2 Moving Day

I felt the blood surge hotly in my face. I panted heavily. "Push it harder. Don't stop."

My brother Harry did a deep chest grunt and pushed, sweat beading over his face. "Something is going to rip if I go harder. We need some lubricant or..."

Without a rip, or even a popping sound, the sofa edged the half a centimeter it needed to slide smoothly around the dogleg into the room. I did a quick two step not to stumble. We re-hefted the great green monster and got it inside.

"Against the far wall for now. I can shift it if I need to."

"You're gonna have to, bro, because I'm never lifting this thing again. I'm sure not going to help get it out of here when you move again."

We collapsed on our subdued enemy, stretching our legs out. Harry, ever the classy guy, pulled the hem of his t-shirt up to wipe his face. Seemed a good idea, actually, so I did it too. Then we sat back. It was a really nice couch. One of the few long enough that let me stretch right out. A blazing beam of sunlight spotlighted on the carpet. A person couldn't even tell from this view that winter still gripped the world.

"Yeah, I thought you were nuts for using the official master bedroom as a living room, but it could work."

I nodded, smiling. "I almost passed on having a two bedroom unit all to myself, but then I realized if I'm going to set up a proper work space studio, the extra room will be great."

"And the second bedroom is the bedroom?"

"Once I measured to see if it fit a king size bed, the vision fell into place. The 'living room' has the biggest windows and the best light and view. Why work in a rabbit hole? That's the room for sleeping."

Harry smirked crookedly. "A king size bed? What the hell does a bachelor need with that kind of elbow room? Planning on having orgies?"

I hid my expression by standing up and giving my face another wipe with my shirt. I couldn't let Harry see the goofy grin exploding on my face. From what I had experienced here in Avalon Apartments three weeks ago, that king size could likely be the hardest used piece of furniture in the place.

"HARRrrrY! I'm hungry!" The mostly empty apartment made the unpleasant whine even more annoying with an echo. The voice certainly slapped the grin off my face. Adults just shouldn't whine like that. Harry climbed to his feet. "Coming Tiffany!"

I followed him out of the "hospitality room". "That was the last load, Zach. Just a couple of boxes left. Here's the plan: we go down. You bring up the boxes and, since I have to move the truck from the loading zone anyway, I'll keep on going to get some grub."

"Let me get my wallet. It's on me."

"Damn straight it's on you. Sleeping, storage fees and labour costs ain't cheap."

Tiffany Trubela leaned-sprawled on the kitchen counter with her elbows and stomach, her butt sticking out and her legs akimbo on the floor. Only her fingers dancing furiously over her pink phone keypad gave away that she was awake. Still, even in such a slack-jawed idiot pose, she artfully kept her scoop-necked cleavage on glorious display and her skintight jeans accentuated those long legs and ass to perfection. Her meticulously styled blonde hair draped down her back. However, even the exquisite makeup job around the huge sapphire blue eyes and magnificent cheekbones couldn't hide the bovine dull expression of the hardcore texter.

"Tiff, I'm off to get some food." Harry leaned in to give his girlfriend a peck on the cheek.


The blonde woman grunted, pulling away, focusing on her messages.

"Baby, you were going to unpack the kitchen." Of the three boxes labeled "Kitchen", one had been opened. A drawer hung open, empty. Not a great effort.

Tiffany frowned, without turning away from the miniature screen. "Kim is stressing out over picking shoes for a very important party. She needs my advice more than Zach needs his forks and spoon sorted."

"Kim who?"


"Kardashian, of course!"

"KIm Kardashian asked you, personally, for advice?" I always tried to keep to the weather and peoples' health when talking to Tiffany, but kept failing in the face of absurdity. Any actual conversation almost always ended badly. Blood pressure spikes are not healthy.

"She accepted me to her Flutterbook Gold Circle. When she sends out a cry for help, her special followers just have to pitch in."

"All 50,000 of you. It's a tight group."

"At least it's in the real, grownup world. Why don't you go unpack your toy spaceships?" Tiffany pulled back the small amount of attention she had granted us and went back to the phone. Harry gripped my arm and pulled. I sighed and let myself be led out of the apartment.


Harry shrugged into his parka as the elevator descended the three floors. "So, that's everything you had stashed in my garage. How many other Zach McAllister Stash Spots are there to clean out?"

I had no problem with a change in subject. "You had the biggest pile, thanks again. Clint and Tai Ping have about half-a-dozen bags stuffed with clothes and bedding and towels. Rudy has my big screen, so that'll be easy to move, but a bugger to extract from where he's set it up in his living room. The rest is still two provinces away in a pay storage unit." I blew out my cheeks. "Moving cross country sucks."

"Well, in my experience, finding a place to live is the hardest part. The rest is just muscle and buying pizza. Oh, crap." Harry raised his arms in frustration, beseeching the sky gods. "We can't buy pizza."

"Why the hell not? Pizza is the traditional food when moving. It may even be a law."

"Because Tiff doesn't eat wheat products during months with an 'R' or some shit." Harry looked miserable, trapped between reality and a red hot girlfriend. Again.

"How about Greek? There's a place on 18th Ave called 'The 12 Platters of Hercules' that's pretty tasty..."

Harry perked up. "I know the joint. It is good. There'll be something there she'll like."

"That would be the Harpy Special. I'll take a Centaur Platter."

"Ha. Ha. Ha." Harry smiled with one side of his mouth. "That is actually funny, but that's my girl you're...HOLY SHIT!"

I whirled around, expecting a bus to be coming through the main doors and into the lobby. Instead, a cab driver wheeled-dragged a large suitcase over the snow ridged sidewalk while Marita held the outer door for him. My glands snapped off a tap dance and hand flip. Harry wasn't admiring the puffing cabbie or the quality luggage. We McAllister brothers admired the mane of midnight copper hair framing the heart-shaped face and flawless caramel skin. The full lips and merry smile. The enormous green eyes. The deep green plaid winter coat went to her knees, giving only a tantalizing hint at the curves beneath.

Harry could only guess at those curves. I knew those curves intimately.

I fought down another village idiot grin. Attempt to be cool, Zach. I did spring forward to open the inner door before Marita had to fumble for her keys.

"Oh, thank you. It's good to be home!" Marita gave her boots a last stamp to clear snow. "I think." She fluffed her hair out while undoing a few coat buttons. She smiled politely. "Do you live in the building?"

The sexual pixie dust supporting me vanished in a flash of reality. "Um, yes. Just moving in." Harry gave me a prod. "This is my brother Harry. I'm..."

"Jack? No, something with a zed. Zach! Yeah, Zach." Marita grinned in triumph, as she held out her hand to shake. "I'm Marita. You were apartment hunting about, what, three weeks ago? The old memory hasn't failed after all!"

I returned the polite handshake, keeping a brave face. I hoped. "The first of the month finally came and I don't have to sleep on this lunkhead's couch no more."

"Lunkhead? Hey..." Harry frowned as he shook Marita's hand.

"Well, it's nice to meet you again and you, Harry. Probably see you at the mailboxes or something." Marita strode off across the small lobby to the elevator, suitcase in tow.

"Yeah, I guess." I spiraled down for a crash landing, shot out of my dreams by hard truths.

For the second time, Harry pulled me along. We exited out the doors into the arctic afternoon, the sun easing towards setting. "You're the lunkhead if you think you have a chance with her. Wow, she's gawdamn dynamite on two legs. She's so far out of your league, it'd be like a tiddlywinks player in a pro hockey game."

Harry reached over the truck box and pulled out the last two boxes, thrusting them into my arms. I kept my mouth shut. I wanted to tell my smug little brother that I had not only played in Marita's league, but had that an MVP award for my effort. Well, or so I thought. Apparently not so much. As dismal as Marita's platonic courtesies made me feel, I wasn't going to become a strutting, bragging thug for Harry. The road of a gentleman is not easy.

The boxes made themselves a nuisance getting back inside, but they weren't so heavy I couldn't manage. I stumped up to the elevator and pushed the button. The door slid open and I turned sideways to watch my step and to let the handrail inside support some of their weight.

Marita's voice came from behind me. "What floor was that again?"

"Uh...3." I twisted my head to see her smirk. "What,...why." I gave my stunned brain a kick. "You're just riding the elevator for fun?"

I hoisted the boxes for a better grip. Between Marita, me, two boxes and her luggage, the tiny elevator didn't leave much maneuvering room. I worked the physics of turning around to face her.

A warm breath and wet tongue traced my right ear. "No silly. I waited to give you a proper hello."

The startled squeak of I made did not sound manly nor even dignified. I did feel myself pull out of that spiraling dive into gloom. As I juggled the boxes I had nearly dropped, I could only blather "What? Really?"

Marita's honey-toned chuckle alone could give a guy wood. "You get a gold star, newbie neighbour. It's a crazy judgement call in this building when to be polite and when to be a slobbering sex fiend. In my book, you played the very correct amount of smooth and cool down there in the lobby."


She gave my earlobe a fresh tongue-thrashing and nibble while she reached around to treat my groin to a full palm massage. The third floor dinged and the elevator stopped WAY too soon.

I lurched out of the elevator, totally wobbling on my pins. I gave her a huge grin. "See you."


Marita gave a little wave and a saucy smile as the doors closed. "I better be invited to the housewarming."

I bumped and thumped my way into my apartment, walking again on a sparkling fog of sexual possibility. I put the boxes down and stood staring off in a hot daydream of that housewarming party.

"Ah, has Tiffy's boobies given poor Zachie-whackie a stiffie?" Tiffany cackled.

I spanged back to reality. I had honestly forgot all about her while drifting in my Happy Place. If texters want to ignore everyone around them, I tend to return the favour. I looked down. For moving day, I had on old sweat pants and loose boxers. Marita's efforts had brought the circus to town and the main tent pole was blatantly up.

I blinked again. Without conscious thought, I replied with a bark of a laugh. "Gawd, no!"

Whatever Tiffany expected for a reaction, mine didn't fit. Only slapping her with a fish might result in the same popped eyes, gaping mouth surprise and hurt. She took a long second to process the concept of not being someone's fantasy girl. Her eyebrows slammed together and her lips closed in a thin line. Red crept up from her cleavage to distort her pretty face.

"YOU PENCIL DICK..." She floundered. While I may not be packing a salami, what was tenting my sweats could not be called a "pencil". She started again. "You slob of a geek! You nerd freak! This minute is as close as you'll ever get to babies this good if you live to be a hundred!"

Normal manners would suggest I try to hide my boner. But I'd be strung up by my nuts before I'd show any weakness in front of Harpy Girl.

"I do apologize for any slight, Tiffany. However, I was, in fact, daydreaming about breasts that I have not only seen, touched, and kissed but are far superior to yours. Not that your's aren't quite nice. Obviously you paid a lot of money for them." Trying to keep my temper and to slip in the last word, I turned to the bathroom door. "Excuse me, I think I'll wash up before the food comes."

I closed the door on Tiffany's bellow of rage. "You lying fuckhead! Nobody talks to me that way! You're in there jacking off thinking about me right now, because you'll never have a real woman. The only tits you've seen are on a computer screen!"

I leaned on my hands and looked at myself in the big bathroom mirror. I shook my head and my reflection agreed with my frustration. I'd had to put up with that shrew for ove ra month while Harry put me up. It's all done, Zach, it's all over.

Well, washing up would be a good idea. Hygiene and some water to cool the blood. I peeled off my shirt, smiling at the tent that was only beginning to subside. I went profile and chuckled at the rude display. I started to soap up my hands. Jacking off, indeed. If a fraction of the promise of Avalon Apartments came true, I'd never have to seek solo relief again.

I brought the towel up to dry my face. Tiffany had finally shut up. My breathing and heart rate had slowed. My cock had started to droop.

The doorknob clicked. The bathroom door slammed back. I brought the towel down in shock as a flash popped in my eyes.


"Caught you jerking off!" Tiffany exulted, phone up and taking pictures. "The girls will love these snaps." She trailed off as she realized I still had my pants on. My blood pressure soared. I snapped.

"A camera? A CAMERA??" I snatched her phone out of her startled hand. "You self-centered bitch! You were honestly going to post pictures of me jerking off on the fucking internet? Well, if your friends want nudity, how about a naked skank?"

I stepped in and grabbed Tiffany around the waist with one arm, yanking her close. As her brain struggled to catch up, I gripped the hem of her shirt at the back and pulled up, giving her a small shove. The pink shirt peeled up over her arms like a banana skin. She came to rest against the door frame, hair tousled and eyes wild. I brought her phone up and started snapping.

To minimize unsightly lines under her thin t-shirt, Tiffany had a light, sheer bra that left little to the imagination. I got off three good candids of rosy nipples behind lace before as she dithered between covering herself and making me stop. I flung the shirt aside and stepped in again, her hands batting away at me as I gripped the front of her bra between her bouncing tits and pulled it up. Flash!


"GIve me that fucking phone!" She lunged at me, but tangled in bra straps, she didn't quite reach the phone. I jumped out of the bathroom, letting weeks of TIffany Frustration run wild. I made two steps when she grabbed the back of my sweat pants. I fell forward, the phone skittering off across the rug as I caught myself from a face plant. I squirmed away as she clawed at my legs. Sweatpants came off very easily, leaving me in boxers and socks. Tiffany waddled forward on her knees, nude from the waist up, taking off the remaining spike heel shoe that had tripped her up.

I rolled to my hands and knees to scrabble for the phone. I spun on to my back and clicked off two more shots of Tiffany in her bouncing, jiggling hellcat glory.


"You shit head bastard!" Tiffany lunged at me again, just as I got my feet under me to stand up. This time she took down my boxers and left some $50 per nail scratches down both my thighs. I danced backwards, my cock bobbing stiffly in the open air. I took my eyes off Tiffany to find the switch to video. Still photos weren't enough.


Crash! Something shattered on the wall behind me. "Drop that fucking phone!" Tiffany knelt beside an open box, chest and boobs heaving, eyes blazing, the spaceships she loved to mock in each hand. I glanced over my shoulder. One lay in bits across the carpet. I thought I had already lost my temper. Apparently not.

"You miserable stupid cow! Those aren't toys, they're heirlooms! Keepsakes from my uncle and dad!" I let the phone bounce to the carpet as I lunged at her like an attacking bear. She raised one of the antiques to smash it, but I tackled her, grabbing both wrists. I landed on top of her, crushing her big tits under my chest. I snarled into her face and twisted her wrists until both ships slipped safely to the floor. She snarled back at me. Drops of sweat dropped on her face from me. Tiny sprays of spit hit my face.

I sat back up, pulling her along with me. Tiffany exercised only enough to keep herself fashionably skinny. She had no muscle tone to stop me.

Too selfish to reason with. Too uncaring to listen to arguments. I saw only way to make my point. Sitting cross-legged, with the carpet scratching my bare ass, I shifted Tiffany face down across my lap. My cock head poked into her stomach. I kept my arm across her back to pin her down while my other hand pulled and yanked at the waistband of her jeans. Skin tight as they were, it took a bucking, wrestling few minutes to expose her ass. No panties. Being sexy or fashionable? Didn't matter.

WHACK! I brought the flat of my hand across her pert cheeks. We had descended to grunts and growls while wrestling, but this brought a fresh shriek out of her.

"YOW! You bastard! Let me go!"

WHACK! "Ow!" WHACK! "Jesus!" WHACK! "Stop it!" WHACK!

I kept going, letting loose a lot of frustration, some of it not entirely Tiffany's fault, but just for the style of person she was. Her cheeks wobbled like red jello when I finally felt a need to pause, if only because my arm and hand ached.

Tiffany's shouts had become whimpers had become...moans? Her long, smooth body didn't thrash so much as "squirm".

"Oh, fuck, oh, fuck, oh fuck." She moaned into the carpet as her body writhed on my lap. I don't know if Tiffany knew this about herself or not. The fact my cock still stood like a bar of iron surprised me. She turned her head, peering at me with a mascara-streaked eye through a curtain of tousled blonde hair.

"...please zach. don stup." came a bleary voice talking into the carpet.

I felt something splish on to my thigh beneath Tiff. It might have been sweat, but my nose caught the rising tang of a woman feeling the heat. It didn't calm me down much. Still, I hadn't become a total lunatic. I stood on a line. This side had some issues in polite company, but across that line I'd be tripping over words like "rape". But my cock and temper demanded more. Desperate to please, my brain noticed Tiffany's phone.

I gave her beautiful bottom another smack. "Speak up Tiffany. You want me to stop?" Smack.

"No, no! DON'T stop! Damn, I'm boiling over."


"So? What do you want me to do about it?" SMACK!

"AH!" Her head jerked around again. "Fuck me. Damn it, fuck me!"


"Anything you say, Tiff."

I slid out from under her, letting her collapse on the carpet. My cock thrummed as her body flicked it in passing. Tiff's waist and hips wriggled in time to her moans. A couple of savage yanks pulled each leg of her jeans down and off. I pulled the naked woman to her hands and knees and slid into position. My penis throbbed, ready and eager. I pointed the big purple head at her dripping cunt and slammed on in.

"Bitches get fucked like bitches."

"Keerist!" Tiffany grunted and hammered her delicate fists on the carpet-over-concrete. "Oh, yeah. Oh YEAH."

I took hold of her lean waist and pounded for all I was worth. My hips slammed against that red ass and bounced back. Tiffany's lubrication didn't match her desire and I felt my cock heat up with the friction. Her cunt soon started juicing under the assault. My back began to feel the strain, but I kept the jackhammer attack going, gritting my teeth. As long as I kept my brain and its opinions locked in the back in the trunk, my body didn't mind fucking Tiffany at all.