be planted.
For an ambitious guy to get ahead, Chalminski thought as he studied the enormous woman at her solitary table across the restaurant, sometimes he has to get a little behind. The crude observation was not original to him but a rule of thumb in the dog-eat-dog business in which the slum-born Andy had struggled for the dozen years of his manhood. Hell, there was absolutely nothing personal about his plan for bedding the current object of his attention.
Truth was, the midwestern giantess quietly eating soup and minding her own business had no more appeal to Chalminski than the zucchini his waitress brought along with his small steak. Her face was probably not as homely as the dictionary definition of zucchini ("a squash shaped like a cucumber")—he couldn't see much of it with that straight brown hair drooping over her ears and temples—but Andy had seen a picture of her in the newspaper before flying to Columbus, and her glasses were as thick and heavy as World War I flyers' goggles.
That photo had lured him to Ohio, or, more exactly, a caption beneath it reading: 6' 10" WOMAN REFUSES DATE WITH NBA STAR. Eddie Burgess, who'd appeared in a few of Chalminski's ultra-low-budget porn flicks before losing his ability to get it up on cue and retiring to the Midwest, had spotted the picture and sent the clipping to Andy. The local story with it—very short because Donna Callaghan was said to be excruciatingly shy—made it clear that six ten was just an estimate of her height, and she might clear seven feet. "I feel awkward enough around people without letting anyone measure me," Donna was quoted as admitting. "Besides, I don't much care for tall men." All that in response to the local press's smart PR move of trying to arrange a date between her and one of the Cleveland Cavaliers.
The second thought crossing Andy Chalminski's mind had been I'm only five six when I really stand up straight!
And his first reaction had been the instant awareness that a thirty-two-year-old virgin who had to stoop to enter a room—assuming she didn't look too damn awful with her clothes off—was possibly the only person alive who might save his sagging career as a movie producer!
It had started going bad when schmucks with their own cameras began making "home video" porn and marketing them with the notion that these were "real people in action," maybe the neighbors down the block. So a lot of potential customers of Andy's had decided to watch ol' Bob and Suzy get it on. Well, fuck, did they think actors in a professional flick were androids?
Worse, it had gotten harder and harder to create gimmicks that made some jack-off at an adult vid store grab a box and run to the register to take it home. Every combination of gender, position, and racial mix was already on film! Even Eddie Burgess had said, before Andy hung up and came to Columbus, "Unless you can talk some aliens from another planet into screwing our girls on camera, Andrew, skin-flick folks are going to be the blacksmiths of the twenty-first century."
Since Andy privately thought Eddie Burgess was right, he had immediately seen the latent potential in a seven-foot-tall babe—he'd definitely claim she was that tall, right on the box—and instantly other exciting promotions swarmed through Chalminski's mind. Just glancing at Eddie sitting next to him now—the actor'd come to McGarrett's Restaurant to introduce him to Donna—was a reminder of how Burgess was hung. There'd been females who were turned off by the sight of him naked, and not every actress had been able to accommodate "actors" like the guy.
But with a seven-foot dame —the hell with anatomy experts who'd say Donna's size made no difference; studs with dongs like Eddie could be billed as "Finally Meeting Their Match!" Shit-fire, flicks with her in them would go like hotcakes to broads as well as guys!
Now, persuading titanic Ms. Callaghan to earn a mint of money seemed to pragmatic Andy Chalminski the most
For an ambitious guy to get ahead, Chalminski thought as he studied the enormous woman at her solitary table across the restaurant, sometimes he has to get a little behind. The crude observation was not original to him but a rule of thumb in the dog-eat-dog business in which the slum-born Andy had struggled for the dozen years of his manhood. Hell, there was absolutely nothing personal about his plan for bedding the current object of his attention.
Truth was, the midwestern giantess quietly eating soup and minding her own business had no more appeal to Chalminski than the zucchini his waitress brought along with his small steak. Her face was probably not as homely as the dictionary definition of zucchini ("a squash shaped like a cucumber")—he couldn't see much of it with that straight brown hair drooping over her ears and temples—but Andy had seen a picture of her in the newspaper before flying to Columbus, and her glasses were as thick and heavy as World War I flyers' goggles.
That photo had lured him to Ohio, or, more exactly, a caption beneath it reading: 6' 10" WOMAN REFUSES DATE WITH NBA STAR. Eddie Burgess, who'd appeared in a few of Chalminski's ultra-low-budget porn flicks before losing his ability to get it up on cue and retiring to the Midwest, had spotted the picture and sent the clipping to Andy. The local story with it—very short because Donna Callaghan was said to be excruciatingly shy—made it clear that six ten was just an estimate of her height, and she might clear seven feet. "I feel awkward enough around people without letting anyone measure me," Donna was quoted as admitting. "Besides, I don't much care for tall men." All that in response to the local press's smart PR move of trying to arrange a date between her and one of the Cleveland Cavaliers.
The second thought crossing Andy Chalminski's mind had been I'm only five six when I really stand up straight!
And his first reaction had been the instant awareness that a thirty-two-year-old virgin who had to stoop to enter a room—assuming she didn't look too damn awful with her clothes off—was possibly the only person alive who might save his sagging career as a movie producer!
It had started going bad when schmucks with their own cameras began making "home video" porn and marketing them with the notion that these were "real people in action," maybe the neighbors down the block. So a lot of potential customers of Andy's had decided to watch ol' Bob and Suzy get it on. Well, fuck, did they think actors in a professional flick were androids?
Worse, it had gotten harder and harder to create gimmicks that made some jack-off at an adult vid store grab a box and run to the register to take it home. Every combination of gender, position, and racial mix was already on film! Even Eddie Burgess had said, before Andy hung up and came to Columbus, "Unless you can talk some aliens from another planet into screwing our girls on camera, Andrew, skin-flick folks are going to be the blacksmiths of the twenty-first century."
Since Andy privately thought Eddie Burgess was right, he had immediately seen the latent potential in a seven-foot-tall babe—he'd definitely claim she was that tall, right on the box—and instantly other exciting promotions swarmed through Chalminski's mind. Just glancing at Eddie sitting next to him now—the actor'd come to McGarrett's Restaurant to introduce him to Donna—was a reminder of how Burgess was hung. There'd been females who were turned off by the sight of him naked, and not every actress had been able to accommodate "actors" like the guy.
But with a seven-foot dame —the hell with anatomy experts who'd say Donna's size made no difference; studs with dongs like Eddie could be billed as "Finally Meeting Their Match!" Shit-fire, flicks with her in them would go like hotcakes to broads as well as guys!
Now, persuading titanic Ms. Callaghan to earn a mint of money seemed to pragmatic Andy Chalminski the most
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