Life Is Like Shit - Not Chocolate

Before responding, she breezed into, "Do you have life insurance on yourself?"

"Yeah, half a million," I slowly sighed, "Rita made sure of that. Said we needed it for sure."

"And she, of course, is the beneficiary, right?"

I nodded. Her eyebrows went up.

"You should be sure, soon, to get that policy modified. She can't make a change on that, just you, since it is in your name and you're paying the premium. Make sure it is changed: 70% to your mother, 10% to Rita, and 20% to the Humane Society," she grinned. "Make sure she gets a copy."

"Why?" I asked in consternation. I wasn't keeping track of the amounts just yet, but it dawned on me a bit later that Rita was getting shit compared to the dogs. I liked that!

"Half a mil is hell-of-a-lot money for someone your age. Think about that! Didn't she just get you arrested and tear you a new asshole? What makes you think she didn't have designs on collecting on your insurance?"

I laughed, "Fat chance of that happening! I am healthy as a horse, and all my family has good genes. No one seems to die before their eighties - except in an accident, of course!"

"Of course, that's how it happens, Danny!" Jackie intoned, mockingly as she took another bite.

"That's how all the get-rich-quick bitches collect - via 'an accident.' She has that new boyfriend, right, the one wearing your clothes?" she crowed as she took another slug of Shiner.

I nearly spit out the swallow that made it halfway down my throat before her damn sharp insight hit me. Fuck. Even motherfu...!

"Get the policy changed tomorrow! Get a copy to your lawyer and make sure her lawyer gets a copy too. They will be pissed, but when she finds out, she gets shit if you die ... you will be able to drive safely back and forth to work," she goddamn-calmly continued as she took another swallow.

"Why the 70-10-20 split? Why not just give it all to Mamma?" I asked.

"Good question. You probably should have asked your insurance agent when you let Rita sign you up, Danny! But that answer is easy peasy. One, your mother deserves it. She raised you, even if she did a shitty job!" she smiled so sweetly as she said that - I knew she was just teasing me. My Mamma was a good person, albeit a bit loud and bitchy.

Then she continued, "Two if anything happens to Rita — say soon — you have proof that you were still looking after her interests even after the divorce. Your lawyer can point to the insurance amount and say that you still showed some 'love' for her even after the shit she put you through."

"And three, the animals getting more than her share -- well, that's just to piss her off again for keeping Humpy from making love to your leg!" The last she uttered as she swilled the last of her bottle of Shiner Bock. That grin came off as pure brilliance. I liked that one the most!"

"How come you know all this shit, Miss Jackie Whomever-the-fuck you are?" It wasn't my proudest moment - just the bottom of my third Shiner chiming in out of curiosity.

During all her animated discussion, I'd watched as the terrycloth robe wiggled down a bit as she kept reaching for another swig. It opened far enough to expose the tops of two wonderful-shaped breasts - but damn, it wasn't far enough to catch a glimpse of a nipple, close, but not quite there yet.

"My face is up here, Danny!" she deadpanned the expression as both hands snugged the robe back together. Caught, I couldn't get anything by this one.

By the end of the interrogation, I felt a bit intimidated by Jackie's calm demeanor. It sounded uncannily like Rita in a way. Uneasy shit. I might just be sitting at a table in a thunderstorm with a diabolical mad-woman — straight out of the movie's shit!

"Who are you, and how do you know all this shit?" I repeated my question, determined to find out how she knew so damn much.

Her face went blank for a bit. Then that sweet smile left her face; it had gone stone-cold serious. Her body language grew tense as she leaned toward me and quietly answered.

"I work for a small organization. No benefits, but it pays extremely well - in cash. I'm good at what I do, Danny. In my circle, I'm known as 'The Fixer.'" She sighed and slipped back in her chair to watch my reaction. I could tell she was studying how seriously I was taking her comments.

I was at least two sheets to the wind as I took in what she said. That is halfway inebriated and dumb enough to say, as I laughed loudly, "You're trying to tell me you are a 115-pound, 5'3" hitwoman?"

I roared with laughter at the absurdity.

It took a few more seconds to realize she wasn't laughing with me. She waited me out until my laugh became a chuckle and then just a soft lump in my throat. Damn, she had me going! I almost goddamn believed her. Still, she waited me out, cold staring me directly from those beautiful-almond sloe-eyes.

"103 pounds, dipshit! I'm not fat." she deadpanned her remark again, using my Momma's favorite term for me.

"And, to be perfectly clear, I never said I was a hitwoman! I just fix screwed-up situations - things that need to be 'fixed.' Although, someday, it may come to that. I could kill you with one of those toothpicks in the middle of your momma's table, and you wouldn't be able to do a damn thing about it!" she added without a hint of levity in that calm, soft voice of hers.

My heart rate must have been 240 at the last declaration. I was sweating bullets by the time another less-smirky smile crossed her lips as she watched my wide-eyed stare.

"Any last requests, Danny," she asked, slowly getting up to her feet, "before I lay you out?"

"How about making love with me before you - you lay me out?" I asked, half in jest, half in wonder, if she could really 'off me' with a toothpick.

'How the hell would one do that?' I thought but quickly shook that vivid thought out of my mind; too damn gruesome to ponder.

"Shit!" she swore as if completely surprised at my response.

"No one ever asked me that before! It's always 'Please, no - Please, don't kill me!' That kind of shit!" She stood looking down at the knife on the table. Then she smiled.

"You're a nut, Danny!" she added, suddenly slapping the 10" blade so that it cartwheeled off of the table and up into the air. She didn't even blink, just caught it in mid-air before nonchalantly heading to the sink.

"Takes one to know one, Miss Jackie Wilson," I breathed in relief.

"So, can you fix this for me - with Rita? Or, were you just shitting me - like your favorite turd?"

"I'll wash; you dry. It's your mamma's place, so you know where to put the stuff away," she said as we cleared the table. Jackie Wilson, 'The Fixer,' set the last plate in the dish drainer and turned to study me with those dark-almond eyes once again. Those eyes could melt a man's heart like a bar of chocolate left on a hot dashboard.

"I have a plan in mind, but you may not like it." With a wink, she continued, "If you don't say yes to it, then you'll force me to use that toothpick!" Her lips had that pouty, almost playful look.

We missed the ebb in the rains; we were so engrossed in conversation that we hadn't noticed the gradual dissipation. I turned around to dry my hands. Then turning back toward Jackie, I nearly toppled over her and came up short. Her head bumped against my chest. She had walked up behind me, waiting for me to turn around. Without a word, she reached out, wrapped her arms around my waist, and hugged me. With the briefest pause, I wrapped my arms around her shoulders as though they always belonged there. I wondered what brought this on.

"Even a Fixer needs some fix'n sometimes, Danny," she whispered. "You seem easy -- so right, and in need just like me. Give me one night; no more questions; just you and me in silence until we're both exhausted. In the morning, I'll give you the details on a 'Fixer Solution.' Just not right now. Okay? Can you do that for me, Danny?" Her voice was so soft as she leaned her head against my chest. Her arms wrapped around my waist.

She squeezed me tighter. I could feel her heart beating against me as her breathing deepened. I could feel her turgid nibbles pressing against me even through the terry cloth robe. We clung to one another without another word spoken. My hardening cock pressed firmly against her midsection. I know Jackie could feel its rigidity pressing against her belly button. Small movements in her hips signaled what she wanted.

She didn't need to cajole me into joining her. I'd been ready to jump her bones from the moment she leaned into the truck to turn off the engine. The thought of taking her from behind pushed over that wet truck seat had been difficult to put aside.

Her hands slid between us. I felt them untying the belt from the robe and drawing it open. Patiently, slowly my hands wandered down her spine, finding the small of her back. Gently, I scrolled my fingers around the hollow of its basin, feeling her press into me as my fingers slipped into the crevice of her butt for a few soft massaging strokes down the seam formed by her cheeks. I felt her glutes contracting as my fingertips slipped further down her curvature. Her hands tightened around my waist as my finger probed the small-tight opening between her cheeks. Each new place I explored was met with a rapid exhale of hot breath against my chest. It was building, slowly, steadily.

Before, the rainwater had drenched her to the core, yet now as we stood here, her body was wet again. A light sheen of slick perspiration began collecting in the small of her back. My hand found another slippery moisture pooling in front, from another source, between her sparse curly-haired mons.

"I'm going to remove this, Jackie," I whispered into her hair as I lightly cupped her petite, firm ass in my hands. I knew by the way she held me tightly and the quickening of her breathing that there was no need to ask permission to disrobe her.

I could feel her head nod against my chest in reply as her arms squeezed me in affirmation. I shifted the robe off her shoulders, letting gravity pull it down. I knelt. A soft kiss between the coarse, curly hairs sent a shiver of excitement through her body. Her hands reclaimed their place around my waist as I stood. For a few moments, we held one another. Her breathing was becoming labored. Jackie had not spoken, nor did she need to do so. Her mute acquiescence was all I needed as an answer to my earlier question about making love before she 'off-ed' me.

I scooped up her naked, sinewy form in my arms. Her head nestled against my shoulder. That long, soft hair hung down over my arm, brushing against my thigh as I carried her to my room.

Jackie Wilson had said she wanted it in silence, gently. I did my best to give it to her as I turned off the light and slid next to her as the storm raged outside. In the dark, my lips found her eyes, kissed them, and her cheeks, her ears, and traveled down her neck to find her nipples as firm as raisins. Her breathing grew more rapidly as I explored both breasts, tugging at her nipples to draw upon her excitement. I could feel her legs clinch as the nerve endings sparked a reaction between her thighs. Her hands found my head and guided me downward. I could tell she was a woman who knew what she wanted. She knew, too, how to direct a man toward fulfilling that increasingly growing need between her legs.

My lips traced the contours of her sex until she couldn't bear the exquisite torture any longer. Her breathing grew quicker, and the sounds it made huffing out of her open mouth urged me onward. My breath flowed across her mons as I exhaled into her folds. Her legs jerked in response. I replaced my lips with my tongue, reaching deep into her pussy. It elicited a sharp moan. Unable to hold back any longer, Jackie drew me upward until my cock slid into her swollen slit. There was no gentleness left -- just urgent need -- as I slowly slid into her sex without pausing. There was no need to wait for her to adjust to my penetration. She was already slick, and her mons was offering easy access.

With commingled groans, we fucked one another until we collapsed, neither of us concerned by the raucous pitching of the bedsprings. Jackie found her voice in the darkness.

"Fuck!"

The singular word clawed its way from deep within her throat to reverberate like thunder rolling across the room. Finally, her release came. Her thrown-back head and marathon breathing stopped as her body shuddered against me. I felt the auto-reflex movements of her kegal muscles squeezing my pulsing cock as I held it bone-to-bone and came into her vagina. When her spasms stopped, she gasped in fresh air to replace that which she expelled as she came. Jackie's rigid body unwound next to mine. She was drained -- just a tiny child-like woman basking in a hard sexual release.

Neither of us could move as we drifted off to sleep. Other than an occasional moan or grunt for one of us, no true word was uttered. Silence, for the most part, just as she requested.

Aroused from a deep sleep, I found her lips coaxing my dick back to life around two hours later. Then she mounted, like a cowgirl, and rode it until it was lifeless once more. When she could not revive my limp cock the third time, she settled for sitting on my face and riding my tongue until my face was covered in her nectar. Near dawn, I needed her again and rose over her. My loins meshed with her own as her body's rhythm began to match my slow, gentle movements. I rocked into her until I couldn't keep that pace, and the rains within my taunt nut sack unloaded. She was finally placated - exhausted to the point of collapse.

Turning until her breasts were pressed into my ribs, her ragged voice whispered to me, "I so needed this, Danny. Thank you."

"You? God, I needed this as much as you did, Jackie. It's better than ..." I started to say, but Jackie finished my thought.

"... paying to see a shrink or ass-polishing a bar stool with some beer buddies!" she murmured as her breathing slowed.

She nestled her head against my chest, growing silent again. Her breathing eased into a steady rhythm as she grew quiet. Holding her in my arms, we dropped into a dreamless, satiated sleep. It was ten-ish when I heard doves cooing outside in the pecan trees. Jackie was still cuddled in my arms, asleep. I touched her delicate nose. Her face seemed so childlike, resting next to me. She stirred, opening her eyes. They peered up into mine, studying my face in the morning light.

"God! You're real. I thought you were just a dream," she said, with the first sign of sincerity I had heard from Jackie Wilson. Jackie whispered, "A good dream though, Danny."

I needed that night's stress reduction -- the night Danny's and my life collided on that stormy bleak road. Cooking for Danny provided some solace for what happened earlier. Afterward, feeling Danny between my thighs was so cathartic as well.

The nearly botched job I had just completed moments before he sped past me rattled my bones to the core. Jesus, I almost got killed -- both times! The first was when I had to confront the target inside the Fed's safehouse, and the second was when Danny nearly ran over me as I peddled away on a bike in a torrential rain storm. I had to escape from that near-deadly situation. That Fed bitch almost shot me -- twice!

Admittedly, I first needed that sexual release and just took advantage of Danny like some boy toy that evening. But as the night moved toward dawn, I found Danny genuinely enjoyed drawing me into a roiling cauldron of sexual passion. I found the desperation and fright from near-death events slowly draining out of my body with each climax I took from Danny -- or the ones he lovingly gave me in the early morning. I toyed with hanging around for a couple more days of rest and relaxation -- a bit of R&R, as my old job used to call it.

Shamelessly, I forced his body onto the bed and slipped over his cock. I was on a mission to drive away the fear of death that had rattled me earlier that evening. As my breathing deepened, I felt the throb of my heart beating against my chest cavity like a sledgehammer. Leaning forward, I let his lips and teeth latch onto my turgid nibbles. It felt so exhilarating as he alternated sucking my firm buds and rolling each one around with his tongue. I could sense the surge of electricity jolting back through my nerve endings, coursing its way down through my cunt. I fought like hell not to clutch his hair by the roots and slam his head against my breasts.

I wanted him to suck all of my tits down his throat, hell, both tits at once if he could do it! My blood pressure must have been off the scales just two minutes into it. I could feel my wetness flowing between my thighs as I rose and plunged again and again onto his cock. The thrusts grew noisier as the lubricity of my excitement flowed over his thighs, and I slammed down upon him. Danny got into sucking in each bud and enjoyed grating them between his front teeth. Then, as if it couldn't get any better, he added his fingers, seeking out my clit, pressing alongside it, forcing more friction against his cock as I rode him. It sent waves of intense pleasure and an unabashed squeal deep within my throat.

"Fuck!" escaped between my clenched jaws as his vigorous finger stirring found more nerve endings. His tongue burrowed into the tips of my nipples, forcing them down into my orbs.

Then at some point in the maelstrom, amidst an intense shudder of pleasure, we paused, clinging to one another without another word. The firm tugs of his teeth on my nipples gave way to gentle kisses. The hurried escape of air from both our lungs slowed down a bit. My body spasmed under its release and seemed to wilt as Danny's strong hands wrapped around my waist for support. Lust begged for a moment of calm within the storm raging outside and the storm still building within my loins. I rested upon him; my breasts plastered against his perspiration-soaked chest; my legs splayed on either side of his. His pulsing cock was still buried deep inside of me, still unsatisfied. I rode the first wave of lust that had enveloped us for my pleasure -- its release drove out some of the fear as the dopamine high surged through my senses.

The second, comforting ride belonged to Danny. I almost turned to jello at that point. He rolled me over onto my back. My breathing was still just under a marathon runner's gasp for air. He wasn't in a hurry. His gentle hands slid beneath my shoulder blades, and his fingertips curled up over my clavicles, gripping me. I felt his breath over my eyelids in the darkness -- then he kissed each one lightly. Those lips turned hungry when they found mine, and our tongues entwined for a few moments before I surrendered and let him suck my tongue into his mouth. I felt my body melting beneath him. All 103 pounds pressed into the mattress until he lifted himself onto his elbows.

Thousands of years of instinct flowed through my body. My legs drew upward, taking on the butterfly pose. Opening them like welcoming wings, I welcomed his penetration. I know he felt the tension drain. That's when he moved, tenderly, slowly as the rains outside poured down against the windows. He built the lust back into a flame again; until my hips matched him thrust for thrust. Finally, as sweat dripped from our bodies, I heard his groans as he spued forth his version of rain into me. We came in subdued silence. Just the huffs of our breathing sounded along with the rampaging storm outside.

We had perfected the ancient euphemism 'Clouds and Rain'- the blending of male and female, sky and earth, and created rain -- the product of a climax between a couple engaged in sensual intercourse.