MS. CONSENSUAL - ROUND 03
(c) 2024
Ring tone: [The number you have called is not in service.]
It was the hundredth time I'd called in as many days. I'd long since admitted to myself that Phoebe ghosted me after an epic night in which we finally made it to third base. I tried to play it cool for forty-eight hours but eventually lost the battle to a growing anxiety that was only made worse each time I called up until today. Now, I was convinced I'd been used and dumped by Phoebe.
"Charlie Hueta, eres un estúpido hijo de puta." I didn't want to believe the obvious, but I had to admit to myself that I'd been used sexually by Phoebe.
I'd been used for sex by a pregnant woman.
Ever since that night, I'd relived our tryst repeatedly slowly becoming addicted to the memory. Part of me wanted to go over to her home and ring the doorbell but knew I wouldn't have a good explanation for my presence beyond the obvious. Then there was the question of what I'd say if her family answered the door. I had to face facts.
I'd been used for sex by a pregnant married woman.
I pulled into the parking lot with one hand on my phone staring at its face, conflicted. More thoughts came to the fore explaining Phoebe's radio silence. I'd nearly sabotaged things between us failing to realize that she was preparing to sleep with me when she purchased a pregnancy pillow so that she could sleep comfortably with me despite her condition.
"Charlie Huerta, eres un hijo de puta muy azotado por el coño." It was my habit of berating myself in times of great angst, and today was becoming a banner moment. Phoebe's absence was stinging my ego something fierce. The mind movies of us "being together" kept me micromanaging each little section of it in hindsight. Once I figured out the deal, I kept replaying it in my head trying to figure out where I went wrong. I pulled into the lot.
The only person happy about how things turned out was my good buddy, Juan. He'd been epically torched by Phoebe after snatching my phone and sending her an inappropriate picture of his dick. Neither of us expected her to respond in the way she did with a scathing dress down that left him picking his face up off the floor. Later that night I ended up closing the deal with her only to be ghosted afterwards. Sometimes I blamed Juan, but kept it under the hat so that he wouldn't have that salty feather in his cap.
Ring tone: [The number you have called is not in service.]
"Shit." There was no denying I was feeling the vacuum and knew I shouldn't have, all things considered. I had to tell myself repeatedly Phoebe was an older woman having another man's baby. Her pending baby should've stopped me from interacting with Phoebe, but I just couldn't get over how adorable and cute she was, besides her large sloping breasts.
Seeing her naked body, even partially covered had been a revelation when I laid eyes on her lower half finding some well-defined, show stopping legs and tiny doll-like feet that made me want to suck the nail polish off of her toes. She'd purchased a maternity pillow to cushion her stomach so that I could take her doggy style.
I guess she didn't think I'd do it if she laid on her back. It would've been awkward and cringe for me to get on top of her and the developing baby in her tummy. Just the thought of it made me feel like the ultimate creep. Juan would drag me from pillar to post and tell all our mutual friends on social media. No doubt about it, that would be the end of my public life leaving me a shut-in for the upcoming summer and the foreseeable future.
I shuddered at the thought imaging the epic cancellation I'd receive across the board which would put my college aspirations on hold as well. Forgetting about Phoebe and our brief time together, if you could call it that, was for the best.
Ring tone: [The number you have called is not in service.]
I palmed the back of my head sitting in my car, taking a much-needed deep breath. It would've been better if Phoebe yelled and cursed at me or told me our tryst was part of some elaborate shit test. I was in the dark, with a memory. It didn't feel right. Maybe it was selfish of me to want some sort of closure.
I got out standing in the small parking lot of my grandfather's corner store. He was still bedridden, and I had to admit his condition was the only reason I met Phoebe in the first place. Grandpa specifically wanted me to take care of his livelihood. He didn't trust his wife. Any of them to be more specific; not with his money or other assets which were kept hidden away in a storage unit I'd driven him to on occasion. His first divorce left him on the streets for a time.
It took some grit and laser sharp focus to get back to where he was before, financially speaking. None of his other grandkids, more than eleven in total, were available or innately trustworthy. I was the next to youngest with the other being all of twelve years of age already with a criminal record longer than my fucking arm. So, I was the man by default.
"Shit, how does it get so dirty when I pick up every day?" I walked about the parking lot picking up errant pieces of trash and discarded paper, tossing them in the corner dumpster. It was a little early, but I decided to get my day going as work therapy to offset my stalkerish obsession with Phoebe. Every time I thought of her, my mind would be drawn to her adorable face and huge milk swollen breasts, hard tan lines and all.
"Reúnanse, Charlie Hueta." I unlocked the metal shutter letting it up to use my grandfather's heavy keychain to open the store.
Inside it took shorter than usual to get things up and running before manning the elevated countertop. I switched on the monitor letting some movies play from a streaming service subscription. My grandfather liked watching old movies, particularly vintage Mexican horror movies featuring his childhood hero, El Santo. Today, I found his favorite "El Santo vs. The Vampire Women." I let it play for background noise helping a few of my regulars at the register. Things slowed down after a while allowing me to focus on it at the tail end.
"Well, that's particularly brutal." Onscreen El Santo was seen torch in hand finishing off the bad guys, a group of nubile voluptuous vampire women, torch in hand. Their coffins line the walls of their hideout vertically, which allowed Santo to simply open them and stick his torch inside immolating the creatures inside.
"Yeah, crazy right?" I was leaning sideways on elevated store counter, chin on fist watching the movie with my back when a female customer commented.
"The end credits are rolling, and you can still hear the women screaming." Onscreen, Santos was already driving off in his Porche as the movie ended.
"That's the charm of it; you've gotta appreciate the uniqueness." I replied lackadaisically.
"Oh, should I be worried about my safety here alone with you?"
"Nah I'm harmless...Oh!"
She was stunning leaning against the ice-cream cooler, popsicle in hand already slurping on it. This beautiful black woman was just above slim, thick incredibly busty with some noticeable curves. A cropped peasant tee with a lunging neckline put her bulging charms on full display over some especially small denim short shorts with a miniscule bit of cheekage visible in profile. Everything was enhanced by the reflective nature of her rich cholate brown skin tone. Her legs caught the early morning sunlight slathered with some sort of oil.
UH... well, uhm?" Despite all of this, I was stricken by her face which reminded me of a very young Gabrielle Union. It was embarrassing to the max listening to myself tripping over my words as she smiled raising the popsicle, taking another slurp.
"Cat got your tongue?"
"Uhm, I uh, don't..." The stutter show continued.
"Or is it my tits?" She added as I did my best to find my voice, failing miserably.
I went mute, trapped inside my body staring down from my counter at what I considered a once in a lifetime beauty. Her bulging pneumatic cleavage probably had my metaphorical tongue hidden deep inside that cropped tee. I started to wonder if I was looking at the actress, herself as I found my voice.
"I know this is gonna sound crazy, but has anyone ever told you that you look like...?"
"Don't finish that sentence, and yes, a lot of people have told me that shit. I'm not her for your information; we are not related in any way whatsoever. If you say that name, I will be legitimately offended."
"Oh no, I don't want that; I mean, uh sorry for asking." Her face was perfectly accentuated by a short close-cropped hairstyle with an underlying burgundy tint. The finger coils and close meticulously shaved sides brought out her features and elegant cheekbones. I couldn't help being floored by her beauty noticing diamonds in her ears.
"That's better; so, how's about it?"
"What?" Her lips were infinitely kissable, painted to match her hair subtly.
"How much for the popsicle?" She waved the popsicle in front of my eyes, snickering a little at the dumbfounded look on my face.
"OH! Just a dollar, miss."
"Is that all?" She asked, raising a perfectly arched eyebrow.
"Well, yeah." I was so hard, it hurt. If my hands weren't visible, I would've been adjusting things. Porn star body with a movie star face, had my junk straining against my functional dickies.
"Take plastic?"
