 The
Bitch is Back!Episode 3 of The Adventures of Ineeda Willingbottom a serial story by Jak Klinikowski |
Previously The Independent Gay
Writer brought you Episode 1 "A Bitch Slap Away" Episode 2 "Are My Nylons on Straight?" If you haven't read the first two installments, please do so before proceeding... |
| “My God,” Ineeda gushed,
“breakfast in bed. You certainly are a talented ranch-hand. I think I
may just have to keep you.” Terry’s cheeks turned a most becoming shade
of scarlet. “I was hungry,” replied the cowboy. “I didn’t want to wake you, so I sort of helped myself to the kitchen. I hope you like scrambled eggs and buttered toast.” Ineeda sat up against the headboard of her enormous circular bed and a shirtless Terry placed the tray he was carrying across her lap, his 501s hanging low on his large strong hips. Ineeda gazed longingly at him with first-thing-in-the-morning lust. “Mmmm my favorite, you know, handsome, I simply can’t recall the last time a gentleman served me so sweetly.” Terry watched as Ineeda took a delicate bite of toast, washed it down with a gulp of orange juice and pursed her lips. “I couldn’t find any coffee, but there was a can of frozen OJ so I stirred it up, hope you don’t mind.” “No problem. That can was left over from a rather dull mimosa party a while back.” Ineeda took another sip. “So this is what it tastes like without cheap champagne mixed in. You learn something new every day. Aren’t you eating, darling?” “Sure thing let me fetch my tray. Oh, this was stuck under the front door.” Terry handed a small white envelope to Ineeda. “I’ll be right back.” “Sugar, be an angel and bring me one of those Diet Pepsi from the icebox. A girl can only swallow so much pulp before she gags.” Terry walked out of the room, Ineeda’s eyes glued to his beautiful backside. Once he was out of sight, Ineeda ripped open the envelope and read the short note inside. Dear Ineeda,
The local Stonewall Democrats have asked me to chair the advocacy committee they’re forming in support of same-sex marriage. I was wondering it you would be willing to organize a fund-raiser to help drum-up a little seed money for this worthy cause. We could really use your help. Please let me know if you can do it, as soon as possible. I’ll be home all day.
Sincerely,
F.F.A. Ineeda tossed the note aside and picked up her fork. “Now the Queers want to get hitched. How positively straight of them,” said Ineeda, her mouth stuffed full of eggs. “What was that?” said Terry, returning to the bedroom with his own tray. “Never you mind, cutie-pie. Come over here and join me.” Ineeda patted the empty side of the bed next to her. “Why thank you kindly, Ma’am.” Terry gently joined Ineeda on the bed so as not to spill his juice or her Diet Pepsi. “Now I thought we got past that Ma’am shit last night,” growled Ineeda. She shoved a piece of toast towards Terry’s smiling mouth. “I know, I’m teasing you,” Terry laughed as he pushed Ineeda’s hand away. “Cause, you sure ain’t no lady, if you know what I mean?” Ineeda ran her fingers through Terry’s rich brown hair, and pinched his earlobe. “All right, I’ll forgive you, but only because I’ve been having such a wonderful time since I met you last night.” Terry blushed once again, and Ineeda could feel her heart pounding in her chest. Slow down Nellie, Ineeda thought to herself. You’re falling faster than a diesel dyke in high heels. “Was the letter important?” Terry pointed to the envelope on the bed between them. “It’s just another request for my professional help, this time from the infamous, Father Frank.” “Father Frank?” “Yes, he’s the ex-Catholic priest who lives next door. I swear he is such a leather queen.” *
*
*
 “Were you
one of those priests?” asked Terry. He and Father Frank waited in the
living room for Ineeda to emerge from her boudoir.“Certainly not,” replied Father Frank. “I’m no pedophile. I’m gay. The altar boys were way too young for my taste. It was the other priests that were causing me to pitch a tent in my cassock. That’s why I left the church.” Terry didn’t know what a cassock was, but he figured he understood what the man meant. Father Frank Armstrong, a short barrel-chested man with a huge walrus mustache wore a plain white t-shirt, and a black leather vest. Perched on top of his head was a matching leather biker’s cap. “So, have you known our communities’ bright shining star long?” asked Father Frank. “Just since last night actually,” said Terry, “but I really like her--I mean him.” “Don’t worry you can say her. I’m sure she really likes you too.” Father Frank looked hungrily at the stubble-faced young cowboy. “Are you two boys talking about little old me?” asked Ineeda, as she waltzed into the room dressed in an elegant blue caftan, her make-up done to perfection. “My ears are ringing.” “Considering the way people talk about you in this town, that condition must never stop.” Father Frank stood and crossed the room to give Ineeda a welcoming hug. “The price of stardom,” Ineeda sighed. “So you want me to host a queer marriage benefit, Frank? You know how I feel about charity work.” Ineeda shook a beautifully manicured finger at the ex-priest. “Oh, come on, Ineeda. Don’t forget who you’re talking to. We both know you’ve raised more money for gay charities than any other entertainer in the state. Why there wouldn’t even be an AIDs Hospice in Dallas if it weren’t for you.” “Stop, Frank, you’re embarrassing me.” Ineeda looked at Terry out of the corner of her eye. “Anyway, gay marriage is not the same sort of thing, and you know it. Personally, I don’t get all the fuss. I don’t understand a bunch of free-thinking queers and lesbians suddenly wanting to act like straight people.” Ineeda sat next to Terry on the over-stuffed sofa, and snuggled close. “I don’t think some silly ceremony is going to bring instant happiness to anyone.” Father Frank paced back and forth in front of the seated twosome. “You’re missing the point, Ineeda. Married couples have a great many legal benefits that gay couples don’t. The time to demand our fair share is at hand. We’ve got to fight, and we’ve got to fight now.” “Oh, for heaven’s sake Frank, I thought you gave up preaching a long time ago. Get off your altar already.” “Ineeda, you must realize that this issue is extremely important to our community.” “I’d like to get married one of these days,” interrupted Terry. “I mean, when I find the right person and all. I don’t think anybody should have the right to tell me I can’t.” Ineeda sat stunned, her mouth hanging open. “See?” crowed Father Frank. “Even this young man agrees. Marriage is not just for one woman and one man.” “Okay, okay, I know when I’m licked.” Ineeda sat pondering the situation for a moment. “I’ll put together a real Texas extravaganza for the cause, Frank.” Ineeda turned to Terry and, with her fingers, squeezed both of his cheeks, “but you, cowboy, are going to help.” “I’d be plumb tickled to help out. Would you like me to do a striptease, Ma’am?” Terry giggled as Ineeda socked him on his muscular arm. *
“Listen, you greedy bald toad, I’m putting on a grand benefit for gay marriage and you’re not going to schedule it on some lame Tuesday night,” Ineeda screamed at Wilbur. Wilbur Saladbar was the stoop shouldered, pear-shaped owner of the Cha Cha Palace the number-one entertainment venue in town. His tiny office in the back of the club, where he and Ineeda were meeting, was a mess of loose liquor receipts and empty beer cases. “If you think I’m going to give up my Saturday night cover-charge and let you have it for your little shindig, when this place is packed to the rafters anyway, you are even nuttier than you look. You can have the damn thing, either on a Tuesday, or on one of your regular Sunday nights. Take it or leave it.” “You stingy prick. You know perfectly well I have a contract for the shows I do on Sunday. If I plan the fund-raiser then, you won’t have to pay me, you sniveling penny-pincher. You only want it on a Tuesday night so you can stuff your pockets with bar sales on a night you normally don’t make squat. You know I’ll pull a crowd no matter what night the damn show is on, but I want a Saturday, so absolutely everyone who’s anyone can be there, not just the unemployed bar-flies, who won’t donate a dime.” Wilbur sat back in the squeaky old chair behind his desk, his hands supporting his bald head.  “That’s
too bad, Ineeda, because I’m not giving you a Saturday night, and
that’s all there is to it.”Ineeda, sitting across the desk from the little thug, tapped her high-heeled foot on the concrete floor. “I guess you leave me with no other choice, Wilbur. I quit.” Ineeda stood to exit the small office. “What do you mean, you quit?” Wilbur sputtered. “I’ll sue you. We’ve got a contract, remember?” “Oh, really, well you go right ahead and sue. By the time I take my act elsewhere, and tell everyone the way you treated me, this place will be as empty as a ghost town. You’ll lose ten times more money than you’d ever get out of my poor ass. You know, I’ll bet Billy would let me throw the benefit at that big house of his. It’s almost as large as this lousy bar, isn’t it? It’s close enough anyway. Why, I’ll send out invitations, and everyone will come, which means you’ll have the worst Saturday night in history. As for my career, I believe the Rose Room at the Village Station is looking for a new show director. It’s a smaller club, but I can make it work. I think I’ll stop over there on my way home.” Wilbur slumped in his chair. “Exactly which Saturday night, did you have in mind?” Wilbur asked through clenched yellow teeth. “Why, Wilbur honey, I knew you’d come around.” Ineeda strode out of Wilbur’s office to the front bar where Terry sat waiting for her. She squeezed the new man in her life. “We’re all set for four weeks from this Saturday, handsome, that should be enough time to get the word out, but we’ve got a hell of a lot of work to do, so I better start calling the queens right now!” Don't forget to watch for the next episode of The Aventures of Ineeda Willingbottom, exclusively in The Indenpendent Gay writer...you've been forewarned! Copyright 2004 by Jak Klinikowski |