You Can Never Spit It All Out

by Moore, Ralph Robert

  His wife, snarling. "Look what this bitch did to me!" Fury in her face. "Look what she did to me!"

  He avoided her eyes, ashamed.

  "You let her do it to me." Went back to her coffee.

  "I wasn't there. Remember?"

  Bitter tears. "You were right there. Sitting in your easy chair. Saw how she was gaining an advantage on me. And you did nothing to protect me. Nothing. Watching it happen. Wanting it to happen. I do remember that."

  This big guy standing in their kitchen, arms hanging from his sides.

  After she finished her coffee, she decided she was going to go back to bed. On her way out of the kitchen he reached for her arm. She yanked it away. Not a word.

  "You don't want any breakfast?"

  No answer.

  He sat by himself at their kitchen table, having another cup of coffee.

  Saw her purse on the floor by her chair.

  Glancing behind him, rummaged in the purse. Pulled out her phone. Thumbed until he found Alicia's number. Walked backwards out of the kitchen, through their living room, to their front door. Called the number.

  No answer. No voice mail recording.

  Put her phone back. Wrote, on the back of a bill envelope, "Went Out For Groceries." Taped the note to their refrigerator.

  The diner where he met Alicia was busy. Of course, it was the weekend. He sat near the stool he had that first time. A different waitress came over. Gave him a sweet smile, lifting her pen, poising her pad. "What do you want, hon?"

  "Is Alicia here?"

  She twisted her face sideways, showing him her profile, blonde ringlet hanging in front of her ear. Raised her voice. "Carl? Is there an Alicia here?"

  The old guy by the cash register shook his head as he took some money. "Quit."

  "How long ago?"

  "Carl? How long ago?"

  "Week."

  "What do you want?"

  "Actually, I'm just here to locate Alicia." He slid off the stool. "Sorry to waste your time."

  She rolled her eyes. "If you didn't waste it, someone else would."

  He stopped at the register on the way out. Stood to one side of the short line. "Do you happen to know where she lives?"

  The old guy stepped back as the cash register tray slid out. "I don't know nothing." Gave Pablo an aggrieved grin. "Kind of busy. You got your world, I got mine."

  Joyce told him, eyes down, that from now on, he needed to sleep on the sofa. Wouldn't let him see her naked. For the first time, the lock on the bathroom's knob was used. If he happened to walk into their bedroom, to get clothes for work, and she was the least bit undressed, she'd pull the blanket off the bed, drape it over her, so he couldn't see any of the tattoo.

  He didn't know Alicia's last name, so no help there.

  During his lunch hour each day, he started going around to the different diners in town. Figured, once a waitress, probably always a waitress. Surprised at just how many diners there were. He'd try to hit three diners a day, just asking at the first two, scratching them off the list he had downloaded from the Internet, then eating at the third. It occurred to him she might still be a waitress, just not at the kind of hole-in-the-wall diner where he first met her, so he expanded his search to include any type of restaurant.

  He wasn't sure why he kept searching. Was it just something to do to fill his lunch hour, now that Joyce would no longer take his calls while he was at work? He missed those calls. Missed being reassured there was something outside work, a better world. Because there no longer was, for him.

  He was at the green booth at the rear of a Blue Peacock franchise restaurant, kids and parents all around him, deciding what type of burger he wanted. His waitress, young, red hair in a ponytail, stood patiently in the aisle, ready to tap his order into a small electronic device in her hand.

  "Hawaiian burger's really popular."

  "I'll get that."

  She reached for his glossy menu.

  "Do you have a waitress here named Alicia? Or maybe you know of a waitress named Alicia?"

  Her red eyebrows drew together as she held the tall, colorful menu to her breasts. "I know a lot of waitresses."

  He had noticed, without really thinking about it, that the waitresses had a uniform, like a lot of them do, and here, at the Blue Peacock, there was evidently an option to wear skirts or slacks. His waitress was wearing slacks. And a long-sleeved blouse. Something about how she had looked when he said the name. "You knew her, right? Or still know her?"

  "This is our rush hour. I'll be back with your burger."

  A different waitress brought him his lunch. "What happened to my waitress?"

  "I think she's on break or something."

  He ate slowly, one bite at a time, putting the burger down after each swallow to kill time. Customers at the adjoining booths left. His burger, by then, was cold. He removed the pineapple slices, put them on his plate. Took another slow bite.

  Spotted her, over in another section.

  Stood in front of her as she turned around from a table.

  Her intake of breath.

  "I'll give you a hundred dollars, cash, if you'll talk to me for five minutes. Five minutes."

  It was a little after one in the afternoon. The lunch crowd had thinned. She led him out the back door, to the rear parking lot where several other waitresses were taking a smoke break. Motioned to him to follow her to the large green trash bin placed at the far side of the lot.

  Once she had him there, she was all business. "You don't have to hand me the hundred dollars in advance, but I want to see you actually have a hundred dollars on you."

  He reached into his front pocket. Pulled out five twenty-dollar bills. Fanned them for her.

  "What do you want to know? I don't know a lot."

  "You know her? Or you knew her?"

  "Knew her. About half a year ago." Head bent, small hands cupping, lit a cigarette. Blew out gray smoke, sideways. Waited for his next question.

  "Did you just work with her, or what?"

  "You need to hand the money over to me now, if this is going to get personal." Stuck out her small hand.

  He counted the green bills into her palm.

  "She was a waitress here. My boyfriend at the time was one of the fry cooks. After everything was over with, he told me she used to flirt with him all the time. Really aggressive flirting. Rubbing up against him, grabbing at his crotch a few times, telling him what she wanted to do to him. Weird stuff that doesn't even occur to most girls. Wear a dildo and fuck him up his ass. Stuff like that." He could tell by her face it still pissed her off. "But he didn't tell me any of that until much later. Afterwards. When that didn't work, she started being really friendly with me. Very complimentary. About my hair, my eyes…the types of things a guy would say. I didn't know anything about the moves she had been making on my boyfriend. So, after she kept flirting with me each day, all shift long, but it seemed like an innocent flirting, just a girly-girly kind of flirting, maybe I started flirting back. It seemed harmless. Just something to help get yourself through your shift. Then it progressed to her patting me on my rear end sometimes, or giving me a peck on my cheek, or a hug, but, you know. I had it under control. So I thought. So one time, she basically invited herself over to the apartment me and my boyfriend were sharing. And we all got really drunk. And…maybe she kind of took some liberties with me. In front of my boyfriend. But it was all really gradual, right? She started spending, like, three or four nights every week with us. And each time, she pushed it a little further. Not a lot, just a little. To where I didn't really object."

  "Like what?"

  She blushed, that deep scarlet a redhead blushes. "Like one time, the three of us were sitting in the living room, drinking, and Alicia and I were painting our toenails, and she suddenly lifted her foot at one point, and asked me to blow on her foot to dry her toenails. But not asking politely. Kind of like, telling me to do it. And, you know, I had some reservations about it, but I did it. I'm not sure w
hy. The thing is, I guess it's kind of...relaxing? To obey someone. I didn't know that about me, but apparently she did. Then we had a few more drinks, and…" She looked embarrassed. "She put her bare foot in my mouth, and I was sucking her toes. In front of my boyfriend. Not a smart move. But somehow, she coaxed me into it. Like I said, it was so gradual! Then, every time she came over after that she'd put her fucking foot in my mouth, and I'd just blindly suck on it. In front of my boyfriend!"

  Her eyes avoiding Pablo's. "But the thing is…the way she does it? Like, orders you to do it? Even though she's smaller than you? After a while, I guess I kind of liked that. She's got this really strong willpower, and she just works on you and works on you until she bends you the way she wants you. It was all about humiliating me in front of my boyfriend, making him see how submissive I was to her in front of him, but I bought into it.

  "Then one night, she came over and she looked like she was in a bad mood. She got me drunk really fast, then told me she was taking me out on the town. Just her and me. I was afraid of her by that point, but she had got me so used by then to obeying her I got my purse and followed her out the door."

  "Where'd you go?"

  "She took me to this really rough neighborhood, and made me drink one shot after another at this bar, until I had to keep one eye closed to see straight. We wound up back at what I guess was her place, it was an apartment with no one else in it, and she took her blue jeans off. She had these skimpy pink panties on underneath. I knew this was what she was preparing me for. She ordered me to get down on my knees in front of her bare legs, and when I shook my head, she slapped me across the face, and kept slapping me, these short, painful slaps, until I obeyed her." She was wringing the wad of twenties in her hands. "Then she put her hands on her hips. I had my hair in a ponytail. She grabbed the ponytail in her hand like it was my handle. Maneuvered my face up against her lower body, still holding onto the ponytail, hard, high above my head, to keep my face in place. Told me to kiss the crotch of her pink panties. Then, kiss her crotch after she took off her panties. Then, you know.

  "And I did it.

  "We got in her bed. I was all excited. I had never been with a woman before. But she sat on me, pinned my shoulders to the bed, and started putting this tattoo on me. It hurt! I tried to get out from under her, but she laid her left shin across my throat, pressing her weight down each time I tried to rise. She was smaller than me, but she had the superior position, plus she had gotten me so submissive by then I guess a lot of my struggles were half-hearted.

  "Once she tattooed my front, she had me roll over onto my stomach, and tattooed my back. Head to toe. We never actually had sex, unless that counted. Maybe it did. When I came to, I was lying outside the door to my apartment. I never saw her again. I broke up with my boyfriend about a month later. He didn't want me anymore. He just wanted her tattoo on my body."

  Pablo looked at her blouse, knowing Alicia's tattoo was underneath. "Who do you live with now?"

  "This really fat girl who hogs the one bathroom in the apartment."

  He knew she had to get back to work soon. For that matter, so did he. The other smokers had already drifted back to the restaurant's rear door. "Tell you what. I'll set you up in your own apartment. Furniture, everything. Big screen TV."

  She stubbed out her smoke. Studied him. "You want to fuck her tattoo, right?"

  He hesitated. "Yeah."

  Red eyebrows, blue eyes. "I don't blame you."

  He got her a one bedroom apartment over in a nice part of town. Fairly nice. The first, last and security deposit pretty much cleaned out his savings account. He couldn't afford to buy the furniture and big screen TV he had promised, so he leased them at a rent-to-own store. The weekly charge was high.

  Once he had her moved in, they went out together and bought pots and pans, bed linens. Them in the brightly-lit store aisles, him with his height, her with her red hair, making decisions like couples do. He helped her make the bed. Looked across the tucked in blanket, him on one side of the bed, her on the other side. "You understand this is all about you and me having sex, right?"

  Crystal shrugged. A lot of downwards-adjusted life expectations in that simple shrug. "You want to see her tattoo, right?"

  He inhaled through his nostrils. It had been over a month since he had seen her. "Yeah."

  She knew this was a condition of her being able to live here, so she stripped for him matter-of-factly. Actually, she had a beautiful nude body. Pale skin with freckles at her shoulders, red pubic hair, pink nipples. But all he wanted was Alicia's tattooed body on top of hers.

  They got into bed from their respective sides. Her blue eyes swiveled to his as she pulled the pillows out from under her head. "Nothing violent, right?"

  He put his big, dark hand on her pale forearm. You forget how wonderful a woman's skin feels. "Just intercourse."

  She kept her red-haired head turned to one side as he fucked her, running his hands over the tattoo. He kept stopping, to keep from coming. Starting up again, a few more pumps, stopping. Saw an impatiens in a pot she had bought with her own money, set on the bedroom window's sill. Felt a little guilty at his selfishness.

  "Did she ever tickle your armpits?"

  She turned her face around from whatever she had been privately thinking. "Huh? No. Tickle my armpits?"

  "She did something though, right? Something physical?"

  She was embarrassed. "I don't know why I ever allowed it, but she used to grab my nose with her left hand, then parade me around the apartment behind her, bent over, like I was a clumsy circus animal. Smirking at my boyfriend the whole time. It was humiliating. But…I let her do it to me. Every time."

  A thought occurred to him. "Did she ever actually fuck your boyfriend?"

  "I don't know! But I don't think so." Reflected on that. "I don't think that was the point, with her."

  Using his left hand, he pinched the sides of her nose.

  Felt her warm hips shift under him, receptive.

  "What are you…" Came out nasally.

  Started pumping again. Pinching, lifting her nose up slightly with his left hand.

  Blush across her pale shoulder blades.

  Snaked his right hand down between their wet bodies. Started masturbating her while he pumped.

  After a minute, she raised her small, freckled right hand up, placed it on top of his fingers holding her nose. Not to remove his fingers, but to physically experience having them there. Shut her eyes.

  Bucked up underneath his body, lips turning down, riding out what felt like a powerful orgasm, as his own hips jerked out of his control, under his own orgasm.

  It was a really nice arrangement. They'd meet after their jobs at the apartment, strip in the bedroom while they told each other a little bit about their day, then get in bed. He'd fuck Alicia, and she'd let Alicia grab her nose and humiliate her again. Great sex. Funny how happy you can get, when you're with a new partner. Once in a while, he'd bring over a pizza, or Chinese food, which they'd put on the kitchen counter before heading to the bedroom, then eat together afterwards, watching TV.

  He got fired from his job at the auto repair shop, because he kept showing up late after his lunch hour, still searching for Alicia. (Although he never told Crystal he was still looking.)

  The situation with Joyce deteriorated further, until he finally took his few possessions and left, moving into Crystal's apartment, which was fine with her. One night, after they and Alicia had sex, Crystal led him by his big paw out into the kitchen, went into the pantry, and excitedly pulled out a birthday cake she had made for him. Hard to believe, but that was the first time anyone in his life, even his mother, had ever made him a birthday cake. He had seen them in movies, so he knew what to do, leaning over and blowing out the candles. That night they made love a second time, after the cake, and this time he didn't hold her nose, and he made love to her, not Alicia. The night after that they both got drunk and he held her nose again, and made love to Alicia, but the n
ext morning it was just the two of them again making love. After that, it was more frequently just the two of them.

  He needed money. Rent was due, and he didn't have a new job. He spent most of his remaining cash on a gun. Didn't want to go to a liquor store, because usually the help is armed, and they're expecting someone like him to try to rob them. So he tried a fabric store instead. Crazy, but he figured they'd be the type of store least expecting a robbery.

  He searched on the Internet, found what looked like a large fabric store over on the other side of town. Nobody knew him there.

  It was in a strip mall. Parked at the far end of the mall. Walked down the sidewalk past the storefronts, looking around. No security cameras. Bumped the side of his shoulder against one half of the front glass doors, so he wouldn't leave fingerprints, going inside. Worried eyes searching across the wide ceiling. No security cameras. He may be on to something.

  "May I help you?" Older lady, white hair, wearing a pink smock with embroidered green newborns tumbling in free fall.

  "I'm just looking around. My girlfriend likes to sew."

  She was interested. Quivering voice. "What's her favorite thing to sew?"

  "Excuse me." Didn't want to get in conversation with anyone, where they might remember him. Went down a different aisle.

  Not too many people in the store.

  Waited until there were no customers by the cash register.

  Avoided the cashier's eyes. Walked to one side of the half-wall island of the register area, found the swinging door leading behind the counter. Reached over the top edge, unlocked the short door so he could walk behind the counter, just like an employee.

  The cashier saw what he was doing. "Sir, you can't come back here."

  He pulled out his big black gun. Held it low, so it wasn't visible to anyone else. "Give me all the cash in the register or I'll shoot a bullet into your face."

  The young girl raised her chin. "Sir, you're not allowed back here! Ruth?"

  "Look down at my hand! I have a gun!"

  "Ruth!"

  He shoved her away from the register. Hit the big beige button to get the tray to slide out.