Better off DeadbyStangStar06©
Hi, folks. We're continuing the "wild and crazy stories," with one that while set in our time period is kind of out there, but Hey!...It could happen. My thanks as usual to the incredible Mikothebaby for her editing even though she lost 2 computers during the writing of this story she still came through. Okay here we go. SS06
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As I stepped up to the gate of the large house, I was so nervous I was vibrating. I didn't know how they'd take seeing me or even if they'd see me. But I just knew I was home. I thought that they might be surprised or maybe just curious, but really...who knew? I actually never thought in a million years that I'd be trying to get back here again. It just didn't make any kind of sense, but I knew that this was where I belonged.
I guess by the time a woman is my age, I'm twenty-four, she should know where she belongs in life. Shit, rich city girls go off to college at eighteen years of age with their desired career path already set in their head. So if you judge me by their standards, I'm a little bit late.
On the other hand if you judge me not by career standards but in terms of life experience, I'm way ahead of them, because I was married as soon as I turned eighteen and my husband and I had our own home. Well okay, it was his home. And okay, it was a trailer. And okay, he was forty then, but it was the only life I knew.
Every girl I knew wanted the same things. We wanted to get out of our parent's houses and get married so we could be in charge and not have to put up with any of their shit. We wanted to set our own hours and make our own decisions.
Now most of us knew that technically our husbands would be in charge of us, but our husbands were men. Men were the easiest thing in the world to control, especially for a mountain girl. I guess technically, most of us were at least a generation or two removed from being mountain folk. But that changed nothing. Men could still be controlled just by giving them a little bit of pussy at the right time and shit that was something that most of us wanted to do anyway.
So I married Zeke because he was a friend of my dad's and he'd always been nice to me. I settled into being the queen of Zeke's trailer or so I thought. As soon as the honeymoonwas over, I got a huge dose of reality. I turned out that life as an adult wasn't easy and Zeke was not Prince Fucking Charming.
Life as an adult it wasn't what I thought it would be like. I guess I'd always figured that you could do whatever you wanted, whenever you wanted. Nope, it wasn't like that. There were so many things that I had to do. There were so many expectations placed on me and we didn't even have jobs. Zeke was one of the lucky ones. He was a trailer park king because he was on disability. That meant that Zeke got paid not to work. All Zeke had to do was sit on his ass and wait for the check to come.
Zeke was a God damned genius. He was one of three brothers who worked in a warehouse. Well, they pretended to work in the warehouse. What they really did was to volunteer for the night shift. Night shift workers got what was called a shift premium. That means that they got paid more for doing the same work because it was less advantageous to work nights.
What it really meant was that they were on their own almost all night because the supervisors went home at seven p.m. after starting them on their assignments. What they really did was worked for about an hour until the foreman went home and then pulled out the beer and called it quits until about an hour before they were supposed to be done.
What ended up happening was that Zeke and his brothers were sitting on a rack in the warehouse, drinking beer and listening to the baseball game one night while waiting for the foreman to go home. That night a new Hi-Lo driver had started. While they were laughing and talking shit about how terrible he was at his job, he accidentally knocked a pallet of parts down on top of them.
The warehouse foreman had been heading in their direction when it happened so he saw the whole thing. That pallet had lots of boxes of small parts on it and the brothers were knocked onto the floor. By the time the foreman got to them Zeke showed his intelligence. His two brothers leaped right up to show that they were okay. I guess they didn't want the foreman to know that they'd been drinking beer on the job.
Zeke took that opportunity to show just how smart he was. As the foreman looked at him, he uttered those three words. The three words that like Einstein's theory of what-you-ma-call-it followed him for the rest of his God damned life. Those three words are now legend in our trailer park.
Zeke looked up at that foreman and said, "Oh, my back." The rest is history and Zeke's been getting paid ever since.
There was never anything wrong with Zeke. Zeke still hunts and fishes and wrestles with all of the other assholes in the neighborhood, but every six months he goes to a doctor and complains about the pain in his back and sides. The pain is so bad now that the doctors have Zeke on Vicodin, which he gets for free due to his disability and then sells to people in the trailer park.
One of my jobs, like every good wife's, is to make sure that Zeke never runs out of beer. So I make at least daily, if not more often, runs to the seven-eleven to keep beer in our fridge. One morning, Zeke kicked me awake and glared at me.
As my eyes opened I stared up into his angry, unshaven face wondering why he'd kicked me.
"Outta fucking beer, girl," he snapped angrily. "Seriously, why the fuck did I marry you? It's not like you have a lot ta do. How the fuck did you let us run out of beer?"
"It's not like I drink it," I uttered without thinking. For a second I thought that I'd been stuck by lightning. The pain was so sudden and so severe that I blacked out for a second. I got up holding my face and stuck my feet into my worn out flip flops. I pulled a pair of jeans on and threw a worn T-shirt over my head and walked out through the open door.
I stepped out of the trailer and down onto the cinder block that served as a step. It was already over eighty degrees outside. Inside the trailer it was shady and there was a fan blowing the hot air around so it seemed cooler. I gingerly leaped over the mud that always seemed to accumulate around the trailer during the warm weather time of the year and started off.
The seven-eleven was almost a mile away and I wanted to get back before the sun was fully up and started to fry me. As I walked through the park, headed for the road, I waved and nodded to a lot of my neighbors. Those who were relatively well off were inside of their trailers watching TV. Those who weren't well off were on their porches watching people. I felt the weight of all of their stares as I walked by.
Some of them wanted to talk, which I had no time for. I could tell that a few of the older men were angry that I'd worn jeans and a T-shirt. They loved to look at young girls in tank tops and shorts. For some of them it was the cheapest and only porn they could afford.
I guess I'm pretty in a low rent kind of way. I still have all of my teeth and they're in good shape. My hair is long and full and it's a gold color. It's neither blond nor brown. It's kind of in between the two.
At five foot two, I'm just the right height for a girl. I'm not too short or too tall. I have average sized breasts and like my grandma always said, more than a handful is wasted. I also have nice hips and a nice butt for my size. I guess everything on my body is average.
Average is good. It means not too big or too small. I'm right in the middle. Usually when something good is bigger than normal, there's a price to be paid. Susie Smith has the biggest titties in the trailer park. But she also has biggest gut and the flattest ass you've ever seen. Her ass is so flat, it's like her anus is a black hole and it swallowed up her hips and both ass cheeks.
Some of the guys in the neighborhood joke about her all the time. Zeke always talks about the time he tried to pat her on her ass and his hand slipped and didn't stop until he'd karate chopped the floor. He said there was no differentiation between her ass and her back. Other guys have said that she's physically unable to use a chair because she doesn't bend until you get to her knees.
Even her father, who's a carpenter and a good one, has said that he uses Susie's back and legs as a plumb line for lining up walls and fences.
Even with Susie's colossal titties, she's never had a steady boyfriend. Guys just come by, ogle her boobs or maybe cop a feel and tweak her nipples, then they go fishing or whatever they're going to do. So maybe, just maybe, average isn't so bad.
As I walked down the road, the closer I got to the main highway, the more traffic I saw. I had a couple of guys whistle as they drove by but my face hurt so bad that I didn't smile at anyone. I figured I'd have a hell of a shiner by the time I got back. But it was my fault for not controlling my mouth.
I guess I grew up in a place where things like that were just normal. My daddy loved my mom something awful. Unlike a lot of people around us, neither one of them ever cheated on the other. My daddy loved my mom too much to do it, and my mom was too scared. I often saw my dad, slap the cowboy shit out of my mom for stepping out of her place. And Daddy always told us that respect is sometimes all a poor man has to call his own. So, if my mom spoke out of turn or disrespected him, it was his job to show her the error of her ways.
The parking lot of the seven-eleven was already crowded that morning. They really needed a drive-thru like those fancy fast food restaurants have. There were no parking spots available so cars were double parked in the middle of the aisles.
I saw a lot of beautiful cars and trucks in the parking lot that morning. I stopped and looked at them. I imagined that one of them was mine and I was driving away from my existence in that shit hole trailer park. Then I laughed as I noticed how full the inside of the store was. Then suddenly my brain started to function and I realized that with the store that crowded there was a very real chance that they might run out of beer. I stopped daydreaming and got my ass inside.
Zeke hadn't been happy with me this morning. The stinging in the left side of my face was testament to that. If I went home without any beer, things would be far worse. I pushed my way into the crowded store and through the crowd towards the back where the drink coolers were. From the way the store was laid out you could tell that they really wanted you to buy their over-priced fountain drinks and slurpees. Beer and brand name soft drinks were all the way at the back of the store. As I pushed my way towards the coolers, more than one trucker driver or just general asshole took the opportunity to feel my boobs or butt.
I turned in every direction every time I felt a hand but not one guy was ever looking at me. As I got to the cooler, I realized that I was in trouble. Zeke only drank Shotz beer. The entire area of the cooler that had the Shotz was empty except for two single bottles. I knew that if I went home with less than a case I'd be in trouble. I quickly scanned the cooler to see if the stock boys had moved the Shotz to a different location.
"Hey, Victoria," said a voice from behind me. I turned and looked into the face, if you could call it that, of Chester Crawdad. Chester and I had gone all the way through school together. Growing up he'd been the creepiest guy I knew. For the past two or three weeks Chester had been very nice to me. On one hand, I liked to think that maybe he'd matured, but on the other I had noticed that his niceness had started about the time I stopped wearing a coat because the weather was too warm.
That day I'd have been ready to let Chester have a feel or even a look if he could save me from getting my ass beaten for coming home without any beer.
"This might be your lucky day, Pretty Lady," said Chester, in that voice that was reserved for perverts. "It also might be my lucky day," he said, in that same voice.
I tried to hide my disgust as I replied. "How could it be our lucky day, Chester?" I asked as if I didn't know.
"Because there might be a case of Shotz, left in the back, where someone might've hidden it just for YOU to buy," he smiled ultra-creepily.
"Okay bring it out," I said. "I'll meet you at the counter."
"Not so fast," he said. "That would only make it your lucky day. What about my lucky day?"
"Dammit Chester," I sighed. "Couldn't you just do it to be nice? Couldn't you do it as a gesture of friendship?"
"When the hell have we ever been friends?" he sneered. "And nice...Victoria, this is ME being nice. This world just isn't a nice place. But it can be. I do something nice for you and in return you do something nice for me. That makes the whole fucking world a nicer place."
"Alright Chester," I said in resignation. "How nice do I have to be?"
He moved closer to me and whispered in a voice that was just loud enough for me to hear. "I want my fingers to smell like pussy; if you get my drift?"
"I'm not doing that out here," I said sharply. I knew that all Chester wanted was to rub my vagina for a little bit. I got the idea that Chester was afraid to ask for anything more.
"Of course not," he said back. "Just follow me to the back of the store like we're going to get your beer. There's only me and the manager here and he's so busy at the counter that he'll never know."
I nodded and followed him through a door marked, "Employees only." It wasn't like I was cheating on Zeke. Shit, Zeke often had me flash his friends or even give them a feel if he thought it would do him any good.
Chester was mumbling to himself as we went into the relative quiet of the, "Employees only," area.
"Not so God damned high and mighty now are ya," he said. "I'll bet you really thought I actually wanted to touch your stinky old pussy, didn't you. You ain't shit. Where I'm going when this is all over, the women there make you and old these other trailer trash whores look like shit."
I couldn't figure him out. And by the time I realized that I was in danger, it was too late. As I followed Chester over to a case of Shotz beer, a large muscular arm shot out from behind a stack of crates and a hand covered my mouth. Before I could make a sound, someone placed a cloth over my nose and held it there. I was so afraid that my breathing and heart rate sped up which was what they wanted. I breathed in an antiseptic smelling chemical and my legs got as weak as a newborn's.
I felt like I was falling but I never hit the ground. The last thing I remember was Chester's smiling face. But his smile was all wrong.
* * * * * *
Today was the day. It was the beginning of a long journey into what hopefully would be the rest of my life. For the past five years since I'd left the service...well since I'd handled the little problem I discovered after returning home from the service, I'd mostly concentrated on building my family business.
I hired or tried to hire a lot of other guys like me, who'd done their service and had returned to find only heartache or indifference. So now I had a group of loyal employees who when the chips were down, would do almost anything for me. And the chips were certainly down. I was so lonely that I could almost feel it.
What good is it for me to do everything I can to help my community, when I go home every night to a big empty house? People just weren't meant to be alone. Loneliness is as deadly as cancer and just as insidious. It eats away at you from the inside until you're left just a shell of the person you once were.
My problem was that like so many others, what I found when I came home destroyed my ability to trust most people. So I couldn't just sign up with E-Harmony and let them find the perfect person for me. That was just so much bullshit. Every time I saw those commercials, I burst out laughing. But as I laughed, my loneliness continued to grow.
Throughout history, men had gotten women in lots of different ways. Who's to say that our current model is the best or only method? Why couldn't I follow the cave man way? Why couldn't I just go out and club some woman over the head and drag her back to my cave? And what about the Native Americans or the Vikings or so many of the early Europeans; why couldn't I just go out and capture the woman I wanted?
On some level, I knew that what I was proposing would be wrong. I knew there were laws against it and all kinds of moral reasons that it would be wrong. But at the same time, I knew that with my trust issues, it was probably the only way I wouldn't end up alone.
The first stage was to plan everything including my escape route. The thing about our supposedly enlightened society is that the more things change, the more they stay the same. If you have enough money, you can pretty much get away with anything. I went about setting up a totally different identity for myself. It wasn't as hard as it seemed. Through friends who are still in the service, I met and made friends with other people who work for different government departments and before too long, I became two people. Just in case my plan failed I'd have a completely different identity to step into and melt into the woodwork.
After the planning stage and setting up my escape route, I needed to find the perfect target. I scouted women for weeks and narrowed it down to three. That stage was easy because I was picking them on the basis of attractiveness and personality. So any woman that I wasn't personally attracted to, was simply eliminated from further investigation.
Of those three, I eliminated another because she was really in love with her husband. That left two and one of them was single. The other hadn't been married for more than a few years and from appearances, not only was she kind of shell shocked in her marriage, but her husband hit her from time to time.
I picked the single woman anyway because to me a marriage was a marriage. I, even after what had happened to me, didn't want to fuck up someone else's marriage. Her name was Elsa and she lived only a couple of miles away from me. She was some sort of nurse's assistant and she wasn't half bad looking. I had people tailing her around the clock to get her schedule down to the point where I knew where she'd be at almost any given moment of any day.
Then the bottom fell out. She got fired, which at first I thought worked in my favor. Then we found out why she'd been fired. She was fired for stealing drugs from the hospital. She wasn't selling them, she was using them and heavily. I wasn't attracted to druggies, so that made us look more closely at the other subject. I had a change of heart. Perhaps it was just that my loneliness was morphing into desperation, but I found myself rationalizing that a marriage to a man that beat her wasn't much of a marriage.
I woke up this morning knowing that for better or for worse, my life was about to change. I smiled because it wasn't the first time I'd had that thought. The first time had been in a small church in Michigan where a group of our friends and family had gathered to watch me get married to my high school sweetheart. I suppose in some ways every man who takes a woman into his life feels that same way.
At any rate, for better or worse, my life would change today. I'd gone into work this morning as usual. Perhaps I was a bit nervous but I tried my best to maintain a degree of normalcy. I think I succeeded all the way until the phone call came through. As I sat at a table with several of the managers of different divisions of my building, my assistant walked in and told me that the deal had gone through. I immediately excused myself and drove home.