“Nope.”
“Then let me grab some from the fridge first,” I suggest before taking off up the steps to my place when she lets herself into the apartment.
As I reach into the fridge to grab a fresh six pack, I’m hit with the all too familiar reminder that the number of beers I can drink in an hour is the same number of men the Aces and I killed just a few weeks ago when we raided Harold Cox’s house.
That’s when an actual job for Lucy comes to me. It’s one that is crazy and a little dangerous, but since I haven’t had any luck finding the family members of the five dead guards, it wouldn’t hurt to have her give it a try. She won’t ever have to know why I’m asking for the addresses. If she asks, I can just lie and say that they were my brothers who died when the Ace of Spades MC came crashing down.
On the way out the door, I stop by the bedroom to grab the printed pages of their obituaries from a drawer in my dresser and take them and the beers downstairs before I chicken out.
Maybe I’m still not thinking clearly after seeing Lucy practically naked in front of those dickheads who were trying their best to get an invitation back to her apartment so they could fuck her. Tomorrow, when I’m more sober, if that’s even a possibility, I’ll probably want to punch myself for sharing these names with her. But tonight? Well, fuck it, I don’t give a shit what I have to do as long as I keep those assholes’ hands off her. Of course they would think Lucy’s an easy target – a new girl who is alone and doesn’t know anyone around here, weighing about as much as a sack of potatoes. One of them could easily overpower her and is way more than she could dream of handling. Two of them together? Fuck, they would put up one hell of a fight for me.
What was she thinking sitting down there talking to those assholes? Was she seriously into one or both of them? Maybe there’s more to the sweet little pixie than meets the eye and she’s actually a freak in bed who enjoys gang bangs.
Heading into her open apartment door that I shut and lock behind me, I plan to take the opportunity to look for clues about the overexcited tiny woman, except that once I’m inside she’s nowhere to be found.
Not surprisingly, her apartment layout is the exact same as mine. You’re practically in the kitchen when you walk in with the bar to the right in front of the fridge and stove, the sink underneath the window looking out at the parking lot. While my apartment is decorated in grays and black, Lucy’s looks like it belongs to a teenage girl. It’s like a rainbow chick bomb detonated and threw up colors everywhere. Over to the left of the entrance is a purple velvet sofa facing a small, blinding yellow entertainment center with a basic television on top of it. There are pink pillow-like cushion seat things tossed on the floor and photos of flowers on the wall that look like exact photographs of the actual flowers in vases that are set all around the apartment, making it smell like a florist shop. Or a funeral. That’s right, my head is in a dark place that always goes back to death.
I’ve just finished my once-over, not finding any whips or chains that point to her being a sex freak when Lucy walks out of the bedroom in pajamas. At first, I’m relieved to see that she’s covered up since the bathing suit showed way too much skin, making me feel like an old pervert every time I snuck a glimpse at her. Not that I wanted to look, but I’m a man and she actually does have a nice pair of tits. They’re not huge ones that would topple her over or anything but just a nice handful. My lecherous eyes seek them out once again, and instantly my cock grows heavy at the sight of her jiggling breasts that are now moving freely, unrestrained under her thin pajama top. There are actual red strawberries placed right over her nipples like they’re begging to be plucked. And her shorts? Well, they’re so tiny and snug against her cunt that they barely cover more than a pair of panties. The bikini may have shown more skin, but these pajamas were made to drive men crazy by invoking thoughts of rolling around in bed and getting our hands underneath them.
“So? What was it you needed my urgent help with?” Lucy asks into the silence while I just stand there staring at her while holding my beer and obituaries. For the first time in weeks, though, I don’t want to drown myself in alcohol or obsess over the deaths of six men. I only want what my hard cock is demanding – that I pick Lucy up and slam her tight, wet pussy down on it over and over again until I come enough times to make up for the past three very, very dry years.
“I need you to…” I just barely catch myself before I finish the sentence with ‘get naked and ride me’ since that would be fucking insane. Divorce paper or not, as stupid as it is, I’m not ready to give up on Ellie just yet. That’s what it feels like I would be doing if I slept with another woman. I still remember our last time before she left me, barely, but I do. It was a week before our last argument and I had come home late from the Aces bar, thinking she was sound asleep. But after I climbed in bed, Ellie leaned over, grabbing a painful handful of my hair and kissing me hard. I knew she was pissed I hadn’t called but only because she missed me and worried about me. So, I put her on her stomach and fucked her into the mattress like she loved as an apology.
I’m not ready to let that memory go just yet. We never had the sweet, making love kind of sex people have in movies and shit. I’m not even sure I’m capable of that kind of intimacy. Maybe that’s why it all fell apart…
“Here,” I say instead, tossing the papers on the sofa before I head to the fridge to put the beers inside and adjust my cock behind the door discretely.
“Obituaries?” I hear Lucy ask as she shuffles through the papers and I pop the top on the first bottle.
“You want a beer?” I ask, looking at her over top of the fridge door.
“No thanks,” she responds absently while still reading.
“I need you to find those men’s addresses, or the addresses of their closest relatives – you know, like wives or mothers. Whatever.”
“Why do you want their addresses?” she asks.
“Can you find them or not?” I huff.
“Sure. Let me get my laptop.” Lucy walks back into her room with the papers and then returns with her laptop that she sits down on the sofa with. I saunter over with my beer in hand and hover.
When she glances up at me over the top of the screen, she says, “You can sit down. This could take me a few minutes. These things don’t happen at the speed of light.”
“I’m good standing,” I say, mostly because I want to keep wandering around the rest of her place and get a look in her bedroom even though it feels like torture. As I stroll around, I take a peek into the room where she sleeps. The overhead light reveals her purple and yellow comforter on a queen-size bed. Why does such a small person need such a big bed unless she’s planning to share it with someone else? I’m not sure if I’m relieved or disappointed that there are no handcuffs, whips, or any other kinky shit lying around. Everything is so nice and tidy. There are no dirty clothes on the floor, no sign of the black bathing suit she just took off. The only thing of interest is a paperback on the nightstand that’s turned upside down to hold her place. On the front is a shirtless man with abs of steel and his hand rubbing his way down lower…
Fuck me, it’s girl porn.