A Red Picket Fence

Shoot, I best git outa here, I could git knocked up jest bein' in the same room with you two. Specially with the wad he's workin' up. When he shoots the beaver it's gonna squirt outa yer nose, girlie. Ah... Cummin outa yer nose. Git it? No? Well, nice chattin'." She said as she left her note on the chest of drawers and closed the door after herself.

Chapter 16

Holy...

She woke first... For a moment she was disoriented, confused, nude... Until she heard the steady breathing beside her. She realized they are both laying in a sticky pond of their making. A drying pool of passion. She swung her legs over and off the bed. Her legs and hips are sore, another result of their 'intimacy', '...intimacy, yeah right. She feels like she's been fucked by a freight train...' , but she trundles on. Taking a towel, she wipes herself clean of the product of their lust, and drops it on the floor.

Taking a quick look around the room, she does an inventory.

She's angry.

Her clothes are still damp, her phone is missing.

She's angry, at herself.

This seduction / diversion / delay was meant to work in her favor... It hasn't. She'd been the recipient of a feral fucking. If sex was a game show, she had picked door number three... And won the multiple orgasm, muffin mashing grand prize. And then she'd screwed up by falling asleep - giving in to her post pounding exhaustion, and tossing the time she'd gained, the time she needed, in the trash.

The boy had learned a few tricks since he's been gone... From whom?

Finally... There's her phone.

She's angry... At him.

At least he's still asleep, but for how long. Checking the time on her phone, it's noon. She estimates she's slept for a bit over two hours. If she'd been someone else, this could have been bliss. A wonderful nap after loving her man... But she wasn't someone else. She'd been fucked long and hard, and then being exhausted, fallen asleep. Falling asleep next to what would probably be a once and future ex, a recurring stranger. She still needed time to estimate the amount of damage control that was necessary, but how to accomplish it?

Another diversion? If she tried the same thing again, it may work. She could very well seduce him again... Guys are so easy. But that didn't solve the problem. The end result would be her waking up sometime tonight after another insanely satisfying fuck-fest, but still gaining nothing. Just more time lost. While another fucking didn't seem like a horrid idea, she still wasn't that 'someone else', and probably never would be. Besides, she was sore... This must be what a carny whore felt like on Sunday mornings.

She shook her head to clear her thoughts: First things first. She needed to pee... And remember to not flush the toilet. She wasn't sure about this particular potty, but some toilets weren't silent. Some toilets groaned and sputtered as if they were tired of their trade. Some howled and huzzahed, as if taking pride in their users accomplishment. Whatever the personality of this particular porcelain throne, she wasn't willing to take the chance of waking him. She resolved the issue and returned to the larger room.

Next, she was nude, while her clothes were not soaked, they were still very damp. Easy fix, she grabbed one of his shirts from a small pile wadded up next to his duffle bag. A long sleeved, royal blue button down. It's huge on her. The shirt hangs off her shoulders like a sack... But it works for what it was intended. She's covered, sort of. She begins buttoning as she contemplates some form of pants, and wonders what he's got in the duffle bag to work with. She had five buttons to go when her phone rang.

SHIT SHIT SHIT!

Her fingers blazed across the tiny screen, the ringing stopped. She didn't even recognize the number. She glanced, then openly stared at his naked form sprawled face up on the bed... He was still sleeping. A hand job could lead to more fun... She knew she didn't have to time. His cock wasn't hard, but still slightly, yeah... It wouldn't take much to make it usable again.

As she watched him and considered his limp dick, she felt satisfied and a bit proud. Yeah, she'd done that.

She had some calls to make, but she couldn't make them from in here, inside the room. He'd wake up for sure. She still needed time... Time to confer with her sister and oldest friend / other lover. She quietly moved over to the door, silently opened it, and stepped out onto the sidewalk just outside, pulling the door closed.

Carly generally wouldn't answer her phone unless she was on a break or lunch. Mel would answer anytime, as long as she wasn't showing a home or involved in something else. Her sister would be the best bet then...

She dialed... Voice mail. SHIT!

Carly normally took her half hour lunch at eleven. It was noon, her lunch had just ended. She tried calling anyway... Voice mail.

She decided to text them both a '911' message, and began doing so, when she noticed a car driving through the parking lot slow to a crawl. She looked up to see two men openly gawking at her.

She shook her head indifferently, and continued typing in her text message.

"Ya know sis... Those two guys might be a bit distracted 'cause a yer lack a pants. And the breeze. The breeze might be... You know... Showin' yer stuff." The pale waif with green and orange hair nonchalantly said.

"What?" Sam asked, looking up, obviously distracted. The girl was collecting cigarette butts with an old metal sieve from a sand filled, rusty ashtray screwed onto a wooden post. The car turned, and continued out onto the frontage road.

"Yer pants. Ya forgot 'em... And yer boobs are sorta spillin' outa yer shirt too. Don't see that round here much. You trollin'? I work round here sometimes when moneys tight... Normally wear pants though... Ain't got 'nough boob to spill outa stuff. Never thought to troll like that... No pants. Does it work for ya?" The waif asked as she dumped the sieve, now full of cigarette butts into a trash bag.

SHIT!

Sam backed away, turned to the door and tried to turn the door handle on Freddie's room... It was locked.

SHIT!

Sam turned and stared at the old door lock. A key? This place needed a real metal key?

"Here, lemme get that fer ya..." The waif said as she pulled out a large key ring, nudged Sam out of the way, selected a key off the ring and put it in the lock. She stood aside as she opened the door.

Sam began to step through the threshold, then stopped. She turned back, took a good long look at the girl with orange and green hair, smiled, cautioned the girl to silence, and motioned for her to come in the room.

She had an idea.

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Yes, a short chapter.

But...

Still not finished!