>Out of the Inbox

>As Julius Bassett hit “send” on his latest batch of e-mails, he sighed morosely. Why, oh why had he taken this job? Trying to convince stay-at-home-moms to visit a back alley porn website was like trying to catch a sea urchin on a street corner. Beside him, Amalia Hardin typed furiously on one of the bank of computers in the corner of the office. Noting his uncharacteristic silence, she paused and looked up at him.

“Those eighteens there, they no do nothing but sit around and smoke on the long cigarillos, ” she said, waving her hand dismissively at a group of huddled young ladies dressed in black and glaring at a small limping man who circled them, taking pictures on a digital camera. Julius stared appreciatively at the young ladies and wondered how long it would take the photographer to download the pictures onto the site.

“Julius! I talk!” Amalia snapped. Julius tore his eyes away from the teens and looked back at her. “Julius! What title I about them girls?”

“Ummmmm.” Julius pondered. “You might do type, um, ‘Admirable Teens in….’ Um. ‘In Dukanoke Action.” he finished decisively.

“Dukanoke?” She repeated. “What dukanoke?” Julius shrugged. After a short pause, Amalia typed Julius’s suggested title in the subject line, then hit send. She looked dubious. “I no think the mom ones look at our website with title like that,” she said darkly.

Julius made a face at Amalia and turned his back on her, staring soulfully at Alisa Ewing seated to his left. She smiled back at him.

“What write you, Alisa?” Julius queried.

Alisa leaned back so that he could see her computer screen. “Grandiose schoolgirl at porrnn,” he read slowly. “Really?” he asked Alisa. “Is true that?”

Alisa nodded and pointed across the room. “There. Across over there. She arriving this morning.” Stretched out over a sofa, a chubby schoolgirl in full uniform appeared to be reading 60s-era issues of Playboy. She didn’t even notice the photographer snapping away while she flipped through the pages.

“Do the mamas appreciating grandiose schoolgirls?” Julius asked himself quietly. If not, it seemed like a waste of time to send them hundreds of e-mails about one. Vainly, he looked about the large workroom, searching for inspiration. In an alcove, he noted another photographer hard at work capturing randy images of some Eastern European women stirring a big pot of black, viscous liquid. A-ha.

Julius typed like his fingers were on fire. “Babushka wearing women stirring vat of…” He paused, searching the air for inspiration. He needed intrigue, mystery, if he wanted to draw the mommy set in. He hit delete, then tried again. “Beautiful russian girls in ponooo!” Hitting ‘send,’ he silently congratulated himself on his creation of this new word. “Ponooo,” he whispered merrily to himself. “Ponooo, ponooo, ponoo!” What mother wouldn’t want to know what a ponooo is? Soon, www.oneandhundredpercentilelivvveacshun.com would be receiving a record number of hits!

Moments later, Lucinda sat down at her computer and pulled up her e-mail account. “Jolly eighteens here doing marvelous loookinng ploo?” she said aloud. “Lowest little man engaged in movement, actionn?’ I must see these pictures!” She gurgled in anticipatory delight and silently thanked God for spam. One thousand miles away, Julius felt his ears grow warm.