Why me? Ch. 02

That $200 that he left on the table let me pay my rent and that phone bill.

I'm trying to not remember how I got the money.

Just working hard to find a new job.

But I want one that I can more then just do. I want one that's not just a job. I want something I can love doing. That's not an easy grab. You have to by pass a lot of those yeah I'd hate this but it's a job opportunities.

I'm still doing that. I'm paid up on rent and bills. There's not much in the fridge and I'm buying things like toilet paper and such with the change I always collect.

But I'm making it. I'm surviving. I don't need a lot. I just need the bills paid and the bare essentials.

I want a good job! I spent 13 years taking care of my boys, precious as they all were. I loved those days. But they aren't living with me anymore. They're with their dad. So it's just me. And open empty days that I want and need to fill with something that matters.

I spent 13 years basically coasting. I look back at times and think the only thing I did those years that was important was raise up well three beautiful boys. I didn't even write much. The boys and the house took up so much time and energy. And it's a little hard to concentrate on writing when you have six or eight kids, yours and half the neighborhood, running around screaming and squabbling ten feet away.

So I work at it every day. I read the employment pages front to back. I go off to the job search agency almost daily. I walk up and down the neighborhood, for miles in both directions. I have a few interviews. And I have a ton of applications sent out.

But I don't have a job yet.

And I'm back to being desperate.

No bills are due yet. But I have almost no money left. I've scrounged the change from everywhere. Even the old look beneath the sofa cushions trick.

I need money for the bus. And some things you just can't do without. Toilet paper is kind of essential.

And then it comes. It's a beautiful sunny day. Cold of course. After all it's Minnesota in January.

I was able to walk to this job interview. I don't think I'll get it though. Being good with people is worth only so much. I don't really have the skills the job is looking for.

So I'm a little down walking home.

Oh let's be honest. I would have loved the job. I knew it would be a long shot. I was hoping enthusiasm, brains, and the willingness to study hard and learn fast would mean something.

The woman who interviewed me didn't seem terribly impressed.

A little down, yeah. Reality is that I am trying desperately to make it home before I start crying. I don't do crying where anyone can see me. I don't let people see when I hurt or when I'm sad or afraid. I don't share that or give that. Always that giggling little pouncing cutie. I do smile pretty. And show only the up side. I hate sympathy or pity. My answer is always I'm just fine.

So I'm walking up the street to my apartment fast as I can. My eyes are down. I don't want to share what they are saying even with strangers.

I glance up a little to navigate a patch of ice and freeze mid step, almost flipping myself into a kamikaze comedy of winter follies on ice.

He's there, smoking outside his apartment building.

Suddenly I really want to cry.

Oh please make him go back inside! I stop still myself. And light my own cigarette.

I smoke it slower then anyone has ever smoked a cigarette before.

And he is still there when I am done.

I fucking know. It's not chance or coincidence. Not stupid here. I'm just desperate. I know.

If I get near him he'll make that offer again. Money I need to get me by. Money no one else has to offer. As much as they may want to help.

I just stand there getting colder and colder. I don't know what to do. One of my interviews might actually hire me I think. But I don't even have the bus fare to get there.

It's not even the money for sex equals being a whore thing. This man terrifies me. Just the little that shines in his eyes before he damps them down. I don't know why but his entire attention has slammed onto me like a rat trap. He is focused on me. Before we ever even spoke a word I think.

I want to yell out a protest that I can't to this anymore. I used to be that kind of wild child. I'll admit that. Now I'm just a divorced mom with three boys that live with their dad.

I'm nothing to excite anyone!

Why did his eyes land on me?

All I have done since I moved in was work and have my boys every other weekend.

I don't know or realize what he has seen or heard.

I haven't thought about the window, or the shade that has been open half way since I moved in.

I wouldn't get it even if I knew.

I don't think of myself as someone who would inspire lust. I'm not some taut little tight bodied 20 year old. Divorced and in my late thirties I don't often think of myself as an object of desire.

He wants me because I'm still a bit of that good little girl. I arouse him because he has heard me through that open window laugh like an exuberant, cheerful child. And he has also heard me cum. Me forgetting that if I can hear him then he can hear me.

I've caught his eye and his attention. And finally his hunger.

He has watched me bounce off the bed where I curl around my lap top wearing just bikini panties and a tank top. He's seen long legs uncurl and a still agile body unwind and dart off the bed.

He's a hard, cold man. What I don't get is that he wants me for my warmth.

He gets that I love the people who enter my world and he wants that. He wants what I give out so casually. He wants it for his own.

He wants me to warm him.

I don't get any of it. I don't see that value to myself. I just think, I like people.

I don't have a clue, or a chance, or a hope. Not against his slick plans.

I don't get that it's not just fucking. This man wants to own me.

Well hell with me. It's like the proverbial shooting fish in a barrow. I don't realize that people are intrigued by me.

I look up, a quick glance from green-gold eyes. And he's still there.

I don't even have the money to go anywhere else. Even the price of a small pop would hurt.

Our eyes meet. And he stands.

I guess I could try to run. I don't think he would actually chase me.

But where the hell am I going to run to?

I stare across the half block at him, pleading.

And he just waits. Not even bothering to pretend by lighting up another cigarette.

I'm so cold just standing here. Why me? What did I do?

I really want to cry. But the hell with that. I won't!

So I walk down the street and cross where I always do,

And of course he's there in front of my building.

"How's it going?" He asks, like someone casual would. And I want to hurt him! I think I would kill him if I could!

I whirl away from the door, keys tinkling in my hand.

"You know!" I spit. "You seem to know everything you need to! I don't have a job yet. I'll get one! It just takes a while when you haven't worked for a long time."

And he smiles at me, all casual and friendly.

"You doing ok though?"

I could tell him fuck you I'm fine. I could lie. I could do that.

What I do instead is just stare at him for a minute.

Then I turn and enter. And I do nothing when he follows after.

I walk through my door, taking my boots off and throwing my jacket over the chair in the bad mannered way I always do.

I wait for him to jump me. And it doesn't happen.

I finally have to turn and look at him.

He's waiting for me to do that. He has his jacket off as well as his boots,

And he smiles at me.

I am starting to hate his smiles.

"What?" I snap rudely.

He's not in the least phased. "Bedroom."

Now I really want to hurt him.

My bedroom is my place. No one fucks with me there.

I just stare at him.

And he repeats that word.

"Bedroom."

I start to say...something.

But he's coming towards me pulling his sweater up and over his head, tossing it carelessly behind him.

And I'm backing up the short distance I have in this small apartment.

I slam hard against the wall that stops my backing up. I think for a second, ouch that hurt my head. And then he is on me.

He is so beautiful. I know that's not a word that is meant for men. But he just is. Tall, well over six feet, muscled, but lean, sleek. I think his hair is long, he always wears it wrapped in a bit of cord, so not positive.

He has cheek bones sharp enough to cut, and gods, his eyes!

I have green eyes. They're flecked through with gold and blue.

Just flat out green eyes? I doubt most people notice or think about it. But it's very rare. Green eyes usually have bits of other color in them. Often beautiful. Myself, my green eyes are rimmed around with a dark olive, and kaleidoscope tic Unusual and rare I guess, from the remarks I get. But eyes that are just flat out green, any shade of just green? Like one in a million.

His eyes could pass for emeralds.

And they are staring down into mine from a half a foot above me.

He is so hot. I feel it that split second he stands there.

"Please." I whisper. I don't even know what I mean.

And he moves with a speed that is blinding.

I don't think I even blinked before both my shirt and tank were gone.

"Wait...what?' Was all I could think to say. It's my line when I get confused in chat online.

"Plea..."

I only got half the word out before his mouth was slamming down on mine.

I hate the way he kisses.

It's so good.

It shouldn't be. I don't want to do this. No matter how good it is. I'm not able to call it rape. Maybe in a way it is. I can't really say no. Not if I want to keep going until I get that job. But I've never actually said no. He's never forced me. But I really don't want to do this. I just don't seem to have any other options right now.

He's kissing me hard and I'm trying to bring my hands up to do something.

But He gets both wrists in his and slams them up hard against the wall. I whimper, feeling stretched almost on tiptoe against the hands holding my wrists up so far above my head.

That hurt, the savage way he grabbed and slammed me against the wall. And when I try to pull my wrists free, his grip tightens.

"Let go!" I spit, twisting my face to one side and fighting fierce to wrench, to fight my wrists free.

He laughs at me but it's more of a snarl.

How did he do that, I wonder when both of my hands are suddenly in just one of his and the free hand is pulling my face back to his.

"No!" I start to yell, but he is swallowing that belligerent yowl with his mouth.

And he's kissing me again. Where the hell is that other hand?

I jolt and buck. The hand I lost track of is sliding into my loose jeans, into my panties.

I try to pull free. I can't!

And then I am tossed and bouncing on the bed. My jeans are gone and once again my panties are being torn off.

And He is coming down on me. I remember the sweater going I think?

Oh gods fuck me! He drops between my thighs and jerks me up to his mouth.

He is holding me up, beneath, under my thighs and pulling me to his mouth. Sucking, licking...and biting me.

I'm supposed to be fighting him now. That's what a part of me is trying to remind me.

That part is losing.

Feels so good, the way he is attacking my cunt with mouth and teeth.

And I start to come...just as he reels up and, covers me, his cock suddenly slamming deep into my cunt.

And I cum hard, fierce.

I would probably be screaming but he's got his mouth on mine again and his cock is buried deep as I cum, and cum and cum.

I'm fucking up hard against him. And I feel him shoot deep inside, pulse after pulse..

He collapses on me for a for a few minutes.

And then he leaves me laid their spread wide on the bed.

I lay there open. And then the phone rings.

I literally roll off the bed. A job offer?

I don't make it in time. So I hit my messages.

And I hear him.

"Hey baby. Be seeing you."

I drop into the chair behind me. Hell no. Oh please no. Then I glance casually at the table...

Damn, where are my keys?