Bimbo Code Series Bundle

by Jen Eastwood

  My Mustang had more years on it than any car I could see. I had thought about paying for something more luxurious, but I still had a few hundred grand to go before I could match the average price of the parking lot. Either way, I thought about hitting up the decent eight of a greeter to head home with me if the mood struck, just to have a back-up plan. My body could handle it easily, but the mind and soul just weren't willing.

  We passed by the back of the bar. Expensive bottles of liquor glowed from the color changing LED's beneath them, tempting anyone heading toward the dining area with a shot that cost more than an entire bottle of mid-shelf. Even the instrumental cover of the pop song of the week added to the pretentiousness of the place.

  My potential target showed me to my table overlooking the lake, rimmed by mansions I still couldn't dream of putting a down-payment on. I noticed the table full of men in suits to my left. Balding, middle-aged, and talking about a Reverend Boyce. I flipped the menu and tried to ignore them. Holy rollers never were my thing, and I felt like the waiter would never show up after a few minutes of overhearing their jabber. At least the sunset was nice.

  I had finally ordered the pesto shrimp and a bottle of Stella, the cheapest beer Portage dared lower itself to carry. That's when I noticed the gaggle to my left turning in unison. I looked to my right and saw a young man, dressed in a suit that fit him like he was cut for the measurements instead of vice versa, stepped onto the deck. The fucker reeked of charisma.

  “I can't wait to tell him about the mission drive.”

  “Reverend Boyce won't be happy about the construction delay on the youth wing.”

  “But he's getting married next month. I'm sure he'll be forgiving as The Lord Himself.”

  I looked back down at the table and rolled my eyes. I guess that's him. You could hear the confidence in his stride as he passed me by.

  The chatter of ass kissing flooded the muggy night air. It was the only thing I could hear until the soft beat of heels pulled me by the ear. I looked back for a short glimpse of the source. God in Heaven.

  Her hands were clasped in front of her hips, head and shoulders as low as they could be. The posture screamed chastity, but everything else about the girl lit my fuse. It took a cock-hair of a second to figure out what was going on.

  That's the future Mrs. Boyce. The blonde kept several feet behind the reverend, the posture of her criminally tight body revealing shame in his presence. But her ass was worthy of a ballad from Steel Panther.

  Reverend Douche Incarnate didn't even acknowledge her presence. “Gentlemen, our financial report for this month is disappointing.” He paused as no sound came from my left. “Explain this.”

  The bravest of the sycophants chimed in. “Brother Boyce, our congregation has only grown ten percent in the past six months. Are you sure this kind of expansion is wise?”

  “If it's for His glory, all will pay off,” one of them rattled. I began to salivate, gradually moving my eyes up that golden yellow skirt. “Our congregation has grown at three times that rate for the past four years. This is only a hiccup.”

  Alright, fuck this guy. I opened the left corner of my mouth, sneaking out a, “Tssst.” Nothing. “Hey...”

  Jack and shit. As fed up with the lack of service as I was with the circle-worship next door, I poked the girl in the small of her back with a rigid finger.

  Still nothing. She wouldn't even acknowledge my presence. Her entire world revolved around that table and the bullshit emanating from it.

  Ego sum alpha. Et genua parere. I leaned in her direction. “Hey, listen...”

  She finally turned her head a bit, still keeping it at a respectable angle toward Reverend Wonderful. Her lips drew inward on the side of her face I could kinda see. They ring of idjits kept droning on.

  I focused my irritation into clear intent. Act like you have to go to the restroom, but meet me at the main entrance. I'll be there a minute after you get there. Fuck her, nut myself in her pussy, get paid. All while hubby is none the wiser. It was a fucking drill by then.

  The girl approached the reverend and leaned into his ear. She turned, her face red as she walked behind me again. I couldn't help sneaking another look, her magnificently tight ass bobbing with each step.

  I gave it a moment and then decided I'd leave a hundred on the table. It was worth it just to get away from hearing the shit a table over. I can only handle so much of grown men dick riding another man like preteen girls screaming over a boy band.

  The air of mild depression still loomed over the half-empty bar of Wednesday night drinkers. I nodded and smiled at the greeter from before on my way out. She was cute, but I wanted to get paid.

  I left the air conditioning and stepped back into the humidity. My new target stood just to the side of the door, exactly as I commanded. I took one step toward her before I noticed she was trying her damnedest to ignore me.

  “Brother Boyce is a little full of himself, don't you think?”

  Her lips curled in a frown. “He's an amazing man, and I'm not supposed to talk to you.”

  “Whoa,” I took a step back, “I get that you'd want to take up for the guy, but what's your problem with talking to strangers?”

  “Strange men.” She looked away. “Loyalty starts with removing temptation before it happens.”

  Weird chick. “Is that a church thing?”

  “You're welcome to join us. Sunday service is at eight and ten.” She kinda looked in my direction, averting her eyes away from mine. “Have you heard of Unity Fellowship Baptist?”

  You couldn't miss it from the highway passing through the city. The place looked like a shopping mall except for the giant cross facing the road. “I'm familiar.”

  “Then we'd love to welcome you to our family,” she started inching toward the doors, “but please, I need to get back to Travis.”

  She grabbed the brass handle. “Wait.” Do what I say, and stop acting so damn creepy. “I think I can do you a favor.”

  Her baby blues finally looked at me. “And that is?”

  It'd be a shame to let her go to waste on a self-absorbed holy man. “I think you're not living up to your potential.”

  “You don't even know me.”

  I grabbed her hand, feeling her arm tense up in a failed attempt to jerk it away from me. “I know enough. Come on, you're going with me.”

  “But,” her face had that fresh-from-the-tent-revival look, “that would be the start of sin.”

  Ego sum alpha. “Drop the choir girl act and let's go.” Et genua parere.

  I swear a spark of thought twinkled in her eyes as soon as I drove her will the way I wanted it.

  Mansions turned into suburbs as I drove nowhere in particular. She had kept silent, looking straight ahead for the past three miles. I finally hit a red light and asked, “So what's your story?”

  She didn't avert her gaze from the road ahead. “I'm getting married soon, and I'm happy to serve Travis as his wife. It's what I was raised to do.”

  Holy Hell. “Say that again?”

  “My parents raised me to be a good wife. Beauty pageants, cotillion, Bible study. It's taught me to be a good person.”

  The weird vibes pulsed from this girl. “Pretty, polite, and submissive, you mean?”

  “How else is a wife supposed to be?”

  “With a mind of her own, for starters.” The irony wasn't lost on me, but this was downright creepy. “Why shouldn't you have a life of your own?”

  “Ephesians 5:22,” I watched her mouth form a knowing grin, “Wives, submit to your own husbands, as to the Lord.”

  I'd dealt with this sort before, but not in a Prime Recipient. “You really think that?”

  She skipped a verse. “Ephesians 5:24. Now as the church submits to Christ, so also wives should submit in everything to their husbands.”

  “But you're not even married to the guy yet.”

  “You play like you practice.”

  I was on the verge of driving right back to
Portage Tavern and dumping her at the entrance. “The Bible also says it's a sin to cut a beard. Travis is pretty damn baby-faced.” I was too, but this girl seemed beyond reasoning with.

  She looked at me like I had just farted. “Travis was chosen. Certain things have to be done to convert sinners.”

  Alright, fuck this, I'm telling her to get out at the next light. I looked at her, knowing when to cut my losses. “It's been nice meeting you, but—” I watched her flinch in the seat, putting her arms in front of her face.

  That's when I heard a sickening crunch and shot forward. I felt like I'd just been slugged in the jaw. My ears rang and I couldn't see anything. The only thing I knew for sure was that I smelled something like gunpowder.

  “Hey,” something jarred my shoulder. “Hey!”

  I opened my eyes and looked toward the voice. A veil of smoke made everything blurry, but I saw her face. Her plush bottom lip stuck out and then shifted to a relieved grin.

  “We just hit another car.” A warm line traced over my forehead, gradually cooling off as it dropped to the side of my nose. “You're hurt.”

  Fuck. The air cleared, but that smell you never forget remained. “Are you alright?”

  “Yeah, I saw the other car.” Her eyes locked on mine and softened a bit. “They didn't give a turn signal.”

  I was still trying to figure out why I'd gone from driving to feeling like I had just lost a fight. “Are you sure you're fine?” My face stung as it slid against the airbag. They're rougher and harder than you'd imagine, especially after slamming into one.

  “I'm sure.” Her fingers caressed my forehead. “Where's your phone?”

  Leaning back for the first look at the rest of situation, I dug through my pocket and pulled it out. “Let me guess, Travis keeps yours.”

  I started flipping through for my insurance company's number as she answered, “How did you know?”

  “Not hard to guess that one.” Insurance, police, and summoning a ride the rest of the way home. It was a load of stress I didn't plan on dealing with.

  “Shouldn't I call Travis and let him know I'm alright? I'm sure he's worried sick.”

  I led her into my apartment, going right for my couch and collapsing into the upholstery. I tossed her my phone. “Go for it.” The impact had made focusing my will a tad more painful than before. You're calling to tell him goodbye. I held it until I couldn't stand it anymore. It's for your own good.

  She wandered to the floor to ceiling windows overlooking the city. “Travis, it's Elena.”

  I heard screaming on the other end, even with all the distance between us. He's an asshole to boot. I wonder if this chick even has anywhere else to go.

  Her voice cracked with sadness. “I know, I'm sorry.” She stood looking out the window as the angry voice from the speaker got louder. It finally subsided as she responded, “Listen, I won't be coming back.”

  Travis's raving was almost intelligible now. I really am doing her a favor. Jesus. Elena's shoulders drooped further every second she took the verbal beating.

  “I don't know what I'll do next, but I think it's for the best.” She walked back toward me with a devastated look on her face.

  “Hang up on him.” She did, already taking my orders like they had come from above. “Sit down, I need to talk to you about something.”

  “What do you mean?” Elena handed my phone back to me and sat on the other end of the couch. “I don't even know why I just did that.”

  “Is there anywhere you can go now that you've ended it with Travis?”

  She looked at the floor, her hands clasping in her lap. “No. My parents already said they would disown me if I messed up the marriage.”

  “You're living with them until the wedding, I guess.”

  “It's the Godly thing to do.” The weight of what I had done finally rested it's massive ass on her shoulders. Tears slid a track down both of her cheeks when she looked at me. “What do I do? What did I do?”

  You break it, you buy it, I guess. Ego sum alpha. Et genua parere. “Drop the crazy religious nuttery and stay here with me.”

  She went from utter despair to confusion in an instant. “I don't...” I knew I had turned her entire world inside out, from her future to the principles that guided every action.

  “You've got nowhere else to go, and I don't mind at all.” I couldn't think of any other kind of beauty I'd rather have trotting around the place.

  “So you're fine with it?”

  “It was my idea, so there's no reason to ask my permission.”

  “But I don't even have a job. The wife of a reverend like Travis has to serve at home.”

  I scooted to the center of the couch, right beside her. “You can do the same here. I make enough on my own.”

  She didn't try backing away, leaning against my shoulder. “Thank you, but I'm not your wife.” She looked around, seeing all of two doors. “There's no second bedroom, is there?”

  “I guess that means you're bunking with me.”

  Now she tensed up. “But I don't even know your name. Are you seriously asking me to live and even sleep next to a complete stranger?”

  I'll be buying a whole new wardrobe and paying bills for a complete stranger. “I'll tell you what. I take the couch tonight, you get the bed.” I still felt like I'd been tossed off the top of my building, but I didn't want to completely destroy this girl's psyche in one night.

  “I suppose.” It's not like she had a choice to begin with. “Thank you.”

  “Pick a shirt out of my closet to sleep in.” I rolled my neck around as Elena stood up. “The bedroom's the door on the right, bathroom on the left. I'll get us a ride first thing in the morning so we can get you something to wear.”

  I kicked my shoes off and didn't even bother with the rest of my clothes. Crushing a throw pillow behind my head, I lied down and settled in for sleep that would murder my back.

  Is that bacon? I opened my eyes and immediately shielded them with my arm. The light combined with the smell and sound of crackling pork. She's useful, I guess.

  My body popped and ached as I rolled onto my side and then upright. I looked behind me to my right. Elena was slaving away over three pans on the stove. “You didn't have to go through the trouble,” I hollered.

  She ignored me as I started her way. I cleared the kitchen island I had always used for fucking more than actual kitchen duties. Elena finally broke away from the pans of bacon, eggs, and hash browns. She tip-toed to reach the higher cabinet over the stove, letting a sliver of pink and white striped panties show beneath the blue business shirt she had slept in.

  “Herbs and such are in the next cabinet to the left.” She looked over and smiled. I figured she would be more bashful with her body, but she did say she was in beauty pageants. Those are a human meat market if I've ever seen one.

  “I didn't know if you like your eggs runny or well done, so I'm settling in the middle, if that's alright.”

  Everything looked and smelled amazing. “How old are you?”

  Elena did the reach again, pulling the flaked parsley and thyme down. “Nineteen.”

  No way. “How did you learn to cook like that so young? I still fight to not burn things in the microwave.”

  Her eyes watered just a little. “It's something I needed to know to be a good wife.” If I were in the market for marriage, what a find.

  I patted her on the shoulder when she had the spatula back in her hand. “I don't expect you to be a maid or a wife.”

  “But I have to earn my keep, don't I?” She doused each egg with the herbs and flipped all three of them. “If I laze around the house all day and do nothing, I'll go insane.”

  Taking a step back, my neck popped loud enough for Elena to hear it. She looked back at me as I said, “It's alright, just stiff.”

  “Sit down at the bar, it's almost ready.”

  My stomach growled like a bear on steroids. Skipping supper the past night to take Elena away from that creepy preach
er had caught up to me. “Looking forward to it, and thanks.”

  Her cheeks blushed as she smiled. Elena turned back to the stove and said, “It's the least I can do.”

  The food gave me the energy for that marathon of shopping we had just finished. Three trips out and back, racking up a hellacious fares on my ride sharing app. Six different drivers, every single one of them unable to take his eyes off of the rear-view mirror. As it turns out, I was the one people assumed was a sugar daddy now.

  I was, having spent an entire payment from GeneFactor on this girl. She was just bright enough to hold a decent conversation, but incredibly sheltered. It made some of the shopping awkward at first.

  That yellow skirt she had on for the second day wasn't modest, but Elena wanted to pick things that belonged on a church lady. I had to put my foot down. “Try this on instead,” I'd say, picking something that would leave my jaw in the apartment below on her. By the time we closed the day at the lingerie store, Elena was almost shameless.

  She worked on putting away all the clothes in what used to be my nearly empty closet. I was getting out of the shower, noticing how the double-sink already had her claim staked the left side furthest from the door.

  When she's got more stuff in your bathroom than you, it's official. I wiped the fog off of my side of the mirror and looked at myself. What the hell happened? I thought I wasn't keeping any of them.

  But what else was I supposed to do with her? From how she talked, her entire social world revolved around her family and that church. It was take up with a guy like me or a night on the streets. I wondered if all I accomplished was to fuck her life beyond repair.