Mister Lucky Ch. 01

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Making a livin' and doin' the best he can.
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All characters are adults.

*****

My name is Bud. After the state released me from prison I used my few dollars of separation money to start life anew someplace where opportunity wasn't rare or, worse, unknown. So I rode the bus to Gulfport, a town about the size of Savannah, on the Gulf of Mexico.

At Gulfport I went to the halfway house I hadda referral to. The place was an old building across the street from public housing in the slum near downtown. An old man inside the office took my referral form, gave me a room key, and a Xerox sheet of house rules. He also gave me some papers with useful information about where to eat cheap, find cheap clothes, and get a cheap bus pass. I went to the homeless shelter offering square meals for free if you stayed there, and almost nothing if you walked in off the street.

Supper was two slices of canned ham, mashed potatoes, stuffing, canned green beans, two rolls, iced tea, and a square of lime gelatin. Price: one dollar.

I ate alone but was joined by a woman who was there with another woman. She came over, sat beside me, and introduced herself. I didn't know her from Adam.

"My name is Rosie," she said, "I never seen you here before."

"I'm new," I replied.

"You look fit, you just get outta prison?" She asked.

"I am. Got outta Zephyrhills this morning."

"I'm guessin' you ain't had any pussy lately?"

"Not a lot. What's on your mind?"

"For twenty dollars I'll spend the night with you. Where you stayin'?"

"Twenty is pretty cheap," I replied.

"I'm dyin' for a cigarette, and so is my friend. You at the halfway place? Gimme the twenty now and I'll come over after the kids is asleep."

"A fool and his money," crossed my mind, but I gave Rosie the twenty and my room number, and walked back there after a cup of coffee. It was seven o'clock. I showered and fell asleep till a knock at the door woke me. It was hot and I had on my prison issue boxers. It was Rosie at the door. She smiled and came in my room. I locked the door behind her.

"Mind if I shower and brush my teeth?" She asked.

"Help yourself," I replied as she went there and shut the door.

Rosie looked to be twenty-four and five feet tall, with two hundred pounds spread about her body, some of it on her ass, some on her big tits, and some around her middle. Her belly was plump but didn't hang below her pussy as many guts do. She looked pregnant, not obese. Men like pregnant. Her black hair was shoulder length and about the same color as her eyes. Cuban. She spent twenty minutes in the bathroom, showering and whatever, and came out wearing a tee shirt and drying her hair with the towel. Her bare arms were covered with old razor scars.

"It's so boring at the shelter," Rosie volunteered.

"Did you get your cigarettes?" I asked.

"Yes! I was desperate! I wish I had some wine but they'd toss me outta the shelter if I drank any." She walked to the bed, pulled the tee shirt over her head, dropped it, and got onto the bed with me. I lay back and she stretched out beside me on her stomach, draping an arm over my chest and a leg over my leg.

The last time I had any pussy I got it from the prison psychologist, an older gal who put out to several of us until she cut one man off, and he blew the whistle on her. A woman gets all the cock she wants inside a prison, don't matter how old she is or what she looks like. So Rosie looked good to me, and she knew it from my enthusiasm when she took my cock in her small mouth and I moved her bottom to my face. Hookers don't normally put their pussies in your face, but I encouraged Rosie. They like you better when you treat them desirable.

She got off before I did, and took my first load atop her tat above the crack of her ass. I wanted more of her but not immediately.

She showered again, returned to bed, and lit up a cigarette. We talked, that is, Rosie did most of the talking. She and her friend, Yvette, and the kids, lived with a black pimp named Alonzo. "Until the police picked him up and took him off to jail. Then me and Yvette hadda leave the house, cause it belonged to Alonzo's mother or aunt or somebody, and she said she was gonna rent it since Alonzo was gonna be in jail for a while. We ain't got no money so we take the bus to the shelter, and here I am. What you plannin' to do?"

"I gotta find a cheap place to live and find a job," I said.

"What kinda work you do?"

"Make car tags," I replied.

"You been in prison a long time?"

"Ten years," I said.

"How old are you, you look young?"

"I'm thirty," I said.

"You musta killed somebody."

"I did," I said.

"You got family, a mother?"

"I don't know. I was in foster care all my life. I was a little shit when I went in and eighteen when they put me on the street."

Rosie said, "I got no family. I ran away when I was fourteen, and never went back. I been on the street since then. But I gotta do something to get my kid back. I already been to court twice, and they told me they gonna stop fucking with me, and take my kid for good if I don't get my shit together."

I believed her.

"Tell me about who you killed."

"There ain't much to it, some people fucked me, and I killed one of them for payback," I said.

"Didjuh shoot um?"

"No, I drowned his ass."

"What the fuck?"

"One night he came outside to swim with some woman he was fucking inside. They had all the outside lights off cause they was naked and didn't want the neighbors to see who the woman was. I was in the water waiting for him with a chain and a lock. He couldn't get the strap off in time."

"Didn't the woman see you?"

"Sure, but she wasn't gonna say shit and get in trouble with her husband. I told her to leave and she did."

"Did you know her?"

"I sure did."

Rosie and I were two losers and two ships passing in the night.

Rosie had no idea who her kid's father was. Her friend Yvette came from the Dominican Republic, a homeless whore, too.

It wasn't long before I was ready for another piece of Rosie's ass, and Rosie didn't object when I started touching and kissing her. A tongue on her clit was the royal road to her heart, and she orgasmed, again, quickly. I then unloaded inside her, and we took a nap.

It's how we spent our night together: Talking, licking, sucking, fucking, and sleeping. Of course, there was little to learn from talking, Rosie was a whore, and I was a killer. Neither of us had any prospects, money, or skills. In the morning, on the way out of the building, the old man in the office demanded ten bucks for letting Rosie in. I paid it. Then I walked her to the corner COME & GO for coffee and a roll. I also bought her a scratch-off card with shit on it, and bought one for me. I won a thousand dollars on the spot. I gave Rosie one hundred of it, and stuck the rest in my pocket.

"What's this for?" She seemed suspicious but took the money.

"Cigarettes," I said. I walked her to the homeless shelter and went on my way.

My first stop was at the Saint Pia Zadora Episcopal Church thrift store on Union Street several blocks from the homeless shelter, but in the same slum. A sign in the window advertised an apartment for rent. I went inside the store to enquire. The manager wasn't in, and the numnutz in charge was clueless, so I left.

The neighborhood is old and a slum poised for urban renewal. The blacks left long ago. What remains are the homeless, transients off the interstate (it cuts through the middle of the area), flop-houses, soup kitchens, thrift shops, and a police station. The parking lot of a state social services agency is littered with shitty diapers, chicken dinner boxes, empty wine bottles, and discarded syringes. The city built a bus station here, several blocks from the downtown where people work, so bums sleep peacefully all over the place. Buses come and go but no one gets on or off except homeless wanting shelter and refuge.

The homeless shelter is an old school abandoned by the county after everyone moved away. The Metropolitan Society for Transsexual Freaks took custody of the property, and Bob's your uncle. People eat in the cafeteria and wait in the old auditorium. There's a playground outside.

I found an army surplus store where I bought some sturdy work shoes and clothes. I never located a place to do for temp jobs or any jobs. But I found a place to sell blood plasma, and I ran into Rosie's friend, Yvette, on the street trying to make some money. I assumed Rosie had the kids.

I wandered around till almost noon then went back to the thrift store. The manager was in and had time to show me the apartment. It was on the 2nd floor over the store. The manager was an older woman named Miriam Smith, the wife of the rector. She reminded me of the actress Annette Bening, and looked around fifty-something, same as the actress.

The apartment really wasn't an apartment, it was closer to a studio with one large room for sleeping and sitting, an eat-in kitchen area, a bathroom, and a walk-in closet. Four of these rentals were above the store. "You can have it for one-fifty a week, payable in advance. Water and electric are up to you but one unit is hooked up, and you can have it for an extra hundred a month."

"Lemme see it," I said.

It was in the back of the building, by the fire escape. It came with a sleeper sofa, two old stuffed chairs, a dinette set with two chairs, and some old appliances.

"Okay, I'll take it," I said.

We went back to the office where I gave her four hundred bucks for two weeks, plus the utilities. She wrote me a receipt and gave me a door key.

"Our rules are simple, if the cops need to come out, you're out; any questions?"

"No."

"Gotta job?"

"No."

"Interested in working?"

"Sure."

"Are you delicate or fragile?"

"No."

"Are you fussy about how you're paid?"

"Not so long as I can spend it, eat it, or fuck it." I expected her to flinch or wince or something, and she didn't. "What you got in mind?"

"You got a driver's license?"

"No."

"Get one. I need someone to pick up donations and deliver furniture."

"What's the pay?"

"Free rent."

I did the math in my head. "That's like twenty hours a week."

"That's right."

"What if you need me for more?"

"Then I suppose we'll work something out that suits us both."

"So long as I can eat it or fuck it," I reminded her. She let it go again.

"When can you start? Today's Friday. Look! Go get your license, get moved in, and start Monday morning. You know where the examination office is?"

"No."

"Marcia can take you. You got enough money to pay the fee?"

"How much is it?"

"Sixty."

"I got it."

Miriam looked around the store, spotted Marcia, and called out for her. "Marcia! I need you." Marcia came along with a quick stride.

"Yes, ma'am?"

"Take Bud to the driver's license examination office and wait for him," Miriam said. "Then take him with you to collect the load of furniture from the Pointe Pleasant condo. You know where it is?"

"Yes."

"Great. Take lunch or leave early, whatever works best."

Marcia was a five-eight, large blonde. Younger than forty, but not much younger, two-hundred-ten pounds with medium tits, plump thighs, and a wide ass. Her blonde hair was short and looked like the real deal. She wore glasses, her face was average, and her complexion was smooth. She had on jeans, cheap tennis shoes, and a baggy tee-shirt.

"You married?" She asked as soon as we got in the truck.

"No," I replied.

She played twenty questions the whole way to the license office. I didn't care, I got no secrets. On the other hand I don't kiss and tell. If I was to fuck your mom you'd never hear about it from me.

The test wasn't too bad. It was fifty questions, road signs, and an eye test. No problem. I handed the woman three twenties and got back a few ones and some change.

"You hungry?" Marcia asked. "I'd kinda like to leave early."

"Then stop some place, let's get a sandwich or hot dog, and eat on the way," I suggested.

It's what we did. I got a hot dog and root beer, Marcia got an Italian sub and a milk shake. I bought a few scratch-offs and paid for all of it.

We got lucky at the condo. It was on the ground floor, and all the donations weren't huge or heavy. We were back at the store an hour later. There we unloaded the truck and left. Outside Marcia said, "You need linen and towels and food. Lemme drive you over to the Super Center."

"Okay," I replied.

It wasn't close to the slum. I think we drove almost ten miles to it. But I got all the stuff I needed, plus enough groceries to fill the refrigerator. I also bought a jug of sangria wine and a fifth of whisky. Marcia then drove me back to the store and helped me tote all my shit upstairs. I invited her to dinner but she declined and left. About the time she drove outta sight I saw Rosie walking the sidewalk towards me.

"Hola!" She greeted me. "You got you a place already?"

"Wanna see it?" I asked.

"Sure," she replied and followed me upstairs.

Inside my place she looked around and spied the jug of wine. "You got that for me?"

"If you ever come to visit."

"I owe you for the money you gave me."

"It was a gift."

"I can give gifts, too." She smiled. "Yvette says she saw you today. You like her?"

"She's okay."

"She says she wants to fuck you."

"Does she know about the money?"

"Sure, I told her. But we like money and cock. They not the same. You want her to stop by some time?"

"Bring her with you when you come see me."

"You want two girls?"

"When one of them is you."

"Lemme ask her. You get me drunk, then?"

"How much wine do you want?"

"Better get more than one jug, Yvette likes wine, too."

"You want my pussy now, baby?"

"Come back later when it's dark."

"You want me to spend the night after I done on the street?"

"Sure."

"Maybe it's late then. And Yvette gonna want some money if she come with me."

"Not a problem. You hungry?"

"What you got to eat?"

"Want half my Italian Hero? It looks fresh."

"Okay."

"Have a seat." I pointed to the kitchen table as I got the sandwich from the refrigerator.

"You sure you don't want some pussy?"

"I'm dirty. I worked today and need a shower."

"Okay."

About the time we bit into our sandwiches there was a knock at the door. It was Yvette. "Come in," I said. She was hungry, too, and made a sandwich. She joined us then jabbered in Spanish with Rosie. I understood none of it but the tone was calm and civil.

Rosie spoke first. "I told her you don't want no pussy, maybe later with us, both."

Yvette chimed in. "I wanna fuck you for love but I need money."

"How much money?" I asked them.

"A hundred for both," Rosie replied.

Never fuck a hooker outta her money. She knows her worth to the closest dime. A tip afterwards builds good will. This pair wanted a new pimp but weren't sold on me. I was better than the bums they fucked for cigarettes and wine, but not a lot better so far.

Yvette said it plain," Find us a place to be together and you'll get more pussy than you want."

"I know shit about pimping," I replied.

Rosie spoke," Nuthin to it. You take care of me and Yvette and we take care of you. Think about it."

"I will," I replied. But it didn't look to me like I'd make money from these two. For now they got cock and cigarettes and pocket money from me, but they weren't making much money from the slum. I did the math. On a daily basis a wife costs about the same as a piece of ass, around one-fifty a day. These girls weren't gonna make three hundred dollars a day where we were. Any man with money wasn't coming here and risk his ass for ass. "I'll do this," I said, "you can use this place for your tricks at night, and sleep here if you got no place to go."

"How much you want?" Yvette asked.

"Ten bucks a head is fair," I replied. "I get a small cut and you keep the rest."

"And you get free pussy." Rosie complained.

"Hasn't happened so far," I reminded her. "My price is ten bucks till you're making money, then we'll talk about it again."

"What about our money?" Yvette asked.

"Money for what?" I replied.

"For tonight with you?"

"We need money for the street," Rosie added.

I pulled cash from my pocket and gave each of them twenty bucks. "You'll get the rest when I see you later."

I wanted some of Yvette, but not fifteen minutes of her. Dominican women show their black ancestry because the Dominican Republic is next to Haiti. Women from the cities show more of their white blood. Yvette looked Mexican. Straight black hair bobbed like Louise Brooks, five-two, black eyes, one twenty-five pounds with small tits and a plump ass. Yvette looked older than Rosie. Thirty-something was my guess.

The girls left and I got busy organizing the place and cleaning me up. The sofa mattress was queen size at five feet wide. I needed another pillow or two. I needed a few more towels, too. I needed all kinds of shit. Then there was a knock at the door. It was Marcia with a female companion.

"I need a favor," she said.

"Come in," I replied.

"We need to use your place for a while," Marcia said.

"How long is a while?"

Marcia looked at her friend before speaking. "Two hours?"

"Twenty dollars is the price," I said.

"Jeez!" Marcia whined.

"It's cheaper than a motel, and there ain't no motels around here. Plus I don't kiss and tell."

"What's that s'posed to mean?"

"It means I never seen you tonight." I winked at her. "Leave the door unlocked when you go. I 'll be back at eleven." It was nine o'clock. Marcia handed me twenty and I left.

Her friend wore a wedding band and looked like a married bureaucrat out with the girls. I mean, out with the girl. The woman wasn't bad looking, in a solid sorta way. Short brown hair with a poodle perm. Glasses. Crooked teeth. Early forties. Ample bosom. Big thighs. Five-six at two hundred and ten pounds. Reminded me of a librarian.

I walked to the COME & GO store, bought a coffee, and parked my ass at a booth. Most of the customers were people from the homeless shelter and flop-houses along Union Street. Rosie and Yvette wandered in to the store, with two other women and some small kids. They saw me and came over.

"Whazzup?" Rosie said.

I handed her the twenty I got from the lovebirds. "I'm selling more pussy than you," I teased.

"We ain't doin' shit," Yvette said. Her friends were at the checkout using their SNAP-EBT cards to pay for the kids' snacks.

"Stay away from my place till after eleven, it's ocupado."

"You got more women?" Yvette wondered.

"They ain't professionals, and didn't invite me to stay," I replied.

The girls left and I stayed to finish my coffee then remembered the scratch-off cards in my pocket. Four were shit and the fifth was for a free card. The free card won twenty-five bucks. I bought five cards and put the twenty in my pocket. I won five-hundred from one card. I stuffed the cash in my pocket and went walking. It was ten o'clock.

The park was filled with winos. The parking lot of the state building was filled mothers and children and young men. The police station was lit up. I saw plenty of people at the bus transfer facility, hanging out, smoking, drinking, and sleeping on the benches. Most of the buses had stopped running due to the late hour. The whole slum looked like usual.

I walked back to my place and got close enough to see Marcia and her friend leaving. I went to my room, fixed the bed, and took a shower. Someone knocked on the door about midnight. It was Yvette.

"Rosie got arrested for fighting," she reported. "We met two guys from the shelter that wanted blow jobs. They ain't got no money but wanted to trade pot. Rosie said 'okay,' but I need money, an say 'no.' So Rosie hadda mouth fulla dick when her guy's wife comes along. Then the cops show up an see's Rosie on the ground on top of the wife."

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