Chapter 1: Ric
It weren't mah fault. It abso-fuckin'-lutely weren't mah fault. OK, I had alcohol on mah breath, but it were just two lousy beers. Awright, so maybe it was eight or nine, I'd lost count. An' maybe I were speeding in mah little two seater rag top, but what the fuck would you expect at two in the fucking A.M. on a deserted road marked with a lousy 25 speed limit. An' so what if I wuz wearin' mah Daisy Mae cut-offs and mah scoop-neck blouse with mah bare tits showing for anybody tall enough an' ballsy enough to look down the blouse.
Enough of this hillbilly talk. It's just my way of telling you that this story happened in the heavily rural area of Hill County and Green County in the Great State of West Virginia. In fact, I'm quite civilized. I probably speak the Queen's English as well as anyone in these United States. Of course, it is quite likely that the Good Queen E R II believes that no one in this country speaks the Her English. But that's for a different story.
I live in a small hamlet known as Asshole, West Virginia. Of course, that's not the name you'd find in a triple-A map or Rand McWhatever. It's just that if the Good Lord chose to give this world an enema, that's where the tube would go. Mom and I live in a double-wide in a trailer park in Hill County. Oh, excuse me, it's not a trailer park, it's a 'mobile home community'.
And by the way, Your Highness, a County is what your people back across the pond call a Shire.
Mom's kind of over the hill, eye- and ear-wise, which means that I can pretty much do whatever I want at home, with whomever I want. When my (ex) boyfriend Eddie was living with us, he and I would fuck every which way and Mom would just sit there smiling and humming to herself. The only problem was that Eddie had a roving eye. That would have been fine if all he did was to make remarks like 'she's got a great rack' or 'I'd love to prong that one'. But Eddie really did prong that one, who just happened to be my kid cousin Lilly. And the bastard did it in my own bed.
The stupid fuck thought, just because Mom can't see or hear too well, that she's as stupid as he is.
"Hi Jenny, how was work today?"
What could I say? I worked as a clerk in one of the last 'local' drug stores in the area, stocking shelves and handling the cash register. When things were slow, I delivered prescriptions. And at least twice a week, I had to give the owner a blowjob in order to keep my own job. Not that I particularly minded that little task, especially the delicious mouthful he had given me that very afternoon.
"Fine, Mom. How was your day?"
"OK I guess. Your cousin Lilly was over today."
"Lilly? What'd she want?" I asked.
"I don't know. She and Eddie went into your room and closed the door. They made the same kind of ruckus that you do with Eddie."
A half hour later, all of Eddie's junk was piled into a wheel barrow outside the trailer door. When he showed up, I was waiting outside and I just held out my hand.
"What?" he said, even though he could see all of his clothing out there and he had to understand that he had gone too far. He bent his head and silently gave me the key to the trailer. He turned and walked toward his pick-up truck. I yelled after him.
"Don't step on your prick, Eddie."
So there I was, all alone at home with mental pictures of Eddie and Lilly rolling around on my bed, leaving their scents, their dried-up fluids to remind me of all the good time romps I'd had with Eddie. It made me horny as a sailor just home from the seas. I had no choice but to jump into my little horseless carriage and tool off down to the Roadhouse in search of some familiar cock. Or even strange cock for that matter.
I'm the only one in this cast of characters (so far) that you haven't met. I'm Jenny, if you haven't guessed, short for Jennifer. I was 19 then, still am. Five foot two, 120 pounds (a lot of it in my chest), light brown hair, cut short like a dyke but I'm definitely straight. I do get hit on by the occasional lesbian and the hair makes them treat me like a sister even when I turn them down, politely of course.
A little bit about geography, if you don't mind, because it has some relevance to the story. The Roadhouse is on the main highway over in Green County. To get there from my home, I have to drive down the only road that connects Asshole to the real world. About a mile from the house, it crosses over into Green County. Then I make a left and go a half mile to the Roadhouse. Tuck that information away for a little while; we'll come back to it.
The Roadhouse itself is nothing more than a large bar with plenty of stools and a smallish dance floor with some tables around it. It has sawdust on the floor under the tables and peanut shells to keep the sawdust company. They do sweep it every night before closing time. Off in one corner near the bar, there's a small office slash storeroom, an even smaller kitchen and His and Hers loos. (See, Your Highness, I really do speak your language.) The two bartenders that night were Ric and Frankie. Frankie's a female, real name Francine.
"Hi Jenny," Ric said. "You're looking spiffy tonight." I could see him staring at my tits and I smiled, giving him silent permission to keep looking. Because of a little beauty mark just above my right nipple, I call that one Chocolate, and the left twin is Vanilla of course. Ric finally caught himself. "You want I should put a Reserved sign on one of them tables before Eddie gets here?"
"Don't bother, Ric. I don't expect Eddie here tonight." It must have been something in my voice because he gave me a questioning look. Obviously he could tell that Eddie and I would never again have 'our' table. Ric was a good friend and he deserved an explanation.
"I just threw his ass out of the trailer. I probably could have gotten over him fucking my cousin Lilly, but using my own bed to do it was too much." That last part wasn't true. Fucking cousin Lilly definitely went beyond the pale and I likely would have kicked him out even for fucking anyone else.
Saying nothing, Ric walked away from me and went to the taps. He poured me my usual beer and brought it back. When I opened my purse, he held up a hand.
"You can't pay tonight. Courtesy of Frankie and me."
I thanked him and began to sip. My eyes ran over the crowd, still thin but growing rapidly. In truth, I don't know if I was just looking around or if I was looking for someone to pick me up. I do know for sure that I really needed someone to make me cum and I didn't want to go home to my vibrator. Mom's not that deaf, and I'd be embarrassed to have her listening to me getting myself off.
The Roadhouse was full of the usual crowd. As a result, many of the customers noticed that I was not at my usual table with my usual date. The men surely and even a few of the women did not care to know why I was alone. The simple fact that drew their attention was my solitary condition. Eddie could have been sick, dead or in jail, but they cared not. All it meant to them was that I became fair game.
Being hit on was not new to me, nor did I have any difficulty in fending off tentative advances. But those people were in fact correct. If anyone had tempted me, I would have invited them to join me at the bar or at a table. Alas, no one interested me enough to surrender my day-old celibacy. And so when Ric filled my glass for the fourth time – oh yes, I knew exactly how many drinks I'd had that night – and his eyes lingered over the gapped top of my blouse, my idle thoughts became much more specific.
He stood a full six feet, solidly built. Handsome with just a little bit of stubble on his face, he never tried to hide the fact that he looked over all of the good looking women, in which class I boldly include myself. Though clearly hetero, he never made a move on any of the women who he deemed to be 'spoken for'. Equally clearly, Frankie was nothing to him but a friendly co-worker. I motioned him to lean closer to me.
"Hey Ric, do you think Frankie can cover the bar herself for a little while?"
"How little," he asked, half curiously and half in understanding anticipation.
"That depends on your stamina," I said with a smile.
He walked away from me toward Frankie and whispered something in her ear. She smiled and nodded while barely glancing at me. In my mind's eye, I thought that she was forcing herself not to turn her head directly toward me, but maybe I was just fooling myself. Ric walked back and leaned toward me.
"The storeroom's unlocked," he said. "I'll be there in a few minutes."
I waited a half minute, then picked up my purse and walked toward the Ladies Room. Never looking back over my shoulder to see if anyone was watching, I walked past it and turned the knob in the door of the storeroom. I wondered why they would leave it unlocked, what with all the liquor stocked there, but it was none of my business.
As I surveyed the mess, the boxes lining every wall, the torn leather chair behind the chipped wooden desk littered with unopened mail and various papers, I wondered why I was there. Was I so horny that I was willing to fuck a virtual stranger in this virtual gutter? I mean, I knew Ric as a nice guy but I really didn't know anything about him. We had never bantered with each other, never dropped sexual innuendos. He had known of my boyfriend. The closest we ever came to intimacy was kissing the air next to each other's faces when we met on the street.
.... There is more of this story ...