The Women of Custer City Ch. 04-05

"I'm fine," I lied, "I'm working on it."

"We should go out," she suggested, "Live it up a little bit."

I stretched with a groan, then muttered through a yawn, "Fine."

I rose to my feet and helped her up, we stood for a moment, eye to eye, and I leaned in to ask, "What do you have in mind?"

"We could go high life," she suggested nervously, "Blow all our money. Rent a supercar, I know Prodigy Motors has a Paradox on their showroom today. Drugs. See a show. Stay a resort. Whatever the fuck we want."

My eyes drifted to the guitar, "Can I smash it today?"

Ginger just held out a hand that said be my guest. I took the guitar by the neck, spun it high over my head, and crashed it through the tv. I watched as sparks of electricity arced across the room, and the two of us laughed at the spectacle, just because we could.

"No lines or waiting," I said, "I'm not buying a car today. Pretend it's a Saturday night and you're with your friends, what do you want to do?"

It was Ginger's turn to laugh, "Get high with my boyfriend."

Her chuckle dropped down to her belly, before she was keeled over in an uproar, "Yeah lets do that right? Rip him off my roommate, say hey, let's get high with this random dude."

I joined her laughter, and she steadied her head against my shoulder for support.

"What about," I asked, "Just a nice night? A nice dinner. We go out, but we stay relaxed, ok?"

I felt her arms creep down my back, and her voice fell to a whisper, "That sounds nice to me."

Our night ended up being just that. We got a nice dinner at a boutique restaurant called Monsetti's and spent the evening walking around the parks downtown. We finished the night at my house, and once again, I fell asleep first, but Ginger was at my side.

The next day, Amber joined us. The three of us sat at my dirty kitchen table, and as I looked over at Amber, I realized how much of a stranger she actually was.

"I know everyone's said it already, but I want to too," Amber said, "That sucks what happened with Amanda, and I'm sorry, especially because it was my stupid idea."

I gave a quick nod to acknowledge her, but looked away just as quickly. We could all feel the palpable tension in the room, so Amber tried to fill it.

"So this is seriously," she started, "This was like your warroom right? You'd all meet here every morning to figure out how to get you laid?"

"Pretty much," I said, "Alley, Chrissy, Ginger, and Me. Every morning for a while."

Amber kept trying to fill the silence, "Chrissy I get, she lives so far away, but where's Alley? How come she's not here?"

I shrugged, "She's at work."

Amber scoffed, "Are you shitting me?"

I gave a gentle headshake, and Amber continued, "She's working the same day, over and over?"

Amber looked between Ginger and I. Her eyes were desperate to see one of us laughing too, but Ginger looked down, and my eyes stayed steely.

"She has her reasons," I said, "You should ask her about it someday."

Just like that, all the tension had returned to the small kitchen table, and Amber was quick to find another topic.

"I will never," she said, forcing a laugh, "Understand how you and she hooked up anyway. She is such a stickler."

I took the time to lock eyes with Amber, "She's the one who set me straight," I finally said.

Amber didn't say anything, but I could tell I had her attention.

"For a long time I was depraved," I said slowly, "Before all this started, the only woman I talked to was my ex-girlfriend Sadie, but she won't talk to me now. All my guy friends kept resetting, so talking to them was pointless. I was lonely, and I was going insane. More than that, half of the women I'd brought into the loop resented me. Some would kill me, over and over, and over. It made me bitter. I started seeing women as meat, like I had to do whatever I needed just to fuck them. But Alley saw my situation. She realized what I was going through and she was the first one to ever actually offer help. She made it clear we weren't friends, but she knew what I was doing was destructive, and she knew we were on the same page."

Ginger knew the story, but she still watched me with her tilted head. Her red hair fell down one shoulder as she watched with unblinking eyes.

My words didn't ease the awkwardness, and once more Amber changed the subject, "Look I know you're hurting," she said, "But you know why I'm here. You're not just going through heartbreak; you're holding all of us hostage. You need to make progress. For the past week, I've hired a call girl. She's a girl I know, and she'll be good to you. I've paid for her, all you have to do is fuck her. It's the easiest possible way to get back into things."

I twisted uncomfortably in my seat and Amber leaned after me, "Look," she said, "You have to be fair to us."

"Fine," I sighed. For just a moment I thought I saw Ginger twitch, but my eyes were on Amber, "What do I have to do?"

"I have a room ready," she said, "at Caleb's Place, a small motel off 72. Can you get there?"

I nodded.

"The reservations under her name, Isla Jackson, tell them that, they'll take you to her room."

"Fine," I said again, and I was off.

The drive was longer than I did most days, and the motel was shittier than where I slept most nights. The siding paint had started to peel and yellow, and the wood on the outside balconies was splintered and worn grey.

The receptionist took me to room 1304, and when I stepped inside, Isla was already waiting. She was a skinny black girl, adorned in a tan trench coat. She wore her blond hair short and straight, and her mascara formed cat eyes around her piercing green pupils.

"So," she said with a southern twang, "You're a friend of Amber's?"

As soon as the door closed behind me she was rising. She pulled the trench coat apart, revealing the purple lingerie underneath. Her arms were well defined and her stomach was a xylophone. She took a sensual step towards me, and laced her fingers behind her neck.

"Yeah," I murmured, but my heart wasn't in it. My voice was soft and monotone, "I'm a friend of Ambers."

She tried to rub her hands down my back, but I squirmed away. "Can we just," I sighed, "Get this done?"

Her eyes darted down, and her mouth hung open in judgement, "Not unless you tie a stick to it."

I pulled away and sat back on the dusty old bed.

"Listen," she said, "I've been doing this a long time. I know when something's wrong. I also know that you've never done this before. Half the job is talking, people who just need a friend. Just let me lead, ok?"

I couldn't muster an answer, but gave a small nod. I felt her step with her knee onto the bed behind me, and she inched herself closer to my back. I felt her press her pubic bone against my spine, before she wrapped her feet up over her thighs. She leaned in close, and rested her head on my shoulder, her hands on my nipples. She rubbed gently at first, then started to work her pelvis, like she was grinding at my hip bone.

I felt her breasts as they squeezed and rolled against my shoulder blades while her hands ran down my abdomen and worked between my legs.

"Whatever's wrong," she whispered, slowly and seductively, "I'm gonna make you forget all about it. Her hands were back up against my sternum, and she rolled her chin against my neck. I watched her painted toes flex and dig into my thighs.

"There's a girl," I finally said. Even as I spoke I second guessed myself. If I told her a fraction of the truth I'd sound like a lunatic.

"Uh-huh," she whispered. Her lips were flush against my ear, and I felt her paw at my lobes.

"I fucked things up," I said, "I really loved her, and for a moment at least, she really loved me too. Amber thinks I need to move on."

I felt the bed creak as she moved around. She swung around my thigh, and rested her muscular ass on my thigh, so she was face to face with me. "What about you," she asked, "What do you think?"

She was looking me in the eye, but I couldn't stop looking at her breasts. I never heard her take off the bra, but I saw how firm they were, and despite my moping, biology took over, and I felt my pants get tighter.

"I'm ready," I stammered, "I know I have to move on."

"That's good," she said, and Isla's arms were around me again. she leaned forward, and pressed her breasts against my chest. She rocked on my leg, and ground her panties up my thigh, until she felt the tip of my penis.

I felt the meaty lips of her pussy through the fabric and felt my head roll back. I looked at the yellowed ceiling for a moment, but the grinding stopped, and she was looking at me. Isla's eyes had gone serious and narrowed.

"Are you sure about this?" she asked. The seduction was gone from her voice, and the question was friendly.

"Yes," I mumbled, but she wasn't convinced.

"You haven't touched me once," she said. I was still sitting on the bed, my arms still at my side.

"I'm sure," I said, but she pressed on.

"And you're mumbling, barely paying attention," Isla continued, "Listen, I've had sex with a lot of people, and it ain't always the answer. Especially with heartbreak, sometimes it just makes you feel empty."

I swallowed my spit and cleared my throat, just enough to find my voice, "Can we just do this?"

"You're Amber's friend," Isla said, her eyes still locked on me, "But more importantly, you're hurting. I'll give you the money back if that's what you're worried about. You can head home right now."

"I'm not worried about the money," I said. This time my voice was clear and confident, "And you are sexy as fuck. I want to do this, but that doesn't mean my heads gonna magically be clear."

"Ok," she said with a tilt of her chin, "I tell you what, I'm gonna start sucking your dick, and you gotta prove you want it. Talk to me. Play with me. Got it?"

Isla was already undoing the button on my pants before I responded. She bunched the fabric up at my ankles and helped them past my feet. I forced my hands to brush the hair past her ears, and grip along the back of her head. She rolled her tongue across the tip of my penis, and crawled a hand down the shaft. She slid a single finger across my perineum and twisted her long nail into my asshole, while her lips started down my shaft.

"Holy fuck," I said. I felt my grip tighten against her hair, and I guided her head up and down, bobbing against my waist. My legs twitched, the motion involuntary. My thighs pressed against her cheeks, and her finger kept twisting. She slobbered like a rabid dog, adding spit with every thrust. Her free hand dropped to the shaft, and worked in time with her mouth, twisting in the opposite direction.

"Your tits," I said, working my hand down her chest, "Are so fucking perfect."

I felt the hard nipple in my palm while my fingers felt the firmness of her young breast. I swapped between the two, and she started shimmying off her underwear.

"Oh yeah," she said, her mouth off my dick for just a moment, "You want it."

She rose up, and hovered her crotch above my twitching cock. She spread her lips with her fingers and sat. She dug her heals against my thigh and ground my leg. Isla swiveled her hips expertly, and her nails dug into my shoulders, turning the skin red. She never raised an inch, but she rocked side to side, and back and forth.

When I finished, she twisted off and fell back beside me. I laid back on the couch, and she draped her hand over me. "You know," she said, "You still have another forty-seven minutes."

I don't remember if I said anything back, but I know I felt empty. I remember leaving quickly. I still had a half-boner while I got dressed, and the sky had turned dark by the time I started my car.

As I drove home I didn't feel any of the usual accomplishment. I felt like I'd put on a performance, solely to appease Amber. The sex was good, sure, but it was the most meaningless I'd had in my entire life.

I pulled into my driveway, absolutely ready to crash on my bed, and reset the entire day. I was tired, empty, and still sad. Then I saw Amanda.

It was just her silhouette at first, a shadow from my high beams against the facade, but as I stepped closer I was sure it was her.

She'd been waiting on my porch for a while, and she trembled in the cold.

"Charlie," she said, her voice as shaky as she was, "I feel like I'm going crazy."