We’re at Johnnies New York Pizzeria on Sunset because it’s one of Casey’s favorite places to eat. To be fair, the rolls are fucking amazing, and we did see Lara Flynn Boyle there once. So I’m content.
Casey’s retelling me a joke she says she got forwarded to her by her Groundlings teacher. The same joke was sent to me by Casey herself a few days ago in an e-mail that explained she had come up with the joke herself, which I knew to be untrue even then because it had already been forwarded to me by my mom.
Nonetheless, Casey is butchering the joke, and even though I already know what’s coming, I let her continue, and when she retells me the punch line, slightly botched, I laugh convincingly enough to assure a decent prefuck blow job tonight.
After what seems like a fucking eternity of her telling a drawn-out story about losing her dad’s credit card in the Beverly Center Gap, Casey finally gets up to go to the bathroom. Just as she leaves, the waiter puts our plates down, giving me the perfect opportunity to make my move.
About a month and a half ago I was watching some late-night TV after having jerked off twice in a row to a videotape I found in my closet of me fucking my high school girlfriend, Katy. Flipping through the channels, I was blessed with an infomercial for a product called Bloussant.
Bloussant is a pill taken daily that is guaranteed to enlarge tits by at least one cup size. Seventy-four dollars and fourteen business days later my own two-month supply of Bloussant arrived in the mail. I crushed up all the pills into a powder that I’ve been mixing into as many of Casey’s meals as I can. I’ve been doing this for about a month and so far the results could be better.
I decide to increase her dosage and spoon out two heaping mounds of the stuff from the Ziploc Baggie I have in my right back pocket. An old guy sitting next to me notices but doesn’t give any reaction. I mix it in the best I can and decide it would be a good move to put a third spoonful in her Diet Coke.
I’m concentrating too hard on making sure the Bloussant is completely dissolved to notice that Casey’s come back from the bathroom and is standing at the table watching me stir her drink.
She says, “What’re you doing?”
Something quick, nonchalant, believable: “I thought I saw a fly or something in your drink.”
“Then I’ll just get the waiter to bring me a new one when he comes back.”
“No, no. You don’t need to do that. There wasn’t really a fly. I just thought there was. It must have been the ice. C’mon, sit down, let’s dig in.”
She looks at me like I’m semi-insane and for a split second I wish I was so I could be honest enough with her to tell her that I’ve been slipping an unproven breast-enhancing drug into her food and drink because I think her tits are too small and I was stirring her Diet Coke to make sure it had completely dissolved. But her look fades as she sits down, spreads her napkin across her lap, and takes a huge bite of fettuccine Alfredo–Bloussant. Her reaction to a strange taste is nonexistent.
I grab her tits much more than I normally would that night as we fuck in an attempt to feel any kind of progress at all. She says, “Hey, calm down, they’ll last longer if you don’t rip them off.” I’m surprised at how genuinely funny I think this is while my dick’s buried in her pussy. But the distraction’s not enough to keep me from thinking that at her current increased dosage, I only have enough Bloussant left for about a week and a half. If I don’t see better results by then, I’ll have to buy two more shipments and further increase her intake. This may mean I’ll be forced to take up cooking to learn how to mask the taste.