Stripping to Pay the Bills

Mischa smiled broadly at my suggestion, and nodded.

"I haven't brought another man home since Billy died." she said quietly. "Honestly, I haven't been looking; it's still so soon. I hope he doesn't take it the wrong way."

"How long has it been?" I inquired. "I mean, if you don't mind my asking?"

"Eighteen months," she replied, "and no, I don't mind your asking in the least. It's a logical question to ask, considering. How long has it been since you lost your wife?"

"About two and a half years." I said quietly. "Sometimes it doesn't seem like that long, and other times it feels like a lifetime, you know?"

"Completely." Mischa responded. "I go through it too. I guess it never really goes away."

I shook my head in response.

"No, it doesn't," I agreed, "but it does get a little easier. Time heals all wounds, but the scars can last for years if you let them."

Mischa stared at me keenly.

"I guess it gets better, quicker, if you have someone to lean on." she observed. "I mean, I have Tommy, but it's not the same as having a man in my life. We lean on each other though, when times get tough. The holidays are the worst, though."

I nodded in understanding.

"Christmas is difficult for me." I offered. "Cheryl used to help me trim the tree, and then our anniversary hits me hard too."

"I'll bet." Mischa concurred. "But you know what?"

"Chicken butt?" I quipped.

She grinned and laughed a bit.

"I see you went through that phase too." she said with a giggle. "But no, I was going to say that I think we can lean on one another now, too. We've both suffered a similar loss, and I think we can share our stories. Not just the anguish of what we've both been through, but the good times we had with our missing pieces."

"That's an odd connotation," I mused, "but I guess that's what they are; missing pieces to what makes us whole. I know I sure feel like something's missing. Especially at night. Sometimes I roll over and go to put my arm around Cheryl, and she isn't there. That's when I feel so alone. It's even worse if I've just been dreaming about her and I realize she's gone. It's like getting punched in the stomach."

Mischa nodded knowingly.

"I know." she sighed. "Sometimes, I dream Billy and I are out hiking or having a picnic or something. You're right, it feels so lonely to wake up and realize it was all just a dream. I usually start crying."

I smiled gently, and reached across the table; taking her hand in mine.

"Maybe we can wake up to each other." I said quietly. "You know, if things work out."

Mischa smiled back and nodded.

"I'd like to wake up next to you, Jack." she responded. "I think it would go a long way toward making me feel whole again. Especially since you remind me so much of him."

As if on cue, our server returned with the check.

"Well, you two certainly polished all of that off in good time!" she said cheerily. "I noticed you sharing the desserts too. You two must have been dating for a while, the way you snagged his cheesecake like that."

I chuckled a bit.

"Actually, it's our first date," I explained, "but you're right; we hit it off really well."

"Really?" she inquired in a rather surprised tone. "I deal with a lot of people, and you two look like you've known each other for a long time."

"I dunno." I said with a shrug. "Is ninety minutes a long time?"

The waitress stared at me as though waiting for the punchline to follow.

"Are you serious?!" she asked incredulously. "You two just met? Were you talking online or something for a while first?"

Mischa shook her adorable dark-blonde head, and smiled.

"No," she replied with a warm smile, "he just waltzed in like a knight in shining armor and beat the crap out of some biker dudes who were hassling me, and then asked me if I'd like to have dinner with him. I love chivalrous men, so I of course said yes."

The waitress looked stunned, and crouched down between us.

"That is totally awesome!" she whispered excitedly. "You know what, dessert's on me. There aren't too many people in this day and age willing to step in like that. Why were they hassling you in the first place, if you don't mind my asking?"

Mischa looked a little embarrassed but answered truthfully.

"I was trying to make some extra money for my son and myself." she explained. "I took a job over at Twin Peeks. Big mistake. I wasn't there more than twenty minutes before they started making fun of me. I'm not blessed in the breast department and they thought it was funny. Jack told them to knock it off and they went after him. He sent two of them to County General with broken bones."

The server looked impressed, but I did my best to shrug it off. In my line of work, violence sometimes comes with the job. When you're undercover, you have to be able to handle yourself better than the average officer.

"It seemed like a good idea at the time." I explained, with a shrug of my shoulders. "I identified myself as a cop, and told them not to do it, but they insisted on doing it anyway. It was a mistake."

"I guess it was!" the woman exclaimed.

She looked intently at Mischa.

"My sister is the manager that's here tonight." she continued. "I'll bet you could get a job here as a server. We have certain days when we need extra help, and you're an attractive chick."

"Betty's your sister?" I queried. "I guess I see the resemblance, now that you mention it."

"Yep." she replied. "I'm Kelly."

"I'm Jack." I responded. "This is Mischa."

We shook hands, and Kelly caught her sister's attention, motioning for her to come over.

"Is there a problem?" she inquired, as she approached us. "Everything okay, Jack?"

"Oh, everything's fine." her sister assured her. "I need you to take dessert off the bill if you would, and this lady here might just be interested in filling in during busy times. She's looking for some extra work."

"Yeah?" Betty asked, turning to Mischa. "Have you ever served before?"

Mischa shook her head.

"No," she answered truthfully, "but I'm willing to learn."

"What do you do now?" the manager inquired.

"I'm an accountant." Mischa replied.

So that's what her degree was for! She hadn't had a chance to explain it to me yet. Maybe she could help me with my taxes this year. Accountants can make good money, but it's usually more of a side job than a primary source of income, unless one is a CPA. It made sense, however, if she was a stay-at-home wife and mother, before her husband was killed. At least she had it to fall back onto after she lost him.

"That's a good portion of my job, handling numbers, and I'm horrible at math." Betty mused. "Are you a people person?"

"Oh yes!" Mischa asserted. "I'm a Libra; the balance and all. Why?"

"Our business is growing and I could use an assistant manager," Betty explained, "but you don't have experience actually managing, so I'm thinking that perhaps you could do a few things to fill that position while you're learning. You could pick up waiting orders and get them out, make the rounds talking to customers and making them feel welcomed, and maybe Nancy can teach you mixology, so you could work the bar on Friday and Saturday nights if we're slammed too. That would be extra, and tips only, but it might help. When I need help with the numbers, you could take care of that for me. What do you say?"

Mischa looked stunned.

"You mean it?" she inquired incredulously. "You're offering me a job?!"

"Yes I am." Betty replied. "Jack responded to a call here one time, back when he was still in uniform. That's how we met. If I can help you out, it will be a thank you to him for getting those rowdies out of here that time."

"It looks like he has a knack for dealing with horrible people." Mischa observed. "Oh yes, thank you! I have to give my employer notice though. Could I start in two weeks?"

"Of course." Betty replied. "In fact, I appreciate your professional courtesy. In the meantime though, you can learn how to make drinks during slow hours if you'd like. That way, once you start, you'll have a leg up on that aspect. I'll also put you on as a part-timer, so you can help me with the numbers and learn a bit about what I do. If I'm out, you'll have to fill in for me, so I want you to learn as much as you can before you officially start, okay?"

Mischa nodded her head vigorously.

"Oh yes!" she exclaimed again. "Thank you so much, Betty!"

"Sounds like a productive day all the way around." I observed. "You get a new job, you get a good and dependable employee, and I have a new friend; who still has to introduce me to her son."

"That's right!" Mischa exclaimed, clamping her hand over her mouth. "I totally forgot, I'm sorry."

I listened, with some amusement, to the music that was being played for the bar area - "Closing Time" - and pointed toward the overhead speakers as the refrain kicked in: "I know who I want to take me home." I looked at Mischa, and she nodded in agreement.

I paid the bill, and we exited the restaurant; arms around each others waists, as we headed for our cars. She noticed the KGB sticker on my rear window and pointed at it with interest.

"Are you from San Diego?" she inquired.

"No, but I lived there for eight horrible months back in 1988." I replied. "When I came back here, I stopped by the station and got a handful of bumper stickers the afternoon before I headed out. It's a right of passage for every vehicle I buy now, why?"

"I'm from Escondildo." she replied, using a colloquialism that few people outside of the South Bay area would know. "Where were you?"

"Lemon Groove." I said with a grin. "I used to work on Kurtz Street, behind the Sports Aroma. Mischa is an odd name here in the South, but it's definitely a name I would expect to hear in Cali or Arizona."

"Even more in common." she mused, as she turned to face me. "Sports Aroma, ha! I haven't heard that in ages. Oh Jack, I'm so glad I met you, and thank you so much for everything; dinner, coming to my rescue... you even got me a job in a roundabout way. Thank you."

She held her arms out, and I took her in against me; embracing her tightly. We then shared a brief but wonderful kiss as well.

"You're welcome." I said quietly. "I'd still like to meet your son, if it's okay."

She nodded vigorously.

"Yes! Please follow me. I only live a couple miles away."

We separated, and I followed her back to her place. It was an apartment complex I knew all too well for all the wrong reasons. It was fairly low rent, and I had been there many times over the years as a uniformed officer. It was also less than two miles from my own house that was located in an older neighborhood that was still fairly safe; at least for the moment.

"Home sweet Aleppo." she said ruefully, as we exited our vehicles. "It gets rough here, sometimes, but I can't afford anything better."

"You won't have to worry about that anymore." I assured her. "You'll have the opportunity to live in a nice house in a safe neighborhood, and here's the best part: Tommy can still go to the same school. I live like, a mile and a half over there."

I pointed, and Mischa looked at me.

"Rolling Hills?" she inquired with a surprised tone.

"Yep. Been there since I was fifteen." I responded. "And I live on the safest street in town. Haven't had a single break in, larceny from vehicle or anything else since 1989, and the two break-ins that occurred, happened while I was in California. I made it known I was back, and the shit stopped. Had a pretty good idea who it was, too."

Mischa looked bewildered.

"But you couldn't have been a cop then!" she exclaimed. "You must have been like-"

"Nineteen." I cut in. "When I was seventeen, some guy I worked for, for a few times and quit on, came to the house trying to kick the front door in. I grabbed the .30-30 Marlin I had and did a fantastic impression of the Rifleman; spinning it around by the lever, and when he shit his pants and bolted, I chased him down the street.

"Word got around pretty quick, and then at some point, someone started a rumor about me killing my wife and disposing of her body. Hell, I didn't get my first girlfriend until I was 29, much less have been married back then. But everyone knew if they messed with anything here, they'd get shot. That was a given. Then, I became a cop and people figured Dirty Harry was living there, but it got even better. At one point, there was a deputy sheriff on one end of the street, and on the opposite end was an FBI agent. And me, right in the middle."

Mischa shook her head and guffawed loudly.

"Why, oh why, am I not surprised?" she laughed. "Come on, I'll introduce you to my son."

I followed her to the third floor, and she entered the apartment with me behind.

"Tommy!" she hollered. "I'm home! Come on out; I brought a friend of mine I'd like for you to meet."

"Okay Mom." came a muffled reply.

A few seconds later, a door opened, and a young boy emerged from what I assumed was his bedroom.

"Hi Mom!" he greeted her. "How was work?"

"It went well." she responded. "I had a little trouble early on, but Jack here, helped me out. I'm looking forward to getting started. It's a little different than what I thought it would be. They want me to be the assistant manager, Son! I can leave my other job and do this full time instead."

"That's great, Mom!" the boy replied. "I'm so proud of you!"

He then turned to face me directly.

"Hello, Sir. I'm Tommy." he said respectfully.

"Hi Tommy." I said with a smile. "I'm Jack. I'm a friend of your mom."

"Pleased to make your acquaintance, Sir." he said, holding his hand out.

I shook it, and Mischa cut in.

"Jack is a police officer." she explained. "Some guys were giving me a hard time, and he took care of them for me; just like your dad would have done."

The boy's eyes widened.

"Yeah? What happened?"

"He sent them to the ER." she replied. "Your dad would have been proud."

Tommy thrust his chest out.

"My dad was a Marine!" he stated proudly. "He fought for our country."

He immediately looked sad though.

"But he died for it too. He was a hero, just like GI Joe!"

"Your mom told me." I said quietly. "I know you miss him."

"Yes Sir!" he asserted. "He was the best dad a kid could have."

"Jack's a police officer." Mischa explained. "He understands. He's a good guy, Tommy, and I wanted you to meet him. He's made a very generous offer to the both of us, but I wanted to talk to you about it before I made any decisions."

Tommy nodded.

"Did you ask my mother to marry you?" he inquired.

"No," I laughed, "but I do have a house not too far from here, and I thought that it would help your mom a lot if she didn't have to worry about making the rent payment each month. I'd like for the two of you to move in with me, if that's okay with you."

"I know this is a bad place," Tommy responded, "but I have a lot of friends at school. I don't mean to sound selfish, Sir, but I've just gotten to know them."

"You won't have to leave them." I stated matter-of-factly. "I live so close that I can hear the gunshots coming from here when I have my window open at night. You'll still go to the same school, and you won't lose a single friend. But, you'll be in a safe neighborhood with a lot more space, and your own yard to play in. How's that grab you?"

Tommy absorbed this for a moment, and Mischa chimed in.

"Jack lives in Rolling Hills." she explained. "Don't you have a friend that lives there?"

"Yeah, Jamie Walden." he replied. "He lives-"

"Across the street and three doors down from me." I interrupted; recognizing the name. "What do you say to that?"

Tommy's eyes widened again.

"Really? Which house?" he inquired.

"The one with the cat statue on the nautical pilings at the end of the driveway." I said casually. "And the banana plants and palm trees along the driveway."

"No way!" he burst out. "You have that big, fuzzy black cat, don't you?"

Mischa looked at me quizzically.

"Do you?"

I smiled and nodded.

"He makes the rounds every day." Tommy stated emphatically. "Just like a soldier on patrol. He comes down the driveway and goes across the street. He goes through every yard, and if there's someone outside, he'll stop and say hello. Then he crosses the street and heads back. He's the coolest cat ever!"

"His name is Satchmo." I responded. "Call him Satch."

"I will, Sir."

"Your dad raised you to be respectful and polite," I said carefully, "but I'd like to be your friend, Tommy, and as your friend, please call me Jack, okay?"

"You got it!" he burst out. "I'd like to be your friend, Jack."

"So," Mischa inquired, "are you okay with us moving in with him?"

Tommy bobbed his up and down.

"Oh yeah!" he gushed. "It will be so much better than here. Thanks, Jack! I'm gonna call Jamie and tell him we'll be neighbors!"

"Looks like you passed the test with flying colors." Mischa remarked, as Tommy retreated back to his room, in all likelihood to inform all of his his friends he would soon be moving. "I really thought he'd be upset that I was trying to replace his father with someone else."

"He knows the difference." I said confidently. "He may be eight, but he's pretty in tune with the real world for a kid his age."

Mischa nodded in agreement.

"He is." she concurred. "Good thing too. I can trust him when I'm not here. I couldn't afford a babysitter if he wasn't. He comes home from school and gets right to doing his homework. It's usually complete by the time I get home."

"Point's kind of moot now, though, don't you think?" I asked, turning toward her. "About the babysitter I mean, you know?"

"I do." she replied with a smile. "And I would like very much if you would stay the night. I'm feeling kinda scared."

"Sure you are." I said with a laugh. "But I'd love to stay anyway; scared or not."

"Good." she answered quietly. "I'll show you the bedroom."

She took my hands in hers, and led me to the other doorway. This one was open, revealing her bedroom. I followed her inside, and she closed the door gently behind us as she switched on the overhead light, turning the lock for emphasis. It wasn't necessary; Tommy would never barge in on us, but she was making a point that she wanted privacy, and that could mean only one thing. I knew what was coming next - no pun intended - and I was getting very excited at the thought of finally having sex with her.

Mischa slowly unbuttoned her black dress, revealing a small, lacy bra that wasn't really covering much, as well as a matching pair of panties. She let the dress fall to the floor and stepped out of it, kicking it to one side. She then reached behind her back and unfastened her bra, removing it and tossing it aside as well. Her small, saggy tits looked absolutely gorgeous in my opinion, and I was getting very aroused at the sight of them hanging loose and drooping down like that. I began removing my own clothes as well.

Once we were both undressed and completely nude, we embraced again; kissing passionately for almost a minute. We pulled apart gently, and I slid my hands up her smooth, pale-white belly; enveloping her soft, saggy tits in my hands. Oh my god, they were so fucking soft and squishy! I relished the sensation as I squeezed them vigorously; tugging and kneading them thoroughly between my palms and fingers.

"I love your tits!" I whispered, as I continued fondling them. "I could play with them all night if you'd let me."

"You can play with them any time you like," Mischa replied, "but right now, I just want you to fuck the shit out of me, Jack! It's been so long, and I just want to feel your cock inside of my cunt; fucking me until you cum inside of me. I want to feel it squirting up inside of my cunt and filling my belly with your hot semen."

"I have absolutely no problem whatsoever, with fulfilling all of your desires." I replied. "Now, get ready to fulfill some of mine!"