Motel Rats

"You remember a lot more than me."

"My first full day of work. Didn't work out much per hour."

"I did a little better. The record company guy slipped me a $50 bill."

A switch flipped in my head. "You cheated me out of twenty-five bucks? Do you know how much money that was to me? I didn't go out for soccer because I couldn't buy shoes."

"From my perspective, Mrs. V was unfair to order an even split. Talent always earns more than security." She smiled and changed the subject by unbuttoning her shirt to expose the Wrong! bra.

I knew what that meant. But I had some things to say first.

"I got to tell you I've been pissed at you for a long time. Why did you cut me off after my mom got deported? Because you were starting to have rich friends and I wasn't respectable?"

"I'm sorry. I wanted to explain but I was so busy."

"Bullshit. You didn't answer the letter I gave Mrs. V to give to you, and I know she delivered it. You didn't try to contact me once. What's that English class word, infer? I inferred you never wanted to talk to me again."

"What do you want me to say? It was easier to ghost you than to have to tell you I'd moved on to a different world, and it probably wasn't one you could find a place in."

"Cruel, but honest."

"I'm not always a very nice person."

"And then there's the worst one. About seven years ago, you were on the cover of Vogue, so I read the story. Guess what it said?"

"I don't remember the content, just the Michael Kors dress for the cover."

"It said you were an undocumented immigrant from the Czech Republic and the record label couldn't give you a contract until Mr. V and his lawyers got an immigration judge to give you a special green card."

"I vaguely remember him doing that..."

"Why didn't you tell me? I didn't even know such a thing was possible."

"I didn't think of it."

"Oh, come on. We talked about immigration all the time. We were the two most scared kids on the ranch, me more than you because I couldn't hide in plain sight like a pretty white girl."

"Mom and I were really scared too."

"You should have convinced Mr. V to help me. You had him wrapped around your finger, a budding superstar he treated like an adopted daughter."

"I don't think he could have helped you. The visa I got was for special talent."

"At least you could have tried."

"What's the big deal? You were able to stay. You have a green card now, right?"

"I got nada. With the immigration crackdown I'm stuck. I don't even leave California because if the cops pick me up in a non-sanctuary state they can hold me for feds on an old failure-to-appear warrant."

For the first time, she noticed my problems were of a different magnitude. "I had no idea, Miko. Can I do anything to make it up to you?"

What the fuck? I'd probably never be alone with her again anyway.

"I'd like to do some role-play bondage."

She considered it. "It's hard to imagine you as anything but a submissive."

"I'd like to dominate this once."

"All right. What you got?"

I picked up a shoe and slammed it on the desk three times as a gavel. My voice turned deep and theatrical. "Nicole Landa, you are prohibited from using the false name Coline. You have been found guilty of dereliction of duty as a friend. The court orders you to provide restitution in the form he requires."

"What is the punishment, your honor?"

"Remove your panties."

She threw them toward the safe.

"Bend over my lap." Her cute ivory butt beckoned. "Your punishment is ten spanks."

"Your honor, I'm entitled to a safe word."

"That is true, but instead you will get a safe phrase: Motel rats. Repeat it."

"Motel rats. Very funny."

"The punishment will commence immediately."

Wham! I gave her whacks on the left cheek, right cheek, center cut. They weren't even as hard as the ones I liked my doms to dish out, but her skin was so pale and thin her whole butt turned bright red.

"Motel rats," she said after the sixth spank. I stopped.

"Do you have anything you'd like to say to the victim?"

"I'm sorry."

"You're sorry for what?"

"I'm sorry for cheating you out of $25 and ghosting you and not helping with your immigration."

"The court accepts your apology and orders that we go on to the second phase of your punishment."

I grabbed her hips, stood her up, backed her against the wall, lowered my boxers. My dick pointed at more than a ninety-degree angle.

"Are you ready to proceed?"

"Yes, your honor."

"The court gives you a choice. Asshole or pussy?"

"Pussy, your honor."

I wrapped my arms around her and made a thrust. The third one penetrated just past her labia. She winced.

My voice softened. "Sorry, am I hurting you?"

"Don't break character unless I say the fucking safe word!"

With a few more thrusts, I was inside her. She dug her red nails into my shoulders. After a minute, she started screaming, not the studied low moans of the night before but more primal.

Just before I hit the point of no return, I realized I was doing her without a condom in the heat of the moment, and she would be furious if I came inside her. I pulled out just in time to spurt. My cum slowly dripped from between her tits to her belly button and south.

"The court declares your restitution complete."

"Thank you, your honor."

We went back to the bed and lay face to face. It still didn't feel right to kiss her on the lips, but I caressed her face and stroked her hair.

I had a more conventional favor to ask.

"The daughter of our cook, her name is Mardie, she's about eight and has developmental disabilities and gets bullied at school..."

"Is that the girl who ran away in the bushes?"

"Yeah. She's a huge fan of yours. I thought I'd take her to the concert. Could you do something special for her?"

"When I get to 'First Crush,' I sometimes invite a little girl on stage to dance. Can she handle it emotionally?"

"I think so. It might be good if you could get us a third ticket for her mom."

"I can manage that. When I give you a signal, lift her to a security guy who'll put her on stage. Be ready with your camera."

Coline strutted onstage with her dance team for her latest choreographed bop, Don't Mess With The Grrl. She wore tight black shorts and a top that (amusingly to me) matched her teddy, morphing from purple to pink to orange. For the next few songs, she stood at a mike and played guitar.

Stagehands rolled out a grand piano. They placed a seat cushion on the bench. She gently lowered herself onto it, bracing her descent with her hands, and grimaced.

My bad.

When she reached the schoolgirl anthem, she pointed at me. I lifted Mardie over the rail. The girl whirled around in circles with her arms in the air. Coline put her arm around her and knelt on my side of the stage for photos.

After the encore, she gave most of the front-row guests, including Mardie, waves and kisses. When she got to me, she wagged her finger and mouthed "bad boy" like I was a naughty puppy.

Mardie chattered all the way home, using words I didn't know she had. Her mom promised to make me carnitas arepas, my Venezuelan favorite.

I knew the smartest thing would be to walk away whistling, use my knife to cut a notch on my belt, and forget her. Veronica had a less sensitive butt and a less condescending nature.

Still, when I got home I Googled to see who she was dating and when she might come around on tour again.

She had owed me an apology, but she certainly didn't need to let me turn her ass to watermelon and fuck her like a cave man.

Even the millions of people who think she's a bitch would have to admit she gave fair restitution.