Love is a Wet Spot
Florida isn't the Bisket's favorite scene. The masses of half-naked people, the redneck gator farms, and the endless tit sweat. She ditched main street crowds looking for a cocktail with a side of air-conditioning. Music thumped inside the Southern Nights Club as Bisket gratefully sipped her gimlet. That's when her eyes caught the go-go boy.
His hips gyrated, thrust, and jerked in the hypnotic laser light. His sweaty bangs were plastered to his beet-red face. His eyes were half open, staring through Bisket or the restrooms at the back of the dancefloor. She couldn't tell which. His lipless mouth hung slack as if he was saying a silent "uuuhhhhhh." Bisket felt a hunger for this pie-faced tax accountant in a roomy jockstrap. A drag show started, and he made his way to Bisket at the bar. She could smell weed and man funk as he introduced himself. 'Swan' pressed his meager bag of tricks into Bisket's leg as he proposed a night of fun.
Bisket never felt more alive. Swan led her on a night of passion that she's yet to match. At some point in their ugly-bumping sessions, Bisket learned that Swan was living a double life, which he had difficulty reconciling. Nevertheless, Bisket felt so physically and emotionally moved that she pledged to help him if she could.
Bisket woke the following day, curled up with a half-eaten rotisserie chicken and a Koren gel mask on her face. She called for Swan as she kicked aside the sofa pillows, dildos, and Taco Bell wrappers, making her way to the bathroom. Sitting down, she saw "goodbye Bisket" written in toothpaste on the mirror. That's when she realized her purse was missing, along with her car keys.
"Fuck. Madge is never gonna let me live this down."
Fast forward to New Year's 2023 in London, UK...
Our duo noticed a Fox News van parked across the road as they walked into St. Stephen's Tavern. As Bisket freshened up in the powder room, Madge ordered drinks and noticed a familiar face at the bar.
"Swan, you shouldn't be here," Madge says to her drink.
Tucker whirls to face a woman he doesn't recognize. "Where did you hear that name?"
"Someone with an axe to grind," Madge tucks her cell phone into her blazer.
"Being a star comes with risks," Tucker backs away from the conversation but steps on a lady's shoes, almost spilling his drink.
Bisket stood cleaning the tip of her Fluevog Zion Trinity Booties on the back of her well-formed calf. "Trying to make another memorable exit, Swan?"
Tucker squints, afraid of being hit, but Bisket comes in for a hug. "I see you're doing well," she whispers in his ear.
A commotion at the tavern's entrance grabs the crowd's attention. 3 Police make their way to where Madge, Tucker, and Bisket are standing at the bar.
"The signal is coming from him," a helmeted policeman points at Tucker.
"What! This is outrageous! Call Murdoch; he'll vouch for me. Someone call the American Consulate!" As they grab him, Bisket rescues Tucker's drink and sips daintily.
Tucker continues to hop and shout back to the patrons in the tavern, the laughing and conversation again reaching its original rumble. Madge raises her glass, "I thought he would never leave." They toast each other, and Madge sees Bisket wearing driving gloves.
"What's with the gloves."
"Well, after you texted me while I was taking a leak, it seemed only right to give Swan a send-off." Bisket downs the rest of Tucker's cocktail and puts the gloves back in her purse.
"The police, that was you?" Madge eyed Bisket suspiciously.
"Yep." Bisket smiled with satisfaction. "I lifted Eddie Balls wallet when he threw us out of Big Ben. I took his Platinum American Express but left the Apple tag for Swan."
Madge's surprised face turned to one of sheer pride. She placed her arm around Bisket's shoulders as they headed into London. "If my calculations are correct, Bisket, we have about 4 hours until those cards are reported missing. Should we dine on Eddie's dime?"
"Absolutely. Happy New Year, Madge."
"Happy New Year, Bisket."
