Pharaoh Ch. 22

***Sunday, September 1, 2304***

Ordinarily I am a stickler for attendance at Pastor Ninkovich's Sunday service. That good man always has some interesting and important lesson for us all. And he had recovered nicely from the concussion he sustained when the chair hit him on the head during the WGPD riot.

But when I woke up I knew I'd be absent today. Everything that hurt yesterday, knees, elbows, ribs and forehead, hurt again today. Plus I had a headache the size, as we say, of The New Native People's Region. I stumbled into the bath and gulped pain relievers. I stripped and showered and felt temporarily a little better. When I slithered out of the bath Stony was right where I'd left her. I poked her arm gently. She just moaned. Let her sleep.

I threw some clothes in a bag and got online to book my airline ticket. Direct to Cleveland, leaves at 4:10, arrives 6:07.

Stony slept till noon and didn't make it downstairs till almost 1 in the afternoon. One look at each other and we swore off champagne for life. Made us wonder how Bri was handling it.

We got to her Mom's house by 2 o'clock, just time for a quick visit if I was to make the plane. I was limping and still in the head bandage as we entered her lovely home.

Stony's Mom is this sweet looking little round woman with lively fierce eyes (like her daughter's) and much more hair that I would have expected. Also an old-fashioned flowered dress that hugged her somewhat ample figure.

"Mom, I'd like to introduce you to..."

"To Jeff Rochefort. I know."

"Yes, and Mom there's something I have to tell you, something great. Jeff and I..."

"Are going to get married. I know."

Stony reared back in surprise while I tried to hide behind her.

"How do you know...?"

"I'm your mother, that's how."

Mrs. Montague turned to me and gave me the up and down review. I can't say she looked overly impressed.

"Who gave you the licking, son?"

"Lick? I don't..." Surely she didn't already know about our sex life?

"Who beat the living Jesus out of you boy?"

"Oh, that. Aaaah. No one. I just...you know...tripped coming out of work the other day."

"Hmmm." To say she viewed my answer with skepticism would be about right.

The three of us stood there looking at each other. It reminded me of my meeting with Roger and Mrs. Epstein-Epstein.

She turned again to Stony with a shake of her head. "You can see that he's white, correct?"

Stony replied with dignity, "I've been aware for some time now."

"Whitest boy I ever..."

Mrs. Montague turned back to me. "I understand you're in sales. You work for that prick Roger, right?"

"Well, not exactly. You see I..."

Stony made one of her executive decisions to take over and said, "No, Mom. Jeff quit. Yesterday. He's out. And yes I know he's white. I don't believe he ever tried to hide it. So what we're doing, please remember now I'm 19, an adult, right? What we're doing is we're getting married and we're moving away from North Porter. Far away I hope. We'll always come back to visit, but we can't live here any more."

It somehow made me feel better to see that Mrs. M. seemed equally unimpressed by her daughter.

"Hmmm. Married and far away. All planned out is it? Leaving your poor mother all on her own."

"No Mom, we'll..."

But Mrs. M. was on a roll, "Oh, don't worry about me. I'll just get old all alone, here by myself. But don't give it a thought. Don't let it bother..."

"Mom!"

Mrs. M. gave Stony an exasperated look and went back on the attack. "You two children might be forgetting one or two things. Like he's married to that slut I see on TV, the one Judy Mogumbo says is a total bitch, the one trying to fuck a Pharaoh, right?"

"No, Mom. He's getting a divorce. It's all planned."

"Planned maybe. Planned someday. But today he's married, right?"

I tried to help, "No ma'am, not someday, just..."

She ignored me. "Hmmmm. And your Virginity Certificate. Is that all planned too?"

"Well, actually it is. You see..."

"Cause you two are fucked without it you know."

"We do Mom."

"Fucked for being fucked. You think I'm the first mother to hear that 'staying with a sick girlfriend' story? Please."

We were silent. Stony turned away from her Mom and went to look out the window.

To break the tension I asked, "So do I call you Mrs. Montague, or Mrs. M, or Mom or..."

"Why don't we leave it at Arlene for now?"

"Certainly Mom."

"I said Arlene, goddamit."

"Yes, Arlene, certainly. My apologies."

Then Stony said we had to leave to get to the airport.

"Going to watch the slut perform, right?" she said to me. "See maybe you get to fuck her one more time before Pharaoh starts slamming her with his mighty black dick? How nice for your new girlfriend here."

Stony was getting really angry so I jumped in to cool her off.

"No Arlene, going to tell her I love your daughter and that we are getting a divorce."

"Hmmm." I believe Arlene is one of those professional skeptics who is disinclined to believe any news, particularly any news that sounds good.

Stony gritted her teeth and said, "We're going. I'll circle back after I drop Jeff and I can explain it better. OK?"

"Goodbye Arlene," I said.

"Hmmmm," she said, and we left.

As we got in the car Stony said with a clenched jaw, "Glad that's over...I'm gonna have a fun afternoon with her."

I told her, "She's a little gruff. Don't worry. I have a lot of experience with that sort of thing. So far I'd say she's no match for Mr. P."

=======================================

I grabbed the newspaper before boarding and scanned the front page while the plane taxied. The headline read, Mongolians To Surrender in October. Below the fold was...Uh-oh.

What About The Men?

Judith P. Mogumbo — North Porter Free Black Register — Sunday, Sept. 1, 2304

I'm here in lovely Cleveland, jewel of the Midwest, and raring to go see me a little pussy roh-day-oh goes by the name of Black Pharaoh. You may have heard of it?

And I'm sitting in the lobby of the swellest hotel in town, The Piccadilly Palace (rooms still available — tell 'em Judy sent you!), and I start to wonder. About them. The (ahem!) men. The lords and masters of our three adorables.

See I've been so caught up in the dismal diva drama of the dames I kept forgetting that these lily white, bony assed, lords and (haha!) masters even existed. But now the girls have gone silent (long may it last!) so maybe it's the gent's turn in the barrel?

And I place a few calls, talk to a few friends, acquaintances, family and so forth and voila, tous les faits adaptés à l'impression, if you follow my Greek. Here goes:

Mr. Winston B. Reynolds, age 29, husband to the favorite (3 to 5) Elsie. Occupation: Farmer. Net Worth: $23,211. Scored the wife how exactly?: Tripped over Elsie at a dance when she was 18, her parents feared a resulting pregnancy and the couple married two days later. Quoted by a friend: 'Elsie gonna out-pussy those two sluts, her cunt like a bowl of creamy vanilla ice cream, little cherry on top. Pharaoh gonna banana-split her, fill my baby to the brim with his chocolate sauce — you'll see. Me? I'll be slamming fresh native North Porter sweet corn to the uppers, make me a bundle.' Notable physical characteristic: Hideously deformed nose.

Mr. Bernard Q. Partridge, age 23, husband to Elizabeth (7 to 5). Occupation: Dishwasher. Net Worth: $0. Scored the wife how exactly?: Claimed to Elizabeth on a blind date that he had coined the phrase 'partridge in a pear tree' and had co-produced reruns of the ancient Partridge Family series, leading her to believe that he had significant pear tree holdings and a video rights fortune. Quoted by a friend: 'My Liz gonna out-tit 'em. They shooting little B-cups at a girl armed with monster Cs. Pharaoh no fool, he knows where the good tit-fuck is at. He gonna put a fat nutsack's worth of chocolate frosting on those cakes. Me? She wins, I'm not bragging, I'm the new dishwash manager.' Notable physical characteristic: Violent, spasmodic facial tics.

Mr. Jeffrey T. Rochefort, age 26, husband to Alicia (even). Occupation: Auto Sales. Net Worth: $953. Scored the wife how exactly?: On the rebound from Mongolian war hero Eric B. Trefoillier (exempted). After Eric was killed in battle she would have married a toaster. Quoted by a friend: 'What Pharaoh wants is a fine, fine cocksucker, and nobody gonna out-tongue, out-lick, out-lip, out-hum, out-throat or out-swallow my Alicia. Pharaoh gonna be her chocolate milk shake. And BTW I can get you the deal of a lifetime on the new Maxtra VS 23000 M model. ' Notable physical characteristic: None.

So there you have it folks. A drip, a dolt and a douchebag. You wonder why our three charming sluts are desperate to get into the arms of a manly man who will fuck till the sun goes down and then keep fucking? Who will use all of his girl's wet holes for target practice? Who demands sweet submission and knows what to do with it?

I said I almost forgot they existed. Maybe I should have remembered to keep forgetting. (And BTW, it reminds me that Forget-Me-Not's Bridal Salon is offering 30% off all Lithuanian slutwear through Sept 15. Use codeword Moose.)

See you on Wednesday!!

OOOps! One last thing. One of my besties, Klara Glockenspiel, she tells me to be on the lookout for the grand re-opening of Klara's Klit Klutch, formerly Schöne Zunge. Gents: get your girl the kind of ring (tongue, belly, tit, clit) that tells her you love her and tells her whose pleasure comes first! You won't regret it. Tell Klara and Heinie, 'Gumbo said Hello!!'

For myself, I was almost used to it. I just hoped Arlene didn't think it was true. Also, I was pleased to see the Glockenspiels were making real progress on their dream.

====================

I'm booked into Piccadilly Palace myself and first person I run into is Judy Mogumbo. I'm taking the elevator down from 18 to hit the breakfast bar. And there she is semi-slouched in the corner, head down, scrolling her phone, never looks up. I recognize her right away from the little head shot they attach to her articles. A black woman about my age, very stylish, skinny jeans and a pure white silk blouse, simple short hairdo, a slender gold necklace and massive hoop earrings. Pretty in a way. Business like she strikes me as.

"Have a good one, dude," she says as she slides the phone into her purse. She leaves the elevator at a high rate of speed. Good that she doesn't seem to recognize me.

The head bandage was off and my various aches and pains were about gone. My plan was to take a Danish and a coffee upstairs and relax in the room till the husband's meeting at 2 p.m. No way was I going to miss that. Despite the somewhat unusual circumstances between me and my wife, it was too good a thing to pass up.

I had tongs on the Danish when I heard him.

"Jeff-er-ay. Jeff-er-ay. O'er here laddie."

Well, I was in no mood for that sort of thing. Why did he have to come to Cleveland when he could have sat home and watched on the telly? But there was no way not to acknowledge him. I went over to Scots Willy and told him I was late for a meeting.

"Oich! Than ye mist let Wullie buy ye a crakin' tea. Thare is muckle tae discuss."

I held up my coffee and said, "My meeting..."

"Na ye darned gowk. Whit yer fowk ca' 'dinner'. Th' nicht efter a' yer important meetings."

To get away I agreed to dinner and he cheerfully released me. As I walked out of the buffet I was surprised to see many familiar faces, it wasn't just Willie. Somehow I'd forgotten the good people of North Porter. Some I saw were people I'd sold to, others were just familiar faces. It hit me. First I thought, all these people had grouped into tours to witness first hand their own Pharaoh-Wednesday. They were nodding and smiling at me. I had to greet a few but made the same meeting excuse. It was the price of celebrity. Then it really hit me: these people, some of them, were part of the cheering section Samantha had organized for my wife. There were Sam and husband waving. I went and thanked her and made my excuse. There was Danielle, there Janie. There they all were, laughing and waving and having the time of their lives, excited to be part of history. Now more than ever I was determined to bunker down in my room.

I escaped. On the elevator I wondered about this dinner with Willie and why he said there was much to discuss.

==========================

We were two-thirds the way though our meeting when she got to the interesting part.

"The key thing is for you gentlemen to recognize this one fact: afterwards, win or lose, your wife might want to fuck more, she might want to fuck less, she might want not to fuck at all. She might want you in a different bedroom, at least at first. She might want to suck your dick like her favorite lollipop, or have you lick the dew from her little rose garden, or the opposite. She might want to review the memory book with you page by page, how he did what to her when, how she came and how much he came in or on her, or she might not want to mention it. She might want to talk about it nonstop with you or with her best girlfriends, about her little sperm tricks with Pharaoh, about every tit fuck, every ass fuck, every throat fuck and every pussy fuck. She might not want to discuss it at all. It all depends on the individual girl, we're all different. See? Girls are people too."

Roxie scanned her audience. We all nodded. She went on.

"Now in my personal case after six months with Akumbi I was still raring to go, figured I was at the top of my form and wanted Charles to fuck me day and night. I'd be screaming about how Pharaoh would hold me down when Charles came in my pussy. Or I'd be grunting out the memory of sucking Pharaoh's dick when my Charlie came in my mouth."

"But other girls I know, the opposite. This girl Sofie, nice lily-white Norwegian girl, girl right after me Season 1? With a hard dark man named Darweshi? She figured she couldn't take that step backwards, wouldn't let her husband fuck her for three solid months. Which I can also understand. Eventually he bought her a diamond solitaire and she came around. Then this other girl Francesca in Season 2? She went home that night unrewarded, voted 3rd place slut by the audience, but fucked her husband's brains out for the next year. See what I mean?"

She looked. We all nodded again.

"So just be ready for anything. Don't try to guess in advance. Be flexible. Be accommodating. Think of it as part of your own service to Pharaoh, to someone who has earned it by being your better. Keep your focus on what you owe him. He honored you by taking your wife. Richer, stronger, faster, more intelligent, more manly, more accomplished, he has earned your submission too and you should be proud of it. So think of it as you kneeling before him offering loyalty and devotion to his cock. OK?"

We all nodded even though this one sounded totally weird, like lesbianism for guys, haha!

"Remember your wife has gone through a lot and she's still going through it. Realize what she's done for you, and how fortunate you are to have her again. And I mean win or lose. The winning girl I'm sure you understand. They go through the most. But you take the two losers. Think how hard this has been for the poor girl, how close she came to her dream. You'll still be the master of her and of your house. We're not asking you to forget that. But if her cute pussy runs dry on you, just hang in there and hope once her celebrity fades a bit, and it will, hope that she'll open it up again."

That was all Roxie. I recognized her as soon as I entered the meeting. A beautiful girl still, Roxie won the 3rd ever episode of Pharaoh about five years earlier. She had earned her way into Akumbi's bed and he kept her there for the full six months. Somewhere at home Alicia and I had the commemorative photo set of her time with him in Bali. Roxie definitely had the experience to lead the girls, had the knowledge to lead us guys too.

Bernie had nodded somewhat coldly to me when I came in. Apparently the "retard" line had not been forgotten. I noticed that the facial tics really were a bit more pronounced than I recalled. Win Reynolds, on the other hand, could not have been more friendly and open, giving me a huge bear hug upon our introduction. His nose was a bit large and veiny but nothing like deformed.

One of the line producers, an Annie B., was present but did little more than file her nails during the meeting. The whole thing was run by Roxie.

Roxie had already covered how to dress (sharp business casual recommended), how to behave (happy, excited, eager), what not to do (disrespect the other girls or husbands, or, God forbid, Pharaoh, or the show or Cleveland or anything else related to the event), what to do (smile and clap and then smile and clap some more), how to respond to Pharaoh's judgement (winners should weep, losers grimace, all be good sports, all hug opponent husbands, all wish them well).

Roxie left the after-show mechanics till the very end of the meeting. The winning girl would be whisked away at once and her husband should just leave for home as discreetly as possible. His wife would be allowed one call to her parents and one to her husband or boyfriend in the first week, and monthly calls thereafter (calls not to exceed 10 minutes.) No partying with the cheering section. Avoid the mobs of well-wishers and hangers-on as much as possible. The losing girls could be picked up backstage one hour after completion of the show. Those couples also leave as discreetly as possible. Our only comment to the press, win or lose, would be "I'm so proud of my wife."

Roxie asked if there were any questions and Bernard raised his hand. "What if...like what if...you know my wife wins and she comes home but like...injured..somehow...you know...down there...and I...well it's not so great even if she wants it...cause of her injury...and I...like is there any special compensation for...for you know?"

Roxie explained that the girl would be given excellent medical support while on her Pharaoh honeymoon (as she called it), that the chance of her being injured from sex or any other cause was quite small, and that the show could not be held liable if her pussy changed in ways consistent with vigorous but legal fucking by a bigger man. If somehow an injury went beyond normal fuck response then the girl's husband would be awarded a one time grant of $1,000.

Bernie was satisfied with that and we all proceeded to sign the release forms. The girls had signed earlier.

I had a final question. "Alicia said we would probably be able to see our wives once before the show?"

Roxie said, "Oh, yes. Forgetting my own head next. Tomorrow. For each of you. Your wife's private dressing room, right here off Ballroom B. Just the two of you. From 2:15 to 2:30. We tried to allocate more time but it's just not possible given the extensive preparations still underway. Please be on time."

"Perfect," I said and the other two guys nodded.

So that was that.