It’s Just A Sweet, Sweet Fantasy Bay Bay

By: Paul Montuori

Writing Prompt: No

Date: 18th Mar 2022

It seems like it’s been so long since I’ve felt a connection with someone. I mean, I dated Alexis, and she’s awesome, but I felt like I was trying to force it with her. I didn’t have that feeling of utter.. Love. Beyond the physical attraction, beyond that stage of infatuation. Love. Real love. Honestly, a feeling I don’t think I ever really felt..

I’d been alone for so long. I was tired of being alone. I tried to fill the void in my life with women on set. Same broads that didn’t want anything to do with me once the scene was done. Moments earlier I was in their mouth, next they were too good to even acknowledge my presence. The feeling of loneliness creeping inside of me the moment the doors closed inside my mansion on the Hills of Hollywood.

For years that feeling of loneliness stuck with me..

Through my time being back in this business, there was always that one that caught my eye. No matter what she did, or what she said, drove me nuts. And in a good way. People talk mad shit about her, how she’s a huge bitch and a slut. I didn’t care what people said. I saw past that fake ass front she put on, all to protect herself from getting hurt. She tried to put on that hard exterior, but she was soft as fuck inside. Boy is she amazing. But she always seemed to be taken. Which meant the chance of anything ever happening between us would never happen. Not while she was married.

Until one fateful day. I received a text from her. A bitchy, bossy, demanding text. The kind I like. She asks if I could come over. Something about her pipes being clogged. She didn’t have to ask me twice. Anything to get into her very presence.

I Speedy Gonzalez’d my ass over to the address she gave me. A hotel. Weird. Why would she need me to unclog her pipes? Wouldn’t the hotel usually take care of that? I don’t stop too long to dwell, for I had a date with destiny.

I dance around antsy, waiting for the elevator doors to open. I dance around antsy, waiting for the elevator to go to her floor. Bing. Seconds later I stand at her door, I tell myself to play it cool. But somehow the signal gets mixed and I find myself pounding on the door like a lunatic. The door opens and there she is. Such beauty. Standing in a bathrobe. Poor girl, she must’ve been trying to take a shower and her pipes got clogged.

“Hey Paul,” she says, all flirty and sexy and shit.

“Hey. You uh.. Need some help?” I try to match her level of sexiness. Good luck P.

“Yeah, come on in,” she says as she steps back. I walk into her suite as I hear the door close behind me. I walk to the center of the room and turn around. She’s dropped her robe, standing in all of her glory.

“Lawd have mercy,” I somehow utter.

“Oops,” she says, trying to act all innocent. I can’t control myself, I close the distance between us in a leap and I pick her up and into my arms. Such fucking beauty. Her blonde hair, how sweet it smelled. You know she took the time to take care of it. That says a lot about a person. Their hair. I would know, I have the best locks in the business.

I run my fingers across the small of her back as I softly kiss her on her neck. She lets out the faintest of moans. I can’t believe this is happening. I’ve waited so long for this very moment. The chance to kiss her, to caress her. And here I was, about to really do it.

“Oh P..”

“Oh baby..”

“Oh Paul..”

“Oh Sahara..”

“Sahara?!” I feel a sharp elbow to my back. “P wake the fuck up!”

I open my eyes. It’s morning. I’m breathing heavily. I sit up and look over to see Michelle standing by her side of the bed, topless. She looks pissed.

“What the fuck were you dreaming about?”

“Uh.. I don’t know. I uh.. I guess I already forgot. Funny how dreams can be.”

“Bullshit. You tell me all about your dreams. Like the one where you and Vin were a couple and loved wearing matching onesies. Or the one where you’re the third wheel on the Vhodka and Vin Tricycle.”

“Yeah I don’t know,” I say as I scratch my head.

“I heard you say her name.”

“Her name? Who?” Fuck, what exactly did I say outloud? Did I say Sahara’s name out loud? Fuck, how do I get out of this? Come on, P, use that brainiac brain of yours. Is that right? Brainiac brain, that’s a thing.. Alright, play it cool. “Oh Sahara? Yeah I think the dream was about our match. Ya know I gotta defend the strap against her.”

“More bullshit.”

“Bruh, seriously? I wouldn’t have a dream like that about her.”

“Really?” She asks as she points to my crotch. I look down to see the Monty Python up and at’em. Fuck. Before I open my mouth with another lie Michelle turns on her heels and walks into the bathroom, slamming the door.

Does that constitute our first fight as a couple? Aww.. Quick, someone take a picture for my scrapbook..

Wait, have I not told you?


So remember how Wrecked & Worthless were gonna throw hands with Status Heauxs? Chile, Betsy, the one that got dumped by Raven for the Greek chick, she refused to come out. So we put boots to Raven and his ex-side piece which is now his new main chick. Girl I know, she already locked his handsome ass down for at least two decades. Caught his ass slipping..

Anyway, at the end of the match, Brandon gives Michelle a pair of brass knucks to finish off Raven for the whole boat thing. You know Michelle still mad mad about that. Michelle turns around and cracks B with the knucks. Bruh I’m standing there like ‘WTF?!’ But girl, it gets even better. She done came and grabbed me and kissed me. I know! I told you she wanted me and was playing games! We picked up the dub and hightailed it out of there. I told her fuck her things, fuck her old life. I’d buy her new shit. We took Ezra and hopped on the jet back to my fucking hood, the Hills of Hollywood. In case you were wondering, YES! We fucked the entire flight over!

I feel like I didn’t do the momentous occasion enough justice. Your KING overcame all of the adversity thrown his way to rise up and get the girl in the end. Nice guys may finish last, but it’s not our fault everyone blows their loads before us.. But really, I was just as shocked as everyone. Or, maybe I was the only one that seen it coming. Sahara used to point out that it’s so obvious we were going to end up together. I, for one, can say I was totally oblivious. Then again, I’m not really known to be like Mel Gibson in ‘What Women Want’..

And here we are now. Me, your fucking KING, standing in the kitchen, wearing a fucking apron, cooking breakfast. I should have my breakfast delivered to me in bed. I like breakfast in bed but I love breakfast and head. Especially in my own home. My own fucking castle. Instead I slave over a stove like a common peasant. I look up to see Rosa walking in. She takes one look at me and starts to laugh.

“Don’t you fucking say it Rosa.” I say as she walks over and lowers the flame on the stove.

“El nene no puede comer eso.”

“I know, I got him,” I say as I look over at Ezra who’s sitting in his custom made Versace high chair, gnawing on a fat gold chain I gave him. I might’ve jumped the gun, poor kid can’t barely lift his neck. But this ain’t that broke ass island he comes from, gotta show him the good life.

“Ezra can’t have any of that,” Michelle says as she walks in, looking all judgy.

“Yes, geezus I know. Can’t yous two give me any credit?” The look on their faces means I’m getting zero support. Bullshit. I pay Rosa. I paid for her nieta Guadalupe Estrella Rothstein’s quince. Which is weird cause her dads fucking Jewish. How’d I end up footing that bill? “I pureed the kid some fresh fruit. It’s in that bowl.”

“You know he’s allergic to..”

“Duh. Here drink this and shadap!” I say as I put a mug of coffee in front of her.

“What’s this?” Michelle asks, like she doesn’t know what it is.

“Don’t play dumb, drink it,” I say as she eyes the mug suspiciously and looks over at Rosa who gives her a reassuring nod. She takes a sip, then a longer one. “Why’s this the first time I’ve had this?”

“Well as your King..”

“Yeah no.

“Yeah no?”

“We’re not doing that.”

“Doing what?”

“This whole ‘King’ thing. Not at home.”

“As King I can say.. Aw, wait, did you say this was your home?”



“I flew across the country back to LA, back to Hollywood for you. Because you wanted me and Ezra to be happy.”

“So that means..”

“Pobrecito, eres muy pendejo,” Rosa says.

“I know what pendejo means, and she’s not wrong,” Michelle says as she sips the coffee. “At least he’s not wearing that belt anymore.”

I lift my apron up to reveal the Manhattan strap around my waist. She rolls her eyes and sits down to feed Ezra.

“So, por que ella estaba gritando?”

“Damn Rosa, you nosey as fuck,” I say. I swear that old heaux got super fucking hearing.

“What’d she say?”


“Why you yell at him?” Rosa asks. Bruh she gives two fucks.

“Oh he didn’t tell you? He screamed out another woman’s name in his sleep,” Michelle says as Rosa laughs and shakes her head.

“Muy pendejo.”

“Nah, she’s exaggerating. I didn’t yell. I might’ve mentioned it,” I say, trying to salvage the situation. Of course to no avail. “And what does it matter? Aren’t you two homegirls?”

“No, we’re not, and even if we were, on what planet would it be okay for you to holler out her name while we’re in bed?” She stood staring for a moment. “Forget it, for now.”

“I wasn’t holler.. It was just a silly dream. Nothing you should be worried about.”

“Think I’m worried about her? Biiiitch.. You should be more focused on beating her ass instead of eating her ass, unless you plan on going out there and looking like a damn fool on Venom. Can’t be the King of Manhattan when you’re trying to slum it with the whore of Williamsburg.”

“You don’t have to be so mean. Sahara is not that bad, she’s just misunderstood.”



“Oh sweetie, you’re so cute. Always trying to be ‘Captain Save-A-Ho’. How about I show you who Sahara really is?”

“Can we bang first?”

“Paul, que te pasa? El niño.”

“Who Ezra? He don’t know what’s going on,” I say as I hear the chime from the alarm system telling me the front door has opened and closed. Michelle and I look at each other confused.

“You expecting someone?” Michelle asks as I shrug.

“Ooowee look at this house,” I hear followed by a long whistle.

“Who the fuck are you?” Michelle asks as I see Baby Billy walk in.

“You sure did alright for yourself. So you own this? Free and clear?”

“Yeah I bought it with my Crackytales royalties.”

“I asked you a question,” Michelle snarls. “Did you fucking hear me?!”

“Yes, bitch, I heard you. I’m pretending like I didn’t,” he says as the smile on his face disappears.

“Aye Baby Billy, not OK man,” I say. The big tooth smile suddenly reappears on his face.

“Yes sorry, forgive me. I don’t know what got over me. Feels like I’m suddenly in the presence of Satan himself. Or herself,” he says glancing over at Michelle who happily accepts the compliment.

“Baby Billy? He looks old as shit. Look at those chiclets,” Michelle shoots bsck. Baby Billy glares at her while keeping the smile on his face.

“You know I can hear you?”


“Sorry Baby Billy, she woke up on the wrong side of the bed.”

“Who is this guy? And why does he think he can just stroll in like he owns the place?”

“Not exactly. He’s more of my uh..”

“I’m his Spiritual Advisor,” Baby Billy replies as he picks pieces of food from the pan.

“Spiritual Advisor? Why do you need a spiritual adviser?” Michelle asks, confused.

“Well, I’m feeling some type of way about getting in the ring with Sahara. Baby Billy came over to help talk me through it.”

“Feeling some type of way over Lauren?”

“Yeah uh.. I don’t know. She’s kinda cool. I never really feel motivated to face people I actually like. It’s easier to just hate everyone so..”

“You like that skank?”

“Not LIKE LIKE, but yeah I guess. She’s always been cool with me. And she seems like the perfect chick. Totally has her shit together. I dig people like that.”

“You really don’t know her. Cancel whatever this is,” she says pointing at me and Baby Billy. “Rosa can you watch Ezra?”

“Claro que si.”

“Tell you weird friend to kick rocks and get dressed. Time for a field trip,” Michelle says.

“But we have an appointment,” I say.

“Him or me,” Michelle replies, the look in her eyes suddenly changing to that look she gave all entire plane ride over.

“Sorry Baby Billy, you gotta go,” I say as I start to push him out of the house.

“Completely understandable,” he says as we reach the front door. “Better hope that you can hang onto that woman forever. Because when she’s gone, it all goes with her.”

“Yeah, yeah,” I say pushing him out.

I slammed the door and sprinted to the bedroom faster than Sahara sprinted to the courthouse to marry rich ass Thad. Michelle was already waiting for me..


Before long we were standing in my eight car garage (yeah I be ballin a little too), arguing over which car to drive.

“I’m driving so I get to pick,” Michelle says.

“Whoa, who said you get to drive?”

“I did.”

“And since when do you decide?”

“Since you fell in love with this pussy,” she replies.

Within moments I’m climbing into the passenger seat of one of my convertibles and buckling up. Kanye taught me to always wear my seatbelt.

Michelle is a uh.. Bad driver wouldn’t really describe it. Crazy ass driver. First she can barely reach the pedals and see over the steering wheel at the same time. Old cars are different. And she drives like a maniac. She doesn’t even use the fucking blinker! The madness I know.

I can see why Michelle and Sahara are no longer besties. I knew when I first started seeing them get all chummy that it wouldn’t last. Two crazy bitches are rarely able to get along. It’s what broke up Danity Kane. Aubrey and Puff were too much for the group. Focus had Joe and Michelle. Dyna$ty had Joe and Michelle. Sahara and Michelle ended up meeting the same fate. To no one’s surprise.

I always thought they were good together, though. They looked good together and they had the whole ‘Mean Girls’ vibe going. But again, can’t have two Regina’s in the clique..

“Why are we in the parking lot of an Applebees?” I ask, looking out. “I’m not hungry.”

“This is where Lauren used to work.”

“I didn’t know she lived in LA. We could’ve been hanging out.”

“Not this exact one. But Applebees are all the same, they’re all gross.”

“Can’t argue with that. So what, she worked at Applebees while working on her doctorate? That’s commendable.”

“Doctorate? I don’t even think Lauren can read.”

“She did ask me to read the appetizers to her at the Rabbit one night. I just thought she was too drunk to see. And so what if she can’t read? I’m an excellent reader, top of my class 3rd to 5th grade. Maybe I could go help her? A King always takes care of his subjects. Or maybe she’d be in my Royal Court.”

“Uhm no, she’s not going to be in anything of yours. She ended up at Applebees after leaving OPW. She had a mental breakdown or something. Probably from all the stress from her major gambling debts.”

“She was into playing dice inside the walk-in of the Applebees with the line cook and dishwasher?”


“That’s crazy yo. I didn’t know she played dice.”

“I didn’t say she did.”

“Then what’d she’d gamble on?”

“I don’t know. Does it really matter?”

“Yeah of course it does. Some forms of gambling’s frowned on. Like nobody likes cock fights, well some people like cock fights. But no one likes dog fights. But then they have no problem with mandingo fights. Go figure.”

“I have no uh.. Well, just you wait until you see the next place,” Michelle says, pulling out of the parking lot without even looking both ways. The sounds of horns honking followed by a crash are the last thing I hear as she guns it down the street.


Hey Sahara.

How are you doing?

I’m sure you’re doing OK now that you’ve done came up. Hell I would too if suddenly I became filthy rich. All while using my dick. Sure would beat all the chair shots to the head. I could be a kept husband. Cook breakfast, take the kids to school. Come back and watch my stories while doing laundry. Got no problem having dinner ready for the Mrs. when she comes home from a long day of being a Boss Ass Bitch.

Wait, does this mean you’re going to be a Kept Bitch now? Like why are you even in this match? You should be doing whatever rich people do. You know, eating caviar and inciting insurrections. Not be in professional wrestling. Not stepping in the ring with me. I like to joke around, tons, but usually before the bell rings. Then it’s all bidness. My ego’s too fragile not to take it seriously in the ring. Which is why you should be sitting poolside at some fancy hotel sipping mai tais and laughing at schlubs like me who have to actually work.

Especially with your past, you should jumping at the opportunity to finally retire. Go get Thad to pay to fix whatever uterus issues you have and pop out a Thad Jr. You deserve it after some of the hell you’ve been through. I mean, of all restaurant chains, Applebees? Yikes.. oh yeah, I’ve heard about your past. Michelle’s started to clue me in on some key details of your previous life. Pre-First off, damn she nosey. She got all the tea. Secondly, now that I think about it, I don’t think any of this is actually a big secret. Especially if Michelle knows. You know damn well she loves to spill.

It’s crazy where life takes us sometimes. You went from performing in OPW to working at Applebees. Seemingly overnight. That reality check doesn’t feel too good. I would know, I was in that very same position not too long ago. From being in the spotlight, money being furthest from your mind to having all means of income stripped from you. Just like that. It’s hard to be able to pivot and change your lifestyle at the drop of a hat. I like nice things. And before I knew it, I was working at an Applebees. Well, metaphorically speaking. While you were serving food on a platter I was serving my dick on a platter.


I fucked on film.

So I get it. I’ve been there. There’s no shame in that..

One question though, about your crushing gambling debts. The debts  that were suffocating you. I wonder what you could have possibly been betting on? You a poker chick? Blackjack? The ponies? The greyhounds? Was it sports? Trying to pick three time parlays during the MLB Playoffs that cost you everything? Maybe you were one of those addicts that bet on random prop bets. Like the coin flip. Or what color Gatorade the teams would be drinking. But I guess none of that matters anymore right? A thing of your past. A past life you’ve moved on from. A life you’ve grown from. A life you’ve fucked your way out of.

And no this isn’t the part where I start to slut shame you. Call you a whore for taking mad dicks for better opportunities. Who am I to slut shame anyone? My dick’s been in as many chicks as dicks you’ve had in your mouth. Actually, you don’t look like the type that gives dome to just anyone. So let’s go with as many dicks that have been inside you. That should cover all the bases. Unless you’re into some really weird, kinky stuff. I heard little rich doods with Napoleon complexes are into some nasty shit..


“We’re here,” Michelle says, interrupting me.

“Where?” I say looking through the windshield. “A strip mall?”

“Not any strip mall. That office right there is where the doctor that gave Lauren pills for sex now practices.”



Did you fuck a doctor for pills? And not like, years ago. Like recently. You’re that much of a fiend? Again, no kettle pot black here. No judgment. I fucked for money, which a portion was spent on drugs, so not really that different. Six degrees of Kevin Bacon.. I just always thought you had your shit together. The way you flaunt your beauty, talking down to everyone. Making everyone feel inferior to you. And it turns out, it was all a defense mechanism. A way for you to cope with the decisions you’ve made in your past. We all have a past. A past is what defines you. I’m an Oscar winner and AVN Gawd, you banged a doctors for pills and waitressed at Applebees. Tomato potato.

But Lauren, babe, I get it. I’ve been there. You don’t think after all these years, after all the shenanigans, P Mont of all people get it. I’ve used my assets when I needed them the most. Why do you think I get hooked up at the Rabbit? Let’s say I’ve been known to settle my tab with Voo behind closed doors. My poor back.. I know what you’ve been through. I know what it’s like to seemingly have everything, thinking the good times would never end. Then having it all come crashing down. Just like that. I get it. I’ve been there. I lost everything years ago, which left me to sell my penis for money. It was a dope job, I guess, but I would’ve killed to get back in the ring..

And as your KING, I promise that I will do everything in my power to help you, Sahara. To make sure you never have to suck another dick for a perc again. Or Vicodin, or soma, or whatever you’re into. I don’t know, I was never into eating pills. I hate big pharma..


“So are you finally starting to get it? Understand what I was saying about her?”

“I mean.. I guess. Sorta. But nothing you’ve shown me is all that bad. She blew money, fucked for drugs, and ended up working at a shitty job for a while. Sounds pretty much like the life I’ve lived.”

“Ugh whatever. Wasted my time. Let’s go home.”



What a day.

Ya know, it’s weird. The more I think about you Sahara, the more I start to realize we’re like the same. We’re both beautiful as fuck, have amazing hair, and have been known to be promiscuous. Sure, the majority of the women were on sets. And they were paid. But I’m sure the guys and or chicks you banged paid you in some way for your love making. We’re both a little slutty in the grand scheme of things. And there’s absolutely nothing wrong with that.

Anyone that tells you differently, fuck them. You have a man that’s willing to overlook your past, your horrible and quite shameful past. A past that even overshadows mine, and I’m related to Joe Montuori.

Thad could buy anyone, and yet he chose to buy you. That’s so fucking sweet. And yeah yeah, you’re not with him for the money. You could care less about the money. It’s the whole reason you went to work at Applebees instead of cashing in on your name and continuing to work. You never cared about money. Never cared about nice things. Even though you’re always put together. And your hair and outfits are always on point. And you practically live at the Rabbit. But suuuuure, money means nothing to you..

And I’m sure Thad could care less. The kids gotta figure anyone he gets with eventually get with him for his money. Even if they don’t know who he is at first, once they get a glimpse of that black card it’s a wrap. Or the first time he tries to pay with a gold bullion. Either way he’s gotta know chicks are falling more for the money than him.

Except for you of course. You’re with Thad for his personality and his boyish looks. Has nothing to do with him owning a fucking lion. You two love each other for who you are deep down. That’s why you’re always fighting, worse than Joe and Allie used to when they were dating. Your fighting is starting to overshadow Austin’s craziness. And that’s saying a lot..

What’s up with you being into little kids? First Young Ricardo and now Thad, who looks even younger. You must have some Momma Fetish. Oh please don’t tell me Thad dresses up as a baby and you cradle him while breastfeeding him. Now that I’ve said it, I instantly regret it. It’s 2022, sex is a spectrum, there’s probably a group defending the rights of ‘The Men Boys Who Breastfeed Club.’ Which is weird because who would defend a group with such a dumb name.

‘Oh he’s so jealous he isn’t with Sahara!’

‘He wishes she would breastfeed him.’

Whoever’s going to say that, you’re not entirely wrong there..

But we know that’s also not entirely true. I’m not jealous that I’m not with you. I had a chance..

Remember? New Year’s Eve?

The way you kept looking at me at the Rabbit. With such lust in your eyes. Such yearning to be taken and manhandled. You were staring at me, daring me to hop over the stage and drink you up. And honestly, if it wasn’t for Michelle.. What could of been, huh? Mrs. Lauren Montuori. You’d be related to Joe. I know that’s what you’ve always wanted. To be his kin. Instead you married a rich dood. Thad’s a cool guy. He ain’t no Paul Montuori though..

I know you think about that night. Fantasized about what it would’ve been like to be with me. It’s OK to admit it, the majority of FIGHT! roster would agree with you. Even James Raven. He knows what’s up.

Could you imagine your life if Michelle wasn’t there that night to cock block? Oh how amazing your life would’ve turned out to be. I’m sure you’re having some fun now, with Thad being rich and all. But P Mont Fun and Thad Fun are two different things. I don’t eat Japanese armadillos for one. Then again, you seem like you’d be mad clingy. Always hovering around me, dying for my attention. I’d give it to ya, cause only thing I love more than myself is attention.

Look at me! Look at me!

In all seriousness, you’re my first major test as Champion. First chance to see me defend the Manhattan strap. First chance for me to prove that I’m not overrated. That me being Manhattan Champ wasn’t a fluke. That I deserve to be a Champion. THEE Champion. And regardless of the lies people may say, you really are a major threat in this business. You’ve brought out the nerves in me. Nerves I haven’t felt in a while. That nervous excitement, knowing anything can happen. You’re causing that tingle in my special places.

I didn’t mean it like that.

Well, sort of..

First time we’ve danced before, right? I have a shit memory from all the substances and chair shots to the head. But I could’ve sworn this is the first time. I would’ve remembered the nerves. See, I have a little secret. You’re one of the FEW people I actually had apprehensions of facing. Like usually no one shakes me. Dickie didn’t even. Maybe that’s why he always beat me.. But you, you’re one of the select few who I’m actually a little intimidated by. The talent and beauty..

That’s enough of that.

I have to overlook my personal feelings for you. It’s not about whether I like you or admire your strength or kinda jealous you live with a lion now. It’s about Paul Montuori, it’s about remaining the Manhattan Champ. It’s about restoring my name, my reputation back to its former glory. Back to the hype I was going in Season One. Too much time wasted. It’s time to start climbing back up into the spotlight. Back to the status where our match would be the fucking Main Event. Not Warstein and some dood that came strolling in trying to rip my gimmick.

I’m the King of FIGHT! not this Taylor guy.

And unfortunately for you Sahara, this match actually matters..


“Is that Blair Buchanan?” I say as I strain to see a woman walking ahead on the right side of the road. Michelle suddenly guns it and veers to the right. “Michelle, slow down.. Michelle get back in the lane you’re gonna..”

Thud thud..

“Will you stop screaming like a bitch? That was an old favor that I owed Lauren. She spent a lot of time being Blairs bitch, I had to do it. No one should be forced to lose to her that many times,” Michelle says, smirking while looking in the rear view mirror.

Dear gawd, she better not ‘I Know What You Did Last Summer’ me..