Sleepy Gene: Episode 01

It's hard to explain to people that I only need about three hours of sleep per day. I vividly remember the bizarre dreams I started having my senior year in high school. They culminated in visions of a grandiose tournament. When I woke up from my final dream I didn't feel any different. My insomnia started that night. When I try to stick to social conventions getting close to four hours of sleep is tough.

I'm never actually tired. Being winded is different that feeling tired. That's a distinction I've learned to make over the years. Once in college, during finals, I made it just over the one hundred hour mark before I passed out. My roommate said I slept for about fifteen hours. Shortly after that I started going forty two hours between bedtimes. I can almost get six hours of sleep that way on most cycles. That went from idea to routing very quickly.

Most people ask if I get bored often. Out of college I held down two and occasionally three full time jobs. On my fortieth birthday I semi-retired dropping down to just one job. I've made enough money to live comfortably for the rest of my life. I just couldn't bring myself to quit working altogether. The job I kept amuses me and keeps my retirement fund growing.

Six months into my new lifestyle I'm already getting restless. I've tried more hobbies than I can count. Most of them are more like work than fun. As I sit here writing my memoirs I'm horrified at how boring I am. I was given virtual super power and turned myself into early retirement man. I'm determined to not go back to work. I'll just have to keep looking for a hobby that interests me.

I've had my share of lovers over the years. One thing I haven't gotten the hang of is loyalty. I suppose that's a character flaw of sorts. I could probably blame that on my parents since they've been miserable together for as long as I can remember. The only thing they seem to hate more than each other is the thought of divorce. Back in the days when I limited myself to just one female companion it was hard to find the line between needy and stalker. I was fine with the appearance of being needy, but it's just so much easier to have two or three women available to me.

As I walked into the café I gave Karen a one in five chance of showing up. It had become obvious over the last month or so that I was becoming a side piece for her. I actually preferred for my relationships to end this way. After tonight I would move on and unless she showed up at my house for some make up time I could just forget her. I wouldn't hold any ill will or resentment toward her, but I couldn't have her blowing me off.

As I finished my dinner I looked at the bar across the street. It was just getting ready to open. Since my night was suddenly free I decided to go and see if I could find someone worth taking home. I paid my tab then made my way across the street. As I walked in the bartender said, "Hi, Gene!"

I looked around the place then said, "I'm not sure you know much about that, Dick."

He smiled then said, "You're here kinda early. Are you drowning your sorrows again?"

"Julie's been a little flaky lately so I need some luck."

"You've been going through them kind of fast lately."

"I'm down to just one job and one woman. Oh god! Is this what it feel like to be you?"

A couple of regulars walked in before he could respond. "I'll start you a tab, Gene."

"Thanks, Rich. I'll be on table five."

I'd been playing for a few hours when a woman approached my table. Her husband had gone straight to the bar. She stopped then surveyed the table for long moment. "Do you mind if I join you?"

"Not at all. Grab a que and I'll rack 'em up." She wasn't very good. I was having a hard time keeping her in the game without making it too obvious. I won the first two games keeping them fairly close. The way she bent over the table to strike the ball was becoming quite entertaining for the other players. A guy I hadn't seen before took it upon himself to start coaching her. His advice didn't make her any better. When she once again had to bend over the table his help went from theoretical to physical. I glanced over at her husband. He seemed to be enjoying the show the two were putting on. As the pair took the shot their elbows hit. The que ball bounced harmlessly back and forth across the table. I let a laugh escape my lips. "Line it up again if you want to try without the help."

The man said, "That's a good idea. Let me show you what that shot was supposed to look like."

"I'm playing her not you. You should get back to your own game now."

"It's okay, cupcake. You can have your table back after I take this shot."

"That's not how it works, bubba. If you want to take the shot you have to finish the game. If you want me to let you do that you need to put that jacket on the line."

"Fine, my jacket is on the line."

He bent down for the shot. I said, "No, give it to the lady first."

"You're starting to piss me off, cupcake." He took the jacket off then handed it to the woman. She slid it on. It fit her better than it had him. He bent down then took the shot. In his anger he hit the ball way too hard. The ball he had struck went in with some force. The que ball bounced around the table ending up in a side pocket. He frowned. "At least this way you can't bitch too much when you lose."

As I held the que ball deciding where to place it I considered throwing the game. The three strangers would be able to go home and have the tryst of their lives. I wasn't interested in that kind of thing anyway. I put the ball down deciding that being an asshole was much easier. I looked at the woman then said, "Pay attention this is gonna happen quick."

As I lined up my first shot the man said, "That's not the first time you've said that to a woman." I called my shot then took it. The que ball bounced with a precision that had taken me years to master. I cleared the table calling each shot along the way. It wouldn't match my fastest time, but I felt like I'd made my point.

When the eight ball went in I looked up at the woman then said, "The way that jacket fits you it looks like it was made for a woman. Why don't you keep it, sweetheart?"

"Thanks, it is kinda soft."

I looked at my opponent. He seemed to be coming to terms with the fact that he had just gotten hustled. "Are we done here?"

"We're done for now. Nice hustle, cupcake."

I looked at the woman then said, "Your turn to rack."

She racked the balls then walked around to where I was standing. She whispered, "My husband loves to watch me give head."

"Really?"

"Yep. I'm really good at it. Why don't you let me pay you back for the jacket?"

"That sounds nice."

"We can do it in the women's bathroom if you want."

"With your husband watching?"

"Of course not. I'll just record it for him with my phone."

"Lead the way."

Performing on camera was nothing new for me. Performing in front of someone else's camera was a bit awkward until the blowjob began. Her lips and tongue were every bit as talented as she had claimed. She didn't spill a drop of my load. She was heading out the door before I could finish zipping my pants. By the time I got back to my table she and her husband were gone.

Things were quite until a little after midnight. A young couple came in. Rich was on them instantly demanding to see driver licenses. The boy may have been old enough to drink, but the girl didn't look a day over sixteen. I watched as Rich examined their ID. He seemed to be satisfied by what he saw then apologized for the mix up.

The boy walked straight back to my table then said, "So, you're the hustler?"

I shrugged. "I've been called worse. Who are you?"

"I'm Ed. You hustled my brother in here earlier."

"If you're talking about the cock blocker then I just put him in his place. Maybe next time he'll mind his own damn business."

He nodded then said, "That sounds just like Dave. This is Jess. Mind if we join you for a few games?"

"I'm not interested, but there are plenty of other tables free."

"What then? Do you only play when something is on the line?"

I rolled my eyes. "Look kid, I mean no offense, but you're cramping my style. I'm not going to be seen in here taking your lunch money from you."

"Fuck you. I've got ten large that says I can beat your ass at a game of pool."

"You have ten grand on you?" He nodded. I said, "Then you're an idiot. Go put that shit back in your savings account."

"You chicken-shit."

Everyone else in the bar was looking at the scene we were causing. Rich started making his way toward us. I said, "Tell yourself whatever you need to, kid."

Rich tapped the kid on the shoulder then said, "I'm going to have to ask you to leave. I can't have you in here harassing my paying customers."

Ed said, "This isn't over, asshole." He stormed out with his girlfriend close behind him.

I watched until they were out the door then said, "That's a relentless little fucker."

Rich nodded then said, "He's not a bad player. You should have just taken his money to teach him a lesson."

"What about that married chick that was in here earlier? Does she come in a lot?"

He shook his head. "First time I'd seen her. I've got to get back to the bar."

The rest of the night passed quietly. At two in the morning I helped Rich close the bar and clean up. As I walked to my pickup something seemed off. I couldn't quite put my finger on it. When I pulled out of the parking lot a small hatchback pulled out of the café parking lot. It had been closed for hours so a bit of paranoia took over me. I decided to make a few random turns to see if I was being followed.

The hatchback made every turn I made. I drove out to a game reserve a friend had taken me hunting on a few years back. The car followed me down the one way dirt road. I pulled my Sig out from beneath the seat then chambered a round. I pulled the truck to a stop on one of the passing areas. The car stopped behind me then honked the horn. I stepped down out of my truck keeping the pistol hidden behind me.

A wave of relief washed over me when Ed stepped out of the car. He opened the back door then pulled out a double barrel shotgun. "Where's my brother's jacket?"

"How the fuck should I know? Did Dave forget to mention that I gave it away?"

"I'm not stupid. I've hustled enough people to know a setup when I hear one. Give me the jacket or take me to her house and we'll call it even."

He hadn't pointed the shotgun at me yet. I didn't know if it was even loaded. His eyes went wide as I pointed my Sig at him. I pulled the trigger. His head snapped back from the impact of the bullet. Someone inside the car started screaming. The passenger door opened. Remembering the girlfriend I hurried over to try and catch her. She was still struggling with the seatbelt when I got to her. I pointed the gun at her then said, "Calm down."

"Please don't kill me."

"I can't exactly let you go, sweetie. I just killed your boyfriend." Tears started streaming down her cheeks. I sighed. "Maybe that doesn't mean I have to kill you."

She said, "You can trust me. I won't tell nobody."

"Why don't we start by seeing if you can behave? Do you think you can do that?" She nodded furiously. "If you don't then you die. Do you understand that?" Her nodding became much more somber. I said, "Good. Let's walk to my truck." I backed up to give her room. She got out of the car then slowly started toward my passenger side door. I kicked the car's door shut. She jumped at the noise. Once she was inside the truck I said, "Seatbelt." When she was buckled in I grabbed a roll of duct tape out of the glove compartment. I put a few wraps around her wrists then closed the door. Starting the truck I decided to follow the trail to the parking area. I figured that turning around on the little road might leave too obvious a trail. On the return trip I was glad to see that Ed and his car were both out of the main traffic lane. I knew that someone would find them eventually, but I wasn't sure when hunting season was or if that mattered. Given enough time the local wildlife may do me a favor. I decided that it wasn't something I could worry about.

My hostage was silent the entire trip to my house. I thought it was odd that she wasn't mourning her loss more. She could still be in shock I decided. I pulled into the garage then tried to figure out what to do next. My house wasn't exactly set up for a full time hostage. I had some light BDSM supplies, but I doubted the items I had could hold anyone against their will. "Let's head to the basement."

I circled the truck then had to cut the duct tape to free her from the seatbelt. Since I had doubled tape against itself her wrists were relatively undamaged. Leading her down the stairway my mind raced to come up with a list of supplies I might need. I wondered what my long term plan was. Things would have been much easier if I had killed her in the woods. A murder suicide always plays well with the local media. Why hadn't I killed just killed her? I closed the basement door behind me, but didn't bother locking it.

Jess looked around the room then said, "This is a nice place."

I couldn't comprehend her attitude. I said, "I'm glad you like it. It's going to be the only place you see for a while." She nodded somberly as if remembering that she wasn't simply a houseguest. "Who's going to miss you?"

She nodded then said, "I know. Thank you for not killing me."

I started to wonder if English was her native language. Her skin looked more tanned than from some sort of Hispanic descent. Her hair might have been blonde at one time. In the light it looked oily and dirty as if it had been a while since her last bath. Her almond shaped face was unblemished. I stared into her brown eyes as I considered my next words. "Answer the question."

"No one. Maybe Dave, but not until he finds out that... I mean about Ed."

"What about your parents?"

"I haven't seen them in years. We didn't exactly part on the best of terms. I doubt they ever looked for me."

"You don't seem very broken up about Ed."

She shrugged. "He was an asshole. I could tolerate Dave because he kept the others away from me."

"What others?"

She pulled the sleeve of her t-shirt up a few inches to reveal a tattoo then said, "I'm an El Equivocado girl."

"What's el avocado?"

"It's a gang. They took me in off the streets. They move drugs around I think."

A new question popped into my head. "Did he really have ten grand on him?"

She nodded. "It's still in the backseat of the car."

That opened up a few options for cleanup. "Well, Jess, I'm going to be honest with you. I'm kind of glad I didn't kill you."

She shuddered then said, "Me too."

"Lose the clothes so I can get a better look at you."

"I'm less than half your age. You know that, right?"

I shrugged. "You have an ID that says you're legal. From what I've heard this is the same deal you had with the avocados. Am I so ugly that you'd rather just die?"

She shook her head. "It's not that." Her hands grabbed the bottom of her shirt. "Please just be gentle."

"I can do that if you make me a promise." She nodded. I said, "Follow every one of my commands and never try to escape. If you do that you won't get hurt in this house."

She pulled her shirt over her head revealing a sports bra and several tattoos. She unbuttoned her jeans then stepped out of her shoes. I watched as she slowly pushed her jeans toward the floor revealing even more tattoos. In her bra and panties she looked slim almost to the point of malnutrition. She pulled her bra off next. Her handful sized breasts didn't sag at all. Her nipples looked to be the size of pencil erasers. She pushed her panties down revealing an unkempt black bush of pubic hair. As I looked her up and down she seemed nervous. I said, "Turn around." She twirled so that her backside was facing me. Her butt bubbled out nicely as if begging to be played with. "The bathroom is the first door on the right. You'll find everything you need in there to get clean and shave. Go do that now. Take your time and do it right."

"Yes, Sir."

She walked quickly toward the hallway then disappeared into the bathroom.