*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 Miss Steaks.
**.**.**
"Sixteen years. Sixteen fucking years. Wasted," Andrew Freedlin muttered darkly to himself as he left the Oakleaf County Courthouse.
"Oh, I love children. I want at least three, maybe more," Andrew continued his bitter rumination as he stepped into the glaring hot afternoon sun.
"Well, buddy, if ever there was a time to get good and drunk, this is it," Andrew said, opening the door of his stodgy, dependable sedan.
"Andy, I really..." his almost ex-wife tried to speak.
"Fuck yourself, Dianne," Andrew yelled, startling the thirty seven year old woman. "All right? Just go fuck yourself, lying deceitful "cunt. You knew, you knew from the start I wanted kids."
Andrew was actually surprised that the car could burn rubber. He left a strip before his logical brain kicked in and reminded Andrew that tires weren't cheap.
"And, at least the fucking judge decided the house had been mine before that bitch moved in," Andrew consoled himself.
"God damn it, I, I'm forty two years old. Forty fucking two years old. Like I'm ever going find someone have a baby with now?" Andrew despaired. "Thanks, Diane. Thanks a lot. Thanks a whole hell of a lot for wasting my life, God damned bitch."
Pulling up to the Pak N' Sak liquor store, Andrew took the last available parking space. Looking through the plate glass window, Andrew could see a crowd of men and two very rough looking women scanning the shelves.
"Hmm, see I'm not the only one with a lying bitch for an ex-wife," Andrew chuckled mirthlessly.
"Oh, oh yeah, Fourth of July weekend," Andrew reminded himself as he stepped onto the sidewalk.
"Hey, uh, hi," a chubby blonde girl chirped, smiling nervously.
Andrew regarded her for a moment. She was dressed in a pale pink tank top that stretched taut against her pudgy belly. With the sunlight beaming directly behind himself, Andrew could see that the cute girl wore no bra; her half dollar sized areolae were a light brown in color, easily visible through the thin material. Her navel was a tunnel in her belly. Her wide hips stretched the denim of her Daisy Duke shorts, displaying ample hips and very pale and plump thighs.
"I, uh, you wanna party?" the blonde girl asked, licking her full lips nervously.
At first Andrew was about to refuse. No, he did not want to party. He wanted to get good and stinking drunk, falling down, knee-walking drunk.
But he had not been laid in nearly nine months. Nine months since Diane's tearful confession that she was not ready, and never would be ready to be a mommy. Two wasted months of marriage counseling, then mediations; Diane kept making ludicrous financial demands, and finally standing in front of a judge.
"How much?" Andrew asked.
"Huh?" the girl asked, confused.
"Huh? What do you mean, huh? You asked me if I want to party. I asked you how much to party," Andrew spat. "Come on, give me the prices."
"Huh?" the girl goggled, blue eyes wide. "Oh, oh no mister, I, I just want some tequila, you know, so I can par-tay."
"Know what? I, I'm sorry," Andrew relented. "So what you want? A pint?"
"I, how much five bucks get me?" the girl asked, producing a wadded up clump of dollars from her pocket.
"Oh, hey, wait, how old are you?" Andrew asked.
"Eighteen, just made eighteen yesterday," the girl smiled proudly.
"And I get you this fifth of tequila, you got somewhere to drink it?" Andrew asked.
"I, Browner Park, I guess," the girl shrugged, a move that made her small breasts jiggle.
"Which is extremely dangerous for a pretty girl like you," Andrew shook his head. "You do know they're looking for a group of Latin kids done some mugging, huh?"
"Shit! That, that was there?" the girl asked, mouth revealing straight white teeth.
"I get you this tequila, we're going back to my place to par-tay, hear?" Andrew demanded.
Inside the store, Andrew found a bottle of brandy. He then located the Artigas Tequila.
"Know what? I'm getting good and sloppy drunk? This, this is what I need," Andrew said and grabbed a half gallon of the cheap tequila.
Stepping out of the store, Andrew saw the girl from behind. Her long blonde hair reached to the small of her back. He liked long hair. Diane had once had long brown hair that reached to the tops of her pert buttocks. And for whatever reason, she decided to hack it all off, opting for a cute page boy style.
The girl's chubby buttocks peeked out of the obscene denim shorts, two hillocks of very pale flesh. Andrew resisted the urge to slap them as he approached her.
"Come on; car's right here," Andrew said. "Let's go par-tay."
Getting into the car, Andrew could smell the young girl's sweat. He could also smell the scent of her sunscreen. He nodded with satisfaction; at least she was smart enough to protect her flesh from the harmful rays of the sun.
"Andrew Freedlin," Andrew said as he carefully backed out of the parking lot.
"Huh?" the girl asked.
"My name. Andrew Freedlin," Andrew said.
"Oh! I'm mony," The girl chirped.
"You know, Moni, nice girls don't stand outside of liquor stores and ask old geezers if they want to party," Andrew said as he turned onto Schechter Circle.
"Uh huh, maybe I'm not a nice girl," Moni giggled.
"Oh, okay," Andrew chuckled. "So, you a bad girl?"
"Maybe," Moni said, trying to be coy.