The Hired Gun Ch. 02

CHAPTER TWO:

Featuring: Auntie Esther (Mz. Giggles)

The following morning saw me back out on the track pretty much at the same time as the day prior running. I had an uneventful evening working on social media for my site and some of my talents. I had an invite for a cookout with my cousin Jaquan, but bowed out when he revealed his daughter Daisy would be present. After finding out the toddler had an I.Q. of 147 and had been trolling her own father surreptitiously for probably two years, I found it was hard to be in her presence. She was pretty much a clone mini-me of her infamous mother who'd given me hell for almost a year. There were also other qualities to this kid that made me uneasy. I still had the weird drawing she'd given me one afternoon.

Rashida Sikes aka Thunda, my marquee star for the site finagled me into a blind date with her friend Delia. Turned out she wanted to test out her new body after weight loss surgery and a heavy gym regimen that left her with this ridiculous figure and a butt that nearly matched Rashida's, slim, thick to the max on the bottom-heavy side. We engaged one another, even filming a scene after I found myself an unwitting sneaky link. Delia had this lopsided explanation for her unfaithfulness that rubbed me the wrong way. The resultant scene sat in my online vault and one portable hard drive as insurance that her long-suffering husband would be the recipient of some reciprocal behavior, for the time being at least.

"ON YOUR LEFT!" Someone female with a raspy voice shouted loud enough to make me flinch and slow down on my morning run.

This woman blew by me like a runaway freight train giving me a sense of DeJa'Vu. She was running as if she were in a relay race giving me a rewarding view that sent jolts to my crotch. This dark-skinned sister had an incredible pronounced pear shape and the most distinct "Ass to Waist" ratio I'd seen in a long while. I hate to say it, but she was neck in neck with Rashida Sikes physically, but a margin off due to her legs being shapely, but overly defined. This woman was the epitome of the old "Coke Bottle Shape" trope. My eyes zeroed in on her big meaty badonkadunk encased in a pair of hot pink, yoga booty shorts. Her upper half was matching in a running shirt with a hoodie attached as I drew parallels.

"ON YOUR RIGHT!" Before I knew it, she'd run by again making me shift to my left and pick up speed. Her voice was angry sounding, matching the face I got a fleeting glimpse of as she zoomed by a second time.

A day earlier I'd been running the track on my usual workout when another specimen blew by me in similar fashion. This was a different woman, but I found myself unsure as I ran after her just to get a closer look. Whoever this woman was; she was no slouch comfortably outpacing me a few feet ahead close enough to look, but not enough to address her without compromising my breathing. Her huge cheeks were eating up those yoga shorts as she ran giving me a good look at her mouthwatering ass.

"ON YOUR LEFT, DAMN NIGGA!!" She blew by me again hitting the corner as I got a shocking glimpse of her face in profile finding that she was a mature woman with this angry scowled face. It drew comparisons to the expression on Mr. T's face, young Mike Tyson or Deyonte Wilder. Any thoughts of making the hard sell to this woman flew right out the window as she ran up the same hill but stopped with her hands on her knees huffing.

I ran by slower than before, noticing her staring like she wanted to put a few bullets inside me. This was a "cover your ass" move to make it look like I was legitimately working out as I ran by her doing my best not to stare. I rounded the far end of the track getting the sense she was lingering there watching me as I approached the bend.

"YOU'D RUN BETTER IF YOU WEREN'T LOOKING AT ME, BOY!!" Her voice was nasty in a challenging hood manner making her words hit like a thrown brick. She turned and disappeared over the hill before I reached her completing the cycle of DeJa'Vu.

"Wait a minute." This woman had disappeared in exactly the same spot as the other a day earlier. I stopped walking it back drenched in perspiration with my hands on my waist breathing hard.

Right over the hill, I found a burgundy Jeep Grand Cherokee pulling out of the same auxiliary parking lot rather slowly. My brow furrowed at the mystery as I took a seat on the grass watching it disappear from view.

Thoughts of Rashida filled my head making me jokingly think I'd found a long lost relative of hers. I almost called her up but caught myself. The last time we saw one another I had a meltdown in public when this noob insulted my deceased girlfriend. She'd stayed by my side throughout even though we were arguing on and off that morning. I thought about the two mysterious women for a minute wondering if I should've hollered at either before my mind's eye settled on Mrs. Gilbert, uh Angela.

I'd received a "hall pass" from Charity Gilbert who implored and basically ordered me to show her mother a good time for an afternoon. In hindsight, I considered it a shit test given by a now former FWB which I promptly failed. There was no doubt something else was at play between the women, mother and daughter. I wasn't privy and I wasn't going to pry. Instead, I was going to wait for the other shoe to drop or for Mr. Gilbert to evict me. I recalled the nude portrait of her in Charity's old room which prompted a potential love interest to grab my business to see if I was aroused. I passed that shit test.

Until then, I wanted to work, and it seemed like MILFS were the order of the day after this run-in as I got behind the wheel of my car, also courtesy of Mr. Gilbert. I followed the same path out of the main parking lot on the other side of the park to strains of "Magic Mona" by Phyllis Hyman.

I'd decided I was going to make some content today, most high willing.

"What're you doing calling me up, boy?"

"I can't call you?"

"Well considering you all a calling the "bat line" this morning; you either want some tail or you wanna film yourself getting some tail, am I right boy?" Her thick accent made me smile as I sat in front of my laptop looking at some footage on my editing bay.

"You don't like money?"

"I got plenty of cash; that Arab fella keep my purse filled all the time."

"So, when's the wedding Auntie?"

"Somebody wants a whupping today; is that what you want boy? I told you I ain't moving to no Dubai. When that sheik wanna get some, we meet at one of the hotels he owns over here in the good ole US of A, understand? By the way, he loves your site, maybe he might want to partner up or go into business with you."

"BULLSHIT!"

"What I tell you about cussing at me?!"

"I was just happy Auntie."

"Happy enough to get a paddle on your mannish butt?"

"Okay sorry ma'am; so, uh that sheik really owns some hotels over here just to hook up with you?"

"I don't know if he got them just to clap my cheeks, but yeah. Hooked up with him last month when he was in town for a business meeting. Everything's cool after I sign the NDA and everything; never told him I used to do legal work so he don't know I can read them contracts real good. You can never be too careful with these menfolk. I heard them stories, you know?"

"I can't speak on it ma'am, but did you hook up with him in town?"

"Yeah why?"

"...well." I shrugged tapping away at my laptop.

"So, I guess it's filming yourself getting some tail then, huh boy?" Auntie Esther chuckled.

"Well, Mz. Giggle's fans have been dying for some new content and I think we should oblige them; what do you think ma'am?"

"I don't have a problem with it, but your uncle done thrown my wigs out. We had a row last month when he got to sniffing around my business. Thought he was gonna hire that private eye fella but didn't know I had that shithead on speed dial. We had one of them uh, Mexican standoffs where I said I'd spill about my shit if he did likewise. Still waiting boy, still waiting and I'm building up my exit fund with that sheik fella."

"You didn't drop my name, did you?"

"What you take me for, huh boy? Last thing I want is for you to be dragged through divorce court airing out my old dusty drawers in front of the public. Way I got it figured, if it hits the fan, I'm ghosting him and signing the papers in absentia. He ain't gonna cop to cheating on me when he goes on his little "fishing trips" and I ain't asking no more, so that ass hat is just gonna have to lump it when I go on "Girls Nights" every now and then."

"So, are we a go for today?"

"As long as you don't show my face, I ain't got a problem with it. I've been kind of bored lately anyway and I ain't been giving your uncle nothing because I know he is getting it elsewhere."

"Uhm, think you can get a hotel room, while I take care of everything else?"

"Hell boy, I can snap up a presidential suite if you want."

"Sounds good; so, Esther, guess what we're doing today?" I was glib at the chance to shoot some new content after an extended hiatus.

"I'm getting some tail and I'm filming your tail; but first we're going on a mission."

"Mission?"

I considered my Auntie Esther by marriage, a special guest star talent on my website. We had an odd relationship after I'd accidentally discovered her nascent status as a gold digger making camp in my uncle's life. Most of the family thought she was a bubblehead idiot for putting up with his shenanigans and extramarital excursions i.e.," fishing trips "which usually included my father formerly the black sheep on his side of the family because of his cheating on my mother who was mostly held in high regard. Now that I'd been outed, he was shuffled to the back of most family sewing circles in favor of his wayward son (me) who was quote, unquote, a godless pervert. I didn't socialize with them, never had so it didn't matter.

Auntie Esther and I had a "fair trade" deal that was mutually profitable, and I was responsible for her slush fund of sorts after posting some footage of her online. Besides her passing resemblance to Macy Gray, my aunt by marriage boasted a cornfed figure and stats of 46-38-60 while approaching her forty-eighth year of life. There was no doubt she was "packing a lot of back" which was usually on display in the pocketless denim shorts she liked to wear around the house much to my uncle's pride. Auntie Esther was his trophy wife of sorts and didn't have a problem with being paraded around at the cookouts he held every now and then.

Privately, his wife was a random member of my lineup known as "Mz. Giggles" thought by most to be a vintage model outside of her sugar daddy from overseas. This was accomplished by the filters used on her content and a vintage wig she'd worn in the inaugural shoot. It was a last-minute editing decision meant to further obscure her identity that paid in dividends with scores of clueless fans thinking the footage was archival. After that initial shoot, Esther just traded private content with her sugar daddy online exclusively.

"Yeah, I want to make something special for your fans." I was looking at this monochrome pic of her standing in the corridor of my uncle's house facing away from the camera.

She was wearing her vintage "Peg Bundy" wig, an old school checkered apron, a pair of spike heels and nothing else. The sunlight filtering in from the other side of the corridor added to the "legitimacy" of the pic making it feel like something found in a trunk in somebody's attic. The comments section as well as my aunt's private life encouraged me to keep the audience thinking the posts were found footage. I intended to keep that line blurred for as long as she wanted. It enhanced her innate allure.

"Well, I guess I'll just have to put myself in your hands."

I chortled making her words a double-entendre.

"Watch yourself boy."

Hours later I was sitting in the mall checking my email sitting right under the escalator at this fountain. Back in the day I'd chided one of my talents into coming out in public partially to get the woman out of her shell and for a more ambitious shoot. I didn't want to fall into the trap of making hood porn with a cheap look and redundant setup. It was the beginnings of a creativity that would flourish afterwards making me a target for an economic grift hidden behind an obvious honey trap in the person of a feme fatale and scammer with a genius level IQ.

"Ow, hey lady...oh, it's you! What're you wearing?" I'd been hit in the arm with a big blocky handbag by my aforementioned auntie who'd decided a disguise was the order of the day.

She'd decided to wear a big floppy denim bucket hat along with some blocky looking shades that made her nose look pinched and already big lips, even bigger. The rest of her was covered in a black paisley trimmed peasant blouse, denim blue lace jeans and some flossy wedge sandals. Humorously, Auntie Esther decided to wrap this natty looking beige sweater about her wide hips in a futile attempt to hide her big shelf-like monster butt.

"I'm being uh, incognito boy."

"Why?"

"Just in case; your uncle been riding my bumper all fucking month and this morning he up and left without saying a word. Thank gawd we use burner phones, and I got the bill going to my PO Box. If I'm gonna get busted, it's gonna be on my own time. I bet he's been itching to catch me with my drawers down so he can use that fucking prenup not to pay me shit. I wanna hold out until I find out who the prospective new wife is gonna be so I can give her a two piece before I go."

"Whatever, let's go." I got up walking ahead of her towards the opposite side of the floor making the troubled mature half run after me.

"So, where are we going?"

"To get you a new look auntie; I think it's time Mz. Giggles got an upgrade for this next shoot."

Off near the northern exit of the mall facing the parking garage was this lingerie shop that catered to older women. It popped up a few months prior when the mall was in financial straits, but word around the campfire was the area was in the midst of a rejuvenation due to its recent purchase by a big box retail chain and some gentrification of the surrounding area. Ironically the store was a few feet from the now closed clothing store where Charity Gilbert formerly plied her trade as a manager.

It seemed like ages ago the young Ms. Gilbert blackmailed me out of a hundred dollars or more and serendipity that we ended up in this sort of relationship. Charity never made any bones about being malevolent self-identifying as "Evil" while helping me out on occasion when we weren't in bed. Some would say my presence in her life was transformative for Charity and her father, William. Now she was some states away resuming her life as it would have gone if not for her own obsessive-compulsive hubris.

"You gonna buy me some drawers?" Auntie Esther asked too loud for my comfort as the two rotund women owners chortled at the cash register. We were quite the odd couple perusing the aisles of lingerie and other unmentionables.

"More like an ensemble; we're going old school all the way."

"Because I'm old?"

"No; I have an appreciation of those old vintage men's magazines. I have an appreciation of your rubenesque figure that is obviously shared by all of your admirers."

"Are you calling me fat?"

"Esther, you're built like a brick shithouse, OKAY?!" Both of the mature women at the counter found this amusing enough to approach us offering some assistance. One of them, a graying blonde with her own oversized pear shape named Myrtle was especially friendly towards Esther, but I doubt she realized the flirting as her short haired business partner and wife picked out a few pieces.

It took a minute, but I settled on a vintage bra and panty set with the conical bra that would work wonders on Esther's semi-solid breasts. My mature charge was fitted with a black corset and attached garter belt ensemble along with some seventies era appropriate heels.

Carnie, the short haired associate and the more "butch" associate of the two turned out to be a revelation in the wig department accessorizing our fashion haul with three good wigs. I replaced Esther's old bouffant Peg Bundy wig with a new one indicative of the feathered hair look of the late Farrah Faucet on Carnie's recommendation alone. The remaining two were the classic beehive and a pop afro wig of red hair which matched her redbone skin tone.

"You really get into this stuff, huh?" Esther asked as we sat in a booth having lunch at the upstairs food court.

"I want my content to look good uh, as high end as I can manage on a budget. Back in the day after I figured it out, I knew I didn't want it to look like other urban sites, I guess ghetto. Esther I never thought I'd be doing this as a side business, much less making a profit."

"And you're not wasting the money either; I was surprised you're not rocking swag, or an expensive vehicle. That tells me you've got a good head on your shoulders, unlike your father."

"We're on the outs, and he threw me under the bus again."

"You didn't do nothing to him, first?" I looked up from my oversized slice of pizza realizing she was in the know. One of my father's regular haunts was my uncle's house and this news made me bristle inside.

"Eh, he can't talk."

"So, you didn't go up in that man's house and mess all over his woman, with drugs and everything?" Her accusatory tone told me dad was using me for clout.

"I didn't have any drugs; Erica was doing that shit on the down low. She was getting it from somebody at her gym; and I ain't talking to her fucking ass anymore."

"So, you really did get mannish with his girl, huh boy?"

"Did he mention that Erica is the daughter of his former girlfriend Babbs, uh Mrs. Walton?" Esther raised a brow which made me look away burying my face in a cup of soda.

"That's your father; ain't you supposed to have some loyalty to the man that made you?"

"He threw me under the bus."

"So, it's okay to go round messing with his women; and yes, he told your uncle about the mamma too. Said she called him up full of fire when her daughter told her about his new woman. They got to yakking back and forth, so she just let him know that you was "MORE MAN" than him. Now, that was a really low blow, boy."

"It's complicated."

The look on Auntie Esther's face made me feel like scum of the earth for an instant, then she snickered in her own country way making me eventually chortle. The innate hypocrisy of it all was right there in our faces considering the "business arrangement" we currently enjoyed under her husband and my father's noses. Like my start in the business, this happened out of nowhere when I caught some punks trying to peek at her while she was getting dressed to probably go out and cheat on my uncle who was himself, likely a cheater too. Both of us had receipts on one another should things go sideways between us.

"Complicated huh; that Babbs woman got a big ole' tailbone like me, don't she boy?"

"Hell no; but I did think about putting that apple on my site for a second. Ain't no way I'd do it because as you can see, the bitch snitched me out. I was even trying; it was uh, complicated. Fucking Erica used me to get back into the house with her mother after she got kicked out for screwing my dad."

"The more I listen, the more you come off like your daddy. Now don't get mad at me, I know you boys are feuding right now. Got me some cousins back down south in Missouri that I can't stand myself and always seem to put hands on when I'm there, so I get it. Sides, your daddy ain't no angel either. He used to hawk the shit out of me back when I first married your uncle, boy. Thought I was going to have to tell on him, but I guess it tapered off cause he found somebody else in his eye."