No Rest 4 Wicked Botniks Part 2
Chapter 15: Mary Okinawa #1: No Rest 4 Sad Geishas
A Where the West Begins exclusive publication:
”NO REST 4 WICKED BOTNIKS”
A novel by Tyler B. Morrison.
PART TWO:
THE DOWNTOWN ANGLE
CHAPTER 15
Mary Okinawa #1:
No Rest For Sad Geishas
At 11:30 PM on a Saturday night, Calexica Standard Time (CXST), Maria Hoshizaki Venezzi was lounging—naked, but alone. Mary “Okinawa” was seated in the languid, cushioned warmth of a brand new SydneyWorks Sofa-Pool 3600. The memory-foam air-pillows expanded to fit her lithe frame, and the hot water and Coucho-Max solutions congealed and rose to her every loving curve and contour. Physical bliss surrounded her body and invited her to a soothing, floating state of nirvana.
Mary rolled her eyes at the absurd notion of actual “Nirvana” and reflected grimly once again on all that she really needed. Her mental list consisted of three short items: a new agent, a new room, and a new boyfriend.
The new agent was the most serious issue. Mary Okinawa had star power, billboard recognition, her own makeup products, etc., but seemingly no respect from that tiny, sweat-shiny silver-suited excuse for a man.
She was the genu-ine article: a sweet and sassy half-Italian half-Japanese professional minx. To give an example of how big a deal she was, some big Pacific cartoon conglomerate, either Westanime or Rootin Tootin’ Toons or Ozzy Ahoy or something-or-other—she could never remember which—had bought her likeness five years ago for half a million New New Yen.
Why spend all that Tokyo dough just to get her image? It was for that damn Rover Red Shoots ‘Em Dead cartoon, about the bumbling dog sheriff who chased Mr. Fox away from the chicken coops. The company created an itty-bitty rabbit toonie supposedly based on Mary’s likeness. It was a bizarro animal version of Mary, the goody-two-shoes love interest, a shaky, nervous little yellow thing—(Racists!)—with a curvaceous frame, a big white furry chest and a cute fuzzy tail and floppy cutesy ears. Awwwww. How adorable. Sexists!
That character had the ridiculous name of “Lil Miss Bea-Bea Baby.” Eye roll. C’mon. Please.
That cartoon led to the inevitable, obvious, and ridiculous “Ohaio Bea-Bea!” bunny merchandise, a very lucrative venture that had put next to no coin in her own purse, because she hadn’t come up with the idea, like some brilliant merchandiser would.
And because in the year 2189, somehow, sexism still existed, as mentioned above. To her mind, men held all the power, and they hated sharing it with “the fairer sex.”
Well, maybe Dwight had been the exception. Whatever. Screw men and their suits and ties and double standards.
“Fucking suits,” Mary murmured, and then blew a raspberry and shifted her weight several times. The couch responded lovingly, moving with her movement. Good couch, she thought. She patted it on the polished wooden rim, and giggled to herself. She was going loopy tonight.
A sad thought hit her, but she suppressed it with a clenched grin and a change of mental scenery. She put that thought away, and re-lived a lot of good times when she gave blue balls to absolute losers. Drooping stoops, brads, and goofs. The thought made her roll her eyes again, but her smile became more genuine.
Then a call came in on the TV: Larry Hanamura, the manager, Mr. Shiny Suit, line one. Her grin became a snarl, then a frown. Her ego was not actually that large, believe it or not. She was vain, but not that vain. She was just a person, like everybody else, like those dumbass brads, even.
“You’re not that big of a deal,” Mary murmured to herself and sighed, looking at that one dark cigar mark on the inside of her left arm, on the opposite side of her elbow, where few would be able to see. She made it a week ago, and was thinking about making some more. She was just a confused and sad person, like most others.
The television DINGED louder and louder with Larry’s insistent call. She saw Larry’s face, and ignored it.
Truth be told, her status and acclaim, as well as the frustrating circumstances surrounding them, were far from unique. Mary’s story and experiences were the same for many girls—for many women. Like many, she was another OK City actress hopeful turned Envy City holo-model porn star.
After a few too many dramatic auditions that didn’t pay off back in Okinawa, Mary got tired of going hungry for the “craft” and “art” and all of that other theater bullshit she really loved so much. So one day she just made up her mind. She packed her bags and left her father and mother and her little brother. She flew West-By-East, to the New Vegas just outside Calexica: the Big Envy.
Mary stared at the bright lights overhead until she had stars in her eyes, and then looked at her breasts above the water’s surface, and remembered everything.
She got her start at nineteen in some skeevy flickers back in Hoyleside by the late director Herman Gorman: a fat, old sweaty German who of course tried to force himself onto her after about a week of various shoots. At the time, she had called 334, but the med-cops didn’t arrive until an hour later when the deed was already done—because Gorman had friends on the force. Force, indeed. Men.
She left Hoyleside and never looked back.
Mary swished the water of the sofa-pool left then right, left then right, its deep blue hiding most of her body until she sent foamy spray and bubbles sloppily overboard. Careful now, she cautioned herself. The water’s cheap, but Coucho-Max is expensive. And she didn’t need to be buying any more “chemical solutions” any time soon.
She bit her lip and thought about last week again and sighed.
There were two differences between Mary and the other holo-stars of Porno-Land, and she took great pride in them.
One, Mary was an actual twenty nine year old woman. She was not an Akita Android 12-load robot. She was not a surgeon-job gurlyman. She was not some mecha-enhanced cyber-sweetie. She was as human as they came, more or less. There were only a couple of… very specific places and dots on her body that were, um, “enhanced,” and that was only because, well, she was half-Japanese after all!
The second difference between her and the others was just how famous Mary was. She worked for Jazzo Studios, the biggest porn-corp in the Biz. Even O-Merika Hardcore was second to them.
And she was Jazzo Studios’ #2 Female Star everywhere you could officially access Jazzo, on H0L0-Hall, YumTV, PRONL10N, etc. She was billed above Daisy Capris, and Michelle Steely, Kissy Sixx, and even Kitten Paloma. She was only ever billed below the fabulous and gothic queen vamp, Larkin Lake (#1).
Truth be told, she envied Larkin, not for her fame and acclaim, but for her beautiful, God-given body and her actual, seeming happiness. Larkin was going to be married soon, and her contract with the studio was already up and gone…
A single tear fell from Mary’s cheek.
Everything was legal here in NV City, nothing “adult” was censured, hindered, or obscured. That went double for all the disgusting flesh trades. “Flesh trades”! They want me to trade–
She stared at the TV in a blinding red rage and made up her mind.
Maria Hoshizaki Venezzi would have her revenge tonight.
For Dwight, and for her. For both of them. The men in suits and their criminal masters would all pay.
Dearly.
END OF CHAPTER 15
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