Seein’ as how I got me some downtime right now, I thought I’d write about some of the goin’s on around here. I mean, you’ve probably heard about the mysterious death of the rich socialite there in Crestwood Hills, you had to have. Beautiful, married into money, Amanda Harper had it all and was the envy of all. That is, until she died tragically. The controversy that swirled around her would rival a hurricane. She was a philanthropist, to be sure, and she threw legendary parties with many State and even National dignitaries in attendance. But the allegations of extortion, blackmail, and corruption tainted her image a bit. There were even whispers of, shall we say, tragic deaths of some of her enemies. The fact that most people who knew her wanted her dead didn’t exactly make the papers, but there ya go. And the fact that they found her burned body on my property didn't help my case at all, not one bit.

Course, I didn’t mean for any of this to happen, I was just tryin’ to make a buck. But there I was, right in the damned middle of everything. About par for the course, actually.

I guess I’ll back it up some. It was six or seven months ago when I arrived in town. I wasn’t exactly on the run, and I think “swindler” and “extortionist” are rather harsh words, but I was indeed looking for a nice quiet town where I could set up shop and make a new start. And I did have some startup funds, thanks to the kindly preacher in Kansas who decided that “hush money” was money well spent.

The local planning commission here, well, Beatrice, anyway, assured me that my little business would certainly thrive here in Crestwood Hills and, in fact, Beatrice said she would like to be my first client. But you know how slow the paperwork is when it comes to signatures and approvals …

Well, I may have fallen off the turnip truck on the way into town, but I didn’t land on my head! So, as I fumbled with the paperwork, I pulled a move I saw once in a movie. 

“Well, ya know what, Beatrice? The strangest thing happened not five minutes ago. I found this hundred-dollar bill on the ground when I walked in! Right over there, it was. Why don’t you see that it gets back to its rightful owner?”

She assured me she would, and, wouldn’t you just know it? The planning commissioner was comin’ back from lunch in about 15 minutes! And why don’t I just wait right over there? 

So, Planning Commissioner Jebsen and I had a fine talk about my business idea and how the town needed new blood and whatnot, but again, I could see it weren’t going nowhere, seein’ as how he was so busy trying to get fundin’ for a new traffic light at the corner of Broadway and Elm. I suggested he start a community volunteer fund, and could I please donate the first five hundred? It bein’ a dangerous intersection and all.

We shook hands as he handed me a freshly printed license and he then pointed me in the direction of his realtor friend, Fred Jackson, who had several prime locations he said I should look at. 

We found a great building right by the country club, Old Doc Henderson’s dental practice. Turns out the revered and admired doc practiced here in town for about thirty years, but had actually never quite finished dental school. Hadn’t actually quite never attended one, neither. So, after the lawsuits and the dust settled, this building came to sit for three years. My realtor assured me that demand was high, though. He would try and put in a good word with the owner, who was, of course, terribly busy at the moment and, in fact, might even be out of the country. 

I chuckled and I just handed old Fred two hundred and fifty cash, right there in the parking lot. And they called me a swindler!

And so I got me this here small building with several little individual rooms that would work out just perfect. But what I really liked about this building was that it had parking in the front and the rear, cuz what my clients tend to require is … discretion. 

Found me a genius handyman by the name of Mr. Mark, and he and I put in three weeks of hard work, some blood, and a lot of sweat. We got the place fixed up real nice, any woman would be proud to be a customer. Beatrice turned out to be the third customer; the first customer was, you guessed it, Amanda Harper. I mean, who else would it be, right?

Now the thing about Crestwood Hills was that this was an old town. But old man Harper saw the future many years ago. Walmart started taking over the south little by little, and Harper, well, he had been to college. Course, he didn’t graduate, but he went longer than Old Doc Henderson. But seein’ as that was the case, he knew big corporations had managers and directors, and Vice Presidents and Senior Vice Presidents and — well, they had a lot of smart guys and gals up there in Bentonville at the Walmart headquarters makin’ a lot of money who would want to live in a nice community. 

So Buford T. Harper begged and borrowed (and some say stole) enough money to buy up most of the shitty town of Possum Hollow and renamed it Crestwood Hills. He then leased it to developers who were quick to put up some very exclusive neighborhoods. He even built a world-class country club, complete with a Pete Dye-designed golf course. 

Those Walmartians flocked in droves and Harper couldn’t make money fast enough on new mini-mansions, and regular mansions, too. Course, Harper and Sons Construction built most of the homes, the rest bein’ built by those who paid a handsome “finder’s fee” to Harper. 

If I had known all this before, that the Harpers had this town sewn up tighter’n a nun’s twat, things might have been different. Maybe Amanda Harper would still be golfin’ and holdin’ court on Saturday evenings on her veranda. But, I didn’t know these things before I started, and now she’s dead. 

Well, anyway, I rambled off somewhere, so let’s bring it back. 

The Grand Opening

So there I was on a Tuesday night, about sunset, fixin’ to open up my pride and joy the next day. Mr. Mark and I were just enjoying the evening, sippin’ a cold one, and admirin’ the big old sign out front: 

Total Body Care

- by George

I thought the “by George” made it sound classy. We even had the guy paint that part so it looked like fancy handwriting. The fact that my real name is James was kinda beside the point. Anyway, this big ole black Cadillac Escalade rolled up. The tinted driver’s window slid down to reveal her. 

Stunning, just stunning. I don’t usually lose my cool, but you just don’t see people like this every day.  Certainly not in a small town.

“Is y’all open for bizness?” Her sweet Arkansas accent just flowed over me like honey and drew me in closer.

“Well, now, Miss, uh …”

“Harper, Amanda Harper. Lawd, where are my manners? You’re new in town, so’s we haven’t met.” She stuck her hand out the window so I could hold it, not really a handshake. I half-wondered if I was s’posed to kiss it. “And it’s “Missus” Harper. My husband is Buford. You know, the mayor?”

She went on about something or other, but I just watched, fixated on her clear green eyes. I realized she’d asked me a question but I wasn’t listening. Thankfully, Mr. Mark was.

“Yes, ma’am, no, ma’am, we’s open for bidness tomorrah, like the sign says.” 

He pointed at the sign, just to be sure we all understood. Mr. Mark knew to tread carefully around Mrs. Harper, unlike myself. Sure, the New South got integrated and we all loved everybody equally, but a big black man like Mr. Mark still would watch his ass when dealing with certain white folks like the absolutely divine Mrs. H.

“I see that, Mr. Mark, and I thank you kindly for your help in pointing that out. But I thought maybe George here, you are George if I’m not mistaken? Good, maybe George here might open a little early for, let’s say, a special guest. I golfed thirty-six holes today and I am one sore woman.”

She hopped out of the Escalade with it still running and stood before me, and, I tell you what, she was a sight. Cute little tennies, little golf skirt, matchingmatchin’ polo shirt, blonde hair in a ponytail, and, if she golfed thirty-six holes, well, I’m sure-as-shit Tiger Woods.

“Now, are you goin’ to show me around or what?”

She cocked her elbow out a little bit. I took it and began escortin’ her to the front door. I looked at Mr. Mark and motioned to the rear of the building. He took my meanin‘ and went to park her big SUV in the back.

“Well, now, Miz Harper—“”

“Oh, don’t you be going all silly on me! I’m Amanda, please! We are going to be good friends, I think.”

I smiled my most charming smile. “Absolutely, Miz … ha! I got you there, Amanda! You thought I was gonna call you Miz Harper, didn’t you, now?”

“Well, not only are you handsome; you are tall, dark but not too dark, and quick-witted, too. How’ve you managed to remain… unattached, as it were? You are single, is that correct?”

I nodded my head in the affirmative. “Hard work and dedication, Amanda. It ain’t easy, ma’am. Oops! I just called you ma’am. My mama, bless her heart, she always told me it don’t cost nothin’ to be polite.”

She gave me a huge, warm smile as we entered my building. I eased her past the reception area. Mayor’s wife and all, first client, I wasn’t going to make her pay. 

“The hot rocks take a long time to warm up and, well, I haven’t mixed up any avocado spread yet. And my—”

“Well, now, George. Don’t you worry about any of that. I’ll just take whatever massage you’ve got.”

“Well, I do have a shower if you be needin’ one—”

“I’m fine, darlin’, I took one at the club. Now let’s see what you’ve got here.”

We made some little small talk as I showed her around the place, got her a glass of chilled Chardonnay, and then prepped the table. As she went to the changing room, I flipped on the cameras and the towel warmer. 

Now, I know what you’re thinkin’. He’s got cameras cuz he’s a swindler, that's how he gets his hush money, gets the women caught performin‘ indelicate maneuvers, and extorts them. 

Well! I’m a little insulted at your ill feelings toward me. I got cameras to protect myself. It’s happened more than once where a little housewife gets caught spendin’ all her family’s pocket money, then turns around and cries “f on me! So I have them to keep everybody on the up and up, so to speak.

I happened to see Amanda on the CCTV as she entered the massage room in the terry-cloth robe I provided. Now, I forgot to give her my speech about “draping,” but she seemed to understand already. Draping pertains to what amount of towels she wants to use. Combined with her choice of underwear, well that tells me what areas I can and cannot touch. She drapes a towel over her bum and probably upper thighs, then that’s where my hands stop.

You’re probably thinkin’ poorly of me again, and I can’t say as I blame you, but it does indeed hurt my feelin’s a bit. But you’re probably thinkin’; it don’t matter, you just run your fingers up under there anyways! No sir and no ma'am, I do not do that. I respect the ladies and run a respectable establishment. 

Well, like I said, Amanda walked into the massage room, and she took off her robe to reveal one of the more spectacular bodies I’d ever seen. She looked like she’d been sculpted by Hugh Hefner and Michelangelo. Okay, that may not make a whole lot of sense, but she was just perfect in every sense of the word. 

Oh, and she didn’t have a stitch of clothing on.

“Fuck me,” I muttered as I watched her pick up the draping towels on the massage table and carefully lay them on the counter. She then proceeded to lie face down on the table, placing her face in the gently padded breathing hole. 

Just in case that all ain’t exactly clear, Mrs. Buford Harper, wife of the mayor, lay face down, buck-ass naked, on my massage table. Now, every woman I've massaged has held her legs tightly together. Amanda had at least a two-foot gap between her ankles. 

I knocked lightly on the door and entered the room.

My First Customer

As you can imagine, this weren’t my first rodeo. I was a bit hesitant, seein’ as how she was the mayor’s wife and all. But seein’ her like this, spread-eagled and face down, well, I got down to business.

My well-practiced hands glided over her silky smooth body, traveling all over every inch of exposed skin. I spread warm oil everywhere, too, spendin’ an inordinate amount of time on her bottom and thighs. My teasing hands and fingers dipped and darted in between her cheeks until, eventually, I settled in and focused my attention on her lovely little bleached asshole and her dripping pussy. 

Not a word was spoken as my fingers briefly dipped inside her; Amanda just moaned softly. Taking that as a ”yes,” I further penetrated both of her openings. After several minutes of slowly massagin’ her privates, I finally slipped my hand under her to rub her clit. In less than a minute, she went from low moans to vociferous shouts … and squirted hot girl-cum all over my hand. 

After another minute or so, she regained her faculties and, still lying on her front, slowly pulled her knees close to her body, causin’ her ass to stick up high in the air. If you know yoga poses, and I’ve taught yoga, she was in what’s known as ”Extended Puppy.”

“Fuck me right now, George. Now!”

You can take your pick of aphorisms: ‘strike while the iron is hot’, ‘git while the gittin’ is good’, or even ‘don’t look a gift horse in the mouth’. Whichever, I thought about it for all of three seconds before I shucked my shorts and hopped up on the table and planted my flagpole deep into her soil, so to speak.

I fucked her good, I fucked her hard, I fucked her slow and purposefully. And then I fucked her ferocious-like. At some point in there I guess I turned her over, for we was face-to-face and kissing like teenagers while we were still fuckin’. Only, it sorta felt like we were makin’ love at this point. She broke the kiss to beg for my cum, and, being a gentleman, I obliged. My hot spurts triggered contractions in her pussy that sucked all of my cum from my cock. 

“My George,” Amanda whispered as she looked at me with a dreamy quality to her eyes. She laid underneath me as I rested on my elbows, spent and breathin‘ heavily, tryin’ to regain her composure. I assumed she hadn’t been well and truly fucked for quite a while, for she seemed to have lost all pretense and guile.

Suddenly, she stiffened and began tryin’ to get up, so I rolled over and let her. She grabbed a towel and wrapped it around herself, concealin’ that perfect body of hers. Apparently, happy time was over.

“Well, now, Mr. George. That was one fine massage. I’ll be sure to let the ladies at the club know that you can work all their kinks out, so to speak. But this …” I winced as she grabbed my deflating cock and pulled on it a little too hard, “… this belongs to me. You can finger them or lick them, but don’t you be puttin’ this cock anywhere but inside me.” 

I gave her a look of, I guess disbelief is the right word. I had carefully avoided most entanglements, and certainly had no plans of getting tied down to a married woman. 

“Why, uh, Amanda, that is, um … a pretty unusual request.”

“Oh, it’s no request, darlin’,” she stated. “Make no mistake here, George. I can have this place shut down in fifteen minutes, and the charges brought against you would make a New York pimp blush.” Her frosty tone of voice made me think she was entirely capable of doing just that.

Some Grand Opening. I'm not even actually open yet and my business is already in trouble.

Help Wanted

Business was picking up after a couple weeks and I needed some help with the paperwork and whatnot. 

“How old are you?” I asked the very good-lookin’ young woman sitting across from me in my office. Her striking features combined with her cafe au lait skin made her quite the exotic creature. 

“You can’t ask me that, it’s illegal.” Cicely Watson knew her stuff, for sure. I thought I might be getting lucky with this one. But I meant only in a professional sense; actual intelligence seemin’ to be a bit of a rare commodity in this burg.

“I need to know if you’re over eighteen, and when I hire you, you gotta show me your license anyway.”

“I’m twenty-one. And I can handle whatever you got goin’ on in here. I can handle the calendar, work the billin’s like I did for Mr. Frost at the lumberyard before it burned down, and I can paint nails with the best of ‘em. You need me. You can tell all them other girls to forget about it. This is my job.”

I liked Cicely, a lot. She kinda reminded me of me. And as for the ‘other girls’, well nobody else had bothered to apply. 

“I tell you what, Miss Cicely. I’ll take you on as my assistant on a trial basis. You do what you say, I’ll pay you fair and even give you a percent of what the customers pay for nails and whatnot. Deal?”

“Maybe. What’s fair and what’s the percentage?”

I chuckled, and we ironed out the details, and I got her started on the paperwork right away.

Now, I’ve had assistants before. Three, to be precise.  And I had a solid rule not to fuck the help. “Don’t shit where you eat” and all that. And I broke that rule only three times. But Cicely, I could tell she wasn’t one to be trifled with. She seemed … too good for that sort of crap. Anyway, she was fillin’ out the forms when the office phone rang. She just picked it up as if she owned the place.

“Total Body Care by George, how can I help you, Darlin’? … Today?” She looked at me and I nodded. “Why, we did just have a cancellation. Is 2:00 alright for you?” I smiled in wonder at her, she was a natural. “We will see you then, Miz Worthy.” She hung up the phone and flung a rather smug expression at me.

“Alright,” I sighed. “I think your trial period is over. It’s official. You are now Office Manager Extraordinaire.”

“So, do I get a raise?”

I laughed. “It’s only been five minutes. How about you watch the shop while I go to Walmart for some supplies. What do you want for lunch?” 

“No,” she replied. “Your time will be better spent getting the rooms ready, since I don’t know how to do that yet. Make me a list and I’ll pick up whatever you need. And I’ll bring us back some barbecue. From what I’ve heard about you, you need lots of protein.”

I laughed again and agreed with her. I also began to wonder if I hadn’t somehow lost the last semblance of control of my destiny at this point. Such as it was.

Definitely Worthy

Ms. Jessica Worthy, was almost as pretty as our dearly departed Amanda. She was a bit shaplier, which suited me just fine. She was one of them Walmart bigwigs; she said somethin’ about Purchasing but that didn’t mean much to me. Vice President of buyin’ stuff, I guess. She was from California, so she didn’t have the accent, but she’d been here quite a spell and had the lingo down. Anyway, she was an absolute stress factory personified. I told Cicely to cancel the rest of the day’s appointments so I could focus just on Jessica. I didn’t happen to have any other appointments, but Jessica didn’t know that. 

I had Jessica undress and wrap herself in one of our velour robes so she would feel as light as possible; no restrictive clothing, you know. We went through various relaxation techniques where I use what I call my ‘gentle’ voice. I modulate to where I sound like one of those gurus you might’ve heard on a relaxation tape; it’s similar to hypnosis where my voice is quiet, smooth, and I guide her to full body relaxation. This took over an hour and I hadn’t even touched her yet. 

When it came time for the massage, I left the room so she could arrange herself and organize her draping, then I returned. She lay face down with a towel covering her bottom. I began my professional massage, somewhat different from the one I gave Amanda before. Takin’ my time, I worked mostly on her neck, shoulders, and back, as there’s where most folks hold their stress. I really felt her tension releasin’ and soon she was limp like putty. A foot massage followed, and then I rubbed her calves and then her thighs. That’s when I got the big surprise.

Jessica’s hand slipped back to her towel … and pulled it to the floor, completely exposin’ her hindquarters. And, I guess because she wanted to make sure I got the message, she opened her legs as much as the table would allow. Still, I wanted to be sure.

“Jessica. Just checking in. Is it okay to rub your exposed skin?”

“Yes,” she whispered breathlessly … and she pushed her pelvis up off the table a couple inches, showing me her lovely little asshole. “Make sure you touch all of me, George.”

If you’ve ever been to a cheesy diner, you know they have those red and yellow squeezable bottles to pour the ketchup and mustard. I use the same kind of bottles, only they are clear and I keep oils in them; unscented, lavender, coconut, and green tea oils, to be precise. I keep them in a warmer at exactly 103 degrees Fahrenheit so they aren’t a shock to the customer. I drizzled a few little lines across her butt cheeks, making sure to also drop some directly on her little star. 

I massaged the heck out of her bottom with lots of tickling and teasing of her anus; gentle swirls, little caresses, then bolder strokes and firmer presses, all while remaining external. Again, I am a professional and I don’t go internal unless explicitly asked to. Well, that happened.

“Aren’t you, um … George?”

“Yes, Jessica?”

“Well, aren’t you going to … you know … put your finger … in me?”

My slick right forefinger circled her asshole with a lot of pressure, but not quite enough to penetrate her. “Well, that’s not really on the menu, per se, Jessica.”

“I’ll tip you whatever you want. Just, please! For the love of God! Use your finger, or all of them! I don’t care, just finish me off!”

Well, I’m not one to keep a woman hangin’. As I gently slipped that finger into her bum, I slid my thumb down so that it and the web of my hand rubbed her pussy. 

“Rise up on your elbows, please, Jessica.” I wanted to get at least one of her breasts involved. She rose up and I cupped the one near me with my left hand, gently squeezing and then tweaking her rock-hard nipple. You know, the basic stuff you do with lovely breasts.

With my thumb on her clit and my finger deep in her ass, combined with the nipple stimulation, she came within a minute with gut-wrenching moans and full body-quakes. I released her breast as she slumped down on the table, her body still quivering. 

I slowly withdrew my hand from inside her person and retrieved the robe from the hook, draping it across her backside. I gently rubbed her neck and whispered into her ear, things like, “That’s a good girl. You’re okay now. Such a good girl. You were so good for me. I’m so proud of you for letting yourself go completely.” That kind of stuff. Usually, the woman is super happy and full of smiles. So it surprised me that when Jessica turned her head to me, I saw tears streaking down her cheeks.

“Jess? Are you … alright?”

She nodded yes, and then grabbed me around the neck with strength I didn’t expect.  “Okay, hold on, honey.” This was very uncomfortable for me, getting my neck pulled as I bent over the table, so I crawled on top of the table alongside her. I was still dressed, mind you, but she didn’t care. She wrapped herself around me as much as she could in our sideways position … and kissed me hard on the lips.

Being a Red-Blooded American Man of the South, there’s only so much I can take. And this was past my limit. I kissed her back, hard. My hand found her breast and I squeezed hard, probably harder than I should have, but I was riled up. She broke the kiss to moan into my mouth … and then she cried a little more. I relaxed my grip and just held her as she buried her face in my shoulder for a little while.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered eventually. “It’s just … it’s been so long for me! My husband … hasn’t fucked me in years, because he’s seeing someone else, and I haven’t been able … I mean I didn’t feel right … thinking about … sex … and now here you are, doing these things to me, and I’ve never … and I mean ever … come like this before.” Her hand went down and felt my solid cock trapped in my shorts. “Would you like to come? Come inside me? Would you take pity on a broken-down woman—”

“Hey, now!” I interrupted. “You would be no mercy fuck, believe me. You are insanely beautiful, with a very sexy body. It’s just—” 

Visions of Amanda swam through my head, her saying something like, “This belongs to me. Don’t put this cock anywhere except inside of me.” But, really, what could Amanda do? And how would she know? She wouldn’t know, right? 

“Fuck me, George. I’m asking you to fuck me. Don’t make me beg. Just let me get on top.” 

I answered without any hesitation. “Saddle up, sweetheart. I’ll take you for a ride!” 

Complications Arise

A couple of things I learned over the years: The first was penis control. I was able to hold off for quite a good long while if I chose to. I mean, like, I could fuck a woman ’til the cows come home before bustin’ my nut. The other thing I learned was to lock the door when I was with a client so that nobody could bust in on me when I was in a session. 

So I fucked Jessica for a good long time before she ran out of orgasms and collapsed on top of me in a sweaty heap. My cum oozed out of her well-used pussy as my cock began its slow decline. I was fixin’ to get us a cold drink when I heard a big commotion out in the hall. Cicely was tellin’ somebody they can’t go back there, and I remembered we was in Room 2. Room 1 was the primary room but the electricals had shorted out. Room 2 was fine, but the lock was broken. Yeah. Broken.

When Amanda Harper came bustin’ in on us, I expected a hissy fit of terrible proportion. But what happened seemed worse. She was sweet as honey.

“Well, I do declare! I think I’m in the wrong room!” she said, hand to her chest. “Bless your heart, George. I didn’t know you was entertainin’. I’ll be a-callin’ you soon.” And she smiled and left without any further adieu.

“I’m sorry, boss.” Cicely pleaded. “I tried to stop her, but she just kept comin’ and didn’t even slow down.”

Jessica and I started getting up and getting our robes on. “It’s okay, hon. Wasn’t your fault. She didn’t even seem upset.”

“That’s where you’re wrong,” Jessica interjected, tying her robe. “I know her very well. The only time she’s sweet like that is when she’s madder than a wet hen. Believe me, something’s coming. She … didn’t seem to like seeing you and me like we were. Are you two, like, an item or something?”

A cold dread passed over me. “Well, no. I mean, yeah, in her eyes. But I didn’t think she was serious. I mean, she’s married, for Christ’s sake. She can’t expect me to wait for her … oh, shit.”

“She said ‘Bless your heart’,” Cicely piped in.

“Oh, shit,” added Jessica.

For you non-southerners, Bless your Heart don’t mean what you may think it means. It isn’t a good wish from you to God about another person. It can have any number of meanin’s, but here it likely meant, ‘You have fucked me over but good, George. I’m so mad I could eat sawdust and shit out a two-by-four. I’ll be comin’ for ya.” Oh, shit, indeed.

“She’s meaner than a junkyard dog. I hate her more than I hate tornadoes,” muttered Cicely.

“Me, too,” said Jessica. “She’s been fucking my husband for two years now. I think she’s doing it just to get back at me for winning the golf tournament back then. I would shoot her in the heart, except I think that’s a non-existent target. Why do you hate her?”

Cicely sighed. “She practically destroyed my mother, Victoria Watson. Mama worked as a house-maid for her for ten years. She didn’t have no education and is barely literate, so there really isn’t much else she could do. But she was a dependable hard-worker. Well, one day, Amanda can’t find one of her necklaces she wanted to wear to a dinner party at her house. So, in front of everyone who’s anyone in town, she calls my mama a dirty … well, that word no one should ever use to any black person, for stealing her necklace. She even called the police and had her arrested at the party. It made the paper, too. Front page picture of my mama in cuffs. Mama was able to make bail, but they treated her pretty roughly there and made her stay overnight with the drunken men, because they didn’t have a women’s jail. 

“Of course, Mama never stole no necklace. Three days later, there’s a picture in the newspaper society column of Amanda Harper wearing that exact ‘stolen’ necklace. We had to show that to the police to get the charges dropped. That never made the paper, of course. Amanda said she found it in another drawer, but the damage had been done. She had smeared my mama’s good name and nobody would hire her for nothin’. Finally, after a year, she found a family that didn’t like the Harpers and she’s doin’ sort of alright. Like, when she smiles, I can see that it’s a front. That Harper woman, she ruined my mama’s soul. I tell you what, Miss Jessica, I’ll hold that damn Amanda Harper while you shoot her, however long it takes.”

I was only half-listenin’ to Cicely. She mentioned her mama’s name and my blood froze. I knew a Victoria Watson back in Little Rock maybe twenty years ago or so. Black gal, smart but wasn’t literate, and with just a pure, pure soul. You ever met anyone like that? I hadn’t then and haven’t since. Her smile melted my heart. And pretty? Lord, she was finer than frog’s hair. I was completely in love with her when her old man caught us doin’ the deed in the back of my car. Hit me with my own tire iron, he did. Told me he would kill me if he ever saw me again and I believed him. Scared me right outta town. I looked at Cicely as she wove her tale of woe … and Goddamn if I couldn’t see a resemblance to Victoria. 

“Now,” I started. “It may not be a good idea to talk about killing people, even if she is a rotten bitch. Cicely, I’d like to meet your mama. Bring her around someday, know what I mean?”

Everything’s Fine

Amanda didn’t show up the next week. She had been comin’ in on Tuesdays on the regular for her happy-time. I was rather curious about that, but not for long as business was picking up. Cicely was proving to be a boon to the shop as she was now doing nails and facials. She got twenty-five percent of the service fee and all of her tips. Things were looking up. And I think I said that out loud without knocking on any wood.

I knew better than that.

So, it shouldn’t have surprised me when the city inspector showed up that Wednesday. He said there had been some safety complaints that he needed to check out. I asked him who’d been complainin’, but all I got was a smarmy smile. 

This was a very efficient inspector. Within ten minutes, he had found seventeen violations. And of course, there were penalties for these horrible infractions. The total fine came to just shy of ten grand. Ten thousand fucking dollars. Payable in five days. 

I was enjoyin’ this piece of news when Cicely returned from lunch.

“Hey, boss,” she said as she peeked in the front door. “I brought somebody for you to meet!” She opened the door fully … and there stood Victoria. 

My Victoria. She’d barely aged at all over the twenty-plus years since I’d seen her.

Cicely was all smiling, then she wondered why neither her mom or I weren’t movin’ or sayin’ anything, we were just starin’ at each other. 

“Mama? This is George … my boss … what’s wrong with you?”

Victoria dropped her purse and ran to me as I was movin’ toward her. We collided in a hug as tight as all get-out. Vick was squealin’ and cryin’ and kissin’ me and I was kissin’ her back and cryin’ a little bit if I’m bein’ honest … we were both overwhelmed. 

“Okay, can someone please tell me what the hell is goin’ on here?” Cicely was visibly upset at seeing her mama fall to pieces over me. 

Victoria held my face in her hands. “Cicely, this is James.”

“Huh? No, it’s not! It’s George and he’s my … wait a minute. You mean that James? The one grampa chased away?”

“The one and only! This man was the love of my life. He’s also your father.”

“What!” Cicely and I hollered simultaneously.

“Yes, James. That’s our daughter.” She tilted her head in the direction of Cicely. 

“I, I don’t know what to say!” This was about as big of a shock as a man can get. “I … I didn’t know! Your father, he looked like he was gonna kill me! I had to leave—”

“Shhh,” soothed Victoria. “He would have killed you if you had stayed. He went looking for you once I began to show. Luckily, that was about two months later and you were gone without a trace.”

Cicely moved toward me, us. I held out my arm and wrapped her up in a three-way hug. The three of us were cryin’ and carryin’ on when we heard the front door slam shut.

“Looks like I’m interruptin’ somethin’ special again,” Amanda Harper opined. She stood there, looking gorgeous in her little one-piece golf skirt outfit. I hated that she was so pretty. She looked at her nails and said in a bored voice, “What is it this time, George?”

Boy, that woman could take all the fun out of an entire amusement park in just five seconds. We was all wipin’ our eyes and tryin’ to get situated when Amanda spoke again.

“Your girl, here, she bears quite the resemblance to Miss Victoria, don’t you, child? I don’t know why I didn’t notice this before.” Cicely froze, not sure what to say. “And another thing, she bears some resemblance to you, George. I might go as far as to suggest that she’s a … love child from the two of you?”

“Can I help you with somethin’, Amanda?” I knew I couldn’t really distract her, but it was worth a try.

“Well, I heard you had some trouble with the city, and I came by to offer my assistance.”

“What’s she talkin’ about, George?” Cicely glared at Amanda and then me. 

I reached over to the counter and showed the schedule of fines to Cicely. “Ten thousand dollars? George, we haven’t even earned that much yet! How we gonna pay—”

“Well, that’s what I came to talk to y’all about,” cooed Amanda, just ever so sweetly. “George, let’s go in the back where we can discuss this. Whaddya say?”

My face burned red with anger. This fucking bitch wanted me to fuck her after she just reamed me a new one with all these fines. 

“And one more thing. That one,” Amanda pointed to Victoria, “she has caused me a heap of trouble! And I’m sure her daughter is a trouble-maker also. You shouldn’t have her workin’ for you. I’m just sayin’.”

I sighed. I didn’t think things could get worse than that ten-grand fine, but Amanda managed to top herself. 

“You two,” I nodded my head toward Victoria and Cicely. “Go on home, now. We’re closing early. I’ll call y’all later.”

As they left the buildin’, lookin’ bewildered and upset, Amanda started yammering’ on. “Well, you handled them two just right. We don’t need those sort of people in this town anyway—”

“Shut up,” I hissed.

Aghast, Amanda stared at me for a few seconds before replying. “Now, I know you just didn’t tell me to shut up. I will not tolerate that level of disrespect—”

“Shut the hell up!” I grabbed Amanda’s wrist and practically dragged her back to Room 1, where I bent her over the massage table and began spanking her luscious ass. 

Oh, she mewled and fussed a lot and struggled a little, but she never said ‘stop.’ After a minute or so, I stood her up so I could pull her outfit down and off, leaving her stark naked in her white sneaks. Breathin‘ heavily, she looked at me to see what was comin’ next. I pointed to the table and said, “Resume your position.” She bent over the massage table again, spreadin’ her legs this time.

Her pink ass cheeks became rosy, and then turned bright red. She wailed and screamed, but I kept on spankin’; I needed her to know who was the boss. When her hollerin’ turned into tears, I pulled her upright and she fell forward onto me. I fingered her pussy while giving her a few more spanks and she came hard. She slumped against me as her juices flowed over my hand, still cryin’ and whimperin’. I helped her onto the massage table fully and undressed. She opened her legs wide for me as I came to her in missionary. Locking her ankles behind my back, she tried to get me as deep as possible. For my part, I tried to nail her to the table with my cock. The firm massage table didn't provide a lot of ‘give’, so her pussy took the brunt of my powerful thrusts. Between her cries of ‘fuck me’, she kissed me har;, sometimes so hard that our teeth banged each other. 

Amanda reached a stage of perpetual coming where anything I did just set her off. A pinch of her nipple made her pussy throb, finger-fucking her asshole made her quiver, and my continued pounding made her shake. She was mine. 

I shot my juices deep inside her … and it was a lot. As we lay there recovering, I kissed her tenderly. What can I say? I was lost in the moment. Then I remembered how she’d acted and I withdrew my half-hard cock so I could wipe it on her face. She reveled in the hot, slimy sensations and sexy aromas covering her face. She looked absolutely stunning, her hair splayed out in all directions, most of her makeup vanished, and her face covered in our cum and sweat … she made me get hard again. 

This time I just jerked off hard where I was, straddlin’ her face. I told her how lovely and beautiful she was and shot my load down her throat, which she swallowed hungrily. Then she wanted to kiss some more, and I obliged.

We had our quiet time again where she was just delightful for quite a while. But, as always, she suddenly snapped back to her old self and acted like nothin’ happened. I did mention the fines again as we got dressed.

“Oh, George. Now don't you be goin’ on about that. I'll see what I can do tomorrow. There's one thing, though.” She looked at me directly. “I told you your cock was mine and you didn't listen. So consider this a warnin’ shot, so to speak. There better not be a next time, you take my meanin’? It won't be anything you can fix with a fuck, no matter how delicious.”

I nodded my head, helped her shower, and gave her another quick fuck before she left. 

I knew she meant what she said; there wouldn't be any second chances with her.

But, ya know, I'm a bit hard-headed. In fact, my mama called me ‘legally dense’ when she was tryin’ to teach me feet and inches and I couldn't get it. Suffice it to say, I didn't learn my lesson.

Smooth Sailin’

A few weeks went by and things seemed … okay. The fines went away and Cicely continued workin’ for me. Business was really pickin’ up. Cicely added waxin‘ and facials to the menu but the “Special by George” proved to be the most popular package. That included kisses and an orgasm by my hand. Of cCourse, options could be added for a small fee. Those included toys, anal play, spanking (another favorite), oral stimulation on me, and finally, oral stimulation on her. That was double the rate and ‘weather’ permitting. I wouldn't lick a hairy pussy nor one on its cycle.

I got the okay for blowjobs from Amanda after a particularly harsh spanking session. Other than that, I kept my cock to myself and Amanda… and Jessica Worthy… and Victoria Watson. I know, I was playin’ with fire and all that, but I was very careful. I got Cicely to stick an AirTag underneath Amanda’s big Cadillac. Those AirTags, they broadcast a signal somehow to the internet and I could see right where she was in real time.

Victoria, she was aware of my situation with Amanda and Jessica. I had to do Amanda to keep my place running, and Jessica paid me a thousand bucks per session, which was too much money to pass up. Vick was cool with it. She would get particularly excited when I related back to her how often and how hard I spanked Amanda; it gave her a special thrill to think of  Amanda in pain. But Victoria also expressed interest in hearing about Jessica; she even thought maybe someday we might consider a threesome with her. 

Now, normally, I slept in the back of the spa on a couch  But I began to spend a night now and then at Victoria’s. Then I spent a couple nights in a row, and before you knew it I was there almost every night. Her house was tucked way back up in a holler so nobody was likely to see my beat-up Chevy truck. We were havin’ a blast gettin’ reacquainted and such. And Cicely would stop by often and we would have a real nice family dinner. It was … perfect.

So I guess I shoulda expected shit to go south, since it was goin’ so well. I was quite surprised when Mayor Harper stopped by one day without an appointment to threaten me. I had the female situation under control, but I had forgotten about him. 

Fortunately, I had just finished up on Beatrice from the Planning Commission when he walked in. I was washin’ my face in the back—Beatrice loved my oral skills—when I heard these heavy boots stompin’ down the hallway.

“George!” he hollered. “Where the hell you at, boy?”

“Uh, hello there? I’m here in the back.”

And there he was, Buford T. Harper, in the flesh and lookin’ for blood. Apparently, mine, to be precise. Dressed up in a big white hat, western shirt, a bolo tie, denim jeans and crocodile cowboy boots, he looked more suited to Texas than Arkansas. But I wasn’t gonna point that out; seein’ as he stood about six inches taller ‘’n me and had an easy hundred pound weight advantage on me. I could also see that he was sportin’ quite the anaconda in his pants. Amanda had informed me, however, that its peak days were long past and the snake wouldn’t straighten out for most anything anymore, even with Viagra.

“Well, now, look at you. Ain’t you a purty feller. There was a time when I woulda killed you just on account a how you’re dressed, but times have changed, I guess. However, you’re also a-fuckin’ my wife. Don’t you deny it!”

I looked him square in the eye. “It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Mayor. And I’m sorry about your wife.” I stuck my hand out for a shake.

He looked at me like he’d just witnessed a miracle. “Well, I done tell you what, I sure didn’t expect you to admit to it! Them other fellers lied to me six ways to Sunday. I admire your honesty.” He reached out and shook my hand.

“Other fellers?” I threw in the ‘er’ on ‘fellows’ to try and show him I was just as down home as he was. Couldn’t hurt, maybe.

“Oh, she’s fuckin’ half the town, I reckon. I don’t know how I’m supposed to kill all these men. I’m sure I won’t get even halfway before I get caught.” He sat down in a chair, deflated. 

“Well, that’s a heap a people that need killin’, for sure. Why don’t you just kill her instead? That’d save you a lot of time and trouble. A stitch in time and all that.” I was mostly just kiddin’. I was just tryin’ not to get myself shot. 

“My momma used to say that, bless her soul. ‘A stitch in time saves nine!’ I didn’t sew but I took her meanin’. You know what, boy? I think you’re onto somethin’.”

“Wait, uh, s-sir,” I stammered. “I understand you’re upset, and rightly so. But you can’t go kill her. She’s not worth it!”

“I reckon you’re right, son. I know she never loved me like I loved her. But dadburn it! I loved her with all my heart. I gave her everything she ever wanted except children; that just didn’t happen for us.” 

“I’m sorry, sir. You seem like a good man.”

He smacked his hat on his knee. “I am a good man! I go to church on Sunday while she’s out fuckin’ every Tom, Dick, and George.”

“Sorry.”

“Ah, don’t worry about it. No man can resist her charms. I don’t blame you. You’re right, though. It's all her fault. And I’m gonna do somethin’ about it.” He got up to leave. He seemed to have shrunk a few inches from when he came in. I dug into the bottom drawer of my desk and pulled out my bottle of Jack Daniel’s, then grabbed a couple of coffee cups and poured us a good slug.

“Sir, let’s not do any killin’. You with me on that? That wouldn’t be good.” I raised my mug to him. He sighed, took the other mug, and tipped it ever so slightly in my direction. We both drank. 

“Thanks for the chat, young man. And your honesty. Much appreciated. Keep an eye out for the fireworks!”

He dragged his old self out the door. Fireworks? What’s that old coot thinking?

Fireworks

A couple of days later, the fireworks began. And they weren’t no podunk county fair shit, either. The first blast arrived on the headlines of the Crestwood Courier: 

Buford Harper Files For Divorce

Claims Wife Is Unfaithful

Amanda, not to be outdone, went straight to Facebook with tales of Impotent Buford that severely shamed the old man. They were both goin’ for the jugular with the whole town watchin’ the spectacle.

Thinkin’ I was in the clear, I forgot to pay attention to Amanda’s AirTag. She stormed into the spa just before closing with her seven-iron in hand and she was out for blood. I was in Room 2, as the main room was shorted out again, and, well, like I said, we forgot to check her AirTag, and I was fuckin’ Jessica six ways to Sunday when Amanda burst in. 

Amanda took in the scene; Jessica on all fours, with my cock goin’ in and outta her asshole, moanin’ like a proper whore.

“Well, ain’t this fuckin’ perfect!” she roared. “You ruin my life and you’re cheatin’ on me every chance you get? I’ll kill you!”

She raised her golf club to strike me, but on the backswing she caught Cicely right in the mouth;  breakin’ a couple teeth and causin’ her to gush blood. All this distracted Amanda enough that her swingin’ club was off aim and not goin’ nearly as fast as it could have been. Still, it hurt a bit when the club head smacked my forearm. 

I jumped off the table and grabbed the now-bent club, but she came at me with wild fists swingin’ Fortunately, she weren’t much of a fighter and I was able to grab her wrists. Unfortunately, I gave her too much credit for being a lady and she kneed me in the balls. As I fell forward again, she swung the club up into my face, breakin’ my nose. I tell ya, I went all woozy and I fell to the floor. She probably would have beat my head in with her seven-iron until I died, ’cept Cicely rallied and pushed her off of me. 

Then, to my great surprise, Cicely reached down to her leg and pulled a thin six-inch dagger that she had strapped to her ankle. 

“Get outta here, bitch!” Cicely roared.

But Amanda’s blood lust was up and her common sense was out the window. She screamed and charged Cicely, who stuck her in the stomach with her blade. 

That got Amanda’s attention. She froze for a few seconds, then staggered backwards and fell against the wall. She seemed bemused by the knife sticking out of her gut. Her hands slowly reached down and she pulled on the knife. It wouldn’t come out, so she gave a big yank, and then it reluctantly withdrew from her skin. She slowly lifted her head to look at Cicely.

“That’s gonna cost you, ghetto trash!” She stepped toward Cicely with the bloody knife in her hand, but her left leg didn’t seem to work; it dragged as Amanda tried to advance.

“Stop right there!” shouted a naked Jessica, her shakin’ hands holdin’ a small, shiny revolver. I think she pulled it out of her purse, I wasn’t lookin’ at her before and it had to come from somewhere. It sure as shit wasn’t mine. Amanda cackled like an old witch … and then tried to jump toward Jessica. 

I went temporarily deaf as Jessica fired the pistol; shootin’ a gun inside a room is fuckin’ loud! Jess emptied the revolver as Amanda sat down on the floor, bleeding from her knife wound and now a single bullet wound also to her abdomen. 

Buford came charging into the room at this time. I could sorta hear him as he hollered, “What in the Sam Hill is goin’ on?” Then he saw his injured wife sittin’ in a pool of blood and Jessica still standin’ there, naked, holdin’ a smoking gun. 

“She went berserk and wanted to kill all of us, so I stabbed her first,” cried Cicely. “Then Jessica saved me by shootin’ her as she tried to stab her.”

 Buford looked around and saw me there, bleedin’ away. “And what happened to you!?” 

“Her seven-iron,” I said as I pointed to it on the ground. 

“Hmph. Well, that always was her favorite club.” He sighed heavily and put his hands on his belt next to the buckle.

“Um,” moaned Amanda. “Can, can somebody call the paramedics … please?” She coughed some blood onto the floor. 

Buford knelt down beside his wife and put his arm around her. “Whatcha got goin’ on here, darlin’?”

“Well,” she began, her breathing labored. “That one stabbed me and … that other one shot me. I don’t know why, I didn’t do anything, ackkk!”

Amanda wasn’t able to talk anymore on account of Buford’s hand squeezing her throat. He spoke gently to her. “Now, darlin’, don’t try to talk. Just rest your head back, that’s a good girl.” Her eyes bulged as she struggled, but she had lost a lot of blood and Buford was just too strong. “I think you’re done here. It’s time for your reckonin’ with God. Good luck to you, honey pie, you’re gonna need it.”

Amanda Harper breathed her final gasps and died right there on the floor. 

Blaze Of Glory

My brain was finally functionin’ again despite the pain in my balls and face. 

“What the … how did you get … and what do we …”

Okay, so maybe it wasn’t functionin’ all that well. 

Old man Buford, though, his brain was workin’ just fine. “I had an AirTag on her car and I used it to track her here. I told her that you,” he pointed at me, “admitted to havin’ an affair with her. Sorry, George.”

“It’ss okay,” I slurred a bit. 

“Then I felt bad and wanted to make sure she didn’t do somethin’ stupid. But I was too late, obviously.”

“We’re fucked,” muttered Cicely. “There’s no way to spin this. We’re all goin’ to jail. You guys will get five to ten. I’ll probably get the electric chair.”

That started a bunch of hollerin’ and screamin’ amongst everyone and I couldn’t make out what anybody was sayin’. Finally, my brain did actually start workin’.

I banged on the wall several times until everyone piled down. “I got it. People, I’ve got it. Nobody’s gonna go to jail. Jessica, how many bullets were in your gun?”

“Um, five.”

“Okay. Why don’t you get dressed, by the way. You’re givin’ Buford a hard-on. How many times was Amanda shot?”

Buford looked her over. “Looks like just the one.”

“Okay,” I continued. “Cicely. The other four are in the wall somewhere. Dig them out with your knife. Then, someone needs to dig the bullet out of Amanda.”

“I’ll do it!” Buford volunteered with an amount of glee I didn’t expect. “But won’t that cause more suspicion if her body is all torn up?”

“Naw, all they are gonna find is bones. Here’s what we’re gonna do …”

- - - - -

“Okay, George,” the officer intoned. “One more time, please.” 

“Ow!” I complained as the paramedic tried to treat my broken nose. “Well, like I said. Mrs. Harper was here for a massage—”

“Kinda late, wasn’t it?” The cop gave me a bit of an evil eye.

“Well, yeah, but you know. When Amanda Harper says jump, we all say how high, know what I mean? So, Cicely was gone, it was just me and Amanda. And, well, I’d been having electrical problems, you can check with Barney’s Electrical on that, he was here a few times. Anyway, the fuse box door blew open, which smashed me in the face. I fell backwards, I guess, and hit my head. I don’t know what happened after that.”

He flipped through his little notebook. “Yeah, a Miss … uh … Victoria Watson said she saw the place on fire and managed to pull you out.”

I coughed a few times, smoke inhalation, doncha know.

“I guess,” I replied feebly as I touched the back of my head, wincin’ from the whack Buford gave me. We had to make it look good, but I thought he went a little too far.

“Excuse me,” the EMT interrupted. “We’ve got to get this man to the hospital, he’s had a concussion.”

“Okie dokes,” the officer said. “I’m done here.”

- - - - -

They held an inquest and found me guilty of involuntary manslaughter, on account a the fact I never paid the fines or fixed the electricals from that original “inspection” that Amanda instigated. They didn’t investigate the fire too much; they found a female skeleton with teeth that matched Amanda and they seemed happy about that. The fire erased all evidence of Amanda being stabbed, shot, and choked. The police and the coroner seemed glad to have her put to rest, so to speak.

You may ask, why did I take the hit? My dearest daughter, Cicely, and also Jessica stood up for me and fought for me. Nobody had ever done that before. Plus, I was just gettin’ to know my daughter and I couldn’t bear the thought of her gettin’ thrown in jail. Old man Buford, well, he got a free ride out of it, but he’s takin’ very good care of Cicely and her mom. He bought them a new house and put up the money for a four-year college of her choice. 

I’m here, awaitin’ my first conjugal visit from Victoria, who will probably be expectin’ a proposal at the end of my stint here in county. I’ll probably ask her, too. I’m sure old Buford can find me some work and I’ll have a little family all of my own.

So, yeah, we killed Amanda and got away with it. But it don’t bother me and I sleep just fine, knowin’ that the trash got taken out.

Do me a favor, though. Don’t tell nobody, okay?