crook Takes Pawn part 84

"If you don't mind me asking, Donald," Rebecca says softly, "how is it that you became homeless?"
    Donnie looks closed off. his legs are crossed, one tennis shoe resting on his knee, and his arms are taut and rigid. Rebecca reaches out to him. She feels it's better to openly confront issues, one of which is Donnie's prior homelessness.
    Donnie relaxes under Rebecca's unassuming eyes.
"I was moving into my apartment building," Donnie says, clearing his throat. The weed has thickened his vocal cords.
"Long story short, a fridge fell onto me, and messed up  my leg, my jaw, everything. I was just renewing my lease when the accident happened, damaging the property. The stairwell wall was damaged by the impact of the fridge. I lost my security deposit to pay for the broken wall, and $200 on top of that. WIth no way to raise more money for the renewal on the lease, I had nowhere to go. My mother refused to pay any of the damages, or hospital payments. Once again, I was on his own.
    Donny puffs on the nearly-gone roach casually. His own story is old news to himself. But they seem affected by it.
    Especially Rebecca. She feels sorrow and sympathy for this poor misguided young man.
    "That's harsh," Rebecca says softly, "but you're here now, getting back to your old self, right?"
    "That's right, Rebecca," Donnie says equally as soft, "but there's still one thing you should know about me."
    The hair on the back of Greg's neck raises. Greg has a pretty good idea what this "thing" they need to know is.
    "After my accident," Donnie starts, "I became addicted to pain killers and anti-anxiety drugs. That's really why I lost it all. I had thousands of dollars saved up, but poof, it was all gone."
    Donny gestures with his hand. The street name to the roach more closely resembles a lightning bug, zipping around in Donnie's hand.
    More silence. Even Rebecca looks uneasy. But Donnie felt this confession should come from his own lips.
    "I've gotta go to the bathroom," Rebecca mumbles. She totters sluggishly as she gets up. The weed has made her groggy.
    Still more silence. Michelle is poised on the edge of her seat, and keeps glancing at her watch. She does her best to communicate her wish to depart without saying so, but Ben is aloof. It has been awhile since he smoked any green, and it is making him loopy.
    "I've gotta go, but you guys have a good time." Donny says, out of nowhere, "I need to use the bathroom though. Is there a second one downstairs?"
    "No," Greg says, "but I'll go check on rebecca."
    Everybody is trashed by the outstanding weed. Greg knocks on the door.
"Reb, did you fall in?" Greg asks, reusing her old joke.
"Come in," she says, her voice resounding in the small bathroom.
    Greg opens the door and sees his honey on the pot. Her undies are around her ankles, and he detects the twinkling of her pee.
    "Oh, I'm sorry," he says, making to exit.
"I'm done now," she says, tearing a piece of toilet tissue from the roll. Greg would be a liar if he said watching her wipe her vagina didn't turn him on. She stands and pulls those grinning panties back up her sleek legs, then flushes.
    "All yours," she says with a mischievous grin. She was so nasty. There were no barriers between them. Greg hooks her arm as she moves past him towards the door. The weed has made him horny, so much so that he can no longer keep his inclinations at bay. His hand rises up her skirt and cups her femininity. She giggles. But the bubbling laughter turns to hitching grunts as he digs into her panties. He wriggles his digits carefully, causing her to bloom. She moans and rests her head back against the wall. Greg covers her mouth with his hand. She shows momentary surprise in her eyes.
    "Shut up," Greg hisses, "shut up and take it."
His finger slides home. The suction from her tight hole causes squelching sounds. His thumb finds her clit and she is wracked by what seems like convulsions. He feels her tongue probing against the crack between his fingers. he allows her tongue to escape, and licks the tip of her taste buds with his own.
    Withdrawing, he rubs her with that same penetrating finger, as if to silence her lips. But his movements cause only more noise to issue from her. She bites his hand hard enough to leave a mark for 2 days afterward. Greg doesn't mind.
    "There's people waiting on us," Greg whispers in that same harsh voice, "You'd better hurry up and cum."
    Greg's jabs viscously at her vagina. On each withdrawal, he curls his finger, as if beckoning. Having read his ex-wives Comsopolitan magazines from time to time, Greg had a vague awareness of a woman's g-spot. Somewhere on the front wall, he searches for it. She loves it. Her legs jitter, the heels of her shoes sounding like a bad tap-dancer. Still, his hand is on her mouth, but not her nose. He feels her hot air steaming from her nostrils as it builds up. Greg waits until a point where he's pretty sure she's cummin, then yanks his finger free. She spritzes into his hand, a spray of lubrication. An aching howl rumbles from within her, as she grunts again through his clenched hand.
    He licks his finger free of juice. She tastes wonderful, nice and clean. When removing his hand finally, Rebecca's tongue is still working, waggling and wriggling. Greg slips that same wet finger into her mouth and she sucks it strongly. Greg had heard of the term "ass-to-mouth" before. But finger-to-pussy-to-mouth-to-mouth was a maneuver he didn't think anyone had attempted before. At least not to public knowledge, anyway. Rebecca leans against his shoulder, struggling not to fall over.  Greg kneels down and pulls her underwear back up to her hips. Despite the icy color of her eyes, Rebecca's stare is full of fire.
    "I can tell everyone to leave," Greg offers, "then we can really get down to the nitty gritty."
    "No, I'll lead them out," Rebecca says, panting, "I need a little time to cool down after that. Thank you so much, baby. I love you."
    Greg kisses her for what seems to be the hundredth time. Just to think, only a month or so ago, Greg's sex life amounted to a subscription to cable porn, and a couple bottles of baby lotion. Now, he was about to partake in a sexual feast.
    Rebecca instructs him to wait in the bedroom.
"Donnie, the bathroom's free," Greg bellows down below. Donnie passes Rebecca at the foot of the stairs. Little did Donnie know what happened in that washroom minutes before his usage. Judging by Donnie's walk, it's #2, and Donnie is preoccupied with evacuating his bowels.
    Rebecca's bedroom overlooked the front of the house, from the outside corner. He watches bemusedly as Rebecca escorts Ben and Michelle to their truck. Greg detects the rising and falling of their animated conversation. Rebecca lingers by the cab, the door to the truck open. Greg watches for several minutes as they speak unheeded. Greg frowns. He sees Rebecca's facial expression changing. She almost seems angry. Uh-oh. What's this now?
    Greg watches Rebecca cross the yard diagonally. Her fists pump at her sides, and there is wild color on her cheeks. It may be because of their sexual congress in the bathroom, but something tells Greg her emotions are not stirred by that, but something else. The flushing of the toilet accompanies Donnie's exit from the bathroom. Greg hears the water flow through the pipes underneath his feet, and down the wall, under the floor.
    Rebecca stops Donnie on the porch. Greg doesn't mean to eavesdrop, but can't help himself.

    "We need to talk, Donald." Rebecca says shortly.
    "Ok. About what, Rebecca?"
    "I just want to let you know where we stand, as well as how things are gonna be."
    "Okay," Donny says uneasily.
    "He's my man, don't fuck him over. he doesn't need money, because I can take care of him. But don't get between our happiness with your bullshit. Do we understand each other?"
"Where is this coming from, Rebecca? I just met you tonight."
"I know about the drugs, Donny. The ones you stole."
    Donny is silent. His face is blank, but perspiration has begun to pool on his forehead.
"It's true. I won't deny it. I did steal from him."
"Count yourself lucky Greg still considers you a friend."
"I do. Greg is--"
"Greg is my boyfriend." She hisses. She won't let him get a word in edgewise.
"Greg is my business partner--" Donny retorts.
"If it were up to me, Donny--"
"And Greg and I have made amends, Rebecca."
"--you'd be outta here. Away from us."
"You are upset, Rebecca, and I'm going to leave."
"Fuck off, Donny."
    Rebecca's voice had risen to shouting range. Her anger echoes across the lot, to the other houses. A dispersed woman's scorn.
"Good-night Rebecca. I am leaving now."
"You just watch out. I'm gonna be keeping an eye on you, Donny. Be sure of it."
    Donny makes his way up the lot. The scatter of gravel shows he is still somewhat hammered. But he's sober enough to take out his cell and phone Gus. Donny balances the tupperwear of fine food as he punches the arrows on his device. Donny does not wait by her driveway exit. He keeps walking until he is out of her angry gaze. Superman had nothing on her heat vision. A dog barks in the distance, followed by smaller yaps of an ankle-biter pooch. Even the animals are perturbed by Rebecca's vehemence.
    Greg is aroused by her statement. She was defending him, the title of mate already stamped across both lovers. He couldn't wait to give her his cock once more later tonight, when everyone left. He was so worked up and horny he felt like he could split her in two.

Uploaded 07/02/2012
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