Chapter 5
That first night in that triple-size bed up there in the attic of the old brownstone, I slept the sleep of the dead. I couldn't recall when I'd ever slept that well. It was such a sound, restful type of sleep that I was wide awake when the sun came up. After taking a quick shower, and shaving, I let myself out the front door of the old brownstone long before any of the Chester broads were up and about. I felt it was a good idea to be long gone for a while.
Once out in the crisp, clear air of the early morning, I took my time lighting my first cigarette of the day. After moving into a new pad, I liked to get out and walk around that part of the country, even talk to some of the local people. That way I could put some of the local coloring into the plot of the novel I wrote while living there.
Three blocks from the old brownstone it turned into a factory area. As usual, there were a number of small shops and little coffee houses that catered to the factory workers. In the heart of a longer than average block, stood one of those little coffee houses with an off-color green front and a tattered awning hanging weakly over the sidewalk. I was drawn towards that little coffee house as though by a magnet, knowing that any novel I might write while living in the old brownstone would have to contain at least one
CHAPTER about that place.
Pushing open the front door of the place, I walked on inside, not surprised to find the long counter filled with a number of men drinking coffee, eating rolls, and just plain shooting the bull. Lighting a fresh cigarette I walked almost to the rear of the place to find an empty stool almost at the far end of that counter.
A cute little Mexican girl wearing one of the shortest, tightest uniforms I'd ever seen, looked me over closely with two big, dark eyes. I looked right back at her, let my eyes move boldly up and down the full length of her lush body, making no bones about the fact that I liked everything I could see.
"What'll it be?" she asked, as she sat a glass of ice water on the counter before me.
"Coffee and one of those rolls without a lot of that gook in the center of it," I said, letting her see my teeth when I grinned up at her.
"You're new around here," she said, moving to get my coffee and roll, giving my eyes a chance to watch the roll of her buttocks under that tight uniform. "Where you going to work?" I wasn't the only man watching the roll of her buttocks and she damn well knew it.
"I'm one of those jokers who writes books for a living," I said and paused to see what she'd say to that. "Vance Daniels is the name," I added, when the fact that I was a-screw-ball writer didn't seem to shake her up any.
It seemed that almost every man in the place picked that moment to gather around the cash register up front. They all seemed to be buddies and were shoving and pushing each other around like teen-age boys, while their eyes followed every move that little Mexican broad made. As usual, there was that one real smart ass in the group.
"Oh, oh!" the bright boy said, trying to get a firm hold of the chick's hand when he paid his bill, only to learn she was too fast for him. "Keep your panties pulled up tight and your skirt down over your cute ass with Vance Daniels around!"
His friends all laughed at the big joke and they filed out of the place. Once they were gone I found that there were only two other guys in the whole place besides myself and they were too busy reading the early morning racing form to know what was going on in the world around them.
She put my roll and coffee on the counter before me, cleared off the rest of the counter and then got a cup of coffee for herself. With her fresh cup of black coffee, she moved to the stool at the end of the counter, that one right next to where I was sitting, and sat down.
"I gather you must write those sexy novels," she said and her eyes were dancing when she spoke.
"You are not only real sexy looking, but you catch on real fast, honey," I said, letting my eyes drop below the edge of the counter and taking note of the fact that her skirt was well up over her dimpled knees so that a good two inches of her well-rounded thighs were visible.
"You either get sharp real fast working in this racket or the bastards will paw you to death," she said and she was as bold about looking me over closely with those big, dark eyes of hers as I had been in looking her over.
"It doesn't seem as though you were too worried," I said and let one hand drop down to find one of those smooth, bare thighs, not being at all surprised to learn she wasn't wearing any nylons.
"I've heard that most of you writers were all talk and that was about it," she said, making no move to draw her thigh away from my hand while those eyes of hers danced in a way that told me she and I were going to become very, very close.
"I write what're called sex novels," I replied, taking my hand from her thigh to reach for my roll. "I like to call them honest novels about real life, real live people. I can't see how any writer can think he is painting the whole picture of a man, or a woman's life without telling about the sucking and fucking they do both day and night."
"You put up a very good argument for your type of writing, Vance," she said and darned if she didn't sound as though she were actually interested in what I really thought, not just in the size of my cock or how good I'd fuck her once the two of us were alone, but interested in what I had to say for myself and my writing.
"I've got a lady publisher who feels I'm always trying to make that point in my novels," I said with a mouthful of roll, which is hardly the polite thing to do when talking to a lady who was really interested, or seemed to be, in what I had to say, not only about myself but my writing.
"May I ask one small favor of you, Vance?" she asked and I felt her hand pat my thigh very lightly.
"Do you have to even ask?" I questioned, wondering just what kind of a favor she was going to ask, for there was that something there between the two of us that said we'd be fucking each other good before too much time passed.
"If you really want what I have a feeling you do, please don't try pushing me." She said it so softly I had trouble hearing what she was saying. "Just be a real nice guy, stick real close as much as you can and kind of let things just sort of happen."
I favored her with what I hoped was my best smile, took the last bite of my roll and asked for a fresh cup of coffee. When she got up to get that fresh cup of coffee for me, one of the other two jokers got up to pay his check. She let me wait while she took his money, filled her last customer's cup with fresh coffee and then returned to the stool next to mine.
When she slid off that stool to get my fresh cup of coffee the hem of her uniform had been pulled up over those tight, brief panties she wore. Sure, I'd felt like reaching out to swat that well-rounded ass of hers good just like any other normal, healthy guy would have. She'd asked a favor of me though, and if I wasn't man enough to grant it to her, then I was hardly the man to make love to her, to fuck her good.
When she hopped back up on that stool next to mine, the hem of her uniform was hiked so high up those well-rounded thighs of hers that I could see the edge of her brief panties. Had we been facing each other I'd have gotten a good look at the crotch of those brief panties.
"What's a big-time writer such as yourself doing down in this part of town?" she asked at last, breaking the long silence. "You don't really hope to find anything worth writing a novel about, down here do you, by any chance?"
"Before I begin to write a new novel I always move into a new pad," I explained. "That way I have a new setting for each of my new novels without tiring out the old brain too much dreaming up the complete works. I like to get out, move around the neighborhood where I'm living and talk with some of the local people. After that I try to fit my characters into that neighborhood."
"Sounds like a very clever way of working," she said and I felt that stupid cock of mine raise its head up against the zipper of my fly, when she very lightly let her fingertips touch it.
"I guess each writer has his own way of working," I said and wondered if she might not have met my good friend, the smart-assed joker who'd tipped me off about the attic in the Chester house being for rent.
Her hand had stopped moving and I knew she'd felt the hardness, firmness of my cock beneath the zipper of my fly. Her cheeks were a little flushed and I wouldn't have been a normal male animal if I hadn't reached over to stroke her well rounded thigh.
I knew some of my buddies would have said her thighs were not only too thick but that she was fat assed as well. Personally, I liked my broads to have a little soft meat on their bones, for it made them seem much warmer and easier to get to know. I always called thighs like the Mexican chick had, well rounded, rather than fat and that went for the ass, too.
When I found myself alone with a well-stacked dish like the Mexican chick, I could spend hours and hours running my fingertips and lips up and down her legs and thighs. Shit! A guy didn't have to be banging a broad every minute he was alone with her to have a good time.
"I didn't know any man could have that much will power," she said in a tone of voice that said I was making points like crazy with that chick. "That's got to be one of the biggest, fullest I've ever felt."
"It's not so much the size that makes with the problems," I said, deciding I might as well inform her about the way it was going to be. "I got a slug wedged behind my balls over in Korea and my stupid cock can become fully aroused a limitless number of times within any twenty-four hour period. Not only can it become aroused so fully so often, it only needs a fifteen or twenty minute rest between each new arousal."
"Oh, you poor darling," she cooed. "To become so fully aroused so easily and not be able to enjoy a good healthy climax like normal men must surely be pure hell for you."
"I'm not normal in more ways than one," I explained. "I always reach a full climax each and every time I fuck a good-looking woman."
"But that's humanly impossible!" she stammered, just the way that fine lady doctor had after she'd first read my chart and talked to the male doctors on my case.
"It so happens to be true," I replied. "When I was first brought in off the battlefield I was too weak for that kind of an operation. By the time I'd grown strong enough I'd learned what wonderful new powers that slug had given my cock, thanks to a couple of cute little nurses. Of course I refused to let anybody remove that slug, even wrote to my congressman."
"Shit!" she said, pressing the palm of her hand firmly against the fullness of my fly. "Oh, if only I could get out of this stupid joint before five o'clock."
"Sure you can't get away earlier, baby?" I asked, for it was the same way with her as it was with all of the broads once they got a feel of my big cock and I told them how often it could become so fully aroused, how often it could spurt its come deep into their cunts. After leaving those facts, they just couldn't wait to get me off alone and find out just how true what I claimed was.
There for just a little while at least, I'd dreamed that it wasn't going to be that way when she learned the facts. Shit! I guess some guys never give up searching for that perfect angle they'll never find.
"Not a chance in hell," she said and she was so hot to get at that big, hard cock of mine, that she was no longer that cute, cool little chick she'd been in the beginning.
"You the only waitress?" I asked, thinking that was very likely the case or she wouldn't be just sitting there on her ass so early in the day the way she was, while her hand slid back and forth over the length of my fly, trying to form a picture in her mind as to just what all that meat would feel like driving deep into her hot cunt.
"The bastard who runs the place knows I need the money and he won't hire any more help," she said and there was a bitterness in the tone of her voice I'd heard far too often in the voices of well-stacked, bright young chicks like her.
"Sounds like you had man trouble," I said, thinking she'd very likely had man troubles when she'd been in her teens for she couldn't have been much more than twenty-one or two.
"This bastard fast talked me into going to this real big, wild party with him one night," she confessed. "He didn't go to the trouble of telling me how strong the drinks were going to be, nor did he tell me some of the cigarettes I was offered wouldn't be filled with strictly tobacco."
"He had his reasons," I said. "You're too nice a girl to have gone to that kind of party knowing what might happen."
'Shit!" she said. "If I'm such a nice girl why was I going with a married man who had three kids, when I knew all he was really looking for from me was a quick roll in the hay, which he got before that party was over, while I was too drunk and doped up to know what was happening."
"So are you foolish enough to still be seeing him?" I asked point-blank.
"Hell no!" she said. "The police pulled a raid on that pad and I was caught bare-assed naked in bed with two bastards. I was as high on dope as they were and I got one hell of a fine to pay off." She was ready to cry at any moment when that stupid horse player decided to head up front to pay that big bill of his.
"I'm goin' to the John," the Mexican chick said softly and slipping from the stool on which she'd been sitting, she dashed back into the kitchen.
"HEY! Where the fuck you going, Tina," the bastard called and then laughed one of those dirty kind of laughs. "You ought to know better than to let one of your hot pants boyfriends fingerfuck you during workin' hours."
I was on my feet moving towards the bastard when one of the biggest jokers I'd ever seen came storming through that swinging kitchen door. He was ready to kill somebody, anybody and didn't much care who it happened to be.
"Let's both drop a buck on the counter and get our asses the hell out of here," I said to the horse player, for the big joker could have taken care of us both with one hand.
The smart-mouthed little bastard decided he'd talked out of turn once too often and went through that front door so fast it barely had time to open for him. I figured he'd have to find a new place where he could drink his morning coffee and read his morning racing form. It also looked like I'd be waiting out on the front walk or in my parked car at five when I returned to pick up that little Mexican cunt, Tina.
That stupid horse player had at least let me know what the cunt's name was. I'd know what to call her later when I was making love, fucking the shit out of her.
Oh, I hadn't given up the idea of getting between those well-rounded thighs of that Mexican chick by a long shot. She'd only gotten a little upset after having told me all of her big problems. I'd let her feel the size of my swollen cock, told her my own problems, so she'd have plenty to think about before five o'clock rolled around.