Smoke Ch. 03

Copyright @ calibeachgirl

All rights reserved, 2011

With thanks to Elliot, Doug and Martine

Remarks with single quotes, i.e., 'remarks' are thoughts and not spoken aloud.

Chapter 3: You can't go home, again

"Well, are we finally going home?" asked Mrs. Shocley. 'My goldfish is probably floating by now.'

"Yes, but in two days; I need to make sure it's safe for all of us. Cindy's husband's bookie is dead, the four guys, well, they've been dead and nobody seems to know or care who we are." 'At least, I hope so.'

Three days later, with souvenirs of little cable cars, bars of Ghirardelli chocolate and postcards of the Golden Gate, they headed south down the 101. After stopping in San Luis Obispo for lunch, they finally reached Redondo in time for dinner at the new Tony's on the Pier.

While good, Greg felt it wasn't as good as several in San Francisco. By the time they were home, it was after ten o'clock and exhausted, they were asleep almost as soon as the lights were off.

They half-sat up in the bed, leaning against the pillows. His left hand caressed her right breast through her pajama top while her own hand was busy between her legs, rubbing through the damp cotton.

Their tongues entwined, their mouths moving against each other, her legs wide open... 'Nothing could be better,' he thought, 'than to wake up like this.'

Cindy took his hand away from her top, pushed it into her waistband and down inside. Both hands worked in unison for a while until she finally shuddered and reaching up, pulling his head against hers as her tongue probed deeply into his mouth.

'Oh, God, oh, God, ohgodohgodohgod....' she tried to think without succeeding.

The joy of newness drove them on and before either of them realized it, her top was unbuttoned and slipping off her shoulders. She reached back, letting him push the sleeves down and off and her breasts stood proud away from her chest. His heart beat rapidly, trying to keep the blood flowing between his head and his head.

Her hand was caught in the sleeve and she pulled against it, popping the cuff open while his left hand rubbed her nipples, one at a time.

Cindy began a busy rubbing between her legs against the cotton pajama bottom, her fingers outstretched and her thumb pushing down each time she stroked herself.

For a moment, she wondered if she even needed Greg to orgasm as she felt the rush start again. She thought back to her nights in the parking lot and came again.

Her rubbing continued, faster and faster, almost a rote religious experience.

He knelt up and she pulled his 'jamas down over his hips and down to his knees as she moved her legs apart and knee-walked him toward her.

Before he knew it, his bottoms were off and as he knelt before her, her left hand held his erect cock to her open mouth. She braced herself against his left leg and he put his hand on the back of her head, trying to control her movements back and forth. Those nights in the lot had given her all the practice she needed and Greg moaned as she continued.

Her hand began to slide back and forth from the large tip back to his balls and she kept her eyes closed to lose any distractions from what she was doing. He kept one hand on her head and the other on the back of his hips, trying to keep his balance as she pushed and pulled.

Either his cock really was long and thick or her hands were small; she didn't know which nor did she care. Not wanting to think too much about it, she had one hand's width next to his balls and then could have put another hand's width past that and still had the head out in the open.

She could barely get it into her mouth but she knew that was because she had a small mouth. Her dentist had told her so, trying to fill a back molar.

She pushed herself forward, getting the head in and then the first hand's worth past her teeth and onto her tongue. There still was a full hand's worth waiting to see what she was going to do.

Her right hand was tightly pumping now while her head pushed and pulled to its own rhythm and her closed eyes stayed shut.

Greg rubbed the side of Cindy's cheek; pushing against her skin, he could feel his own cock sliding inside and out of her mouth.

He could feel himself cumming and so could she; she abruptly stopped, pushed him down onto his back and then slid between his open legs with hers wide open. Aiming carefully at his cock, she moved forward and down and pushed herself onto it.

She began a slight rocking motion, fore and back, fore and back and then sped up as she pushed again, using her hands behind her as a brace against his thighs. 'Oh, God...' She began her litany to God and His son once again.

As she rocked, her breasts wiggled like firm Jell-o and then with a wet plop, Cindy moved up and away from his cock and rested her pussy on his face and then pushed down onto his chin. He saw that she had shaved, something she must have done before they returned from San Francisco.

Eventually, she knelt up and he moved behind her, his kisses moving across the back of her neck and below her jaw line while his cock pressed tightly against the crack of her ass.

She moved up onto her feet and leaned into the headboard; bending forward, she hissed, "eat me, now, damn it."

His face disappeared between the back of her thighs and then, finally for both of them, he slipped his cock into her wet, creamy pussy and began to fuck her as strongly as he could. As Greg moved forward, Cindy moved back, only missing a beat once in a while when she thought about it too much. She closed her eyes, again and let nature take over and a gasp escaped her mouth each time he slammed into her.

They fell to their side on the bed, he still inside and trying to continue. She moved her left arm over his and wrapped it around his shoulder while he caressed her ass with what freedom she gave him to move.

For two minutes, he pounded into her and he could feel himself on the verge, again. He stopped, laid her on her back and spread her legs with his hands. He began to lick her once more as his fingers plunged into her wet depths. She held her legs wide, one arm in front of each the crook of each bent knee.

Later, he lay on the bed, staring at the ceiling, wondering just what the hell he was doing.

It took a full day to replace the glass on the apartment entrance door, he worked so slowly.

All the while, Greg was cussing out the two men who had broken it but then remembered he had killed them later that same day. A smile crept across his lips. 'Stupid, dumb bastards,' he thought. 'All they had to do was go home and let it rest,' but he knew they were just following orders. 'Yeah, same excuse the Germans used.' He felt no remorse, whatsoever, for the four dead enforcers.

He had considered just replacing the entire door... it would have been easier and quicker but he needed the time to think about things he needed to think about. What WAS he going to do with her?

Cindy had moved into his apartment the same night they arrived and he spent the next three days painting the walls, polishing the floors and taking out an advertisement in the Daily Breeze for her old one. The extra money would pay for the repairs necessary after the night of the 'Big Shootout,' as everyone on the street now called it. At the last minute, he cancelled the ad and called up the local Baptist church.

Introducing himself, he asked the minister to ask around for a young couple that might want to live there. He chose the Baptists because as far as he knew, they didn't drink that much, if at all and he didn't want a repeat of the events leading up to the "Big Shootout."

He thought about the local Catholics for just a split-second and then shuddered. It was too bad, but given his past with the Church, he had no desire to be reminded of the oppressive archdiocesan hierarchy and the girl he had once loved... still loved? He was so confused.

"Homicide," Kleis said. 'Now what? Every time I try and get out of here, the damn phone rings.'

Greg could hear the fatigue in the detective's voice. "It's Knotts. We're back, got in yesterday evening... just wanted to let you know. I'm working at the apartment if you want to talk in person, but later this week I've got to go see my other properties in Hawthorne and Lawndale." 'Those properties... I should have gone over there, today, before this... but, this damned door has to be fixed... crap, you can't win, sometimes.'

"Great. I'll be over later. Thanks." 'Might as well... having them out of town actually made things easier, not that I'm going to tell him that.'

There was a knock on the doorjamb and he turned, dripping paintbrush in hand. "Hello?"

For a moment, he thought it was Cindy returning with a pizza from Tony's but she wouldn't have knocked and then possibly the homicide detective.

A couple in their early thirties stood there, waiting.

"Is it all right to come in? We're from the church." The man, wearing a newish charcoal-gray suit, looked at the apartment from the hallway.

She was wearing a white blouse, unbuttoned halfway, attempting to restrain a bosom that yearned to break free and covered with a baby-blue sweater tossed over her shoulders and a calf-length dark-blue pleated skirt. White four-inch heels gave her legs an erotic lift. There was a cameo broach on her blouse with a woman's head facing toward the left. 'No wedding ring,' he noticed as he completed his inspection.

He wondered where that thought had come from. Ever since his time with Cindy... the passion for life he had before the War had returned full-blast.

'Well,' he thought, 'I did ask for a quiet couple but she's seems more subdued than quiet. "Hi, I'm Greg Knotts, the landlord. Just let me put this down and I'll get to you in a second." He wiped the brush with an old rag and set it down on his paint tarp.

"Just getting the place ready... and, you are?"

The man struck him as being a little wimpy as the young woman took control of the conversation. "We're the Meadows... Angela and... uh, Albert. Reverend Pierce said you were looking for a quiet couple as renters."

"Yes. This is a quiet... well, it was until last week, a quiet street and a quiet building and everyone likes it that way, especially me." 'Sure wish I could have said that last week.'

"Is this the building where..."

"Yes, it is but the police say the matter is now closed. There will be no more trouble." 'At least, I sure as hell hope so.'

"Would," she asked, smiling, "you have told me about that if I didn't mention it?" 'I wonder if he's married? He could be a pleasant interlude. He's got that 'dangerous' look to him. I like that.'

"Yes, I would have. I don't like secrets and believe in speaking my mind. Did Reverend Pierce tell you about the rent and... everything?" He looked at her, closely. She didn't seem so... quiet, anymore, more like a volcano seething just below the ground, waiting to explode like that Paricutin covering that little Mexican village back in '43 and was still erupting.

"Yes, he did and we're prepared to take the apartment, that is, if you're agreeable."

"Why don't you let me clean up here and I'll talk with you across the hall, how's that?"

There was another knock. "Hello, Greg? I've got the pizza." 'And, just who is this woman?'

"Oh, good. Listen, Cindy, honey, these are the Meadows... they're interested in your apartment; please set up in the kitchen, would you?

"Why don't you join us for lunch?" he asked them.

"Thank you, very much." She turned toward Cindy, "Hi, I'm Angie and this is my brother, Al."

'Brother? Well, that explained that,' he thought. 'Now wonder she took charge.'

While he went to put his brushes into the turpentine, the others went to his apartment and waited in the kitchen. By the time he got there, still wiping his hands on a paint-rag, the pizza was laid out along with Cokes from the 'fridge.

"Greg, Angie says they've come here from New York. Al has a job at Douglas and she is looking for a secretary job."

By the time the pizza was finished, an agreement was reached and the first month's rent paid. With Cindy's furniture still there, it was rented as 'furnished.'

"If you don't mind the smell of paint, you can move in tonight, how's that?"

"Tomorrow's just fine; we still have a rented room we have to close out. Thank you for lunch," Angie said, "and we'll see you tomorrow."

After the two left, Cindy looked at Greg. "Don't get any ideas, lover boy, you're all mine. Are you finished, over there, I mean?"

"Just have to get the paint cans cleaned up and touch up a few things, but, yes, I'm finished."

"Fantastic. You do that and then clean yourself up and I'll be waiting." 'Keep his mind off that Angie, that's for sure.'

An hour later, Greg was pushing hard into Cindy, hearing her gasp each time as he pressed forward. Her hands grasped his butt, keeping him from slipping out of her wetness and then she began to shimmy beneath him, finally causing him to spurt several times.

"I'm safe right now, baby, but you're going to have to buy some rubbers if we keep this up."

"Or," he said, "we could come to a... I mean..." 'Do I really want to tie myself down to a girl I've really only met the last couple of weeks? This is just crazy! Sex is one thing, but a baby is something else. The way we've been doing it, I'm surprised if she's not knocked up already.

She kept moving beneath him, squeezing him with her muscles. 'What's he saying? Does he mean what I think he means?' Realizing there was a new game in town with Angie moving in and the fact that she already had, so to speak, a leg up...

"Greg," she said, running her hands across the tight muscles of his back, "I'm falling in love with you." She didn't say anything else, deciding that was enough. Once, before she met Chris, a declaration of love would have been the most important thing she could have told any man but since then, her Friday nights at the bar's parking lot had hardened her beyond her own recognition.

Greg was a good man, with a steady income from his properties and certainly wasn't a wimpy man or lover. Someone better wasn't likely to come along anytime soon, she realized; she'd be a good wife to him, even if she didn't love him right now. 'Maybe,' she thought, 'if I WAS pregnant, that would be enough for him. Something to think about... maybe, better sooner than later.'

Greg rolled over to his side of the bed and lit a cigarette. He passed it over to her and waited for her to pass it back. The possibility of marriage was something he had almost given up on and here was a young, good-looking woman in his bed, naked and just been loved... 'well,' he laughed to himself, 'fucked.'

She was hoping for some response to her declaration but there was silence. Had she overplayed her hand? She worried. 'What if he doesn't even feel close to that and I've said too much? But, all that we've done? After all I've done? Shit!'

The phone rang in the kitchen, interrupting her thoughts. 'Who could that be? Nobody's ever called before.'

'Why not?' he asked himself, 'why not?' He knew he wasn't in love with her, well, not exactly, anyway. It was more like, really liking her. 'But... wasn't it better to like someone and fall in love than to love someone and then never really like them?

'Couldn't be any worse than Okinawa, could it?' "Cindy, want to get married?"

In the dimness of the room, he couldn't see her knowing smile. 'Even if he does,' she thought, 'would it be so bad?'

She answered by kissing his lips open and searching for his tongue.

The phone rang again, waking him.

"It's that detective, on the phone, Greg. He wants to know if it's all right to come over, now. I guess he called earlier." She giggle, thinking of the phone ringing while Greg was ringing HER bells.

"Well, what do you want to do?" she asked.

"Might as well get it over with... Tell him to come over. Thanks."

"Sorry to do this to you," Kleis said, eyeing Cindy as she walked into the bedroom.

"Uhh hummm," Greg throated. "You wanted to talk about something."

"Uh, yes... we're closing the case, officially. Everybody connected with the case is dead except for you and... her." He nodded his head toward the bedroom. "So, that's it.

"I do want to say, though, next time, try and be a little more careful throwing all that lead around. There was an overzealous assistant DA that wanted charges brought up against you for those two you plugged in the back yard but I refused to bring that case forward. That should be the end of it. Just thought you'd like to know. I told him those guys had already fired on you.

"Here's my card, just in case something comes up." Kleis got up. "Well, I guess that finishes my business with you... and her. Looking back on it, thanks for leaving town, it did make things a lot easier. Three less people to worry about... thanks."

After Kleis left, Greg sat there, staring at the wall. He'd done a lot of that, lately, he realized, sadly. 'What the hell, might as well get something to eat.' "Cindy! I have to go to the Hawthorne apartments... c'mon, we can get something to eat, later." 'Yeah, maybe some of that pussy.'

The next day, they went looking for rings. That afternoon, she called Suzy with the news.

"You're kidding... it's just been a few days. I wondered where you've been. Are you sure you want to tie yourself down? From what you've told me, he doesn't seem to be like Chris but what about our Fridays?"

"With Chris gone, I have no money, so what am I supposed to do?" 'Why doesn't she understand?'

"Do you at least like him?" 'God, what a little slut.'

"Oh, yes." 'Oh, yes, I sure do.' "He's done nothing but take care of me and I'm going to have his baby." 'Oh, yes, I surely am.'

"A baby? You've got to be crazy! You're too young to have a kid. You're already pregnant?" 'Jesus Christ, now this!'

"Maybe... I don't know... it seems like something that would make him happy. That's all." 'At least, I think so.'

"Well, you better find out for sure before you do something like that, that's all I'm saying." There was a long silence on the phone. "So, when can I come over and visit?"

"I guess anytime, just call ahead in case we're going somewhere. Here's the number: Osborn 5-0862." As soon as she said it, she wondered if that was such a good idea. Since they met, she had deferred to Suzy's whims, each time culminating in cheating on her now dead husband with a cop and God knows how many men in the bar's parking lot although that, she remembered, was a LOT of fun once she decided to do it.

"Uh, Suzy..."

"What?" 'Now, what, you little slut?'

"Promise you'll say nothing about what we did, OK? I want this to work. I like him..." 'for a whole lot of different reasons.'

"I promise. I won't screw this up for you." 'Unless I have to, you little...'

Friday night, they were in the living room watching I Love Lucy like an old married couple... 'Thank God, he doesn't want to watch the fights.' In truth, after the War, watching two overpaid fools beating the hell out of each other had no appeal for Greg, whatsoever.

A knock on the door broke him away from his wandering thoughts. Since the outside door was always locked, anyone knocking on the apartment door itself had to have had a key to the building.

"Hello?" He asked, reaching for his gun by the door. 'How long am I going to have to do this?'

"It's me, Mrs. Shocley; I brought you a cherry pie."

Greg opened the door and welcomed the older woman in. "How have you been?" he asked, taking the pie. "My, this looks good. Please, sit down; we're watching Lucy." 'God, I hate Lucy.'

"Thank you, but I don't have time, I have a date."

"Oh?" 'Well, that's damn interesting.'

"Yes, it's with that nice Detective Kleis, you remember, the one about..."