The Lusty les-beeen_(1)

I take a deep drag of my cigarette, letting the minty sensations flow down my throat to linger in my lungs. A vain attempt to fight against the pain surging from my possibly broken fingers.

“I’m so sorry Geoff,” Laura says as she hurriedly places a large bag of ice onto my purpling protruding pointables.

I hold back a screaming “FUCK!” by gritting my teeth and stamping my right leg sharply against the porch deck.

“Sorry, sorry.” Laura continues to chant, “I know Sheila didn’t mean to drop that toolbox on your hand.”

Laura always seems to want to defend Sheila, Laura’s “Boyfriend,” “Girlfriend,” “Whatever Person.”

I take another deep drag from my cigarette. “Y’all are trying to kill me,” I reply with a mocking chuckle. Actually, the combination of the cold ice pack and chilling nicotine begins to soothe my throbbing digits.

“I’m sorry,” Laura says again.

“Its okay,” I reply.

At Least I got Sheila’s car fixed, and she can get that mythical job we’ve been hearing so much about for the last year.”

Sheila and Laura moved in with me a few years ago, and they seemed to be at the time good roommates. Since I lost my high paying factory job, I was forced to work at a local diner or lose my house, I became in need for financial help. So in exchange for living free, I took them in as roommates…it was a good tradeoff…at the time.

“I’m sure she will,” Laura says with a bit more optimism in her voice, than in her expression.

“I sure do hope so,” I say releasing a breath full of smoke, through clench teeth as Laura lifts up the ice pack to examine the swelling, placing it under my palm.

I try and clamp my injured hand down on the ice pack and find it unresponsive, so I pull the pack from Laura’s protesting hand.

“Where are you going?” Laura asks as I turn away from her walk to the front screen door.

“Alcohol,” I say, carefully pulling at the little u-shaped handle with my pinky while trying not to drop or butt out my cigarette.

“You know she can’t stand the smell of cigarettes in the house,” Laura calls after me as walk into the kitchen and lay my smoking stick on the rock countertop.

I scoff.

To be honest I could care less what Shelia can’t stand at the moment.

I walk into the kitchen and grab a near-empty bottle of Fireball. I try to unscrew the top. one-handed by pressing it against my stomach.

And sure as hell is hot

It slips across my side and shatters on the tile floor. I curse as the precious liquid spills out onto the floor, and my nostrils fill with that savory cinnamon scent.

“Dammit,” I say closing my eyes resting my head against the cool cabinet door, my head beginning to throb.

I hear the screen door creak as Laura opens it, and two thumps from the utility door as she pulls out a broom and dustpan.

“Thank you,” I say rolling my hips across the edge of the cabinet, shifting out of the way of the approaching bristles of the broom.

“It’s okay, Geoff,” Laura says kneeling down before me to sweep up the glass into the dustpan. Pain shot into me again, but this time not from my hand…but a bit further south.

Laura has on a loose button up shirt which is a few sizes too big, so when she bends over her plump tits display themselves in full view.

She often doesn’t wear a bra around the house, much to my cocks discomfort.

The hungry pull of my groin travels up my neck causing it to tickle. I writhe my neck to fight the sensation and turn away from her to hide my growing arousal.

“You need to put on a bra.” I blurt out, not thinking, and I instantly hear the brushing sounds stop as my ears begin to burn in embarrassment.

“I didn’t realize I was showing so much, I’m sorry,” Laura says buttoning up the rest of her shirt.

I replace the cigarette back into my mouth. “Don’t be…it’s my fault for looking,” I say as I try and open the fridge for a beer. I find my new twelve pack of beer empty. A twinge of anger shoots through me as the fridge door bumps my bad hand, and in a fit of rage, I grab the empty box and violently toss it across the room.

“I just!” I growl, but I stop myself and try and calm down.

“I didn’t realize those were yours… Sheila drank that pack last night.” Laura says defensively a little taken aback at my outburst.

“I NEED!” I roar stop myself again and began to tear up as my fingers throb. I fight it, and turn away from her, before saying more quietly. “Something… to drink.”

I hear the tight material between Laura’s thighs rustle and I have to stretch out the sensations in my neck again.

“I have some Apple pie moonshine…if that will help,” Laura says stepping on the trash can opener and dumping the contents of the dustpan inside.

“That…that would be wonderful,” I say tossing down a kitchen towel onto the remnants of moisture on the floor.

I take one last puff as the flames lick into the filter and I put it out on the edge of the sink. Laura falls to her knees and reaches under the sink searching for something. After a quick hunt, she pulls out an unopened bottle of Arkansas Apple Pie Lightning. My mouth waters and my body growls for the taste of the painkiller. Laura raises up off the floor, her ass pops as she straightens out her back, and pulls out two glasses. One shot glass and a very tall glass.

For me I assume.

“Sit down, and try this,” Laura says pointing to the couch as she began pouring liquid relaxation into the cup.

I sit down with a grimace as I replace the ice bag to the top of my hand. Laura waits until I settle into the couch comfortably before handing me the liquor. She hands me the large cup and I drain it in two guzzles.

“Shit, hurting that bad?” Laura says filling the cup up again.

I nod and drain it again, but this time my mouth burns a bit, and I have to blow out some air to cool the sides of my mouth. My eyes begin to feel heavy as the warming sensations quickly fill my gut.

“That’s some good stuff,” I say through closed eyes. “Thank you.”

“I’m glad you like it,” Laura replies tipping the glass again into my cup. “My mother bought it for my birthday last month.”

“Shit, I shouldn’t be drinking this,” I say now feeling bad for drinking up her present. “I’ll buy you another.”

“It’s okay,” Laura says pouring herself another shot. “You needed this more than I probably ever would.”

I drain another, and she again fills it up to the top this time, but I find my body isn’t willing to consume it all at once this time.

“You seemed sad today,” Laura says observing my usual defensive coating melting away with the alcohol.

“Well…I hurt my hand.” I manage to bumble out.

“No, not your hand, your heart,” she says pressing me again.

I laugh. “What are you getting at?”

“What happened with Paige?” She asks. Laura asks just the right question to cause my chest to tighten.

“Who?” I ask trying to play coy, which doesn’t seem to hide much when your drunk.

“Paige… your girlfriend.” Laura continues.

“I don’t know, haven’t…” I hiccup. “Haven’t talked with her in almost a year or so.”

The room was silent, for some reason and it began to stretch on too long.

“Little more?” I ask tipping my empty glass her way. She smiles and pours a bit more into my glass until it caresses the bottom of the bottle, and she stops to pours herself one last shot.

“When’s the last time you…?” Laura began to ask but stops short.

“Hmm?” I ask my eyes now closed my mind starting to drift.

“The last time you’ve been on a date?” Laura asks finally.

My eyes remain closed and I shrug. “Maybe a year or so ago.”

“What!” she says sounding amazed. “Why?”

“I don’t know, most women feel threatened I guess,” I mumble out.

“You don’t seem threatening, you’ve always been sweet to us,” she replies.

I down the last of the lightning and drop the empty glass into my lap. “Not of me, of y’all.”

Laura laughs for a second then falls quiet. “What do you mean?”

“Well, I’m a man…with no car, working at a dinner for chump change while living with two women.” I laugh. “People probably think I’m a bum or a drug dealer since Sheila doesn’t work and you have a part-time gig as an entertainer…I guess they think I’m…”

“Fucking us.” She says her vocal sounding emotions unreadable.

I shrug again.

“Perhaps.” I laugh studying the empty glass my eyesight blurring more dangerously. “I’m not that kind of man.”

“I know,” Laura says.

“Maybe I should be… be a different person.” I say rotating the glass in my right hand.

“No, you are a good guy.” laura protests. standing up to hand me another cigarette and placing it in my mouth.

“Thank you,” I say through the gap of my lips as she lights it up.

I take another deep drag and the couch seems to swell up around me, cradling me.

“I… would… love to take you to bed…” I say eyes closing sleep threatening to take me. “perhaps… if she comes back without a job… you could pay… some other way.”

There is a silence.

“With some head?” I hear a distant voice ask.

“Hmm.”

“With some pussy?”

I groan, as my cock stirs.

I drift in the void for a few seconds and feel lips against my ear say. “Maybe I will.”

I wake up.

It’s dark outside.

Loud voices itch my ears, stirring me further from sleep’s embrace.

I try and lift myself from the bed, but find I’m much too heavy. so I just lay back and try to listen. I begin to make out Sheila’s voice, and she seems to be shouting as per usual. Only this time Laura is screaming back at her; making Sheila’s voice reach even higher decibels.

Then I hear something that wakes me up instantly, I hear Shelia’s meaty fist strike Laura. My blood pressure rises, the pain in my hand causes my eyes to go squishy, as I try with all my might to lift my dead drunk lunk off the mattress. I hear more flesh to flesh contact, and a shattering glass followed by a thud that shakes the floor.

I raise completely off the mattress, and open my bedside table and pull out my grandfather’s revolver. I hear Laura sobs fall silent. I wobble to the door and pull it open with the sole of my foot.

“HEY BITCH!” I shout down the hall at Sheila. “GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY HOUSE!”

Sheila does exactly what I thought she would, and storms down the hall towards me ready for a fight, but stops dead as she sees the revolver pointing at her.