7 comments/ 24683 views/ 9 favorites You are Served By: radk To the reader: I wasn't sure where to put this story but since it involves a little consensual sex Erotic Couplings seemed to be the best fit. Remember, this is just a work of fiction. I hope you enjoy it. Thanks to jo for the great editing, as usual, and for all the helpful suggestions. Copyright 2012 by the author ******** Everybody has a love-hate relationship with their jobs at some point. If you don't believe me then ask yourself how you feel about going to work on Monday morning after a three-day weekend. And I will admit that mine is no different. Most days I love what I do but there are days that I wished I had stayed in bed. I love my job when I can deliver someone news that changes their lives. I hate my job when someone puts a gun in my face and threatens to kill me. You see I'm a process server. Hopefully not too many of you have met me or someone like me. I'm the guy that goes up to people at the worst time of their lives and asks their name and then hands them an envelope saying "you are served." I'm the guy that serves divorce papers on people. It's not a glamorous job, and it certainly doesn't pay much, but there's never a dull moment. Let me tell you a little bit about what I do. The company I work for works in conjunction with the county courts and most of the law firms in the area to deliver legal documents to people. I know it sounds like I'm a glorified courier but sometimes it entails more than just handing someone a document and turning tail and running away: Sometimes it takes guile and guts to do what I do. Since I'm the low man on the corporate totem pole, and the youngest at 26, I get to handle the less glamorous deliveries; I get to serve the divorce notices. I do this because they turn out to be least dangerous of what we do, well most of the time at least. In our county there are several ways that the courts deliver divorce papers: Certified mail with return receipt, the county sheriff, a private process server, or via a friend. Most deliveries take place by certified mail I guess because there are a lot of 'irreconcilable differences' divorces these days. The county sheriff gets involved on request of the person filing or the courts usually because violence by the recipient is anticipated. Friends can deliver the papers and usually it is one spouse taking the papers to the other: These are the more amicable divorces or where someone is too cheap to pay to have them delivered. The ones our company gets are usually where the filing spouse wants to surprise the other or where they just can't face them. We can deliver at any time just about anywhere and a lot of our deliveries are those where the recipient has no clue what's about to happen. I show up at their home or work or at a social function and do my thing. I call those the 'blind-sided deliveries.' Once in a while we have to find the recipient because they've moved without leaving a forwarding address and a few times a year we have to stake out the residence or workplace because they're avoiding the inevitable. I call those the 'runners.' In the four years I've been doing this only one person ever successfully eluded me. That person turned up in Canada using an assumed name. Eventually he was served by a Royal Canadian Mounted Police official. You can run but you can't hide, thanks to the internet. Over the years I've accumulated a number of stories about my work, some are appropriate for telling to friends at parties or at the local watering hole, but most I'd rather keep to myself. There are two that if I ever told anybody I'd be in a world of trouble. Let me tell you about a typical delivery before I get into the ones I've never told anybody. Last week I had two deliveries to make, both in the category of blind-sided deliveries and both affected me deeply, each in a different way. The first was for a well known woman in our community. The husband requested that we serve the papers during an evening awards ceremony where the wife was receiving the Woman of the Year award from the local Jaycees. It was an invitation only affair so I dressed as a waiter and blended in with the staff, I even served drinks to several tables while I waited. The husband requested that I serve his soon to be ex-wife while she was making her acceptance speech. I thought that was a bit of dirty pool but I don't get paid to think. During her introduction there was a photo montage of her accomplishments on the video screen over the podium complete with a number of family photos showing her with her husband and two children. The announcer must have said a dozen times how wonderful of a mother and wife this woman was. Little did he or anybody else know what she did in her spare time. Let me say that I never make a delivery without reviewing the paperwork inside ahead of time. I read everything to make sure I have the correct person and check any other pertinent information that might make my job easier. Sometimes I chuckle at what's going to happen and sometimes I feel bad being the bearer of bad news. Most times there isn't enough information to make a judgment about what this person did or didn't do. In the case of this fine upstanding pillar of our community I knew exactly what she did. Her husband had included a number of extremely graphic 8" X 10" photos with the papers. They showed her on a bed with a man and a woman doing things I've only seen in adult movies. Picture after picture showed the three of them fucking, sucking, kissing, licking, and filling each other's holes with fingers, tongues, cocks, and a number of inanimate objects. The man wasn't her husband; I know I've seen the two of them in the newspapers a number of times. He was a local councilman. The woman was the recipient's sister. I just chuckled looking at the pictures, after rearranging the contents of my pants because as I said the pictures were very explicit. Anyway, the awards ceremony was to be the highlight of a long career for this woman and I was about to ruin it, big time. After her introduction she started to speak. I put down my tray of glasses and straightened my white waiter's jacket and calmly walked to the front of the room. I stood five feet in front of the podium looking up at her. She looked down at me for a moment confused as to why a waiter was standing there. I didn't say a word until she stopped and gave me an evil look. "What do you want?" She said in an angry tone with her hand over the microphone. "Are you Elizabeth Hanson?" I asked calmly. She looked down at me like I was some kind of an idiot. "Of course I am. Who do you think all of this is for?" she said sweeping her arm from one side of the room to the other to present the throng of adoring fans seated before her. I took a large manila envelope from my waiter's jacket and held it up to her. She looked at me like I was a nut again but I just stood my ground. About that time two very large men came up behind me and stood there with one hand on each of my shoulders. The woman's curiosity must have gotten the better of her because she reached down and took the envelope. When she did I said simply, and in a somewhat loud voice, "Madam, you are served." I turned and smiled at the two large men behind me and walked between them toward the exit glancing over my shoulder as I went. The crowd was murmuring and talking and pointing at me like I had three heads as I walked past them. Before I got to the door I heard a scream and turned to look. On the stage the woman I just served was kneeling with her hands over her mouth and looking up in horror at the screen over the podium. The slideshow on the screen were the pictures that I saw in the envelope. I don't know how he arranged it but it looks like her husband just outed her in front of everybody who was anybody. I left chuckling with a giant smile on my face. I read in the paper the next day about the 'eventful Jaycee awards dinner' of the previous night. The woman who I served had her picture at the top of the article about her affair with one of the county councilmen and her sister and her pending divorce. There were none of the explicit pictures of course but it did say that the Jaycees took back their Woman of the Year award. This is one instance where I really loved my job. Before I tell you about the second delivery I made I want to say that I believe in the sanctity of marriage and that any spouse who cheats on the other deserves every nasty, vile thing hurled their way. I don't care if the husband was banging his secretary at work or if the wife was still seeing an old boyfriend from college, cheating of any sort is just wrong. A completely black and white attitude I know but that's how my parents raised me and that's how I feel. And I'm all for retribution. I'm not sure I believe in revenge where one party is physically hurt or where it affects children, but publishing the offending spouse's exploits on the front page of the local newspaper is okay with me. My father always said, "Don't do anything unless you're willing to have pictures of it on the front page of the Washington Post." The second delivery was completely the opposite of the first. I reviewed the paperwork as usual before leaving the office but couldn't tell anything about the woman I was serving or the circumstances of the divorce. I was going in blind but better than half of my work is that way. I'm a professional and I'll just do my job and back away slowly afterwards. I remember serving a woman at her office on my first day on the job and I turned to leave when a stapler came whizzing by my ear. I turned and looked back and she was ready to throw a phone at me when I took a left down an aisle and quickened my pace out of the building. Since it was my first day I had another process server watching me and mentoring me during that time. He told me, while he was rolling on the floor laughing, that I had just learned lesson number one, never turn your back on someone you just served. To this day I always back away afterwards or at least look over my shoulder while I'm running. Sorry, I got a little off track there. Anyway, the second delivery was at a house in the quiet suburbs for a woman named Lucille. It was your average suburban home; white picket fence, kid's toys in the yard, beat up old car in the driveway, the usual stuff. I knocked on the screen door and a young woman came up with a toddler on one hip and her hair in curlers. "Yes," she said with a soft southern accent. "Excuse me, but are you Lucille Rogers?" "Yes, that's me." "This is for you." I held out the manila envelope. "What is it?" she asked as she opened the screen door taking the envelope. I did what I usually did and simply said, "You are served." "Huh, what is this? I don't understand. My husband's not home right now. I'll give this to him when he get's in." "Ma'am I think you should read it," I warned. "It's paperwork from your husband suing you for divorce." I started to back away when I noticed the expression on her face change. It's one I've seen many times before. She didn't have a clue this was coming and now was holding the proof of the utter devastation of her world in her hands. I could almost see the wheels in her mind grinding to a halt not understanding anything anymore. Her eyes were now glossy with tears. All that would come out of her mouth was, "I... I... I..." She leaned against the door jam and shrunk down to a heap on the floor sobbing. I couldn't do anything for her so I backed away and went out to my car. That's when I heard the scream. I looked back and she was lying prostrate on the sidewalk with her baby in the grass next to her screaming and pounding the concrete. I started to go back and try to do something when I saw a neighbor running toward her. He was alternately looking from me to the woman trying to figure out what happened, and also if I was going to hurt him too. He knelt down and picked up the baby keeping an eye on me the whole time. I got in my car and drove away. I felt like shit for the rest of the day. That's the down side of my job, seeing an innocent person go from a normal world to a post-apocalyptic existence in seconds. As I said I'm the low man on the totem pole in my office and my coworkers who have any seniority have had their fill of the heartbreak in delivering divorce papers, both the recipient's and their own. They've all been in my shoes but now I'm the one in the barrel. My boss told me that it affects everybody differently but personally I enjoy watching the detonation of a person's life when they were the one doing the nasty. But I truly hate seeing some innocent person, who did nothing more than love and trust their spouse, getting royally screwed over. That's just who I am. By the way I take in stray puppies and find them a good home too. I have two stories that I've never told anyone before primarily because if anyone ever found out then I would be out of a job in a heartbeat. What I did was unprofessional and against the rules of my company but I enjoyed the hell out of it. I smile every time I think back on them. About a year after I started at the company I had to serve papers on the vice president of a bank in the downtown area. She was a powerful woman, smart, beautiful, and headstrong. I made an appointment with her for just before lunch saying I wanted to talk about a business loan and showed up with plenty of time to wait. When she came out of her office my jaw dropped into my lap. She didn't walk but sort of floated over to me with an extended hand and a smile that would bring the dead back to life The grey business suit she wore showed off her amazing body to its best advantage. Full round breasts pushed the white blouse forward just enough to make my mouth water, the skirt was cut just enough above the knees to frame two of the most gorgeous toned legs outside of Radio City Music Hall, and long wavy blond hair cascaded down onto two broad shoulders. An absolute dream was standing in front of me holding out her hand waiting for me to come back to reality. I was not only in lust but very possibly in love. "Ahem!" She made a noise jolting my mind back to this world. I stood and looked up into her gorgeous blue eyes and stammered when I said, "Are... Are you Aletheia Robertson?" "Yes, what can I do for you today?" The smile never leaving her absolutely gorgeous lips as she spoke. I almost didn't do what I had come to do. I couldn't hurt the future mother of my children. I wanted to marry her and take all the worries in the world away from her and have lots of babies with her. That's what my mind wanted but my body had another idea. I found myself holding out a manila envelope to her. "What's this?" She said as she took it from me letting her fingertips gently caress the back of my hand. Oh God I wanted this woman. "You are served," I very quietly and sheepishly mumbled. I quickly diverted my eyes. I didn't want to see the hurt in hers. After a short pause she simply said, "Thank you." At no time was she ever anything other than she was -- a goddess incarnate. "Please come into my office." I followed behind her like an obedient little puppy without a conscious thought in my head. "Sharon, please hold my calls for a while," she purred to her secretary as she passed. Once in her office she closed the door and tossed the envelope on her desk. "So the bastard finally made up his mind to divorce me? Well, it wasn't unexpected; after all he's been banging his secretary for the last six months. Oh well, his loss." She turned and stood with her arms crossed looking out the window blessing me with the view of her magnificent backside. As I looked at the grey skirt bulging out just enough to shadow the shapely thighs below I felt something stirring in my pants. Instantly I was uncomfortable but didn't want this beauty to see me trying to fix the problem and thinking I was playing with myself, not that I didn't need to urgently. "Yeah, his loss, but your lucky day," she said turning with the life restoring smile again. "Huh?" I couldn't see anything but that smile. "Uh what's your name?" "Bob." "Well Bob, you look uncomfortable. Here let me help you out there." Her beautiful hand moved forward and downward to squeeze my now very hard cock. She moved up and down outside my pants as a large explosion went off in my brain. "Um, nice," she purred. Then she did what I can only describe as a heaven on earth. She leaned forward and put her lips on mine. I was in heaven. But when her tongue found its way into my mouth I was one with God! She continued to rub and kiss me and I was totally full of electricity. "What's the matter?" she purred breaking our kiss. "Don't you like me?" "Oh my God I love you," I blurted out. Her smile got even more heavenly as she said, "Well then Bob, take your friend out of your pants because I want to kiss him and suck him and make him the happiest guy in the world. Can you do that for me baby? " I think I broke the sound barrier unzipping, unbuttoning, and pulling my pants down. "Oh, that's nice," she said as she knelt in front of me looking square at my very aroused penis. She wrapped her hand around it squeezing it ever so gently. The warmth of her breath on the head was intoxicating as she gently moved her hand back and forth, back and forth. Slowly she moved her mouth forward until she had my cock between her ruby red lips. I think I let out a moan but I'm not sure, I wasn't thinking at all. Slowly she started moving her head back and forth all the while running her tongue around the tip, teasing and taunting trying to make me completely insane. I looked down to see the blond hair waving in the air as her head moved and felt something growing deep inside. She sucked me deep into her mouth and looked up at me, her upturned eyes smiling. I don't know how long I was on the edge of the abyss but this woman, no this goddess was taking me to places I've only dreamed about. I watched her beautiful face moving in my lap and knew that at any moment I was going to die. "I'm... going to... come," I murmured hoping she heard me. She must have because she started humming and speeding up the tongue barrage. I put my hands on the back of her head and pulled her deep onto my shaft as I let loose with the largest and longest explosion of cum in my life. All she did was swirl her tongue around the shaft as spurt after spurt coated the inside of her mouth. I had met God and he was blond and gave a mean blow job. It took a while for me to become self aware again but when I did Venus was standing face to face with me wearing her heavenly smile. I don't know how long I was in la-la land but when I looked up into her beautiful blue eyes I felt as though I had peered deep into her soul watching the sparkles in a sea of blue explode all around. "Um, thank you Bob, you tasted wonderful. Now do me a favor and let yourself out. I've got to get back to work. Oh, and if you should happen to see my asshole husband, I guess soon to be asshole ex-husband, let him know exactly what he's going to be missing." She turned and went back to her desk leaving me standing there fumbling, trying to get my pants back together. I took one final look at her in all her goddess-like beauty before I left. She already had her head down looking at the divorce papers. I saw a little knowing smirk on the secretary's face as I hurriedly left the office. I now have a special place in my memory for Aletheia Robertson. Will I ever see her again? Probably not. Will I ever do more than enjoy her lips surrounding my engorged cock flicking the end wildly with her tongue? Absolutely, in my dreams, every night. If I did tell someone this story I'm not sure they would believe it anyway and if it ever got back to my boss I'd be looking for a new job in the morning. So you can understand why I just keep this memory to myself and bring it out to enjoy when I'm home in bed alone. You are Served Now that story was amazing enough but what happened about a year later makes it pale in comparison. I had to serve papers on a Delbert Davis. My boss said that he might be hard to serve but our company guaranteed that we would try up to seven times before we returned the paperwork to the courts. If this meant staking him out at his home or work then that's what I had to do. He proved to be a very slippery character. When I went to his apartment I found it empty and the person in the rental office said Mr. Davis had moved out the week before. He left no forwarding address of course. I went to his work and they said he no longer worked there. Using the resources of our office I was able to get his cell phone number and used the same triangulation equipment that the police use to figure out its location. I had an address in a rural area outside of town. After a little more work I found out that the address was one of Mr. Davis' friends. Finding the phone didn't mean I found him but at least now I had a starting point. I wasn't sure that the direct approach would work so I got authorization to do a stakeout. That evening I found myself parked down the street from an old farmhouse. One of the pieces of equipment we use from time to time is an emergency beeper. Should I ever get into a situation where I need to call the police and there isn't a way to do it, all I have to do is press a button and the police will be at that location within minutes. I had it in my pocket because I had a bad feeling going in. I sat and watched the farmhouse through binoculars. I didn't see anyone around; all was quiet, not even a dog or a chicken. There was a large Quonset hut in the back of the house but I couldn't see the door from where I sat. I sat there until after dark and saw that there were no lights on in the house. I was pretty sure that there was nobody around so I walked down the street to get a better look, keeping under the cover of the bushes and trees along the road. There was still nothing. I was almost at the front of the house, still hiding in the shadows, when I saw the door of the Quonset hut open. The roar of a motorcycle starting up filled the night air as I dashed behind a tree. A few seconds later a large custom Harley crept up the gravel drive and onto the street. It roared away from me in the opposite direction and into the night, the rumble trailing off as the distance between us got greater and greater. I couldn't tell if that was the elusive Mr. Davis or not and my better judgment said to retreat and regroup for the night. So I did just that and drove home. In the morning I drove back to the farmhouse and saw a motorcycle parked in the driveway. I stopped my car near the house and went out and opened the hood, hoping that anyone that saw me would think I was broken down. As I pretended to tinker under the hood I watched the house. A few minutes later a man came out the front door and lit a cigarette. He seemed to be watching me as he leaned against one of the posts and puffed. After a minute he flicked his cigarette away and started walking toward me. I pretended to not see him as he approached. "Got a problem fella?" the man asked. I turned to look at him and recognized him as Mr. Davis. I saw his picture in his file at work the day before. "Yeah, actually I do. My car just died and now I can't get it started. I just put a new battery in it a while ago and think one of the cables must have worked loose. Let's see what happens now." I got in the car and started it up. "There, that's got it." I closed the hood and turned to the man. "Hey, I recognize you from somewhere. Aren't you Delbert Davis?" "Yeah, do I know you?" "No, you don't. But your wife does. You are served." I tossed the manila envelope over to him and backed toward my car. I had just got to the door and reached in and got the tire iron off the seat when he smiled. "So, Betty sent you to serve papers on me? What are you one of her pussy-hound boyfriends? Well here's what you can do with your papers." That's when he reached behind his back and pulled out a handgun, the sun glinted off the chrome as he walked toward me sneering. For the first time in my life I was convinced that I was going to die. I dropped the tire iron and put my hands up beside my head. "Okay dick-weed; walk over to the house, and don't make any quick moves. You don't want to end up a red stain on our nice front lawn. Now walk." I followed his orders and walked up the driveway and toward the front door. "Inside," was all he grumbled. I was so scared that I was shaking. I wasn't able to reach the emergency beeper and get help so I had to stall until I could. I never got the chance because as I entered the door I heard a thud behind me a crash at my feet. I gingerly looked around and saw Mr. Davis laying in a heap on the floor the back of his head turning crimson red. "Serves you right motherfucker!" Growled a voice from the other side of the doorway. Standing just outside the door was a half naked young girl; she appeared to be no more than 14 or 15 years old, but something told me that she was probably older. She was holding what looked like a bed post in one hand. The snarl on her face would have scared me half to death if I wasn't already scared half to death. "Come on, let's get out of here before his friends return," she said to me beckoning me to follow. I gently stepped over the unconscious man and saw that she was running toward my car. "Come on, hurry," she yelled back. So, without thinking about what I was doing, or should have done, I ran after her. When I got to the car I noticed the manila envelope still on the ground where it fell. I picked it up and ran back to the house and threw it in the door. "You are still served motherfucker." Then I turned and ran out the yard and drove away as fast at my poor little car could go. When we were maybe five miles from the farmhouse I stopped at a small convenience store so we could catch our breath. That's when I noticed the bracelet on her left arm, but it wasn't a bracelet, it was one part of a set of handcuffs, part of the little chain still dangling from the side. "Thanks," she said trying to cover up her chest with the torn dress top. "Don't worry about Del. I didn't hit him hard enough to kill him. I wanted to but just couldn't do it even after all he'd done to me. Uh, do you have something I can use to cover up a bit?" "Oh, sure." I reached into the back and got an old denim jacket I kept in the car for emergencies and gave it to her. As she put it on I noticed one breast sticking through the torn fabric. It has a bunch of red marks around the nipple and there was a large bruise at the bottom. "My name's Tracy, Tracy Winters and thanks for rescuing me by the way." "What's that all about," I asked pointing to the handcuff on her wrist. "Those assholes had me handcuffed to the bed. I found a pair of pliers under the mattress and it took me all night to get one of the links open. I was just about to bash Del in the head when you showed up." "Why were you cuffed to the bed?" I asked even thought I was sure I knew what her answer would be. "They were taking turns raping me and didn't want to have to go chasing me down when they fell asleep. I don't know how long I've been there, maybe four or five days now." "Damn. I'll drive you to the police and..." "No! Absolutely not! I can't take a chance that they'll find me and do something worse, like cut my throat or something. I just want to find someplace to hide for a while. Later I can make arrangements to get out of town. Can you help me?" "I really think I should take you to the police and maybe to a hospital and..." Before I could finish my sentence the roar of motorcycles filled the air. I looked in my rearview mirror and saw three of them passing behind me. Tracy had hunkered down in the seat so no one could see her. "Get out of here. That's the other guys at the house, Del's friends. Just drive away." As calmly as I could I backed up and pulled out into traffic. When we were a distance away Tracy looked out the back window and visibly relaxed. "Can you take me somewhere where I can hide for a few days?" she pleaded. "I don't know, I really think you should go to the authorities. But maybe I can put you up at my place for a while." "Anywhere safe," she whimpered. "Thanks, I owe you one." When I got back to my place she was sound asleep. As I touched her arm to wake her up she jumped up and almost hit the ceiling. "We're here," I said pointing to my front door. I live in an old semi-detached brick home that my uncle left me when he died. It's not fancy and it isn't modern but it's comfortable and it's in a quiet neighborhood. And it's all mine. I showed Tracy in and told her where she could clean up then went to find something for her to wear. An hour later she came back with wet hair wearing the sweatpants and sweatshirt I set out for her. I had set out sandwiches and sodas and she dove into them without even a hello. After devouring both of our sandwiches, the bag of chips, and both sodas she sat back and rubbed her belly. "Thanks, I haven't had anything to eat since sometime yesterday. I was hungry." We left everything on the table and went out on the back patio to watch the sun set. "I've made up the spare room with clean sheets and towels and you can stay there until you find someplace else to go." "You won't tell anyone that I'm here, will you?" "No, I won't. I promise. Now tell me why you were in need of being rescued." She smiled for the first time and it was a beautiful smile. "I was an idiot like I've been all my life. I had just graduated high school, in Kansas of all places, and wanted to go to Hollywood and become an actress. I actually went in the wrong direction and that's how I ended up here. Anyway, my parents are very strict and controlling and said I could get a job at the local grocery chain while I went to community college. I'd had it with school so a week after I turned 18 I just packed a bag and disappeared into the night. I hitched a ride with this trucker who said he was going to Los Angeles but had to make a stop in Atlanta first. When we stopped for the night he said I could sleep in his sleeper cab and he'd sleep on the driver's seat. An hour later he was in bed on top of me kissing me and pawing under my clothes. He made me do things with his scrawny little dick that were disgusting. Eventually I closed my eyes and let him do what he wanted because there was no way I could stop him. When he'd had his fun and was asleep I gathered my stuff and snuck out. I met a guy in the snack bar and he offered me a ride on his bike. His name was Nate. He was one of the guys on the motorcycle back there at the little store. He drove me away from the truck stop and about ten hours later stopped at the farm house where you found me. There were three other men there, one of them was Del, but I can't remember the names of the other two. I stayed with Nate for a few days and we had a pretty good time. He took me places on the back of his bike during the day while he was making some kind of deliveries and at night we partied big time. One night a few days later, one of the other men got in bed with me and started slobbering all over me ant trying to pull my clothes off. Nate wasn't there so I screamed and kicked until he showed up at the door. He said he was sharing me with his friends and it was okay to do anything they wanted. I said no and started to get up and leave. That's when they grabbed me and handcuffed me to the bed. And that's when they all started taking turns with me in bed. Everybody did what the wanted and then left, even Del. But Del was pretty okay to me. He still took his turn in bed but at least he brought me food and let me pee when I had to. He also put some ointment on my arm when it started bleeding around the handcuffs. Oh, that reminds me, do you have any way to get this thing off?" After working with a pair of bolt cutters and a hacksaw I was able to cut the manacle in half and pry it off. I got some antibiotic ointment and spread it around her cuts and gave the tube to her to use on the ones I couldn't see. We talked a lot more. By the time the sun went down she was more relaxed since I first saw her with a bedpost in her hand. And she was also completely exhausted. That night she slept in her room and I slept in mine. The next day I went to work and reported that I had served Delbert Davis but didn't say anything about the confrontation or Tracy. I could get into a lot of trouble for just taking her to my place and not calling the police but I felt she needed help and I wanted to be her hero. In the afternoon I stopped at home and convinced Tracy to come with me to a clinic so she could be tested for STDs. There's no telling what those guys had percolating between their legs. The doctor gave her some antibiotics and said to call back in a couple days for the test results. I took her home and went to serve a man at his work. Tracy stayed holed up in my house for a week before she allowed me to take her out and get some clothes of her own. We also ate something other than the pizzas I got on the way home from work. She was a lot more personable and talkative now that her war wounds had time to heal and she had time to rest. She gave me good news as we ate. "I called the clinic yesterday and they said all the tests were negative, including the HIV test. But they did say that I needed to be tested again in three months because the HIV incubation period may be as long as a year. But for now it looks like I'm okay. Thank you for rescuing me." "My pleasure and thank you for cleaning up the house. I'm pretty much a slob and the place has never looked so good. You did a fine job." I never told anyone about Tracy and she was content to sit at home watching television and playing games on the computer. At that point she'd been with me for five weeks. One day, after a long day at work I came home to the aroma of a home cooked meal of some sort of meat and potatoes dish. It was good even if I didn't exactly know what it was. Since Tracy made it, it was very good. "Bob, I've got some good news; at least I hope you'll think its good news. I called my parents today and told them where I was. I told my father what happened and that you rescued me and that I've been living in your spare room for the last few weeks. He sounded hurt hearing about everything but relieved that I was alive. He said he'd send me some money so I could come home. I want to thank you before I go and dinner is just the beginning. Afterwards I want to take you out for an ice cream cone and then a walk around the neighborhood. After that, who knows?" Dinner was starting to taste better and better. Afterward I drove to a little hole in the wall ice cream parlor not too far away and bought both of us cones. She didn't have any money but promised to pay me back some day. I didn't care about the money. We walked around the neighborhood and even sat and talked in a little kiddy park down the street. She was sweet and even held my hand on the way back home. As we walked upstairs I had a funny feeling that the evening wasn't over yet. But when she said goodnight and closed her bedroom door, I retreated to my bed and thought about Aletheia. Something woke me from a sound sleep. It was the heat of a body next to me under the covers. It was Tracy and she was snuggled up against me with one arm over my chest. I could feel her breath on my neck and I could smell the shampoo in her hair. But most of all I could feel her naked body against mine. Her fingers gently stroked the skin around my nipple. When she moved slightly to kiss my shoulder I turned my head and looked down at her. I could just see the outline of her head and the glistening of her earring in the dim light coming through the blinds. She lifted her head to look at me and I turned more so our mouths could meet in the middle in a long deep kiss. We kissed like we'd known each other for a lifetime. I turned to embrace her and she threw the covers off exposing her sylph-like body. All I saw were outlines of her body next to mine but I could feel the heat of her skin as I explored every inch with my fingers. When she climbed up on top of me and guided my now hard cock inside her I pulled her tighter against my body and kissed her deeply. We made love gently and yet passionately for what seemed like forever. The room was hot with our radiating warmth and smelled of sex. I kissed her face all over and she licked my neck. I lifted my hips up to get deeper inside her and she pushed down to allow me. We moved back and forth, up and down until I could feel her tense with an exquisite orgasm. As she came down from heaven I realized that we were making love with out any protection. I reached into my nightstand and got a condom and lifted her body off of mine before putting it on. Then I turned her onto her back and crawled on top and entered her red hot pussy again. She clung to me with arms and legs like an octopus on its prey. I stroked and pounded until I was ready to burst. When I did finally explode she squeezed her legs together along with her pussy muscles into a vice-like grip that I was sure I was never going to get out of. But I didn't care; I just stayed on top of her and let my cock slowly deflate inside. Before the night was over we made love two more times and again at dawn, each more glorious than the previous. She even showed me tricks that I didn't know an 18 year old would know. Tracy stayed three more days before a money order arrived from her father for plane fare back home. We made love every day, actually many times a day. The last morning she said that she would never forget what I did for her and promised to email me or come back and see me if she could. I was starting to fall for this girl but knew that she had a lot of growing up to do. Maybe I did too. I took her to the airport and kissed her goodbye. I never saw her again. I went back to work delivering bad news to people. It's been three years since the episode with Tracy and Del and life for me has been both good and not so good. But I can't complain. I'm still serving divorce papers and still have a love-hate relationship with my job. And I still fantasize about Aletheia. The phone on my desk rang. "Mr. Adams this is Hal at the front desk. There's a Tracy Winters here to see you. She says she owes you some money. Shall I bring her back?" "ABSOLUTELY!"