AUTHOR NOTE: If you like this hilariously grim little tale, read some of my other equally uninspired fiction:
After the Party
Daphne's New Life
How I Spent My Summer Vacation by Carol Hitchcock
A Death, Baked Bob, and the Personal Ad
Screwing My Ex
They came out in that order, and according to one reader I got better as I went along, so do yourself a favor and read them in order to avoid getting disappointed by my early lack of skills. Please send feedback through the link below.
DISCLAIMER: Pay attention! This story is fiction and not meant to do anything more than entertain, don't read this stuff with any intention other than having a good time, don't take life too seriously and don't swim after you've just eaten. Isn't it stupid that I have to write these warnings in case someone goes out and does something bad because of what they read in my story? What's happened in our society to cause this? I know, I know, lawsuit-happy people and the lawyers who run commercials that inspire them. Now you have to put warning labels on everything. And I understand that some things need warning labels. Hydrochloric acid – big warning label on that one. With letters four feet tall. But I don't need a cup of coffee with a warning label that says it's hot. I know it's hot. I wanted it hot! Well, not that hot. I take it light, actually.
II. It's All Downhill From Here
6.
Amanda was playing on the Internet. She had told Kaye and Maggie she needed to get some work done on her laptop, and that's why she couldn't go food shopping with them. What she really needed to do was keep out of the public eye. Sure, her face had changed and she had good fake documents, but her fingerprints hadn't changed and if they got arrested for any reason she was screwed. This was the first time she'd been on American soil in four years, ever since she boarded the boat of that Gold woman.
Four years. Four years on the run. Four years of swindling people. Of feasting at a fancy restaurant in the company of a mark one night and eating a piece of bread all alone in some dingy apartment the next. Four years of looking over her shoulder, of getting nervous every time she saw a cop, of fighting the urge to run down the fire escape every time there was a knock at the door. Four years of having sex with people, some beautiful and some disgusting, but always because she needed something from them. That was the worst of it all – four years of having no power. In all that time, fear and helplessness and desperation were all she'd known. Sure, there were times she'd had it good. Eight months living in a villa with some rich count, but at that point she was even less than the hired help. She was just some sex puppet. The count had all the power, and he never let Amanda forget it.
All these thoughts brought tears to Amanda's eyes. If she had known what these past four years would be like back when she had used the knife on Dr. Sara Gold, she would have used it on herself instead. But not much longer now and she would have power. As soon as Maggie and Kaye left she checked to see if it was still there, and it was. Her power. After four years it was still there. Amanda could just take it and leave like she had planned. Yet something kept her there.
Not something. Maggie.
An intelligent, resourceful, spitfire of a girl, one who'd had things thrown at her in life which would have broken most people. Maggie had gotten past all that and conquered it. And at one point Amanda had her. Maggie was her sex puppet, and a very special one. It's easy to have some bimbo or idiot on a leash, keeping them around as a toy. Types like that deluded themselves into thinking sex gave them power, right up to the moment they were replaced for someone younger and hotter.
But Maggie was different. Not so easily fooled, and never self deluded. Maggie could have real power if she wanted; she had the focus, knew how to work for things and obviously had the ability to do whatever it took to get there. She just had no ambition. Maggie was content with her worker bee job and living in an apartment with an oversexed schoolteacher. Playing house when she could be playing hardball. To have someone with Maggie's potential as a toy, that represented true power. And that was something Amanda wanted. There was only one obstacle...all she had to do was take Kaye out of the way and she was sure Maggie would break. Just take Kaye out of the way...
No. That was the Stupid Move, like her father taught her. She'd spend a few more hours here, enjoy fucking around with Maggie and her bitch some more, and then she would leave. That was the smart move. Now if Maggie could just avoid doing anything stupid...
7.
"Kaye, listen, I know you're angry..."
We were sitting in the car, parked outside the supermarket. But I'm getting ahead of myself. Half an hour earlier we were inside said supermarket, where I was pushing a cart without watching where I was going, my mind trying to figure out how to tell Kaye just enough truth to get her on my bandwagon of throwing Amanda out on her ass. At the same time, I needed to keep her away from some other truth that would make her throw my ass out just as quickly. I didn't believe for one second that Amanda was planning on leaving later that day like she'd told us, and I feared that whatever reason she was here somehow put Kaye and I in danger.
Kaye was two feet ahead of me, tossing whatever caught her eye in the cart; blissfully ignorant of the huge weight my mind was trying to softly drop on her. I was so caught up in my thoughts that I didn't notice Kaye had stopped and I bumped into her.
"Hey!"
"Sorry," I said. "Next time put on your brake lights."
"Like this?" She pulled up her short skirt and flashed me her beautiful ass, complete with butterfly tattoo and the string from her dental floss undies almost invisible between her cheeks. I had wondered why she put on a skirt this morning. She usually went food shopping in a T-shirt and jeans.
Kaye asked, "Does Amanda like sweet cereal or healthy wheat shit?"
"I don't know. It's been four years."
She turned and stared at me like I just tried to change a color in the spectrum.
"Healthy wheat shit."
She rolled her eyes and tossed a box of healthy wheat shit in the cart. I shook my head and mumbled, "No wonder you were tubby as a kid."
As we turned the corner into the next aisle Kaye let me pass and then came up behind me. Her hand slid under the back of my shirt and snaked around my side, simultaneously pressing her body up against mine and whispering into my ear. "How hot was last night?"
"Pretty fucking hot."
Kaye's hand moved up to my breast. I wasn't wearing a bra and I shuddered as her fingers brushed lightly against the bottom of my bare globe. "Did you get turned on watching me with Amanda?"
"Yes," I had to admit as she started toying with my nipple. My eyes darted to the end of the empty aisle, where people faced away from us at the checkout line.
Kaye said, "Because watching you with her drove me crazy. And I mean the really good kind of crazy."
She pinched my nipple and stuck her tongue in my ear. I gasped as I moved my hand under her skirt, pressing against the inside of her left leg and slowly moving my way up. When she moaned in my ear it sounded like a bullhorn. My fingers touched the material of her panties and –
"Ahem."
We both half spun and saw an old woman standing there with her cart. She had an annoyed look on her face.
I said, "Sorry." We turned and made a beeline for the end of the aisle.
We were in the frozen food section when I worked up enough courage to ask, "So are you pissed at me?"
"Why would I be pissed at you?"
"You know, not telling you about my past."
Kaye shrugged. Without looking at me she said, "I'm not thrilled about it," she paused, "but I understand."
Despite her words I could tell it was really bothering her, and that meant she was lying to me. Even if it was a little one, even if it was to protect my feelings or just to avoid getting into an argument, this was the first time I knew Kaye wasn't being straight with me. It hurt, and then it hurt even more because I thought about how she must have felt last night, and how she was probably going to feel when I dropped the next bomb on her.
We'd just finished loading the groceries in the car when I realized it was now or never. I kept trying to think of the exact words to use, how to say it so it wouldn't sound as bad as it was.
When we got in I was on the driver's side, Kaye was in the passenger seat. I put the keys in the ignition, then stopped and pulled my hand away. Turned and looked at her. She looked at me. I opened my mouth to speak.
Before I got out the first sound she was kissing me.
I wasn't going to argue. Luckily we had parked on the side of the supermarket, in a lot that wasn't used as much. It's always awkward having sex in a car, and ours was meant for the rule rather than the exception. There was no way anyone's mouth was going to anyone else's puss. But Kaye opened the button and zipper of my cargo pants and slid her hand inside, rubbing her fingers over my shaved mound. With her other hand she pulled up my Goldfinger T-shirt and exposed my breasts. I had a few other tattoos and piercings Robert Hanson didn't know about but would probably still hate, like the tattoo of a ring of thorns around my bellybutton, or the silver rings in both my nipples. Kaye starting licking around the globe of my right breast, slowly working her way towards the center where her tongue played with my nipple ring. She sucked in my nipple, ring and all, and the feeling was beautifully intense.
"Oh Pookie," I called out. "Oh baby."
I, meanwhile, slid my hand up and down her bare legs to start getting her worked up. Kaye finished playing with my breast and started kissing me again. Down below, her fingers slid into my lips and found them soaking wet. Her fingers gave me such pleasure, sliding all over the sensitive skin, each movement causing a jolt of pleasure through my body. She found my clit ring and tugged on it, causing me to break the kiss and yell out a sharp cry.
"I want you in me," she breathed. I brought my hand between her legs and pulled her pelvic dental floss out of the way. She spread her legs and I pressed the palm of my hand against her cunt, and she responded by pressing back against my hand. My fingers slid into her folds, and then came to her clit, where the tips of my digits started rubbing fiercely.
Kaye brought her fingers to my slit and worked them inside of me. "Let's come together," I said, and slowly slid my fingers inside of her. We began to pump each other while our thumbs worked our clits.
"Oh!" Kaye exclaimed when I hit her clit just right. "Right there!"
I continued to work that spot as I stared into her eyes. Kaye stared back, her mouth hanging open as each breath became labored. We handled each other the same way I handle my violin, with the knowing touch of someone who has practiced for years. Kaye and I spent lots of time practicing. Our breathing was getting loud, pierced by grunts and groans that marked when we touched a spot just right, hitting a sweet note that caused both of us pleasure.
"Harder," she cried. I pushed a little more with each thrust, watching as her eyes squeezed shut and her mouth hung open, eliciting the cries of pleasure. My fingers moved in and out of her smooth walls, lubricated by the secretions I'd caused. Suddenly I felt the wave building and my eyes closed tight, I gritted my teeth and heard my breath whistle between them.
