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Melancholy Jeannie

By: cowboy109



Melancholy Jeannie was a fine, young thing strutting her long smooth legs in a tiny, tight jeans cutoff. That bright red painted mouth of hers pouted upset. Behind the deeply black makeup of her eyes was deep despair. Her black high heels tick-tocked on the wooden porch. Caged like a pretty bird, the expanse of muddy fields and partially plowed over wheat stubbles kept her on that little porch.

"Daddy, I ain't gonna have it no more."

The farmer man, a red faced man with an overflowing belly, diddled his suspenders in angry impatience. His blue eyes glanced down her body fitting white shirt that ended much too short above her pants. A rebellion of wild feelings and thunder that had been quelled by the hands-on farm work for years. A glimpse of his own lust after his wife, when she was young and silly tried to rip open inside of him. He saw that same lust in every single man in the county staring at his sacred daughter.

"God damn. If you don't put on clothes right now, I'm gonna get the paddle out. And I'm gonna drive the wicked out of you!"

A little shiver of the past stole into the white of her eye. The jeans shorts grabbed hard around her bottom like a hand. The evening breeze played through her long, plain brunette hair. She fidgeted with a stray strand that got stuck in the moistness of her mouth. Her body was so bare with nothing to hide behind. Her daddy was tucked in farmer jeans with thick fabric, a shirt, and a heavy tool belt. She had to stand on her own, half his size.

"No daddy, you lay a finger on me, and you go to prison."

The fingers of his prawn grabbed the railing of the porch. His hand was twice the size of a city person. Each finger was thick like a sausage. The skin was thick and insensitive. A two hundred fifty pound grain sack was like an air balloon to him, when he tossed it onto a truck. Silently, she strutted forward. Her ankles were shaking with the little silver anklet and heart. When she pressed past him, she could smell the soil and sweat on him. And there was also the very dear personal breath of her daddy, that smell that she had remembered ever since a child, when he was holding her.

"If you go to that damn bar, you are grounded and eating only oats for two weeks. I don't care that you are twenty-two. You are still my little daughter!" He hollered behind her. She stepped into the dawn down the dirt path to their house. The sun was setting the opposite site. So, she was going into the darkness. Dark, foreboding clouds of thunderstorm were brewing her way. Her ankles were shaking from the uneven pebbles on the ground.

When she stepped into the bar, the sky was unleashing a torrent in one second. As if someone had pulled the bottom out of a pool, the water fell down. The thunder cracked and rattled the windows. The electric end of days terror was in the hearts of men and beasts. The gray, curly haired church ladies tried to talk over the drumming rain in their booth with their no-sugar, low salt burgers, fried chicken, and mashed potatoes.

"Wow, Jeannie, you look hot today," called the owner of the bar over to her. His was a skinny tall man with an oversized handlebar mustache and serious book keeper eyes. "Here, your first drink is on the house, because you look so fine. That's absinthe. They say the green fairy will visit you if you drink it."

"Oh, my, is that from Europe? What will the green fairy do if it visits me?"

"Well, the green fairy while whisper lots of bad ideas into your head. She is a great seductress into the darkness."

"Wholly gosh, it's about time that I grew up. It sounds so tempting. I wonder what she'll whisper me!"

A mischievous smirk rushed over the bartenders lips before his cheery smile returned. He poured the bottle from high up to let the absinthe drizzle down in a long string. Biffs mouth dropped open watching Jeannie and watching the absinthe. His hands were over Collin's jeans butt cheeks. She was sitting on his lap in close embrace. Her stretched out fingers pressed into his cheeks to focus his eyes back on her.

"Maybe, I'll get me some of that absinthe," mumbled Biff, speaking and breathing through his open mouth.

Another mischievous smirk rushed over the bartenders lips. "Biff, I'll give you a 2 for 1 deal, because you are both absinthe virgins. You both can share the experience."

The green liquid tasted flowery like a meadow of wild flowers and distinct like all the herbs and grandmother's garden taken together. And then there was the burn down her throat. The warmth spread out in her itsy bitsy girl belly. She was slender. Her abdominals were a smooth line between the hip bones. She flipped the shot glass over and banged it on the counter like she had seen the big boys do it. "Did Herbert arrive," yelled someone at the pool table.

Jeannie meandered over to the pool table. She kept her knees straight and swung her legs from the hips. Her torso had to counter twist. She lifted her chest high. Her slender fingers with the red nails caressed along the wood paneling on her way. The green felt of the pool was lit by a yellow lamp low across the pool table. Everyone else was in the shadow against the wall. Thick smoke clouds spread out with the lethargy of the Mississippi. Big glasses of beer were held next to rough jeans and flannel shirts. A t-shirt had the sleeves cut off to show the fatty shoulder muscles with the elementary-school-stick-figure-tattoo of a pig. Heavy boots banged on the hollow wood floor.

"Does any of you gentlemen want to engage in a real game with real stakes?" she asked pointedly. The eyes fastened on Jeannie. The silence was evidently due to the air having left.

"You don't have a job. Are you daddy ain't giving you an allowance. So how are you going to pay if you lose?" Wanted Bronston to know.

"If I were to lose, I would give that gentleman one dance," replied Jeannie.

"I'm going to take that action for $10," said Bronston. He showed a ten dollar bill to everyone with a big winning smile.

"Were a gentleman to touch your ass during said dance," inquired Ray with restrained and unusual refinement.

"If such an unlikely outcome were to arrive, like a camel worming its way through a needle, a gentleman would be allowed to touch me anywhere for the duration of the dance," replied Jeannie. The conversation had become as Shakespearian as any conversation in New Munich had ever been.

"Twenty and I'll make that the best four minutes of my life," called Ray.

"That slut, I'll give you a respectful dance if you go show that bitch and run her game in the ground," screeched Gloria.

"Woman, you make no sense. If Ray wins, he'll get two dances. That hardly punishes anyone," yelled Bronston.

"Fine, I'm a gonna give you a respectful dance if you don't play with Jeannie," demanded Gloria.

"Gloria, you are a fine woman. But, upon objective facts, Jeannie is hotter. I mean look at those shorts and that lean muscle. Plus, I'm gonna squeeze her ass. And you let me only hold your hands. I'm a still going to take that action. Make it fifty, so nobody here gets an idea of outbidding me," settled Ray.

Gloria ruffled her white dress to distract herself. Ray put the fifty on the ledge of the table and pinned it with his glass. The ice water off the side of the glass wetted the bill. The balls were rolled inside the triangle. Bronston lit another cigarette in anticipation. Holding the queue in both hands, Jeannie's hips swung side to side in anticipation. It really made that hour glass figure stand out.

Ray waved to signal her the honor of breaking up the balls. Her left hand spread out on the green like a tripod. Her butt stretched out far, so that a martini glass could have been placed on her small back. The short jeans rode so high that the bottom of her butt cheeks were exposed. She pensively rocked the queue back and force. She only pretended to aim the shot. On the inside, she was breathing hard to take in her first time in the back of the bar. This was the domain of the boys. No women were allowed to play here unless it was an early afternoon. And one of the boys was showing off on a date.

So often had she watched over the shoulders of a big farm back to see the shots lined up and balls smoothly rolling into the pockets. Now, she was in the center. They all observed her keenly. Now she could see in the light of the lamp over the pool table. Everything was so much more vivid and so much bigger right up front. The memorized images of postures on the pool table, the distinct leaning forward, spreading legs wide, or sitting on the table ledge, flooded back into her memory. Only now, it was her inside of one of those proud, elegant poses.

She hit hard with her right hand. A loud clack-sound pierced the focused silence. Three balls rolled a little to the side. The triangle remained unbroken.

"Not bad for a rookie," laughed Ray friendly. He pulled his pants up at the big steer belt buckle.

Ray sunk the green one, walked the length of the table, and shot the yellow one straight into the middle pocket. The white ball rolled back to line up to sink the blue ball. "Pure luck, I swear," said Ray with rosy cheeks and a Christmas smile.

Even Denis, the travelling drug dealer, had come closer to watch. Denis was clad in a leather jacket and leather pants. He'd travel to a different village every day of the week. And on Sundays, he'd go back to the big city to resupply. He had a devil ring on his finger. It was a big ring. He loved placing his hand on the backs of chairs or anything to draw attention to it. And then the red gems, the devil's eyes, would stare right at you. Quite a few village citizens were queasy in his presence.

She starred the devil right in the eyes. And she could feel that it was giving her strength. Tonight, she had the green fairy and the devil on her side. Ain't no earthy power was going to hold her back tonight. She was going to drink from the dark said that her daddy had warned her about -- deeply. With that, she sat on the ledge of the table. She left one foot on the ground according to the rules. She let her head fall back. Those long, smooth hairs were falling down behind her. Her boobs were strutting out for all to see and stare at. And she shot the next ball into the far corner hole. Everyone hollered: "Jeannie, Jeannie, Jeannie." She was a queen tonight and breathing power.

When it was his turn, Ray followed up without mercy. He ran one ball after the next with all the practice of a growing up in a place with only a pool table as entertainment for a boy. His forehead was furrowed. He was sweating like a pig under his arm pits and down the center of his back from all the tension. And the balls kept rolling into one hole after the next with deadly precision.

The crowd kept booing at each shot, when they were on Jeannie's side. The others kept chanting "ass, ass, ass." During a miss, Ray near damn broke the queue out of anger at himself. And then she was rocking her queue back and force again shaking a curl out of her face in a smooth motion like a brow. She had envisioned all the looks of her leaning over the table like that.

Denis pointed. Denis pointed at the orange ball. He had taken interest in her. He was helping her. Yes, that ball was a lot easier to think. Jeannie smiled smitten. Denis kissed the devil ring and blew her a kiss with it. She snatched the air kiss and smacked it into her pussy. The flat hand against the jeans gave a thud. The girls screamed half in panic and half in disbelief. "Is she possessed by a demon?" whispered Gloria. Ray glanced at his fifty on the ledge worriedly. His eyes grew real small.

She sunk the orange one and sent the white one right after it. With the white ball in hand to place anywhere, Ray paced around the table. He used the cue to calculate trajectories. He glanced at Jeannie's groin and at the devil's ring that smiled at him from the back of a bar stool. He shook his head to get those thoughts away from him. He finally set down the white ball. Dennis stood up from his chair, and everyone looked at him.

Dennis slowly walked to the pool table. Ray waited with the cue at his side. Dennis spread his hand out over the black eight ball. "By golem, whoever sinks this ball next shall be wicked for a night, run around naked like a pig, not be able to speak human language, and dance in mud." Dennis snapped his hand back, so that it made a sharp sound. Jeannie's eyes lit up. It was unclear if she relished Dennis taking her side or yearned for the opportunity to taste such a wickedness herself by sinking the ball, should Ray be scared away.

Ray was frozen in place. He licked his lips, otherwise being unable to move. "Don't do it," whispered Gloria. "It's not worth it." "The table is cursed," lectured one of the church ladies in the booth the others. Even they were coming close to see what was going on. The owner had stopped swiveling the bar towel through a glass.

"Fuck it. It's all superstitious bull. That dance is real."

Ray leaned in and slammed it. Game over. Game one. Fifty dollars back in his wallet. Raised arms in cheers all around. Hands patted him on the back and on the head. The spell was forgotten -- for now.

Jeannie made big steps. She let each foot behind for a while until her torso had moved way ahead. It was her happy walk to show of her body. The eyes in the bar were running from those feet pointed by the high heels to those perky boobs stretching out under her white t-shirt. Playful like a school girl, she poised her index finger on her rounded mouth. Her eyes ran through the pages of the juke box. Her fingers pushed the buttons for A69. The machine rumbled.

The guitar riffs appeared in the bar. Mick Jagger's voice came on: "Don't play with me, because you play with fire." Jeannie stepped her high heel feet wide. She let her hands glide down her bare legs until they reached the floor. Then she pressed her chest against the floor. Her hips lowered seductively as if she was making love to a man lying on the floor. Her hands caressed the floor in a wide circle.

Ray pulled her of the ground. He pulled her close. She smashed her body against his -- full body contact from groin to boobs. Both his hands instantly wrapped around her tight as like a chase for immortal glory and the squeezed deeply as if to reach through all the layers of her ass an not miss the tiniest bit. He pulled her groin onto his. She grinded her hips to the music against his growing erection. Her eyes fed on that feeling against her belly to light up with the lyrics "play with fire!"

"I can touch you anywhere?" asked Ray to make sure again.

"Oh touch me!" crooned Jeannie.

A hand left her ass. The hand moved up in between their bodies. It crawled under her shirt and under her bra. The young farm hand squeezed her boob. Jeannie bit her lips and stared intensely into his eyes. His eyes were two inches away from hers. He was driven by the lust ignited by feeling her nubile body against hers. The penis she was grinding against was now a hard stick.

His lips were tipping forward a couple times tentatively. "Anywhere," she moaned into his face. And his lips reached forward hungrily. His lips and tongue milked her all over -- wetness and passion. She wrapped both her legs around his body, so that he had to hold her up. He was standing with the strength of a farm hand despite the added 100 lbs. on his legs. He let go of her boob to hold both ass cheeks. He slammed her into the wall, while hungrily devouring her.

The music died. The juke box sounded the scratches of the disk moving back into its storage place. The song was a sexy lyrics. However, it was only two minutes short.

"Hey, you wanna go out to my truck," asked Ray.

"Let's go. The party just died here," replied Jeannie excitedly.

It was still raining hard. Ray unlocked the cab to his truck. He threw her across the front seats. He took of her black high heels and put them next to the gas pedal. She wiggled out of the jeans shorts. He unzipped his pants and pulled them down his butt. He jumped on top of her. His legs were half outside of the cab in the rain. She wedged her legs against the windshield corner and the hand hold behind the door.

His cock rushed into her. He was breathing hard on her. Her pleasure hole was slick. She felt that humming good feeling. Her eyes glanced around the inside of the cab. So, that's it was like to be inside of Ray's truck. A Hawaiian bobblehead girl with a lay of pink flowers kept shaking her head with thick black hair left and right. The five foot, black shot gun was hanging across the back window. It was shaking with the thrusting of Ray inside of her.

The cabin light was on, because the door was ajar. The bright inside light and darkness on the outside made the windshield reflective. Some dweeb had showed up with a cell phone at the windshield. The flash for the video cut through the reflective effect and was irritatingly blinding. Jeannie did her best sexy smile -- lips relaxed in surrender to pleasure, the eyes partly closed like her mind was going out. Ray paid no attention and kept ramming into her. The video left. The windshield fogged up from the steam that they were building up. His seed rushed into her. He groaned for a moment. Then, he pulled his pants over his butt.

"You were real good. Let's go back in. I'm thirsty," said Ray. His seed was pouring out of her vagina and onto the seat. He handed her the high heels back. She wiped her sweaty face to collect her thoughts. The movie title "Gone in Sixty Seconds" flashed through her mind. She pulled her jeans shorts back on. She strapped her heels back on like a little good girl and didn't say a thing. She struggled her heels through the rain-softened ground and let heaven's tears drizzle on her white t-shirt.

She pulled open the heavy handle to the bar. The fire in her pussy was lit. She needed to quench it. Those first thrusts of thick meat felt so good. She needed more of that. She had to find another hard, throbbing cock. Perhaps, it took another two or three. It's like they say about conversations with doctors: You might need multiple conversations to finish one topic, because they always kick you out after five minutes and a $200 bill for that.

The bar was warm and loud. Her eyes scanned the room. The church ladies had left when the clock struck 11 PM. A new game had started at the pool table. So, she couldn't bid there. Lenny had showed up, her large boobs barely restraint by the strapless top. The top hung around her boobs to avoid falling down. Then, she bent forward on the dance floor to touch the ground. The breasts hung down like those of a cow, lazy and stretched. A guy with a skinny tie and cowboy hat was grinding her from behind and swinging a bottle of beer from the neck. Some dude was pinned against the wall high. The red-faced pinner yelled at him "nigger!"

Roxanne, the village prostitute, had arrived. She was sitting at the bar with her long slender legs delicately crossed. The black mini was tight and showed the outline of her thong if you looked right. She had high heel boots that clad her up to her knees in black sleek leather. And of course, there was a stain choker with a pink emerald. She fuck the boys for $200. On pay day, they stood in a line. She had rules. You were a condom. You only fuck her from behind. There is no eye-to-eye contact or any tantric gazing. Some guys complained that she cheated by using her hand between her legs instead of her pussy. Most guys probably couldn't tell the difference.

Roxanne had the nicest clothing and makeup, not simply to attract customers. She was the richest woman in town as well. She had a mansion down at the lake. Two pretty girls were her daughters. And she had accomplished all that being black in a town of whites. The racist backcountry whites had refused to employ a black person as long as there was at least one unemployed person. And so she was driven to take up the village's most lucrative profession. She now drunk mimosas for Sunday breakfast, while the white women were breaking their backs in the field since dawn.


Melancholy Jeannie



Denis was sitting, leaning his back against the bar. He pulled the chair next to him close and patted it with Southern hospitality. The devil's ring was smiling at her with those glowing eyes. Jeannie strutted forward proud with straight legs and a high head. From this day on the, village would know her as a slut. Right now, they were all too busy with themselves to notice her.

"What bestows me with the honor of an audience," asked Jeannie respectfully.

"I like to study my demographic. I know about everyone here. That's what makes me a successful business man. Your daddy is Mr. Bushnell. He has a wheat farm near the crook in the river. You are a good girl. Your only contumacious stroke is that you studied French in high school. I bet your daddy was real mad that you would study something queer like that. And today, you walk in here as something entirely else. What happened?" inquired Denis completely sober in the middle of the rage of drunkenness.

"Well, it was time that I lived a little, tasted the wind, and told my daddy where the pepper grew," replied Jeannie.

"Let's drink to that. What's your poison?" offered Denis.

"Another green fairy. I'm determined to meet her tonight," asked Jeannie.

"Barkeep! You heard the lady. I ain't never met the green fairy. But, I've summoned my share of hellish demons," bragged Denis forgetting his reserve and trying to impress a regular country girl. Perhaps, it was the wild and uncontrollable burst that drew him to the girl, like a predator alien gets drawn to violence. Just how far could he push her? How far out of control could these wheels spin?

"I'm blushing. Though, here it goes. They say you have the mark tattooed on your you-know-what." Said Jeannie looking down at his dirty and scuffed biker boots.

"You take Ray's cock on camera in the truck and you still can't say prick. Today is your lucky day. I'm a gonna let you have a look," replied Denis.

With that he got up, sucked his gut in and pulled his pants forward. She leaned really close to his chest to peak down. She could smell the musk of his cologne. It was something that reminded of buffalo and English gentleman. In the shadow of his crotch, she could see the white meat and some dark lines on it. It was too dark in the bar and deep down his crotch to make out the design. And then he snapped his pants back. She was left with the after image of a master cock, much like a Maserati driving through their hick tone. She would never play at the town level of society, where they had such fancy things as tattoos and piercings.

"Why are you taking such a keen interest in me and even show me what half the village had been trying to confirm the whole year?" Jeannie stared straight into his face. She had lost all restraint in the maelstrom of such riveting company and insight into a world far from her wheat stalks.

"When I was your age, I worked with my daddy. My daddy brew moonshine. I'd drive it out to the customers. My daddy was his own best customer. And he was a mean drunk. He'd hit me with the belt, not the leather tip, but the buckle end. Look here. (And he held up his right ringer finger that was crooked.) He broke my finger one day. And I still crawled on the ground and begged for his forgiveness."

"One day, a lone biker road into town. He didn't talk to anybody. He stayed on the hill or in the far corners of a turn. Nobody ever saw his face. He always wore a hood that would darken his face. It seemed like he was looking for someone. When I'd run the liquor, I'd go real fast. That drew him out. He'd chase me down the hill road with the sharp turns until he got close enough to see that I was in the car by myself. Then, he'd fade away again. Some say that he was a demon or a mass hallucination. He never stopped at the gas station."

"I know different. You gotta keep this a secret. (Jeannie nodded her head eagerly. Her eyes were fastened on Denis in trance.) One November night, he was coming after me again. I was running a shortcut through Sherwood Forest. The pine needles were real soft. The car was shifting in its tracks. There were sharp rocks that would have cut open my tires. So, I was slinging around those. Each twist on the steering wheel send me into a soft glide through the pine needles. I was going maybe 70 mph. And the man was real close to me. It was a moonless night and the forest was deep. So, he couldn't see real well into my cab. He was close like a bumper sticker."

"It's important that it was November. It's mating season for deer. The young bucks can get really crazy. This young buck shows up in my headlights. Instead of running, the buck lowers its horns to challenge my two ton of metal and steel barreling at him, scrawny two year old buck. Now, I pull hard left and barrel into the trees, shooting through bushes and rotted undergrowth."

"The mystery man on the other hand couldn't see the buck in time. He went straight into the buck. He went flying high into the air. He hit the ground a couple times before, he started a long glide to disperse his momentum."

"I went looking after him. I had to help. And I was curious to see beneath that hood. He was a bleeding mess with a bone sticking out of his arm. He begged me not to take him to a doctor. He offered me a deal, the deal of my lifetime. If I kept him hidden and accomplished his mission, he'd take me on an apprenticeship for a year on the road. He'd teach me everything he knew. I can't tell you about the mission, his person, or what he taught me. I can tell you two things. He was a damn mother fucking tough guy. I healed him with duct tape and glue. And everything I am today, he taught me." Denis leaned back to let the tale sink into her head.

"Are you for real?" inquired Jeannie.

"I am wearing his seal," answered Denis. He turned over his hand. There was a long rectangle tattooed on the palm of his hand.

"That must have hurt!"

"Yes, it's tattooed in real deep as well. No laser can remove that tattoo. Once you are in certain circles, you are in for life. There are crossroads, where you have to decide between your village life and becoming something entirely different," said Denis ominously.

With Denis pulling back into silence, the bar sounds rushed in. The fight had escalated to someone lying on the ground and getting his kidney polished with farm boots that still had the horse manure sticking to it. Roxanne, the slender tall, black woman was pulling a beefcake of a man behind her into the bathroom. There goes a week's pay.

Ray was gripping the wooden post in the center of the bar. He straddled the ground wide with his legs as if he were on a boat during a storm. Then he doubled over. The vomit shot out of his mouth like a faucet belching out water after being dormant for a long time. The pieces of food and green bile splattered on the ground. The girls shrieked. A strong hand grabbed him by the neck of his shirt and pulled him outside, feet dragging behind.

"I am so hot, get me out of these close," came the yelling from Ray. He was tossed into the rain and the softening ground. He was tearing on his clothing. The bar hushed with pale faces. Gazes stole glimpses at Denis. Denis was sitting smitten, like a king. Was the curse taking hold?

"I ain't never telling the cops about your business, Denis. But keep the demons out of my bar," whispered the owner across the bar to Dennis. Jeannie could barely close enough to overhear them.

The man who kicked Ray out returned to the bar. "He's fine. He's not rolling around the mud like a pig. He simply got a little overexcited today. He's driving home to sleep it off."

Jeannie meandered over to the pool table. The guys crowded around the table. Knowing her place as a woman, she took a high stool against the wall. The game continued. There was a tricky shot that required the white ball to jump over the opponent's ball and sink the black ball. Greens were slapped on the ledge of the pool table. One pile said yay. One pile said nay. When Collin reached under her shirt and pulled out her bra to slap drape it over the yay-pile, the crowd got really heated up. Money started piling on the other side, not because of the likeliness but because of the prize. The player, a young, skinny led, who was good with accounting ledgers, was squinting real hard from anxiety.

The door slammed open. The door always slams, because it's heavy. This time however, the door slammed so hard against the wall that the windows shook as if a jet had crossed the sound barrier overhead. Good ol' daddy was standing in the door. He held a navy green sea sack in his left hand and a double barreled shot gun in the right. With heavy legs, he stomped forward. His legs were bow legged from riding the farm horse. The bar crowd receded away from him to make him a pass like the sea did for Moses.

"You ain't my daughter no more. George Benet send me the video of you fucking every men in this devils place. Ray! You had to fuck Ray! Go ahead with your miserable life. Go fuck every cockroach, because it ain't matter to me no more, because you ain't me daughter no more. In the Lords' name, I say sever any ties between us," riled daddy with spit flying from his mouth. He slammed the sea sack at Jeannie's feet. "I saw you smiling at the camera with Ray's cock buried in your belly, like you are some porn star. If you set foot on my farm, I'm gonna shoot you on sight. Go, see if Ray pays for the babies growing in that womb right now! Don't come begging to me!" The old man was panting.

Then, he dragged his legs out. His shoulders were slumped over, as if he were defeated. The crowd watched him silently go out the door. The engine of his Ford truck grinded a couple turns before the engine jumped on. Then he revved the engine hard two times to avoid it dying out. When the gear dropped in and the engine quieted to a hum, the relief of tension was welcomed by all. Even the fight had stopped. The guy with his arms held behind the back was slowly dripping blood out of his mouth.

"Thank god the church ladies aren't here anymore."

"Looks like Ray got himself a girlfriend now."

"Skank!"

"Sanders, take the shot already!"

That was daddy's navy sea sack from when he went to Vietnam. All her belongings were so meager that they fit into this back. It was a shock to the belly realize how little she had off the world. Had she stayed with her dad, she might have gotten a second sea sack filled with her wedding dress and two editions of Reader's Digest.

Jeannie's literature teacher came to mind. One particular sunny summer day, the heat in the classroom had become so overbearing that eve wiping the brow with a handkerchief did not help. So, he took them for a little walk down to the creek. And he told them about a German writer named Goethe. He had been a young man at the time. He lived his life intensely. One day he was madly in love. The next day, he was madly enraged in a vendetta. His goal was to live every moment of life to its depth. During a quiet, reflective evening on life, he realized, "trust yourself and you will know how to life." Stop asking authorities for how to live life best. Deep inside you there is a knowledge, or you may call it soul, that knows exactly how your individually, unique life should be lived.

With that thought, she was breathing and fighting back the tears.

The crowd got drunk. The crowd got rowdy. The crowd damaged bodies, bar property, and relationships. The crowd puked, tired, and fell asleep. The owner rang the bell. The high-pitched metal sound told them to go home. The owner turned the lights on. The bright white light hurt the retina. The crowd scrambled out the door into the soothing darkness and fresh rain mud. Alone in the corner, Jeannie was left with her sea sack.

"Crossroads," said Denis standing in front of her. His leather boots were pointed duck footed to the sides. He still hadn't drunk a drop of alcohol. Thoughts were rushing over his face. His eyes looked clear. He was upraising her.

"Seeing how you have no place to go, you might as well stay with me."

She looked at him with an open mouth. "For reals? You will take me into your world of city life, drugs, music, devil, and the mystery man?" Everything felt real glassy, as if it could break at a moment. Earlier the day, she had been mulling in the wheat field and thought she'd never see the world. And there, the most adventurous and mystical man asked her to follow him into what she could only dream off, while reading books her father had forbidden her to read. It was all going to disappear in a second like a dream or a cruel joke.

"I have many people crashing at my house in the city. City life is different. People change their life circumstances and surf a couch for a while. You'll meet Annabelle. You'll find she is much like you, reinventing herself like caterpillar reinvents itself to be a butterfly. And she also is drawn to my mystique, my world. And in a few months, some other hapless soul will look at what you have become and dream to walk the ground hallowed by your footsteps. C'mon, I won't let you sleep in the rain mud behind the bar."

"You tell me if I become a burden or don't act right. I don't know how to behave in front of demons. I have never done any drugs. I haven't even been to the city. I hear city people speak differently. I... I... I..."

"Don't worry, boob," he said calmly with a warm smile and shouldered her sea sack.

She walked behind him out the door, keeping her distance in deep respect. "The devil scores another point against god," whispered the bar owner behind her back. The all-black Kawasaki Ninja was leaning on its stand, patiently waiting for its master. The master placed the sea sack on the tank.

"I don't have a helmet," stammered Jeannie, fearing that's where her dream would stop.

"Don't worry. You don't need a helmet with me. You need this," replied Denis. He pushed an IPod into her front jeans pocket. She could feel his strong fingers pressing on her hips. His fingers pressed ear buds into her ear. A screech, half male, half beast, was yelling into her ear: "Raaaaa-ra-ra-ra-raaaaaaaaaaah." A whirlwind of drums was chasing down the yell. Heavy machine equipment, like a press that stamps out car metal, was pounding the sound into a tight format. The volume was high. All environmental sound was drowned out. She felt her head filling with the sound. Almost dizzy, disoriented, and lost to this world, he guided her to sit down behind her on the bike.

The back seat was higher. Her ass was lifted high into the air. Having to get her knees high, required her ass to squat. The bottom of her butt cheeks peered out. The squatting position made her ass swell round and bulbous. The mini jeans shaped it sexily. Her high heels were precariously perched on the round stick foot rests. The heels poked far. The airstream pushed up the white t-shirt at the back. It was flapping helplessly around. On a good flap, her blue bra strap was exposed to anyone watching them shoot through the night.

She leaned forward. Her boobs were pressed against his thick leather jacket so that he couldn't even feel them. Her arms were wrapped around his body. She crossed them around the point between his belly and his chest. That way, she was snug safely close. And she could take in how his whole body felt, his body proportions, the much larger frame and the much stiffer way that he was holding himself. Her cheeks were pressed against his ears. She was the little fragile girl on the high point of the bike with nothing to protect her against the elements or the road surface during a crash.

The engine made her whole body vibrate. The ride required her to lean into turns, to lean forward with the break depressing the front shocks, and to hold tight when the engine whined and shot them into warp speed. She had to surrender to those motions that took her whole body smoothly with strength through the landscape of flat farm roads, dark forests, and curvy hills. There was something psychologically submissive about giving into those motions with her whole being, cuddling into the strong man with a purpose and direction. She felt like a little cat ready to roll over and follow him anywhere. "Take me! Oh, yeah, I am taken. I have never been this far," whispered Jeannie to herself.

The Ninja's controls had a big RPM meter. The needle flicked swiftly like a cow's tail, when Denis changed gears or turned his wrist all the way back. The speed was read digitally: 60 mph. The little shifts that she had done occasionally became hard. The wind was making her movements lethargic. She worried about letting go, because the wind might smash her hand back and she may not be able to lift it forward around his chest again.

The road was straight down a clover field towards a patch of timber trees. The darkness of the night was around them. The headlight cut a few dozens of yards ahead. However, it did not reach far enough to illuminate the things that were flying at them and passed them. Denis torqued the right hand again. The front tired lifted off the ground. Even though, it was only a couple inches of the ground, her body felt the precariously wobbly bike underneath her. Her heart pounded strong fistfuls of blood. Bam, each stroke of her heart was as powerful as it had ever been. She had never been that surrendered and in the moment her whole life.

The front tired slowly sunk down to the road, as the engine lost strength at the higher speed. 70 mph... 80 mph... The skin on her face was flubbing hard. It felt like her face was being torn off. Her eyes were tearing from the cold air. It felt like the air was pushing under her eye lids. She was sucking the air out of the wind as hard as an old man dying from asthma.

90 mph.... 100mph... She couldn't hold her head steady any more. Her head kept bouncing against his head. Her neck was so weak that it couldn't hold her head steady. The skin on her face turned cold and painful. The engine was whining so strong that it was coming through the loud music. She had to hold on. She had to push through this. This was her moment on triumph.

110 mph... Her body hugged onto Dennis with her whole strength. He smiled deliciously at feeling her small body wrapped tightly around her, the thighs were pressing against him. Her cheeks were right next to his. And he could feel the essence of her being emerging in that instinctive survival hug.

Bam, the gear jumped out, the power dropped off. The front breaks made the bike dip so deeply that it bottomed out on the front shocks. A hard clang sounded to say that it was fully loaded with force and could dip no farther. Jeannie felt like puking and struggling for her life to be held under water. The dip was so deep and abrupt. Yet, she held on, as she felt her whole weight riding on his back. He was bracing hard against the handles.

The next moment, the entered into the darkness of the forest. The bike tore hard left, right, left. She was bounced around like a butte fly in a washing machine. She didn't know where up and down was anymore. For a moment her eyes glanced at the controls: Only 30 mph, yet the pin needle turns made him lay the bike almost down to the ground to make it. For a moment, she looked to the inside of a turn, it felt as if someone was running the pavement right past her eyes a mere foot away -- a blur. The singer blurred for the first time in English amid the animal grunts that he used to belt: "Fire all your desire. Another lost soul about to be mine."

The engine calmed down. All the rush of the speed and turns left her body tingling, when the bike turned off the road into the forest. A sudden fear rushed over her mind. Would she become another newspaper story of a dumb country brunette being lured into the dark forest? The bike bobbed over a tree root. The front tire swiveled around to steer around the trees. The darkness of the forest enveloped them.




Melancholy Jeannie



He got off the bike, popped one of her ear buds out, and told her to "wait here." The beam of the bike went ahead into the tangle of small trees that dream of one day growing up to the canopy. He was gone into the darkness. She took out the ear buds. Her ears were numbed from the death metal music. She could not sense him anywhere. Without his body in front her, she could feel the cold of the night pushing against her front. Where was she? Bearwood County?

He reappeared with a dead squirrel in his hand. The fur was pale. It looked so much skinner being dead. The fur wasn't as bushy. "We need him for later," he said matter-of-fact. "Hold him for me." She had the soft furry animal in her hand. He was still warm. It was so limb. She wanted to shriek for a moment and yell at him, "What is wrong with you?" And then she remembered, she had to step up. She was going into his world of demons and the devil. What had she expected? Get over yourself and take the gift that you are given.

He climbed back on the bike. She hugged him again. Only this time, she was holding a dead squirrel in one hand. She was trying to come to grasp with her emotions of holding a dead, cute animal in her hand. It riled her up. There were so many emotions that she went through this night. It made her feel so alive. It wasn't the rollercoasters from the travelling circus that she liked. It was the emotional rollercoasters and adventures that she loved. And this was one gut wrenching twist on the rollercoaster.

Houses appeared around them. His driving become more docile. The first car passed them. A city sign announced urban life. A gas station passed. The houses grew denser and taller. The front lawns disappeared. Street lamps lit up the wet, black pavement with orange light. Advertising billboards appeared. The first homeless sleeping under a tarp appeared. A bar was still lit up with a gaggle of people in front of it. A police cruiser watched them pass from a side alley.

The bike stopped in front of a three story building. The right half of the house had collapsed. The Concrete floor stuck into the air from the standing half of the house. Wood boards covered the windows. A yellow police tape covered the front door, a big towering door up heavy stairs. Denis parked the bike and duck under the police tape. The door wasn't locked. Jeannie followed him. The paper with red ink on the wall said: "Condemned building -- DO NOT ENTER."

The inside of the building was crumbled concrete on the floor. The wall on the right was entirely missing. The night light and street light lit up the room. It felt cold and abandoned.

"The stairs are collapsed. Here, I'll give you a hand to get up to the second floor."

There was a big pile of concrete on the ground. At the end of it, her eyes looked up. There was the ledge, the original end of the stairs. He grabbed her body and pushed her up. He got her far enough, so that she could lean her torso forward onto the second floor. Then, she robbed herself forward. The front of her body was dragging through the cold, dirt on the ground. Her hand still clutched onto the dead squirrel. Her legs were punching into the empty space left behind by the stairs trying to get forward.

She got to her knees. Her sea sack came flying behind her. He found some smart footholds in the wall and crawled up behind her. It was cute to look down at him lying underneath her feet, her long legs and the high heels that made her tower over him.

Among all the debris from the collapse, he led her to a door that had light seeping through the slits. He opened the door. The first thing she felt was warmth, then light, and then she recognized the comforts of couches, rug, chairs, kitchen, and stove. There was a half prepared meal on a cutting board. Green carrot tops, red tomatoes, brown eggs. Behind it stood a young woman half dressed in a blue negligée holding a chef's knife with a twelve inch blade.

The blade pointed straight at the squirrel in Jeannie's hand. "We shall name him Matt." Her negligée was a blue body suit that covered her groin with a triangle. Many parts of the body suit were sheer. Other parts showed up as dark, delicate lines. Even though, there were sheer parts, Jeannie couldn't see the skin, because a sheer cape was thrown over the woman's body.

"That is Simone. Jeannie is going to stay with us for as long as she wants."

Jeannie felt really silly and blushed. She had thought, she'd have Denis as a boyfriend. Such a catch would never be single. What had she told herself in her dreams on the bike? That feeling of being one was temporary, not a life commitment.

"Why don't you through Matt into the fridge. They become stinky, when they are kept outside.

Jeannie stepped through the mess on the floor. There was a rolled up carpet. There was a football. There was a bike helmet. There was a worn t-shirt turned inside out. A dildo was lying there as well. The kitchen floor was an island of clean. The kitchen was the brightest place in the house. She opened up the refrigerator. It was a Viking high end model. Beer was inside. The space was packed with jars and fresh produce in bags. There was even a fish that had simply been thrown in there without a container or bag.

"Just toss it wherever you find space," said the woman behind her.

After Jeannie shut the fridge door, Jeannie looked up and down the mystery girl's body. Her skin was satin and smooth. Her hair was lush. The nails were painted in a black that shimmered blue. Gloss was applied on top of it. That woman had beauty products that she didn't have access to in her little village. It made her look stunning. Jeannie wanted to touch the woman to feel what it feels like. She raised her fingers a little. And then shyly froze.

"Denis has a thing for picking up bar rags, doesn't he? He has a thing for finding hopeless girls in the villages to bring them home and clean them up. Did you know his business is to spend every night in a different rural village? That's his territory. None of the city dealers bother with the countryside. That's his niche. And he likes it. He can't stop himself, because he is drawn to the village damsels to free them. I'm Simone. He picked me up in Amberville."

Simone stretched her hand out far. The fingers were neatly straight. There were so many rings on her finger. The index finger had even three rings. Some were skinny things. Some had druid etchings. A charm was dangling from her wrist, a big red ruby encased in rough metal working. Jeannie took Simone's hand in both of hers and turned it over. There was a big, black rectangle tattooed on Simone's hand.

"You sure know where to look for property markings and aren't shy," said Simone not the slightest annoyed.

"Will I get that mark as well?" asked Jeannie fighting for her breath to slow down. "I have never gotten a tattoo. Will it hurt?"

"You got a real cookie this time," said Simone to Denis. "Time will tell. For tonight, you are here only for my famous stew and a couch to sleep on."

"I can be real useful. Just tell me how I can help you cook!"

"Bambi deer," Simone shook her head with full hearted laughter, "take the wooden spoon over there and break down the ground beef."

The ground beef had been browning in a pot with sizzling olive oil. The aroma caressed Jeannie's nose: "It smells real good." "Of course, it does. It's organic, free range." Simone drizzled minced onions in into Jeannie's pot. Jeannie mashed and mixed it real well. Jeannie watched Simone lay out all the ingredients in small glass bowls. Everything looked so fresh and radiant. The natural light bulb over the kitchen counter sure helped. Denis was laying out his drugs and money on the other side of the table to do accounting, while the girls cooked together with a growing warm respect.

When dinner was ready, they were sitting around the table with their deep plates full of stew on a bed of rice. The utensils were waiting at the ready. An awkward moment crept up for Jeannie: "So, you probably don't pray to god. Do you thank the devil for the food before you eat?" Denis lowered his head reverently. His hands reached under the table. Jeannie followed suit, closing her eyes and blinking to sneak a look at what he was doing.

Simone waved, "We don't thank fucking nobody." And then Denis' hands rose above the table in a swoop movements. His palms were facing up reverently and fire was licking out of his hands. Blue flames were twitching upward. "Holy gosh, what a real prayer," gasped Jeannie. Simone sighed, "It's a $3 jar from the novelty store. It's a petroleum jelly that burns really cold. He can't get enough of it. Is that how he made you so doe-eyed?"

Starting to spoon food into her hungry mouth, Simone asked, "So, what's your story? How did Denis pick you up?"

The stew was delicious in Jeannie's stomach. Her stomach was like this empty cold cave that was warmed by the lushest paradise. It had been half a day since her last supper with her dead.

"My mom died today five years ago. My dad forgot. I didn't. I can't ever remember that last hour of talking with my mom. She was in the bed under the roof. The roof is so slanted that nobody can stand upright. I was sitting on a little stool and holding her hand. She told me about all the dreams that she had for her life. Some were real cuckoo. She though, people in England could fly. She believed that there was a fairy world at the bottom of a big lake near Detroit. Her mind was lucid. However, she had never seen the world. She had only once gone to the city. And it had impressed her so much, so that she listened to all the stories of travelers. She had no way of telling what was truth and yarn. She believed it all to be true. The world beyond the village was magical. 'Don't die like me in the wheat fields' were her last words."

"All day working in the field, I had been thinking about that. I don't know either yarn from truth. Riding a bike at 100 mph today was magical. I could have never imagined how it feels. I don't want to die like my momma. I want to live."

"So, I took my nicest jeans and cut off the legs. I went to the wildest bar I know. I only know one bar. I made the craziest bet I could. I only know about pool bets. I fucked a man in a truck. That cock felt so good. Why can't I have a cock every day like I can have a cookie every day? Both are delicious. It was only a shame it was over so quick. It's like you need a handful of cookies to satisfy that kind of sweet tooth."

"You mean, one of those drunk hill billies had a premature ejaculation?" interrupted Simone.

"Somehow, it all got caught on a cell phone camera. Someone forwarded the video to my daddy. My daddy disowned me. Denis offered me a life of drugs, music, and demons. He also gave me a dead squirrel to hold onto. That's my story. Well and there is your wonderful stew."

"Yeah, he's very nonchalant with his ritual sacrifices. My story is about the same. He found me in Amberville. My family was running a mill at the creek. We had so many cousins. My daddy had so many bastard children. I suspect the village realized that he couldn't keep track. I think a few of them weren't even his own kids. They were simply orphans sold to him as bastard kids. I was his true born daughter. The other kids didn't like it. The cousins kept molesting and raping me," Simone took up telling her story.

"One day, they were all having a little family get-together. Not too far from the mill was a little forest at the creek. They put out the picnic blanket. The cousins tied me up real good. And then one of the dumb fucks had to have heard about bukhake. So, they all decided to have their first bubkahke with me. On the plus side, I wasn't being raped that day. On the downside, they were shooting big blobs of white jelly all over my body, face, and hair. It stings like a mother fucker getting that into the eyes. They made me hold my mouth and eyes open real wide. And it gets sticky and crusty really quickly in the summer sun as well."

"So, Denis rode by on his bike and stopped. He watched me for a while. He was smiling real well. One of my cousin's yelled in excitement with his dick in his hand growing limp after a shot in my ear, 'Go get the Devon's brothers. We need more cum!' That's when Denis strode down the embankment of the river's high flood line. I had my mouth and eyes wide open. Out of the corner of my eyes, I could see the dirt collapsing under his boots on the way down the embankment."

"'Say jolly fellas, is that woman into that stuff or are you forcing here?' I could see that he wanted to offer his seed. However, he wanted to make sure that that bukhake was cruelty free. I was sitting real nice with my good posture on my heels, naked. 'Go to hell! She's family!' yelled a cousin."

"In that moment, I realized that I had a chance. I could take a huge risk and follow that stranger on the bike. Or I could live the familiar live full of incest and abuse. I knew that not everyone who does you well means you well. It's like the little bird that got shat on by a cow. A cat saved it, took it out of the cow dung, cleaned it up real nice, and ate it. There was a twitch in my heart. Call that twitch hope, hope for a better world. Call that twitch love, lover for myself. And I called out 'help me.'"

"Denis laughed really bright. Even the birds in the canopy got scared and took of flying. The sound of a thousand little bird wings was thundering. 'I've been to hell. I loved it there,' hollered Denis loudly. Then he lifted his devils ring with the shining eyes and showed them the fist. The other hand snapped an expandable metal stick. The sound of metal clicking in place gave me deathly chills up and down my spine."

"Two cousins stormed him, strong farm hands, heavy corn-fed bodies, and dumb. They stormed at him hands first to grab him. The expandable baton came down twice. And they were reeling on the ground. Mind you, I had about ten cousins with me. It was a good load of cum all over my body. They went down one after the next. Except for Donnie, he got a knife out of his boot. Donnie got one clean swipe down Dennis' butt. Then Dennis dragged Donnie by pushing two fingers into his nostrils."

"I was still tied up. The cum was drying on me in a film of crackles. Denis was mad at being cut. He stretched out Donnie on the ground over a stone. He made Donnie stretch out his limps. Dennis tore Donnie's overall and shirt off. Then, Dennis cut oven a squirrel and let the blood drizzle on Donnie. Back then, I didn't know why someone would ride around with a dead squirrel."

"While I watched, I was equally in horror about what I had gotten myself into. My new overlord seemed a lot worse than the others. At the same time, I had a deep internal catharsis. All the pain that the cousins had inflicted on me for years, he was getting punished for it. Dennis was giving Donnie over to a demon called Heinrich. The terror in Donnie's eyes touched a deep place in me, a place deep and full of rage. And with every breath of anger, I felt myself becoming me again, no longer a rag of a jizz rag for the boys devoid of me. As Donnie was given over to the dark side, my own soul came back, like a trade. And I was happy again. I smiled. I could feel the warmth of the place around me, the joy of summer. I felt free, like a curse had been lifted of me."

"All the while, Donnie's face was tormented with horror and grew ashen. Dennis forced Heinrich inside of the body of the dead squirrel. Then, Donnie had to eat the squirrel, so that Heinrich would get into every cell of his body. Donnie's face was tormented. His teeth had to tear hard at the raw meat. He throat had to swallow hard to get the bones down. I've never seen Donnie or my family every again. However, I belief that Donnie can no longer smile and enjoy life, because of what he knows has happened to him."

Denis got up and stripped his pants down his butt. His butt was a little hairy. The scar was straight, a good three inches.

"Dennis didn't turn out all that bad. He took me on his bike. We stopped at the next gas station. He bought glue. He made me glue the cut together and put duct tape over it. That was about half year ago. He helped me enroll in a local community college."

The plates and the pot was empty. Jeannie gleaned up the last remnants of stew liquid on her white plate. Simone started piling the dirty dishes into the Viking dish washer. Dennis walked over to the king sized mattress with the messy sheets in the corner. He stripped out of his leather gear. He was wearing a thong that packed his privates into a tight ball. Tattoos of dragons, demons, and mystic symbols were tattooed all over his body. It was hard to make out the details in the dark corner. He nestled under the white sheets and turned over.

Jeannie added her plate to the dish washer. Simone had already moved over to the other side of the room to turn off the light and slip out of her gown. Only dressed in her body suit, she slipped under the sheets and put her head and arm on top of Dennis.

Left by herself in the bare light coming through the wood boards in the window, Jeannie found herself a couch. There were sheets on the couch, muddled heavy sheets. She slipped out of her shoes, mini jeans, and white t-shirt. She followed suit to sleep in her underwear. Her mind was replaying the scenes of the night. She half dozed into slumber. She half woke up to look around her surroundings. All the comforts of good living were strew out on the floor around her. Another three couches all in their own unique style had been dropped down seemingly randomly in the room.

When her consciousness came up out of a dreamy slumber back into half sleep, she felt a soft, female hand on her thighs. The sheets gently glided over her skin. They felt so soft and luxurious. The heated night air was warm on her exposed skin. The fingers on her body got more pointed and forceful, when they grabbed around the side of her panties and pulled down. The tension of the band in her panties got tighter down her thighs.

Jeannie raised her head alarmed. A finger pressed on her lips. It was Simone's voice. "Hush, I know what you need after a man got you riled up and didn't give you release." With that her panties got pulled of her toes, where the rolled up fabric had gotten caught. Simone confidently put one leg on the couch back rest and the other down to the ground. Jeannie's pussy was exposed. The lips folded open melancholically, as the moistness tried to keep the sticking together.

Jeannie silently listened with her body for what was coming next. The squelching sounded tube like. Next, she felt cold, wet fingers against her mound. The film of moist was thin and slick. The cold made her skin pull together thick. And then the coldness was warmed up quickly from her body. The hands made big circles over her mound to distribute the slick liquid all over.

The warm feelings made Jeannie drowsy. She had barely been out of her slumber of colors and shapes. The dream world came back to her retina: Forests, birds, and blue circles spinning. The hands focused on her lips now. Fast, mellow strokes, hard on the upstroke -- soft on the down stroke, circles, pressing down to her pubic bone. All these movements were so much more delicious than Ray's cock. She surprised herself with a moan. It wasn't the moan itself that was the biggest surprise. The biggest surprise was how sultry and deep the moan was. She had never experienced herself that way.

"Squeeze," commanded Simone. Two fingers in her pussy, Jeannie contracted her muscles around them. Simone pushed her hand down against her back wall, stretching her open. When she was stretched open all the way, the fingers eased and Simone repeated "squeeze."

Never having known so many things possible to her pussy, Jeannie surrendered to her animal instinct. Jeannie started grinding her hips against the fingers to get even more pleasure out of them. It was like the fingers were giving and her hips were taking every last bit of delicious honey like feeling.




Melancholy Jeannie



Simone took it as a sign and lowered her mouth to Jeannie's clitoris. Simone latched onto Jeannie's clitoris like a remora fish. (Some indigenous people use remora fish to catch turtles. They attach a string to the tail of the fish. Once the fish latches onto the turtle, they pull the fish back into the boat.) Simone's tongue flicked against Jeannie's bean. And Simone would hold onto Jeannie's clitoris no matter how hard Jeannie ground her pelvis around. And Jeannie went wild. The two fingers were thrusting into her fast. The orgasm was driving her. Eyes wide open, full body twisting, she was ramming her groin into Simone's face hard. Simone knew she had to hold on. This was when it mattered.

"Oh, I'm so spent," mumbled Jeannie. Her body slackened back exhausted.

Simone tugged Jeannie back under the sheets. The panties were disappeared into a crevice of the couch or the general mess on the floor. Simone disappeared. Jeannie was knocked out cold. Her sleep was deep and black.

In her sleep, there was a dog licking her face. Only, the tongue felt rougher than a dog's tongue. It probably wasn't a tongue at all. It felt actually very real. It probably wasn't a dream. There it was again pecking against her cheek. From her closed eyes, she could tell that it was day light. She opened her eyes. A popcorn flew into her face.

"Ah, the mystery girl wakes," said a male sound with a playful British accent.

A skinny lad was squatting in front of her couch. He was wearing a green soccer jersey and track pants. It had the emblem of an English soccer club on it. He was holding a bowl with popcorn in his hand. From the pile of popcorn underneath her face, he had been tossing popcorn into her face for a while. The place was even more messy and overfilled with stuff.

"Who are you?" asked Jeannie. The bad smell on her breath made her shut her mouth instantly and cover it with her hands.

"Who might you be? After all, you are in my house," replied the soccer fiend.

"Denis invited me in. I didn't see you last night, when we had supper with Simone," said Jeannie speaking through her hands.

"Well, that's because I flew in from Rio this morning. Where do you think Denis gets his supply? He didn't tell me about a little birdie waiting for me," the soccer fiend cocked his head sideways to take a closer look at Jeannie.

"You can call him. It's really okay with him," insisted Jeannie.

"I can't bloody call him, because the feds are on the phone. How dumb do you think I am?" replied the soccer fiend angrily. "What's with your hands over your mouth anyway?"

"I have really bad breath," admitted Jeannie blushing from the cheeks to the forehead.

"Then, go brush your teeth. The bathroom is down that door," pointed the soccer fiend. When he pointed, the handle of a gun was revealed in the drawstrings of his green track pants.

"I can't. Simone took my panties last night and lost them," pleaded Jeannie.

"So, take one of hers. There are plenty around," the soccer fiend got up and took a couple small steps into different directions. Underneath the speakers of a stereo system that was somewhere else, he found a black sports pair. He pulled it up. He sniffed the crotch. "I can smell her. Though, most of the scent has gone. She must have worn it only once and let it air out for a couple weeks." He flung the sport panties into Jeannie's face.

With the soccer fiend having left to fetch a beer from the refrigerator, Jeannie's hands got busy under her sheets pulling Simone's panties up her legs. It fit snuggly. After all, she had Ray's semen dried on her pussy, Simone's spit as well, why not share used panties. She jumped on tippy toes over the mess on the floor. Her long, slender legs showed well. Her hair was a mess. She looked really intimate from having slept in her look. There were red marks on the side of her body from sleeping on her side.

The bathroom was surprisingly clean. It showed that a girl leaved here. Or perhaps, there was another girl. There were two circular plastic containers with pregnancy pills. There were five tooth brushes. Overall, there was a wild collection of jars and bottles. It was hard to tell how many people lived in this squatter house. There were so many shampoos and beauty items that she didn't even know about. She found a tooth brush, cleaned it up real nice. Tamarind flavored toothpaste? She sure didn't know what tamarind was. She was going to find out. Feeling the crispness of the toothpaste in her mouth and on her gums made her feel so much cleaner already.

The sound of the door opening made it into the bathroom. Footsteps followed. Simone's voice cut across everything. She was cheering "Ramon!" What followed must have been a full body hug. Jeannie hurt something breaking under Ramon's step. Something else got thrown over.

For some reason, she didn't know why, she felt caught like a little girl by her daddy doing something bad. Simone's panties and the toothbrush who belonged to who knows whom weren't helping. Frozen stiff, Jeannie stood there, the toothpaste foam, slowly oozing over her lips, down her chin and onto her bra between her breasts.

Simone threw the door open with exuberance. "Aw, you are up finally. And you have met Ramon. Isn't he the cutest, fuzziest man that walked the planet? That black looks good on you. You've got a real juicy little package." Simone slapped Jeannie on the butt with a sound that echoed back from the both sides of the bathroom at the same time. Simone was dressed in a skirt with a knitted top and a light-gray beanie that looked like a smurf's hat. The freshness of the outside air was still stuck on her clothes.

Simone reached for a raspberry-pink lip stick and freshened up her lips. She added a little plum-purple lipstick for contour. Jeannie continued brushing her teeth, recovering from her inner panic. Simone disappeared out of the bathroom as quickly as she had appeared.

With the implicit and tacit approval that was still burning on her butt, Jeannie continued freshening up using any bottle and jar how it made her curious. She stripped off the clothing. She took went into the shower. The water pressure had been the best of her life. The water brushed off any grime that she had felt on her body like a sand blaster.

Ramon walked into the bathroom and lifted up the toilet seat. Jeannie clutched the showerhead in both hands. The hot hiss of a loaded up male bladder sounded. "God dammit, I told you to sit down," hollered Simone. The water turned boiling hot, when he flushed. Jeannie kept mum and to herself behind the shower curtain and the sound of running water. Ramon walked out.

Jeannie put herself back into the black sport panties and her blue bra. She walked out half naked, her feet feeling the bare ground.

"Wow, she looks hotter by daylight," said Denis making a fake camera in front of his face with his fingers and snapped a shot. The kitchen counter had been cleared. White bricks were lying on the counter now. There was a pile of white in the middle. Everyone kept taking small crumbs away from the big pile. They used plastic cards to align the little bit of powder. There were stainless steel digital scales. There was a stack of little clear pouches.

"Rio's finest," said Ramon very proudly. His smile went so wide that it revealed one of his back teeth sparkling golden. "If you must sneeze, stay far, far away!" He laughed with excitement and joy.

"Good morning," said Jeannie unsure what to do next with her life.

Simone slipped of the bar stool and walked up to Jeannie. Simone came real close and gave her something into the hand and whispered into her ear: "Sex happens really fast and casually here. You have to always take your pill regularly. You probably didn't think to bring your pill. Here is one of mine." Jeannie slipped the pill into her mouth.

"How can I make myself useful," asked Jeannie.

Ramon tapped a bar stool for Jeannie to sit down. Then, he explained. "Take five gram of blow. Add five gram of flour. It's normal fucking flour. Then add five gram of caffeine powder. I like to sprinkle in a little of this artificial sweetener. It looks real fluffy. And it makes it taste better. Then shake the little packet real hard. And put some gloves on. That high grade stuff gets even through the skin in your hands. You'll get high quickly, simply holding it in your hand."

"Haha, I tell you a story. This one time, they caught me in the airport. I was sitting in one of those little interrogation rooms with the double sided mirror. I thought it was all over. And then I felt the blow coming on. One of the packets had ripped in my pocket. And I had blow on my hands. So, I asked the police officer for a glass of water. When he handed it to me, I made real sure to get my hands on his hands. Then, I wiped my hands clean on my pants, real clean. My high started to go away. Though, he didn't realize the blow on his hands. He got so high. By the time, his superior came into the room, he was high as a kite. I told his superior that he was trying to frame me to cover his drug habit. Haha, the guy was so high. The superior believed me and let me go! Venezuela was a beautiful country. I can never go back anymore."

They were all working diligently around the table. They were focused. The light in the room suggested late afternoon.

"So, is this devil's stuff for real? Sometimes, I think it could be real. And sometimes, I realize that it must be nonsense like the burning prayer hands at dinner," asked Jeannie

"There is nothing like experiencing it first hand," said Denis gravely. His eyes peered deeply into Jeannie's eyes to gather a reaction.

"Don't scare the girl like that," insisted Simone. "She barely escaped that hick town. It's enough for her to be middle in a drug lab on her first day."

"I can take it. I want to live," insisted Jeannie.

"We don't deal with the devil. We only summon lower level demons." Simone snapped off one blue Nitrile glove. She raised her skirt up. There was a black mark on her thigh. It looked like an Egyptian hieroglyph. There was a figure with a bird head. "This is the mark of Amon-Ra. It's a low level Egyptian demon. He bestows powers of pleasure. A few nights ago, I had a ceremony done to raise him. He is still in my body. Last night, I tuned into him. That's what gave you all that pleasure last night. I surrendered my body to be his servant. And he gave you beyond human pleasures. It lasts until the next full moon that I can turn myself over to him at will. Denis has been loving it, hasn't he?" Denis smiled smugly.

"Oh, it's the worst curse! It's hard to sleep around them at night. They are making so many noises. I prefer Greek demons. That's how I can sneak through the airport security." Ramon rolled up his sleeves to reveal a mathematic symbol on his shoulder.

"I want a demon that makes me fly," exclaimed Jeannie.

"First flying is way beyond lower level demons. You don't want to mess with the higher level demons. Second, on your first ceremony, you can't chose. The first ceremony is the initiation. At the initiation, you have to completely surrender to the cell and take what you are given. Once you are part of a cell, you can never go back. It's a decision that is not taken lightly, especially not an empty stomach," educated Denis.

A heavily bearded man walked in the door. He was short and chubby. He wore black pants and a black t-shirt. Without saying a word, he kicked of his shoes and stripped down his pants. He was in his shorts only. He fell back onto the couch. A minute later, his breath was roaring deeply asleep. Her hosts had only looked up for a second and went pack to packaging blow.

An hour later, a blond haired girl appeared in yoga pants with a Lululemon top. She went to the bathroom, clambered around there. She reappeared. She casually stripped of her clothing. Only in her underwear, colorful Calvin Klein stuff, she rolled herself into a blanket on a free couch.

"Are those part of the cell?" asked Jeannie quietly.

"No, they are part of the larger family. Some stay for a night. Some stay for a few weeks. Sometimes, they disappear from one day to the next," explained Simone. "Just like you disappeared today. Who knows if you don't get up and leave the next hour? All we can do is love and know that whatever people decide is the best for them."

They spent hours more packing blow. If anything, these people were dedicated and hard working. Occasionally, the mumbling in the sleep of one of the visitors pierced the silence. Occasionally, someone got up to go to the bathroom. Once in a while, they snacked on something far away from the blow to avoid accidentally ingesting it. When they were done, the cleaned the kitchen with industrial strength squeegees and a water hose. That's why the kitchen was so clean.

"I want to be part of the family. I don't want to be a drifter who only visits," stated Jeannie.

"Maybe, maybe, so," said Denis. "You are free to stay here for however long you want. That's all I invited you to. Being part of the cell is something entirely different. Simone stayed for months before we talked about it. There are obligations that come with it. Why don't you come on my trip tomorrow night and help me sell drugs. See if you like that."

"Thank you," said Jeannie modestly.

With that Denis, walked to the mattress in the corner. He stripped off his pants. He snuggled under the blanket in his underwear. Simone followed him. She carefully draped herself over his body. Ramon took of his track pants. He was wearing silk trunks underneath. Only dressed in silk trunks, he rolled into his sheet. Standing in the darkness, Jeannie called out, "Where am I to sleep? All the couches are taken. I don't want to sleep on the floor."

"Honey, our place is your place. You can sleep wherever you like. If you want a couch, nobody will mind sharing. You can also come to us on the mattress," Simone said in a warm and already sleepy voice.

Jeannie stripped off her mini jeans and t-shirt. She looked at the blond woman, whom she didn't even know the name, sleeping on the green couch. The long hair was splayed out wide. The body was on her side. Jeannie would be able to take the front half of the couch. That wasn't too bad.

She carefully sat down to avoid denting the upholstery too much and disturbing the sleeping host. She let her back carefully roll back. She flipped her feet on the couch. Then, she delicately tucked on the sheet to open up the folds and creases, so that she may stretch the fabric out and over her body. She could smell the woman's breathe. It smelled like salad and having already slept for a long time. The breathe smelled very intimate.

Jeannie touched the blonde's skin for a moment and froze. The blonde started moving. The blonde felt Jeannie's body. Instinctively, the blonde pulled Jeannie in. The blonde wrapped her arms around Jeannie. Then, she put her leg on to of Jeannie. The blonde drew Jeannie into a close full body hug, their skin and panties touching fully. The blonde nestled her face against Jeannie's cheeks. "I love you, whoever you are, stranger," whispered the blonde into Jeannie's ear.

Jeannie was stiff. This had never happened to her. The warmth of the other body was seeping into Jeannie. Jeannie could feel the breathing of the blonde. It felt so home, so cozy. Jeannie let her armor melt into the arms of the blond. She tweaked her body to comfortably cozy into the embrace and fell asleep.

The sleep had been deep and sound until someone tapped Jeannie on the arm. "Hey, Jeannie, it's time to get going. Do you still want to deal drugs with me?" asked Denis. Jeannie barely opened her eye to a blur of strangers eating dinner at the kitchen counter. "Yeah, I do. Let me get dressed," replied Jeannie sleepily. As she pulled gently out of the embrace of the blonde, the blonde hissed, "Dennis, go get your own mystery girl. She's mine." It was hard to pull the warm embrace off her. And the hands kept reaching after her. The hardest was feeling the warmth that had built between the bodies dissipate.

"Hi," said Jeannie to the strangers at the kitchen table in half her underwear and half in Simone's underwear, no longer ashamed. The diners waved back.

"I can't find my jeans," said Jeannie looking around, kicking a toy backhoe over and finding a post card underneath it.

"Pick something new! How about this black dress. We are going to a swanky place. It'll make you comfortable. Here, try these shoes," Denis was holding up a pair of high heels that had a clothing like fabric. The long tube of fabric extended half way up her thighs, when she put them on. With the black mini and the thigh high boot/heel combination, there was only a hand long spot of bare skin between the dress and her shoe. The dress was tight and showed her figure off.

"Where is Simone?" asked Jeannie.

"I don't know. She has her own life. Maybe, she is with one of her lovers," replied Denis. "We have to go."

"Who are the people at the counter?" Jeannie kept asking.

"You are already driving me mad with your questions. Some are part of the business. Some belong to the cell. Some are people we give shelter to for a while. It's an open house. We are late. We have to move product tonight to get cash for the down payment of the next shipment," insisted Jeannie.

With an eye, she saw her sea sack at the door. It was open and half empty. Some of the contents had been spilled out. There was a trail of her clothes leading toward the inside of the room. Apparently, the more interesting items had been held onto longer before they were tossed on the ground. "It's an open house," sounded in Jeannie's ears.

The black Ninja was still waiting in front of the house. Jeannie climbed behind Denis. The bike made her push out her butt again, high and bulbous. The black mini dress slipped up. She pulled it down. The moment, she sat down to straddle her thighs around the bike, it the mini lost its grip and slipped up again.

Not wanting to be a bother, she told Denis "go." He twisted the right hand. The Ninja whined like a punished child. Her butt flapped in the wind showing the black line of the sport panties in the middle of her pale flesh. There was no daddy to chastise her. With the group of people she had fallen into, she owned the night.

When they shot past the line of bars and clubs that were filling up this evening, the hollering of the boys went up, like a Harley driving past parked cars and rattling each car alarm to yell. She enjoyed the furor that followed them. "Only havoc was left in her path," she mumbled to herself. All the horny eyes were staring at her naked butt. And she was out of reach. They couldn't get her.

Denis rode out in the rural village. The fields and farm houses looked strangely familiar like a bad dream. The fresh air felt good after being inside a house for two nights. After two hours of night dreaming through the landscape, Denis pulled over at a lone road house. The bottom half of the wall was made from expensively looking river rocks. The upper half was made from highly finished wood. A man in a suit stood in front of the door. His stance was wide. He wore a kind of bell cap.

Denis turned off the engines. Jeannie used his shoulders to push herself off the bike. She stretched the mini skirt over her butt. She realized that she had no ID or money. She had a dress with no pockets on her body. She was at the complete mercy of Denis.

The door man opened the door gallantly at the sight of Denis. Denis handed a twenty dollar tips. "Is he still here?" asked Denis.

"He is still here. He is sitting at the booth in the far corner," answered the doorman.

Denis tapped the doorman on the shoulder gratefully. Jeannie followed him into the bar. The bar had booths that were dark for privacy. There was a stage up front with a small table, a rose, and two chairs. Disco lights were chasing across the room. The bar was half full. The people seemed to like it that way. The men were wearing suits. The women were in dresses or gowns. Some of the women had veils or masks.




Melancholy Jeannie



"Give her a green fairy. She's still hoping to meet one," said Dennis to the barkeep. "This place is the most upscale country bar. It draws rich people, mayors, city people who think it's a secret, pretenders who only own one fancy suit. If you are a country artist, this is the place to be discovered. There is a little stage, where any hopefully closet artist makes their play in hopes of being sponsored for a tour."

"That over there is Mr. Prince. He is loaded from an inheritance. He doesn't know what to do with himself. He is a perfect client. We only need him to take that first sip from puff, the dragon. Your task is to go over there. Make friends with him. Flirt with him. He is so depressed that no woman goes near him. Give him a kiss. He'll be soft and pliable in your hands."

"When he gives you the doggy-dinner-plate-eyes, you take this out. (Denis held a little packet of white powder.) Don't ask him to take it. He would smell the ruse. Instead, say that you take it yourself. Wait! He will ask you to share. And when you do, make sure that he gets most of it. That stuff in this packet is so pure that a single dose will make you addicted. It's not the blow we packaged yesterday. This is Beijing grade heroine. I only gives this people to get hooked. They never get that pure a shit in their whole life again."

With movements that spoke complete familiarity of her body, Denis' hands reached under her skirt. He put the white packet inside of her panties.

"That stuff is so pure. You simply rub it over your gums. It goes straight into the blood stream through the mucous membranes."

With that, he lifted her off the bar stool and gave her little ass a push. She stumbled forward towards the booth at the end, unsure of what to say or whom to expect. Awkward, she fumbled with her fingers standing in front of the table. "Hi, I'm Jeannie." She stretched out her hand.

"Hi, I'm Mr. Prince. Have a seat."

Seeing Mr. Prince up close, he wasn't that old. He was a young twenty year old, tall, skinny lad stuffed into a suit that balked him up twice his size. He had a bright red extra wide tie.

"The green fairy has never come for me. I had the original stuff imported from Europe. The herbs in it are mildly hallucinogenic," Mr. Prince pointed her to sit. Jeannie instead sat down right next to him.

"What makes you think that I'm not the green fairy? I'm only so real that you think I'm a real person."

Mr. Prince laughed. "You are funny. Here, I'll have you a drink of the European stuff. It's fifty years old from some castle." Mr. Prince waved at the waiter. The waiter reappeared with a silver tray and shot glass with green liquid. Jeannie took it down. "Bah, that's downright nasty. It's like cold medicine."

"I forgot to tell you. Fifty years ago was the last time they made the real stuff. Only fifty years turns the stuff real bitter as well. I am sorry. Do you want me to order some ice cream to clear it up?"

"You are rude. You keep throwing your money around like I'm not a person."

"I'm sorry. I thought you were one of those hookers that was trying to sneeze money out of me by pretending to be my friend. I can see now. You are simply a random girl that went up to a random stranger. How arrogant of me. I apologize profoundly."

"I'm not a hooker. I had sex with one boy the other night. One boy!"

"How did you get in here? You sound like a regular country girl."

"It must have been my looks," lied Jeannie. This was not going to be easy.

"Yeah, I agree. Where are you from?"

"I'm from New Munich."

"You must be lying. That's ten hours away. You couldn't have come that far for a drink."

"I ran away two nights ago. My daddy disowned me for that thing with the boy that I already told you."

"Jesus Christ, you are that unicorn of chance that randomly walks into one's life once. Both my parents are dad. Everyone is trying to get my money. In a way, I'm as alone as you are in the world."

"Last night a girl hugged me. It made me melt. Let me give you a hug." With that Jeannie threw herself onto Mr. Prince. She hugged the little boy in the bulk suit. He started crying. There was something welling up inside of him that had being welling up every day and waiting to spill over.

And when he was done, she was sitting on his lap. She reached under her skirt to pull the heroin packet out. "Wow, I need one of those," Jeannie sighed with her actor voice. She opened the plastic pouched. She got the white powder into the palm of her hand. She was waiting for him to ask to try it. He didn't say anything. She lifted the hand up to her mouth, hoping he would stop her from the surely addictive does.

He grabbed her arm, "hey wait, I've been wondering if that stuff helps. Can I have a little?" She seized him up to pretend to be thinking about giving up her treasure. "Sure. You know the best way to take it with two people is this way."

She put the whole powder into her mouth. Then, she pulled his mouth onto hers by his tie. The lips parted. The tongues met. And her tongue was wrestling as if her life depended on shoving the powder into his mouth against, his gums, past his teeth. She wiped her tongue on his to get the stuff onto his tongue. She could feel the rough powder melting and dissolving. Both were producing a lot of spit from the passionate kiss. And she kept wiping and pushing her spit inside of him long after she could feel any roughness from the heroine. And the happiness lit up in her face. She felt like she was achieving the top score in the SAT. It was that sense of success. Oh, the euphoria.

"It goes through the skin. Lick my nipples, make it go through my nipples," she spoke aroused.

His hands pulled down her black top. She popped out her right boob to push it into his face. His mouth latched onto it. The spit was copious from the kiss and heroin. He slobbered all over her. His tongue flicked on her sensitive nipple until it was hard. She felt that throbbing behind her legs that made her think of Simone.

And then some kind of happiness came over from the drug. She slammed onto her back. Her legs were still over his lap. He let her body go. He himself felt that easing feeling ten times stronger. The both passed out. Her boob was out in the open. Her legs parted from a lack of body tension to reveal her black sport panties underneath the dress. In the dark booth, nobody noticed. With the discretion of the bar, nobody said anything.

An hour later, she came to. She roused herself. Mr. Prince's eyes were still closed. She climbed off his lap. He weakly held her arm without opening his eyes. I need to know where to get more of this stuff. "The doorman hooked me up," said Jeannie to conceal the truth of her mission. She had sold the first soul into a life of heroin addiction.

"Good job," said Denis. "He is worth $5,000 to $10,000 a month. We can't have you doing anymore heroin tonight or you get hooked. But you can do Molly next. See that guy with the leopard colored hair, yeah, the crazy kid with the party hair."

That night, Denis had Jeannie do five different kinds of drugs at low doses to acquire new customers. By the end of the night, she had hallucinations from LSD. Her skin felt foreign from Molly. The Molly kept coming back in waves. The mushrooms made her have all kinds of memories come up. The heroin mellowed her out with happiness. And the blow made her super talkative and feeling in charge of the mess of emotions and drug sensory input that she got.

Sitting on the bike in front of the closed bar, Denis fed her electrolytes, vitamins, and neurotransmitter precursors to help her recover from the drug binge. "You've got to learn to push more of the drug on the customer. You'll have one sorry wakeup if you keep going like this." Those were the last words that she remembered.

Waking up, the first thing she noticed was the fresh smell of pine needle. The second thing was Denis' chest under her head. The third was the splitting headache. The hallucinations wanted to come back. Green squirrels were trying rise out of the ground. She screamed, "I hate you, teacher Ronald. You don't give me any more B's in math."

"Fuck, you didn't push enough of the drug on the customer, last night. I should have realized that you never took drugs before," said Denis. "Come here. Everything is going to be alright."

"Why are we in a forest on the floor?" asked Jeannie.

"You were super high last night. You couldn't hold yourself on the bike. So, we went sleeping in the forest. The bed of pine needles is real soft here," explained Denis.

The ride back on the bike was painful. Odd parts of her body were hurting. The forehead was a sharp pain. Random hallucinations crept into the daylight. "Road runner is going to overtake you, if you don't speed up." "Jeannie, Road Runner doesn't exist." "Oh, that explains why Bugs Bunny is laughing at me."

It was early evening with the sun lowering, when they returned to the house. Simone took one look at Jeannie and yelled at Denis: "You took her too hard. That's abusive. The poor girl doesn't know what she is getting into."

The blond girl was sitting on the stool at the kitchen counter. She noticed Jeannie, "Oh, there is the mystery girl. You are such a good hugger." The blonde pulled Jeannie onto the couch into a warm full body embrace. Jeannie closed her eyes. She could hear Simone hitting Denis. It sounded like she went for his head. Jeannie fell asleep. Her brain was exhausted from the drugs. The blonde held her tight. Jeannie could tell that the blonde knew what she was going through.

When Jeannie came to again, the pain had turned into a dull throbbing, a deep feeling of emptiness, and a warm embrace that had gone somewhat stale. The blond was still wrapped around Jeannie. They had slowly moved into a configuration, where Jeannie's arm was under the blonde's body. However, the blonde could not lift her torso, because she was wedged tight by Jeannie's body. Their legs were entwined around each other. The black dress was gone from Jeannie's body. So was the clothing of the blonde. They were comfy in their underwear.

Simone was working a washing machine. A towel was wrapped around her head. Seeing Jeannie rouse, Simone explained, "I gathered all the underwear and am doing laundry. We'll have clean underwear at least."

Denis had been watching her sleep. Dennis was sitting in a couch with a bundle for green in his lap. "Hey, I'm really sorry." He pointed to the black bruises in his face to underline his regret. "Here is your sure. They customers have already been calling." He tossed the bundle of green onto Jeannie's half naked body.

Jeannie counted fifty bills. Then, she realized they were Benjamins, not twenties.

"Mr. Prince is throwing an h-party next weekend. Guess who the supplier is," added Denis.

"I never had more than a one hundred dollar saved up from my twenty dollar a month allowance," exclaimed Jennie.

"Here is a tea. It'll help you detox." Simone put a ceramic cup of hot green into Jeannie's hands. "Denis will give you a ride back home to New Munich, once you are better. I am really sorry, he took advantage of you."

"No, no, this is the best part of my life. I've never had such good friends before. Back in Munich, I could only dream about such a warm friend like... I don't even know her name, but I never want to let go off her."

"I'm Teresa. They told me that you are Jeannie."

"There you have it. She wants to get into this. Can you take the bruises back from my head now? I'm just glad that Ramon took the crowbar out of your hands. Or, I'd be dead."

"I'm a little roughed up right now. But, I'm ready to be useful."

"She is one tough cookie, isn't she?"

"I have a meet. I need a girl to hold my gun. There might be cops doing random body searches of young, male guys. There is no drug taking involved. A biker gang is buying wholesale. This guy Smitty asked for a meet."

"I'm in, all the way." Jeannie clambered to her legs.

Jeannie walked to the dyer next to the washing machine. She opened the lid. It was full of a medley of colorful panties. Most of them were made of little fabric. She picked fresh, black thong. She got herself a sports bar for support during action. She picked up a scuffed and torn jeans of the ground. Denis fitted her with a gun holster. She got one gun under each arm pit. Simone worked with Denis to tape two heroine bricks to her back. The tape went tightly around her torso. They put a thick bike jacket over it to obscure the shape. The bike jacket had bright colors like a racer. Simone painted a green stripe on Jeannie's cheeks for additional racer styling.

Simone kissed Denis good bye, while Denis was sitting on the bike. Jeannie had her arms already wrapped around Denis ready to go. "Be careful. Those bikers are nothing to mess with for a little rural dealer. If he cheats you, let him cheat you. Your life is worth more. I'd rather live with you at the end of the world hiding in a hovel than you dead."

"I got this. You are going soft on me, woman." Denis looked tenderly into Simone's eyes. Jeannie had never seen him that tenderly. Jeannie's feminine sense told her that they were both thinking about children. Yet, they weren't ready to talk about it yet.

The bike pulled off the sidewalk. They weaved through traffic. The buildings grew skyscraper tall. The sidewalk turned grayer. The faces of the people turned cold and impersonal. They passed more stores than she had seen her whole life.

Sure enough, a whoop-whoop pulled them over. Denis was deferential. He let the man in blue push him, while they frisked him. The other cop was shining a light under the Ninja. Jeannie stood off to the side with enough heroin on her body to spend a life sentence in federal prison. She was watching herself from outside of her body. Too much had happened for her to stay present. It was like she was watching a movie. That made it normal for cops to be sniffing for guns and drugs, while she cooly stood by with both.

The cops gave up. Denis smiled at her mischievously. She winked back at him like a pro.

The meet was on a rear parking lot of a Chinese fast food restaurant. The biker was sitting on his chopper. The handle bars were higher than his head. A young couple got out of their mini to walk through the backdoor into the restaurant. A billboard for sunscreen with the image of a black couple in Jamaica was overhead.

Denis parked at the other side of the parking lot. "Wait here," he said sternly. He walked over to the biker. The biker had black glasses and a bandana. They talked for a while. The biker spat on the ground. They spoke more intensely. The couple returned with a brown bag. The two man grew silent for a moment. Denis was looking at Jeannie worried for a moment. Then, his mask steadied again. He waved her to come over.

Jeannie walked over. The biker looked really grim. She got a bad feeling in the pit of her stomach. Denis body posture was week. She reached behind her back to unwrap the tape around her body. The biker laughed heartily. Denis didn't laugh. She handed over the two bricks with the tape.

"Where is the money," asked Jeannie impulsively. The biker froze for a moment. Driven, Jeannie said, "There is a third one." Denis face dropped to an "oh, no!" Out came the gun pointing straight at the biker's face. "Show me the money!" This was like in the movies. All the action movies that she had watched streamed into her head. She was watching herself from the outside. "If he twitches, clip him," said an actor's voice in her head.

The biker pulled out his gun, a huge one. He pointed it straight back at Jeannie. His thumb released the safety. Her thumb released the safety. She fired like Angelina Jolie. She believed that she could bend the flight path of bullets. The blowback was so hard that the bullet missed even at five feet distance. The biker looked with shock and terror, frozen. She pulled herself together and squeezed out the next bullet. It went far astray to the right. She squeezed the next bullet. Denis ran for cover. Jeannie squeezed out one bullet after the next with the aim of a wild goose. The gun clicked empty. The biker slumped over. Someone in the dozen bullets at close range, he had been hit. Denis was underneath a car.

Hearing the empty clicks, he came back out. "Shit, you just shot one of the Hell's Angels, the most notorious and powerful street gang in the entire country. Fuck and it's all my fault for taking you to the meet, while you are still high.

The gun dropped to the ground. She was again inside of her body. She was standing in the middle of a rear parking lot unsure what to do. The whoop-whoop was streaming closer from all directions. Denis rushed to pick up the gun and heroin bricks. He grabbed Jeannie by the wrist and pulled her to the bike. 

"Get on, get on! The whole precinct is coming down with that many shots!"

He gunned the bike. The back tire was spinning out on the pavement leaving a black half circle rubber mark. They shot past a police cruiser with flashing lights. The cruiser turned around with screeching tires behind them. "Speed is the only savior," shouted Denis over the scream of the engine.

He drove the bike up an onramp to the raised freeway. The whoop-whoop swelled as their lineup of cruisers behind them swelled up. Four cruisers were drafting behind each other's slip stream on the opposite side of the freeway to get to their location. They heavy boom of a chopper closed in. The PA of the chopper yelled down on them: "Surrender now. The entire police force is hunting you down. You are only going to hurt yourself in a crash."

At 100 mph, the whoop-whoop started to fade behind. At 140 mph, she swore that her face was bleeding. It felt like a bloody gob. The taunts of the helicopter grew thin. Every tiny movement shot them three lanes across. Traffic raced past them with a seconds notice. Denis took to use the emergency lane to have less obstacles. The chopper boom faded.

Denis turned off the freeway right away. He changed directions radically. He calmed down the race to fade into traffic.

"I'm sorry," said Jeannie.

"I'm real sorry as well," replied Denis.

The traffic was thickening for the evening. Denis stopped in front of an old factory with a rusted gate. He pushed the fence back. People had been coming and going through the weakened fence. "Push the bike through," he told Jeannie. Denis seemed to know his way around the buildings.

"I always kept this in the back of my mind," said Denis.

There were two abandoned diesel gas stations fed by a giant metal barrel, the size of a sixteen wheeler truck bed. He picked up a piece of rebar and started hitting the tank.

"A spark will make it explode," exclaimed Jeannie!

"Explosions need a good mixture of fuel and oxygen. Pure fuel cannot burn on its own. Take that rock and tap the rebar," instructed Denis.

She did as she was told. The old diesel splashed on the ground. The fumes were in the air. Denis parked the bike close. The diesel spread out over the ground. Denis threw his lighter in. The flames started licking up.

"This will get hot enough to melt the metal of the license plate, gun, and drugs. It won't explode. What's your best track time?"

"Forty seconds for a hundred meter."

"You'll need to run twice as fast for miles. This won't explode. However, the cops will come swarming like an angry hornets nest."

Run. They ran. They ran on side streets. They saw the red and blue flashes pass them on the main streets. They only stopped for Jeannie to puke.

"Once people go to sleep, we'll stand out like sore thumbs. We gotta make it home before then."

"Let's just take the bus."

"All the bus drivers have our descriptions. They are looking out for us. We have to stick to the backstreets and move as fast as possible."