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Shag Idol

Shag Idol

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Shag Idol

257 pages
3 hours
May 31, 2010


In a large office with plush carpet and expensive furniture, a large leather chair was being rocked gently by it's inhabitant. A mind awash with ideas.
Thompson couldn't believe it was going ahead. TV standards had gotten to the bottom of the barrel, and he was about to make a fortune out of it.

'Shag Idol' would be on Prime Time TV!

May 31, 2010

Despre autor

Lives in Auckland New Zealand. Writer, part time commentator on face book. Married with two children.

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Shag Idol - Bruce Lightfoot



Bruce Lightfoot



Bruce Lightfoot on Smashwords

Shag Idol Copyright © 2006 by Bruce Lightfoot

All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademark status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction which have been used without permission. This publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

Smashwords Edition License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the author’s work.




Teresa hung up the phone.

I start on Monday, she said excitedly.

She surveyed the room to take in the expected response. Her new flat was spacious and furnished with old comfortable couches and a bean bag. Her mother was on the couch sipping her hot tea, and her friend Amanda was lounging in the bean bag.

Her mother groaned.

Why do you want to be a car salesman for? You have a degree in psychology for goodness sake.

It was true, but five years of study and seven years of practice had taken its toll.

Because she is sick of hanging around with nutters all day, Amanda added supportively. A close friend of Teresa’s, Amanda would always find a good word for her. She was so empowering. Teresa appreciated it.

The dreary nature of people’s mind problems had worn her out. Listening to some recently had put her on the edge; the last few she had wanted to just grab by the throat and slap them stupid! It was time for a change.

Well, you’re grown up, so you can do want you want, resigned her mother.

Selling Mercedes looked different and exciting. She could use her training to understand the buyer and make the sale. It sounded easy. She was to start in the Service Reception Department for three to six months to learn the ropes. Then her training would start in earnest.

On Monday she would be a Sales Cadet at Mercedes on the Hill. She laughed at the thought. Here she was, nearly thirty years old and now a cadet!


Across town in a well to do suburb, Antonio walked out of the gym carrying his bag and half ran down the long flight of stairs. The number of stairs did put some people off coming to this particular gym, but the fit and active loved the place - full of life, laughter and humour. The staff encouraged rather than scolded and people were well treated as they got their results and bodies into shape.

Antonio realized he would be late to an audition for a new play that was being produced in the city. He half suspected it was just another front audition for a Male Strip Revue - which was all he was being offered lately. He was getting a little tired of those and had told his agent to stop putting his name forward for them. But she kept doing it anyway.

He certainly fitted the part. Tall, handsome, with dark hair and strong features. Antonio was a favourite. Being French – Italian helped.

His father had met his mother in Paris when on weekend leave from the military. Love had blossomed and they settled in Gibraltar where Antonio had been born. His parents had both insisted he speak their own mother tongue, and so they taught him from birth. Antonio now spoke both languages, as well as English, fluently and switched easily between them.

His girlfriends had always loved to hear the story of how his parents had met. So romantic, they seemed to think. He had no girlfriend right now. Antonio was on a mission.

He reached his car and looked skywards briefly. I hope this one pays well, he thought. Being a gym instructor paid the bills, but he dreamed of so much more. Like a pile of money. That would be much more.

The new Reality TV Show - Shag Idol

In a large office with plush carpet and expensive furniture, a large leather chair was being rocked gently by its inhabitant. A mind was awash with ideas.

‘A new show for the new season.’ ‘A new concept.’ ‘A Reality TV show that really pushes the boundaries.’ ‘Breaking new ground.’

The inhabitant, Thompson McHerbert, was searching his brain for conceptual sentences to help promote his new brain storm; Shag Idol. Unfortunately, he could only think of ones that everyone else used. He needed a new catch-phase.

‘Shag Idol.’

It was rather brilliant. Contestants would be paired each week to shag behind a frosted screen. Only the judges would have access to all seven cameras that would be trained in on the action. The audience would have audio and visuals from the other side of the screen. They would be able to make out what was happening but not actually see anything - that was so censors would rate the show as Recommended for Mature Audiences, thereby capturing the largest audience available. The judges would vote by way of a points system and the winners each week would go through to the next round.

Thompson couldn’t believe it was going ahead. TV standards had gotten to the bottom of the barrel, and he was about to make a fortune out of it.


The baggage carousel came around for the third time. This time, Nalina’s bag was on it. She grabbed it firmly and headed for customs. It had been a long flight from Brazil, but she was here at last.

Nalina, although approaching the end of her twenties, looked more like she had just started them. With long flowing brown hair and tanned body, she was the Brazilian Woman men’s dreams were made of. Her fifteen minutes of fame had come back home when she won a bikini contest on the beach one summer. No mean feat, given the quality of the contestants. It had lead to a local modelling contract that hadn’t paid as well as it had promised. Eventually Nalina had felt it was stale and wasn’t likely to take her anywhere. Not that she was exactly sure where that was. Anywhere. Where could it be? Not here, she had thought as she had gotten onto the plane and headed to this new country and city. A long way from home and further away from her old life – a life that she no longer wanted.

She planned to stay at a Backpackers until she could land a job. She would look at the wanted ads once she had gotten though customs and settled in.

Let’s see what this city has to offer, she thought.

Kevin’s off

Kevin was packing up the last of the things in his office. It had taken most of the day simply because he had kept putting it off. Now it had to be done. He was packing his boxes slowly. He was finally leaving. After seven years at Mercedes on the Hill, he was off to face new challenges and adventures. Or so he told himself.

Truthfully, he wasn’t sure if he was doing the right thing. He looked around at his office. A functional, flat tidy desk with a large computer screen he hardly ever used for work. An ‘In’ tray that was empty and an ‘Out’ tray even emptier. He was good with his paperwork - everyone said so. Always up to date. No one ever bothered to look for a file in his office; if he had had it, it had been processed and completed that day. Was he doing the right thing by leaving?

Well, it was all a bit late to be asking now. A farewell party had been arranged, no doubt a including a farewell present, and everyone was wishing him all the best. They had even employed a new Sales Manager to replace him; Paddy, from a rival Mercedes Dealership, currently standing at the door holding his box of stuff, waiting for Kevin to finish.

Callous prick, Kevin thought. I hope he doesn’t come to my party tonight.


Teresa’s first day at work

This is Patrick, our Service Manager. Henry Greaves, the owner of Mercedes on the Hill, was introducing Teresa to her immediate boss.

Patrick, a youthful looking 50 year old with a sly look in his eye, looked Teresa up and down. Not in a sleazy way, but just to take her all in. About 5’6", he guessed. Slender, but with bumps and curves in all the right places. Fine, dark hair, well groomed and down to the shoulders. He couldn’t pick her ethnicity. Mediterranean? Naturally tanned anyway, and looking lovely with it. She’ll be good for us, he thought. Attractive and well dressed. Smart, business like. The men who get their Mercedes serviced here will like her. Their wives will like her too. The husbands might hit on her, but she looks too smart to say yes. This girl will be good for us. Too bad she looks too clever to stay here long. Patrick was beginning to miss her already.

They were standing in the Service Department Reception area of Mercedes on the Hill - a very plush dealership painted in silver and dark grey to look very modern and expensive. It had been one of the best performing Mercedes dealerships in the city for many years, having the same owner for the last ten and very loyal staff. The dealership had its main reception just up some steps where the sales team and the new vehicles were on display. The building was on two levels, with the workshop, the mechanics and spare parts on the lower floor. Customers wanting their cars serviced would drive in at the lower level, directly to the Service Department and come to the counter where they were currently standing.

Patrick showed Teresa to her desk and explained the procedure. She was to take calls from clients wanting to get their car serviced. She had a menu for pricing and, if asked, she would pick up and deliver the cars as required. Lastly, she was to be pleasant and helpful. The city was a reasonable drive from the suburb they were in, but their customers where happy to cope with the distance; particularly when loan vehicles were provided with a pick and delivery service.

One last thing, Patrick said as he settled her in to her desk. If anyone of our clients is mean to you, then just let me know, and we will adjust their bill accordingly.

Teresa thought he was joking. She would learn later on in the week he wasn’t.

The Shag Idol Hopefuls Line up

The hopeful contestants had lined up from the studio foyer, the line stretching out the door, onto the street and back about two miles. Never had anyone seen such a huge interest in people wanting to be on TV, and given how one was to behave once on the show left many aghast.

The million dollar first prize may have been the reason.

Professionals were banned. No actors, especially porn actors, were allowed. Thompson had employed a couple of well known agents to check the door and look out for people such as this. His lead cameraman had volunteered to look out for porn stars. He claimed to know everyone in the city working in that field. Thompson decided not to ask how he was so well informed.

Thompson and his team looked at the line.

This is going to take months, he commented.

With the door guarded and security tight, one by one the wannabes were led through the door. This was to be ordinary people from all walks of life. The boy and girl next door kind of show. Still, they had to be camera friendly, and it had been decided that anyone bigger than an average size was not likely to impress the camera. These people were gently weeded out of the process.

All except Tess. The lovely looking, albeit large, young woman, was full of life and happy with herself. Her dedication was shown by being near the front of the queue.

Thompson ticked off the first item on his list.

Fat Chick


Well-hung guy

Body Builder

Thompson would see to it that Tess did well and got to at least the sixth round. She would be in all the women’s magazines by then, and this would keep the show in the public gaze all the more. Then he wandered off to find himself a bagel. All this work was making him hungry.

Teresa’s afternoon

The phone rang. Teresa picked it up.

Mercedes on the Hill, Service Department. She had written out the greeting and put it next to the phone until she had got used to it. She was glad for her fore sight, as the phone ringing had startled her. She had been studying the sales manual.

Yes said a terse voice. My car has stopped.

What do you mean?

I was driving along and it just stopped! Now it won’t start and I am going to be late to pick up some CD’s. Dad said I was to ring you.

Teresa swung into action. Armed with the model of the car and the address it had broken down at, she ran to get Patrick. He was quick to get a service technician and replacement car underway to the address.

Mr Allsopp-smith was wealthy, owned three Mercedes and had all his servicing done here. Patrick was pleased that Teresa was so efficient. A tow truck was on its way, and Mohad, his best mechanic was on his way with a loan car.

Patrick went back to his desk to ponder his budget. It seemed the service department was a bit behind the eight ball. Patrick needed another $12000 worth of services done by Friday to reach target. Reaching target meant getting bonuses. Now, how was he going to get to budget? Hopefully, Mr Allsopp-smiths car had something really wrong with it.

Mohad, one of the more experienced technicians working at The Hill, pulled into the street he had been given, driving an E200 courtesy car. He could see the E350 had been hooked onto the tow truck and the driver was pulling away from the curb. A pretty young lady around seventeen was waiting for him on the side of the road. She was dressed in expensive clothes and dripped of money. Her make up was perfect, although unnecessary on one so young. No grunge clothing here. A Barbie doll if ever there was one, but this one was Bitchy Barbie, and she was full of attitude.

As Mohad got out of the drivers seat, she jumped in and took his place. She almost pushed him out of the way as she shut the driver’s door.

About time. I’m going to be late, she huffed. Then she drove off leaving Mohad standing in a deserted street. He watched her drive away thinking to himself ‘how does she think I am getting back to the yard?’ The tow truck has already gone. Then he looked around. Not a safe street, he thought, a rough part of town. Mohad suddenly wasn’t so proud of his Mercedes shirt and trousers. He reached for his cell phone.

Antonio and Nalina line up

Antonio was back about one mile in the slowest moving queue he had ever been in. He was looking in the shop windows to pass the time and was grateful for it. The crowd was mostly young. The contestant rules had stated eighteen to thirty years old, though some of the people near him looked either well past the cut-off age or

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