, dancing in his underwear, the grand finale of a wild night.

"Take it off!" Jeanette demanded.

The muscled-up Barney Bussett slid off his designer speedo, and continued to dance wildly.

Only now, his penis was freed from its cloth confines. And the women shouted and cheered as Barney's fat cock bounced and danced around, seemingly in tempo with the music.

Jeanette now tried to join Barney up on the bar.

"Watch, watch," Stew urged, letting this hijinx take place but making sure Jeanette didn't knock over a big stack of napkins.

Wearing black, knee-high boots and Italian jeans that hugged her big ass, Jeanette Strothers danced in tune with Barney, snapping her fingers and having a good old time.

Jeanette's two friends, however, were more focused on Barney's anatomy.

His big biceps and massive thighs were something to see, along with the "Roadrunner" tattoo he had on the outside of his upper right arm.

The women squeezed his ass, slapped it, and demanded more.

"Swing your dick for us!" the two shouted.

Barney obliged, rhythmically rolling hips to make his fat, hefty organ swing around with a life all its own.

Jeanette had the best view of Barney's dancing dick, glancing down at it with a big smile and clapping for further encouragement.

Even Stew looked on at the theatrics and was cracking up.

Barney now began dry humping the big-assed Jeanette, getting a fierce hard-on while doing so.

She turned around to see Barney's sturdy cock pointing straight at her.

Seemingly doing squat exercises, Barney lunged up and down, making his large boner pound against his bare stomach.

Jeanette bent over laughing, unable to grasp how wild things had gotten.

"We wanna see you shoot, cowboy!" one of Jeanette's friends, the red-haired Rebecca, shouted, as "Girls on Film" gave way to Laura Branigan's "Gloria."

One of Barney's talents, and he admittedly didn't have many of them, was to cum on demand.

Already fiercely turned on, it didn't take much for Barney to square up, and even without any assistance from his hands, his cock shot forth a thick rope of ejaculate that whizzed through Rebecca's hair.