Denise and Ridney

byMatt Moreau©

"Jimmy, set the lady up. Her money's no good while I'm here tonight," I said, perhaps a little too grandly. Her bourbon and water was already poured; Jimmy knew the song. "How yuh doin', Blue, been a little while."

"Okay, Makin' a livin'; you know how it is. I keep hopin' some millionaire will like me enough to make an honest woman outta me, but so far all I got is a drinkin' buddy who appreciates my conversation," she said, laughing at me.

"Yeah, well, he does that," I said.

We talked for a while and then she went pensive on me. I let it be as long as I could, but eventually, I had to ask. "Okay, Blue, I know you. Something's up. Give."

She didn't want to, but then again, she did want to.

"I saw your wife, Rodney. She went into a motel with another man. Rod, I know enough about this stuff to write a freakin' book. She's fucking someone else, guy. She's cheatin' on you," she said. I slowly shook my head from side to side.

"I know, Blue. I know," I said. "She said she was trying to quit doin' it to me, but I know she can't, not for any length of time at any rate.

"You know who he is?" I said.

"No, never seen him before. Just some John as far as I could see. They didn't look too lovey dovey. I think it was just a couple of civilians needin' to get their rocks off," she said. I nodded. "Yeah well that's a common disease isn't it?" I said.

"Yes, yes it is," she said. "Wanna get yours off with me? I'm in the mood."

I looked over at her. She did look pretty tonight, I thought. "Sure, why not," I said. "I need it pretty bad, like I said. You'd be perfect for me." She looked askance at me, but she didn't say anything.

Her place was a cheap ass hotel room a few blocks from the Hinge.

She stopped in the parking lot and waited for me to come to her. Having parked, I walked over to where she was waiting. "That's my place there," she said, pointing. "Your wife and her John went into that one," she said, nodding in the direction of a room some three doors from her own.

"It was just the other evening. I was coming home to get ready for a date. There was no mistaking her, Rod. I've met her a number of times with you at the bar. But, Like I said, I don't know who the guy was."

I let her lead me to her door. I was looking forward to the next few hours. I couldn't remember being hornier than I was at that moment.


"How long have I known you, Blue?" I said.

"A long time," she said. "Maybe four or five years. She stopped, looked around, walked a few feet away. Her back was to me. I could tell she was wringing her hands. She definitely had somthing to say to me. I looked at her thinking something was wrong. I moved around in front of her. "Rod, would you do me a favor?" she said.

"Yeah, sure, of course," I said. I was really concerned at her antics, her words.

"Would you—would you—call me Beverly?" I smiled, relief flooded my brain. I nodded.

"Yes, of course, Beverly," I said. She seemed inordinately happy at my attitude.

I needed to get back on track. I really was bursting at the seams with horniness.

"But Beverly, anyway, in that time, in that five years, do you realize—that I have never even shaken hands with you?" I said.

We were standing in the middle of her apartment. Clearly it was her work station, not her real residence. A bed, a chair, a writing table, an old TV, and a bathroom: that was it: just like the starlight. "You live cheap," I quipped.

"Uh huh," she said, looking at me like I was mister dense or something. I had to laugh, and I did.

"Smartass," she said, smiling.

"You gonna take me or not?" she said, hands on her hips—her very shapely hips.

I moved to her and took her in my arms. She melded herself to me and the heat of her almost caused me to cum before we'd even done anything.

We stripped in record time. I beat her by a nanosecond. Naked, we held each other for a moment.

I turned her around and pressed my very turgid six inches into her crack. She moo'ed. My hands explored her B-cups, and I began sucking on her neck. God, she smelled so good, and I was all but consumed with wanting her.

I went to my knees and gripped her thighs with some force. I pulled her to me and kissed her naked mons. I traced her slit with my tongue. I buried my face between her legs as she spread them a little to allow me greater access.

I pushed away from her and turned her around. I was still on my knees. But now, I was just inches away from her buttocks. I kissed each of them and parted their cheeks. I kissed her nether hole. I licked her there and she jerked.

"That tickles," she said, looking over her shoulder at me. I just looked up at her and gripped her thighs even tighter. I licked and kissed and worshipped her behind as though she were a goddess.

I stood. "You're wonderful," I said, as I kissed her. "God how I need you right now."

"Then, take me," she said. "You're the man; take this woman. She won't resist; she knows her place and her fate. Just fucking take me"!

I pushed her back onto the bed and forced her legs apart—as if I'd had to. I probed her pussy with the tip of my penis and felt myself able to gain a small lodgment. I pushed more or less gently and the head was in. I pushed a little harder and I was halfway inside of her. I pulled out a little way and then back into her. Soon I was buried six inches deep into the most wonderful place a man can enter. She wrapped her legs around me and started bucking. She was making sure she could get her rocks off too. I began slamming into her. She stiffened and a wild look came over her face. She grabbed my hair and pulled me down to kiss me and mutter incoherent noises into my ear.

I exploded inside of her. I relaxed for a moment or two and rolled off of her. As I did, I pulled her on top of me.

"Spin around and take me in your mouth Bev. Please. Now"! She did. And as she did, I began sucking on her cum soaked pussy like I had never sucked on a pussy before. Jesus this woman was hot. I cursed myself for not taking her up on her offer of a freebie before.

Hard again, I flipped her over on her belly and again forced her legs wide apart. I pushed at her sopping pussy yet again entering her from behind. This time it took some time before I was able to come; she did, however, manage two small cums before I was able to again unload into her.

We lay together spent and covered in sweat. I was breathing hard; she, less so. She had made my day. Oh yeah, for damn sure.


Blu—Beverly, had made a major difference to my psyche. I no longer felt like the complete and unregenerate loser. But, happy? Not by a country mile. I still thought of little else during the day but my all but lost love, my wife, my Denise.

I had to know more. Didn't I? Well, I would. I absolutely would. It was two days after my rendezvous with Beverly that I decided it was time to play the sleuth.

I was parked outside of, and down the street from, her place of work waiting for her to get off. I had no idea whether or not she would be meeting anybody or whether she might just go home. I hadn't long to wait. It was already 4:55 and she would be getting off in five minutes. At 5:07 she came out.

I watched as she got into her car and drove off down the street. She was not headed for the house. I followed at a distance. She parked in front of a bar and grill on the other side of town. She entered the bar part of the building. I was fairly sure of what I would find if I went inside. I didn't; I waited in the car. I would give her a head start when she came out and follow her.

But, she didn't come out. I waited for two hours. I had to pee, so I just decided to leave. I shook my head from side to side; that was a big assed waste of time. I gave Beverly a call.


I don't know why I hadn't thought of it, but the last time Denise had played—that I knew of—was the night that Blue had seen them in the same motel that she used for business. I had followed her, Denise, the one time, but she had just gone to a bar. But, now it came to me. Maybe she and her boyfriend: Maxwell or whomsoever, might be using the same motel regularly. I knew she wouldn't be going back to the Starlight, not after the little show we'd all put on that one night. The resolution to check out Bev's business address made, I felt good; I had a goal. The usefulness of that little decision was soon realized.

"Yes, they're inside," said Blue. Same room actually. The night manager told me that lately they had had a standing reservation for Wednesday nights. This was Wednesday night.

"How long?" I said.

"Maybe an hour, I guess," she said. "But, Rodney, you told me you expected her to keep it up. I don't know why you're acting so surprised. Really, stalking her. You knew she was going to keep it up. There was never any mystery about that."

"Yeah, I know. It doesn't make any sense. I don't make any sense. It's just—well, it is what it is, that's all," I said. "I guess I just keep wanting to be wrong—in spite of everything."

"You thinking of breaking them up like that other time?" she said.

"No, I'm thinking of fucking you next door to them," I said..

She looked askance at me. "Rod—I'm not into revenge fucks," she said. "If you want me, that's one thing. If you just want to prove to yourself that you can be as big an asshole as she is, then you are barking up the wrong tree. Okay?"

"Yes, well, I do want you for you. And, that you can take to the bank," I said.

Neither of them noticed the man watching them from across the street. A man, but not a happy man.


"Jill, I'm telling you, daddy is dating a whore. I watched him go into her private brothel and he didn't come out in the three hours I waited there," said Jimmy.

"Jim, I hear what you're saying. But—how do you know the woman was a whore? How do you know that they are even doing anything," said Jill.

"Jill, I've been with the woman myself. Her street name is Blue. Jill, she was my first piece of ass. And, for the record she's good at what she does. But, she is not good for our dad! She's a fucking prostitute! Am I getting through to you? Our poor old man is reduced to having pay for it, Jill. It's humiliating.

"Jesus! I guess we have to talk to him. I don't know. Maybe he's not—you know—very good in bed. I mean maybe that's why mom..." said Jill.

"Jill, don't go there. I do not want to involve mom in any of this. We've got enough trouble with her as it is," said Jimmy.


The brother and sister were waiting in the Hinge when the woman came in. She was clearly on the hunt. Well, prostitutes had to make a living didn't they?

"I'll go talk to her first; it's been a couple of years, but I know her. You come over when I signal you, okay?" said Jimmy. Jill nodded.

"Hello, Blue," said Jimmy. The woman looked up and had a strange expression on her face.

"I know you, but I'm afraid I just don't—wait—a year ago. You were the virgin college boy. Right?" she said. "Johnny, I think," she said.

"Close. Two years ago. I'm amazed you remember. I was the virgin, but the name is Jimmy."

The woman smiled. "Well, how have you been? You looking for nookie tonight?"

"Fine, and no, I'm not looking for nookie. I do need to talk to you. My sister and I need to talk to you," he said.

"Sister?" she said. She watched while he signaled for his sister to join them.

"Blue, this is my sister, Jill, Jill Harris," said Jimmy.

"Harris?" Suddenly, the face of the woman darkened. "Oh my god! Your father has to be..."

"Yes, Rodney Harris," said Jill. "And, we have a situation to talk to you about."

"Let me guess. You two don't want your dad fucking me. Is that it?" said Blue.

"Blue, it's nothing against you," said Jimmy. "it's just..."

"I know. Your dad told me about his marital problems. I'm a good listener.

"Look, kids, your dad's a big boy. He's hurting. We talk—well—he talks, like I say, I listen. I love the guy, as I'm sure you do. I haven't added to his hurt. Okay?" she said.

The two siblings looked at each other. "Blue—our dad—well, he's hurting real bad, as you seem to understand," said Jill. "We'd just appreciate it if—well—you know, if you'd kinda stay clear of him for a while. We..."

"Kids, with all due respect, if your dad comes to me, I will not be sending him away. Oh, and if it's any consolation, my body won't be costing him anything. He's not a client. Okay?" The two siblings looked at each other.

"Okay," said Jimmy. "Just please don't hurt him. He's our dad, and we know he's kinda fragile right now." Jill nodded her agreement.

"That I will promise you," said Blue. The trio spoke for some more minutes, and parted.


"Well, Whaddya think?" said Jimmy.

"I don't know. I kinda like her, but she is a prostitute, not our kind of people," said Jill.

"Hey. I was one of her customers at one time. She's all right as far as I'm concerned. My problem is that I really don't wanna see our family broken up," he said.

Jill shrugged, "Well, yeah, there is that," she said. "I sure hope she doesn't hurt him; I mean add to his hurt."


She crawled out to the curb and onto the sidewalk of the shaded street. No one was near, no witnesses. Blood was everywhere: clothes, face, even her feet. The only saving grace was the fact that she was drunk.

The man looked over at her and then sped off in the chartreuse Corvette. The fucking whore, he thought. She had it coming. She'd come onto him, hadn't she. Made him pay for lunch and then wouldn't put out! She'd not pull that shit again, not anytime soon at any rate. Fucking whore!

Denise pulled herself up, first to her knees, then to her feet. She could still walk. Not in a straight line exactly, but she could make progress to the corner; she didn't stumble. The blood in her eyes made seeing iffy. Surely someone would see her, help her.


She tried to open her eyes, but she couldn't see anything. She smelled it— hospital antiseptic. She was in the hospital; she was sure of that much. Michael did this to her. He beat her. Michael Westbrook, that was the name of the man from the bar. They'd had lunch? Yes, lunch, and then the drive to the deserted park. Yes, the park in black town. He'd taken her, ruthlessly.

The black lady? Yes, the black lady had called the fire department; she could remember that.

Someone was moving around her. Why couldn't she see? She began to struggle. Her hands! Her hands were bound.

"Be calm," said a voice. "I'm nurse Regan. You're in Mercy General. You had a bad—accident," said the voice. "I will release you if you can calm down."

"Okay," said Denise, in a weak voice. She was starting to cry. "Why can't I see?"

"Please, the doctor will be here momentarily. He will answer your questions," said nurse Regan, as she released the Velcro restraints holding the other woman's arms.

She heard the nurse moving around and apparently arranging things for the doctor.

"Morning," said a man's voice.

"Doctor?" said Denise.

"Dr. Noyes," he said.

"Why can't I see," said Denise. She knew she was sounding desperate.

"Mrs. Harris. You were pretty badly banged up. We have saved your eyes, and you will heal. But—we—you will need to be careful for a while.

"May I ask, is there someone we can call for you? We found your purse and your I.D., but when the police went to the place on your license they'd found you'd moved, and no one knew where or with whom," he said.

She was silent for a moment. "Rodney Harris," she said, "my husband."

The doctor wrote down the info, cautioned her to rest, and promised to return.


She sure looked peaceful, as I sat beside her bed and watched her breasts slowly rise and fall with her breathing. The intravenous sedative would have her out for hours. But, I was going nowhere until I could scold her for being so reckless. I might be married to the whore, but clearly my warnings had fallen on deaf ears. Yes, she and I would be talking.

She was so beautiful even with all of the wrappings and tubes.

I'd fallen asleep and when I awoke she was staring at me. Evidently the nurses had come in and removed her eye bandages while I'd slept. Jesus I was tired.

"Hello Rodney," she said, in a what sounded like a little girl's voice.

"Hi, honey girl," I said. I was shaking my head from side to side. "How do you feel?"

"Numb," she said.

"Probably the sedatives after effects," I said. "Denise—who—who was it?" I said.

"Rodney, I really don't..."

"Denise, who the fuck was it. A name," I said.

"Michael Westbrook. Met him at the Hinge," she said. He seemed so nice, Rod. We had lunch. I wasn't feeling too well, and well, he thought I was leading him on, teasing him. You know. He forced me..."

"Okay, that's enough," I said. "I will take care of things. You just get better. Jill was here last night. I think she's coming back this morning. I have to go to work.

"Denise, this is not a good life you're leading. You really have to get it together at some point. I mean it," I said.

"I know. Rodney, I am so sorry, so very sorry. And—and—thank you for coming."

"Like I wouldn't have come. You're still my wife, Denise. You're not acting like it, but you are still regardless," She started to cry. I felt like shit making her.

"Denise, no matter what happens to us, I will always be there for you. But I have to go. You take care," I said. I kissed her on the forehead, turned, and left. I had to get out. I didn't want her to see the growing anger in my eyes or the way my lips were twitching in absolute hate for the scumbag that would do something like this to a woman—any woman.

The Hinge. "Yeah," said, Earl. "He's some rich guy. He comes in here some days. Usually in the daytime. If there's any fluff around he tries to latch onto it and get himself a free nooner. He's tried with Blue a couple of times, but no dice there; she's way to savvy.

"I think he owns some kind of car dealership, but I'm not sure," said Earl.

"It didn't take long to find the asshole. I'd gone to the yellow pages. Denise had said he'd had a brand new Vette, a model that wasn't even on the market yet it was so new. I hit pay dirt on the fourth call. He did own it all right. Now, for a little visit.

The dealership was first class. The dude did have money. That was good; his medical bills were going to be substantial.

After a couple of low key enquires of the help, I was able to locate the very busy executive. He was a big guy, as big as me. Didn't matter, he was going down.

"Westbrook I presume," I said. I was smiling as though I was some big ticket customer coming to make him richer than he already was.

"I'm Rodney Harris. Took some time to locate you, but, well, now I'm here," I said. I was still smiling. So was the perp.

"Well, yes, I'm Westbrook. Call me Mike," he said. He stuck out his hand to shake. I ignored it.

"Yes, well, I'm the husband of the woman you nearly beat to death yesterday," I said. He dropped his hand, and stepped back a bit. He face darkened.

"I don't know what you're talking about," he said. He was going to bluff it out. Deny, deny, deny. No doubt exactly what his unconscionably expensive attorney would tell him when the cops finally got around to visiting him.

"That your chartreuse Vette over there?" I said.

"What do you want Mr. Harris? I'm a busy man," he said.

"Want? Why to clean your clock," I said. I was still smiling. This was getting to be fun. "You know before the cops make it a moot point by arresting you."

He took a swing at me. It came clean out of left field. Hoping for the haymaker, I guess. It grazed my cheek. I'd been hit harder by my mother—when I was a kid of course. My first strike on the other hand took out his right knee. He went down gasping.

"Hurts like a sonovabitch, don't it, asshole," I said. I took a half step closer. He was rocking back and forth holding his knee with both hands; I think he was crying. The toe of my steel toed work shoe caught him on the up-rock; caught him square in the teeth. Well, he did have money; he could afford a new set.

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byMatt Moreau© 65 comments/ 132826 views/ 24 favorites

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