Tacky and Upsetting
10 O’Clock at night, and the kids were in bed. Claire had gone too and left Tom on his own, with the TV for company.
Cracking open the beer, his mood suddenly improved. This meant he could watch that show his wife detested and didn’t let him to watch it when she was up. He thought it was hilarious, and so did his mates at work. Girl’s Embarrassment was the best thing ever if you were like him and had a wicked streak. He opened up Netfilms and set it playing. Tonight, a group of beauticians were going get their eyebrows and privates waxed Tom snickered. He was looking forwards to that.
The theme tune played, and the camera swept over a rowdy audience. Jogging into the stage came Sammy Packham , in a red velvet jacket, jeans and his Cuban heels.
The camera changed to show him face on, directly talking to it.
‘Welcome to Girl’s Embarrassment, the show they want to ban. Even the Prime Minister wants us taken off air now. Can you believe that?’ He was brimming with chaotic energy. It would not surprise to in the slightest if he learned that Sammy had a coke habit. ‘Tonight we have four contestants hoping to walk away with the cash, but they won’t be walking away with their dignity.’
He didn’t get much further. Footsteps were coming down the stairs
Claire came into the room. She was in her dressing gown, belted tightly around her waist. Heaven forbids, her husband caught a glimpse of her goods. Her brown hair fell messily about her shoulders. She’d given up on herself almost entirely after they had the boys. Her hair was always flat and scraped back during the day, pale skin, spots on her chin since she had stopped her skincare routine. He knew it was tragic that he got his jollies by seeing that show, and not his wife, but it was the sad reality. Her boobs had never been her strongest feature, but since having kids all Claire had were two sad, flat lumps on her chest. And at 34, she was unlikely to be getting her mojo back anytime soon. They rarely had sex, and when they did, it just seemed like one big hassle for her.
Tom even struggled to get hard if he saw her naked these days. The only way seeing her naked could give him an erection was if he fantasising about her going on Girls’ Embarrassment.
It was a fantasy, one he would never dare share….even if she probably did have an inkling. He tried to shut the TV off but it was too late. She had seen the title.
‘Girls’ Embarrassment?’ She asked, her eyes widening, ‘What are you watching that for? Again? It’s disgusting.’ She snatched the remote off him. ‘You’re not watching this.’
‘I am. It’s my TV.’
‘It’s our TV and I don’t want the kids seeing it.’
‘They aren’t here, they’re asleep. So chill.’ Tom sighed. ‘It’s just a bit of fun, Claire. A TV show.’
He could see her jaw clench, her hand tighten on the remote. ‘It’s misogynistic crap.’
‘No, it’s not, everyone is paid to be on there. By choice. Just relax. You have your “me time” in the bath, this is mine. Just let me watch my programme. Please?’
‘Seeing women humiliated is how you relax, is it? Nice.’
‘Claire, for god’s sake.’ He muttered. Did they really have to have this conversation again?
‘It’s fine.’ She snapped. ‘Watch your program. I only came down because I left my phone in here.’
As soon as Claire stormed out of the room, Tom hit play again.
He couldn’t help but picture Claire on stage, her long brown hair pulled back in a ponytail, her face bright red with embarrassment. She would be completely naked, her excuse for breasts sagging, her nipples hard from the cold. He imagined her hairy pussy she last bothered to shave over ten years ago, trying not to cry as her shitty hair got shaved off.
He wondered if she would be able to keep her composure, or if she would break down crying in front of the audience. He imagined the jeering, the taunts, the humiliation. It was thrilling. He couldn’t help but feel a bit of shame, a bit of guilt, but it was outweighed by his arousal.
As the show got underway, he unzipped his flies and started to masturbate to the thought.
THE NEXT DAY
Tom had had a shitty day at work. He was exhausted, and the thought of his wife giving him the cold shoulder like she did every night didn’t make him feel any better. Pulling onto the drive he could see the lights on in the bathroom upstairs. Bath time for the kids. As he walked through the door he could hear them splashing around. At least he would have a few moments alone.
In the kitchen he saw Claire’s phone on the table. It was buzzing like crazy with notifications. Tom got a beer out of the fridge, and drank it straight out of the can. The phone was still going wild.
Oh Christ, please don’t say her nan had fallen over again. That would be another evening spent up at the hospital.
‘Claire!’ He shouted. ‘Your phone is buzzing…Claire?’
She was either ignoring him, or too caught up with the kids. He could hear her telling one of them off. Tom picked it up. It was just a text message. And then another. And then another. They were all from a number he didn’t know and he could see they were getting more explicit.
He opened the message, and his eyes widened. Claire had been sexting someone. Tom sat down on a hard kitchen chair, his heart racing. He opened the next message, and then the next, and then the next.
It was all sexual. Claire had been sexting someone, and she had been doing it for a while.
“Can we meet again after the weekend?” One message read. So it wasn’t just sexting. They had met in person.
Tom felt sick. His hands were shaking. He was in shock. He had to confront her. How could he just act like he’d never seen it? He wasn’t an especially good actor anyway. Tom waited until she had put the kids to bed, and gotten into the bath herself. He walked up the stairs, the phone clutched in his hand. Without knocking, he went into the bathroom.
Claire was sitting upright in the bath, bubbles up to her belly button, her hair piled on top of her head. She looked up as he entered.
‘What the hell, Tom?’ She asked. ‘Privacy?’
‘Sorry. Might your husband, the guy you’re meant to fuck,’ he spoke in a low whisper so the kids didn’t hear him, ‘See you naked?’
Her face flushed. ‘What’s got into you?’
Tom pulled out her phone. ‘This,’ he said. ‘Explain this.’
She snatched it off him with a wet hand. ‘You went through my phone?’ She asked. ‘So you’re a control freak as well as a pervert now?’
‘Don’t talk about me like that. You were sexting someone else. Explain that.’
Her face had turned white. ‘Tom, I…’ She didn’t finish. She looked away.
‘Don’t try and BS me, Claire. I read them. All of them.’
She looked up at him, tears in her eyes. ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t think you cared anymore.’ Her voice was thin, frail.
‘I do care. I’m your husband, for Christ’s sake. How long has this been going on for?’
She stared into space, and eventually an answer bubbled up to the surface. ‘A few months.’
‘A few months?’ His backside found the floor, and he sat next to some soapy bath toys left by the kids. He wasn’t angry. He felt nothing. Literally nothing. ‘Who is it?’
‘Just a guy from work. He was nice. He listened to me. You never do.’ She was crying now, looking at him with something closer to hate. ‘I thought you didn’t want to hear about my problems, that you were too busy watching your stupid TV shows to care.’
Tom stared at the bubbles stuck to a penguin bath toy, slowly popping. ‘I didn’t realise you were that unhappy.’
‘You didn’t care to find out. We’re strangers.’
Tom got up. ‘We’re finished.’ He said softly.
Claire’s mouth hung open. For a moment she looked like she was in suspended animation. ‘What? Just like that?’
He looked at her. She was so different from the woman he married. Feeling anything at all for her was difficult. ‘We don’t love each other. We don’t even want to fuck each other. What’s the point?’
Claire’s bottom lip began to twitch. ‘What about the house? The boys?’
‘We’ll have the sell the house and…the boys…I don’t know.’
Her voice grew thin and high pitched. A break down was coming. ‘What will you tell my Mum, and your Mum?’
‘The truth?’
Claire’s face crumpled as she started to sob. ‘But they’ll be so disappointed in us.’
Tom heard one of the kids say “Mummy’s crying”. ‘In US!’ He shouted. ‘No Claire, you mean in YOU.’
‘But, Tom…’ she covered her boobs up, as if she was aware for the first time that she was naked.
‘No, don’t “but Tom” me. I can’t live like this anymore.’
‘Is there anything I can do to change your mind?’ She asked. ‘Anything at all?’
He shook his head. ‘Not unless you went on Girls’ Embarrassment. That might do it.’
‘You can’t be serious.’
He shrugged. ‘If you did that, I might forgive you. It would feel like you’ve paid, and you’ve done something for me for once.’ He wanted to see her naked and humiliated in front of a crowd. It was the only way he could feeling anything for her anymore.
Claire was crying again. ‘You want me to be naked in front of all those people? Have my hair shaved off?’
He nodded. ‘You deserve it. Sorry.’
‘You want a bald wife?’ Claire whispered incredulously. ‘It’s not like you even want me anymore already.’
She was right. He didn’t. He wanted a new wife. A prettier one. A wife who wanted him. Not a stranger who he had grown apart from. ‘Do it, and then maybe we can work things out.’
She began toying with a stray strand of hair. ‘You won’t like me bald.’
Tom thought about it. She was right, she would look hideous. But in a way he couldn’t really describe, he liked the idea of her looking hideous. He didn’t want to admit it to himself, but he was into the idea of her being a bald freak.
‘And you’re OK with everyone seeing me undressed like that?’
Tom nodded. ‘I’d enjoy it.’
Claire was crying again. ‘You’re sick. You’re really sick.’
‘It might suit you.’ Was all Tom could say.
‘No, it won’t. And what will we tell the kids?’
‘Nothing, not yet. It will be a surprise.’
‘Oh yeah, they’ll get lots of mileage out of Mummy’s bald head…’ she dropped her voice. ‘The little shits…You’re serious aren’t you?’ Her voice was laden with dread.
Tom nodded.
***
A few days later, Claire had a letter arrive. It was Saturday, the boys were watching TV in the living room, while Tom was outside washing his Saab. That thing got more love and attention than her.
As Claire opened the letter, she saw the Girl’s Embarrassment logo emblazoned across the top. Her heart sank. This was it. She was going on the show. She ran upstairs to the bedroom, and shut the door behind her. She sat down on the bed, and stared at the letter. On one hand, she didn’t want to be seen naked in front of a crowd and go bald. On the other hand, if she could wipe the slate clean with Tom she could stop her life from crashing down around her. She didn’t want to lose the house or the kids. Claire started thinking about the show, and what it might be like. She wasn’t comfortable with her body at the best of times. She hated her boobs, she hated her stomach, and she hated her legs with those cottage cheese thighs. Standing in front of the mirror, she scraped her hair back and tried to imagine herself bald. She was going to look like something out of a horror film, she thought.
Claire began to wonder how she would cope with it. Would she cry? Would she run off the stage? She couldn’t bear the idea of people laughing at her, of people taking pictures. It was terrifying.
And Tom wanted this for her. He must really hate her. But could she blame him? She decided to get on with it and read the letter:
“Dear Mrs Thompson,
Congratulations! We received your application and we have shortlisted you for an upcoming screening. We need confirmation within 7 days. Please sign the form attached and send it back, and complete our questionnaire so we can get to know you better!
Please be aware your head will be shaved, and your genitals will be waxed. You will also be asked to perform oral sex during filming.
We look forward to seeing you!
All the best,
The Girls’ Embarrassment team.’
Claire felt sick as she read the last paragraph. They wanted her to give a blow job on stage. In front of everyone. What the hell was Tom thinking? She knew he would be watching the show on repeat and probably wanking. It was disgusting but at least it would mean he was actually turned on by her, for once.
TWO WEEKS LATER
Sammy Packham sat in the make-up chair back stage. Hannah, the make-up girl dabbed some powder on his forehead. ‘Easy. Anymore of that and I’ll start looking like Barbara Streisand.’
Bea was relaxing in the corner, flipping through a magazine. ‘No chance of that mate.’ She said in her Essex lilt.
‘Dead right. I’m way hotter.’ He brushed his nails against his purple velvet jacket in a polishing moment.
Bea made a derisory snort.
‘You’re nearly done anyway.’ Hannah fussed with his beard, as Sammy wondered what she would be like as a contestant. Not that he would ever ask her. As staff, she was off limits. And Sammy? The consummate professional.
The door opened, and Matt, one of the production team dog’s bodies blundered in. ‘Sammy, a few things I need to tell you before you go on set.’
‘Don’t you ever knock? Bea and I could have been in the throes of passion.’
‘In your fucking dreams. Even if I was straight you could fuck off. It would be like shagging the Honey Monster.’
Hannah looked like she was struggling to suppress a smile.
Sammy rolled his eyes. ‘If I wanted the opinion of Amy Winehouse’s obese ghost I’d ask for it.’
Matt carried on. He was used to their banter. ‘Number 1: Claire Thompson has arrived at reception, so she’ll probably want to meet you. Number 2, you need to see security before you go.’
Sammy cocked an eyebrow. ‘Why?’
‘Uhh,’ Matt hesitated, ‘your car’s been attacked again.’
‘Oh no, not the SL450, she’s a classic.’ He grimaced. ‘What’s happened?’
‘Somebody has spray painted “hairy nonce” on the side again.’
Bea laughed raucously. ‘Oh god, that’s so funny.’
‘Fucking twats.’ Sammy didn’t see the funny side of it. ‘Whoever it is, I want their heads on a spike. I have a good mind to report this to the police this time. What’s the other thing?’
‘Message from Mo, his words, not mine,’
‘Alright. What does Slow-Mo want?’ Mo was the producer. Sammy knew he would see him sacked in a heartbeat if he could.
‘I quote, “tell that fat useless arsehole to read the script this time”.’
‘Script?’ Sammy hissed. ‘We don’t have a script.’
‘We do.’ Bea spoke up
‘When did we get a script?’ Sammy demanded.
‘14 years ago when we first started.’
‘I don’t see the point in it. We strip girls, we shave their heads, it’s hardly Schindler’s List.’
Matt looked confused. ‘Schindler’s what?’
Sammy waved his hands. ‘Just go.’
‘I’ll leave you to it then.’ Matt backed away and left the room.
Hannah lint rolled the shoulders of his jacket, the final touches before she would let him out of her clutches. ‘Ok, Bea, your turn.’
Sammy got up and straightened his clothes out as Bea took his place. He stepped out into the dingy corridor and followed it out to the break room.
He needed a drink. The staff room was a naff affair, lit by flickering strip lights it was a wonder they didn’t have the budget for anything better.
Already waiting there was a tanned man who looked like the love child of Sylvester Stallone and an aging Matt Le Blanc. He wore the kind of tight-fitting black clothes you’d expect to see at a Trump rally.
‘Hey.’ He grunted.
‘Hey.’ Sammy said back, going straight for the tea trolly. He was a good Catholic boy, so no boozing, not even after going on TV.Hopefully the man upstairs would turn a blind eye to what he did on TV. Unless God had Netfilms. In that case he was fucked. ‘So if you don’t mind me asking, who the fuck are you, old chap?’
‘Rico.’ His voice gave the impression that it was having a hard time down. there. ‘Rico Shaft.’
Sammy spluttered into his PG Tips. ‘That’s actually your name?’
Rico nodded.
‘Fuck. What, like the porn star?’
Rico grinned. ‘I am the porn star. Well, I used to be.’
‘So what are you doing here? Going on one of the panel shows?’
Sammy had been working there so long the studio felt like his home. Interlopers made him feel territorial.
‘No, I’m actually on your show.’
Sammy blinked. ‘You’re what?’
‘Sorry, did I stutter? I said I was on your show. Girls’ Embarrassment. I’m here to film my bit with the woman. Claire? Some housewife?’
Sammy rifled through the crap Mo had given him. He’d slung it on the tea trolly, next to the biscuits. He pulled out a sheet and scanned it. Sure enough, Rico Shaft was listed. The producers went through stages of getting a few celebrities on the show to co-present or cover for Bea. The list was long. They usually came from the banks of sports stars, other presenters. People who were desperate, washed up or both. Rico wasn’t a celebrity in the traditional sense. But he did have a fan base, a pretty hardcore one.
Sammy couldn’t think why he was there. ‘So, you’re here to do what?’
‘Get a blow job, make her suck like she’s in a porno, take the cheque and get out of here.’
‘Right, sounds good. For you, I mean. Why did they pick you, specifically?’
‘I have a large cock, and I’m not afraid to use it.’ He winked. ‘That’s my Twitter bio. Like it?’
‘Sounds like you. Bet you spent hours spinning that one up.’
‘You sound like a bitchy gay. Are you?’
Sammy looked up sharply. ‘Can I remind you who’s show this is, pal? I’ll have you off if you’re not careful.’
Rico grinned. ‘Sure thing, buddy. No offense.’
‘I’m not your buddy, alright?’ Sammy felt a little flustered. He didn’t like this Rico character.
‘Alright.’ Rico shrugged. ‘Understood.’
‘Sam?’ Matt stuck his head through the door. ‘Claire’s here.’
‘Excellent. Thanks mate.’ Sammy looked at the clock. She was half an hour early. ‘Bring her in here.’
Claire looked like she may have been an attractive woman, if she put the effort in. But to Sammy, she was just another baby factory. Matt let her in, and she looked around, like she was waiting for somebody to guide her. She had certainly not dressed to impress, with a purple zip up fleece, charity shop denim skirt and thick leggings. Her hair was tied back in a ponytail, exposing a large forehead with the beginnings of some frown lines.
‘Hello.’ Sammy smiled at her, and extended a hand. ‘Sammy Packham.’
She looked down at his hand, and slowly took it. Sammy saw her eye catch his Sovereign ring, and her slightly creasing her nose at it.
‘Hi. Claire. Claire Thompson.’
‘So, Mrs Thompson, how are you feeling? You look a little tense.’
‘I am. Funnily enough I’m not comfortable being seen naked in front of strangers…and…doing the other stuff. Can I sit down?’
‘It’s a free country.’
She sat down, legs crossed in a lady like pose. Gathering her arms around her chest she looked around the room, with an expression on her face like she had a bad smell under her nose. Her eyes settled on the Girls Embarrassment calendar. June’s girl was some naked fat little thing whose name escaped Sammy, halfway through getting her ginger hair shaved off by Bea.
Claire made a disgusted face. ‘How can you look at that every day? That poor woman. What would possess someone to do that? Mental illness?’
‘Probably.’ Sammy shrugged. ‘And I can look at it every day quite happily.’
She sighed and shook her head. ‘I think that’s rather strange.’
Sammy thought that her condescending yet gentle tone was akin to a special needs teacher. There was an underhand sort of mocking to her which he didn’t like. ‘Your husband’s just as strange.’ he read from the paperwork: ‘In your form, in the “tell us why you should appear on Girls Embarrassment” section, you said: “My husband wants me to, because he is – I quote – “obsessed with Sammy Packham and Girls Embarrassment”.’ As a mic drop he let the paperwork go, and watched it flutter to the floor.
‘He’s sick. Not right in the head.’
Sammy raised an eyebrow. ‘That’s a pretty unkind thing to say about your spouse. Don’t you think?’
‘Maybe. But I know what he is. He’s a pervert. Like you.’
Rico was taking a keen interest, leaning forwards with his chin in his hand, like he was listening to a philosophical debate in the pub.
‘I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that.’ Sammy blinked, and looked away, feigning offence. ‘But can you uhh, remind me of why you agreed to go on?’
She sucked her cheeks in. ‘You know why.’
‘Yes, but I don’t think Mr Shaft here does. Why don’t you tell him?’
Rico waved.
Claire readjusted her skirt. ‘My husband has caught me cheating, and now he’s making me pay for it.’
‘And what’s more, I’ve personally seen to it that he gets a front row seat. And a goody bag.’ Sammy smirked. ‘Aren’t I a wonderful guy?’
‘No, you’re not.’
Sammy shook his head sadly. ‘Why do I get the impression that you don’t like me?’
‘Because I don’t like you. I think you’re a sick individual. Your show is cruel. I think you should be ashamed of yourself, and everyone involved should be too. You make a mockery of people’s pain. And you just laugh it off.’
‘A day without laughter is a day wasted.’ Sammy said from behind his mug, as he drained it.
Rico shuffled closer to the edge of his seat. ‘So, you still good with giving me head out there?’ he was making a gesture with his hand, simulating oral sex.
Claire looked at him like he was an annoying child ‘No, I’m not ok with it. It’s degrading.’
‘Hey.’ Rico frowned. ‘I’m not being lead on here am I? I got bills to pay you know.’
Sammy pitched the cup into a bin on the other side of the room, making Claire flinch as it flew over her head. ‘Relax. Even if she bites your dick off you still get paid.’
‘What I mean is,’ Claire said, ‘I’m really not OK with this, but I’ll do it.’
‘See?’ Sammy turned his palms up towards the stained ceiling tiles. ‘We’re fine here. I’ll leave you two to get better aquatinted.’
***
After an hour’s wait, which felt more like three, Claire walked onstage with a sense of dread heaving her stomach. She had not expected it to be this crowded, with hundreds of people yelling, whooping and cheering as she slowly walked forwards. The lights were blinding, and the roar of the crowd was deafening. She looked down at the front row, but wasn’t able to see Tom.
‘Welcome to Girls Embarrassment, the show that just keeps on giving and giving, the show which is the most well-loved and most hated on Netfilms at the same time.’ Sammy was spewing some nonsense into the microphone. ‘But remember one thing -‘ he cupped his hand, as if he was struggling to hear.
The audience filled in the gap: “Don’t let your Mum know you watch it!”
‘Oooh, I have you all so well trained. Now, as you can see we have tonight’s victim – sorry – I mean contestant – standing behind me. And yes, it is only one tonight, and that’s because we want to mix things up, really focus on one contestant and give them the attention they deserve. And tonight we have the lovely Claire Thompson. Now, Claire, tell us why you’re here.’
Claire swallowed hard, her mouth dry. ‘I’m here because my husband wanted me to come on.’
The audience began to stir, and Sammy smiled. ‘Well, that’s not exactly the answer I was looking for. Why did you agree to be on the show?’
‘I was forced to be on here.’ She mumbled, hoping they couldn’t hear her.
‘What was that? Speak up.’
Claire took a deep breath and spoke louder. ‘I was forced to.’
Sammy stood a few steps closer to her. ‘Because you…because you…ch…ch,’ he made a winding gesture with his hand, coaxing the words out of her mouth.
‘Because I was caught cheating!’ She yelled, her voice bouncing off the set walls.
Sammy’s voice lowered, and he stepped forward, until he was almost touching her. ‘You were cheating?’
She nodded.
Reading off a card, Sammy said: ‘A guy from work. Is that right?’
‘Yes.’ Claire mumbled.
‘Never dip your pen in company ink. Bad idea. So tell us, did you get to third base? Second base?’
Claire was silent.
‘Come on, give us something. We’re here to be entertained. Don’t hold back.’
‘Yes, we had sex!’ She shouted, feeling her eyes prickle as they filled with tears. She remembered how David had stroked her hair afterwards. What would he think when he saw her without it?
Sammy held his hand up for quiet. ‘Was it good?’ He asked, his voice low.
Claire stiffened. ‘I don’t want to talk about it.’ What on earth would happen if people she knew saw this?
‘I understand. But remember, this is a judgement free zone. So, was it good? You can nod yes or no.’
Claire looked at him. He was smirking. ‘No, it wasn’t. It was awkward and rushed, and I didn’t even enjoy it.’
‘Well, don’t worry Claire, because we’re not going to rush things today. We’re going to take our time.’ Going back to the card, he continued. ‘It says here that you’re a dedicated Mum to your two boys, like arts and crafts and you’re an active member of your church’s charity fundraising committee.’
She nodded.
‘Butter wouldn’t melt. So this is out of character, am I right?’
‘Yes…’
‘So, would you like to redeem yourself?’ he clasped his hands together, in a praying motion.
She drew in breath, feeling her chest shake. ‘Yes.’
Instantly, dramatic organ music rang out from the speakers. Two bright blue flashes to simulate lightning burned into her retina. This much effort just to embarrass her? Really?
‘Claire the Sinner, prepare yourself to be cleansed.’ Sammy cried. ‘For the first step is a big step. Bea, please prepare the clippers. The time has come for the woman’s hair to fall to the ground, for her sins.’
Bea had a way of entering a room that was both intimidating and exciting. She was the kind of woman who seemed to glide, despite her size, with her heels clicking against the floor. Claire had never liked confident women. She had always felt inferior to them. If she encountered them at work, or in friendship groups, she was always the first the put them back in their box. Neutralise the threat.
Bea approached her throne – the barber’s chair – with a pair of clippers in her hand, and a big smile. Her grating Essex accent rang out on the speakers: ‘Hello lovlies.’ she waved to the audience. ‘Excited to see me get to work, are we?’
The audience cheered, and Claire couldn’t help but feel a little envious. What must it be like, to command so much attention? And to do it so effortlessly.
‘So, Claire, are you ready?’ Bea asked, with a twinkle in her eye which Claire really didn’t like.
Claire brushed some non-existent specks of dust off of her fleece then said: ‘Now? We’re doing it now?’
‘Well, not quite yet.’ Sammy cut in. ‘As the rules of our game decree, not only must your hair fall to the ground…but also your clothes.’
The audience cheered, and a man in the middle called: ‘Get ’em off!’
Claire thought of Tom, sat in the front row, watching and laughing. Who would actually want to see her naked? Who would actually think she was desirable? They only wanted to see her naked because they wanted to laugh at her. But this was the price she had to pay to keep her old life. Slowly, she removed her fleece. Her fingers stiff with nerves, she undid the zip and peeled it off her shoulders. There was an eruption of noise from the audience, and she flinched. She folded it neatly and placed it on the floor.
‘You don’t need to fold that.’ Sammy pointed out.
‘Well, I’m folding it anyway.’
‘It is Regatta’s finest, after all. A fine designer label.’
She glared at him. What was wrong with Regatta? Just because she didn’t splash out on big brands…she was a Mum and had other priorities. The next thing to go was her shoes, then her tights, leaving just her skirt and plain white t shirt.
Bea smiled. ‘Very nice. You have very pretty legs, actually.’
Claire felt her face redden.
‘You sound surprised?’ Sammy said to Bea.
She shrugged. ‘It’s just that she doesn’t do a lot for them, you know? Hun, you need a wardrobe makeover.’
‘Why does it matter so much to you?’ Claire spat.
‘Your husband might not have looked for a bit of fluff if you didn’t dress right out of a fabric bank.’
‘The claws are out tonight!’ Sammy goaded them on. ‘This is good for my ratings, honestly, carry on.’
Claire narrowed her eyes, as she came under attack from this fat wench with her sad Amy Whinehouse make up. ‘I don’t need advice from a woman like you.’
‘A woman like me, ay?’ Bea tipped a fish hook shaped eyebrow to one side, and ran her tongue over her teeth. ‘Don’t you get bitchy with me, Mrs, remember I’m the one who’s gonna be waxing your pubes very soon.’
The audience howled, and Claire was fighting the urge to slap Bea.
‘How would you dress Claire, if you had the chance, Bea?’ Sammy asked thoughtfully.
‘Hmm…personally I’d wanna see her in a gimp suit.’
‘How dare you!’ Barked Claire.
‘Personally I’m a little surprised that this good Christian girl knows what a gimp suit is.’ Sammy added cooley.
Claire felt her eyes go wide. She’d let herself walk into a trap. The bastards probably pre-planned it.
Bea was winking, obnoxiously slowly. ‘Maybe her fancy man had her wear one.’
‘Enough!’ Claire shrieked, as she pulled off her t shirt, before quickly stepping out of her skirt, letting the material pool around her ankles. ‘Are you both happy now?’ She was left with just her underwear and already felt naked. There had been no point making an effort, given what was going to happen to her, so she had come out in a plain white bra and cheap pink knickers.
There were cheers, whistles and the odd wolf whistle. She had a nasty feeling the wolf whistles were ironic. She had always hated being the centre of attention. She would go to a party or social gathering and try to stay away from the main group, to the corner of the room. She was the type of woman who could go out somewhere and not even be noticed. This wasn’t just embarrassing, it was unnatural.
‘So, are you ready for the big reveal, ladies and gentleman? Not that there’s going to be much big to be revealed.’
Laughter bubbled up. It was ok, she was used to her body being the butt of jokes. Even her brother used to call her “just nipps” because of her tiny boobs. It was then that she noticed Tom for the first time. He was sat there, a look of grim satisfaction on his face, his arms folded, legs crossed. He had a paper goody bag resting on his lap which had God knows what in it.
The dirty grin on his face was the worse bit. When Claire was still a kid, she saw that same look of delight on her brother’s face when he watched some horrible cartoon or did something disgusting just to gross her out.
‘Take off your knickers!’ A young man shouted from the front row.
Sammy raised a finger. ‘All in good time, sir. We’re not animals here. That’s why we’re going to ask Claire to take her bra off first.’
She was standing there in her pants, in front of 300 people, about to bare herself. How could her life have come to this? Was this what Tom wanted, really? She made eye contact with him, briefly. By that fox-in-a-henhouse look on his face, this was exactly what he wanted. Claire reached behind her, and unclipped her bra. One cup at a time, she peeled it off.
‘You’re gonna have to be faster than that.’ Sammy pointed out. ‘We go off air soon, you know.’
Begrudgingly, Claire took it off and dropped it. There were some cat calls.
‘Well, aren’t they just adorable?’ Sammy said, pinching a nipple and twisting.
‘Ow, what the hell are you doing?’ Claire yelled.
‘Sorry, couldn’t help myself.’ He said.
‘Better get those knickers off ya.’ Bea said, with another wink. ‘Then you’ll be ready for your appointment with me.’
Claire looked down at her pinched tit, which was starting go red.
‘Do it!’ One of the few women in the audience shouted.
‘Take them off!’ Another man shouted.
Showing her vagina off on TV? Could it be any more humiliating? Claire didn’t even casually show it off at home anymore. Even if she was running out of the bathroom, she’d make sure she had a towel over her. She didn’t feel sexy. Sexy wasn’t even part of her vocabulary anymore. She felt old, flat and plain. But she was going to have to take them off anyway. She was going to have to bare her pussy, and everyone was going to laugh. All have a laugh at Claire’s expensive. Business as normal then.
‘Are you getting cold feet?’ Sammy said. ‘Remember you can back out at any time.’
That wasn’t an option. Tom would end things if she pulled out, and flashing her poor, sad little tits to everybody would have been for nothing. Claire slid the knickers down her thighs as the camera moved to her crotch.
***
The audience hooted and hollered, and Tom was holding his breath. This was real! Claire was on Girl’s Embarrassment! He had the kind of boner that could cut through diamond, and it was a very long time since Claire had done anything like that to him. The whole room could see her small breasts which were sagging away to nothing and cellulite streaked belly as she shimmied out of her knickers. And he loved it. Tom was mesmerised, possibly for the first time, by Claire.
The audience was getting more and more raucous, and he could hear some men in the front row calling out, ‘Nice growler!’
When they’d first met she was clean shaven down there, smooth as a Barbie doll, but had given up after childbirth. The thought of that nasty old bush finally going made his heart beat a little faster for her.
Claire was trying to cover her privates as the camera was being rolled over by the operator, but wasn’t fast enough. The video feed was played back to the audience on a giant screen over the stage, and Tom caught the zoomed in view of her bush.
‘Get away from me!’ she moved so quickly, she staggered and almost fell.
It was about time she was made to look stupid, he thought. Always so serious, always right, never the one who made a mistake. She would be hating every second, which was exactly what he wanted.
‘Come on, you’ve been on the show now for five minutes and you haven’t flashed your fanny yet.’ Sammy said.
‘Oh, however will you cope.’ Claire sneered. ‘You sicko.’
‘I’m not going to deny being a sicko.’ He held up his hands in a “you got me” gesture, ‘I’ve made my career out of it. But how the devil will you cope when we wax it, thought about that?’
The audience laughed, and she glared at them.
‘Are you going to do it, or am I going to have to send you packing?’
Claire sighed, and took her hands away from her vagina.
The camera got closer, and her bush was broadcast around the world. Tom felt a little icky at the sight of the dark brown, thick pubes over her crouch. It looked like a dirty doormat.
She had a face like thunder, and Tom knew she must be feeling mortified. The idea that her hairy vagina was being broadcast across the UK and the whole world was something she would probably be unable to come back from. Would she ever be the same again? Tom couldn’t stop himself from smiling. He was enjoying it. He loved seeing her humiliated, just as she’d humiliated him by screwing another man.
‘Now as you all know,’ Sammy was striding around the stage, ‘I believe in free speech. That’s why I want you, the audience, to decide where we start. Bush or head?’
‘Head!’ the young man in the front row shouted. ‘Shave her head!’
Tom was laughing to himself. How the mighty had fallen. His wife had gone from a respectable woman with her teaching job to a joke on a tacky game show.
Claire stared straight ahead, as if PTSD had set in early. There was a film of sweat on her face and upper lip, her knees were shaking. It would be over in a few short minutes, Tom told himself. He had to relish it.
More shouts came in, but the audience seemed to leaning in the direction of waxing her pussy first. Tom didn’t really mind either way, Claire needed to be humiliated whatever order it happened in.
Bea produced wax strips, and waved them around like a matador with a cape.
‘The beast has spoken,’ Sammy said gravely, ‘Claire, prepare to be waxed.’
Claire gulped, and Tom could see a lump going down her throat. She was stood there, naked and vulnerable, about to have her pubes ripped off live on TV.
Sammy patted her bare back. ‘Why don’t you take a seat?’
Claire’s flat arse didn’t even jiggle as she walked towards the chair, she was too bony and wrung out for that.
He was feeling excited, but not sexually excited at that point. It was more like the thrill of seeing your worst enemy get what they deserved. Bea wasted no time getting to work once Claire was seated, grinning as she rubbed the wax strips onto her crotch.
‘Sure we have enough wax?’ quipped Sammy.
Claire had a sour look on her face as she looked up at him. ‘You’re enjoying this.’
‘A little, I won’t deny it.’ He nodded.
Claire looked around the crowd, and Tom caught her eye. She looked so hurt.
Tom felt a moment of doubt, as if he had taken things too far. But then he remembered what she had done, and any sympathy evaporated.
‘Ok, now let’s get this pussy waxed.’ Sammy said, then turned back to the audience, ‘Are we thinking this is going to be an improvement? Or are we scared to see what’s hiding under it?’
There was laughter, and Tom joined in, laughing obnoxiously loudly.
‘I’ll take that as a yes.’ Sammy said, and he nodded to Bea.
Bea crouched besides Claire. ‘Normally, it’s a bit more dignified than this, if I was doing this back at my old shop, we’d have you laying down and give you a towel.’
‘And you wouldn’t be sitting spread legged in front of an audience.’ Sammy shrugged at the crowd as a few titters drifted from it.
Claire looked miserable, and Tom loved it. She was so self-conscious, and now everyone was seeing her at her lowest.
Bea was rubbing the last wax strips onto her hairy fanny. ‘You ready? It will sting.’
‘No shit.’ Claire snapped.
‘Oh, she’s a feisty one.’ Sammy said, clapping his hands together.
‘Get on with it.’ Claire gripped hold of the chair arms in readiness.
‘Ok, here we go.’ Bea said.
‘I’m not going to deny, this is the best part.’ Sammy was starting to sound manic.
Bea was on her knees, with Claire’s legs splayed, and she was grinning as she yanked the strips off. She was brutal, and Tom was aware of the muscles on Bea’s big arms for the first time, which it looked like she had to work, as she tore the strips off. Half of the strips came off at once.
Claire screamed, and the audience howled with laughter.
‘Uugh, mmmmotherfffuuu….’ She stopped herself from swearing, hands clenched around the chair arms. ‘People do this by choice?’
Bea shrugged. ‘It’s not supposed to feel like a massage, love’
Claire looked down at the mess hanging off what was left of her pubes, and Tom could see her eyes watering.
‘You’re doing great, babes.’ Bea patted her knee. ‘Last bit, you ready?’
Bea started again, pulling off the remaining bits of hair. Tom could see it was getting more difficult, and Bea took a slow tearing approach rather than the more “painless” ripping off she’d done before.
‘Just do it!’
Claire was biting her lip, trying to hold it all in, but it wasn’t working. She was crying, and the audience was eating it up. They were clapping and shouting, and Tom was right with them.
She gasped something, probably a swear word, and the wax strips were left hanging by a few hairs after an especially rough tug from Bea. Tom saw it all in glorious detail on the big screen.
Bea snatched it off, and Claire’s beef flaps briefly wobbled.
‘Fuck! Fuck that hurts.’ Her hairless pussy was already reddening, with a few tiny pinpricks of blood forming.
Like a warrior with the head of her enemy, Bea held up the wax strips together, like a puzzle, which had made perfect triangle of Claire’s pubes stuck to the reverse side. The audience clapped, suddenly sounding refined at this display of skill.
Tom couldn’t help but feel a little sorry for Claire, as he saw the tears running down her cheeks. But was it too weird to ask for the torn off pubes as a memento?
‘Didn’t she take it like a trooper, didn’t she do well?’ Sammy gushed, as Bea casually tossed the torn off pubes onto the stage floor. ‘Now we’re getting into the real meat of the show, the reason why you tune in, we’re very close to witnessing Bea’s famous head shaving skills.’
The audience whooped, and Tom felt a little queasy. He knew it was coming, but he still hadn’t prepared himself for it. He was about to have a bald wife…How was it going to feel taking a bald woman home? He tried to picture her bald, and it didn’t work. She was going to look weird without her hair.
Once things had died down, Sammy took to the mic again. ‘As is tradition, we have our questions for Bea, sent in by you, the viewers.’ He produced a card from his jacket pocket.
Bea leant on the chair, completely ignoring Claire. ‘Hit me.’
‘This one from Michael, in Newcastle, “Dear Bea, what did you do to your eyebrows? They look like a drunken sailor drew them on. Yours, Michael”.’
‘Michael, darling,’ Bea said, ‘I don’t do nothing to my eyebrows. They are naturally thick and beautiful, just as God intended.’
‘He’s a cheeky bastard isn’t he?’ muttered Sammy, ‘And our next question is from…Jenny, in Nottingham.’
Bea nodded.
‘Jenny asks, “What kind of hair products do you use on your hair? It always looks so nice.”‘
‘Well, I have a whole line of hair care products. My Bea’s Beauty line can be found online, and in selected UK stores. Today I’m on “Bea’s Big and Bouncy Shine”.’
‘We would offer you some Claire, but pretty soon you won’t be needing shampoo.’ Sammy patted her shoulders.
Claire gave him a stony glare, and Tom could see she was about to snap.
Sammy ignored her, and went on, ‘Bea, what’s your plans for Claire’s shave, how’s it going to go down?’
Claire looked miserable and Tom could see a downcast look in her eyes he’d never seen in her before. It was as if the light had been switched off.
Bea took a comb from her pocket, and started brushing Claire’s flat, dry brown pony tail. ‘It’s going to be a good old buzz, pony tail off first job. Then she’ll be smooth as a baby’s arse because I’m wet shaving her.’
‘Claire has quite dark hair, so do you think you can get a really pale, smooth finish?’
Bea nodded. ‘Sure! Thing is, you go over a head twice, once with the grain then against, you get a super smooth shave.’
Tom couldn’t believe it. He was sitting here, listening to this woman explain how she was going to shave his wife’s head.
His stomach tightened as he remembered all the times he had masturbated while watching the show. He had watched it for the laughs and the shock value, but somewhere along the way, it had become something more. He had started to obsess over his fantasy of Claire being on stage.
He remembered the first time he had caught himself stroking his cock while watching it. He had been so disgusted with himself, but after a few weeks, the shame had worn off. He had been unable to stop himself. Tom had felt like a pervert, but the guilt had only added to the thrill.
Holy shit, it was happening.
God, it felt unreal. All those times he would see her just doing some boring everyday task, and would imagine her naked, shaved, and humiliated on the stage. This had been his favourite obsession.
But then, as Bea picked up the scissors, Claire jumped out of the seat.
‘No!’ She shouted, and Tom’s heart skipped a beat.
She was standing there, making no effort to cover up. ‘I won’t let you shave my head. I’m not some fucking joke, you know. You might think I am, but I don’t think that. And I have to LIVE with what you do to me!’ She yelled. ‘And he thinks I’m a joke. He wants to make me look like a twat, because it turns him on,’ she was pointing directly to Tom now and he felt himself prickle a little at being called out. ‘The only thing that turns him on.’
Claire’s ragged breathing played over the speakers, and both presenters were lost for words, briefly.
Sammy recovered first, ‘It’s a while since we’ve seen some attitude like this, ladies and gents. Now, what do you think, are we going to get Claire back in the chair and have that head shaved or are we going to call it a day and give her a pass?’
“SHAVE HER” was roared back.
It would be so typical of that cow to disappoint him at the last minute. Just like that time she said he could cum on her face, then ducked out of the way at the last second.
But Sammy had his back. ‘Claire,’ he said seriously, ‘That’s your choice entirely, but remember you will forfeit the prize money, AND your relationship will be over. Think about it. Take your time.’
She paced, hands behind her head, feeling her pony tail. She glanced down at Tom her eyes full of fear.
Tom tried to look bored, but he couldn’t help feeling a flutter in his stomach. She was so close to going bald. Just do it. Don’t disappoint me for once, and do it, he urged her silently.
Claire was still pacing, her ponytail swinging back and forth. Tom could almost feel it in his hand.
Just do it.
Claire stopped, her arms dropped to her side. ‘Screw it! If he wants a bald wife, he can have one.’ She snapped, and marched back to the chair, sitting down with a thump.
Bea had her scissors ready, clicking the blades together, making Claire shiver. His wife stroked her ponytail, as if to say goodbye. It had been with her for so long, he felt a little sad to see it go.
Bea grabbed it, and started to hack through it. The camera operator moved in to get a better view, and Tom could see tiny little hairs shear off and scatter into the air on the big screen. It took seven snips to sever it from her head.
Bea held it up, dangling it in the air, and the audience whooped and cheered again.
Claire looked mortified. She put her hand to her head, as if she couldn’t believe it was gone.
Sammy patted her on the shoulder. ‘Don’t worry, you’ll get used to it. Maybe.’
Bea was running the severed pony tail through her fingers. ‘You know sometimes I really like to shave a brunette, even if brown hair is…meh?’
‘I don’t think it’s “meh”.’ Claire said tearfully.
Bea shrugged, and tossed the pony tail to the floor. ‘Ready?’
‘Yes.’ Claire mumbled, and Tom’s stomach fluttered.
Bea reached up and grabbed a fistful of Claire’s hair. She started sawing through it with the scissors.
Claire didn’t make a sound, but Tom saw a tear run down her cheek. His cock was hardening.
Bea hacked off five big handfuls and it was enough to completely fuck Claire’s hair up.
His wife was biting her lip, and Tom could tell she was trying to keep it together. Her chest rose and fell rapidly, she was balling her toes up and wriggling them around. This looked like it was getting unbearable for her.
Picking up some clippers, Bea said: ‘Let’s get that head shaved.’
As Bea turned the clippers on, Claire let out a small whimper. Tom could see that her hands were shaking and her breathing was getting faster. She looked like she was about to pass out, her already pale skin loosing even less colour.
‘Head down for me sweetie.’ Bea pressed the clippers to the back of Claire’s head and started to push them forward, taking out large chunks of hair which tumbled to the floor. Claire gasped, and Tom could see that she was trying desperately not to cry.
Bea kept going, working her way around Claire’s head. Tom could see that she was taking her time, and enjoying it as well. He wondered if Bea was as turned on as him?
As the clippers reached Claire’s ears, she closed her eyes tightly and took a few deep breaths. Her hands were clasped together so tight over her midriff that Tom could see her knuckles turning white.
‘I’ve found a grey.’ Bea teased.
Claire didn’t respond, but Tom could see that she was getting more and more upset.
Then Bea went in for the kill and ran down the middle of her head. That was when Claire broke.
She let out a sob, a pathetic, weak blub and Tom could see more tears run down her cheeks, which were rapidly going red now. Two choppy sections remained on her head, either side of the white path Bea had made with the clippers. Bea kept going, but slowed right down, biting her lip as she took away the last bits. They flopped sadly down to Claire’s shoulders.
Tom was so close to cumming, without even wanking. He hadn’t realized how much he had wanted this to happen. God, Claire looked a mess.
Claire’s lips trembling, Bea took the right side completely off before moving to the next. Two slow sweeps of the clippers, and hair was building up on Claire’s lap. She brushed if off her, sending it to the floor.
‘Last bit!’ Bea tugged the remains of Clair’s hair, and she jerked her hand up to brush Bea off her. She was really crying now, sniffing loudly as her face crumpled.
Bea, clipping away the hair at a snail’s pace started to remove the last strip.
‘Any slower and her growler will have grown back.’ Sammy quipped.
‘Why rush such a nice job?’ Bea said.
Claire’s face was bright red now, and she was crying uncontrollably. Tom couldn’t help feeling a little bad for her, but it was all too delicious. ‘Just get it over with, you bastards!’ she spat.
Bea sighed and shook her head. ‘Potty mouth on this one.’
With a final swipe, Claire’s hair was gone. She rubbed her head, and let out a shuddering sob. ‘What have you done to me.’ she said miserably, still crying and not able to keep her eyes open.
The audience applauded, and Tom felt a rush of adrenaline. Claire looked so vulnerable and helpless, and not to mention hideous. He couldn’t believe that he had waited so long for this. The grade 0 buzz left her with a covering or dark stubble. Tom couldn’t help but think of a freshly inducted prison inmate.
Sammy was back on the mic. ‘And yet another head of hair gone on Girl’s Embarrassment, and some stunning clipper work from Bea.’
Claire reached down, and picked up a handful of her own hair, holding it in front of her face. She cried harder, and Tom’s erection grew.
The mic was shoved in her face. ‘Claire – what do you have to say?’
Claire sniffed loudly and wiped her nose the back of her hand. ‘I feel like shit. My husband did this to me, and he didn’t care how I felt. I hate him so much. Arsehole.’ She was sobbing.
Sammy rubbed her shoulders. ‘Don’t worry, give it another – what? Six years and it will back to how it was before.’
Claire squirmed shaking his hand off. She still couldn’t stop crying.
‘It’s OK to cry.’ Bea said, taking a disposable razor out of its packet.
Claire sniffed loudly. ‘I hate you. I hate you both. And I hate him.’ She pointed at Tom, who still felt himself grinning.
Bea didn’t look fazed. Tom knew she got all kinds of abuse at times from contestants.
A crew member came from behind the stage to bring her bowl of water for the razor, with a towel over his arm. This was it! The REAL shave.
‘So much hate and bitterness.’ Sammy said sadly. ‘What have we ever done to you, Claire?’
“Shaved her head!” Somebody yelled from the audience.
Sammy held up a finger, as if suddenly remembering something. ‘Ah, that’s right, of course.’
Tom loved this bit. A razor shaved head on a woman made him rock hard every time.
Bea dropped the towel into the bowl of water, left it in there for a few seconds, then took it out and rang it in her hands.
‘So can you tell the boys and girls in the audience and home what’s happening here?’
‘Well, this ain’t something I would do normally, but we’ve got time today.’ She draped it over Claire’s head and started to make a turban. ‘I’m getting the stubble nice and soft for her, so we get a closer shave.’
‘What a lucky girl she is.’ Sammy tried wiping a tear off her cheek but she pulled away. ‘Don’t cry! You’re getting the VIP treatment.’
She was still crying, but a little less now, almost as if Sammy’s words had the desired effect.
‘While Claire enjoys the health spa treatment,’ he continued, ‘What do you all say we meet out special guest for tonight?’
The camera panned over the audience, and they started to whoop and cheer.
‘Please put your hands together, for the one and only, Rico Shaft!’
***
As Rico Shaft walked onto the stage, the audience exploded into applause. He’d lost the black t-shirt, instead showing his huge chest and well-defined abs, garnished with a thick pelt of black body hair.
Sammy thought that he looked like a lump of caramel somebody dropped in a pile of pubes.
Rico waved, and smiled, showing off his perfect Hollywood teeth.
‘Rico,’ said Sammy, ‘thank you for coming. Are you a fan of the show?’
Rico nodded. ‘I love it! It’s so much fun and there’s nothing else like it, you know what I mean? You’re a fan of my work too, right Sammy?’
‘Where do I start? So many classic porn films over the years. I don’t know if the audience know, but your work as a Sylvester Stallone impersonator lead you to porn films, is that right?’
The audience laughed.
Rico chuckled. ‘That’s right! It all started with that. Ever heard of Cop Land, that Stallone film?’
‘No.’ Said Sammy.
‘The porn version I was in they called Cock Land, but it wasn’t all Stallone films after that.’
‘Yes quite,’ Sammy chirped. ‘Who could forget The Italian Handjob?’
‘And now I’m here. Who knows where I’ll be tomorrow!’
‘The casting agency at a guess, because you must be desperate to be here.’ Sammy said under his breath
Rico raised an eyebrow. ‘Sorry, what was that Sammy? Can you maybe repeat that shit?’
Sammy deflected in typical style. ‘So,’ he bounded over to the defeated naked figure of Claire in the chair. ‘Tell me how you’re feeling right now? Happy to meet Rico?’
Claire stared straight ahead, her face expressionless. ‘Not really.’
‘C’mon,’ Sammy shook her gently. ‘Don’t be like that. Rico is a star!’
Claire turned, and gave Sammy a look that would have frozen hell over. ‘I’m not interested playing around. I just want this over with.’
‘Well then, we’d better get cracking. Stand up and let us see the full package.’
Gnashing her jaw, Claire slowly stood up. Her face was bright red as she covered her sad tits and waxed fanny with her thin hands.
Sammy noticed that Bea had done a real number on her scalp. There were a few nicks and sore patches. She’d been butchered. Her husband certainly got his wish. ‘That’s it, brave girl.’ Sammy patted her ass.
Claire tensed, and her buttocks went rock hard, as Sammy turned on his heels towards Rico.
‘Rico, you know what you have to do right?’
‘Get a BJ off Claire.’ he shrugged.
‘Does that excite you?’
‘I’ve been given a lot of BJs over the years,’ Rico laughed, ‘And I’m not gonna lie, Claire ain’t getting’ my motor running. But I’ll make it work.’
‘Don’t talk about me like that!’ Claire spat.
‘What, you wanna hear how good you look?’ Rico spoke with an eyebrow raised.
Claire’s jaw gnashing intensified, as she sucked her cheeks in, sinking into a private (and probably unpleasant) world of her own. Sammy stood between the two of them, looking like referee in a very weird boxing match.
‘Claire, as you know men are visual creatures, know what I mean guys?’ he paused to soak in a wave of cheers. ‘So why don’t you give a Rico a helping hand and uhh, show off your wares?’ he rolled his ‘R’s dramatically. He was expecting her to tell him how much she hated him and resist, but instead she prized her hands off herself. They were shaking badly. She held her arms out to the side, to reveal her body, but it was so obvious that she didn’t want to.
Rico looked like he was suppressing a laugh.
‘C’mon,’ Sammy made a twirling gesture with his finger, ‘work what yo momma gave you.’
Flat footed and unenthusiastically Claire plodded around in a circle.
Meanwhile, Bea had receded into the background. That twisted smirk he’d grown to know and love was on her face. That fat cow was enjoying this.
Rico finally broke and laughed. ‘I’m sorry is that meant to turn me on?’
‘Rico, you know that body shaming isn’t OK?’ Sammy slapped his hand across his chest.
‘This shit ain’t gonna work.’ he laughed. ‘I’m not turned on at all.’
Putting on a hammy American accent, Sammy said: ‘Jus’ give it a good ‘ole college try, buddy.’
Rico shook his head, then sighed. ‘I’ll do it for the camera.’ He stepped forward, and unbuckled his jeans. ‘I normally work with women with hair, so this will take some getting used to.’
‘And tits, at a guess?’ Bea was ideally toying with a strand of her hair, sticking her chest out.
‘You volunteering, doll?’ Rico asked her, unzipping his flies.
Bea shook her head. ‘Not my thing, mate. I’m just here to shave.’
‘That’s a shame.’ Rico was rolling his cock out of his jeans. It made Sammy feel a bit inadequate.
Without having to be asked, Claire had dropped to her knees, using the pile of hair which had come off her as a kneeling pad. The expression on her face was priceless. Sammy thought it was a mix of disgust and self-pity.
‘There’s going to be some shots for the calendar here.’ he said gently into the mic.
She didn’t reply, but opened her mouth wide, as if she was being fed a particularly unpleasant medicine. Rico pushed his flaccid cock in, and she closed her thin lips around it, closing her eyes tightly.
‘You’ve got some work to do here, babe.’ Rico said.
Claire screwed her eyes closed tightly, wrapping her hands around her boobs. Stiffly and robotically, she started to move her head back and fourth.
‘What would the church say, Claire?’ teased Sammy.
Bea snorted, now smiling viciously.
Claire didn’t look like she was getting anywhere. She didn’t even look like she was trying. In fact, Rico was looking fed up.
‘I don’t know who’s looking more bored,’ Sammy breezed. ‘No wonder your marriage was on the rocks. Bea – show him your tits. This man needs help’
Bea looked horrified. ‘You what?’
‘You heard me, show him your tits.’
Bea shook her head. ‘I’m not taking me clothes off, I’m not a performer.’
‘C’mon, it’s not like you haven’t been seen before. I know for a fact you did a topless shoot for Loaded magazine.’
Bea’s jaw dropped. ‘That was years ago! How the fuck did you find out?’
Sammy grinned. ‘I have my ways.’
‘Well I ain’t getting my girls out for you filthy gits.’ she sniffed, folding her arms. ‘How about you show him your’s, you fat bastard?’
But it looked like something was happening. Rico was starting to thrust, and Claire began to make gagging noises.
‘Easy now,’ Sammy rubbed Claire’s back.
Tears began streaming from her eyes, but she kept going. Surely, Sammy thought, even the biggest “Bald Beauty” advocate would agree that she absolutely awful at that moment.
Finally, Rico threw his head back and started to grunt. He slapped a fat palm against the top of her head, and the other against the back of her skull. Gripping her scalp hard enough for the skin to crease, he was now doing most of the work.
Claire tried saying something: ‘Mmmph.’
Sammy put the microphone in front of her dick-filled mouth. ‘Sorry, Claire, speak up.’
Claire pulled away, gasping for breath. Her face was now and even brighter red and her eyes were matching. Wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, she looked away from the camera.
Sammy pulled the microphone away. ‘It doesn’t look like Claire is enjoying herself very much, does it boys and girls?’
The audience laughed and cheered.
‘You’ll never be able to go back to church again!’ somebody yelled.
Rico reached out to touch her head, but she ducked out of the way. ‘C’mon baby, don’t leave me hanging.’
‘You can leave now, and forfeit the prize money.’ Sammy reminded her. ‘Your choice.’
Claire was staring down at her lap. She looked like she was having an existential crisis. She swallowed thickly: ‘OK. I’ll finish.’
Sammy felt like doing a jig. Objective achieved.
She took Rico’s cock in her mouth, holding the shaft this time and carried on sucking cock on stage. She looked like she was sucking on a big lollipop.
Rico was enjoying the newfound enthusiasm. His fingers were gripping her head, pushing it up and down his cock. She was gagging and spluttering, but he didn’t seem to care.
Soon, Claire, the teacher, wife and Mum was wide eyed as her mouth filled with semen. She made a move to pull back, but Rico pressed her into him as he finished.
Creases formed on her brow as she frowned angrily, giving a sideways look at the audience when somebody shouted “swallow!”. Finally, Rico released his grip, and Claire pulled back. She didn’t swallow, she spat. The load landed on the pile of shaved off hair she’d been kneeling on.
‘Oh no!’ Sammy threw his hands up in the air. ‘We were going to donate that to Little Princess Trust, as well.’
Claire was glaring at him. ‘You prick.’
Rico tucked his dick back into his trousers, smiling. ‘Not bad, babe. I was doing most of the work, but still, not bad.’ He held his fist out. ‘You did good today. Pound it.’
Claire stared at him like he’d gone insane. ‘Fuck off.’
‘Ho ho ho.’ Sammy made a fake laugh. ‘The attitude is all coming out now. I would say its unbecoming for a lady but…that ship has sailed I think.’
She was still glaring. She had a face like a pitball eating a nettle. ‘Fuck you.’ she mouthed over the sound of the audience laughing at her.
Sammy rolled his eyes. ‘No sense of humour at all. So Claire, how are you feeling now you’re the latest Bald Beauty?’
‘Horrible.’
‘So ungrateful. I let you suck a famous pornstar’s dick, and that’s the response I get?’
Rico shrugged un-modestly as one of the crew came onto stage and offered her a glass of water. Still kneeling, she took the glass. She rinsed and spat, then downed the rest of the glass.
‘They don’t make semen flavoured lollipops for a reason.’ Sammy raised a wry eyebrow. ‘Now, there’s just one more thing left to do. Bea, come over here for us.’
Holding a handheld salon mirror, she joined the trio centre stage. Claire stood, not hiding her body anymore.
‘You ready to see how it looks?’ Bea was beaming, holding the mirror so the back was facing Claire. ‘It’s gonna be a shock, I’ve warned ya.’ Bea spun the mirror around, and Claire gasped.
‘Oh fuck.’ she said softly. ‘I look horrible…How can anybody think that’s attractive?’ she touched the top of her head, then gently rubbed it. ‘Well, Tom has to live with this. I hope he likes it.’ she said bitterly. ‘He’s finally got his ugly bald wife.’
Sammy piped up. ‘Ooh, catty. It looks like someone isn’t enjoying being bald.’ He stepped forward. ‘The real question is: How will your family and friends react? Do you think they’ll laugh at you? And your kids?’
‘My kids are only little.’ she sniffed, turning to face the camera. ‘But they will find it hilarious no doubt. I haven’t even thought about what anyone else will say yet.’
‘Oh, Claire.’ Sammy gave her a fake sympathetic smile. ‘The shame you must feel.’ he moved on to Bea. ‘Bea, anything to add?’
Bea nodded. ‘Yeah – can I just say, Claire, you do look like a right mug, don’t you? My advice: don’t cheat again when your hair grows back.’
Sammy laughed. ‘Words to live by. Rico, I’ll let you have the last word.’
‘It’s not your best look. I’m sorry. But I hope you can move past your…whatever it is in your relationship. ‘
‘That’s it?’ Sammy asked.
‘That’s all I got, man.’ Rico laughed. ‘Look at her. She’s had enough. Let’s wrap this up.’
‘In that case, all there is left to say is: thank you so much for watching,’ he smiled and winked at the camera. ‘Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do, see you again.’
The crowed erupted onto an applause, as the sax theme tune blared out. Rico waved as he walked off stage, his job done.
*
Tom was half an hour into the drive home, and Claire was yet to say a single word. She was back in the outfit she’d stepped on stage with, expect for the wolly bobble hat she was wearing.
‘You can talk Claire.’ He glanced over to her when they stopped for a red light. The evening traffic was starting to get busy, and he was getting frustrated. He wanted to get his bald wife back home. She was right. She was ugly. And he loved it. He could see some of the shaved skin peeking from under the hat.
‘This is it now, OK Tom? We’re even.’ her voice was flat and dangerously quiet. ‘I’ve sucked a dick and stage for you and had all my hair shaved off.’
‘Yeah, we’re even.’
‘Good.’ she said frostily. ‘I still don’t know why you want me to look like this.’ Then, in a wounded voice. ‘My hair was my best feature.’
Tom chuckled. ‘It still is. It’s just not on your head anymore.’
‘It’s not funny, Tom.’ her voice wobbled. ‘I hate this. I feel so…so naked.’
‘I like you better this way, really.’ He couldn’t stop himself. ‘I like how your pussy and head look the same now.’ he grinned, knowing it would wind her up.
‘What a compliment.’ she folded her arms. ‘You know I’m sore down there. So don’t get any ideas. But do you know what I do like?’
‘What?’
‘Now you’ve got me on your disgusting show, you can’t hold anything over me anymore.’
‘Oh, I don’t know about that.’ He reached over, grabbed the bobble on her hat and pulled it off.
‘No! Tom! People will see!’
The lights changed to green. He dropped the window, and threw the hat out. He was going to enjoy this.
THE END
