4 Alabama Slammer


JP: Please note that neither of the authors has seen nor had any desire whatsoever to see the film Moulin Rouge. no offense is intended to anyone who actually sat through/liked that movie. Ugh…remember when going over to “watch a movie” at someone’s house was a euphemism for….? 😉

Blindknyttstories: JP had to split this in two meaning I was again threat- I mean asked for suggestions, I hope you enjoy this very awesome chapter by the funny Mademoiselle 🙂 (Now being forced to write with a typewriter, SOS)

Tiffany’s Apartment – July 4, 2023

Tiffany was waiting outside her door when Phoenix arrived that evening, freshly showered (he better have been, he’d needed three cold ones since they’d parted ways!) and dressed in blue jeans and a black t-shirt. It was still too hot for his sweatsuit, although he’d slapped his beanie back into place, feeling disloyal to Trucy if he didn’t wear it in her absence.

“Hiya hot stuff,” she drawled, stepping into the hallway. “No need to knock. Come in.”

He stepped inside the pretty, modernly furnished apartment as Tiffany led the way to the living room inside, aware of the electricity in the atmosphere the moment he’d stepped through the entrance. It was crackling in the air. He didn’t remember feeling this way with any other woman.

“The pizza just got here a few minutes ago,” she told him, stretching languidly on the plush leather sofa and patting the spot next to her. “Pull up a seat and stay awhile.”

Phoenix obliged, willing himself to calm his inexplicably jittery nerves. The two bottles of wine he’d downed before arriving hadn’t helped much in that department. He was more on edge than ever. Two wine glasses were laid out on the coffee table in readiness, and two white pillars, vanilla-scented candles filled the room with a subtle, sweet smell. The place was beautiful, well prepared, and inviting…Much like the hostess, who was looking at him with a knowing smile as she slid an admiring glance at his form in the fitted shirt.

“All that jogging’s gotten some very nice results I see,” she purred, running her nail down his chest, down his abs, and down his thigh, stopping just at his knee.

He sucked in his breath as she turned around and faced him then, noting the familiar lusty fire in her eyes. It was like she’d just enchanted him, ensnaring him with her azure gaze. She tossed her long curls onto her back, which was completely left bare by her sleeveless white sundress, and rested her hands on the bottle of wine he held out to her. He felt as if she could sense him squirming with desire he was trying not to make too evident, and the scent of her magnolia perfume drove in through his nostrils, a scent he was quickly becoming addicted to. A tingling sensation disrupted his ruse and the tables turned. After four years of claiming she’d lain in wait for himhe was now caught in her web. This game of desire was intoxicating.

Tiffany was the first to break the spell.

“So, I have Netflix…was there anything, in particular, you wanted to watch?” She asked, expertly uncorking the wine and pouring it into the glasses. She pressed a stem into his hand and then clinked it with her own.

“To possibilities,” she drawled, taking a sip.

“I’ll drink to that,” he agreed, downing half the glass in one gulp. “Um about the movie…we can watch whatever you want. I’m easy.”

“Well, don’t laugh, but I’ve always wanted to see Moulin Rouge,” Tiffany told him, rising from the couch to go to the kitchen and coming back with two plates of pepperoni pizza. “I think I may be the only person in America who has not seen that movie!”

Phoenix blinked, unsure he’d heard her properly.

Wait, she seriously wants to ‘ watch a movie ?!’ I thought that was just coded term of LEGS – Lame Excuse to Get Some! And this is the movie she wants to see? Some cabaret 20th century girly crap? She’s  got  to be kidding, right?

“Isn’t that musical or something?” He asked wearily.

“Sort of,” she shrugged. “But I heard the music is really good, and that the performances are just to die for!”

Good Lord I just can’t catch a break! First I have to deal with three years of  Pink Princess and  Steel Samurai  TV shows, movies, and paraphernalia littering my pad;  now  I gotta watch some cerebral girly singing and dancing?

“No problem at all.” Without another word, Phoenix promptly tipped back the remains of his wine glass down his throat, then poured the remaining amount in the bottle into his glass as well. He gestured to the empty bottle of wine then turned to the open-mouthed Tiffany, smiling winsomely. “I’m going to need some more of this!”

Later that evening…

Over an hour, and two more bottles of wine later, Phoenix had relaxed to nearly the point of semi-consciousness. Tiffany was on the edge of her seat the whole time; he was leaning back and somewhere between a naughty dream and horrible reality.

The God-awful reality where he went to allegedly watch a movie at a blonde sexpot’s house… but where, after plying him with copious amounts of alcohol, while wearing a lacy, translucent sundress that could have doubled as a nightie to his deprived, hungry eyes, said siren then proceeded to ignore him… and then actually watch the movie!

Somehow, as if sensing he was slipping, Tiffany, at last, looked over her shoulder and saw that her date was laying half sprawled, with his head resting back on the sofa, and flushed guiltily.

Leaving the movie playing in the background, she saddled up next to Phoenix and began nipping his ear. He responded by pulling her onto his lap so she was straddling him, and began nuzzling her scented cleavage. Purring like a cat, she yanked his shirt over his head and unzipped her dress, so she was in nothing but a sheer lace matching red bra and panty set as she ground against him, nipping at his neck while his fingers reached behind her, squeezing her bottom and pressing hot kisses against the top of her chest.

Tiffany closed her eyes blissfully as she nipped at his strong angular jaw when suddenly he pulled her close and whispered in her ear.

“What kind of meat is this?”

What the devil?!

Tiffany gasped and drew back, thinking this was some kind of dirty talk gone terribly awry! What kind of weird-ass, scalawag, Yankee had she invited over to her place? She asked him to repeat himself.

“What kind of meat is this?” He asked again, dreamily.

By now the blonde was madder than a wet hen. What the hell was this supposed to mean? That made about as much sense as tits on a bull!

But when she looked down at Phoenix, whose hands were still firmly gripping her backside, although his head was now buried face down in her cleavage and was unmoving, she got her explanation: He was asleep!

Giggling, she shook his shoulders to wake him up. When that didn’t work, she slipped her hand down the front of his jeans and gave him a firm squeeze.

That did it! Phoenix jerked up so suddenly he nearly knocked her off his lap, his eyes wide and dazed.

“W- what? Good movie! I can’t believe it’s over already!” He exclaimed, rubbing his eyes with his fists.

“Hush yer mouth, ya snoozy big faker!” She laughed, reluctantly removing her hand. Then she told him what had happened.

“Oh man,” he said, flushing. “I was having a dream that we were making chili.”

Tiffany threw back her head and laughed heartily, then flashed him a sultry smile.

“Well, if you’re interested in making things…” she said coyly. “I can promise that making love will get ya more fired up and burning hot better than any five-alarm chili!”

“I like the sound of that,” he growled, fully alert now and lifting his hips as she yanked off his jeans and boxers, then climbed back onto his lap, kissing him with frantic urgency. He returned her kisses feverishly, his tongue entwining with hers, a rush of heated fervor igniting within them both.

Tiffany slid down his lap and began kissing her way down his firm pecs and tracing a fiery path down his sculpted abs, with first her fingers, then her lips. She was kneeling on the rug, in the middle of strumming her way up those washboard abdominals and up to his chiseled pecs with her tongue, when after a few minutes, she realized he’d stopped moaning and was mumbling something. Confused, she listened closer and realized he was singing along to the musical, which she’d forgotten was still running on the television set behind her!

“Phoenix Wright!” Tiffany hollered, placing her hands on her hips as she shot up and glared down at him. “I cannot believe I am down here, about to S your D….and here yew are… singing along to Moulin Rouge!”

“Oh dang, was I really?” He flashed an embarrassed grin and scratched his head under his beanie. “Sorry Tiffany, I guess it took me a while to get into it, but this song isn’t half bad!”

“Are ya tellin’ me yer seriously so three sheets to the wind ya didn’t realize ya were singing “Show Must Go On?!” She looked at him incredulously.

“I was?” He blinked.

“Darn tootin’ ya were!”

“Wait, isn’t that a Queen song?” He asked, clearly flummoxed at her ire.

“Among other things!” She snapped. “I guess I should be happy ya didn’t bust out into singing Lady Marmalade!”

“Now that’s a catchy tune!” Phoenix’s eyes lit up. “Is that in the movie? Wouldn’t it be a hit at the bar if I learned how to play that on the bar piano, Tiffany?”

“I cannot believe yew!” She stamped her foot. “Here’s me, practically naked in your lap, and here’s yew, distracted and singing along to this dang movie…”

“Hey, you’re the one who picked it!”

“And then making me play second fiddle to Nicole Kidman!” She pouted, crossing her arms.

“Hey, you’ve been making me play second fiddle to Ewan McGregor all night!” He protested, yanking off his hat and throwing it at the ground in frustration. “First I’m in trouble because I passed out watching this boring chick flick you insisted on watching, then you’re mad at me for finally getting into it?”

“Yes! Because yer supposed to be getting into medagnabbit!”

They both glared at each other for a minute, until suddenly realizing the lunacy of the situation, and then both of them cracked up at the same time.

“Come here, ya sexy cabaret crooner,” Tiffany grabbed his hand and tugged him down the hall. “How’s about I take ya to a place where we can…make chili with fewer distractions?”

She had no problems getting Phoenix to willingly follow her.

Once in the dimly lit bedroom, Tiffany reached into her top dresser drawer and discreetly fished out a foil packet, which she pressed into his palm while placing a scorching kiss on his mouth. Then she slipped out of her unmentionables and leaned over her bed, resting on her elbows, while giving him a wanton wink over her shoulder, sending cascades of platinum locks tumbling down her back.

“Come on over, stud,” she purred. “This is the way I like it.”

“Um…” Phoenix looked at her, somewhat perturbed, and wondered, for the second time that evening if, in his mostly blitzed state, he’d heard her correctly. But then he shrugged mentally. There was a first time for everything, right?

“OK, whatever you want then…”

He grasped her hips and pulled her back towards him in one swift movement.

A split second later there was a loud, piercing cry in the room, but it wasn’t one of ecstasy.

Ouch! Oh my Gawd! What the shit? What in tarnation are ya doing?! Get out! Get out! Get out!

The flummoxed poker player drew back and stepped away from the blonde, who had gotten up from her ‘presenting’ position and was now looking murderously at him.

“D-Did I do something wrong?” he asked nervously, instinctively placing his hands protectively over himself…she looked that downright mutinous.

“Why the hell were ya going for my back door ya deviant freak!?” Tiffany shouted. “What are ya, some kind of fruitcake, trying to stick things in places other than where nature and the good Lawd intended ya to?!”

Phoenix stared at her, his eyes wide with dismay. What a time for the busty beauty to get all huffy and Southern Baptist and bible-thumping on him!

“And don’t ya dare don’t piss on my leg and tell me it’s rainin’ by claiming that whole ‘Oops, I slipped!’ bit neither, mister closet sugar in the tank!”

“I’m so sorry Tiffany!” He cried. “I misunderstood you when you said this was how you liked it…but I swear to you – I’m not gay!”

I’m not the newly turned Larry Butz, for heaven’s sake! Also, why is this the second time in less than a week that I’ve needed to make this proclamation?!

Tiffany seemed to calm down somewhat as she took in the look of anguish in his eyes, and the genuine terror on his face, as if fearful she was still going to attack his pride and joy, and her expression softened.

“This may be insane,” she sighed, the anger slowly draining from her face. “But they do say third time’s the charm, Phoenix. Ya wanna see if we can get it right this time?” She held out her arms to him, and he wrapped his arms around her waist, running his fingers through her silky hair. She looked up at him expectantly, and ran her hand across the stubble on his jawline, watching the sapphire eyes deepen with desire.

“Okay,” she breathed. “Now, can we try this again?”

He smiled and leaned into her. She closed her eyes. This time, when his lips met hers, she melted into him. All of her fire and fever became his. And all of his patience and sincerity became hers.

Perhaps this is what it’s like when people say they feel fireworks going off…

He whispered her name as their bodies touched. Slowly, they became entwined, their accelerated heartbeats fusing into one, while their bodies moved to the rhythmic sounds of the murmurs of gratifying nonsense in their ears.

His tongue carved every inch of her body like a chisel.

His kisses were long and deep.

She gasped for air.

They moaned… louder.

He thurst… deeper.

They moved…faster.

Lost in each other.

Then without control, their bodies exploded.

Leaving them both limp while they lay there, spent.

Arms and legs tangled

Listening to the satisfying sounds of their ragged breaths.

Deep into the silence of the night.




Wright Talent Agency – July 5, 2023


Phoenix had intended to do his usual middle of the night departure, but the copious amounts of wine, coupled with the exhausting, vigorous, and repeated performances the insatiable vixen had commanded of him all night, had left him so drained that he hadn’t awoken till after 8:00 in the morning.

He’d rolled over to a smiley-faced note on the bedside saying that Tiffany had gone for a long, early morning roller-blade and that he could feel free to help himself to some juice in the fridge or some cereal if he wanted, that last night had been fun, and she’d see him at work.

He was relieved at the breezy, casual outcome of everything, considering how disastrous some of the events of the prior night had been. He hurriedly dressed, mentally vetoing the offer to linger for breakfast, lest he was forced to endure morning chit-chat with Tiffany if she happened to return, and hurried home.

Phoenix wasn’t trying to be a cold-hearted bastard. As much as he was fond of the bubbly, and quite limber blonde, he no more felt any sort of deep-rooted affection for her than she did for him, and he would simply chalk up the previous evening as a night of mindless fun with a comfortable stranger (with very bad tastes in films), and leave it at that.

Once he got home and into his room, he immediately stripped off his clothing and headed to the bathroom to take a long, hot shower. As he passed the full-length mirror by his bed, however, he noticed an odd black mark on the side of his butt cheek he’d never noticed before.

Good grief, had the little hellcat left such deep claw marks in his rear last night that it was now he was going to have a marked up and bruised ass now?

Muttering in annoyance to himself, Phoenix stalked across the hall to Trucy’s room – for once grateful his daughter wasn’t home and grabbed her magic prop mirror off her drawer. Then, back in his room, he angled the hand-held reflective object in front of the longer-looking glass to get a better view of what was back there!

What he saw made his jaw drop and the color rise to his cheeks…on his face.

Written on both of his butt cheeks, with a thick, black sharpie, in capital block lettering, was the following message:


Phoenix groaned and facepalmed simultaneously as waves of mortification washed over him.

And  this, for the record…is the exact reason why I never like to spend the night!



Filling The Void Copyright © by JordanPhoenix. All Rights Reserved.

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