Hand Job Slut Ch. 04

Kevin tried to force the door open with his foot. "Please, Nancy! I know I can make you happy!"

Nancy pushed the door shut, and locked and bolted it. She took the mitt down from the window and closed the curtain. She sat on the couch and stared into space. This is not good, she thought. Not good at all. Meanwhile, Kevin stood on the landing, flowers in his hand, goofy grin on his face, until way past sundown.

Monday dawned bright and clear. Nancy looked out through her peephole: no Kevin. That was a relief. She went to her classes. But her relief didn't last long.

Kevin was waiting for her outside the classroom of her 9 a.m. finance class. "Hi Nancy!" he said. "Can I take you to lunch?"

"Kevin! For one thing, it isn't lunch time yet. And for another, no, you can't. I need you to stop stalking me!"

"Okay, maybe tomorrow, then? Or Wednesday? And I'll see you for sure at Carl's on Friday night."

Nancy ran into her class, distraught, but had trouble paying attention to the professor. How did Kevin know her class schedule, she thought? How did he know that she worked at Carl's dive bar on Friday nights? He must have been asking around; he must have been stalking her. Oh, this was bad, she thought, very bad. She spent the rest of the day looking over her shoulder, taking different routes than usual, and being as evasive as possible. She didn't know what to do about Kevin and his obsession.

Tuesday and Wednesday were just as bad. Nancy took to sneaking around, avoiding her usual paths and routines. But she always caught glimpses of Kevin, watching and waiting for her in her usual places. Her habits were hardly a secret; he would have had no trouble learning where to find her. But her evasive maneuvers kept her out of his grasp.

That evening, Wednesday, instead of studying as she should have, Nancy took the bus to Carl's dive bar in the manufacturing district. Nancy didn't have many friends, and the closest thing she had to a support group was the collection of rough tradesmen who hung out at Carl's, where she first started plying her hand job trade so many months ago.

Nancy walked into the seedy, poorly lit bar, and climbed onto a stool. Many of her regular customers where there, and were surprised to see her on a school night. She was glad to see them. She needed to talk about her problem. They listened attentively to her story. They were simple tradesmen, but they had all experienced Nancy's fabulous hand jobs, and would go the extra mile for her whenever she needed help.

Nancy told them her story; about Kevin, about his first hand job, about his growing obsession, and about his plan to be here on Friday night. She didn't know what to do about him. She was at her wits end. But the fellows swilling their beers at Carl's were full of ideas.

"Why don't you just sit him down and explain to him that you don't like him in that way?" suggested Hank. Hank was a carpenter and a good hand job customer, and fancied himself a bit of an intellectual. He especially liked when Nancy did her dirty talking during her hand jobs. "He's a college student, he must be intelligent. He'll understand."

"I've tried that. Several times. He just doesn't get it. He thinks he's in love with me, and he thinks I'm in love with him," whined Nancy. "Intelligence isn't the issue; his emotions have taken control."

Stew from farther down the bar chimed in. Stew was a pipefitter with enormous forearms. He liked his hand jobs fast and rough. "You want I should fuck him up for you?" he asked in his gravelly voice. "I've got a good pipe wrench and a big tool chest in the back of my truck and..."

"Gracious, no!" blurted Nancy. "He's just a mixed up kid, that's all. I don't want him to get hurt."

"Tell him you're a man!" suggested Billy B. Billy B. was a welder and one of the more unconventional thinkers of the group. "He hasn't seen you naked, has he? He might buy it."

"Don't be an idiot," offered Hank. "He'd just insist on seeing for himself. When he sees that Nancy isn't a man, the jig would be up." Then Hank suddenly realized that he'd never seen Nancy naked, either. "Umm, you're not a man, are you, Nancy?" Nancy shot him a withering glance.

"We could tell him you're dead," suggested Angel, a machinist. "My cousin got out of some serious shit with that trick back in Guadalajara. Of course, he lost his home and his savings, too." Nancy wasn't impressed with this idea either.

All the men at the bar kept offering suggestions, each more ludicrous than the last. Nancy began to wonder why she'd come here in the first place. She was almost resigned to being stalked by Kevin for the rest of her life. Her mind was swirling, from both her own confusion and the steady chatter of competing idiotic ideas from the bar patrons. But then a voice rang out above the confusion.

"I know the solution," said the cracked, wizened voice from behind the bar, uttered with the calmness and clarity of one who knows that he is right. All heads swiveled to face Carl, the ancient bartender, standing behind the bar, wiping out a glass with a rag. Carl had been around. He knew just about everything. He usually had good advice.

"What?" asked Nancy, hopefully.

"Tell him you are a lesbian," said Carl.

All heads swiveled to face Nancy. Her mouth hung open. But she gave the idea some thought.

"You know, it sounds like a crazy idea," said Nancy. "But it just might be crazy enough to work! Thanks, Carl!" She hopped off her stool and rode the bus back home, her brain working overtime, trying to work out the details of the crazy plan.

The next day on campus, Nancy looked for Brandi in the school cafeteria at lunch time. Brandi was another hand job slut, who worked at O'Malley's on Friday nights. Brandi wasn't exactly a friend of Nancy's, since they were sort of competitors, but they were on good terms and sometimes helped each other out.

Nancy found Brandi at the salad bar, and took her aside. "Brandi, I need your help. I have a customer who has developed an obsession on me."

Brandi could relate. Being in the hand job slut business herself, she'd had her share of stalkers and obsessives. "What would you like me to do, Nancy?"

"I want to convince him that I am a lesbian. I need you to come down to Carl's dive bar tomorrow night and pretend to be my lover."

Brandi thought this plan over. She didn't feel any obligation to help Nancy out, as they were competitors, not friends. But on the other hand, if she helped Nancy this time, she could expect Nancy to help her out when she had problem customers of her own to deal with. It was just good business. Brandi was a business major, too. She decided it was in her best interest to help out.

"Sure, Nancy. I'd be glad to help," she said. "You can count on me."

"Great. Be there at nine o'clock tomorrow night, Friday night. And try to look as lesbian as you can."

For the rest of that day and all of Friday, Nancy did her best to avoid Kevin. Although he dogged her steps on campus during the day, and knocked on her apartment door in the evening, she made a point of avoiding him. Obviously, her afternoon hand job business had suffered all week. She needed to clear this mess up quickly, or she was going to be in financial trouble. She waited anxiously for Friday night to arrive, and hoped with all her might that the plan would succeed.

Friday evening arrived, and Nancy looked in her closet. What does a lesbian look like, she wondered? She had no idea. She decided to just tart herself up as much as possible; she put on her tight denim skirt, her pink tube top, and her tall strappy espadrilles. She applied her garish lipstick and eye shadow, and clipped on her largest hoop earrings. She hoped that the effect would be believable.

Nancy took the bus to Carl's, and walked in the door. The regulars were all there. They all knew about the plan, and none were expecting her to be working on her hand job throne tonight. They were more interested in the drama with Kevin and Brandi, anyway. They were clustered around the bar, at the tables, and some were standing against the wall for a better vantage point. Carl was doing great business tonight, as nobody wanted to miss out on the show.

As Nancy settled onto a bar stool, they all cheered and clapped. "All right, Nancy!" called Hank, and a few others. "Let's get this dude!" The crowd murmured their approval. Nancy ordered a beer from Carl, and sipped it while hoping that Brandi would arrive before Kevin did. Fortunately, she did.

"Hi, Nancy!" called Brandi, walking in the door. Brandi was tall, slender, and glamorous. Her long brunette hair hung behind her head in a jaunty pony-tail. She was wearing a white Old Navy tank top, a pleated black skirt, and high heels. The patrons at the bar all thought she was mighty cute. Especially considering that she was the only woman in the place other than Nancy. A few catcalls rang out.

"Get over here!" hissed Nancy. Brandi sat down next to her. "Kevin will be here any minute. When he shows up, we've got to smooch or something, and make him think that we are lovers."

"No problem," said Brandi. "I've had a few girl-on-girl relationships, Nancy. You just follow my lead, okay? Whatever I do, you do, too. We'll fool this stalker of yours good."

No sooner had she spoken than the door swung open, and Kevin stood in the opening. He had on his cargo trousers and his Che Guevara t-shirt, and his high-top sneakers. He scanned the room, looking for the love of his life. Nancy elbowed Brandi in the ribs and rolled her eyes toward the door.

"Nancy, my darling!" shouted Brandi, in a voice pitched for Kevin to hear at the doorway. Brandy grabbed Nancy by the sides of her head, and pulled her face to her own. She locked her lips on Nancy's, smooching and slurping noisily with her lips and tongue. Nancy did her best to give as good as she received, and soon the two women were sucking face like a couple of horny teenagers at a drive-in. Their tongues jousted, their lips caressed, and their eyes gazed hungrily into each other's.

The men at the bar stared in gape-mouthed appreciation at the two girls making out on the bar stools. This was well worth giving up their Friday-night hand jobs for! They all knew and loved Nancy, and this Brandi chick seemed like some hot shit, too. Watching them suck face had them all worked up in no time.

Brandi raised the stakes; she moved her hand to Nancy's small boob, cupping it and holding it and massaging it, squeezing it and tweaking the nipple. Nancy followed suit, grabbing one of Brandi's pendulous breasts, kneading it and mashing it against her ribcage. Their smooching and sucking continued as well. The men at the bar held their collective breath and continued to stare, transfixed. Their cocks, to a man, were straining against their zippers.

Brandi grabbed Nancy's barstool and pulled it closer to her own, scraping the aluminum legs against the grimy linoleum of the bar floor; she threw one of her shapely legs over Nancy's thigh, bringing their groins into close proximity. Nancy likewise threw her other leg over Brandi's other thigh. There was barely any daylight between their crotches. Their hips began to undulate. The men at the bar were frozen in time, some holding their beer mugs in mid air, completely forgotten.

Nancy and Brandi continued to work each other over like two sailors who had been at sea for years. Their mouths and tongues darted and jousted like knights at a renaissance faire. Sometimes they would part momentarily and Brandi would snake her tongue into Nancy's ear. At other times, Nancy would glide her tongue up and down Brandi's neck, leaving a trail of saliva glistening on her pale white skin. Sometimes they would squirm and writhe and bring their boobies into contact, mashing their fleshy mounds against each other, and letting out little coos and murmurs of delight. They would grind their groins together, their hips undulating, their hands roaming all over each other's bodies and through each other's hair. The men at the bar shifted uneasily, trying to keep their straining hard-ons from tearing through the fabric of their trousers.

Kevin, standing in the doorway, took this all in. He saw Nancy, the love of his life, locking lips and more with a tall, slender brunette bombshell. He felt as if he'd been punched in the gut. His heart crashed into the pit of his stomach. Didn't she love him? Wasn't she his love for life, for ever? How could she do this to him? He stumbled back against the wall as if struck by a blow, and slid down to the floor. His tear glands turned on to full blast, and he bawled like a baby, the teardrops pouring down his face like Niagara Falls.

Nancy, craning her eyes away from Brandi's smooches, saw Kevin and his breakdown. She disengaged from Brandi's embrace and ran to him.

"Kevin! Kevin, are you alright?" she implored, cradling his head in her hands.

"Nancy! Are you really a lesbian?" Kevin's world was collapsing.

"No, not really, Kevin. I'm not really a lesbian," Nancy admitted. Poor Nancy just wasn't a liar, and couldn't be dishonest, even when it was in her own best interest.

"Then why? Why were you pretending to be one?" Kevin wanted to know.

"I think you know why, Kevin," Nancy said.

"You wanted to scare me away, didn't you? You wanted me to realize that you didn't love me." Nancy nodded, tears in her eyes. "You really don't want me that much, don't you? You wanted to scare me away so much that you pretended to be a lesbian."

"I'm sorry, Kevin."

Kevin sniffed and wiped his nose. He shook himself. He stood up. "It's alright, Nancy," he said. "I've been an ass. I've not been considering your feelings. You went to this extreme because of me." He straightened his t-shirt, and ran his fingers through his hair, trying to regain his composure. "I pushed you to this. I made you do it. Nothing else got through to me. I'm sorry. I'll go now." He turned and started towards the door.

"Kevin!" said Nancy, not wanting to see him go on that sad note.

"No, it's okay, really," said Kevin. "Thanks for everything, Nancy. Thanks for the great hand job, and thanks for caring enough about me to go to such extremes. You made me a man, in more ways than one. You are a good person." And with that, he took off into the seedy night.

Nancy turned back to the crowd at the bar. There were tears in her eyes. They were all staring at her, and at the door that Kevin had just passed through. Every man in the room was sporting a boner of epic proportions. They needed attention, and they needed it fast.

Nancy looked from bulge to bulge around the room, and then looked at Brandi for help. "Brandi, I don't think I can handle this crowd alone tonight. Care to help out?"

"Sure, Nancy," said Brandi. She raised her voice to the room. "My price is twenty dollars per hand job. Who's first?"

"Me too, gang," shouted Nancy. "Who wants a hand job for twenty dollars?"

Nancy and Brandi were busy long into the night.

**************

Nancy will return in: Hand Job Slut 5: The Return of the Kink.