Ms. Consensual - Round 01

"Uh, maybe she's..." I was filled with inquisitive thoughts about her ethnicity as my phone started ringing knocking me out of my inner ruminations. My heart skipped a beat when I looked at the face of my phone.

It was Phoebe.

"Uhm, hello...I mean, HELLO!" I stammered like an idiot, then cupped the side of my noggin, embarrassed again.

"My ears are ringing; are you thinking about me Charlie?"

"Yeah, UH, NO!!...yeah." I tripped all over myself audibly making her laugh at my response, so it wasn't a total loss. I found that I liked the infectious sound of Phoebe's laughter.

"I was just messing with you; uhm, I'm having some really bad cravings, can you deliver some food?"

"Oh, we're closing." I winced as the words left my mouth thinking my answer would cause some strife between us.

"So that's a no, right Charlie; are you going to deprive my baby?"

"Well, uh I guess, not Phoebe; I suppose I could run a few things over to your place." I struggled with the words knowing I was bending if only to keep up the connection between us. My inner voice called me a simp reminding me this was a married pregnant woman, probably a few years my senior.

"Don't worry, I'm gonna pay."

"OH, IT'S ON THE HOUSE!! I uh, mean you didn't take your free credit when you were here so uh, now's a good time." I was falling all over myself verbally.

"Want a good time?"

"EH?!" Phoebe chortled at my panicked response.

"You're a very funny guy Charlie Huerta; I'll send you a list and my address. You can just come over after you close up, okay?"

"Whatever you say." I responded breezily feeling those butterflies in my stomach again.

"Don't be so easy Charlie; geez, what am I going to do with you, huh?" Her tone was flirty and playful.

"Anything you want." Freudian slip was starting to become par for the course.

"Uhm, don't you think that's a little out of pocket, Charlie?"

"SORRY!" Phoebe started laughing again after pulling my chain audibly.

"Man, you're so easy; so hey, I'm sending my list now along with my address; call me before you get out of your car, alright?"

"Huh?"

"This is very important Charlie; I want-you-to-CALL ME-before you GET OUT of your car; can you do that, bud? Let me know if you can't and I'll cancel my order. You've got to be good at following orders if you wanna kick it with me; so, make me understand that you understand, Charlie."

"I got it."

"Repeat what I said, please." I felt a blow to my ego, but capitulated.

"Call you before I get out of my car, right?"

"Right Charlie, so this is kind of a uhm, test run. So, what kind of car do you drive, so I'll know it when I see it?"

"Vintage 1973 Volkswagen Beetle, canary yellow." I felt like a pauper knowing she was well to do enough to have a black card.

"How quaint, hurry up and close, I'm hungry, Charlie." Phoebe ended the call abruptly.

The minute she clicked off there was this void in the air that left me with a bit of clarity as I considered I might be used for my store. My mind went into overdrive micromanaging the memory of our exchange picking it apart begrudgingly as my id dredged up memories of a similar situation in my past where I'd been used like a dishrag gophering for what I thought was a love interest until it was brought to my attention that she had been dating a guy on the baseball team for the past six months. I was a fool.

"Fuck my life." There was no way I still wasn't delivering whatever she wanted to that house.

So, despite my misgivings about Phoebe's potential motives, I rushed through everything gathering up everything on the list before having a moment spazzing out that I was going to this pregnant married woman's house. This was against my marginally strict upbringing, but I couldn't help feeling this sliver of excitement as I locked up only to come down once I got behind the wheel. Reality and a litany of inner voices good and bad were pulling me in two directions, but I managed to input Phoebe's location into my phone and pull out of the small parking lot next to the back of the store.

There was a dingy orangish brick wall tagged with copious amounts of Graphiti cordoning off Gramps property with railroad tracks on the other side. I tried to make a hard left out of the lot only to be stopped at the railway crossing as a train sped by looking like it stretched back into the horizon line.

"AW HELL NAW!!" I slammed my fists on the steering wheel having a one man bout of road rage.

By the time the last car sped by, I was drenched in perspiration feeling like I'd taken a shower in my clothes. I gunned it across the track headed to Phoebe's house which was two and a half blocks away according to the directions issued by the automated voice on my phone. It was a bit longer as I tooled onto her block which was a mishmash of people, mostly Latin, that had lived there for generations mixed in with invading hordes of trust fund babies who were casually gentrifying the area. I wondered which camp Phoebe and her husband belonged to, then regretted it.

I didn't want to think about her husband; especially since I was coveting his wife. I batted away my inherent sleaziness as I approached her address. Thoughts of her huge bare breasts got me the next few feet until I was plainly sitting outside of a nice craftsman bungalow styled home. It was bordered on one side by the same wall that extended all the way to my store albeit much cleaner and a wall of strategic evergreen shrubs on the opposite, mini trees that I was unsure belonged to Phoebe or the neighbor, owner of a two story version of her house.

I got some deodorant out of my glove compartment followed by some Mentos trying to freshen up. I was worried that I'd smell a bit ripe after sweating it out waiting for the train to pass. I was close to spazzing out again using some crappy wipes on my face in an existential crisis before grabbing the plastic bag stocked full of snacks and my driver's side door handle.

"Oh yeah, shit; gotta follow instructions." I remembered myself dialing Phoebe.

It went through three cycles before she finally picked up.

"Hello?" She sounded sleepy, answering the phone with a yawn which raised my hackles enough to start biting on a thumbnail.

"Uhm, I'm here outside; uh, you told me to call when I got here."

I was greeted by a long wet sounding snore.

"Phoebe?"

More snoring.

"Phoebe?!!"

"HUH WHAT?!...oh yeah, I'll call you tomorrow, yap nighty night, Charlie." Just like that, Phoebe hung up on me with a loud wet snore.

I sat there processing for more than twenty minutes, blinking profusely.

"SHIT!!"

I gunned it out of there as fast as my car would take me.

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

"Hey man, you good?"

"Why?"

"I don't know but you look hella pissed this morning; is everything okay?" Juan sounded genuinely concerned sitting shotgun beside me in my Volkswagen beetle. I had a hard time getting to sleep experiencing a few manic episodes figuring Phoebe was pulling my chain again after making me bend to her will. That feeling of being a chump had me fit to be tied and I almost didn't make it to the store, ending up picking up my friend Juan, instead. He picked up on my bristling attitude almost immediately.

"I'm fine." I answered tersely.

"I don't think so, dude."

"Look, are you opening up with me or not; if you're gonna make things hard, I can do it myself." I wore my heart on my sleeve realizing that I probably looked like Mr. Hide in the cramped front seat of my ride.

"Whoa; what crawled up your ass and died, Charlie?"

"Nothing!" I was so flustered that it was hard getting out of my car and having an audience made it worse. Juan sat there watching with this growing smile on his face as I finally tumbled out nearly head over heels.

"This is about a girl, ain't it?"

"No!!" I was awkwardly powerwalking to the front door of the store angrily fumbling around for the keys skinning my knuckles in the process. He followed me keeping a safe distance back.

"Damn bro; I ain't seen you like this in a long time."

"Shut up!"

"Yup, it's been like what, two years Charlie; Mauri was driving you crazy." he started chuckling making it nigh impossible for me to get the chain off the bars.

"LOOK, I'M TRYING TO FIUCKING OPEN UP!! ¡Hola Juan, o me ayudas a abrir esta puta puerta o me quitas la mierda del parachoques esta mañana!" My grasp on the English language became tenuous when I was angry.

"Shit, you're fucking hot, man!" Juan fanned himself still obviously finding mirth in my predicament.

I suddenly hit the ceiling emotionally just leaning against the wall next to the door staring back at my best bud without further word.

"Chill bro, let me have those." Juan took the keys gingerly, partially trolling me as he unlocked and opened the front door removing the heavy chain. I just motioned for him to continue taking a moment to collect myself, emotionally. It wasn't so much anger, but more frustration with myself for thinking I'd get lucky with a married pregnant woman and trust fund baby, to boot. It was beyond ludicrous and what I deserved in spades for being a creep.

"Here, takes two of these and call me in the morning." Juan reappeared with two cans of beer, keeping one for himself. We chugged in tandem downing the brews as we stared across the street at the huge parking lot which was starting to fill up with potential customers.

"Fuckers." I snarled under my breath as Juan raised a brow.

"Charlie, what the hell is going on with you?"

"Stop." I was already behind the counter noticing I'd left the overhead monitor on in my rush to make it to Phoebe's last night.

Almost as if a lingering karmic slap, onscreen was a paused flick with Dwayne Hickman subbing for Frankie Avalon and Annette Funicello walking along a rear projected ocean front. I scoffed starting my morning routine with the cash register.

"Hey, is this because I mentioned Mauri, yesterday?"

"Hell no; and for your information my world does not revolve around that girl! I got like, other irons in the fucking fire man, alright? I ain't perpetually in high school, I got real world concerns to worry about instead of the next chick's panties I'm gonna get in, bro! These fucking women are a dime a dozen, Juan; you should be worried about the next fifteen years instead of a piece of ass!"

I was full on ranting as I set up for the day.

"It's just a game to these females, a waste of time; I'd rather get my dollars right and let the bitches come later, man!"

"So, this ain't about Mauri, then?"

"MAURI IS YESTERDAY JUAN!! YES-TER-DAY MAN!!" I shouted emphatically busting my rant bubble with Phoebe in my mind's eye the entire time.

"Damn."

"Ah, well you know what I'm trying to say." I was already calming down feeling like an idiot for going hard in the paint. I usually kept my cool preferring discretion in affairs of the heart, but it just bubbled to the top. Juan still had his can in hand studying my face with a wry smile.

"Did she have big tits?" Juan chortled phone in hand.

"THE BIGGEST!" My third Freudian slip in less than twenty-four hours.

"YEAH?!!" Juan perked up as I realized my mistake quickly course correcting.

"Yeah, they were as big as twin mountains, and my dick was as long as a subway car as I fucked them to oblivion jizzing all over everyone here in the valley! Then I woke up and made the dumbass decision to pick you up and drive into work so I could regale you with tales of boobies floating around my head like a halo as I jerked off all night."

"Haha, very funny Charlie; when's your Netflix special coming out?" Juan unknowingly took the bait.

"Save it, I've gotta get that merchant bag ready for the bank today; you coming?"

"Nah, I've got something to do today." He commented lazily checking his phone deflated at my gambit.

"Does she have big tits, Juan?"

"About 36C; more than a handful." Juan commented distracted texting away with a smile on his face, invested. I thought I was being snarky, but he shot me a wink leaving without further word suspiciously crossing the street into the vast parking lot. I took it as a dig due to my attitude wondering if he really did have a girl after all.

I left the monitor on letting the movie play out as I went about my duties still ruminating about Phoebe working at making it all make sense, eventually chalking it up to my own overblown expectations. I went back and forth between anger and self-depreciative frustration with myself for thinking anything would happen with Phoebe considering her condition and the fact that she was married to a lawyer with deep pockets. I figured I was probably a plaything, a social experiment and nothing more, scoffing.

The plastic bag of goodies was still in my car. I found myself reticent to retrieve the stuff wanting to keep my inner peace as a few customers drifted in and out of the store.

I resolved to bury myself in work until the sting wore off doing some inventory and work in the coolers restocking the dairy and limited frozen goods. Thoughts of Phoebe returned again and again until I was obliged to dredge up Consuela's big tits from that fateful night as counter programming. My gramps and I were similar in our tastes in women, but he skewed more towards full figured voluptuous women, some even chubby or outright fat. I'd caught him going at it with this large woman once a few years before Consuela; he was taking her like an animal failing to notice me there until the woman shrieked hiding under the covers.

We'd hashed things out having a laugh afterwards; but he'd have taken a strap to me for thinking to mess around with a married woman, probably down worse considering Phoebe was a pregnant woman, too.

"Shit." I stepped out of the empty space in the coolers into the store adjacent from the second to first aisles with a straight view all the way to the end.

Phoebe was standing at the end of the aisle in profile.

She was wearing this light blue maxi dress with a deep plunging cleavage that put more of her bulging top shelf spirits out front than before while the rest of the material cascaded outwards barely minimizing her baby bump but stopping just above her knees leaving me with a view of her legs from that point downward. The hits kept on coming as I popped wood at the sight of the shapely, well-defined legs staring me in the face. Despite her condition, Phoebe was put together spectacularly.

I popped wood, hard.

Phoebe was wearing this very light cropped long-sleeved jacket that was ceremonial in nature, almost there solely to hide her plump looking arms. She was likely five four in height but built like a literal brick shit house in every sense of the word. Just seeing her legs gave me a mental picture of what she might look like sans her baby bump sending jolts to my crotch. This woman was out of my league on so many levels making me feel like a piece of shit just for looking at her. Thoughts of my gramps reaction to my thirsting over a pregnant married woman brought me down to earth just as she noticed me there.

"OH HEY!!" Phoebe greeted me with this exaggerated wave and a wide dimpled smile that hit me like an arrow to the heart as I steeled myself already regretting what I was about to do.

"..." I remained mute turning away from her walking slowly at first then hurriedly to the front counter intent on getting behind it so that she would have to look up at my face instead of directly at it.

"Charlie, you took so long that I passed out; then you called and uhm, ... I thought I was dreaming last night, but then I checked my phone and well, there you were. I feel horrible about it all." Even though I wasn't looking directly at her, Phoebe's head tracked me as I got behind the elevated counter finally looking at her face directly.

Phoebe was impossibly cute making it hard to look away, but I averted my eyes anyway remaining mute.

"It was really late; I thought you were coming right over, sorry Charlie." Her smile slowly became a half smile.

"How can I help you ma'am?"

"Ma'am?" Phoebe's brow furrowed slowly, then half smile becoming a single line gradually.

"What can I do for you today; perhaps you'd like me to get you some more pickles?" Her rounded face clouded over; brows furrowed intensely for a second before they rose as she reacted to the forced indifferent look of my face.

I steeled myself by remembering being sent away and hung up on, which wasn't fair to Phoebe at all. I kept telling myself it was for the best, but the butterflies in my stomach didn't agree. She was holding a Ralph Lauren cream satchel purse that had to cost at least three hundred bucks. This made me feel like a literal pauper in front of her, resentful and irritated. My thoughts drifted to this movie "Pretty in Pink", and I couldn't help but make a connection between myself and John Cryer's Duckie character.

"Hey, I'm gonna pay for that stuff, okay?" Her mousy voice was soft, but with a noticeable edge to it.

I almost groaned out loud when Phoebe's fingers dipped into her cleavage producing her black card from its confines in a blatant repeat of the last time we met. I noticed her bulging cleavage was a bit shiny and reflective. She'd used some oil on her décolletage in what was obviously a deliberate move.

"IT'S ON THE HOUSE!!" I shouted loud enough to make her flinch.

"Uh, I'd like to pay; I mean, I feel bad about last night and I know you need the money, for the store, right?"

"I DON'T NEED NO FUCKING CHARITY!! WE DO JUST FINE AROUND HERE WITHOUT SOME PITY FUCKING PURCHASES FROM AN ENTITLED TRUST FUND BABY WHO'S JUST AMUSING HERSELF DOWN HERE WITH THE LITTLE PEOPLE!!" She was so cute; I had my eyes shut the entire time unable to look her in the face as I was purposely nasty. I tucked my chin still unable to look at her face after being so mean.

"Trust fund baby?"

I didn't look at her face; I couldn't.

"Fuh, fuck you Charlie... IF I WASN'T PREGNANT, I'D CLIMB UP THERE GRAB YOU BY THE NOSE AND DRAG YOU ALL OVER THIS FUCKING STORE!! I'D BEAT YO' ASS FOR TALKING TO ME LIKE THAT, BITCH!!"

Her voice was still mousy, but the cadence and way she talked told me she might be a black woman.

"..." The cat retained ownership of my tongue.

"¡¡A LA MIERDA CHARLIE!!" Phoebe shouted in Spanish, bottom lip quivering uncontrollably. I still couldn't look directly at her face shaking profusely as she huffed starting to whimper like a wounded puppy.

The little doorbell heralded her quick departure from my corner store.

Phoebe was crying, hard.

"It was for the best." I mumbled to myself.

There was a noticeable void following her departure.

"She's married, and pregnant." Some droplets of my tears splashed on the countertop.

It felt like something sucked all the air out of the store.

"Aw shit." I ran outside after her peering into my small parking lot finding only my crappy looking Volkswagen Beetle. I was worried about Phoebe walking those few blocks from her home in an advanced state of pregnancy. I facepalmed remembering the expensive cars outside her house.

"She must have drove; damn I'm stupid." It was a eureka moment in the negative as I lingered staring at the empty lot next to my store before looking across the street at the mall sized parking lot and the big box store that was slowly choking the life out of my uncle's modest business.

I trudged back to the store finding a few people there shopping eventually ringing them up.

That aforementioned void lingered like the blob starting to grow even though I was the only one aware of its growing menace while I rang up various customers. The store got busier than usual as the day progressed, but I remained in this sort of emotional suspended atmosphere. Phoebe's sobs echoed in my head getting progressively worse until I was on the verge of being morose, shooting quick fleeting glances at my phone. Later in the afternoon, mind movies joined in the fray as I imagined her running down the palm tree lined streets sobbing uncontrollably with a hand on her baby belly. It was crazy.