Rex
CHAPTER 1
My buddy Gary and I hurried into class. English 302 - Greek Tragedies. We were business majors at the University of Tennessee but we had to take humanities electives and I liked to study the classics. Gary only took the class because he knew I'd help him study. It was a small class with just eleven English majors and us.
The semester was nearly over and exams would start in a few days.
I settled in my seat moments before Professor Pythia arrived. She was an ancient-looking woman but her mind was sharp as a tack. She wrote on the blackboard behind her, "Fate." She turned to me and said, "Mr Polybus." The professor called all of us by our last name. My full name is Rex Polybus. "Imagine you are in ancient Greece. The oracle at Delphi tells you that you will kill your father and marry your mother. What do you do?"
Of course I recognized the prophesy from Oedipus Rex. To buy time while I thought of an answer I said, "Well ... Oedipus tried to flee from his fate, and that didn't work." I paused and considered. "I suppose, since I don't believe in fate, I'd ignore the prophesy and go about my business."
Professor Pythia's thin lips slowly turned up in a smirk. "The oracle's prophesies had a long record of accuracy. A resident of ancient Greece would not ignore her."
Damn. So much for the easy way out. "Hmm. In these Greek tragedies fate can't be avoided, right?"
"True," the professor answered and encouraged. "Your fate cannot be avoided."
"But the prophesy says nothing about when the tragedy will happen?"
"No, it doesn't."
"Okay. I'd continue with my life, doing as much good as I can until the prophesy is fulfilled."
The old professor actually smiled. "A wise answer, Mr Polybus. There may be hope for you yet. When you say 'doing good', do you mean good deeds?"
"I suppose."
"What if one of the good deeds is the lever that the fates use to lead you directly to fulfilling the prophesy?"
I shrugged. "It's fate. There's nothing I can do about it, I'm doomed."
Her smile disappeared and she suddenly looked sad. "Doomed?" The hair on the back of my neck stood up.
"If my fate is predetermined, I don't see that I have any options," I answered.
The professor stared into my eyes. "What happened when Oedipus learned that he'd killed his father and married his mother?"
"Oedipus poked his eyes out and his mother hung herself."
"Were they doomed to do that? Did the prophesy say anything about the rest of their lives? Did they not have options?" she asked with a strange urgency.
I pondered for a moment. "They could have accepted what happened and moved on, either separately or together. She didn't have to kill herself and he didn't have to blind himself. They didn't knowingly do anything wrong and didn't deserve punishment."
The smile returned to Professor Pythia's face. "Excellent answer. As I said, there may be hope for you yet, Mr Polybus."
CHAPTER 2
After class, Gary and I went to Crossroads Cafe for lunch. "That was pretty intense with Professor Pythia and that fate stuff," Gary commented.
"Yeah," I agreed. "She's a strange old lady, but a good teacher."
He was quiet for a moment, then asked, "Do you think there are a lot of guys with that Oedipus complex?"
"I doubt it," I replied. "Although some of the moms at football games are fucking hot."
"Yeah. A lot of MILFs." His chuckle seemed forced. I wondered if he felt self-conscious because his wife Amy was a lot older than him.
Suddenly an argument erupted a few tables away from us. "We ain't getting no fucking divorce!" yelled a guy with long greasy black hair and the ugliest god-damn face I think I'd ever seen. I'm ugly myself but this guy was brutal. He looked like a troll.
"Yes we are!" the woman with him answered just as loud.
Smack! The ugly guy viciously backhanded her across the face and she fell off her chair to the floor.
I was moving before the sound of the hit faded. I pulled the greasy fucker out of his seat with my left hand and slugged him with my right. My big fist hit his nose like a sledgehammer and blood splattered. He tumbled to the floor. I stood over him and growled, "You want to hit somebody? Take a swing at me, asshole."
The bastard didn't want any part of me. He held his broken nose and backed away.
My size tended to have that effect on people. I'm six feet four inches tall and 240 pounds of solid muscle. My face is intimidating too. It looks like a boxer who's been hit a thousand times. I tend to scare women and children ... and men who make me angry.
"This ain't none of your business," the stupid fucker tried to argue.
"I made it my business when you hit a woman. Now get out of here."
He backed toward to the door. "Come on, Jo," he commanded the woman he had hit.
"Fuck off, King. I ain't going nowhere with you," she told him.
He scowled and went outside. After tossing a suitcase out of a van, he squealed tires out of the parking lot, which I guess was supposed to intimidate me.
The woman and I walked outside to watch the van speed away. "Thanks kid," she told me. She looked me up and down like a slab of beef, with a gleam in her eyes. "You scared the shit out of him."
"Being big has advantages."
I wondered what a babe like her was doing with the troglodyte I just scared off. She was tall, nearly six feet, and slim. Her mascara was heavy and red lipstick bright red like a slut's, but her face was as pretty as an angel's. High cheekbones, little nose and cute dimples. Her long brunette hair was a tousled mess. I guessed she was about 30. She looked like a trailer-trash version of that model, Miranda Kerr.
In spite of the cool spring weather, she wore only a cropped red tank top and a tight black mini-skirt. Her skimpy clothes showed off an amazing snake tattoo. The tail of the snake tattoo ended at her left ankle. It spiraled twice around her leg, continued up her side to her shoulder, then spiraled three times around her left arm. The head of the snake was drawn on her wrist and the snake's tongue licked the back of her hand.
Her boobs made nice bumps in the tank top and her butt was round and perky.
"Are you okay?" I inquired. She had a hand over her mouth.
"My lip hurts but I'll be fine," she assured me.
"Is that your suitcase?" I asked. She nodded so I fetched it from the parking lot. "You live around here? I can give you a lift home."
She shook her head, still watching me intently. "I lived in the van my asshole husband drove away in. We're in a band."
"Oh? What band?"
"King and the Serpents. The asshole's name is Kingfisher Laius, but everybody calls him King. He sings and plays keyboard. I'm Jocasta, the asshole's soon to be ex-wife. You can call me Jo. I play guitar and sing a little."
I'd never heard of their band. "Pleased to meet you, Jo. I'm Rex Polybus." I stuck my hand out and we shook.
"Have we met before?" she asked. "You seem real familiar."
"I don't think so. I'd remember that tattoo."
She smiled and held out her left arm to give me a closer look at the realistic snake tattoo. "Do you like it?" she asked.
"Yeah. It's great. Sexy," I replied. Her smile broadened. "Um ... what are you going to do now?"
Jo shrugged and her eyes locked on mine. "You're my knight in shining armor, kid. Got any suggestions?"
Throwing caution to the wind, I suggested, "My apartment is three blocks away. Stay with me until you figure out what you want to do."
Her nose flared and eyes dilated. "You sure about that? You ain't got to take care of me, you know."
"I'm sure it will be awful having a beautiful woman stay with me, but I'm willing to make the sacrifice."
"Okay then. Lead the way, big guy."
I grabbed her suitcase and she took my arm.
"Rex, is everything okay?" I heard Gary call out.
I'd forgotten all about him. "Yeah, fine," I answered. "See you tomorrow."
CHAPTER 3
I looked back over my shoulder as we walked down the street. "Will your husband come back looking for you?" I asked.
She shook her pretty head. "King ain't the type to fight for anything. When things don't go his way, he cuts and runs. I'm sure he's already on the highway to Atlanta."
I thought he must be a true jackass to leave behind a woman like her, but I didn't say it.
I had a one-bedroom corner apartment in a new glass-and-steel apartment tower close to the university campus. We rode the elevator up to the eighth floor. "Nice place," Jo praised, admiring the floor-to-ceiling windows.
"It's good to have rich, generous parents," I replied.
She turned her attention from the view back to me to tease, "So you're brave, tall, dark, handsome and rich?"
I smiled. "My parents are rich, not me, and I'm not close to being handsome."
"Says who?" She put her right hand on my chest and felt my hard pecs through my t-shirt.
"Every girl I've ever met."
"Stupid girls," she scoffed. Her hand slid up and behind my neck. Her other hand joined it. "This is where the knight in shining armor kisses the damsel in distress," she hinted.
I doubted this woman had ever been a damsel or in distress her whole life, but if she had a fetish for ugly dudes, I was ready to play along! I counted my lucky stars, wrapped my arms around her waist, and kissed her.
Her lips were soft against mine. They parted and our breath mingled. Tongues darted out to touch. We kissed and licked playfully for a few minutes.
My big hands rubbed her back and slid down the curve to grab her terrific butt through her short skirt. I loved that firm but pliant feel. She wiggled in my grasp and purred, "Mmm," into my mouth.
Her little boobs rubbed my chest and I praised, "You're a good kisser."
"I was just thinking the same about you, kid." Her eyes were bright with mischief and her face flushed with passion. "Show me the bedroom."
I praised God for slutty babes who like to get right down to business and led her into the bedroom. It had floor-to-ceiling windows and a big soft bed.
Jo pulled her tank top off over her head. "Just so you know, I ain't usually like this. I ain't never been with no man but King."
I doubted that, but asked, "So why me?"
She unfastened her bra and tossed it aside. "I don't know. Maybe cause I finally got away from my asshole husband. Maybe cause you saved me from a beating. Maybe it's cause I feel like I already know you from somewhere." Her skirt and panties fell to the floor and she kicked them away.
Jo's body was a work of art, and I don't only mean the big snake tattoo on her left side. She was tall and sleek. Her tits were smallish handfuls but high and firm on her chest. Her pink nipples were outsized and stood up stiff. A deep belly-button punctuated her narrow waist. Her pussy was bald and the cheeks of her ass were pert and round. A large proportion of her height was in long coltish legs.
"What do you think?" she inquired.
"Beautiful. You're in great shape."
"Thanks. I work at it. Now you. Get those clothes off."
I whipped off my shirt and Jo walked behind me. She traced two fingers along my shoulder and the back of my neck. I shuddered with lust.
I dropped my pants and underwear. She stood in front of me and grasped my half-hard prick with both hands. My cock quickly sprang to steel-hard stiffness. Jo reverently stroked it and told me, "You got a big dick, kid."
