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Saturday Night is All Right

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Saturday Night is All Right

By Lucy J. Madison

Melissa McCarthy rushes around a trendy hotel suite at Soho Grand Hotel in Manhattan. She spreads rose petals on the bed and lights a few candles. She is definitely going for romance. She checks her watch. “Dammit!” She yells aloud in the spacious suite. She’s running late. Really late. Kate will arrive any moment and she hasn’t even showered yet.

There’s a knock at the door. Melissa runs over and throws open the door. A young, fresh faced waiter stands before her with a bottle of champagne and an ice bucket. He looks quizzically at Melissa. “Well, come in for God’s sake. I don’t have all night,” she quips, nearly pulling him into the room. “I’m not going to bite. Just put it over there. And hurry up.”

The waiter rushes over to a table, setting down the ice bucket. He begins to open the champagne. “Leave it! I can open the bottle myself!” Melissa shouts at him.

“Yes, sir, Mr. Spicer.” He responds, still looking shocked.

At first Melissa is puzzled then she remembers – she’s still in costume from her Saturday Night Live skit as White House Press Secretary Sean Spicer. “Yeah, yeah, whatever. Just get out,” she barks, nearly pushing the wide-eyed waiter out the door as she throws a dollar bill at him.

Melissa tries to settle her nerves. She’s never been with a woman before. She spent an hour watching lesbian porn on her laptop inside her SNL dressing room trying to make sense of what she should and shouldn’t do, but all it did was make her more nervous and on edge. She knows enough to know that lesbian porn is really just porn for straight men so it’s probably not an accurate representation of what was about to go down anyway.

She loosens her red tie and unbuttons the top button of her white dress shirt, taking a deep breath to calm her nerves. Her plan was to shower and change into a sexy pink negligee. Just then, there is a knock at the door. “Not that idiot again!” Melissa is annoyed. She throws open the door to see Hillary Clinton staring back at her.

“Hi, sexy,” the Hillary look-alike nearly purrs.

“Apparently you didn’t have time to change either?” Melissa laughs as she closes the door behind her.”
Kate laughs. “No. I didn’t want you to worry that I wouldn’t show. Plus, I figured it might spice up our first time.”

“This is not exactly what I had in mind when I daydreamed about us,” Melissa admits.

Kate moves closer, running her thumb down Melissa’s jawline. “You daydreamed about us?” She asks seductively.

“I did. But I’m nervous.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll go slow,” Kate responds, her lips grazing Melissa’s neck. Melissa sighs, tilting her head back. Kate kisses Melissa gently on the lips but in a moment the kiss turns passionate. Kate pushes Melissa against the wall, her body pressed against Melissa’s. Kate begins to run her hand down Melissa’s side then suddenly pulls away. “You’ve got to take off this suit. I’m a lesbian and this is making me feel like I’m trying to get it on with a straight man. It’s actually pretty repulsive. You look so much like him with that wig.”

Melissa laughs, throwing off her suit jacket and ripping off her tie. “Well the idea of making out with Hillary is oddly scintillating so I’m good.”

There is a knock at the door. “Who could that be?” Kate asks as she walks toward the door, opening it.

The same young waiter stands at the door, looking from Kate (Hillary) to Melissa (Sean) and back again. His face turns crimson.

“What do you want?” Melissa barks.

He tears his eyes away from Kate and holds up two champagne flutes with shaky hands. “I forgot to leave these for you.”

Kate smiles and takes them from him. “Thank you.” When he doesn’t budge, Kate prompts him “You can go now.”

“Right. Yes. Sorry, Mrs. Clinton. It’s just that I voted for you. I actually even campaigned for you. How could you stoop to this level and sleep with him? They even do this bit about him on Saturday Night Live.”

“Do they really? I haven’t seen it. Is it good?” Kate asks, seamlessly shifting into full on Hillary Clinton mode.

“Yes, it’s hilarious,” he admits.

“Well then. I’ll have to watch it. Now if you’ll excuse me,” she says, closing the door in the shocked waiter’s face.

Kate kicks off her heels. “He’s going to need therapy after that.”

“Years and years of therapy,” agrees Melissa as she pulls the rubber wig cap off and lets her long brown hair fall freely around her face.

Kate kisses Melissa again. “Now, where were we?”

The End…Or is it?

Disclaimer: This series is a satire by the author and is entirely a work of fiction and is not intended maliciously. Celebrities are in a fictional depiction or personality parody.


Photo credit: Saturday Night Live

About Lucy J. Madison

Lucy J. Madison is a novelist, poet, and screenwriter from Connecticut. She’s the author of two contemporary lesbian romance novels In the Direction of the Sun and Personal Foul as well as a collection of poetry entitled I.V. Poems (Sapphire Books). www.lucyjmadison.com Connect with her on Instagram, Facebook, and Twitter.

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