Jelly Bean Theif

"Why you didn't have them movers do that?" she snapped as Carl grunted loudly.

She stomped into the kitchen and began to unload the boxes.

"You seen my stool?" she snapped. "I can't reach any of these cabinets."

"So, what you want for dinner?" Carl asked after several of the boxes had been emptied and flattened.

"Burger King Right down the street," Alida said, putting some more books on the shelf.

"Burger... Alida, you are a real bitch, you know that?" Carl sputtered.

Chapter 4

The ringing telephone woke Ryan.

"Told you; he didn't take your offer," Carmen greeted him when he mumbled a greeting.

"Do have a single family dwelling, not on the market yet; went and looked at it yesterday," Carmen went on. "It's cute. Needs a couple of things here and there; they're asking one thirty nine."

"Bedrooms?" Ryan asked.

"Three bedrooms, two full baths, attached garage, on Patterson, four blocks away from St. Richard's and St. Thomas so it's a good neighborhood," Carmen said.

"Yeah, that is a good neighborhood," Ryan agreed. "So why are they selling?"

"Don't tell anyone, but the husband got himself a girlfriend; a stripper. From Club Fantastic's. Can you believe that?" Carmen hoarsely whispered into the telephone.

"Some people, huh?" Ryan chuckled and made an appointment to see the house on Thursday, the day the house was scheduled to begin listing.

"I wouldn't fuck any of them skanks with someone else's dick," he said to himself. "Damn, they got some ROUGH looking hos there!"

"Now, Dead End? Now THEY got some good looking girls there!" he continued and made up his mind that he was due a nice plate lunch from the Dead End bar.

Before getting into his pick up truck, Ryan looked down the walkway toward the pool, to see if he could see Alida but she was not in sight.

Alida was lying in bed, still asleep. She'd woken up with Carl at five that morning made him his breakfast while he showered and dressed, ate breakfast with him, dutifully kissed him good-bye, and then crawled back into bed.

She woke up, saw that it was eleven fifteen and scowled. Carl would be back in thirty minutes, expecting lunch.

"Burger King Right down the street," she mumbled, but dragged herself out of bed.

Carl's soup and sandwich were waiting for him. He teased Alida about still being in her nightgown, about still having bed hair. Her nonverbal response was a scowl and an extended middle finger.

Ryan parked his truck in front of the apartment building, his stomach full and his wallet lighter by fifty bucks. The meatloaf plate and two mugs of ice-cold beer only cost fourteen dollars, but dropping bills into the tip jar at the end of the stage plus a tip for the fresh faced college girl that was serving the meal took the other thirty six dollars.

The Asian dancer said her name was Cheryl, had flirted with him, had given him a substantial erection, and then had lost interest when he told her he wasn't going to take her into the Hurricane Room. A chubby dancer came out next but Ryan talked himself out of staying to watch her dance.

A tall, portly man wearing a white coat walked toward Ryan, scowling to himself.

"Carl! Carl Betsingal, oh wait a minute! Its DOCTOR Betsingal now, isn't it?" Ryan called out.

"Uh, yeah, that's uh, I know you?" Carl stammered.

"Ryan! Thibodeaux? Went to school with you?" Ryan laughed, offering a hand to the befuddled man.

"Uh, yeah, oh! Yeah! Now I remember! In Alida's class!" Carl smiled and shook gave the man a cold fish handshake.

"Yeah, asked her out like a million times but she always shot me down; had some college guy was going to be a doctor," Ryan agreed.

"Well, would love to um, play catch up and all, but..." Carl said, walking to his car.

"See you around; hey! We ought to grab a few beers down at the Dead End or something," Ryan offered.

"Absolutely," Carl said, having no intention of having a beer with Ryan.

"Uh huh, now I remember you," Carl muttered as he drove back to the hospital. "Had your nose up Alida's butt, always asking her out."

Ryan again looked down the walkway to see if he could catch a glimpse of Alida.

Inside her apartment, Alida lay in the tub, wetting her hair. She had searched through all of the boxes but had not found her shower stool, so had to take a bath instead.

"Hmm, I'm pretty sure I packed it but if it got left, that's your fault," Carl offered when she asked about it.

"How I'm supposed to reach the shower head?" Alida asked.

She was planning to go grocery shopping when Carl returned with the car, which was approximately two hours from now. But there was nothing on television, and she didn't want to just lie down and take another nap.

Not having two cars had not been any inconvenience in New Orleans; the transit system was easy to learn and easy to navigate. There was no transit system in the greater DeGarde area and the only cab company was horrible. Since they were the only cab company, there was no need for them to improve their speed, their response time, or their courtesy to their customers.

So, Alida listlessly bathed herself in preparation of when Carl would come home and either take her to the grocery store, or let her drive herself.

She smirked at that idea; he would have to be in dire need to allow her to drive his car. He pampered the car's exterior and interior and hated when Alida changed anything in it.

In his own apartment, Ryan laughed as he listened to Carmen's message.

"Guess he decided since no one else was making any offers..." Carmen's voice intoned.

Ryan called and left his own message regarding the duplex.

"Tell him I've lost all interest; unless he drops it down to one oh five, he pays all closing costs," Ryan said. "And that's if an inspector gives the go ahead."

He was sure that the man would refuse the offer.

Ryan then aimlessly surfed the Internet. Herman, his old college roommate, had told him about a few Chinese web sites that provided top quality counterfeit items, but none of the merchandise held any appeal to him. Plus, all of the items, while priced very low, had shipping charges that were just exorbitant.

Within ten minutes, Ryan was bored and slipped into his damp swimming trunks

Through a space in the curtains, Alida saw movement outside and peered through. An attractive man was putting his towel and tube of sun screen onto a chaise lounge.

Alida looked at the wristwatch she wore on her slender wrist. Carl had bought her the watch, and then had grumbled when she had to take it to a jeweler's shop to have a smaller leather strap put on it.

Carl wasn't due back for another hour. Most of her clothes were now in the small closet and the chest of drawers; she was sure she could find her bikini; go out and talk with the attractive guy, maybe even do a little flirting.

Alida loved Carl, was pretty sure she loved him, even though he did drag her back to this God-forsaken plot of earth. Even though he routinely talked down to her. Even though he always did things without talking to her first. She was pretty sure she did love him.

But she did enjoy a little harmless flirting. Especially when a little harmless flirting would get her what she wanted.

She saw more movement and peered out again.

That skank, Heather St. Martin had obviously had the same idea, sitting in a lime green bikini that barely kept those huge udders from flopping all over. The bottom was barely a piece of lime-green string between her ass cheeks.

Alida watched as Ryan and Heather chatted easily and felt dejected.

She was proportional; her breasts were barely more than a handful, her waist was tiny as well, and her rear end was nicely rounded. But she could not compete with the likes of Heather St. Martin. Even Carl had remarked about Heather's breasts, when the woman was out of earshot.

Alida had finished dressing and putting on her make-up when Carl entered the apartment.

Alida's eyes narrowed; Carl's polyester slacks had a noticeable tent in them.

"Damn, but that woman's tits are..." Carl muttered, and then stopped short when he saw his wife glaring daggers at him.

"Ready?" Alida snapped, grabbing her purse.

"Oh, saw one of your old boyfriends today," Carl said, trying to change the topic as Alida continued to snarl at him over his obvious interest in Heather St. Martin.

"Oh, yeah?" she snapped. "Who?""

"That Ryan guy; one that followed you all over at St. Thomas?" Carl said and pulled into the parking lot of the grocery store.

"Who?" Alida asked.

"Ryan. Ryan Thibodeaux?" Carl said.

"Who?" Alida repeated.

"You know," Carl pressed.

"No, oh, wait! Wait a minute, fat guy, maybe as fat as you, greasy stringy hair?" Alida asked, using her hands to show the measurements of Ryan Thibodeaux when they were in school together.

"I am not fat!" Carl said, flushing.

"Um?" Alida said, pushing a small hand into Carl's soft belly.

Shopping was done in relative silence; they only spoke when necessary and only answered one another in monosyllabic grunts or nods of their heads.

Carl was upset about Alida's pointing out that he was still quite pudgy and Alida was enjoying a small victory.

Carl was much more intelligent than she; a fact that he often made clear. He never called her 'Stupid' in spoken word, but he delighted in displaying his intellectual superiority.

After a mostly silent dinner at Tommy's Po-Boys, a fairly new place in Bender, they drove home to unload their groceries.

"There," Carl pointed out as Ryan came out of his apartment. "Him. Remember him?"

"No; you sure that's him?" Alida asked, looking at the handsome young man as he opened the door to a battered pick up truck. "Didn't look like that in school; that's for sure."

Alida made sure to catch Ryan's eye as she got out of the car, smiling at Carl's discomfort.

She and Ryan 'caught up' while Carl grunted, muttered, coughed, and generally let his displeasure be known without outright saying he was upset that Alida and Ryan were being chummy, while he, a busy man, had to unload all of the groceries himself.

"Well, we should have you over one night," Alida said as Ryan got into his pick up truck.

"I don't want that son of a bitch anywhere near my apartment," Carl spat as soon as Ryan drove away.

Chapter 5

Alida was bored; Carl was working a double and said he would just grab his breakfast and lunch in the Trauma Center's cafeteria.

"Ryan said come by any time," Alida told herself.

Carl had repeated his declaration that he did not want 'that son of a bitch' in his apartment.

"Your apartment?" Alida asked. "Um, my apartment too, huh?"

"Your name anywhere on that lease?" Carl sneered. "And uh, all that money you paying on, oh! Wait a minute! That's right; you DON'T pay rent."

"I pay plenty of rent, mother fucker," Alida yelled, raising the hem of her blouse.

Carl made a show of squinting at Alida's small breasts.

"Um, nope; don't see no rent there," Carl smirked.

"And you ain't going to see them; be a long fucking time, hear me?" Alida yelled.

It had been a chilly three days in the apartment since that night; Carl was unwilling to admit he'd been wrong.

Alida finished her shower by dragging her razor through her pubic hair.

She had hesitated; Carl was the one who insisted on her pussy being bald and she wasn't sure when he'd be seeing the pussy again.

But the stubble itched like crazy, so, Carl or no Carl, she quickly shaved it smooth.

The Ryan that had stood outside and talked with her was not the same creepy Ryan that had followed her around their high school. This Ryan was a handsome, confident man.

She selected an outfit that she knew Carl liked; scoop neck blouse that showed the tops of her small breasts, short skirt that showed off her tanned legs to mid-thigh, white ankle socks and black patent Mary Janes.

Normally, when she wore this outfit for Carl, she would 'forget' to put on any panties, but she decided on a pair of plain white thong panties.

"Hey!" Ryan said happily when he opened his apartment door to find Alida standing there.

"Hey, what you doing?" she asked.

"Nothing," he said, standing aside.

She looked around the apartment; Ryan's taste in furniture was much better than she had imagined.

The chair and couch were covered in a deep green micro-fiber. The coffee table and matching end table were a dark brown and the brass lamp had a deep green shade, tying it to the couch and chair.

There was a forty two inch LCD screen attached to the wall and a stereo system installed in a deep brown cabinet.

Over the back of the couch was an arid desert print, a landscape that showed a vast emptiness.

"I hate that painting," Alida commented. "It's so sad looking."

"Hmm," Ryan said, looking at the print. "That's funny. When I bought it, I said, 'boy, I'll bet Alida, who doesn't live here, would probably love this' but I guess I was wrong, huh?"

"Ha ha, you so funny," Alida smiled.

"Get you anything?" Ryan asked, stepping into the kitchen.

"Got coffee?" Alida asked, not smelling any coffee.

"Yeah; got this one cup thingy," Ryan said, pointing. "What you like? Dark roast? Columbian?"

"Dark roast," Alida declared, smoothing her skirt down. "Darker the better, huh?"

"And what you take in it?" Ryan asked.

"Oh! Jelly beans! I love jelly beans!" Alida whooped, spotting the huge jar Ryan had on his kitchen counter.

"Uh huh, leave them alone," Ryan smiled. "Especially my black ones."

"They're the best," Alida declared.

"I know; that's why I don't want you getting any of them," Ryan smiled and put her cup of coffee on the kitchen table.

Alida dumped a large amount of cream and three tea spoons of sugar into the cup.

"Be right back," Ryan said and disappeared into his bedroom.

Ryan pulled on a pair of socks, found his loafers, searched for his watch, and then remembered, he'd left it on the counter, next to his truck keys.

He could see up Alida's skirt, see her creamy brown buttocks and the thin strip of white; she was bent over, kneeling on his bar stool, digging in his jar of jelly beans.

"What'd I tell you, huh?" he laughed and smacked her on her buttocks with the back of his hand.

"Ow!" she laughed, displaying a mouthful of black jelly beans.

"Hey! Damn it; I told you, leave the black ones alone!" Ryan protested.

"But they're the best," she mumbled around the candy.

She jumped down from the stool, palming a handful of black jelly beans.

"Nuh uh, woman; give them up," Ryan demanded, grabbing her hand.

"No!" she laughed, clutching the beans tightly.

"You ticklish?" Ryan threatened.

"No," Alida lied.

"I don't believe you," Ryan said as she backed away from him.

"No, no!" she cried out.

"Here," she conceded when he had her pinned up against his wall.

He took the jelly beans from her hand and popped them in his mouth.

"Need to wash your hands; they're all black," Ryan smiled.

"I can't reach," Alida complained.

"Bathroom's right there," Ryan pointed.

Alida looked around; Ryan's bathroom was neat, clean. Even the toilet looked clean. And he had both seat and lid down.

There was a light scent of cologne, of toothpaste. There was no stench; the bathroom in her apartment did need to be cleaned. And, no matter how many times she fussed, Carl could not be bothered to leave the seat down, or spray any air freshener, or turn the fan on.

"Black jelly beans makes the coffee taste funny," Ryan advised as she clambered up into her seat again.

"Well, if you leave them all to me, you won't have to worry about that," Alida smiled.

"You're not getting no more," he told her, firmly putting the lid on the glass jar and sliding the jar further away from her.

"Oh, like that's going to stop me," she sneered and slid out of her seat.

She pushed the bar stool closer to the jar.

"Don't you do it," Ryan warned.

"She smirked and climbed up onto the tall stool.

""Alida," he warned.

She knelt on the seat of the stool and reached for the jar.

"I'm tell you," he threatened.

She screamed in shock as Ryan reached over, grabbed the crotch of her thong panties, and gave her a hard 'snap' by releasing the crotch.

"What'd I tell you?" he asked as she chortled.

"Leave them alone," he said, picking her up and putting her on the floor.

"Meany," she said and stuck her tongue out at him.

"Uh huh," he smiled and glanced at his watch.

"Listen; I'm going to look at this house; want to come see?" he asked her.

"Yeah, sure; you thinking of moving out?" she asked.

"Maybe," he said, noncommittal.

He didn't want to tell her it was to be another rental property; the fewer people that knew he was a landlord, the better.

She insisted on climbing up into his pick up truck unassisted. He didn't complain; the short skirt gave him an excellent view of her buttocks and crotch as she cocked one leg up, then pulled herself up.

"Why you got such a big truck?" she complained when he closed her door.

"Compensation," he smirked.

"Compensation for what?" she asked as he got into the truck.

"You know, big truck, itty bitty penis," he smiled and backed onto the street.

Carmen raised an eyebrow when Ryan assisted a small girl out of his truck; in all of the houses and apartment complexes she'd shown him, he had never had anyone with him.

"About time you decided to get a woman's point of view," she smiled and shook Alida's hand. "Hi, I'm Carmen Davis; I'm Ryan's real estate broker."

"Alida Betsingal," Alida smiled. "I'm..."

"A big old jelly bean thief," Ryan finished.

"Shut up!" Alida laughed.

It felt good to be with people that were not talking down to her. Carl and the few classmates that he'd befriended had talked down to her, made her feel small, stupid. Of course, Carl either dismissed her complaints, or defended his friends' actions.

Carmen all but ignored Ryan, showing Alida the benefits of the house, pointing out the amenities, pointing out that it was close to good schools.

"So, what you think?" Ryan asked her as they stood on the small wooden deck, looking out to the back yard.

"I love it," Alida declared.

"They're asking one thirty nine but I'm sure they'd take one thirty, you pay closing," Carmen whispered.

"Offer them that, no higher than one thirty five," Ryan said, nodding his approval.

Alida was surprised; Ryan asked her opinion and valued her opinion. He valued it enough to write out a check for one percent of the offered price, 'earnest money.'

"You hungry?" Ryan asked, pulling up to Clark's Drive-In.

"Ooh, I can get a chili dog?" Alida asked. "Carl don't like them; starts telling me what they're made of but..."

"And what you want to drink?" Ryan asked as a young girl skidded to a stop next to the truck.

"Hi, welcome to Clark's," the blonde girl gushed, popping her bubble gum.

Chili dog," Ryan told the girl. "You want any fries?"

"Yeah," Alida agreed.

"She wants some fries, I want a Smokehouse burger, add grilled onions, fries and a chocolate malt; Alida?" Ryan told the girl.

"Um, I can have me a malt too?" Alida asked.

"Yeah," Ryan agreed.

"Strawberry," Alida decided and the girl skated away.

"Used to have this girl worked here, worked at the dance studio all day, worked here at night," Ryan told Alida.

"Poor girl," Alida sympathized.

"Studio burned down couple of years back when them punk ass dicks, the Angels 270 rioted," Ryan went on. "Original owner decided to just take the insurance money and split so her assistant saved up every penny she could working here and opened up her own studio."

"That what happened to Delphy's Diner?" Alida asked. "That riot?"

"Yeah, in fact the old studio was right next door to Delphy's," Ryan agreed and pulled out his wallet as their waitress barreled toward them, heavy tray in hand.