*Author's Note: Any and all persons engaging in any sexual activity are at least eighteen years of age.
Disclaimers: Yes I need an editor and no, I do not want an editor. Yes, there's too many people to keep track of, it jumps around too much, it's too long, it's too short, it's in the wrong category, its stupid shit and I am barely literate, barely legible; I don't know why I even bother.
For those of you that have not hit the backspace key, I hope you enjoy this rather dark flash story.
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Charles 'Buddy' Mechon was running to be the State Representative for District 78, as a Democrat. District 78 had not voted for a Democrat since John F. Kennedy was running for the Presidency and even then it had been an extremely narrow victory for the Democratic ticket.
But Buddy just knew he would be that fresh faced kid, that new voice for the district. He went on a whirlwind campaign, taking his message quite literally door to door, business to business, shaking hands, listening to the concerns of the people, telling them why they were wrong to have those concerns and how the state government would be better suited to take care of their real concerns.
In the small town of DeGarde, Louisiana, Buddy was walking up and down the aisles of Early's Grocery store, telling people how capitalistic greed, the use of fossil fuels and climate change had driven the prices of their groceries up, went he saw something that made him stop in mid-sentence.
A young woman was buying a fifth of St. Elizabeth's Whiskey at the small liquor counter.
"Excuse me," Buddy demanded of the young man behind the counter. "She didn't show you any ID."
"Didn't need to," the young man shrugged. "We went to school together; I know she's nineteen."
"Nineteen?" Buddy shrilled. "Uh, the drinking age is twenty one. That's not just in the state of Louisiana, that's nationwide!"
"Yes sir?" the young man politely asked, uncomprehending.
A few telephone calls to the bureaucrats in Baton Rouge and Early's Grocery store, an icon, a landmark of DeGarde, Louisiana since the 1920s was shut down.
(On a side note, out of the 18783 available votes in District 78, Charles 'Buddy' Mechon received 143 total votes.)
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"God! This sucks!" Hailee Breaux complained to her best friend.
"I know, Hailee, you done said that like fifty times already, Hailee, what you want me do about it, huh?" Grace Arcenaud spat.
"That bitch could have just let us buy it," Hailee said again.
"Uh, after that dumb ass Mechon shut Early's down, got to be twenty one," Grace said.
A pickup truck parked in the spot next to where the two eighteen year old girls were standing, leaning against the grocery cart stand.
A good looking older man got out of the truck. His chest was shown off in the snug pull over shirt, his waist was narrow, shown off in his snug jeans.
His hair was graying, flecks of gray here and there in his short brown hair and his brown eyes had crow's feet in the corners.
He smiled and nodded to the two girls as he grabbed a buggy.
"Hey mister, uh, will you buy us some beer?" Hailee brazenly asked.
The man stopped and looked at the two girls.
They would win no beauty contests. They were both short, barely scraping five feet tall. Both were slim, with hardly any breasts to speak of, hardly any butt to speak of. The one that had spoken to him had short mousy brown hair and the one that was gawking at her friend's bravado had shoulder length honey blonde hair. The girl that was gawking had a receding chin and slightly thick lips. The speaker, the leader of the group had some acne mixed in with her freckles.
"Uh huh, and what's in it for me?" Tommy Duvalier asked.
"We'll pay for it," Hailee said.
"Well no kidding," Tommy laughed. "But what's in it for me? I get caught buying you two some beer, I'm looking at serious time behind bars. So what do I get out of it?"
"Well, what you want?" Grace finally asked.
"You two look like smart girls; figure it out," Tommy suggested.
The two girls looked at each other, then Hailee nodded.
"I'll blow you," Hailee said.
"Okay, that's you, what about you?" Tommy said.
"Yeah, I'll blow you too," Grace agreed.
"Damn, must really want some beer, huh?" Tommy chuckled.
He hit the key fob for his truck.
"How much? Six pack? Twelve pack?" he asked.
"Twelve pack; that's six for each of us," Grace told Hailee.
"Yeah, but we only got five bucks," Hailee reminded her friend.
"What kind?" Tommy asked.
"St. Elizabeth's," Hailee said.
"The lager," Grace affirmed.
"Go on, y'all get in the truck.
"Okay, here's the five bucks," Hailee said.
"Don't worry about it," Tommy said.
"You really going blow him?" Hailee asked as they clambered into the pickup truck.
"And what about you, huh?" Grace demanded, almost angrily.
"He'd said no, I'd offer fuck him," Hailee admitted.
"Damn, we alcoholics or what?" Grace giggled.
In the store, Tommy grabbed two six packs of St. Elizabeth's Lager out of the cooler. He also grabbed a fifth of bourbon and a two liter bottle of cola. He grabbed the few items he'd come for, then also grabbed some chips; neither girl looked like healthy eating was high on their list of priorities.
"You get it?" Hailee demanded when Tommy got into his truck.
"Yeah," Tommy said, showing the girls one of the six packs of beer.
"Um, where we going?" Grace asked as Tommy drove to his apartment.
"My apartment, unless y'all got some place better in mind," Tommy said.
Hailee and Grace looked at each other. Then they shrugged in resignation.
It looked like they would have to go through with sucking this old guy's cock.
"Maybe he'll be too old to get it up," Hailee thought as she looked at his weathered face and graying hair.
The one room apartment consisted of nothing but a bunch of cardboard boxes stacked against a wall, and a futon.
