Post by Roxy Cotton on Dec 17, 2018 16:35:46 GMT -5
LOS AGELESS
Hollywood, California - Saturday, December 16th 2017
“Yeah, I’m on my way baby, I just want to stop by and get a reading from Madame Charlatan… if she’d, like, hurry up with this basic customer anyway.”
Roxy Cotton’s voice is pointed and aggressive as she talks loudly into her cell phone while standing in a palm reader’s office. The room is decorated with various new age trinkets and accoutrements, and some bells hanging over the beaded entrance door jingle as Roxy taps her foot heavily, demonstrating her annoyance to the seated Madame and her current customer, a woman on the heavyset side.
“So… you say I’ll find the love of my life at the supermarket?”
“Yes! The spirits are clear on that, my dear… you’re buying eggs and he’s buying sausages… you bump into one another and soon you are together!”
“Wow! That’s amazing Madame Charlatan! What else can you tell me?”
“Close your eyes and take my hands… let me look into your spirit…”
Madame Charlatan waves her hands over her crystal ball, gesturing with widespread fingers as she gazes into the cloudy glass. She then reaches her hands across to the seated customer, taking her hands as the both close their eyes. Roxy clicks her tongue loudly.
“Like, are you going to be done soon honey? I’ve got an appearance to make. Shouldn’t you be getting down to the local A&P and wandering up and down the dog food aisle, hoping to find a blind man to love you?”
The woman squirms uncomfortably in her chair but keeps her eyes closed as Madame Charlatan opens one of hers and mouths at Roxy to knock it off.
“What? Like, I’m a celebrity! I don’t have time to sit here and wait for some fat basic to figure out which sad virgin will be willing to climb on top of the Pillsbury Dough Girl just to finally get his tiny willy wet. I have a real life and real things to do! It’s my turn!”
“Roxy!”
Madame Charlatan stands up and snaps sharply as the portly customer allows a single tear to roll down her cheek silently.
“Hold on baby.”
Roxy speaks into her phone, then covers the mouthpiece with the palm of her hand.
“Yes? What’s wrong? Is it my turn yet?”
“No it’s not your turn! You know this is first come first serve, you’ve been coming here long enough to know that. You have to wait, be patient.”
“Oh my GOD Madame Charlatan, you don’t have to, like, confer with the spirit world to know what this puddle of goo’s future is! Stop lying to her to make her feel better and tell her the truth! She’s going to live alone and get bigger and bigger, get a bunch of cats, probably get knocked up by some desperate black guy, and then die choking on, like, a chicken leg or something before she’s 50. Come on!”
By now the woman sitting in front of the crystal ball is fully broken out into sobbing tears. Sh reaches into her purse and tosses out the payment for the reading onto the table, then stands up and rushes out of the store with her Lu Lu Lemon yoga pants squeaking against each other in the inner thighs as she hustles out.
“Oh, my turn! Yay!”
Roxy obliviously prances over to the now-vacant seat and plops down in it, still holding her cell phone, slipping over to speaker.
“Okay baby, you can listen in on my reading now! Madame Charlatan is the best! She predicted my Chaos Title win and even know I’d go to LAW before I ever did!”
“Oh neat…”
The disinterested voice of Vinnie Lane comes through the speaker of the phone, which Roxy sets down on the table to where it glitters and gleams in the lights due to its bedazzled casing.
“Pay attention, Vinnie! This is important! Don’t you want to hear about me winning the Marquee Contenders’ Battle Royal?”
“Huh? Yeah of course, dude, I’m just really busy at the office, you know? Big show coming up, a lot of signees, just a ton of financials to get through by the end of the year…”
“Kay, whatever, it’s time for my reading though! Madame Charlatan, what does your crystal ball say about me in the Battle Royal? Who do I throw out first? Who’s the last one in there with me before I win?”
“Hmmm… give me a moment to focus and confer with those who have crossed over, Miss Cotton…”
Madam Charlatan begins to weave back and forth in her chair immediately after sitting down in front of the crystal ball. Her eyelids flicker and her eyes roll back into her head as she grabs at the edge of the table with white knuckled tension in her hands.
“Vinnie! Are you listening? She’s going into her trance or whatever now. It’s how she talks to the spirits!”
“Mmmhmm, yep. Cool babe, cool.”
Roxy rolls her eyes and clicks her tongue again, obviously frustrated with the perceived lack of attention from her man. She sticks her hands out toward the Madame, startling her, and wiggles her fingers toward the older woman.
“Here! Take my hands so you can read me better! That’s how it works and stuff.”
“Miss Cotton, I am well aware of the proper ways to…”
“TAKE THEM, GOD!!”
Madame Charlatan, exasperated, grabs Roxy’s hands and closes her eyes again, clearing her throat and saying in an annoyed tone.
“The spirits say you have personal issues with the other women in your battle royal match. Tell me more, Roxy… why do the spirits say you worry more about Nova Sinclair and Stacy Jones than you do about the others?”
Roxy’s mouth drops open, her eyes wide.
“Vinnie! Don’t listen to that part!”
“Huh yeah. Good job babe.”
Another eye roll. Then back to the aghast expression.
“Madame Charlatan, how dare you! I’m not worried about anyone at all!”
“This is what the spirits tell me, Miss Cotton, not my opinion.”
“Well your spirits are basic. You need better spirits, these ones are just being extra for the sake of being extra. Which spirits are they? Stacy and Nova’s dads? Is that why they think I’m focused on them?”
“I have no idea who confers with me from the other side, Roxy, I only listen.”
“Well, I hope they’re listening to me! I’m not any more worried about either of those two silly twats than I am any other entrant in this thing. Nova Sinclair might have a win over me, but she’s still no more of a threat in this battle royal than Kayla Winters or Etsuko Whateverhernameis. Which is to say, just like those two, she isn’t a threat at all. I mean, god, at least Etsuko has held a championship in LAW! What have either Nova or Stacy done? Other than Stacy being the de facto submissive in the Angels wannabe Naughty Girls lezbo faction, of course. Like, you know Stacy must be the bottom in the Angels pegfests when they whip out the triple XL strapons and start treating her like a double ended fleshlight. I wonder who gets her face and who gets her ass? What do you think, Charlatan? What do the spirits say? Ask Stacy’s dead daddy or grandpappy or whoever is telling you all these post mortem LIES about what I’m worried about… ask them if they like seeing their little Unbreakable Stacy get spit roasted between a pair of scissor sisters, getting spun on a set of rubber dildos like a rotisserie chicken. What do they think, Madame?”
“They… the spirits aren’t speaking…”
“Figures! Stupid ghosts. Well, maybe it runs in the family and their ghost-mouths are full of ghost-strapons in the afterlife. Wouldn’t surprise me. Nova’s Ghost Dad probably has a real ghost dick in his, come to think of it. I mean, her mom was obviously just a beard anyway, she couldn’t wait to start carpet munching on all of Nova’s childhood girlfriends the second her old man was in the ground… maybe it was like one of those marriages of convenience? The old homo probably had a search history full of male underwear models or maybe even worse. Do you think he was into middle school boys? Elementary? Why else would he cuck himself by marrying a butch lesbian like Mrs. Sinclair? Either way, Mister Spirit Sinclair, make sure you play with the ghost balls that are bouncing off of your non-corporeal chin.”
“Miss Cotton, I don’t think the spirits will want to discourse with you if you insult them.”
“Who cares what a bunch of dead basics want? I’m the one paying my money, they work for me! And they started it by saying I was worried about those two cunts anyway. I’m not worried about anyone. I’ve got me, the best performer in LAW history, going up against a bunch of losers and wannabes. Even if I was worried about anyone, I’ve got my backup plans. I’ve got Mil in the ring, she’s there just to help me win! And I’ve got Maxine at ringside as an insurance policy. This is foolproof. It’s a 100% guarantee. One by one, the little bitches are going to bounce off of the concrete… splat! Splat! Splat! Maria, then Etsuko, then Kayla… then maybe I’ll grab Sammy by her dirty roots and toss her out then? Wouldn’t that just kill her? To not only lose to me AGAIN but to not even make it into the final four? I think that’s what I’ll do. Then I’ll take care of Nova and Stacy, and Mil will eliminate herself just like I said she would because she’s a friend and a team player. Hashtag take it to the bank, baby, this is locked in.”
“Miss Cotton… I don’t think the spirits agree with you. They say it isn’t going to happen the way you are saying. In fact, they think Millisandre…”
“Who CARES what they think! Madame Charlatan, I think your ghosts are just Jelly AF. They see me walking around all alive and stuff and they get mad because they know I’m going to toss out their daughters or granddaughters or whatever. I’m hot and young and tan and they’re just dead. Jealous. You need new ghosts that have better attitudes, or I might have to find a different psychic! Like, it’s so obvious that you’ll just believe anything they tell you, even when they’re clearly lying. I bet if they told you I had two heads you’d believe them even though you were looking right at me.”
“What on Earth are you talking about…”
“Whatever! I’m out of time, this was a waste. You should refund me or give me a groupon or something at least. I’m going to have to do some serious thinking about updating your Yelp review. Like, I really feel like everyone should know you use stupid jealous ghosts instead of honest ones. I’m done. I’m leaving. I’ve got to get to this signing before heading out to Philly.”
Roxy stands up and smooths down her skin tight mini skirt. She Heads for the door after grabbing her cell and seeing that the connection to her fiancé has dropped, then clucks and drops the phone into her bag before opening the door to the outside world, jingling the bells above it violently.
“Just, like, bill my account I guess. Or take my advice and give me this shitty reading on the house. Hope next time is better, Madame Charlatan! Byeeeee!”
Roxy wiggles her fingers in a distracted wave as she lowers her oversized sunglasses down over her eyes and walks to where a hot pink Mustang is idling in a parking space. Maxine, Roxy’s bodybuilder bodyguard, stands leaning against the driver’s side door with her arms folded over her chest looking displeased. She gives a cursory glance to the watch on her wrist and then goes back to making steely eye contact with Roxy.
“What? It’s not my fault it took so long. There was some fat girl who wouldn’t shut up about her loneliness or whatever. Are you going to open my door or are we just standing here all day?”
Maxine’s eyebrows raise in indignation, but Roxy stands her ground, matching her own stance to Max’s. She folds her arms and stands face to chest with the larger woman, not showing even the slightest sign of intimidation. Finally, after what feels like an eternity of unending standoff, Maxine lets out a sigh and rolls her eyes, reaching down to the rear door of the sedan, swinging it open carelessly as Roxy watches over the top of her shades.
“Thanks baby. Let’s go, I don’t want to be late.”
Roxy then slides into the back seat of the car and waits while Maxine shuts the door behind her. Max gets behind the wheel and starts up the car as Roxy pulls her phone out and tarts swiping through Twitter.
“Ugh, can you believe Ash Williams? What the fuck is with this girl?”
No response from Maxine other than a brief glance back at her employer in the rear view mirror.
“Like, if you’re gonna do it, just do it. Stop teasing us all with a cliffhanger. Like, did Michael Hutchence tweet about hanging himself or did he just, like, do it?”
Another brief glance in the mirror as the car merges into traffic on the highway. Los Angeles’ 405 is, as always, bumper to bumper.
“And oh my god I wish Perry would just die and stop tweeting at me all the time! I don’t want anything to do with him or his people, they’re gross.”
Silence from the front seat as the car moves forward an inch or two at a time.
“Are we going to make it there soon, Max? I hate being late.”
Maxine does not reply, just brakes hard as the car in front of them stops short.
“Max, I’m talking to you baby. Are we almost there?”
Maxine brakes again, this time even though nothing of note has happened in front of them. Roxy is jostled forward, and she drops her phone on the floorboards.
“What the FUCK Max??”
Maxine ignores her again and veers out of traffic, off of the 405 and into a gas station they had been passing by. She pulls up to a pump and shuts the car off, sticking her hand into the gap between the front seats palm up, waiting for money.
“What? We need GAS? Maxine we don’t have TIME for this! I need to get across town like NOW. How could you let the car run out of gas? What actual fuck? Why are you such a fucking retard, Max? Like, do all the steroids shrink your brain or were you always this stupid?”
Roxy continues to berate Maxine as if she hadn’t specifically instructed the bodyguard to keep the engine running in the parking lot of Madame Charlatan’s, and hadn’t forbidden Max from leaving for even a second.
“If I’m late to the signing I’m docking your pay. This is unacceptable Max! I deserve better! I deserve to be treated like your queen! I am a former Chaos Champion, and a soon to be Marquee Champion! I’m, like, a REALLY big deal! This is going into your employee file, and I’ll definitely remember it when it’s time for you performance review… don’t you DARE think for one second you’ll be seeing a holiday bonus, Maxine… MAXINE! Where are you going?!?!”
While Roxy was ranting, Maxine had quietly unfastened her safety belt. She exits the car and slams the driver’s side door shut with window rattling force, then starts walking towards the sidewalks, heading down the roadway on foot without so much as a glance backward to the car or the frantic blonde within it.
In the back seat, Roxy growls and reaches for her phone on the floor, but when she picks it up she sees the entire glass screen is shattered in a spiderweb of broken glass.
“NO!”
WELCOME TO ROXY COTTON’S PRIVATE CAM
“Hey baby.”
Roxy sits on the edge of her bed in a tiny satin camisole, her legs crossed at the knee. She smiles into the webcam and tosses her hair back, biting her lip playfully as she greets her audience.
“Did you miss me? I know I haven’t been on for like a week… I’ve been REALLY busy getting ready for this battle royal in LAW… practicing every single day, training twice as hard as usual… you know, it’s always funny to me how many people think I just sit around and look pretty, like I’m not at all some sort of threat inside a ring. They forget my relationship with a former world champion. They forget about my resources, my connections. I know some of the best wrestlers in this business, you know? I talk to the other Cool Kids on a daily basis, all of them have been champions themselves or at least contenders. Even weird ones like Mil and Sativa, they have been in title pictures everywhere they’ve been. Like, I’m in peak condition, right? I have muscle tone, perfect cardio, I have top notch flexibility from my yoga… you can see how quick I am any time you want, just watch a Cincy Hit Girls game, or any of my matches. You know, those bigtime matches that I WIN most of? Like, even when I’ve lost I’ve put a beating on my opponents they won’t ever forget. Ask them. Ask Kate Steele if I was easy to beat. Ask Nova Sinclair if I didn’t have her right where I wanted her. Everyone looks at them like REAL athletes and treats me like I’m some sort of pretender, but I go out to the ring night after night and I win a lot more than I lose, baby. Sammy Tolson can attest to that, can’t she?”
Roxy waits a moment while sucking a deep drag out of her vape pen. After a second she blows out a stream of pink vapor, then smiles as she reads some of the chat room comments. He stretches out one of her legs, pointing her toes toward the cam and flexing her taut muscles.
“Thank you for noticing! Yes, I just waxed earlier today and I’ve done a lot of laser removal also…my legs are as smooth as can be. I use a lot of lotion after showering, that’s why they have that shine to them… what’s that? About Tolson? Oh, her girlfriend Katie? Haha, you want to know a funny story?”
Roxy leans forward and brings the laptop closer to her, so the view is limited to just her face and chest.
“Sam Tolson broke up Katie and Ash because home wrecking is in her DNA. She can’t help it. To her it’s like breathing, or peeing standing up, or losing big matches… it’s just what she does, you know? Anyway, most of you probably know about when me and Ash hooked up, that was… weird… but a lot of you probably don’t know this. I totally fucked Katie too. Yup, I know! Katie really is just so totally easy… we were both at Ken and Sar’s wedding, and Katie is just a total lightweight with her alcohol. After like two drinks she was mumbling about how she wanted to eat me out… so I said fuck it, let’s do it, right? Went back to my suite, had another drink, and then she went down on me like she was starving for it. It’s true. And, I mean, she was alright, I’ve had better… she was wasted, so probably not on top of her game. I came, but that’s not exactly hard to do for anyone, you know, it doesn’t mean you did a good job or anything. But yeah, Katie totally licked my pussy after practically begging me to let her. She tried to kiss me after but I wasn’t having any of that. She cried and said I was being selfish by not reciprocating so I fingered her a little until she passed out. The next day she told me that my pussy was the best she ever tasted. Like, duh, right? I’ve heard it’s like butterscotch. Anyway, long story short, I just wonder… do you think Sam Tolson is enjoying the taste of my pussy on her girlfriend’s mouth? Do you think she even knows? That every morning and every night she’s kissing a set of lips that are nothing more than sloppy seconds from a wedding night drunken hook up? Do you think she likes butterscotch??”
Roxy giggles and reaches back for her vape again, producing a new cloud around her as she laughs through an exhalation of vapor.
“Right? I know… really, I bet she and the other girls would actually be happy to get a taste of me. The way they get so shook by me, it feels like they’ve all got these weird obsessive crushes on me anyway. Like Stacy Jones… this bitch... like, the best she can ever do is call me Saltwater Suzie. What the fuck does that even mean? Like, is she making fun of my tits? These are saline, it’s not like saltwater taffy, you dumb bitch. What does she think, that if she shakes them up and puts her ear up against me she can hear the ocean? I have high end, top dollar augmentation. I have the same tits that celebrities like Britney Spears and LiLo and Halle Berry have! This isn’t some embarrassing back alley bullshit, this is like owning a sports car. I’m fully loaded. She’s just jells because she can’t go bra shopping in the adult section. Honey, Stacy Jones is possibly the least frightening participant in this upcoming battle royal. Like, I’m honestly training my ass off in the gym on a daily basis, and when we do spar sessions I have people who mimic the moves and tendencies of the other girls, right? We work on Tolson, on Nova, on Kayla... we even did ten whole minutes of prepping specifically for Maria Salvatore’s weird bumfight style. But Stacy? Nothing. Why? Because Stacy Jones is like day one of wrestling school level of bullshit. She is nothing more than a tackling dummy in there, and she’s going to embarrass herself as well as the other Angels with her yet another piss poor performance. She shouldn’t even be the ring, to be honest. It’s obvious she suffered some sort of traumatic brain injury against Sam at Night of Glory... why else would she be fever dreaming about matches that didn’t take place? Like, she remembers an entire Marquee Title defense that never happened! What, Stacy, do you think Sarah Lacklan rolled herself to the ring in her wheelchair and Crystal Hilton pinned her? Do you even know who I am? Do you know what day it is? How many fingers am I holding up, Stacy?”
Roxy grins and lifts her middle finger to the cam, giggling furiously at her own wit while she takes another puff on her vape.
“Stacy, bless your little heart you poor thing... I’m sorry to have to be the one to spoil this for you, but you’re in my way, and I don’t let anyone sit in my way for long. You think you’re unbreakable? Honey, by the end of this battle royal I’m going to do more than break you. I’m going to shatter you into a million pieces, sweep you up into a little dust pan, and toss you in the fucking trash where you belong. Can’t wait. Next...”
Roxy smiles and types on her keyboard rapidly. When she finishes, a blurb at the top of her chat window switches over, revealing new token targets for her tippers.
TITTY FLASH – 100 TK
BOOTY SHAKE – 200 TK
SPANKS – 50 TK EACH
MUST GO PVT FOR SQUIRT SHOW!!!
HIGH TIP GETS SC FOR SIX MONTHS!!!
Chingchingchingching
“Thanks baby! PM me your email and I’ll send you the video.”
Chingchingchingching
“Thanks baby!”
Roxy takes another drag on her vape, then starts to drop the shoulder straps of her cami top before reading another comment in the chat.
“Wait, what... sorry baby, the flash can wait a second. What do you mean Nova’s been playing woe is me on Twitter? I didn’t see anything... oh! You mean about how she can’t get excited about the match? Can’t get worked up and get her heart into it? Honey I think that’s just her seeing the handwriting on the wall. Nova might know better than anyone else in the ring tomorrow night that it’s a lucky night to get into a ring with Roxy Cotton and come out on top. She could ride a win over me into other opportunities, like she did with the ladder match she lost at Night of Glory... but after LAW #73, when I erase that little fluke victory by demonstrating who the better woman has been the whole time? Well... I guess there goes that narrative, right? No more upward career trajectory for the new girl, just back to standing in front of a mirror and counting how many ribs are showing that day. Slipping laxatives into her fourth and fifth cups of morning coffee to help make sure she keeps herself a stick figure in a double zero. I know that deep down in her little fucked up brain she must think if she could only get a little bit skinnier then maybe her boyfriend would stop fucking other girls. Or maybe her mommy would stop sleeping with her friends. Or maybe her daddy wouldn’t have died. Everything is just the fault of whatever few ounces of dinner she didn’t manage to claw out of her stomach last night, right Nova? Everything is better if you can just get through the day without eating. As long as the needle on the scale always moves down and down and down, as long as your weight stays below three digits... isn’t it difficult to maintain that kid of discipline, Nova? Isn’t it hard on your heart and soul to look at yourself and hate every extra inch you see? Every bit of skin that you can pull away from the bone just sitting there mocking you with its bloated water weight? Wouldn’t it be easier just to give it all up? Just go nuts and eat a whole pizza before bed one night? Don’t worry baby, you can just jam your fingers you’re your throat again in the morning, get it all out just like everything else.
We live in a make believe place, Nova. Hollywood is a dreamscape. We’re all stars in a sky that’s painted on a backdrop and hidden behind a curtain when the audience goes home. We’re ageless. Timeless. We listen to talking heads and magic eight balls, never realizing until it’s too late that the eight balls are filled with nothing but water and wasted hope. We’re puppets on strings. Little ballerinas in music boxes, spinning along while the music slows and slows and slows until it finally stops and we freeze in place, still pretty. Still perfect. Cut the strings, Nova. Stop spinning when YOU want the music to stop, baby, not when the machine tells you it’s finished. All it will take is a few more of those diet pills. Just double the dose. Leave a little note for the ones who you think care. Declan will have the other girls to cheer him up, he won’t be sad long. Your mom has your old friend to hold her and tell her it will all be okay. Don’t worry! I won’t let the fans of LAW forget about you either... we’ll still have tomorrow night, the night I get my win back from you, to show them the legacy of Nova Sinclair. Out there on the ringside floor, sitting in your little puddle of blood and tears, on the outside looking back in where I’ll be with my hands raised over my head and a date with Crystal Hilton etched in stone.
I hope they let you watch me beat her from your hospital room.
Time’s almost up, Sister Ageless. See you tomorrow.
XOXO.”
Chingchingchingching
“Oh! Thanks baby...”
THIS USER’S CAM HAS GONE PRIVATE
~THE END~
