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Nothing to Offer

By: JimBob44



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

*****

In the stifling August heat, Brian Harris pushed the lawnmower through the thicket of grass in front of the Houghton house. The last tenants had seen Brian cutting it when they moved in, had not told him 'thank you,' had not offered him money, or a cold beverage.

The next time he cut his own yard, right across from the Haughton house, Brian had just finished putting his mower away when Moses Everhardt, the patriarch of the house stomped across the street and demanded to know when Brian planned on cutting their grass.

"Uh, I'm not," Brian had calmly told him. "I was doing that as a favor to Jim and Kathy so their house wouldn't look abandoned. Now that you're living there, you can cut your own grass."

In the four months the four males and two females did live there, they cut the grass once. They'd scrounged an oil spewing mower from somewhere and glared hatefully at Brian as they labored to push it through the tall grass.

Jim and Kathy and their daughter Britney had moved from DeGarde, Louisiana to Winter Park, Colorado, to seek treatment for Jim's disease. Jim had some sort of bone deficiency; at thirty four years of age when Brian and Barbara Harris had moved in across the street, Jim was already grossly disfigured, hobbled from the disease that was eating away at his bones. Ten years his junior, Brian took to helping the Haughtons whenever he could. Barbara took to babysitting Britney when Jim and Kathy had to travel overnight to this specialist or that hospital.

Then, eight years ago, Jim and Kathy heard of a Specialist in Winter Park, Colorado and they moved there. The neighborhood was on the decline, the only reason why a man that had just opened his own dry-cleaning business and a stay at home homemaker could afford the three bedroom one bathroom home. Because of the declining value of the homes in the area, though, there were no offers on the Haughtons' small, comfortable home. For income, Jim and Kathy rented it out to a succession of ever-worsening tenants.

Thanks to the opening of the St. Elizabeth Trauma Center, though, the value of the properties was now on the upswing.

Brian finally finished mowing the grass, and walked across the street. He sat on his own front porch and drank from the jug of ice water he'd put there earlier. Barbara was not there to fetch his water.

Barbara had not been there for six years. A few years after Jim, Kathy, and Britney moved, Barbara, who had grown increasingly dissatisfied with him, with his dry-cleaning business, with their house, with life in general, announced that she'd met someone new, she hadn't meant to, she was sorry, but even as ignorant and inattentive as Brian was, even Brian had to admit that things had not been good between them for quite a while.

It seemed that her parents, who had always harbored a deep-seated dislike of Brian Harris, had always believed that he was beneath their daughter, who sneered at his paltry little dry-cleaning business, had introduced their daughter to Glen Peters, a prominent architect. They had done the introductions, had told Barbara that a professional man like glen Peters was more to her stature, and encouraged their daughter to get to know Glen Peters, have a few lunches with Glen Peters, encouraged their daughter to leave her pathetic little husband and marry Glen Peters.

"Man, I am so sorry to hear that," Jim had mumbled; the disease by now having eaten his jawbone.

"Oh, Brian, how absolutely horrible!" Kathy had wailed through the phone.

"Mr. Brian? I'm sorry Miss Barbara's being mean to you," Britney had comforted.

Despite his heavy heart, Brian couldn't help but smile. Even several hundred miles away, the Houghtons seemed to care more for him than his own wife had.

In order to get a quick divorce, Barney Siegel, Barbara's father, had 'generously' offered to pay the expenses of the divorce. Knowing that they'd already printed up and sent out the wedding invitations, reserved the synagogue, and hired the caterer; Brian had smiled and said that he was going to insist on counseling, in an effort to save his marriage.

To make matters worse, Brian left his two assistants in charge of the business and went on a ten day cruise.

By the time he returned, Barney Siegel agreed to have Barbara sign a quit claim deed to the house, sign away any interests in his dry-cleaning business, and pay twenty five thousand in alimony.

"Fucking useless sack of shit; should have never let my Barbara marry you," Barney had spat.

"I haven't signed the papers yet, shit for brains," Brian smiled across the table. "In fact, your hurtful words have caused me such distress; I think I might have to go on another cruise."

"That three month one we were talking about?" Sophia Coutre asked her client.

"Yeah, it's real nice; you get off in Ireland, spend about a week there, then..." Brian agreed.

"What more do you want, you God damned pissant son of a bitch," Barney had screamed, outraged.

"Wow, now I'm not signing anything," Brian smiled.

"Sir, what would it take," Jay Richards had asked, trying to calm his own client down.

"An apology and oh, I don't know language like that? Another twenty five thousand," Brian had smiled, playing with the pen, thoroughly enjoying Barney's agitation.

"I ought to beat the living shit out of you, you little..." Barney snarled.

"Bye," Brian said, got to his feet and left the room.

He let Barney get the first punch, made sure it happened right in front of Sophia's receptionist, and in front of the security camera. Then Brian delivered three punches. To Barney Siegel's face.

"You saw that; I simply defended myself," Brian said, using a handkerchief to staunch his bloody lip.

"Uh, yes sir," the horrified girl said.

Now, six years later, Brian Harris was polite whenever he saw the Siegel's, polite whenever he saw the Peters. In fact, when Kathy called to let him know that Jim had passed away, he had called Barbara and told her of Jim's passing.

"Who?" Barbara had said.

"Jim. Jim and Kathy Houghton? They lived across the street from us?" Brian had said.

"Huh? Oh, oh yeah! Had that cute girl, Courtney or something like that," Barbara had said.

"Britney, but never mind," Brian had said, actually disgusted with his ex-wife.

Shortly after Jim's funeral, the tenants across the street had pulled a midnight move, just packing up what they wanted, leaving piles of debris and rotting food, and departing.

So Brian was cutting the mid-calf high grass. He'd emptied the mailbox, tossing 'Occupant' into the trash can, and writing 'Return to Sender' on the other pieces of mail.

He knew where the key was, underneath the extremely heavy cast iron flower pot, which no longer held any plants; it no longer held dirt, and entered the Haughton house.

The tenants had taken even less care with the interior of the house and Brian used his cell phone to record everything that he saw, gathered up and threw out the food items

He actually felt dirtier having to walk through the house, than he had by sweating through the yard work.

"I don't know who y'all used as your rental agency, but they need to track down them tenants and sue the hell out of them," Brian said, then forwarded the pictures to Kathy's cell phone.

Brian looked up and down Batio Street and nodded with satisfaction. Out of the twelve houses on their block, only one other one needed to have its grass cut and TAB Properties would be doing that on Monday, the day they did this particular area.

He didn't know where the name 'Batio' came from, but Brian delighted in telling people it used to be masturbation street but the 'Mastur' and the 'N' had blown off in a powerful hurricane.

It still stung Brian, the divorce. It still bothered him that Barbara had told him he had nothing to offer her. It bothered him that the Petition for the Dissolution of the Marriage claimed that Barbara Siegel sought none of the marital assets; the marital assets were of no value to her.

A few years ago, Joanna Siegel, Barbara's mother, had swept into the small dry-cleaners and smirked as she presented a small lace comforter to be cleaned; it was the same comforter that had graced Barbara's baby bed. It would seem that Glen Peters was offering them their first grandchild.

"Yes ma'am, that's wonderful; you and Barney must be very proud," Brian had said graciously.

"Yes, Glen does have something to offer, after all," Joanna had said haughtily.

"Okay, please stay right there while we open this and examine it," Brian had requested.

"Oh, don't be ridiculous, I don't have time to just stand here and..." Joanna had snapped.

"Ma'am, this comforter has been in storage for twenty five years," Brian had said, forcefully. "You will stand there while I unfold it, or you will take it with you."

Brian and his assistant made notes of the dry rot damage to the lace in nearly each crease. Then, Brian loosed the last fold and a live mouse scurried out.

Joanna had screamed as Brian gathered up the baby mice and disposed of them while his assistant captured the momma mouse.

"And, that, Mrs. Siegel is why I wanted you to stay," Brian had snapped at the now chastened woman.

But Brian had done a masterful job of restoring the comforter to its former glory, and had even provided Mrs. Siegel with an airtight neoprene sheath to store the comforter in.

"No charge, consider it a gift for the baby," Brian had said, knowing that it would irk Barney and Joanna to know end, believing themselves to be in his debt.

Brian still drove the 1972 Chevy Malibu he had driven when he was dating, and when he married Barbara Siegel. Once, when filling it up at Huvall's Texaco, Barney had just completed filling up his Audi, looked with a sneer at Brian's car, and commented that Glen had just bought Barbara a brand new Lexus.

"Wow, those are nice," Brian had said politely.

It seemed to irritate Barney that Brian wasn't impressed; him almost t-boned a school bus as he pulled out of the gas station.

"I'd have to buy my wife a Lexus if I had a tiny dick too," Brian said and smirked at the pale, sweating face of Barney Siegel.

But, six years after the abrupt announcement that he had nothing to offer, and she found a real man, Brian contented himself with caring for his small house, tending to his flowers, maintaining his now classic automobile, and operating the three dry-cleaners he now owned.

It was Sunday, on Sundays Professional Dry-Cleaning was closed, but even if it had been open for business, Barbara Peters would not have noticed as she drove past the third, newest location.

Humiliated and outraged, Barbara Peters pulled out of the Super One Foods parking lot.

The clerk had been very gracious, had been quiet about Barbara's credit card being declined.

"Happened to me just last week," the girl had smiled sympathetically. "Me and my boyfriend went to that Backyard Barbecue; ever eat there? And the woman comes up and says my card's been declined. Turns out I was one day late mailing it in. One day! Believe that? One day! You got another card?"

Barbara used her American Express card and the girl smiled sweetly and helped Barbara load the cart and told Josette Peters bye-bye.

Barbara put Josette into her car seat, loaded the groceries into the trunk and drove home.

In his home office, Glen Peters grew more agitated as the cocaine wore off. He knew he did not have any more in the house, and he knew Barbara would not be inclined to believe he had urgent business at the office, where he had a little coke in his desk drawer.

After his unfortunate little fling with Cindy St. George, his personal assistant, Barbara wasn't very inclined to believe any of Glen's excuses.

It was an unfortunate dalliance, unfortunate that they got caught. Cindy St. George had been an absolutely gorgeous blonde with a tight, young body and a filthy imagination. Plus, she had a good source for good cocaine and didn't mind giving her connection a little pussy to help pay for at least half of the buy.

Glen had to snort at the idea of his current assistant, Rita, giving anyone a little pussy. As unattractive as Rita was, she should be giving out coke to entice men to have sex with her. But all the girl did was spout out Biblical phrases and quotes and denounce nearly everyone as sinners damned to the fires of Hell.

Glen logged onto their bank account and grew even more agitated. They had less than a hundred dollars in the account and he had no prospects of new income in the foreseeable future.

His bitch of an ex-wife, Stacy Falgout, had let him know that he had failed in his bid to procure the Lopez Properties account, despite putting in what Glen had thought was a reasonable bid. Anita Lopez was just a college kid, for God's sake; she would need a seasoned, professional architect to assist her.

But Stacy had let him know that he did not get Ms. Lopez's business. Ryan Thibodeaux of TAB Properties had also circumnavigated Glen's bid for designing a storage unit facility.

"Glen!" Barbara's shrill scream cut into Glen's brain like a thousand knives.

The slamming of the garage door was another assault on Glen's already frazzled nerves.

"What?" he screamed, close to rage from coming down off of a short-lived high, paranoid about their finances, and angry with Barbara Peters.

If she would get off her fat ass and go get a real job, they wouldn't be in this nightmare. Despite what Big Butt Barbara liked to think, going antique shopping with her mother was not a job. Going to the Hardington Acres Country Club for lunches was not a job. Forgetting to have the oil changed in the Lexus and burning up the motor in the expensive car was not a job. Dressing their snotty whining brat in the latest Osh Kosh b'Gosh outfits was not a job.

"My Master Card was declined," Barbara snarled, barging into Glen's sanctuary.

"And? I sent in the payment, did a bill pay on-line," Glen lied.

"Wen, Glen? When?" Barbara shrilled. "Huh? When did you pay it? Because, right there, right in Super One Foods, little bitch at the cash register told me it was declined. Right there, in front of a hundred people, little bitch tells me my card's no good."

"I don't know," Glen said.

"Pull it up, Glen, pull it up and show me," Barbara demanded. "Because right there, right in front of everybody, girl said my card wasn't working; it was declined. You have any idea how humiliated..."

Glen prayed to a God he had not believed in for several years for his computer to crash, for money to miraculously appear in their account, for Barbara to have a fatal heart attack, for an earthquake to suddenly hit. Anything but for Barbara Naomi Siegel Peters to see that there was only seventy four dollars and seventy two cents in the Peters' account.

But God , if there was such a deity, God decided to let Glen Douglas Peters suffer through one of an unreasonable Barbara Naomi Siegel Peters' tirade.

"God damn, Glen! Really? How in the hell am I supposed to, oh my God! The Autumn luncheon is this Wednesday and we're already committed to five hundred dollars, please tell me there will be five hundred dollars in that account by Wednesday," Barbara shrilled.

"What? Why in the fuck are we committed to five hundred, what do those fat ass bitches need five hundred dollars of my money for?" Glen spat.

"For the synagogue! The temple needs..." Barbara yelled.

"The temple needs to realize that there are more important things than giving a bunch of fat ass whining bitches some God damned place to park their pasty white asses so they can all just kvetch about the evils of the world," Glen barked.

Barbara's reaction was to continue loudly and shrilly demanding money to somehow magically appear; she certainly was not going to endure the humiliation of telling their committee that she, Barbara Naomi Siegel Peters, was withdrawing her pledge of five hundred dollars, did Glen have no idea how humiliating that would be? Did he not love his daughter, his own flesh and blood? Did he want Josette to be known as the kid whose parents couldn't pay a measly five hundred dollars to the synagogue?

Glen had long ago learned how to shut Barbara's voice out and mentally began humming the theme song to 'Jeopardy' in his head, wondering how long she would stand in front of him screaming.

Josette decided that crying would be a good idea; her diaper was full and she was also hungry.

"Now you see? Now you see?" Barbara screamed at Glen, as if Josette being hungry and needing a clean diaper was somehow Glen's fault.

But it gave Glen the excuse he needed to make a break for it.

"I have had enough of your shit," he snarled. "I'm going out."

"Where, Glen? Where are you going? We don't have any money for you to be going anywhere!" Barbara shrilled.

"None of your fucking business, all right? That's where I'm going. To none of your fucking business," Glen thundered.

**..**

Brian Harris watched as a few trucks that bore the magnetic signs of 'Robichaux Construction' on their sides pulled into the Haughton driveway. He waved in greeting and drove out of the driveway.

They were still there when he returned for a quick dinner and a quick check of his mail. The Robichaux trucks were just pulling out when Brian came back out of his house and drove to the newest one of his three stores so that Sally could go home for the day. As much as he hated to do it, he'd had to fire the last assistant hired for that store, fired her for helping herself to the petty cash till.

Super One Foods grocery store was packed; which made Brian a little sad. He'd passed Early's Grocery Store on the way from his house to the Professional Dry-Cleaners and their parking lot only had a few cars. Tommy Collins, the manager of the grocery store, had offered Brian a very sweet deal on renting space inside the building. But Brian saw that the traffic needed would be very hard to come by.

"Hey there, Boss-man," Sally said, grabbing her purse. "Don't know whether to thank you or kick you; my girl's calling me every ten minutes because her brother's driving her nuts and I got to go home and kill them both."

"Well, you get any blood on them clothes, you know where to bring them, right?" Brian smiled.

Brian had met both of her children and, at sixteen and fourteen years old, they really were very well behaved kids. It was more likely a case of the sixteen year old boy wanting to play games on the television instead of letting his sister watch what she wanted to watch.

Brian had said it before, but one young woman, probably about twenty one or twenty two, proved him right; dry cleaners were invisible unless you were looking for a dry cleaner. Right in front of his window, she looked around, determined that no one was looking, and pulled down her shorts to scratch a patch of stubble on her crotch. Then she pulled her shorts back up, turned and walked away.

"Next time try waxing it," Brian wanted to open the door and yell at her, but decided to just enjoy the chuckle she'd given him.

From six o'clock until nine o'clock, he had eight walk-ins; not a great night, but certainly one that paid the rent for the day.

In between customers, Brian did what he would certainly reprimand and likely fire any of his employees for doing if a second reprimand was necessary; he surfed for porn on the store's computer.

When Barbara had left him, Brian had surfed for some extreme sites. He had loved the sites that showed brunettes getting fist fucked, especially anal fisting. But that had only lasted a few weeks.

When Mrs. Siegel had swept into his store and informed him that his ex-wife was pregnant, Brian had surfed for pregnant bdsm sites.


Nothing to Offer



That trend only lasted a week or two.

Now, he preferred the sites that showed pictorial series with stories to go along with the photographs.

Sometimes, the stories were so wildly implausible that Brian would lose interest, even if the models were attractive people. And sometimes he would get so caught up in the text, Brian would skip ahead, ignoring the pictures.

Most of the time, though, he'd look at the picture, then read the text, and then skip on to the next page.

He smirked at the picture that showed 'Abby' and her best friend 'Gina' a somewhat cute blonde with a less attractive brunette, standing and posing in 'Abby's Bedroom.' He very seriously doubted that Gina or any eighteen year old girl would put her own brown hair into two bony-tails. Looking at the date of the posting, he deduced that 'Gina' whom he recognized from several previous postings, had been eighteen years old for at least four years now. 'Abby' was a new face, though and again, he smirked at the notion that any eighteen year old girl would select such hideous eyeglasses for herself.

Or that two eighteen year old girls would dress themselves in red tee shirts and matching red shorts, red socks and white canvas shoes.

"Love the outfits, girls, but uh, why does your mommy still dress you in Geranimals?" he chuckled as 'Abby' wanted to show 'Gina' that her boobies were finally starting to grow; did 'Gina' want to see?

He actually felt his cock stir to life as the two kissed, touched each other's breasts, licked and sucked on each other's breasts and sparsely haired pussies, then 'Abby' showed 'Gina' how she masturbated, using a doll's arm shoved into her blonde muff.

Brian quickly logged off when a dour faced man brought in his suit for dry cleaning; his daughter was getting married to a much older man that weekend.

"He's even got a son my girl's age, for God's sake," Mr. Bookhammer complained as Brian politely took the information and promised to have the suit and tie ready by the time of the rehearsal dinner.

After Dennis Bookhammer left, Brian waited ten minutes, then logged back onto the site and went to the next pictorial spread in the series.

Brian's favorite brunette, 'Gina' showed up at Abby's house, dressed in green tee shirt, matching green shorts, green socks and white canvas shoes, shoulder length brown hair again done in two pony-tails.

But 'Abby' wasn't home. Instead, 'Nigel,' 'Abby's Dad' was at home. Brian actually laughed out loud at the man's outfit of short sleeve button down shirt, hideous plaid dress slacks, white belt and white shoes. Brian touched his own eyeglasses and smiled at the man's old fashioned eye wear, completing the image of a dork in his late thirties or early forties.

The next picture showed 'Abby's Dad' and 'Gina' enjoying milk and cookies in a garishly lighted kitchen while 'Abby's Dad' told 'Gina' how much she'd grown over the summer.

("Why, I bet you even have hair on your little pussy now, don't you?" my best friend's dad asked me. I told him I did, but I was thinking of shaving it. Did he think I would look good with a hairless pussy? Did he think my idol, Brad Pitt want to fuck me?)

The next picture showed 'Gina' with her shorts and plain white panties pulled down to mid-thigh, 'Abby's Dad' looking with great interest at 'Gina's' pussy.

("Brad Pitt? Isn't he a little old for you?" my best friend's dad asked me but I told him no. Older men were much sexier than the dumb boys at my school.)

Brian lost interest in the story; it was unlikely that any guy as pathetic as 'Abby's Dad' would ever get any eighteen year old girl, unless she was in Special Ed classes to suck and fuck him, even if he did have a surprisingly large cock.

The last picture showed 'Gina' on the floor of the kitchen, nude except for green socks and canvas shoes, sperm dripping out of her well fucked pussy, sperm liberally coating her face and small breasts , a spent 'Abby's Dad' laying next to her, nude except for long black socks and dorky glasses, while a shocked 'Abby' and an older woman looked on in horror.

Brian's last customer had irritated him with her stupidity. She had dropped off her dress and three blouses at his Baylor Lake location but they closed at five; could she pick up those items at this location?

"Uh, yes ma'am, I can bring them up with me tomorrow," Brian had cheerfully said.

"No, no, I mean, can I pick them up here now?" the woman asked in total seriousness.

The next pictorial spread opened with 'Abby' and 'Gina' greeting a muscled African-American male in an obviously fake United States Postal Service uniform, complete with pith helmet. Brian logged off; interracial photographs and stories did not interest him much.

Of course, since they were open from nine am until nine pm, at ten after nine, just as he was pulling out of the parking lot, Brian could see an older woman frantically rapping on his door, despite there being no lights on in the store.

Just as Brian Harris was backing his 1972 Malibu into his garage, Glen Peters was backing his Lexus into his three car garage far too quickly and almost sent the car through the rear wall of the garage and into the sunken living room of the house. As it was, the sheetrock of the garage wall would need to be replaced.

Before Glen could even turn the engine off, Barbara Peters had flung the interior door of the garage open and was screaming at Glen Peters.

Where had he been? Did he know what time it was? What was that loud noise? What happened to the wall of the garage? Did he know how much a new bumper for a Lexus cost? "What was her name? The new whore in his life?

Glen played the Jeopardy theme song in his head, focusing on her wide open mouth. He thought of shoving his cock, or a brick in there to shut her up, then thought he'd have a hard time finding a large enough brick.

What did he think was so funny? Did he have anything to say for himself? For the last time, where had he been?

Would he look at the wall? What happened? How did he do that?

"Are you drunk?" Barbara hissed as Glen lurched himself forward and Glen gave her a little salute but still did not answer.

Thankfully, Josette was already in bed so Glen was spared the inconvenience of having to put up with the smaller version of his wife.

Still the questions continued and Glen lurched up the stairs to the bedroom. He clumsily undressed himself, reached into his plain cotton briefs and sook his cock out, waving it at a still ranting Barbara.

Despite how drunk he was, his cock did respond and Glen finally spoke to his wife.

"Here, put that mouth to use, huh?" he slurred.

Barbara had only put her mouth on his cock a few times, and only twice since their wedding. Tonight was not going to be number three.

"Well if you won't put your mouth, let's see if we can find something almost as big as your mouth," Glen giggled, still waving his half-erect cock. "Oh, hey! I know! Only thing bigger than your God damned mouth is that God damned ass! Huh? How about it, Babs?"

(Glen knew Barbara Peters absolutely loathed the nickname 'Babs' and would not respond to the name.)

"Huh? If I can't stick this in your mouth, how about I stick it up that gigantic ass, huh?" Glen snickered and lunged for her.

She screamed and turned to run but Glen tackled her and shoved her to the bed.

"Yeah, big old fat ass like this?" Glen said, fighting to pull Barbara's slacks and panties down.

By the time he did manage to get her pants and panties down to just below her large ass cheeks, his erection was completely withered so Glen just gave her two very hard slaps, one to each cheek, then staggered into the bathroom.

Inside the bathroom, Glen located his stash of coke and quickly did a little up each nostril.

Then he farted loudly and thanked God for Tim Benoit and his two thousand dollar retainer. He also thanked Faith Hightower and her very talented mouth as well as her excellent source of cocaine.

Rita had quit right after her pay check had bounced. Even though Glen had paid Rita in cash, the ungrateful bitch still cleared out her desk and left.

Faith was a high school dropout, six feet tall with no boobs, no hips, no ass, and no real ambition. But the nineteen year old did like sucking cock and she did like doing drugs and knew where to get some really prime stuff.

"Wonderful thing about blow jobs, it doesn't leave any stinky on the dinky winky," Glen giggled to himself, then flushed the toilet.

Barbara started a new campaign of shrill complaints when he came back into the bedroom. Did he know he ripped her slacks? Did he think they had money to just throw away on clothes?

He almost laughed at that one; she sure seemed to think they had money to throw away on clothing.

Let's see," he said, the cocaine giving him new energy.

She screamed when he grabbed the front of her fashionably ugly slacks and gave a severe jerk, ripping the slacks open.

Then he shoved her onto the bed and tried to jam his still flaccid cock into her heavily furred crotch.

Fueled by the cocaine, her enraged screams and struggles did give him a semi-erection and he managed to work it into her dry vagina.

She lay immobile under him, glaring hatefully into his eyes.

Two or three pumps and he lost all interest in her and pulled out.

"My pants are ruined!" she screamed. "They're part of an outfit! You ass hole!"

"You bought a whole outfit that fucking ugly?" Glen asked her.

She named some famous designer and Glen shook his head, not caring.

Then he pulled on a heavily ripped, stained tee shirt and turned on the television. The louder she complained, the louder he turned up the television.

She was in mid-scream when he angrily hit the mute button on the television.

"When the fuck is it going to sink in that I am not listening to you? That I simply do not give a fucking shit what you are saying? That I just do not care about your pissy little fucking problems?" he snarled at her, the loud television and the shrill bitching and whining eradicating his pleasant alcohol buzz and cocaine inspired high.

She sucked in air to scream some more.

"Now, mind waddling your huge ass out of the way? And put some clothes on; ain't nobody wants to see that forest you call a twat, huh?" he snapped.

She did not heed his words and screamed some more complaints at imp, ducking when he hurled the remote control at her head.

That did get her attention and she scurried away, large ass giggling like gelatin.

Thirty minutes later, she stomped back into the bedroom, wearing a cheap flannel nightgown.

"One word, say one fucking word to me and so help me God, I will fucking kill you, you miserable fucking bitch," he threatened.

It took a great deal of self-control, but she managed to scowl darkly, but silently at him. Then she spent a great deal of time, making a great deal of noise plumping up her pillows.

"Fuck! What the fuck is wrong with you?" he screamed, grabbing one of the pillows and hurling it into the bathroom.

Thirty minutes later, Glen had to get out of bed and rifle through her medicine cabinet. He found some of her anti-anxiety pills and took three of them. He did wonder what in the hell Barbara Peters had to ever feel anxiety over. She did not work. She did not have the day to day stress of trying to earn a living, trying to keep a roof over their heads.

Finally, he was able to fall asleep.

**..**

Again, Brian found himself at the Super One's store. Sally's assistant was coming along, but both Sally and the assistant did not feel that she was ready to run the store on her own just yet.

Sally had been with Brian from the very first day; he trusted her. If she said the new hire just wasn't ready to be on her own, Brian had to nod in agreement.

In the eleven years he'd been open for business, if the receipts said there should be two hundred and eight dollars and twelve cents in Sally's register, Brian knew there would be two hundred and eight dollars and twelve cents in that drawer.

At about seven o'clock, Brian stuck a 'Back in Ten Minutes' sign in the window, locked the door, and ran next door to Super One's Deli counter. A pimple faced girl that still had braces on her teeth sold him a steaming hot breast, wing and thigh of fried chicken.

In between bites of the too hot chicken, Brian found his favorite web site and found his favorite double pony tailed slut, 'Gina' in new adventures.

The latest vignette showed 'Gina' having to come see 'Mr. Harddick' about a detention she'd earned in class that day.

'Mr. Harddick' looked suspiciously like 'Abby's Dad' but with a dark brown afro wig and horrible mustache glued on his pinched face.

The story never did tell what 'Gena' had done to deserve having to suck 'Mr. Harddick's' cock, or take his cock in her freshly shaved pussy, or take 'Mr. Harddick's' large cock up her tiny little ass hole, but judging from the satisfied smile on her face in the last photo as she sat on his desk, sperm oozing out of her raw anus and splayed pussy, 'Gina' would most likely be committing that infraction again.

Brian looked and saw a previous link he'd missed and clicked on it. This vignette told the story of how 'Gina' and 'Abby' had shaved 'Gina's' little pussy bald.

'Gina' really wasn't very attractive and Brian had to admit, if 'Abby' had not been blonde, she actually would have been plain looking, but their stories were, for the most part, fun to read.

'Gretchen', a red head with tremendously large breasts and no ass or hips at all did have an interesting story of how she managed to lose her virginity to three football players at her high school.

It was hard to believe that any of the four people in the photos were actually still in high school, but 'Gretchen' was a trooper about having all three of her holes plugged at the same time. The three males, however, did not seem to be all that smart. One did not have the sense to take off his helmet and the other two did not have the sense to remove their football jerseys.

For her part, though, Gretchen didn't take off her very short pleated skirt either, just pulled it up to under her enormous breasts.

"Pat Is Now Patty" puzzled Brian and he clicked on that link, only to quickly back out of it. The three football players of 'Gretchen' fame were surrounding a scrawny looking young man, most likely 'Pat.'

"Dude, you really need to get laid," Brian chuckled as he read another one of 'Gretchen's' adventures.

There had been more mail at the Haughton house for the previous tenants. Brian had thought very briefly of just throwing their mail into the garbage but knew that was not the Christian thing to do. A moving van was parked in front of the Haughton house just as he was leaving for the Super One Foods store and Brian wondered if the new tenants would be any improvement over the last three or four. Just the fact that they'd used a moving van, from a reputable moving company and not two or three battered pickup trucks was a good sign.

"At least send me some smart enough to pull their fucking pants up. Like I want to look at their drawers," Brian mused as he read about 'Gretchen' her best friend 'Vanessa' teasing a classmate they were sure was gay. Sure enough, it was 'Patty' and 'Vanessa' produced an extremely large strap on dildo and had 'Patty' get it wet with his saliva and Brian hit 'Page Down' until he found the list of other available vignettes.

"Hello, help you?" Brian asked as an older woman came in.

He recognized her as the woman that had been rapping on the door the other evening after he'd closed.

"Yes, I'm here to pick up my prescription; I came here the other night and you were already closed but you're supposed to be open twenty four hours a day; why were you closed?" the woman shrilled at him.

"Ma'am?" Brian asked, sure he'd heard her wrong.

"Prescription! I'm here to pick up my prescription! You speak English?" she barked at him.

"Ma'am, this is a dry cleaner's. We don't do prescriptions here," Brian calmly said.

"Yes you do! I had my prescription filled her last week!" she yelled. "Get your manager in here! Now!"

"Ma'am, I am the owner. This is Professional Dry Cleaning, see? Here's one of my cards," Brian said gently. "I think the drugstore you're looking for is on the other side but they closed about a year ago."

"What's your name?" she snarled, fixing him with a one-eyed stare. "I'm going to sue you for everything you got."

"My name's right here, on this card, ma'am," Brian said gently, handing her the card.

"Brian Harris, huh? You don't look Jewish," the woman said.

"Harris? That's not a Jewish name," he smiled. "I do know some Jewish people..."

"I bet you do, y'all are all alike," she snapped, stomping out of his business.

"Looks like someone else needs to get laid too," Brian shrugged and began the process of shutting everything down for the evening.

The moving van was gone by the time Brian was backing into his garage.

Glen Peters was backing out of hiss driveway, feeling angered.

Did Barney Siegel think he had enjoyed having to borrow money from him? Yes, he was well aware that he still owed them two hundred and eighteen thousand dollars, the money that it had taken to build the house that their precious little daughter just had to have.

Lopez Properties was preparing to open a mall in unincorporated Pinoak, having already bought up two thousand acres. It would get traffic from Jack's Creek, Elgee, Pinoak and Hardington. Glen had put in a bid to design the proposed mall, and had even shaved five percent off his bid to ensure that he'd get the account.

But while he waited for the proposal to be accepted by the board of Lopez Properties, his business bills continued to mount, as did their household bills. Barbara just did not seem to understand the meaning of the word 'prudence.'

If you look at your bank account and it shows that you have two thousand fourteen dollars and eighty nine cents, Prudence would dictate that you not pledge fifteen hundred dollars to a day care facility that the fucking synagogue wanted to build.

Prudence would dictate that you not take your three year old daughter to T. Dayton's for her very first haircut. Sixty fucking dollars? The girl was three years old and had a child's sized head. He had an adult's sized head and did not pay sixty dollars for a haircut.

Glen wanted to punch Barney Siegel in his pinched face, wanted to strangle him until he lost that disapproving frown.

"You've got the fucking money, fucking cock sucker, just stick a God damned crowbar up that Jewish ass of yours and pry the money loose," Glen wanted to snarl at his father.

Instead, Glen had to act warm and friendly and cheerful. Had to act like this was just a temporary thing.

Josette was already asleep, sitting up in her car seat. Next to him, Barbara prattled on and on about something or another, something that Glen just absolutely did not give a flying shit about.

Thankfully, Barney and Joanna Siegel made sure there was wine, plenty of wine with their meals. If it wasn't for the warm comfortable feeling in his gut, Glen would have killed all of them as they sat at the table and bitched and whined about everything. 

If it had not been for the twenty thousand dollar check in his wallet, Glen would have slapped Joanna when the bitch brought up the fact that Brian Harris, the loser that he'd stolen Barbara away from, had opened his third dry cleaning store.

"Well, he seems to have done okay for himself," Glen said smugly. "Uh, where did you say he went to college?"

"Glen!" Barbara giggled at Glen's question. "You know he didn't; he barely finished high school. I told you that."

For once that evening, Barney was on Glen's side; the man still smarted over the divorce.




Nothing to Offer



"And watch how you back in this time," Barbara demanded when they pulled up to their house. "We still need to get that..."

"Would have gotten it fixed if you hadn't given those fucking money grubbing cock suckers fifteen hundred dollars for a God damned day care center, huh?" Glen snapped at her. "I mean, really! Fifteen hundred dollars! For something we'll never get to use; Josette will be in first grade by the time they get around to build it. And they want me to donate the design for it too? Oh I don't fucking think so!"

"What? You are, right? I told them..." Barbara shrilled, horrified that her husband, the brilliant architect that she was always bragging about, would not donate just a little of his time and skill.

Did he not realize how much she enjoyed rubbing it in Constance Lassen's face that her husband was an architect while Connie's husband was just a taxi-cab driver?

Both girls had competed with each other, from kindergarten until now. Constance Wallenberg's father was a dermatologist and Barbara's father was an investment specialist.

Barbara had gotten married first; never mind the fact that she had believed that she was pregnant at the time. And her husband had been much better looking than Constance's husband. But then Constance managed to buy a three bedroom, two bathroom condominium in the Lambert Condominium Association, while she and Brian were stuck in a tiny house in a neighborhood that was deteriorating all around them.

Then Mother and Daddy had introduced her to Glen Peters, a slightly older, but well established architect. He was designing Daddy's newest venture, a Recycling plant, which tied in beautifully with King Disposal, another venture that Glen was designing as well.

Once again, Barbara smugly rubbed Constance's face in the fact that her older, more handsome husband bought her a two hundred thousand dollar home, a home, by the way, that he designed.

Constance and her husband, however, had donated two thousand five hundred dollars to the day-care facility. And with Constance being seven months pregnant with their third child, Constance would be using the new facility as soon as it was completed.

But Barbara would always be able to remind Constance that it was Barbara's husband that had donated the building's plans.

"Are you fucking stupid? You have got to be fucking stupid, there is just no other explanation why you would even think for on God damned minute that not only do we have to give them money. On top of what we already give them. We have to give them money AND I have to give them my work too?" glen said, getting out of the car, not bothering to get Josette out of the rear of the car.

"But, Glen..." Barbara shrilled, getting out of the car and slamming her door, also leaving Josette in the car.

"Barbara, I'll give them the 'Brother in Law' deal," Glen conceded. "All right? I'll design it for half price; best I can do."

"But I told them..." Barbara whined, crying real tears of frustration.

"Without talking to me first? Mistake number one right there, God damn it; we've been out of Dewar's for almost a month now; I asked you to pick up some next time you're at Early's, did you pick up any? Huh? So God damned busy worrying about all that other shit, " Glen barked, wanting to fix himself a drink.

Barbara decided to try to fuck Glen into giving the temple the plans. After they went to bed, she wiggled over and played with is cock. She even sucked his cock but it was pointless. Thanks to the alcohol in his system, Glen Peters simply could not get it up.

At three thirty that morning, after emptying her bladder, Barbara decided to go check on Josette.

Glen jerked awake when his wife's horrified screams burned through his consciousness.

The police were very quick to respond and conducted a thorough search of the house and grounds.

"Uh, we uh, we found her," Georgie Sanders, an attractive blonde officer said, the disapproval very evident on her face as she carried the fussing, crying three year old into the house from the garage.

Both parents were brought into the police station for questioning. Each was placed in a separate room and after two hours, were allowed to go home. They were told, however, that the incident would certainly be reported to Child Protection Services.

"Fucking great, Barbara. Just fucking great. Forget the kid in the God damned car," Glen muttered at Barbara, who for once, had nothing to say.

**..**

Brian Harris pulled out of his garage, to go to his store number one, the location next door to Manny's Mexican Restaurant. The location had been a good one for a just up and coming dry cleaning business, but over time it had become a great, almost perfect location for a dry cleaning business.

The Baggett Building, which was now in what had once been Baggett Mattress Factory, held eight businesses. T. Dayton's Hair Salon brought in their sheets, as well as their clients for service. Five of the other businesses housed in the building had staff that needed their suits and their dresses dry cleaned on a regular basis. Their clients also tended to frequent his establishment.

Brian looked across the street at the Haughton house and noticed a Toyota Highlander SUV as well as an older Nissan sub-compact.

"Well, at least the new tenants have decent cars," Brian thought, looked up and down Batio Street, then drove to work.

Store number two, in Baylor Lake had a good staff; they'd been with Brian almost five years now and both he and Sally had taken turns training them. Sophia Coutre's step-son, Oscar, had installed software that linked all three stores together so Brian could monitor their business and cash intake from any of the stores, as well as his home. But he also went into the location from time to time, to give one or two of his staff the day off. That's why he was at store number one today; Monica wanted the day off to take her daughter clothes shopping.

"Yeah, can you believe? Junie's going to college, huh?" Monica had said, almost breaking into tears.

"Good God, I'm too young to already be this old," Brian agreed with the short round woman. "I mean, wow, June was only how old when you started working here?"

"I know," Monica agreed.

When the assistant went across the street to the Chinese buffet place for lunch, Brian logged onto his favorite web site, but saw no new stories of 'Abby' or 'Gina' so decided to start on the 'Yuki' stories.

'Yukima' was a Japanese girl that had just moved from Japan to America and was trying to live the American dream.

The first job 'Yuki' acquired was as a maid for 'Mrs. Cuntz' who was an attractive red head in her thirties that had 'Yuki' running around in the traditional French Maid's uniform, sans panties. 'Mrs. Cuntz' seemed to favor thigh high leather boots, leather bustiers, and leather skirts along with very gaudy jewelry. Of course, 'Yuki' committed some infraction and had to be punished by 'Mrs. Cuntz' which involved 'Yuki' being stripped, suspended by her wrists from a heavy chain and whipped by 'Mrs. Cuntz.' Then, as the final phase involved 'Yuki' having to eat 'Mrs. Cuntz's' suspiciously dark brown beaver, it seemed 'Yuki's' hands had to be bound behind her back.

In the next story, 'Yuki' had to service the chauffeur, the gardener, and the butler, whom looked suspiciously like the three football players from the tales of 'Gretchen.'

"At least they learned how to take off their jerseys," Brian chuckled.

Then he noticed, the chauffeur kept on his cap, the gardener kept on his straw hat, and the butler kept his derby on while they fucked 'Yuki.'

"I'm back, Mr. Harris; man, I swear, you just can't beat that place!" Jimmy said as he returned. "I mean, six ninety nine, all you can eat, huh?"

Brian cleared out his search history and busied himself with actually working.

At five, he and Jimmy closed down the shop. Brian locked the door behind Jimmy, then did a quick check of the other two stores' receipts.

Then he drove home, not having anything better to do.

For a brief moment, while backing into his garage, he allowed himself to feel pity for himself. Thirty four years old, divorced, no girlfriend.

"Might as well be gay," he said as the garage door went down.

He detected movement across the street, but the door went the rest of the way down, blocking his view.

With a sigh, he made sure his cell phone was on, in case Jenny, the assistant at Store number 3 needed to get in touch with him.

Looking out his kitchen window, Brian frowned as a short, somewhat pudgy brunette was admiring his white picket fence and arched walkway and gate he'd constructed in his front yard. She squatted down to examine a flowering vine he'd entwined around the metal corner post and Brian's eyebrows went up; he was looking right at a brown thatch of pubic hair.

Too soon, she again stood up and then debated for a minute, even looked directly across the street at the Haughton house, then the girl undid the latch on his gate and walked up the walkway.

Brian wondered what the girl was selling. She couldn't be some religious nut-bag; they wouldn't wear skirts that short, and if they did, surely they'd wear panties underneath.

He let her ring the doorbell twice, even though he was standing right on the other side of the door, then opened it.

"Yes?" he asked.

"Oh my God, it is you!" the girl squealed happily. "Mr. Brian! Hi! It's me! Britney! Remember? We used to live right across from you and Miss Barbara?"

"Brit, oh my God! Look at you; oh my God is right, I don't believe, is Kathy, is your mother home?" Brian said and gave the girl a hug.

"She's right there; I saw your car, God, I can't believe you're still driving that

Car," Britney said, snuggling up tight to him, even as he attempted to release her.

"When did you get in? Come on in, you still love Yoo-Hoo? I remember that was your absolute..." Brian said, pulling the girl into the dark, cool living room.

"Yoo-Hoo?" Britney laughed. "Uh, yeah, like back when I was what? Nine?"

She looked around at the living room and shook her head.

"Wow, you haven't changed it one bit," she said. "In fact, I bet..."

She marched into the kitchen and again shook her head.

"Remember how you used to make me a tent?" she asked, lightly running a hand over one of the chair's backs.

"Yeah, real easy," Brian smiled. Put them about three feet apart and throw a blanket over them."

"I thought you were the coolest guy in the world," Britney smiled. "You'd put a couple of billows on the floor then make me a tent and even get in there with me."

When Barbara had thought she was pregnant, Brian had been ecstatic. Then when she found out she wasn't, she stringently demanded he wear condoms and had her doctor prescribe birth control pills for herself.

Brian kept hoping that babysitting for the mostly very well-behaved Britney would reawaken that maternal instinct. When it appeared that Britney was not able to perform that miracle, Brian took to caring for Britney as if she was the daughter he had wanted.

"Well, I can still do that," Brian chuckled and Britney again squeezed him in a tight hug.

"So, what you got to do?" Britney asked, looking up into his eyes. 

"Huh? What you mean?" Brian asked.

"I mean, you fixing make dinner, you getting ready to go out on a date? What? You got to do?" Britney asked.

"Well, I was just going to fry up a couple of burgers; I got a box of them Bubba Burgers," Brian said.

"Oh, your girlfriend must be so impressed," Britney quipped sarcastically.

"No girlfriend," Brian admitted.

"Well, I hereby declare myself your new girlfriend," Britney said, snuggling up against him.

"What? Go away!" Brian laughed. "Britney! You're all of what? Sixteen?"

"Uh, excuse me, uh try nineteen," Britney corrected. "Almost twenty."

"Nine... Holy cow, I guess, wow," Brian said and again trying lightly to extricate himself from her embrace.

"So, there's the place, Clark's; that wasn't there when we moved, was it? That place any good?" Britney asked, swiveling slightly.

Brian was sure she didn't realize it, but she was rubbing directly against his cock, which was becoming painfully erect, trapped in his briefs and dress slacks.

"Huh, oh, Clark's? Yeah, yeah, it's pretty good, I mean, it's just burgers and stuff," Brian said.

"Come on, let's go," Britney demanded.

"Know what? Sure, what the hey," Brian agreed. "Let me just get out of these pants."

"Well, I didn't know it was a nudist drive in," Britney laughed, still not releasing her hold on him.

"It's not; I just want to put on some shorts," Brian smiled.

"Shorts? On a date?" Britney said, not pleased.

"Wait, who said this is a..." Brian protested.

"I did. I said I'm your new girlfriend," Britney said. Now, go put on some jeans. Shorts are for when you take me to Baylor Lake or Jazz Beach to go swimming."

Brian could use a number of excuses. He didn't want to hurt the former, and now new neighbor's feelings. He was just humoring a teenaged girl. All the blood had left his big head and was trapped in his little head.

Whatever the reason, Brian went to his room and put on a pair of jeans and pulled on a pull over shirt.

"See nothing's changed in here either," Britney called out from the second bedroom.

"It's perfect as is and you don't change perfection," Brian said.

"We'll change it," Britney said. "It's not perfect. It might have been perfect a hundred years ago but that was then and this is now."

"Wow, my new girlfriend is bossy, huh?" Brian teased.

If he thought that comment would embarrass her, or cause her to tone her demands down, he was wrong. Britney simply nodded her head and put a slightly chubby arm around his waist.

"Yes, I am, but I'll be worth it, I promise," she confirmed.

"Better be," he smiled and ushered her through the garage door.

"God, it even smells the same," Britney said, referring to the fact that Brian had always hung a Vanilla scented air freshener in his car.

In the ride to the diner, Britney let him know that Kathy had decided to return to Louisiana for two reasons. One, it held the memories of happier times, when Jim had been alive and healthy and two, the value of the lodge they'd bought in Colorado had more than quadrupled from the time they bought it. She would have been foolish not to sell it.

"Plus that, I couldn't wait to see you again," Britney boldly declared.

"Britney, supposed I would have had a girlfriend? Or suppose I had gotten married again?" Brian asked.

"Then I would just have to kill her," Britney said.

"Britney!" Brian said.

"What? I'm just kidding, ooh, you ever eat there?" Britney asked, seeing the sign for Side By Side Steakhouse.

"Seventy bucks a steak? No, and I'm not about to either," Brian said and turned toward Clark's Drive-In.

"We'll go there for our one month anniversary," Britney said.

"Mighty sure of yourself, huh?" Brian asked.

"Absolutely," Britney nodded and read the lighted menu. "Bet you a million dollars you can't eat a whole Goliath."."

"A million, huh?" Brian chuckled, having no intention of eating the monstrous burger.

"And large fries and large malt," Britney continued.

"You right, I don't even want to try to eat all that," Brian admitted and admired one brunette's large chest as the girl skated past, laden with trays.

"Hi, welcome to Clark's," a bubbly blonde chirped as she skidded to a stop.

"Know what you want?" Brian asked.

Three spaces over, Glen Peters and Faith Hightower sat, ravenously devouring their food. The cocaine normally dulled their appetite, but then they'd smoked two nice fat joints (Glen hoped the smell would fade away, or Barbara wouldn't know what that smell was.) After a very energetic fuck session, Faith had declared herself hungry and demanded that Glen take her to Clark's.

As if she had some kind of radar, as if Barbara Peters had some innate ability to tell that he was happy, having a good time, Barbara called Glen's cell phone.

"God damn, let the mother fucker go to voice mail, huh?" Faith mumbled around the mouthful of chili cheese fries.

"What?" Glen all but screamed into the telephone.

"Uh, what? What?" Barbara did scream. "Uh dinner's sitting right here, getting cold, that's what."

"Aw, shit, fine, fine, be home, shit, I got about at least another half hour, no, better give me about an hour," Glen lied as Faith used the opportunity to devour the last of the fries.

"Well, it'll be ruined by then," Barbara screamed. "Sure would have been nice if someone could just pick up the phone and let his wife know he would be a little late but..."

"Uh huh," Glen said and again played the theme song of Jeopardy in his head.

Finally, when Barbara took a breath to start on a new line of complaints, Glen saw his opportunity.

"Uh but the longer you keep me on the phone, the longer it's going to take me to finish all this up," Glen said. "So I'm hanging up. Now."

"Glen Peters, don't you dare!" Barbara threatened.

"God, she's a bitch, huh?" Faith asked and gave a final sucking slurp of her chocolate malt.

"Don't know the half of it," Glen muttered and stacked the remains onto the tray.

"Thanks; come again," the brunette with the large breasts cheerfully said as she grabbed the tray.

"Those are fake; they got to be," the flat chested Faith insisted as the girl skated away.

She then turned and looked at Glen.

"So, what you think Barbara's going to do when we tell her I'm knocked up?" Faith asked.

Glen almost threw up.

Barbara's mood had not softened one bit when Glen dragged his exhausted body and mind into the house nearly forty minutes later. She shrilly harangued him about the ruined dinner, about the bills which had yet to be paid, about the lack of income, and again, Glen simply tuned her out.

Barbara was right, the dinner was ruined. Despite the fact that he'd smoked another one of Faith's fat joints, Glen just simply could not stomach more than a few bites.

"Jesus fucking Christ, Barbara! Shut up!" Glen finally thundered. "Fuck! From the fucking minute I step in until the minute I leave, you scream non-stop! Do you ever just fucking shut up? Ever?"

"Fuck," Josette said.

That was all the fuel Barbara needed for another round of screaming. At least when she talked, she didn't need to use profanities. At least when she talked, she didn't teach her daughter vulgar words. At least when she talked...

Glen escaped to his office. A quick search of the local news didn't reveal much; the U.L.D. Storm was expected to win another football game against Norman's College, despite a local boy, Rodney Boudreaux being the wide receiver for the Norman College Bulls. The renovations and repairs to the St. Elizabeth's Public Library was scheduled to complete sooner than projected.

And then Glen saw that Whitehead and Associates had been awarded the contract to design the Courtyard Mall in Pinoaks, Louisiana.

He vomited heartily into the wastebasket. That mall was supposed to be his saving grace. With the money he could hope to garner from that, plus the adjoining amenities that were sure to spring up, he could have repaid Barney the Weasel Siegel, pay for Faith's abortion, pay the suddenly religious girl to keep quiet, plus even put a little aside.

Then Barbara was there, demanding to know what was wrong, did he think he had the flu, did he think she was going to clean that up, if he had the flu did he think he might have infected her or Josette?

**..**

Kathy Haughton greeted Brian with a tight embrace and a kiss directly to his lips, then pulled him into the house.

"Thank you so much for keeping an eye out for the place," she said sincerely. "Jim always said God put you across the street so that we could feel safe going to Colorado."




Nothing to Offer



"Well, it was my pleasure; thank y'all for being friends," Brian said.

"'Y'all!' Now that's a word you never heard up in the Rockies!" Kathy laughed happily.

She gave her daughter a playful smack to her rear.

"So did you manage to ensnare this fine young man? Or did he have enough sense to run you off?" she asked her daughter.

"Wait a minute; you know about her..." Brian asked.

"Are you kidding? Minute she heard Miss Barbara ran off, she's been telling Jim and me she was going to marry you," Kathy smiled, leading them to the kitchen.

"And you're all right with..." Brian stammered as Britney smirked triumphantly at him.

"She's an adult; she can make her own decisions," Kathy said, pulling out three mugs. "Decaf all right? Gave up caffeine years ago but just couldn't give up coffee, you know?"

"Uh yeah, and if I remember, Miss Britney just has to have hot chocolate and it has to be in her favorite mug, the one with the dancers on it," Brian said.

"Shut up! I don't drink hot chocolate any more," Britney said and tried to turn her mug to face the other way.

"Uh huh," Brian smiled as the two dancers were visible on the porcelain mug.

Over steaming mugs of decaffeinated coffee, Kathy entertained Brian with stories of deep snow in the winter, how beautiful the autumn was in the mountains.

"But, between Jim's insurance, and how much they gave us for the lodge, Jim made sure we'll never have to work another day in our lives," Kathy concluded telling Brian about the last few months of Jim's life, and her decision to move back to Louisiana.

"I was ready to move back six years ago," Britney confided.

Brian realized she was holding his hand and looked at her. When had she taken his hand?

"Well, I'm working the Baylor Lake store tomorrow," Brian finally said, getting to his feet. "See y'all later."

"I'll walk you ," Britney declared, following him.

Brian looked to Kathy for help but she was already picking up the empty mugs.

Outside, it was dark. Britney looked up and down the street and nodded her head.

"It looks just like I remembered," she said, again taking Brian's hand.

"You know, you could invite me to stay the night," Britney hinted as they crossed the street.

"Want me to make a tent in the living room for you?" Brian teased.

"No!" she said, then giggled.

"You get in there with me?" she asked, again snuggling up to him.

"It really is great seeing you again," Brian said.

"Great seeing you too," Britney said and waited expectantly.

"Well, Good night," Brian said.

"Here's where you kiss me," Britney said.

"Or..." she said and squeezed him tighter. "You invite me to come in."

Brian honestly did not know what to say or do or think. He tried to think of a solution and finally decided to just kiss her; it was the safest thing to do at this moment.

"It's our first date; I'm not going to invite you in on our first date," He said. "So, we'll just kiss and say 'good night,' okay?"

He bent to give her a quick peck on the lips but she reached up and pinned his head. It was a passionate kiss and she gave his lips a teasing little lick before releasing his head.

"Good night," she said and skipped down the walkway.

"Uh, yeah, good night," Brian said and let himself into his house.

That night, he did not need to log onto his computer, did not need to find 'Gina' or 'Abby' or 'Yuki' as he had plenty of very real fodder for his imagination.

The next morning, he found another erection waiting for him and he took care of it then dressed and went to work.

The Baylor Lake store had been his second store; he'd almost not opened it. The landlord of the property had leased most of the property to a sandwich shop and under new management that sandwich shop was failing quickly. Brian didn't want to be associated with a failing business, nor did he want to have to assume the payments for the entire structure when the inevitable happened.

But the location was good and the rent was very reasonable. He double-checked that the lease was iron-clad and guarded him against sudden rent increases.

The sandwich shop did eventually go under but was taken over almost immediately by a Chiropractor's office. From Day one of being in business, Brian had done a steady flow of business; he had no regrets about renting the location.

Alone in the shop, he logged onto his favorite site and noticed that 'Gina' and 'Abby' were at it again. 'Gina' had gone snooping in her mother's room and underneath the enormous panties and bras, 'Gina' had found a strap-on dildo. 'Abby' took very little persuading to try the quite large instrument.

(I wanted to tell my best friend the dildo was almost as big as her daddy's cock, but Abby's still mad at me about that. The base of the dildo rested against my bald little pussy and rubbed deliciously as I pushed it into Abby's tight little box.)

Brian chuckled; 'Abby's daddy wished his cock was as large as the latex toy.

He quickly exited as an attractive blonde came in and looked around.

"Hi, um, that other guy?" she asked.

"Shelton's off today. Can I help you?" Brian smiled.

"Uh, well, shit, I was driving by and saw this place and said 'damn I still got to get my dress before they throw it away' and so I pulled in, but then I remembered I didn't bring my ticket and the other guy probably knows which dress it is and..." the girl said in a barrage of words.

"And if you give me the telephone number, I can probably find it," Brian assured her and prepared to type.

"Oh, uh, try, oh shit, um, try..." the girl said, trying to remember her phone number.

"Got your phone with you?" Brian asked.

"Yeah, but it's not on there," the girl said.

"Call this number, let's see," Brian said and handed her one of Shelton's business cards.

After a few fumbles, the girl did and Brian typed in the phone number that popped up on Caller ID.

He turned and retrieved it and brought it to the front of the store.

"That's it!" the girl smiled and Brian showed her where to swipe her debit card.

"Thanks!" the girl said and left.

Before he could log back into his web site; he had seen where 'Yuki' had posted another series, he saw a small Nissan sub-compact pull up.

A smiling Britney got out, locked her car and skipped to the door.

"Hey, you ever think of wearing your hair in a couple of pony-tails?" Brian asked before she could even speak.

"You mean, like..." Britney asked, gathering two handful of hair on the sides of her head.

"Yeah," Brian said.

"Sure, right after you take me to Side By Side," Britney smiled, bounced up onto the counter and kissed him on his lips.

"So, thought I'd grab us some lunch; wasn't there like a place right next door did sandwiches?" Britney asked.

"Closest place is the Popeye's couple of blocks down. Um, other way's Backyard Barbeque; I'll call in our order," Brian said.

"I want ribs," Britney declared.

"Well, I guess if my new girlfriend says she wants ribs then I better get her ribs, huh?" Brian said and was rewarded with a beaming smile.

He phoned in the order, peeled off two twenties and couldn't help but smile as Britney bounced up and kissed him again before racing out of the building.

"Hi, help you?" Brian smiled as Gordon King, owner of King Sanitation and Disposal came in.

"You know, my life was so much simpler before I got married," Gordon said into his cell phone. "Love you, bye."

"Here to pick up my wife's dry cleaning," the man smiled, handing Brian a few tickets. "Think this is all of them."

"Let me double check; wouldn't want her mad at you, would we?" Brian smiled.

"You're a good man," Gordon said. "Who's the owner of this place? I'll tell him what a top-notch guy you are."

"That would be me," Brian smiled, looked at the tickets and the computer screen and nodded. "And I'll tell your wife what a top-notch guy you are; you have all of her tickets right here."

"You're a good man, sir," Gordon smiled as Brian fetched the five dresses.

Brian figured he'd have at least twenty minutes before Britney came back so logged on to continue reading about 'Gina' and 'Abby' playing with Momma's dildo.

The last picture showed an obese, yet oddly attractive woman, nude except for garter belt, fishnet stockings and high heeled pumps sitting on the bed, a nude 'Abby' lying face down across the woman's thighs. 'Gina' was standing off to the side, rubbing her own rear end.

(Mama came home and found us playing in her lingerie drawer and really warmed my ass. Then she warmed Abby's ass too. Mama must not be too mad, though. She said next time she went shopping, she'd buy me my own dildo.)

Britney returned before Brian could click on the link for 'yuki' and he quickly logged off.

"OMG, that place smells amazing," Britney said as she lugged three bags into the building.

Brian pulled up a stool and they sat at the counter to eat.

Britney was wearing very baggy khaki shorts, which showed that she had chubby little thighs and thick calves. She did have a bit of a thick middle and her breasts were just small bumps in the snug blouse she was wearing. But she had a cute face that looked even younger than her nineteen years.

"What are you looking at? She asked as she gnawed the meat off of a bone.

"Just thinking you're cute," Brian said.

"Cute? CUTE! Fat little babies with bow legs are cute! I'm gorgeous and don't you forget it. Cute? Psaw! I ought to slap you; cute," she shrilled.

"Sorry, did I say cute? I meant to say cute," Brian said and easily blocked her attempt to slap him.

"Butt hole," she groused, struggling to free her hand.

"Whole butt," he said and kissed her.

"Man, this Cole slaw is good!" she enthused a moment later. And I usually hate that stuff."

"It's apple slaw," Brian said. "Think they use Granny Smith and Fuji; you get some tart and some sweet. It is good stuff."

After they finished eating, Brian took the trash outside to the dumpster he and the office next door shared; he did not want the food to stink up his business. Then he and Britney made out a little; keeping in mind that this was a place of business.

"Love you," she said as she left.

"Love you too," he echoed and smiled as she honked her horn before leaving the parking lot.

'Yuki' was hired to smuggle jewelry into the country and her new employer fucked her to lubricate her pussy enough for him to put the jewelry into her pussy for safekeeping.

Of course, 'Yuki' was stopped at Customs by two male and one female customs officers. The two males looked suspiciously like the football players/butler/chauffeur/gardener and the female officer looked suspiciously like 'Gretchen.' 'Gretchen' had a very short skirt for such an authoritative job.

One male officer jammed his erect cock down the throat of 'Yuki' while the other male officer used his cock to probe her anal orifice for possible contraband while the female officer looked on, skirt pulled up to underneath her fully unbuttoned blouse, exposing her red bush and massive breasts.

Then the female officer searched 'Yuki,' jamming her entire fist up to halfway to her elbow while one of the male officers pounded the female officer from behind.

The next two pictures showed the red head pulling a pearl necklace from 'Yuki's' pussy; the first showing about a foot of the white pearls coming out. The second showed at least three feet coming out.

The last photograph showed a smiling 'Yuki' leaving the office, a strand of pearls looped three times around her neck and still reaching to her knees, one of the officer's caps on her head. Through an open door, the two male and one female officers were sprawled on the floor, obviously exhausted from their sexual escapades.

"Professional Dry Cleaning, Service comes first, how may I help you?" Brian answered the telephone.

"So what time you getting home?" Britney asked.

"Get off at five so about five thirty, six o'clock; why?" Brian asked.

"So we going out or we eating at home?" Britney demanded.

"Was planning on eating at home; all that sodium from eating out all the time kills me," Brian said.

"You should give me my own key; I could have supper ready by the time you get home and do you know how much sodium is in those Bubba Burgers? You got anything besides those?" Britney said.

Brian could not say why he said it; maybe his cock was too hard from the 'Yuki' story, or maybe he just liked the idea.

"That arch over the walkway?" he said. "Halfway up on the inside is a little cutout, run your finger up it, can't miss it. There's a key right there."

"Love you," she said and hung up before he could respond.

While Britney was digging the secreted key out, Glen was trying to figure out how to get the key into the lock at his office. Whatever Faith had scored had really knocked him on his ass.

"God, fuck! I wish I could feel like this all the fucking time; this is just so fucking awesome!" he whooped, meaning every word of it.

He felt warm, he felt relaxed, and he felt loose and easy. He felt happy.

"Shh!" he said to himself, even putting his finger to his lips. "If the evil bitch finds out you're happy, you're toast!"

Finally, he decided to forego locking the office; there wasn't anything in the office worth stealing.

Figuring out how to unlock the Lexus was another challenge and Glen went back to his office and found the key to unlock the door and was puzzled when there was no 'click' when he twisted the key.

"I didn't lock it?" he asked himself, then couldn't remember why he'd come back to his office.

"Oh, yeah! To lock it!" he said and locked the door.

Again, the car's lock eluded him and he finally sat on the ground and, somewhat steadied by sitting, was able to unlock the car, and then slapped his forehead. He realized he could have used the keyless fob.

He pulled himself into the car, then fumbled around for the keys. He grew frantic, then wondered if he'd dropped them onto the ground.

He almost fell out of the car when he leaned out of the open door to see if he could see them on the ground. Then he got out of the car, looked all around, and then found the keys still in the door.

He closed the door, got the key out, then used the keyless fob to unlock the door and got back into the car.

Edna Roebuck was a sixty four year old mother of three fine young men and grandmother to two adorable little girls and a third grandchild on the way. Her doctor had warned Edna to cut back on the sweets, start taking a cholesterol lowering medication, and start walking daily.

She bought tennis shoes that cost a hundred and twenty nine dollars.

"The house note on our first place wasn't' that much," Edna told Maggie, her neighbor and best friend.

She also had wrist weights and ankle weights, pulled a pair of bright orange nylon running shorts up her flabby pasty white legs, pulled a plastic orange safety vest on over her U.L.D. Storm tee shirt, and set out to walk.

"How far today?" Maggie called out as Edna started off, swinging her arms back and forth.

"Did a mile yesterday," Edna called back, indicating her pedometer. "Going to try for it again."

At the half mile mark, Edna walked along the curb of the parking lot of an office building.

Glen started the car, leaned his head against the steering wheel and threw the car into reverse. He jammed the accelerator to the floor, then slammed on the brakes, put the car in forward and floored it again, then took his head off the steering wheel.

**..**

Brian entered his kitchen through the garage and saw a smiling Britney Haughton as she fussed at the stove.

"You have any idea how old that milk was?" she asked before kissing him.

"I don't have a clue," he admitted and squeezed her in a tight hug.

"I bet you bought it right before I moved," she said.

"But milk lasts that long, right?" he smiled as she gave a last stir to the candied yams before turning off the burner.

"No, not really," she laughed and pointed to the table.

Britney was a good cook. Not a great cook, but the food was good and filling.

"I threw out them Bubba Burgers; they were starting to turn blue," she announced as he was eating the last of his chicken breast.

"Threw out the milk too, huh?" he asked.

"Yeah, but don't worry, your precious beer's still in there," Britney said.

"It's there for when I watch football," he said.

"Football's so boring; I'm sure we can find something, ANYTHING better than that," she informed him.

"I don't know if you remember this or not, but your mom and dad gave me and Miss Barbara permission to spank you," Brian said as she grabbed his plate.

"Did you like it?" she asked, indicating his plate.

"It was wonderful, it was great, yes I liked it," he said and grabbed her around her waist. "But you're changing the subject."

"What was the subject?" she smiled.

"Football. Now, Jim and Kathy said 'she gets out of line, y'all give her a couple of swats.' Now, we never had to; you were a good kid, but if you mess with my New Orleans Saints, I will have to give you a couple of smacks on that butt, you hear?" He threatened.

"You wouldn't dare," she smiled and kissed him. "Wipe your face; got something on your chin."

"Don't test me, woman," he said as she dumped the bones into the trash can, then put the dishes into the sink.

"Uh huh; I cooked, you can do the dishes," she said.

Brian heard the television go on, then heard theme music for a show he did not recognize. Obviously, it was one that Britney liked; the volume jumped up.

He smiled as he scrubbed the dishes, then the pots and pan. His belly was full. There was a woman in his living room, watching her show. The grass had been cut a few days ago, there had been an afternoon thundershower so his flowers were watered. As soon as he dried the last pan, he'd grab a beer and join her on the couch and watch a show that promised to bore him to tears.

This was domestic bliss.

This was the happiest Brian Harris could remember being in years.

He waited until he heard a commercial; even as briefly as he'd been with Barbara, he knew not to interrupt during a television show.

"Hey, I just got to tell you something," he said, sitting next to her on the couch.

"You love me," she said, smiling at him.

"With all my heart and soul," he admitted.

"Well, I've already seen this one; it's where she tells him she's pregnant but it's not his baby.," Britney said, turned the volume down and crawled into his lap.

"Only our second date and you're already crawling into my lap?" he asked, amused.

"Date? Date? This isn't a date!" she said and kissed him. "This is just us doing what we're supposed to do. A date is where you take me somewhere and we do something. This is not a date."

"Well, you always wanted me to take you to Chucky Cheese," he suggested.

"Uh, yeah, when I was what? Five?" she asked, kissing him with plenty of tongue.

"I didn't know you when you were five," he laughed. "How about bowling? You like bowling?"

"And wear other people's shoes? I don't think so," she screeched.

"We can go, there's this place in Elgee, we'll get you your own shoes," Brian smiled at her twinkling eyes.

"This all right for bowling?" she asked, indicating her baggy shorts and tee shirt.

"Well, since you're going to be bending over a lot, I guess I'd rather you in a real short dress, or maybe some Daisy Dukes," he teased.

"And let everyone see I don't wear panties?" she screeched again. "I don't think so!"

"You don't wear panties?" he asked.

"No and I hate bras too. Not like I got any tits anyway," Britney confessed.

"But half the fun of panties is taking them off," Brian teased as she stopped his hand from finding out if she had on a bra or not.

"What's the other half, then?" she asked and kissed him quickly.




Nothing to Offer



"Seeing if they stick to the wall," he said and she squealed in indignation, slapping him.

"Men are so gross, come on, what time's the bowling alley close?" Britney said, getting to her feet.

"Ten o'clock," Brian said, turning off the television. "Need to let Kathy where we're going?"

"She knows I'm over here; long as I'm with you, it's fine," Britney said, taking out her keys and preparing to lock the garage door after them.

"Takes a different key," Brian told her.

"Well, I need one then, oh, and a garage door thingy too," Britney said.

"Gee, why don't you just move in?" Brian teased.

"I am," she said seriously.

As they drove to Elgee, to the Super Sporting Goods store, Brian had to swerve to avoid a Lexus that came over into their lane, then over-corrected and almost went into the ditch on the side of the asphalt highway.

A few moments later, an ambulance screamed past, heading toward St. Elizabeth's Trauma Center.

"Oh, and hey, what you think about us getting our own balls?" Brian asked.

"Why? Don't you already have two of them?" Britney quipped.

Glen Peters screeched to a stop on the side of the road to let the ambulance scream past him then tried to remember where he was heading.

"Oh yeah, home," he said glumly.

He almost collided with a car that was travelling south on Highway 19, gave the bleating horn the finger and continued home.

Backing into the garage, Glen saw the still cracked sheetrock, so stopped short. He had actually stopped six feet short, so when he hit the 'DOWN' button on the garage door remote, it started, then went right back up. Again, he mashed the button and again it started to close, sensed the hood of the car and went back up again.

His previous happy, relaxed, warm state dissipated completely and he stormed over to the wall mounted panel. He punched in the code and held his thumb on the button.

Overriding the sensor , the door came down onto the hood of the expensive sedan and continued, crumpling in on itself.

"What's that noise, oh my God! Stop! Stop! Don't you see what you're doing? Are you insane?" Barbara flung the door open and started screaming.

"God damn, shut up!" Glen screamed at her. "Fuck! I'm not even in the fucking house yet and already you're screaming at me!"

"Of course I'm screaming! Look at what..." Barbara screamed and fell to the ground, stunned as blood started trickling out of her mouth.

"You hit..." she whispered, too stunned to fully comprehend the amount of pain her lower left jaw was feeling.

Glen felt a white hot rage spill over and he grabbed his wife's long brown hair and hauled her to her feet.

"Glen let me..." Barbara protested as he pulled her up the stairs and to their bedroom by her long hair.

Josette was whining about something and narrowly avoided her father's foot as he kicked out at her.

"Are you... Did you just try to..." Barbara screamed.

She cried out in pain as she was flung to their bed and tried to wiggle away as Glen jerked her polyester slacks down to her knees.

She screamed out in fear as her face was forced into the expensive lace comforter that she'd spent eight hundred and twelve dollars on.

She couldn't breathe as Glen, in an attempt to quiet her screaming, to kill the stabbing pain in his head, forced her face into the pillow top mattress she just had to have. 

Just as blackness descended, Barbara felt Glen ejaculate into her pussy and suddenly she could breathe again.

"One word, just one God damned fucking word out of you," Glen hissed in her ear as he had a stranglehold on her throat. "One fucking word and so help me Jesus I will fucking kill you, understand?"

He shook her as she sobbed in fright.

"Do you fucking understand?" he screamed.

"Yes, yes, I understand!" she sobbed, hoping he would release her; breathing becoming quite difficult.

"Fucking God damned pain in the ass bitch; bust my fucking ass all God damned day, come home, not even in the fucking door yet and you're standing there screaming..." Glen snarled as he stormed out of their bedroom.

At the DeGarde Police Department, Sheriff Bob Chastaine pursed his lips as a call came in from St. Elizabeth's Trauma Center. He looked at his chart and called out to Officers Ritchie Himmer and Leanne Pyle.

"I don't care if the food is good, it's so degrading; those women gyrating around with no clothes on," Leanne was complaining as Ritchie wanted to go to the Dead End bar for dinner.

"Then what about Sweet Pea's, huh?" Ritchie asked, knowing he would win; they'd go to the Dead End.

"Bravo ten," Leanne responded when Sheriff Chastaine called for their location. "On twenty seven and Hickory, eastbound."

Bob gave them the address; Leanne affirmed that they were heading there and turned to Ritchie.

"Didn't we just..." Leanne asked.

"Yeah, dumb asses left their kid in the car all night," Ritchie agreed as he hit the lights and siren.

In his home office, Glen snorted some more of the magic stuff, but his adrenaline countered the effect of the drug and he felt more rage bubble up.

In the living room, Barbara tried to keep Josette occupied, keep the child quiet.

Barbara Naomi Siegel Peters had never known fear like this. Her husband was an animal. Her face throbbed, her vagina throbbed, and her head throbbed. She fought back the tears, trying to pretend to be happy. Josette was a very intuitive child; if she picked up on Mommy's fears, she'd start crying.

And Josette's crying might set off the deranged animal in the home office.

Suddenly Barbara heard a police siren and started whimpering. It wasn't her fault; she hadn't called the police, she ought to, but she hadn't.

But that monster in the office might not believe her.

Josette started whimpering too.

"Oh God no!" Barbara cried out when a sharp hammering came at the front door.

"God damn, what the fuck?" Ritchie said as they looked at the garage door and the hood of the Lexus sticking out the ruined door.

Then he knocked again, a little louder.

"Aw Jesus fucking Christ, did you..." Glen screamed down the hall toward Barbara.

No! No, I didn't!" Barbara cried out.

Josette started wailing.

"Shut that little fucking bitch up before I give her something to cry about," Glen snarled, marching, staggering to the front door.

Officer Ritchie Himmer had little regard for his partner. She was inexperienced and seemed incompetent. To date, he was her fifth partner and she'd only been with the department for seven months. Her four previous partners had threatened to quit if she wasn't transferred.

But Leanne got on the radio and contacted Sheriff Bob Chastaine, reported the physical evidence and within minutes of their arrival had a faxed search warrant in hand.

"Fuck you, no you can't look at..." Glen was screaming at Officer Himmer.

"Sir, step aside; we're entering the garage," Leanne barked, showing him the warrant.

"Suck my dick ugly ass fucking dyke," Glen sneered, advancing threateningly toward her.

He staggered back when she slammed the butt of her baton into his solar plexus.

Underneath Glen's car was a scrap of bright orange plastic, a shard torn violently from Edna Roebuck's safety vest.

**..**

"So we going bowling tonight? Or you still pouting because I beat your butt so bad last time?" Britney asked as Brian and Matt Rowland, his new employee set up the Kimble location.

"One time," Brian said to his laughing employee. "One time and it was what? Five points?"

"One thirty one to one twenty six! What was that? Oh yeah, one thirty one to one twenty six!" Britney whooped.

Britney and Brian were terrible at bowling. When either one broke one hundred, it was cause for celebration. Most of the employees of the local bowling alley found it amusing that two people that had their own balls, bags, and shoes were so inept at the sport.

Brian also bought Britney, and himself roller skates because Britney refused to wear skates that someone else had stuck their smelly old feet into. Because Brian refused to buy her a putter and set of balls, they did not go to the miniature golf park nestled in between the bowling alley and skating rink.

"I'll buy you gloves, how's that?" he asked. "You are not getting a titanium shaft putter."

"You're a mean boyfriend; I don't know why I love you," Britney grumbled.

Now, while Brian and Oscar Coutre established the network and router for the computer system and Brian also helped his new employee learn the machinery, Britney was underfoot.

"Don't you have furniture you can throw out?" Brian asked as he wiggled out from underneath the counter.

Britney smiled; crouched down like she was, she knew the legs of her baggy shorts gaped open, flashing Brian her newly waxed crotch.

Brian was referring to the fact that Britney had asked him if he had any sentimental attachment to any of his furniture. He had answered honestly; the only attachment he had to any of it was that it was already paid for.

So, after she kissed him and sent him off to work at Store Number One, Britney drove to the Home Depot in Elgee, rented a truck and picked up three men that loitered outside. After two hours, and after she paid the three men forty dollars each. Vincent De Paul's charity had old, but still quite serviceable furniture.

Then O'Neil's in Elgee delivered and set up the new furniture.

"Um, Baby, where did, who..." Brian stammered, looking at the brand new furniture.

"Daddy left me and Momma a bunch of money," Britney confessed.

She hugged Brian tightly.

"So I used some of it and got rid of anything from when Miss Barbara was here," she continued.

She looked up into his still overwhelmed eyes.

"That woman is never ever coming back here," Britney said forcefully.

Now, Brian wiggled out from under the counter, stood up, and swatted Britney on her plump backside.

"Instead of just standing around, getting in everyone's way, why don't you run down to Tommy's and grab lunch, huh?" Brian asked.

Britney's hand immediately shot out.

"What's wrong with that debit card in your wallet?" Brian smiled as he pulled his wallet out.

"I beat you at bowling; winners don't pay, silly," Britney said in total seriousness.

"I want..." Brian started to say.

"I know what you want; Mr. Oscar? What you want?" Britney said.

"Oh yeah? What I want?" Brian challenged.

"Large roast beef, no pickles. Mr. Oscar?" Britney said.

"Please tell me she's got an older sister," Matt asked as Britney drove away in the Malibu.

"No, but she's got a mom almost as pretty as her," Brian said.

"And we're in; want to see what Sally's looking at?" Oscar said as he tapped rapidly on the keyboard.

"Uh huh, she's checking her kids' facebook pages," Brian said as Store Number Three popped up on the screen. "That is one tough Momma Bear, you hear?"

"And Store Number One..." Oscar said.

"Uh huh," Brian said as a video of two women locked in a sixty nine popped up.

He dialed the number and Jimmy answered on the first ring.

"Professional Dry Cleaning; service comes first," he cheerfully said.

"Get out of that web site right now; you want to look at that shit do it at home," Brian said. "You know how many viruses are on porno web sites?"

"Yes sir," Jimmy said and the screen reverted to the Professional Dry Cleaning home page.

"Thank you, Jimmy," Brian said and hung up.

"And store number two is..." Oscar said and Brian nodded in satisfaction as Shelton was tallying up a rather large order for King Sanitation.

Brian smiled; Matt now knew without a doubt, that at any time, Brian could look and see exactly what Matt was doing on his computer.

"So, how old's her mom?" Matt asked when the Malibu pulled up.

"Forty; she was twenty when she and Jim adopted Britney," Brian said.

"Oh, she's adopted?" Matt asked.

"Yeah, Peggy, Kathy's baby sister had Britney and gave her to Kathy and Jim," Brian said and held the door open for Britney.

"That guy at Superior Motors said he'll give you twelve thousand on a trade-in," Britney announced. "There's this beautiful Ferrari; it's red with tan seats and..."

"We are not getting a Ferrari," Brian said firmly.

"But it would make this totally awesome birthday present for someone's drop dead gorgeous girlfriend who's turning twenty in two days," Britney wheedled.

"Britney, I know you don't hear this word very often, but I don't think you'll have any trouble understanding it," Brian said as he handed Matt his hot ham and cheese sandwich. "And the word is 'No.'"

"You're mean," Britney accused as he put her shrimp po-boy on the counter.

While the Kimble staff were eating, Glen was staring at the soft recessed lighting of the hospital room, listening to the soft whirr and beep of the machine he was hooked to.

When they'd brought him into the DeGarde Police Department in handcuffs, God, would his bitch of a wife ever stop screeching at him, at the police, would that bitch kid of hers ever stop whining? During the process, Glen had gasped in sudden, intense pain and collapsed. They determined he'd had a mild heart attack and rushed him to St. Elizabeth's Trauma Center.

The beep of the machine grew in intensity and Glen tried to think of anything else other than Big Butt Barbara and her snot faced kid.

"And here we go, Mr. Peters," a fresh faced kid said as she wheeled a foul smelling cart into the room. "Now the doctor wants you to eat light for a few days..."

"You know where I can score any coke?" Glen whispered to the girl as she put some unappetizing looking slop and a cup of clear broth on the table and swung the table over his bed.

"Coke? Well, you're not supposed to have caffeine; we're trying to..." the girl said.

"Not that, cocaine, blow, snow, get me now?" Glen hissed at the idiot.

"No. I most certainly do not know where you can get any of that," the girl said, all friendliness evaporating.

"God, what the fuck is this shit?" Glen asked, looking at his food for the first time.

"A lot better than what you deserve," the girl snapped, pushing the cart out of the room.

"Whatever, Holy Mary," Glen snapped.

"Everything all right?" a nurse asked, coming into his room and checking the machine he was hooked to.

"Y'all really expect me to eat this shit?" Glen asked, indicating his tray.

"No, expect you to leave it for the cleaning crew," the woman said evenly.

She turned to leave, seeing that the spike in activity was not life threatening.

"Eat it, don't eat it, we get paid the same amount. Have a nice day," she said and left the room.

He had no appetite so left it to cool and congeal on the table. A little while later, the same fresh faced kid wheeled the card in, ostensibly to take the empty plates. She shrugged at his bitter face, grabbed the untouched food and left.

In their home, after clearing away Josette's food, Barbara decided to enter Glen's sanctuary. She logged onto their bank account and nearly screamed. Once again, Glen had somehow let their finances slip; there was one hundred and four dollars and nineteen cents in their account.

The garage door would take eight hundred and seventy three dollars to replace; the technician had said it could not be repaired. He would have to replace it instead. She believed him; Daddy said the guy was honest and trustworthy.

Plus that, the man had smiled at Josette and called the child 'sugar booger boo' which made the three year old laugh.

Barbara had called their insurance man, a Ronnie Edwards with Young Insurance and nearly screamed. Glen had not paid the premium in six months.

"I'm sorry, ma'am; we sent y'all notices," Ronnie apologized. "I even called Mr. Peters but..."

Paul Robichaux had come out, looked at the sheetrock damage, made a few phone calls then finally said he could most likely just fill in the damage, rather than replacing the sheetrock. That, plus repainting the garage, his estimate had been three hundred and fifty dollars.

Again, Daddy said Paul was as good and honest a handyman as you would ever meet.

Barbara held her breath and called Ronnie back to see about the Lexus.

"No ma'am, the auto insurance is up to date on that one. He paid that in, oh, wait, Glen cancelled that in August on... Hello? Mrs. Peters?" Ronnie said.

"I would hope you die, Glen, but I'm sure there's no life insurance either," Barbara snarled at the computer screen that still showed a balance of one hundred and four dollars and nineteen cents.

**..**

Britney had something Barbara had never had; passion. When she and Brian made love, it was with passion and a desire to please the other, rather than a means to manipulate the other.

Britney had put her hair into two pony-tails, even though she thought it looked silly. Why? Because Brian had asked her to. Then, blushing hotly, knowing full and well that her body was a tub of fat, Britney had stripped out of her tee shirt and baggy shorts.

"Jesus, just looking at you, I swear I'm the luckiest man alive," Brian had said.

"Why?" Britney had snapped, not able to look at him. "Because your girlfriend's a fat pig?"

"No, because my girlfriend's beautiful," Brian had declared and hugged her tightly.

Britney had very little experience with members of the opposite sex, having done nothing other than some pretty passionate kissing and letting boys fondle her small boobs. At first, she thought a blow job was exactly that; you blew onto a man's cock until he ejaculated.

"Then why they call it a blow job if you suck on it?" she'd asked.

But she had absolutely thrilled at cock sucking. Brian had sworn she had an orgasm when he spurted his semen into her mouth. Since then, she delighted in seeing how fast she could make him come. Or, if he was trying to watch football, delighted in seeing how long she could drag out a blow job. She would suck and lick until he was writhing, then she'd stop and just tongue his balls, which he now kept smoothly shaved for her pleasure. Then, when his breathing was back to normal again, she'd again begin licking up and down his shaft, then suck the head into her mouth, slowly sucking in more and more of his cock until she had all of him into her mouth and the maddening ordeal would begin again.

"So what's the score?" she asked on more than one occasion and on more than one occasion, Brian had no earthly idea.

Britney loved having her pussy eaten. Brian thought for sure Kathy would hear the commotion and rush across the street to rescue her daughter.

Sixty nine was, in Britney's opinion, the most wonderful thing ever. She could lick and suck Brian's cock and swallow his delicious sperm while Brian sucked and licked her fat pussy lips and clitoris, and even tongue her sweaty, spicy anus.

The first time Brian had done that, Britney almost bit his cock off. Then she reached back, grabbed her fat ass cheeks, and pulled them wide apart for him to jam his tongue far into her anus. Then she tried to capture his cock with just her mouth, and finally, laughing, had to release one cheek so she could grab his cock and feed it back into her mouth.

When Brian introduced a finger to her rectum, thumb pressing against her fat little clitoris, Britney screamed in orgasm and bounced and shuddered, driving herself back to get as much of his finger as she could. Two fingers, thumb against her clitoris got the same reaction and three fingers jammed into her rectum reduced her to a blabbering wreck.

Actually letting him stick his fat cock into her anus, anal sex, however, was reserved for their wedding night, and then every night after that. That Britney declared firmly.

Vaginal sex, very rarely induced orgasm, but Britney still claimed it was her favorite. If they were in the missionary position, she would wrap legs and arms around him and suck long kisses from him, then whisper in his ear how much she loved him, how wonderful he was. If she was on top, she would gaze lovingly into his eyes and bounce up and down on his cock and tell him how much she loved and needed him.