I had just looked at my watch, 6:55am. In five minutes I'd have my daily slice of heaven, leaving my piece of shit, menial wage job. I'd been working here for five years now, kind of doing things backwards. I'd left the Army after ten years of service where I had been making really decent money, not good money, but enough to afford me a comfortable lifestyle. Now I was making less than half of that and just barely making ends meet. I was always relieved to be leaving my personal hell, so I smiled an inner smile and was relieved. Then I saw her. It wasn't her beauty, nor her natural bronze complexion which caught my attention. It was simply the way she was dressed.
She was standing there next to her shopping cart piled high with what seemed random and unrelated things, reading a label. I don't even remember what she had in her hand, but the way she was dressed screamed, “I'm not from around here.”. Her white satin blouse, was unbuttoned and below it her black lace bra was exposed as was her cleavage and a navel piercing. The blouse just hung there as if she'd just gotten up in a hurry and forgot to button it. The brassiere was too small and her medium breasts were overflowing from it. She wore a patent leather belt about her waist which was almost six inches wide with a red buckle, the free end not held against the belt by the keeper. A navy blue skirt which barely covered her nicely toned ass hung from under her belt, and revealed torn fishnets which crept down her legs to her combat boots. My mind processed all this in seconds as I sized her up, noting to myself that I hadn't seen her face yet. She turned to face me as I asked the question which I asked people hundreds of times a night, “Can I help you with anything?”. Her face was a common face, one which gave you the feeling that you'd seen her before, which I knew I hadn't, her dark hair, cropped short framed her face. But her eyes, a hazel, bordering on almost a gold color caught my attention. “Shampoo, I need your cheapest shampoo, where is it?” she returned sounding amused. I told her to follow me and added that she must not be from the area. “No, just passing through, be here for a day at most, how'd you know?” she asked.
“Know what?” I asked.
“I'm not from around here?” She replied. I told her that the way she was dressed had clued me in, most people in this little back woods nowhere part of Louisiana didn't dress the way she did. I informed her that her shirt was open, as if she might not be aware of the fact. “I know, I ripped all the buttons off of it.” she told me. When I asked why she'd done it her answer surprised me. “Well, I needed to make sure I knew it was mine the last time I washed it, so I popped the buttons off so when I took it out of the dryer I could identify it.” she told.
“Were you washing your clothes with someone else, sharing a load?” I inquired.
“Kinda, but not really, see I was in this little town a few miles from here, at an all night cafe, and I had kind of made the waitress spill my coffee all over me and then made a big fuss about it, so they'd give me my dinner for free, then I went over to this washateria, removed the buttons and threw the shirt in a running washer for a few minutes, then took it out and threw it into a dryer for a few more until it was dry. Satin dries fast!” she related the story to me. Her story was so animated and the machine gun way she rattled things off made me laugh. I gave her a sideways glance and added, “Not too modest huh?” looking in towards her chest as I did so. “What? They're only tits and everyone has them. Unless you get cancer and they've cut them off.” she returned. We walked around a corner and I pointed out the shampoo, mentioning that we had some that was on special two for a dollar. She added eight bottles of the stuff to her cart as I walked away.
I walked to the back as amused by the short chat we'd had as I had initially been with her wardrobe and clocked out for the day and headed out to my car. As I crossed the threshold of the front doors I heard her voice again. “Hey, hey you, shampoo guy!” she said as I turned to look at her. "Hi." was all I said.
"You gotta car?"she asked.
"Um, yeah." I answered.
"Great, can you give me a ride to the nearest bus station?" she asked as I noticed only one small bag in her possession.
"Um, I don't think so, I don't really know you." I told her.
"Oh, I'm Candace, you can Call me Candy, or Cancan, or Kris." She told me.
"Kris?" I uttered, confused.
"Yeah, my name it's Kristine, but I've always hated that, so I go by Candace, sometimes, or maybe Bella sometimes, sometimes I even go by Torrie, depends on where I am and how I feel that day, tomorrow I could be Anne, no, not Anne, Anne's boring and I never want to be boring. What do I look like to you?" she rattled off.
"Um, what?" was all I could manage.
"A name, what do I look like to you? Doris, no definitely not a Doris, maybe an Abbey?" she said as her eyes lit up a bit as she said the name.
"I hadn't thought about it, and the nearest bus station is in Shreveport." I informed.
"How far's that?" she asked.
"Over a two hour drive." I told her, suddenly feeling uncomfortable.
"That'd be a good ride, we could get to know each other, let's go, which one's yours?" she asked.
"Which, what's mine?"
"Car, which one's yours?"
"I'm not taking you Shreveport, I'm not taking you anywhere, I don't even know you." I informed her. She didn't say anything to that, she only blinked a few times as though she might have been thinking.
"So what do I look like?" she asked again. I began walking away, then stopped in the parking lot, realizing that if I got in my car, she'd know which one was mine. I turned to see where she was and she was standing right behind me. "So?" she asked, tilting her head sideways, reminding me of a confused dog. My gaze drifted back to her unbuttoned blouse and her exposed cleavage and bra, she followed my gaze and smiled. "So you like tits huh? I'll show 'em to ya, let you feel 'em if you buy me breakfast." she said, shocking me with her forwardness. I guess I gasped a bit because she started laughing at me. "Sorry, I just say what I think, most people don't, that's what gets them in trouble, not saying what they think." she informed me. I guess I lost my mind for a minute, because without thinking I said "Come on, I'll get you breakfast." I wasn't thinking about feeling her up, that's the truth. Though feeling her up may have, in retrospect been the best thing at that time, knowing her as I do now, it might have caused her to have ditch me somewhere along this journey we've just recently ended. If I had known then where this would end up, I'd have just taken her to the bus stop and it could have ended with that.
After a short drive and some sideways looks from some locals, we sat down at a table to eat. "Honey, y'all are gonna have to do something about that shirt if you're gonna be in here." our waitress told Rena, I thought she looked like a Rena, I'd told her in the car, when she came to our table. "He thinks I look like a Rena. What do you think?" she asked the waitress as she tied her blouse in a knot in front of her breasts. "Sure." was the waitresses reply, after she took our orders and walked off we sat silent for a few moments. "Um so where are you headed?" I asked.
"Where ever, doesn't really matter, so do you wanna feel my tits now or after we eat?" she asked me.
"I didn't bring you here so I could feel your boobs." I replied with some disdain in my voice.
"You a fag?"
"No, I like women."
"Then why don't you wanna feel them? I mean it's really not a big deal, they're just tits." she asked.
"Why do you care? What does it matter if I didn’t want to feel them? I asked in reply.
"Everyone wants something from other people, no one does anything altruistic, no one's nice just to be nice, that doesn't happen. If someone is doing something for you, it's because they want something from you. That's the way the world works." she lectured.
"So what do you believe it is that I want from you?" I asked, believing that her answer might give me a headache.
"No clue, but ya know, you knew what it is before we even got in your car what you want from me, so just say it." she said sounding indifferent.
"Is this your thing? What you do, I mean?"
"What?"
"You meet strangers and get them to do things for you and insist that they want something from you to, what? Feed your narcissism?" I accused.
"Narcissism? " she echoed.
"Yeah it's a sort of self centered." I managed before she cut me off.
"I know what it means. And no, I'm not important enough for any of that, neither are you, no one really is. Just answer the fucking question, what do you want?" she chastised.
"Nothing, I don't want anything from you." I told her.
"Bullshit, you didn't even consider taking me to the bus station, but when I offer up tits for breakfast you agree, yet you insist that you don't want to feel them, are you married?" she asked.
"No."
"Engaged?"
"No."
"Girlfriend?"
"No."
"Then you should want to feel my tits." she said.
"Why? What is it that bothers you so much about me not wanting to feel you up?" I asked.
“Men want to feel womens tits, single men, married men, all men, maybe you're an ass man, but that wouldn't matter, because the prospect of feeling some tits that you've never touched should appeal to you, yet you claim that it doesn't and that you don't want to feel my tits. That's why it matters and why it bothers me. Are you some kind of religious nut?” she told me.
“No, I don't believe in religion.”
“You don't think religion exists?” she asked raising an eyebrow.
“No, I know it exists, I just don't believe in following a religion, I'm more of a spiritualist than religious kind of person, which has nothing to do with your pseudo sexual offer of tit feeling” I told her, as our food arrived, she was quiet for a few moments, adding what I considered too much sugar to her grits and too much syrup to her pancakes. Her face contorted a bit as she rearranged the food on her plate in some kind of way that somehow made sense to her at that particular moment. She ate a few bites before she spoke again. “Do you have enough money to cover this?” she asked.
“Yeah why?” I asked. “Just needed to know whether or not I needed to trip the waitress or not.” she giggled. I noticed that she scarfed her food down, seemingly without chewing. I paid the tab and we walked out to my car. “So you think you could drive me over to the gas station by the Burger Bar?” she asked me. “What's at the gas station?” I wanted to know. “My bag. All the stuff I have is hidden behind the dumpster over there and I kind of need it.” she informed me. I nodded and we climbed back in. I think I agreed to take her over for her stuff, more to see if she was telling the truth than anything else, but when I stopped the car on the side of the building she climbed out and went behind the dumpster and produced a duffel bag. It seemed to be about half full and I imagined more torn fishnets and bras which were too small inside it. She came back to the drivers side window and leaned in. “Sure you won't take me to the bus station?” she asked.
“Um, no.” I responded.
“I could blow you.” she offered.
“What?” I said incredulous.
“It's no big deal.” she stated, very matter of fact as she walked around the car and sat back down inside.
“We don't even know each other, what kind of guy do you think I am?” I said, feeling a bit insulted.
“It's just a blow job, since when is there a prerequisite of knowing someone precluding a B.J. Or sex for that fact?” she asked.
“Are you serious?” I asked.
“Look, sex is just physical thing, we convince ourselves that it means something, but really it's just a fun way to pass time. We attach all this emotion to it, but really what we're doing is feeding our own needs, we all need to cum, it's just more fun to do it with someone else than it is to do it alone. More satisfying. We feel good knowing we helped the other person cum, but ultimately all we really wanted was to cum ourselves. It's all very selfish. Me offering to blow you gets me what I need and lets you get what you want, to blow your load.” she lectured again.
“I never said I wanted you to blow me.” I said, feeling my face flush.
“Are you saying that you don't like getting a B.J.?”
“Of course not, I'm a guy, like any other guy, I do enjoy that.” I told her.
“So if we weren't sitting in public, and I reached over and started to unzip your pants, pulled it out and started going down, would you stop me?”
“Probably not.” I said, resigned to that answer.
“Finally!” she exclaimed.
“What?!”
“We get to the part where you're being honest.” she said.
“I've been nothing but honest!” I said almost yelling.
“No.” she said, pausing in thought, then continuing, “If you were being honest, then you'd have just told me what you want to begin with. Yet still you haven't.” she finished. I started the car and pulled away from the gas station. “Are we going to the bus station?” she asked. “No, I thought I'd take you to my place, get what I want from you, then take you to the bus station.” I told her. She smiled at me, a sly smile, that told me she wanted to give me what I wanted. Living a few miles outside of town, I pulled my car down my long dirt driveway and up to the house. The only soul around for a mile was Baggie, my hound dog. I hadn't realized I'd left him out when I'd gone to work the previous night. He sat on the porch wagging his tail and barking to be fed. We'd practiced this ritual, he and I countless times now. He barks to be let in and fed and I let him in and feed him. “Awesome dog, what's his name?” she asked. “Baggie.” I told her. “Baggie, that's odd.” she replied. “Yeah when I got off of drugs about two years, I got him and named him Baggie, told myself it was the last 'Baggie' I'd ever buy. He keeps me straight.” I informed her. We walked in and she sat on the couch while I took Baggie in the kitchen and filled his bowl. When I returned to the living room she was already naked. “Like what you see?” she asked. I have to admit, she was stunning, reminded me of my ex-wife a bit, the short hair, the perpetually tanned complexion. I was hard immediately. She walked over and draped her arms around my neck. I stopped her. “I'm not sure you realize what I want from you.” I told her.
“I have a pretty good idea.” she smiled, a knowing smile.
“Pictures, I told her, I'm an amateur photographer and all I want is some pictures, but please, keep your clothes off.” I instructed her as I turned and retrieved my camera from the cubby under the coffee table. I stood and looked at her, and saw that the light was hitting her very nicely through the curtains, a swath of sunlight that Baggie would be lying in had he not been eating cascaded across her body. “You know, I think this is the first time anyone's ever just wanted pictures.” she giggled. I smiled and clicked away around fifteen pictures. “Hold on, I want to grab a few props.” I told her and she smiled, a sweet smile, too bad I hadn't had my camera ready, I would have loved to capture that one. I left the room and assembled a few random things to put in some pictures with her. When I returned she was laying back on the couch. I knelt next to her to get some close up portraits and then I felt a sting at my neck.
“Don't panic., you'll bleed out faster.” she said. “Trust me, it's better this way, you're a nice guy and the world wasn't meant for nice guys.” she giggled.
The world swirled around me, everything started to spin, I clutched at my throat, the blood slimy and thick running over and through. I began to cough blood. Shed left the room for a moment and returned, in her hand was the head of my only friend. Baggie, she'd killed him, maybe when I was gathering props, or in the few moments since she'd cut me. I wasn't sure. “See, now you don't even have anything to live for, your dog's gone, just lie down and let go.” she instructed me. I felt blood running down my throat, making me nauseated, my shirt was soaked through already. Seconds stretched into hours and every thought I've ever had ran through my mind. She left the room as I capitulated over the coffee table. It was mere minutes ago that I started to twitch, first it started at mt feet, and now I'm getting cold, and tired. “I'm borrowing these pants, you won't need them.” she told me just now. “By the way, this is a nice house, I would stay for a few days, but I have a feeling that in a town this small someone will notice you missing. Don't worry I'm not taking your car, I'll walk. It was nice meeting you. Bye bye.” she just told me. Everything's getting blurry now, I just need to sleep, so very tired, and it's so quiet. I must admit a bit of disappointment, though I've never been religious, I always wondered about a white light and angels, there aren't any. I haven't seen any anyways. Maybe this is a dream, but I know it's not, it doesn't hurt , not anymore, nothing hurts. The door to my house closing is the last thing I hear and now silence.
©Ed Walden
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