Sintown Chronicles II: Through Bedroom Windows

by David O. Dyer, Sr.

  “How'd you do that?” Frank said as he turned to the last page and found Deborah's signature.

  “She doubled the negotiated amount, too, Frank. Hell, man, keeping that place up is hard work. Your bid was too low."

  Frank grinned and cocked his head to one side. “I don't believe this."

  “The bitch screwed me over four years ago when I was one of her students. It's been eating away at me ever since. Saturday I decided to talk with her about it. Hell, Frank, within an hour the arrogant bitch was crying and begging me to forgive her. Since she was on her knees anyway, I decided to lower the boom. I told her everybody in Dot hates her guts and incorporation is going to fail because of her."

  “What did she have to say to that?"

  “It takes too long to tell. The bottom line is, she's going to try to make up for her past transgressions. It was her idea to sign the contract and double the figures. She's been going around town apologizing to people and, shit, she's at my house right now, helping me get ready for a yard sale this weekend."

  “Yeah,” Frank smiled. “I thought she was going to give me a blowjob in front of June yesterday at the Korner Kafe. Look, Buzz,” he continued, thumping the contract against his open left palm, “I appreciate this. I owe you one."

  Buzz raised his eyebrows. “I was hoping you'd feel that way. About that job..."

  “I'm sorry, man. I don't have a job open right now. If Hank doesn't work out..."

  “I went by the shop this morning,” Buzz interrupted. “I don't want to get her in trouble, or anything, but Greta showed me your schedule. You're busier than a damned worker ant. You can use an extra hand."

  Frank nodded as he smiled. “I am busy, thank God. I've always heard that word of mouth is the best advertisement. Now I'm a believer. The truth is, I could use you for the rest of the summer. Unfortunately, grass does not grow during the winter. I'm going to have a hard time paying Greta and Hank during the slow months. There's no way I can pay you too."

  “I can understand that. How about giving me a job until I can line up something else?"

  “Seven bucks an hour is all I can pay."

  Buzz stuck out his hand. “That's better than nothing."

  “We work six days a week from six in the morning until it gets too dark. That okay with you?"

  “Yeah, but I need this Saturday off. Like I said, I'm having a yard sale this weekend."

  “Damn, Buzz. You begged me for a job and are already asking for a day off?"

  “You're right. Maybe I can get Debbie to run the sale for me."

  “Debbie? Oh, yeah. That's what Dr. Andrews wants us to call her now."

  * * * *

  Sandra watched Frank and Buzz as they stood beside Frank's truck at the end of her driveway. I haven't given up on you yet, Frank Skinner, she thought. If I can get you between my legs just once, you'll be my slave for life.

  She cut her eyes towards the man riding a mower near the small pond. Good for you, Frank. You have some help now. That gives you more time for me.

  She watched as Frank climbed into his truck and drove away. The other man followed in his car. She cut her eyes back to Frank's helper, who was now mowing a path from the pond back towards the house.

  “Oh, shit!” she cried aloud. “It can't be. Damn, it is him. It's Hank Elkins!"

  She flew down the steps, forgetting that she was still in her nightgown, and threw open the front door. She raced across the porch and down the steps, forgetting that she was barefooted. She ran across the lawn towards him, forgetting that Tim was at home and might be watching.

  Hank slowed the mower and shut off the engine as she approached.

  “Sandy? My God, is it really you, Sandy?"

  “You know damn well it's me,” she said. She could feel his eyes burning away the transparent fabric of her gown and enjoying the view of her breasts. She covered them with her folded arms.

  He grinned. “I always did prefer tiny tits,” he said appreciatively.

  “Then why did you bring home that damn teenager with foot-longs?” she demanded.

  “She had a hell of an ass on her, Sandy. Not like that bony butt of yours. Besides, you were getting too bossy."

  “You let them damn near torture me to death."

  “No, I didn't. I talked them into tying you up naked in the woods and letting you starve to death. I came back for you, Sandy, but somehow you got loose and were gone."

  “Bullshit. Why are you in Dot, Hank? What do you want?"

  “So help me, baby, I did not know you were still alive, let alone in Dot. I'm out on probation. I got a job working for Frank Skinner. I'm renting a room from a woman named Greta Dominick. That's the whole story."

  “Hank, you can do me anytime you like, if that's what you're after. Hell, I miss that big cock of yours. I'll try to slip you a little cash from time to time, but that's it, damn it."

  “You married to this Dollar guy they say owns the whole damn town?"

  She nodded.

  “Good for you."

  “What?"

  “Sandy, I don't want anything from you. I'm out on parole and if there's any way I can avoid it, I'll never go back to prison. It's ... it's horrible. My past is a matter of public record, but the less said about it the better. I swear to God I won't say a word about your past."

  “Are you on the level, Hank?"

  He nodded.

  “Okay, Mr. Elkins. As far as I am concerned, we met for the first time this morning."

  “Good morning to you, Mrs. Dollar,” he said as he cranked the mower.

  * * * *

  “Maggie, I'm sorry."

  “You should be, Buzz Adams."

  “I was all worked up, Maggie. I'd been going through junk mom and dad left behind, getting ready for a yard sale. I found a bunch of dad's girlie magazines and, well, I was just plain horny."

  “You hit me, damn it. You hit me and ripped off my shirt."

  “I'm sorry. You humped me two nights in a row—said it was something special and then cut me off for no reason at all."

  “You hit me, you bastard. You twisted my arm behind my back and tried to pull down my pants."

  “Well, damn it, you caught me in the ribs with your elbow and damn near crushed my boys."

  “I'll do worse than that if you ever try that stunt again."

  “Look, Maggie, I said I am sorry. Can't we put it behind us?"

  “No, Buzz, we can't. My dad was an alcoholic and beat my mother at least once a week until he died. Hell, he beat her on the day he died. He always said he was sorry and would never do it again. I'm not going to have anything to do with a man like that."

  “But, Maggie..."

  “It's over, Buzz. Accept it."

  * * * *

  As he entered his front door, Buzz heard a scream and a crashing sound coming from the second floor. He took the steps two at a time and found a large cardboard box, odds and ends and Deborah sprawled on the floor beneath the pull-down stairs. She was breathing hard and moaning when he knelt beside her.

  “I filled the box with little things and lost my balance as I backed down the steps,” she gasped.

  “That's a nasty bruise on you boob, Debbie.” He touched it lightly. She screamed.

  “Scream all you like. You aren't getting out of cleaning the attic."

  “Buzz, I'm so damned weak. Please let me eat one decent meal a day."

  “No,” he said. He pulled a plastic bottle from his pocket and balanced it between her breasts.

  “Vitamins?"

  “I picked them up while I was out. Take one a day. That should help. Rest a minute and then clean this mess up."

  He climbed the rickety stairs into the attic. The heat hit him as if someone opened the door to a blast furnace. No wonder her body was dripping wet, he thought. It's good for her.

  He climbed back down the ladder and found her propped against the wall, holding her damaged breast.

  “I'm going to get the prod. If you think that
tit hurts now, wait ‘till I've toasted it for a few seconds."

  “Buzz,” she cried out. “What did I do?"

  “You've been goofing off on me, that's what you did. You haven't done shit in the attic."

  “Master ... Buzz ... I've worked hard. Until now, I haven't stopped to rest. I haven't even gone to the bathroom. There are so many little items stored up there. I have to clean each one and put it in a box. Then I have to carry the box down these damned steps and all the way to the basement. It takes time."

  He relented as he stood over her. The top half of her left breast was turning blue. “I have some Alka-Seltzer Plus in a kitchen cabinet, Debbie. Maybe you'd better take a dose. Do you think ice on your tit would help?"

  “A bra would help,” she said. “The weight of my boob is what hurts."

  “It was your damned idea to go without a brassiere. I told you to wear one."

  “I know. I thought you would like to look at my breasts."

  “I told you, Debbie. Repeatedly I told you. You don't turn me on."

  He stooped and began picking up the clutter. She crawled on all fours and helped.

  “I'm not going to be able to help with the cleaning anymore, Debbie. I have a job working for Frank Skinner now."

  “Why? she asked. “I told you I'd..."

  “I don't want your fucking money!” he shouted. “I'm not a ... a ... a gigolo."

  Maybe not now, Buzz Adams, she thought, but this game is not yet over. “I know, Buzz, but I wouldn't even miss it."

  “That's part of the problem. I want you to suffer, Debbie. Even if you turned over a million to me, like you once suggested, you wouldn't miss a dime of it."

  When the last item was back in the box, he too, sat on the floor and propped against the wall. “Work your ass off, Debbie. You will get the house spotless before you leave here Friday night, and you will have everything ready for the yard sale this weekend."

  “Do you want me to see if I can get the things we talked about appraised?

  “Yeah. You'll have to work that in too."

  She nodded while massaging the underside of her injured breast.

  “I have to hurry,” he said, looking at his watch. “I told Frank I would meet him at the school at one o'clock.” He tried not to look at the purple flesh of her breast. “I have to work Saturday, too. You'll have to conduct the sale, but I think I'll give you Sunday off. You can go to church if you like and rest up a little, but I'll want you back here bright and early Monday morning."

  “Will you go swimming with me Sunday afternoon? That was fun."

  “We'll see."

  “Buzz, I've lost nine pounds already. I think by Sunday I'll look pretty good in the thong bikini."

  He didn't comment.

  “What time will you get home tonight?"

  “I don't know. Frank says we work until it gets too dark to see. I imagine it will be around seven. I want you to knock off about five, go home, clean up and then make your rounds. Bring me something to eat from the Korner Kafe.” He stood up and reached for her hand.

  As he pulled her erect he said, “Debbie, I'm sorry you hurt yourself."

  “Buzz, why have you suddenly started calling me Debbie instead of Teach?"

  He shrugged his shoulders.

  She looked at her swelling breast. “My mama used to kiss a hurt to make it well."

  He glared at her. “I'm not your mama, bitch."

  * * * *

  “You have played with that thing all evening,” Frank said.

  June smiled. “I didn't mean to neglect you, honey, but I am so relieved. I thought using a computer would be difficult. You want to play with it for a while?"

  “I want to play, but not with a computer,” he said.

  She smiled. “Not tonight, I'm afraid. I started my period today."

  He sighed and pretended to cry. The more she laughed, the more he clowned.

  “Baby,” she said as she closed her laptop, “from the dirty movies on TV that I pretend I don't watch, I learned there are at least three other ways I can make you happy."

  “Oh?” he said, still joking, “I didn't know that. What are the other ways?"

  “Well,” she said, trying to look and sound sensuous, “one method is by hand, another by mouth and the other is, well, by using my back door."

  He stood, walked around the kitchen table and rubbed her shoulders while nibbling her neck.

  “A hand job is messy, June,” he said seriously, “a penis up your rectum must be very painful, and a blowjob ... well ... that's nasty."

  “Maybe, but I'd like to find out for myself."

  “Really?"

  She placed her hands on his wrists and pulled his hands to her breasts as she nodded. “There's just one thing I can't figure out."

  “And that is?"

  “What does the woman get out of it?"

  He laughed. “Since I am not a woman, I have no idea."

  She stood up and hugged him while unzipping his fly. “Let's go to the bedroom and find out."

  “You ever heard of mutual masturbation?” he asked.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Buzz wearily opened the front door of his home. Deborah was on her knees, scrubbing the living room floor.

  “After I managed to drag that disgusting rug out,” she explained, “the floor was so filthy, this is the only way I could get it clean. It's a beautiful hardwood floor, Buzz. After it dries, I'll apply a coat of wax. If it were me, I'd get rid of that nasty thing and leave the floor as it is."

  He nodded his approval, backed out the door and removed his muddy brogans and socks. He liked the red thong panties and lacy red brassiere she was wearing. “I'm going to soak in a hot tub,” he said as he walked past her.

  After finishing the floor she scrubbed his brogans and put away her cleaning materials. She went to the kitchen, retrieved the Styrofoam carton filled with meatloaf and vegetables from the Korner Kafe, pulled a beer from the refrigerator and headed for his bedroom.

  Buzz did not try to cover himself when she came into the bathroom. “What the hell do you want, bitch?” he snarled.

  “I was afraid your dinner would get cold,” she explained as she handed him the cold beer.

  “What's in the box?"

  “Meatloaf, creamed corn, green peas and a couple of dinner rolls,” she said as she pried open the carton.

  “I'm too damn tired to eat,” he said.

  She moved a forkful of the meatloaf to his lips. He smiled and opened his mouth.

  “How did you get your shoes so muddy?"

  “We spent the day grading three new houses. We all worked our butts off under the blazing sun, but we finally finished.” He wagged his head. “Frank and Hank weren't even breathing hard when we quit. Debbie, I'm out of shape."

  “You don't have to work at all, you know."

  He nodded and opened his mouth for another bite.

  “I thought you'd like my red lingerie."

  “I do."

  “Not from the looks of that limp dick."

  “I'm so damn tired right now, I wouldn't have an erection if Maggie Skinner were sitting on the edge of the tub in her birthday suit."

  Maggie Skinner, she thought. What does she have that I don't? Youth, damn it.

  “Did you do your thing?"

  “Yes. I went to both diners and talked with everyone. It's getting easier, Buzz. I even received a compliment tonight."

  “Oh?"

  “Billy Frank was eating at his mother's diner. He said it looks like I am losing weight."

  “How much have you lost?"

  “Only ten pounds, but I think I am toning up my muscles a little. That makes me look thinner.” She fed him another bite.

  “Billy's wife is only six months along, but she's so big it looks like the baby may come any minute. They told me it's a girl."

  “Billy's a nice guy. Sometimes I envy him."

  “You envy Billy?"

  He nodded. “He has his own bus
iness that he loves, a gorgeous wife and a baby on the way."

  “He said the new place across from the Super Save is about ready to open."

  “They threw that place up in a hurry."

  “Buzz, if you must work, why don't you talk with Billy about running the new gas station and food mart? You already know the food business and how difficult can it be to ring up sales for gasoline?"

  He guzzled the last of the beer. “You might have something there,” he said. “This manual labor is killing me and I've been at it only three days. Hell—two and a half days to be accurate. I need another beer. Throw the rest of the food away. It's okay, but I'm just not hungry."

  She quickly went to the kitchen and, when she returned to the bathroom, sat on the commode. “Billy told me something else."

  Buzz did not seem interested.

  “He said Mr. Bennett is thinking of selling his interest in the service stations and garage."

  “Why the hell would he do that?"

  “Billy thinks it has to do with his mom and Mr. Bennett ending their relationship."

  “Shit. Billy can't afford to buy him out."

  No, she thought, but I can.

  “After waxing the living room floor, I suppose all you have left is to clean the kitchen."

  “I cleaned the kitchen this morning. I need to wash the living room windows, but I will finish that and the waxing too before I leave tonight. What do you want me to do tomorrow?"

  “I haven't thought about it. Maybe start painting the garage. How's your boob?"

  She scooped her hand under her breast and pulled it from the bra cup. “It's still a little discolored, but it doesn't hurt anymore."

  He nodded. “I don't suppose I could talk you into getting me another beer?” he said.

  She stood and smiled. “I'm your slave. Remember?"

  When she returned she knelt beside the tub and soaped his back. “May I make a suggestion about tomorrow?"

  “You keep rubbing my back like that and you can do any damn thing you like tomorrow. Debbie, seriously, I hurt so badly that I realize how you must feel. I think you should take tomorrow off. Rest up and maybe go by the school and check on your mail and stuff."

  “Buzz Adams, I think you're getting soft on me."

  He smiled as he stroked his scrotum. “I've been soft all night."