Curt Holloway did two incredibly stupid things on May 3rd.
The irony of it was that Curt wasn't inherently stupid. Through a prison program during his 10-year stretch for manslaughter -- arguably the most stupid thing he'd ever done -- he'd managed to finish his bachelor's degree in English. He also had spent most of his time in prison as a trusty, earning him the privilege of access to the prison gym along with the guards. Curt wasn't a muscle-bound freak, but he had very solid muscle tone that, along with his tattoos, gave him a somewhat intimidating appearance despite his average height. So, at 40, he was educated and fit and seemingly not a fool. Why did he say what he did? It was just dumb, reckless even.
Harmony Walker had come to his door to collect her 30 dollars for raking and bagging his leaves. Curt had noticed her in the neighborhood before. She lived across the street and three doors down with her mother. Her long, straight, sandy blonde hair, willowy figure and scrubbed clean appearance --- no make up -- made her very attractive, especially to a guy who hadn't gotten laid in 10 years. So, when the 19-year-old hippy-chick neighbor asked if he needed anything else, he had said, "I'll give you $50 to let me lick your pussy."
"Why did I do it!?" he screamed at himself internally.
Probably the medicinal pot he smoked, and that his aunt had left behind when she died 10 weeks earlier had something to do with it. Curt had moved in to take care of her about six months before. She was going to be his residential address for his parole anyway when he was released. Aunt June had been the only living relative who still spoke to him, although he had some first cousins about 1,000 miles away from Central City. They always had an easy rapport, and she felt sorry for him and needed him. He got her to her appointments and to chemo for the ovarian cancer that ultimately killed her. It's not too many ex-cons who six months out of prison wind up inheriting a house, $150,000 in liquid assets and another $100,000 in stocks and bonds. Now, as he stared at Wanda Walker, Harmony's mother, he felt his chance to rebuild his life in serious danger of melting away.
She was intimidating on her own. At six feet tall, she had a couple of inches on Curt and her physique was robust.
With her hands on her hips, she was practically yelling at him in the front doorway of what Curt still thought of as his aunt's house.
"What kind of stupid pervert are you?" she spat out as she glared at him. "Harmony told me what you said. The ONLY reason I don't call the cops or your parole officer is because I loved your aunt. She was a great, old lady and a good friend."
Wanda had come to visit Aunt June a few times while she was sick, but Curt's interaction with her had been minimal. June talked about her a lot, about how Wanda had raised Harmony by herself while waiting tables and even managed to buy her house and eventually the restaurant she worked at -- the Sunflower Cafe.
"Your friggin' parole officer is one of my regulars, Tricia Hutchins," she threatened.
Trevor felt sick.
"Harmony said you reeked of pot and I can smell it on you even now," she almost laughed. "I wonder what Tricia would think of that."
Trevor looked at the ground with a whipped expression on his face. Even if he was able to talk Hutchins into thinking the solicitation of sex was bullshit -- misinterpreted flirting, then he'd still be in deep trouble. With the amount of pot he'd smoked today, he'd blow almost any drug test for the next month. Even without Wanda ratting him out, there was a chance of a random drug check that could get him sent back to prison. It was condition of his parole.
How unfair now that pot was legal, but staying away from alcohol also was a condition of his parole, too.
After an awkward few seconds, and Curt's hangdog, pale stare, Wanda said slowly like she was thinking about it as she spoke, "Well ... because of June, I'm not going to turn you in. However, I have a couple of conditions."
Trevor felt his hopes lift slightly.
"First, I've let some things slide around the house, and I need them taken care of. Your aunt said before you became a dealer and got in trouble with drugs you worked construction and were a pretty good carpenter, even did some electrical work as an apprentice. Is that right?"
"Yes," Curt answered with some guarded optimism.
"You even got some more experience in prison, right?"
Again, Curt confirmed her statement. He had done considerable carpentry and electrical work on some buildings on the prison grounds.
"Good, 'cause you're going to do some work for me around the house, and you're going to do whatever I say, so you can make me feel kindly enough to forget all this nonsense you pulled with my daughter," Wanda said. "You're lucky she's an adult or we'd be having a different conversation."
"No, I don't like kids that way, and I'll be glad to do whatever you need," Curt said.
Wanda smiled back a bit wickedly at that.
"Good, good," she said. "I've got to go home and freshen up. We're short staffed, and I need to get back to the cafe to cover the dinner rush and close. I expect you at my house on Monday morning at 10 a.m. Got it?"
Curt said he did.
Wanda stomped away, and Curt watched her from the door.
Not only was the 40-something mother tall, she was full-figured. What was it one of those books in the prison library called women like that? "Reubenesque--- that was it!" Curt thought. Her hair was jet black, and that made him wonder if it was dyed or if Harmony's father was a blonde. Wanda also was more fair-skinned than her daughter, milky white as opposed to Harmony's light tan. Wanda's hips were wide and her breasts quite large. She was all curves in all the right places.
Curt shook his head and reproached himself, "It was thinking like that that got you in this mess."
After walking back in the house, with more than a twinge of regret, he retrieved the pot and flushed the remainder of it down the toilet. Curt didn't want his parole officer to find it in case Wanda changed her mind.
***
As Wanda stomped away her genuine ire at Curt's behavior toward Harmony faded away and was replaced by more than a little excitement, she didn't admire blackmailers, but she could not resist the chance Curt had presented her. With her looks, she had endured more than one chauvinist male slapping her on the bottom or making suggestive remarks while she waited tables or ran things at the Sunflower.
Everyone she had dated or had sex with had been a disappointment in one way or another ever since her first and only husband, Peter, had overdosed when they both were in their 20s. They had loved each other deeply, and he had been so sexy up on the stage with his band. His long blond hair and lanky frame dancing in front of hundreds in the then trendy clubs of Central City. Sadly, he had embraced the rock cliche and accidentally killed himself, mixing God knows what with too many amphetamines while on the road. Wanda had been shattered, but she had made herself pull together for Harmony.
More than once she'd made the mistake of dating a customer — usually some good-looking man who charmed her and then turned out to be abusive or just a lout. Only a handful had been good lovers. She contented herself the last several years with sex toys and internet porn and directed her energy to building her business. Lately, she had been drawn to stories of female domination. Bossing around men and women already was second nature to her, but the thought of dominating someone who WANTED to be bossed for something other than a paycheck was downright seductive. More than once she'd fantasized about having one of those ex-boyfriends under her thumb or even making one of her younger, female servers kneel before her in submission.
Wanda didn't want to Harmony to endure the same things. Maybe if she taught her daughter now to assert herself she could avoid some of Wanda's own experiences.
Now, fate had presented her with a unique opportunity for them both to get what they needed right now ¬-- Curt Holloway.
***
Curt showed up right on time on Monday at Wanda's front door, wearing a tee shirt, jeans, sneakers and holding a tool chest in his hand.
"Hi, Curt!" Wanda said as she opened the door. She was so cheery that Curt momentarily forgot he was being coerced into the visit. It almost felt like he was merely a tradesman there to do a job.
Wanda was wearing a long, silk robe that was closed and tied tight. Her makeup was on --- just a smidge of eyeliner and some lipstick. She didn't need much more, Curt thought.
"Come in! Come in! Harmony and I were just finishing a late breakfast. There's plenty of coffee left if you'd like some," she said.
"That sounds great," Curt said.
Harmony looked at him as he entered the kitchen and placed his tool chest near one of the counters. Her expression was blank and maybe just a little questioning.
"Harmony knows you're going to work on the house and why you're doing it for free, but I think maybe there's something you need to say to her. Don't you think so, Curt?"
"Yeah, sure," he said sheepishly.
"Curt, when you answer me, I want you say, 'Yes, Mrs. Walker.' When you talk to her, I want you to say, 'Yes, MISS Walker.' You also can call me 'ma'am' if that's easier for you."
"OK, Mrs. Walker," Curt said.
There was an awkward pause of a few seconds before Curt finally spoke.
"Miss Walker, I'm sorry for how I acted the other day and what I said. It was ... very rude. ... I hope you'll accept my apology and forgive me."
Harmony smiled at him with that sort of cute, crooked smile she had and said, "That's OK, Curt. I know you were smoking pot and probably have been upset about your aunt dying."
"I sure have been," he confessed. I miss her. She was the only one who visited or wrote when I was in prison. My parents are long gone, and I don't have any brothers or sisters." That seemed to elicit some sympathy from the two women. "It was just a slip of tongue."
Harmony appeared to almost laugh at his last sentence, then she stood up, patted him on the shoulder and even gave him a light kiss on the cheek.
"We may even want that tongue to slip sometime, Curt. It's all good," she said. Wanda coughed into her coffee when she heard that, a remark that only confused Curt.
Shaking her head and smiling, "Girl, sometimes I think you're so innocent, and then ... I'm not sure."
Turning to her mother, Harmony said, "I'll be back for lunch. I've got to go register for fall classes. I'd do it online but I have to turn in some late library books before they'll let me, Mom."
"How much?"
"The library fine is only a few dollars, I've got it. See you for lunch back here?"
"Yep," Wanda said. "I'll be here." As they heard Harmony leave, Wanda explained the cafe was closed on Sundays and Mondays.
Wanda proceeded to explain several small repairs she wanted Curt to make along with some improvements. Individually, none of them were beyond his skills, but together they would take most of the week to finish.
"Curt, I expect you to pay for most of the materials. I know you have at least some money from your aunt, and I think it's only fair. They shouldn't add up to much. Plus, I want you to do them completely naked."
