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Jelly Bean Theif

By: JimBob44



*Author's Note: Any and all persons engaging in any sexual activity are at least 18 years of age.

Chapter 1

Construction of the St. Elizabeth Parish Trauma Center began in the spring of 2012 and revived the stagnant economy of DeGarde, Bender, Baylor Lake, Kimble, and Flowers Louisiana. Restaurants now served hungry construction workers and crews that delivered materials to the construction site. Bars served drinks to thirsty men that had labored in the unbearable humidity of Louisiana's spring and summer. Apartments that had stood vacant for months were suddenly in high demand.

Ryan Scott Thibodeaux had seen the handwriting on the wall when First Union Bank had made the decision to bankroll the construction of the Trauma Center. The lowly bank teller went to his mother, Sylvia Ethel Morgenstien Rowenski Thibodeaux Richards Robertson Duplantis Smith and asked her to bankroll his venture. She did, at fifteen percent interest, and Ryan immediately began buying up rental properties in the greater DeGarde area.

The money was slow to trickle in; the ground for the Trauma Center had not been broken yet. Sylvia was an impatient woman, even with her only child, and Ryan had to continue to work at the First Union Bank just to pay his mother the interest of her loan. Slowly, steadily, though, the investment began to pay off and Ryan was finally able to pay his mother and quit his job.

"It's about time," Sylvia grumbled as Ryan handed her the final check. "Now, what about the money for your college, huh?"

"Oh, you mean, the college my FATHER paid for?" Ryan smiled.

She did not like Ryan's response. Nor did she like that Ryan had written 'Paid in Full' in the memo line of the check.

"Well, the next time you get some hair-brained 'get-rich-quick' scheme, why don't you just see what your father can do for you, huh?" Sylvia sneered.

"I would, but he's kind of tapped out right now, you know, with his wife Jasmine and their three kids?" Ryan smiled.

"Just do not see what a fifty one year old man sees in a twenty four year old girl; she's just a child, for God's sake," Sylvia complained.

"Oh, I'm sure he sees a lot of himself in her," Ryan glibly commented.

Sylvia pursed her lips tightly; she could now add Ryan to the long list of men that she no longer controlled. She had done a great job on him for the first eighteen years of his life. By the time her son graduated from St. Thomas Aquinas High School, he had been a spineless blob of pimples, bad hair, and sweaty blubber. He had been nearly a mirror image of his father; how on earth Scott David Thibodeaux had even managed to impregnate her was still a mystery to Sylvia. Three years later when the twenty three year old woman divorced the twenty seven year old Scott, she had managed to siphon off all of his money and most of his soul.

Her hold on the son's soul was lost the minute he plopped down on the Greyhound bus seat, headed for Ruston, Louisiana, Louisiana Tech, and freedom from his mother's tyranny.

Ryan lumbered into his Louisiana Tech dorm room and smiled shyly at Trent Browning, his roommate.

"Aw, no, no, man, we ain't having this shit," Trent smiled and got off his bed. "Come on dude!"

Trent forced the heavily perspiring eighteen year old to walk with him through a maze of streets until they stood in front of an old fashioned barber shop on the corner of Mississippi and Bonner.

"Man, just buzz him, huh?" Trent smiled.

"What?" Ryan complained. "I don't want..."

"Don't worry, dude, it'll grow on you," Trent laughed and rubbed his own closely cropped hair. "See?"

"Next thing we got to do, dude, is get you eating better, huh?" Trent smiled as he led Ryan back to their dormitory. "What? I bet you can do what? A large Supreme? All by yourself?"

"It's um, it's genetics, man," Ryan defended.

"The first two hundred pounds, maybe," Trent disagreed. "The last two hundred? That's all on you, dude."

"I don't weigh..." Ryan yelled.

"Not yet," Trent said. "Keep this shit up? You'll get there."

Trent Browning was the best friend Ryan could have ever had; he bullied the spineless boy into an exercise regiment, healthier choices in eating, and better grooming habits. He also got Ryan laid.

"Hey, Ryan Scott Thibodeaux!" Trent yelled, barging into their dorm room, two giggling red heads in tow.

"What?" a startled Ryan yelled, Algebra textbook sliding and slamming onto the floor.

"I ran into Trixie One and Trixie Two in the cafeteria..." Trent smiled.

"Shut up!" one red head yelled, giggling. "I told you! I'm Marsha O'Neil!"

"Yeah!" the other red head giggled, slapping Trent's arm. "And my name's Paula Frentz!"

"And I told Trixie Two here," Trent said, pointing to Marsha. "That you've always wanted to eat you some red headed pussy."

"Do what?" Ryan gasped, stunned.

"Later," Trent said, grabbing Paula and backing out of the room.

"I um, look, um, we don't, I mean, you don't have to..." Ryan stammered as Marsha stood, still giggling.

"Really? That guy, um, Trent? He said you was this really sweet guy and just needed someone show you how to eat a girl out," Marsha said, unzipping her skintight jeans.

By the time Trent returned to the room, Marsha had taught Ryan well and had taken three loads of Ryan's sperm in her well-tongued pussy. Marsha had no qualms about getting out of bed nude and wiggling her bone-thin legs and flat backside back into her jeans right in front of Trent.

"Dude, I'm in love," Ryan weakly mumbled from his bed.

"What? With that?" Trent laughed. "Girl that'll fuck you ten seconds after you say 'hi' to her? Fuck, man better not be! I'll have to kick your ass."

After their first semester, Trent Allen Browning was on Academic Probation; his GPA was 1.5. He did not even complete the second semester; withdrawing after mid-term exams was completed.

"Told my old man," Trent had smiled and shrugged. "Fuck; hate school, man."

"So what are you going to do?" a tearful Ryan asked.

"What I wanted to do in the first place," Trent smiled. "Work on the oil-field in Alaska. Fuck, man, twenty five, thirty an hour? Tell me where you going to get that kind of money, huh?"

A year after starting at Louisiana Tech, Ryan looked up as a nervous Herman Rittmuller shuffled into the room.

"First semester here?" Ryan asked, pointing to the bed up against the wall. "This is my third."

He helped the fat, pimple faced kid get his things put away, slapped the kid on the shoulder and left the room.

Ryan walked out of the dormitory and immediately spotted them; two young girls, looking around in wide-eyed awe, and giggling excitedly to each other.

Trixie! How you doing?" he asked, walking up to them.

"Huh? No, no, I'm Bitina!" one girl protested.

"Yeah, I'm Holly!" the other chimed in.

"Hey, Herman Rittmuller!" Ryan yelled, leading the two giggling girls behind him. "This is Trixie One and Trixie Two and I told them you are ..."

Chapter 2

Alida Betsingal sullenly dropped her husband's books into the cardboard box. The four foot, three inch tall girl was not happy and each movement let her husband, Dr. Carl Betsingal know just how unhappy she was.

Normally, her caramel colored skin shone with happiness and health but was mottled with anger at present. With frustration, she swept her long black hair out of her eyes and grabbed some more of his books off of the shelf and dropped them into the box.

"Don't load them up too much; they'll be too heavy to lift," Carl cautioned her.

"Fuck you! All right? Fuck you! Pack them yourself I'm not doing it right, all right?" Alida screamed and stomped away.

Carl sighed; his wife had not been happy from the moment he told her that he had accepted a residency at St. Elizabeth Trauma Center; which meant that they would be moving back to their hometown of Bender, Louisiana. She had been delighted when they had moved to New Orleans and shed no tears in leaving the trailer she and her father and brother shared. In the four years they'd lived in New Orleans, she thrived in being the wife of a medical student, thrived in steeping herself in the culture that is New Orleans. 

Whenever they did travel back to Bender, to visit Carl's parents, A; Alida would sit and sulk, not endearing herself any to John and Corrine Betsingal. They had not wanted their only child to marry the half African-American girl anyway.

"Damn, boy, fuck the little black midget if you have to, but why marry her, huh?" John had asked his son.

"She's only half..." Carl protested.

"Oh, I'm sure you think you love her," Corrine sniffed. "But really? Honey, you can do so much better, don't you think?"

No, Carl didn't want to do better than Alida Irvine; he had been smitten with the tiny girl the first time he laid eyes on her. The thirteen year old girl had walked into the hallway of St. Thomas Aquinas, clutching the hand of her big sister, Pamela Ham Broussard and the seventeen year old Carl was love struck.

"And when I was here," Pam rattled on, not noticing that Alida wasn't listening.

Alida smiled shyly at the pudgy blonde boy with the coke bottle glasses and giggled as he turned a hundred shades of red.

"Come on; let's see if Brother Dominick's in; you're going to love him," Pam went on, dragging Alida to the office.

Pam, one third owner of Shapes Fitness and Wellness Center in Bender, paid the tuition for her half-sister to go to St. Thomas. Pam also brought all of Alida's uniforms to Miss Bobbi so that Miss Bobbi could alter the girl's uniforms it was also Pam that bought the material and Miss Bobbi that sewed Alida's prom gowns for each prom that she and Carl attended.

And it had been Miss Bobbi that had made Alida's wedding dress when she and Carl married.

From the moment she said 'I do,' Alida had thrilled at the idea of moving to New Orleans with her husband. Finally, finally, she would be out of the one-horse town, out from under the stigma of having a prostitute mother and a meth head father, out from under the shame of having a midget for a mother and an African-American for a father. She loved her sister, Pam, but was content to limit their conversations to the sporadic phone calls and the occasional card in the mail.

In New Orleans, most people just assumed that she was Latin, attributing both her coloring and her height to that trait. She spoke Spanish well enough to fool even the Latin community of New Orleans.

And now, four years later, her husband was making them move right back to the one place she hoped she would never have to see again.

"Come on," Carl demanded from the doorway of their small bedroom. "No time for you just sitting around; they'll be here to morrow to get all this stuff."

"Go away, ass hole," she spat at him.

Carl just sighed heavily, grabbed another box and hurried back to the cramped living room.

"Well, if you're not going to pack, could you please make something? I'm starving to death here," he asked.

"Eat shit, fucker," she yelled.

"Okay, that's me taken care of," Carl yelled back. "What you eating?"

"Not funny," Alida yelled.

Carl worked frantically through the night and managed, without his wife's help, to pack the entire apartment in time for the eight o'clock scheduled pick up.

"What'm I supposed to wear?" Alida asked, not finding any clothes in the chest of drawers.

"If you had wanted any clothes for today, you should have left them out," Carl snapped at her, exhausted from so much strenuous work and not enough sleep.

"You even packed the cereal?" Alida asked, seeing that the pantry was bare.

"Yes Alida, we're moving Alida, people pack everything Alida, I told you that Alida," Carl sapped. "If you hadn't been so busy sitting on your ass and pouting you could have left that out. But no! Sitting and sulking like a little bitch was much more important."

"Fuck you, stupid mother fucker," Alida screamed.

Any further argument was stymied by a firm knock on the apartment door.

"Doctor Betsingal?" a hulking man asked. "We're from A One Movers."

"Wow, you actually said it right," Carl smiled tiredly. "Betsingal."

"Yeah, my momma grew up next door to a Ben Betsingal," the man smiled.

"No kidding? In Jackson, right?" Carl asked. "That's my uncle. Well, really, my dad's uncle but you know..."

Small world ain't it?" the man smiled, looking at the mountain of boxes. "All of this going?"

"Yep, all of it," Carl said.

"And we're going to..." the man said, looking at his clipboard.

"Bender, got it in the G.P.S. already," another hulking man said. "Apartment Two C."

"Let me guess, "The first man laughed. "It's on the second floor."

"I really wouldn't know," Carl said. "I rented it off the web site.

"Naw, man, my back's been acting up," the man smiled, already grabbing a large box. "Whenever it starts acting up, I know we're going to be going up and down a lot of steps, man."

Apartment Two C was not on the second floor of the apartment complex; it was a two bedroom apartment in the rear of the building. Apartments two A and Two B faced Highway 52, as did Apartments Two D and Two E, the unit's one bedroom apartments.

"You even packed the toothpaste?" Alida screamed from the bathroom.

The two hulking men laughed and Carl smiled.

Chapter 3

Ryan got out of the pool and smiled as Heather St. Martin made a production out of applying more sun block to her pale skin. The fluorescent green bikini covered nothing and he did enjoy the show.

The rental agent lived with her seven year old daughter in Apartment four F, the two bedroom apartment in the rear of the complex. 

"We got someone moving in Two C?" Ryan asked.

Heather smiled, flinging her long red hair out of her eyes. She sat up, making sure to thrust her silicone enhanced breasts even further.

"Yes, some Doctor, oh, what was his name? Funny name starts with a B, Ben Winger or something like that. Him and his wife; she's got a funny name too. I'd have to look at again," Heather said, making a show of licking the sweat from her upper lip.

He did not tell her, but he already knew it was Dr. Carl Betsingal and his wife, Alida moving into the unit.

He wondered briefly if Carl was still an arrogant prick and if Alida was still as cute as she'd been in St. Thomas Aquinas.

Heather looked over her shoulder at Apartment Two C; the two maids were hard at work, cleaning the unit.

"Um, your boss know you spend most of your time out here by the pool?" Ryan asked.

"Forwarded the phone to my cell," Heather giggled. "Too pretty to be cramped up in the office."

None of the tenants of the complex knew that Ryan Thibodeaux was the landlord. None of the tenants of any of his rental properties knew that he was the landlord. Right before Sylvia divorced Ray Smith, his step-father had helped him set up a Limited Liability Corporation.

Sylvia was livid when she filed for divorce from Ray, only to find out that the millionaire actually owned nothing. Everything was in his LLC and the LLC had been set up years earlier. His annual salary was one dollar so for the two years that Sylvia had allowed Ray Smith access to her pussy she was awarded half of his annual salary.

"Here you go; don't spend it all in one place," Ray laughed, sliding the check over to her.

Kenneth Prejean, Sylvia's attorney, actually threw up.

Ryan began to gather his things from the chaise lounge next to Heather.

"Where you going?" Heather pouted, spreading her thighs wider for his benefit.

"Work," Ryan smiled, putting on his sunglasses. "Unlike you, my boss doesn't let me just sit out at the pool, looking good."

Heather watched the tall, muscular young man walk down the path toward his apartment.

"Must be a fruit loop," she finally shrugged.

Heather had flirted with him when he moved into the complex, even stopped by to see how he was getting along. Once, slightly tipsy from half a bottle of tequila and buzzing quite nicely from a killer joint, she'd told him that her daughter was with her grandmother and she was afraid to be in that big old apartment, all by herself. But Ryan had merely smiled and suggested she might want to get a dog.

Ryan just was not interested in picking up whatever diseases such a promiscuous woman would be packing. Her ridiculously large breasts were also quite a turn-off as well.

Ryan let himself into Apartment Two B and shivered in the cold air-conditioning. A hot shower quickly remedied that and he padded, nude to his computer desk and sat down.

He had not lied to Heather; he was working. First he shot an e-mail to Anita Sanchez, the secretary of his LLC office to have a little talk with Heather St. Martin about just sitting out at the pool, instead of monitoring the rental office. Then he logged on to the local real estate listings. Mrs. Carmen Davis had a cute little duplex listed but the asking price was one hundred nineteen. Not even a year earlier, the same duplex owner would have considered sixty thousand a real windfall.

Ryan picked up his cell phone and called Davis Realty.

"He said one oh five is an insult," Carmen said when she answered the phone.

"It's not an insult; it's a legitimate offer," Ryan spluttered.

The other listings were for single family dwellings, all in the two hundred to three hundred range, so Ryan exited that site and logged onto the local dating site.

There were no new listings and out of the twenty nine females listed in the greater DeGarde area, twelve were over forty years of age. Another six were African-American. Ryan had nothing against dating an African-American but all six clearly stated they were only interested in dating African-American males. Of the remaining eleven, three of the profiles had extremely unattractive photographs with their ads. One admitted that she was still married, although separated at present. Ryan did not need a jealous husband coming to 'chat' with him.

He had dated four of the remaining seven women. The other three had responded politely but firmly to his contact; they were not interested in him, based on what his profile said.

Outside, Heather sullenly gathered her things, glaring at the two maids as they finished cleaning Apartment Two C. She wondered which one of them had called Anita and tattled on her.

Heather unlocked the door of the small office and pulled on her jeans and tee shirt with 'TAB Properties across her ample chest.

Ryan named the LLC after his best friend, Trent Allen Browning. Trent had sent Ryan one postcard, then was knifed to death when a fellow oilfield worker took offence to Trent picking up his 'Trixie.'

Ryan watched the arrival of the A One moving van, saw the two large African-American males lumber out and hoped that Heather was now in her office.

He continued to watch, but there was no sign of Alida or her husband, Carl.

Just outside of Baton Rouge, Alida was complaining bitterly.

"Burger King?" she shrilled.

"You rather Wendy's?" Carl asked "Oh, there's a Taco Bell; how about Taco Bell?"

"And there's a Cracker Barrel right there; what's wrong with that?" Alida yelled.

"You going to eat Cracker Barrel in the car?" Carl asked.

"No. I'm going to get out, sit my ass down and actually enjoy my food," Alida grumbled. "Bad enough you made me eat that Popeye's crap for breakfast."

"What? I like Popeye's," Carl said.

"Makes one of us," Alida said.

Heather showed the two hired movers the apartment, and two hours later showed it to Carl and Alida Betsingal. She won no points with Carl for butchering his last name and won no points with Alida for flirting with Carl.

"Pool looks nice," Carl commented to Alida when the door of the apartment closed behind the two movers.

"Uh huh," was Alida's response.

He grunted and groaned, trying to wrestle a bookcase over to a wall.


Jelly Bean Theif



"Why you didn't have them movers do that?" she snapped as Carl grunted loudly.

She stomped into the kitchen and began to unload the boxes.

"You seen my stool?" she snapped. "I can't reach any of these cabinets."

"So, what you want for dinner?" Carl asked after several of the boxes had been emptied and flattened.

"Burger King Right down the street," Alida said, putting some more books on the shelf.

"Burger... Alida, you are a real bitch, you know that?" Carl sputtered.

Chapter 4

The ringing telephone woke Ryan.

"Told you; he didn't take your offer," Carmen greeted him when he mumbled a greeting.

"Do have a single family dwelling, not on the market yet; went and looked at it yesterday," Carmen went on. "It's cute. Needs a couple of things here and there; they're asking one thirty nine."

"Bedrooms?" Ryan asked.

"Three bedrooms, two full baths, attached garage, on Patterson, four blocks away from St. Richard's and St. Thomas so it's a good neighborhood," Carmen said.

"Yeah, that is a good neighborhood," Ryan agreed. "So why are they selling?"

"Don't tell anyone, but the husband got himself a girlfriend; a stripper. From Club Fantastic's. Can you believe that?" Carmen hoarsely whispered into the telephone.

"Some people, huh?" Ryan chuckled and made an appointment to see the house on Thursday, the day the house was scheduled to begin listing.

"I wouldn't fuck any of them skanks with someone else's dick," he said to himself. "Damn, they got some ROUGH looking hos there!"

"Now, Dead End? Now THEY got some good looking girls there!" he continued and made up his mind that he was due a nice plate lunch from the Dead End bar.

Before getting into his pick up truck, Ryan looked down the walkway toward the pool, to see if he could see Alida but she was not in sight.

Alida was lying in bed, still asleep. She'd woken up with Carl at five that morning made him his breakfast while he showered and dressed, ate breakfast with him, dutifully kissed him good-bye, and then crawled back into bed.

She woke up, saw that it was eleven fifteen and scowled. Carl would be back in thirty minutes, expecting lunch.

"Burger King Right down the street," she mumbled, but dragged herself out of bed.

Carl's soup and sandwich were waiting for him. He teased Alida about still being in her nightgown, about still having bed hair. Her nonverbal response was a scowl and an extended middle finger.

Ryan parked his truck in front of the apartment building, his stomach full and his wallet lighter by fifty bucks. The meatloaf plate and two mugs of ice-cold beer only cost fourteen dollars, but dropping bills into the tip jar at the end of the stage plus a tip for the fresh faced college girl that was serving the meal took the other thirty six dollars.

The Asian dancer said her name was Cheryl, had flirted with him, had given him a substantial erection, and then had lost interest when he told her he wasn't going to take her into the Hurricane Room. A chubby dancer came out next but Ryan talked himself out of staying to watch her dance.

A tall, portly man wearing a white coat walked toward Ryan, scowling to himself.

"Carl! Carl Betsingal, oh wait a minute! Its DOCTOR Betsingal now, isn't it?" Ryan called out.

"Uh, yeah, that's uh, I know you?" Carl stammered.

"Ryan! Thibodeaux? Went to school with you?" Ryan laughed, offering a hand to the befuddled man.

"Uh, yeah, oh! Yeah! Now I remember! In Alida's class!" Carl smiled and shook gave the man a cold fish handshake. 

"Yeah, asked her out like a million times but she always shot me down; had some college guy was going to be a doctor," Ryan agreed.

"Well, would love to um, play catch up and all, but..." Carl said, walking to his car.

"See you around; hey! We ought to grab a few beers down at the Dead End or something," Ryan offered.

"Absolutely," Carl said, having no intention of having a beer with Ryan.

"Uh huh, now I remember you," Carl muttered as he drove back to the hospital. "Had your nose up Alida's butt, always asking her out."

Ryan again looked down the walkway to see if he could catch a glimpse of Alida.

Inside her apartment, Alida lay in the tub, wetting her hair. She had searched through all of the boxes but had not found her shower stool, so had to take a bath instead.

"Hmm, I'm pretty sure I packed it but if it got left, that's your fault," Carl offered when she asked about it.

"How I'm supposed to reach the shower head?" Alida asked.

She was planning to go grocery shopping when Carl returned with the car, which was approximately two hours from now. But there was nothing on television, and she didn't want to just lie down and take another nap.

Not having two cars had not been any inconvenience in New Orleans; the transit system was easy to learn and easy to navigate. There was no transit system in the greater DeGarde area and the only cab company was horrible. Since they were the only cab company, there was no need for them to improve their speed, their response time, or their courtesy to their customers.

So, Alida listlessly bathed herself in preparation of when Carl would come home and either take her to the grocery store, or let her drive herself.

She smirked at that idea; he would have to be in dire need to allow her to drive his car. He pampered the car's exterior and interior and hated when Alida changed anything in it.

In his own apartment, Ryan laughed as he listened to Carmen's message.

"Guess he decided since no one else was making any offers..." Carmen's voice intoned.

Ryan called and left his own message regarding the duplex.

"Tell him I've lost all interest; unless he drops it down to one oh five, he pays all closing costs," Ryan said. "And that's if an inspector gives the go ahead."

He was sure that the man would refuse the offer.

Ryan then aimlessly surfed the Internet. Herman, his old college roommate, had told him about a few Chinese web sites that provided top quality counterfeit items, but none of the merchandise held any appeal to him. Plus, all of the items, while priced very low, had shipping charges that were just exorbitant.

Within ten minutes, Ryan was bored and slipped into his damp swimming trunks

Through a space in the curtains, Alida saw movement outside and peered through. An attractive man was putting his towel and tube of sun screen onto a chaise lounge.

Alida looked at the wristwatch she wore on her slender wrist. Carl had bought her the watch, and then had grumbled when she had to take it to a jeweler's shop to have a smaller leather strap put on it.

Carl wasn't due back for another hour. Most of her clothes were now in the small closet and the chest of drawers; she was sure she could find her bikini; go out and talk with the attractive guy, maybe even do a little flirting.

Alida loved Carl, was pretty sure she loved him, even though he did drag her back to this God-forsaken plot of earth. Even though he routinely talked down to her. Even though he always did things without talking to her first. She was pretty sure she did love him.

But she did enjoy a little harmless flirting. Especially when a little harmless flirting would get her what she wanted.

She saw more movement and peered out again.

That skank, Heather St. Martin had obviously had the same idea, sitting in a lime green bikini that barely kept those huge udders from flopping all over. The bottom was barely a piece of lime-green string between her ass cheeks.

Alida watched as Ryan and Heather chatted easily and felt dejected.

She was proportional; her breasts were barely more than a handful, her waist was tiny as well, and her rear end was nicely rounded. But she could not compete with the likes of Heather St. Martin. Even Carl had remarked about Heather's breasts, when the woman was out of earshot.

Alida had finished dressing and putting on her make-up when Carl entered the apartment.

Alida's eyes narrowed; Carl's polyester slacks had a noticeable tent in them.

"Damn, but that woman's tits are..." Carl muttered, and then stopped short when he saw his wife glaring daggers at him.

"Ready?" Alida snapped, grabbing her purse.

"Oh, saw one of your old boyfriends today," Carl said, trying to change the topic as Alida continued to snarl at him over his obvious interest in Heather St. Martin.

"Oh, yeah?" she snapped. "Who?""

"That Ryan guy; one that followed you all over at St. Thomas?" Carl said and pulled into the parking lot of the grocery store.

"Who?" Alida asked.

"Ryan. Ryan Thibodeaux?" Carl said.

"Who?" Alida repeated.

"You know," Carl pressed.

"No, oh, wait! Wait a minute, fat guy, maybe as fat as you, greasy stringy hair?" Alida asked, using her hands to show the measurements of Ryan Thibodeaux when they were in school together.

"I am not fat!" Carl said, flushing.

"Um?" Alida said, pushing a small hand into Carl's soft belly.

Shopping was done in relative silence; they only spoke when necessary and only answered one another in monosyllabic grunts or nods of their heads.

Carl was upset about Alida's pointing out that he was still quite pudgy and Alida was enjoying a small victory.

Carl was much more intelligent than she; a fact that he often made clear. He never called her 'Stupid' in spoken word, but he delighted in displaying his intellectual superiority.

After a mostly silent dinner at Tommy's Po-Boys, a fairly new place in Bender, they drove home to unload their groceries.

"There," Carl pointed out as Ryan came out of his apartment. "Him. Remember him?"

"No; you sure that's him?" Alida asked, looking at the handsome young man as he opened the door to a battered pick up truck. "Didn't look like that in school; that's for sure."

Alida made sure to catch Ryan's eye as she got out of the car, smiling at Carl's discomfort.

She and Ryan 'caught up' while Carl grunted, muttered, coughed, and generally let his displeasure be known without outright saying he was upset that Alida and Ryan were being chummy, while he, a busy man, had to unload all of the groceries himself.

"Well, we should have you over one night," Alida said as Ryan got into his pick up truck.

"I don't want that son of a bitch anywhere near my apartment," Carl spat as soon as Ryan drove away.

Chapter 5

Alida was bored; Carl was working a double and said he would just grab his breakfast and lunch in the Trauma Center's cafeteria.

"Ryan said come by any time," Alida told herself.

Carl had repeated his declaration that he did not want 'that son of a bitch' in his apartment.

"Your apartment?" Alida asked. "Um, my apartment too, huh?"

"Your name anywhere on that lease?" Carl sneered. "And uh, all that money you paying on, oh! Wait a minute! That's right; you DON'T pay rent."

"I pay plenty of rent, mother fucker," Alida yelled, raising the hem of her blouse.

Carl made a show of squinting at Alida's small breasts.

"Um, nope; don't see no rent there," Carl smirked.

"And you ain't going to see them; be a long fucking time, hear me?" Alida yelled.

It had been a chilly three days in the apartment since that night; Carl was unwilling to admit he'd been wrong.

Alida finished her shower by dragging her razor through her pubic hair.

She had hesitated; Carl was the one who insisted on her pussy being bald and she wasn't sure when he'd be seeing the pussy again.

But the stubble itched like crazy, so, Carl or no Carl, she quickly shaved it smooth.

The Ryan that had stood outside and talked with her was not the same creepy Ryan that had followed her around their high school. This Ryan was a handsome, confident man.

She selected an outfit that she knew Carl liked; scoop neck blouse that showed the tops of her small breasts, short skirt that showed off her tanned legs to mid-thigh, white ankle socks and black patent Mary Janes.

Normally, when she wore this outfit for Carl, she would 'forget' to put on any panties, but she decided on a pair of plain white thong panties.

"Hey!" Ryan said happily when he opened his apartment door to find Alida standing there.

"Hey, what you doing?" she asked.

"Nothing," he said, standing aside.

She looked around the apartment; Ryan's taste in furniture was much better than she had imagined.

The chair and couch were covered in a deep green micro-fiber. The coffee table and matching end table were a dark brown and the brass lamp had a deep green shade, tying it to the couch and chair.

There was a forty two inch LCD screen attached to the wall and a stereo system installed in a deep brown cabinet.

Over the back of the couch was an arid desert print, a landscape that showed a vast emptiness.

"I hate that painting," Alida commented. "It's so sad looking."

"Hmm," Ryan said, looking at the print. "That's funny. When I bought it, I said, 'boy, I'll bet Alida, who doesn't live here, would probably love this' but I guess I was wrong, huh?"

"Ha ha, you so funny," Alida smiled.

"Get you anything?" Ryan asked, stepping into the kitchen.

"Got coffee?" Alida asked, not smelling any coffee.

"Yeah; got this one cup thingy," Ryan said, pointing. "What you like? Dark roast? Columbian?"

"Dark roast," Alida declared, smoothing her skirt down. "Darker the better, huh?"

"And what you take in it?" Ryan asked.

"Oh! Jelly beans! I love jelly beans!" Alida whooped, spotting the huge jar Ryan had on his kitchen counter.

"Uh huh, leave them alone," Ryan smiled. "Especially my black ones."

"They're the best," Alida declared.

"I know; that's why I don't want you getting any of them," Ryan smiled and put her cup of coffee on the kitchen table.

Alida dumped a large amount of cream and three tea spoons of sugar into the cup.

"Be right back," Ryan said and disappeared into his bedroom.

Ryan pulled on a pair of socks, found his loafers, searched for his watch, and then remembered, he'd left it on the counter, next to his truck keys.

He could see up Alida's skirt, see her creamy brown buttocks and the thin strip of white; she was bent over, kneeling on his bar stool, digging in his jar of jelly beans.

"What'd I tell you, huh?" he laughed and smacked her on her buttocks with the back of his hand.

"Ow!" she laughed, displaying a mouthful of black jelly beans.

"Hey! Damn it; I told you, leave the black ones alone!" Ryan protested.

"But they're the best," she mumbled around the candy.

She jumped down from the stool, palming a handful of black jelly beans.

"Nuh uh, woman; give them up," Ryan demanded, grabbing her hand.

"No!" she laughed, clutching the beans tightly.

"You ticklish?" Ryan threatened.

"No," Alida lied.

"I don't believe you," Ryan said as she backed away from him.

"No, no!" she cried out.

"Here," she conceded when he had her pinned up against his wall.

He took the jelly beans from her hand and popped them in his mouth.

"Need to wash your hands; they're all black," Ryan smiled.

"I can't reach," Alida complained.

"Bathroom's right there," Ryan pointed.

Alida looked around; Ryan's bathroom was neat, clean. Even the toilet looked clean. And he had both seat and lid down.

There was a light scent of cologne, of toothpaste. There was no stench; the bathroom in her apartment did need to be cleaned. And, no matter how many times she fussed, Carl could not be bothered to leave the seat down, or spray any air freshener, or turn the fan on.

"Black jelly beans makes the coffee taste funny," Ryan advised as she clambered up into her seat again.

"Well, if you leave them all to me, you won't have to worry about that," Alida smiled.

"You're not getting no more," he told her, firmly putting the lid on the glass jar and sliding the jar further away from her.

"Oh, like that's going to stop me," she sneered and slid out of her seat.

She pushed the bar stool closer to the jar.

"Don't you do it," Ryan warned.

"She smirked and climbed up onto the tall stool.

""Alida," he warned.

She knelt on the seat of the stool and reached for the jar.

"I'm tell you," he threatened.

She screamed in shock as Ryan reached over, grabbed the crotch of her thong panties, and gave her a hard 'snap' by releasing the crotch.

"What'd I tell you?" he asked as she chortled.

"Leave them alone," he said, picking her up and putting her on the floor.

"Meany," she said and stuck her tongue out at him.

"Uh huh," he smiled and glanced at his watch.

"Listen; I'm going to look at this house; want to come see?" he asked her.

"Yeah, sure; you thinking of moving out?" she asked.

"Maybe," he said, noncommittal.

He didn't want to tell her it was to be another rental property; the fewer people that knew he was a landlord, the better.

She insisted on climbing up into his pick up truck unassisted. He didn't complain; the short skirt gave him an excellent view of her buttocks and crotch as she cocked one leg up, then pulled herself up.

"Why you got such a big truck?" she complained when he closed her door.

"Compensation," he smirked.

"Compensation for what?" she asked as he got into the truck.

"You know, big truck, itty bitty penis," he smiled and backed onto the street.

Carmen raised an eyebrow when Ryan assisted a small girl out of his truck; in all of the houses and apartment complexes she'd shown him, he had never had anyone with him.

"About time you decided to get a woman's point of view," she smiled and shook Alida's hand. "Hi, I'm Carmen Davis; I'm Ryan's real estate broker."

"Alida Betsingal," Alida smiled. "I'm..."

"A big old jelly bean thief," Ryan finished.

"Shut up!" Alida laughed.

It felt good to be with people that were not talking down to her. Carl and the few classmates that he'd befriended had talked down to her, made her feel small, stupid. Of course, Carl either dismissed her complaints, or defended his friends' actions.

Carmen all but ignored Ryan, showing Alida the benefits of the house, pointing out the amenities, pointing out that it was close to good schools.

"So, what you think?" Ryan asked her as they stood on the small wooden deck, looking out to the back yard.

"I love it," Alida declared.

"They're asking one thirty nine but I'm sure they'd take one thirty, you pay closing," Carmen whispered.

"Offer them that, no higher than one thirty five," Ryan said, nodding his approval.

Alida was surprised; Ryan asked her opinion and valued her opinion. He valued it enough to write out a check for one percent of the offered price, 'earnest money.'

"You hungry?" Ryan asked, pulling up to Clark's Drive-In.

"Ooh, I can get a chili dog?" Alida asked. "Carl don't like them; starts telling me what they're made of but..." 

"And what you want to drink?" Ryan asked as a young girl skidded to a stop next to the truck.

"Hi, welcome to Clark's," the blonde girl gushed, popping her bubble gum.

Chili dog," Ryan told the girl. "You want any fries?"

"Yeah," Alida agreed.

"She wants some fries, I want a Smokehouse burger, add grilled onions, fries and a chocolate malt; Alida?" Ryan told the girl.

"Um, I can have me a malt too?" Alida asked.

"Yeah," Ryan agreed.

"Strawberry," Alida decided and the girl skated away.

"Used to have this girl worked here, worked at the dance studio all day, worked here at night," Ryan told Alida.

"Poor girl," Alida sympathized.

"Studio burned down couple of years back when them punk ass dicks, the Angels 270 rioted," Ryan went on. "Original owner decided to just take the insurance money and split so her assistant saved up every penny she could working here and opened up her own studio." 

"That what happened to Delphy's Diner?" Alida asked. "That riot?"

"Yeah, in fact the old studio was right next door to Delphy's," Ryan agreed and pulled out his wallet as their waitress barreled toward them, heavy tray in hand.




Jelly Bean Theif



"But ever since she left, though, none of the girls here know how to put on a show," Ryan said and smiled as the girl hefted the tray up to his window.

"What you mean?" Alida asked and used her teeth to rip open the mustard packet.

"They used to jump them benches, do figure eights, skate backward, all kind of stuff," Ryan said and declined the change.

"Ain't busting my ass over no nine dollars an hour," the blonde girl said, face darkening with anger.

Ryan ignored the girl and dug into his burger with gusto.

"Ew, onions?" Alida said, pinching her nose.

"No, GRILLED onions," Ryan corrected. "Wanted to take you to the Dead End; they got the best burgers ever, but..."

"That Biker bar?" Alida screeched.

"Not no more," Ryan defended. "If anything, it's a cop bar now. 

"And like I want to watch a bunch of girls bebopping all over the place, half naked," Alida groused, stuffing way too much hot dog into her mouth.

"So don't look," Ryan suggested. "I'll tell you if you're missing anything."

She reached over and slapped his arm.

Oh, ow, ooh, that really hurt," Ryan teased.

She managed to eat all of her hot dog but Ryan got most of her fries. She still had more than half of her strawberry malt left when Ryan pulled up in front of their apartment complex.

"See you later," she said and practically skipped to her apartment.

"Hope so," Ryan smiled and entered his apartment.

Three hours later, Carl was exhausted, in a bad mood when he entered their apartment.

"Dinner's about ready; hungry?" Alida asked, shutting off the crock pot.

"What you think?" Carl asked, flopping into his seat at their small table.

"Got this recipe off that Ranch bottle," Alida said, putting a plate in front of him.

"What is it?' he asked, sniffing it suspiciously.

"Pork roast; what's it look like?' she asked.

"Don't know," he said and took a cautious bite.

He then saw the cup from Clark's Drive-In sitting on the kitchen counter.

"Oh hey! When you go to Clark's?' he asked, becoming angry.

"Lunch," Alida answered, putting her own plate on the table.

"Huh? When? Today?" Carl asked, voice rising.

"No, last year!" Alida yelled. "Yes today! You seen that cup there before?"

"And how'd you get there, huh?" he asked.

"Ryan showed me this house, and then we ate there," Alida answered, having no reason to lie.

"Thought I told you, I do not want that son of a bitch over here; this is MY apartment," Carl thundered.

"He didn't come over here; I passed by and seen him," Alida retorted.

"Let me make this as clear as I possibly can to where even you can understand," Carl hissed. "I do not want you around that Ryan Thibodeaux. At all. Here or at his place, or Clark's or any where. Got it?"

Chapter 6

"Hey," Alida greeted Ryan. "What you doing?"

"Getting ready to go to a closing," Ryan admitted.

"A what?" Alida asked.

"A closing; bought this duplex," Ryan admitted as she sauntered into his apartment.

Aw! "What happened to that house?" she asked, disappointed.

"Working on it," Ryan admitted and shook his head as she made a bee-line for his jar of jelly beans.

"Well, that calls for a jelly bean, huh?" she smiled and knelt on the kitchen stool.

"Leave them black ones alone," he warned.

"Or what?" she asked, digging around to grab a black one.

"Smack that ass again; that's or what," he threatened.

"Ooh, I'm so scared," she mocked and popped three black ones in her mouth.

He gave her a smart little backhand to her buttocks, admiring the way her rear looked in the Daisy Duke shorts she was wearing.

"Ow!" she laughed and tossed some more jelly beans into her mouth.

"Believe it or not; and I know you're going to find this real hard to believe, but I did not buy those for you," he said, giving her another light backhand to her rump.

"Who'd you buy them for?" she mumbled around the mouthful.

"Um, me," he said, slipping his shoes on.

She dug around, couldn't find any black ones and grabbed a heaping handful of the jelly beans.

"Come on; I got to meet my lawyer," Ryan said, gesturing with his head toward the door.

"Lawyer? Why? What'd you do?" Alida asked, clutching her jelly beans.

"Just told you; doing a closing," Ryan said.

"I can go with you?" Alida asked as he locked his door.

"Yeah I guess, but why would you want to?" he asked. "Takes about two hours of 'sign here, initial there and on the second page you need to sign at the bottom' and God! I got writer's cramp by the time I'm finished!"

"Oh, okay; have fun," she said and walked back to her apartment.

Ryan watched her creamy brown thighs and the two crescents that peeked out the shorts, shook his head and got into his truck.

As expected, the seller, Victor Tripani, was in a sour mood during the closing and barely acknowledged the check that Penny Richards, Ryan's lawyer slid over to him.

After all the papers were signed, notarized, and copies given to each party, Ryan extended his hand to Victor.

"Good doing business with you," he said.

Victor stared at the offered hand, then stared hard at Ryan's face, then left the room.

"Well!" Penny said, surprised at Victor's rudeness.

"He um, he barely broke even on the sale," Stacy Falgout, Victor's real estate agent apologized as she gathered her purse and briefcase.

"Tough toenails," Ryan smiled shook Stacy's hand, Penny's hand, then left the conference room of Richards, Pellichet, and Richards law office.

In her apartment, Alida fixed Carl's lunch by reheating the leftovers from last night's pork roast and pouring it over rice. He was still grumpy after working a double shift and only grunted his appreciation.

After half-heartedly shoveling the food into his mouth, Carl got to his feet and staggered back into the bedroom.

"What? You just going to sleep all day?" Alida asked.

"What? We got something we need to do?" he snapped.

"Well, no but..." Alida said.

"Huh? We need to go somewhere?" Carl asked angrily.

"No, but God damn, beautiful day outside," Alida said.

"I worked twenty hours yesterday, Alida; I'm exhausted. Forgive me if I don't care if it's a beautiful day or not," Carl barked.

"Fuck, just go to sleep, ass hole," she muttered.

Stepping outside of his lawyer's building, Ryan looked across the street at Bombay's Indian Restaurant, checked his watch and saw that it was after twelve o'clock.

"Ever eat there?" Ryan asked Stacy as she stepped out of the building.

"No; they any good?" Stacy asked.

"Don't know; about to find out, Ryan admitted. "Join me?"

"I'm seeing someone," Stacy said quickly.

"And?" Ryan snapped "I am too. I just wanted to know if you'd like to get some lunch; I'm not asking for a piece of ass."

He walked across the street, not looking to see if she was following him or not.

"Ah, yes sir, just one?" Hashim asked as Ryan entered the dark interior of the building.

"Guess so," Ryan said as he turned and watched Stacy's Jaguar drive away.

"Ever been here before?" Hashim asked as he showed Ryan to a comfortable booth.

"No; my lawyer's office is right across the street," Ryan nodded in the general direction. "I've seen this place before, thought I'd try it."

"Well very good," Hashim smiled affably. "Any questions, you just ask, okay?"

With Hashim's help Ryan decided on a lamb curry dish, along with a vegetable appetizer. He smiled as he glanced at the back of the menu and saw 'jelly bean pie' on the list of desserts.

"Ah, my sister, she's silly girl," Hashim smiled with all the pride of a big brother. "She comes up with crazy idea of mixing jelly beans with ice cream and calls it pie. Kids, huh? What you going to do?"

"What I'm going to do is have that to go; two pieces, okay?" Ryan smiled.

"Tell me if it's any good," Hashim smiled. "It's no good? I throw sister away in dumpster."

"You will not," Hashim's mother laughed as Hashim placed the order and told her what he told the customer.

"Whew!" Ryan groaned as he barely managed to finish his meal. "Glad I'm getting that pie to go!"

"Oh, so sorry you didn't like the meal, sir," Hashim smiled, looking at the empty plates.

"Terrible, worst stuff I've ever had," Ryan laughed. "I might even have to come back tomorrow."

"Ah, we are open at night too, sir, if you want to come back tonight and bring lady friend," Hashim smiled widely.

"Just get me my pie," Ryan laughed, putting his credit card on the table for Hashim.

"My mother cut it kind of big,"Hashim apologized as he placed two large slices of the cold dessert in front of Ryan.

"Man!" Ryan said, hefting the desserts.

"Don't like one? Use other as door stop," Hashim suggested.

It was another two days before Ryan spoke with Alida; he saw her and Carl the afternoon of closing on the single family dwelling, but Carl had glared daggers at him and jerked Alida toward their car. Alida just shrugged her shoulders at Carl's rude behavior.

Carl's rude behavior did not spoil Ryan's good mood; the mother and her two daughters had been present at the signing. She looked haggard, almost lifeless as she scribbled her signature on the papers Penny put in front of her.

"Thanks for giving us sixty days; trying to find some place close by; wanted Cheryl and Cathy be able to go to St. Richard's," Samantha Gernard mumbled.

"Any luck?" Ryan asked, looking through the open door as Penny's receptionist, Ethel, played cards with the two young girls.

"No," Samantha admitted. "I mean, there's this one place, but he wants like eleven hundred a month and I just don't..." 

"Tell you what," Ryan smiled as Cheryl, the five year old girl whooped as she one a hand of 'Go Fish.' "There's a duplex two blocks over; Side 'A' is available and the landlord's wanting six hundred a month."

"You're kidding!" Samantha gasped, sitting up. "I thought they was going for nine hundred!"

"Most of them are," Ryan agreed and slid a business card for Anita Sanchez. "Tell this woman that Ryan, the guy that's moving out of there, told you about it, okay?"

Penny smirked as Ryan suddenly asked where the restroom was.

"Hey Anita, Ryan here," Ryan said into his cell phone.

Anita agreed to rent the three bedroom side to Ms. Gernard for six hundred a month and then told him of two apartments that were going to be available at the end of the month; the tenants had put in their notices.

He returned to the conference room and concluded their business.

Penny and Ryan smirked as Samantha used the office phone to called Anita Sanchez.

"Uh huh, Mr. Tough Landlord," Penny whispered.

"Whatever, Miss Heartless Lawyer," Ryan laughed, pointing to Ethel. "Who's the one hired her ex-husband's girlfriend?"

So, Carl's rudeness did little to kill Ryan's good mood.

He smiled as he watched Carl's Toyota back out and drive toward the hospital. 

A few minutes later, a light rapping could be heard at his door. Ryan picked up the jar of jelly beans, freshly replenished with even more black jelly beans, and stuck it on top of his refrigerator.

"Who is it?" he called out in a falsetto voice.

"Um, Alida," Alida said, puzzled by the high pitched voice.

"Oh, I love 'knock knock' jokes," Ryan said, opening the door. "Alida who?"

"Alida going to kick your ass you don't quit fucking around," Alida said, barging into the apartment.

She looked around for the woman that had called out 'who is it?' when she knocked.

She couldn't explain why but thinking that Ryan might have a woman in his apartment had bothered her.

"That had to be one of the worst 'knock knock' jokes ever; want some coffee?" Ryan chuckled.

"Yeah; where'd that woman go?" Alida asked.

"Oh, you mean this?" Ryan asked in his high pitched falsetto.

"Ass hole," she said, slapping him on his buttock as he walked past toward the kitchen.

"Uh huh," Ryan laughed and dug out a dark roast container for her coffee.

"Hey, where's the jelly beans?" Alida cried out, looking around the counter top.

"All gone, ate them all," Ryan said, looking at the jar on his refrigerator.

"That whole jar?" Alida asked, and then followed his gaze. "Nuh uh! I see them right there!"

"Right where?" Ryan asked putting her cup of coffee on the kitchen table.

"Right there, on top the ice box!" Alida said.

"Too bad you can't reach them, huh?" Ryan asked, fixing himself a cup of Columbian blend.

"Aw, you went to Clark's?" Alida asked, spotting a cup from the drive-in on the counter.

"Yeah; chili burger, add jalapeno and onion," Ryan agreed.

"Well then it's time for dessert," Alida said, sliding the bar stool toward the refrigerator.

"Got that covered," Ryan smiled and opened the freezer, digging out the two frozen jelly bean pies.

"What's that?" Alida asked as he put one next to her cup of coffee.

"Jelly bean pie; got it from Bombay 's. Ever eat there?" Ryan smiled, digging out two forks for them.

"No; told Carl I want to do that but he said it's too expensive," Alida grumbled and jammed a fork into the pie.

Too... No, not really," Ryan said "I mean, I had appetizer, entrée, beer and two desserts; cost me thirty four dollars plus tip."

"Carl don't tip," Alida whispered to Ryan. "Says it ain't his job to pay someone else's employees."

"Tell Carl if those places paid their employees minimum wage he wouldn't be able to eat out," Ryan said and chased down the frozen bite with some hot coffee.

"There's jelly beans in this!" Alida cried out as she chomped through a few of them.

"Why it's called jelly bean pie; guy that works there said his sister came up with it. "I think it's okay; what you think?" Ryan said as he swallowed another mouthful.

"I like it," Alida said and giggled as she chased it down with hot coffee. "The coffee makes the ice cream melt faster!"

When she finished, Alida studied his pates and flatware. The plates were heavy as were the forks. Both were simple in design, no ornate scrolls or designs on them.

"Got them at an estate sale up in Rayville," Ryan said, anticipating her question. "Good plates will last you forever."

"Carl don't want to spend no money on things like that," Alida admitted. "Says what we'd spend on one set, he could get three or four of them other ones.

"Uh huh and how they holding up?" Ryan asked, collecting their plates and forks and stacking them into the small dishwasher.

"Melted a bunch of them in the dishwasher," Alida admitted. 

"Dishwasher here?" Ryan asked, concerned.

His apartment backed up to the kitchen and living room area of the Betsingal apartment.

"No, no, the old one in New Orleans," Alida said and drained the last of her coffee. "It was real old; had to shut it off before it would go to dry them or you'd be peeling them plates off the rack."

"Lovely," Ryan said and took her cup. "Want another?"

"No; I'll be peeing all day I have two of them," Alida laughed.

"So, what you do all day?" Alida asked, walking into the living room and flopping down on his couch.

Ryan fought down the groan in his throat; when Alida flopped down, the leg of her shorts gaped open and he could see her hairless mound. She picked up the remote control for his cable box and studied it.

"I uh, I do some freelance computer work," Ryan lied, still not wanting to tell Alida he was their landlord.

He'd made that mistake once, told a young husband and wife. From that moment on, the husband harassed Ryan, demanding repairs of miniscule problems and the wife harassed him to reduce their rent.

Ryan didn't think Alida would be like Jay and his wife Ruby, but he was pretty sure that Carl would make him miserable and would also blab it to the other tenants of the property.

"Should have guessed; you were a fucking nerd in high school too," Alida smirked and pointed the remote at the television. "You get any good channels on this?"

"Nope; they're all horrible," Ryan smirked. "Try channel zero one two."

"What's that, oh? That's that Shapes! My sister's Pam owns that!" Alida cried out as the one o'clock 'Ladies Work Out Lunch Break' filled the screen. "Well, she owns part of it, like one half or something."

"Yeah?" Ryan asked, squinting at the screen. "She in there?"

The camera operator was obviously male; the camera focused mainly on the leotard crotches or the snug tops then would zoom out when Trish, the aerobics instructor would call out a change.

"No, she does the cooking and stuff there," Alida said and changed the channel just as the camera zoomed in on an erect nipple in a sweaty top.

"Hey, um, I was watching that!" Ryan complained as Alida found an insipid talk show.

"Was not," Alida smirked but changed the channel back just as Trish and the five students applauded themselves for a good work out. "See, it's over."

"Uh huh, might have missed something when you changed the channel," Ryan grumbled.

She switched it back to the talk show and Ryan got out his lap top to do a little checked on his schedule.

"That's rude," Alida said as a commercial blared.

"What is?" Ryan asked, wincing against the high volume of the commercial.

"Working; you got company," Alida said, getting up.

"Uh huh, where are you going?" Ryan asked as she headed for the kitchen.

"Don't worry about it, Mister Rude Ass; you just keep working," Alida said as she pushed the bar stool toward the refrigerator again.

"Don't you dare," Ryan said, turning off his computer.

"No, no, you just keep working," Alida giggled as she climbed onto the stool.

"Alida I put them up there for a reason," Ryan said, getting to his feet.

"Told you, keep working," Alida giggled as she stood on the seat of the stool.

"Don't," Ryan said, grabbing her around her waist.

"Hey, I'm taller than you," she laughed as he attempted to pull her off the stool.

"Let go of the refrigerator," Ryan laughed as she clung to the top.

"No," she giggled.

"Alida," he said and gave a hard tug.

"Aw!" Alida complained as she was now three feet away from her target.

"Told you; those are mine," Ryan said.

"Uh huh and what you charge me for one, huh?" Alida asked, resting her small hands on his broad shoulders.

"A kiss," Ryan suggested.

"There," Alida said and gave him a quick peck on his lips.

"That wasn't a kiss," Ryan complained.

"Oh, fine, what ever, big cry baby," Alida huffed and pressed her lips to his.

He put her back on the stool and she popped the lid off and dug out a handful of jelly beans.

"One, Booger face," Ryan complained.

"Uh huh," Alida said. "Want them back? Come get them."

She crammed the whole handful into her mouth.

"Think I won't?" Ryan asked.

"Ahh!" Alida said, sticking her tongue out, showing him all the chewed up jelly beans.

"Mm, ABC, my favorite," Ryan said.

"What's ABC?" Alida asked as she swallowed the mouthful.

"Already Been Chewed," Ryan smiled.

"Oh," Alida laughed and dug out a few black jelly beans.

"Ah!" she said, showing him the three chewed up jelly beans.

"Mmph!" she protested, shocked as Ryan did stick his tongue into her mouth, did take the jelly beans off of her tongue.

"Mmm," she moaned as he held her tightly, kissing her passionately.

"I should get like the whole jar for that one," she said quietly, rubbing her small hands over his shoulders and chest.

"Excuse me?" Ryan smiled. "I should get two jars."

"Then I should get three," she smugly said.

He kissed her again and rubbed his hands up and down her back.

"Oh," she moaned as he cupped her buttocks in his large hands.

He picked her up and carried her to the couch.

Between kisses, he managed to slide her half shirt off. Alida squealed as his hot mouth sucked in one of her nipples.

Whenever Carl did play with her breasts he usually just grabbed them and kneaded them like dough; he was rough, hurried.




Jelly Bean Theif



Ryan sucked, nibbled, licked and kissed all of her breasts, constantly paying reverence to her dark nipples.

"Oh," she moaned and again he kissed her slack mouth.

"I love you," he moaned.

She wiggled out of her loose shorts and Ryan picked her up in his muscular arms.

He placed her in the center of his full sized bed, and then hurriedly stripped off his clothes.

Alida was fascinated with Ryan's muscular physique; Carl's body was the only male body she'd ever seen, other than movies and photographs. Carl was tall, true, but he was also pudgy, slightly pear shaped. Ryan was pear shaped also, but an upside down pear; shoulders and chest wider than his hips.

Carl's chest and upper arms were pasty white from lack of sun; Ryan's chest and abdomen was tanned.

Alida opened her eyes wide when Ryan's erection came into view.

Fully hard, Ryan sported just over six inches; Carl sported three inches of plump meat. Carl's testicles were obscured by a dense profusion of light brown hair; Ryan's bans were shaved smooth and hung down, large and proud.

"Oh," Alida moaned as Ryan slid onto the bed next to her.

He started again with kisses and touches, her face, her long black hair, her arms and shoulders and neck.

Trixie Two had taught Ryan well and Ryan gave Alida nearly thirty minutes of oral attention before he brought his mouth to her hairless slit.

"Mother fucker!" Alida screamed out as Ryan's tongue forced its way into her tunnel.

Carl had never put his mouth on her pussy; he was good at finger fucking her to orgasm before stuffing his shaky erection into her, but he did not, would not eat her.

Ryan located Alida's clitoris and gave it a gentle nibble, then suck.

"Aw, fuck! Fuck!" Alida screamed as she orgasmed again.

"Come on," she begged pulled him up.

"Ah, oh God!" Alida screamed again as Ryan slid his cock into her pussy.

For nearly ten minutes, Alida grunted, screamed and whined as Ryan slowly fucked in and out.

"God damn!" Alida cried out as Ryan's hot seed flooded her pussy.

He slithered off the bed, went into his bathroom, and then came back with a warm washcloth.

He slowly, softly cleaned her pussy of their juices, kissing her face with soft feather light kisses.

Alida suddenly sat bolt upright.

"Fuck!" she cried out.

"Move, move, God damn it; I got to go," she cried, scrambling off the bed.

"Alida what's wrong?" he asked her as she frantically pulled her clothing on.

"What's wrong?" she screamed at him and dashed for his front door.

"What's wrong? I'm married, you dumb ass mother fucker!" she screamed again, flung the door open and ran out of his apartment.

Ryan closed the door softly, and then sat down on his couch.

Less than a minute later, he was sobbing; broken-hearted.

Chapter 7

Carl waddled into the apartment, face pinched in his customary scowl.

He and Alida had been fighting for days; he knew it was his fault but could not force himself to make amends.

He watched as Alida put a sandwich next to a steaming bowl of soup.

"Hi," she said quietly.

"Hi," he replied warily.

A quiet Alida was not a normal occurrence.

"Come on, while your soup is hot," she said and indicated his chair.

They ate in silence. The silence was punctuated by Alida slurping her bowl of soup.

"When you got to go back in?" Alida asked suddenly.

"Six," he said, glancing at his watch.

"So," she said coyly. "Got time for a little..."

She pulled her shirt off then got to her feet. She dropped her shorts to the floor and walked, nude, to the bedroom.

"Come on," she encouraged.

Carl pushed himself away from the table and scurried into the bedroom, already pulling at the zipper of his polyester slacks.

Their coupling was quick, frantic.

"So, um, what brought that on?" Carl asked when he caught his breath.

"Tired of fighting all the fucking time," Alida shrugged.

"Shit!" he suddenly proclaimed and sat up.

"What?" she asked concerned.

"Damn it, I'm going to be late," Carl complained as he straightened his clothes.

"Oh," Alida said and curled up into a ball.

He kissed her on her cheek, said "Love you," and then left.

At nine thirty, Alida wearily got out of bed, cleaned up the kitchen, cleared the dishes off the table, and then pulled her nightgown on.

At twelve fifteen, Carl wearily staggered into the apartment and crawled into bed.

"Hey," Alida said, small hand going to the fly of his boxers.

"Hey; baby, I'm tired," he complained.

"Too tired to..." she asked and took him in her mouth.

"Fuck," he moaned as she sucked him to erection.

"Aw, yeah," she sighed as she straddled his flabby hips and slid his cock into her pussy.

A moment later, Carl thrust up and spurted into her.

In the morning, Alida woke Carl with another blow job and fuck, then made him breakfast.

"Go put some clothes on," he laughed as she pranced around the apartment nude.

"Why?" she playfully asked, hooking a finger into her pussy, "Finding it hard to think?"

She squealed as he picked her up and put her on the rickety table.

"No, but you're about to find it pretty hard," Carl laughed and drove himself into her pussy.

He was able to last nearly ten minutes and Alida shuddered through a weak orgasm.

Carl was pretty pleased with himself as he shaved, showered, then got ready for another twelve to twelve shift at the hospital.

"Love you," he said and left the apartment.

"Uh huh," Alida mumbled.

A moment later, she dug out the vacuum cleaner.

Ryan could hear the vacuum cleaner running as Alida cleaned her apartment. He had sat and waited for her last night after seeing Carl come home, then leave again, but she never came.

Ryan watched as a happy Carl got into his Toyota and drove away, and waited.

Now he could hear the faint whine of the vacuum cleaner.

He waited another forty minutes after Alida finished vacuuming, then shrugged and left the apartment.

At the Dead End bar, a fresh faced girl brought him a Volcano burger and onion rings. Ryan admired the way the shorts framed her nicely rounded ass, but the tattoo he could see was a real turn-off for him. 

On the stage, a very curvy woman was dancing to 'Before I'm Dead' by Kidneythieves. She also sported some tattoos, a rose was peeking out of her left bra cup and the thong panties showed a cherry on her right buttock.

The serpent that coiled from her elbow to her shoulder, however, was the real turn-off for him.

The next dancer was a new girl and was still quite self-conscious about removing her clothing in front of a room full of men. She jerked around to Van Halen's 'Jump' and almost stepped back when a man dropped a few bills into the tip jar at the edge of the stage.

"What the fuck is it with fucking tattoos?" Ryan asked himself when the girl took off her top and revealed a Chinese symbol on tattooed on her bicep.

"It's her name in Chinese," the waitress smiled. "It means 'Harmony.'"

"Her parents named her Harmony?" Ryan asked, not believing but not really caring.

Alida had sported no tattoos; her skin was a light, creamy brown. She had a small mole on her left shoulder, but other than this he could see no blemishes. Her nipples had been small, hard purple dots on her perfect breasts. Her navel had been a small nick in the soft flesh of her belly and her pussy had been a perfect slit on a perfect body.

Ryan finished his burger and beer, tried to will his erection down, but finally, face blazing, walked from table to door, his Alida inspired erection leading the way.

The oppressive heat and humidity did manage to wilt Ryan's erection and he drove home.

Once safely in the air-conditioning of his apartment, Ryan looked at the couch, the couch where he had first seen Alida's nude body.

He entered his bedroom, the bedroom where he had tasted nearly every inch of Alida's nude body. The bedroom where he had finally made love to her.

He rushed into his bathroom, jerked his blue jeans and boxers down and grabbed his aching cock. Five frantic strokes and he spurted his semen into the toilet bowl.

"Well we've come full circle, huh?" he asked himself bitterly. "Spent all of high school spanking my monkey over her and now we're right back at it again."

"God, you're such a fucking loser," he said to himself bitterly as he cleaned his cock.

Chapter 8

Alida woke Carl up by nuzzling on his neck, then his ear, then softly kissing his face.

Ever since that horrible afternoon, Alida had been quiet, subdued. She had also been loving and attentive to her husband.

Carl didn't know why his wife was suddenly being the wife he's wanted all along, but he was not going to upset the apple cart.

Just like Ryan had done to her, Alida softly kissed nearly every inch of Carl's flabby body, finally arriving at his cock. It was standing up proud. She gave it a few licks then put her mouth over the head.

"Mmph!" he grunted, sending a few thin dribbles of his semen into her mouth.

Alida was livid; he had not warned her; just spurted into her mouth the moment her lips encircled his cock-head.

She fought down the anger; if she yelled at him, he might find out she'd slipped, that she'd been unfaithful.

Suddenly, she jerked upright, and then dashed to the bathroom. Carl was roused from his post-orgasmic bliss by the sounds of Alida retching violently.

"Oh, come on; it doesn't taste that bad," he joked as he lumbered out of bed.

"Fuck you!" she screamed, her anger finally boiling to the surface. "Fucking come in my mouth don't even fucking tell me you're going to?"

She finished vomiting, swished water around in her mouth and stomped out of the bathroom.

True to form, Carl didn't bother closing the door, just flopped his fat ass down on the toilet and defecated.

Alida felt another wave of nausea but fought it down and stomped into the kitchen.

Breakfast was served by Alida slamming the plates in front of Carl.

"Might want to just eat the toast; helps with nausea," Carl smugly told Alida as she slapped her own plate down on the table.

"Know what else helps with nausea?" she spat angrily. "Fucking husband doesn't just come in your mouth without telling you."

Carl started to respond, realized he did not have a response and shut his mouth.

Alida glumly nibbled on her toast. Every time she attempted to eat any of the scrambled eggs, a wave of nausea would come on and she would jam more of the toast into her mouth.

Carl finished his breakfast, playfully pinched Alida's breast as he walked by and waddled to the shower.

Alida gasped loudly; the pinch had hurt tremendously.

"Oh, come on; that didn't hurt," Carl said and started his shower.

"Hurt a fucking lot, ass hole, she screamed.

"Tell me what hurts and don't hurt?" she grumbled to herself as she scraped his plate into the garbage can.

He yelped as she 'accidentally' turned the hot water tap on.

"Oops, sorry," she called out.

"Didn't hurt," she muttered and grabbed her own plate from the table.

It galled her to scrape her eggs into the garbage can; food wasn't cheap, as Carl constantly reminded her, but the thought of eating it made her stomach roil.

She stacked both plates and their juice glasses into the dishwasher and started the noisy machine.

"Aiigh!" Carl cried out as ice cold water doused him. "Damn it, Alida! Come on!"

"Oops," she giggled. "Sorry! Thought you were done by now!"

She took her sweet time in shutting the noisy machine off. As soon as the shower stopped, she again started the dishwasher.

A few moments later, he appeared, already shrugging his white coat on.

"Uh, brush them teeth?" Carl asked as Alida craned up for a kiss.

"No," she snapped. "When have I had...?"

"Well then," he said and kissed her on the top of her head.

"I'll go brush them right now," she said.

Alida heard the door slam just as she stepped into the bathroom; Carl had not waited.

She blinked back her tears and put a dollop of the bargain brand fluoride toothpaste onto her brush.

The smell of the cheap toothpaste made her stomach heave and she again emptied her stomach into the commode.

After she finished, she felt her forehead. She did not have fever. The reflection in the mirror showed her to be sickly looking, with blotchy skin, but that was normal. She had just finished vomiting.

A sudden thought came to her; she couldn't remember when she'd last had her period.

Violent nausea, sore breasts, overly sensitive sense of smell, fatigue; it was starting to add up.

Alida did not know if she was happy, sad, or frightened.

"First thing; we need to find out for sure," Alida mumbled to herself.

She didn't want to ask Carl to pick up a pregnancy test; Alida wanted to be sure before she discussed it with him.

Alida counted up her money; she had twelve dollars.

Rapid Cab was four dollars, seven bucks round trip. She didn't know how much a pregnancy test was, but she was sure it was more than five dollars.

Her sister Pam was at home with her new baby boy, William. Her sister's friend, Cindy Broussard-Robichaux, would help Alida, but Cindy did not care for Alida, and let Alida know it. Pam's boyfriend, and the father of little William, Paul Robichaux, would also drive Alida, but she knew Paul would insist that Alida spend some time with her sister and her nephew. Right now, that was the last thing she felt like doing.

Alida looked out the window and saw Heather St. Martin at the pool.

"When the fuck she ever work?" Alida asked herself.

Then she saw Ryan climbing out of the pool.

He looked right at the window; Alida stepped back slightly before reminding herself he would not be able to see in; the windows were tinted.

He would drive her; he was gladly drive her.

Alida's insides got weak as she again remembered that day, when he made love to her.

She had never felt so sexy, so desirable as she had felt on that day. She had never felt so in control, so in charge. She had never felt so satisfied.

Or felt so cheap, so horrible, and so guilty.

But he would drive her.

She again attempted to brush her teeth, not breathing through her nose. Two swipes and she again gagged. So Alida grabbed the store brand mouthwash, gargled and spat, then dressed.

Ryan shot Anita Sanchez, his office manager a text message; today would be Heather St. Martin's last day of employment with TAB Properties.

Ryan kept an eye on Alida's apartment while Heather blissfully chattered away, making sure to thrust her monumental breasts his direction.

Her cell phone chirped and she rolled her eyes in disgust.

"It's the fucking office," Heather whispered conspiratorially to him. "Wonder what that fat ass dyke wants."

Ryan smiled and shrugged.

Inside he was wondering about Heather's comment. He did not know if Anita was gay. It would not matter to him if she was; she just didn't look the type to him.

"TAB Properties, Truman Complex," Heather answered cheerfully.

"Uh yes, yes ma'am," Heather said, voice dropping. "Uh, no, no ma'am; I was just taking a visual tour. In fact I'm out here talking with one of the tenants..."

Ryan gathered up his things and walked away; he had an office manager for a reason. The primary reason was to handle the unpleasant tasks that befell an apartment complex owner.

And, supposedly each complex had a properties manager for a reason. Hanging out at the pool and flirting with the tenants was not the reason for a properties manager.

"But we will be reasonable; you'll have until the thirtieth of this month to vacate your premises, Anita intoned into the telephone. "Of course, if you'd like, you can rent it; we'll just apply your final pay period toward the deposit."

Ryan smiled sadly; he never liked having to terminate an employee. But he paid a fair salary along with the use of an apartment. He didn't think he was unreasonable to expect his properties managers to actually sit in the office and perform their duties.

Upon entering his apartment, he grabbed a big handful of jelly beans and shoved them in his mouth.

Alida looked outside and saw that big tit monster hunched over in her chaise lounge. It was obvious that the woman was crying.

She steeled herself and opened the door to her apartment. To Alida's relief, Heather did not look up at her.

Ryan heard the sound he had been waiting to hear for a few weeks now; the soft fluttering knock at his door.

"Hey!" he happily greeted Alida.

"Hey, um, hey listen; I need you to drive me to the grocery store," Alida said, not looking at Ryan.

"Um, sure, okay; let me grab my keys," Ryan said, leaving the door open.

He came back out of his bedroom to see Alida's panty covered buttocks; she was kneeling on the bar stool, helping herself to his jelly beans. Her short skirt was far too short for her to be bending over like she was.

"Ready?" he asked, resisting the urge to swat her backside.

"Uh huh," Alida mumbled around the mouthful of jelly beans.

She swallowed, wondering why everything else made her sick but she was able to eat a whole handful of black jelly beans with no problem.

Maybe if I have enough let I'll buy me some jelly beans," Alida decided.

Again she refused his help and gave Ryan another glimpse of her white cotton panties as she clambered into his truck.

"So Early's or that Super One right there?" Ryan asked.

"Early's is good," she decided.

A moment later, she quietly said, 'Thanks."

"Sure no problem," Ryan cheerfully said. "So um, where you been? I kind of miss..."

"I been at my apartment; where you think?" Alida said, almost in tears. "What we did we should have never done? I been staying the fuck away from..."

She wiped at her eyes.

"I'm a married woman," she hissed. "I am married."

He pulled up to the grocery store and prepared to get out.

"No, please, you just wait here, please?" Alida asked.

"Oh, okay, sure," Ryan said and slammed his door shut.

Alida climbed down and hurried into the store.

She looked on the baby supplies aisle, then looked on the Health and Beauty Aids aisle and found a lone pregnancy test.

"Twenty four bucks!" she gasped, seeing the price.

"Yeah, isn't that ridiculous?" a clerk agreed as she stocked toothpaste onto a shelf.

"Damn; they got anything cheaper?" Alida asked.

"Think they might at Schaubs; that drugstore? On Robertson in DeGarde?" the girl offered.

"Thanks," Alida said, stomping out of the store.

"They didn't have..." Ryan asked as she pulled herself up into his truck.

"No; girl said they might have it at Schaub's," Alida said.

"Oh, okay," Ryan agreed and drove her to the DeGarde drugstore. 

Again Ryan waited for Alida and again she came out empty handed.

"Cheapest one they got is nineteen ninety nine," Alida grumbled, pulling herself into the truck.

"Here," Ryan said, fishing out a twenty dollar bill.

"I can't..." Alida protested.

"Hey, we've burned at least that much in gas just driving back and forth," Ryan said. "Drive all the way out here and don't get nothing? I don't think so. Here."

Alida grabbed the money, slid out of the truck again and scampered into the store.

"Hungry?" Ryan asked her when she came back, clutching a paper bag to her chest.

"Uh, yeah, kind of," she agreed.

"I found this wings place; you like wings?" Ryan asked.

Can we just get a hot dog from Clark's?" Alida asked.

"Sure," Ryan agreed.

Alida was able to keep the chili dog down but Ryan got all of her fries. The strawberry malt actually soothed and calmed her stomach and she happily sucked on the thick drink.

When they returned to the complex, Alida knelt on the seat and leaned over the console.

"Listen, thanks," Alida said.

"You're welcome," Ryan agreed.

"I um, what we, that can't happen again," Alida said seriously.




Jelly Bean Theif



"Listen, I'm not going to..." Ryan said, defensively.

"But I would like for us to be friends, okay?" Alida asked and kissed him quickly.

She then slid out of the truck, grabbing both malt and drugstore bag.

Ryan watched her scamper down the walkway toward her apartment, a feeling of loss overwhelming him.

"Well, I'm not sorry we did it, all right?' he yelled at her retreating back.

"And I'm not going to fucking apologize for it either," he said, slamming his door shut.

When Carl came home, he saw the Clark's Drive-In cup in the trash can and scowled darkly.

But he had no desire to upset the peace and tranquility, as well as the constant sex so fought down his anger.

"Dinner's almost ready," Alida mumbled, adding a handful of pasta noodles to the boiling water.

"Uh huh," Carl said and shrugged off his white coat.

"You hear that big tit monster got fired?" Alida asked as she checked the spaghetti sauce.

"Who, oh...No! Really? What happened?" Carl asked, taking his seat at the table.

"Don't know; didn't say," Alida said and dug out the colander. "Just came by, told me she gotten fired, said to tell you 'bye' and hopes we'll see each other real soon." 

Unable to suppress his anger any longer, Carl pointed to the wastebasket.

"Clark's?' he asked.

"Yeah; strawberry malt really settled my tummy," Alida said.

"And how'd you get there?" Carl demanded.

"Rapid Cab," Alida lied. Seven fucking bucks; believe that?" 

She dumped the pasta into the colander, rinsed the noodles, and then grabbed two plates.

"Need more money; getting that malt and the cab ride? Took all I had," Alida said as she dumped a huge meatball onto Carl's plate.

If she could get a twenty from Carl, she could pay Ryan back; Alida did not want to be beholden to Ryan.

"Hate these cheap ass plates," Alida whistled as she carried the steaming spaghetti to the table.

"They're fine," Carl defended.

"No, Carl, no they're not," Alida said. "For my birthday? I want some real plates. Kind that don't melt in the dishwasher. All right?"

"Fine; whatever," Carl said and twirled a fork in the pasta.

"What you want to drink?" Alida asked, yanking the door of the refrigerator open.

"Water," Carl said.

"Oh, okay," Alida said. "I mean, we got that iced tea or that diet orange."

"That iced tea tastes horrible," Carl said.

"Uh huh; know why?" Alida said, filling a glass with water.

"Tell me," Carl said.

"Because it's that cheap ass shit! It's store brand, dumb ass!" Alida yelled. "A dollar more, we could get the real stuff, but noooo!"

"Fine, we'll get the real stuff next time," Carl yelled back.

"Yeah right," Alida snapped.

"What's that mean?" Carl snapped and sipped the water.

"'We still got that can at home; why we getting more ice tea when we ain't finished that one at home,'" Alida imitated his nasally voice.

She poured herself some of the iced tea and sat down.

"Whatever," Carl grumbled and cut into his meatball.

Alida smirked slightly; she had used a good bit of red pepper flakes when making the meatballs. Carl's eyes bulged slightly, but he gamely swallowed.

Chapter 9

Carl jerked slightly when he felt Alida's lips nuzzling his neck, then his ear. He grimaced; her meatball had given him horrible indigestion. The heartburn was still flaring inside of his gut.

"Hey," she whispered lightly in his ear.

He resisted the urge to shove her away; the acid was churning in his gut.

Alida seemed to be oblivious to his discomfort; she continued to kiss him and nuzzle him. 

Finally, he did push her away.

"God damn, Alida; trying to sleep here," he mumbled and rolled away from her.

She sniffed back the tears and got out of bed.

An hour later, Alida heard the shower start. She resisted the urge to turn the dishwasher on.

Twenty minutes later, Carl came into the living room/dining room, dressed in pull over shirt and khakis.

"Where's breakfast?" he asked, glancing at the table.

"Get it yourself," she snapped.

"Look, I'm sorry; I'm trying to sleep and you're all over me," he tried to mollify her.

"I had some good news wanted to share with you," she snapped.

"What?" he asked.

"Too late now; don't fucking feel like telling you no more," Alida snapped and stormed into the bedroom.

Carl fixed himself a bowl of cereal, listening to the shower. He did toy with the idea of turning the dishwasher on but thought better of it; Alida was known to hold grudges a good long time. And she didn't get even; she got more.

She came back into the living room/dining room, dressed in a short dress; one of his favorites. She put her bare feet on the coffee table, letting him see that she did not have any panties on.

"So, what's the news?" Carl asked, sitting next to Alida on the couch.

She got up and sat in his recliner.

"Huh? What's your good news?" he cajoled.

"Nothing," she snapped. "Turn on the television; remote's right there."

"Not turning it on until you tell me," Carl said.

"Fine, ass hole," Alida grumbled. "Guess what? We're going to have a baby."

"We're what?" Carl asked.

Alida's anger slipped away slightly; announcing out loud that she was pregnant had buoyed her spirits.

"I've been feeling kind of 'eh' lately, so I got one of them pregnancy kits and tested it this morning and I'm pretty sure..." Alida said, her happiness beginning to bubble up.

"You're pregnant?" Carl asked, voice rising.

"Yes!" Alida whooped.

The sound of the slap reached her ears before the stinging sensation on her cheek reached her brain.

"Who's the father?" Carl screamed at her, reaching back to slap her again.

"Wha... what?" Alida asked, mouth open in shock.

He backhanded her other cheek.

"Who's the father? Who you been fucking?" Carl screamed, face twisted in rage.

"You!" Alida screamed back, throwing her arms up to prevent any further slaps. "You're the only..."

"Bull shit! Who you been fucking?" Carl screamed at the top of his lungs.

"I haven't..." Alida protested, blocking his third slap with her forearm.

"That mother fucker," Carl hissed suddenly and stormed for the front door of the apartment.

Alida scrambled out of the cumbersome recliner and ran after him.

Ryan was stepping out of his apartment; on his way to do a little grocery shopping. He smiled as he saw Carl Betsingal walking purposefully toward him.

"Hey, what's up?" Ryan asked.

Carl had never been in a fight and had no real skills as a fighter. He threw a punch that Ryan easily blocked. 

"You no good mother fucker!" Carl screamed and threw a second punch.

"Carl! Don't! Please!" Alida screamed, running after her husband.

"Ryan grabbed Carl's wrist and twisted it around.

"Let him go!" Alida screamed and began slapping at Ryan.

"Enough!" Sergeant Elise Richards announced, hand on her pepper spray.

"Sir, are you all right?" Elise asked.

"No, I'm not all right!" Carl whined.

"Wasn't asking you; I saw you throw two punches and then saw this kid..." Elise said, face stern.

"I'm not a kid!" Alida shrilled.

"Sergeant, thank you, but I'm fine," Ryan said.

"Officer, I want this man arrested," Carl demanded.

"Oh?" Elise asked. "Grounds?"

"Um..." Carl thought.

"Come on, let's take this inside," Ryan demanded and frog-marched Carl to his front door.

"Sir, if you're sure..." Elise asked.

"Yes Sergeant; private matter," Ryan assured her.

Inside the apartment, Ryan released his hold on Carl.

"Come on; I've got some coffee," Ryan said, trying to mask his shaking voice.

"I don't want your fucking coffee," Carl snarled.

"Well too fucking bad; you're getting it," Ryan snapped and shoved Carl toward a kitchen chair.

"Now, why you was..." Alida asked Carl, clutching at his hands.

"It's him, isn't it?" Carl snarled. "He's the one you been fucking, isn't he?"

Ryan froze for a moment and looked at Alida. She did not look at him, just tried to grab Carl's hands. Carl was avoiding her clutches, though.

"Now," Ryan said, plunking down two cups of coffee, already sliding the cream and sugar over to Alida. "What makes you think I've been...?"

"Because this stupid cunt's knocked up," Carl spat at him.

Ryan froze at the hateful words but Alida seemed to not hear the harsh words.

"Baby, all that loving we been doing," Alida whined, holding Carl's hands tightly. "Why you think it's not..."

"Because I had a vasectomy, you ignorant slut!" Carl screamed at her.

"You what?" Alida asked, stunned.

She stepped back, staring at her husband.

"I had a vasectomy right before we got married," Carl spat at her. "God! You really think I'd ever want to have kids? With an ignorant fucking idiot like you? Huh?"

"You... But we, I mean, you knew I wanted me three at least three..." Alida stammered.

"Get real," Carl sneered. "Fuck, you're so God damned stupid, I'm constantly amazed you haven't managed to burn the whole place down."

Ryan sat in stunned silence as Carl belittled his wife.

"Like you'd ever be able to..." Carl was on a rant now.

"Enough!" Ryan thundered. "God damn! How in the fuck can you talk to her like that?"

"You want this damned whore, you can have her," Carl shoved himself out of the chair.

"Baby, please don't..." Alida begged.

"Get the fuck out of my way," Carl ordered and shoved her hard.

"Hey, don't you ever..." Ryan got to his feet.

Carl yanked the door open then slammed it shut behind himself

Ryan helped Alida to her feet. She glared at him for a minute, than spat in his face.

"I fucking hate you!" she screamed, running for the door. "God! Don't ever touch me again; you make me sick!"

She flung the door open and ran, crying out for Carl.

Ryan wiped the spittle from his face and closed the door of his apartment.

"Please, Baby," Alida whined, trying to grab Carl's hand.

He again shoved her away from himself. Again, she fell onto the ground.

"Here, here, God, I can't believe he would do that," Heather St. Martin cooed as she helped the sobbing Alida to her feet.

Carl heard the knock; it did not sound frantic so he peeped through the peephole. He smiled tightly; it was Heather St. Martin.

"Hey," he said, opening the door.

"Hey; you have no right to lock her out of her own apartment," Heather said, shoving Alida forward. "There are two names on the lease; hers and yours."

"Yeah? Heard you got fired; how stupid do you have to be to lose a job from this place?" Carl sneered at the attractive red head.

"Yeah, they fired me for renting out an apartment to a fat ass loser doctor," Heather smirked back. "Said they really didn't want any closet fags running the place down."

"Please Baby, I'll do anything," Alida sobbed.

In his own apartment, Ryan dumped the two cups of coffee out then stacked them in the dishwasher. Then he wiped the table clean, the counter clean.

Sighing, he finally left the apartment to do his grocery shopping.

Although Early's did not have as much selection as Super One Grocery Store, Ryan still preferred the smaller store.

He dawdled on the aisles as much as he could, but finally had no choice but to approach the checkout line.

Ryan did not want to return to his small, pathetic, empty apartment.

Ryan hauled the groceries to the truck, and then decided to go to Clark's for lunch. There was nothing in his bags that would spoil immediately; he could spare the twenty, thirty minutes it would take to eat a chili burger and chocolate malt.

"Hey!" the blonde girl smiled as she skidded to a stop next to his truck. "Welcome to Clark's; where's your girlfriend?"

"You tell me," Ryan shrugged.

"Aw, y'all broke up?" the girl asked. "That's a shame; y'all looked so cute together you know?"

"Yeah, well," Ryan said, noncommittal.

Ryan ordered, and then watched the girl skate away, admiring her round buttocks as they peeked out of the bottom of her short red shorts.

After his meal, the girl picked up the tray.

"Don't worry; you'll find somebody," she counseled.

"Yeah, even if I make them sick?" he asked, started his truck and backed out before the girl could answer.

Three days passed; Ryan would hear them arguing every now and then, mostly Carl's whining nasally voice.

Ryan looked at his apartments and did not see any openings other than the Gernard house he'd bought. He'd be able to get twelve to fourteen hundred a month in rent; it was a three bedroom unit. Right now, Paul Robichaux and his crew was doing the last minute repairs to the building.

"Hey Anita," he said into his cell phone.

"Yes sir, Mr. Thibodeaux?" Anita asked, as professional as always.

"We're not renting that house," he said sadly. "I'm moving in it as soon as it's ready."

"Oh I don't know about that," Anita teased. "We'll need to do a background check and..."

"Woman, I've been a tenant at the Truman complex now for what? Two years?" Ryan laughed.

"We 'Grandfathered' you into that one," Anita said.

"I'll stop by the office and get the key tomorrow," Ryan said and terminated the call.

He drove to Huvall's Texaco and purchased sixty dollars worth of U-Haul storage boxes.

"Yep you moving or just sticking stuff in storage, these boxes are the best," the attendant agreed as he helped Ryan put the boxes into the rear of the truck.

"There's no storage..." Ryan thought to himself, looking at the young man.

"Yep; why I'm buying them instead of digging some free ones out the back of Early's Grocery store," Ryan agreed.

"Yeah, and these don't smell all funny," the kid agreed.

"Hey Carmen, what you got in commercial real estate? About an acre or two?" Ryan said into his cell phone as he drove away from the gas station.

Three days later, Ryan met with an architectural firm, balked at the outrageous prices the arrogant man proposed, and downloaded standard plans off of a web site. He and Paul Robichaux agreed on a price to build the four hundred unit storage facility and Penny Richards, his attorney, filed the papers with the clerk of court.

Ryan decided to treat himself to lunch at Bombay's Café, wishing he had Alida with him. He was sure she would enjoy the exotic cuisine.

"Ah, you come back; good to see you," Hashim smiled.

Ryan smiled when he saw that jelly bean pie was still on the menu.

"Yeah, I'll have a piece of that to go," Ryan smiled.

"You can have the whole thing; you're the only one orders it," Hashim admitted.

Ryan noticed that there was no charge for the entire pie he was given and asked Hashim about it.

"Like I said, you're the only one who's ordered it. Get it out of here so I can put something else in the freezer, huh?" Hashim smiled.

Ryan shrugged, took the pie back to his apartment and looked around.

Everything that could be carried by one man was already at the house, locked in the back bedroom. He trusted Paul, but Paul had insisted he take that precaution.

"Look, every now and then, I let a guy bring his brother; they need a few extra bucks," Paul hissed. "Well, I know MY guys; know THEY'RE all right, but their brother? Or their cousin? I don't know."

All that remained was the table and chairs, the recliner and couch, his desk and his bed. Two college boys were coming in the morning; Paul had said the smell of paint should be gone by then, and would load it all into the back of Ryan's truck.

Since his computer and television were already at the new place, he was very quickly bored. Ryan stretched out on the couch to take a nap.

Vaguely, Ryan heard a car screech away at a high rate of speed. He was very nearly asleep when a soft knock fluttered at his door.

At first Ryan wasn't sure he heard it. He sat up, slightly confused, disoriented.

Then he heard it again. He opened the door and gasped in horror.

Alida's face was unrecognizable; swollen, bruised, cut, and bloody. Her left arm was bent at a peculiar angle.

Her bare belly was a mass of blood and bruises.

"Ryan," she weakly mumbled and Ryan could see that she was missing a few teeth.

Then she vomited and Ryan saw clumps of blood in her vomit.

He grabbed her in his arms and carried her to his truck.

"I'm so sorry," she mumbled and passed out.

Ryan's tires spun, smoking horribly as he floored the accelerator. He threw the truck into 'drive' and again smoked the tires as he raced toward the Trauma Center.

"Yes, I'm taking a woman to the Trauma Center; looks like she was in a fight," Ryan screamed into his cell phone.

"Sir do you need an ambulance?" Becky Yuma, a Bender Police Officer asked.

"No, I just need the Trauma Center to be ready; she's a real mess," Ryan said as he roared toward the gleaming building.

Becky had obviously alerted the Trauma Center; There were two nurses and an orderly with a gurney waiting at the crest of the circular drive.

"You do that?" the orderly asked, glaring at Ryan.

"You crazy? I love her! I could never..." Ryan yelled at the man.

"It's all right, Honey, it's all right," the older nurse soothed as they lay Alida onto the gurney. "We're going to get you all better, all right?"

"I don't want to lose my baby," Alida sobbed.

Ryan watched as they raced Alida into the building.

He parked the truck, and then walked into the hospital.

"Here, fill this out; police will be here in a minute to talk with you," a third nurse ordered, thrusting a clipboard at Ryan.

He did fill out what information he could, leaving several blank spaces.

"Hello; you brought the beating victim in?" Officer Eric Miller asked.

"Yeah, she going to be okay?" Ryan asked.

"She's in surgery; all I know," Eric said. "What can you tell me?"

A few floors overhead, Carl worriedly looked around as he waddled down the hallway of the Trauma Center. He approached the nurses' station and almost turned around; a woman in a police uniform was talking with one of the nurses. The nurse turned and looked at him.

Carl did turn and begin to waddle in the opposite direction when the nurse pointed to him.

"Sir, stop," Sergeant Elise Richards ordered, putting a hand on Carl's shoulder.

"Need to ask you about your wife; she was admitted here thirty minutes ago," Elise said.

Carl frowned; he had been monitoring the Emergency Dispatches and there had been no ambulance dispatches from the Trauma Center in the past hour.

"Did she say why?" he blustered.

"Sir, what happened to your hands?" Elise asked.

"I, um, well, you know how it is, goes with the job," Carl stammered.

"Uh huh," Elise said. "Those look like fight bites."

"Like I said..." Carl said.

"Sir, put your hands behind your back," Elise ordered.

Carl tried to run, which was pretty foolish; there was nowhere to go and he was in deplorable shape. Elise simply swept her foot, kicking his feet out from under him, sending him crashing to the tiled floor.

"You have the right to remain silent," Elise intoned as she roughly yanked his arms behind him and cuffed him.

Eric looked up as the elevator doors dinged and Elise marched and saw his partner, wrestling a resisting Carl Betsingal out the door.

"You son of a bitch!" Ryan screamed, charging Carl. "You pathetic little piece of shit! Want to beat up on somebody, huh? Why don't you try me, huh? What's the matter, bitch? Not man enough to beat on somebody your own fucking size?"

Eric managed to force Ryan away from the now cowering Carl.

"I agree with you, sir, but if you hit him, then I'm going to have to bring you in too," Eric hissed.

"Then bring me in and put us in the same fucking cell," Ryan hissed back.

"Buddy, you're my kind of guy," Eric smiled. "Can't do it, though."

Alida came to; a horrible taste in her mouth. She tried to sit up but couldn't. She tried to move her head but couldn't.

"Need anything?" she heard a man's voice asked.

"Where am I?" she whispered.