Something No Man Can Have

[hopedudley]

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'I'm a Space Bound Rocket Ship
And your Heart's the Moon
And I'm Aimin' Right at You
Two Hundred Fifty Thousand Miles
On a clear Night in June
And I'm Aimin' Right at You
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The Following is a
Hope Dudley
Production
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Status:Finished
Tagged:Match vs Ebirah
Word Count:2,612
Location:A Hotel Bedroom
Attire:Hope’s Outfit; Maryia’s Outfit
Soundtrack:-
Notes:-
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Cast
Background Text/Scenery
Hope Dudley
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The scene opens to the innards of a hotel room, one of those fancier, upscale hotel rooms, and perhaps the fanciest suite in it at that. The bed is against one wall, a queen size bed to be exact, and is topped by several pillows at the head, all with pillowcases of a deep red color. The blanket that tops the bed is of that same deep red, and it is the same red that colors the carpet of the floor throughout the bedding area. To either side of that bed, the walls are curved, and has windows that look out into the blue skies beyond. The angle shows buildings outside the windows, but they’re all much shorter than that of the building in which the camera is. Below the windows to one side of the bed rests a small hutch made of some sort of wood, finished and painted red at that, on top of which stands a red lamp, the shade of which is angled downward toward the table, but does not reach a complete point at the top; atop that lamp rests a decorative heart, probably ceramic of some sort, about six inches tall.
The camera pans around the room slowly, showing the first white of the shot, the walls and ceiling. The entire room appears circular, and along the wall are several doors, one close to the windows, which was painted red, a second that seemed to be about across from the bed, also red, and then the third, about across from the first door to be seen, again, red in color. Between the first and second doors, a kitchen area is present; a refrigerator, a sink, a stove all positioned against the wall, a white ceramic countertop resting atop red wood of the counter, barstools set about the counter, and presumably cupboards, or perhaps a dishwasher, or maybe even both on the far side of the counter, but an island amidst the area’s space. White tiles make up the flooring of the kitchen area, all square, and all about a foot each way, length and width. Continuing on around, there is a television set positioned against the wall between the second and third doors, and a very large flat screen one to be exact that sits facing the bed and is turned off, but reaches the entire distance between the two doors, which is at least a dozen feet.

The camera continues turning, and as it makes its way back toward the bedside area, rotating in place, and as it returns to its original focus, the bed, who should be there, her body tucked under the covers, but Hope Dudley. Her body, up to her bust, remains under the covers as she leans up on her left elbow, using one finger to make a ‘come here’ kind of motion in the direction of the camera. As the camera gets closer, she uses that same index finger to tell the camera guy to freeze just by holding that finger up in the air, nail toward herself as she grins devilishly, and the camera does stop about six feet from her face. She starts talking with a lowered volume to her voice, her grin staying on her face the entire time.

”Good evening, honey. Glad you could drop by. I was just starting to think you wouldn’t give me my turn to speak about my match with Ebirah. I may be ‘just a girl’, while he’s a ‘big strong man’, but I deserve airtime as much as he does. And if you don’t find the sarcasm there, you can go touch yourself in the corner, and I’ll hold the camera for myself. It doesn’t matter that I’m a lady facing a guy, I’ll come out on top like only Hope Dudley can; the Hopebreaker, the one, the two, the three.

While Ebirah’s biggest focus is how I’m gorgeous, and how my looks are my pride and joy, he’s only half-right. I may be the L’il Delite, but I’m also one plenty capable fighter, and if Ebirah thinks breaking a nail is going to get in my way of breaking his neck, he’s got another thing coming. He specified that I’m a top talent, and then called himself the ‘measuring stick’ of the company, by which we all stack up. But comparing the two of us, I’ll have to pull out a microscope to measure the lengths of his talent, whereas he’d need an odometer to find out the miles and miles my kind of talent will get me in this business.

He went on to say that his world is different from mine, and how in his world, ugliness is considered more beautiful than beauty itself. If that’s the case, I’d be happy to make him that much better looking, and all it’ll take is one quick Hopebreaker to transform his face into the most gorgeous thing he’s ever seen, and the most hideous thing I’ve ever seen, if he isn’t already there. If what he wants is a girl who isn’t afraid to show her dark side, then I’m going to show myself to be the biggest tease he’s ever met when I unleash the fury on him that only the L’il Delite can hold.”

She slides the covers off her body, revealing laced black lingerie, and matching black lace panties, as well as lacy black stockings that came halfway up her thigh, and finally as her legs slid out of the bed and down to the ground, the camera shifts around to show black high-heeled shoes. As she walks by the camera, she flashes a grin, and the camera follows her every motion, especially as she accentuates the sway of her hips a bit extra as she walks across the room to the kitchen area.

She bends down, giving her booty a slight shake as she reaches into a cupboard below that white ceramic countertop, and after a moment, out slides a black frying pan, brand new by the appearance of it, no lid, and a black rubber grip on the handle. She walks over, still accentuating her walk, and rinses the pan under the sink, before flipping the front burner of the white electric stove on high, placing that pan down on top of the burner. She continues past the stove, and opens the refrigerator, the right half of the refrigerator freezer combination container, and ruffles through some of the containers a moment before she pulls out a stick of butter. She sets that on the counter behind her, and closes the refrigerator as the freezer opens, and right away her hand shoots into the freezer, grabbing a bag of Paul Newman’s butterfly shrimp. She unwraps that stick of butter as she sets the butterfly shrimp on the counter in its place, and pulls a table knife out from the drawer, before slicing the butter into tablespoons. Tossing two of those tablespoon-size hunks of butter into the frying pan, she leans back against the counter behind her, and the camera recaptures her face.

”Now, while I may have the body of a model, I’m not afraid to enjoy what I like, and what I like, or one of the things I like, rather, is seafood. Ebirah specifically referred to himself as a lobster, which just so happens to be one of my favorite dishes when broiled and served with a side of butter. I’m melting some butter now, and while I may not actually be cooking up a lobster, Ebirah, I’m cooking up some of your little crustaceous buddies, fished out of the sea by Paul Newman. And this, my dear opponent, is just an appetizer. My main course, sweetie, is going to be cooking up a big ol’ lobster broil, served on a bed of ring mat, with a side of one, two, three. And for dessert, of course, there’ll be a bountiful helping of ring bell topped with Universal Title shot, and it’ll be the Champ himself, Roy Speede, serving me that platter. And that, my friend, is a feast I could really get into.”

Hope adds one more tablespoon to the mix, before reaching into the box of shrimp and pulling out six shrimp and placing them into the pan with that butter. A sizzling sound starts to echo about the room, and Hope smiles at the camera.

”But if you’ll excuse me for a few minutes, I’m hungry. I’m going to eat my supper, and we’ll talk later, hun.”

With that, Hope holds up that index finger that she’d held up before, and places just the tip of it against the lower portion of the lens of the camera, her fingernail against the lens about half-way up the camera. The scene cuts to black.

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The scene reopens, oh, say fifteen minutes later in that same room, focused on Hope, who is leaning against the wall near the bed in that same lingerie, only this time wearing lipstick as her hands slowly rubbing along her body with both hands, teasing each and every viewer out there as one hand reaches up to her face, and the tip of her index finger slips into her mouth for but a moment, enough to wet the tip of it, but only that. That finger traces along her breast, right along the top of her strapless black bra in what could only be described as self-pleasure and torture to her viewers. She bites her bottom lip for just a moment before she starts to speak.

”You like this sight, don’t you Ebirah? Can’t really deny it when my eyes are staring you back in the face, now can you? Any guy would, and most any girl would secretly fantasize about the ultimate sexual experience with me. Just look yourself in the mirror, and your eyes will be screaming at you to take every opportunity you can to enjoy my touch as you take shot after shot from me come match time. As I’ve said time and time again, my looks aren’t everything to me; what means the most is taking every opportunity I get to put people like you, who sit there doing nothing but staring at the best looking girl in the place and stroking your own meat to have a good time in your places, and teach you that women aren’t just your tasty treats to look at, and that we’re the ones who deserve the good things in life a lot more than horny little perverts like yourself. You keep on saying you don’t love the way I look, Ebirah. Keep telling yourself that. Keep trying to convince us of that. We all know you’re really just begging to make this match longer than fifteen minutes so that this ass-whipping will be that much more of my hands mopping the floor with you, beating your face in that much longer. And that’s why I’m going to keep this short and sweet, and beat your face in, score a pin, and just spend the rest of the match watching you scream at Roy to try and count me out. We all three know there aren’t any count-outs in this thing, buddy boy. I can do it. I can roll you up at the start of the match, and watch from atop the stage as you hoot and holler for fourteen minutes and fifty seven seconds because I’m not even going to care.

You’re nothing to me, Ebirah. You’re just another step along the way to stardom, and I’m going to stomp down on you like no other could do, with that Deliteful End, that Hopebreaker, that total disregard for your safety that I should. And why? Because I know you want three things. One, you want to belittle me and prove to the world that a woman shouldn’t wrestle a guy, just like every other guy I’ve ever fought has tried to do. Two, you want to beat me in this match and move on to face Roy Speede for the Universal Championship. And three, you want to enjoy every second of this match like you have a fetish for abusive sex, as if I’m your dominatrix, because you know somewhere deep down in your heart that you lust after me.”

She sits down on the side of the bed, and the camera follows her movement, and the new angle of the camera shows a blonde-haired girl in the background, also wearing lingerie, laying atop the covers, leaning on one elbow watching Hope with a seductive smile on her face. Hope looks over her shoulder, and then turns back to the camera with a grin.

”You know it, Ebirah, you know you want me. Deep down in you, you burn with a passion for me, just like every other man, woman, and child. You desire to have me.”

She lays down on the bed, her body turned from the camera to face the blonde, and a smile crosses her face as the shot shoots to a new camera, focused on the two from about as far away as the foot of the bed, but no further.

"Well tough luck, buddy. Other than my foot up your rear end this week on Rush Hour, you're not going to have me. No man will ever have me. This is my girlfriend, Maryia. She is the only one who can have me, and I know you're just sweating, seeing two of the most beautiful girls you'll ever lay your eyes on, Ebirah, laying atop a bed in lingerie. It's making your knees shake, and your eyes are starting to crust up from not blinking as you stare at your screen. But now, I'll bid you adieu; try and stare all you want come Monday, Ebirah, but you'll have to do it as I break each and every last Hope you've got."

The two girls share a lasting kiss, and tongues become visible as the scene fades to black.