Traffic Girl - Rita Ch. 12

Author's Note: A little bit of plot coming at you, and a little more development of Rita. I feel like we've seen her from her public persona and her sexual one, but here's another side of Rita, which I hope also sheds light on our foursome.

* * *

The dog days of summer had set in. The official high temperature -- you could just ask Rita the weather girl -- had hit at least 100 degrees for seventeen days in a row. We put a pause on our weekly Friday lunches because we preferred spending time by the pool, skinny dipping and sunning ourselves. This week, Friday clocked in the night before Houston's first preseason football game, which was at home. Like the previous year, the first football party would follow. I liked to think of it as a kind of training camp for whores.

We had finished a very light lunch of excellent takeout sushi, and Kat and Rita indulged in their newest favorite activity, smoking weed out of our hookah. The one at the Hooker House had become extremely popular, and the girls wanted one at home, too.

"The mint shisha with the indica weed?" Rita said. "Oh my god. This is heaven. My favorite high, no contest."

"Better than coke?" I said, peering over my sunglasses as Rita's breasts stood up proudly as she leaned back to take a hit from the long hose of the hookah.

She looked at me while she held the smoke, then, while exhaling a minty-acrid cloud, said, "No. Nothing beats cocaine, John. You know that."

Rita flashed her best smile and passed the hose to Kat. She had switched out her plain white gold nipple barbells for new platinum ones with diamond studs at either end. They were gorgeous. She took a deep inhale and held it in her lungs like a professional.

"More indica next time," Kat said. "I like the mint, but it's a little overpowering."

"When is Jess coming home?" Rita asked.

"Soon," I said. "She texted about ten minutes ago that she was wrapping up. I'm guessing within half an hour."

"Any luck finding a new girl?" Kat asked.

"I think she has one," I said. "Finally. After eight interviews."

"What's been the problem?" Rita asked.

"From what she told me," Kat said, "it sounds like some of these girls were expecting not to be very service oriented."

"Where has she been finding them mostly?" Rita followed up.

"Referrals from the other girls, but," Kat said and paused. "But maybe they've gotten a little isolated. They don't have as big a network of friends outside the house."

"Is there anything we can do to help her?" I offered.

"She could let Nicole loose," Kat said. "I mean, if anyone knows a fucking hoe, that bitch does."

Rita and I laughed briefly, but Kat looked at us seriously.

"I'm not joking," Kat said. "Nicole should be her talent scout."

"Why don't you tell Jess that?" I suggested.

"Maybe I will," she said.

We had finished talking and resumed hitting the hookah, when Jess marched onto the patio. She looked stunning in a high-slitted yellow summer dress and pink sunglasses.

"Welcome home, darling," I said, getting up and greeting her with a kiss.

"I'm so done with work for this week," she said. "I need to get high."

We let her take a couple rips from the hookah, and she sat down, lowering her initial energy level.

"I hear you got a new girl," I said.

"I do," Jess nodded. "A good one. If she passes your test. Can you do it tomorrow?"

"Sure," I said. "Just let me check with my girlfriends."

The girls laughed.

"If she's good, we can have her work the party," Jess said. "Johnny and Bryce said it might be a little bigger crowd. I wasn't anticipating that."

"I thought you were done with work?" Rita said.

"A whore's job is never done, babe," Jess said and smiled. "Oh! And who sent those flowers out front?"

"What flowers?" Kat and Rita said in tandem.

"Jinx," Rita said.

"No, I mean, seriously," Jess said. "There are a ton of bud vases on the front porch. There's one red rose in each of them."

"What?" I asked.

We all stood up and walked inside. I grabbed robes for Kat and Rita, who put them on as we descended on the front door. Jess opened it. And we saw it. The front porch was covered in bud vases, each containing a red rose.

"How many are there?" Kat said.

We stood silent initially. Jess found a card attached to a vase near the center.

"There are a hundred," Rita said. "A hundred."

"Um, all of you should hear this," Jess said. She held up the card and began to read the poem printed on it. "You think you are immune to the powers that be. The fates who say that you are meant for me. You try to hide, forever deny, that you are mine. Until the day you die. You don't understand the bond we share. How forever more, I will strip you bare."

We looked at each other. Then Kat got a scared look on her face.

"Do you see it?" she asked.

"What?" I asked.

"The shape," she said. "Of the vases."

"I don't get it," Rita said.

"They're in the shape of a heart," Kat said.

"This is fucked up," Jess said.

"Okay, let's just calm down," I said. "We have security cameras. We can see what this is all about. It's probably a joke."

"John," Rita said, her voice shaky. "I don't think it's a joke."

"Why not?" I asked.

"Remember when I got those flowers a while back?" she said.

"Yeah, of course," I said.

"Remember when I said we could talk about it later?" she continued.

I nodded.

"A few years ago, I guess it wasn't long after Kat left the station," Rita said, "I had a stalker."

"You did?" Kat said, concern in her voice.

"Yeah," she said. "I mean, it wasn't a huge deal, but it escalated, and the security people at the station had to put me kind of on lockdown. They never found the guy, and one day it just stopped. After a while, I never thought about it again until, well, the flowers."

"I'm going to check the footage, okay?" I said, trying to take control. "We're going to figure this out."

It was easy to zero in on the flower delivery. The content was the difficult part. A silver Toyota Camry had pulled into the driveway about thirty minutes earlier. It had no front license plate. The driver got out and walked straight to the security camera's perch near the front door. He -- I presumed it was he -- waved. We couldn't tell who he was. He wore hospital scrubs, a hair net, and a surgical mask. Over the course of eight minutes, he placed the hundred bud vases of red roses in a meticulous heart shape on our front porch. When he finished, he looked at the camera again and drove away. The license plate on the back of the car was covered.

"Jesus," Jess said after we watched it.

"I'm scared," Kat said.

"I think I'm going to throw up," Rita added.

"I'm going to make a phone call," I said.

The girls locked the front door and armed the security system. It was a violation to feel unsafe in our own home. They huddled on the couch and flipped on the TV. Ironically, one of Kat and Rita's promotional commercials came on the screen.

I ducked into the study and called Kelly.

"Hey," I said.

"Hey handsome," she said. "Did they finally wear you out?"

"Actually, I've got something serious to talk about," I said.

"Is Kat okay?" Kelly immediately asked.

"She's fine," I said. "We're all fine." I described the situation.

"The security firm I use here has an office in Houston," Kelly said. "Let me get you the number. I'll text it to you. Call them right away. Ask for Spike. I swear to god I'm not making that up."

Kelly's text came through before we hung up. I called the number immediately. The voice on the other end sounded put-upon until I asked to speak with Spike. I was transferred immediately and found myself talking to what sounded like the archetype of a male tough guy. His accent seemed like a mash-up of British and middle eastern. He knew Kelly, and he said he would take care of things right away.

"Good news," I said, rejoining the girls in the living room. "We've got private security coming."

"Oh, great, rent-a-cops," Jess said.

"Not like that," I said. "This is the company Kelly uses. They'll have three guys here in thirty minutes. They'll secure the premises and begin looking into what's going on."

"That sounds serious," Kat said.

"We have to take this seriously," I said.

"I need a xanax," Rita said.

* * *

The security team arrived in twenty minutes, and they didn't fuck around. All this was completely foreign to me. They interviewed us. They examined the security footage from the incident and the days before. They put up additional cameras and changed the passcodes on our locks. When night fell, they traded places with what I could only describe as a paramilitary team, which camped out on the property and told us to stay in for the night.

So we did what anyone might do under the circumstances. We got drunk. Kat passed out, followed by Jess. I carried them to bed. I couldn't sleep. The adrenaline was too much. Rita stayed up with me. I could feel the fatigue in her body, but her eyes betrayed fear.

"It's going to be okay, sweetheart," I said.

"It's my fault," Rita said in barely a whisper.

"You don't know that," I said.

"I have a feeling," she said. "I've been through this."

"There are a lot of fucked up people in the world," I said.

"Maybe," she said, "but if I didn't only have the third best tits in the weather business, I bet this wouldn't be happening."

We laughed, and it melted into a kiss. I felt Rita's vulnerability. I wanted to protect her. Our hands sought each other. Her skin was warm. Her wet lips had urgency behind them.

"I need to feel safe," she said. "I don't do well when things go screwy."

Right there on the couch, in the blue light of the television, we made love. I wanted Rita to feel the devotion for her that coursed through me. We made out for what seemed like an eternity, before my mouth dropped to worship her perfect breasts. Only when she forced my head lower did I relent and move to her pussy. I had started to tease her by describing her pussy as a "Barbie cunt" because it was so pink, hairless, and the lips were so tightly compacted.

I drank from the altar of her feminine nectar for more than half an hour. I resisted using my fingers. I didn't lick her ass. I focused just on her pussy, licking, sucking, and twirling around her clit and tight slit as she came a half-dozen times.

Eventually, she pushed my head away, begging me for a rest, but my cock was raging. She took hold of it with both hands and laid back lengthwise on the couch. Her aquiline nose caught the moonlight bathing the room, and her full lips parted slightly as she pulled me into her. I felt the light sheen of sweat on her skin.

"I love you," she whispered as our bodies became entwined in a familiar position.

"I love you," I said. I longed to bend forward and kiss her, but her hands remained on my cock. She lifted one leg onto the back of the couch, parting her thighs widely enough for me to slide between them.

She pulled me toward her sloppy, wet pussy, all signs of fatigue gone. She was taken over by desire. My cock entered her slippery canal without resistance, and my body came to a natural rest on top of her. The pace of my strokes was slow. Our bodies lapped at each other like a calm morning sea, relaxed in its pace but never abating.

"I'll always be here for you," I said quietly. "I'll do anything to protect you."

"I know," she said, and kissed me. "You're the only man I'll ever trust."

We made love in silence. There was the occasional groan or heavy sigh, but we simply lost ourselves in the intimacy of the moment. For Rita and me, it had always been easy together. Now we faced a trauma, a challenge, a threat. I could sense her fear. She didn't understand it, and she didn't like it. My only goal was to stamp this out as quickly as possible so we could revert to our natural bliss.

Rita came twice more, and a little sleepiness crept into her demeanor. She asked if I could come. I told her of course, and I knew she wanted it. I thought about how, in crisis, Kat and Jess had been right there with us. We were a true foursome. Nothing could stand between us. It was powerful, and it pushed me over the edge. I gave a long groan and ejaculated deeply into Rita.

She stroked my hair and called me a good boy, wrapping her arms around me so I could grind into her chest as my cock spasmed in her pussy.

"That's it," she said. "That is all I ever need."

"I'm not going to hold you to that," I whispered sleepily, our chests rising and falling together. "Whatever you need, no matter how it changes, I'm going to give it to you."

"I'm not like Kat and Jess, John," Rita said. She was tired, but I heard her earnest tone. "I love my job. I love my life. I love you. I love them. I don't need a baby. I don't need something more. I have everything I want."

"That's why today made you so scared," I said.

"That's right," she said. "It's all so perfect. It would be such a shame if anything took that away from us."