"Why you so nervous, Gerald?"
"Are you kidding; if my wife finds out, I'm fucked."
"Did you tell her where you were going?"
"Nuh, no!"
"Then what're you worried about, man; let's just go to this convention, enjoy ourselves for a few hours and get a bite." Gerald was my running buddy as of the last six months, but he was seriously whipped in his marriage. I regretted offering him the free pass I'd won in an online contest entered on a lark.
"Yeah Derrick, you're right man; it's just that I always feel guilty when I leave Mazzy with the kids." My squat, chubby compatriot still looked shaky making me wonder if his condition went part in parcel with multiple years of marriage. It definitely wasn't an endorsement.
"Hey, check that shit out." Both of us glanced to our right from the line we were waiting in that stretched almost a block and a half.
Six models were walking by grouped together in a huddle, all of four of them black women, two likely Caucasian. It was hard to make the two because of their decidedly urban hairstyles and war paint makeup. All of the women were outrageously thick, but I guessed that maybe three out of the six were naturally endowed.
"Damn, I know that female, right there!!" He gestured timidly towards a ridiculously stacked blonde sporting shoulder length Dutch braids. She almost looked like some exaggerated cartoon character equipped with what appeared to be a fifty plus inch ass. The woman in some divine act of genetic fairness, had modest sloping breasts.
"WHO THE FUCK IS THAT?!!" I blurted out uncontrollably as some of the other waiting convention goers chuckled and laughed at my reaction. Gerald wasn't any better, grabbing on me in tugging fashion like we were seeing a movie star of sorts.
"Uhm, she uh-goes by a single name on IG; uhm her name's Chrystal!!" Other enamored fans were cutting out of the winding line to get photos of the group as some security guards appeared.
"Why does she look, familiar?" She was beautiful enough with this sort of, harsh crazed look I'd unfortunately noticed on a lot of hood rats.
"Don't you remember; she used to be on this reality cooking show? She was super popular after they did an episode with some sort of competition on the beach; everybody was wilding out when she popped up in this bikini showing off all that ass; on network television, too!!"
The memory hit me like a ton of bricks, as I recalled it being a point of contention between me and my then, girlfriend. My somewhat plain in the body paramour, erased the cherished episode from my DVR in a fit of jealous rage that eventually led to our breakup. It felt like karmic reparations now being ten feet away from the ass that destroyed my complacent relationship.
"I got you man; I remember that shit. Chrystal won the show, right?"
"Well, supposedly she won, but the network made them reshoot the ending with the runner up winning instead. She had a sex tape leaked, some people said it got leaked on some talk show, but that's just a rumor."
"Bummer."
"Yeah man, she was supposed to be going to Paris for an internship and shit; but now she been celebrity clout chasing for a minute. She's going the C-List celebrity route with other reality shows, and IG." Harold was surprisingly in the know, obviously more of a fan than I was.
"So, she doing porn, now?"
"I don't know; heard she sold that sex tape to one of the big companies for six figures. Probably marketing that shit, or something." Gerald was probably a walking Wikipedia of the adult industry.
"Serious; you seen it?"
"Fuck yeah; downloaded that shit on my computer too."
"Better hope your old lady don't find that shit." I warned, completely joking.
"She don't know shit about no computer if it ain't her phone!" Gerald shot back, both of us still watching as the group of women were escorted towards the convention center surrounded by a phalanx of Maglite wielding security guards.
C-List Chrystal took our eyes with her wearing a pair of micro mini, jean printed, short leggings that wear basically ceremonial in nature. Over two thirds of her massive, heart shaped butt was exposed, jiggling slightly as she strolled into the building. The pavilion in front of the convention center was inundated with visitors, vendors pushing varies food items and trinkets and assorted porn stars, media personalities and their myriad, sycophants. It was a madhouse that was just what the doctor ordered after a hectic couple of weeks at the job.
I'd entered an online raffle on this social media page I visited as a lark one night after heavily drinking. A month later I found an email with two downloadable tickets to the biggest porn convention in town. I didn't really have too many close friends, so I offered the ticket to Gerald, a buddy from a previous temp job we held together. I'd been pushed out due to limited openings at the law firm we worked at but returned because he got fired. Ironically, Gerald was shit canned for making comments about our boss, a blonde bitch who could've undoubtedly given Chrystal a run for her money.
"Man, you gotta get me a copy of that shit." The clique of semi-famous thots along with one C-List celebrity disappeared into the crowd. We glanced around at some of the other women on public display.
"I'll email it to you tomorrow when the wife's at church."
"You don't go to church, Gerald?"
"For what; sides, it's the only time beside today, I get a break from the wife and kids." His answer added to my reticence about marriage. Most of my married acquaintances, were similarly afflicted.
"That's sad."
"Fuck you, man." We both started laughing as someone tapped me on the shoulder. The person seemed to reach through a deluge of people pressing in against us from both sides. Security had done a shitty job of cordoning off the winding line with stanchions with these neon cords lacing them together.
"WHAT?!!" I wasn't in the mood for any line jumpers, not even looking to see who'd tapped me. Gerald instead clapped his hand on my opposite shoulder, eyes saucer wide. He wasn't looking at me.
I looked over my shoulder finding some woman's massive, olive colored cleavage staring me right in the face. These enormous breasts were so huge, each was undoubtedly bigger than my head as my gaze traveled up finding the irritated face of their owner. This woman looked all of nineteen, maybe early twenties, likely Latina, Black or mixed with a nappy looking afro of sandy brown hair framing her round face. She was beautiful, even visibly angry.
"I don't know you, but if I did; I'd ask you what crawled up your ass and died, maldita cabeza de polla!!" She was Spanish mixed, but her voice oddly reminded me of Oprah Winfrey.
