The Dealer's Girl

It was a lazy Monday evening, and the sun setting over the mountains north of Shoreville cast a long, brilliant orange glow over the town. Dark was creeping up ever so quickly, as it always did, and soon it would be night time. This short-lived orange mirage of wavering heat and glowing rays was the sight that met Dave Morgan most days as he left his place of work at DevCo, Shoreville's leading workshop for tool makers. Today, he sighed deeply.

With his dirty overalls stuffed into his tote bag, Dave strolled purposefully and by all accounts, happily across DevCo's almost empty lot to where his beaten grey Fiesta was parked. After fumbling for his car keys in the pockets of his jeans, Dave unlocked the driver's door and flung his stuffed bag across onto the passenger seat, before climbing into the vehicle. He now sat eye level with the piercing glare of the sun, and he yanked down his sun visor to block the imposing light.

He caught a glance of his own brown eyes in the rear-view mirror, and considered himself for a moment. Dave was a 26 year old skilled labourer from Oakland in Richmond, the next town over from Shoreville. His hair was black and fairly neat, yet his stubble had started to grow as he had neglected to shave over the weekend. He ran a calloused hand through his hair, messing it up a little.

Dave started the engine of the Fiesta to begin reversing out of his parking space. As the car shuddered into life, music began to play. The FM radio was tuned to Wyrld Ov Rock, which was his favourite channel because they always played a lot of hard rock and heavy metal. Some fairly laid back rock ballad eased out of the car speakers as Dave steered out of Shoreville's industrial estate and onto the main ring-road around town. A few minutes down the road, he signalled right and pulled into the inner lane, before turning off at the intersection sign-posted for the suburb of Venetia.

Fifteen minutes later, he pulled up on the curb outside No. 7 Cherry Grove, and cut out the engine. The house that lay beside the car was that of the typical red-bricked suburban stock; a house that was detached and apparently worth a fair amount of money, yet once you looked carefully you could see how small it really was. At the most there was two bedrooms upstairs. A small patch of grass and a paved driveway made up the garden, and a small stereotypical picket fence running the perimeter topped off the suburban cliché.

Dave got out of the car and walked up the paved drive just like had done so many times before on every Monday evening for as long as he could remember. At the door he paused momentarily, before pressing a finger on the buzzer. He could hear the muffled sound of an electronic bell sounding from within the property, and within a matter of seconds, the door opened on the latch and a pair of bespectacled eyes met him.

"Oh great, it's you again!" spat the face.

"Get over it, Matt!" Dave replied, smiling. "You gonna let me in or what?"

And with that, the bespectacled face chuckled and shut the door. There was a scraping sound of metal on wood, and the door re-opened, this time fully, revealing Matthew in all his glory. Matt always dressed casually in sweats, sandals and vests. He studied Dave with his dark, beady eyes hidden beneath his light-framed glasses. He was a fitness freak, and his visible muscles rippled with every small movement of his body. He worked out every day and often let everyone else know about it. In his day job, he was a personal trainer at the Hamlet Complex gym in the centre of town. He was also a pot dealer.

"So what'll it be? The usual?" asked Matt as he shut the door behind Dave.

"Yeah, another 3 grams should do it," he confirmed.

"Great, great," Matt mumbled, "come on through to the kitchen and I'll hook you up. I got some wicked Hawiian Snow in this morning, it'll blow the socks off ya! I've also got some Diesel left over from last week's batch, if that's more you're thing? And are ya gonna watch the game later, dude?"

"Wouldn't miss it for the world." smiled Dave. "The Shoreville Devils against the Richmond Hell Cats? This match is gonna be insane! As soon as I'm finished here I'm heading home to tune in."

Matt laughed heartily as they both walked across the sparsely decorated but warm living room. A huge painted canvas hung on one wall, an a tremendously over-sized TV hung on the other.

"Dude, is there any more to your life that rock music, hockey games and weed?" Matt asked with a sly laugh. Dave couldn't tell if he was being affectionate or sarcastic.

"Tattoos, I guess." he replied, simply.

"Oh shit, yeah," said Matthew, pushing open the door to the kitchen, "I always forget you got those things on you. How is the ink coming along, dude? Have you run out of room yet? Rather you than me!"

"I gotta keep my arms clean for work, they don't like them to be visible. According to my line manager they don't give off a very professional..."

At this point, both of them had entered the kitchen, which caused Dave to stop talking immediately. Straight across from him, the other side of a wooden breakfast table, stood a girl with bright blonde hair that fell down as far as the small of her back. She was facing away from him; busying herself with something on the kitchen counter, but Dave couldn't tell what exactly she was doing. In his brief moment of surprise, he had managed to drink in the whole of her body. She was glorious. She wore pyjama shorts that barely covered her small bottom, and her slim legs were bare right down to her slippers.

"You going to finish that sentence, then?" asked Matt, breaking Dave out of his reverie.

"Err...professional image, that's it, couldn't find the word I was looking for." he said finally, all in a fluster, causing the girl to turn around.

"Oh, hi." she said quietly with a passive smile.

Dave was still stood still in the doorway to the kitchen. He smiled at her weakly, before mumbling something that was meant to sound like "hello", but ended up more as a small grumble that made no real sense. He was temporarily lost in her wide blue eyes.

"Yo, Dave, quit staring at my bird!" barked Matt, bringing the room and the rest of the world back into focus. "You're freakin' her the fuck out, man!"

"I'm sorry, I didn't-"

"I'm just fuckin' with ya, dude!" he shouted, punching Dave on the shoulder a little too hard. "This is Marie, we hooked up about a year or so ago. I've told you about Marie before, right? We've finally taken things one step further y'know, and she's moved into my place."

"This place definitely beats my shitty apartment over on Fairfax," Marie said with another smile. "Looks like I'm finally living the American dream over here in Suburbanville, USA, huh? What more could a girl want?"

Everybody laughed and then quickly stopped.

"Honey, this is Dave," Matthew continued, "he's another customer, but he's also more than just that. We go way back, all the way back to high school. This crazy fucker used to be the drummer in the sickest metal band! He got me sellin' to all the goths and skater kids, he got me expandin' my empire, babe. If it wasn't for Dave, I wouldn't be where I am today."

"I wouldn't go that far," laughed Dave.

"It's nice to meet you, David." Marie breathed sweetly.

They maintained eye contact for a few seconds when Matthew strutted around the table and pulled open a drawer in the kitchen counter, and lifted out a small plastic box.

"Nobody has ever called me David," he continued, "not even my mother."

"You should insist on it," Marie replied, grinning, "it is much better than just Dave. It sounds more, what's the word...professional."

"Alright, alright, you two quit it; what is this, lessons in how to speak English?" interrupted Matt without looking up from the plastic box. "You gonna finish up that salad or what, Marie? I've been on the go all fuckin' day, I could eat a God damn horse."

Matt reached into the draw again, fumbling around with his right hand before pulling out a small electronic weighing scale. Marie turned back to the counter and continued whatever it was she was doing to the salad. With the couple facing away from him, Dave could not resist another peek at Marie's cute little bum. One thing was certain; this had never happened during his Monday evening routine before.

"I'm gonna give you the Snow," informed Matt without looking up. He flexed his shoulders.

"That's cool, dude." Dave replied casually.

By the time Matthew had weighed out and bagged the pot, Marie had moved to the sink to wash the salad she had cut. Dave could have sworn that she kept sneaking glances at him. Every time he dared to look at her, he felt as if her eyes were moving away; as if he had caught her spying. "She really is a beautiful creature," he thought, shaking the silly idea that she was sneaking glances at him from his head.

After Matthew had relieved him of his hard-earned cash, Dave said his goodbyes and returned to his car for the journey home. The trip was uneventful, barring a lucky escape on 5th Avenue where he just about slowed in time for a mobile police speed camera. Eventually, he pulled his Fiesta up on the curb outside his own house; a small, white-washed bungalow in the Oakland region of town.

Inside, he showered early ready for the game. After the quick wash, he stood at the bathroom mirror and attacked his budding stubble with an electric razor. His mind wandered to the place where minds wander when you are doing a boring, thoughtless task. He though briefly again of his first meeting with Matt's girlfriend Marie, her perfectly rounded posterior and then in more detail the comment Matt made to him about having nothing in his life other than weed, hockey, rock music and tattoos.

Looking in the mirror, Dave studied his own naked torso, plastered almost completely with intricate Japanese tattoo art that had become so thick it almost all merged together into one piece. His back was completely covered, from top to bottom and side to side; the design coming up over his shoulders in a sea of clouds, water and angry elemental dragons, eventually coming to rest on his chest. A large piece concerning three koi danced around his belly, whilst a geisha and a samurai occupied the left and right rib cages respectively.

He put down the electric shaver and took a step back, admiring his full upper-body of ink. The artwork stopped at his waist; the waves created by the three koi lapping the shores of his manhood.

After getting dressed, he sank into his place on the sofa and switched on the TV using the remote. He flicked over to channel 164 for the U!Sport broadcast of the big game and caught it just as the pre-game commentary was coming to a close. On the TV, the ice was already full of players milling around and waiting for the game to begin. As the match started, Dave rolled himself a joint out of the Hawaiian Snow. It hit him like a dull, heavy thud and hung over him for the majority of the game.

The Devils team local to Shoreville were thrashing his Richmond team of the Hell Cats, so he decided to roll another joint to remain comfortably numb. By the time he had put the finishing touches on his second joint, the game had ended miserably for the Hell Cats. Tired, and unwilling to sit through the post-game interviews and ceremonies, Dave turned off the TV and took the roll-up to bed, where he sat peacefully and smoked the whole thing until the room swam pleasantly. Mashing the joint nip into a glass ashtray on the night stand, Dave rolled onto the double bed and quickly fell asleep.

When he opened his eyes he was back in Matthew's kitchen, but it was night time. The blinds were closed on the windows. Marie was at the work top, seemingly still cutting up salad, but Matthew was nowhere to be seen. Marie was still in her red string top and grey pyjama shorts, and her ass still looked great.

"I know why you're here," she said, without turning around.

How could she know I am here?

"I know what you want," she continued in her sweet, soft voice, "and it's ok. Come and get what you want, David."

He took a step forward, the kitchen tiles almost seeming to swim underneath his feet. He reached for the table to steady himself, but instead grabbed the top of a chair. He stopped a few moments, studying the kitchen around him, and when he felt certain it was safe to continue, took a few more steps towards Marie. He could make out the shape of her body more now; the way her hips gently curved up from her shorts stirred something inside him.

"It's ok, come and get what you want," Marie re-assured, "take what you want, David."

He was now upon her, but uncertain of how to proceed. He leaned in closer behind her, brushing her left shoulder with his hand. With his right hand he carefully pulled a strap off her shoulder and watched it fall down to rest on her arm. He kissed her bare shoulder and her skin was warm and smooth. Running his hands down her back to her hips, he realized that she was somehow naked now, as was he. His stiffening penis gently brushed against her perfect lower cheeks.

"Take me, I know what you want. Take me..."

She pushed back hard with her ass, causing him to take a step backwards. She now had more room to lean forward on the counter top, and she spread her legs a little, presenting herself to him. With his two free hands, he reached down and grabbed both of her cheeks, pulling them apart and revealing her perfect little knot of an asshole, and the soft opening of her cunt. He played with her ass for a short while, pulling it open and letting it wobble shut whilst watching the clear nectar dribble out of her moistening snatch.

"Taste me," she said sharply, "get down and taste me."

Dave did not need any more encouragement. He dropped to a squat until he was eye-level with her pert, bubbly behind. She pushed out a little more, and he opened her up with his hands. As he got closer to her, the sight become more magnificent. He could now make out her labia and swollen clitoris; every inch of her love glistening with mouthwatering wetness. Her little brown knot seemed to quiver as he got closer, until his face met her sex and his nose lodged softly on her asshole and his tongue began exploring the immediate insides of her moist pussy.

The feel of his thick, warm tongue inside her snatch drove Marie wild. She rasped with pleasure, tightening her grip on the counter and throwing her hair back as he alternated between lapping at her ultra-sensitive clit and probing her sopping wet cunt. He tasted her fully, letting her tangy and sweet love juices flow into his mouth. After he had drank his fill, he moved on to kiss her second hole, swirling around the rim and letting it pool up with her juices. As he probed, licked and teased, he felt the little brown knot loosen slightly on his tongue, allowing him to slip it further inside her secret passage.

"Oh God!" moaned Marie. "Get up here and fuck me!"

Dave withdrew his face from her nether regions and surveyed the carnage. Both holes lay open to some degree, and he was pleased with the dripping wet mess he had made of her back-end. He grabbed the chair to raise himself; he was ready to go at it, his cock rock hard and ready to take her, but he slipped. He fell clumsily to the tile floor and felt the immense cold on his back. It was so cold that it temporarily blinded him.

He tried to get up but he couldn't. Every time he tried to move he kept slipping as if he was on ice.

"I am on ice!"

Looking up there was no kitchen, no naked Marie and no glorious dripping cunt to plunder. There was naught but ice for a good distance all around him. He was in an empty stadium. He could see now, all the seats were empty, but there was something on the horizon. Something blurry, and apparently moving at considerable speed. The blur got closer and closer, and Dave could make out that the blur was indeed another person. Perhaps it was Marie, to come rescue him from the ice?

After a few more moments, Dave could hear the hissing noise of ice skates cutting through solid ice. Somebody was coming towards him...and fast. It wasn't Marie.

"Wait, it's Matthew! Thank God, someone who can help me up."

Relieved, Dave managed to prop his head up on his right arm. Matt was getting closer now.

"Is he holding something?"

He was coming in at a great speed.

"Maybe I should call out for help?"

Matthew came in fairly quickly, but he had no intention of stopping. He too was naked, save for ice skates. He was holding a hockey stick. His manhood swung comically with each lunge on the ice. He rose the hockey stick.

"He's not going to stop. Oh shit."

Matthew brought the hockey stick down on Dave's head.

Tuesday morning was brutal. The alarm clock seemed to dance around the night-stand with glee, and then not even the strongest espresso cartridge for Dave's coffee machine could make the world make any sense. For a long time afterwards that morning, Dave's head ached something fierce.

Although he did not think no more of the dream until the following Monday, he did question his personal lust for Marie. It had made him realize how long it had actually been since he had slept with a woman. It had been nearly two years since his ex Janet had left, and whilst that statement in itself did not seem like such a long time, thinking of it as two years without sex really put things into a different perspective.

As the week went by, he found himself thinking more and more about Janet, who co-incidentally or otherwise, actually looked a lot like Marie. Janet was taller, and fuller of figure, yet their aesthetic features bore remarkable resemblance, down even to the very same shade of hair colour. The more Dave thought of his failed past-love, the harder it was to place her. After a while, Marie's face replaced Janet's permanently in his mind's eye.

Monday evening came around quickly, as it always did. Dave had friends from work over to watch yet another hockey match on the Saturday gone, and they managed to finished off his Hawaiian Snow as well their own (smaller) batch which he was told was Blueberry Cheese. After a lazy Sunday off the smoke, it was time yet again to visit Matthew in his picture perfect model of suburbia for more dank.

Dave parked his Fiesta in the exact same spot as the week before, and walked up the paved garden driveway as he had done a week earlier, and many weeks before that. He rang the door buzzer, and waited disinterestedly for Matthew's bespectacled face to open the latch and make a sarcastic quip or two, but the face never came. He rang the buzzer one more time and wait for another 20 seconds or so. Nothing. Dave knocked, to the same result.

Impulse had him quickly moving his hand towards the door knob, but instinct was quicker and caught up with him. Matt was an old friend, sure, but he was also a drug dealer. Even though it was just pot, Matt was in deep and shifted a lot of gear a day, not just from his house (Dave was allowed to visit because they were old friends), and something could have gone wrong. After a few seconds of contemplation, Dave turned the knob and to his surprise, the door opened, but it was latched.

"Who's there?" came a cautious female voice.

It was Marie. The sound of her voice raised the hairs on the back of his neck.

"Marie, I'm sorry, I thought something was wrong, I-"

"Who are you? What do you want?" she asked quickly, sounding almost frightened.

"Marie, it's me," Dave began, "it's me, David."

"Oh." she said, followed by a long period of silence. "Close the door, then. I can take off the latch."

Dave's heart thumped hard against his chest. Marie was here all alone. After a few moments the latch slid off and Marie open the door wide. Dave swore that his heart stopped for a second.