Origins of 'Rub'

"Oh, Brandon?" Linda sang out as Dwight sullenly got into the car.

"Uh huh?" Brandon asked, frowning at his friend's childish behavior.

"Guess who we're picking up," Linda sang as she backed out of the barrage.

"Pope Francis?" Brandon asked.

"No," Linda giggled.

Dwight, seeing that he was being ignored, kicked the glove compartment. Linda checked both ways, then backed into the street.

"Um, President Trump?" Brandon guessed again.

"No, a lot prettier than him," Linda said.

"Prettier, prettier, um, I give up," Brandon said.

"Mickey," Linda whooped and turned the corner.

A moment later, she pulled to a stop in front of a small wooden home. Dwight sat, arms folded across his chest, staring straight ahead.

A moment later, Mickey, dressed in wife beater shirt and denim shorts, came skipping out. Her waist length hair was loose and swished as she scurried to the car.

"Good morning," Brandon greeted Mickey when she climbed into the car.

"Good morning. Let's see," Mickey said and rubbed Brandon's cheek. "Oh good, you did shave."

She pressed her bright red lips to his cheek, then sat back to buckle up. Linda drove away slowly.

"Oh! Found a picture of you, wanted know if it's all right put it on Linda's web site?" Brandon asked, scrolling through his camera's storage.

"Know, that thing down there? Called the accelerator," Dwight snapped as Linda kept the car at the posted speed limit.

"Know, speed limit's twenty five on this street," Linda said. "Bank's up there on Willow. Can let you out here and you can walk."

Dwight clamped his lips tightly. Mickey approved of the shot of her and Brandon resolved to post it the moment they returned to the house.

At the bank, Brandon, with Linda's permission, gave 1121 Vienna Street as his address. The customer service representative assured him, changing the address if and when he found his own place was as easy as coming in and filling out a form.

"Or can just go on-line; web site's right here," the woman said, pointing to the address on her business card.

"Thank you," Brandon smiled.

He waited for the receipt and smiled as Mickey leaned against him. She clutched onto Brandon's arm when the CSR returned with two crisp one hundred dollar bills for Brandon.

At a teller window, Dwight was busily counting a stack of one hundred dollar bills before putting them into an envelope. Linda thanked the teller and the quartet left the building.

"But I still don't understand why you didn't just open your own account like Brandon done," Linda said as they again got into the car. "Ain't it dangerous walking around that much money on you?"

"Told you, told that dumb cunt in there, need pay off some bills," Dwight snapped.

"Dwight! Miranda, now why you call her that?" Linda gasped.

"Hey, don't be using that word, huh?" Mickey snapped.

"What? Stupid bitch acts like a dumb cunt, I'm going call her a dumb cunt," Dwight snapped.

"Man, Dwight, huh?" Brandon snapped.

"Anywhere else?" Linda snapped.

Back at her home, Linda went, with Dwight right behind her, to the rear yard. Brandon again started up Linda's laptop computer and logged onto her web site.

"Oh, wow!" Mickey enthused, looking at the series of photographs Brandon had uploaded onto the site. "Oh, Brandon! That's..."

She leaned heavily against Brandon and pointed to the picture of Linda squatting.

"Isn't she gorgeous?" Mickey whispered.

"Yes, she is," Brandon agreed, then cut and pasted the picture of Mickey into the series of pictures.

He turned to her. She looked up at him.

"Almost as beautiful as you," Brandon said.

They kissed, lip to lip. She opened her mouth and Brandon softly insinuated his tongue into her mouth. He sucked her tongue into his mouth and held it there.

"Mm," she moaned her approval.

"How you know that soil's p. h. balanced?" Dwight demanded as the atrium door slammed open.

"Because I tested it, Dwight. I got the strips right here you want test them," Linda said.

"Hey, chicken curry okay for lunch?" Mickey called out.

"Oh! With that rice you do?" Linda asked.

"I'm going test them," Dwight said, grabbing the packet of test strips. "I'm telling you, that one on the end? Didn't look right."

"God!" Linda snapped and followed Dwight out to the hothouse again.

"Need help with lunch?" Brandon asked.

"No; might steal my recipe," Mickey teased and kissed him.

Brandon watched as Mickey quickly assembled the ingredients. Seeing that she had an audience, Mickey bent and stretched, flexed and posed.

"See? Balance right where it's supposed be," Linda said as she and Dwight stomped back into the house.

Brandon showed Linda his improvements to her web site. Linda noticed that she'd already received three comments about the new photographs as well as an order for one of the orchids. She sat at the table and rapidly answered the comments.

"Damn, how fast you type?" Dwight asked.

"Ninety five words a minute," Linda said, clicking on the 'Send' button.

Three of the people seated at the table enjoyed the lunch. Dwight claimed it needed more salt and wasn't spicy enough. He offered to make supper for them but Mickey suggested they go to Rustlers for barbecue instead.

"There's a band there; you know how dance?" Linda excitedly asked Dwight.

"Fucking hate barbecue," Dwight claimed.

"What? Then, boy, better move on out of Texas," Mickey said. "Brandon, you know how dance?"

"Some. Not real good at it, though," Brandon admitted.

"Don't worry," Mickey said, leaning against him. "I'll make you look good."

"I know that's right," Brandon enthused and she smiled.

"Need do some grocery shopping though," Linda mused. "Y'all like omelets?"

"Oh! I know how make the best omelets," Dwight suddenly perked up. "See, instead of butter? You use olive oil, get the pan good and hot and..."

Brandon decided to take some more pictures with his digital camera. Mickey followed him, leaving Linda to put up with Dwight's blathering.

"So, where'd you learn Spanish?" Mickey asked as Brandon photographed the exterior of Linda's hot houses.

"High school," Brandon shrugged. "There were a few kids from um, oh, damn it, starts with a 'G' but I can never remember, Guatemala?"

"Uh huh," Mickey agreed.

Brandon did not tell Mickey that he'd kept current with his Spanish by watching countless hours of Latin pornography. Mickey turned, giving Brandon an opportunity to photograph her luscious buttocks peeking out of her denim cutoffs.

"Been thinking 'bout cutting my hair, not real short, 'bout here," Mickey said, indicating a spot just past her shoulders.

"You'd look cute with that," Brandon agreed, again getting a photograph of her buttocks.

"Yeah?" Mickey asked, looking over her shoulder at him.

"Y'all, fixing go grocery store," Linda announced, sticking her head outside.

"Taking dumb ass with you?" Mickey asked, in Spanish.

"Mickey, he's not that bad," Linda protested.

"Want us come along?" Brandon asked, getting a photograph of Linda.

"No, no, that's all right," Linda said as Dwight called out for her to hurry.

Brandon took a few more photographs, then Mickey pulled him inside. He allowed himself to be led to the couch in the living room and smiled when Mickey pulled him in for a heated kiss.

"Look, I'm not a whore, all right?" Mickey prefaced as she shimmied out of her tank top.

"Never said you were," Brandon said, his hands cupping her lace covered breasts.

Brandon almost had Mickey out of her denim cutoffs when they heard the garage door going up. Mickey squeaked and grabbed her tank top and bra. Brandon tried to tuck his erection back into his snug jeans as the interior door slammed open.

"Y'all? Need some help here," Linda called out harshly.

"What's up," Brandon asked, scurrying into the kitchen.

"Just needed eggs, bread, usual stuff," Linda snapped, slapping two bulging bags onto the counter. "But no, got get this, got get that. Three hundred bucks! Like I got that kind money just laying 'round?"

"Told you I'll pay half soon as my check clears," Dwight snapped, carrying in one bag.

"Smushing the bread," Linda snapped, grabbing the bag out of Dwight's hand.

Brandon helped carry in some of the bags. Dwight was too busy rearranging Linda's pantry to assist in ferrying bags from car to kitchen.

"Dwight, I'm not as tall as you," Linda snapped. "Don't be putting that stuff all way up there, huh?"

Mickey helped Brandon unload the car. Her playful mood seemed to have evaporated with the return of Dwight, but she did smile and give Brandon's buttocks a firm slap as he bent to retrieve a can that had rolled to the far recess of the trunk.

Dwight again voiced his dislike of barbecue but he was outvoted. At the barbecue restaurant, he sulked while Brandon, Linda, and Mickey read over the menu.

"Brisket, that any good?" Brandon asked.

"Man! It is the best, all falling apart, and know how some brisket's all fat and stuff?" Linda enthused.

When the waitress came to get their drink orders, Dwight ordered a full rack of baby back ribs. So, Linda, Mickey and Brandon had to quickly make up their mind on their dinners as well.

"Full rack? Dude, forty two ninety nine," Brandon said.

"Got a check coming in," Dwight claimed.

The band started up and Mickey pushed against Brandon. They stepped out on the floor and Mickey guided Brandon through a lively two step. After a second song, Mickey saw that Dwight was refusing to dance with Linda, so she discreetly pushed Brandon toward the table.

"Hey Linda, this boy don't dance too bad," Mickey teased, offering Brandon's hand to Linda.

"Mean, for a white boy?" Brandon smiled and Mickey laughed.

Linda and Brandon danced a few songs before Brandon noticed that their food had come. She held onto his hand as they returned to their table.

Dwight managed to polish off half of his ribs and ordered a doggy bag. When the bill came, Brandon paid for their meals, despite Linda's protests.

After walking out into the muggy Texas night, Linda, Mickey and Brandon wanted to go to the Marble Slab for ice cream, but Dwight demanded that they return home. Mickey demanded that she be dropped off at her house first.

Once home, Dwight was ready for sex. Linda was not in any mood for sex, but soon acquiesced, hoping sex would satisfy Dwight, or at least would shut him up. Brandon reluctantly followed when Dwight insisted that he join them in Linda's bedroom.

Once nude, the three formed a daisy chain, Brandon's mouth on Dwight's cock, Linda's mouth on Brandon's cock and Dwight licking Linda's pussy. Within moments, the three were grunting in ecstasy.

"Know what? You ain't fucked me yet," Linda said to Brandon as he wheezed to catch his breath.

"Need to give me a minute," Brandon wheezed.

"Men, I swear," Linda giggled. "Y'all ain't good for nothing, huh?"

While Dwight and Brandon struggled to catch their breath, Linda sat up with her back against the headboard of her bed. She lazily dragged a finger up and down her wet slit, eyes twinkling as Brandon watched.

She squealed in laughter when Brandon grabbed her ankles and pulled her to lie on the bed. Brandon glued his mouth to Linda's hairless pussy and licked and sucked at her. He slowly wiggled forward, kissing her tummy, then her breasts.

"Mm," Linda cooed as Brandon kissed her lips.

She opened her mouth and Brandon slid his tongue into her mouth. They kissed for a few moments, then Brandon wiggled forward and drove himself into her pussy.

"Ugh! Oh yes," Linda hissed, arms going around Brandon's torso.

Dwight did not want to be left out and presented his cock to Linda's mouth. She looked up at him, clearly annoyed, but dutifully sucked on Dwight's cock for a moment.

Dwight then knee-walked around and nudged Brandon's legs apart.

"Ugh! Aw, God damn, huh?" Brandon groaned as Dwight pushed himself into Brandon's ass.

Brandon then had to prop himself on his elbows, to keep his and Dwight's combined weight from crushing Linda.

Dwight's cock sliding in and out of Brandon's ass would have been welcome to Brandon, had it just been him and Dwight joining. Dwight's cock thrusting forcefully into Brandon's tight ass would have been pleasurable to Brandon, had he been in a different position.

But, Dwight's sodomy was an inconvenience at this moment. Brandon struggled and strained to keep his weight off of Linda, while continuing to thrust himself into Linda's wet pussy. Linda smiled and craned her head up. She kissed Brandon passionately for a moment, then slid back down into the mattress.

"You sweet," Linda whispered to Brandon as he struggled to continue thrusting in and out of her while Dwight hammered in and out of him.

"Uh huh, got a sweet ass," Dwight concurred with Linda's declaration.

A savage thrust from Dwight caused Brandon to push into Linda with force. His cock was at the right angle to rasp against Linda's clitoris and she stiffened in orgasm.

"Ugh, oh, oh man!" Dwight grunted and pumped his load into Brandon's struggling hole.

With Dwight no longer weighing him down, Brandon was able to give Linda his attention. He wrapped his arms around the petite blonde and held himself inside of her tight hole. Then, with a soft kiss, he began to make love to her.

"Ugh, oh God yes," Linda hissed, wrapping her arms and legs tightly around Brandon.

"Mickey's going love you," Linda whispered as Brandon continued to make love to her.

"Yeah, why that bitch don't like me, huh?" Dwight demanded.

"Ugh! Oh God!" both Brandon and Linda cried out as Brandon spurted his load into Linda.

"Huh? Why that bitch don't like me?" Dwight again demanded to know. "I mean, bitch don't even know me, acting like I'm a piece of shit or something, huh?"

"Maybe 'cause you call her a bitch?" Linda snapped. "Why you asking me? Need ask her why she don't like you."

"I'm asking you," Dwight snapped. "Huh? You her best friend, right?"

"Dwight, I have no idea," Linda said, exasperated. "Need ask her."

She wiggled underneath the blanket, turned her back to Dwight and Brandon and turned off her bedside lamp. Brandon again claimed his own pillow and turned away from Dwight and Linda. Dwight made the bed jostle as he angrily got out. His feet slapped loudly on the floor as he stomped to the bathroom.

"Lord," Linda spat as Dwight made a great deal of noise in the bathroom.

She rolled over, facing Brandon. Brandon remained in his corner of the large bed.

"He always such a titty baby?" Linda asked.

"Shit, you been knowing him longer than me," Brandon sighed. "I just met him couple days ago."

"Yeah, well, he wasn't nothing like this when we was face timing," Linda sighed.

"But Mickey was right," Linda mumbled a moment later.

Dwight entered the bedroom again, cutting off any more conversation between Linda and Brandon. Again, Dwight caused the soft mattress to jostle as he crawled between Linda and Brandon. Then he made a great deal of noise with his pillow.

"Fuck this; I got my own room," Brandon sighed wearily and got out of the bed.

"What? Where you going?" Dwight asked, genuinely surprised at Brandon's reaction.

"Get some sleep," Brandon said, grabbing his pile of clothes.

He'd turned off the air in the third floor suite when Dwight and Linda had pulled him down to the master bedroom the previous evening. So the room was sweltering. Brandon adjusted the thermostat then lay on top of the neatly made bed's comforter.

At some time in the night, he'd become cold, so crawled underneath the comforter. Now comfortable, Brandon slumbered until nearly nine o'clock in the morning.

"That no good mother fucker!" Linda screamed, stomping into Brandon's room. "That no good, lying piece of shit mother fucker!"

"Huh?" Brandon asked, groggily coming to consciousness.

"Your buddy there!" Linda screamed.

The house alarm had roused Linda from her sleep. She'd scampered into her robe then dashed down the stairs. The front door was wide open and Linda could see Dwight's truck driving away. Turning off the alarm, Linda slammed the door shut. She did wonder where Dwight was going, why he didn't wait for her to wake up, why he didn't ask her to turn off the alarm.

A quick glance into the room he'd put his suitcases into revealed that his suitcases were gone. Then she saw that her purse was lying on the bed in that room, the contents scattered onto the bed.

"Well, what'd he take out of your purse?" Brandon asked as Linda shrilly informed him of the events leading up to her stomping into his room.

"Shit! I don't know," Linda admitted. "I was just coming up here see if you'd left too."

Brandon dressed and went down the stairs, following Linda.

"Shit! That mother fucker!" Linda screamed. "My credit cards!"

Linda burst into tears as she gathered up the scattered contents. Brandon immediately called the police. He gave the dispatcher the address. He was also able to give the make model and year of Dwight's truck, as well as the plate's numbers.

"North Dakota?" the dispatcher confirmed.

"Yes ma'am," Brandon affirmed.

The police came out, took down all the pertinent information. Brandon supplied them with all he knew about Dwight Campbell, as well as Dwight's cell phone number, and again, the truck's make, model, and year, and plate numbers.

"North Dakota?" one of the police officers asked, slightly surprised.

"Yes sir, North Dakota," Brandon agreed.

"And you, ID?" the other officer asked.

Brandon showed the officer his driver's license. The officer scanned the ID with his cell phone and nodded when it came back clean.

"'Scuse me," Linda said when her cell phone chirped.

"Hello?" she asked.

Her already splotchy face became mottled with rage. She stomped toward one of the officers.

"Here, need hear this," she barked, handing the officer her cell phone.

"That check made me run through my account?" Linda informed Brandon. "Guess what? That account was closed. Now I'm out twenty five hundred bucks on top of what he done stole out my purse. God damn that no-good mother fucker."

"Twenty five hundred?" the other officer asked as the first officer handed Linda her cell phone.

The officer touched his shoulder mounted radio and spoke to the dispatcher. Neither Brandon nor Linda understood the squawks and squeals that the radio blared out but both officers nodded in agreement.

"All right ma'am," the lead officer said. "Sir."

"I uh, I guess I'll go get my stuff," Brandon said heavily when he and Linda were alone again.

"What? Why?" Linda asked.

"Well, I mean, you going want me out of here, huh?" Brandon asked. "Only reason I was here was because Dwight invited me."

"And? You ain't Dwight, huh?" Linda snapped, pulling her robe tighter around herself.

"I uh, no, no, I'm not Dwight," Brandon agreed.

"Matter of fact, was starting like you a whole bunch more than that Dwight mother fucker," Linda snapped. "God damn! I just cannot believe..."

Brandon took a shower, scraped the whiskers from his face, then dressed in shorts and tee shirt. When he came downstairs again, he could smell onions and bell peppers and bacon.

"Omelets. All right?" Linda said.

"Oh! Hey! I know how make the best omelets. See, instead of butter, you use olive oil," Brandon imitated Dwight.

Linda turned and glared at him. She marched up to him, stood on tiptoes and kissed him.

"Need shut up, hear?" Linda demanded, then poured the egg mixture into the skillet.

"Yes ma'am," Brandon said.

He gently touched her shoulder. She turned from the skillet and looked at him.

"I'm sorry. I really didn't know he was like that," Brandon said. "He seemed all right when I ran into him."

"Yeah, well, seemed real all right when we started face timing," Linda said.