by Marie James
I sort through the several shots I took of myself in the mirror with my mullet, tank top, and cut off shorts, trying to decide which one I want to post announcing my intentions of being Billy Ray Cyrus for Halloween. I think the one with the light reflecting off of my nipple rings works best. I post it alongside a picture of me with my Bane mask on from Dark Knight to see who the ladies think I should be. I mean I’m definitely going as Billy Ray, but I’m going to let them think they have a little involvement in my decision making.
I set my phone aside and shave what ends up being nearly my entire head. Well technically I do shave my head and my face as well. I can’t wait until I get out of the damn Navy so I can grow my shit however I want.
Thankful I’m able to access the twenty-four-hour gym at any time of the day I grab an AMP out of the fridge along with my lifting gloves off of the counter. I take a quick video of Dixie once again failing at playing fetch and head out. I post it along with my gym check in. The ride to the gym is entertaining, and I get stupid dancing and singing to Will Smith’s “Summertime.”
Pulling up to the front of the gym twenty minutes later, I see a woman crouched down trying to change her tire. Well, that shit ain’t gonna fly. I jump out of my truck and make my way over to her. My momma would whoop my ass from half way across America if I just walk by this woman and not offer to help her. When I get closer, I see the light at the front of the gym reflecting off of a streak of purple hair. My day just got ten times better.
I do what any man would do walking up to a woman bent over changing a tire. Since her back is to me and no one else is around, I let my eyes roam lower on her body. Her razor back tank top reveals a crown tattoo on her right shoulder, and the angle she’s bent at caused her shirt to ride up a bit giving a slight little hint of more ink on her lower back. Tramp stamps really aren’t my thing but with two full sleeves of tattoos, who am I to judge?
Glancing lower, I almost groan at the sight of her luscious, tight ass. Yoga pants are an amazing creation when they’re worn by the right person; this woman is definitely the right person. My cock agrees.
I stand behind her for a few seconds longer than would be considered gentlemanly by most people’s standards before I decide to speak up. “You need a hand there?”
She gasps and nearly falls over at the first sound of my voice. She turns in my direction still with the tire iron in her hand and for some reason it causes a chill to run up my spine; for a split second a sense of foreboding washes over me.
Then the sight of her flushed cheeks and wide eyes causes me to smirk, and every ounce of my momentary pussification fades away. She’s adorable with a small smear of grease on her cheek. Resisting the urge to reach out and wipe it off, I cut my head around her and look at her flat tire while she just stands there silently and unresponsive.
“Want me to change your tire, darlin’?” I prompt again.
“Oh,” she gasps finally snapping out of her trance. “Please? I mean you don’t have to, but I can’t seem to get these nuts off.”
Do not express to her just how easy it would be for her to get your nuts off and just help the woman change the tire. Maybe she’ll be grateful enough to give you her number when you’re done.
“It’s no big deal. I have these guys to help me out.” Did I really just flex my fucking muscles at her? Get your shit together Hosea and change the damn tire.
She laughs quietly at my ridiculous antics and steps aside handing over the tire iron. It only takes about ten minutes, and I have the spare on her car. I tried to find the nail or a cut on the tire for her but the lighting is terrible, and I couldn’t find the damage. I load the flat tire in the trunk of her car and close it softly.
“All done,” I say as I wipe my hands on my sweats grateful to be wearing the black ones.
“Thank you,” she says timidly toeing at something I can’t see on the concrete in front of her. “You were the first one to offer to help, even though about six or seven other guys walked past.”
Are you fucking kidding me? All these hulked out bastards coming in and out of this damn gym and not one of those jerks offered to help a beautiful woman change a tire? Insane.
“Well,” I say plucking her phone gently from her hands. “If you ever need any help, you just give me a call or shoot me a text. If I can’t help you, I’ll send someone who can.”
Not how I saw this panning out but, at least, she’ll have my number. My guess is I’ll never hear from her again, considering her level of shyness, but the chances are good that I’ll run into her at the gym again.
She takes her phone back from me and stares down at it like it will tell her what to say next.
“You coming?” I ask taking a step closer to the front door of the gym. I can’t help but to grin wide at how dirty that sounded.
“Ah,” she looks around frantically like she was here for something else and just remembered that fact. “No, ummm. I already worked out.”
She doesn’t look like a train wreck which is how I appear when I’m done inside, but not everyone brings the intensity I do to my workouts.
“Okay. Well, see ya around I guess.” I wink at her and walk into the gym before I say or do something stupid enough to make her never want to show up here again.
Chapter 8
Leia
He gave me his number!
I’m bouncing in my seat like a maniac as I sit in the parking lot at his apartment, giddy with excitement. I drove off in my car after he went to the gym but held back across the street until he was done. I almost texted him as a distraction when I saw him pick up a bottle of water that another woman in the gym blatantly dropped right in front of him. I mean do it with a little flare woman!
My ‘flat tire’ was much more creative than the ‘dropped water bottle’ bullshit she just used. I sat down the block for three hours until he posted that he was hitting the gym. That gave me enough time to get to the gym and deflate my tire before he showed up. I had a handful of guys offer to help me change it, but I was adamant that I could get it on my own. There was only one man I wanted to touch my flat, and I knew he’d never be able to turn down a woman in distress.
My playtime in the basement with Danny has somehow made me bolder. Leia from last week would have never been able to do what I pulled off this evening. I smile when I think back to the hour Luke gave Danny to me.
“You like this?” I strike out with the riding crop and hit him on his back.
He hisses and whimpers, but he can’t deny he wants what he’s getting. His previously softening cock twitches and thickens every time I strike him. Well, almost every time. I hit the soft skin on the underside of his arm a little too hard a moment ago, and his reaction tells me he didn’t enjoy it. I did it again.
I’ve discovered I love how whelp marks look on a naked man. I can’t wait to string Matthew up and watch him get hard from this riding crop.
I close my eyes briefly and picture myself in the basement with him. I let my mind’s eye focus on what it would feel like, look like, and sound like if it were Matthew strung up in here rather than Danny. The difference would be vast. Matthew is bulky and thick, whereas Danny boy here is lanky and thin. What I don’t replace of this whole scenario is the thick cock jutting out from Danny’s hips. My mouth waters at the sight of it; my tongue wants to reach out and trace every pulsing vein of the exposed shaft.
I roll the crop around the tip and smile when a moan coalesces with the glistening of his tip. He does enjoy this. Feeling generous, I drop the crop to the ground and circle around him, trailing my finger over some of the more visible red marks on his body, some have even started to bleed. Instead of shying away from my touch he leans in closer, loving the way my fingers abrade his injured skin.
“You pain whore. You’re getting off on this.” His dick twitches his affirmative answer. He couldn’t deny it if he wanted to.
I grip his erection in a tight fist, and I’ll be damned if he doesn’t flex his hips back and fo
rth trying to shift his cock deeper into my grip. I release him and smack his stomach hard with the back of my hand.
“Be still, Danny,” I chastise him. “You may actually enjoy this.”
He tenses when he hears me moving the items around on the table. I look back at him and see a bead of sweat roll down the center of his chest. The path meandering rather than running in a straight line, forced to change direction each time it hits a raised red mark I left on his skin. The sight is incredible.
I retrieve what I’m looking for from the table and walk up to Danny, tugging the fabric gag out of his mouth.
“Please,” he begs.
“Please, what?” I taunt waiting for him to ask to be released as I drag my hand down his stomach and grip his dick.
“Please make me come, Mistress.” Not at all what I thought he was going to say.
I smile at the nickname, loving the sound of it; wondering how it will sound coming out of my pet’s mouth.
“Suck on this,” I command and shove a large, rubber butt plug into his mouth. He opens wide and sucks on it like a reward has been given.
I know Matthew is going to love being in here with me. I just know he’s going to be as big a pain whore as Danny is. You wouldn’t join the Navy unless you were a masochist of some kind, right? If you were a pussy, you’d sign on to the Air Force.
Luke came back into the basement just as I worked that plug inside of Danny, ruining my fun. He offered to let me stick around and watch. Call me crazy but watching my brother fuck some dude is not really my thing. Instead, I went upstairs and masturbated to images I conjured of the things I plan to do with Matthew when I get him down there. The anticipation is killing me.
I was so excited to set the plan in motion; that’s what landed me where I was tonight. My plan was to hit him over the head with the tire iron, drag him into my car and get him to the house. Obviously, I didn’t think my whole plan through when I didn’t work into the equation that he would need the damn tire iron to change the flipping tire.
Now that I’ve done that I have to get even more creative with my abduction plan. I realize now, texting him wouldn’t be wise because he’s active military so they may check his phone records when he goes missing. Glad I thought of that. My fun with him could have been over before it really even got started.
I watch him leave his apartment with little Dixie leading the way. As per usual he has his phone under his nose as she leads him around. He loves that ugly little thing. I don’t really like dogs, but I can learn to love her since we will be together. Relationships are about give and take. It’s the least I can do, but she better not try to hog all of his attention or I’ll snap her little neck and make it look like an accident. I smile at the idea of him seeking comfort from me in his grief if she dies.
I roll my window down an inch when I hear someone yelling, and I see his face wrinkle up in complete annoyance. I cut my eyes to the balcony of an apartment in the building across from his.
“Hey, baby! Why don’t you come take care of my kitty when you’re done walking your dog?”
Who the hell is that? Is she talking to my Matt? I angle my head down closer to my steering wheel and see a very unkempt middle-aged woman hanging over the edge of her balcony. He doesn’t engage her but rather ducks his head down and walks faster to get away from her suggestive rants. Satisfied that he’s out of earshot she sits back down and takes a long drag on her cigarette, the puff of smoke climbing all around her like a sinister demon.
Well, that shit just won’t work. I wait until he is safely back into his apartment before I crank up my car and head to the closest Wal-Mart. I have a new focus this evening, and I’m going to need supplies.
Chapter 9
Matthew
Checking notifications before taking Dixie for a walk, I see that once again “Princess” has been the first to comment on my costume choice. Now that I look at the picture, it really does look like Joe Dirt. I don’t respond because she obviously can’t tell the different between Tennessee royalty and hillbillies. Last time I called someone out on some bullshit online, my notifications dropped. I’m building my empire, and I don’t want any negativity out there associated with me.
It’s hard as hell not putting some of these morons on blast, especially the jerks who think I Photoshop my abdominals. What the fuck ever. That’s just about as ignorant as the fuckers who think I use steroids.
My inbox has five different women linking up a profile on fetlife asking if it’s really me; begging me to take a look at their profile. I do, if only for propriety to check the quality of the phishing done on my behalf. One profile claimed I was a SWAT officer. I mean much respect to those guys, but no. Not me. I spend ten minutes emailing the online fetish websites listed email address asking they remove the profile, citing that they are fake, and I’m in fact not looking for, what one profile claimed, ‘getting tied up to a tree, dripped in honey, and getting sucked off while ants bite my skin.’ Props to those who are down with that; just seems a little messy to me.
I groan, climbing out of bed and make my way to the restroom. I close the door against Dixie’s prying eyes and handle my business, anticipating the arrival of the package Amazon emailed and said would arrive tomorrow by noon.
Dressed and armed with my phone and a bottle of water I leash Dixie up, and we head outside. I step out of my front door and into pure chaos. Flashing lights from several police cruisers are raging in the parking lot and more than a dozen officers, some in uniforms and some in plain clothes, are milling around everywhere doing various jobs.
I spot one of the detectives I interacted on a case with when a drug raid led officers to a couple local soldiers.
“Hey Sam,” I raise my hand over my head to get his attention. He sees me and nods, making his way toward me.
“Hey, Hosea.” He stops and jots something down in his little notebook.
“What the fuck is going on?” I can’t make sense of the chaos. If this were a military operation shit wouldn’t look like this.
“Murder,” he says and points to an apartment across from mine on the second floor. The nasty lady that always yells obscene shit at me when I walk by. Wish I could say it bothered me.
“Really?” I say in disbelief, because honestly, shit like that doesn’t happen around here.
“Cut to fucking pieces. The guy below her called the police because her blood was dripping into his apartment from the ceiling.” He explains without emotion, hardened to this kind of shit apparently.
“No shit?” I look in the direction of the apartment in question.
“Weirdest part of it all? She had a bar of soap shoved in her mouth.” He holds his hand up when another officer calls to him. “I gotta go, man.”
“Yeah, dude. See ya around.” I walk to the other side of the complex wondering why someone would chop up an old lady and shove soap down her throat. Crazy ass people in this world.
“I think this may be the first time you’ve strutted through that door without a smile on your face. What gives, Hosea? Has Sasha been delayed in the mail?” I cut my eyes at Manny as he gives me shit the second I walk into the shop.
“Hardly,” I answer, grinning for the first time since I left the apartment complex. “You know that lady I told you about?”
“The hot soccer mom who Jills off to you when you walk the dog?” He’s nodding his head frantically; clearly he pays way more attention than I usually give him credit for.
“Not her, the other one. The lady who yells inappropriate shit every time she sees me?”
He narrows his eyes like he can’t remember. Leave it to him to recall the good looking one but not the one who actually causes me grief.
“The one who always tells me to make her kitty purr?” I raise my eyebrows at him. I’ve only mentioned the damn soccer mom once, and we’ve had numerous conversations about the hag in apartment 2310. “The nasty woman who begged me to feed her kitty my cheese roll?”
His eyes ligh
t up in recognition. “Yeah. What did that nasty bitch say today?”
“The police found her murdered today” I inform him.
He cocks his head to the side confused once again. “Someone murdered her pussy?”
I sigh in frustration. “No, dumbfuck. Someone killed her. And worse yet, they stuffed a bar of soap down her throat.”
“Really?” He laughs, which isn’t surprising. He always laughs at the most inappropriate times. “Soap?”
“Yeah, cops can’t seem to figure out why the murderer did that.”
I walk away to put my lunch cooler behind the counter.
“Probably to help clean out that nasty mouth of hers.” He says and walks to greet a customer who just walked in.
Chapter 10
Leia
I am repeatedly amazed at how much blood the human body actually holds. I pat myself on the back for remembering to line my car seat with plastic before I went and took care of that foul-mouth woman. I thought the soap in the mouth was an ingenious touch. Matthew is too nice for his own good and should never let that woman speak to him that way. I add that to my list of things to teach him once we’re together. He should have more respect for himself. He’ll learn one way or another.
Speaking of no self-respect, I can’t believe he continues to allow certain women on his page to make some of the most obscene comments on his posts. I hope he messages them privately to tell them to stop, but I guess he doesn’t since they repeat the filth on every single post.
I look at myself in the bathroom mirror as I scrub the last of the blood from under my fingernails. I have no clue what to dress as for Halloween, but it has to be something that will match Matthew’s Billy Ray Cyrus costume. I’m hoping to run into him at his party and if we match it will be a great conversation starter. I sent him a message from my ‘Princess’ account, but it went unanswered. I don’t know why he responds and interacts more with certain people in the group, but it’s seriously starting to piss me off. It’s another thing we will need to discuss once he’s here. I can’t have him embarrassing me by flirting with other women. He’ll need to understand my position on monogamy, or we’ll have some serious issues to deal with.
