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Odd Job

By: Nightmare87



October/23rd/2015

Waiting nearby in an alley, the equipment is checked and rechecked in a meticulous manner; the night vision goggles with the ability to switch to thermal and EMV(Electric Magnetic Vision), the flexible RYNO suit comfortably hugging his body, keeping his body temperature cool while in the humid air, and the brand new wrist computer which is his favorite new gadget. It has the resources to access any computer, remotely manipulate lights and cameras, well... anything with a current of electricity. It also holds all relevant info and data on his missions, has profiles, and 3-D maps of selected areas. The NAV will also tell him how exposed he is in light or dark. The new thing is that it's a wireless connection to the equipment he carries. It increases the effectiveness of most of his gadgets and weapons, from controlling his suit's flexibility, Kevlar, and system temperature, monitoring his weapons, selecting rates of fire, and different modes all for main weapons. The communication relay is included, so he can keep in touch with his boss. All of this is in the new NAV. Those features from a mini computer tied around his wrist with a screen the size of 2x2, and a body no less that a ¼ of an inch thick. Pure convenience. After making sure every thing is easily accessible on his suit. He changes the RYNO's flexibility to its max by decreasing Kevlar performance. The black skin starts to loosen its grip on his body. He can feel the suit's molecular mechanics change as the toughness morphs into flexibility. The mission requires the art of guile and stealth, rather broad and aggressiveness. Changing it to be more flexible will reduce the amount of effectiveness the Kevlar could have against reducing any damage to him, but since he doesn't expect any resistance or toe-to-toe action, he'd rather be able to move freely to avoid any unnecessary confrontation with guards. 

"You there."

"Yeah, I'm here, ready and waiting." he replies.

"Good, Listen up. Your mission is simple. Infiltrate their base of operations and see if they're as serious as they talk. Your green to continue, rules of engagement are expected."

The words of his boss were what he has been waiting for. There would be no Fifth Freedom on this mission. No reason to kill. The rules of engagement meant no deaths, avoid and disable is all he can do, when dealing with people. Fifth Freedom means he can do whatever is needed to complete his mission. Anything. With that in mind, he holsters his non-lethal weapon and quietly moves near the window. Checking the schematics of the building once more, he is reassured again of the route that will be taken. The route is short and will keep away from the security. He doesn't want to interact with any of the patrolling men. Not at all. He isn't afraid of the men, but rather, just wants to keep things like they should. Short and simple. If he was to disable or grab one of the men and interrogate them for info, the men would more than likely tell their commanding officer of the encounter with the spy and the enemy would be extra prudent and try much harder to be cautious. This is something that could alter later missions with this particular faction, and not for his benefit. So without knocking out men or disabling them, he must adapt to his surroundings and become a moving shadow, as well as learn the security patrolling routes and creep around them with no sound. Even with his training in espionage. The knowing of what lies ahead if he should screw up is not comforting. Just more motivation to stay sharp and smart. The words of his old Lieutenant coming from his own mouth. 

Time to get moving. Using his optic cable, he slips it into the open window to spot any movement. None. Opening the window just enough he steps in quietly. He holds his position, listening to the noises. The room is a littered with papers, open boxes with file cabinets and a computer. Nothing worth taking a cursory look at. He walks to the open door. Most lights are off and he hears no cameras on a program search mode. Switching the goggles to thermal, then EMV. No cameras... not yet. Moving low to the ground, looking like no more than a shadow with movements of a snake. Not like slithering on the ground or anything, but moving fluidly and calmly, arms barely extending for precision balance, his legs crouching so he doesn't make much noise walking. He moves down the hall looking into the empty rooms while he passes. Down the hall and to the left is a common area. Leaning his back against the wall, he peeks around the corner only to see a guard approaching him. 

He steps back a few and leans into the wall and melts into it. Becoming part of the environment. The guard turns the corner and walks right by him. He returns to the corner, looks again, and moves to the door in the common area. At the door he puts the optic cable under the door and checks for any movement. Satisfied that no one is in the room, he takes out the lock picks and goes to work. Three pins and fifteen seconds later he unlocks the door and slips inside. Nearing the computer and turning it on, he accesses his NAV. He gets the NAV to connect to the computer and starts pressing buttons on the wrist gadget searching for the data. After hacking into the computer's restricted files, he quickly finds the files he is looking for. Copying and closing out of the file uploads the spy software so it can monitor activity on the computer and send the details to a server in Washington. One down, three to go. Disconnecting from the computer he shuts it off and goes back to the door. He moves to the second hallway and heads toward the stairs. 

Staying on the edge of the stair steps, he gets up two sets of stairs. Another guard is in the middle of the hallway with his flashlight on. Getting all the way up he moves to the right of the stairs near the railing. The guard turns around and walks toward the stairs. He climbs over the railing and holds on to the floor hanging above the first floor. The guard walks over to the railing and turns around. His back to him. The guard then heads down the stairs and he climbs over the railing, goes through the hall and stands in front of the second door on his left. Using the optic cable again under the door, he sees a man about to open the door to exit the room and enter the hall. He puts the optic cable away, moves away from the door and starts to run up the wall just to kick off the wall to do a split jump. With his legs apart and his feet against the wall of the narrow hall, he is about 6 feet off the ground measuring from the bottom of his boot to the floor. He keeps pressure against the wall to keep him elevated. As soon as he gets himself up, the man opens the door and walks into the hall. 

He upholsters his non-lethal handgun, which can shoot a share of different assortments. Pick your poison: Sticky Shockers, which will basically short circuit the human body disabling him for many hours or Sticky Cameras that can be used as another pair of eyes for times when an area is not visible. The cameras can also lure an enemy with different sounds and songs to which he can use appropriately. The cameras also have a respectful amount of knock out gas and it also can explode with enough force to kill anyone within 5 feet of the camera, which is the size of a penny. He has airfoil rings loaded, which will knock an enemy out with a shot to the skull or make him dizzy with a shot to the chest or back. Aiming at the cranium the man just stands there. After 5 seconds of the guard standing, he walks down the hall passing underneath him. Looking behind he watches the man continue down the hall. Taking out keys he unlocks another door further down the hall. Once the patrolling guard opens the door, he enters and closes the door behind him. After releasing from the wall, he drops down barely making any sound, and uses his legs as shocks to absorb the fall. He walks back to the door and looks around him before proceeding to enter it. The optic cable revels that no one is on the other side. Grabbing the lock picks and putting them into good use on the door lock, he gets it open fairly easy. Opening the door slowly he looks into the room and enters.

The room seems to be occupied by weapons, ammo, armor and equipment. Just more confirmation that this faction of men is in the business of dealing arms illegally. Snapping some pictures with his NAV and putting the new shots in the appropriate files, he then uploads them to the server for his boss. After rummaging the room, the computer becomes the priority. Turning the computer on and connecting the NAV wirelessly, he discovers the intended files and uploads them. Spy software installed, he turns the computer off. Everything is working great. 

"You there?"

"Go ahead, Gladden." Gladden. His boss. 

"There is a vehicle approaching the compound with a high priority man riding passenger. Get to the garage. Don't approach them. I assume you have your blue lights?"

"Sure do." The blue lights he is referring to is a finger print scanner that can read fingerprints on most surfaces and then the prints are be sent to a database to be examined. It shines a blue fluorescent light. Once the fingerprints are visible it scans the fingerprints and saves them. Within three minutes of a fingerprint scan from this device Gladden gets a print out of the name, info, and history on the person the prints belong to. Gladden obviously wants to who the passenger is and probably why he is here. Well here in the compound.

"Good get what we need so we can understand a little more of the situation. Continue with the mission all primary objectives stand. The new objective is secondary. Gladden out."

The new order wasn't a big deal or anything. He can improvise and adjust when needed, but he would need to study the 3-D map of the compound to get to the garage, since he wasn't planning on going there. Right now though he had one more computer he would need to get to. Stepping to the door, he hears voices of two guards outside the door. The first guard is expressing his worry to the other.

"I just don't think this is smart."

"Why not, it means more money? More for the EG, you and me," the second guard rebuttals.

"I know that, but it's just that the EG is good at what it does because that's all it does. Once we start trying to do more, taking on bigger tasks and riskier orders from our clients we're... it's just not going to end good. This stuff we are supplying is huge compared to small arms. We're good at what we do; we might not be good at this. We are pushing the envelope for a quick buck. If the deal goes wrong is will be bad. Bad like people getting killed. It could be me or you who gets the short end." The first guard must have made a good point, since guard two didn't respond right away.

"Uh, I'm sure everything will be fine, stop worrying about everything. I gotta get back to my post."

The two men leave in opposite directions in the hall. Peeking out the door he leaves the room to continue down the hall to the next room on his list. Moving to the next room he listens for any guards. The door leading to the desired room is at the end of the hall. Still a shadow he walks to the door, uses the optic cable, and looks for motion. Lock picks in hand the picks enter the lock. He shakes the picks to move each pin so the doorknob can turn. He should get an electric pick so picking locks is easier and much quicker. The little pick gun gets shoved in the lock and the gun vibrates to push the pins in the correct positions all at once instead of getting each pin one at a time. The thing is the electric pick is very noisy and leaves many marks in and around the lock signifying a forced or improper entry. Something that will make anyone observant enough to realize something is not right. Drawing any unwanted attention to yourself is unwise. So it's reasonable to avoid it when possible. After hearing the click in the lock, he pushes the door open and slips inside. The room seems pretty empty. It's more of a small office. Looking at the desk for anything extravagant that might help him with gathering info, and disappointed with his search, he goes right to the computer. The ritual is the same. With the files collected and software installed and running he looks at his NAV for a quick way to access the garage. Confident with his choice he moves to the nearby window. 

Climbing outside he hangs on the windowsill and lets go. Falling one story he grabs on the windowsill that was once below him. Shimmying over to a small ledge, he gets himself to a pipe and slides down to the roof of the garage. On the roof he moves to the trap door. His optic cable is slid through the metal gratings. No one, but a car. He retracts the cable and lifts the door open. Hooking his rope securely he throws the rest of the rope down into the garage and slides down. In the garage he looks around quickly. Nothing important. At the car he uses the picks to gain entrance. With a pop, the car door opens. The blue light shines from the fingerprint scanner on the interior. In the back seat there are fingerprints near the cup holder. Perfect. The sound of a confirming beep hits his ears. Upload complete, time for extraction. Getting out of the car and locking it up again, he walks to the rope and grabs a hold of it. Climbing back upstairs he hears Gladden tell him that he has the identification of the man.

"Good then I can come home now," he anxiously waits for a response. He thinks about how his duration in this country has been. He has been here for too long. He'd rather be in his home in Gilbert, Arizona. It's been seven months since he has been in America. This mission was a last minute order from his superior. He had no choice but to comply. It would have taken too long to get another Asset here. It even took several weeks to plan and the mission has been delayed a couple of times due to complications of many personnel on the premises. In no way is he complaining; the desire to be home is just overwhelming now since his mission is complete. 

"Yes, you can come home, have a couple months vacation. Get to extraction and you're on the first plane to Phoenix. You have done a great job so far, I'm happy you were able to solve the problem with the missing documents. It would have been disastrous for Britain if the location of their gold, while being transported, should happen be get in the wrong hands." 

"Its my job Gladden," he replies while continuing to climb the rope nearing the top.

"That's right and you're very good at it. Soon you will make Fisher seem like nothing more than a memory."

"I don't think that could ever happen nor would I want it. He was the single greatest Cell ever. Its too bad what happened to him. I'm sure everyone who has any sorta intelligence knew that he was nothing short of a legend. He was the first Cell and the best. It was him who got be interested in this field."

"I know Fortin, I know. Just get back here and get some R and R. Gladden out."

With no more to say and inches away from the roof, he pulls himself out of the trap door and on to the roof. He closes the door and heads north on the roof. He jumps from one building to the other making a 4 foot gap with ease. He uses an escape ladder to get back on ground and then stays in the alleys and shadows. He quickly gets to the extraction point. Feeling safe that no one will come to this deserted place he calls for his ride. A silent helicopter drops down and lands near him. Thirty seconds later he boards the helicopter and is heading toward the nearest airport. In one hour he will be on a plane in civilian clothes with an authorized fake ID. In one day he should be in his house. He couldn't wait.

*

Write a review or vote. i wanna improve my writing skills. Thank you Deanna and Allison for editing my work!

Odd Jobs



"Tom, I'm happy you're home from college for the summer, but we just can't give you money anymore like we used to. We need every dollar we have, and if you have the chance to earn some on your own, even if it's just a day job, you have to take it."

"Mom, this isn't a job. This is...labor."

"It's $100, and all you have to do is spend a few hours boxing up some stuff and taking out trash. Even if it's an eight-hour day, you're still making way over minimum wage. Now, I promised Claudia you'd be there by 10, so you'd better get going. Go easy on her. She's just getting over losing her husband."

She grabbed the car keys and forced them into his hand.

"Claudia said there's a lot of work to do, so bring a change of clothes."

Tom went back to his room and rounded up an extra t-shirt, shorts and socks, then headed out to the car, his face etched with resentment.

"I'll see you later," he said bitterly.

Tom tried to calm down while he made the 15-minute drive to Claudia's. The CD he was playing certainly helped, and as he got closer to Claudia's house, he was much more relaxed than he was when he stormed from his house. He parked his car in front of the attractive two-story abode, then grabbed his change of clothes and walked up the sidewalk to the entrance. After ringing the doorbell, Claudia answered and welcomed him in.

"Hello, Tom, thank you so much for coming by. I really appreciate this. How has college been treating you?"

"I've been doing pretty good, actually. The year's been hectic, so it's nice to come home for a while and decompress. How have you...been?"

"Well, much better. It took a while, I admit, to get used to new circumstances, but I think I'm pretty much back to my old self. I'm having some friends over while you're here. Do you mind?

"No, no, I mean, it's your house and that. Um, what can I do to help out?"

"So, you want to get to work right away. You have a good work ethic. Let's go to the garage."

She led him to what was supposed to be a place to park a car, but was filled instead with tools, boxes and assortment of other things that had not been used for quite some time, he could see.

"Tom, I want to be able to park my car here and just get into the house. So, what I need is for just about all of this stuff to be packed up and taken to the curb. Leave the garden tools here, and I guess all the other tools should stay, too, but I won't need anything else. It's supposed to be getting warm today, so I can make you some cold drinks. Is that OK?"

"Sure," he said. 

"If you need anything, just ask. I'll pay you when you're finished."

As she went back into the house, Tom couldn't help but admire her. She looked to be in her mid-thirties, but he could also see that she worked at staying in shape. He surveyed his surroundings.

"What a freaking mess," he muttered to himself. He then developed a plan, first to get rid of what she didn't want, then to organize what she did. As he toiled throughout the morning, he saw a two cars pull up to the front of the house a few minutes apart from each other. A single woman emerged from first car, but two women got out of the second. Each had what Tom thought was an oversized briefcase. He continued to clean out the garage as he watched them go up to Claudia's front door. Once they all got inside, Tom could hear that they wasted little time in enjoying each other's company. By now the temperature was warmer, and he was certainly sweating more, but he could see real progress being made. He needed a break, so he opened the door from the garage into the house and called for Claudia. She quickly appeared.

"Yes, Tom?"

"Can I take you up on that drink offer?"

"Why, of course. Let me get you a pitcher. How's it going? Can I see?"

"No, let me finish first. I think you'll like it."

"I can see there's quite a bit out at the curb already. About how much more is there?"

"Maybe another hour."

"You work fast. Let me get you a drink."

She returned with a carafe of ice water and a tumbler. Tom quickly downed two glasses.

"You must have really been thirsty," Claudia said. "Here, let me fill it up for you again."

She returned with more water for him.

"Anything else, just call, OK?"

"OK. I will. Don't worry about me."

The ice water charged his batteries, and now all he wanted was to finish so that he could collect his money and go home. As the last of the trash was removed, he turned his attention to all of the tools, and after he lined them up with the precision expected of a military inspection, he looked around and took genuine pride in what he had been able to accomplish. He let out a sigh a satisfaction, then said to himself, "We're ready."

Tom opened the door into the house again and called for Claudia.

"Yes, Tom?" she said as she came into view.

"Give me the keys to your car and I can park it in your garage."

He was sweaty and grimy, but she could also see the delight in his eyes at having done this for her.

"Let me see," she instructed.

Tom stood aside and watched her as she came into garage.

"Oh, my," she said, incredulous at how everything unwanted was gone and everything wanted was arranged in a way to easily find it.

"You have certainly earned your money today."

"Thank you," he said. "So, you like it?"

"No, Tom, I love it. Thank you very much. I'd say you also earned a tip."

"Oh, that's not necessary, but thanks, anyway."

"Well, at least let me offer you the chance to clean up before you go on your way. Would you like to take a shower? I have a guest bathroom upstairs."

"Um, sure," he blurted.

"So, I guess you're glad you brought that change of clothes. Bring them with you. Come on."

He followed her to the living room and saw the friends that arrived a while back.

"Hi," he said to them all.

"Everyone, this is Tom," Claudia said. "He came by today to help clean out my garage."

"Hi, Tom," they all said.

He saw that they were all seated around a coffee table with a bowl of fruit on it. Claudia's friends were enjoying a glass of wine, and each had a sketch pad, with drawings of the fruit bowl in various stages of completion.

"Uh, hi," he said. "Sorry about my appearance."

"No problem, you must be thorough," said one.

"Come on, Tom," instructed Claudia. He followed her up the stairs.

She showed him to the guest bathroom, which had a sink and cabinets in the outer room and a door leading to the actual bath.

"So," Claudia said, "go ahead and get cleaned up, and when you're finished, come on back down and I'll pay you."

"OK," he answered.

Claudia turned to look at him once more before she closed the door. Tom quickly undressed, then closed the door to the bath area, happy to be free of the dirt and sweat. The shower did wonders for him, virtually rejuvenating, as he let the hot water soak his fatigued muscles. Once finished, he dried off and went into the outer room. He quickly noticed that his clothes -- all of them -- were gone, with only an extra towel hanging on a hook on the main door. He looked around the room and found nothing. Now more than a little concerned, he wrapped the towel around his midriff and left the bathroom, heading for the top of the stairs.

"Claudia?" he called down.

He heard her footsteps as she approached the staircase.

"Yes, Tom?"

"Um, where are my clothes?" he whispered.

"Oh, why don't you come on down? You're decent. It's OK."

He hesitated for an instant, then walked down the stairs.

"Where are my clothes?" he repeated.

"Well, your work clothes were so dirty that I thought I'd wash them for you."

"But what about the change of clothes I brought?"

"Oh, those? I have them, but I wanted to ask if you'd like to earn another $100. It shouldn't take more than a couple of hours."

"What can I do like this?" he asked, gesturing to his towel.

"My friends are all here as a sort of...art club. They were wondering if they could draw you for a little while."

"Draw me?"

"Yes, you know, pose and let us sketch. You just have to stand or recline, that's all."

"That's it?"

"Absolutely."

He paused. "That's all right, I guess."

"Thank you! So, come with me."

She took him by the hand and led him into the living room.

"He'll do it!" she announced.

"Thanks, Tom," they all said.

"Where do you want me stand, or, whatever."

"Well, right here in the middle would be just fine."

He stood in the center of them as they formed a semi-circle.

They all looked at each other expectantly. 

"OK," Tom said, "now what?"

"Take off your towel, Tom," said Claudia, not wondering why he would ask such a thing.

"Excuse me?" he said.

"The towel. Take it off. We want to draw the nude."

"Now, wait a minute. I don't think I can -- "

"Tom," said Claudia firmly, "your mother called while you were on your way over here, and she told me that you are to do everything I tell you, and that if you gave any argument, I was to call her right away. Everything. I don't think she had this in mind, exactly, but I don't know what I'd tell her. You could use another $100, couldn't you?"

"Well, I mean, yeah, of course, but I've never done anything like this."

"Just be natural, au naturelle."

"It is all right, Tom, we are your friends," said one, and judging by her accent, Tom pegged her to be from Africa.

"But I don't even know you," he protested.

"My name is Jasmine, and I am a graduate exchange student from Kenya."

"I'm one of Claudia's friends. Rosie," said another.

"And I'm Patty," added the third.

"There," Claudia said, "we all know each other now."

Tom felt resigned to his fate. He couldn't run out the door. There was no telling what Claudia might say to his Mom, and with his clothes gone, so were his car keys. He trembled.

"Could I at least turn around?" he asked.

Claudia now stood directly in front of him.

"Are you nervous? You really needn't be. If that would make you feel more comfortable, sure," answered an assuring Claudia. "Turn around."

Tom did as he was told. Claudia placed her hands on his shoulders.

"What wonderful definition," she commented. To Tom, her fingers felt tingling, causing his eyes to bulge. He also felt his penis stirring, which only became more intense as her fingers traced down his back. He wasn't so much breathing as he was gasping, even more as Claudia tugged at the towel and freed it from his body. The air felt cool to him, the sensations causing his penis to stiffen even more.

"OK, now look at me," she said softly. Tom turned his head over his shoulder.

"No, you silly boy," said Claudia, placing her hands on his hips and turning him herself. He futilely tried to cover himself and pull his hips back to avoid showing what was now so obvious, but Claudia would have nothing of it. She stepped aside so that her friends could have an unobstructed view as well.

"Tom, this won't do," she lectured. "Put your hands by your side. Go ahead. Good. Now, stand up straight. It's all right."

"But, um, I'm..my..."

"Are you worried about your penis? Your penis is part of you, Tom. You have a beautiful penis."

"Uh, well, thank you, I guess, but it's...I mean, I'm --"

"You have an erection? Your erection makes your penis even more beautiful. I think arousal is wonderful to behold. But, I don't want to speak for anyone out of turn. Let me ask my friends if any of them are offended, OK? If they are, maybe we can work out something different. Ladies, are any of you upset by Tom's penis?"

"No," they all replied individually, all smiling warmly.

"I think it is very interesting," added Jasmine.

Tom, still quivering, had to muster every ounce of courage he had and simultaneously abandon any sense of modesty as his hips returned to their normal position. His penis bobbed gently as he tried to relax.

"Maybe you're not quite ready for this, Tom," Claudia commented, "so why don't we try a reclining pose. That might help."

"Sure," he whispered.

"Go ahead and lay on the floor, on your stomach. That's it. OK, now spread your legs a little. More. A little more. Good! Fold your arms and rest your head on them, like you're taking a nap. Now, I want you to bring your right leg up so that it's pointing out to the side with your knee bent. No, that's not quite what I had in mind. Here," she said, kneeling next to him.

Claudia pulled his leg out and bent it like she desired, racing her fingers along Tom's thigh as she did so. His legs were now spread wide so that Claudia and her friends each had a clear view.

"Perfect," she observed. "Does anybody need more wine?"

"Yes," "Certainly," "Of course," they chimed in.

Tom could only hear the sounds of the glasses being filled, then silence broken by the scratching of pencils on sketch pads. He jumped when he felt a woman's hands caressing his straight leg.

"What are you doing?" he demanded.

"Well, Tom," said Claudia, "I'm trying to capture your true nature, so by sensing how a subject feels, I can better reflect that in my artwork. It's just a theory, but it's worked for me so far. Has anyone else tried such technique?"

"I am new to drawing, so I must say 'no,'" Jasmine said.

"Patty and I are always open to new things," offered Rosie. They joined Claudia by Tom's side, each caressing his leg up and down, then on the outside, then the inside. They were perilously close to his balls. After their exploration, they returned to their positions and resumed sketching. Tom's hearing was becoming more acute, especially when he knew that only one of the women was still drawing. Claudia, Patty and Rosie knelt by his side and began their deft touch on his bent leg, obviously humored by his reaction as they also touched the bottom of Tom's foot. He gasped and flinched.

"Please hold the pose," instructed Jasmine.

As the pencil sounds filled the air again, Tom actually dreaded the silence he knew was imminent. Within a few minutes, the pencil scratchings now numbered one, and he braced for what he thought would be the worst. Tom couldn't bear to look up and see what was happening. He did, though, sense one woman kneeling to his left with another two kneeling to his right. His eyes scrunched tight as he felt three women all playing with his ass. He had no idea how sensuous it could feel. His hands were now tightly coupled fists, and his gasps became audibly noticeable as he felt their hands drift between his legs. They openly played with his balls and perineum, and they didn't seem to mind, actually, that he was twitching and moaning. Or was it whimpering?

"Ssshhh," reprimanded Claudia. "You are helping us create a masterpiece. I think it's wonderful how your scrotum is so warm and free-flowing," she said as she massaged his balls. Patty and Rosie nodded in agreement as they took their turns. They then stopped and returned to their sketch pads, giving Tom a chance to recover his composure.

"I think we all need a break," suggested Claudia. "Shall we adjourn to the kitchen?"

With that, Mark waited until they had left before he even thought about standing up. His erection was so hard that it was almost hurting him. Once he saw they had all left the living room, he reached for his towel, stood up and quickly covered himself.

"Why don't you join us?" suggested Claudia.

"Um, I'm OK right here," stammered Tom.

"Nonsense," she insisted. "Come join us. I can still call your Mom."

Tom relented and went to the kitchen. Claudia and her friends certainly enjoyed wine.

"Are you old enough for wine?" Claudia asked.

"Well, in a couple of months, yes."

"Have you ever had any before?"

Tom wasn't sure what to say.

"Maybe, once or twice."

"And underage? My, you're naughty. Here, have a little white."

Tom took a sip and almost immediately began to feel flush. It certainly helped him to relax a little.

"So," Claudia said, "Jasmine, have you ever...I mean, is this the first time that you have ever, um -- "

"- seen a white man naked? Yes," she smiled warmly.

Claudia put her arm on Tom's shoulder. She enjoyed the sensations of his muscles, even as she perceived a faint trembling. Tom, meanwhile, thought her touch electric.

"Oh," Claudia exclaimed. "So this is a new cultural experience for you in more ways than one. How quaint."

She slid her hand down his back until it rested on the top of his towel. He felt her thumb hook underneath the edge.

"Have another sip of wine, Tom," suggested Patty. He felt increasingly flush as the alcohol entered his system, accelerated because he had not yet had anything to eat.

Claudia kept her thumb under the edge of the towel as she wrapped her arm around Tom's waist, stopping where he had secured it.

"How do you like your introduction to our culture, Jasmine?" asked Claudia.

"I learn new things all of the time," she answered. "It all happens very quickly, so I may not understand something as much as I should right away."

"We aren't rushing you, are we?"

"I am not so familiar with Tom."

"Oh, Tom, did you hear that? I think we weren't being considerate of our foreign guest."

Claudia tugged the hanging edge of Tom's towel, holding on to it as fell away from his body. Claudia and her friends were amused as Tom was startled by his sudden exposure. They studied him intently as his penis stiffened. Jasmine was especially fixated on his arousal.

"Why does being naked with us make you so excited?" she asked.

"I'm not really sure," he stammered.

"This is a wonderful chance for you to become, um, 'familiar' with Tom," offered Claudia. "Take your time. We have the whole day."

Jasmine took another sip of wine. She continued to stare at Tom's penis, and then hesitantly extended her hand to sense its contours. She rested the mushroom head on the back of her fingers and lifted her hand a little, taking it away and watching Tom's penis bounce up and down afterwards.

"This is fun," she said. "Kenyan men are not like this. They do not let women explore so."

Tom's eyes were closed, gasping though his open mouth.

She gently wrapped her fingers around his shaft and slowly pulled her hand back, feeling Tom's penis glide along her soft skin. Jasmine traced circles around his foreskin, then experimented with pulling it up over the rim and pushing it back. Tom's moans would give one think that he was in pain, if they didn't know otherwise.

"The skin is very soft, but underneath it is very hard," Jasmine noted. "How do you feel when you are this way?"

"Buzzing," he whispered.

"Buzzing? Like a bee?"

"Electric," he countered.

"Here, Jasmine," said Rosie, taking her hand. "Let me show you more buzzing."

Rosie guided Jasmine's hand to Tom's balls.

"Tom may be a little chilly -- see his goose bumps? -- but his balls are nice and warm and just melt in your fingers."

"What do you call them? 'Balls?'", giggled Jasmine.

"Well, that's a slang word," explained Rosie as she continued fondling Tom with Jasmine. "The proper term, I suppose, is 'scrotum.'"

"Yes, that I know. When Kenyan women are in private, we call them 'mangos.'"

The ladies all laughed boisterously. Tom turned a distinct shade of red.

"Tom, did you hear that?" asked Claudia. "Who'd have thought we would learn so much about each other's way of life?" She was freely playing with Tom's ass by now, gently pushing his hips forward so that, to the others, he was practically offering himself. Claudia's friends knew what she was doing, appreciated even more with each sip of wine.

Jasmine and Rosie were obviously enjoying themselves while they massaged Tom, pausing occasionally to softly stroke his penis.

"Spread your legs a little, dear," whispered Claudia in Tom's ear. He complied, slightly staggering, prompting Patty to catch him by his shoulder.

"There, there," Patty said. "We wouldn't want you to hurt yourself. Hey, Jasmine, if you want some real fun, go back just behind his, um, 'mangos,' and see what that does to him, like this."




Odd Jobs



Tom was forced to spread his legs even wider as Patty aggressively wedged her hand in between and found his sensitive perineum. Her fingertips met Claudia's, and as the two of them started this new exploration, Rosie felt compelled to offer Jasmine even more advice.

"Here, Jasmine, put your wine down for a second. Good! OK, now take one hand to stroke his penis, and the other to see if his mangos are ripe. Let me show you."

Rosie gazed deeply into Tom's eyes as one hand stimulated his penis while the other rolled his balls around and flow between her fingers. Patty dropped to her knees to gain better access to him, and now, Tom no longer cared about his demeanor, his body writhing and his sounds of pleasure resonating throughout Claudia's home.

"I think Tom here likes modeling," joked Claudia. "You know," she continued, "I think it's fascinating at how different traditions can come up with different ways to describe anatomy." She was freely roaming all over his ass and back between his legs. With her other hand, she started caressing Tom's chest, teasing his nipples.

"I mean, look at the differences between us and Kenya," Claudia explained. "Words like 'scrotum' and 'testes' are so, I don't know, clinical, so we come up more...informal terms. We say 'balls' -- I know men sometimes say 'nuts,' but I've always thought that a little crass. Anyway, what do you with balls? You play with them, just...like...you are, Jasmine. I think something like 'mangos' is precious!"

Jasmine's smile broadened. Tom studied her, her matching light gray cotton top and shorts hugging her athletic frame. Her nipples were almost as aroused as he was and clearly poked into the cool fabric.

"Think of it," suggested Claudia. "Mangos are a fruit, and what do you do with fruit? You plant seeds, you nurture it, you watch it take a life all its own, you come back to it each day, and you look for telltale signs, like size, shape and color."

Claudia's right hand was now sharing Tom's penis with Jasmine. The head felt so velvety to her. His erection almost started to hurt, so much so that he swore that if it got any harder, it would start to split.

"So," Claudia mused, "when the time is right, you start to pluck it, and just to make sure, you squeeze it to see if it's ripe and ready, and when it is, you take it in your mouth and relish it. How wonderful. Now, if you call those 'mangos,' what do Kenyan women call his -- "

" -- Banana," interrupted a smiling Jasmine. Their giddiness was clearly being fueled by the wine.

"You see, if someone should ever come into a room who should not hear what we say, they will think that we are talking about going to the market."

"What do you think about our market here?" asked Claudia.

Jasmine moved closer to Tom. She was more than flirting with her eyes.

"The fruit is very fresh, very ripe," Jasmine said seductively. "I see that it is also now a little wet. Very juicy."

Pre-cum oozed from Tom's penis and moistened the ladies' fingers.

"In Kenya, we think the banana is something like magical," Jasmine continued. "When it is taken from the tree, it is very firm on the outside, but then you peel it away, and it is very ready for eating."

Patty was becoming more aggressive, now competing with her friends to rhythmically stroke his penis.

"Getting ready for something, Tom?" she teased.

"Let us relax for a minute," Jasmine interrupted.

Tom panted.

"You need not breathe like a dog, Tom," Jasmine said reassuringly.

She dropped to her knees, Tom's penis pointing up towards her face. Running her index finger along the top of the shaft, she pressed down when she got to the head, letting go to watch it spring up again. Jasmine started to flick his penis up and down with her fingertip, obviously amused at Tom's quivering. She then moved a little closer, her mouth opening and her pink tongue protruding, running her tongue over the head before she started to take him in her mouth. She savored the power she sensed within his penis, wrapping her lips and tongue around him, taking him deeper, then slowly retreating before took him in again, until she effortlessly deep-throated him, leaving her friends both amazed and impressed with her ability. Tom's cries were could be interpreted as a mixture of intense pleasure and something approaching agony, even as he ran his fingers through Jasmine's smooth hair while she delivered her oral ecstasy. He looked plaintively at her when she stopped.

"As it is written in 'Song of Solomon,' 'your fruit is sweet to my taste.' He did not write about a real garden. Come with me."

She stood and took him by the hand, leading him back to living room and glancing at his penis as it bobbed with each step. Tom could only help marvel as Jasmine's backside. Her back led to a very toned waist, a high, rounded ass atop long, flowing legs. The other women followed. Jasmine broke his trance as she kicked off her sandals and turned to stand right in front of him, her shorts so close to his penis.

"So, Tom, you like to look at me, yes?" Jasmine asked.

"Well, I, uh..."

"It is all right. I like to look at you, too. You are very tender in my hands. I feel like a child with a new toy. Maybe we should play together. Have you ever seen an African woman?"

"I've, you know, seen -- I mean, I see you here, and, like, on TV -- "

"No, Tom," she said, softly giggling. "I mean, have you seen an African woman like I am seeing you?"

"Uh, not really?" he questioned, now visibly shaking.

Jasmine crossed her arms in front of herself and took the edges of her chemise in her hands, then slowly but purposefully lifted it over the top of her head and cast it aside. Her friends gasped, both at her audacity but also fascinated by her form. Dark, full breasts were capped with chocolate areolas, swollen and protruding. She took Tom's hands and rested them there. Her skin was soft and warm, and he trembled as he touched, then cautiously squeezed, her fullness. Jasmine closed her eyes and rolled her head back as Tom exploited their sensitivity.

"That feels nice," she purred. Tom's fingertips slowly moved their way up her shoulders, then over her face and even through her flowing black hair. As he softly stroked her back, her mouth opened and she, too, began to breathe heavily. His hands now resting on the elastic of her shorts, Tom pulled Jasmine closer, his penis now nudged into her. His hands flowed over the roundness of her bottom, so tender and yet so firm. She wrapped her arms tight around his waist and buried her face in his neck, as she delighted in just how sensitive she was there, too. He almost could not get enough of how her crease felt under its cotton screen, and now emboldened, eased each of his thumbs under the waistband and pushed her shorts over her hips, then breaking the embrace to kneel and tug them so that they fell lifelessly to the floor. She had thick pubic hair, stiff and wiry, which Tom savored as he ran his face through it when he stood. He pulled her close and wrapped his arms around her waist, not breaking eye contact as his hands could now explore unfettered from what it was before. He had never experienced anything like it, not even with his very infrequent girlfriends. There was tone, muscle -- could he call it 'power,' too? -- warmth and softness that combined to flood his senses like they never had before.

And as he looked into her eyes, he could feel that she had an almost indescribable magnetism, drawing his lips to hers, at first with uncertainty, but as their mouths explored each other, there was a growing hunger in them for each other. Their lips savored the taste of the other, their tongues complementing each other's lusts and sending a new flood of sensuous waves through each other's bodies. They were both experiencing what could only be described as passionate breathing. Tom then looked hurt as Jasmine broke their kiss. She looked to her friends.

"Why don't you draw this?" she suggested. "You may call it something like 'The Embrace.' The people who see it may think it provocative."

Jasmine was exploring Tom's back with the same fervor he explored hers.

"Well, this is certainly pushing the boundaries," exclaimed Claudia.

"Don't be afraid to use your methods like you did before," added Jasmine. "I think we should kiss for this pose, Tom. Do you agree?"

He said nothing, but instead turned his head slightly to the right and allowed his lips to rejoin hers. Their heads were moving ever so slightly as they each tried to maximize the passion of the moment, and even though they strived to hold the pose, the gentle squeezes they were giving to each other soon gave way to tender stroking.

"You can't be doing that if we're drawing," protested Patty.

"Sorry," Tom said while trying to maintain lip contact with Jasmine.

The sound of pencils scratching soon ceased, and both Tom and Jasmine each jumped a little as they felt the most sensitive parts of their bodies being explored by Claudia, Rosie and Patty. By this point though, their whole bodies were sensitive.

Tom's self control was challenged like never before. His penis was nestled in Jasmine's wild pubic hair, and perhaps to give him some relief, she pushed his penis down so that it slid in between her legs. Yes, it was relief he felt, which freed his mind from having to concentrate on one thing so that could better concentrate on others. He no longer cared about the art project. His hands slid down to each of Jasmine's firm thighs, and in one swooping motion, lifted her up so that she could, and did, wrap her legs around his torso.

"We're not done yet, if you don't mind," argued Rosie.

"Get a camera," growled Tom.

His hands cupped each side of Jasmine's ass, and lifting her just a little, he thrust his hips slightly forward so that his penis found the gateway to her inner treasure. Her arms around his neck, he slowly eased her back down so that his penis was bathed in her warm, wet snugness.

"Ooohh, ooohh," he cried while Jasmine uttered unintelligible groans. Holding her there, he nibbled on her ear and brazenly commanded, "Ride me."

There really was potency in her legs, he found out. Her rhythm synched with his, rocking up and down while he held her securely. The sounds of pencils were gone, replaced with the slurping of her juices bathing his penis. Claudia, Rosie and Patty could only watch. Jasmine began to lean back as she bobbed on him, slowing the tempo but leaving out none of the intensity. Tom could feel her vaginal muscles contract even firmer around his penis, the passion lost on no one in the room. Holding her even tighter, he eased them both to the floor, where he rolled on his back so that Jasmine was now on top of him. She guided his penis back into her, then leaned forward so that Tom would have ample opportunity to play with her breasts.

As his hands were now flying over as much of her body as he could touch, she began rocking and riding on him in ways he didn't know existed, keeping her back stiff and she slid up and down, then thrusting her hips back and forth like she was an African belly dancer. He tried to keep his attention on Jasmine, but also caught out of the corner of his eye that his host and her friends were in varying states of undress, quickly moving to everyone becoming nude. He put his arms on Jasmine's back and pulled her close, rolling over so that he stayed deep inside her. She then bent her knees up, and as Tom raised himself up on his arms, he began his own love pulse, trying to think of her pleasure as much as his. Neither could believe how good the other felt, so to make it better, Tom kept himself deep inside Jasmine as he lifted each of her legs on his shoulders, then leaned forward to return to his thrusting.

"AAAaaaooooo," cried Jasmine.

Tom wasn't sure whether she really was in pain, so he just dipped the tip of his penis in and out of her, and when he saw that she was comfortable, went a little deeper, then deeper still, so that within minutes, her feet were over her head and he was plunging as far into her as possible. Tom's penis was pulsating over and over against Jasmine's g-spot as she squeezed her eyes shut and clenched his shoulders. She then started hitting them as he thrust faster, causing an orgasmic wave to engulf her as she cried her delight. This inspired him to try, as much as he could, to keep from his own orgasm so that she could thoroughly enjoy hers. As the waves began to subside, Tom could see that she really was glowing, her eyes dreamy as he continued to his cadenced plunging. Jasmine was in a new reality, and he knew it. Happy with himself that he made her so happy, he paused just to catch his breath, but whatever sexual sensations were heretofore unknown to him before this day, nothing prepared him for what Jasmine did next.

She didn't wait for him to resume. Instead, she tightened her vagina around him and began thrusting her hips back and forth. Tom's eyes had never been so wide, nor had he been so uninhibited in vocalizing just how he now felt. His screams and moans filled the house, causing Claudia to hope that neighbors heard him, lest they call for an emergency. Tom didn't care. From deep inside him, he felt a blaze building throughout his body, overtaking him and flooding towards escape, which Jasmine could see in his face as she returned the favor of thrusting. He didn't have to move, nor did he want to. Tom felt like his eyes were now starting to bulge out his head, and although he struggled valiantly to keep the pleasure deep inside him as long as he could, Jasmine knew that with just a few more thrusts -- there! -- Tom could feel his semen running like a freight train through his penis, spurting deep inside her. He made no secret of what was happening, squealing and howling like some wild animal caught in a trap, but a trap from which he never wanted released. As she milked the last few drops out of him, and his cries trailed off, he experienced a special oneness with her that would, if had it his way, define his eternity. He was in what he would call a post-euphoric state that had plenty of euphoria left in it. He couldn't move, even if he wanted to, as Jasmine shifted to ease her legs off his shoulders so that she could rest them on the floor.

She and Tom kissed passionately as he rolled off her and lay to her side. Jasmine stroked his chest while he caressed her back, each drifting off to an intimate sleep.

Tom didn't consciously go to sleep. It had just sort of...happened. He only became aware of his slumber when he felt warm, wet sensations on his cock and balls. Thinking he was having an "accident," he lifted his head to look down, only to see Claudia, Rosie and Patty bathing him there with hot, soapy water, clearly delighted to see his erection again in all its glory. Patty made sure that he stayed stiff by taking him in her mouth, first gently, then more aggressively as she moved up and down. Claudia crawled up so that her mouth was on Tom's ear.

"Wake up, sleepy head," she ordered.

"What now?" he implored.

"Did you have anything planned for the rest of the day?"

"Um, I don't think so."

"Good! Three to go."



Odd Jobs (Some Odder Than Others) Ch. 01



It's paycheck Friday. An envelope in my hand and a smile spread over my face, I step out of my dusty pickup and walk across the lot to the streak free glass doors of the bank building. Approaching the podium to fill out my deposit, I slit the envelope open with an ink pen from my shirt pocket and unfold my reward for the last two weeks of toil and tolerance, both physical and mental. Eyes moving over the script to search for that magic sum that's going to solve all of the world's problems for the next few weeks and then scribe it out on the deposit slip and......what?! What the Hell?! There must be some kind of error! There's no way! Small glows of cold sweat build on my brow while I'm frantically studying the itemized list of hours worked, deductions, bonuses and such, hoping to find where the oversight must have been. Nope, that adds up. Our local season ending, hours have been trimmed down across the floor at work and the difference it amounts to about brings me to my knees. 

I face facts, suck it up, put on my best game face again and complete my deposit slip sans the usual odd amount of cash I usually take away to make the total a nice round number and play with the change. It all needs to go straight to the account. 

Taking my place between the velvet ropes, I sigh. The canned, almost sterile except for the hint of parchment scents of the bank fill my nose and invade my lungs. I blow it back out with rebellious resistance as a child would with his first peer pressure cigarette. Let's just get this over with. 

A young woman who is as pressed and polished as a news anchor but with the face of a pro league cheerleader waves me to her window and smiles while telling me, "Sir, I can take you down here."

Almost stumbling over my own feet, I shuffle over to her spot at the counter, raise my clutch of papers and lay them in the tray as a boy would a bad report card on the dinner table. As she inputs the info and pulls up my account, she asks, "So, fun plans for the weekend?"

"Oh, you know...just catching up on some things around the house." Inside my head, I'm just pleading that she doesn't look at my balance and give me that crushing look of, "Oh...uh...you should really move back in with your parents."

Handing me my receipt, she continues to smile a million dollar smile and wishes me all the best. I wonder if she is just that genuinely non-judgmental and sweet or if she is just rolling through the motions to get through her Friday as quickly as I was to get through mine and on to the weekend. Either way, I'm off to the rest of the weekend that waits for me. I almost hear a doctor say, "See! That old shot wasn't so bad, kiddo!" Maybe not, but it still burns my ass. 

I fire up the pickup, slap it into gear and amble out of the parking lot and on to the roads that lead homeward. Needing some distraction to drown out the voices in my head, I turn on the radio and kick it up until it gets a little distorted, then roll the knob back down until the sounds come out clear. A few miles down the road and one of my favorite tunes from years gone by comes on. 

Damn, I haven't heard this one in awhile! I about wore out the old cassette of this song back in the day! Coming into the chorus, I have the windows down and am feeling loosened up enough to where I feel the urge coming on to shout song out along with the band. I feel it building in my gut and making its way to my throat. Rock and roll time! And....the radio cuts out due to some reoccurring wiring issue I've been meaning to get fixed. The only sound in the air is my own out of tune voice, hollering out the about half of the chorus before I realize that the band stopped. A lady and her kids in the Lexus beside me have a good laugh at it all as the light turns green and they gain half a block on me while I'm trying to find first gear through all the mess and just get going. 

With the damn radio off the rest of the way through my commute, I have lots of time to think. This economy is killing me! I love the security and benefits of the job I have. The company is stable and as long as I do my job well, I'm there as long I want to be. Now is not the time to be looking for another day job. I just need some form of side work. Some extra income to help out would smooth things out so much. With all of the time I have free due to not being able to afford going out, I could be doing something to make a few bucks. What that may be remains the question. 

I stop at the local grocery close to home to get a few essential staples that I'll need to get me through the weekend, just the basics. Pulling the change from my pocket that was the end of last payday's money, I go to the newspaper box so I can get the weekend coupons torn out for the things I need before I go in to shop. Lighting a smoke, I sit in the sun on the cement bench and collect a handful of coupons for my usual fare, then slip them into my shirt pocket. I turn to the funnies and enjoy the rest of my cigarette while seeing what's going on in the worlds of those simple little characters that have entertained me since childhood. That and the weather is about all I read, so I leave the rest of the paper on the bench for the next person as I leave to go inside. 

After gathering the basics in my little red basket, waiting my turn in line, paying with coupons and my card and bagging up my bounty, I'm homeward bound. I decide for a trip to the restroom before I cover the last miles to the house. Setting my bag down on the table by the doorway before I go in, I gaze up to the cork board with all of the lost cat, car for sale, church potluck, charity car wash and dog grooming flyers to see a corner of paper that was torn off and a note written on it in pencil. 

Helper Wanted: Able bodied individual needed for odd jobs around the homestead. Must speak English, have own transportation (pickup preferred), willingness to work and pay attention to details. I have tools and supplies needed. Call Jo at 555-486-0842.

That's me! I have to call this number! I hope nobody else grabbed this up yet. My plans are free and I have some work left in me and room in my wallet for a few bucks. I can't chance somebody else calling and stealing the opportunity away, so instead of writing down the number, I slip the note into my pocket like it were contraband. 

I step into the men's room for a minute and then grab up my groceries, pat my pocket to make sure the note is still there and head out to the truck. The bag is set on the passenger seat and I light up another smoke while I sit on the tailgate and dial the number from the torn little scrap of paper. 

Ringing for a minute, no answering machine, I start to feel that I have missed my window of opportunity. "Hello? This is Jo. Sorry, it takes me a bit to get to the phone." A lady answers. Her voice is a little smoky with a slight drawl to it. "I hope to God that you are calling about the ad."

"Yes!!" Damn, I hope I didn't sound freakishly overly excited. "I saw your note at the store and thought I'd call and see if you found anyone yet."

"Hell, you're the first since I pinned that damn thing up two days ago. Aint there anyone out there ready to work anymore? So, you think you might be interested?"

"Absolutely. I have the weekend free and lots of go left in me after the week. I can be there anytime. What kind of help are you looking for?"

"Well, honey...there's quite a list at this point. Do you want to come over and have a look around? There's work everywhere I can see."

"I just need to know where to meet you." I offer this because so many people have found the need to be cautious in this day and age about who just shows up to their door. 

"I aint got any work for you outside of my property so you may as well just roll up here. Do you have a regular job? Reason I'm asking is that I can't afford somebody full time. If you're needing a sole source of income, I can't do it for you. I can pay you a day rate a few days a week but might be handy with referrals if you do good work."

"If you'll have me, I just need your address. I'll just drop my groceries off at the house on the way and be right up."

She gives me directions instead of an address, telling me that she's out a ways and it'd be easier to just go by what she was telling me. "My road won't come up on any of those computer map sites anyway, honey."

I scratch down the way there on the back of her note and slide it back into my shirt. We agree to meet there in front of her place and go over what she'll be needing of me when I get there. 

I head down the road, run into the house, put all of the groceries still in the bag into the fridge and get back out the door and on the road. 

My hand on the steering wheel holds the directions and I read along as I go over the roads and past the landmarks she pointed out. Left past the dump truck for sale, the road turns to dust and rocks. That would explain part of the reason that "pickup preferred" was included on the note. A short stretch down the back road and I throw it into low gear, climb the hill, drive past the old windmill with the rusted blue water truck parked under it, past two more entry ways and look to the right to notice the big American flag and the red pickup with the white horse trailer attached to it. That's Jo's place. 

I pull onto the property, shut off the engine and pull the emergency brake. Stepping out into the dust, I hear dogs barking and hear that drawl call from over a high backed wooden chair that tells them, "Hush. He's okay."

"Come on over, honey. I brought out some lemonade. There's beer in the barn fridge if you'd rather." Jo sits in a handmade high backed wooden chair and has a blanket draped over her legs. There's another old metal hotel folding chair and a little table with a big jug of lemonade and ice next to a glass mason jar with a handle, made for drinking from, waiting there by the ashtray. 

I walk over to the place by the porch. "I don't drink, so I'll take you up on the lemonade. I'm Luke and it's nice to meet you, Jo. Wow! It's beautiful out here!" I smile and look over to her in the chair, extending my arm for a handshake. 

Shaking my hand, she looks up to me over her glasses with a hesitant gaze and replies,"What the Hell kind of a man don't drink?"

"The kind of man that used to do a lot of it. I decided to retire it."

Her head rolls back and she just starts laughing. "Okay, I'll give you that. I'm sure you have your share of stories. Fill that glass up and I'll give you the run-down." She pulls a cigarette and brings it up to her lips. I step up and pull my lighter, turn on the flame and hold it to the end of the tobacco until it glows red. "Thank you, honey. Are you a gentleman or just an over-achiever?" 

I reply with a slow smile, "Both, if I can manage to be." I light one up too and we sit silently for a second, enjoying a few puffs and some long swallows of what must be the best lemonade I have ever had pass my lips. Breaking the silence, I say, "So, is Jo short for Joanne?"

Turning to give me a serious look, "Jo was short for Josephine which is a great name for either a little girl or an old lady, of which I'm neither." Her eyes smile to me, "Call me Jo. I'll call you Luke. We'll get along just fine."

My lips wear a warm smile as I take another slow drink of lemonade. I can't help but be fascinated with her. She's got her fair share of moxy! Blonde hair that's cut shorter and tousled a little by the wind, highlighted by the desert sun shows just a touch of grey at the roots. I know not to look too long at the grey, as she doesn't seem to miss a beat and would be sure to call me on it. Tanned skin with a stray freckle here and there, button up Wrangler work shirt with the sleeves cut off, jeans and dusty boots that are adorned with marks from working, I can tell that she is no princess. She seems to be almost six feet standing with long limbs and beneath the softness that comes with age, the gal's got some guns on her! She's no stranger to doing her own chores. Amidst it all, she is in no way too mannish. Eyeliner and mascara, painted nails, lip gloss and each ear holding more than a few earrings, she's got a great balance of rough and tumble with all the "belle of the ball" that shows through. I love the mix of it all and how it flows out perfectly through her look and her abundant character. 

"I have some things outdoors that I need firstly. The wind came over the other night and knocked down the smaller trees by the back of the house, busting a few boards on the fence around the garden. The weeds are needing harvested, as there seems to be a bumper crop of them and it's getting hard to tell whether I should just throw out the flowers and veggies and make it an official weed patch or not or get it back into shape. There's a loose board or two on the shed that I can't reach and the gutters could use some straightening up."

I'm following her so far and nothing's too lofty. Sounds like just the thing to break up the monotony of my day job. It may be just like a working vacation. The setting is just what I'd have if I could afford to get myself there. 

She adds, "I do have some inside work that needs tended to as well. You see, I usually do it all on my own but I was thrown from a horse around a week ago and the doctor in town says that I have some nerve damage in my lower back. I'm not good on my feet these days. Hell, I'm not great sitting down! He's got me on enough pain meds to keep the Rolling Stones happy over a world tour and says that with some therapy and time, I should be able to be up and going again within some months. We'll just see how it goes, I'm too stubborn to stay down long."

Setting down an empty glass, she asks me if I'm too proud to wash floors, fold towels or do windows. I assure her that I'm not allergic to any of the above. She tells me that we've got a deal if I'm willing. 

"I can only pay fifty bucks a day. I'll get your food when you're here. Seems you'll be saving me a lot of money on the beer you aint drinking, so let's make it sixty a day. Would that do it for you?"

I smile widely and shake her hand. "Deal!"

"Okay, honey. Light's going down for the night. How about we get an early start in the morning. Is six in the morning too early on your weekends?"

"I'll be up. I'll have some coffee and be here and ready to go at six."

She smiles a little catlike smile. "Coffee and cigarettes. Hell, it's good to know you kept at least a few vices. Maybe I can trust you after all. I'll have the coffee on. See you in the morning."

I get to my feet and shake her hand again. "See you in the morning, Jo."

I hit the road home and just can't stop smiling. Seems like somebody's been listening to my prayers. Life's about to get better.



Odd Jobs (Some Odder Than Others) Ch. 02



My eyes open in the morning and I take in a deep breath. Looking over to the nightstand, I realize that I have beaten the alarm today. Sliding the sheet off, I set my feet down to the floor and stretch out before standing up. I walk to the kitchen and start a pot of coffee water for my French press, setting an old stoneware cup beside the pot on the stove. 

I swagger my way to the shower and start the water, giving it a minute to warm up before getting in. Leg in to test the water, I move slow under the streams of water and grab up my wash cloth, filling it with soap. 

Bringing the rag to my chest, I work the lather over my torso and wipe away yesterday's sweat and dust and gaze down to watch it trailing down in currents and leaving clean flesh one section at a time. Over my arms, around my neck, across my back and then to my stomach, I scrub up and make my body an open canvas for a new day of sweat and dust. Moving down my stomach and to my hips, I stop for a second. 

I see that tough but sweet smile in my mind. I see faded denim and tanned skin. I see a feminine but hardworking hand wrapped around a wet glass of lemonade, the condensation from the glass beading up and running over her fingers and painted nails. My breathing slows a bit. I wash my way up my legs and see in my mind that blanket on her lap and wonder what all must lay beneath it, beneath the blanket, beneath the faded jeans, where may each out of view freckle land on that soft skin? My head goes to the top button of her Wrangler shirt and to the places I was too withdrawn to gaze down to yesterday. The soapy wash cloth slides up my inner thigh and to my manhood. 

A screaming whistle fills the air and I realize that the water for coffee's ready. Shaking my head, I rinse off all of the soap and step out of the shower, grab the towel and dry off from head to toe. I know that my mind has wandered briefly into dangerous territory and I'd better just let that lay where it started as not to mess up a good thing. I throw on my jeans, slide into my tall boots and head to the stove to pour the boiling water over the grounds. While the coffee steeps, I finish getting dressed. 

Out to the back porch with coffee in hand, I spark up my morning smoke and watch the sun rising over the hills. Every moment I get to take this into my senses is a moment cherished. My usual routine only allows me to see it from the road as I'm rushing down the freeway to work. The early morning has proven to be another of life's gifts. 

The rest of the coffee is poured into a travel mug, I grab up my keys and lock the front door behind me as I make my way to the pickup to start the day. Key into the ignition, foot on the clutch, I bring the motor to life and let it idle for a minute or two while I search through the radio stations. An old country tune plays that I haven't heard in years and I go to turn it up a notch just as the radio cuts out on me. Swearing a little, I push the off button and pull it into reverse. Out the driveway and onto the road, I move into the rays of the morning sun over the hill, moving to meet it as it rises higher, the directions on paper in the seat beside me. The paper never leaves the seat. I make my way down each road and past each landmark from memory without having to consult the scribbled notes. 

Pulling up beside the horse trailer, the door opens and she calls out to me, "Come on in, honey! I aint no straw-boss. I have coffee on and I plan to feed you first. Hope you can tolerate the dogs." Two dogs break past her and scamper outside to greet me. They are both Blue Heelers and are barking with their heads low. As they come closer, I notice that their little butts are shaking and their tails wagging. I lower an open hand for them to smell so they can check me out and make sure I pass inspection before I enter their home. Wet noses in my palm and excited little smiles assure me that I have been granted entry. 

I step up to the porch and inside the front door. Jo is over by the stove and pouring the coffee out of an antique percolator. She's wearing a loose t-shirt and cut-off shorts, barefooted and I notice a floral tattoo on her calf. I also notice that this lady has got an amazing pair of legs! My eyes sneak up her lines and hover at the backs of her thighs just below her tattered hemline. She turns to ask me what I take in my coffee, so my gaze shoots to the cabinets in a flash, not wanting to get busted by the boss-lady. 

"I just drink mine black. Always have."

"Luke, I like you more already. Breakfast will be ready in a minute. Have a seat, honey." I sit and she crosses the floor while holding two cups of coffee, setting mine down on the table beside my hand. "You're early but not too early. I like that too. This is gonna work out just fine, boy."

Out the corner of my eye, I find that she's not wearing a bra and has apparently got nipples almost as big around as my fingertip and hard enough to cut glass. There's no way in Hell I'm gonna turn the day ugly by lingering for more than a stolen glance, so I look deep into the rich liquid and steam that rises from it in the cup at my hand. 

The room fills with the scent of peppered bacon frying. This scent has the power to melt any man to a pool of butter, the ones it doesn't...I worry about. Toast pops up and is soon buttered and on two plates followed by eggs and topped with bacon. Pinch me! I haven't had this kind of morning in longer than memory serves me. This is life at its simplest and best!

Two plates in her hands, she moves to the table and after setting them into their places, pulls the seat over from mine and sits down. "I was hoping that you'd start with the trees this morning, then the fence." She gives a scornful look to one of the dogs as it has raised its nose a little too close to the edge of the table. It goes to lay down, sighs and watches us under hardworking eyebrows as we continue with breakfast. "Past that, Hell, maybe see if you can reset the weed to plant ratio I have going on out in the garden. That ought to be enough for you to get going on for the day. If you finish it up, I'll throw a dart at something else on the list." Smiling to me with her eyes, the steam from her coffee fogs her glasses for a moment as she takes a strong pull from it and drinks it down. 

After finishing a breakfast that was so good it almost made me volunteer to finish the rest of the day free of charge, I looked up to the clock over the stove. 6:30 in the morning and I've already had a more memorable day than most of my weekends in two days combined. She takes her plate with some scraps left on it and nods to the dogs. They march up to her, sit silently like little soldiers and happily take the treats when she gives them the okay. She sets the dishes in the sink and slides her feet into some leather mules that lay by the table. 

"Come on, Luke. I'll show you around. Don't take this wrong, but I'd like to hold your arm as I hate that damn cane the doc's got me set up with." With two Heelers close behind her, she leads me through the screen door and out to the shaded back patio with her hand wrapped around the crook of my arm. I'm careful to move at her pace. Beyond the patio there is a garden with rich, dark soil. I see the trees that lay over the broken fence boards and start sizing up the work for the day. She leads me to the barn and goes over with me where the tools are at, reminding me that there is beer in the fridge if I change my mind on that subject since she tells me she may drive me to drink before the day's through. 

I gather the tools and supplies I'll need to start the work on the trees and the fence and head back outside, walking with her slowly as she takes my arm. 

We stop and I set the tools down in the yard. She asks me if I'd mind helping her get over to the lounge chair as she'd like to stay the Hell out of the house for awhile today and get some sun. I walk her there and get her settled in. She takes a book in her hand from the table beside her and lets me know that she'll be there if I get stuck on anything, need her to make the dogs behave or if I just plain get sick of hanging out and want to take the money and run. Laughing, I thank her and turn to get to work. 

Getting to the trees, I see the trunks aren't damaged too bad and I start making things right for them again. Moving between the shed and the trees, I get some stakes and drive them deep into the soil, fashion some straps to secure the trunks to them and lift them into place, pulling and adjusting until they are upright and secured. 

Through this chore, Jo was reading her book and took a short break to grab a bottle of lotion from beneath the chair and spread it over her skin. As much as I was trying to pay attention to what I was doing, I couldn't help but be completely distracted. Those long legs all slathered in lotion and glowing in the sun, her breasts moving gently beneath her shirt as she basted her limbs with SPF, it was all I could do not to just lean against my tools and marvel at her. I thought better of it but did enjoy the glances I was sneaking. She resumed her spot in the book and kept reading until she had fallen into a nap, book on her stomach and my eyes caressing her oiled body. Through it all, I managed to get the trees shored up. 

Just a shovel to fix the soil around the roots and I could move on to the garden fence. I headed to the barn to swap out tools, was making my way back to hit the dirt and saw something that stopped me in silence. A Western Diamondback Rattler had made its way to the base of Jo's chair and was laying just by her bottle of lotion while it was enjoying some shade. I stayed silent, grabbed the shovel, moved swiftly and made my way behind the head of the chair. Before it could rattle, I had the blade of the shovel planted into the neck of that snake and I applied firm downward pressure until the rattler was in two parts, making a crunching sound in the rocks as my shovel went through. 

Jo's head jumped, her hand went beneath her loose top and returned to the air in a flash with a pistol that was pointed straight to my gut. "Come again, kid? I was born at night but not last night." She stared into my soul through my eyes and had a tone that was as serious as a heart attack. 

"I...I....um...just". I couldn't form the words as I just looked down at my shovel with the head of the snake in the bowl of it. She glanced down briefly to see it and that the body was in the spot her hand would find it in when she went for more sunscreen. 

Her face fell a bit as she sighed deeply and lowered her sidearm. "Well, I guess your moves were justified."

I looked myself over, standing there over the head of where she was sleeping and holding a shovel. "I guess your moves were justified too, Jo."

"Well, honey...don't throw that snake away. I'll tan its skin and make you a little memento of your day here if you want."

Breathing an easier breath, I reply, "I'd like to take you up on that."

"Thank you." The tone in her voice gains in sweetness and is almost a whisper. "Looks like break time, go get some smokes and some sodas from the fridge and meet me back here."

I move the snake over by the barn in the shovel, get us some cans of soda and my pack and lighter, then return to the lounge chair where Jo's now sitting up sideways. She pats the place beside her. I light us each a smoke, pull one from my lips and hand it to her while I keep mine in my mouth, crack the lids on the sodas and hand her one. Sitting down by her side, we sit in silence for a minute before she pats my shoulder and just laughs. I join her in laughter and we smile to each other over our shoulders. 

"Cheers, honey." She raises her can up and I toast mine to hers. 

"Cheers, Jo." Pouring some crisp soda down my throat, I close my eyes while my face lifts to the sun during the drink. In my mind's eye, I see the dew from the outside of the can wetting the skin on her hands and those painted nails. Forward imagination makes its way to my head and I have a flash of those nails on the small of my back. I imagine myself kissing the back of her neck while the flavor of her sweat spreads over my taste buds. I do everything I can to wash those thoughts down with the next drink. I really shouldn't go there. 

Crushing the end of my cigarette out in the ashtray, I stand and point myself to the barn to go grab the shovel so I can finish up with the trees and move on down the chore list. Moving the soil around the roots and tamping them down with my boot, the trees should be good now through the next storms that might happen by this place without budging. 

I move on to straighten up the rail along the top of the garden fence, tapping fresh nails to keep them better in place and make it a little stronger than before. Looking over, I see that my boss-lady has turned to get the backs of her legs in the sun. Oh, no...I'm so helpless to the temptation of gazing over her while she lays there in the heat. 

All the while that I'm making the fence as it should be, my knees are in the dirt and my eyes are on Jo. The sight of her makes me hunger for her. Bare feet resting over the edge of the towel, sun kissed skin leading upwards, I caress her with my vision. As she leans up on her elbows to read her book, the curve of her ass inside those cut off shorts flatters all the form that has developed through the years of being an active and hardworking woman. My mind goes to how incredible it would be to be able to see what was beneath the fabric. I'm lost in daydreams. 

My head wanders off to what I'd rather work on than this garden fence. I trace the curves of her legs with my fingertips while I'm seated beside her. Moving up to the frayed denim ends of her shorts, I explore the curves of her heart shaped ass beneath them. Brushing my extended fingertips over her hips, I find the top button and work it free. I guide her to her side and as I smile to her with my eyes locked into hers, I grasp the zipper between my thumb and forefinger and slowly buzz it downward to expose the front of her panties and I lean in to lift the bottom of her shirt between my teeth, then kiss her smooth skin just below her navel while I'm sliding the waistband over her hips. She lifts her hips just enough to where I can get her shorts past them and then slip them down her legs, over her feet and lay them in a ball at the end of the towel by her polished toenails. 

Climbing slowly back up her impressive legs, she teases me with her fingers sliding over her skin beneath the hemline of her panties, tugging them downward until her shaven mound appears to me. I kiss deeply into her flesh every few inches until I reach the insides of her thighs just below her heated sex. Her nails dig into the back of my neck and scalp while she guides me to partake of her forbidden fruit. She has the thin band of elastic and lace lowered partway down her hips and places the top of the fabric between my lips. Pressing into her womanhood with a warm kiss, I bend my head and the little thong now slides down enough to completely unveil her flower. 

Taking firm hold of the delicate cloth, I take her panties down her legs, setting them on the top of her denim shorts and return to find that she has parted her legs, gently stroking open her entry and then extending a wet fingertip to my lips to taste. 

"God damn!" I shake my hand in the air after whacking it with a hammer. I was so absent minded that I missed the nail on the last board. Reflex makes me take the mashed end of my finger into my mouth for comfort. I'm wishing in my mind that it was her finger instead but that dream will have to wait. 

"You alright over there? You hurt yourself or are you just having a spiritual moment?" She turns over her shoulder to see me sitting at the end of the fence in the dirt like a jackass, finger in my mouth and hammer in the other hand. 

"Aww...I'm just on the last board and then the fence is done." I place the last nail and after regaining fresh focus, tap it into place and look down the now straight top of the fence line to assure that it all looks correct.

"You've done a fine job so far, honey. How about some lunch? Come help me up and we can go cool off in the house awhile."

"I could really go for that, Jo." More than she knows, man. More than she knows. 

I help her up and we walk to the back door and into the kitchen. Out of the fridge, she gathers things to make sandwiches and lays them out on the counter. Looking over to the clock on the stove, she calls out, "Yep, after 11:00. Time for what the doctor ordered." From the cabinet, she grabs a bottle of pills and a bottle of whiskey. She sets up two glasses and fills one with lemonade for me and the other half full of whiskey and then the rest with lemonade for her. Taking the pill between her teeth, she raises her glass and pulls about a quarter of it down in a swallow to wash down the pills. 

Not batting an eye, she moves on to get together some lunch for us both. A few sandwiches on two plates with some chips. "Come and get it, honey. I aint much of a waitress." Taking another hard pull from her glass and then topping it off with both liquor and lemonade, she picks up her share and smiles to me with a little hum of a tune under her lips while she moves past me and to her place at the table. 

I grab my plate and glass and move to join her. Sitting down, the dogs come over to meet me before they get that look from Jo that sends them to the tile floor by the fridge for the rest of the meal. We continue through lunch as we discuss the progress of the morning and the unwelcome visitor than now lays in two parts by the barn. 

"If it aint one damned thing, it's another. Thank you for getting to it before it got to me. Sorry about pulling my piece on you. I had no idea." She shakes her head and takes in the last bite of her sandwich. 

"No worries, Jo. I would have made a little noise first but I didn't want to spook the snake." I'm just glad that it's the snake laying by the shed and not me. She was pretty quick on the draw for a sleeping woman!



Odd Jobs (Some Odder Than Others) Ch. 03



We finish the last morsels of the meal and she reaches to take the plates. I stand up, smile over to her and grab up our dishes, give her a wink and walk them over to the sink to start rinsing them off and put into the dishwasher. "That hit the spot, Jo. Thank you!" 

"You're very welcome, honey. Come on and give me a hand up, I'm ready for a smoke." She smiles back to me and closes her eyes for a second. "You're alright, Luke. Thank you for comin' to lend a hand around here." Just then, the phone on the wall rings. "How are you as a receptionist?" She nods to the phone and gives an expectant look. 

I stand in a sort of still confusion for half a second and as she grabs the end of the table to pull herself up from her seat, I catch on and answer the phone. "Hello? Jo's house." I feel a little odd answering somebody else's phone but hell, I'm the hired help for the day and I'll be glad to do anything that makes things easier for her. 

"Heyyy!! This is Desirae! Who is thiiiiis?" sings a bright voice from the other end of the wire. She lets out a little giggle. 

"This is Luke." I answer a little awkwardly. 

"Really....hmmm....how do you know my Jo? She doesn't get out much, you know. How did you two meet?" More giggling. I find myself blushing a little. 

Jo looks up from the table and asks, "Who is it?"

"Excuse me." I cover the mouthpiece. "It's Desirae."

In a flash, she rises up with a little groan and rushes over to the phone. "God damn...let me save you, honey." She grabs up the receiver. "Now, don't be scarin' off my help. How you doin', girl?"

I move aside and over to load the dishwasher, put in some detergent and after shutting the door and pulling the latch, I twist the knob and the cycle starts up with a whir. 

"No, I got that all covered but thank you. I finally got an answer to that ad I tacked up at the grocery and he's working out just fine. Doing a hell of a job so far." She walks along the counter and grabs her drink up, then heads towards the screen door. 

I pick up my smokes and lemonade and step up to open the door for her. We each find a seat out on the porch and as she continues chatting with Desirae, the dogs scurry up to me and rub their noses at my hand. I start talking to them and giving them vigorous scratches over their hackles as they take turns pushing each other out of the way to gain all of the attention. 

Jo's shriek of laughter makes the dogs jump and take a few steps back. "Ha! Damn it, Des...No! They'll put you away for that kind of operation. You gonna feed my animals?" Looking over to me with a grin, she lifts her glass and takes a strong swallow from it. "Yeah...I bet you would, trouble. You aint me. I sleep better knowing that most nights." Her hand reaches out for the scruff of Cooter, one of the Heelers, and she gives him a good scratch. "Hell, I don't know....that'd be fine. If you're gonna, you'd best behave yourself." Lifting her hand to check her watch, Cooter rubs up against her thigh as the scratching stops for a second. "Okay...alright...okay then....bye....incorrigible!" She lets out a laughing sigh and presses the phone off, then sets it beside her on the chair.

"What do you say about finishing the day just harvesting some of those weeds and callin' it good for today?" she asks. She shakes hear head a little as she closes her eyes and smiles. "You plannin' to stay for dinner?" One of her eyebrows raises and she glances to me over the tops of her glasses. 

"If it's not too much to ask, I'm pretty much hooked after breakfast. I'd be hard pressed to find better fare in town now." My face holds the expression of a boy that has just asked his parents for a new puppy. 

"You won't. I've been to town." Taking a long drag from her cigarette, she sits back in her chair and surveys the property. "If I'm gonna help you build your appetite, the least I can do is feed it." She turns over her shoulder to me, glances me over from my boots up, shakes her head again and crushes out her cigarette. "C'mon, honey. Let's get to work." She lifts her hand to me and I stand, pulling her up with me as I go. 

"Before you get started, I gotta have you throw that old snake in a bucket and bring it by the back door of the house." She looks to the barn and smiles. "Looks like I got a chore too."

Jo turns to go into to the house and I head off to the barn. Inside by the yard tools, I find a galvanized metal bucket and bring it out to fill it with a healthy sized Rattler, body first and then the head laying on top. I walk it over to the porch and set it on the chair by the door. 

For the next several hours, I have my knees in the dirt, yanking weeds from the soil and taking trips to the back of my pickup to dump full buckets of them in. I keep at a good rhythm and my body moves almost on auto pilot as my mind's free to wander off. 

I am so thankful to have the opportunity I was given. To be able to get outside of my routine and do some honest work for enough money to make a huge improvement to my quality of living, I'm ecstatic. If I'd never stopped by the store, who knows, it could have been just another weekend of pacing the floors at the house and living inside my head until the distraction of Monday came again. All of this is more than money could seem to afford anyway. The food, the atmosphere around her simple but expansive back road oasis, all of the moments that I could never seem to find anywhere else in life, all priceless gifts. Oh, and the company of her...the lady that is seeming to unlock the whole world for me, I just marvel at her! 

My head goes back to lunch in the kitchen. Sunlight was coming through the screen door and bouncing off of the tile, it highlighted the muscles of her legs in such a flattering way. When she was at the counter, I stole a few lasting gazes up them to about strike my soul to blazes inside. Every time she lifted her glass and knocked down another long swallow, I couldn't help but glance at the way the curves of her hips and waist danced beneath the fabric of her top and then to her swollen nipples that were almost piercing their way through. I had a secret wish that she would use the last half of her drink to pour over that t-shirt so the soaking cloth would cling to her form like a liberal coat of wet paint. If I had more courage than brains in my head, I would have pulled my chair out, walked up and done it myself. 

The wanting for exploring each inch of her, every small detail, mapping her body with caresses, kisses, taking note of her response and working to slowly bring her to the edge, this all consumes me for the moment and I bury my hands deep into the rich dirt as the thoughts have arrested me completely. 

I realize that I am driving myself crazy. I should be grateful for all that I've been blessed with here and not enter into unwelcome territories that may cost me dearly. I've started to care deeply for this woman and I would never in a million years want for her to be uncomfortable because my hormones were too greedy to let my better judgement have me do better by her. I reach into my pocket and pull out a smoke, light one up and then spit the dirt out of my lips that my fingers have carried there. A few seconds to get it together and I set myself back to the rest of my work. 

Tromping down the last row of fluffy soil after a trip to dump another bounty of weeds, I scan the garden for anything out of place and find that as far as I can see, everything that isn't dirt looks like it should stay put. Walking up and down the rows, I check for spots I may have missed. Everything looks pretty clear. 

"I'll be damned! Looks like a garden again! Thank you, honey!" Jo calls out to me from the kitchen window. "I just got one more thing for you to do for the day. Out behind the barn towards the back, there's an ant hill just across the fence."

Okay, I figure that I'm going to be setting out some poison or traps so I position myself to the barn while I'm listening. That doesn't end up being the case at all. 

The back door opens and she's holding the galvanized bucket. "Throw this on it. No sense just wasting. Nature takes care of its own." I walk up to get the bucket and look into its contents. Meat, bones and guts, that's it. Looking over by the sink, I see a long board and on it is tacked a shining and stretched Western Diamondback Rattlesnake skin. She's been busy!

As the sky grows a little darker, I scan the ground carefully while I make my way down the backside of the barn and up the the barbed wire fence, spot a mound of pale dirt and watch large societies of ants marching to and from it with a great sense of duty. I lean over the fence and hurl the contents of the pail over it. In a few seconds, the scattered mess is heavily populated with busy little black creatures and I turn to take the fence line back down behind the barn. By the door of the barn is a hose bib for water and I rinse out the bucket before setting it back inside by the tools. 

Passing through the yard, I look over what I've done today. The trees look secure, the garden looks clear and maintainable and is surrounded by a knife edge straight little wooden fence. To have my hand prints on parts of the serene beauty of this place is an honor. 

"Better wash up, honey. Dinner's comin' off in a few shakes. Hope you're hungry." Jo waves me in from the kitchen window and as I move towards the porch, my nose fills with savory scents and warm air hits my face while I past the opened door. 

I slide out of my mud caked boots and move down the porch to scrub up in the utility sink by the laundry machines. Drying my face and hands off in a big, lemon colored towel, I hear gravel crunching under wheels and then skid to a stop. A door opens and out from it blasts an AC/DC tune at full volume, breaking through the air just before the engine shuts off and I hear the car door creak and smack shut. 

I hear Jo calling from out the front door to a woman with a bright and cackling laugh. "God damn...Little Desi Dynamite! Why don't you saunter your little lily ass inside this house and get yourself ready for supper." Finishing up drying my arms, I look through the house and see them hug through the front door before Jo leads her friend inside. 

"Don't I look ready?" Behind Jo's shoulder, I see a mess of stringy brown hair dancing around in a circle. "I put on shoes and everything!"

"You know what I mean," says Jo, "wash up and help me set the table." She smiles and raises an eyebrow as she turns over her shoulder for a second and then moves through the living room towards the kitchen. 

Desirae looks to be around five foot nothing. Untamed dark hair lays across half of her face and over her torso, almost to the bottom of her ribcage. Her limbs are almost sinewy and with every subtle motion, you can see them all moving over each other, not that anything about her seems to be described as "subtle". She is adorned with enough jewelry to make her chime with every motion. Setting her bag down on the couch and then rising up, her face appears from behind her tousled tresses. A very prominent nose holds her bangs towards one cheek and she wears a large silver hoop through the opposing nostril. Dramatic eye makeup and scarlet lipstick make an already very animated face to where you could recognize her expressions from the back row of a balcony. Dressed in a black tank top and short black skirt, the contrast of her sallow skin tone is further intensified. Stepping over the old plank floors of the house, her pointed heels send up a hard clicking sound in every pace of her swaying strut to the kitchen. 

"So, where's Mr. Mannypants?" she asks as she turns the faucet on full blast and starts filling her hands with enough soap to wash a fire truck with. 

Jo turns the tap down a little and replies, "LUKE is just coming in from working. He's done a hell of a lot in just his first day around the place." 

I set the towel over the rail by the utility sink and step in my socks to the door. Opening it, they both turn to me and I notice Jo tap Desirae in the shin with her heel. 

"Luke, I'd like for you to meet my girl, Desirae. Desi, this is Luke and he's had a long day already so I'd thank you to be easy on him." She turns and looks over the tops of her glasses to Desirae who responds with an unconvincingly innocent nod. 

"Oh, Jo...you worry too much. He's a grown man and shouldn't be afraid of any tiny little women that might wander by." I step halfway over the kitchen floor and extend my hand to shake hers. She puts her hand on her hip and gives me a stern look while waving her long, painted fingernail in the air. "I don't shake hands with anyone."

I stare back to her blankly and try to figure out how I have offended her by common courtesy. 

She goes on, "If I don't like people, I give them the finger. If I like them, I give them THIS..." Heeled feet tapping across the floor for about four steps and then leaping at me like a cat to a play post, she flies into me with a hug and has her arms and legs wrapped around my body, almost making me lose balance. My eyes must have been huge because as I looked to Jo for some kind of answer, she just started laughing so hard that tears dewed under her glasses. 

"I like him, Jo! He can stay!" She continues to cling to me and rub up on me until my chest gets hot and I have stray brunette hairs in my lips and nose. Her hands are still wet from washing and my upper back is soaked. 

"Alright, girl. Down and help me set for dinner." Jo turns and walks to the counter with a whispering laugh. "Jesus......what have I gotten myself into?" she says as she turns off the flames under the burners.