Putting the Madge in Danna (4 page)

I have an appointment this Friday to meet
with him. I’m using my wedding as a cover. You know, I’ll say I’m
thinking of having CDs made with our favorite music to give out as
wedding favors. Zeus and I talked about this so it is legit.

How hard is it to seduce a man like that –
my Tin Man, the heartless record producer who only wants to make a
quick buck? I’m feeling very confident and so is my hooey. Let the
seduction begin.

Comments:1

I’m an actor. Please fuck
me.
Rob, NY, NY

****

First Contact

Friday, JULY 24, 2009 - 6:00pm

I made first contact with Chad Mavis. He
seemed the same as he had the night of my prom – the sparkling
eyes, the huge lips, only now he has a goatee and mustache combo
and he looked about twenty pounds heavier in his madras shorts with
protruding tum-tum and faded Chad Mavis Band T-shirt. His hair
appeared thinner too.

The recording studio is actually in the
detached garage of a house in an upscale city neighborhood around
the corner from the Crossgates Mall. You go through the side door
and there’s a little bell that rings to notify Chad Mavis that he
has a customer. I’m pretty sure no one walks in off the street to
do this kind of thing without first phoning. Still, I half expected
him to be sitting there without his pants on or something, like I
had caught him with his pants down on my way to taking his pants
down (ha, ha). I guess because every time Zeus and I have sex it’s
like a porn video. I was already constructing the script in my head
for this scenario after reading so much about Madonna, you
know?

But he was in there, alone, sitting hunched
over one of those tall stools in the recording booth, in front of
an unplugged microphone strumming a guitar. He nearly fell off his
chair when he saw me.

I was wearing a raspberry pink floral
sundress to match the color of my pinky-pinkerson, which was pretty
juiced up at the thought of my devious plan to connect via
hooey-pricker with this man. I had just come from a mani-pedi, so
my nails were still a little wet – not really, but you know how it
is when you pay all that money and they still seem sticky even
though the Vietnamese lady says you can go.

He had a pretty large console set-up, very
Jay-Z worthy, filled with all these gadgets that control volume and
tones. It reminded me of big penis jokes for some reason, like what
they say about guys who drive big cars or whatever. It looked like
it took more than one engineer to run it all, but what do I know
about the technical aspects of making music? There was a glass
enclosed booth, sort of the size of one of those photo booths at
the county fair. No, it was a little bigger, actually. Big enough
to fit two singers on high stools and maybe a couple guitarists
standing in back too.

The whole room still reeked like a garage,
complete with a rake, lawn mower, snow blower and other gadgets for
outdoor chores. The walls had foam lining them, sort of a homemade
soundproofing that seemed to create a kind of fortress (of kink, I
thought). Pot halogens dangled from the unfinished ceiling like air
masks that pop out when a jet’s about to crash. Was this entire
mission a wreck in progress?

As he approached, he must
have noted that strange look I get on my face when I think
something is odd. Zeus is always tells me things are
written all over my face
– not literally of course, but you know. Like when my nose
scrunches up all funny when I drink wine. I’ve been trying to get
out of that habit, drinking a little bit every day or so to get
used to it because I don’t want to look like I don’t love Jesus
when I have to drink his wine blood at my wedding. That would be
very unorthodox.

“
We’re still putting the
finishing touches on a shed out back for that stuff,” Chad offered
as an explanation pointing to his landscaping tools. “Then there
are plans to finish the walls and paint them yellow.”

I said, “Mellow yellow.” I had been thinking
it but then it just popped out aloud. I hate when that happens.

“
Yeah. That’s right,” he
said. “It’ll help calm people if they feel nervous. Sometimes
seeing a professional studio space is daunting.” God, I dislike the
word
daunting
! It
makes me think people who use it are trying to be smarter or
something. Then I thought, maybe Chad Mavis was trying to impress
me with his big words. Could he be harboring a big, juicy cock
beneath his big vocab – a kind of a
put-your-money- where-your-mouth-is
thingy?

I said, “Hi. I’m Dannika Elinopoulous, soon
to be Zepkos. I’m getting married next month. We spoke on the
phone?”

“
Nice to meet you,” he
said as he offered his hand to shake. “I’m Chad.”

I made a slight fist and we knuckle bumped
instead. “Manicure,” I said sheepishly. “I know who you are, Mr.
Mavis. I’m a huge fan of your work.”

“
Really? How
so?”

I laid it on really thick. Thought it would
be a good idea to shower the old guy (he’s about thirty-five) with
all sorts of mega compliments to butter him up. I shared some
tidbits from prom, and how Zeus and I had followed his career some,
and la-la-la. Then I proceeded with my cover story, you know, about
the music for my wedding. He showed me a sample of a tape he’d put
together for some Russian couple. I think he had it in his head
that all foreigners are interchangeable. Well, maybe the religion
is the same but the culture – come on! That’s such an American
thing to think and it kind of bothered me. Oh well. Sorry. I know –
it wasn’t a biggie, and it’s not like I’m going to marry the
guy.

I don’t even have to like him or any of my
potential fucksters, although that would certainly make this
journey more fun. Madonna wasn’t in love with her record producer,
of course. I just need Chad Mavis’ pricker in my hoo-ha – Madonna’s
rules and I must abide by them or else I will have a pitiful life
full of the cum of only one young man.

I said, “I’d like some
Madonna for my processional, the older stuff, like
Crazy for You
.” Then I
started singing it, a cappella. This time it was an aloud, on
purpose thingy because I love to sing and Madonna’s songs fit my
range perfectly. I looked into his eyes and just belted it out,
which I think impressed him.

“
You sound amazing,” he
said. “Have you thought about singing it yourself? You could have
your voice recorded and have it playing as you waltz down the
aisle. Or it could be used as your first dance. That would make the
reception unique and memorable. And personal. People love making
their weddings more personal or so I’m told. I wouldn’t know. My
old lady and I eloped.”

I blurted, “I don’t know, isn’t that kind of
tacky? I mean, sorry, not eloping or anything. That sounds kind of
good, actually. All of this wedding planning can be stressful. I
meant the singing – hearing my own voice like a narrative in a
movie or something. It seems a little Bridezilla.”

“
Why don’t we lay a track
down, see how you like it?” he said. “I have an opening
tomorrow.”

I said, “Will that cost a lot?”

I knew Zeus would kill me
if I went off budget. Mom and Dad are supposed to be paying for the
whole wedding, since I’m the girl and the bride’s parents
traditionally pay, but Zeus’ parents are chipping in too. Zeus
didn’t like the idea of being the child still – he forbade us from
using the words
children of
on the wedding invitation. He insisted on
contributing most of the money for the wedding expenses himself
since he has such a high paying career and all, but I think my
parents have this plan to replenish our joint bank account with
anything Zeus spends. He doesn’t actually know that, so he has me
on this stinking budget, and he’ll know if I trip up, because he’s
a money cheapo.

Sometimes he’ll interrogate me with tickles
until I confess to buying a new pair of shoes (the last ones were
fuck-me Steve Madden’s, and I really bought them for his pleasure
because they went so well with my sexy red riding hood get-up).

“
Maybe we can negotiate
something that works for the both of us,” Chad Mavis said with a
smile. I thought, what a relief - all this worry for nothing! He
winked or at least, I thought he had. It could have been something
in his eye like an allergen – my eyes do tend to get bloodshot when
I wear colored contacts then my brother, Dean thinks I look like
Medusa. I don’t really know.

Regardless, I took it as a sign. I had to go
for it. I asked, “Do you take cunt currency?”

“
Did you just say what I
thought you said?” he asked.

“
Indeedy do,” I
replied.

And that my friends, was
that. We
kissed!
He kind of did this slobbering thing, like he was too excited
or something. I let him fondle my titty-titty-bang-bangs a little,
and when he did, he shoved his hairy leg against me and I could
feel a full blast Mr. Hard-on nudging against my mound of
fuck-me.

Then I said, “This is nice. Thank you. But I
have another appointment to get to right now so, I guess I’ll see
you tomorrow.”

“
I look forward to working
with you, Dannika Elin…Elin…,” he said.

“
Elinopoulous. Soon to be
Zepkos,” I added. In my giddiness, I tripped over the microphone
stand and nearly bumped into the foam-lined wall on my way out the
door. “What’s that doing there?” I muttered the way my bestie, Gina
Romano, does when she experiences a clumsy moment.

Wow, this is going to be easier than I
thought. I am on my way. Need to groom up for my encounter. Wish me
luck.

Comments: 4

Good luck. Anonymous

Why you are using
Dannika’s name for this vulgar writing? She is good
girl.
Auntie
Sofia, Toronto, Ont. Canada

Call me. I’m your guy,
your actor guy. This isn’t a joke.
Rob,
NY, NY
I believe Madonna’s record producer
friend was Mark Kamins, who sent a copy of
Everybody
to Seymour Stein at Sire
Records, thus launching her career.She didn’t fuck him, as far as I
know.
Antoinette, Little Rock,
AK

****

Crazy for Fucky-wuck

Saturday, JULY 25, 2009 - 8:00pm

You might want to have an Ouzo first before
you read this entry, because hard liquor is the only thing that
helped me after it happened. I drank half a bottle of the brandy my
Dad had made from apricots last summer. It was pretty good for
moon-shine. I think he was saving it for the family
night-before-the-wedding party. Oh well. Hope I don’t sound too
inebriated, as I attempt to recollect this adventurous
encounter.

My appointment with Chad Mavis was scheduled
for noon today, but it had been very difficult to shake Connie
Zepkos, Zeus’ mom. She had wanted me to meet her at Zepkos Cleaners
then she’d planned to take me out shopping for sheets and towels.
She kept me on the phone for hours talking all sorts of
Suzi-homemaker shitilda. Needless to say, but I wasn’t about to
shoo her away. She’s my fiancé’s mother, and I do love her like a
mother. Like my mother’s best friend, really, because that’s who
she is. She’s like my mom’s twin only a little more foreign. I
think that’s because she was born in Athens and not Albany like Mom
was. I promised to meet her tomorrow, which would have given me
time to wash the fuck off my other face (referring to my hooey
there).

I doubt she’ll notice a
change in me, but she is known to believe in the evil eye and that
kind of freaks me out. She wears these eyeball necklaces all the
time, even gave me this gy-normous blue one at my bridal shower. I
hope she can’t sense the smell of another man on me. That would be
weird though, if she could. I might have to start wearing the
creepy eyeball to protect myself from
her
.

I had barely enough time
to dress for my first Madonna-style conquest. I wore the La Perla
white lace bra with matching thong from my wedding trousseau, and
my strappy stone encrusted wedding shoes (hey, I have to break in
my Jimmy Choos if I’m to do hours of folk dancing at my wedding,
right?) The white eyelet sundress with the halter straps didn’t
cover the bra straps but that was the idea. I was my own version
of
Like a Virgin
,
all done up in gold coin, pearls and a diamond cross around my
neck. I wore my hair in a loose bun that I could yank out at the
fucky-wuck witching hour.

I met Chad at 12:45pm. He
looked like he was packing up for the day when I walked in. I guess
he’d thought I was just a tease, with my smarmy
cunt currency
sexy-talk, and I
didn’t blame him because I
was
forty-five minutes late. I’m not normally so
unprofessional, but like I said, it was sort of Mrs. Zepkos’
fault.

I said, “Hi. Sorry I’m late, wedding stuff,
you know.” I could see a look in his eyes that said he didn’t
really care what my dealio was, but I still decided to throw Connie
under the bus. “Zeus is always telling me that I should be prompt
because it’s a sign of maturity, but my future mother-in-law and
I….”

“
You sure you want to get
married?” he asked, interrupting my explanation.

“
What do you mean?” I
asked back. I thought he was about to hit me with his best come on
seduction. Would it be something like him yanking at his
erectasaurus and saying,
because you have
more gusto to grab, darlin’!
And
then,
you want a piece of this?