A Permanent Visitor Ch. 02

Why can't I resist soft, brown eyes? Misty turned hers on me, and that was it. I would have done anything for her at that moment. For a woman so young, her eyes were so sad and worn. Faint crow's feet were already scratching at the corners of her eyes. She sat heavily on my other kitchen chair and looked down at her hands.

"Do you know what a mule is?" she asked without looking up.

"The animal?" I ventured.

"No – in the drug trade, a mule is someone who carries the drugs past the authorities. Usually it's these poor girls from South America, with stomachs full of drugs wrapped in condoms." Now she looked up.

"So you're a mule?"

"Yes, but not like them. Rickie Zantone, the mafia boss, runs all the drugs on this side of town. But it's a nice neighborhood, so it's hard to get the product here without the cops noticing. So what they do is get someone, usually a girl, like me. Then they take the drugs and put it in little plastics bags, flat ones. I stuff those in my bra, my shoes, even in my hair if I have it big with hairspray. I can carry over a pound at a time. I just walk, calm as you please, until I reach the drop spot, usually in a public bathroom. Then I drop it off, and when I get back, they give me $20. It's good money for 15 minutes of work, and, as long as I don't look or act like a hooker, the cops don't even notice."

"So you stole their drugs? The mafia?" Visions of bloody horse heads swan through my mind.

"NO! Not at all! I went into the drop spot – it's the restroom in the 7-11 around the corner. I had all the product out and then I heard sirens. I panicked and flushed it all down the toilet. When I got out, I saw that they busted the guys in the house across the street – that's where the dealer lived. I tried to calm down and gawk like the other soccer moms, and then pretended to get bored and walked away. Anyway, the cops didn't seem to know me, and I went to the apartments across the street to call my contact and tell him what happened. I was about to knock on the door of the dealer that lives there –"

"Wait – there's two dealers in this neighborhood? I didn't even know there was one, besides that one crack house."

"Yeah, the crack house is just a distraction. It's an easy target, so whenever word gets out that someone's selling drugs, the police bust the crack house and never reach the real action. There's a dealer in those apartments across the street – I know him because I bring him product every once in a while. But, anyway, I was about to go in when I heard someone talking, they were saying that the cops had been tipped off. Then I heard my name. They think I dropped a dime on the cops. Nobody does that to Zantone. Nobody."

I let out a long breath. I tried to think of something to say, but nothing came out. I realized that something was missing from her story. Namely the money. But something in what she said had to be true. And that was enough to scare me shitless. I wondered if I could call the cops without getting a death sentence on my head.

She was looking at me again. "You've never been around criminals, have you?"

Well, who had, I thought to myself.

"I grew up in the East side, so it was around me constantly. I didn't want to get into it, but a girl's gotta do what a girl's gotta do."

I just sat there dumbfounded. She got up and got herself another beer while I tried to come to terms with her revelations. Finally, I looked up. "So what the hell do we eat?" I can't think for shit when I'm hungry.

She broke out laughing. She had a great laugh, musical and deep. Opening up the fridge, she stuck her head in all the way. "You weren't kidding when you said you had no food. God, I'm hungry, too. You got any pasta?"

"Yeah, in the pantry." I pointed it out and she fished around until she found what she needed. Then she started cooking. I got myself a beer and watched her. She was wearing my shorts now, and her ass looked very enticing. The feel of it gripping my cock slid into my brain, and I thought briefly about pulling down the shorts and taking her right there. But I wasn't ready for another round just yet.

She made spaghetti with olive oil and chucks of cheese melted into it and sprinkled with some oregano. "It's better with fresh parsley, but you didn't have any."

"Are you Italian?" I asked.

"Greek – my grandmother used to make this."

"It's good."

"I'm good for more than abuse," she sneered.

Whoa! Where did that come from? I shot her a dirty look. "Well, thank you for dinner anyway. And now that the mob's after me as well, maybe I should thank you for that also." The brief air of domesticity faded between us and we ate in silence. By the time we finished, it was time for the evening news. I turned on the tv, hoping to hear about the drug bust she claimed had led her here. I let her take care of the cleanup.

"I'm not your maid, you know!"

"If I'd gotten pizza, there wouldn't be anything to clean. Your choice, your mess."

She growled and set to work. It was petty, but it made me feel better. There was nothing about the bust on the news. I sat there for a while, enjoying my beer. The sounds of clean-up came from the kitchen. It was very domestic, just like I'd imagined when I used to think I'd get married. It was good to pretend, even if only for a little bit.

She eventually came out of the kitchen and sat next to me. I put my hand on her near shoulder. "Any shows you like to watch?" I asked.

"Nothing special."

I gave her the remote anyway. She flipped channels, eventually settling on some movie, one of them true life sob stories. I pulled her into me and she lay there, head on my shoulder, my arm around her, as we watched the show. To be honest, I doubt whether either of us was really interested. It passed the time.

"I feel so safe in your arms," she told me.

I just smiled and squeezed her gently with my arm. When the movie ended, I pulled away and looked at her.

"I have to go to work tomorrow."

"I know."

"It's early, but I'm going to head to bed."

She nodded and we got ready for bed. She had her own toothbrush now, and it was almost as if we lived together.

Misty took longer than I did to get ready. She'd rummaged through my drawers and found an oversized t-shirt, which became her nightgown. I was done first and waited patiently for her, warming the bed. Eventually she finished up in the bathroom and joined me. It was kind of sexy to see her in my clothes. As she slid in underneath the comforter, I gave her a kiss on the lips.

The lights were off and only a dim glow from the street lamps outside illuminated my bedroom. My hand stroked her thigh, and I began to nibble on her ear.

"I already paid for tonight," she said, a little more sharply than I liked.

I pulled back, annoyed. My dick was hard and ready, and I wasn't about to put up with any more guff from her. I rolled over on top of her and covered her mouth with a rough kiss. She struggled and pushed my head back. But I wasn't having any of that. I held her arms down and continued kissing her, my erection poking between her thighs.

"No..." she hissed.

But I ignored her. I used my legs to lever hers open, as she struggled underneath me. She had her panties on, and poked my dick ineffectually at them, trying to find a way in. Her struggles got more persistent. I wished she'd just give up.

"No. You're raping me!" she shouted. Only then did I realize what I was doing. I'm not a rapist. I'm not a violent man. Somehow, this woman had pushed me into territory far beyond my morality.

I continued to poke at her underwear as the realization hit. As suddenly as I'd mounted her, I rolled off and threw my legs over the edge of the bed, my back to her. I heard her roll away from me.

"You –," she began, but never finished the thought. I held my head in my hands, trying to remember who I was, what I stood for. After a short while, I felt her hand on my back.

"GO!" I shouted.

Her hand remained.

"Go, before I finish what I started!" I heard her footsteps as step stepped out the door, closing it behind her. I sat there, my head in my hands for a long time before I finally climbed back into bed and fell asleep. Sometime during the night, she crawled back in with me. I woke up with my arms wrapped around her sleeping form. It was oddly comforting, despite last night's struggles.

I lay there for a moment, savoring the feel of her soft flesh against mine. My left arm was trapped underneath her, and I gently tried to free it so I could get up and get ready for work. The motion woke her up and her soft brown eyes opened up directly across from mine.

"I'm sorry," she whispered and moved in for a kiss before I could respond. Her lips were soft against mine and they opened up quickly, inviting my tongue into her mouth. Arms snaked around my neck and she pulled me into her. She was topless now, my t-shirt having been discarded at some point that evening, and I felt the hard tips of her nipples pushing into my chest. We kissed, and I slowly took over the action, my tongue moving more insistently against hers. My dick, already hard with morning wood, got larger and touched her thigh. One of her hands moved down between us and grasped my member. She pulled me on top of her and her legs spread wide as her hand guided me slowly toward her depths.

I gasped as I felt the rough outer edges of her labia. Our mouths parted, and she sighed, rubbing the head of my cock against her nether lips. She was wet, far more moist than I expected, and I slid in easily when she finally lined me up with her hole. We lay there together my dick moving slowly in and out of her.

"Fuck me," she gasped.

I continued lazily rolling my hips into her, enjoying the sensation of her warm, wet snatch engulfing me.

"Come in me. Let me feel you," she breathed into my ear. It felt so good. Then I felt the familiar tingle of an incipient orgasm. I thrust deep into her and held it there as my cock jerked, spitting my juices into the depths of her body. For a while afterward, we lay there wordlessly, one inside the other.

"I – I thought you weren't protected." I said.

"Does it matter?"

I thought about that for a while. I felt so calm and tired. Comedians like to joke that a man is only lucid during the five minutes following ejaculation. But they're wrong. I certainly wasn't thinking at that point. I just realized that I was running late for work and rolled off of her. In a daze, I got myself dressed and ready as she lay in bed, watching me through hooded eyes.

I barely had the sense to go back to my hiding place and pull out the wad of bills, putting them in my back pocket as I left the apartment and drove on into work.