by A. C. Bextor
“What’s your name?” Bitch can’t be serious about this. I’m not into introductions.
“Don’t have a name I would give you, so don’t ask again.”
I’ve always had manners when it came to women, so it strikes me as unusual that I am talking to her this way without a second thought. The way I see it, though, she’s using me and I’m using her. We’re both trash. We’re just made from different piles of shit.
“Pull in here, cowboy.”
Now the bitch is pissin’ me off. Telling her once with words wasn’t enough to rattle that rich and stuck up brain of hers. She needs to know I won’t take well to a third offense at calling me that. I fuckin’ hate cowboys.
After I put the car in park, I look around the abandoned parking lot. The water tower ahead of us is painted blue with the town’s name scrolled across it. Can’t say I’ve ever been this close to one before, and now that I have, I can’t say I give a shit to be close to one again.
I shift my body so I’m leaning into her and she backs off as fear clouds her face. Grabbing her hair and bringing her face to mine I set my warning. “Bitch, told you once I’m not a cowboy. If I have to say it a-fuckin’-gain, you’re going to be lonely this afternoon and something tells me a girl like you doesn’t like to be lonely.” I sneer at her as the sarcasm of my words sink into her thoughtless brain.
“Asshole.” She throws herself out of my hold. I’ve pissed her off, which is fine, she means nothing to me.
Ignoring her attempts to hurt my feelings with the name calling I ask her. “You got a condom?” I’m a virgin, not an idiot.
This isn’t her first fuckin’ rodeo. I’m guessing every ‘cowboy’ she deems worthy has had a shot at her. I like my dick, though, and have plenty of plans for its future so I want to keep it in fine working order.
She opens the glove box and I’m surprised to see an arsenal of sexual condiments. Scarves, cuffs, blindfolds, condoms, and lube. You name it, she’s got it. She’s not your typical whore, she’s worse. She’s a whore in a rich man’s ride with a taste for filth.
Taking the condom packet out, she proceeds to open it with her teeth. Once she’s finished she hands it to me and nods for me to put it on myself. The car is small and tight, no idea how I’m going to maneuver this, but three hundred bucks will feed me for weeks so I’m going to make it work.
Lifting her tight skirt to her waist, she crawls over the console and onto me, her back leaning against the steering wheel. She doesn’t give me a chance to adjust myself in the seat before her body falls onto mine, violently pushing me into her.
I feel her inside. She’s warm and slick. I close my eyes and revel in the texture of her body as she shifts her hips back and forth and up and down on my cock. I don’t have to move at all. I just sit in my place and watch her get herself off.
Knowing I’m a virgin and this sensation won’t last, I don’t spend too much time caring about what she thinks of my sex skills. She’s done this before, and I don’t know when I will ever get the chance again - so fuck her.
My hands make their way to her fancy dress shirt. I start to unbutton it so I can get a look at her tits, but before I can get the first button loose she stills above me and slaps my face - hard.
“The fuck was that for, bitch?” Other than my mother, no woman has ever hit me like that.
She sneers; she’s pissed off. “Don’t fuckin’ touch me. Your hands don’t get to touch me.”
I’m briefly taken back, finding she’s not only a kinky whore, but she’s also fuckin’ crazy. I ignore her bitchy mouth and let her continue her movements. My hands remain idle at my sides.
I can smell her arousal in the small confines of the car. The sounds of her ragged breath are the only noise she’s making, and other than my exhaling grunts when she slams her body back down on mine repeatedly, we are quiet.
After a few minutes of enjoying the feel of her, she freezes on top of me. She clutches my shoulders and squeezes my cock that’s buried to the hilt inside her. I feel the warm gush of fluid she drops on the condom as she moans her release in my ear. Her face is flush and I can see as she opens her eyes that she looks completely satisfied.
I don’t have time to pat myself on the back before this bitch hops off and starts giving me instruction. “You can get out or I can give you a ride back to the gas station, but I’m not driving your ass anywhere else, so choose which you’d prefer.”
What the fuck?
I look down to my cock, still straight and hard, her juices painting the condom, root to tip. I get where this is going. I’m paid so it’s alright that only she gets off.
Fuck that and fuck her.
I remove the condom; tossing it outside the window. I send her a quick look and see she’s amused with herself that I’m doing as I was told. I may be a good male whore, but this rich bitch is in for a surprise.
My hands make their way back to my cock and I start to stroke it while thinking of her ridin’ it hard only minutes ago. Fuck, I don’t even care that I still have an audience in the car. My first time will not be an event that I remember not getting off on.
I pay so much attention to my flesh and my own touch I’ve missed what she’s doing right now.
She mumbles hungrily in my direction. “God, you’re a beautiful boy.”
I hear her before I see her. When I open my eyes, I note her face is red and she’s touching her full breasts after she’s already unbuttoned her shirt. Fire engine red fuckin’ bra, go figure.
She-devil.
I reach for the back of her head as she winces behind her eyes, and using a forceful tone I pull her head towards me and instruct her. “Suck it.”
I know I’m reaching with this request, but I have nothing to lose. Her brown eyes meet mine and although the shock of my request has brought her out of her lust momentarily, she takes to my instruction like a champ. She bends her head into me, so I grip her soft dark hair pushing her face into my lap with mild force.
It doesn’t take but about thirty seconds for her wet, hot, and tight mouth to send me into my first orgasm witnessed by another person.
Fuckin’ awesome. I know I could get addicted to this.
When she’s done, she sits up, licks the rest of my fluid from her lip with her tongue, and smiles. She gets into her purse and hands me five one hundred dollar bills.
The bitch is sated and I can’t tell if her overpayment is intentional or not, but I do not fuckin’ care. I pocket the cash and get out of the car. She comes around to my side, gets in, starts it, and drives away; never once making eye contact with me again.
Fuck, women are just as evil as men. They’re just better at labeling us for our crude behavior.
I stand there looking up at the tower thinking about what to do next. It wouldn’t be smart to walk around town with this cash. Also wouldn’t be smart to blow it on a hotel for sleep.
I smile after a few seconds realizing that rich bitch never even kissed me.
~~~~~
After my intimate exchange with a complete stranger, I realized how much I needed to be around something familiar - home. It was at that moment I decided I was going to find Patrick and Lynda. As I started to walk the road leading out of that parking lot, I began a discussion with God – man to maker. I’ve never prayed so sincerely before that day, but if he were available, I needed his help more than ever.
I can’t help but laugh at myself after reliving this memory. I’ve met many women just like that throughout the years. Most of them really are just bored housewives looking to fill their time before getting back to their abusive or negligent husbands that have left them feeling alone and afraid of facing a life filled with nothing.
Realizing I never really thought about her as a person, just more of an experience or event in my life I won’t forget, I feel a moment of sadness for her nameless face. We’re all anonymous faces at some point in our lives, but some of us stay that way longer than we had intended.
Chapter Se
ven
“A craving for freedom and independence is generated only in a man still living on hope.”
-Albert Camus
It wasn’t as if I had a phone to reach out to Hem while I was gone those few desolate years. Even if I had one, I wouldn’t have ever initiated contact. I had no news to offer other than my sad and lonely life as a kid whose parents ignored, used, and beat him on occasion. If I had called and shared the story of my days with Hem and Lynda, it would have only tainted the love they had for me. At least that’s what I believed at the time. For their sake, I had to let them go.
The day after I arrived back here and found myself walking aimlessly around town, I knew I needed to reach out to them. Being lonely, scared, and poor had already started to make me nervous and it had only been not even thirty six hours.
I had no idea if they were still living there since it had been four almost five years. Eventually, people move and their lives continue.
I’ve driven this stretch of road many times over the last twenty odd years. I considered this place my home, on and off, for almost three of those years. Lynda took me in without asking questions or demanding answers of where I had been, and what took place around me while I was gone. All I had to do was knock on the door.
Parking my truck at the curb, I get out and get a good look around the house. The house has been painted; the flower bed that Warren had made is gone, and the front door has been replaced. The porch decorations almost make it unrecognizable. That front porch was where I first met a small, screaming, snotty nose Mace Cash. Not long after, Sadey came up behind her, as ever, making her grand entrance.
~~~~~
Fuck, I’m nervous. On one hand, I’m happy to be here and see they’re still here. Patrick’s house is the same as it always was. Flowers are flourishing. It’s mid-summer, so they are full of color and bloom, and when the wind blows I catch their scent. The color of the shutters are the same, but the house looks newly painted. Lynda’s car sits in the driveway; it’s the same car I helped her unlock during our first introduction.
Making my way up to the front door, I can hear screaming from inside. It’s the kind of screaming you would hear at a birthday party filled with excited kids, but this sounds like only one or two crumb snatchers and they … are … loud.
Before knocking, I hear Patrick’s voice bellow in the background. “Are you fuckin’ kidding me right now, Sadey girl? What the fuck have you done? He’s a fuckin’ dog, damn it. He’s not your doll. Take it off of him, I won’t ask you again!”
Who the fuck is Sadey? It dawns on me that she must be his kid sister. My guess is she would be at least four or five years old by now.
“Patrick, stop. I’m telling!” She re-groups, this time her voice is even louder than it was. “Mrs. Caaaaash, Patrick is taking the scarf off Scotch, and it needs to be there. Scotch is my customer at the store, so he has to be dressed. You can’t walk into a store naked; other customer’s won’t like it. Tell him to stop taking off Scotch’s clooooothes!”
Nope, not his sister unless Patrick calls her Mrs. Cash now, too. Good to see that Patrick is still exasperating those that love him. Some things don’t change.
I knock twice, putting more knuckle into it than I normally would, to ensure those inside can hear me. I wait and get nothing. I knock again. I can still hear the screeching of that child in the background.
Holy hell, as stressed as I am about all the changes around me, I’m unsure I can handle all this plus an annoying child. Damn it to hell, I hope it’s just one kid making all that racket.
Just then I hear, but don’t see, slight footsteps stomping behind the door. I stiffen my body and straighten my shoulders bracing for whatever reaction I may get. They could be pissed I haven’t kept in touch, or they could be ecstatic to see me. I’m praying for the latter.
As the door opens, I don’t see anyone I expect to see. As I’m looking up, eye level, I find no one. It’s the sweet voice below the door’s window that immediately catches my attention.
“Hi. Are you a stranger?” I see a skeptical look coming from this very tiny person. She keeps her hand pressed to the door handle, as if her protected effort would be to slam the door in my face.
She’s small. Her eyes are round and dark brown with long lashes that outline their almond shape. Her hair is a soft brown; similar to Patrick’s. She’s not too tiny in frame, but she’s short. She looks healthy, and she’s wearing a shit eating grin that tells me already she’s an ornery little shit.
Since I’m so shocked at the sight of her, I don’t answer her fast enough. We’ve never met. This has to be Patrick’s little sister. Fuck, she’s cute, but all kids are cute when they’re still, and she’s still right now waiting for me to answer to the question I’ve already forgotten.
She turns from me to yell back into the house. “Mooooooom, there’s a stranger at the door.”
I’m shifting on my feet. I can’t let these nerves go until I see a familiar face. I start to curse to myself quietly and under my breath, but the little monster in front of me calls me out on it as her eyes widen in shock.
“You shouldn’t say bad words. My mom says that if you get caught saying bad words your mouth will grow shut and then you can’t eat or drink or talk or brush your teeth, and you have to walk around wanting to talk, but you can’t because your mouth grew closed because you said ‘fuck’, like you just did. Soooo, I’m thinking you don’t want to use bad words. Not just ‘fuck’ either. You shouldn’t say ‘damn’ or ‘shit’ either because they’re bad words too, my mom says so.”
Holy shit, she just said that in one breath, and without flinching dropped the ‘F’ bomb, as well. Yeah, definitely, this ornery one has to be Patrick’s kid sister.
“Is your mom home?”
“Yep.”
“Is Patrick home?”
“Yepppp.”
I am losing patience with the back and forth banter that apparently, even at her young age, she enjoys. “Can you please just go and get one of them for me?”
She grins at me. This little monster has the sweetest smile. The honesty in her eyes is familiar, and it mirrors that of her mother. A shiver runs down my back knowing I’m this close to this being ‘home’. If only this little nuisance would hurry up and do what I’m nicely askin’ her to do.
Putting her small hand on her hip and looking at me in challenge, she answers me with another question. “Why you want me to get Patrick? He’s grounded, ya know. He’s always grounded, but this time he’s grounded for a looooong time.” She starts to giggle with her own memory of whatever my buddy did to get himself in trouble this time.
Just as I’m about to ask the little heathen to shut up and go get Lynda for me, another child, same size and shape, comes bouncing behind monster number one. Monster number two is equally as cute, but just as fuckin’ loud.
Christ.
“Mace, you’re gonna get in trouble. You aren’t supposed to open the door to strangers. Patrick is gonna be really mad at you again.” With that proclamation, monster number two slams the door in my face.
Are you fucking shitting me right now?
Jesus, if I ever need a guard at my door I’m relieved to know I can get cheap labor in the form of two children, girls of course. The perpetrators would just give up and walk away after meeting these crazies.
About now, though, is when I really start losing patience. I ring the doorbell this time and follow it up with another heavy knock. I can hear the girls laughing behind the door and like music to my fuckin’ ears I hear and see Lynda walking towards the door through its window.
Continuing her quick pace, she scoots the monsters out from under her feet, and then she opens the door and grabs me in her arms without any hesitation. The thought of what I’m capable of now that I’m older hasn’t crossed her mind in the least. She hasn’t seen me in years, but feeling her body wrapped around mine I breathe easily and smile into her shoulder. I’m much taller than her and my large arms
wrap around her body with ease.
This is home.
“Neil Carrick. I never thought…”
“I know.” She didn’t believe her own words back then, neither did I. We never thought we would see each other again.
“You’re so big. You grew up. You must be…”
“Seventeen, Ma’am.”
“Lynda, call me Lynda. Don’t call me ma’am. Two kids, busy husband, and gray hair are enough to tell me I’m aging. Please don’t add to the horror.”
I push her away from my body a little bit so I can get a better look at her. She hasn’t changed much. A few gray hairs, a few wrinkles, but damn the woman is still hot. I shudder a bit thinking about what happened at the water tower. Shit, I bet Lynda isn’t much older than her.
Fuckin’ hell.
“Alright.” I smile at her while her eyes linger on my face a bit longer than I’m comfortable with. She’s reading me. She’s looking into me, searching and assessing the damages I’ve consumed while being away. If she looks long enough she won’t like what she finds, and it will kill me to have to explain things that I want to just leave behind and buried in my past.
“Where are your mom and dad? Are they here?” With fear in her eyes, she takes a quick look around outside. She’s checking to see if I’m alone or if I’ve brought unwanted guests.
“No. I left. I’m alone. I took a bus…”
She doesn’t want to hear it. She cuts me off as I try to tell her how I got to be here. “No, honey, you’re most certainly not alone. Come in, Patrick is in his room. Let me make you a sandwich, and you can meet Sadey and Mace.”
Ahhh. Sadey and Mace. The monsters have names. Suppose it’s better for me to refer to them with those names rather than “Annoying” and “Exasperating.” I like my nicknames better being that they’re more accurate descriptions, but whatever.
She takes my hand and leads me into the house. It smells of home and looks even more inviting than it ever did. Toys are scattered about. A new golden puppy is chasing my new friend Mace around with fervor, only because she’s baiting him with what looks to be a wet, soggy, half eaten graham cracker, and he wants a bite. The curtains are open, and the sun pours in through the blinds.
