Play Sexy For Me (Handy Mann Chronicles Book 1)

by Jimmy Pudge

  I swallowed the last bite of pork chop and tried to stifle a belch, but it was no use, so I let nature take its course and let it loose, Damn was it loud. I looked into her eyes, which was actually a big break for me since I had been staring at her tits almost the whole time she was talking to me, though I had heard every word. I wanted to grab her and tell her it was gonna be all right, but shit don’t usually work out for the best in the real world.

  “Don’t worry darlin’. If he comes sniffing around I won’t rat you out, I’ll send him on a wild goose chase. And if you got a problem paying for the room I can spot you a few nights. We might have to switch rooms and shit, but we can work that out.”

  “Damn, Handy, you are a saint.” She looked down at the waffles, which were now probably ice cold, and ate a bite. She closed her eyes, “Mmmmm. Damn, you were right, these are some awesome waffles.”

  From the sound she made and the expression on her face, I damn near sprayed my shorts.

  Chapter 3

  After sitting for a little while in the booth, shooting the shit and letting the cholesterol clog our arteries, I decided to bring the date to a close. Claire and I, we’d fallen into an uncomfortable silence. Maybe she was waiting on me to kiss her, I don’t know. I stood up at one point, leaned over the booth, close to her beautiful lips but chickened out and told her I had to take a piss.

  She may have looked disappointed, but it could have been my imagination. You see I got a way with imagination. I see myself as this tough guy that breaks women’s hearts and always comes out on top. But night after night, being cooped up by yourself in the motel or in a singlewide trailer, well that imagination tends to dim a bit, and the truth tarnishes the fantasy.

  I was a sterling silver hero, but the silver hadn’t been polished in awhile, so it was starting to turn.

  “Let’s get out of here, Claire,” I said, grabbing the bill off the table and helping her out of our booth. Hell, years from now, I knew I’d come in this joint and still remember that was where I had sat with my Claire Bear, blowing the only date we’d have together.

  “You alright, Handy?” Claire asked. “You look—you look kinda sad.”

  “I’m fine,” I said, dragging myself to the counter.

  “Everything all right?” the waitress asked.

  “Just fine,” I muttered as the cash register worked its magic and the numbers slowly grew.

  “Fuck,” I said. “That’s robbery.”

  The waitress shrugged her shoulders and I pulled a folded twenty out of my pocket.

  “I’ve got the tip,” Claire said.

  “The hell you do. Let me get it.”

  The waitress handed me back my change, blowing a pink bubble, and I had the urge to pop it with my toothpick.

  I went back to the booth with two bucks in my hand, put it on the table. I turned and saw Claire had gone outside. The waitress had her back to me. I grabbed the two dollars and shoved it back in my pocket, and then I walked outside and lit a cigarette.

  “That was really good,” Claire said, grabbing my hand.

  The gesture shocked me. I didn’t know how to respond, so I took a drag on my smoke and tried playing it cool.

  “Well, guess we should head back, Claire. I really don’t want this, this date, to end to be honest with you.” I almost chocked on my smoke. Jesus, had I really just said that aloud?

  Claire smiled and her grip tightened. “I’m having a really good time, Handy. Whoever thought the Waffle House could be so romantic?”

  Romantic? I thought. Did I just hear that right? I turned and studied her breasts, then quickly looked up, realizing what I was doing. She was grinning at me. Her smile was coy and naughty at the same time.

  “Let’s go,” I said.

  We held hands all the way to the car, and I opened her door for her, slamming the rusted piece of shit once she was inside.

  I cranked the ignition, the car rattling like it was on its last legs, and then Claire’s small hand was on my thigh. I gulped and drove us to the Dollar Inn.

  She was yawning when we parked, her head pressed against the window.

  I started to get out and she grabbed my arm. “Maybe we can do something?”

  “Something?” I asked.

  “Maybe you can come back to my room?”

  I gulped. I literally froze. “Your room,” I whispered.

  “If you want to,” she said.

  Oh, more than anything. I would have loved nothing more than to carry her in my arms from my car to her door, kick it open and make love to her on the doublewide bed. But I couldn’t do it. Fear had me by the nuts. I’d been with women before. Many women in fact, but they were the kind you paid afterwards and none of them ever looked as beautiful. Claire was beautiful.

  “I—I can’t,” I said.

  “Oh,” she said, the happiness in her face crumbling.

  “I want to. I really do. It’s just that I’m tired right now. I’ve been working all night. Maybe—Maybe we can rearrange things. Maybe go out for dinner tonight, and then see what happens?”

  “Okay,” Claire said. The answer seemed to work, because she got out of the car and held on to me all the way inside the building. I leaned over and smelled coconut in her hair. She looked at me with her big beautiful eyes, leaned over and kissed me on the lips.

  Fireworks, man. It was like the first kiss I had ever received. It was blinding and stimulating and everything I always wanted in a kiss. You see these films where the couple kisses and the girl almost faints, right? Well, I was the girl and I was about to drop over.

  “What time tonight?” Claire asked, snapping me out of the daze.

  “7 p.m.?” I asked.

  “Don’t be late,” she said, smiling.

  I watched Claire as she walked to down the hall to the elevator. She turned around and blew me a kiss before the doors closed.

  Handy, you coward, I said to myself, you can’t back down tonight. You’ve got to close the deal.

  I walked back to the office behind the front desk to get my laptop to take home. Marcia, the morning clerk, grinned at me.

  “I saw that kiss,” she said. “Look at you, Handy, you can barely walk straight.”

  “Stop,” I said, grabbing the computer off the table.

  “You’re in love with that girl, aren’t you?” Marcia asked.

  “I don’t even know her,” I said.

  “So what? They say love is blind anyway. That girl has to be blind to kiss your ugly ass.”

  I laughed, not able to think of a witty comeback. “Good morning, Marcia, I’m heading to bed.”

  “Handy,” Marcia said.

  “Yeah?”

  “You must really like this girl. You didn’t say anything about my tits.”

  I shook my head, and it hit me then that I hadn’t even glanced at Marcia’s huge rack once. Normally it was the only thing I could look at. Maybe Marcia was right. Maybe I was falling hard for a complete stranger.

  I walked out of the office.

  “Hey, goddamnit!” a man said, slapping the bell on the counter. “I need some service.”

  “Yeah,” I said. “What you need, fellow, a room?”

  “You seen this girl?” he asked, putting a picture on the desk.

  I glanced at it and saw Claire staring back at me. She was bit younger but it was definitely Claire.

  “Never seen her,” I said.

  “You sure, kid?” the man said.

  “Yeah, I’m pretty fucking sure,” I replied.

  He put the picture away and grinned. He looked hideous when he grinned, like a skeleton with a crew cut. “Let me tell you something, cock sucker, Claire is my girl! You hear me?”

  “I never saw that girl,” I said.

  He was quick; I didn’t even see it coming. He leaned over, grabbed me by my shirt and pulled me over the counter, his free hand balling into a fist and slugging me in the jaw. It was a hard punch and sent me to the floor.

  He was around the coun
ter, kicking me, and I could do nothing but defend my body with my arms.

  “I saw you walking with her outside! Why are you lying to me, boy? What the fuck did she tell you? Huh? What the fuck did she tell you about me?”

  I could hardly breathe after one kick connected with my ribs. Blood was starting to get in my eyes. I was having a hard time seeing.

  “What’s going on!” Marcia screamed from somewhere behind me. “I’m calling the cops! I’m calling the cops!”

  The beast was off of me then, and I rolled over on my side. It hurt to move.

  “Let me tell you something, boy. Nobody fucks with Mal! You heard that? You tell that bitch Claire that she better meet me tonight right here or I will fucking kill you. Do you understand me?”

  I nodded my head.

  Mal leaned down and punched me in the face.

  #

  “Handy?” I felt something sharp across my face.

  “Handy?”

  I opened my eyes. Marcia stared down at me.

  I looked around, realized I was on the floor in her lap.

  “You okay, Handy?” Marcia asked.

  “Fine,” I said. “Where’s Mal?”

  “That piece of shit left after you passed out.”

  “How long have I been out for?”

  “Couple minutes.”

  The punch was coming back to me. The pain was also coming back to me. Talking hurt like a motherfucker. “Did you call the cops?” I asked.

  “Hell no,” Marcia said. “I’ve got an ounce of weed in my purse.”

  Chapter 4

  After I peeled myself out of Marcia’s lap I asked her if she could work until midnight for me and keep an eye out for snatch face. His little bit of facial hair reminded me of a snatch, and I was sure his breath smelled far worse. All I had to do was get some rest, get spruced up for my date, and not blow things, which seemed to be going great so far. I could not believe my luck. I would have liked to have had the whole night off, so I called a few of my boys who worked around the motel, and asked if they could cover for me. I struck out. Hell, if it came to it, I’d just lock the damn main doors and screw any walk-ins, but I was sure if I played my cards right I could get in and out…get it in and out…damn, I took out my note pad and wrote that shit down, needing to use that line in my next book.

  Before I got back to my place I went into the office and messed with the computer and checked Claire out of the room at the regular check out time and checked her in as a new guest. Ivana Humpalot was cool, but it didn’t sound too authentic so I went with something a little subtler. I went with Mona Lott. I thought it would stand up as a real name. So now there was no record of Claire. Instead, a Ms. Mona Lott had registered late last night. After that I sat on the lumpy couch in the back and thought about what I could do about that psycho boyfriend of hers and before you know it, I fell asleep. I slept for a few hours before my snoring woke me up. It scared the shit out of me to be honest. I tried to clear the cobwebs and then looked at my watch. It was half past five, shit, I had to meet the girl of my dreams at seven and I was still wearing the same clothes from breakfast…from last night if you want to get technical…but that wasn’t the point. I wiped the caked drool off my cheek and mouth and booked it to the Handy Estate.

  My place is a trailer, a singlewide piece of crap, but it suits my needs, and the lot fee is pretty reasonable, though I don’t know why I have to pay it, the owners don’t do shit unless you threaten not to pay the lot fee and all. Actually, I am the one the owner uses to fix things, but he never has me do anything preventive. I’m only required when something falls apart or explodes. So when he calls me I run and he knocks off a lot of the lot fee for me, so it’s kind of a cool “scratch my back and I scratch yours” kind of relationship. I bought the trailer outright some time ago for a few grand and come and go as I please. My neighbors are a few hundred feet away and no one is in my business, which I like, so I would take my singlewide over living in an apartment any day of the week.

  I probably should have left a change of clothes at the Dollar Inn for when a situation like this arises, but then again, it had never arisen before. All I knew was it was time for some heavy duty defunkifying, so as soon as I got inside I began undressing, leaving a trail of my boots, socks, clothes and drawers all the way towards the head. I figured since I was already ready to go, if you know what I mean, I would take myself a long cold shower. I usually like to spank the monkey once or twice but hell no, not this time, not when I was actually gonna use it later. I wanted to save all that good stuff up for Claire, but then again, hey, I did not want to come too fast and be an embarrassment or anything like that so I figured what the hell and turned the warm water on and soaped my hand up real good and got to work. Damn, I sure was worked up by Claire cause I sprayed my joy juice all over the damn soap dish, faster than it takes to cook some minute rice. I had to admit the release felt good but I was dog ass tired now, so I cleaned the spunk off my soap and finished washing off my body. Hell, that bar of soap went into places I don’t think I have ever washed before. I had to admit, standing in front of the mirror, I was a bit embarrassed about my appearance. I mean, not normally, but I knew I was probably gonna be buck ass naked in front of a goddess tonight and I didn’t exactly look like an extra from the set of 300. Nothing a tummy tuck and three generations in the gym couldn’t fix, but for now I was gonna be squeaky clean, freshly shaved, and smelling nice. I must have sprayed about half a bottle of Paco Rabanne on myself. I looked in the mirror, slicked back my hair and was good to go.

  Claire was chatting it up with Marcia when I got there, and I forgot to tell her not to mention that snatch face had shown up looking for her, but by the look on her face I could tell that she already had let the cat out of the bag. Claire saw me coming in and glided toward me, taking my face in her hands and kissing me on the nose. “My poor knight in shining armor. Did that bastard hurt you?”

  I smiled from ear to ear; just the faintest touch sent goose pimples all over me. “Well, I tried not to hurt him and well I guess I kind of slipped into his fist.”

  Marcia kind of rolled her eyes and went back to whatever it was she was doing which was nothing but listening to me and my woman make some small talk. We said goodnight and she reminded me in a subtle way that I was to relieve her at midnight.

  “Midnight, Handy, not a second later or I’ll be giving you your next ass whooping!”

  “Yes Ma’am!” I said, smiling, bowing rather dramatically in her direction. In another situation I would have loved for her to whoop my ass, but not tonight. Tonight I was gonna be in the arms of an angel. An angel with a huge rack of downy love pillows.

  In the car, Claire turned to me and put her hand on my lap. I hoped she didn’t feel my wood straining against my jeans, or, if she did, that she didn’t mind.

  “Handy, I am sorry you got involved with Mal. Maybe I should leave. I don’t want any trouble for you. Well, I don’t want any more trouble for you.”

  “Don’t worry your pretty little head about it darlin’, I already checked you out of the room and put a fake name in it. Tomorrow morning we are switching your room for you, so no one will be the wiser. Though I guess we got to be careful when you come and go, because the big douchebag said he saw you, but—“

  “I don’t think so. He would have banged on every door to find me. He’s probably hit up every hotel and motel on this highway looking for me.”

  “That’s what I was thinking. Hey, all this talking has gotten me thirsty. How about we get some drinks?”

  She laughed. “We haven’t talked all that much, Handy, but I could really use a beer.”

  “Say no more darlin.”

  Le Olde Pourhouse is a favorite of mine; it’s just the next town over. Well, two towns over from the motel, but there are only about three traffic lights and some dark ass roads to get there. Sometimes just driving down these roads around here can be scary. There aren’t many sources of light and wildlife tends to walk
right out into the road and bam! Dead Bambi. I’ve been pretty lucky, hit a possum once, and thought about picking it up and making some road kill casserole too. You would be surprised, it don’t taste all that bad. They got a cook off called something like the Road Kill Cook off, but they don’t actually scrape the poor sucker off the road, they cook things that can be road kill. I think I may check that out one day. I know I thought about it, but I never actually got out of my car to look. That’s just sick.

  So anyway, Le Olde Pourhouse isn’t fancy or anything. The music is loud, and the drinks are a little watered down, except for the beer. The food is good and cheap, so basically, it’s a great place to get a few brews and some decent burgers. They try to be fancy and offer dinner specials once in a while, like on Friday nights they have prime rib and fresh garlic mashed potatoes, but it tastes pretty nasty to be honest. I will say this: their nachos and burgers are the best, and that’s what I ordered when we sat at one of the few tables in the back. We had a pitcher of Natural Ice in front of us, and two mugs which I poured out for us, managing to not spill a drop of that special fluid.

  “So how did someone like you manage to hook up with such a dickwad like Mal?”

  She took a long drink, draining half the mug, and set it down. I went to top it off and she waved me off.

  “Good question. I suppose I can tell you that it’s complicated but then I would sound like a tired old Facebook status. Well, it is complicated, but you can really boil it down to just the bare facts. Long story short, I guess I wanted someone who would hurt me and treat me like shit. I mean, I was used to it, living at home and all with an abusive dick for a father and my mother, let’s not get started on this subject, Handy. It was not that pretty of a picture growing up, let me tell you, and I guess I got used to being mistreated and settled for it. Hell, I probably even looked for it too, you know? Like if Mal is yelling at me, or smacking me around, at least I am being paid attention to right? I know, fucked up isn’t it? But that’s what it boils down to, in a nutshell.”