Pharaoh Ch. 07

Chapter 7: Getting Close, Training, A Rift?

There would be five judges on White Girl Pride Day. Two were show producers, identified only as Rodney K. and Annie B., both in their early 30's. Two would be local politicians. Mayor Smith, a 60-something upper, had one spot. The town council voted in Judy Wexner, a 22 year old representative of youth uppers, for the second. The fifth was selected by our upper uppers, Lady Florence Beignet, a lively and domineering woman of about 80 years.

Each girl would be ranked 5 to 20 in each of 4 categories by each of the 5 voters and could accumulate a maximum of 400 points. The top point totals would advance to the show unless a majority of the panel felt a top three girl had a point total too low for consideration. That's how you might end up with zero to three girls selected for the show. If three girls did not advance then a second trial would be held in some other town to get the balance needed.

Lady Florence, as the upper upper, would act as tie breaker if needed.

Three of the categories spoke for themselves: Fashion, Bikini, Answer. The first goal was to evaluate each girl physically. Was she pretty enough? Was her body good enough? Each girl would be given 90 seconds to answer some question — same one for all girls while competitors had their ears blocked out of sight — and judges would score the response.

The fourth category was the most general and perhaps the most subjective: Demeanor. This was widely understood to favor contestants who showed they were girlishly compliant, eager to please and ready to be led, ready in all circumstances to serve and obey. It was often said to be the deciding category since all the girls had already been screened against their dress and bikini shots, and answers tended to the generically inoffensive.

Ten days before the big event The North Porter Chronicle published a special insert with the 73 registrants listed alphabetically, together with their three photos, ages, measurements, and three sentence self-description. Alicia's read "A dynamic and fun newlywed housewife. Pure and submissive, a very willing servant for the right man. Keyhole Club in college." She told me that she tried to sneak in the third sentence as, "Girl who knows her mouth is not primarily for talking," but the committee had rejected it for a family paper. But my wife is a doozie. The keyhole, I hadn't even known she was aware of it, did tend to jump off the page.

Once the Chronicle published it's story, three things happened in rapid succession:

our girls all freaked out at the number of competitors. Even though Mayor Smith had told us to expect 60 to 80 girls, the number 73 sent them all wailing.

miraculously, the very next day the contestants were culled to 32. The 41 girls eliminated were identified as either morally unfit (14 of them), no-chancers (22) or administrative/other (5 girls). Our girls breathed a sigh of relief. Some of the morally unfit girls looked like solid competitors. Those girls were found to have had a hole used before marriage (without an exemption). Sadly, Alicia's friend Nancy had been eliminated as a no-chancer, but the rest of her friends were still in.

the day after that the odds-makers spoke, listing each of the 32 girls with her odds of making the top three. Alicia was listed 9th at 8 to 3. Sam was in 16th at 10 to 3. Elizabeth (those damned tits!) was third at 3 to 5, Briana was 7 to 2. Janie was 9 to 2. Danielle, given how pretty she is, was the most disappointed, odds at 3 to 1. No one was particularly happy.

A girl from Ridgefield named Elsie P. Reynolds had the best odds, 2 to 5. Her bikini shots were making everyone, both girls and guys, crazy. A girl from the other side of North Porter named Marcia-Louella Fabreze was listed second at 1 to 2.

Alicia kept her composure, kept her head down, kept working. Her odds improved over the next week as more people got a better look at her. When the book closed one day before the competition she was in 5th place at even money. But I got in my $953 bet, basically all of our savings, at her original odds.

By the time the odds were set, Alicia was feeling really confident and so was I. If she could win a top three spot on White Girl Pride Day we were fixed to make something like $2500. Plus we'd have the original $953 investment back in our bank account. Even with the Security Tax, which is too high in my opinion, not that I have the right to criticize, we'd still net more than $1700. All due to my lovely wife.

Then a fourth and a fifth thing happened, shocking things. Just two days before the competition the committee published a third and final list. The girl named Marcia-Louella was eliminated as administrative/other. We heard her husband had retracted his permission. The bigger bomb to explode was this: Briana was eliminated as morally unfit. Apparently Dray had fucked her before the wedding.

We now had 30 competitors.

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Alicia and I kept up her training, following Briana's advice pretty closely. We'd do old-fashioneds, we'd do lots of woof (it was our favorite), we'd practice Booya! and got pretty good at it (I thought), and we even did Orange Julius (more advanced) a few times. Tried a few of the others too.

I knew her confidence was off the charts when she'd go to her babytalk. Coming nude and glowing from the shower she'd say something like,

"'Oo wan fuk widdle Weesha tiny pussy wid pweddy cock? 'Oo wan woof-woof? Woof-woof—woof-woof—woof, miao say pweddy pussy."

Or another time, "Jeffy wan widdle Booya!? Booya! Weesha's tiny widdle cunny?"

That's a girl with dynamite in her cunt (as we say). Even if it was just practice. Even if I was white. Even if the baby talk could get a little annoying.

She still blew me, but not too much cause she was already so confident in her suck. Plus we had Woodrow. Usually I'd fuck her with Woody to practice her on black cock and to see her cum. Sometimes she'd suck Woody's black dick to make her suck practice "more realistic". I got to watch and enjoyed that.

When she blew him I thought I could recognize Shaft on a Raft but was embarrassed to ask. Alicia did some other fancy things with Woody but I could never figure out how to match what she did with the list of names I'd heard so long ago.

She had her new outfits, her new lingerie, her new bikinis. We practiced Answer, me playing the Pharaoh role (!), and she worked hard on Demeanor. She had exercised and primped and trimmed and planned and prepared like I couldn't imagine. She was as ready as she could be.

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I hadn't mentioned my earlier conversation with Briana but figured I should after Bri got eliminated. I was seated at the edge of the bed while Alicia did some toning exercises.

"Sorry to hear about Briana. Must be hard for her."

She kept working but puffed out an answer, "Yeah. I called her today expecting a meltdown. But know what? She was joking about it."

"Joking?"

"Yeah, like ooooh our deep dark secret is out, like being disqualified for a lack of morals is nothing."

"Oh, wow! She's not upset?"

Alicia paused her exercise, breathing heavily. "Not from the sound of it. She's fine. Some of the other girls were over there already. Comforting her." She looked back at me and said carefully, "Maybe it's better she's out anyhow. The judges won't be idiots. I hate to say it but they'd kill a girl like her on Demeanor."

I had to admit it. Briana was a nice girl but she had all those radical ideas. Alicia was right about Demeanor.

"Yeah....How is Dray?" I couldn't imagine. If it had been Alicia I would have been mortified.

Alicia went back to her squats. "Aah, don't worry about him. He's the upper. He'd be expected to fuck his girl before the wedding no matter what the rules say. She told me he was laughing about it too. It's her that will pay the penalty, even if she hasn't figured that out yet."

"Yeah, probably."

"Eighteen...Nineteen....Twenty....Her talk about white pride can get pretty offensive. Twenty-Two...Wouldn't have surprised me if she made some speech about it during Answer. Twenty-Four....Twenty-Five."

"Ummm. Yeah."

Alicia stood, shook out her legs, then walked in circles to cool down. Her fingers were laced behind her head. Her tits looked wonderful.

"Did I tell you I ran into her at the Garden Hutch?"

Alicia's head snapped over to look at me. "No. You two have been talking?"

"Just the once. About a week ago. Before she got...you know...canned. I just happened to be there when...."

There was an edge to her voice. "What'd she have to say? Anything about me?"

"Well, yeah, she was really nice. Complimentary. Said you were a shoe-in."

Alicia smiled and her voice softened. "Is that all?" She released her fingers. Her breasts barely dropped.

"Said we should practice Booya! and Orange."

"Ahh OK. Is that all?" Walking backwards now. For balance and posture.

I didn't know whether to say it, but I figured, well, you can't go around hiding things from your wife if you want to have a good marriage. I proceeded cautiously.

"Well, ummm, she kind of hinted....well, I guess said....ummm....she knows about your skills...you know?...the ones at ....aaahhh.... fellatio."

Alicia began rotating her arms rapidly still walking backwards.

"Three...So what? All the girls know. I told them. They sort of dragged it out of me." Alicia rolled her eyes. I know she abhors bragging. Then she smiled and said, "Don't worry. Seven...eight...I didn't give away any inside tips....thirteen...Those girls can figure it out on their own...nineteen...just like I did...twenty." She ended with a puff or air and a laugh.

I never had told Alicia about that long ago conversation with Scots Willy. Would have been weird, and inappropriate. It was her business. And Eric's. I'd long ago resolved to let her have her memory unsullied by any questioning or pouting from me. I was good at that, at my duty.

But I knew she had told a little white lie, that she hadn't actually figured it out all on her own. Somehow Eric had mysteriously known how to train her. How he knew I couldn't figure out.

Alicia was cooling down. She scrunched up her nose like there was a bad odor in the room. She said, "Not sure I like the bitch talking about my sex life with my husband."

"No, no, no. She didn't mean any harm. Like I said..."

Alicia cut me off with a grunt. "Bitches never do mean any harm. Then one day you find a knife between your shoulder blades."

"Huh?" I thought Briana was one of her closest friends. Where was all this coming from?

"Is that it? Is that all she said?" Her words were coming out fast and hard, rat-a-tat, in a hurry to get to the bottom of something.

I wanted to cool it.

"Yeah, pretty much. About you. At that point she was getting into White Girl Pride Day for herself too, getting motivated she said."

"I bet." There was the edge. I could hear it, could even feel it. Weird.

I blundered on. "Anyway I do feel sort of bad for her even if she didn't have a great chance. You could tell she wanted to go through the experience. Said she was curious about it more than anything."

Alicia gave a mirthless chuckle and said, "Well, curiosity killed the kitty. Right?"

"Ummm, right." It was better to stop. I was upsetting my sweetheart, though I didn't know why it upset her. Whatever the cause. We were too close to our goal, to her goal, to winning.

Alicia went in for a shower. After we did a final run of Booya! and Woodrow.

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The day after my rumor stunt at the office, Roger appeared in the doorway of my cubicle. Said everything would be on the up and up, said he admired my passion, said he needed more guys with balls around the place.

"Love your balls."

"Yes sir."

"Man's gotta have big balls to succeed."

"Yes sir."

"But no more announcements, hear me?"

"Yes sir."

"No more drama. People need to focus. Hear me?"

"Yes sir."

He was turning away. I had wanted to ask about Jason's measuring, about when an announcement would be made. I just never got the chance. He was that fast.

But not too fast to turn to me once more and say, "And clean the shoe prints off your desk for God's sake."

"Yes sir."

"Oh, and..aah..good luck to the wife next week. Deirdre, isn't it? Pretty girl. Saw the paper. Good luck to Deirdre."

"Thank you sir."

And he was gone. I might have been grinning ear to ear as he charged off executively. I didn't mind about the name thing. If things went the way I thought they would, Roger would know Alicia's name soon enough. Everyone would.

It was the longest conversation he and I had ever had. Including the interview six weeks back. And he had never admired my balls before.