In the House of Spite Ch. 11

"Why are you so ill at me?" Pearl asked as she entered the cold and quiet gym. In her area, the word ill was typically used to mean irritable or grouchy.

Darren took the containers from her hands. "It's nothing you did. It's my problem."

Pearl followed him all the way to the employee's cafeteria. They got soda cans from a vending machine. She sat down across from him. She was careful to keep her dress' skirt as smooth as possible. The dinner was woefully uncomfortable. Pearl tried to chat with Darren, but he would only give her one word replies. It was like he was struggling with his own version of PMS.

Poking her food with her utensils, Pearl wondered if she should poke the bear too. Or, maybe poke wouldn't be an adequate word. Stroke? She didn't want to say anything mean to him. "Do you have a tummy ache?"

Darren shook his head and practically snarled down at his food.

"You want me to rub your feet?" She'd done it a few times before. No big deal. She thought his feet were handsome, and they didn't stink.

He guzzled down the rest of his drink. "No thanks." He didn't sound particularly thankful for the offer.

"Your hair's kind of messy. Want me to comb it for you?"

"No thanks."

Pearl sighed and wilted a little.

When all the food was eaten, Pearl put everything in a plastic grocery bag she'd saved long ago. She lingered in the cafeteria, sadly watching Darren grind his teeth like someone that had just quit smoking.

She couldn't stand it.

Pearl put the bag on the table and walked over to his side. She leaned over and wrapped her arms around his shoulders. "Hey, are you sure there isn't anything I can do to make you feel better? Hm?"

His words tingled on her skin. "God damn it."

Pearl was soon overpowered.

He grabbed her waist, which was easy since she was so small, at least when compared to him. She was taken right to one of the cold walls, her back against painted bricks. One hand went under her dress, even under her panties. He held her up very easily.

The other hand was in her hair, pulling her head back. His mouth was against hers like well designed gears. He purred and rolled his voice down her throat as he slurped her up. Hardly glowing under the sudden haze of lust, Pearl was able to think, just barely, "We don't have any condoms with us." But another hunk of coal flashed. She'd been taking birth control pills for a while. And they trusted each other.

Everything was fine.

Whatever he wanted.

Darren released her hair and untied the strings at her back, the few buttons keeping it together too. With the dress now loosened, he forced it down. The yellow cloth was now mostly around her waist, partially hanging off his thick arm. Cold stone was on her back, hot muscle at her front and under her. A palm pressed between the wall and her skin, supporting her. Pearl didn't need to cling to him. She was locked in.

His T-Shirt was rubbing into her puckered nipples and pale skin. He was licking and sucking on her tongue. One of her shoes fell off and clunked on the hard floor. She folded her legs the best she could around him. He was like a damn tree.

He let her down to her unevenly arranged feet after a time. But he had her back up again soon, at a lower height. This was because he knelt down, knees on that unpleasant floor, and put his mouth right on her panties.

It was like he didn't care much about the cotton, but Pearl did. The heat, the saliva, and the resolute licking combined with the fabric roused her dainty little parts. It was so much better than rubbing her fingers over her panties. Lapping and huffing on her, his voice humming into her, making her whine and close her eyes, he acted as if he needed everything that was seeping out of her.

After a few moments, he hooked his thumb in the crotch and pulled it aside. No more barrier. One of Pearl's hands went to a breast. The other stayed on his shoulder to help keep her stable, and she really needed to be stable. When he drew on her clitoris, Pearl's thighs trembled and her voice became deranged. She almost slumped over one side but he literally set her straight again.

"Oh! Ohhhhhhh!! Please!" Her hips were grinding into his face. "So good!! Please!!"

She almost had an orgasm, almost. But he abruptly stopped and carried her off again. Right to the table. Another hard surface. There would be bruises. Pearl knew she'd have to either wear more clothes or put spots of makeup on her limbs, like she'd occasionally done for her hickeys.

Her backside was planted on the wood. She helped him pull his shorts and underwear down. Again, the crotch of her panties were kept aside.

It felt ... warmer ... rougher ... and certainly more natural, not that natural automatically equaled good.

No words, at least not from Darren. We was typically a bit talkative but here he was only grunting and holding onto Pearl like he thought he'd lose her. She could only hold on in a similar way, her cheek on his torso. She felt that she couldn't get away if she tried, but she sure as hell wasn't about to try. Something was wrong, something he didn't want to share, and Pearl couldn't stand not trying to help him.

Thankfully, part of that involved her cumming. He really seemed to like that.

When he was finally done, he was still mostly wordless, but he was smiling, and so much more snuggly. He even chuckled into her hair. They cleaned in an employee's bathroom. The closest bathroom with showers was a bit far away.

Pearl was finally able to convince him to come home after all that. She watched him make sure the place was locked up. Then he walked her to the old truck she'd arrived in. A kiss on her cheek, and he helped her climb into the driver's seat, not that she needed much help. Pearl loved knowing that he'd be there for her even when she didn't need it.

***

The 1980s was the decade of the day, although the dress and blouse were really the only 1980s thing about her. Pearl was pretty sure it was inspired by some Laura Ashley looks, but only because it reminded her of an old sewing pattern envelope with the name Laura Ashley on it. She wasn't a "designer" type of person. She couldn't tell the difference between Gucci and Chanel.

Her blouse was a white garment with short, puffed sleeves and a high Peter Pan collar. The dress was in a tent style, a loose look with no waistline. Straps on the shoulders of a medium width, a neckline that ran straight across the space above her bosom, large and deep pockets from the hips to the knees, and a thick flounce at the hem. Pale pink fabric with a small, white, polka dot pattern. Girly, cute, and almost silly. When Pearl first saw it she was surprised. She'd thought young women didn't wear such things back in the 1980s.

She only had a pair of ankle socks on her feet, also called footies. Those little feet were quick. She'd already dusted off photos, furniture, and electronics. As Pearl washed up the last few dishes, she wondered about all these clothes. It felt odd, really. But then again, she'd heard that some people had a fetish for wearing and ... using ... diapers. So this cute dress thing was really mild.

Her cheeks flushed as she thought, "And I like wearing cute dresses!"

Darren was in an excellent mood when he got home, and he was quite early. He picked Pearl up and twirled her around, making her laugh. Then he kissed her cheek and held her up for a while. She felt like a comfy pillow. "Hey there," Darren said as he put their noses together, "Mama and Daddy want to come over for supper. Is that okay?"

"I should change clothes." she said quite thoughtfully.

"I don't see anything wrong with what you're wearing now." He put her down but held onto her hands. "I've already got Mama laughing at me. I showed her a picture of you in your cute yellow dress. She said she'd have loved to wear that when she was growing up, and she wants to know if you have any other cute outfits like that."

Well ... it wasn't like her dresses were skanky.

"I'll have to cook a little more food," Pearl said as she leaned into him, "but I do need to change clothes. I don't want any stains. I'll change right back when the food's ready."

Mr. and Mrs. Booker were very positive in general. When they arrived, Pearl got just as many hugs as Darren. And yes, Mrs. Booker loved her cute pink and white outfit.

"You look like you're going to walk in a garden with a parasol," she said with the happiest bundles of wrinkles around her eyes. Later, when they were eating, Mrs. Booker said, "You should go to church. You'd be the best dressed girl there."

Her smile feeling cracked and uncertain, Pearl metaphorically dug deep into her heart to find and claim her sweetness. "Ma'am, I'm not a church kind of person. I only went before to keep my parents happy."

Mrs. Booker's eyelids twitched, but otherwise she went on as if Pearl hadn't said anything. "You'd look a lot better than that Indian girl. What's her name? She's always wearing those skimpy dresses with her tits hanging out. I mean, I guess that's fine but I sure as hell wouldn't wear that to church."

It was better than getting yelled at.

Pearl tried to change the subject. "Was Darren wild when he was little?"

"No more than any other boy," Mrs. Booker said with a small laugh. "Doesn't matter anyway. I love my ...?" He voice thinned out and she looked down at her plate as if she'd lost something and didn't know how to look for it, wincing and puzzling. Then her voice seemed to settle on something. "I love my children. Nothing wrong with being a little wild."

Pearl wondered if she was feeling sad about something. Before she could make another comment, Darren was the one to change the subject.

The rest of the visit was lovely enough. Pearl started washing dishes as soon as the older couple left.

***

Night. It was one of those nights. One of those odd nights when Darren had to get up and run. He'd always be so damn tired when he got home, which was fine because he needed to sleep. However, Pearl was terribly bothered.

She didn't think he was running around on her in a sexual sense. She could never hear his truck driving away, and the time he spent out was typically short. Plus, he'd still knock her boots pretty often. He clearly hadn't lost interest in her. She tried to ask him about it that night, but he fell asleep like he'd been medicated.

The next afternoon, when Darren got home, Pearl decided to try asking again. She thought the odds were in her favor.

She had on another 1970s inspired girly dress. There were definitely less obviously feminine and more casual looks from that decade to choose from, but they weren't wanted. The dress was a blue-green color. It had a fairly natural waistline with a slightly flared skirt that stopped right at her calves. There were long smocked sleeves, a decently high scoop neck, and stupid if cute tied bow in the back. Pearl didn't have any shoes. Just long cotton socks that couldn't cover her knees.

Pearl's long hair was in braided pigtails, because why not? When she hugged Darren and greeted him, her electric crimson painted fingernails pulled on his shirt. Then they slid down to almost threateningly tap and scratch his shorts' waistband. "I missed you so much," she sighed out as she tried to tug him in the direction of the living room. "Come sit down, please?"

Whatever mood he was in, Pearl assumed it wasn't the best. His jaw was tight and he didn't want to look down at her eyes, but at least he took one of her braids in his hand and fondly stroked the interlaced strands. "Alright, Little Girl. Get me a shake."

She wished he'd have kissed her cheek or something, but he didn't. He only went to the living room and sat in his beloved recliner. He collapsed with a huff as he did it.

Maybe the odds weren't in her favor after all?

Pearl decided to put his favorite lemon bars on a plate to go with his shake. He wouldn't be upset over that. And he wasn't. He just put the plate on his lap and chugged down what looked like half the shake. When he was finally able to take a breath, Pearl got down to her knees right there at the chair's side. She'd recently vacuumed. She wasn't afraid of icky things in the floor. She spread out her skirt and folded her hands on her lap. Then she used her big guns face and sadly looked up at him.

"Pa! Why you been so ill?" Proper grammar sounded less cute sometimes. "It makes me sad." Baby Blue happened to approach the scene. The Pit Bull sniffed at Pearl's sleeve. Then he sat down and stared at her. He probably had no idea what was going on but damn did he want to be part of it.

A hand on his cheek, his long fingers curled over his temple, Darren's pinkened eyes pointed down to her. Either he was high, which was stupidly unlikely, or he was sleeping less than he needed to. Pearl strongly believed in the latter.

"I'm starting up a new business," he croaked out. "An online store selling workout equipment, gym clothes, and other stuff."

"Well, you're a real multi-entrepreneur!" She swept her braids behind her shoulders and reached up to grip the chair's cushioned arm. "But you're so stressed! I'm worried you'll get sick."

His irritated eyes closed and he patted one of her hands. "As long as you keep working hard for me, I'll be fine."

"Does that include kisses?"

He put his plate and cup on a little side table and suddenly bent over to pick her up. "Silly girl, come here." He put her butt on his lap and her cheek on his torso. "Of course that includes kisses." He smacked a few examples on her neck, cheek, and forehead. Pearl couldn't help but giggle.

Baby Blue jumped up on his hind legs and put his front paws on the chair's arm, between Pearl's legs. Tongue hanging out, he innocently watched the exchange. Darren looked at him and firmly said, "Down." Baby Blue licked his chops and jumped back down. He went off, likely to see what Gunner was doing.

"Pa." She eagerly inhaled his sweaty, musky scent. There were some soaked spots in his clothes, and she was happy to touch them. "I'm scared you'll break into bits."

"I'm more scared about you breaking." That's what Darren said as he stroked her back. Then he picked up one of her hands and kissed it. "I need a shower. You want to play a game when I'm done?"

***

Pearl was in one of the empty rooms in the house. Well, it wasn't so empty anymore. She was sitting in an old desk one would find in a classroom. It had been found in a dumpster, cleaned up, and restored. Her outfit was similar to what lots of students wore. Uniforms had been recently put in some of the public schools. Khaki slacks that were a little big on her, as most pants were. A white polo style shirt. And leather shoes with laces.

How old was she? She didn't know. It was a vague mindset. Instead of focusing on a specific age, she'd described it as "young and tiny." That suited Darren just fine. But she decided that no matter what she'd go with eighteen even if she didn't feel like it.

A decent stack of notebook paper was on the desk's tabletop. A number two pencil was being used to carefully write an essay on the Bubonic Plague and how it affected the Late Middle Ages. Feeling similar emotions from the past, when she was a stupid teenager with too much innocence to ever rebel and much less of a temper, Pearl was skittish and almost tired.

When the last paragraph was done, Pearl set her pencil aside and rotated her right hand the best she could, stretching her fingers and sighing. She looked ahead.

There was another old desk taken from a dumpster. It was fairly similar to a teacher's desk. It did the job. That's where Darren sat, writing something down. He was probably pretending to grade tests.

Pearl arranged her pages as neatly as she could. She moved her little backpack aside to keep from stepping on it. Then she got up and quietly, yet quickly, took her essay up there. Darren gave a tired thank you and stapled the papers together. Pearl heard the papers fluttering as she turned around and went back to her little student's desk.

Once her butt was back in the plastic seat, she took a book out of her backpack and started reading. In reality, when she was a child, maybe around eight or so, she once got in trouble over reading. The books in a certain classroom were displayed on shelves as if they were in a store, but the students weren't allowed to read them except for a scheduled reading period. Whenever Pearl was done with her classwork, she'd try to sneak a book off the shelf to read. After she was scolded by the teachers, she'd longingly gaze at the shelves with sad expressions. When her parents found out, they told the teacher to fuck off in the politest way they could.

"Pearl? Come here a moment."

It was like a dream. Good? Bad? Difficult to know, exactly, but it she knew it was meant to turn into something just taboo enough to be exciting.

Back up to the teacher's desk. She stood before it, her eyes down and her hand reaching back to fiddle with her low ponytail. Her head felt hot. So did her belly, palms, and feet.

"Hm? Are you feeling well?"

She nodded. "Mm hm."

"Your face is red. Are you sick?"

She shook her head. "No Sir."

His chair's legs didn't make a screeching noise. The carpet ruined that possibility. But his footsteps were still mighty as he walked around the desk and stopped near her. "Let me touch your head. You might have a fever."

His palm and fingers cloaked over her brow, gently tilting her head back up. She tried to count the buttons on his long sleeved shirt. The rest of his outfit was similar to hers. "Alright, I don't think you have a fever."

His hand left her. Pearl stared at it as he talked. Long fingernails on a guitar player's strumming hand. A handsome hand with nimble fingers that could do almost anything. He was saying mostly kind things, but she only understood maybe half of it. Vexation from ignored arousal had her pushing her legs together and wiggling her toes. Her hands went into her slacks' pockets and folded.

"You wrote very well."

"Extensive vocabulary."

"But, I think you missed a few points."

"Technically well done but the content's lacking."

"I'll have to take some points off."

Fine. That was fine. As long as he kept giving her all his attention.

Wringing her hands, Pearl shyly asked, "Is there any extra credit?"

"Hm? I can't make up anything on the spot."

Might as well go all out.

Pearl fell to her knees, and she looked up at him. His eyebrows rose and he took a step back. "Give me something to do! Please! Put me in ISS!" That meant In School Suspension. The concept of detention often seemed to be a myth found in movies and TV for her. When she was in school, detention didn't exist but ISS did, and as far as she knew that was still typical in the area. She was pretty sure it was because the local parents just hated the concept of detention getting in the way of their schedules.

"As long as you give me attention," she said in her candied tone, "I'll do whatever you want!"

This really wasn't the nastiest school girl fantasy, wasn't even particularly interesting, but it pleased them well enough.

"Sweetheart!" He stepped forward, then he reached down to grip her upper arm. "Don't kneel like that. It's bad for your knees."

At the word sweetheart, Pearl grinned, but she wrenched his hand away while using her other hand to paw at his slacks' button and zipper.

His lips parted, but, as if amazement and maybe a little horror had overwhelmed him, he didn't stop her. Pearl held her breath as she pulled the underwear down just enough, and then a only semi-hard penis was revealed. She pushed herself up a little and slipped her lips over him.

"Jesus!!" Darren put a hand over her ponytail.