All In

Her mother used the money to pay for the house, but she wasn't savvy enough to buy it outright. Instead she made a down payment and mortgaged the rest. She bought an expensive car and took a vacation in Hawaii and blew the rest on who knows what. It only took a few months for her to fall behind in the house payments and by early spring the house was repossessed by the bank.

In April Trudy's mom was arrested for drunk driving herself. It wasn't her first offense, so she got no sympathy from the judge, received a stiff sentence and was sent to jail.

Trudy found herself alone with no friends and just enough money to rent a studio apartment downtown. She was legally an adult, so she dropped out of high school and took a job in a department store as a sales clerk.

She rang my doorbell the day she moved out. "I was wondering if you would help me move." She made the white t-shirt and blue jeans she was wearing look hot, but her expression was pathetic.

I didn't know what to say. We weren't really friends, but I suppose she didn't have a better friend than me. She didn't have much stuff, so we just shuttled it in a few trips with my Buick.

She thanked me with a burrito from a sidewalk vendor, a hug and a kiss that was more passionate than anything I'd received from Sara.

"This doesn't have to be good bye. You're only moving across town."

"I know, but I won't be next door, torturing you by making you listen to me make out." She smiled coyly at her own admission.

"You did that on purpose?" I'd thought she was oblivious to what she was doing to me.

"That's pretty fucked up isn't it?"

"Why would you do that?"

"That is a great question, 'Why is Trudy so fucked up?'" She put her arms around me and gave me another hug. "I'm going to miss you."

I guess maybe I am a wuss, because I felt sorry for her. I visited her a couple of times the first week she was on her own. I brought her lunch and helped her do her shopping. I gave her a ride to work once when it was raining, but soon she was too busy for my visits. From our brief conversations it sounded like she had started to cycle through a much larger pool of guys. I imagined her happily flipping her hair as she talked to me on the phone.

While all of that was going on with Trudy, my mom started dating a long-haul trucker named Hector. He would be in town a couple of days and then be gone for a week or more. Those few days transformed her from a grumpy, depressed nag into a happy, optimistic woman, and the glow would last for the better part of a week. Even I looked forward to his visits.

After my graduation she sold the house and used the cash to buy a rig for Hector, so that he could go independent. She gave me enough money for first and last month's rent, climbed into Hector's rig and left town. I don't think I've seen her a dozen times since then, but she seems happy.

I called Trudy for her advice on where to live. She gave me a bleak rundown of the apartments that were available downtown and then said, "We would do a lot better if we split a two bedroom."

"You mean live together?"

"Yea, roommates, not boyfriend and girlfriend."

Trudy was right, the selection of apartments in my budget was dismal. I was concerned with money, like my mother always had been, so I agreed to share a place before I considered what it would be like to live with a sexually active Trudy in an apartment with paper-thin walls.

The first few days were pretty good. We shared gossip about people from high school while we ate breakfast together. She got home before me and cooked dinner and then we did the dishes together.

At the weekend things took a strange turn. On Friday night I went to bed around midnight. I heard her come in with a date at around 2:30. They woke me with a slam of the door followed by drunken laughter. They bashed some glasses in the kitchen and then went at it in the bedroom. The mattress rhythmically thumped against the wall for about ten minutes. Her guest sounded an ecstatic wail and then all was silent.

About fifteen minutes later Trudy crept into my room and sat at the edge of my bed. "Did you hear that?" she whispered.

In my softest voice I replied, "It was kind of hard to miss."

"Did it make you hard?" she asked as she slipped her hand between the sheets to find out for herself. She wrapped her hand around my shaft and smiled. "Nice," she said before I pushed her hand off of my cock.

"What are you doing?" I asked.

"I'm getting laid, you should try it."

"No, what are you doing in my room, and why are you naked?"

"I wanted to see if you like listening to me having sex."

"Why?"

"I get off knowing that you're listening."

"That's seriously fucked up."

"I know, right? I'm totally fucked up," she burst into a fit laughter. "Well? Does it turn you on?"

"What is it with you? Can't I just get some sleep?"

"Just tell me how it makes you feel and I'll leave you alone. I promise."

"It makes me feel dirty and envious. It makes me feel like a wuss." I don't know why I said wuss. Maybe it was because Trudy was in the room, but the word leapt out before I could reign it in. I immediately regretted it.

"Oh, I like the sound of that." Her bright smile reflected the streetlight outside. She straightened my hair with her fingers while I concentrated on not looking at her tits.

"I thought you said you'd leave me alone."

"Is that what you want?"

"Yes, please."

The next morning I left for work before they got up. I worked a long shift at the diner and came home to find her making out with a guy in the living room. The way she introduced him made it clear that it wasn't the guy from the night before.

She said, "Sit down and watch the movie with us." It was one of those low-budget shaky-camera slasher movies that were popular at the time.

As soon as I sat down they started to make out again. I suffered through a few minutes of their heavy petting then said, "I think I'm going to pick up a burrito and head over to Xander's."

"You don't want to watch?" she asked.

I wasn't sure what she was referring to, so I closed the door without answering.

I came home that night to the rhythmic thumping of the bed against the wall. This guy lasted a bit longer than the guy from the night before and he let out more of a soft cry than a wail. After he'd had time to fall asleep, Trudy slipped into my room. This time she didn't hesitate to pull up the covers and crawl into bed with me.

"What the fuck are you doing?" As a red-blooded male I was open to a piece of ass, but I wanted to have some say in the matter.

"Did you like watching us make out?"

"No!"

"How did it make you feel?"

"Uncomfortable."

"Come on, say it. Tell me how it made you feel."

"You want me to say I felt like a wuss again don't you?"

"That's it, now just say it."

"Fuck no, get out of here." I pushed her out of the bed and onto the floor.

She stood up. Her face had the expression of a kid who's ice cream had fallen from the cone. "Don't you want to fuck me?"

"What's wrong with you?"

"Nobody ever says no."

"Well, no. Go to bed."

She left the room and quietly closed the door, but I don't think she went straight back into her bedroom.

When they got up the next morning I was in the living room drinking coffee from a paper cup and reading the newspaper.

Her date said, "Get me a coffee, would you sport?"

"Help yourself," I said from my chair without looking up from the paper.

"Some host you are."

"That's because I'm not your host."

"You're just pissed off cause I fucked your girl."

"She's not my girl, and you're not the first guy to fuck her this weekend."

I took the newspaper into my room and closed the door. I knew I was acting like an ass, but I wasn't going to be able to handle this. I sat on the bed and studied the classified ads. I needed to find a new place to live.

After an hour or so Trudy knocked lightly at the door and then popped her head in. "Are you all right?"

"Yea, I'm fine, but I don't think this is going to work out."

"Uh oh."

"Yea, uh oh."

She came into the room and sat down on an unpacked box. She'd made herself up nicely for a lazy Sunday morning. She was wearing a royal blue dress with white trim and a plunging neckline. The profile of her tits was prominent and her hourglass figure was nicely accented. "What do you mean?"

"I think I'm going to have to move out." I don't know why I said "I think," I'd already made up my mind.

She said, "Before you do, can we talk?"

"Fire away."

"No, I need some time. Could we go downtown for lunch and we can talk then."

"No, I don't think so. I can't imagine anything that you could say that will change my mind."

"It's just a couple hours of your time. What could it hurt?"

"Fine. We'll get something to eat, we can talk and then I'll move out."

She insisted that I drive to a grimy pizza place in a seedy part of town. We ordered a couple of slices of pizza and sat in a booth by the window. The table was greasy and the room was cold, but the pizza was unusually good.

"A long time ago you asked me why I had so many boyfriends, do you remember that?"

She immediately had my attention. "Of course."

"Well, it took me a while to figure it out, but I think I understand it now."

She let me hang on that while she took a bite of pizza and washed it down with her soda.

"Do you remember the first time I called you a wuss? The look on your face sent shivers down my spine. Even now, the injured look on your face is making me wet. I can't get enough of it. All those boys I dated in high school, it was all to get a reaction from you. Last night and the night before, I did it just to see that reaction."

"That is fucked up."

"I know, but it's a known thing. I'm a sadist. Not with physical pain, but humiliation. I live to humiliate you and to see your reaction." She paused for a moment then continued, "I almost came that night when you said I made you feel like a wuss."

"Maybe you should try to find a humiliation masochist."

"I'd hoped that you were one, that you were my special friend."

"I'm sorry, that's just not me."

"Don't you feel that something between us is different? It's like there's a special bond between us. Something unique that holds us together." Her eyes pleaded for me to understand.

I had an inkling of what she was talking about. I had been focused on her for years now. Initially I'd thought her beauty was the attraction, but there were a lot of beautiful girls, so that didn't really explain why she was special. Why I would be special to her was beyond me.

Someone dropped something in the kitchen that distracted both of us. After a few moments of unfruitful glances over the counter our eyes returned to one another. She asked, "Do you think ordinary people fantasize about vanilla sex with their spouses?"

I couldn't help but chuckle, "Those would be some boring fantasies."

"So maybe everyone is a little bit fucked up."

"They probably are, but hurting people is extreme, don't you think?"

"It's not like I want to be this way. I've been like this since I can remember."

"It's okay, I won't judge you, but that doesn't mean I want you to hurt me."

She pushed the crusts around her paper plate with a plastic fork, then said, "If I try to be good will you please stay? I mean, now that you know what's going on and everything, you can tell me to back off when you need to."

The thought of moving out of the apartment after only a week was grim and she'd promised to try, so I gave her a second chance. We settled into a manageable equilibrium. She was on her best behavior and made it obvious that she wanted me around. I did my share of best behaving in return. Even though we didn't have a lot of money, with both of us trying, we did a fine job making our little apartment feel like a comfortable home.

We spent the next Friday and Saturday night together. Not sleeping together, but hanging out. We went to the market and combined odds and ends to make a big salad. The next day we had pork chops and applesauce. We picked up a couple movies and prepared dinner as a team and then watched the movies while we ate. We followed the same routine for a couple of weekends in a row, so I naturally assumed that was the plan for the next weekend.

"Oh, I'm sorry I've got a date tonight."

For some reason, it was a bigger deal for me than it should have been. "Of course, no problem," I said as nonchalantly as I could, but from her reaction I knew that I'd betrayed myself.

Her smile intensified as she said, "I've got a date on Saturday too."

"Yea, no problem. I'll get together will Josh and Xander."

Josh and Xander were both busy, so I ended up watching TV and going to bed early. At about a quarter to three Trudy returned with her date. I heard the mattress beat against the wall and then silence. From my pillow I stared at the bedroom door, waiting for her entrance. After about twenty minutes I saw the shadow of her approaching feet reflected off the hardwood floor beneath the door. She lingered there waiting, but she did not come in.

I slipped out of bed, crossed the room and slowly opened the door.

After a startled pause she said, "I wasn't sure if I should come in."

"I thought we talked about this."

"I know, but I saw the look in your eye this morning and I couldn't get it out of my head."

"What look?"

"The look of disappointment - disappointment on the brink of pain. It made me so hot for you."

I shook my head. "I don't think I can live with someone who gets off on hurting me."

She put her index finger to my lips, "Please don't say that. I need you more than you could possibly know."

"Why?"

"You just have to believe me."

"We can be friends if you want, and you can be a slut - I'm not judging you, but that doesn't mean I want to live through every fucking night."

She smirked at my unintentional pun. There was a long pause, then she asked, "How come you've never asked me out?"

"I did in junior high, but you said no. After that I realized that no one you dated stuck around for very long, so what was the point?"

"I remember that, you brought me Ding Dongs."

I was surprised that she remembered the Ding Dongs. I would have bet that she hadn't even noticed them.

"You should ask again." she said over her shoulder as she returned to her room and softly closed the door.

Our conversation ricocheted around my brain while I struggled to sleep. The prospect of a date with Trudy was both exciting and disturbing, but it was her declaration of need that weighed heaviest on my mind. There was a strange dark magic in telling me that she needed me. Somehow it bound me to her even though I had no idea what she needed. Looking back I wonder if Trudy knew what she needed or if she simply used the words to bind me.

Once again I was out of the house before they got up on Saturday morning. I worked a long shift at the diner and got home at around 7:30. Trudy was dumping spaghetti into the colander as I walked through the doorway. Steam filled the kitchen. Two places were set at the table with a small vase of wildflowers at the center. I knew she had a date, so I scanned the living room, but didn't see anyone.

"How were the tips?" she asked as I passed her in the kitchen.

"Pretty good, why, do you need some money?" I was now waiting tables, which made my income larger, but more variable.

"No, I was just making conversation. Are you ready to eat?"

I didn't want to join her and her date at the table so I said, "No, I grabbed something at work, thanks." I hopped into the shower, got dressed and headed back out the door. I didn't want to hang out in the apartment if she was going to be entertaining.

As I passed the kitchen table I realized that she was still alone. "I thought you had a date tonight."

"I thought so too."

"Did he blow you off?"

"I don't know, you tell me."

The gears in my head finally engaged. I took a seat at the table and carefully looked into her eyes. There was something there that I'd never noticed before; it looked like a blend of disappointment and hope. It made me want to take her in my arms and tell her everything was going to be all right. Instead, I said, "This looks really good."

She smiled, leaned her head back and draped her wrist across her forehead, "I slaved over a hot stove all day."

I laughed, "You and Mama Ragu."

I wasn't hungry, so I only took enough food to be social and played with it while she ate. After dinner we popped some corn then sat on the sofa to watch a movie. I put the movie in the player, but before I could hit play she grabbed me and kissed me deeply. Her tongue probing my mouth.

I kissed her back with some reservation. "I don't want to do this," I said.

"Are you afraid I'll break your heart?"

"Kind of. I'm afraid that in one or two nights you'll move on to the next guy, and I'll be stuck listening to it in the next room."

She rested her chin on her forearm and smiled. "Didn't I tell you that you're special?"

"You were teasing me right? You've been telling me that since we were eleven; no one could know something like that when they're that young."

"No, I don't think I was teasing. I knew then, just as I know now that you are special to me."

"Then why all the other guys?"

"That's all part of it. They come and go. You stay." She slowly traced the lines of my face with her finger.

I enjoyed her gaze while I considered my options. Either we were going to have sex or we weren't, and, if we were, now was as good a time as any. I'd wanted her for years. I'd rather take her now than never have her at all, so I placed my hand behind her neck and drew her in.

I wish I could impress you with the statistics of our intercourse, the size of my penis, how long I lasted, the names of all the positions we used or the number of times that we came, but it wasn't like that. Foreplay consisted of a deep gaze into each other's eyes while we slowly undressed each other. Our hands blindly explored each other's bodies while our eyes read the expressions on our faces.

There was a deep desire in her eyes that I'd seen before. It was the look of hungry children in charity ads and desperate soldiers in POW camps. Her need was obvious. She thought, or maybe hoped, I could fill that need.

My cock surged at her stare and surged again to her touch at my face, at my back and at my groin. She didn't hesitate to guide me into her waiting, wet pussy. All the while her eyes never broke from mine.

She lay beneath me as I slowly slid my cock into her. She insisted on having the lights on, and she watched my face the whole time. I gradually upped the frequency of my cock's transits, savoring each for its unique role in exciting her. She came with the scream of a banshee after no more than five minutes then said, "Oh god, that was fantastic," and then she rolled me over and rained kisses down upon me. At the time I thought she was exaggerating, but in hindsight I think she was as aroused as I was. I'd never heard her scream with anyone else, but for us it soon became routine.

For the next month or so we had sex three or four times a day. Always with the lights on. Always with eye contact throughout. Always with a scream of satisfaction at the finish.

One lazy Sunday morning, not long after I started sleeping nightly in her bed, I noticed a small framed picture on her nightstand. It was a black and white picture of a young man holding a baby. Except for the clothes and haircut, he could have been me.

"Who's this?" I asked.

"That's my dad holding me."

"He looks just like me."

"I know, right? Can you see the sadness in his eyes?"

"Yea, his lips are smiling, but his eyes, his eyes look so sad."

She softly touched my face and said, "Sometimes you look just like that."