The Face-Painter Ch. 06byrmdexter©
Standing in the shower I heard the phone ring. Knowing the answering machine would take care of it, I continued lathering up. That little afternoon session with Zoey had been fantastic. The way she had openly thirsted for my cum was intoxicating; she was like some poor bastard stranded in these scorching deserts around here craving water. I'd been only too happy to feed her a couple of protein smoothies and looked forward to continuing with more of the cocksucking lessons she'd asked for. Yes, she'd been a very willing pupil, with a hot little mouth worth its weight in gold. Watching her swallow as my creamy load slid down that silky throat of hers into her waiting stomach was beautiful, and putting that second milky batch of baby-batter on her face had been wickedly nasty too; but knowing that pretty soon I'd be busting that sweet innocent cherry of my little sister's was going to be even better. No doubt about it. As I thought about how it would feel to be tearing into that tight virginal hole of Zoey's curvy young body, my slick sudsy hands seemed to make their way into my crotch unconsciously. Remembering that I had that upcoming appointment in a little while with my second real client, Catherine, I summoned up what little willpower I had left and turned the shower to a cold rinse before things got out of hand....or into hand, more like it.
Catherine would be my second paying "John" (or do they call it "Joan" when it's a woman?) in my new "job"; Face-Painter for hire. $200 a load was sure a bonus, I couldn't deny that. At first, I thought the whole thing would just be looked at as a joke, but there definitely seemed to be women out there who liked that kind of thing; and better yet, were willing to put up the cash to prove it.
Running a comb through my hair after wrapping a towel around my waist, I went back into the living room and checked my message.
"Yo Homes, 'sup?" I recognized the voice of my buddy, Andy. The initial greeting made me smile; Andy and I never talked like that; and yet here he was going all "gangsta" on me. "I thought you'd be at home either workin' or sittin' around on your lazy ass." Well, that was better, at least he was back to using his normal voice again. "It's the middle of the afternoon on Friday and I'm just finishing up this job I'm doing at the Luxor. I was thinking if you didn't have any plans for tonight we could grab a bite and hang out. If you can't make it tonight, maybe we could grab breakfast either tomorrow or Sunday. My mom wants me to pop by the house today so I'm just about to head there shortly. Not too sure how long I'll be there. Anyways, when you pick this up, give me a call on my cell. Ciao bella."
"Ciao bella," so here was Andy saying "Goodbye beauty" to me in Italian. That was one thing I liked about Andy, you never knew what that crazy bastard was gonna say next; or in which language.
Andy; or more specifically Andrew Alexander Adelson, aka "Triple A", had been my best friend since we started high school. I need to digress here for just a second..... A girl Andy dated for a while when we were in university always used to giggle or smirk whenever I would call Andy either "Trip" or "Triple A". I finally asked her why she got such a big kick out of it.
"Every time I hear you call him that," she replied with a big smile on her face, "it reminds me of the Energizer Bunny. You know; the one that keeps going and going. Well, I can tell you from experience; that is exactly what Andy is like in bed, only he keeps cumming and cumming, instead of going and going!" We both had a big laugh at that, but I could tell from seeing her with Andy that she had no complaints about his Energizer Bunny prowess whatsoever. Alas, like so many romances at that age, for some reason, it ended quickly, just like so many bad TV sitcom pilots.
Looking back, I think Andy and I first crossed paths in a computer science class, with me fumbling my way through before Andy took pity on me and helped me figure out how to do something as simple as logging in. He'd been a scrawny little twerp then; and why not, he was a year younger than the rest of us, having been moved ahead a grade. Why? Because he was probably one of the smartest motherfuckers I'd ever met, that's why. Nowadays, he could speak at least four languages fluently; that I knew of, and he was a whiz at both math and anything to do with computers.
We just kind of hit it off right away, with him helping me with math, science and tech stuff, while I gave him some guidance (which he probably didn't really need) in literature, teaching him how to survive in gym and the oh so important art of socializing. I think we both knew that our strengths complimented each other and that somehow helped us form a strong bond. I kind of thought of Andy as the brother I never had, and being an only child himself, I think Andy felt the same of me.
So Andy and I shared those weird adolescent years together and our friendship grew through various girlfriends we each had, virginities lost (and never to be regained), both sports and academic successes and failures (you can guess who had more of each) and generally just regular teenage stuff. Over that period we'd both grown up, both physically and emotionally. I'd watched Andy over those years turn from the wiry little nerd he was when I first met him into a pretty good looking guy about 5'-9" tall and weighing about 170. While he helped me with math, I taught him about football. At 6'-3" and over 200 pounds, I'd made a pretty good tight end in high school while Andy played regularly at free safety. He was no star, mind you, but he worked hard doing whatever the coaches wanted from him and was respected by everybody else on the team for the effort he put forth.
I remember one incident clearly from around that time that I know brought the two of us closer together. It was our last year of high school and we'd heard about some club in a fairly sleazy part of town that didn't look too closely at your ID when you went in. And apparently there was a band playing there that week that was supposed to be pretty good. Andy and I made it into the place no problem, only to find that the band in question sucked and the overall clientele in the place was pretty grim too. I think for our first time in a real bar, we were expecting it to be "babe city"; only the ones in here seemed to be from the dog pound instead. Deciding to cut the evening short, we got out of the place and headed back to where we'd parked. I don't know why I didn't do this before we left the bar, but I had an urgent need to find a place to take a piss. I ducked into a burger joint that was still open while Andy stayed outside to take advantage of the fresh air. When I came out just a minute or two later, Andy was nowhere to be found. I heard a noise coming from the alley next to the building and poked my head around. I saw two crackheads who had Andy backed up to the wall, his trembling hands held palms-up before him.
"Just give us your wallet, fuckhead," the smaller, more strung-out looking one said to Andy, almost spitting in his face. The bigger of the two stood in front of Andy, waving a knife around menacingly. As I quickly sized up the situation, I took this as a good sign; people that know what they're doing with a weapon don't keep moving it around, they hold it pointed directly at you, knowing that is the quickest way to do the most damage, if necessary. These guys looked too hopped up on something to act rationally and I knew I had to do something to get Andy out of there before the whole situation went badly wrong. Taking a deep breath and with my eyes locked on the hovering knife, I spurted the few steps down the alleyway and launched a vicious kick at the bigger guy's arm.
"AAAAHHH!" I heard the guy grunt and a split second later heard the knife clatter against the pavement. I grabbed the guy by the back of the neck and shoved his face right into the brick wall as hard as I could. As he crumpled to the ground holding his face and moaning, I turned towards the other rat-faced bastard. He looked up at my 6'-3" frame and gasped out a simple "Fuck!" under his breath before hightailing it out of there. I grabbed Andy's arm and started to pull him out of there but he shook me off and turned to the guy kneeling on the ground, blood pouring from his face.
"Miserable fuck!" I heard Andy mutter between clenched teeth before he gave the guy another kick in the ribs for good measure. "Okay, let's get out of here." We took off at a run towards the car, both of us actually scared shitless and shaking from the whole frightening experience. We piled into the car and sat there with the doors locked, both of us breathing raggedly as our racing hearts slowly returned to normal; both of us trembling with nervous energy as the adrenaline rush gradually dwindled.
"Did you see what that little guy was wearing?" I asked Andy as I finally felt composed enough to start the car and pull away from the curb.
"The little weaselly-looking one that took off; he was wearing a fucking Power Ranger t-shirt." I don't know why this struck me as bizarre and stuck in my brain; but that was all I could remember about the guy. If we'd reported this to the cops, that's the only way I could remember how to describe him.
"Power Rangers?" Andy replied with a "are you kidding me" look on his face.
"Yeah, the whole bunch of them, right there in a line on the front of his t-shirt." I paused and gave my head a shake as I continued to drive. "What the fuck's with that?"
Andy nodded and we drove on in silence for another minute or two before Andy said, "Do you think the Pink Power Ranger would be a good fuck?"
"Oh, there's no doubt at all about that; she'd be amazing," I replied and we both burst out laughing. We were okay after that; Andy coming back to earth from the scary hell those fuckers had just taken him to. Anytime we heard any reference to the Power Rangers after that, we'd just look at each other and start laughing as we remembered that frightening night.
After high school, we'd both attended UNLV with Andy in Computer Science while I studied English Literature and Journalism. He'd graduated with flying colors as a Computer Engineer and now at age 27, he worked freelance as well; mostly doing work for the massive casinos and hotels in town. With his skills in that kind of work, he made a decent buck, that's for sure.
We still remain good friends and usually get together a couple of times a week. I look forward to those get-togethers. Andy generally has a care-free optimistic attitude that is infectious. We never fail to challenge each other mentally over issues we disagree about, and yet we each value the fact that we can confide whatever we want in each other as well. I knew deep down, although I'd never admit it out loud, that my friendship with Andy was special; the type I'm sure other people wish they could have themselves. It keeps me grounded in a way that I find comforting beyond words. We are an anchor for each other; able to find safe harbor no matter what the mean cruel world threw at us. With something as simple as a quick phone call to each other, it doesn't seem to take long before whatever had been troubling one of us ended up not seeming so bad after all. Would I take a bullet for Andy?.........Fuck no; but a paintball pellet.....maybe!
Realizing that getting together with Andy tonight was going to be a no-go due to my appointment with Catherine, I sat down at my computer to see where I'd left off on the article I was overdue with when Zoey showed up. I noticed I had a couple of e-mails and figured I'd better check it out. The first one was from my boss, "Dick the Dick", actually Richard "Call me Dick" Morrissey. I could read his tone of voice as soon as I opened it, the fact that he wrote it all in capital letters showing how pissed off he was:
"YOUNG," what....not even a cordial "Dear Connor"?
"YOUNG, BE AT MY OFFICE MONDAY, 10:00am........DICK"
Hmmmm, well, that didn't seem too promising. I figured he was always pissed off because whenever he told people his name, some would ask, "Morrissey? You aren't related to the singer from The Smiths, are you?" to which Dick would have to reply in the negative. I'm sure he wished he had a fraction of the talent the real Morrissey had, the words from "Suedehead" now running through my head.
Maybe the second message was better news.
"Face-Painter, this is Catherine. I'm sorry to say that I'm going to have to cancel our meeting today. I have to.......actually, I'll be truthful; I'm chickening out. I'm sorry, but I just don't think I can go through with it. Catherine."
I sat and re-read her message again; just to be sure I was reading it right. I realized that in this "pay for sex" business, this kind of thing probably shouldn't come as a surprise. I figured it would happen sooner or later, but on my second real job? That was kind of a small kick in the nuts. Re-reading it once more though, I was glad she'd summoned up the courage to at least be truthful, rather than coming up with some lame-ass excuse.
Well, with my night now free, I picked up the phone and called Andy's cell. He picked up on the third ring, sounding out of breath. "Hey, it's me. You okay?"
"Oh yeah, I was just helping my mom bring in some stuff she bought today. I'm fine."
"Well hey, I've got no plans for tonight, what do you want to do?"
"How about we start at Gabriel's? We can grab a bite there and then just see what happens?" Gabriel's was a family-owned Spanish restaurant not too far from Andy's apartment building. Andy and I had quickly become regulars there over the last year. I'm sure it was a combination of the fact that the food was always excellent; plus the owner, Gabriel, seemed to have penchant for hiring busty waitresses; including his own two young daughters who worked there as well.
"That sounds great. What time were you thinking?"
"Well, Mom's got more stuff for me to do here, so I'm probably gonna be here for another couple of hours anyways. How about I swing by your place and pick you up. That way, if you end up drinking too much tonight, you can either crash at my place or take a cab home." That sounded good to me. It would be great to get out, but I wanted to make it a fairly early night. I wanted to make sure I was well-rested for whatever might happen on my planned date with my mother the next day.
"That'll work. I've got to finish this article I'm supposed to have in or Dick will kill me. A good two hours right now should do it. Alright, I'll see you a little later."
We signed off and I pulled on my gym shorts and old t-shirt and got back to work. Fortunately this time there were no interruptions and just short of the two hour mark, I re-read the article for the last time and made the final little tweaks I wanted, and then sent it in. Finally......man, over these last few days and all that had happened, I thought I'd never get that damned thing done!
I went into the bathroom, brushed the pegs, ran a brush through my hair and then dressed in a comfortable pale blue shirt and jeans. I was actually looking forward to hanging out with Andy; it had been almost a week since we'd seen each other. It would be a nice break to have some of Gabriel's good food and talk. As I got ready, I wondered if I'd actually let Andy know about the "Face-Painter" ad and my new venture into the world of "gigoloism"........and I wondered if that was actually a real word. Aaaah, who cares, I like the sound of it; "gigoloism".
As I pondered the intricate complex mysteries of the English language, my phone rang. I saw from the caller display that it was Andy. "Yeah?"
"I'm two minutes away; are you ready?"
"Yeah, I'll see you outside." Gathering up my keys and stuff, I locked up just as Andy pulled into my driveway in his silver Ford Fusion. That's another one of those things about Andy; the guy definitely had the money for something different than a Ford Fusion, if he wanted. And you'd think that a young successful guy in Las Vegas would be running around in something much sportier or showier; not Andy. For him, it needed to be practical, efficient, and make good economic sense; the same way he ran the rest of his life. He was by no means a cheapskate; he was often more than willing to pick up the tab for any occasion. Driving a family-type car like this was just another little quirk of his.
As I walked towards his waiting car, I spotted Margaret leaning against her front porch, a glass of wine in hand. She looked up at me over her wine glass and gave me a warm knowing smile.
"Hi Margaret," I heard Andy say from inside the car. "How are you?" The two of them had met on many occasions, Andy regularly dropping by my place since I'd moved in.
"I'm great, Andy," she said as she stepped off her porch and sashayed over towards us, those wide flared hips of hers shifting seductively as she approached. Jesus, she looked hot. She had on a pair of stretchy red shorts that ended just below her crotch, her long tanned legs looking beautiful in the dimming twilight. My eyes travelled upwards to the white and red floral blouse she had tied in an enticing knot at her midriff, her smooth stomach giving a teasing glimpse of the sexy hourglass figure she possessed. She had what seemed to be an extra button undone at the top of the knotted blouse, the V-shaped opening plunging almost to her midsection to expose a deep dark line of inviting cleavage. All this was framed by her swirling auburn locks, and her gorgeous features seeming all that much sexier by a sensuous natural glow she seemed to be exuding. I had a feeling my little visit the night before may have had something to do with that glow.
"So what are you two boys up to tonight?" she asked as both of us arrived on opposite sides of the car at the side time. While I slid into the passenger seat, she set her glass gently on the roof and then leaned forwards against Andy's doorframe to speak to both of us. "Oh fuck," I thought as she leaned further over, her head tilted slightly to look across at me. The glimpse she was giving Andy and I down that gaping blouse of hers was fantastic. You could see well down inside past the swelling upper mounds to a breathtaking white lace bra that had been given the brutal duty of containing those heavy massive tits of hers. Yeah, those 40DDs looked like they were asking for your hands to reach forward and slide right down inside that teasing top of hers. I saw Andy gulp noticeably, his face only a foot or so away from those big pendulous orbs.
"We're gonna go out and grab a bite to eat, maybe have a couple of beers," Andy replied. I could see the conscious effort he was making to try and keep eye contact with her as she provocatively shifted from one foot to the other. I knew she enjoying teasing Andy as much as she was enjoying showing me that she was ready with more of what I had gotten last night.
"Well, you guys make sure you don't get into any trouble," she said with a playful motherly wave of her finger, a naughty smile playing at the corner of her wide sensuous mouth. "There are girls out there just waiting to pray on sweet innocent young men like you two." We all had a chuckle at that. She started to stand up and then as if she had just remembered something, she leaned down even further into the car and spoke directly to me. "Connor, thanks again for helping me out with that problem at my place last night. When you did that drilling and screwing, it really helped." Holy fuck, what was she saying? I saw Andy's eyes open wide as he quickly glanced over at me and then back to Margaret.
"Oh Andy, I'm sorry. If you don't know what we're talking about, that must sound just terrible." She gave a little giggle and gave us both an "oh silly me....what am I saying" kind of smile. "My big old wooden bed has kind of been getting a little more rickety over the years; shifting a little and squeaking more than usual. I asked Connor if he thought something could be done about. Our boy here came over yesterday with that big special tool of his.....what do you call that again, Connor?"