The Trouble Way (24 page)

He breathed in, holding the air in his lungs, concentrating on what she was doing with hands and her warm, wet mouth, then exhaled.

She persisted, keeping time with B.B. King for several minutes then looked up. “Well, honey-bunny, I think I’m about ready, how about you?”

“
Just a little more. That feels really good.”

She lowered her head again and with a few more mouth-strokes he let out a moan stunned her with a salty mouth-full.

“Jeeze, Dwight, you could have let me know,” she said after spitting and wiping her mouth on his shirt.

Sorry, Lindy, I
’m pretty sure I was ready,” he said.

She sat back on her haunches in disgust, continuing to wipe her face.

He gripped her head between both hands and urged her upward.

“
Forget it,” she said and stood and walked to the bathroom. When she returned, he was toking on the joint again and she sat next to him.

“
I’ll be with you in ten or fifteen,” Dwight said. “I just need to catch my breath.”

Linda sat, leaned forward, and picked up her beer. He leaned forward and grabbed his. They sat, drank, and listened to one side of the record. Each began to stir again. He began to fondle her breasts.

She reached over and grabbed him and began her proven ritual.

“
Just a sec, let me get these out of the way,” she said, pulling his jeans and jockeys to his thighs. “Okay, now I think you’ll be able to manage all right. I just can’t wait any longer.”

She stood erect and wiggled her ass until she worked her panties and shorts over her hips and let them fall to her ankles.

“Hold my hands,” she said as she stepped out of her panties and straddled him on her knees.

He moved his hands to her hips while she steadied herself by holding onto the couch back and with one hand she reached down to guide him as she descended, impaling herself full onto him. She wiggled her ass like she was seating a gasket to seal a loose fit, then rested her full weight on his lap and savored the feeling.
“Oh my God, you fill me up. That feels unbelievably wonderful.”

“
You really are ready, you’re slippery; that feels good,” he said as she rolled her hips forward and gripped the back of the couch.

“
I know, I get so gushy, it embarrasses me.”

“
Not to worry, Honey, it’s not a defect, believe me.”

“
Now, hold your horses and let me have a chance, okay? Do you like it this way? It’s the way I have to do it to get off. I have to be in control. I hope it’s alright.” She began to lift and sink, picking up the slow rhythm of the song.

He moved his hands from her hips to her small, round breasts, holding them as she continued rocking like she were on the quarter pony ride on the front sidewalk of Big Richards. When the music slowed on the next song, she slowed and kept time. When the following song came on, the beat was faster and she transitioned movements to match the music. She kept perfect rhythm, not just the steady up and down, but a 1-2-3, 1-2-3 as if she were doing a waltz or a different sequence of movements when the music changed to a two-step. Sometimes she moved in free-style, but always in rhythm to the music. She let the music determine the movement of her perfect little round ass.

“I love how you do that, Lindy,” he said. “You are a hell-of-a dancer.”

“
Um-huh,” she said and as her breathing increased. When she began to come, he moved his hands to her small round cheeks and forced himself deep inside her as she crunched her abs and thrust her pelvis forward and absorbed all of him. She continued letting him slide deep with each beat. Each time she offered herself forward, she maintained her disciplined rhythm, inducing in herself an incredible, protracted climax. She was able to keep meticulously to the beat of the music and the sound of her unrestrained moans revealed she earned a colossal, enduring climax for her incredible self-control.

“
That was wonderful, Honey. Thank you, thank you, and thank you. I could hardly stand it. That was absolutely unbelievable. Oh my Lord,” she said as she lay against his chest, joined by the wet suction they produced between themselves until she could catch her breath. “I don’t think I’ve ever come for such a long time. What’d I tell you, that is some prime sex weed, isn’t it?”

“
You ain’t wrong. I didn’t think you’d ever stop. That was great.”

“
Are you up for it? It’s your turn again. What’s your pleasure, hand, mouth, or more fuzzy-bumping? I’m all yours. I’m still unbelievably horny so use me up.”

“
I’ll take another helping of the fuzzy-bumping. Lay your bod on the couch. I want to be in the Captain’s seat of your fuzzy-bumper though.”

She rose and sat while he removed his remaining garments then she stretched out on the couch, spreading her legs and let him slide over into the cockpit. Again, even with him being the driver
’s seat, she relegated him to keeping the beat of the music, coaxing him with her hands on the small of his back and by the way she rose to meet him each time he moved forward. “With the music, Hon,” she chided and let him ride as long as he wanted. His breath came in gasps as he neared his peak. “Don’t rush it; I want you to come a long, long time.” She welcomed him as deep as he could manage to go in her as he came with the beat of B.B. King playing his guitar. He rode her over the summit as she coaxed him with her hands, her moans and whispers, and her gushy welcoming fuzzy. She helped prolong his sensation when she matched his orgasm with another of her own that lasted as long and was as intense as her previous one.

“
Lindy, you’re incredible,” he said in a gasping whisper.

“
Baby, you are not half-bad yourself. That’s some fine shit.”

They slept on the couch and when he woke, it was two-thirty a.m. It was close to three before he entered the freeway and kicked it and headed for home. Fifteen minutes later, he took the Cedar River exit and drove past the Cedar River Motel and into his apartment complex in the Seattle suburb of Renton five minutes later. During rush hour, the drive could take as much as thirty, forty minutes but this early in the morning, traffic was nearly non-existent.

He pulled the red plaid car blanket off the box, picked up the factory wrapped tape player from the back seat, carried it into his apartment, and lobbed it on a chair. He’d didn’t have much time for sleeping. He would leave the unwrapping it for another time. He set the alarm for six.

He
’d slept three hours and had been fifteen minutes late for work. It was one long day and he was dragging-ass when he got back home after work.

He grabbed the box from the chair, unwrapped the tape player, and plugged it in. He slid in the tape of Elton John, one of several tapes he acquired from a shipment from Handleman they had off-loaded the week before and threw himself on the bed and closed his eyes to relax.

When he lifted tapes, he never concealed them on his person. He’d sometimes place them in the slot on the dumpster where the forks of the garbage truck picked up the container, a hiding place he would have to change since his last stash had been missing when he went to retrieve the tapes. He’d have to be more vigilant in choosing a temporary hiding place.

He
’d drive around the store after closing and pick up any contraband he concealed. If questioned by security, he could planned to say he was dumpster diving. So far, he had never been questioned.

Sometimes, he
’d set the stolen items on top of the garbage in the dumpster in a plastic bag to protect from the actual trash. When he did that, he’d throw some kitchen slop on top of the bag so it would deter prying eyes. So far, so good.

The one bedroom apartment in Renton was not big, but it suited his needs perfectly. The stuff he stole was minimal, mainly because he had such a small place. He found the apartment after scouting out many in Seattle. It was cheaper than living in Seattle and the commute was tolerable. He paid ninety-nine dollars a month for it and had been living there for the past year.

In the past several years working at Big Richards, he acquired among other things, a TV, several dozen LPs, which he’d stopped kiping since tapes were the new technology, twenty or thirty cassette tapes, a few hand tools that he kept in a tool box in his trunk, flashlight batteries, the tape player, a few small kitchen appliances, a set of Corelle dishes, razors, and a few pair of Levis. He could not remember all of the miscellaneous other merchandise he acquired because he no longer possessed it, he sold that at a local flea market. All of it was courtesy of Big Dicks.

None of the three, Dwight, Linda, or Ann, thought that what they were doing was in the least dishonest. They saw it as receiving an employee benefit that they had been denied them. Since they were offered shit for raises and minimal overtime, they had decided to take things into their own hands. Most new employees were hired as part-time so benefits were nonexistent. Showing a little initiative, as they saw it, was all it took for a little well deserved reward.

They didn’t even hold it against Mr. Hedd for not being able to offer them anything other than a pittance for raises or the embarrassment of those ridiculous gift certificates he handed out at the monthly employee meeting. He, just as they, was a victim of
The Man
; he was only doing what upper management ordered him to do.

Of course, they didn
’t think that Mr. Hedd was aware that he was being screwed the same as they were. That was obvious by the number of hours he work, the weekends he had to come in, his cancelled vacation days, his missed days off, and having to work every holiday they were open, and even most of the ones the store was closed to prepare for the “day after” sales. He was getting the shaft the same as everyone else. Maybe he just wasn’t being screwed to the extent that they were, but he was, never the less, being screwed blue and tattooed.

“
He has rarely been late for work and always volunteered for extra hours,” Mr. Hedd announced at the Friday morning Employee Meeting announcing Dwight’s second award. “Never once have I heard a negative comment about Dwight. A fine employee of which is an example to us all. For his outstanding productivity and exemplary work ethic, I am proud to award Dwight the Employee of the Month award for the second time this year. I salute you, Dwight, for doing such a fine job helping to keep the stockroom running like clockwork.” Mr. Hedd stood at the front of the gathered employees and came to attention, clicked his heels together, saluted and asked those gathered to give Dwight a round of applause.

“
Way to go, Dwight,” Linda hollered and slapped Ann on the leg several times.

“
Good for you, Dwight,” Ann yelled.

Annabelle, a newly hired stock girl who generally kept to herself and always seemed to be eating cantaloupe or a green salad in the break room nearly hollered,
“Nice going Dwight,” and glanced around seemingly hoping nobody had heard her.

Gladys, with the distinction of being the slowest checker, said,
“Way to go Dwight.”

“
I just try to do the best I can,” Dwight said when he accepted the gift certificate for fifteen percent off on any purchase over ten dollars with the small lettering advising the holder that the certificate does not apply to sale merchandise or with any other offer. It met the same fate as his first one, not making it past the trash can on his first visit to the men’s room after the employee meeting.

The smiling photo of Dwight receiving his award certificate from Mr. Hedd was tacked on the employee bulletin board. When Dwight, Linda, and Ann were admiring the photo, Dwight drew a Hitler mustache on both Mr. Hedd and himself, just
“for shits and grins,” all three had a good chuckle over it.

“
Excuse me,” Annabelle said as she scooted behind the three.

“
Uh oh, Linda said. “ Annabelle saw you draw the mustache.”

“
She won’t say anything,” Ann said, “she’s way too timid. She just sits in the corner and eats her cantaloupe and counts calories. She’ll probably outlive us all.”

Mr. Hedd, however, was not amused and at the next weeks employee meeting took the opportunity to spend a few minutes to speak of waste and shoplifting. He lectured the employees about respect for company property and what an insult it was to Dwight
’s fine reputation and likened it to theft, saying it was akin to taking merchandise from the store.

“
Film is not free, time is not free,” he said and insisted on Dwight posing with him for another photo.

Dwight leaned over to Linda and said under his breath,
“Our time is damn close to free.”

“
Do you have any thoughts to share with us, Dwight?” Mr. Hedd, with the antenna of a junior high teacher, recognized his voice.

“
I was just telling Linda that I can’t believe that someone would deliberately take something from Big Richards. It’s like family here to us.”

Linda, with an equally serious demeanor, nodded in agreement.