the children yearn for the mines and I yearn for roger pinball . pleak
rhiannon -- roger sharpe
tw; smut! roger is a silly billy idk. i had so much fun w this roger pinball my beloved!
starting at gq had been a godsend for roger. in the aftermath of his divorce, and recent move to the city, it had been a shiny token of new beginnings. the pretty fashion column writer with a desk just next to his? well, you were just an added bonus.
day in and day out, he'd watch you interact with your coworkers, always too awkward to speak up himself. it went on for weeks, his secret stolen glances across the desks, until one afternoon harry perched himself on the edge of roger's desk, grinning. "you ever gonna talk to her, rog?" he asked, eyes twinkling. "i don't know what you mean," roger just shook his head, looking away and clearing his throat. "everybody in here sees how you look at her. just talk to her, man. she doesn't bite,"
and then he was gone, leaving the words to echo in roger's mind, his internal soundtrack as he watched you laughing with the resident photographer. he knew harry was right, realistically. you were just a woman, and he could handle that. sure, you were the most beautiful woman you'd ever seen, and you were so effortlessly cool that it made him stutter over his words just thinking about it. he'd been married, and divorced, so surely he could handle asking you to dinner.
he worked it all out in his mind. at the end of the night, when everyone was heading down the elevator, he'd ask you. but then the end of the night came, and you were still fussing over a mannequin, pinning all sorts of fabric over its' surface. okay, so he'd just to have to wait until the next night- "roger!" your voice sent a chill down his spine, "hey, sorry, would you mind helping me with this?"
he turned to where you gestured to a pile of fabric, nodding despite knowing nothing at all about fashion, "yeah, of course," "you're a lifesaver, thank you!" you smiled, so bright, so focused on him, it was driving him insane already, "i really just need an extra set of hands to hold everything together while i pin it," "good thing i have two, then," he held them up, acutely aware that it was not a flirty or funny thing to say, but you laughed anyway, like it was the most original thing you'd ever heard. "just tell me where to go, boss,"
he spent the next hour hunched over the mannequin, obeying your every little command on repositioning the materials, in awe of how your vision came to life in front of his eyes. you'd made small talk between requests, asking about his family and hometown, laughing at all his one liners, telling him how cool it was that he was from chicago. he didn't even notice how late it had gotten until you were checking the clock and apologizing, telling him it was half past seven, as if he cared at all. "oh, that's alright," he waved a dismissive hand, "did you get all you needed?" "sure did, thanks to you," you smiled, smoothing out the dress you'd put together. "then it was a night well spent," he grinned.
"at least let me buy you dinner or something," you pleaded as the two of you headed for the elevator, your coat draped over your arm, "i practically wasted your evening," "i told you, it was a night well spent," he argued, holding the door open for you, "besides, a lady has no business buying dinner," "oh, how chivalrous," you laughed, "i had no idea you were so old fashioned, roger," there it was again, the sound of your name on his lips sending a shiver throughout his body. "well of course, m'lady," he put on his best posh accent, "i would not dare fall behind on my gentlemanly duties,"
you fell into a fit of laughs at that, your head tipped back, shoulders shaking. "i had no idea you were so funny, either!" you giggled, covering your mouth, "you should talk more in the office," he wanted to tell you he talked plenty, to harry and james and jack and pamela. you were the only one he hadn't quite gotten the courage for. tonight, that felt like a distant memory. he wasn't sure where his newfound confidence had come from, but he assumed it had something to do with the way you laughed at his jokes, or the way your hand hovered over his when you'd been working on the dress.
when you reached the first floor, he pushed the door open for you, then helped you into your coat as you stepped out into the cold. "any big plans tonight?" you asked, looking at him over your shoulder as he slid the fabric over you. "no, this was it for me," he shook his head, resisting the urge to brush your hair off the nape of your neck, "you?" "same here," you shrugged, "its still early though, so who knows?" "the world's your oyster, huh?" he joked, "we could get that dinner you suggested, if you're free. i'm still not letting you pay, though," "i know the perfect place!" you beamed, tugging on his arm, "cmon, it's this way,"
you brought him to a dimly lit bar, smiling like it was heaven on earth, singing the praises of the bartenders and the greasy food. as soon as you walked through the door, his eyes went to the lit up pinball machine wedged in the corner, surprise buzzing in his veins. he hadn't laid eyes on one since they'd removed the one inside the bookstore, and it was right there, but then you were pulling him to a seat and he was forcing down his excitement. playing pinball on the first date- was this a date?- was sure to land him right back at square one.
the two of you split a tray of appetizers, filling every ounce of silence with laughter and flowing conversation, and he'd halfway managed to push the game from his mind. but then you were smiling, telling him about their little makeshift arcade, and he finally cracked. "we should go play pinball!" he hoped it came out like a lighthearted suggestion, not revealing the thing he was most passionate about in this world. "only if you promise to teach me," you slid off your barstool, draping your coat over the back, "i've never played," oh, he was in heaven now.
he led you to the machine, walking you through the basics, explaining the purpose of each piece, the importance of the plunger, watching as you looked over it excitedly. as you leaned over it, hand on the plunger, he hesitated before moving to stand behind you, one arm on either side of yours, his right hand guiding yours to pull the plunger back. he pulled your hands to control the flippers, his face resting just above your shoulder, "there ya go, you're a natural," you shivered slightly, "i think you're doing all the work, actually," "don't be silly, you're getting it already," he laughed softly, the sound raising goosebumps along your skin, and you leaned back ever so slightly, your back now flush against him.
"i had no idea pinball was so hands on," you murmured, and he was briefly afraid that he'd done too much, been too forward, but as soon as he moved to pull away, you pulled him back, smiling, "wasn't complaining, rog," "no?" his voice cracked as he said it, blood rushing to his cheeks, "i don't think i mind it either,"
he helped you through two games like that, draped over your back, hands guiding yours. every few minutes, you’d shift in his arms, brushing against his hips in a way that had him stuttering, fumbling for words. you finally managed to hit the smallest target, the 500 pointer, turning in his arms and squealing with excitement. “i won!” you grinned, “did you see that? i totally won! i’m so good at this,” he tried so hard to focus, to maintain his easygoing exterior, but your chest was pressed against his and you were smiling up at him and he suddenly needed to press you against the pinball machine and- “well now i owe you for being such a good teacher,”
he told himself he imagined your tone, imagined the way your lashes bat up at him, but the words shot through him nonetheless, his skin flushed all over. “yeah?” he managed, “maybe we could get coffee soon, or-“ “that’s not what i meant, roger,” you giggled, “gosh, you’re too sweet to take a hint. i’m flirting with you,” jesus, he knew that. he just couldn’t bare the thought of it, of acting on it and messing up, or worse, letting this go to waste. “i know that,” he grumbled, cheeks red, “i just didn’t wanna be presumptuous,”
“d’you wanna come over?” you asked, one hand on his chest, “i don’t wanna move too quick, but i thought maybe you were interested,” “of course i’m interested,” he tried to laugh off the quickness with which he’d replied, “you’re beautiful, i’d love to come with you, of course,” “good,” you smiled, like you were truly relieved, “come on, then, let’s call a cab,”
he followed you back into the chilly night air, watching as you hailed a cab with practiced ease, a frustrated pout on your lips when minutes passed without luck. “gonna freeze out here,” he pulled you away from the edge of the sidewalk, his arms over your shoulders, “you oughta dress warmer, yknow,” “and compromise fashion? never,” you laid a hand on your chest like you were offended, but your grin gave you away, “got you to warm me up, anyway,” you scooted in closer, and he couldn’t hold it back anymore. “i really wanna kiss you,” it came out in a nervous laugh, his voice cracking, “if that’s okay,”
“i’d love for you to kiss me, roger,” you smiled, standing on your tiptoes to reach him better, giggling quietly as his mustache brushed your lips before he finally kissed you, his hand on your low back to hold you up. he could feel you smiling against his lips and it made him so giddy, like a high schooler with a crush, not a grown man kissing his coworker in the middle of a new york street. you pulled away after a moment, cheeks flushed and eyes twinkling, “tickles a little,” “oh, sorry,” he laughed, smoothing down the facial hair self consciously, “i could trim it, for next time,” “next time?” you raised an eyebrow, grinning, “how presumptuous of you, mr. sharpe,” and then you were kissing him again, and he was smiling in turn, unable to stop himself.
you finally took a break long enough to hail a taxi, sneaking kisses between glimpses at the street, giggling as he helped you into the backseat, his hand never leaving yours. you gave the driver your address before falling back into the seat, smiling and making soft, surprised noises as he trailed kisses over your jawline. when the taxi finally arrived at your apartment, the two of you stumbled out, roger passing the driver a crisp $50 and bidding him goodnight before revolving back into your orbit, a blur of hands and kisses as he followed you up the stairs, laughing as he stumbled on the top step.
you unlocked the door with one hand, kicking it open and squealing as he picked you up, kicking the door closed after him, kissing you senseless as you wrapped your legs around his waist. “bedroom?” he asked, panting against your lips, smiling still, “if that’s what you want, i mean,” “down the hall to the right,” you replied, your tone rushed as you kissed him again, clinging to him as he carried you down the hall.
your bedroom was such a perfect amalgamation of you, posters on the wall and fabric scraps littering the floor, burnt up incense on the nightstand and a record player on the dresser. he set you down on the bed gently, leaning over you at an awkward angle until you pulled him down beside you, giggling when he nearly flipped off the mattress. “you’re so-“ he spoke in broken sentences, kissing all over your cheeks and jaw, “beautiful-“ more kisses, trailing down your neck, “smell so good,”
you pulled at the edge of his shirt, your forehead bumping his as you pulled off the sweater, tossing it to the floor with a laugh before tracing your fingers over his chest, raking your fingernails through the dusting of blonde hair. “are you sure you want to do this?” he asked, voice cracked with withheld curses as you kissed down his chest, pausing to admire his freckles. “i’m sure, roger,” you hummed, “don’t worry s’much,”
“whatever you say,” he murmured, “can i-“ his fingers hovered over the skirt of your dress, itching to pull it off. you nodded, cheeks flush, raising your arms as he pulled the dress up and off of you, leaving you in your underwear and bra. “beautiful,” he whispered, mostly to himself, hesitating before burying his face in your chest, kissing and biting ever so slightly, sucking little pink marks into the skin. “oh,” you exhaled softly, resting your hands in his hair, “that feels good,” he slid one hand into the cup of your bra, satisfied as you let out a quiet moan when his fingers traced your nipple, smiling against your chest.
he let you push him back slightly, your hands coming to undo his belt buckle and rid him of his corduroy pants, biting his lip when your hand grazed his aching length through his boxers. you pressed a kiss to his lower stomach, just above the line of cotton, humming before pulling his lips back to yours, kissing him nice ‘n slow. “how do you want me?” he asked, breathless as his hands slid to your ass, kneading and grabbing desperately. “don’t care,” you mumbled, kissing his cheek, “just wanna see you,”
you rolled over onto your back, letting him undo your bra and slide your underwear down, gasping softly as you felt the ghost of his breath against your slick cunt. “oh, roger,” his tongue was on you in seconds, lapping at you, so eager to please. “is this okay?” he paused to ask, and you laughed despite the situation at hand, “yes, please,” you nodded, holding his hair gently as he resumed, one hand running over your thigh softly. his free hand slid between your thighs, one finger sliding into you slowly as he paused to press a kiss to your thigh before returning to his movements. his finger curled inside you as his tongue circled your clit, your quiet moans filling the room. “so close,” you panted, hips bucking, “oh, roger, fuck-“ you came undone against his mouth, grinding against him, back arched off the mattress as he licked you clean, humming softly.
he kissed back up to your face, and you laughed as his now wet mustache slid against your cheek, scrunching you nose and wiping his mouth with your blanket before kissing him, wrapping your arms around his shoulders. “thank you,” you mumbled against his lips, reaching between your bodies to push down his boxers. “thanks for letting me,” he smiled slightly, the corner of his mouth quirked up, but quickly falling open as you wrapped a hand around his cock, stroking it slowly.
you rolled onto your side, roger following, until you were facing each other, your legs on either side of his. “like this?” he asked, face all screwed up in pleasure when you led him between your thighs, his tip brushing against you. “yes, please,” you nodded, kissing him once more before he was holding one of your hips, his free hand on the side of your face as he slowly worked inside of you, stretching you out slowly. “oh, god,” he exhaled, eyes rolling back, “you’re so tight,” his hips twitched slightly, rocking deeper into you, “sorry- just so good,” “don’t apologize,” you murmured, “just fuck me, rog, m not gonna break,”
that sent him over the edge of control, and his grip on your hip tightened slightly as he fucked you deeper, his thrusts still slow and gentle. he tried his hardest to keep his eyes open, not wanting to miss a moment of the way you looked as you came undone around him, a moaning mess. “beautiful,” he panted, the tension growing tighter in his stomach as he got closer, “oh, baby, god, thank you,” he caught your lips in a kiss, hard and hot as he got closer and closer to the edge, finally spilling into you when you bit at his bottom lip lightly. “oh, jesus,” he pulled away, attempting to catch his breath, thumb running back and forth over your cheek as he did, “you’re perfect,”
“mm,” you had a blissful little smile on your swollen lips, “i think you’re perfect, actually,” “oh!” he suddenly realized that he’d finished inside you, his cheeks burning, “i’m so sorry, i- i didn’t even mean to,” “it’s okay,” you giggled, “on the pill,” “oh,” he exhaled a sigh of relief, “that was- i mean, amazing,” you pressed a kiss to his cheek, smiling still, before rolling over with a sigh, sitting up and stretching. “it was,” you glanced at him over your shoulder, grabbing his sweater from the floor and slipping it over you as you padded to the bathroom, returning a few minutes later. “looks better on you,” he grinned, eyes half lidded as he watched you climb back into bed. “mm, maybe not as fashionable as i’d like. but it smells nice,” you teased, kissing his shoulder and settling back in beside him, “stay over?” “wouldn’t dream of leaving,” he laughed, brushing a strand of hair from your face, “we should play pinball more often,”
not enough people talk about that man…This isn’t a full on blurb but just some of my thoughts 😏
ROGER PINBALL who loves whenever you smile or laugh while you kiss because he knows that it’s because of his mustache
ROGER PINBALL who loves to go down on you and be sloppy with it, after he makes you cum and lifts his head to look at you, his stache is covered in your release, but of course you’re used to it.
ROGER PINBALL who gets shy every time you initiate having sex or doing something similar.
ROGER PINBALL who becomes so out of it when you’re giving him head, his knees get weak and wobbly, if he’s standing you have to hold onto his hips so he doesn’t collapse
ROGER PINBALL who loves to cuddle naked, skin to skin is his favorite thing ever, especially after having sex, he’s in this delicate mindset where all he wants is to be close to you
ROGER PINBALL who forget to take off his glasses when you guys are getting freaky until suddenly his vision is unclear and he realizes his glasses fogged up, causing you to giggle and take them off for him.
ROGER PINBALL who makes noises that sound likes he’s in pain when he comes, but of course its from pleasure and they only sound like that because it feels so good he can’t control it
ROGER PINBALL who loves to watch you take off his clothes and worship him with your hands and lips, especially when you take your time, it makes him so much hornier
ROGER PINBALL who can’t stop squirming when you’re giving him a handjob, you have to hold one of his hips with your free hand and sit on his legs so he stays still. So much precum dribbles from his tip that your hand just glides up and down, making it sound pornographic
roger sharpe who spends an hour making a tiny pinball machine for your little figurines. whether they be calico critters, sonny angels, or something else entirely, he glues together popsicle sticks and paints them, even adding a tiny styrofoam ball in there, creating the perfect little machine. he doesn't tell you about it straight away, feeling a bit silly for making it, but he does make sure to place it on the shelf beside your two figures that remind him of the two of you.
Virgin Roger pinball and virgin would be a cute stumbling mess ♥️ met I see him bringing it up awkwardly after a night at the arcade sitting on his bed and he just mentions how pretty you are too shy to tell you what he wants it just turns into him stammering have sex with me please! Eyes wide, short of breathe hoping you’d jump his bones
he so would omg…
he’d be sitting at the edge of his bed, nervously glancing around with his hands clasped in his lap, contemplating how exactly he wants to bring it up because he doesn’t know how people just seamlessly transition from normal conversation to being inside one another, but he’ll try.
you sit next to him and he stares at you like you hung the moon and stars in the sky. he can tell you’re nervous too, but you hide it better than him. and he’s not sure what exactly prompted it but he just blurts out how “you’re so beautiful,” or “i just— i mean, you looked… tonight, you… you were the prettiest person in the room.”
he must’ve done something right because before he knows it, your lips are on his, and he kisses you back like his life depends on it.
it starts out tame at first, a hand on your thigh, the other on your waist, you cupping his face during the kiss. but then he decides to take the initiative, his tongue pushing past your lips to taste you. he thinks that’s what he’s supposed to do, and your soft hum only confirms that suspicion. the more sounds that come from you, the more confident he gets. his hands begin to roam across your body, from gripping your neck and arms to squeezing your tits and waist.
you gasp as he continues and when you pull back, roger starts thinking of apologies to say before you tell him you’ve never done this before.
he paused, staring at you with wide eyes before adjusting his fogged-up glasses. “Me neither,” he mumbled back. you shared a heated stare before you began to lean in again and he met you halfway, the kiss more intense as he pushes you back onto the bed, his hips settling in between your legs. his kisses are messy, frenzied, hands groping and kneading any bare skin he can reach as his hips slowly rock against you. you can feel his erection press against you, fitting so perfectly it makes your head hazy.
at some point, he resorted to begging into your ear, mumbles of “please… god, can i?” or “i’ll be careful, i won’t hurt you.” he can tell you’re still hesitant, but when he pulls back to see your eyes, they’re just as dark as his, your pupils dilated.
“we’ll figure it out, baby… i just need to be inside you.” he promised, waiting until you gave him the explicit yes to begin to tug off any layers between you. clothes rustle in his quiet room, the fabric thudding against the floor and the sound of his belt buckle a promise of what’s to come.
his hands tremble when he opens up the condom packet he had saved in his bedside drawer, which finally came in handy. he’s so shaky that you just decide to help him, rolling the latex onto his length, and he had to use all of his self-restraint to not cum from your hand on him.
when he slides inside of you, roger felt like he died and made it to heaven. he stays like that for a long moment, just taking in the feeling of you so warm and tight around him. when he begins to move, he’s certain this is the best thing he’s ever felt in his life.
his arms snake around you, pulling you off of the bed to press your body against his while his hips snap against yours. his grip is almost asphyxiating, so lost in the pleasure he doesn’t even realize the sweet nothings yet filthy things he’s whispering into your ear. yet somehow through the haze, roger notices your hand that slipped between your bodies, his own moving down to cover yours, pressing against the fingers that are circling your clit.
he doesn’t last long, he doesn’t know how anyone could. his moans are obscene as he muffles them against your neck, holding onto you like you’d disappear if he let go. you both release at the same time, and roger falls limp on top of you right after.
he doesn’t move for a long while, just squeezing your arms and holding you close, his head resting against your chest. it’s not long before he lets his drowsiness override him, but his grip on you stays tight the entire night.
It was a dark and stormy night— but, more importantly, it was also @artdcnaldson's birthday.
Twenty-five, what an age to be. It tore Leo apart, knowing he was going to have to let his favorite girlfriend go now. Cat knew this, of course. It was in the legally binding contract she signed when he propositioned her to start dating. "If you turn 25, I, Leonardo DiCaprio, am legally obligated to cease any and all contact." So, needless to say, Cat was prepared. Which is to say, she'd taken out a hefty chunk from his accounts and set herself up for life. He's so rich, though, he didn't even notice. She got away scot free.
When the day finally came, Cat felt a little sad to let him go.
"Aur revoir, mon chat." Leo said, a newly legal girl on his arm already as he ushered Cat out the door. "It was fun while it lasted."
It was. Mostly because he was totally blind to when she'd spend his money buying Sylvanian Family blind boxes and LPS. She was going to miss that the most.
Cat walked the streets of New York City with her many, many bags in tow. As she walked, people silently admired her beauty as they passed. She was so ethereal that several people thought she was actually an angel sent from God in human form, and by simply crossing the street, Cat single-handedly caused 15 psychotic breaks and 7 religious awakenings. She didn't notice, however, too busy wondering where she would live next.
One of the people to notice her was a man named Roger. Roger Pinball, to be exact. No relation, it's pure chance they shared a last name. Seriously, this is completely fine.
He was in the middle of pulling the plunger of a pinball machine (also no relation) when he noticed her. He was lucky the machine was out on the street so he could see her.
"Woah, mama." Roger sighed, his fingers accidentally slipping from the plunger and releasing it. Roger didn't even notice that he got a score so high it broke the machine and set it on fire. It blazed and burned, embers crackling beside him, and all Roger could see was the mama walking down the street. He brushed his mustache nervously as a person ran up beside him and tried to put out the fire. People were screaming, running as the flames grew. The only flames Roger cared about were the burning flames of love.
He ran down the road to catch up with the bombshell beauty, which was quite difficult with how tight his bellbottom jeans were at the thighs while also sporting a massive erection that stretched them even more. "Hey!" He nervously chuckled after he got close enough for Cat to hear. "I could tell by your lost and curious expression that you were looking for a new place to live after being broken up with by an A-List actor from an era decades from now? I've got queen sized mattress and an apartment and a hole in my heart you could fill."
Cat looked at the tall, bell-bottomed man. Her eyes caught on his glorious mustache, and Roger could see the intrigued glimmer in her big, brown eyes. "Hmm..." she considered, taking a bite from something vague on the Culver's menu she ordered despite it not being in New York. "Alright, sure. On one condition."
Roger's eyes lit up and he almost whimpered like a puppy. "Anything." He really wanted this gorgeous woman to live with him in his tiny shitty apartment.
Cat paused for dramatic effect. "I'll move in with you if you let me ride your face so hard your mustache falls off."
Roger took a second to consi— just kidding he agreed before she even finished speaking.
Back at his tiny shitty apartment, Roger carried all of Cats numerous bags. Once he set them down, Cat took a look around. "Wow." She nodded, turning to him again. "This place is terrible."
"Yeah," Roger giggled cutely, already naked, wearing nothing but his mustache. She wondered how he undressed that fast, it was seriously impressive.
They got right to it. Roger lay down on the mattress on the floor, giddy and excited. He's always wanted a beautiful woman to sit on his face! And here was the most beautiful of them all, lowering herself right where she was meant to be.
She did exactly as promised and rode his stache like her name was Dodge Mason and his face was a horse at the rodeo.
Somewhere, probably Hollywood...
"Sorry mister DiCaprio, we're letting you go. We're firing you from Hollywood. You're just not good looking enough!"
Leo was distraught and confused. "Wha-What! But but but I'm Leonardo DiCaprio!"
"Yes yes, but what we're looking for is a stachless twink, and I'm sorry but what you've got going on right now is the opposite of that."
"I can shave!"
"But you can't undo the twink death."
The executive had Leo executed wherever washed up actors are executed at, and sighed as he spun his spinny chair to look out the large glass window of his office. "Somewhere out there... surely somewhere is a mustachless twink we can hire for this movie..."
Back at Roger's apartment, the two lovers stand from the bed, breathless. "Oh wow, that was great. I'm totally moving in." Cat announced, putting her clothes back on. Roger was about to as well but she stopped him. "No. You look better this wa—"
"Roger?"
Roger looked down at his love, puzzled by the change of tone. "Wha-what?"
Her eyes dart down from his. Above his lip, below his nose.
"Roger where's your mustache?"
He panics, runs to the bathroom and looks into the mirror. "NOOOOOOOOO!" He falls to his knees in tears, picking up his mustache from the old carpet. It takes Cat months to console him. They hold a funeral for it, flushing it down the toilet like a dear pet goldfish.
The tiny apartment feels like a bitter reminder too The Incident, so the two decide it's time for a change of scenery: Hollywood! Why Hollywood? Neither of them are really sure.
The Pinball's are walking down Hollywood Boulevard, as one or two do, when that same executive looks out his window.
"By God! Can it be!?"
He stands quickly from his desk while ignoring yet another call from Leo. Wasn't he supposed to be executed? The executive calls his underpaid PA. "PA! GET ME THAT TWINK!"
"Sir, what?"
"THAT GUY OVER THERE, HE'S PERFECT!"
"Who are you pointing at, I can't see over the phone..."
"UGH! MUST I DO EVERYTHING MYSELF!?"
The executive barrles out the window, landing perfectly untouched directly before the couple. He takes a moment to collect himself, momentarily started by the upclose beauty of Cat. "You!" He points to the bellbottomed man.
"Me?" Asks Roger dumbly.
"Yes! You! Do you want to be in Hollywood?"
Roger thinks for a moment. "Does it have pinball machines?"
"It can!"
That decides it for him. "Then yes I do."
"You are a dream, a vision. Exactly what I've been looking for for the role in my new movie. I've got this Italian guy directing it and everything."
The executive pauses, taking a closer look at his dream man. "Oh... but, wait."
Cat and Roger look to each other in confusion. In the time since the last incident, Roger grew a new mustache. A luxurious one.
"That needs to go. Only then can I give you the role of a lifetime where you freak it with two hot people. And your girlfriend can be on set and watch the whole thing live."
That motivates Cat. "Roger, please!"
"Okay, anything for my princess."
There was one issue though: Getting rid of the mustache again.
Good thing they were experienced. Cat knew exactly what to do.
The two ran off into the sunset to go freak it on the Hollywood sign. When Challengers came out, the two spent Roger's earnings on buying their own bowling alley and pinball company, and they lived happily ever after.
