Old South Trailer Court Ch. 12

ALL CHARACTERS ARE ADULTS.




Jack Higdon worked at Quickie Mart making twelve bucks an hour until he won the Lotto. Then he kept the news to himself and moved to a Bay City trailer park to hide-out for a while and think about what next.

Jack had been poor too long to throw money around, so he didn't buy any expensive hot wheels and kept driving the 1950 Willys (Jeep) wagon he inherited from his father.

But women can smell money, trailer parks are full of poor women, and they came around almost as soon as he moved in.

Debbie was the first, and wandered up about 2 o'clock one afternoon. She was barefoot and wore a micro-mini skirt and a tee-shirt. Five foot, four, 190 pounds, and large tits. She had a small roll of fat around her waist. Her head was piled high with long brown hair and bangs that stopped at her eye-brows. Her teeth were okay, she was clean and a chain-smoker. She looked to be forty. Jack was outside when she walked up, "You must be the new guy," she smiled, "I'm Debbie."

"I'm Jack, have a seat," he replied.

Her skirt didn't hide the orange panties beneath her skirt, though she kept an arm atop her lap, and a hand stuck between her thighs. The gold wedding band surprised him. "My old man's in prison," she explained, though he didn't ask. "My mom has the kids. You wouldn't happen to have a cigarette I can bum, would yuh?" Jack pulled a pack of Marlboro's from his shirt pocket, handed them to her, and lit the cigarette she slipped between her lips. "Thanks, hon," she smiled and exhaled a burst of smoke.

"Want something to drink?" He offered.

"Whatcha got?" She wondered.

"How's about bourbon, or I got wine?"

"Bourbon is good," she replied.

"C'mon inside," he stood up and opened the trailer door for her.

"Oooo! It's cold in here! I wish I could afford to run my air conditioner," she said, walking to the living room to sit on the sofa. Jack joined her and handed her a jelly glass full of whisky. "Thanks," she said and took a swig followed by a drag from her Marlboro. "You met any other women from this park yet?"

"You're the first," Jack said.

"If you ever need anything let me know, cuz I aim to please and my price is always right," she took another swig of the whisky.

"Is that the work you do?" Jack asked.

"A girls gotta eat, don't she?" She cackled in a nasal, lounge-lizard tone, and took a puff. "You interested?"

"Maybe," he replied.

Debbie put the drink down and pulled her tee shirt off over her head. She had a fish-net top on beneath it that exposed her breasts and brown nipples plainly. She saw him looking and opened her legs a couple of inches. "You look like you're interested," she said. "Twenty bucks for a blow job."

"What do I get for a hundred?" He asked.

"Whatever you want, honey." Jack pulled out his wallet, pulled out five twenties, and handed them to her. She tucked the cash inside the cigarette pack wrapper then pulled her orange panties down her legs and off, exposing a furry gash that looked ready for some cock. She left the fishnet top and denim skirt on as she got busy rimming his asshole and sucking his balls.

Twenty minutes later she lay on the bed rubbing her pussy, pushing his cum around her pussy with her fingertips, arousing herself for more, "Put it in my mouth, sugar," she cooed then opened her mouth wide for his goo coated dick. She sucked and jacked him till he spurted again, then swallowed his load and washed it down with the rest of her bourbon. "Would you like it if I shaved?" She asked. "It's kinda popular."

"You got a pimp?" He asked.

Debbie sat up, lay her head back against the sofa, and lit another Marlboro. "I got someone I do a little work for," she replied. "It helps pay the rent."

That night Jack walked to Mickey D's for supper. After he got his order and found a table, two boys came in. One was dressed in a harlequin print jumper, and barefoot; the other wore a full length raccoon coat, yellow jelly shoes, a tiara, and pink, Lolita-style, heart-shaped sunglasses. He looked a lot like Dzhokhar Tsarnaev, the Boston bomber, in drag.

The boys watched Jack, traded whispers, and giggled nervously; then bought ice cream cones and left.

Outside, in an alley, the boys assaulted Jack as he walked home, trapping him in the alley and demanding his money. Lolita had a knife. Harlequin Boy blocked Jack's retreat. But Lolita got too close and Jack shot him in the arm with an air pellet pistol; Lolita dropped the knife and both boys hauled ass. Jack picked up the knife and went on home.

A few days later the trailer park caretaker told Jack that the park owner's son, Todd, had been mugged on the street but Jack didn't connect Todd with Lolita, "If you ask me, the cock-sucker tried to fuck with the wrong boy, and got his ass kicked," the caretaker laughed.

Soon afterwards Jack saw Lolita and his mom, Ruby, at the park office when he stopped by to pay his rent. Lolita recognized Jack and erupted in a histrionic fit.

"Shut up, Todd!" Ruby growled, then took aim at Jack. "Are you the one who shot my son?" Todd's arm was plum red and black around the bruise.

"I'm your huckleberry," he replied.

"I want to talk to you about it," she said.

"Now or later?" Jack stuck the rent receipt in his wallet.

"Later, if you don't mind," she replied.

Jack went home and expected to see Ruby sooner than later but that didn't happen. It was two weeks before she knocked on his door. "Come in," he said.

Ruby took off her designer sunglasses, opened the door, and came in, designer bag slung over her shoulder like the Devil wearing Prada. Then she invited herself to inspect the place, like a Marine Sergeant walks his barracks looking for jelly donuts. Jack waited for the other shoe to drop about Todd but she never mentioned him, and he let it go like a boring dream.

Ruby looked forty-something, stood 5 foot-five with a mane of curly strawberry blonde hair and hazel eyes; 180 pounds stuffed into size 14 pants and a medium blouse. A beautiful American woman put together on an assembly-line and mass produced. Ruby was a member of the City Council, and a local slum lord.

Designer bag still slung from her shoulder Ruby joined Jack in the kitchen once she was satisfied the trailer wasn't a toxic waste dump.

"It's hot!" She lied. The air was ON and the place was comfy.

But Jack played along and fetched a pitcher of Old Leg Spreader from the fridge, removed two frosty root beer mugs from the freezer, and filled both glasses to the brim. "This oughta help," he suggested.

She took it but wondered, "What is it?" And he told her. She wasn't expecting him to be so bold, or stupid.

It's a fifth of vodka in a bucket of shaved ice, with 2 cups of sugar, a bottle of cherries, a can of Sprite or 7-Up, a can of freestone peaches, and assorted citrus slices. Strawberries help it. Marinate 24 hours, and add the shaved ice. It's as smooth as a vampire's hickey, women love it, and the results are guaranteed.

"Thank you," she said and lit up a cigarette; she didn't care if he minded, and didn't ask. Jack handed her an ash tray and guided her to the sofa.

He put his arm around her shoulders, she looked at him, and he pressed his lips on hers. "Is this gonna hurt?" She asked.

"Only if you want it to," he whispered.

Her cell phone erupted. She removed the phone from her bag and opened the case. "Hello?" She said. "This is she, uh huh, that's correct, where is he? OK. Thank you," she hung up after a few minutes of inane telegraphic chatter. "I gotta go," she said.

Ruby went to the courthouse and Judge Lynn Rogers' night-court. Ruby and Rogers were friends. Todd sat on a pew with eight other detainees awaiting arraignment and bail. All wore orange jumpsuits and handcuffs chained to ankle shackles. Ruby intended to post bail for Todd and take him home.

At the scheduled time the bailiff, a short woman with large tits and a helmet cut doo lacquered solid with hairspray, opened the door for Judge Rogers, and didn't see Todd leap from the pew to grab her pistol. But it didn't happen. A large inmate sitting beside Todd stepped on the shackle chain the instant Todd bolted, and Todd fell like sawed timber onto the terrazzo floor. The bailiff's chained him to the pew.

Jack was up when Ruby knocked on his door at midnight. "Got anything stronger than fruit punch?" She asked as she came inside, cigarette between her lips and raincoat on. It was raining outside.

He did, and poured her a jelly glass of bourbon. "No ice?" She complained, took a drag from her cigarette, and exhaled a plume of smoke as she removed the raincoat. Jack got her some ice. She parked her ass on the sofa, kicked off her heels, and rested her feet atop the coffee table.

Jack sat close to her, beside the sofa arm rest, and handed her the bourbon. She then sat the glass on the coffee table, put a pillow on Jack's lap, and lay down with her head on the pillow. Jack leaned over and kissed her neck.

She took a sip of her drink, then said, "Let's go to the bedroom."

Jack followed her to the bedroom where Ruby sat on the side of the bed, swung her legs up, lowered her shoulders and head to the mattress, and stuffed a pillow under her head.

Jack got on the bed and turned onto his side to face her. He didn't know when it happened, but somewhere along the way something between them was decided, probably in her favor, and this encounter was, what?, bait? reward? He didn't know. She wanted him for something.

She turned on her side, faced him, put her hand on his arm, and they kissed. Her breath smelled like good booze, her hair smelled like cigarette smoke. He liked how she smelled and tasted.

Naked she looked as good as he imagined. She wasn't a passionate lover, but she was responsive and eager, and her pussy closed around his cock when he came, milking it. Her pussy tasted slightly salty and a little tart.

Afterwards she lit another cigarette, drained the bourbon from her glass, then draped a leg over his, crushed out the cigarette, and went to sleep. Jack lay his hand on her plump ass and went to sleep, too.

They fucked again in the morning, then she showered. When she was done she fastened a towel around her waist, breasts exposed, and returned to the living room where she dressed while Jack watched. "The whole place knows my business, now," She fussed.

Then stick around till later," he suggested. "When you leave later no one pats any attention."

"Can't, got too much to do," she applied fresh lipstick and played with her hair. "We have to be careful, I don't want Todd knowing about us and him using it to blackmail me with his father. I'll stop by tonight, if I can, but don't wait up for me."

"Where is Todd?" Jack asked.

"I expect he's in bed with my friend Judge Roger's about now," she guessed. "Lynn likes crazy young men. The other thing is, if we're gonna be lovers take it easy on the whores here in the park; I don't wanna die of jungle rot."

Ruby was wrong, Todd spent the night with Harlequin Boy after Judge Roger's cut him loose at his arraignment. Lynn Rogers was lying in the arms of her son, Craig, in town for a few days while his wife remained at home.

Lynn awoke before Craig, slipped on the peekaboo robe he liked, the thin robe that exposed her large pink nipples, and went to the bathroom to shower. Roll Paula Deen's odometer back twenty years, and Lynn Roger's what you'd have. A plump blonde with nice cleavage she liked to display in court.

Lynn's first coupling with Craig happened shortly after her divorce from husband #3. Out celebrating her freedom, she came home stewed, passed out on the sofa, and awoke with Craig's fingers in her cunt. She liked it, and needed an abortion soon after Craig returned to college.

...To be continued...