Wednesday Write-Up: Rabbit Season

The flies would not leave Pepper’s hair alone. She, along with the other hopefuls, was perched on garden furniture under a tarpaulin that was big enough to seat five hundred. The sun was edging towards midday and they hadn’t got round to calling her number yet. She’d made the mistake of wearing stilettos (there had been no mention of walking on grass in the info pack) and was starting to itch underneath her pleather dress; she’d told her mother to dump powder down there but she hadn’t listened. The zip was threatening to weld to her spine the longer she sat. She checked her papers again: entrant A34801D, Pepper du Preez, 19, 36-28-34. She swatted at another fly and sighed. Her stomach was growling, but she couldn’t eat. There were no bathrooms nearby and she didn’t want to risk messing up her make-up.

“Pepper du Preez?”

She looked up at a woman better suited to a study in drab clothing than a gopher for the promoters. Pepper clenched her arms in front of her to make her breasts pop.

“That’s me! Over here.” An attempt at a graceful sweep of her handbag went awry when the faux Vuitton smacked April Fisher across the face and smudged her lipstick.

“Sorry, sweetie.”

April flicked a finger in her direction.

Madame Bored wore a name badge that said her name was Madge and asked how she could be of help.

“Sign here, Pepper.”

“What’s this for?”

“It’s the register.”

“Oh.” She giggled and embellished her signature with hearts on the Ps and xs along the line of the z at the end of du Preez.

“Step this way.” Madge had about as much enthusiasm as someone about to clean a public toilet.

Pepper hobbled between several black sheets until she came to another part of the tent where it was quieter. Upholstered chairs were arranged around a table and a camera tripod was pointed at the head of the table. Two men were standing to one side, muttering about light checks. She hovered and then cleared her throat.

“Uh, hello. I’m Pepper.”

A man who was all moustache and no upper lip stepped forward and dazzled her with a smile.

“Pepper. Nick Devon. Welcome. Please have a seat.” He shook her hand and then guided her to the head of the table. She plonked the faux Vuitton on the floor next to her. A glass of water materialised. She noticed her reflection in the mirror against the wall and her hands flew around her face, trying to tame the flyaways.

Nick sat facing her, just out of the line of the camera. He signalled and the cameraman started rolling.

“So, Pepper, I’m going to ask you a few questions. Try not to look at the camera – in fact, act as though the camera isn’t here – and then... Yeah. Why don’t you tell us what you think qualifies you to be the next Bunny Babe.”

Pepper bit her lip and manoeuvred her arms so that her cleavage was enhanced in the v-neck of her dress. “Well, Nick, I am the next Bunny Babe because I know how to give men what they want.”

“What might that be?”

“Their fantasies. I know that men really want a good girl to take home to their mothers and to bring them martinis and slippers at the end of the day, but they also want a bad girl who can show them a good time.”

“Really? How do you do that?”

Pepper sucked on her bottom lip and exhaled slowly. She lowered her head and then looked up through her eyelashes with a coquettish flutter of her lids. Her voice was low and breathy as she said, “Oh, Nick, I have my ways.”

Nick turned to the cameraman and said, “Cut. Pepper, there’s someone I’d like you to meet. He’s sitting behind the mirror. Madge will take you.”

Madge appeared at the table and waited for her to stand and fling faux Vuitton over her shoulder. April’s smudged lips bobbed as Pepper walked back through the curtains and into the waiting area, which was sweltering. They still hadn’t done anything about the grass walkways.

“I should have worn wedges.”

“Yes.” Madge seemed indifferent.

They arrived at a white door and a bodyguard in a suit opened it.

“Mr Fechter, this is Pepper.”

“Yes. I’ve been watching you.”

Pepper tried to reconcile where Fechter ended and the couch began. His arms were like dough parcels resting on cushions placed on either side of him. A satin robe parted over his knees to reveal silk boxers and the hair on his chest was strangled by the folds of flesh. He was sitting in front of a panel of glass, which she now realised was the mirror from before. Another hopeful, who she recognised as Rylann Nash, was doing her best to flirt with Nick. She looked at Fechter and realised his erection was the reason the robe had opened. She felt bile in her throat.

“Come here, Pepper.”

She remained at the door. Madge had disappeared and the bodyguard, whose suit and watch were probably worth more than what her father made in the last thirty years of working, was blocking the door.

“Don’t make me ask again.”

A nudge from behind gave her the momentum to near Fechter.

“Aren’t you a beautiful thing? Sit.”

Pepper found herself in his lap. She was itching like crazy under the pleather, and her leg kept grazing his manhood.

Fechter stroked her face. “I saw how you spoke to Nick just now. It had an... effect on me.”

Pepper laughed.

“You said you knew how to show men a good time?”

She nodded.

“Well, then I’d like you to think of this as your audition.” His breath smelt of dried meat and pickles and the perspiration on his forehead seemed to ooze from his oiled pate. He rested a hand on her thigh. “Show me, baby.” He jerked his leg and, in a single move, she slid off his lap and landed between his legs, the leaning tower of Fechter front and centre. “Show me.”

Pepper took the tissue Madge offered her.

“You missed a spot.” Madge pointed at her cheek. They were walking away from the tarpaulin and the other hopefuls towards the car park. “We’ll be in touch in the next few weeks. Thanks for your interest in Bunny Babes.” They got to the edge of the grass where the paved drive began. “This is where I leave you.”

Pepper stared at her shoes and considered how much of her make-up had run. The flies were back, haloing her hair and signposting the stinking mess she felt.

Madge put her hand on Pepper’s arm. “Look, you’re a smart kid. You’re not destined for a life of blowdries and blowjobs. Go and make something of yourself.”

“But I am Bunny material.”

“You and a hundred others who stopped by today. Have a little self-respect, love. Sucking off an old man isn’t the culmination of all your hopes and dreams.”

Pepper smoothed her dress, which stuck to her palms rather than flattening against her body, straightened up and looked Madge in the eye. “No. But it’s something.” She cracked her face into a smile and adjusted the faux Vuitton’s strap on her shoulder. “Which is more than I can say for you. I have breasts. Big, bouncy breasts. And I intend to milk these babies for everything they’ve got.”

Madge smirked. “Good luck, Pepper.”

“Good bye, Madge.”

Pepper strutted to her car, aware that she was being watched, and hoped nobody would notice how her mascara streaked down her face.