*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.
@@@@
Todd Tonicetti wearily packed the box, checking each item against the order form. Then, he made sure the label matched the 'Ship To' address on the form.
"Dragging a bit there," another packer observed.
"Uh huh, fat ass Terri's this way, then that way, and shit! Just go to sleep," Todd complained bitterly. "'I can't get comfortable,' so I guess no one's going get any sleep, huh?"
The clang and clatter in the building made conversation difficult. If Todd had not already had a horrific hangover from the evening before, he'd certainly have a headache before the first hour of work had expired. A&A Soaps was a noisy place to work.
Todd had been at Dante's, in Pinoak, trying to secure a gig for Lewd, his thrash metal band the night before. Todd had stayed and drank beer after beer while talking with Rick, the manager. While Rick was busy with paperwork, Todd went out back and smoked a couple of joints with Paula, the cute bartender, while trying to get into Paula's panties, before finally going home to the one room apartment he and Terri shared.
"Baby, why you so late?" Terri sleepily asked, rousing when Todd slipped into bed with her.
Todd blamed the manager of the bar, blamed a nonexistent manager of another group, blamed anyone but himself for being out until almost three o'clock in the morning. Then, quite worked up after spending time with the cute, bubbly Paula, Todd insisted that he and Terri have sex.
"Baby, come on, I'm tired," Terri whined. "Finally got comfortable here. Why'd you have get this mattress anyway?"
Todd ignored Terri's complaints; he'd was riding a beer and marijuana high. He jerked a handful of her thick hair and jammed his five inch erection into her mouth.
Three jerks, the third one bumping the back of her throat, causing Terri to gag, and Todd was done. He pulled his still spurting cock from her mouth, catching her nose and cheek with a dribble of semen.
"God damned fucker," Terri screamed at him as she waddled quickly to the small bathroom.
The neighbor to their left hammered on the wall; it was two fifty four in the morning. It was far too late in the night for screaming.
"What the fuck ever, fat ass cunt," Todd smirked.
When Terri left the bathroom after struggling for twelve minutes to evacuate her bowels, Todd was snoring. Terri wanted to slap Todd awake, scream at him. She wanted to dump a cup of ice water on his head. She wanted to dump a pot of boiling water on him. She wanted to take one of the steak knives, a wedding gift from her cousin, and plunge it into Todd's crotch.
When his alarm woke him at seven o'clock, Todd Tonicetti was in a foul mood. Terri told him he could fix his own breakfast, then ignored him. Terri's silent treatment did not help Todd's mood as he stomped around, getting ready for another day at A&A Soaps.
"Guess what, Tonicetti?" the coworker chuckled as Todd started on the next order. "Doesn't get any better. Baby comes along? You're not going get a minute of sleep then either."
"Like, no kidding," Toni Delacroix, the owner of A & A Soaps agreed, brushing her blonde curls back with her hand. "Like Jake? Just get him down, and oh, like needs a diaper, or like a bottle or a diaper AND a bottle. Anita and me? God, we were like so glad and like so scared first night he slept whole night through."
"Great," Todd grumbled bitterly.
While Todd tried to pick up the pace, tried to move a little faster, move a little more efficiently at his job, Terri Tonicetti gathered up their clothes into the canvas bag. Checking that she had detergent, a roll of quarters, and her apartment key, she wearily left the apartment.
The baby had rested heavily on her bladder from the moment she lay down to try to sleep to the moment Todd had roused her. Even at six months of pregnancy, Terri felt like she'd been pregnant forever and just wished for this ordeal to be over.
"Then what?" she asked herself as she lugged the bag outside, into the brutal humidity of the DeGarde, Louisiana morning.
"Aw, hey, let me get that for you, huh?" Trent Rawlings, the handsome older man that lived in Apartment 304 asked as Terri left Apartment 307.
Over Terri's lighthearted objections, Trent picked up the bag and walked toward the stairs. Terri followed, grateful that Trent was carrying the cumbersome bag down the two flights of metal and concrete stairs.
"But why isn't that husband of yours doing this?" Trent asked as he stepped into the sweltering laundromat of the Venice Apartment complex.
"At work," Terri said as Trent plopped the heavy bag in front of the bank of washing machines. "Thank you, Mr. Rawlings."
"Told you, Trent, huh? Call me Trent. Just finished another fourteen on," Trent said, taking a seat in the cramped room. "Damn, glad to be back on dry land."
Trent watched as the cute girl dumped the clothes onto the floor and began sorting darks and lights. She was short, about four foot ten, maybe four foot eleven, with thick brown hair that reached to just above her waist. Her round face had a button nose and button mouth and beautiful, large, expressive honey brown eyes.
Her breasts were barely a handful, her belly was large and round, and her hips were just beginning to widen. Trent looked at Terri's round backside as she bent to retrieve a sock that had skittered away.
Terri wished her neighbor would leave. He was very handsome, with thick blonde hair, bright blue eyes, and an easy smile. He was tall, probably six one, six two, had a muscled chest and flat abdomen, which Terri had seen as Trent swam in the apartment's swimming pool.
She wished he'd leave; the man made her feel nervous. He had a way of looking at her that made her feel flustered, though Terri really couldn't explain why.
And when Trent asked her about her husband, Terri was forced to see her husband's inadequacies. 'But why isn't that husband of yours doing this for you?' as Trent easily hefted the laundry bag made Terri realize, Todd didn't do very much to help her.
Trent Rawlings had been the first one to welcome Todd and Terri to the apartment complex and had talked music and guitars with Todd, had talked pregnancy and nutrition with Terri. Trent abruptly left their apartment when Todd offered to split a joint with him, claiming another engagement he was late for.
Turning from the washing machine, Terri saw the man's handsome eyes looking at her. She felt her breathing become labored, felt her pulse quicken. She wished the man would leave, and was glad he had stayed.
"Don't think you ever told me, but how did you and Todd get together?" Trent asked as Terri flopped down in the hard plastic chair to Trent's right.
"I uh, he and his band? My Cousin Yvette's ex-boyfriend's the drummer, anyway, Yvette got them to play for her birthday party," Terri said.
Lewd had been loud, raucous, and untalented. Todd Tonicetti did double duty as guitarist and singer and wasn't good at either function. They played their own songs, because none of them knew anything from any other artist. Todd's lyrics were crude, sexually suggestive, offensive.
"Well, uh, yeah, we're Lewd. Get it?" Todd had sneered when a girl dared complain about yet another song about oral sex.
Terri had drank enough beer and had smoked enough joints to get into the harsh, grinding cacophony of distortion and Todd's nasally sung lyrics. She screamed, whooped and danced as Lewd pounded out squealing song after squealing song.
"Hey, y'all are great," Terri had drunkenly declared when Todd and Skip and Scottie packed up their gear.
Losing her virginity had not hurt, mainly thanks to the marijuana and beer. Terri had not orgasmed; Todd's lovemaking was just as fast and furious as his guitar playing.
A few months later, Yvette found Skip's phone number, even though she'd broken up with Skip a week after her birthday. Skip hemmed and hawed, but finally gave Yvette Todd's phone number.
"Aw fucking great," Todd had sneered when a tearful Terri had confessed to being pregnant. "So? What the fuck you want me do about it?"
A visit from Wade Bercegay, Terri's father to Susan Tonicetti's house convinced Todd that he needed to do the right thing. Three and a half months after Yvette's birthday, Todd and Terri moved into the Venice Apartments as husband and wife.
"Well, he's a lucky man," Trent said as Terri concluded her tale.
"Thank you," Terri smiled tightly as she added the fabric softener to the two machines.
Todd didn't act like he was a lucky man. It seemed, from the moment he'd found out Terri was pregnant, all Todd did was complain.
Todd complained about having to work at A&A Soaps. He complained that he couldn't buy the Peavey mixing board Cash For Gold pawn shop had on their sales floor. He complained that his paycheck was going to rent, food, utilities.
Todd complained about Terri's lovemaking. He complained about her clumsy attempts at oral sex. He complained that she wasn't as pretty as Hillary Boudreaux, a former girlfriend of his.
The moment she found out she was pregnant, Terri had stopped drinking alcohol. Terri had never liked the smell or taste of marijuana, so giving up the pot had not been a hardship.
"But he seems find money for beer," Terri said bitterly. "And pot. Seems find money go over to Dante's, or Rank And File."
"You go there?" Trent asked, light blond eyebrows raised, blue eyes studying her.
"Huh? No, God, place gives me a headache," Terri said, getting to her feet again.
"Got another twelve minutes on the spin," Trent said before Terri could check the washing machine.
"Huh? Oh, no, no, 'bout pop here," Terri admitted as she opened the door of the small bathroom.
"Me too," Trent muttered, readjusting his throbbing erection, just as Terri shut the door.
It was another false alarm. Terri sat, trying to empty an empty bladder. Then, thinking about the handsome older man just on the other side of the door, Terri reached down, combed her brown thatch of curls and sought out her bump.
"Oh," Terri hissed a moment later.
Terri giggled lightly as a sizeable squirt of urine followed her orgasm. Then she washed her hands and left the bathroom.
Trent helped Terri carry the contents of the washing machines over to the wall of dryers. He pointed out that Dryer number 3 was out of order, even though someone had pried the tape away from the slot.
"Hmm, sign right there says clothes are not to be left unattended," Trent mused as they saw that Dryers 4 and 6 were jammed with clothes.
"That? That bedspread? That was in there last Tuesday," Terri observed.
Trent pulled his cell phone out, snapped pictures of the two dryers, then sent a text message. As Terri and Trent waited for Terri's clothes to dry, Keisha, the apartment manager eased her bulk into the laundry mat, fanning her sweating face.
