Puck's hired to "handle" a candidate for governor, but to do his job, he has to mix business and pleasure.

The house was normal for what was on the Northside. It was two stories with plenty of bedrooms and just as many bathrooms. It had a name too damn foreign for me to say. Everything inside of the house was expensive… except for me.

"Mercedes, you have a visitor," the worker announced. After getting approval, she let me enter the room and then left us alone.

She smiled at me from across the room. "What are you doing here?" When I was closer, she stood and pecked a kiss on my lips.

"I was on this side of town, thought I'd come by," I admitted, and she laughed. I didn't belong on the Northside. "Where's your folks?" I was more interested in where her dad was.

Mercedes's dad was running for governor. He was leading the polls, and that wasn't good for people like me. Dr. Jones had a facade that he was for all the people. He was actually driven to make the rich richer and the poor know their place. He didn't like his princess being around the lower class, so he didn't know that she was- her word- "dating" one.

She sat back at the table. "Dad is picking up his tux, and Mom is… She's around. I try to stay hidden while she's preparing for events. Are you still coming to the fundraiser tonight?" she asked and I nodded. "Have you ever played chess?" She meddled with the pieces on the board.

No, but I guessed, "Don't you block the big piece from moving." I sat back and watched as she began to play against herself.

She giggled at my answer. "Basically, but that kind of thinking will keep you losing. My grandfather taught me the game, and he said that you have to see the whole board. You have to think for yourself and your opponent. Newbies to the game are so distracted by the other pieces that they forget to watch the queen. The queen is the most powerful piece, and it's pretty hard to check a king without her. And then you have to blindside them." In a few moves she had won her game. "Checkmate."

We talked a little longer before I had to go.

The Southside is rougher than the Northside. Crime is a little higher. There's gangs, drugs and other illicit activities. Northsiders assume that we're all bad, but we're just people that are trying to get by.

I strolled into my favorite bar and made myself at home. I went behind the counter to make myself a drink and tried my hardest to ignore the blonde bartender that told me that I couldn't be behind there. "I only take that from Kurt," I argued; if the owner didn't complain, then why would I stop?

Quinn rolled her eyes. She moved onto something that she really cared about. "Just tell me that you did it."

"The time has to be right."

Quinn's father, Russell Fabray, was a lawyer that was well known for getting gang members off. He was from the south, but he worked his way to the richer parts and was still dirty. Like everyone that knew the bottom, he had a loyalty to the Southside that wouldn't let him completely leave us behind. His next move was running against Jones for governor.

It was my job to make sure Jones didn't win. I had to kill him. The only way I could get close enough to the man was his daughter. I turned on the Puckerman charm and won her over.

"It never took this long."

"Yeah, you know that because you have so much experience as a hit man," I sarcastically argued. I had to smile knowing her real motivation: she hated that another woman had my time. "You have to learn to share."

She swore, "We are not a couple. I just need you to do your job."

I never disappoint. That night, I was finally going to be in the same room as Dr. Jones. I knew I wasn't going to take him out that night. I was going to collect information.

I tried to approach Jones, but he was on a clear mission to talk to everyone but me. I wasn't bothered. While everyone was ignoring me, I got upstairs and helped myself to a tour. I was looking for his bedroom, his office, or any room where he'd let his guard down.

Too distracted by her rich friends, it took Mercedes minutes to notice that I was gone and even longer to get the chance to come looking for me. She found me wandering the halls and peeking into every room. "Are you okay?" she asked, getting my attention.

Being quick on my feet, I answered, "Look for the bathroom. There's a line downstairs." I had passed the bathroom four doors down, but Mercedes didn't question me.

She pointed me to the room and began to do her own snooping. She went straight to her father's office; I knew that was where she went because she left the door cracked open. She knew her father would have eventually noticed even the most minor shifts in the room, but she was still going to do what she wanted. She was searching through the drawers of her father's desk. When she noticed me, she froze in his chair. "I was um…" She didn't have an excuse. "Let's go. We shouldn't be in here." She rushed to put folders back into the desk drawer.

"Do you know how sexy you look behind there?" Before she stood, I had locked the door and was standing on the same side of the desk as her. I moved her to sit on top of the desk. My hands traced her plump waist and hips as I leaned down to kiss her lips.

Her legs inches apart and welcomed me between them. She took my hand and led it under the loose skirt of her dress. She let my fingers wander, and her tongue traced mine. When she felt my hands high on her inner thigh, she breathed against my lips, "please don't stop."

Mercedes was a daddy's girl that was pampered. She was a nice girl, but he wanted to see her as innocent and the most purest. There was going to be nothing hotter than her getting dirty with a Southsider in the room that he was most anal about being organized.

Over the cotton of her panties, my thumb brushed her clit. I wanted to get acquainted with her sound as soon as possible; it was one of the sexiest sounds I ever heard. I slid her panties down from under her dress, and she rushed to kick them off her ankles. I took a seat and was trapped by her legs that rested on the chair's arms. I parted her swollen lips and knew she was excited. Hungry to taste her, I slowly licked her slit.

First taste, Mercedes cried out my name. She couldn't help but squirm while my tongue explored her most private area. She shifted from her palms to her elbows for support. Dropping onto her back, she huffed, "Jesus, Puck." With her skirt clenched in her fisted hands, she struggled not to do anything that would make either of us look less presentable when we'd return to the party.

I sucked her clit between my lips, and my fingers slid into her core: first one then two. My fingers moved deeper. I hooked my finger and tickled her g-spot. I could feel her walls beginning to clench as she got wetter. I didn't stop until she was begging for more.

She sat up as I stood. Yanking me into a wild kiss, she could taste herself on my lips. She opened my pants and freed my lust-hardened dick. Her lips left mine as she looked down. "You're bigger than I expected." Her soft fingers wrapped around my shaft, and her thumb massaged the underside. She leaned into my ear and whispered, "And I want to cum on every inch." She was always honest, and I wanted the same thing.

I snatched off my suit jacket because it was only going to get hotter. I nudged her to lie back down. I lifted her leg, binding it at her knee, and her red bottom hanging over my shoulder. I had her spread and ready to be fucked. I entered her, and Mercedes bit back her moan- the only one she held in. At first I moved slowly, widening her sex.

She dropped her head onto the wooden desk as waves of pleasure flooded through her. Her hot, wet cunt grabbed me tightly as I started to thrust in and out. "Faster…Fill me with your throbbing dick." She was begging to be fucked: not loved or cherished, but screwed hard and fast.

I got to be one of a few Southsiders to ever get a Northsider, and from comparing notes, the women are the same. They're hard to get, but they are a world of pleasure. They are the embodiment of the phrase "lady in the streets and freak in the sheet." You could tell your wildest desires to a Southside woman, and she'll tell you "no, get out," but a Northsider would properly top you. In hot moments, they were far from quiet. The best part was that they could cum in a few strokes and then cry for another.

Her breath deepened. "Puck, I am cumming." Her thighs prickled under my hand and softly trembled. When her orgasm calmed, she wanted more than a second. "Don't stop, please don't stop fucking me. I want you to fill me with your cum… Don't stop until you're dripping out of me."

The room was filled with our whines and howls, slapping skin, and occasional dirty comment. Mercedes moaned in time with mine, I moaned in time with my thrusts. But it only took one sound to shut us up.

Dr. Jones was trying to get into his office. He unlocked the door with his key and marched through, ignorant to the two hidden behind his desk. He was driven to be quick. He had too much on his mind to notice the order of his office or the smell of sex filling it.

Mercedes and I peeked over the desk, wanting him to be quicker about leaving.

He was ready to go after he found his index cards on the bookshelf, but stopped when he noticed a woman in the doorway. "I needed my speech." He joked that he could remember every medical term in the history of mankind but not the words to his own political speech.

The woman gave a soft chuckle as she closed the door. She was a member of his campaign team. Young and pretty, she was into the doctor. She threw her arms around his neck and asked for a little of his time.

Jones shook his head. "My wife is downstairs." He nudged the woman back, but she knew what she wanted.

"That didn't stop us before. I thought that was a part of the appeal." She reminded him that the office was soundproof. "No sound in, no sound out. You know how I get when you-"

"Let's go back to the party." He led her out.

Mercedes had been steaming. After the door closed and locked, she hopped up. She growled, "That cheating bastard." In seconds, her love for Daddy had soured. She ranted for a while before acknowledging that we had to get back downstairs.

When she found her underwear, I took them. "I will keep these until we can finish."

She gave me her last smile of the night. "I hope that will be soon." She snuck another kiss and took my hand.

While Dr. Jones gave his speech, the women stole the show. They had on their best poker faces as they focused straight ahead at the benefits of being the governor's family. Mercedes had a fire in her, and the gasoline was the news of her father's affair. The mother was cold, an attitude she had practiced and perfected long before. When the speech was done, they didn't waste a second to get away from the man.

Mercedes shook her head, ashamed of the facade. "Let's go before they ask for a picture. I-"

There were three shots, and the place went wild. People were screaming. Nobody knew what to do. Nobody knew where to go, but that didn't stop them from rushing and trampling over each other.

Dr. Jones had been shot.

While everyone was outside, cuddling Mercedes, I left. I was sure that Fabray had hired someone else to do what I was too slow to do. I would never be able to find Russell, but his daughter hardly moves.

"What did you do?" I asked as I stormed up to the bar.

"What?"

"Jones. You hired someone else to kill him."

"No, we're waiting for you to do what you were paid to do."

For me, the peaceful and happy cover of the Northside was shattered. I had realized that money didn't exclude you from having enemies; it might cause you to have more. Rich or poor, when you do wrong, you have to stay on the lookout.

Whoever put the hit on Dr. Jones didn't want to wait, and they didn't care where he was. It had to be done.

The next morning, one of the Jones' employees called. They said that Mercedes wanted to see me; they were passing along the message that she didn't want to deliver herself. When I got to the house, the worker led me to Dr. Jones' office without a word or warning. They opened the door wide and announced my arrival for the woman.

Mercedes was sitting at her father's desk. She blankly stared forward. Robotically, she said, "Thank you. Can you close the door?" She was dressed in black- the color for mourning.

On the Southside, we are there for each other. If someone passed, their family never had to look far for help. Because it was respectful, I wanted to give Mercedes anything she needed.

She pinched the sharp end of the letter opener between her fingers. "I need you to tell me why I shouldn't drive this through your chest." She finally looked at me, and the fire was still burning in her eyes.

People had gotten into her ear. In a room full of witnesses that could not say who shot Dr. Jones, they knew that the only Southsider at the party had something to do with it. They had filled her sweet little mind with poison.

She challenged, "Why did you leave before the police arrived?"

I couldn't deny how bad that looked. "I didn't see any more than anyone else. I would just be repeating what the cops already knew." I tried to say my arguments as loud and clearly as I could. "I had nothing to do with your dad's death."

"He's not dead, you jackass," snapped Mercedes. "He's in a coma. If he doesn't pull through, I will burn down the Southside to find out who did this."

I didn't know what to say.

"Even if it doesn't come down to that, we have no excuse to cross paths. I never want to see you again," she announced. "Now, get out."

Dr. Jones died that afternoon.

It wasn't in Mercedes to sit still and do nothing. She petitioned and took her father's place in the election. She took her father's campaign team- minus one member. She pushed the same issues as her father. In the race, she was underestimated by her opponents. She was called a "child" and a "noncontender," but she made them eat their words.

I thought Mercedes was going to stay true to her promise to never speak to me, but she texted me the morning after her win.

"Checkmate."

Thank you for reading.

I know I've been gone for a long time. I've been struggling with ideas and trying to make the smut different. Puckcedes wasn't intended to be a dark collection, and "WRITE SMUT" is written over my notes for ALL my stories. Keep being patient with me, and I promise I won't be gone for another two years. Thank you! :)