Pt. 03

Bachelor Behavior 2 - Part 3

by Simon Underfoot

Copyright 2024, All Rights Reserved

Interlude

I'd planned to be away for up to six week, and since it'd only been a few days -- hard to believe -- I decided on some "me time." Rather than head up the coast, I drove inland, skipping the Everglades and Big Cypress. On a whim I stopped at a used bookstore I found along the way. I didn't have anything in mind, but a little escapism sounded awfully good following a period packed with intense drama.

It was a huge, sprawling place in a beat down one-story ranch that had been enlarged at least three times over the years. From the walls to the carpets to the windows to the bookcases themselves, nothing matched. The place had a ramshackle feel that was somehow perfect for what it was, though the organization -- by author's last name only -- was maddening. Until I embraced it.

I thought I'd read everything Hemingway ever wrote, but I happened across one of his early short stories originally posted in an edition of

In Our Time

. While nestled among the H's, I grabbed a novel by Heinlein and another by Hardy; I left feeling quite smug about the results of my treasure hunt.

I found a spot to hole up less than an hour later, a clean little motel off a back highway with a small pool, plenty of shade, and a McDonald's just down the road. I spent four days reading, relaxing, and recovering. I switched between writing styles as the mood took me, from cynicism to sparsity to rich prose, enjoying the differences of three radically different masters.

No, I didn't meet anyone during my retreat, nor did I turn my phone back on. Instead, I found my equilibrium again.

Reading my texts at the end of my mini-sabbatical was an ordeal. There were two hundred thirty-two and it took more than four hours to get through them and offer appropriate responses where needed. Perhaps not surprisingly, more than half were from the night I turned down Nora or the morning after.

Miss you <3 [Kelsey]

Knew you cared call me [Izzy]

Proud of you Ryan you were always one of the good ones [Michelle]

Give me a call when you get a chance - the EP wants to have a chat with you [Max]

"I thought you were the EP," I needled when Max answered on the first ring.

"Co-EP," he responded with a laugh. "The EP is my boss. How you doin?"

"Better, thanks. How's the show?"

There was a long pause; when he responded, I could hear his smile. "It's been interesting. You haven't been watching?" He seemed almost offended.

After my abrupt withdrawl from the battlefield -- I like to consider it a fighting retreat -- Nora had apparently taken my advice to heart and gone to see Debbie. For the second time in less than an hour she was turned down; having watched from her tablet, Debbie didn't even open her door when Nora knocked. I was proud of my co-conspirator and thought she did a remarkably good job of expressing her displeasure at being treated like "leftovers" (her word) without denegrating her crush, at least leaving open the possibility of future positive relations. After standing in the hall for a solid five minutes, a confused and hurt expression in place, Nora decided to spend the night with Esme and Michael; Debbie cried herself to sleep.

The turning point came with the lobby confrontation the following day. Nora was woken up by a call from Max, letting her know that both Debbie and Tamara were leaving. The elevator arrived as Debbie was walking away from the front desk, having just checked out; Tamara was waiting by the front doors, ready to share a ride to the airport.

"No!"

It was like a movie scene.

Disheveled and dressed in only a white bra and pale blue pajama pants, Nora raced across the elegant space and ended up crashing into Debbie when she tried to stop as her bare feet slipped on the polished tile. Onlookers quickly helped them up, but not before the show's bachelorette had inadvertently revealed she hadn't paused to put on any additional undergarments in her mad dash from Esme's room. She didn't seem to care at all as she grabbed Debbie's hand, then Tamara's (who had come to help), and led them to the restaurant. Ada showed up shortly after.

Nora was soon dressed in a robe and speaking earnestly, urgently, with the three contestants. I watched for a while and was again impressed with her openness, like our first meeting earlier in the week. She talked about insecurities, self-image, and similar topics. It was enlightening, but also chilling -- if a woman so accomplished, and frankly so hot, struggled with self-confidence, what chance do the rest of us have?

Ada was determined to stick it out. Tamara was open to staying if Nora agreed to move more slowly, to get to know them; Debbie remained reluctant, only acquiescing when Nora told them she had already decided to send Michael and Esme packing. Between the three blondes, I was hopeful that Nora might actually find the girl she was looking for.

Lost in all the drama was Maria's exit, though I certainly noticed her absence.

"So what is it that the great and powerful EP wants to talk with me about?"

"Well... you remember how I mentioned that you'd built up a bit of a following... it turns out your, uh, "high moral fiber," as one lady put it, is quite appealing. The number of women asking to meet you has more than tripled since we last talked. If you're willing, we'd like to have you back as our bachelor."

- - -

"I'm not going to compete for you."

"I understand." Hers was a perfectly reasonable reaction, and Kelsey certainly seemed genuine in her anger. Arms folded, nostrils flaring, toe tapping -- she looked as attractive as any woman I'd ever seen and a smile crept past my carefully neutral facade.

"What?" Her eyes narrowed and my smile broadened.

"You look stunning."

She paused a moment, then stepped forward aggressively and took hold of my shirt, looking at me with her lovely eyes, intense, searching. She pushed her lips to mine; I enjoyed their softness, her passion, but I didn't reciprocate. It only lasted a handful of seconds before she pulled away.

"Goddammit," she muttered as she lowered her forehead to my chest; I rubbed her back while trying to will my erection away.

- - -

"But why?" I shrugged, not because I didn't know, but because I wasn't going to debate with Izzy. "I changed my whole life for you, Ryan."

"I understand." I had seriously considered breaking off contact; the melodrama she seemed to enjoy was more than I wanted to take.

"We could be great together." Her voice was soft, genuine. Though I didn't react, I agreed wholeheartedly, which is why I hadn't cut her out of my life. And it wasn't my style. Maybe by removing the external stressors things between us would calm down? Or maybe I was just being naive. Either way, I'd offered her a spot on the show as one of the contestants.

With a dejected sigh she turned and walked into her kitchen, returning with the required paperwork, which had already been completed.

- - -

"Are you sure this is a good idea?"

"I'm fairly certain it's a bad idea," I replied, but it wasn't a quip. With the chance to pick my own show-mates, I would regret forever not giving Maria a chance. I also knew something that Max didn't, which is that Maria had reached out to me directly upon her exit. I'm not certain how she got my number, but I also didn't really care -- if she was determined enough to pursue me, I was certainly willing to give her the chance.

Maria was apologetic when I returned her message, though she needn't have been. For an actress, getting screen time on an international web show was a big deal. She insisted it wasn't her motivation and that she'd just gotten caught up in the game. I wasn't so sure, but didn't push back; I was happy to have the chance to see if there was something special between us.

The issue was that the combination of her, Izzy, and Kelsey could very well be incendiary, and that isn't even accounting for the women I hadn't met yet. Or my former girlfriend.

Point of fact, all three of my former partners had reached out.

Bobbi, my first, wished me good luck via text. She was married with a four year old daughter and living in the American West with her banker husband. I disliked him on principle, though we'd never met, courtesy of the puppy love his wife and I had shared a long time ago. We ended up talking on the phone for a couple hours, discussing the show and recounting past experiences. It started innocently, reliving a school trip to a theme park and the like. She's the one that brought up our Spring Break camping excursion, the one where we'd made love for the first time, nestled together in a sleeping bag while a pop up rainstorm beat down on the tent's fly. "I think of you sometimes," she whispered huskily, "when I'm with Dan."

"I think of you, too," I admitted.

"When you...?"

A chuckle escaped. "Yeah, sometimes."

She moaned appreciatively and I finished hardening; hearing her voice after so many years had me on my way already, but that sound -- the same one I still heard in an occasional dream -- was aural eroticism at its finest. "Do it now." Her words were simultaneously plaintive and demanding.

"Yeah... okay." It felt weird to push my pants down in the middle of my kitchen, but who was I to complain. "You, too, right?"

Bobbi laughed. "I've been rubbing myself for the last half hour. Are you already hard."

"So hard, Sweets."

"Oh, God," she moaned, hearing my pet name for her. "Stroke it, Ryan. Beat your meat for me."

Another laugh from me -- it was like we were back in high school trying to figure out how to talk dirty to each other. It made me feel warm, a carefree kind of reminiscence that spiked my arousal shockingly fast. "I'm there, Sweets -- cum with me." I groaned and spilled across my stomach and chest while my former lover crested.

"Ry-- oh -- oh, no!" A shriek of uncontrolled pleasure hit my ears just as I was coming down, causing an unexpected lurch and another weak pulse. "Fu-u-uck me."

I gave her a few moments to get herself back under control. "Okay, Bobbi?"

"Yeah." She sounded tired, her throat a bit strained. "Made a mess. Squirted all over the bed. And the carpet. Jesus, that was intense."

"I liked it."

She was quite for a while and I wondered if she had fallen asleep. "We can't do this -- I can't have an emotional affair on Dan. He's a good man, even if things aren't always perfect."

Fairly stunned, I just made affirmative noises until I figured out where she was going. Sure, I fantasized about Bobbi from time to time, but the thought of ongoing phone sex, or something even more tawdry, hadn't crossed my mind.

"How about once a year on our anniversary? It will give me something to look forward to. You remember the date, right?"

"October fourteenth." It was two weeks before our school's Halloween dance -- we'd gone together as a farming couple, me in flannel and bib overalls, her in daisy dukes and a crop top. I started to swell again.

Her words broke into my reverie. "Good luck on the show, Ryan -- I hope you find someone that makes you as happy as you made me back when."

"Thanks, Sweets. Sorry about the sheets."

"I'm not," she laughed. "Dan's an absolute fiend for eating me out. I guarantee as soon as he walks in and smells what I was up to he'll have his face buried in my snatch in under a minute."

"Jesus, Bobbi -- when did you get so bad?"

The giggle she sent back my way was rocket fuel and she knew it. "One more time?"

"God, yes," I begged, already stroking myself again.

Unfortunately, the encounter with Lexus wasn't nearly so cordial. She was the one who dumped me, the one I had been ready to marry. Her message was syrupy and apologetic. She wasn't interested in getting back together exactly, but wouldn't it be great if she could be on the show. Not a fucking chance. I turned down her calls -- note the 's' -- and wished her luck via text. The exchange ended with vitriol from her side and a blocked number on mine.

As for Nia, that was somewhere in the middle. She reached out, wanting to reconnect after falling out of touch. I was skeptical, and cynical, but we'd parted on the best terms possible given a shitty situation, so I wanted to give her a chance.

Nia's dream had been fashion, which is why she'd moved to New York. She hadn't made it as a designer herself, but had opened a moderately successful boutique off 5

th

Avenue where she occasionally entertained up-and-coming talents or even hosted small shows.

"Are you happy?"

After a pause she replied, "I could be happier." I hadn't meant the question to be provocative, but a surge of emotion followed her answer. She should have picked me! We'd be married, have a couple kids, a house... even the beagle she always wanted. I pushed the thoughts down, knowing they were unfair. After all, I'd followed my own dream, so of course she should have followed hers. If only...

"I'd like you to come on the show." The words came out before I realized I was going to speak; her answer was immediate.

"I would like that."

- - -

The selection process was a bit chaotic, because I insisted on trying several things to get to the allotted twenty bachelorettes, made more complex because I'd already filled four spots. First, we brought back the infamous AAA algorithm from Kai's season. With some extra administrative controls in-place, Max had no qualms about trying again, and with around twenty-five hundred applicants there were plenty of fantastic women. Once the pool was narrowed to around fifty, they presented me with the submitted photos and I picked the nine to whom I was most attracted.

For the remaining seven spots, a group of half a dozen interns went through the various fan mail the show had received, pulling out the ones that were particularly compelling, then narrowed the field down to ladies that fit general criteria I gave them. This probably seems an odd approach, but some of the emails were remarkably well written and I wanted to honor the effort they'd put into reaching out. For the twenty-seven remaining after the cut, they helped me walk through various social media pages and other miscellaneous online footprints until we got down to ten.

One of the ten, Cheryl, had already made the cut via the AAA route, so not only did that free up a spot, it moved her to the top of my 'can't wait to meet her' list.

Out of the remaining nine, I needed to eliminate two more. I really tried, but I couldn't find any way to pick between my final four. Two brunettes, a blonde, and a raven haired beauty. Two businesswomen, a doctor, and a pastry chef. One svelte, two curvy, and an obvious athlete. All different, all eloquent, all extremely attractive in their own ways.

Leveraging my position as bachelor, I told Max I couldn't do it and that we'd need to have twenty-two.

He declined, citing my contract (they'd learned from Kai's stunt).

I acknowledged that a contract existed, pleaded my case to him as a friend, then pushed for twenty-one.

He grudgingly called the EP. After a quick back-and-forth, not unlike when a car salesman goes to talk with their mythical manager, he agreed, so long as no more than ten continued on the show beyond the initial evening.

I cited that same contract, which indicated the opening reception could last for the entire weekend, if I felt it necessary to the integrity of the show. Of course it would be necessary.

Another call to the EP, this one lasting a little longer.

Okay, fine, I could have twenty-one.

"Great, then I'll just pay for the twenty-second myself." I pointed to the picture of the athletic woman with black hair (the doctor). "She's from Fort Lauderdale -- I'll cover the car service and a couple nights at the hotel."

"You can't do that," Max objected, though he looked uncertain.

I held up the contract and mugged for the camera that had been live streaming the entirety of our debate.

- - - // - - -

"Hi, Michelle, how are you?"

Normally the picture of composure, she was struggling to hold it together. "Fine, Max. A bit freaked out, if I'm being honest."

"It's alright," he said amicably, "there probably aren't that many people watching. Certainly no more than a couple million."

Unimpressed, Michelle flipped him off, getting a laugh from her husband, Mark, and effectively breaking the tension within the room.

It was a remarkably inspired idea from Max: use our existing friend group as a kind of peanut gallery for the duration of the show. The long-term friendship between me and Max had come out shortly after I'd been named as bachelor, so this was a way to lean into it to turn questions about fairness into a unique feature of the season.

Somehow it had been decided that Michelle and Mark's apartment would make a suitable stand-in for a studio, so it wasn't all that different from one of our normal nights together. The happy couple were seated on their couch, as always.

In the adjacent couch were Scott and Tricia. Since the announcement, our resident ice queen's demeanor had thawed dramatically, to the point she was often an active participant in conversations; even more important, Scott seemed happier than I could ever remember to see bonds forming between his friends and his wife.

Finally, rounding out the crew were Max and Jasmine in the third couch opposite the hosts on stage right. The whole setup had been carefully arranged to fit in a wide angle shot with the camera perched just above a huge new television, allowing all six to be seen simultaneously. It wasn't great for individual shots, but the whole point was to have ensemble reactions, and we all thought it worked rather well.

Max was still playing his role as host and co-EP during the day, so there would probably be nights he couldn't attend the 7:00pm wrap-up live stream. I couldn't imagine putting in so many hours, even for a passion project, but he seemed more keyed up than anyone. As for the rest, Scott and Mark were generally positive, but maybe just to support their wives. Tricia and Michelle had been killing themselves with workouts and diets in the run-up to the first stream, and while Tricia had always been beautiful, the extra effort led to a dramatic change in Michelle, who managed to lose a little of the roundness in her cheeks, arms, and thighs while maintaining her spectacular bust. We'd all known Mark was a lucky SOB to have landed Michelle in the first place, but seeing her in fighting trim took our collective admiration to a whole nother level. I had to work hard not to stare -- I think I mostly succeeded.

Only Jasmine seemed unaffected. Chill, hip, and casually sexy, she played the part of Max's co-host perfectly, just like in real life.

"So you've all seen the women's profiles -- who are your favorites?" Michelle whipped a pillow at Max's head. "Aside from Kelsey, of course," he corrected.

That's right: we'd been up front about previous relationships, too, including that Kelsey was part of the regular social group.

"It's gotta be Maria, right?" Mark asked. "I don't think I've ever seen Ryan look at somebody like that, including Kelsey."

"No," Scott replied while shaking his head, "he's had a thing for Kels going back years. The problem is she turned him down, then changed her mind. It comes across as, I don't know... insincere."

"I told her off," added Michelle, her mouth turned down like a disapproving aunt. "I can't believe she didn't see it."

"I can't wait to meet Nia." All eyes turned to Jasmine, who smiled brightly at having diverted the room's attention.

Max nodded, glad to push the conversation away from the drama inherent in the friend group. "She's a sweetheart. I thought they had a chance after graduation."