Standing in the shower I heard the phone ring. Knowing the answering machine would take care of it, I continued lathering up. That little afternoon session with Zoey had been fantastic. The way she had openly thirsted for my cum was intoxicating; she was like some poor bastard stranded in these scorching deserts around here craving water. I'd been only too happy to feed her a couple of protein smoothies and looked forward to continuing with more of the cocksucking lessons she'd asked for. Yes, she'd been a very willing pupil, with a hot little mouth worth its weight in gold. Watching her swallow as my creamy load slid down that silky throat of hers into her waiting stomach was beautiful, and putting that second milky batch of baby-batter on her face had been wickedly nasty too; but knowing that pretty soon I'd be busting that sweet innocent cherry of my little sister's was going to be even better. No doubt about it. As I thought about how it would feel to be tearing into that tight virginal hole of Zoey's curvy young body, my slick sudsy hands seemed to make their way into my crotch unconsciously. Remembering that I had that upcoming appointment in a little while with my second real client, Catherine, I summoned up what little willpower I had left and turned the shower to a cold rinse before things got out of hand....or into hand, more like it.
Catherine would be my second paying "John" (or do they call it "Joan" when it's a woman?) in my new "job"; Face-Painter for hire. $200 a load was sure a bonus, I couldn't deny that. At first, I thought the whole thing would just be looked at as a joke, but there definitely seemed to be women out there who liked that kind of thing; and better yet, were willing to put up the cash to prove it.
Running a comb through my hair after wrapping a towel around my waist, I went back into the living room and checked my message.
"Yo Homes, 'sup?" I recognized the voice of my buddy, Andy. The initial greeting made me smile; Andy and I never talked like that; and yet here he was going all "gangsta" on me. "I thought you'd be at home either workin' or sittin' around on your lazy ass." Well, that was better, at least he was back to using his normal voice again. "It's the middle of the afternoon on Friday and I'm just finishing up this job I'm doing at the Luxor. I was thinking if you didn't have any plans for tonight we could grab a bite and hang out. If you can't make it tonight, maybe we could grab breakfast either tomorrow or Sunday. My mom wants me to pop by the house today so I'm just about to head there shortly. Not too sure how long I'll be there. Anyways, when you pick this up, give me a call on my cell. Ciao bella."
"Ciao bella," so here was Andy saying "Goodbye beauty" to me in Italian. That was one thing I liked about Andy, you never knew what that crazy bastard was gonna say next; or in which language.
Andy; or more specifically Andrew Alexander Adelson, aka "Triple A", had been my best friend since we started high school. I need to digress here for just a second..... A girl Andy dated for a while when we were in university always used to giggle or smirk whenever I would call Andy either "Trip" or "Triple A". I finally asked her why she got such a big kick out of it.
"Every time I hear you call him that," she replied with a big smile on her face, "it reminds me of the Energizer Bunny. You know; the one that keeps going and going. Well, I can tell you from experience; that is exactly what Andy is like in bed, only he keeps cumming and cumming, instead of going and going!" We both had a big laugh at that, but I could tell from seeing her with Andy that she had no complaints about his Energizer Bunny prowess whatsoever. Alas, like so many romances at that age, for some reason, it ended quickly, just like so many bad TV sitcom pilots.
Looking back, I think Andy and I first crossed paths in a computer science class, with me fumbling my way through before Andy took pity on me and helped me figure out how to do something as simple as logging in. He'd been a scrawny little twerp then; and why not, he was a year younger than the rest of us, having been moved ahead a grade. Why? Because he was probably one of the smartest motherfuckers I'd ever met, that's why. Nowadays, he could speak at least four languages fluently; that I knew of, and he was a whiz at both math and anything to do with computers.
We just kind of hit it off right away, with him helping me with math, science and tech stuff, while I gave him some guidance (which he probably didn't really need) in literature, teaching him how to survive in gym and the oh so important art of socializing. I think we both knew that our strengths complimented each other and that somehow helped us form a strong bond. I kind of thought of Andy as the brother I never had, and being an only child himself, I think Andy felt the same of me.
So Andy and I shared those weird adolescent years together and our friendship grew through various girlfriends we each had, virginities lost (and never to be regained), both sports and academic successes and failures (you can guess who had more of each) and generally just regular teenage stuff. Over that period we'd both grown up, both physically and emotionally. I'd watched Andy over those years turn from the wiry little nerd he was when I first met him into a pretty good looking guy about 5'-9" tall and weighing about 170. While he helped me with math, I taught him about football. At 6'-3" and over 200 pounds, I'd made a pretty good tight end in high school while Andy played regularly at free safety. He was no star, mind you, but he worked hard doing whatever the coaches wanted from him and was respected by everybody else on the team for the effort he put forth.
I remember one incident clearly from around that time that I know brought the two of us closer together. It was our last year of high school and we'd heard about some club in a fairly sleazy part of town that didn't look too closely at your ID when you went in. And apparently there was a band playing there that week that was supposed to be pretty good. Andy and I made it into the place no problem, only to find that the band in question sucked and the overall clientele in the place was pretty grim too. I think for our first time in a real bar, we were expecting it to be "babe city"; only the ones in here seemed to be from the dog pound instead. Deciding to cut the evening short, we got out of the place and headed back to where we'd parked. I don't know why I didn't do this before we left the bar, but I had an urgent need to find a place to take a piss. I ducked into a burger joint that was still open while Andy stayed outside to take advantage of the fresh air. When I came out just a minute or two later, Andy was nowhere to be found. I heard a noise coming from the alley next to the building and poked my head around. I saw two crackheads who had Andy backed up to the wall, his trembling hands held palms-up before him.
"Just give us your wallet, fuckhead," the smaller, more strung-out looking one said to Andy, almost spitting in his face. The bigger of the two stood in front of Andy, waving a knife around menacingly. As I quickly sized up the situation, I took this as a good sign; people that know what they're doing with a weapon don't keep moving it around, they hold it pointed directly at you, knowing that is the quickest way to do the most damage, if necessary. These guys looked too hopped up on something to act rationally and I knew I had to do something to get Andy out of there before the whole situation went badly wrong. Taking a deep breath and with my eyes locked on the hovering knife, I spurted the few steps down the alleyway and launched a vicious kick at the bigger guy's arm.
"AAAAHHH!" I heard the guy grunt and a split second later heard the knife clatter against the pavement. I grabbed the guy by the back of the neck and shoved his face right into the brick wall as hard as I could. As he crumpled to the ground holding his face and moaning, I turned towards the other rat-faced bastard. He looked up at my 6'-3" frame and gasped out a simple "Fuck!" under his breath before hightailing it out of there. I grabbed Andy's arm and started to pull him out of there but he shook me off and turned to the guy kneeling on the ground, blood pouring from his face.
"Miserable fuck!" I heard Andy mutter between clenched teeth before he gave the guy another kick in the ribs for good measure. "Okay, let's get out of here." We took off at a run towards the car, both of us actually scared shitless and shaking from the whole frightening experience. We piled into the car and sat there with the doors locked, both of us breathing raggedly as our racing hearts slowly returned to normal; both of us trembling with nervous energy as the adrenaline rush gradually dwindled.
"Did you see what that little guy was wearing?" I asked Andy as I finally felt composed enough to start the car and pull away from the curb.
"Huh, what?"
"The little weaselly-looking one that took off; he was wearing a fucking Power Ranger t-shirt." I don't know why this struck me as bizarre and stuck in my brain; but that was all I could remember about the guy. If we'd reported this to the cops, that's the only way I could remember how to describe him.
"Power Rangers?" Andy replied with a "are you kidding me" look on his face.
"Yeah, the whole bunch of them, right there in a line on the front of his t-shirt." I paused and gave my head a shake as I continued to drive. "What the fuck's with that?"
Andy nodded and we drove on in silence for another minute or two before Andy said, "Do you think the Pink Power Ranger would be a good fuck?"
"Oh, there's no doubt at all about that; she'd be amazing," I replied and we both burst out laughing. We were okay after that; Andy coming back to earth from the scary hell those fuckers had just taken him to. Anytime we heard any reference to the Power Rangers after that, we'd just look at each other and start laughing as we remembered that frightening night.
After high school, we'd both attended UNLV with Andy in Computer Science while I studied English Literature and Journalism. He'd graduated with flying colors as a Computer Engineer and now at age 27, he worked freelance as well; mostly doing work for the massive casinos and hotels in town. With his skills in that kind of work, he made a decent buck, that's for sure.
We still remain good friends and usually get together a couple of times a week. I look forward to those get-togethers. Andy generally has a care-free optimistic attitude that is infectious. We never fail to challenge each other mentally over issues we disagree about, and yet we each value the fact that we can confide whatever we want in each other as well. I knew deep down, although I'd never admit it out loud, that my friendship with Andy was special; the type I'm sure other people wish they could have themselves. It keeps me grounded in a way that I find comforting beyond words. We are an anchor for each other; able to find safe harbor no matter what the mean cruel world threw at us. With something as simple as a quick phone call to each other, it doesn't seem to take long before whatever had been troubling one of us ended up not seeming so bad after all. Would I take a bullet for Andy?.........Fuck no; but a paintball pellet.....maybe!
Realizing that getting together with Andy tonight was going to be a no-go due to my appointment with Catherine, I sat down at my computer to see where I'd left off on the article I was overdue with when Zoey showed up. I noticed I had a couple of e-mails and figured I'd better check it out. The first one was from my boss, "Dick the Dick", actually Richard "Call me Dick" Morrissey. I could read his tone of voice as soon as I opened it, the fact that he wrote it all in capital letters showing how pissed off he was:
