Tequila Ch 03

*Author’s Note: Any and all persons engaging in any sexual activity are at least eighteen years of age.

Disclaimers: This story has been edited by myself, utilizing Microsoft Spell-check. You have been forewarned; expect to find mistakes.

*.*

They stood outside of the Pack A Sack liquor store, both dressed to attract attention. But they made sure to stand just outside of the range of the two cameras that faced the front of the liquor store. They made sure they were not within sight of Jack, the grizzled old man that managed the store.

Angelle Redding had on her bright red bikini top and a short wraparound skirt. She wore five inch heeled sandals on her pretty little feet, toenails painted almost as bright a red as her bikini top.

She’d applied a light coating of baby oil to her golden brown skin before leaving Trisha Nash’s house, making her skin shine. Her 32DD breasts strained the skimpy bikini top, and the nubs of her nipples were just visible underneath the thin material.

She and Trisha Nash stood in front of the Pack A Sack, hoping to get someone to buy them at least a fifth of Guadalupe Victoria Tequila. That loser, Bobby What’s-His-Name was supposed to get them two fifths of the expensive tequila. Trisha had cooed and purred and leaned forward, letting Bobby see her lacy bra that barely contained her 36DD breasts.

Bobby What’s-His-Name had even showed up, bottle in hand. But Bobby also had some cute red head with him and the red head had demanded that they pay her for the half-gallon of tequila. Since they didn’t have the money, Bobby and the red head had walked, taking the Guadalupe Victoria Tequila with them.

The party goers had a bucket of Lime flavored Kool-Aid, just waiting for the premium tequila, waiting to make the perfect faux Margarita.

After Bobby and his friend left, and left them with no tequila, everyone had scrounged together fourteen bucks. Then the group voted to send Angelle and Trisha to the store.

“Heeey,” Trisha sang out as a creepy looking old man stepped onto the small walkway.

“Yeah?” the man asked, smiling.

Angelle shuddered; the man’s smile revealed a few gaps where his teeth should have been. Trisha thrust her chest out and the man’s eyes went to her 36DD breasts in the tight white bikini top. Angelle stuck her chest out as well.

“Listen, my friends and I? We’re having us a party,” Trisha cooed to the man.

The man reeked of stale cigarettes and cheap booze and his eyes were bloodshot. His body odor was a bit of a turn-off but both girls posed for his benefit.

“I uh, I don’t think so, Honey,” the man suddenly said, face paling.

Trisha looked at Angelle, face wrinkled in confusion. Why had the man suddenly scampered away?

“Daddy would be so proud of his little angel, Hmm?” Trisha heard at the same time she’d smelled Fernando’s Lagerfeld cologne.

“Oh shit,” Angelle squeaked, looking over her shoulder and seeing the police uniform.

“Angelle!” Trisha cried out as her friend sprinted for her car.

Angelle jumped into the Saturn her father had bought for her. Looking back at the store, she saw that the swarthy skinned police officer was berating her friend. She felt bad, abandoning Trisha like this, but her father had let Angelle know, just one ticket, one incident and Angelle could kiss the car good-bye.

Heart hammering, Angelle forced herself to back out carefully, to slowly accelerate away, leaving Trisha Nash to her fate.

On Browner Road, Angelle let the breath out. She even let a little giggle escape; she’d been inches away from being busted, but had somehow managed to wiggle free.

At the red light, Angelle looked over as a car edged forward into the turn lane. She did a double-take, looking at the sleek sports car. She didn’t know one manufacturer from another, could not point out any particular make or model. But she knew what she liked and the sleek, bright red automobile was one she liked. The arrow flashed green and the red sports car accelerated away. Angelle watched the car as it rocketed away.

“Superior Motors” Angelle read on the rear of the sports car. “Uncle Andy!”

Just thinking about the handsome young man her Aunt Linda had been married to had Angelle’s nipples crinkled and the gusset of her thong bikini became quite wet. She’d been a gawky teenager when her father’s youngest sister had married the quite handsome Andrew Lloyd Delacroix. Both Linda and Andy were students at Connelly College; Linda a Cougar cheerleader and Andy a star running back.

“Not even a year into it, stupid bitch divorced him,” Angelle thought as she continued driving.

On Evergreen Avenue, Angelle pulled in front of the gleaming showroom of Superior Motors. Her Saturn certainly looked out of place next to the gleaming black Porsche and the white Alfa-Romeo.

Angelle spotted a black sports car that was nearly identical to the red car she’d seen moments earlier. Two older men in expensive suits looked on as the scantily clad young woman opened the heavy glass door of the spotless showroom. They held their faces impassive as Angelle walked over to the Ferrari and bent, peering into the luxury sports car. Both men raised their eyebrows as the short wraparound rode up, revealing the bright red scrap of her bikini bottom. Both men admired Angelle’s golden brown buttocks as she admired the leather seats, the highly polished dashboard of the car.

“Help you, ma’am?” the older man asked, voice a deep, rich baritone.

“Seen one of these, red,” Angelle said, not looking at the man.

“And decided you’d get one in black?” the man asked, a trace of humor in his voice.

“Uncle Andy here?” Angelle suddenly asked.

“Hmm? Who?” the salesman asked.

“Sorry, he’s not my uncle anymore,” Angelle giggled.

The man looked at Angelle’s pretty face. The eighteen year old girl had almond shaped eyes and golden brown skin, testament to her Asian heritage. Her nose was a small button, as was her pretty mouth, testament to her Caucasian heritage

Angelle’s chest was quite large on her five foot two inch frame, her waist was narrow, and her hips flared out nicely. Her buttocks jutted out and then tapered into two sleek legs. This was due, in part to the African-American soldier that had impregnated Angelle’s great-great grandmother, the laundress and part time prostitute that serviced the platoon of American soldiers during the earliest days of the Korean police action.

“Andrew? Delacroix?” Angelle clarified as the salesman stood in front of her.

“Oh! Mr. Delacroix!” the salesman said. “Think he’s in his office.”

The man turned and marched to a hallway. Angelle bent to look inside of a screaming yellow Lamborghini.

In his office, Andy could look at the monitor and see his showroom. The security cameras showed him the showroom, the front of his building, and the ‘Pre-owned’ sales lot. But Andy wasn’t looking at any of the monitors. He was on his computer, trying to talk himself into clicking the link of the Houston Escort Service.

“Hey Boss?” Glen Kennedy, one of his salesmen said.

Andy quickly hit ‘Alt +F4’ and the stunning blonde with the wide toothed grin disappeared from view. He glanced up as the smiling man stood in his doorway.

“Some kid’s asking if her ‘Uncle Andy’ is in,” Glen said, nodding with his head toward the showroom.

Andy looked at the monitor and noticed Brian standing, openly gawking at a female form that was bent over, looking into one of the showroom automobiles. The woman’s form was in profile; Andy could see that the woman wore a very short skirt and a bikini top that was struggling to contain her very large breasts.

“Uncle?” Andy mouthed as he got to his feet.

He was the oldest of four, had two brothers and one sister. Anthony, the youngest Delacroix male was gay, so there were no nieces and nephews there. Adam, the middle male had just divorced his second wife; they’d had no children, and as far as Andy knew, Adam’s first wife had not borne any children.

Barbara, his twenty year old sister was getting married tomorrow; the reason Andy had been on the Houston Escort Service’s web site in the first place.

Shannon, Barbara’s maid of honor, and Andy’s ex-girlfriend as of nineteen hours ago, had two nephews. Nine year old Vince and six year old Marty had never called him ‘Uncle Andy.’

So, who was this scantily clad woman calling him ‘Uncle Andy?’ Andy stood, buttoning his suit jacket as he continued to stare at the fetching figure on his storeroom’s monitor.

Entering the showroom, Andy saw two sweet buttocks separated by a bright red scrap of material. He saw two golden brown legs perched on top of five inch heels. He saw long black hair hanging down, almost touching the floor as the woman peered into a third automobile.

“Yes ma’am? You asked for me?” Andy asked, walking toward the sexy form.

“Uncle Andy!” Angelle squealed, turning around.

“An.. Angelle?” Andy asked, shocked at the difference a few short years had made in the teenager.

To the best of his memory, the scrawny, gawky girl had been fifteen or sixteen when he had quit football and his wife Linda had divorced him. Trying to do the math in his head, Andy deduced that Angelle must be eighteen, possibly nineteen by now.

“Well, guess you not really my uncle since you split up with my dumb ass Aunt Linda, huh?” Angelle asked, giving Andy an affectionate hug and a soft kiss to his smooth cheek.

“No, no, guess not, but my God, look at you!” Andy said, holding the girl out at arm’s length. “You’re what? Eighteen? Nineteen now?”

“Eighteen,” she smiled happily.

“Wow, you have grown,” Andy said. “So, how’s your mom?”

“Mom’s fine, dad’s fine,” Angelle said. “And before you ask, Aunt Linda’s fine; she married some doctor couple months back.”

She shuddered as she thought of her Aunt Linda’s marriage to Jean Pastor, an ebony-skinned doctor from the Dominican Republic. The man was an arrogant, condescending man, with roaming hands. Angelle, and her mother had learned to stay out of his reach. Aunt Linda looked the other way, so long as her husband kept buying her shiny trinkets and toys.

“Yes, I know,” Andy smiled tightly. “She sent me an invitation.”

“You serious?” Angelle asked, mouth open in surprise.

“Mm hmm. Guess she was trying rub my face in it,” Andy said. “After I got my concussion, quit football. When I quit, the NFL didn’t want me anymore. There wasn’t going to be any million dollar signing bonus, so your aunt walked.”

Angelle didn’t know what to say as the handsome man explained, in detail, what a mercenary, money-hungry bitch her aunt was. She racked her brain, trying to think of a response, or of something to distract him from the touchy subject.

“Anyway, doubled down, got my degree in Business and looked around,” Andy said.

“Uh huh?” Angelle said as Andy looped an arm casually around her slim waist.

“Saw that one out of every eleven people in Oakleaf County? Are attorneys. Did you know that?” Andy said.

“That many?” Angelle asked.

“And then, they announced they were building Alliance Square Health Facilities,” Andy said, now pulling Angelle into the well-appointed break room. He indicated the soda fountain, the water dispenser, or the coffee machine. Angelle went immediately to the popcorn machine, breathing in the scent of freshly popped popcorn.

“Butter right here, sea salt here, and fresh cracked black pepper here,” Andy smiled as Angelle quickly scooped up a large cup of the warm kernels. “Oh. And this pump here? Hot caramel.”

“Mm, mm,” Angelle enthused as she stuffed a greasy handful of the buttered popcorn into her mouth.

“Said to myself, ‘Alliance, there’s going to be doctors and administrators and they’re going want Porsches, and Maseratis, and Ferraris; they’re going want people to look at them and know that they’re someone important. That they’re big shots.’ Rather than have them going to Houston, or Dallas, or Austin, I opened Superior Motors; see, my dad’s cousin? Barry Delacroix? In Bender, Louisiana, he had the same Idea when they built a hospital in DeGarde. Borrowed the money from him; paid him back before the end of the year,” Andy finished his tale.

Angelle followed Andy into his office and looked around. She nodded in approval of his Mahogany desk, the buttery soft leather couch, the three clients’ chairs in front of his expansive desk.

“Well, let me get out of your hair,” Angelle finally said as she finished off her popcorn. “I’m sure you got better stuff do rather than babysit me.”

“Really? Was just piddle-farting on my computer,” Andy admitted indicating the wastebasket with his head.

Then, as she turned to go, Andy remembered why he’d been on his computer. He stood up just as Angelle reached the door to his office.

“Hey!” Andy called out.

“Uh huh?” Angelle asked, startled.

“Tomorrow. You got, you wouldn’t happen have a real nice dress? See, Barbara, don’t know if you remember my sister, think y’all only met a couple times, anyway, she’s getting married tomorrow, and since my dad, he passed away last year, God damned diabetes. We begged him and begged him follow your doctor’s orders and he’s like ‘that’s what they make insulin for’ but anyway, get this, get this, right before the wedding? My girlfriend Shannon? Gives me the ‘it’s not you, it’s me’ speech and there’s no way I can get out of going; I’m walking Barbara down the aisle, you want come with me?” Andy asked.

Angelle’s heart thumped loudly in her chest. Andrew Lloyd Delacroix was very handsome. He stood six feet, four inches and had a muscled physique, a football player’s physique. His hair was a thick brown mop that he wore long. His brown eyes were warm pools of caramel in his tanned square face. His nose was an aristocratic one, above his wide smile of straight, white teeth. Him asking her to accompany him to do anything was a dream come true for the high school student.

“I, damn, no, I don’t have anything wear,” Angelle realized.

In the past year, she’d put three more inches on her height, and her breasts had gone from a 29C to a 32DD. So, the dress she’d worn to Homecoming Prom, where she’d been voted as Senior Class Maid-In-Waiting to Trisha Nash’s Homecoming Queen would no longer fit.

“If you had a dress, would you go with me?” Andy asked.

“Absolutely,” Angelle agreed breathlessly.

“Glen, you’re in charge. Brian? Glen says ‘Jump?’ You say ‘How high do you think I am?’” Andy said, guiding Angelle through the store room to the heavy glass doors.

“Lucky bastard,” Glen said as Andy unlocked the Porsche.

“Mm hmm,” Brian agreed, watching the attractive girl climbing into the Porsche’s passenger seat.

“Jump,” Glen said.

“Fuck off,” Brian said as a Mercedes-Benz pulled up to the parking spot just vacated by Andy’s Porsche.

Andy and Angelle chattered lightly as he drove. She admitted she was dressed in the skimpy outfit because she and a school friend had been hanging out, trying to get someone to buy them some Guadalupe Victoria Tequila. Andy whistled.

“Well, looking like that? Damned skippy I’d bought y’all just about anything y’all wanted,” Andy admitted.

“Yeah?” Angelle asked, brushing a lock of hair back with her hand.

“Mm hmm,” Andy agreed.

They pulled up to Brichelle’s Boutique. Angelle looked at the display window in reverence. She and her mother had gone inside of the Great Oak, Texas store one time; they were having a fall clearance sale. Two minutes after entering the trendy boutique, mother and daughter left. Sale or not, they could not afford anything in the store.

“Hello, welcome to Brichelle’s,” an attractive woman said quietly.

“Thank you. Wedding tomorrow; she needs something to wear,” Andy said.

The woman arched an eyebrow, appraising Angelle. She then looked at Andy.

“I would assume, she is not the bride?” the woman asked.

“Hmm? Oh! No, no, the bride is my baby sister,” Andy smiled.

“Okay, let’s see, you said tomorrow? So, something that wouldn’t need alteration,” the woman mused, leading Angelle toward a rack of dresses.

An hour later, Angelle had a peach colored cocktail dress that reached to just above her knees. The dress was backless, so she could not wear a bra with it. The buttocks and hips were hugged snugly in the skirt of the dress, so she would not be able to wear panties.

She had four pair of stockings and a new pair of pumps with a four inch sole and seven inch heel. Angelle nodded her thanks to the saleswoman as the woman pointed out the need of a clutch to match the new shoes.

Andy did not let Angelle see the charge slip when he signed it. He did not allow her to carry the packages to the Porsche.

“All right, I’ll pick you up; wedding’s at five, reception’s at five thirty, mm, tell your mom and dad I should get you home at about eleven, all right?” Andy said as he drove toward the Redding home.

“Oh shit!” Angelle cried out, again realizing just how scantily clad she was. My clothes are at Trisha’s! I can’t go home dressed like this.”

There was no answer at Trisha’s house. Angelle then reminded Andy that her Saturn was parked at his dealership. Within moments, Andy pulled up next to Angelle’s Saturn.

“God, my Mom’s going kill me she sees me like this,” Angell moaned as Andy transferred the Brichelle’s Boutique clothes from Porsche to the trunk of the compact Saturn.

“Mm, let’s see,” Andy said. “Wait here.”

Angelle closed the trunk of the car and watched as Andy marched through his sales room. The older salesman pointed to the street and Andy nodded in approval. There was no sign of the younger salesman; Angelle assumed that Glen had told Andy that Brian was out on a drive with a potential customer.

“And, here you go,” Andy said, handing Angelle a tee shirt.

“Oh cool!” Angelle said, noticing that it was a Superior Motors tee shirt. The front had the logo of Superior Motors and the back had the logos of all the automobile makers that they carried.

“Okay now? I need to get to the rehearsal dinner,” Andy smiled.

“Come here,” Angelle demanded, shrugging into the tee shirt.

“What? I told you, I need...” Andy said.

“Thank you,” Angelle murmured and pulled him down by his tie.

She pressed her moist lips to his. Then, still holding onto his tie with her left hand, she wound her right arm around his neck. Her tongue pushed against his lips and he opened his mouth.

“Thank you. See you tomorrow,” she murmured, releasing his tie.

“Yeah,” a flustered Andy agreed.

“Oh, and this shirt? Mine now,” Angelle smiled as she got into her Saturn.

“Yes it is,” Andy agreed and she flashed him a brilliant smile.

Arriving home, Angelle did model the tee shirt for her mother. Mother and daughter conversed in Korean as Angelle told her mother that she’d decided, on a whim to go to see her ‘Uncle Andy.’

“He’s not your uncle,” Angelle’s mother frowned. “Remember? Aunt Linda? She divorced him when she found out he would not be big money football star.”

“You know, one day? I’m going to learn Korean. But I won’t tell y’all,” Angelle’s father threatened.

“And one day? We learn English and not tell you,” Angelle and her mother replied, then laughed.

Angelle’s mother stated, firmly, spring break or not, Angelle had school work. She had studying. Friday night or not, she should go to her room and study.

“Yes ma’am,” Angelle agreed.

Inside of her room, Calculus textbook open, Angelle replayed the feeling of Andy’s firm body pressed against hers. She relived the feeling of his soft hair as her right arm had encircled his neck. She replayed the feeling of his lips against hers, then his tongue against hers.

“He’s the one,” Angelle said, grinding the heel of her hand against her crotch.

Technically, Angelle was a virgin. She’d performed blow jobs on the few dates she’d had. She’d allowed more than one boy to finger her pussy to orgasm. She and Trisha had even fingered, then licked each other to orgasm. But no cock had ever entered her pussy.