Mamie Van Doren has led a pretty wild life which she enjoys sharing with others. One of her first studio dates was with Rock Hudson.
Oh, there were rumours about Rock even then. Some of the other actresses under contract had told me that on a date with Rock, I would be as safe as though I was in my mother’s arms. It was, in fact, a publicity stunt on the part of the studio to get Rock out on the town with the newest sexy starlet in their stable.
I was ready when the doorbell rang, done up in a prom-queen gown that the studio’s Wardrobe Department had created for the occasion. It had a strapless, beaded bodice and layer after layer of crinolines under the skirt.
Rock and I sat at a table with Joan Crawford and her date. Joan was pounding down the booze with a vengeance, eyeing me from time to time the way a barracuda eyes a crippled grouper. She snubbed me totally except to loudly proclaim that I must have diligently fucked my way to the threshold of stardom where I then stood.
When the evening was over, Rock took me home. My parents were asleep, and we tiptoed into the kitchen where we necked, panting heavily, and sank to the floor. I helped Rock unzip his fly, only to discover that it was no pebble he was hiding in there. Zowie! Rock was sporting a boulder! He rolled on top, but found himself engulfed in a cloud of crinoline.
I tried to guide him inside me but couldn’t reach him through the forest of underskirts. We slid on Mother’s waxed linoleum, struggling for traction. Rock let out a long sigh and his weight collapsed on top of me. “I’m coming,” he groaned. We got up and repaired the damage as best we could. It’s hard to wipe anything off of crinolines.
I took the dress back to the Wardrobe Department and hurried out before they could look at it. For all I know it’s still hanging there in some dusty corner, un-dry cleaned forty-plus years later, mute and crusty testimony to Rock Hudson’s at least occasional bisexuality.
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