Storiesonline.net ------- Mack's Mamas by Thinking Horndog Copyright© 2008 by Thinking Horndog ------- Description: Pete stumbles upon Mack in a bar and discovers a serious gravy train Codes: MF Mf Mult cons reluc het Mdom rough gang group interr BF BM WM WF 1st oral anal ------- ------- Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyrighted with all rights reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated. Reproduction for profit is forbidden. Any distribution must include this note and the author's email address. Don't be caught attempting to make a buck off me! ------- Chapter 1 I met Mack in a bar -- not a pickup place, but one with pool tables, a juke box and mostly seats at the bar -- the kind of place where men sit and drink. I'd just been laid off and it suited my mood better than most places, although it wouldn't have been my usual thing. I was watching the silent TV display a golf match -- just for something to do -- when Mack walked in and hit the stool two down. That wasn't an opening for instant conversation; we probably spent two hours parked like that, me pretending to be a beer drinker and him knocking back scotch and soda, before any conversation started. During that interim, he must have taken a half-dozen calls on his cell phone, obviously making executive decisions. When he needed to, he opened a steno pad and scratched figures on it or doodled; he seemed to have problems with math; he would grunt, "Hang on a minute," into the phone, then erase a chunk of what he was doing and redo it, then grunt, "What are the taxes again?" and scratch some more before coming up with a number and barking it into the phone, then closing the call. Finally, curiosity got the better of me and I ventured, "They won't let you alone, huh?" Mack eyed me a moment, then grinned; he had one of those craggy faces that could go from neutral to jovial to downright mean in two-tenths of a second. "Well, this IS my office," he related. I had nothing to lose, so I looked around. "Nice. Should I have had an appointment?" That tickled him and he let out a guffaw -- probably due to the scotch. "Well, maybe, but I let Mike, here, load the place so he can pay his rent." Mike was the bartender; he nodded, amused, and continued wiping a highball glass. "Where's your secretary?" I asked, looking around. "She don't drink," Mack related. "I don't think she thinks, either, from the phone calls I get. All she does is pop chewing gum like a cow chewing a cud." "Not much help," I opined. "Well, it's nepotism," Mack grunted. "She's my brother's wife's sister. I think that means we're related. I keep her on the payroll so she can feed her half-wit kids." He chuckled. "Besides, she's got a halfway decent rack. I wouldn't touch her with your dick -- she gets pregnant if you breathe on her twice in succession -- but I can rest my eyes." I laughed. "You were doing some heavy math, it looked like." "Shit, I can barely add -- and I CAN'T subtract -- but I'm the math guy. I'm trying to keep shit inside the budget -- close, anyway." "What's it all about?" "Renovating a building. Contractors only know 'more' -- more time, more money. I think my current guy uses certain supplier because they're slow as molasses and he can blame delays on them while I pay his boys for sitting on their asses," Mack complained. "You're in construction?" "Not really." He chuckled and swished the ice cubes in his glass. "I'm a real estate mogul." He chuckled again. "I've been thinking about looking into that," I said. "It seems popular." "Flipping houses?" He eyed me. "Now's the time to buy, but you can go broke holding 'em waiting to sell after you poured your money into 'em." He knocked back a swallow. "I prefer to hold places to rent -- shitty as that is. Just bought a duplex on a short sale -- they took all the copper out, so I'm putting in plastic." I was awash. "Short sale? Copper?" He eyed me for a minute. "Don't spend your money until you learn the lingo. A short sale is where you talk the bank into selling you a piece of property they're foreclosing on for less than what's owed. Right now, there's a glut because the greedy assholes lent to anybody they thought they could suck money out of, so they're takin' it in the shorts. Thieves go in the houses while they're vacant and steal all of the copper pipe because it's pricey right now, so you have to replace the plumbing -- with plastic, which is a LOT cheaper." "Oh, okay," I said, somewhat vacuously. "So what's the big math gig?" "It's harder to find buyers or renters after a flip," Mack related. "I've got rules of thumb for six months, but with everyone broke, it runs to nine, so it's stubby pencil time." "Gotcha." The phone rang again and Mack got out his pad. "That much? Are you sure?" He turned to me. "What the Hell is one and a half times thirteen thousand?" "Nineteen five," I replied. "Thanks!" He went back to the phone. "Not a nickel over nineteen five, understand? I don't care if your sister-in-law doesn't eat because her no-good spick husband ain't working -- he ain't sitting on his ass on MY dime! Understand? I've got other contractors, you know!" He listened for a moment. "Look, Julio, I know you have to keep the crew working, but that means you go out and fix your supply problems, not come running to me. Now get on the phone with the yard and tell them to get up off their asses or you'll go elsewhere!" He hung up. "Who the fuck knows where else he's dicked me because I can't add..." "Get something that adds for you," I advised. "Simplest would be a calculator -- but I bet you have all this stuff in your head, right?" "Damned straight!" "Okay, then -- it's probably mildly complex, but you just need to plug in new numbers and it all works out, right?" I reached down to my left and hoisted my laptop case onto the bar. "I can whip up something you can just plug numbers into and it will spit out your answers for you..." "No shit?" Mack grunted. "You some kind of bookkeeper?" "Computer geek, more likely," I grunted. "We're a little more flexible." "I hope you don't cost as fucking much," Mack grunted. "Well, I just started a forced sabbatical, but I'll give you this for free -- how's that?" I replied. "I can look for regular work tomorrow when I don't smell like a beer." I fired up the laptop and for the next forty minutes we collaborated on a spreadsheet for holding costs on a home that was to be purchased, upgraded and refurbished, and turned around for profit in a reasonably short time. Mack's big problems were things like 'vacancy insurance' -- a policy for defraying the cost of vandalism to a vacant house -- that had a six month policy premium. Costs for that were double, not one and a half times his six month window. Additional utilities and property taxes and such drove up his overhead. We'd just finished when he got another call. "They want HOW much? What's the new delivery date if we cough it up?" The house he was talking about was the one we'd used to proof the spreadsheet, so he covered the mouthpiece of his cell. "Four-seventy to deliver in three days. That gets everyone off their ass six days early, but..." I increased the materials cost and reduced the labor at the daily rate we were using. "That's seventeen days for the crew size you have programmed, and puts you a week and a half ahead of schedule. What if you drop a guy?" "Do it." I ran the numbers with one less carpenter. "You save both ways. There might be something else out there, too." "What's that do to my window?" "It leaves you four days for emergencies." "Do it, Julio -- but drop somebody. You'll have more time, so you can use fewer bodies. Is there anybody you haven't called in?" Mack listened. "Don't, then." There were a couple of minutes of wrangling, but Mack hung up grinning. "You just saved me a couple of grand, I figure." "Eighteen hundred and change," I agreed. "Can you put that on something I can carry around that isn't so bulky?" Mack asked. "Probably," I agreed. Mack eyed me. "The numbers aren't enough -- I need someone who can see the holes like you just did. My bookkeeper knows tax law, but he can't seem to find a way to make me a buck outside of that." He pursed his lips. "Got any folding money?" "Like, how much?" "Fifty grand, say." "If I didn't have to eat for the next few weeks, maybe." "Eat doughnuts at my place. I'll give you a chunk of the business to run the numbers. You can bring me into the twenty-first century. I need email and shit. Marketing, flyers, spam -- all that crap the competition has that hurts my head. In return, I'll make sure you don't fuck up and you'll be collecting a couple of thousand in rent each month and a cut of whatever I'm doing that you're contributing to. What do you think?" I rubbed my jaw. "I can probably handle the job description, but I'm not a people person..." "I've got that. I need a numbers person. Sales jockeys are a dime a dozen." "Well, okay. I hear horror stories about being a landlord," I muttered. "It's all in how you pick your tenants and making shit clear up front," Mack chuckled. "I have places I'd rather not go -- and places where the first of the month is recreational." "Sounds like a deal." I stuck out my hand and we shook on it. "Keep track of what you're saving me," Mack warned. "Sometimes I get bitchy." We went back to drinking -- but I slacked off even more, since I was now on the payroll and needed to stay sharp. We got a half-dozen more calls and I refined the spreadsheet and set up calculations for a couple of other scenarios and when I staggered home I had his business card and a lot of good will. The next morning, I hit the address of his REAL office and met Noreen, the secretary with the nice rack. It was, but she wasn't - she was an oxygen thief. Still, she knew I was coming and set me up with a desk and a telephone and we went from there. Automation was nonexistent in Mack's office; when he came in, I had eight different proposals for improvements that were theoretically at least within the limits of his small sales staff. "One at a time!" he grunted, but by afternoon I was buying computers and routers and switches and printers. I owned automation in that office -- from email to antivirus to the website to marketing to the books -- at least as far as getting the bookkeeper on electronic record keeping. In the first two weeks, I spent twenty thousand dollars -- and Mack was prone to complain, so I kept my numbers with me -- and I'd saved him twice that much. At the end of that period, however, things were getting tight; I'd forked over the fifty thousand that first day, purchasing five percent of Mack's company, and I didn't have that much more in the way of resources. The bookkeeper rather jealously informed me that everyone else was an employee, which was a surprise, but that only carried me so far ... So when the end of the month came, I turned to him, beer in hand (we 'worked' half a day every day in that bar or another one up the street -- I was drinking non-alcoholic beer, mostly), and said, "Mack? When do I see some money from this deal? Not to bitch or anything, but this IS my day job and I have rent to pay..." "Rent? You don't pay no fucking rent! You COLLECT rent! Hang on a minute." He punched the phone and barked. "Noreen! When were you gonna give Pete his apartment keys? Did you set up his drawing account like I told you to? What the fuck you mean you don't know how? Papers? Oh. Shit. Where are they? Shit. When did the lawyer send them? Awright." He hung up and sighed. "Come on, we need to go back to the rat hole." We went out and got in his car -- but he turned to me and said, "You're drinking that non- alcoholic shit, aren't you? You'd better drive..." It had more or less become a ritual; I got out and took the keys to his Caddy and away we went. At the office, both of the sales guys were out; the two interns were taking calls and interviewing callers with houses to buy or sell and the sales boys were on appointment sweet-talking buyers and sellers to get our piece. The third sales guy was gone; one of my early discoveries was the fact that he was just taking up space. I really felt bad when I pointed that out to Mack -- but he had no problem doing the dirty and putting the guy on the street -- which made me feel even worse. Mack just grunted. "It's a cost of doing business. He'll sell for his next boss or he'll find a new line of work -- we've done him a favor with the wake-up call." Anyway, we went into his office and Mack dug around on his desk and surfaced some contracts and in a few minutes I was LEGALLY a partner -- and a limited signatory on a drawing account. "Don't abuse it," Mack grunted, then chuckled. "Not that I think you'd know how." Next I was issued a shiny gold AMEX -- with the same injunction -- and we headed out to the bookkeeper's office, where Mack talked to the poor man like he was a three year old. "Got the P & L? Show me." Mack looked it over and grunted, then handed it to me. The number said we were doing okay, I figured. "This includes all that computer crap Pete ordered?" Mack asked. The bookkeeper nodded. "Figure out what five percent is -- minus the tax man's cut -- and open an account for Pete at the bank and deposit it. Put the tax money in the escrow account for the quarterly. Give Pete his checkbook tomorrow. Got me?" "Yes, Mack." "Pete sees every fucking thing -- he's a partner. You fix it. He sees YOUR shit in particular, since he does numbers, and I don't. Get me?" "Yes, Mack." "Get moving. Hold it. Make sure Pete is on the health plan and all that shit, too. 401k, the works. Can you ballpark what he's gonna get?" "Yes." The guy -- Fred -- poked his calculator and scratched a number down on paper and handed it to me -- and it was about half again what I'd been doing in salary. "Jeezus!" I grunted. Mack chuckled. "We're up five percent AFTER you bought all that shit. That makes you worth it. Next month will probably be more. Some months are shit, but I have a funny feeling that there are gonna be fewer of those. Let's go for a ride." I followed him out of the bookkeeper's office and to Noreen. Mack barked, "Keys!" and Noreen surfaced a set. Mack snatched them and swept out. I got the feeling that everyone was up in arms because he came back after one p.m. I got to drive again; Mack gave directions. In fifteen minutes we pulled up in front of a condo building. "Come on." Mack waved and I followed him in. He went to the elevator and we rode to the third floor and he turned right and opened a door. "Take a look." It was three bedrooms with an open kitchen and a hot tub and a balcony overlooking a pool. "Nice!" "I own the building," Mack grunted. "These are your digs -- get your junk out of your place. Whatever you need to break the lease, take it out of the drawing account, along with the mover's money." He eyed me. "That cool with you?" "Shit, yeah!" "Good. Tomorrow, being it's the first, we'll go around and collect some rent on a couple of my pet projects. You'll enjoy it." We were headed back down the stairs. "Well..." "Yeah, I know," Mack chuckled. "You're not a people person. Well, it's like I told you -- it's all about who your tenants are. I don't collect rent for all of my places -- just a few. And I do those more for recreation than anything else -- you'll see what I mean." Twenty minutes later, we were in the bar again. ------- The next morning, I came in driving my little Saturn. I was late -- ten-thirty or so -- because I needed to arrange for a dozen things related to my move. Had Noreen been worth her salt as an assistant, I'd have handed it off to her -- but she wasn't. Some things WERE in the new place -- I had cable TV up the wazoo, and telephone, but no internet. My old landlord wasn't thrilled, but keeping the last and the security deposit mellowed him somewhat. I would be another day or two getting out, but, hey ... Mack eyed the Saturn and grunted, "When are you gonna sell that shitbox?" "Probably never," I retorted. "That shitbox gets thirty-two miles to the gallon and has a hundred thousand miles on it." "Get something to attract women with," Mack retorted. "You can keep that one to collect rent in. We'll take it this afternoon." "Okay." 'What? No Caddy?' I wondered. But it wasn't important; I followed him to the bar at the usual time and we were relaxing at about two o'clock when Mack said, "So, Pete. You don't have a little woman -- is there a main squeeze?" I sighed. "Nope. I don't attract 'em." "You will," Mack advised. "Some of 'em smell money. You start looking prosperous and you'll have that flavor all over you." I laughed. "No doubt. Trouble is an easy buy." Mack nodded, laughing. "Yeah, that's why I handle things differently." He looked kind of proud of himself; I didn't know why -- and was afraid to ask. Was he gay or something? "Come on," he added, "Let's go collect some rent." ------- Twenty minutes later, Mack directed me, "Pull into the next driveway." We were in a neighborhood where old two- and three-story houses crowded one another to the point that driveways were tight to get into and out of. A few blocks over was an area I NEVER wanted to try to collect rent from -- but these houses were in fairly good repair and none were boarded up or vacant and there weren't a lot of loiterers on the street. "I -- WE own about half of the houses on this block," Mack related, "and the city is thrilled to death with me for helping clean up the neighborhood." I pulled the Saturn in and through to the back of the house, which didn't seem to have a yard -- it was basically all pavement. I shut down the car and made to get out, but Mack forestalled me with a hand on my arm. "This is my special project," he related, "one of a couple I have. Follow my lead and you'll see why I collect here personally." I nodded and we got out of the car. As we headed up the walk, Mack said, "Pete, I trust you, or I wouldn't be showing you this. You might take this all wrong; if you do, we'll probably have to part company -- which sucks, because you're incredibly valuable to me. But I'll understand if you can't hang with this..." Now I was worried. "Is it illegal?" Mack grimaced. "Some people would say that it's exploitation, to say the least. But my tenants all understand what they're getting into when they sign the lease -- I make it VERY clear. Maybe it IS illegal -- but they sign up for it, so I don't feel too bad." By then we'd circled around to the front steps. "This is a multi-family -- four apartments." He popped open a lockbox built into the wall beside the door and shuffled around inside, drawing out two envelopes. "Two of 'em have paid the rent, it looks like." I stood there while he opened the envelopes and checked the amounts on the checks. "Yeah. Okay. We'll be visiting the other two. Follow my lead." We headed up the staircase. "So, Pete," Mack said genially, "are you familiar with the term 'trailer trash?' Well, there aren't any trailers this far in-town, you know, but people have to have a place to live. I have two houses like this -- and I rent to a special clientele. Any idea what they might be?" "Nooo..." 'Here it comes, ' I thought. "Single mothers." Mack grinned. "The city social services agencies all think I'm a saint -- but I reap the benefits -- you'll see." He knocked on the door marked 2A. "Just a minute!" sounded from inside. In a couple of minutes, the door sprang open to display a hefty number with light-brown hair bleached blonde, blue eyes, a snub-nosed, dimple-cheeked face, a pair of fat, round hooters in a peasant blouse with weird lumps where her nipples should be, a short, tight jean skirt, nylons, and high-heeled sandals. The legs were beefy but smooth and not bad looking; I hauled my eyeballs back up to her upper half to discover that she was burdened with a baby. "Oh, hi, Mack," she said, furtively. "Hi, Cindy. Going out?" Mack asked. "Um, no -- just hanging out..." I found myself thinking that it was interesting that she chose to dress up like that to clean toilets or whatever. "I'll say!" Mack leered. "So, Cindy, where's the rent?" "It's coming, Mack." "When?" "On the fifth." "That's not the first, Honey," Mack noted. "If it's not the first..." "I know." Cindy looked odd -- troubled, but excited. "Pete needs to be filled in on the rules, Honey," Mack said quietly. "Why don't you brief him." "Yes, Mack." Cindy stepped back inside the apartment; we followed, Mack closing the door behind us. "Put the baby down, Honey -- we all know you're a mother." "Yes, Mack." Mack waved and I followed Cindy into her nursery. Matter-of-factly, while she put the baby down and tucked it in, Cindy related, "Mack's rules are that the first month you're late, he gets to fuck you until you pay. The second month, you fuck Mack's friends until you can pay." "And the third month?" Mack asked. "The third month you earn the rent on your back," Cindy related quietly. She stood and headed back toward the living room; I thought that her face was strangely placid for someone talking about sex slavery and prostitution. "Pete's new, so he's kind of surprised, Honey," Mack related. "Was this all a surprise at all?" "No," Cindy looked at me with strange eyes. "Mack explained it all when I signed the lease. I agreed to it." "Obviously, the lease doesn't SAY that," Mack related. "What it DOES say is that I can kick them out for breathing crooked. There's a clause in it for performance that's pretty strict that says that I can make demands as I see fit if they're not in compliance. This is how I see fit." He turned to Cindy. "This is the second month in a row Cindy's been late -- I think she enjoyed the first one too much. It took her until almost the fifteenth to pay me last month, even though I gave her a little leeway." He eyed me. "Fuck her, Pete. Do whatever you want. Treat her like you're gonna put a gun to her head and shoot her when you're done -- rip her ass up!" Cindy looked startled. I blinked. "What's this all about?" "It's about betrayal," Mack said harshly. "It's about breach of contract -- breach of trust. It's about punishment." He eyed Cindy. "It's about preparing her for next month." Stepping forward, he punched her in the stomach; I watched her collapse, unable to breathe, her eyes shocked. Mack eyed me. "I can do this, or you can. Obviously, I'm a little pissed." "Ummm, okay..." I stepped forward gingerly. Mack circled behind and grabbed Cindy by the neck and dragged her up onto her knees. "You don't need to breathe to get Pete out of his pants, bitch. Move!" Cindy managed to get her hands to my zipper and start tugging. Mack closed up on me and muttered in my ear, "This isn't as serious as it looks -- Cindy likes it rough. She's also way out of line..." Aloud, he added, "So you figure being ol' Mack's twat is probably a good deal, huh? Maybe I'd get all sweet on you and give you trinkets and shit? Honey, I have a half-dozen twats at any given moment -- you got no shot at being Numero Uno! Besides, this month you get loaned out to my friends -- that's a step DOWN the totem pole! Get outta that blouse and get your lips on Pete's dick, NOW!" He swatted her on the back of the head -- nothing that was going to give her permanent injury -- while she tugged the cap sleeves of her blouse over her arms and poked her torso right through the elastic neck of the thing. The weird lumps went flying -- they were pads of some kind, obviously there to keep her breasts from dripping milk all over, since that's what started happening more or less instantly. Okay, maybe I'm a bad guy -- but there seemed to be some justification for what Mack was doing. Women had dicked me over since elementary school, for Christ's sake ... I stuck my dick in her mouth -- it was hard, too. At Mack's urging, I grabbed a handful of Cindy's hair at the back of her head and drove her onto my cock. She put her hands on my hips, but didn't fight me, despite the gagging noises. Behind her, Mack rolled his eyes and mouthed, "She loves this shit!" Caught up in the whole thing, I took her head in both hands and really put it to her. She was going "Gluk! Gluk! Gluk! Gluk! Gluk!" I could have been choking her to death, but she still wasn't fighting. "You probably don't want to cum in her slut mouth," Mack opined. "Why don't you stick her head in the toilet or something and fuck her ass? Use your imagination..." I thought about it. "No, I'm enjoying this..." I kept humping her face. Milk from her swollen breasts dripped on my pants and my shoes and I didn't give a fuck. "Suit yourself." Like I said -- maybe I'm a bad guy. But Mack had a couple of points -- and I owed the 'fair sex' -- because they'd never treated ME fairly. Pussy was something I paid for -- or didn't get. Period. I'm not ugly or anything -- but I'm not handsome, either. Intellectuals lose out to bad asses all the time. Cindy took the heat for about a half-million snubs -- sorry about that. Her eyes watered and her chubby face turned pink and she drooled and her make- up ran and made her look like a raccoon and she drooled and choked and puked on the floor once -- and I shoved my dick in her throat and held her there while I blew the biggest nut ... Then I pushed her away, gasping and choking -- and I figured I'd done her a favor, because her head wasn't in the toilet... Stupid me. Mack had her up and off to the bathroom before her ass hit the floor good, hauling her by one arm. Then he DID stick her face in the toilet and he DID rip her skirt down and he DID jam his dick in her ass -- unlubed -- and pound the shit out of it. He let her up here and there -- but he flushed twice. When he got done, her shoes were off, her nylons were laddered -- did I mention that they were real nylons, not pantyhose? Garter belt and all ... She was soaking wet from the neck up and milk was EVERYWHERE-- partly because when he blew his nut in Cindy's ass, he hauled her up and waved me up to her. "Cover her mouth -- we don't want her waking the baby," he told me, so I covered her mouth with my hands -- and pinched her nose shut, because she managed to find the breath for a pretty good squawk when Mack started squeezing the shit out of her left tit! He had her spraying pretty good, all over the bathroom floor, from both nipples; she flopped around a bit for this, which seemed to make it more fun. Mack waved me off and let go of her and she flopped to the floor and he said, "You might want to try to get something to me before the fifth, Honey," and walked out of the room. I kind of stood there, aghast at what I'd been party to. Cindy looked like someone had tied one leg to a ski rope and hauled her, fully clothed, around a lake behind a boat. She surged up and grabbed my pant leg, and I expected some kind of an appeal to my better nature -- "Help me!" or something -- but instead she said, "Come back any time, okay?" "S--sure!" I stammered, and got out of there. Mack met me at the front door, holding a bath towel he'd collected from somewhere. "Here," he said, pushing it at me, "Wipe off the milk. What did she say?" "She invited me back," I replied, dazed. "She's a sick little bitch. I told you she loved that shit." Mack chuckled and waved me out the door. "I didn't believe you." "I know. I noticed that you didn't let it stop you," he observed. "I guess I had some pent-up aggression," I muttered. "No shit?" Mack pretended surprise. "I'd have never guessed!" He turned for the stairs. "Can you go again?" "Like that?" "Naw, we'll go a little easier on this one." "Yeah, probably." "Cindy fucks the regular way," Mack related, "and she's pretty good at it. Just come on up and get you some, any time before she finally pays up. She's a glutton for punishment; after that, she'll probably wait until the thirtieth." "She looked surprised when you punched her." "She was. I went about as far as I could think to go with her -- but I knew she liked it rough from LAST month, so I wasn't any too concerned," Mack replied. "She's gonna be a problem, I think. That kid is by a junior- grade drug lord who got his head blown off; he used to slap the shit out of her and leave her with lumps and bruises and a couple of broken bones here and there. Some chicks just get off on having the shit kicked out of them -- bad asses make their pussies wet. I think it goes back to when you went courting with a club -- they figure if you don't take no shit and slap them around, you must be the head motherfucker in charge." He shrugged "So what's up with this one?" I asked. "Charlene?" Mack replied. "She's at Stage Three. She's got three kids of various ages and needs to watch a couple of them. It cuts down her working hours. She's gonna want to pay on her back." "How does that work?" I asked. "Well, I'm not a pimp," Mack replied. "But I know people who know people who like to party. So I get a call and I throw a couple of women at a bachelor party or a gang bang or whatever. It's not retail -- if I put one of them out, it's for enough to pay the rent in one pass, minimum -- and I give them the rest, if there is any. But they get the shit fucked out of them, usually -- it isn't an easy night's work. But it's safer that way than putting them out on the street at twenty bucks a blowjob or whatever. I've never had one busted while she lived here. If they want to hook, though, they're gone -- can't have them ruining the place's rep." "Aren't you pushing them that way?" I asked. "Well, they CAN pay the rent," Mack replied. "I get three types. The first type pays the fucking rent. If a woman does that for a year, I generally move them out of here to another rental. The second type is the 'Yeah, right' group -- they don't believe me when they hear the rules, and then we have a problem when they don't make the rent the first time. That goes one of two ways -- they get the idea or they get out. The third group is gonna miss occasionally -- and are willing to pay the price. They come in a couple of flavors, too -- you get the ones who just fall on hard luck, and the ones who WANT a dick -- and will fuck up to get it -- like Cindy." "Which group is Charlene in?" I asked. "I'm not absolutely sure," Mack replied. "She's got a job, but ... Shit, I dunno." He rapped on the door. ------- Chapter 2 "Mack." The woman who answered the door looked ... hard. She wasn't a bodybuilder or anything, just lean. Her face said, 'I've been around' without hearing it come out of her mouth; the nose looked like it had been broken -- maybe more than once She had that biker chick look to her. The hair was bleached blonde -- and looked ragged, damaged. She backed up to let us in without saying anything else. Somehow, I didn't get past her face until we were inside; she could have been holding a gun and I wouldn't have noticed. Having her eyes trained on me didn't help. "Who's this?" she asked in a gravelly voice. "This is Pete. Don't fuck with his head," Mack replied. "He a friend of yours?" "You got the rent?" "No." "We're past friends, then," Mack told her. "But he isn't, anyway. Well, he is, but he's more than that. He's my new partner -- you deal with him like you're dealing with me, get me?" It was the tough Mack show -- I figured it was probably necessary. She turned those gun-barrel eyes on me. "Got it." "Why don't you just pay the fucking rent?" Mack asked. "Gotta buy school clothes for Teresa -- she's going into high school," Charlene replied. "Besides, I can handle whatever you've got. I need the extra." "Party comin'," Mack rumbled, "looks like an all-nighter with a half- dozen niggers and spics -- wanna go solo?" Charlene locked those dead eyes of hers on his. "Sounds like a party. Any of 'em hung?" "I don't measure," Mack grunted. "Show Pete the merchandise." That's when I noticed the clothes -- as they were coming off. A ratty T-shirt with the logo of some rock band on it went over her head to reveal one of those bras with no shoulder straps. That was gone in a second, too, revealing a pair of those flattened round titties that look like they're sliding down the owner's chest. As usual with those, size wasn't anything amazing, but they had thimble-sized brown nipples like you'd expect to see on a pregnant woman. The bottom half was in ratty shorts and cheap flip-flops; she got out of them without looking away from me. The French-cuts she had on underneath didn't do a damned thing for her because her ass was too flat -- and kind of saggy, like her tits. She was stringy and lean and her skin kind of wrinkled along her ribcage when she moved, rather than being properly elastic. When she stepped back into her flip-flops, I was unsurprised to see that there was no polish on her toenails -- or her fingernails, for that matter, although they might have had a coat of clear lacquer on them. She was pretty much the stereotypical pioneer woman -- she had that sandblasted from birth look. I was willing to bet she'd had crow's feet since puberty. On the other hand, she looked feline, graceful -- oddly sexy, compact. She was worldly; she really HAD seen it all, and she was unflappable. I became aware that she was smiling crookedly at me. "You can sure pick 'em, Mack," she murmured. "I didn't say he was jaded -- he's just my partner," Mack rumbled. "Sorry," I mumbled. "I..." How did you find a new way to tell a woman who already knew it that she inexplicably exuded sex from every pore? She cocked her head, which made the smile almost straight. "Forget it." Without removing her eyes from me, she asked Mack, "Now what?" She didn't have to say 'Who am I fucking?' -- it was implied. "Why don't you do Pete?" Mack suggested. "I'll join in at some point." "All right." She moved forward, but, well, it's hard to explain, exactly. She missed insulting me by millimeters, only because it was clearly nothing personal. Her attitude said that she expected nothing new or of interest from me; she really didn't care one way or the other, but if given a preference, she'd have avoided the whole thing as a waste of her time. It was like I was seventeen and she was a hooker -- this might be an adventure for me, but it was more like babysitting for her. Mack picked up on it and said sarcastically, "I wouldn't want to bore ya, Charlene. Why don't you let Teresa fuck him?" That got a reaction -- but not the one I expected. Charlene stopped and pursed her lips, eyeing him calmly. "It WOULD solve a problem or two." Mack blinked and grunted. "Okay, so, you DO have more balls than we do. I give..." But Charlene just held Mack's eyes and yelled, "Teresa!" "Yeah?" The tone was that of a typical, long-suffering teen responding to yet another parental summons. "Come in here, Baby." "All right..." Teresa flounced in. She was a chip off the old block -- fourteen or fifteen going on forty. Seeing her mother standing naked in the middle of the living room didn't faze her in the least. Everything looked a little newer and in better shape, but the eyes said that her mother had passed on the entire encyclopedia of sexual experience to her genetically. "Hi, Mack. What's up?" "I made a bluff, and your mother is proving she's a better card player," Mack rumbled. He turned his attention back to Charlene. "I've already folded, in case you didn't notice. Pete didn't even call." "Yeah, I noticed," Charlene replied, a touch of amusement flickering under her more serious tone to call us pussies. "But there's a life lesson, here..." Turning to Teresa, she asked, "Where's Mick?" "Holed up in his room," Teresa replied while I tried to control my reaction to the idea of one of Charlene's kids being named after a legendary rocker. "And Janis?" "Asleep in her crib." There was a pregnant pause, then Charlene said, "About your new wardrobe..." "Aw, Mom!" "Shut up a minute!" Charlene snapped. "Do you remember what I told you? You can speak freely in front of Mack, here, and his partner... ?" "Pete," Mack filled in. Teresa's eyes shifted to us, weighing and calculating. "You said it would cost the rent money -- and we would have to get creative." Charlene nodded. "That's right, Baby. Fortunately, Mack is flexible about creativity -- but that doesn't mean he's cheap. Tell her about the offer you made me, Mack. Don't pull any punches." Mack could see where things were going. "I offered her a position as the sole pivot point in an all-night gang bang with a half-dozen spics and niggers." Teresa showed that she still had some of her youth and innocence left; her eyes popped and she flinched as if she'd been slapped. "So," Charlene said mildly, "I can take Mack up on his offer, or I can hand him the rent money. What do you say?" Teresa's eyes flicked back and forth between her mother and the two of us while she licked her lips. "They wouldn't hurt her, would they?" she asked Mack. "Does this sound like the kind of situation where I can make guarantees?" Mack retorted. "I don't think so, but..." I, personally, was floored that the little shit was even considering putting her mother on the line like that! Teresa glared at her mother. "If you're not going to buy me anything, why didn't you just say so? Why play stupid games?" Charlene turned those tired eyes on her daughter. "This isn't a game, Teresa. The stakes are just what you've been told they are. If you want those clothes, I have to fuck a half-dozen guys until they get tired to pay the rent. It's your call -- make up your mind." Even I could see Teresa's thought process. This was an elaborate bluff -- one of Mom's games. Fine... "Do it," she told Charlene. "Fuck them." Charlene eyed her daughter, poker-faced. "You're pretty free with my body, aren't you? I guess I'm not that important to you. Okay, fine -- but you're a big girl -- you need to step up to the plate and pay the interest on your debts, at least. Take Pete, there, into my room and fuck his brains out -- it's the least you can do." "What?" Teresa and I were a chorus. "Pay your way," Charlene insisted. "It's a little different when it's YOUR ass on the line, isn't it? Well, pretty soon, Mom won't be around to take your hits for you, so you need to learn to take your own. If those clothes are important enough to you that I have to take a half-dozen dirty dicks wherever they want to put them and smile about it, they're important enough for YOU to take ONE!" She turned to me. "Use her like toilet paper, Pete. Any hole, any way. Make her understand." "MOM! JEEZUS!" "Have you changed your mind?" Charlene asked frigidly. "Frankly, some decisions are irrevocable. You need to learn THAT, too! Want to back out? Ask Mack. Ask him pretty. You might have to blow him or something, since you made a contract and you're trying to get out of it. If I was Mack, I'd ask for some kind of compensation for defaulting. Maybe Pete will want something, too..." Teresa shifted her eyes to Mack, who was wearing the finest poker face I'd ever seen. "Mack, is this a game?" Mack looked disgusted. "If it was, I wouldn't tell you -- but it isn't. You want to watch or something?" Teresa licked her lips. "I thought..." "You thought wrong. Your mama makes these kinds of decisions all the time to keep food on the table. You want something, you pay for it. You don't have any money, you find another way. TANSTAAFL." "What?" Teresa blinked. "Tan..." I knew the answer. "TANSTAAFL. It's an acronym. It stands for 'There ain't no such thing as a free lunch.' You get what you pay for. Kids get over for a while, because it's a parent's job to take the heat -- but eventually, you're on your own. It's a life lesson -- your mother is showing you life outside the nest. That's part of her job, too." "So..." Teresa looked from me to Mack to Charlene. "So it's no game," Charlene finished for her. "Unless you consider that life is a game, which is one way of looking at it. Mack, is it still up to her?" Mack pursed his lips. "Let's see if she can do simple math. Okay, Sweetie, you can beg off for about the next five minutes. But you fuck Pete for the privilege, anyway. So, what do you want to do?" He paused for a moment. "Oh, and if you still want your mama to fuck all those guys, you get to watch." He looked at his watch. "The clock's ticking..." Teresa licked her lips. "Either way, I have to fuck Pete..." "That's right, Honey. You bought in, one way or the other," Mack advised. Teresa eyed her mother. "Let's go ahead." Charlene actually smiled! "That's my girl! Honor your commitments! When you welch on a bet, you don't get any new offers." She turned to me. "IF -- and I mean IF -- she's a virgin anywhere, fix it." This was a mess. How old was Teresa, anyway? Fourteen? Fifteen? I didn't want to go away for child molesting... Mack cleared his throat. "Pete, there ain't anybody in this room that doesn't know what you're thinking. You're covered -- isn't he, Charlene? Teresa needs to learn about consequences -- they don't teach that shit in school any more and parents aren't allowed, either, generally. But you know and I know and Charlene knows she fucked up -- and Teresa knows, too. The worst thing we can do is let her off. You can do this, or I will -- and I'm betting you'll make it easier on her." Teresa looked a little tremulous, but she came forward and grabbed my wrist. "He's right -- let's do this." She turned and started pulling me toward Charlene's bedroom. "Come on, Mack." I looked behind me to see Charlene tugging him along behind. "We'd better see to it that they don't try to bullshit us." I found myself standing there watching a fourteen year old copy of Charlene hauling her tube top off over her head. "What's that on your pants?" Teresa asked. "Um, milk," I muttered. "Breast milk," Mack amplified, chuckling. "Cindy's?" Charlene's voice was amused. "Yeah," I agreed. "She's a piece of work," Mack chuckled. "Yeah, I guess," Charlene agreed. I was busy watching Teresa get out of her clothing. She really wasn't any smaller than her mother -- everything was basically the same. There was a lot less wear and tear, naturally. Teresa's hair didn't look like the streak job she'd had done on it had damaged it. Her tits weren't any bigger or smaller than Charlene's, but they were shaped differently -- more of a cone -- and the nipples weren't as big. I figured motherhood enforced those changes. Her ass had a bit more bounce to it, maybe. Teresa had her pubes trimmed to a little 'V' that pointed at her clit; a quick look at Charlene confirmed that similarity, too. Somehow, even naked, Charlene's face commanded my attention more than her body. Both of them had decent legs -- but Charlene's inner thighs had a flabby, wasted look. "Okay, so..." Teresa stood wringing her hands. "Get him out of his clothes," Charlene directed. "Guys like it for you to serve them. Get him out of his shit and get a look at your new toy." So I stood there like a store dummy while Teresa undressed me -- shoes, shirt, trousers, underwear, socks ... I got what seemed to be my first bit of approval from Charlene when my cock came into view; she glanced over from where she already had Mack on the bed with her face in his crotch and said, "Hey, I underestimated you! Nice cock!" I mumbled something, embarrassed. Teresa sat me on the edge of the bed. "So what am I doing?" I asked. "Well..." Teresa eyed her mother. "I might have sucked a cock. Maybe I fucked one. The ass thing would be new..." "She's pulling our chain," Charlene opined, releasing Mack's cock with a pop. "Take her around the world, Pete -- stick your dick in every hole. Can you cum twice?" "Um, I dunno," I admitted. "There was Cindy..." "Well, try to cream her twice. I'm gonna look like a fucking fountain when I get finished with that fucking party -- she might as well get a taste. You'd better be keeping up your pills, Missy, because Pete isn't supporting your bastards." "I'm good, Mom," Teresa assured her. "Shut up and suck, Baby -- the man's waiting!" Charlene admonished. So there I sat, on the edge of the bed. Teresa knelt up between my legs and went to work sucking -- and she appeared to know what she was doing, from the feel of things. Charlene, however, had a different opinion: "You can do better, Baby. Pete, get a handful of her hair and push her down on that thing. Show her the root!" Teresa lurched up, "Mom!" "If you're gonna suck a dick, you can learn to do a good job!" Charlene insisted. "Watch this..." She proceeded to work her throat down over Mack's cock until her nose was in his balls -- and Mack had a decent sized dick! She came back up and said, "See that? THAT's sucking a dick! You can play with the head and maybe he'll get off, eventually, but guys fuck -- and that includes your face. You can control it, or you can let them control it -- but if you do ... Go ahead, Mack." Mack grabbed her by the head and started jamming his cock down her neck, to the accompaniment of some serious gagging noises. He let up after about a dozen strokes, and Charlene, pink- faced, croaked, "See?" "Yes, Mom." Looking a little green, Teresa took a more serious run at things. "He doesn't need it deep every stroke, Baby," Charlene advised, "but if you bottom him out every few, he'll be happier." Good head can be better than a fuck -- and it can last forever. Teresa never managed to stick her nose in my pubes, but she got me into her neck a few times -- and in between times, she kept my glans tickled pretty well. It was intense and I loved it; I ran my fingers through Teresa's hair and gasped and panted and grunted and had a helluva time while watching Charlene make loud slurping noises on Mack's meat. It was maybe ten minutes before Charlene popped up and asked, "Want some pussy, Mack?" "I thought you'd never ask!" Mack grunted jovially. Charlene glanced over at us. "Okay, Baby. Bring that pussy to bear." Teresa backed off my cock and waved me onto the bed on my back -- basically next to where Mack was setting up. Charlene already had him straddled and was squatting to take him in. I glanced over to where Teresa still knelt beside the bed, looking sheepish. "Um, Mom?" she said anxiously, "I lied." "Oh? What about?" Charlene asked, rubbing Mack's dick between some loose-looking pussy lips. "Fucking. I figured he would go for my ass..." Teresa admitted. Charlene sighed. "Well, Baby, you need to work on your figures -- you've figured wrong a half-dozen times today, by my count. And you've bought the farm, too -- lock stock, and barrel. Climb up here like I was." "B--but..." "Butt fuck, Young Lady! What part of 'Suck it up!' do you not understand?" Charlene rasped. "Get up here!" Now, I expected Charlene to be strong and wiry -- but I did NOT expect her to be able to snatch Teresa into the air by one arm! I had this quick shot of Teresa looking like a surprised frog, then she was straddling me with Charlene kneeling behind her asking, "Are you wet at least?" Teresa, clearly shaken, burbled, "Yes, Mom!" "Okay, Baby. Take his dick and rub it between your lips. It'll feel good for both of you, so take your time and enjoy it..." Charlene purred. Teresa settled down and followed instructions -- and it WAS nice for both of us -- I could tell by the look of relief on Teresa's face. She washed my dick along her slot for a minute or so and Charlene asked, "So, is it wet? Does it feel okay?" "Yes, Mom." Teresa turned around and nodded. "Good." Charlene stood up on the bed, watching her daughter wallow my dick back and forth, timing things. About the time I realized what she was up to, she put both hands on Teresa's shoulders and pushed straight down. "EEEEEEE!!!!" Teresa lost her balance first thing; there was a kind of a lurch while my dick found a way, then Teresa, screeching, was sitting on it, in to the root! She couldn't get her legs under her -- and Charlene was still leaning on her shoulders, anyway. "Settle down!" Charlene snapped, "The damage is done, anyway! Relax and get used to it!" It wouldn't have been my method of taking a cherry, but it was a done deal; Teresa was blubbering, so I grabbed her arms and pulled her forward onto me. Charlene let go; Teresa no longer wanted off, since that move was likely to hurt more than holding still, for the moment. I rubbed her narrow back and let her blubber for a bit; in a moment, she seemed to get a grip. "Shit, that hurt!" she whimpered into my neck. I knew the correct answer, even though I'd never actually done this before. "Well, that's the hard part. It'll get easier -- and a lot more fun," I told her. "When?" "Soon. Wiggle on it, some -- you'll know before I do." Teresa spent a moment rearranging her legs so she was more or less kneeling, then glared at Charlene, "Damn, Mom!" "Oh, shut up and fuck, you pussy!" Charlene was bouncing on Mack's meat, providing an example. "You're not getting off that pole until he creams, so get going!" "I'm not ready yet!" Teresa snapped back -- but she was doing test wiggles. "Burns," she muttered. "Itches, too." "The itch will overcome the burn, I figure," I muttered. "And you'll figure out how to scratch it..." "Like that?" Teresa flicked her eyes at her mother, who was bouncing merrily, grunting and gasping. "More or less." "Do I have to sit up like that?" "There are a zillion ways," I opined, "including just rocking the way you are." She was already finding that out, though. Tiny movements became more pronounced, slowly, until it was clear that she was getting her sea legs. "Better?" I asked. "Yeah." She was concentrating on movement now. "Fuck, that hurt!" "It does, regularly, I hear," I replied. "It's kind of like popping open a soda can or tearing the seal off something." "Do I have to refrigerate it now that it's open?" Teresa giggled. "Things must be improving," I chuckled. "I still get stings, but they're not as important," Teresa puffed. Her face was red as she got up on her hands -- a pretty good sign the worst was over. "So what now?" "One of us drives," I told her. "Okay..." She put it in gear -- not as enthusiastically as her mother was bouncing on Mack's meat, but well in zone. "Yeah," she puffed, "this is good..." I added a little action from below as she got into things and we started climbing the ladder. "Fu-fuck!" she gasped as we settled into a rhythm, cooperating with one another. "Told you ... it would ... get better..." I puffed. "Shit..." Meanwhile, we had Charlene showing us how it was done, bouncing on Mack's dick and grunting "Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!" Mack was showing his teeth; I didn't know whether he was enjoying himself or snarling at the hammering his pubic bone was taking. Teresa was holding herself up braced with her hands on my shoulders, throwing her twat back at my crotch; she was pink in the face and going, "Uh. Uh. Uh," and her eyes had that glassy, inward stare that said she didn't really see me. The flush crawled down her chest to her nipples and "Uh. Uh. Uh," became "UH! UH! UH!" and I was just as happy, because that blow job had primed me pretty well; when her eyes rolled up and she wailed "OMIGAAWD!!!" I took the opportunity to let go and blow her twat full of little white baby- makers, grunting and groaning and generally looking retarded, probably -- everybody looks a little flaked when they get a nut, I figure. We were so much into our own thing that we missed Charlene and Mack's big finish; I got my shit together in time to see Charlene slowly pumping up and down on Mack with a layer of white goo lubricating his shaft for her. She seemed pleased with the results of her efforts. Teresa flopped on me for a moment or two, then rolled off, complaining, "Shit. Now I'm sore." Charlene looked over at her daughter and chuckled. "That's from using muscles you never used before. It'll go away once you get in the swing of things. Crawl up there and clean the goo off him." "With what?" "Your mouth." "EWWW! There's blood in it!" "It's your blood. Do it. Don't make me come over there..." Charlene warned. "Okay, okay!" Teresa leaned in and collected my cock. I have to tell you -- when you get a hot mouth around you when you're still sensitive, just off a nut, it's INTENSE! It's like getting a second nut! Man! I felt like I could have torn steel plates like tissue paper or something, just to have something to do with my hands! Things damped down a bit while she sucked slime out of my pubic hairs and I got a grip. Then I got hard again -- don't ask me how. Maybe it had something to do with the week's worth of semen I had built up... Charlene was pleased. "Still hard? Perfect! Get back up on the bed on your hands and knees, Baby." "What?" "What part of 'every hole' did you miss? They're gonna use all of mine, you know..." "But, Mom..." "NOW, Young Lady!" Teresa crawled back up on the bed. "Why don't you kiss him? He's been nice to you..." Charlene suggested, digging in the drawers of her nightstand. "Now, do you want Mack, or do you want Pete?" "Ummm," Teresa leaned down gingerly to kiss me. I couldn't blame her -- to her, I was an old guy. But she was game, and once things got going, it was enjoyable for both of us. She seemed to warm up, too -- and I didn't understand until we broke and I looked around her for Charlene. Charlene had a vibrator and a bottle of lube; I watched her apply the vibe to her daughter's snatch, and Teresa was ready to kiss again, so I let her suck my neck while Charlene brandished a lubed finger. I knew where that finger was going... "Oof!" Teresa grunted. "Anal sex is all about attitude, Baby," Charlene pontificated. "If you want it, it's wonderful -- but it you don't, it's pillage and rapine and hurts like fuck. So we want you to want it -- can you want it for me? Come on, say hi to the finger..." Teresa was grunting and grimacing, but I could tell that her clit was glued to the shaft of that vibrator -- she wasn't going anywhere. In a moment, she went, "Oogh!" "That's it, baby -- feel the finger? Not bad, is it? Not bad at all..." Charlene crooned. Teresa still looked a little bothered, but she started searching for me with her lips, so I turned my head and facilitated a lock. Things got hotter and more urgent; I could hear Charlene crooning in the background, but was busy kissing. In a minute or two, Teresa tried to suck my tongue out of my head and was wiggling all over, and I heard Charlene go, "See? That's two fingers. Let Pete up and we'll graduate to a cock ... Come on, Baby..." Teresa went, "Uh, kay..." and lifted up enough to let me out; Charlene nodded me over and said, "Lube up real good." I did as I was told, watching Charlene run two fingers in and out of Teresa's ass while jazzing her clit with the vibe. "Pour some lube inside," Charlene directed and made room for me by spreading her fingers open; I squirted a flood of the stuff inside and Charlene's fingers made squishy noises. "That ought to do it," Charlene announced, satisfied. "Now get yours -- she's had hers." I figured it was a week too late to argue, so I lined up my meat. Charlene spread her fingers -- she'd relaxed Teresa's bung hole pretty well -- and I nosed inside as she withdrew them. Teresa's bung was hot and wet and slick and vibrating a bit from Charlene holding the vibe against her clit. Teresa said "Oogh!" and looked up at me owlishly as I took hold of her hips and began to stroke, adding a little extra lube to my shaft to help with the penetration. Then it was party time -- if anything, Teresa was TOO well lubricated, so I was moving more freely than I wanted. That took almost a minute to fix, but the lube died down and I started getting more ass and Teresa was tolerating it well, so I just started fucking. Was it the best I ever had? Probably not. Was it damned good? You betcha! I plowed that shit and plowed that shit and plowed that shit -- probably because I'd already had two recent nuts. Teresa was up and down the scale, depending on a number of factors. Charlene let up on the vibe after a while, and I could tell it was okay for a while, then tailed off -- but Charlene handed Teresa the vibe at that point, and Teresa took to handling it herself and masturbating, and she got off twice before I drained my balls into her. Charlene was standing by with a wash cloth when I pulled out; I'd made shit pudding in Teresa's ass. Teresa flopped forward, groaning. "I won't be able to sit down for a week!" she whined. "Well, you earned those school clothes, Baby -- I bet you cherish them forever!" Charlene chuckled. "Gawd..." Teresa stuck her head in a pillow. "Get up here and thank Pete for taking such good care of you!" Charlene admonished. "Okay." Teresa rolled on her side and reached for the washcloth, which she pressed to her crotch. "AAAHH!" Holding it in place, she struggled up and draped herself against me for a kiss. "Thank you, Pete." There didn't seem to be anything else to say but, "You're welcome, Honey. Enjoy your school clothes!" Three minutes later, we were out the door and headed out of the lobby. Mack had told Charlene that he would get back to her with the play date for her gang bang. Charlene had nodded and shifted her attention to me. "You come see me, Pete, when you need a little. I'll take care of you." It was a good deal different attitude than we'd started with. Out on the front porch, I leaned against a pillar. "If anyone had told me..." "You did real well, Son," Mack approved. "Real well. Did we push you too hard, morally?" "Well, I crossed a couple of lines," I mused. "But it all seemed cool. I'll survive." "Cindy owes you pussy until she pays -- and if you bring two donkeys and a goat, she'd better fuck THEM, too!" Mack said. "That's any hour of the day or night. Same deal with Charlene -- at least until she does the bang. I usually go along to see that shit doesn't happen -- and we'll be taking Teresa, so I'll need backup in case some dickhead gets the wrong idea." "Sure," I nodded. "Let me know. What about the other building?" "We'll hit the lockbox," Mack said, "and leave collections to tomorrow." "Works for me!" I needed a drink when we hit the bar. ------- Chapter 3 The next day I was sore; I'd had more pussy in twenty-four hours than I was used to getting in a month. Oh, I might have jacked off that many times at a sitting, but not in a while, probably. I had a pretty good feel for how Teresa's asshole probably felt, never mind her pussy. Besides, I had to supervise the big move across town of my shit from my old apartment to my new one. Mack allowed as how he could collect rent without me. "Go get moved in. Call me if you need anything. I'll see you tomorrow." That worked for me. I spent ninety minutes disassembling my inner sanctum at the old place and four hours reassembling it in the new one -- that would be my data center, not my bedroom; I let the movers do that. I went out and bought a couple of NICE computer desks, some new monitors, a couple of KVM switches ... Yeah, yeah, you're not interested. Fine. It was six-thirty and I was under a desk cleaning up the cable race when the doorbell rang. I climbed out from under and went to the door and peeked through -- and a SWEET female Hispanic face took up most of the visual field. What the fuck? I opened the door and said carefully, "Yes?" "I'm Elena. Mack sent me." "Oh?" I was talking to her rack, which was substantial and featured a soft valley that looked six inches long. The face had fallen by the wayside -- and I hadn't gotten to the legs yet. "Uh huh. I brought pizza." Sure enough, there were a couple of pizza boxes below the rack -- and above the tube skirt that didn't extend very far down the thighs of a pair of legs that went ALL the way from a tall pair of strap heels to her ass! "Gee, that's nice," I croaked. She dimpled and her nose wrinkled and her lips opened to show bright white teeth and the tip of a lively tongue and she giggled, "Hey, jou're cute, jou know?" Yeah, 'jou' instead of 'you.' Okay. She was Hispanic -- Puerto Rican, maybe. And FLAMING hot! So she didn't know what a 'y' was -- did I care? "You must have me confused with someone else," I muttered. "Cute isn't in my description anywhere that I'm aware of." "Chure it is!" Elena insisted brightly, "Can I come in?" Limited 's'es, too, apparently. Hey, as long as I could puzzle it out... "Oh, yeah..." I backed up. What I was going to do with her once she was inside wasn't clear -- but if Mack sent her, my horny imagination just MIGHT see reality... She came in, seeming to teeter on her heels, and turned to close the door and throw the bolt. "Jou should lock this -- it isn't safe..." she insisted, while I watched her bend a bit to work the lock, emphasizing a SWEET ass ... She looked back over her shoulder, standing there, a little pigeon- toed, to get my opinion on the matter -- but the blood had all rushed to my little head from the big one and all I could do was nod stupidly. "Hokay!" she said brightly, turning and stalking to the kitchen's island bar to put down the pizza boxes, "We chould heat the pizzas." I really wasn't sure whether that was 'heat' or 'eat' -- and it didn't fucking matter. "We have pepperoni and everything -- which one do you want?" "Oh, I want everything..." I did, too! "Good! I heat it." She busied herself looking for plates I didn't have but had fortunately been provided with the apartment -- and a pizza cutter from the same source -- and carved out a trio of slices to put on the plate while I stood there measuring the soft motions of those amazing titties as she ran the cutter back and forth. At some point, she must have noticed my eyeballs rolling around in her cleavage because she looked up and smiled. "Jou like?" "Oh, yeah!" "Good." She turned and shoved the plate in the over-the-stove microwave and I imagined squeezing that ass while she puzzled out the controls, then she turned back. "Hokay, I go back to the car for the beer." I wasn't sure about this -- should I let her leave before I ate her? "You'll be back, right?" Again the big smile. "Oh, jes! Chure! The car is just downstairs. I'll be right back! Promise!" "Well, okay, then." I followed her back to the door at about three millimeters distance and stood there with my hands flexing over her ass while she unlocked the bolt. She backed into me as she opened the door, "Oh!" I just HATED that ... I got to feel both hips as I set her back on her feet, and got that dazzling smile right in my face ... Then she was tottering off down the hall; I watched her out of sight. Okay, this kind of thing did NOT happen to me! Maybe she was here to ... Shit, I had no idea, but she could have emptied the place and left me in my underwear, and I'd probably have helped load the truck! Better call Mack... "Mack!" "Pete?" "Yeah. Did you send a bombshell named... ?" "Elena got there, huh? Good. She's cute, but a little slow. Maybe just odd." "Cute? That's all? Just cute?" "Hey, if you like spicks..." "So, what's her story?" I asked. "She's late, Pete. She's there to work it off. Let her feed you and soak you in the hot tub and baby you and then fuck her brains out," Mack directed. "One of the other girls is watching her kid. Use her like toilet paper." "FUCK!" I gasped. "Get used to it," Mack chuckled. "We're two for four with the rent in the other house. I'd die trying to keep them busy." "Do you ever actually MAKE a hundred percent rental rate?" I asked. "They all usually pay, eventually," Mack replied. "One way or another. Elena's on month one -- I think it's just because she wants a fuck. Male spicks are worthless, as a rule -- she probably heard about you from Cindy or Charlene and decided to change up. Her little ankle-biter is half- black, I think, so she's already been stung." He chuckled. "Bear that in mind before you fall into her big brown eyes -- she spent a lot of time with her pussy full of big, black dick!" Now, if you haven't guessed by now, Mack is a little bit prejudiced ... Me, I try to live and let live. "Thanks, Mack." "No problem, Bud. Enjoy your housewarming gift." "I'm sure I will." By then, Elena was tottering back in through the door. "Mack says hi," I told her. "Oh, okay!" She was carrying a six-pack of the brand I drank when out with Mack -- which wasn't necessarily my favorite -- just what they stocked at that bar. Oh, well... "Elena, do you wear high heels often?" "Jes. Why do you ask?" "Because you look ... unbalanced." "Oh." She ventured a smile. "I'm just a little bit clumsy. My boyfriend, he used to say I was only safe on my back." The smile became really tentative; she realized that she'd wandered into an unsafe area. I waved it off. "Maybe we'll check that. In the meantime, why don't you kick off those shoes?" "Well..." Elena stretched out a leg while thinking about it. "They make my legs look really good -- don't jou think?" "Sure, Baby," I agreed, "but I'd rather see you in flats than a cast, you know?" "Jes. Maybe you're right." She leaned against the bar and plucked the shoes off her feet. "How's this, Baby?" "Very nice. Why don't you get the pizza and we'll go out on the deck and relax." "Chure, Baby! I'll be right out!" Smiling brightly, Elena started dealing with the microwave. I went outside, glad that I'd gotten my eyeballs and testicles under control. I parked my ass in a chair, popped the top off the bottle of beer I'd rescued while Elena was pulling off her shoes, and took a pull, looking down at the pool. This was the life... Elena came out with a plate of pizza and two paper plates to put individual slices on. She put them on the little plastic table between the chairs, and, eyeing me for permission, settled in the other chair. "So, Sweet Lips, what brings you here tonight?" I asked. "Oh, jou're nice!" Elena gushed. "Mack, he is always so gruff. Do this, do that -- never does he say nice things." "You didn't answer my question." She eyed me. "Mack, he told you, did he not? I am late, so Mack sent me here for jou." I fished a hunk of pizza off the plate, glancing around at the other balconies. "So you're here for me -- what for?" Elena eyed me for a bit, then said softly. "Maybe for jou to see if I'm safe on my back?" I chuckled. "Maybe I'll see if you're safe on your front." "Hokay." She eyed me, very tentative. There ensued a period devoted to the absorption of pizza and beer. The sun was going down; I checked the other balconies on my level visually for occupants. There was no one from my building out, but there was a guy on the third floor across the way. The gap was a good hundred meters -- which was good, I figured; I didn't want him too frustrated. "So, how long have you lived in the building?" "Mack's building?" Elena clarified. "Eight months. This is only the second time I am late. Jusually, I'm on time." "But you've missed once before." "Jes. Four months ago, I was five days late. Mack, he came for me twice..." "And?" "He is a hard man. He makes demands, jou know? But he is fair, I think." "Is making demands bad?" I asked. "No. That's hokay." I took a pull of my beer. "So, why were you late this month?" Elena sucked in a breath, and I knew she had no prepared answer. "You might as well tell the truth," I murmured. "I ... am hearing things." "Like what?" "I am hearing that jou are good in the bed." "Oh?" I asked. "From who?" "Both of them." "So it was worth it for you to be late?" "Jes." She couldn't keep her head up. "What if Mack had handled it?" "He will," she said quietly. "He told me that he won't let us chase jou." "So he's going to make you pay." "Jes." "Take your top off." Elena didn't argue; it just went over her head, revealing a lacy black bra. I looked expectant, and it went, too. Elena got that smile women get when they know they have your attention and wiggled her shoulders. "You like?" "I like." They weren't high-riders; they sagged a little and moved easily. I wasn't surprised, from the cleavage. There wasn't a damned thing wrong with them, though. "The skirt, too," I directed. "Are you wearing panties?" "No," Elena replied, unzipping the skirt. "Just the nylons and the garter belt. Mack likes that." There was a lot to be said for it; I wasn't a fan of pantyhose, not that it had mattered, particularly, up to now. She stood there, looking coy; she had pubes -- a neatly trimmed dark thatch. Given that porn vids tended to show everyone baby smooth, it was a nice, genuine girl next door look. I beckoned with a finger and she came over and bent down and I palmed a breast while watching her eyes, which were liquid and untroubled as I pulled her in for a kiss. That was nice, too. I let go of her and skinned out of my sweatpants. "Time for a suck." "Hokay." She knelt up obediently, and started giving my cock popsicle licks. A week before, if you'd told me that I was going to be living high and serviced regularly by willing women, I'd have given you phone money for a shrink, but here I was -- and here she was. Well, I was adapting. Twenty minutes before, I'd been ogling Elena like a horny schoolboy with no thought of actually getting into her panties; now, it was 'get down on it.' And she was; I watched -- and felt -- her lips roll over the head of my cock and settled back for a sip of my beer. The guy on the balcony across the way was standing up and leaning over the rail to examine us intently; I saluted him with my beer bottle, which got me an incredulous headshake. I got extremely aroused -- something about the way she twisted her head, maybe. She was certainly good at what she was doing. But I didn't want to cum in her mouth, so I stopped her before I let go, saying, "I think we ought to try out the hot tub." She actually looked a little hurt. "It wasn't good?" "Oh, it was VERY good," I told her. "I just have other plans. Whatever tales you heard about yesterday, I'm not Superman, and I'm still recovering. I don't want to run out of steam before the main event." "Oh." I watched her process this. "Hokay!" Everything was cool again. I pulled her up for a kiss, after which she murmured, "Some guys wouldn't do that after what I was doing." "Well, you didn't finish, did you?" I replied. "No," she nodded, reflective. "Jou are right." I palmed a breast. "Go figure out the buttons on the hot tub and get it started, then stick a couple more pieces of pizza in the microwave and come get me." She got up to execute my wishes and I added, "and bring another beer!" Yeah, life was CERTAINLY good... ------- She had smoky eyes, and a sweet way of rotating her ass to meet my strokes, and panted soft endearments in Spanish while clutching my arms. She was FAIRLY safe on her back; one or both of us might have thrown his or her back out due to those corkscrew motions. The only blemish on her was her Caesarian section scar -- and I didn't care one damned bit about THAT! Hell, it was probably a badge of honor! I did the best I could for her, but it probably wasn't spectacular if she was used to anything really huge in the way of a cock. On the other hand, she CERTAINLY didn't complain, and unless she was an accomplished actress, she managed two orgasms in the six or seven minutes that I managed to last before unceremoniously yelling "SHIT!" and unloading whatever product I'd been able to manufacture since the day before. At that point, I had the sense to roll us over so I was on the bottom -- I was tired, and didn't want to drift off plastered over her and drooling on her shoulder. Elena misunderstood. "Again?" she asked, sitting up and wiggling a bit -- probably verifying that I was too soft to perform. "No," I replied. "I'm a little wasted, so I figured that if you had to get up and pee or something, you wouldn't want to have to push me off first." "Oh. Hokay! That's sweet -- so considerate..." She lowered her torso back onto mine and I watched those breasts of hers swing out and down; no, I don't have a problem with a little bit of sag, as long as we weren't talking Udderville. Clearly, they'd gotten the way they were from shrinking back after being swollen with milk. My dick popped out of her and dribbled slop all over my balls, but I could handle that later ... I went to sleep rubbing her smooth back. I awoke in the morning with a start; I'd gotten up to piss at some point -- maybe twice -- but only now was I actually conscious. She could have emptied the place and I'd have slept through it. Obviously, I was going to have to be a little more cautious, or my wallet would probably provide one of these women with her next month's rent. It's amazing how once your balls are dry, your head clears -- I know that if you're male you know what I'm talking about. Lust and romance tend to give way to wariness and nervous attempts to conserve one's freedom on the morning after. It's the natural defensive reaction to a woman having deployed her ultimate weapon -- one programmed into our genes, no doubt. But the shower was running, and in a moment it shut off -- and a couple of minutes later, Elena came out of the bathroom brushing her hair and trying to detangle it -- probably because I owned neither conditioner nor a hair dryer. "So, jou are awake. Do jou want some breakfast?" "I don't think there's anything you could make," I replied. "I just moved in and haven't hit the store. Besides, I tend to go out to eat." "Hokay. I need to go to work soon. Can I do anything else for jou?" "Ummm, not this morning." "Hokay." She went around collecting her things and putting them on; I got treated to the whole nylons and garter belt application process for a fine pair of legs. "Pete," she asked carefully, "can I come back?" Morning-after caution made me take this seriously. "In a few days." "Hokay. Mack, he will want to have me stay away, anyway." "He said that?" "Oh, jes." She locked eyes with me. "Mack, he says jou are vulnerable. Are jou vulnerable?" I blinked. "Could be. I'll defer to Mack's opinion in the matter." Elena cocked her head. "That is jes?" "That is maybe." "Hokay." She slipped into her bra. "If jou decide to be vulnerable, do it with me, hokay? I like jou." "I'll, uh, give it serious thought. Want any help with that?" I asked. "Chure!" She smiled coyly. "Maybe jou want to make chure they're all inside?" I laughed and fondled them from behind, then cinched her up; she got dressed fairly quickly after that and teetered over to give me a kiss before departing. "Thanks, Pete. I had a good time." "I did too," I admitted. "Sorry, I was a little tired." "No problem..." She smiled and waved and in a moment, I heard the door close. I settled back against the headboard, wondering when the piano was going to fall on my head -- life was WAY too good! ------- "So, did Elena try to set her claws in you?" Mack asked. It was afternoon, and we were in the bar, 'working.' It was much more like work, now that we'd talked the bar owner into installing wi-fi. I was fiddling with our new website. "Why, chure!" I replied, "Not that it wasn't hokay with me..." Mack cracked up. "You've got the accent down pat!" I grinned. "Hell, she's so cute..." "And you're so vulnerable to it..." Mack responded. "So I hear. What kind of abuse are you going to apply to discourage her?" I asked. "Well, a couple of things," Mack replied. "She's gonna get dick from me on two different occasions before I'm going to allow her back in the rotation -- and I'm not going to make it easy." He eyed me. "It's for your own good. Once you've been through the rotation a couple of times, you'll be seasoned and can make stupid mistakes, if you're dumb enough. But until then, I'm gonna run interference." "Okay, I guess." "Trust me," Mack said, clapping me on the back. "When you've been around the horn a few times, you'll thank me. It'll all be much more in perspective. By the way -- I hope she didn't drain your balls totally, because we have calls to make." "Hooo, boy!" was all I could get out. ------- The other house was a mere two doors down -- and virtually identical. Mack led me to apartment 1A and banged on the door. Charlene lived in 1A in the other building; I wondered which apartment Elena had. The door popped open; a black woman stood there holding it. "Mack," she grunted, making it sound like a cuss word. "Hullo to you, too, Irene," Mack said sarcastically. "Pete, this is Irene. Irene, this is Pete." Irene gave me the up and down. "He one of your friends?" she rasped. "No, he's my new partner -- that means he's me, by proxy. You treat him like he's me -- because if I hear you're not doing it, you won't like the results!" Mack snapped. "Awright, awright! Get out of the hallway before you chew my ass, for shit's sake!" Irene backed up and let us in. I took the opportunity to take her in; she was one of those narrower black women with a big mouth. I don't mean big lips -- or, at least, not the puffy kind you generally expect. Hers were good-sized, but more of a slash over a lot of teeth that kind of stuck out ... Look, I don't want to get into stereotypes, but it was sort of chimp- like. I KNOW you've seen it, so don't give me a lot of shit, okay? Her hair was done sort of page-boy, held back by a headband. She was kind of narrow, stuck through a tube top and short shorts and wearing running shoes. The legs were so-so and a little bowed. I figured she was in her mid- to late- twenties. In the background, a small boy -- maybe six -- was running around with his arms out, pretending to be an airplane -- loudly; his complexion was a good deal lighter than his mama's. "Raphael!" Irene snapped, "Keep it down while I talk to your Uncle Mack, here!" That pretty much confirmed the mix. Raphael didn't shut up, but he toned it down and droned out of the room. "So, uh, where are we?" I asked. "Irene's into month three -- aren't you, Honey?" Mack said quietly. I turned to Irene. "Any special reason?" Irene stuck her hands on her hips and leaned forward to get in my face, "Does it LOOK like I'm fucking working, asshole?" There was aloud SMACK! -- and Irene's face was suddenly moving rapidly to my left, looking surprised -- and taking her body with it. "Dammit, Irene, what part of 'you treat him like he's me' don't you fucking understand?" Irene was covering her mouth and staggering back around in a circle to confront us again and Mack was shaking his hand -- apparently, impact with all those teeth had hurt it. Clearly, it had hurt Irene; her eyes were watery and she was staggering a bit. "Fuck, Mack!'" she muttered thickly. "Jeezus!" "Keep a civil tongue in your head, then!" Mack snapped. "Okay." Irene was rubbing her jaw. The airplane had gone into stealth mode -- I saw eyes peering around the corner. "Why don't you send little Raphael out back to play?" Mack suggested, his voice tight. "Little Germaine, too." "She's takin' her nap," Irene said dully. "Okay, fine -- but if you need to grease the doorknobs, you'd better take care of it," Mack admonished. You didn't need a program to know that someone was getting fucked. "Awright, gimme a minute..." Irene pulled out a phone and hit a speed dial. "Gillian? I'm gonna send Raphael outside to play, but I'm gonna be busy, you know? Can you keep an eye on him? Yeah. Mack. Thanks, Honey, I owe you. Thanks." She closed the phone and went to where Raphael stood at the corner, peeping at us. "Raphael, go outside and play, Honey. Take your trucks. Don't stir up too much dirt, now!" Raphael did as he was told, but he tracked us with big eyes all the way out. Irene came back, licking her lower lip -- looking for blood, no doubt. "Please don't do that -- not in front of the kids," she begged quietly. "Yeah. Sorry." Mack's apology was perfunctory; all of us knew that he might hesitate for a second next time, but he would probably do it anyway, if she deserved it. "So, what's the word?" "The job didn't come through, Mack. I'm looking, but what with the kids and babysitting, a regular day thing isn't happening. I'm trying to get on at a cleaning company, but they haven't called back." "What about last month?" Mack demanded. "Well, food stamps are in. I can give you what I was holding to feed the kids the end of the month, but it isn't enough..." Irene looked anxious. "How much is it?" "I dunno. Sixty?" "Fuck. Hold your weekends open, Ragman likes the feel of your asshole," Mack grunted. "Look, I don't have shit right now; there's no demand for black chicks. At the end of this month, you'll have gone down three times. If you don't catch up, there won't be a fourth." "I know. Look, Mack, I'm tryin'..." This was a whole different attitude than the one she'd had when the door popped open. "Double up," Mack grunted. "If you need me to talk to Elena or Gillian about more coverage, let me know. Elena, in particular, owes me." "Yes, Mack." "Get in the bedroom." He waved her before us. "Let me check on Germaine." Irene waved us at the bedroom. "So what's up?" I asked as we entered the bedroom. It was littered, like mine -- I didn't feel like I could say much about it not being a showplace; I threw clothes on the chairs, too. The covers were up on the bed and sort of straightened -- but it wasn't made, per se. Again, I did the same things, so... "This is three," Mack replied. "She managed to drag in the rent at the end of the first month, but I didn't get squat last month. Second-month incentives usually drive them to get their asses in gear, but black chicks do have their issues around here..." Mack sighed. "Party people generally want white chicks. I could send her out with Charlene, but the guys don't expect it and Charlene won't like being cut. What I need is some white guys looking for strange..." I was going to say "Don't look at me," but I shut my mouth on it with a clop. I knew a few guys -- and THEY knew a few guys -- and big parties tended to look like frat parties in 'Revenge of the Nerds.' Some of them were still in the 'living with Mom until I get organized' set -- with a target launch date of 'never.' Maybe, just maybe... Mack was reading my mind -- or my face, at least. "You hook ol' Irascible Irene up a couple of times, she might get sweet on you." "Whazzat?" Irene came through the door hauling her tube top over her head. The result was ... interesting. She looked like she started out with Elena's somewhat pendulous hooters, but then something came along and seriously deflated them. They didn't droop, nipples down -- in fact, they stuck out a couple of inches and the nips pointed out and to the sides. They didn't really sag, either -- the bottoms were there at the chest wall, with only a slight droop -- but they were half-filled cones, the tops of which stretched as loose skin back to a mount point by her breastbone. It was as if she'd had conical high-riders, but someone had sucked half of the filling out. The nips were pinky-tip sized on not-too-large areolas -- and they actually pointed up a bit. Irene caught me looking. "Shit just goes away when I stop nursing." "Is that it?" Mack rumbled. "I think you've stopped eating, too." Irene flicked him a glance and he added, "Blow that sixty bucks on food for YOU or you won't be ABLE to work -- OR take care of your kids!" That put Irene on a different footing with me. This was a mother doing all she could... "Can't," Irene muttered. "Diapers, formula..." "Pete's working on something -- he might have some kind of plan," Mack rumbled. "Really?" Irene lit up. "That would be GREAT!" "Well, no promises, but maybe..." I muttered. I knew better than to get wild with Mack present. "Well, I'm sorry, anyway, Baby. I know I came off bad -- it's just..." Suddenly, she was all cooperation, pleasant, coy... "Come here, let me take care of you..." She was on her knees and I was half out of my pants before I even reacted! "Why don't you kick off those shoes and you can sit on the bed and..." And I was staggering around with my shit down around my ankles while she led me to the bed by my dick! Mack laughed. "Don't make him fall and bust his head, Irene!" "No, we SURELY don't want that!" Irene replied. "Sit right there, Baby, and I'll take care of you so good..." She skinned her bubble butt out of those shorts and knelt up and my dick disappeared between those teeth -- but I didn't FEEL any teeth, just lips and tongue and pop! -- the back of her throat ... She took me right down like it was nothing, her wide nose in my pubes -- and washed my balls with her tongue! I'd paid for many a professional blowjob, but THIS! Unbelievable! "On your knees, Irene -- you ain't getting off THAT easy..." Mack, dressed in just his shirt, dropped a pillow between her legs and spat on her ass -- and that's all the lube he allowed her while he stuck his cock up her ass. It hurt -- bad -- I could tell, but she just moaned and groaned around my cock and took it. Mack, being Mack, didn't fart around being gentle, either; he went to town in there. All this interfered with Irene's ability to blow me properly. I was certain that she could deliver premium fellatio, but Mack ramming her ass didn't allow her to control things properly. As a result, several minutes later, when he dragged her ass back to him and basically sat her on his cock while he blew his wad in her GI tract, I wasn't finished. Mack pushed her off his lap, but held onto an arm and spun her by it to face his cock. "This month, we up the ante," he announced -- and he stuck his shitty dick in her face. She thrashed and gagged and tried to throw up, but it was in there; I watched him manhandle her until she'd cleaned him off. "Damn you, Mack!" Irene croaked. "Too late, I already know where I'm going," Mack retorted. "I TOLD you month three was no fun. You get your ass out there and you find something to do to bring in some money, YESTERDAY, or that shit will happen again! Now crawl your scrawny black ass up on that bed and spread your legs and finish Pete off -- and it better be a damned good ride or else! You get me?" "Yes, Mack!" Irene scrabbled her way onto the bed and flopped on her back. "How do you want me, Baby?" I thought about it. "Just grab your knees." I crawled onto the bed and set up to do her. She shaved, and had big, droopy pussy lips -- that were hanging open, at this point. "You do her ass, too," Mack directed. Irene's eyes bugged, but before she could squawk, Mack amended, "No, don't -- it's nasty in there. Get yours -- ride the fuck out of it. She isn't there to have fun." So I did. I was hot and bothered from the blowjob anyway, so it wasn't hard to get into a lather. It took me about three strokes to bottom out, and I know I pulled one of those damned floppy pussy lips inside her the first couple, but then things settled out and I went to town on that shit, looking for mine. I set a pace that was good for me -- up fast for a few seconds, then slow, then up fast again, then slow. About the third fast cycle, Irene grabbed my biceps and lurched up, wailing, "Shit! Shitshitshit! Goddamn! Fuck! Ah, shit! Fuck me, Baby! Goddamn! I LOVE white dicks -- they're so fucking HARD!" She crossed her ankles over the small of my back and started slamming up to meet me, matching my strokes. "Shit! Fuck, Baby! Shit! Fuck that pussy! Goddamn!" She went totally wild on my ass twice; we ended up with me on my knees holding her scrawny ass in the air and slamming it down on my dick while she wrapped her arms and legs around me and panted and howled and raved about how nice and hard and thick my dick was and how good it felt. I tried to stick it in her twat balls and all when I lit off and it felt like I unloaded a half-pint of jizz in her -- and it definitely wasn't any teaspoon, given the drippings. "Damn, Baby, Shit! You're a wild man! Fuck!" she gasped when I hoisted her off and dropped her on the bed. "I LOVE that motherfucker! Come here and let me suck the cum off it..." She was up and opening those jaws again -- but I wasn't worried this time. "Jeezus, what got into you, there, Pete?" Mack asked. "That was some little exhibition!" "I dunno -- just got carried away, I guess," I mumbled, embarrassed. It was good pussy and she was light and wiry and easy to handle and VERY enthusiastic. I got things under control and flopped back. "I'm hungry," I announced, winking at Mack. Mack got it right away. "Yeah, me, too. Got anything in the house? No, you fucking don't, do you? Go get cleaned up, Irene, so you can drag your ass off to the burger place and pick us up some goddamned food!" We made her go off and pick up a shitload of burgers and stuff -- and then made her eat a couple and feed the kids a couple and stick a couple in the fridge. Irene made sure I knew that I stood high on her list after that. Out front, Mack said, "That was good of you, but it's kinda like giving her a fish instead of teaching her how to fish, you know? It won't last." "She can fish," I told Mack. "All we have to do is find her a pond." "Maybe," Mack grunted. "Let's go get a beer." ------- Chapter 4 Things were quiet until Friday. The 'Mack's friends' part of 'The second month, you fuck Mack's friends until you can pay' got clarified then. Mack held poker parties on Friday nights -- coincidentally in another condo in my complex that wasn't where he lived -- and 'Mack's friends' were a rotating group of guys that appeared around that table. Sometimes, the attraction was just poker -- but others, there was more serious items of entertainment. This month there were three: Cindy, Charlene, and Irene. Cindy was in Month Two anyway -- and Charlene and Irene, being in Month Three, had Month Two requirements layered underneath. Being Mack's partner granted an automatic invite. Mack's words to me were, "Take one home after if you want -- but who knows whether you'll want to bother." I pretty much figured he was talking about sloppy sixteenths or something. I got there early, because Mack wanted it that way. I watched from the balcony as he pulled up in the Caddy and the women got out and he led then upstairs. Each was carrying a gym bag or a laundry bag, which I found interesting. Each of them made a point of saying "Hi, Pete!" as they came in and Cindy vamped me; "You're too damned popular," Mack groused. I merely grunted. Charlene, who was apparently acting as straw boss, led them off to one of the bedrooms to drop their bags, then they headed back downstairs. I ambled back to the balcony with Mack to see them unloading food and booze from the car; the first thing Mack had done on arrival was pour a scotch and water. "Do you play?" he asked. "Poker?" I clarified. "I understand the basics, I think." "Good," Mack grunted. "We need someone who can lose." "Gee, thanks!" Mack just grinned. The next half-hour or so was all about setting up the table and the snacks and the drinks -- and the smokes. We seemed to have every chip you could think of and pretzels and dips and a bunch of other crap -- no vegetable tray or anything that might be sort of healthy, though. The closest thing to that were the pickles and olives and onions and hot peppers in the nachos Irene set up -- complete with spicy ground beef. I knew what I was eating! I was pleased to see Irene sampling heavily from the pan -- and Mack, who was supervising, not complaining about it. About seven-thirty, Mack grunted, "Awright, go get ready. You can fart around with the rest of this shit once you're dressed." I discovered at that point the the gym bags held nylons and garter belts and high heels -- and held their arrival and departure outfits, too, in the interim. Mack provided the rest of the wardrobe; the closets held a bunch of those starchy maid outfit skirts with the frilly under layers and the chests of drawers held red fishnet body stockings. Charlene apparently knew where everything was; I hung out indolently in the bedroom door, mimicking Mack, while the women changed clothes. When they were done, Mack lined them up for a look. There were no bras, of course -- and no panties. Nipples stuck through fishnet -- and Cindy's dripped. "Shit," Mack grumbled. "You've got pads, right?" "Yes," Cindy nodded. "Stick'em under there -- but if anybody gets thirsty, give 'em a drink." "Yes, Mack. Are you going to wring me out again?" "Nah. You enjoyed it too much." He swept them with his eyes. Irene was shifting from foot to foot; Charlene managed to appear bored. "Awright, back to the salt mines. Does anybody have any questions about what they'll be doing tonight?" Charlene and Irene shook their heads, but Cindy raised a hand -- just to see what it would get her, I think. "I suppose I'll be serving..." "Ya think?" Mack rasped. Irene let go a nervous giggle. "You do what I tell you. If I tell you to suck a dick, I don't wanna hear nothing but wet sloppy noises. Later on, things will probably open up; if I tell you it's open season, you do whatever ANYONE tells you. Understand?" "Yes, Mack." "Relax, you'll love it. We'll get somebody to cornhole you with a bottle brush or something." Mack grinned nastily. ------- The others started wandering in between seven-thirty and eight. Two of them were our sales guys -- which surprised me a bit -- but, hey, they were sales guys. Bill, in particular, was a sleaze -- but he got the job done. Bob -- well, I won't go into Bob. Let's just say that there were occasional indications that he had limits -- but this wasn't one. Joe was a mechanic or something (I later learned that he owned a junkyard) -- and looked it. Mack called him Joe Shit the Ragman -- or just Ragman. I don't think I ever learned his name. He was a classic for having a woman look at him and say 'We don't want any.' He was big and beefy and there was no way you were going the get the grime off of those hands. Add a beer belly and a two-day beard and shaggy hair and there you have it. I'm sure he probably bathed before coming over, and his coverall was clean, if frayed -- and the women were lucky that he made the effort, I figured. From a male perspective there really wasn't anything wrong with him -- he was more authentically male than some. But that included the parts that tended to repulse females. Marty was a bookkeeper -- or maybe just a bookie. He was over forty and fat and balding -- and what hair he had was slicked back with some kind of goo. He was the loud sport coat type -- which I'd assumed was just a stereotype up to that point. Well, surprise, surprise ... Okay, so, he was a little taller than Danny DeVito (not much), and he had a moustache -- but he was wider, too, and had the attitude the actor was famous for. His first comment was "Huh! Same as last month. Who's the fat bitch?" Mike the bartender showed up and looked a little sheepish; I could sympathize. The last of the eight was a guy named Hugo, who was one of our general contractors. He looked like a Black - Hispanic mix, but talked like a Caribbean islander from somewhere -- maybe Jamaica. He was built kind of like Buddha, and pretty genial. I leaned aside to Mack and said, "These are friends?" "Okay, business acquaintances," Mack grunted. "I couldn't fill the table with friends -- and if I could, some of them would be too broke to play." He looked around and grunted, "Awright, let's play some cards." I got a sketchy introduction and plopped down across the table from him between Bob and Hugo -- and proceeded to lose my shirt. Well, it wasn't that bad -- nickel, dime, quarter stuff -- but I wasn't winning. Mack teased me and said I was too innocent and didn't have a poker face. Marty was all over me like a coat of paint; I spent a lot of time wondering why his nose wasn't broken in six places. I think he sensed that I would have liked to volunteer -- and it amused him. I got myself under control, and when the barbs weren't visibly effective any more, he backed off. Three or four of them were smoking like chimneys -- and we were ALL drinking something or another. Early on, the women were just there to wait tables -- maybe getting an ass rub while they stood next to somebody after delivering a drink. Cards, booze, and food were serious -- in that order. I got smarter, but more reckless -- too much beer. Wins and losses started getting spectacular. I think the first serious sex move was Ragman; he said, "So, how's your ass, Baby?" to Cindy and I looked up to see her standing there beside him, looking a little shaky and uncomfortable while Mack pinned her in place with his eyes. Ragman produced a finger that obviously had shit on it and grunted, "Messy," then picked up a napkin and wiped it off and handed it to her. Mack said, "Charlene, fix it," without removing his eyes from Cindy and Charlene collected her and headed off somewhere. In a few seconds, I picked up a squawk of, "Jeezus! An enema?" -- but it was time to call and I had three queens... Cindy came back a few minutes later, walking a little hunched-over. Mack gestured her over and made a production out of rubbing and patting her belly -- after very little of which Cindy went, "Ooooooohhhh!" and ran for the bathroom. Yeah, I laughed, too. Ragman gave the other two the bung test, but they were clearly ready for it. Marty was the next one to push the envelope obviously -- I might have missed more subtle goings-on, due to my state. I'd backed off on the beer, but I hadn't recovered. He looked around and announced, "I'm up fifty, thanks to Pete, so I guess I'll sit this one out and get in a little fun!" He pushed a stack of chips at Mack and turned to Irene. "Come over here and see if you can get me in that big mouth of yours -- balls and all, Bitch." I gathered from that that he wasn't hung. Irene actually looked relieved while she went over and dragged his pants down and buried her face between his thick thighs. Marty rocked back so she could get under his pot. He was a major distraction, what with the moans and groans of pleasure and the crap he enjoyed himself talking, so we basically stopped playing to watch -- not that it was great porn, or anything. He called Irene a nigger bitch and a slut and a coon and anything else he could think of -- fortunately, Hugo was the closest we had to her race and he didn't seem to mind. She jerked him off while rolling his balls around in her mouth and licking his nasty ass, then sucked him; I was pretty sure it didn't count as deep throat, since he clearly wasn't hung. Probably the good news was that he only lasted a couple of minutes -- the whole thing was kind of disgusting, mostly from his approach to it. He insisted that she take his load on her face -- because she didn't deserve to drink it, according to him. I'd never understood why that seemed to be such a great thing -- I assumed that they did it in porn so you knew the guy actually blew a nut, although creampies served the same purpose. Anyway, she sucked him to his peak then sat there on her heels and let him decorate her face, after which he was all happy -- clearly because he'd gotten even with the female half of the human race for years of neglect. I could see his point, actually, but it seemed to be he was being sorry-assed about it. When he was done, Mack looked around and said, "Since we're takin' a break, is anybody else gonna want to get a load off?" I watched them; Bill and Bob seemed content to wait, while Ragman thoughtfully riffled his chips, counting them. Mike sat back, watching, like me, and Hugo scratched his belly reflectively. Looking at this bunch, I had to admit a street hooker would probably see dollar signs, but of the three we had only Charlene was really close to that mindset. Ragman grunted, "You're gonna have to give me another twenty on my limit, or I'll be so short you sharks will be able to close me down." We were playing with a hundred dollar limit and Mack and Marty and Bill had most of the money. By eyeball, Ragman was sitting on about sixty, so if he punched in fifty, which seemed to be the going rate, he'd be down to ten bucks for cards. Mack looked around. "Gents? Any issues?" "More for me," Marty jibed. Nobody demurred. Ragman fished a twenty out of his wallet and separated out the rest in chips. "You, Chunky. Bend over the couch arm and we'll see how clean you got." "Wear her out," Mack advised. "She loves that shit. Don't feel guilty about making her ass red -- she loves THAT, too!" Meanwhile, Cindy minced over to the couch and bent over, watching Ragman as he got up and headed her way, unbuttoning his coverall. "What's that shit over your nipples, anyway?" Ragman asked her. "I'm breastfeeding," she told him. "They drip." Ragman took a surprised suck on his cigar. "Milk?" "Yes." "No shit. Take off your top, then. I'm gonna get a drink." Cindy looked at Mack, who just looked back. She got the hint and undid the snaps at the crotch of the body stocking and worked it out from under the skirt and over her head. "I'm gonna lay on the couch," Ragman told her. "You climb on top and feed me tit and pull on my dick and I'm gonna see if I can't dry them things out for you." In the meantime, he got his big, hairy hulk out of his coverall and work boots. Hugo broke up things by rumbling, "Mebbe I get some from Charlene." He sorted out some chips and got up to shamble over and tower over her. "How you want it?" Charlene, unfazed, replied, "It's on you, Honey -- it's your quarter." "Okay. I go on the rug. You suck a little then ride that motherfucker," Hugo directed. "Fix me a drink, Irene," Mack directed. "Anyone else want watered?" "Bring me a plate of those nachos," I interjected. I needed food, bad. "Come to think of it, I'll eat at the bar." I got up and ambled over while Irene made Mack's drink and watched her reheat the nacho fixings so they were fresh for me. The bar gave me a view of both proceedings, anyway, and they weren't the disgusting spectacle that Marty had been. If I'd had any doubts about Cindy's masochism, watching her with Ragman put them to rest. He wasn't gentle with her jugs -- but then, he was watching her face the same as I was, and the pleasure mixed with the pain was obvious in her expression. Given her reactions, it didn't bother me. He had a cock that wasn't spectacularly long, but was as thick as a salami -- and we all knew where it was going. Cindy jacked it and grunted and groaned while he milked her harshly; I figured she would have serious finger marks for a few days, after. Hugo had some fairly serious meat, it turned out. Charlene had no problem getting him up and running, then she sat on it and started posting, telling him how wonderful it was. It was a pure hooker's performance -- I didn't believe a word of it -- but that wasn't my problem, anyway. It's amazing to me that the little ones seem to be able to take the biggest dicks. Hugo played with her nipples and more or less silently enjoyed himself. Irene put my plate out and I said "Thanks," to which she replied, "No problem, Baby," and presented her lips for a kiss -- which I gave her. "You know where that mouth has been, right?" Marty jibed. "I figure she wasn't challenged any," I shot back. There were several chuckles, including Mack's. Irene smiled but said nothing, coming around the bar to settle within reach. She wanted a little attention, so I gave it to her, wrapping an arm around her and cupping a tit. She ended up feeding me nachos while we watched the floor show. When Cindy's tits were drained, Ragman had her get up and bend over the couch arm, then he proceeded to push that soda can cock of his into her ass using just a little spit as lube. Cindy screamed bloody murder -- but the look on her face said that she wanted it. Mack got up and stuck two fingers in her mouth to keep the volume down until Ragman got in and got going, then he let her moan and groan to her heart's content. Ragman made her ass red, too, but that didn't seem to be a problem, either. Mack wandered over and settled against the bar beside me. "She's gonna be a problem." I eyed him. "That depends, doesn't it? If she gets carried away and misses four times..." "Yeah, you're probably right. She isn't smart enough to do it right." Mack eyed Irene while he said it. I wasn't sure what she was supposed to take away from the conversation; it could have been a personal warning, or just an injunction not to tell Cindy, or both. Ragman grabbed Cindy's shoulders and crushed her back to him; she bent her back, which was a mistake -- I was afraid he was going to fold her in half ABOVE the waist -- while he arched into her and blew his nut up her ass. "YAH! SHIT! GODDAMN!" After he'd pumped her a couple of times, he let go of her shoulders and she flopped forward. Then he pulled out -- and Irene turned her head away. The reason was clear in about six seconds; Ragman stepped around to where Cindy was puffing and blowing and stuck his dick in her mouth, grabbing her head to make sure she didn't go anywhere. "Yuck," Irene whispered. "If you two cleaned her out properly, it shouldn't be too bad," Mack grunted. "Besides, she's done it before." Cindy had her hands on Ragman's hips, but she didn't seem to be fighting him. "That's it, Honey -- blow that load!" Charlene encouraged Hugo. "Fill me up!" Hugo certainly looked to be doing his best, from the way he was driving up into her from below, grunting. When he settled down, Charlene cycled up and down on him a few times, slowly, then hopped off and knelt to give him a quick kiss then clean his cock, her hands between her legs to staunch the flow of goo. When she was done with that, she hopped up and waggled her ass out of there to the bathroom, visibly putting another notch in her lipstick case. Hugo sat bolt upright to watch her go grinning. "That be good shit!" "So that's the deal?" I asked Mack. "Fifty bucks a pop?" "For starters," Mack agreed. "Any which way. Later, they'll just fuck; the guys are more or less paying for firsts or seconds. After they're all opened up, it's a free for all. That's what some of those other vultures are waiting for." "How far do you push it?" "For a while yet," Mack replied, lurching away from the bar. "Let's play cards!" So we went into the second round. This time, the women were naked, having been divested of their little outfits during the first round. We wanted things pretty regularly, as it was an opportunity to get grabby. I took an opportunity to pull Charlene's head down to my level and whispered, "Did you get anything out of that?" She gave one of those Mona Lisa smiles of hers. "Maybe later." Well, I'd more or less figured as much. She held one of my hands to one of her nipples for a bit, more to mask the conversation than anything else. I nibbled her neck a little and Mack growled at me to pay attention to the bet. Cindy stuck herself between Ragman and Bill and Ragman teased her by poking a finger up her ass -- or maybe two. She would whine a little about how it hurt -- but she wouldn't go anywhere and she would suck his fingers when he pulled them from her ass and presented them. Bill made her spread her legs while he stuck two rough fingers in her pussy. Eventually, Mack grunted, "You two gonna fuck around or play?" That put Bill on the spot. I could read his mind; paying for pussy was a blow to his ego and, theoretically at least, he had his own supply at home -- but he wanted to abuse Cindy. I watched him pull at his lip, then, "Fuck it." He kicked chips at Mack. "Take her over there -- we're still playing," Mack grunted. "What about you, Ragman? Half price -- you've been in it once already." "Yeah, fuck it." He kicked out twenty-five. "What do you want, Bill?" "Cunt." "Leaves me two holes..." He stood to shamble toward the couch. Bill, who had been waiting, stood without removing the two fingers he had buried in Cindy's twat and used them to lead her off. I eyed Mack and folded; he was too intent on the game not to have good cards. By the next hand, Cindy was squealing like a stuck pig into Ragman's hand covering her mouth. She was on her back with Ragman's cock up her ass while Bill had some fingers in her twat and looked to be biting the shit out of her clit. She bounced and thrashed and squealed and I'd have been concerned if I hadn't known better. Eventually, Bill tired of that and climbed on top to pound her pussy -- it was pretty distracting for some. I managed to keep my head and even won a hand before Bill blew a nut in her and climbed off, stopping to feed her his gooey dick. Then Ragman rolled her off the couch and onto the floor where he took his second piece of her ass, taking it no easier on her than he had the first time. This was all too much for Mike. "Charlene," he croaked, "I need a blow job." "Sure, Honey," Charlene replied, coming up from where she was leaning on the bar, "Are you sure that's all you want? There's pussy ... Ass seems popular..." "We'll start with a blow job." Having separated out the necessary chips, Mike slid back from the table and stood up to shuck down his pants. I sat and watched Charlene go to her knees and take him in quite professionally, bobbing and sucking and jacking and fondling his balls. I didn't give Mike three minutes. "Get over here, Bitch," Marty snapped, and Irene headed over to him. "How's your ass?" he asked, once he'd sorted out the necessary chips. Marty could afford it; he was still doing very well. "That's an opinion thing," Irene replied. "You know he did me before. Hurt, too. But it's been a while -- I've recovered." "Yah? Good enough. Over the couch arm, then, Bitch." I kept an eye on them -- largely because the biggest thing on Irene was probably her butt and Marty hadn't surfaced a lot of dick. He managed to make it work, though. Soon he was pounding away, apparently adding to his enjoyment by calling Irene stuff like 'worthless nigger bitch' and 'useless black slut.' Clearly, that was Marty's thing -- establishing his supremacy by abusing others. It was a chunk of everything he did. There was no way that he was ever going to fuck Charlene, because there was no way he could penetrate her aloof self-confidence. Cindy might be another matter, but that would be because Cindy WANTED the bottom. Since this was neither the time nor the place to confront Marty with what an asshole he was, I put it away and played cards. With Bill off recovering and Ragman still in Cindy's ass and Mike getting his head, that left me, Mack, Hugo, and Bob. About that time, I realized that Bob was there to play cards -- well, and watch, maybe, but his dick was going to stay in his pants. Since everyone else was either drunk or distracted, he was starting to do well. The realization made me more wary of him -- and I did better as a result. Ragman finally finished tearing Cindy a new asshole, getting up and wandering off to the bathroom without the ritual of shoving his dirty dick in her mouth. Marty didn't last much longer, and to my surprise, he forbore, too, so I figured the silly season was probably over. That left Mike -- and Charlene was in concert with his skin flute. She had him wrapped up tight, sitting on the edge; I figure it was a matter of pride with her. If all he wanted was a blow job, he was gonna remember HERS for quite some time ... She was changing up speeds, pumping, licking, bobbing to different depths (including root deep) playing with poor Mike's balls ... You could tell he was in an agony of pleasure -- she was holding him just below the peak! Mack let the exhibition go on for maybe fifteen minutes before grunting, "Charlene, finish him." Charlene dove on him and I'm pretty sure she fingered his asshole; Mike flopped like a fish and let out a yell and she was swallowing, sucking him dry. When he flopped back and she stood up, smiling, Mike couldn't get up energy to say anything; he just waved at her. She waved back and swayed off, wiggling her well-used ass. A couple of us laughed, but we were all aware that she could probably handle us all by herself. Desultory card play went on for another hour or so, then Mack said, "Time for dessert, I think." I got it from the context; we cashed in and got our winnings -- or the leftovers, depending upon how well we did. I broke about even, my early losses covered by later wins. The women packed away the chow and the beer and were about finished when Mack waved grandly and said, "Go get 'em, Boys..." I stayed where I was, as did Bob and Mack. Hugo dragged Cindy out of the kitchen, rolled her on her back, and proceeded to put the meat to her -- where it belonged, this time. Bill hauled Charlene out for similar. Mack eyed Ragman and Marty, but Marty bit off the tip of a cigar and spat. "I've had enough shit for tonight.," he announced. "Time to head home. A pleasure, as always, Mack." He swept out regally -- the King of the Pissants. Ragman eyed Irene for a minute, then grunted, "I'm a little sore. Bring me another beer, willya?" Irene complied. Ragman knocked it back pretty quickly, though, before sliding back into his coveralls and heading out the door with barely a wave. Mike got up and said, "I gotta open by noon. I'll see you guys tomorrow," and headed out. Bob waited until the sex on the floor was over (Hugo lasted the longest) and said, "Thanks for the beer and cards and entertainment, Boss," saluted, and hit the street. We'd had a quiet moment and I'd asked him why he wasn't in there swinging. He looked a little embarrassed and said, "Margaret likes to hear the stories -- it spices up things for us. But I take it home to her." The other two cleared out as soon as they'd cleaned up, properly appreciative, leaving Mack and I and the women. "I'm gonna go take a nap," Mack announced. "Pete, you wanna run the girls home?" Somehow, I knew that shit was coming. "Yeah, sure, Mack. Get your shit, ladies." "Give us a minute for first-aid, Pete," Charlene chuckled, hauling Cindy off to the bathroom. I followed Irene to the bedroom and watched her change clothes. "Mack and his butt-hole buddies," she complained. "That big motherfucker did me last time -- I was afraid I was gonna have to wear a diaper for the rest of my life!" Cindy and Charlene came out of the bathroom, Cindy moving slowly. "Thank God Hugo finally found my pussy!" "Bill did, too, didn't he?" I asked. "Well, yeah..." Clearly, it hadn't been enough. On the way home, I remarked, "You seemed unfazed, Charlene." She shrugged. "Some of those guys are never going to get a steady woman. I figure pussy owes them. I was decorating a Harley at fifteen and I've fucked just about everything -- if it cuts down on the shit that happens when guys like that do without, and they're willing to pay my bills..." I blinked. "What was that about shit happening?" "Rapists and murderers and child molesters are desperate men," Charlene amplified. "I don't know of anything that makes a guy desperate like going too long without a fuck. They get angry at the whole other half of the human race and, well, shit happens." "That's an interesting perspective," I observed. "It's the real thing," Charlene insisted. "Ride with a gang for a while and you see what's mellow and what isn't. It applies to just about all guys. The world is full of stupid jackasses who are against the idea of making getting your rocks off an easy, inexpensive proposition -- and most of 'em subscribe to dating services. They hear stories on TV about some poor dick going nuts on people or rapists or serial killers or child molesters and they wonder, 'Gee, why did he do that, do you figure?' -- and it's right there in front of their faces; they legislated away every sexual outlet the poor fuck had and he exploded!" I shook my head. "You make a compelling case." "Look at that asshole Marty -- do you think he's EVER gonna score on a woman who isn't both blind AND deaf?" Charlene chuckled. "Gee, Irene, do you think he maybe has a grudge against women?" Irene snorted laughter despite herself. "Then there's Ragman. I've fucked big bears like him forever, and they're usually pretty mellow -- but they don't attract chicks. He's getting bitter -- but the REAL reason he does girls in the ass is because that cock of his takes a lot of work to get in a pussy!" "Really?" I asked. "I thought..." "Yeah, Honey, they get bigger -- with practice. I can take him -- but he probably wouldn't believe it. As a rule, Ragman is only gonna manage to chase down blubbery chicks with the same problem he has with lackanookie -- and they AREN'T practiced." When the laughter died down, she told Cindy, "Next time, go up and whisper in his ear that you want him to fist you. Once you're open, he'll hit the front end -- want to bet?" Cindy looked thoughtful. "Um, no, no bet." "He'll be a good ride for a few times," Charlene opined, "but he's not your type, Cindy. Once he's gotten in the groove, he'll mellow out and be a big teddy bear; he doesn't have the mean streak you're looking for. It seems like it now, but that would fade and you'd be ... unsatisfied." "What do YOU know about it?" Cindy snapped. "I've been there, Honey," Charlene replied softly. "I've been there." We arrived at the first house and Charlene and Cindy got out; Irene got out, too, but pulled open the front passenger door instead of walking off. "Pete?" "Yeah." "You busy?" As it turned out, I wasn't. ------- Chapter 5 I rolled out of bed about nine-thirty Saturday morning. I don't usually sleep that long, but I'd had a lot of alcohol, then more or less sobered up, then participated in some delightful exercise with Irene -- who was without a doubt the liveliest fuck I'd ever had. The woman was homely, but she could suck the chrome off a trailer hitch! Was I going to get all romantic? No -- Mack's injunctions to take things easy and not get roped into something just because I was suddenly presented with plentiful feminine companionship had sunk in. But that didn't mean that I didn't intend to enjoy myself with Irene whenever it made sense. Irene was still taking up a considerable portion of my new king size bed as I wandered the apartment -- something I didn't begrudge her. But enough is enough and I'd had plenty of sleep... As I wandered past my sanctum, something bleeped, so I wandered in and sat down. An IM window was open on one screen: Troglodyte77: HEY! I keyed in 'Hey, yourself': Zapmaster6: Hey, yourself. Troglodyte77: Where u been? Zapmaster6: New job, new apartment, new ISP. Troglodyte77: At least you're not living with your mother, I hope. I laughed. Zapmaster6: No. Actually, I'm doing real well -- just slow getting everything hooked up. Troglodyte77: Elliott's birthday is Tuesday. Zapmaster6: No shit? Troglodyte77: It's his 25th. We're trying to do something. Zapmaster6: Who is we? Troglodyte77: The usual bunch. Zapmaster6: Where? Troglodyte77: Dunno. We'd like to do something special -- but that would mean a hotel room or something. Zapmaster6: Special? Troglodyte77: Chick jumping out of a cake or something. Elliott doesn't get much... Zapmaster6: Does anyone? After typing that, I suddenly remembered that MY situation had changed, at least. Zapmaster6: So, a hooker? Troglodyte77: A dancer, maybe. There is a problem. Edwina. Edwina Fleiss -- female nerd. Granted, she was swimming with the school -- but she was still female. When she invited herself to the functions of our little group, we all felt constrained NOT to discuss what would otherwise be a favorite subject -- yeah, women. And sex. She undoubtedly didn't mean to put a damper on things, but it happened anyway -- let's face it, several of us were painfully shy, for starters. We were a group that had blossomed from Chess Clubs and Computer Clubs in high school and college across the IT departments of several local businesses and online gaming universes on the net. Elliott DID live at home with his mother. Rudy (Troglodyte77) shared a house with two other guys who were still in college. Edwina's avatar, StarfireLX7, was a hot looking mage with some serious powers, so she probably had some concept of sex -- but Edwina was small, had bushy eyebrows behind thick glasses and thin, somewhat oily mud-brown hair tacked back with barrettes and rubber bands. She missed having braces, somehow -- but probably could have used them. Nobody knew what her body looked like; she wore overalls and sweaters and button up to the neck blouses and other things apparently designed to render her actual shape unidentifiable. I'd seen her sweating under four layers of clothing in ninety degree heat; fortunately, she worked in a company data center that was kept at a cool sixty-four degrees. Zapmaster6: No way to talk her out of coming? Troglodyte77: She's insistent. Zapmaster6: Did you tell her we might want to do something like that? Troglodyte77: Yeah. She wanted to know why -- then we got into a discussion of holdover Neanderthal behaviors and what a cliché the idea was... Zapmaster6: So you couldn't sell her on the idea that she really wouldn't want to see us engaging in such behavior? Troglodyte77: I think she's going to write a paper -- Jane Goodall and the man-apes of Shelbyville. Zapmaster6: She'll leave if it happens. We'll hear about it, but it will blow over. Troglodyte77: It's a pipe dream anyway. "What you doin' Baby?" I jumped a foot! Irene was standing in the door, looking around. "Jeezus, Baby! Look at all those screens! I knew you wasn't any kind of kin to Mack, but this? What is all this, anyway?" There were only four screens, really. The system I was using for IM was also displaying both of my e-mail accounts; the twenty-one incher had my local copy of Mack's new company website. The others had a spreadsheet and a hung role-playing game. "It's just stuff I'm working on," I mumbled. "Okay. Do you eat, Baby? There's nothing in the refrigerator." "There's a diner around the corner," I told her. "I haven't had time to shop." "Well, you should. Even diners cost more than the grocery store." "Yeah, well ... Hang on a minute." I turned back to the keyboard. Zapmaster6: Maybe not. What do we REALLY want? Troglodyte77: Are you kidding? If the sky were to rain hookers... There was a giggle over my shoulder. Troglodyte77: But then there's Edwina. If we actually got around to that she would probably go catatonic. "What's up, Baby?" Irene asked, reading the screen. "Some of my friends want to throw a birthday bash for one of us. It's his twenty-fifth," I amplified. "It would be nice if..." "You had entertainment?" Irene finished. "Yeah..." I pursed my lips. "Are these boys as cute as you?" "They're all geeks and nerds, if that's what you mean," I chuckled. "So, what's the rent?" "It's seven hundred, Baby. I'd do it for less, but Mack wouldn't let me." "You're behind, anyway, right?" I muttered. "Uh huh." I went back to the keyboard: Zapmaster6: I know somebody who knows somebody. I might be able to do something, but it'll take money." Troglodyte77: What are you talking about getting? I turned to Irene. "What are we talking, here?" Irene pursed her lips. "How many guys?" I counted heads. "Six or eight. Ten at the outside -- including me." "Rough?" "No way." "Way I hear it, when Mack caters a party, it goes all night," Irene mused. "And some of them aren't particularly safe. This sounds like a walk in the park. I won't promise to do everybody three times, but..." I turned back to the keyboard. Zapmaster6: Who have you got coming? Troglodyte77: Me, Odd Ogg, Elliott, of course. Rajiv, Lord Ribbitt, SnipeHunter. And Edwina. Zapmaster6: brb I turned to Irene. "Okay, like I figured. This bunch is from 'Revenge of the Nerds' -- but there's Edwina. Come to think of it, she's from there, too -- she'd be an Omega Mu." "Umm, right." Irene obviously didn't get the reference. "You gotta deal with her. The boys sound easy, though. Where?" "Does Mack always do his card parties in that apartment across the way?" I asked. Irene shrugged. "As far as I know." I snatched up my phone and hit the speed dial, putting it on speaker. Mack's voice rasped, "Yeah?" on the fourth ring. "Mack, it's Pete." "So? The office burn down?" "Sorry. I'm working on something for Irene. Can I use that place we were in last night?" "What the fuck for?" "An all-nighter." "Oh." There was a pause. "When?" "Tuesday night." "Yeah. Don't tear up the place and try not to show the whole neighborhood the gang bang. Have Irene clean up, afterward." There was a pause. "If I find out you went all soft on her and this is some bullshit scam to pull the wool over my eyes, I'm gonna be pissed." "It's seven guys, Mack. They won't be bringing whips and chains, but the numbers work," I assured him. "Yeah..." Mack was quiet. "You understand -- I'm not trying to set anyone up to fail or anything, but it's SUPPOSED to be a bitch -- they're SUPPOSED to pay the fucking rent, not make me pimp for 'em. And I can't have you subsidizing any of their cute little pussies, either! I'll probably stop by to check on shit." "That's cool," I told him. "It'll keep it from looking like I arranged it directly." "Awright. Sounds like you got your head on straight," Mack rumbled. "She ain't there, is she? Listening?" "I heard every word, Mack," Irene announced herself. "That's fine -- I was pretty clear, right?" "Yes, Mack." "Don't sleep there tonight. In fact, you come fucking see me about eight-thirty." "Yes, Mack." I frowned. How should I handle this? "Mack? Don't tear up anything she's gonna need Tuesday night. I'm gonna be making promises." "Yeah, awright." There was another short pause. "And Pete? Never before fucking noon on Saturday -- unless the office burned down." "Gotcha." Click. "Okay, here we go," I announced, turning back to the keyboard. Zapmaster6: Back. Troglodyte77. OK Zapmaster6: I can get a place and I can get a woman. Cost is $700. Troglodyte77: Cool. Price is pretty steep... Zapmaster6: Everybody gets laid. Troglodyte77: EVERYBODY??? FCK! THAT changes things! Zapmaster6: It's about a hundred a pop. Somebody needs to cover Elliott. I'll kick in some. Troglodyte77: Don't bother. If you got the place and the woman, you've done PLENTY! Troglodyte77: What about Edwina? Zapmaster6: I'll talk to her. Troglodyte77: Okay, cool -- I'll start getting everybody rounded up and the beer and stuff. Zapmaster6: Cool. I'll pass out the address on Tuesday. We don't want Edwina setting up a police raid. Troglodyte77: LOL. Zapmaster6: I'm gone. Troglodyte77: Bye. I turned from the keyboard. Irene was looking a little nervous. "You didn't tell them I'm black." "They didn't ask," I replied. "My friends aren't what Mack ends up collecting -- telling them they're gonna get laid is big -- they don't need to abuse and degrade anyone. They'll be grateful. And you'll be exotic." Irene eyed me. "If you say so." "Fine." I turned back to the keyboard. Zapmaster6: Rudy? Troglodyte77: Yeah? Zapmaster6: The woman is black. Is that a problem? Troglodyte77: Fck no! Cool! Zapmaster6: Just checking. Later. Troglodyte77: ttyl. "Ttyl?" Irene asked. "Talk to you later." "Oh, okay." "Let's get a shower," I said, "and I'll show you the inside of that diner." "Pete..." "I need you plumped up for Tuesday," I told her. "It's a business expense." She laughed and we went off to shower. ------- I caught Hell for the whole thing later: StarfireLX7: So now you're a pimp? Edwina's avatar was frowning, her arms crossed below her unreal endowments. Zapmaster6: That's procurer. Get it right. StarfireLX7: Whatever it is, it's disgusting. Hiring a hooker... Zapmaster6: She's not a hooker. She's a single mother of two who is behind on her rent. And she volunteered. StarfireLX7: It's exploitation. Besides, what do you expect to accomplish? Zapmaster6: Besides popping Elliott's seven years overdue cherry? Make a lot of people happy. StarfireLX7: By orchestrating a gang bang. That poor woman... Zapmaster6: That poor woman is thrilled to death. The guys will treat her a LOT better than the other arrangements that she might have had to make. She gets her rent, the kids eat... StarfireLX7: It's exploitation. Zapmaster6: It's a solution to several problems that everyone is pleased with -- except you. StarfireLX7: It's disgusting. Zapmaster6: How do you know? Have you ever done it? StarfireLX7: Very funny! Zapmaster6: This is one of those things that guys and gals differ on -- and not all guys and gals, for that matter. If it bothers you, stay away. In fact, probably everyone would be more comfortable if you did. StarfireLX7: Tough. I'm coming. I want to make sure that poor woman isn't abused. Zapmaster6: That's nice of you -- but I think I'm insulted for the guys. Do you REALLY think any of them would hurt her? StarfireLX7: Well, no. Zapmaster6: Okay, then. I know you feel strongly about this. You're on record. But if you don't want your nose rubbed in the fact that we're male, walk away. StarfireLX7: I'll think about it. Zapmaster6: Thanks. ------- The rest of the weekend went pretty well. Rudy called me Saturday night and we talked about things for an hour or so, me pretending a lot more ignorance of the situation that was actually the case; I really didn't want to get into the position where the guys looked to me to provide them with pussy an anything resembling a regular basis. I wanted them to think that this was an accidental piece of luck that would generate a one-time deal -- and if Mack showed up, that would help. The conversation came around to Edwina: "What about Edwina?" Rudy asked. "She flamed me over IM. I told her it was a guy thing and that if it bothered her, she should stay away, not get her nose rubbed in it." "How did that go over?" "Like a fart in church," I chuckled. "She said she was coming to make sure nobody abused the woman. I shoved THAT back down her throat, so now she doesn't have an excuse." Rudy chuckled. "Cool. I mean, sex isn't her bag, you know? Why should she want to act like an authority?" "I think she's a little freaked that the subject should even come up, let alone get in her face like that." "Yeah, well, just because we don't have a life doesn't mean we don't WANT one." ------- Monday, Mack gave me shit about Irene having her claws in me -- and I reminded him that he'd more or less assigned the job of finding something for her to do to me. That shut HIM up -- except for reminding me that he might stop in to check on things. "I hope you do," I told him. "I can palm control of the situation off on you. I don't want them thinking I'm going to step up and provide them with hot and cold running pussy." Mack just laughed. ------- Tuesday came and I pushed the address to Rudy at noon for a party at eight. Mack, grinning, watched me head out to pick up Irene at six-thirty. I learned why when I reached Irene's. "Do you have any idea the shit he put me through for sleeping with you Friday night?" she asked, rubbing her ass. "If I didn't have this going, I probably wouldn't be ABLE to fuck!" "I have to talk to him about that," I muttered. "It would be different if I wasn't paying any attention to him." "Well, he knows you're a catch -- and he knows we can smell it, Baby -- so he's takin' care of you. But damn, does he have to be so mean about it?" Irene grinned ruefully. We got to the apartment and Irene got into her rig while I opened it up and got the A/C going. The place reeked of cigar smoke; Irene dragged some can of odor killer out to handle it. Maybe we were going to smoke, and maybe not, but I figured it would be better if we made the call ourselves. I cracked some windows so the A/C could push the worst of it out the windows and draw in some fresh. Rudy showed up at seven with a pony keg and some other stuff. He and Irene both did a double-take. "That's the tricycle or whatever?" Irene asked me quietly. "Troglodyte," I corrected. "It means cave dweller -- or someone who lives alone. It's kind of Rudy's joke. He's got two roommates, but..." I decided to leave it at that, rather than mentioning the fact that the problem with Rudy's roommates is that they aren't female. Rudy is black and kind of like Fat Albert -- big and slow -- everywhere but between the ears. He's big like a bear, though, not big like the Pillsbury Doughboy -- and he can't help it if he's a little baby-faced. I don't think I've ever seen a look of naked hunger like the one Rudy got when he laid eyes on Irene's tits -- mostly uncovered by that fishnet top -- and I don't think Irene had, either. It was going to be an interesting evening... Things got more interesting, rapidly. The doorbell rang and Irene went to throw open the door -- and there stood Edwina. "This must be the place," she said sourly. "Aw, shit," Rudy grunted, looking up. "I'm sure I'm ruining your ... whatever," Edwina snarled. "It's a party, Baby. A birthday party." Irene was as cool, calm, and collected as I've ever seen her. "And you're the present?" Edwina sniped. "One, anyway," Irene replied. Edwina eyed her. "Why would you do this?" "There's a bunch of reasons, Baby," Irene replied. "I made a deal with the Devil ... Well, I'd LIKE to think of him as the Devil, but he's really not so bad. I went into it with my eyes wide open, anyway -- I knew what I was letting myself in for, and I agreed to it -- and this is a LOT nicer than I was TOLD it would be! You wanna hear the other reasons?" Edwina flashed me a look. "I want to know who this devil is, anyway..." "Come in, then -- we don't need to talk in the hall." Edwina pranced gingerly in and Irene closed the door. Rudy put his head down and pretended to be fully engaged with setting up the keg -- but I knew better. Irene's response to Edwina's look was, "Pete? Baby, Pete's a sweetheart -- everybody knows THAT!" "Isn't he in charge of..." Edwina waved a hand. "This?" "Well, I suppose..." Irene replied. "What's that got to do with anything?" "He could stop this!" "Why should he?" Irene asked. "That would make a LOT of people unhappy -- Pete's friends, the birthday boy, the devil -- even me! Why would he do such a silly thing?" Edwina blinked. "Why would it make YOU unhappy?" "Baby, this is my rent money," Irene said gently. "I've got two little kids at home and nobody will hire me -- and if this gig falls through, the one the Devil will chase down to replace it -- IF he can -- will be with a LOT worse a group of guys than your friends! And if he DOESN'T find one, I'll be living in a shelter next month!" "B--but..." Edwina blustered. "You're almost naked! And this is a gang bang -- isn't it?" Irene cocked her head and looked a bit concerned. "What's the matter, Baby? Don't you like sex? These boys aren't gonna hurt me -- you know that! I KNOW you know that! We're all gonna have a grand old time!" Edwina hung her head. "I guess I just don't understand..." "I know -- you're worried about me. But Baby, this is the best thing I got going! On top of everything else, I get to use the power!" "The power?" "Girl Power, Baby! Watch this..." Irene turned around. "Oh, Rudy..." Rudy looked up, and Irene, smiling, shook her shoulders -- which of course made her breasts dance. "You see that, Baby? You see how ol' Cave Man got all hot around the eyes? THAT'S Girl Power. Most days and most places, I can't use Girl Power -- I ain't got much, 'cause I'm homely. But here -- who do you think is gonna run this here show, anyway? Who do you think is gonna have those boys eatin' out of her hand?" "Oh..." Edwina looked like someone had whacked her with a tuna fish. "Girl Power." She stood there, dazed. "Uh huh. You ain't never used it, have you? I bet you didn't think you had none," Irene guessed. Edwina looked down at herself. "I don't." "I bet you do, Baby -- you just have to hide it all the time, like I do. You think I get any attention without my titties showing?" "Um, no ... I mean yeah..." Edwina looked flustered. "Girls like you and me -- we only get to use Girl Power under special circumstances -- like these," Irene explained. "I can't toss it out on the street -- but I'm gonna OWN this place! Watch me!" "I guess..." Irene cocked her head. "I know what you're thinkin' You're thinkin' you ain't got none at all, ain't ya? Every girl's got SOME, Baby -- a little bit comes as standard equipment, like seats in a car. If we didn't, there wouldn't be no babies in the world. I tell you what -- let's go in the bedroom there and I'll give you my professional opinion..." She led Edwina off; Rudy and I stared at each other, bemused. After a moment, Rudy shrugged and they went back to the party preparations. Irene came back in about ten minutes. "Where's Edwina?" Rudy asked. "She's trying to decide if she should try to use her Girl Power," Irene replied, stepping up to the bar and taking a stack of napkins to fold. After a moment, she asked, "Have any of you guys ever tried to, you know, hit on her?" I blinked. "Edwina? I don't think so. I mean, in the first place, we're not your most up-front group of guys, you know? Women are kind of unpredictable and scary and we just don't generally win when we try to start something with one. A few abject failures and you avoid charged situations and kind of ogle from afar. Edwina, though -- I mean, we know she's a girl and we make some allowances for it, but she hasn't exactly been advertising. In a lot of ways, she's one of the guys -- and I've never seen her say or do anything that put up a sign that said 'I'm female, ' let alone 'I'm approachable, ' you know?" "Mmm, yeah I get that." Irene went back to folding napkins. Rudy went downstairs to get the cake; it would be an anachronism as nobody would really want any at THIS party -- but it was a necessary prop. When he came back up and Irene let him in, he handed it off to her and came over to me. "Here, Man," he said quietly, pushing a wad of bills into my hand, "You did wonders -- I can't wait..." "Well," I chuckled, "Elliott goes first!" Then putting on a more serious expression, I added, "I don't see me doing this on a regular basis; I'm not a pimp. This is a one-time deal." "I get it," Rudy nodded. Edwina announced herself by peering around the bedroom door, "Um, Irene?" "Yes, Baby?" Irene hustled into the bedroom, Edwina having withdrawn her head back through the doorway like a turtle ducking into its shell. In a moment or two, Irene was back. "Is the keg up and running?" she asked. Rudy shrugged. "Yeah." "Could you draw one for Edwina?" "Sure..." Rudy did the honors. "Funny, I didn't think Edwina drank." "Sometimes you just gotta try new things," Irene replied; flashing him a quick smile, she padded off, the cup of beer in hand. "Gonna be a strange night," Rudy predicted. I just nodded. Ogg showed up next -- Odd Ogg, or Jim Teller. Jim was a systems admin, but he looked like a biker -- and he was, although he was the mellow type. He was good-sized, with long red hair tied back with a red bandana, two-day beard, blue jeans, the chained wallet, Harley-Davidson T-shirt under a flannel work shirt and dingo boots. He was the most laid-back guy you would ever want to meet; nothing fazed him, not even Irene or the revelation that Edwina was on the premises somewhere and fully aware of Irene. "Bet that was fun," he mused, wallowing a toothpick around in his mouth. He didn't even ask if there were impacts. I figured that if anyone in the group was getting laid fairly regularly, it was probably Ogg. Rajiv and the SnipeHunter showed up together. Rajiv is Indian (yeah, I know, duh) -- and he has the usual language issues in that he fractures English -- while attempting to use it at what we would consider to be twice the normal speed. He stood popping his eyes at Irene and announced, "I am getting pretty amazed here. I never believed that you could make anyone to do this." "I'm a volunteer," Irene replied, smiling. "I am not really understanding..." Rajiv shook his head and reported to the bar for some beer to consume while he puzzled it all out. SnipeHunter -- Irwin Batson -- just stood there with his head cocked. "You weren't bullshitting me. You REALLY weren't bullshitting me..." Irwin got his moniker because he's really naïve. Everybody -- EVERYBODY -- has pulled a practical joke on Irwin; he has a big bull's-eye on his back. It's just too easy not to succumb to temptation. He's short and portly, with a snub nose peppered with freckles and reddish brown hair and an eternally quizzical look. He won't wear shorts because then he looks like a cartoon Boy Scout. Irwin occupied an easy chair with a view of the bar and eyed Irene as if she'd come through a rift from another galaxy, waiting for the axe to fall. Elliott arrived with Lord Ribbit -- Robert Terence Smithson. Robert looked like an exceedingly tall and somewhat snotty twelve year old -- and he was, of course, twice that age. His face was boyish and a little rabbit-like and generally displayed an expression indicating that he was certain that he was superior to everyone else in the vicinity. The reality, of course, was that he had an inferiority complex a mile wide... Elliott Schwartz was, well, Jewish -- not particularly impressive- looking, except for his unruly, springy brown hair, which he pretended to part on the left side and to try to get to lie down, but he only succeeded in making it look like a wedge. Add a fine, disgusting set of horn-rims and POOF! Elliott. Irene, who had door duty, threw open the door and Robert stopped in the middle of whatever he was declaiming and gasped, "Oh ... My ... GOD!" his eyes bugged and a hand to his mouth. Elliott ran his hand through his hair and gulped, visibly. "I, uh, think maybe this is the wrong..." I got there at that point. "Nope. This is the place. Happy Birthday, Elliott!" Elliott stood there, gaping like a fish. "I ... I ... You got a dancer?" Irene stepped forward and took a hand, pulling Elliott in. "Come in, Baby -- you're letting out the air conditioning. Happy Birthday!" Elliott allowed himself to be pulled into the apartment, emitting an overwhelmed, "Uuuuuhhhh..." Everyone else yelled and cheered and clapped -- including Ribbit, who was still standing in the hallway, looking flustered. I nodded him in and he came through the door and closed it carefully. "Thank God Edwina isn't here!" he muttered. "Actually, she is," I told him. "She's hanging out in the bedroom -- doing what, I don't know." "Drinking beer, mostly," Irene filled in. "I don't think she likes the stuff, but she seems to need to be fortified." "Why don't you make her a mixed drink?" I suggested. "A Cape Codder, or something." "Cape Codder?" "Vodka and cranberry juice." "Oh! Good idea!" Irene dropped Elliott's hand. "Don't you go anywhere, Baby -- I'll be back to see to you." "Uh, okay, yeah..." Elliott stood there, dazed. "Hey, relax, grab a chair," I told him. "Want a beer?" "Wow! This is major, guys -- I mean, where did you get the dancer?" Elliott asked. "She ain't a dancer, Man," Rudy husked. "She's something better." "Better..." Elliott mused, "Like what?" Rudy flashed a glance at me. "Um, let's just say she's your birthday present," I explained. Irene, who was digging in the refrigerator for cranberry juice, stopped to look over her shoulder and smile at Elliott. Elliott's eyes got HUGE! "I think I'll have that beer," he said shakily, plopping into a chair. Irene pouted. "You no like?" "No, no!" Elliott waved his hands. "I'm just surprised, that's all! Really, REALLY surprised!" He shook his head. Irene grinned her toothy grin. "Good!" She went back to refrigerator fishing, snatching the cranberry juice off the shelf. In a moment or two, she had the drink finished and padded off toward the bedroom. Elliott gathered himself. "Edwina?" "She's here," I told him. "She disappeared into the bedroom a half- hour ago and hasn't been seen since -- but unless Irene knocked her out with a baseball bat, she's fine. Since she's drinking, I have to figure she's awake..." Elliott scratched his head. "Since she's here..." "Nothing," I finished for him. "She showed up to make sure us brutes didn't do terrible things to Irene -- but Irene told her that she didn't consider anything on the agenda to be that terrible and that she would be disappointed if Edwina stirred up a fuss. After that, they went off for some girl talk. Edwina may still be planning to write her paper on the nasty habits of the human male, but if she keeps drinking, I kind of doubt her notes will be all that valuable to her." Jim chuckled. Robert gave him a look. Irwin sat in his chair, looking back and forth. Rudy started decanting cups of beer from the keg, under the watchful eye of Rajiv, who was mumbling to himself. Irene came back in and swayed her way to the chair, collected Elliott's beer, and settled gently on his lap, pulling an arm around her waist. "Wh--what about Edwina?" Elliott gasped. I sighed. "Okay, who here has given thought, one time or another, to having sex -- if not something more substantial -- with Edwina? Raise your hands." Everyone did -- even Jim -- and me. "Okay, how many of you had any belief that if you made advances of that nature, they would be accepted?" Everybody lowered their hands. "Okay, then. Since we're all agreed that nobody has a snowball's chance in Hell of sleeping with Edwina, nobody is blowing his big chance. That being the case, we have nothing to lose." I riffled a pack of playing cards, then said, "Oh, by the way -- just to kind of clear the air -- Irene is NOT a professional, if you know what I mean. She's a single mother of two who owes a guy some money. She volunteered to be here because being with you guys is an improvement on the things she might have had to do to clear her debt. I know I don't have to tell you guys to be nice to her -- I just don't want you to take it for granted that she's done it all, you know?" I glanced around and got nods. "Okay, anybody want to play a little poker?" I jumped a foot when a soft contralto asked, "Can I play?" ------- Chapter 6 I gave a second jerk when I saw how Edwina was dressed! No wonder she was drinking -- she was in the same 'maid's uniform' as Irene! There was a gasp and a couple of audible gulps as the male contingent took in THAT surprise! Apparently, everything necessary was in the drawers in the bedroom, not just the fishnet body suit and the skirt and petticoat setup or whatever you call it, because Edwina's legs, revealed as narrow and somewhat bowed -- both outward and back -- were encased in dark nylons to mid-thigh. The thighs in question were VERY white and had likely never seen sun -- not really a surprise. I found myself wondering about the area immediately above that -- was she wearing panties, or going without, like Irene? A pair of small pink nipples peeked through the red fishnet top, mounted on breasts that looked like someone had slid a couple of jelly doughnuts under the stretched skin over Edwina's ribs -- they weren't huge, but they were reasonably substantial, and didn't sag at all. Someone had removed the barrettes and combed out Edwina's hair fluffing it a bit around her pink, fearful face. "Sure!" I croaked. Edwina's eyes flicked from face to face -- looking for censure, no doubt. There was a LOT of surprise out there, but censure was lacking -- Hell, we were ALL male, after all, with the exception of Irene -- and Irene was clapping her hands, calling, "That's it, Baby -- work it! You OWN this place! WE own this place!" Edwina essayed a rather tremulous smile. "We do?" "You KNOW we do, Baby! Look at all those bug eyes! They're drooling on the carpet!" Irene declared. "How was that drink?" "It was good..." Edwina came forward, wobbling a bit. Where had she gotten those heels? "What kind of poker are we playing?" "Strip," Irwin announced himself. I glanced at him just as he realized that he'd spoken his thought, and a look of triumph slid over his face that he'd actually had the guts to come out with it -- even accidentally. That hadn't been my plan, but Irene giggled. "Girl, do you REALLY think you haven't made an impression NOW?" "I guess I have..." Edwina mused. Her eyes shifted to me. "Is that the game?" I opened my mouth, but Elliott answered. "Yes," he hissed, licking his lower lip and looking predatory. I shrugged. "It's Elliott's party..." "I'm, uh, not wearing much..." Edwina muttered, licking her lips. "We're SUPPOSED to lose, Baby!" Irene laughed. "Come here a second..." Edwina tottered over to Irene who spoke to her too quietly to be heard. Edwina's yes or no answers were discernable, but without the questions, I had no idea how relevant they were. In a moment, though, Irene rubbed Edwina's back and announced to the rest of us, "We're ready." "I guess we ought to hit the table, then," Rudy rumbled. "Anybody for a top-off before we get started?" Everyone lurched into motion. Irene made Edwina another Cape Codder, even though I thought Edwina looked a little feverish and wild-eyed. The table really only accommodated eight properly, and there were nine of us, but no one complained -- particularly after Irene dragged over a barstool to sit on. Elliott got Irene on his left and Edwina on his right; clockwise, going around from Irene was Irwin, Jim, Rudy, myself, Robert and Rajiv. "Okay," I suggested, after some thought. "Articles of clothing are worth chips, starting with shoes, say, at five bucks, to get things rolling. How's that?" Irwin cocked his head, looking up and to his right. "Then what -- socks?" "Yeah," I nodded. "Umm, we might want to give the girls ten bucks for stockings and garters..." Irene pursed her lips. "Um, Pete, seeing a girl in stockings and garters is a display thing -- we might actually go for our skirts first." "Good point," I agreed. "Nothing -- NOTHING -- is worth more than ten bucks. Once all clothing and money is gone, the guys are out -- but the girls still have something to wager. In Irene's case, it's seconds, because Elliott gets the first pass; Edwina can handle things as she chooses -- including backing out once nude." I eyed Edwina. "Is that fair?" Edwina shifted her glance to Irene, who nodded, so she turned back to me and nodded. "Yes." "Jeez," Irwin grunted, "can I sell my pants now? I'm about to rip a hole in them!" Everybody laughed. "I think we can wait," I chuckled. "Everybody feed the bank." I pointed at the couch. Everybody bent to remove shoes -- but there was a pause while we watched Irene. This wasn't lost on Edwina, it turned out. "Um, can I sit on a stool?" she asked diffidently. "Somebody get the woman a stool!" Rudy erupted. Several of us were taken aback -- including Edwina -- at this recognition of the fact that she was female. Jim snagged the stool and positioned it, and Edwina crawled atop it and removed her unaccustomed footwear -- and we all watched hungrily. "Okay, then," I erupted, ending a pregnant pause. "Deal rotates left, starting with Elliott; Edwina cuts." I started doling out chips. "Twenty- five cent ante. Dealer calls the game." "Fifty cent ante," Elliott amended. That made sense to me. "Duly noted. Fifty cent ante." The first hand was five card draw, which put Texas Hold'em on the skids. Edwina knew nothing at all about poker; we had to create a cheat-sheet for her with card rankings, which left a couple of the guys visibly licking their chops. The pot grew at a ridiculous rate; I, myself, blew in a buck and a half on busted junk, just to keep the calls coming in. Losers were down two-fifty when Jim hauled in the pot with his three queens. Nobody complained. Irene called Seven Card Stud. Again, there were explanations to be delivered, but Edwina got it pretty quickly. Two pair netted Irwin an eighteen dollar pot -- which meant that, after the ante, both of the women -- and most of the men -- couldn't bet. "Jeez, THAT went fast, didn't it?" Irene asked brightly. She hopped down off the stool, moved to a point where everyone had a VERY good view by climbing up on the sturdy coffee table, turned her back to us and lowered the frilly skirt to the table before stepping out of it. There was a collective gasp; Irene was wearing no panties. She picked up the skirt, grinning widely, twirled it over her head, and flipped it to the couch. "Pete, Honey, would you do the honors?" I snatched my eyes away from her pubic muff and counted out chips. "Certainly, m'dear..." All eyes shifted to Edwina, who started visibly shaking as Irene resumed her stool. Somebody opened his mouth, but Irene held up a finger and whoever it was shut up. "Baby," she addressed Edwina. "You don't have to do nothing -- you can just walk away. But this is a hump -- after you do this, it'll all be downhill for a while..." Irwin, mesmerized, drew a finger along the outside of Irene's thigh; she eyed him placidly and said nothing. Edwina looked beseechingly at Irene, who nodded, then shifted her gaze to Irwin and bit her lip. Slowly and carefully, she climbed down off the barstool and walked over to climb just as carefully onto the coffee table. She turned; as she was gathering herself to lower the skirt, Irene said, "Baby, once it's down, spread your legs and look between 'em to see who's watchin'. I forgot to do that..." There was a LOOONG pregnant pause; as the seconds ticked away, I decided that Edwina wasn't going to do it. I didn't blame her -- if she wanted our attention, she'd done plenty to get it. But then her hands settled on the elastic waistband of the skirt, and it slid slowly to the floor. There was a reverent murmur and it became apparent that several of us had been holding our breaths. Edwina's bow legs kept the skirt stretched until halfway down her calves, but it finally fell free. She stood there for a moment, then stepped out of it one foot at a time, then did as Irene suggested and peered at us between her legs. "Bravo!" Robert erupted and began to clap. Everyone took it up, cheering and whistling and Edwina's red face broke into a relieved grin. She stood and emulated Irene's whirling action and strutted back to her stool, red-faced, but grinning from ear to ear. "Yeah, Baby! Work It!" Irene encouraged. Edwina had apparently never done a bikini trim -- she had a serious bush on her mound and the hint of a trail up to her navel. Nobody complained. By the time she got back to her stool, she was looking pretty serene; apparently, Irene was right about the hump. I pushed the chips toward her and she accepted them as if there was nothing at all strange going on, "Thank you, Pete." Robert, Elliott, Rajiv, Rudy and I kicked in our socks for the relatively measly price of five bucks without anything resembling the fanfare the women got. Nobody wanted to see any of our feet. The deal moved to Irwin, who called for Five Card Stud. I got lucky and pulled in the pot with three jacks; raises were running fifty cents a pop, so I hit another eighteen bucks or so. Jim took the pack, grinned from ear to ear, and announced, "The game is Mexican Sweat! Deuces and Jokers are wild!" Hell, I didn't know how to play THAT! Jim explained rapidly and we took off; basically, it was serious Stud Poker -- you turned up cards until you had the best hand and then you bet it, and play moved to the next guy. Rudy turned up an eight and everybody bet -- basically just fifty cents, which had become the minimum at some point. Then it was my turn; I turned up a four and a six before beating Rudy's eight with a Jack, and raised another fifty cents. Robert threw a King right away, and we went another fifty cents. Rajiv took four cards to come up with a pair of sevens -- and bet a buck. This put everyone into the pot for three bucks. Edwina managed a pair of tens -- triumphantly, she loaded the pot with another buck, which I thought was insane, given the results if she lost. Elliott pulled off his shirt and I handed him ten bucks in chips -- then he went through his whole hand without managing to beat Edwina. Irene, who was still funded, took all five cards to turn up a pair of Queens -- which she decided was worth two bucks! Shirts came off all around the table so we could keep up. Play shifted to Irwin, who crashed out with busted junk for a hand. That put play to Jim -- who managed three Treys using a Joker on four cards. The price to stay in went up another two dollars! Edwina sat there looking at the table for a while; she could cover this one, but the next ... She looked over at Irene, who grinned at her. "I need some money, Pete," she said softly, and started undoing the fishnet body suit. The thing snapped at the crotch, but the women weren't wearing it that way; instead, they had the tails wrapped around their garter belts. Edwina undid the front and turned to Rajiv, "Would you, uh, undo me?" "S--sure..." Rajiv got up and unwrapped the back of the thing from around her garter belt with shaking hands, and Edwina pulled it over her head. Her breasts hadn't really been covered before, but that didn't keep a gasp of appreciation from floating from our mouths. Edwina smiled and arched her chest, then leaned forward to get her chips -- and everybody's eyes were glued. She tossed in her response to the call and sat back with a smile on her face the likes of which I'd never seen. At that point I realized that Edwina was going to go buck naked -- at least -- when the time came. Elliott was out; so was Irene and Irwin. Rudy went out, too, and I went out right behind him. Robert, with four cards left, managed -- using them all -- to pull three sixes. The pot notched up another two dollars. Rajiv failed to beat Robert and play moved on to Edwina, who pulled a third ten. She raised another two bucks and Jim covered it. Somebody was going to be insanely rich... It was Jim. He pulled a nine, which gave him a natural pair and a full house, nines over treys. Smiling, he nodded at Edwina as he raked it in. "Good play. DAMNED good play!" It had been -- but she'd lost, and it had been expensive. She was far enough ahead of Irene that I wondered if she would run out of guts without the black woman's example. But she didn't seem bothered... After the tension of that hand, Rudy was only up for Five Card Draw. I was just as pleased ... The pot was small -- but Edwina won it, to the consternation of a couple of the others. I called Seven Card Stud -- and won the hand. Irene pushed things after just about everyone else had bailed, but lost -- deliberately, I think, since it cost her her top. Robert called Seven Card Draw and we went around twice, largely because Irwin decided that he was going to win. As it turned out, he was right. Rajiv pulled in the pack and announced, "I want to play the sweat game." I rolled my eyes, but, hey ... The cards went out and Edwina led off with a six and bet fifty cents. Elliott pulled a nine and bet another fifty. Irene managed a ten on three cards and bet another fifty cents, then Irwin managed a pair of fours -- and raised a dollar. Jim went straight out. Rudy and Rajiv had to part with their pants to stay in the game -- but Rudy pulled a Jack, a seven and a Joker, which gave him a pair of jacks -- so he bet a buck. I went out. Robert took all five cards to pull three sevens, using the other Joker. Deuces hadn't been called, so the wild cards were gone. He eyed Edwina's chip stack and pushed two-fifty onto the table. Edwina looked at the way things were shaping up and pursed her lips. I don't know anyone who wouldn't have tossed his or her cards at that juncture. The probabilities sucked. But instead, she reached for a garter tab... Irene stopped her. "Baby, you really oughta use the table for that. Stand to start, while you unhook, then sit to pull them off." Edwina actually dimpled! "Good idea!" And she went over and stood on the table and turned herself so we could watch every clip come undone, then sat and pulled them off before standing again to step out of the garter belt. I'm not ashamed to say that I clapped and cheered and whistled with the best of them. Edwina returned to her stool -- nude -- took her money and placed her bet, apparently happy and unruffled. Ten seconds later, Irene followed suit. We all enjoyed the show and watched her match a bet on a hand that was equally impossible for her to win. The girls were game -- you had to give them that! Rajiv went out. Edwina followed. Elliott and Irene did, too. It looked like Robert was going to pull the pot, but Rudy surfaced another Jack and won the hand. Robert created a monster at that point by telling Rajiv, "If you don't get your nose out of Edwina's crotch, you're going to be showing HER YOUR genitals..." Rajiv glared, but everyone at the table had noticed his distraction. Edwina merely smiled at him benignly. Fact was, Rajiv was sitting there in tented underwear -- and was the worst off of the bunch of us. Edwina instituted Five Card Draw -- and Elliott won the small pot. Elliott ordered Five Card Stud -- and Robert drained that one off. But Irene called Seven Card Stud -- and Rajiv, suddenly VERY aggressive, took a decent- sized pot. Irwin went for seven card draw and Rajiv took that one, too. The worm had turned, and the girls were running low on cash. Jim looked at me and asked, "Okay, how are we gonna do this?" I sat back, eyeing the women. "I don't know." I turned to Elliott. "Any ideas?" Elliott chewed his lip. "This isn't our call." Irene sucked her lips. "For me, this is more about batting order than anything else, boys. The birthday boy gets firsts -- whatever he wants. After that, I can bargain. Blow job to start? Straight sex the next hand, and anal after that? I'm not speaking for Edwina, now..." "This shouldn't just be an answer to a single call," I pointed out, "It's too valuable. If she commits, it's for the hand, wherever it goes. Are we agreed?" There was a mutter of assent, then all eyes shifted to Edwina. Edwina couldn't look at anything above the table top, apparently. "Everything I do is a first," she husked. "Of course," Irwin muttered. "No, you don't understand. I mean it's a VERY first!" Edwina amplified. "Ohh..." Irwin shut up. "Ummm, no disrespect, Irene, but this has to be taken as more valuable," I opined. There was a mutter of agreement. "No offense," Irene waved it off. "If Edwina is doin' what she says she's doin', you're absolutely right. You go, Girl!" Edwina, who still couldn't raise her eyes above the table top, blushed scarlet, but smiled nervously. "Twice," Rudy rumbled. "She bets something, she's in until she loses to the same guy twice. If she wins a pot, she takes it all back." "IF the pot covers previous losses," Irwin amended. "What?" Jim blinked. "If she bets a blow job, let's say," Irwin amplified, "and she loses three pots to three separate guys, then wins one -- that's the scenario. She needs to cover what she'd have lost on those three pots to be able to take the blow job off the table." "Are you planning to charge interest, too?" Robert carped. "It's fair," Edwina said softly. "Irwin is right. I'll play for those stakes." "Weena, you don't have to do this," Rudy said softly. Edwina looked up and caught his eye. "You don't get it, do you?" Rudy flopped back like a puppet with cut strings, shocked. Frankly, he wasn't the only one, by ANY means! "Edwina agrees," Elliott intoned. That set it in concrete. I watched Jim pour over his options; Mexican Sweat wasn't required to get us where we were going. "Five card stud." Elliott won the hand. The women were pretty close, actually. When it was over, Irene had nothing left to wager but a blow job, and Edwina had the ante for the next hand, but that was it. "Seven Card Draw," Rudy announced. "I'm in," Irene announced. Everybody else threw in their chips -- and everyone watched Edwina while they did it. She sat there, staring at the table top. "I need a drink." "Coming right up, Baby!" Irene announced brightly. "The same?" Edwina nodded, adding, "Stronger." So we all sat there, waiting, while Irene made a drink. After a moment, Rudy said, "Anyone else for a refill?" Everybody decided it was time to hit the keg. We filtered back and sat down; Edwina was still staring at the tabletop. Irene brought Edwina a HUGE glass -- one of those super-size things you get at fast-food places -- and placed it in her hand and patted her on the shoulder. "Here you go, Baby." Edwina took a long couple of swallows from the glass and then resumed staring at the tabletop -- and we all got more and more uncomfortable. Irwin opened his mouth, but before he could absolve her again, Edwina said, "Shut up, Irwin. I'm in," and her last two chips clattered onto the table. Looking up at Rudy, she directed, "Deal." Rudy dealt. The first round of bets was piddly -- fifty cents would seal someone's fate, so why bother? When the bet came around to Edwina, she announced, "My virginity." That rocked the table. Irene ventured, "Don't you want to start light, Baby?" "No, I want it gone," Edwina replied. "I want someone in this room to get it. I don't want to leave here with it. I can backtrack on the other stuff later." "Okay..." Irene replied. Everybody else kept their mouths shut. Elliott threw in his bet and Irene folded, which called the question whether she was really in for a blow job just to cover the ante. We decided not; Edwina had the tie-breaker. Irene was out for this hand. And Rajiv won his third in four. I was watching him, and he had this pattern to his movements -- he would look Edwina up and down, then draw in a breath and the portcullis would slide down in front of his face, leaving an expression of intense concentration. He didn't miss a thing during play, either. It was up to me, and Five Card Stud looked good. Irene hung in -- and lost to Irwin, who produced a smile about a foot wide. That put Irwin with one strike on Edwina's tally, too. Robert dealt Seven Card Stud; Irene bet a piece of pussy and Robert won it -- and I'd seen Robert look pleased with himself, but NEVER THAT pleased! I thought he was going to float away or something! The cards shifted to Rajiv. He looked up at Edwina and she looked back, and without bothering to look at us, Rajiv announced, "Five Card Draw -- Deuces Wild." I got a shiver up my spine at his tone -- and I think Edwina did, too. Rajiv couldn't have been clearer about what he wanted. He turned and flicked out the cards with machinelike precision and set the pack down. I had crap. Edwina took three, and Elliott took three and Irene, who was vending an ass-fuck, took two. Irwin took two, and Jim took three and Rudy took four. "Four," I announced. Robert took two. Rajiv put down his cards and said, "Dealer stands." Edwina's bet was a given, so Elliott put up fifty cents. Irene's bet was also in, so Irwin raised fifty and Jim saw. Rudy did, too. I said "Fuck it!" and folded. Robert stared at his cards a bit and raised fifty cents. Rajiv swept the table with his eyes and declaimed, "Raise two dollars." "Fold!" Elliott got out. Irwin raised fifty cents -- but he was clearly nervous. Jim folded. Robert eyed Rajiv and it was plain on his face what he was thinking. If Irwin didn't hold the winning hand, one of the other two was going to win Edwina. "Two dollars." "I'll see your two and raise you two," Rajiv replied. "Fold!" Irwin croaked. Edwina watched the remaining pair with a fixed expression. You could cut the tension in the room with a knife. Robert, his face stone, eyed Rajiv's chips. "Four dollars." Rajiv got up; everyone figured it was to concede, but instead, he dropped his briefs. "Pete, I need my ten. Just put it in the pot." None of the guys had gotten that far; we were all in shock. "Raise you eight-fifty," Rajiv announced. "Call." Robert sat back in his chair. Technically, he could drop his pants and outbid Rajiv, but Robert was WAY beyond his comfort zone! Rajiv hadn't taken any cards, either ... Robert sat for almost a minute, then turned to Elliott. "Is the game over, then?" He tossed his cards on the table. "I guess so," Elliott opined. "You're folding?" "Yes. All I have is three queens, anyway," Robert declared, tossing them down. Turning to Rajiv, he asked, "Do I get to see them?" "I have won?" Rajiv asked. "Yeah, you won, Buddy," Jim answered for the rest of us. Rajiv checked with everyone by eye and got confirmation, then said, "Sure," and turned the cards up. He had a three of Spades, a six of Diamonds, a seven of Clubs, a nine of Diamonds, and a Jack of Spades! Robert sat there, his mouth open in shock! "You were bluffing!" "I was winning!" Rajiv retorted. "Whatever it took -- that I would do. That is how you win." He stood and looked down on Edwina, who looked back up at him, her mouth agape. "Go to the bedroom and prepare yourself." "Yes, Rajiv!" Edwina got down off the stool and tottered off, sucking on her drink. "Stop that!" Rajiv roared. "If you pass out we will do it again until you are there for the whole thing!" "Yes, Rajiv!" drifted through the bedroom door. "I'll be damned!" Jim roared, "You the man, Rajiv, you the man!" "Yes, I am," Rajiv replied. "I go to prove it now..." Smiling, amid whistles and catcalls, Rajiv headed out of the room. "Cake and presents?" Irene asked brightly. "Go sit on the couch, Elliott, and I'll give you a little something. What would you like?" "I want it all!" Elliott gurgled. "Okay, Baby -- what would you like first?" "I..." Elliott shrugged. "How about a little head, then, Baby. If you get excited, we'll handle it that way and then you'll be ready to fuck -- okay?" Irene asked. "S--sure..." So Irene sat him on the couch and pulled off his underwear and leaned in to lick and suck -- and Elliott lasted maybe ten seconds. He splayed himself like a starfish, grunting, then grabbed Irene's head while he grunted and humped for fifteen seconds, then flopped back. Irene surfaced and coughed a bit and Elliott muttered, "Sorry!" "You really have to learn better manners, Baby, if you want a lot of that," Irene chided. "But you're the birthday boy, and I know gettin' the whole thing is important, isn't it, Baby?" "Yeah." Elliott nodded like a little kid. "I'm sorry, but ... I'm not, if you know what I mean." "I know," Irene agreed. "How do you want me for the fuck? Missionary? Doggie? Cowgirl?" Elliott didn't really have a grip, so after some explanations, they threw some couch cushions on the floor and Elliott crawled between Irene's legs and started pumping his scrawny ass. We sat around laughing and drinking beer and calling out encouragements while he managed a MUCH better performance; I could tell from Irene's reactions that he was plowing her properly. Irene humped back up at him and told him all about what a stud he was, and I looked up to see Irwin beating his meat. "Save it for Irene!" I laughed. "I figured I'd shoot the first one so I can enjoy it properly," Irwin retorted. "What?" Irene puffed. "Don't do that, Baby -- you won't have any left for the fuck! Don't waste it!" "Hey, I get to fuck!" Robert erupted. "Sure you do, Baby -- but you two can swap, after..." Irene gasped. "I wanna party! I want you ALL! Edwina made me so hot..." She wrapped her legs around Elliott's ass and started humping up at him like she was trying to start a campfire with the friction or something, squalling. Elliott made it through her peak, but she got him going such that there wasn't any way he was going to hold out for another cycle; when she tightened up again and started pumping after that orgasm, he started slamming and grunting and then collapsed atop her. Irene let it go for a minute or so, then muttered, "Okay, Baby, you can rest and come back, but there are others who are waiting..." Pushing gently, she coaxed him off, then asked Robert, "Do you two think you want to go at the same time?" The thought was revolutionary, but both of them were over-stimulated by the show. They folded out the couch and put Irene on her back on the cushions and she hung her head over the side and opened that mouth of hers for Irwin to poke. Robert climbed atop her and started rocking like a giant grasshopper, and Irwin plugged his not surprisingly stubby meat into Irene's mouth. Robert's height put Irwin's cock in his face, so he went erect; Irene sucked and gurgled and would probably have given a whole monologue except for Irwin plugging her mouth. This went on for a couple of minutes; Irwin grabbed Irene's tits and squeezed and milked them and she gave every indication she loved it. They were going at it hard and heavy when a knock sounded at the door. I went to check the peep; it was Mack. Irwin was looking worried, so I waved for him to continue, then let Mack in. One look told Mack we weren't fooling around. "Well, I'm glad to see you're getting your money's worth," he rumbled. I nodded. "Yeah, it's going good. She's been great -- a real trouper. She'll be busy for a while yet, though..." "Good." Mack let his eyes sweep the room, "You boys get your fill -- I don't want to hear that she turned anybody away with a load left. You hear me, Irene? Drain 'em dry, Girl!" Irene waved. "Here's your money," I told Mack, fishing out the wad and winking. "Is it all there?" Mack winked back, pretending to be serious. "Count it," I insisted. "I trust ya. You boys have a good time, now. Don't forget to do her ass -- she loves that shit!" Chuckling, he waved and headed out, and I closed the door behind him. I turned from the door and suddenly a voice could be heard coming from the bedroom, "Oh! Oh! Oh! OH! OOHH! OOOHHH!!! OMIGOD! RAJEEEEEEV! RAJEEEEEV!!! AAAIIIIEEEEEEE!!!!!!" Irwin's eyes got as big as saucers and he plugged himself as deep into Irene's mouth as he could go. I watched his knees and his balls jump as he creamed Irene's throat, taken over the top by the sound of Edwina getting her orgasm. Irwin staggered back and left Irene to Robert's tender mercies. Jim came over to stand next to me, watching Robert do an unexpectedly good job of putting the meat to Irene. "This is turning out to be a helluva night," he observed. "You got THAT right," I agreed, nodding toward the bedroom. "If you'd told me that EITHER of them would manage to do what they did..." "Yeah, no shit!" Jim chuckled. "Want another beer?" "Yeah." We headed for the bar. Rudy was tending it absently while he watched Robert and Irene. "Damn, Man -- she's..." "She's real nice," I filled in. "Like I said, she isn't a hooker -- but she loves sex. I just paid her bill, but she'll go all night if she has to." "Y'all go ahead -- I wanna be last," Rudy rumbled. I shrugged. I didn't plan to sample Irene, again, anyway -- it was the safest thing for her if I didn't. About that time, Rajiv came out of the bedroom, stark naked, waving a bloody washrag. "Edwina is a woman -- and I am a man!" Irwin frowned, but I waved him off. "It's a cultural thing. Let it go." Rajiv, grinning from ear to ear, displayed the washrag to all and sundry, then Edwina's voice called, "Rajiv! Come back to bed, Sweetie! Please?" Rajiv's eyes popped and he waved and got out of there, to the accompaniment of our laughter. "He's whipped already," Jim chuckled. ------- Chapter 7 The party went on for another couple of hours. Rajiv and Edwina very obviously went another round in the bedroom, then they came out and Edwina gave everybody a hug before they left -- presumably to go home together. Neither of them was ever the same again. Edwina stopped wearing clothing two sizes too big and designed to hide her and started appearing in public looking and acting more female. Rajiv ditched his shyness. The couple went together for about three months, I think, before parting apparently amicably; soon after that, Rajiv started rotating little hotties through his bedroom to the tune of one every couple of weeks. It took Elliott two weeks to get up the nerve to approach Edwina, but when he did, it stuck; I think they're engaged. But I'm getting ahead of myself -- there were other things going on, some of them unexpected... Irene had her work cut out for her. When Robert climbed off, Jim ambled over for a blow job; Irene knelt up and delivered a world-class effort and Jim retired from the field after only a couple of minutes, having emptied his sizeable dick down Irene's throat, grunting. He thanked her, waved, tucked himself in, and hit the door, more or less confirming my assumption that he had a supply elsewhere. Rudy held off. Robert waved Irene over to the chair he was sitting in for a blow job. He made a picture, looking like a patrician dilettante, relaxed in the chair looking unconcerned while a black woman gobbled his cock. He even managed to carry on a conversation for a couple of minutes before Irene's big mouth took too much of his attention. I think the woman could dislocate her jaw like a snake; I KNOW she could bury her nose in your crotch and manage to wash your balls with her tongue while swallowing the head of your dick, because she'd done it to me! After a few minutes, Robert got quiet and sweaty-looking, then urgent, then a look of vague surprise crossed his face and he hunched up and clutched her head to his crotch while he undulated a few times, then he flopped back and relaxed again. Irene coughed a couple of times, made a production of swallowing, and got up. Robert, being Robert, thanked her dismissively and that was that. And Rudy held off. Robert and Elliott were too fastidious, but given the opportunity, Irwin decided to hold out for the whole experience. "Do you really like anal?" he asked Irene. Elliott said, "EWWW," and Robert wrinkled his nose, and Irene replied, "It really depends. Generally, I don't, but I have. He just wanted to make sure you get your money's worth." She eyed him a moment. "If you want it, though, Baby, you can have it -- it's what I'm here for." "I might never get another shot," Irwin allowed. "Okay, then. I'll bend over the couch arm. The thing about anal is how you do it -- if you take it easy, it'll be better for both of us." Irene shifted her eyes to me. "I can do this dry if I have to, but you'd probably appreciate it if we were lubed..." I figured she was worried about what I would tell Mack, so I waved it off. "Yeah, good idea..." Irwin grunted. He was anxious to get on with it at that point, not worried about details. Irene got out a bottle of lube that was stored in an end table drawer and said," Rub this on you, Baby -- it'll help." Before handing the bottle to him, she took a squirt in her hand to apply to her ass. Then she bent over the couch arm while Irwin lubed up. It didn't look like fun. I think Irwin was a little over-anxious and under-lubricated at the start. Irene grunted a lot and didn't say anything about how good it felt -- which for me was a dead giveaway that she wasn't having a good time -- but then, in reality, that wasn't what she was there for... Irwin grunted and groaned and pushed his meat into her, holding her hips while he did it to stabilize her. Irwin's having a thick cock probably made things worse for Irene, but I guess it just made things tighter for Irwin. He got real happy real fast and I found myself wondering if the whole experience might give Irwin an interest in guys -- he'd had a blow job and an ass fuck and totally bypassed pussy at that point. Robert looking disgusted, got up, dressed, and left while Irwin was still pumping away in Irene's ass, the pair of them more or less grunting in concert. About the time I decided that I really didn't care to watch any more, Irwin got red in the face and jammed away seriously for about six strokes, then let out a protracted grunt. I was pretty sure at that point that his balls were jumping, but I didn't bother to circle around to look. Then he backed off and grunted, "Yuck..." and headed for the bathroom, holding a hand under his dick to keep the goo from dripping off. Irene clapped a hand over her ass and looked up at me with an expression of mixed discomfort and relief, asking, "Pete, Baby, could you bring me a paper towel, maybe?" I nodded and went into the kitchen to get her something to plug her ass with. And Rudy held off. When Irene apparently had her ass under control (after Irwin came back, allowing her a trip to the bathroom, too) Elliott decided to get seconds. Irene wasn't as energetic, but Elliott didn't really care -- and she seemed to enjoy it, anyway. Elliott took his time in her and came away very pleased with his performance, bolstered by Irene's positive reaction. When he was done, he thanked her and went over and collected his clothing and got dressed, asking Irwin, "Had enough?" And Rudy STILL held off. Irwin hadn't had enough -- or his head hadn't, anyway. He tried for about ten minutes to get it up again, but anal sex had taken a lot out of him. Eventually, with ill grace, he gave up. Irene wasn't to blame, either; she tried masturbation and another blow job and he just didn't have it in him. Finally, Elliott said, "Come, Irwin -- let's go home." Irwin, embarrassed, didn't have it in him to be gracious, so he grumbled and made excuses all the way out the door. I became aware of Rudy eyeing me. "So, Pete..." I threw up my hands in the universal gesture of disinterest and disassociation and Rudy finally lumbered forward. "You okay?" he asked Irene. "I'll live," Irene grunted. "Got any left?" "For you, Baby? Sure." "Let's go in the bedroom," Rudy rumbled, taking her by the hand. I watched them disappear around the corner, then busied myself picking up the cards and the chips and emptying out half-empty beer cups and such. Irene was on the hook to clean up, too, which was kind of mean in my book, but what the fuck ... I wandered around for a few minutes, then decided that the pair of them really didn't need me -- I could go home to bed and pick up Irene in the morning. I headed for the bedroom to brief the plan becoming aware of a series of pounding smacks and Irene's voice gasping, "Oh ... Shit ... Oh ... Fuck ... Oh ... Baby ... So ... Good ... Fuck..." in counterpoint. Peering around the corner, I found them crossways on the bed with Irene riding Rudy cowgirl -- but Rudy was doing all the work, surging up from below. I'd seen Irene happy -- she'd clearly enjoyed herself with me, for instance, and I figured that Robert had done a good job -- and maybe Elliott -- but one look at her breathlessly beatific expression told me that she was in a totally different place. Rudy was ramming what looked like a foot-long salami up into her from below and she had nothing but praise for his efforts. There was white foam around the base of his cock, and I was willing to bet it was new juice from her -- not leftovers from someone else -- being whipped into a froth. Rudy had a titty in each hand, rubbing nipples, and Irene was leaning into it, bracing her small frame against his hands. As I watched, she reached down to stroke his face and rub his shoulders, gasping out her pleasure a word at a time. Maybe it was voyeurism, or maybe I was genuinely concerned about disturbing what was obviously an intimate moment, but whichever way you slice it, I hung out without announcing myself while Irene's sounds of pleasure got louder and more urgent and the expression on her face got more and more intense until she was screeching, "OH! BABY! FUCK! SHIT! FUCK!" Then her eyes rolled up in her head and she started to shake and the sound of Rudy's strokes got sloppy and wet while she arched herself backward and whined through her clenched teeth! I certainly hadn't accomplished THAT! She flopped forward, panting, and gasped, "Jeezus, Baby! Where the fuck have you been all my life?" "Waitin' for the day," Rudy puffed, "Waitin' for the day." "Don't let me hold you guys up," I announced myself. "Irene, I'm going home. You guys enjoy yourselves and I'll pick you up in the morning ... Is that cool?" "Uh ... huh!" Irene nodded. "Yeah, thanks, Man," Rudy gasped. "Don't hurt yourselves..." I laughed, and hit the door. ------- The next morning, I got up, cleaned up, and wandered over to the party apartment to look in on the disaster. Irene was up and moving -- slowly. Given what she'd been through, I really didn't blame her. "Sore?" "Tired," Irene grinned. "It was a long night BEFORE Rudy came along ... He's that tricycle guy, right?" "Troglodyte," I corrected. "Yes." "So he lives alone?" "Well, without a woman, anyway. He's got a couple of college guys that split the rent with him when he can catch them," I amplified. "He should have hot and cold running women, that one," Irene announced. "You do all right, and that Robert was pretty good -- but Rudy? Oh. My. God! He..." She shook her head. "After you left I ran out of energy -- well, it was after I came again and he did, too, once -- and he picked me up like I was a Barbie doll and actually STOOD UP and held me in the air while he pumped that fire hose of his into me! I think I blacked out a couple of times!" She shook her head, obviously remembering on helluva bout. "I lost count..." "I'll tell him you had a good time," I chuckled. "Oh, he knows..." Irene dimpled. As I was driving her home, I asked, "So what's up with the cleaning company?" "They want a personal reference," Irene replied. "I don't have anything eye-catching. Most people I know aren't sterling sources, if you know what I mean." "So give them me," I told her, digging for one of my fancy new business cards. Irene looked dubious. "What would Mack say? You work for him..." "In the first place," I countered, "it will mean you have rent money. Mack will like that -- I will like that. In the second, I don't just work for Mack -- I own five percent of the business. That makes me a partner and an owner." "Oh..." Irene looked bemused. "I'll try it, then." "Better than that, do you have the number of their HR jerk?" I replied. "I'll call the fuck." "I dunno..." "Okay. Give them my name and particulars," I told her. "If they don't call by tomorrow afternoon, we'll know they're scratching their asses and I'll call THEM. Deal?" "Deal!" Irene grinned. ------- They called at about three. Mack and I were at the usual place, so things were a little noisy. "Hello?" "Yes, is this..." the woman managed to garble my last name. "It is," I rumbled, mildly offended. "This is Ellen Carstairs of Workplace Pros Cleaning Services. Do you know an Irene Harris?" "I do." "She gave your name as a reference," Ms. Carstairs said primly. "I'm aware," I replied. "It was at my insistence, actually." "I see," Ms. Carstairs replied. "May I inquire as to your position at..." she read off the name of Mack's business -- OUR business, actually. "I'm a partner," I replied. "I'm in charge of marketing and profitability forecasting, among other functions." "You're not in your office, I presume." Ms. Carstairs was NOT making points. "I'm at a function with the president of the company. Your interest in that is?" I snapped. "Um, sorry, sir. How do you know Ms. Harris?" "She's a tenant. We hire her occasionally to clean up apartments," I replied. "I see." Carstairs obviously expected this reference to be useless -- and it was turning out to be otherwise. "How often do you do that?" "As recently as last night," I replied. "Look, Irene has an iron will and is service-oriented. If you hire her, she'll be running a crew in three months -- smoothly. She does whatever it takes to get the job done." "Thank you for your candor. We'll be looking much harder at this application based upon your statements." "What else does she need?" I asked. "Well, yours is a sterling recommendation, but..." "Who the fuck is that?" Mack asked. "HR from the cleaning company Irene applied to. She's looking for references," I replied. "Gimme the phone." Mack snatched it. "Who is this? Awright, Ms. Carstairs, I'm Pete's business partner -- and the president of the company. You wanna know about Irene? She's got two little kids and she's starving herself to death so they can eat while she waits for assholes like you to consider giving her a fucking job. She can work rings around your ass -- but she's black, so she's screwed at the outset. You need to get off your ass and hire her before she CAN'T work -- get me?" He handed me the phone. Carstairs was still sputtering. "Um, sorry about that. My partner is a little unvarnished in how he handles things. But if you clean it up a little, that's another recommendation." "That was nasty!" Carstairs snarled. "Maybe," I agreed, "but there was a lot of plain truth to it." "She did appear to be somewhat thin and wasted..." "And you thought she was on drugs, didn't you?" I pressed. "Ask for a drug test. I'm pretty sure what the results will be." "I'll take that under advisement," Carstairs muttered. "Thank you for your time." I hung up. "You might have fucked, her, Mack." "Yeah, well, maybe not. If it looks like I did, maybe I'll give her a break," Mack muttered. ------- Irene called an hour later. "I go in at four to fill out paperwork!" she gushed. "What did you tell them?" "I told them I'm your landlord and that you sometimes clean apartments for me," I related. "Then Mack got on the phone and called the HR person a worthless twat. She got all excited, and now you've got a job," I finished, grinning. "He didn't, really, did he?" Irene asked. "Well, no, but he came pretty damned close -- you know Mack. He wasn't complimentary. Then again, she deserved a chunk of it." "Well, it seems to have worked, one way or another," Irene sighed. "Thanks -- both of you." "We told 'em you'd own the place in six months," I chuckled. "Don't disappoint us!" "No problem!" she assured me, and hung up. "You're still a soft touch, Pete," Mack grunted, "but that's probably the way to handle it." "Yeah, well..." He sat staring off into space for a bit, then said, "Keep Friday open." "Cards?" "Charlene." "Oh." I'd forgotten about the impending gang-bang. "I'm not real comfortable about this bunch," Mack grunted. "And there's Teresa. I'm gonna want to take out insurance." "Okay." God knew what he meant -- I didn't. ------- I got gratitude in various forms from just about everyone for the party -- including Edwina -- but Rudy had other fish to fry when he popped up on IM Thursday: Troglodyte77: Hey. Zapmaster6: Hey. Troglodyte77: About Irene... Zapmaster6: Yeah? Troglodyte77: Did she say anything about me? I chuckled to myself. Mack gave me a look. I was on my laptop at the bar. Zapmaster6: Only that you were the hottest thing since sliced bread... Troglodyte77: Don't jerk my sht, Man. Zapmaster6: Serious business. She said you ought to have hot and cold running women Troglodyte77: No sht?" Zapmaster6: Her words, not mine. Troglodyte77: You didn't do her. Zapmaster6: Not that night. I know how she is, though. Troglodyte77: That stuff you said about her at the party -- was that true? Zapmaster6: Yes. Troglodyte77: What else do you know about her? Zapmaster6: I know she just got a job. Troglodyte77: So she's really not a hooker? Zapmaster6: Nope. Troglodyte77: Would it be stupid of me to call her? Zapmaster6: Not that I know of. She's got two little kids -- and she works nights. There was a pause, then: Troglodyte77: Doing what? Zapmaster6: Cleaning offices. Another pause... Troglodyte77: What would the guys think? Zapmaster6: If you called her? Troglodyte77: Yeah. Zapmaster6: I would hope they would show some sense. Irene is a nice lady. Troglodyte77: Well, they've all... Zapmaster6: If she doesn't care and you don't care, that ought to be the end of it. Troglodyte77: Yeah. There followed a LOOOONG pause -- I minimized chat and went back to work on my spreadsheet. Then: Troglodyte77: You wouldn't have her number... Zapmaster6: Gimme a sec. I hunted down her number and keyed it in, followed by "Good luck." Troglodyte77: Thanks, Man. ttyl. Two hours later, Irene called me. "Hey, Pete? Rudy the Cave Man left a message on my voicemail..." "Yeah," I agreed. "He asked me for your number." "Do you know what he wants, Baby?" "Well, he knows you're not a hooker. On the other hand, you made quite an impression, so I can't say for sure his motives are TOTALLY pure. I mean, I saw you two..." "Yeah." She giggled. "What do you think he wants?" "A date." "Is that a date? Or a 'date'?" "If you're asking will he bring money - maybe for dinner," I replied. "He's a little concerned what you will think of it all, and what the other guys will think of it all -- that's not a 'how much does she charge' situation, in my book." "Yeah," Irene mused. "It's a little messy." "Well, Edwina seems to be living Tuesday night down just fine..." I opined. Irene wasn't the only one to drop her panties that night, even if she was the one who'd done it the most. "Is it the same thing?" "That's up to you and Rudy. Nobody else counts." "Okay." Irene paused. "Thanks, Baby." "Any time." ------- Friday evening arrived. Mack and I picked up Charlene and Teresa in Mack's Caddy -- sometimes you needed to flaunt it, especially in the neighborhood where we were going. "Everybody keep an eye out for bullshit," Mack warned. "These guys are friends of a friend of an acquaintance and I do NOT know that they have any fucking manners." I wasn't thrilled. Teresa wasn't, either. Charlene merely shrugged. The place was a private home at the edge of a pretty slummy area. We parked in the drive and Mack hammered on the door and one of those big half- Black, half-Puerto Rican characters with the razor-sharp beards opened the door, grunted, and waved us in. Dude had muscles like Mr. T. He led us through two or three rooms after perfunctorily patting us down. He was probably the least worrisome of the bunch; the other five looked like honor graduates of a pimp academy. A pretty dark character with a gold tooth and one of those ball caps that look like they were made for a soccer ball turned sideways asked, "Which one is the bitch?" "The older one," Mack replied. "We're showing the young one the ropes." "Cool." There was a general rumble. Gold tooth circled Charlene, giving her the eye. "Biker bitch, looks like. You bring the shit, Mama?" Charlene swept her eyes over the group. "This is it?" she asked, mildly contemptuous. "It's fuckin' plenty, Bitch," Gold Tooth replied, clearly taking offense. "Sure." Charlene's voice challenged him to prove it. Mack flicked his eyes at me and I drifted over. "We might need the insurance policy. Under the passenger seat." Raising his voice, he asked Mr. T, "Hey, you got a pisser around here? My partner needs to take a leak." Mr. T loved it. "Weak fuckin' bladder, there, Bro?" "Hey," I shrugged. "Long drive. Too much beer." I was stone cold sober. "Go back out front and turn right." "Thanks." I left, trying to look casual. I had the same bad feeling about things that Mack had. I went straight out the door, moving quickly as soon as I was out of sight and put on the deadbolt with the door open so it wouldn't lock behind me. In the Caddy, I reached under the seat and fished out Mack's insurance policy, surprised and pleased to find out it was a 9mm. Little did Mack know that it took me back ... I closed and locked the Caddy and stuck the gun under my belt in the back, offside a bit to the right so I could get at it. Then I went back in and pretended to take a leak, flushing. Not much had happened that I could see; Mack and Teresa were standing off to the side, whispering -- I figured Mack was calming Teresa down. The Pimp Patrol had more or less moved to circle Charlene, who was still emitting an aura of mild contempt. Mr. T took me in and turned his back on me; I wasn't a threat, and everybody was accounted for. Charlene eyed Gold Tooth. "We all know why you wanted a white bitch. Well you got one. Let's get it on!" Gold Tooth lashed out with a slap that rocked Charlene. "Since you know all about it, Bitch, you shoulda seen THAT comin'! Show some fuckin' respect!" Charlene wiped her mouth, apparently unfazed. "Show me why I should!" Mack stirred a bit, but didn't do anything. Charlene flicked a glance at him and shook her head fractionally and I got it; they wanted to break a white woman -- and if she acted like quivering meat, they wouldn't get their money's worth. Charlene had guts, I'll say that for her. She was playing the game. "Pay the man," she told Gold Tooth. "Then you can teach me respect. Maybe." Gold Tooth nodded at Mr. T, and Mr. T dug in his pocket for a wad and stripped off the necessary funds, handing them to Mack. "Cool?" he asked. Mack counted it. "It'll do. You put her out of action, though, and it'll cost extra." Mr. T just smiled. Gold Tooth eyed Charlene. "Get outta your shit, Bitch." Charlene pulled her T-shirt over her head and started working on her jean shorts. "We was gonna bring you up slow, but since you got an attitude ... Luther, see if you can get the bitch's attention." Luther had a full-face beard, one of those silly-looking hats golfers wear -- and a considerable length of trouser snake, as it turned out. I wasn't in any position to measure it, but it looked like about a foot of uncut meat over heavy balls. "So, can you swallow that, Bitch?" Gold Tooth taunted. "Maybe you won't talk so much..." "I love a challenge," Charlene replied, apparently unfazed. She knelt up and waved Luther forward. "Where did you get this? Is it a graft from a horse?" she asked as she started jacking it. "It's home grown, Bitch," Luther rumbled. "What's the matter? Never seen black meat? How about I put this up your ass and ream out your throat from the back side?" Everybody in the Pimp Patrol chuckled. "I've seen plenty," Charlene replied, unflappable as usual. "Make up your mind -- front or back? You're the one bringing it." "Suck," Luther directed. "Let's see if you can do deep stomach." That got another chuckle. Charlene took in a mouthful of cock head and I figured she was going to regret being cocky. Luther put a hand behind her head and started pulling. "Don't just fucking play with it, Bitch..." I figured Charlene was screwed, but she ducked her head and unhinged her jaw or something. It was amazing -- I could SEE the lump going down her throat! Still, she didn't manage to get it all in, which pleased just about all of her customers. Luther let up so she could back off to breathe. "Maybe you'll get there..." He reached down and pulled Charlene's wrist into a hammerlock and tugged her back onto his meat. "Okay, show me how bad you are, Bitch." He started forcing her onto him and backing her off, using the arm to compel her movement. That went, well, reasonably okay for about forty seconds, but Luther wasn't letting Charlene back off enough to breathe properly. She started to struggle and turn colors. "You have to let her breathe once a week or so," Mack muttered. He flicked me a glance and I knew what he wanted -- but Mr. T decided to step up next to Teresa, blocking me off. "Shut the fuck up," Gold Tooth snapped. "Luther's teaching the bitch manners." Mr. T turned to Teresa. "So, Honey -- you a party animal, too?" Teresa was about to pee her pants, watching all this. "N--no. Let her breathe!" Charlene was looking a little rough; I thought she was going to pass out. She'd struggled some, but seemed to be running out of fight. Mack stirred himself. "If I have to take her to the hospital, there'll be an additional charge..." Suddenly, Gold Tooth brandished a pistol, holding it sideways, like they do in the movies. "Who you gonna collect from, old man? Shut the fuck up. Elias, why don't you see if the other bitch can suck any better?" Elias was apparently not Mr. T... There was a whisper of sound and a voice said, "It seems to me that if we're going to renegotiate the contract, both parties should be properly represented." I was somewhat surprised to recognize that voice as mine... Gold Tooth looked surprised -- and well he should be, since he was looking down the bore of the 9mm. "You ever been to war, Man?" I asked conversationally. "I have. The first thing they teach you is to not wave a gun around unless you are prepared to pull the trigger." "So okay, I'll shoot the old fucker," Gold Tooth blustered. "You do, and I'll shoot you AND Luther AND everybody else in your little group," I replied, "Twice. How many marksmanship medals do you have? I qualified Expert with this particular piece eight times." Without shifting my eyes, I said, "Luther, if you want to keep your dick attached to your body, you'll let the woman breathe." Luther let go of Charlene. Mr.T moved. "Don't!" I told him. "You're a big fucker, but he's a threat, so I'll kill your friend so I don't have to worry about him while I shoot you in whatever body part seems most threatening." "Shit..." T moved again. "Fine." I fired a round that missed Gold Tooth's nose by about three millimeters. Gold Tooth flinched to his right and Mack was on him before he recovered. The pistol went flying. I centered the 9mm between Mr. T's eyes. "Thus far, we've avoided any dead bodies, but you seem determined..." I waved him back with a finger until there was enough space that I could take a glance and determine who was delivering the meaty smacks, and who was receiving. Gold Tooth was on his back on the floor and Mack was standing up with the gun in his hand. "There's gonna be an additional charge," Mack grunted. "Definitely. Anybody else holding? Let's see it now..." There were a couple of knives, but no more guns. I waved Mr. T over to the rest of the group. "How's it going, Charlene?" "Okay," she croaked. "Stupid fuck," she muttered, eyeing Gold Tooth. "So, did you all have this planned from the get-go, or was somebody ad-libbing?" I asked. "It was just SUPPOSED to be a fuck!" Elias grated. "Sure, we was gonna turn her every which way but loose, but Marco always has to show off his fucking piece..." "It's mine now," Mack grunted. "Although I probably don't want it. How many people has he robbed or shot with the motherfucker?" Elias shrugged and shook his head. "As you gentlemen may have guessed," I murmured, "due to this attempt to breach our contract, we're reluctant to return your honorarium..." "What the fuck?" Mr. T grunted. "We ain't getting our money back," Elias explained. "Goddamn it," Luther grunted. "I'm gonna kick Marco's fucking ass!" "Boys! Boys!" Charlene interjected. "Maybe we can work something out!" We all looked at her like she was insane -- even the Pimp Patrol. "I CAME for a party!" she insisted. "And I haven't been challenged like THAT in YEARS!" she declaimed, pointing at Luther's somewhat limp meat. "If we can keep things more or less to the original schedule, I would still like to play..." I looked at Mack, who shrugged. "You don't have to," he told her. "They fucked it up. You can walk." "I've been working myself up for this for a week, Mack," Charlene replied levelly. "Let me have my party, please." Mack shook his head and eyed the Pimp Patrol. "Are we on one sheet of music here? No more stupid shit? If it was me, I'd line you all up and kick you in the balls, but the lady wants her party..." Elias looked around and spoke for the group. "No, we're cool." "All right," Mack grunted. "Any more hardware appears, and somebody gets shot, get me? Oh, and we're gonna fine your friend Marco here for his infractions." "Cool." Elias waved his hands. Mack collected Marco's arms and dragged him to a corner and started going through his pockets. Charlene turned to the others. "I know you all had plans -- well, I did, too. The original rules apply -- try not to hospitalize me, but a little rough stuff is authorized. Luther, if you'll let me breathe occasionally, I WILL swallow that motherfucker." Luther grinned. "You be already the first to get most of it." "I love a challenge, Honey. I love a challenge," Charlene replied. "Shall we?" I was frankly amazed at what followed. We put the guns away but stood back out of reach while Charlene pulled a train the likes of which I'd never seen in real life -- and I'm not sure I've seen in porn, despite the fact that Blacks on Blondes is a genre. She DID swallow Luther's dick -- and she took it up her ass and she fucked it, too. I watched her fill all three holes at one time -- not once, but several times! Many times, they slacked off in some way and she would challenge them to further effort, "Come on, fuck me! Bruise my cervix! Get in there deep!" I'm pretty sure she loved Luther's dick in her ass -- they did it at least twice. I don't think her pussy was deep enough for him, but a person has a mile of intestines or some such, so I guess he had room to work the back door ... Everybody got three or four nuts -- except Marco, of course; we tied him up and just let him watch. Charlene came over and peed on him at one point. Mack got $150 and a couple of gold chains when he frisked him; when Marco woke up, Mack let him know that he was being fined for fucking shit up. When it was over, Charlene was a mess -- but seemed satisfied with the situation. We wrapped her in a bedsheet and led her out. I told Marco, "If I see you again, I won't ask how your day is going -- I'll just shoot you -- understand?" He understood. Everything else was amicable. In the car, Teresa sat in the back with her mother's head on her lap. "Why did you do it?" she asked. Charlene smiled. "Baby, when I was your age, I did all kinds of shit -- and I've seen quite a bit. Every once in a while, though, I get the itch to push the edge of the envelope -- regular sex with a guy or two just doesn't cut it. I needed a fix -- something to get the juices flowing again. I was getting bored..." She sighed. "Now that I've had my fill, I'll be good for a while..." Mack gave her the $150 and the chains. ------- Chapter 8 Mack and I discussed Charlene's little party at some length; he was highly surprised to discover that I was a Gulf War veteran. It's just not something I talk about. Frankly, I was worthless for a couple of days after the incident; I'd thought I'd put all that away. In general, that guy who carries guns and shoots people isn't me -- or isn't the me I'm used to having around nowadays. It got me some serious respect from the girls as the story made the rounds -- which I found embarrassing. Mack wanted to know if I would have killed that pissant, Marco. To be honest, I nearly did. You don't fuck around with firearms -- the simplest and safest thing to do would have been to shoot the idiot between the eyes -- and if Mr. T had rushed me, I'd have done it. And I'd have never forgiven myself, because he wasn't that serious of a threat. Oh, yeah, he might have shot one of us, eventually, but he was busy PLAYING bad-ass, not BEING one. ------- Two weeks later, it became general knowledge that Rudy and Irene were dating. After the initial surprise, everyone settled down and put Elliott's birthday party in perspective -- something Edwina was a big help with. ------- Elena was paying the rent -- but showing up at my door once or twice a week, anyway. Mack got wind of it and we had an argument; I told him that I could handle things and if Elena wanted to do more than fuck, she was shit out of luck. But Mack did something to cool her jets anyway and she throttled things way back. Charlene was paid up -- and for some reason, I really didn't want to fuck her, anyway. She got back on track the next month and it was a dead issue. Cindy, on the other hand ... We had to put her out -- she wanted too much abuse. Solo servicing of the Friday night poker parties wasn't enough; nothing Mack could think of was enough -- and Mack had a fertile imagination. After some VERY careful feeling out of each other, we turned Elias and Company loose on her -- and THAT wasn't enough, although I think she gravitated in that direction after we put her on the street. Irene was with Rudy -- and working hard and paying the rent. Another source of fun gone... Toward the end of the month of Charlene's party, though, Cindy was still around -- and still holding out. She was okay for regular sex -- she just wanted more, and you knew it. We were closing on the thirtieth and I'd had her twice that week -- and was, frankly, bored with it -- so I was reluctant to answer my apartment door when the knock came. It was Teresa. "I wanted to thank you for that night," she said. "It's okay," I replied. "I didn't do that much." "No, they'd have gone with Marco as long as he had the upper hand," Teresa insisted. "And they'd have fucked me and who knows what else, once they got going!" "I doubt it," I lied. "Things would have settled down. Cooler heads would have prevailed. I probably stirred things up." "Uh uh," Teresa shook her head. "Mom's a better judge of character than you are if you really believe that -- but you don't. Mom says groups like that always boil down to the least common denominator -- and there's a good chance they would have killed all four of us, once they got going." I got more and more uncomfortable with the situation. "Look, I'd really rather not talk about it." "That's fine," she said. "I didn't come to talk." "What DID you come to do?" I asked -- but I knew the answer. "Uh, look, Honey -- you're STILL fifteen, and that makes you jailbait. What good does it do me to be your hero if to everyone else I'm a sex offender?" "It'll be fine -- I'll close the curtains. Besides, you already took my cherries, remember? Like, two of three? It's a little late..." Besides, she had That Look -- she was her mother's daughter. Once she turned it on, I couldn't say no; five minutes later, we were fucking. I don't know whether she'd been practicing, or it was just genetic memory, but she seemed to know every position -- missionary (several variations) cowgirl, reverse cowgirl, doggie, incorporating various furniture -- you name it. I blew three nuts in her before crashing and burning. I woke up a bit later to see her climbing back into her clothes. "You didn't have to do this." "Mom says I ought to do a few nice guys before I graduate to bad boys," she replied, hauling her top over her unfettered breasts. "You're the nicest guy I know." I scratched my head. "Well, your mother knows best." ------- The next month -- the month we tried to abuse Cindy to death -- Cindy was basically the only show in town. Everybody else was up to date, and Elena, for whatever reason, couldn't bring herself to come by more than twice. By the end of the month I'd had my fill of sex and violence. Teresa didn't come back; I think she moved directly to bad boys. The next month, Charlene gave her notice, anyway. That was the month I almost got sneaked up on. On the first, we made the rounds, and Mack looked up from the lockbox, surprised. "No Gillian." I was surprised, too. Gillian was a pillar of the community -- always on time and always willing to help others. She babysat for just about everybody. She had some kind of dental assistant's job, or something. She was a thin, fragile-looking thing with brown hair and eyes. Mack rubbed his jaw and said, "Go see her and get her tale of woe. Maybe she just forgot." So I found myself rapping on the door of Apartment 1B. Gillian opened the door, and I knew right away that she didn't forget -- she looked like she was going to the gallows. "Gillian, uh..." I muttered. "Doctor Volkmann shut down his practice two weeks ago," Gillian said mournfully. "I'm looking, but..." "Didn't he give you a package?" I asked. She shook her head. "Well, he did, but I had to borrow money for Robbie's medical bills..." Her kid was sickly -- a regular hospital occupant. Something about a disease the kid's father had and passed on. "Basically, I got it all before he let me go." "Uh, okay..." "Not okay," a voice interrupted from behind me. "Gillian, this is no fun, but you KNOW the rules -- I can't break them for you." "I know, Sir," she piped. I stood there feeling like a shit. "Look, Honey, the only break I can give you is Pete," Mack said gently. "That's a little better than having my old beer-stinking ass laying on you." I turned around and gave him a look -- since when was I the bad guy? But Mack shook his head and said, "Pete, don't make me embarrass the girl by having to come in after and check for creampie." So I went in and she closed the door behind me and stood there with her back to it, regarding me with sad eyes. My heart went out to her -- but we BOTH knew Mack... "Where's Robbie?" I asked. "Asleep." "I'll try not to wake him up." "Okay." I felt the need to explain myself. "Honey, I really don't..." "I know the rules," she said softly. She started unbuttoning her blouse. "You shouldn't be here," I blustered. "But I am," she said softly, "and I agreed to this. I didn't think it would happen, but..." The blouse slowly came off, exposing her no-nonsense brassiere over her small, conical titties. "Let's go in the bedroom." Her voice was sad, listless. I felt like a skunk. She got out of her clothes like she was just going to bed -- no affectation. She was, I dunno, too thin and soft and delicate to be hot, you know? Too much like somebody's baby sister. Undoubtedly she WAS somebody's baby sister... I did the best I could to make it gentle and romantic; I didn't make her suck my cock and I didn't get all grabby. I took it slow and easy. Eventually, she seemed a little less wooden, then she relaxed and it got to be halfway decent -- but I didn't figure she actually got off. Ah, well. Afterward, she told me about Robbie's father -- her high school sweetheart, apparently. "We had one night of bliss, and he was gone..." That was a bit vague for me. Did he leave because she was a dead lay, or because he was just notching his gun belt, or did he go off to war and not come back, or what? The more I thought about it, the more I felt that it was too romantic and vague to be real. Maybe she'd been raped, and this was the cover-up... Anyway, the deed was done. I wandered back to the bar. "How was it?" Mack asked. "I feel like scum." That pretty much summed it up. "She didn't blubber on you or anything... ?" "No -- it was sort of like fucking my baby sister. Fortunately, I don't have one," I grunted. Mack nodded. "We'll give her a couple of days." So we did. Long about the fourth, Mack says, "Better go check on Gillian." I opened my mouth to tell him to go be the bad guy, and decided against it. Half an hour later, I'm knocking on the door. "Any luck?" "None yet." She stepped back and I went in. This time, she didn't seem so sad; I went easy on her but lasted long enough that she appeared to get a gentle pop, at least. Afterward, she seemed to want to cuddle, so I hung out a while. Back at the bar, Mack asked, "Better?" "Some." "No luck yet?" "Nope." The sixth arrived, and I got the mission again. Gillian seemed more or less happy to see me -- and we had what seemed to be reasonably good sex, after which she got pretty affectionate. I stayed a couple of hours. When I got back, I just shook my head, and Mack nodded. Then I said, "What do you think of Gillian?" "Sweet little thing. Fragile." "Would you date her?" "Me?" Mack laughed. "No way. But you could do worse." He eyed me. "Thinking about it?" "Maybe. Are you gonna go tear her a new asshole like you do the other girls?" "Nah. Has the bug bit you?" "I don't know if I would go that far," I replied. "Well, you'll get cured one way or another." On the eighth, she was waiting in a nightie. Things seemed pretty good, and she made me supper. It was the next day before I reported in. On the tenth, I decided to go on over and surprise her. I tapped on the door, but she didn't answer. It was open, so I stuck my head in -- and the sounds were unmistakable. "Ah, God! Yes! Yes! YES!!!" There was quite a bit more passion there than anything I'd seen; a cocktail of odd feelings drew me to her bedroom door. She was riding Mack's cock, cowgirl -- and with serious enthusiasm. As I peeked around the door, she arched herself and wailed, obviously having a serious orgasm. Then she flopped forward onto Mack's chest. I stood there, dithering. Mack had every right to poke Gillian, my brain told me -- but I wasn't thrilled, to say the least. Given the difference in results, I was even less happy. I was hopping from foot to foot when Gillian asked, "Mack, what do you think of Pete?" "He's a good egg. Why?" "I think so, too," Gillian murmured. "Think he would make a good husband?" "Maybe. He's got his idiosyncrasies," Mack opined. "I need to get married," Gillian announced. "I think maybe Pete is the guy. He's sensitive and caring and will be a good provider, but..." "But what, Baby?" "Well, he's not masculine like you." Mack laughed. "That's not what I hear!" "Well, it's a good thing," Gillian replied. "I mean, he's gentle and romantic -- not like you. He doesn't make me suck him or play with my ass or do those other things that make me feel like a nasty girl..." The connotation given 'nasty girl' here would be as in 'hot, ' not as in 'horrible.' "He doesn't get me all excited like you do, but I really don't have the time and energy for such things. After we're married, I'll be able to put that stuff away, except for when we want more children." "Uh ... huh..." I gathered that all this was news to Mack, too. "So, you like your men without balls?" "Well, husbands," Gillian replied blithely. "I like to be a nasty girl sometimes, but not ALL the time..." "I think you're underestimating Pete," Mack opined. "Oh, I hope not!" Next thing I knew, I was on the sidewalk out front. I don't remember letting myself out. I walked two doors over and hammered on Elena's door. "Jes? Pete!" "Can I come in?" "Chure." We talked a bit, then I asked her, "Why don't you come see me any more?" Her face got a serious look on it, then she said, "One day Mack sat me down and he said that I'm not good for jou. I argued with him, but he was right -- I don't have the things jou are gonna want in a woman." I opened my mouth, but she forestalled me, cradling her tits. "Oh, jes, I have some of them -- but not the brains, jou know? The sex -- that is no problem -- but I am estupid." "I wouldn't go THAT far!" I objected. "Jou are sweet," Elena patted my cheek, "but compared to jou I am estupid. It's hokay. I get by." "Well, I never said that, and I wouldn't!" I declared. "I know jou wouldn't, Baby, but it's still the truth..." I sighed. "So what do you think of Gillian?" "Ches a nice girl," Elena replied, "but che is not for jou, either. Che ... wouldn't appreciate jou." "According to her, I'm just north of queer," I rasped, "but that's a GOOD thing, in her book." "What?" "I tried to be considerate of her because she seems kind of, well, fragile. Come to find out, she thinks I suck in the sack -- but that's okay, because she doesn't want to have to be bothered with it much." Elena giggled. "Like I said, che wouldn't appreciate jou. Che isn't right, in some ways -- che's fine for some things, but not really for men. Che wants them to give her money and protection -- but che doesn't want to give men what they want." "She seems to like having sex with Mack..." I almost said 'che.' "Mack, he takes. You give. Che will give to Mack, because che has to, and because it might lead to him giving to her -- but che will just take from jou. Mack, he probably got that reaction because he made demands -- that happens sometimes. Sometimes we want men to make demands ... Che probably likes it." "So I went wrong by taking it easy on her?" "Jes. It is not always that way, but sometimes." Elena shook her head. "Che thinks you are a bad lover?" "Yup." "Che is estupid. I appreciate jou." "Thanks, Honey -- but we're not doing anything either," I pointed out. "Well, that's because..." "You're not right for me? Parts of you are..." I waggled my eyebrows. "Jes," she giggled. "Maybe I'm right for those parts." "Just because we're not made for each other doesn't mean we can't be friends," I insisted. "Jes. Buddies," she nodded. "Yeah." "Fuck buddies?" She eyed me sidelong. "We do that well, don't we?" "Jes," she agreed, nodding. "I like that. We do that VERY well! I miss that!" "Yeah, me, too!" She eyed me sidelong. "Maybe jou have time to see if I'm still safe on my back?" I eyed my watch. "Sounds like a good idea. I wouldn't want you hurting yourself..." I spent the night. Elena's cries of joy were a major salve to my wounded pride and I ended up with a hickey and claw marks on my back! Latin women... The next morning, Mack gave me the eye. "Who did that?" "Elena. We've decided to become fuck-buddies." "Sounds serious." "Only when fucking. She says she's too estupid for a serious relationship." "Uh huh. What about Gillian?" Mack asked. "Thanks, but no thanks. In fact, I'd appreciate it if you tracked her progress for a while. I'm tired of that shit. I think maybe I babied her too much and now she's spoiled." "Could be." ------- Gillian was gone by the end of the month -- which was fine with me; I couldn't see her doing Month Two. Mack got in the Tweeter Sisters -- well, they weren't sisters, but they spent most of their time basically glued to one another. Both of them had kids; Angela had lots of hair and a nice rack and a model's walk -- but her eyes were too close together and you could tell that there was no brain tissue between them on sight. Lisa was one of those tall, odd-shaped girls with the strange hips and knock knees and odd rolls here and there. It took both of them to get you a creature with an IQ approaching ninety. It was no surprise that either of them had a kid, and no surprise that neither of them had the slightest idea who the father was. But, hey, they were decent fucks and no threat from the man-hunting perspective... Elena hung out for over a year; we would get together once every couple of weeks for some fun in the sack, but she was done trying to keep me. Eventually, some hot muscular latino guy named Herve started coming around and she asked me gently not to mess her up -- and in two months, she was gone. ------- Rudy kicked out his roommates and Irene moved in with him; neither of them has said the 'M' word in my presence, but it's coming, I think. Elliott and Edwina are on the edge of the same thing. I haven't found anything worth mentioning. ------- Mack's Mamas come and go -- some last a year or so, and some only a month -- but they keep us busy and my balls drained regularly, which works for me. Maybe one day one will trip me up -- but I think my armor is pretty good... ------- The End ------- Posted: 2008-07-25 ------- http://storiesonline.net/ -------