(Click here to go to our previous episode; the curious may go here to return to the beginning of Uncle Buddy’s House©. “Just what the world has been clamoring for, a tacky and tawdry tale of a middle-aged Tinseltown playboy.” -- J.J. Hunsecker, in The AARP Monthly.)
It had been a long time, and who was Buddy to complain? (They used a condom; he had bought a packet of the extra-thin ones that week, just in case he ever managed to get someone to have sex with him again.) It lasted about twenty minutes, which seemed reasonable, and afterwards they lay there spoonwise, dozing for a bit, or at least Buddy was dozing, one hand on one of her small firm breasts (lightly implanted, not as nice as Cordelia’s real ones, but what the hell). Someone’s cellphone rang, it was hers, she reached down to the floor for her purse and got it out, and Buddy caressed her small backside as she did so.
“Hullo? Oh, Audrey, darling, how are you? Oh. Oh. Oh, yes, no, of course I didn’t forget. Of course not. I -- had a puncture. Yes, a flat. And it took simply forever for the AA chaps to get there. Oh, no. No. Yes, I’m at the garage now and I’m on my way. On my way. Be there in, oh, say, twenty minutes. Fabulous. See you soon. Mwah.” (The mwah was a telephone air-kiss.)
She poked the off button.
“Cow,” she said into the phone. “Rude cow.”
She swung her legs onto the floor.
“What’s the problem?” said Buddy.
“Completely forgot I dropped my daughter off at this heifer’s place for a playdate.” She stood up, turned, and looked at Buddy. ”Completely skipped my mind.”
She started gathering her clothes from the floor and getting dressed.
“Sorry to bolt, darling. Must go to the corral and fetch her. Then I must cook something for dinner.”
“So you cook, too?”
“Do I not. I should have you over someday. Don’t worry, just joking.”
“What’s your husband do?”
“Stay in bed, darling. I’ll see myself out. You look sleepy. You have my cell number.”
“And I of course have yours.”
She was almost dressed now.
“Well, I must dash,” she said. “Give me a kiss.”
They did this, and she wasn’t even perfunctory about it. Then:
“Oh, I think I’ve got Entertainment Weekly interested in doing a story about you chaps. You know, feisty little independent company.”
“We’re not really all that independent.”
“Who is? So would you mind being interviewed?”
“Nope. I love being interviewed. It so rarely happens.”
“Splendid. And darling don’t stress out about this mystery woman. Women aren’t all that mysterious once you get to know them.”
“True,” said Buddy.
She left, and Buddy lay back, smelling her not-unpleasant sex smell in the bedclothes.
The phone rang, his house phone. He picked it up and said hello, but whoever it was on the other end said nothing, so he hung up. He star-69’d, but a voice came on and said the number was outside his service area.****
Buddy fell into a thick sleep, and then he was woken up out of it by his cellphone ringing.
“Hi,” he said.
“It’s me again,” she said.
“You sound funny.”
“I was sleeping.”
“I’m sorry, should I call you back?”
“No, no, I’m awake now.”
“No, you sleep, I’ll call back.”
“No, really, Cordelia, it’s nice to hear your voice.”
“Yeah, how was your day off?”
“Nice. I walked around. I bought a book and read for a long time in a coffee shop.”
Another one of their little pauses occurred here.
“Tonight a couple of the girls in the show are going to a bar and they asked me to come.”
Buddy couldn’t hear her breathing but he imagined that he could.
“So did you get some work done today?” she asked, quietly.
“Well, it turned out all I really had to do was think up a new title for our movie and then have lunch with our publicist. Working lunch, you know.”
“Uh-huh. What’s the new title?”
“Nikki Palmer. Nikki with two k’s and an i.”
“Hmm. What was the old title?”
“Nikki Palmer is better.”
“Yeah, well --”
“I’m in bed myself now,” she said.
“Ah, my favorite place.”
“Gonna take a little nap?”
“I’d like to talk for a while first though.”
“Okay,” said Buddy. “What should we talk about?”
“Mmm,” she said.
“You said 'Mmm'.”
“What?” she whispered.
“You want me to talk talk.”
“If you want to.”
“Do you want to?”
“To talk? Sure --”
“I mean,” she was whispering, “do you want to do it with me?”
“I know, I’m a pervert.”
“No, not at all, it’s just --”
“You think it’s weird.”
“No. You go right ahead.”
“I want you to do it too.”
“Um, the thing is, I already did.”
“No -- uh -- before my nap. But you go right ahead.”
Now he actually could hear her breathing, but then his house phone rang.
“Shit, Cordelia, I’ve got another call and I think it might be Deirdre wanting me to pick her up. Can I put you on hold for just a second?”
He picked up the other phone and said hello, but whoever the fuck was on the other end didn’t say anything. Buddy hung it up and put Cordelia back on.
“Hey, it’s me again.”
“Hi,” she said, breathing faster.****
After she rang off he lay there for a while and relived this most recent conversation with Cordelia, and although he hadn’t touched himself during it he now began to do so.
The cellphone rang again and this time it was Deirdre.
“Where are you? You were supposed to pick me up at six because the two weirdos here are going out to a Bulgarian wine tasting, and he’s afraid to leave me in the house alone because he thinks I’ll invite all my teenage dyke girlfriends over and have a fucking sex orgy, remember?”
“Oh, sorry, I -- uh --”
The night table clock said 6:32.
“Well, look, come and get me, okay?”
“Right, hang in there, I’m on my way.”
(Continued here, and until Buddy discovers the true meaning of life.)
(Kindly look to the right hand side of this page to find a quite frequently up-to-date listing of links to all other published episodes of Uncle Buddy’s House™, soon to be a major motion picture from Larry Winchester Productions (a division of Walmart), starring Clark Gable as Buddy, Greer Garson as Marjorie, and featuring the lovely Simone Simon as Cordelia.)