8 Mile

"What's that?" she asked.

"They're professionals," I smirked. I pulled Alan across the street to his house.

I sat him down at his kitchen table.

"Betty, what's going on?" he asked calmly.

"That fat bitch was trying to get you into her bed," I said. He laughed as if I'd said something funny.

"What's so funny, Alan?" I asked.

"I'm not dumb," he said. And he looked straight at me. I was sure that he knew about all of my conniving and lying.

"Please, Jesus," I begged silently. "If you let me slide this one time I will never lie to him again."

"I know what she wanted," he smiled. "I was thinking about giving it to her."

My temper took over, and I lost control of my mouth and my emotions. "No the fuck you weren't, Mister," I hissed. It was out before I realized it.

"Alan, you and I have a deal, already," I said a lot more calmly.

He shook his head and smiled. I lost it again.

"Yes we did!" I said almost in tears.

"Calm down Betty," he said. "I know that we have a deal for you to cook and clean the house to pay off the stuff I bought for you. I wanted you to stay in the house; you didn't want to unless we figured out a way for you to pay for your room and board as well. You brought up sex. I said no. I remember it all."

"We weren't done negotiating yet," I said. "And if you remember it so God damned well, why were you shaking your head?"

He smiled again. "Betty, do you have any idea how pretty you are when you're angry," he smiled. "I've never seen anything like it. Most women get ugly as hell when they cry or get angry. But you... That little mouth gets tighter and redder... Those green eyes flash, and you whip all of that red hair around... It's amazing."

I turned to mush inside. I sat back down simply because my legs were so weak that they wouldn't support me.

"Forget all of that crap, Alan," I said. "Why are you going back on our deal?"

"I'm not," he said. "We still have to work out the terms. I have an idea. We had agreed on two hundred dollars a week to pay off the stuff. You figured that it was worth two hundred a week for room and board too. I think a hundred is much fairer. So you stay for a month to pay off the stuff.

At the end of the month, the stuff is yours free and clear. But you'd still owe me four hundred for room and board. You'd pay that off in another two weeks, but you'd then owe me two hundred for room and board. Another week would pay that off. But you'd owe me a another hundred for that week. So you'd stay another week, and I'd owe you a hundred which I'd pay you to give you traveling money.

You'd be stuck here with me until mid February. Unless, I ended up getting you more stuff. Then you might be stuck here until March or April."

"That sounds fair, kind of..." I said. "But it sounds like you're trying to keep me here." Why the fuck couldn't I just shut up?

He looked down at his feet. "I am," he said. "I don't like the idea of you going out into the cold."

"But I don't like owing people," I said. "I like to pay my own way."

"We just discussed how you can do just that," he said.

"But what about the cow across the street?" I asked.

"She has nothing to do with this," he said. "I'm not in love with her. I don't even want a relationship with her. It's just gonna be hooking up. You know friends with benefits. Except that we won't even really be friends. She was friends with Sharon. That would be too weird."

"Then why do it," I asked.

"Because something happened to me recently that woke me up," he said. "I remembered that I was alive, and I had to move on. Sharon isn't a fucking saint. She didn't die of cancer. Her memory isn't sacred. Sharon left me for her own reasons. Whatever I did wrong I deserved at least to know about it.

I also realized that I'm a grown man, and I need sex. I don't have to hate all women, just the one who did me wrong and lied to me."

When he said lied to me, my heart started beating faster.

"So you can fuck that cow, but not me?" I asked.

"Betty it's only going to be a casual thing," he said. "It's just an exchange of services, nothing more."

"Why can't you and I exchange services?" I asked.

"We tried that, remember?" he said. "It didn't work."

"You didn't give it a chance," i said. "I seem to remember you telling me how good it felt."

"But Betty, you didn't like it," he said. "When I saw that look in your eyes and thought I'd hurt you. I just wanted to die. And she wants it. Everyone wins."

"Alan are you crazy?" I asked. "She'll mess up our deal. Women are jealous, spiteful, vindictive creatures. There is no way she'll like having me staying in your house. And men get stupid in the head when it comes to pussy. She'll start asking you to do things. It'll be little things at first. Like, "Alan, Honey will you do my snow?" Then she'll start to ask for bigger things and reward you for them. She'll give you a blowjob for fixing her car..."

"Uh... how is that a bad thing?" he asked.

"Because fixing her car would probably cost you money for the parts and then more for your time for the labor. Let's say you spend a hundred bucks on parts and maybe three hours fixing the car and testing it. You're out roughly a hundred and sixty bucks minimum, right?" He nodded.

"All it costs her is some spit and maybe fifteen minutes on her knees," so it costs her nothing to give you a shitty blowjob. You could go out and pay a prostitute fifty bucks and get a much better blowjob for less than a third of the cost." He started laughing again.

"But that won't be the end of it," I said. "Once she sees that she got away with that, she'll ramp it up. She'll start telling you how rude I am to her and how you need to get rid of me. And of course you'll say no... At first. Then she'll start telling you how happy it would make her and the next thing you know, she'll be promising to let you fuck her ass, if you get rid of me, and I'll be back on the street in the middle of winter."

"So what's the answer?" he asked.

"All you're looking for is regular sex with no strings, right?" I asked. He nodded.

"Give me a chance to get used to it," I said. "I promise it will get better. And if it doesn't you can always go back to the cow." He looked as if he was thinking about it.

"But Betty, I don't want to hu..." He began.

"Alan, you didn't hurt me physically," I said. "It was a mental thing. I was the one who was wrong. I told you just like you told me that it would be a simple exchange, right ..." He nodded his agreement.

"Alan, last night was a hard thing for me," I said. "It was the first time I had to think of my body as a commodity. I have never had casual sex before. I have only had sex willingly with two men in my whole life. And I married one of them and had a baby with the other. But I spent a lot of time thinking about this all day long.

When you looked at me last night, I wasn't angry at you. I was angry at myself. I thought that what we did made me a whore. But just before I woke up, I had an epiphany ..." He looked at me even harder then.

"Yes Alan, I said epiphany. Being homeless doesn't make me stupid!"

"I've never treated you like I thought you were stupid," he said. "But there are some words that just trigger people to pay more attention. That's one of them. You're either about to say something really deep and profound... Or something really stupid. I have to pay attention, so I can figure out which one it is."

"I realized that God gave us all different skills to get what we need out of life. An artist uses his creativity to make things that people will pay for. A ditch digger uses his muscles; a cook makes meals... What do you do, Alan?"

"I'm a manufacturing engineer," he said.

"So you use your brain," I said. "I'm going to be doing the same thing."

"But...?" he began. His face was drawn up really tight. I could tell what he was thinking.

"Shut up, Alan, you just don't see it yet," I said. "You're thinking that I was about to say I was going to use my pussy to make a living. And that would make me a whore. It definitely makes that bitch across the street from you a whore because that's all she's doing. In fact, she's worse than a whore... She's just giving it away for free.

In our case, it's a package deal. I'm gonna cook for you and clean for you and take care of you. I'm gonna make your house a home. And as part of that I'm gonna have sex with you. What I'll be for the next few weeks is the professional equivalent of a wife.

The only difference will be that I'll be doing what millions of women across the country and across the world do every day, to pay off my debt to you, instead of because you gave me some funky ring."

"So it's just another part of our deal?" he asked.

"Shake on it," I said. I held out my hand.

"But how do I know that Marilyn isn't better in bed?" he asked. "I could be making a bad deal. Maybe I should try her out once or twice..."

"Shut up you idiot," I said, "You're not trying anyone out until our deal is over. Now shake my God damned hand!"

"Yes Ma'am," he said.

"Okay, you go relax while I make something for dinner," I said. As he walked away the doorbell rang. "I got it," I said.

I opened the door to find the woman from across the street standing there. "Hi," she said with that fake sweetness that women who can't stand the shit out of each other use.

"Hi..." I said just as sweetly.

"I just stopped by to ask Alan if he still wanted Uhm... DINNER," she smirked.

"He'll be getting his uhm... DINNER... At home," I said.

"What about my snow," she asked angrily.

"Do I REALLY need to tell you where to put your snow," I asked. Then I closed the door before she could say anything else.

"So who was it," yelled Alan.

"Jehovah's Witnesses," I yelled back.

I made a cheese-stuffed meatloaf with gravy and mashed potatoes. He ate it like he hadn't had a home-cooked meal in a long time. Seeing him eat like that made me feel good.

After dinner, we cleaned the kitchen together. I kept telling him that it was my job, but I liked having him with me. "It's still early," he said. "Wanna watch some TV?"

"Actually, I have plans," I said.

"You have what?" he asked.

"Plans," I said. "P - L - A - N - Z. I have a life outside of your kitchen you know!"

"Okay, then while you have your plans maybe I'll just pop in on a neighbor and..." he said.

"If you go anywhere near that over-stuffed milk factory, I swear to God, I'll... "

"So if you can have plans, why can't I?" he asked. "I assume your plans included someone else."

"Yeah... YOU are stupid!" I yelled. "You know... First night with the new husband...?"

"You mean first night with the new BOSS," he said. "And technically last night was our first night."

"Last night didn't count," I said. "Last night was pre-epiphany. I was not in my right mind. Remove it from your memory please."

"Are you out of your friggin' mind?" he asked. "Until I realized that you didn't like it. I was having the best time of my life. If I live to be a hundred I will NEVER forget that."

"Oooh Buddy, you are sooooo gonna forget that," I told him. I started the shower and then changed my mind. I filled the tub with warm water and bath soap and then settled back for a nice long soak.

"Alan... come in here," I yelled.

A few minutes later, he came in. "Why are you always bursting in on me?" I asked.

"Betty, you called me in here," he said.

"Alan what do you smell?" I asked. He sniffed the air.

"I don't know, what is it?" he asked.

"It's this crap," I said. I held up the bottle to him.

"Oh yeah!" he said. "When I run too hard or too long and get aching muscles, I dump some of that into the tub and soak in it. It smells good."

"Alan it's Old Spice," I said, "Emphasis on the OLD. What it does not do is smell good. It especially doesn't smell the way you want your new fake wife to smell."

"You mean my new employee," he smirked. "And twenty-four hours ago you smelled like old sewer. Emphasis on SEWER."

"And yet you still thought I was the sexiest thing in the world," I smirked.

"I never said that," he said.

"You didn't have to," I told him. "It was in your eyes. That's why you lost control."

"Maybe you have me confused with someone else," he said. "And he's probably a lumberjack. But a special kind of lumberjack. A lumberjack who doesn't believe in trimming the forest."

"My next fake husband might be Tarzan, lord of the JUNGLE," I said. "Anyway, that TV's not gonna watch itself. And you get me some girly smelling soap God damn it! So when I try to get all cleaned up and sexy for YOU, I don't smell like a seventy-year-old playboy!" His eyes got huge then.

"What was that?" I asked as he turned to leave. "Alan get your ass back in here. What was that look?"

"Uhm... There were two parts to the look," he said. "The first part was wondering what you're gonna put on, because we kind of didn't buy you any clothes to wear for sleeping or around the house."

"Alan, I have a headache," I said.

"Okay, I'll go across the street," he said.

"Grrrrrrrr... not that kind of headache," I said.

"Relax, we'll call them work clothes, and I'll spring for a few outfits," he said. "After all, I am your boss, technically."

"You're my fake husband and I'll pay for half," I said. "I need some really hot looking clothes."

"My way is better," he said. "The way I see it with you paying for half of your wardrobe you'll be staying with me until next fall. Besides you don't really need special clothes to look hot. You look hotter in your ratty old jeans and layered shirts than most women look all dolled up... "

I think my heart swelled up. He had no idea what he was playing with.

"That TV isn't gonna watch itself," he said.

A half-hour later, I called him again. This time from the bedroom.

He came into the bedroom and fell onto the bed. "I'm sleepy," he said.

"So I thought we were supposed to be doing something tonight," I said. "I even trimmed the bushes." I raised the comforter, so he could inspect my greenery.

He yawned and then his eyes popped fully open. "Oh my God, you mowed the lawn... For me?" he said.

"It's just a quickie job," I blushed.

"It's not how fast you mow; it's how well you mow fast," he said. He got the weirdest look in his eyes, and he dove on me. I burst out laughing as he started tickling me. As he tickled me, he ran his fingers all over my body.

He explored me, finding out where I was most ticklish, but also where I liked to be touched. He started with the sides of my tummy and worked his way down to my hips and my legs. I was laughing uncontrollably but enjoying it more than anything I could remember. He tickled his way down my legs, and I kicked them wildly trying to escape.

The backs of my knees were a dead giveaway. It happened in a fraction of a second. He traced a lazy finger across the back of my knee, and my legs popped open. It was completely involuntary, and I don't remember it ever happening before.

But he had noticed it too. He moved on and tickled his way down my calves. I was savoring his touch. I loved the way he played with me. In fact, the only thing I had loved more was his massage from the night before.

I wished so much that I could be honest with him and just tell him. He got to my feet and had me laughing so hard that I thought I would pee on myself.

Then the tickling got lighter, and slower and gentler. The next thing I knew I wasn't laughing anymore. He was kissing and licking the soles of my feet. And I was tingling all over.

My brain got fuzzy, and he was licking my toes. His tongue felt like a warm, wet, worm as it traced its way up my calf. The bastard was using what he had learned with his tickly play from before.

I knew what was going to happen, and I was powerless to do anything about it. He was going to turn my own body against me and then fuck the shit out of me. And I was going to let him. I wanted him to do it.

Then I remembered something I had learned about men. If you give it up too easily, they get bored. You have to make them work for it, or they take you for granted.

I wanted to be there with Alan for a long time, so I fought the feelings welling up in me. I fought my arousal. I bit my lips to keep from begging him to take me.

As the tingles increased, I locked my ankles together. If there was any begging to be done, he'd be the one doing it.

But I was not the one in control. The bastard cheated. He licked that spot on the back of my knee, and my legs flew open. He stroked the inside of my leg, and I moaned uncontrollably.

Both of his hands stroked the insides of my thigh leaving me powerless to close them. The night before, I had begged him to do it, already. This time I would not give in.

"Aaaallaaaaannnn!" I moaned. He sensed my weakness and pounced. His face was buried in my freshly trimmed pussy; that tongue was licking my fluids as fast as I could make them. It traced my inner lips and then circled my clit.

He was no longer exploring and teasing. He was swabbing my deck like a fleet full of sailors. The sensations were so powerful that this time I lost control. I came like never before. It felt as if my vagina exploded. I tried to close my legs, but he held them open. I tried to move, but he wouldn't let me. He just kept licking my pussy like it was the best ice cream cone ever.

He was building me up again; I could feel it. I finally gathered the strength to look down at him. I was hunching my pussy towards his mouth with every lick. And then he stopped... Abruptly and for no good reason that I could fathom.

My veneer of civility had long been stripped away by then. I was just another animal... Just another bitch in search of pleasure and it had been ceased with me hanging on the verge of fulfillment.

I growled angrily like any other bitch until... He stood up and over me. He had the silliest little smirk on his face and a line of what looked drool or pussy juice all over his mouth. I wondered what it tasted like.

And then the ability to wonder was stolen from me along with all conscious thought. He pushed me down and dragged the tip of his dick along my slot almost painfully slowly.

When he found the right spot, he pushed. It felt almost like we were moving in slow motion. The tapered head of his shaft pushed its way into my opening sending ripples of even greater pleasure shooting through me.

My legs folded back of their own volition giving him easier access. He pushed slowly but steadily, forcing his way deeper inside of me as I wiggled my hips to help him.

There was no pretense of disinterest this time. My brain was too befuddled to act as if we were doing this for his pleasure alone. All the games went out the window when the base of his shaft cut through me like a spoon cutting into peanut butter.

We both gasped as one. My insides gave way to allow him further inside. Then he pulled back. For a second, I got angry. How dare that bastard take it out of me. Then he pushed forward again sending small but intense ripples of pleasure throughout my body.

I felt it from my brain all the way to the tips of my toes, and I screamed. There was no chance of me pretending to be a spectator this time. This time I was a full partner in our journey towards nirvana.

As he pulled out, I grabbed the cheeks of his narrow ass and pulled him back where he belonged. Our abdomens smacked together like magnets.

"Oh Fuck!" Someone said it but I really had no idea if it had been me or him. "As tight as a fucking vise," he moaned. Like some strange biological engine, we cranked up our movements, all the time increasing both the intensity and the pace.

And while we fucked, there is no other word for it, our hands catalogued every inch of each other's body. I loved his back. The rippling muscles and hard spots mystified me.