Hurricane Party Ch. 02

I've been sitting at my kitchen table for about three hours now. Just thinking. I've given up any attempts to distract myself. The sound of her crying keeps echoing through my head. Her boyfriend's voice is like an angry buzzing in my ears. I've been having some pretty disturbing thoughts for the past few minutes. I know I should feel guilty about even thinking like that. Every time the sound of her sobbing resonates through me I feel like my blood is boiling. Right now I'm having a hard time feeling guilty about anything. I've entertained foolish thoughts like approaching her. Telling her that she can find help in her situation. Telling her she can get out of it and be safe. But I'm a loner, you see. She'll take one look at me, see my eyes and then she will be afraid of me. It's just that way. It's the most frustrating feeling in the world.

I'm going to lie down for a while. It's useless trying to sleep, but I have to at least get some rest. I've always been a restless person, but since their fight I can't think about anything else. I guess I'll try the most dependable distraction known to man. I'll lie here and daydream about pussy.

When I was twenty two I worked with a girl named Sharon. I was working at a small seafood restaurant. She was a hostess and expo. When she wasn't greeting people and seating them she was helping the servers run food to their tables. I was amazed by her the first time I saw her. Have you ever seen a girl with perfect skin? It seems to almost glow. It looks soft beyond description. She had long blond hair. And her eyes. Let me tell you, this girl could hypnotize a man with those eyes. They were a pure crystalline blue. Just the slightest smile and look from those eyes turned my legs to water. 

I was working the cook line. I was the new guy so I got the shit detail most of the time. She was nice to everyone, and all the guys were hot for her. She was only seventeen, though. I remember that she never used her 'untouchable' appeal to tease anybody that I ever saw. I thought that was pretty impressive of her. She had a great body and could have had men running around after her with no effort at all. Instead she worked her ass off. She worked after school five days a week and a few hours on Saturdays.

Most of the guys at work were really hot to get into her pants. I heard several of them ask her when she was turning eighteen. She just smiled and told them soon enough. She wasn't buying into their stupid come-ons. Telling them when she turned legal was like declaring open season on young pussy. Not letting them know her birthday was very smart of her. It kept the guys at a safe distance. 

She had nice tits. Big and well shaped. Alot of women with big tits have just that, big tits. Size isn't everything. A pair of big sloppy saggy tits doesn't do anything for me. Hers were shaped perfectly. They stood proudly. The slope and fall of her breasts was enough to make me ache to touch them. You could see the shape of her nipples even through her shirt and bra. The girl didn't really flaunt it. She just had it. 

Truth be known she was well built all the way around. She reminded me of a really hot softball chick. Well developed legs. Plenty of muscle but still very nice. Her ass was rock solid. Her waist and hips had that violin shape. I was very taken with her, but there was no way in hell I would have told her. She was always nice to me when she would pop in the kitchen long enough to pick up a plate of trays or snag a bite to eat. 

One busy Friday night she struck a conversation with me. She was on her break. I was re-stocking my station near the end of my shift. I forget exactly what happened, I was too immersed in watching her. I think we were talking about a movie we both had seen. No, wait. I do remember now. We were talking about music. She told me she liked The Mamas And The Papas. I was surprised she even knew who they were. We chatted for about ten or fifteen minutes. When her break was over she said bye and surprised the shit out of me by giving my her number. The whole time I was trying my damndest not to look at her tits. I know that pisses women off sometimes, and I can understand why. Her tits had a way of bouncing when she moved. It was really hard not to stare at them. I think you could put a Greyhound bus on her chest and those tits would still be standing tall. 

I got off work about ten. As I was leaving I got some shitty looks from the other guys. Oh, well. Fuck 'em. I went home and cleaned up. I must have stared at that telephone for an hour before I got the nerve up to call. She answered the phone. I can still remember how the anticipation felt. She erased my anxiety when we started talking. She was just about the nicest person I have ever met. Even to today. Over the next few weeks we talked alot over the phone. We formed a pretty amazing friendship. Even her voice was pretty to me. 

I was slowly building up the nerve to ask her out. Nothing that could be considered a date, mind you. I always kept her age in mind. Last thing I wanted to do was hurt this girl by trying to start something between us that simply wouldn't work. I decided I would invite her to the planetarium. It seemed pretty innocent. Not like a club or a bar. Alot of people there. They had laser light shows with themes. One of them was the Pink Floyd laser light show. I had been wanting to see the show, but honestly I didn't want to go alone. When I finally worked up my nerve and asked her I was completely shocked by her response. We were at work, so I expected her to politely decline me. 

"Sure, I would love to. I've told my mom all about you. She was wondering why you haven't asked me out yet."  She told me.

I remember it like it was yesterday. I told her I didn't want to take anything for granted. That was just a lame way of saying I was too shy to ask until now. She asked me why I had never asked when her eighteenth birthday was. I told her it didn't matter. I was happy to be able to hang out with her. She took her driver's license out and showed it it to me. She was smiling. I looked at the date on the license. She had turned eighteen three weeks before I called her that first time. She was looking at me with this complacent grin.  

"My mom's in Mobile until tomorrow night. You want to come over?" She asked.

I think my jaw hit the floor and shattered. I told her a stuttering yes. She hugged me and kissed me. I could feel her tits rub against my chest. I didn't think any off the other guys had seen us, but as I was leaving that night I heard someone behind me mumble. 

"Fucker."

Yep, they saw us. 

 I arrived at her house about eleven. She answered the door wearing pajamas. I thought that was the cutest thing. Then I saw how the snug fitting pajama pants clung to her ass, the word cute didn't come to mind. She wasn't wearing a bra, and her nipples were standing out like perfect cones under the fabric of her pajama top. Next thing I knew, we were making out out on her couch. I started easing my hand inside her shirt. She always had ways of surprising me. She took the shirt off herself and smothered my face in her tits. I felt like I was obliged to show some kind of restraint. I didn't want her to think I was some slobbering kid.

"Suck on them all you want. That's what they're for."

And that's exactly what I did. I gripped and squeezed her tits while I sucked her pert nipples. She moaned and cooed happily. I couldn't believe it but she seemed to be enjoying it as much as I was. She stopped me long enough to pull her pajama pants off. She wasn't wearing any panties. Her pubic hair was a lighter blonde than the hair on her head. I started rubbing her pussy. I slid my finger inside her and she started sucking on my neck. 

She stood and led me from the couch to her bedroom. She laid down and tucked a pillow under her head. She didn't say a word. She spread her legs and closed her eyes. I took a long moment to look at her. Her skin, her hair, her hips and stomach. Her breasts and her legs. Even her belly button was arousing. And yes her pussy. Her pussy was so fucking fuckable. I can't think of any other word to describe it. I started licking her pussy. I was surprised by the size of her clit. It was perfectly pink. It was about the size of a pea. I licked it and she jumped. I haven't met a woman since who has such a sensitive clit. I licked her clitoris, sucking it and teasing it. She came like a rocket a few minutes later. I mounted her and slid inside. Her pussy enveloped my cock in  intense delirious friction. She pulled me close to her and welcomed my cock. Moments later and I was pulling out of her as I was about to let go. 

The words  'I'm sorry that was so short'  were about to come from my mouth, but before I could speak she grabbed my cock and began jerking me off furiously. My orgasm seemed to multiply inside me when she touched me. I came like a fire hose. Cum shot onto her stomach and tits. She kept stroking my cock until I was spent. I could barely move, now that I think of it. 

"I can tell you're stressed. It's ok." She said softly.

 One of the most arousing things I have ever seen was her lying there with a placid look in her eyes, my cum dripping down between her cleavage. She pulled me close to her and we lie there in a big sticky happy mess. We lie there for about an hour then took a shower together. She let me wash her hair. I really enjoyed that. I lathered her with soap head to toe. After we rinsed off I sucked the water from her nipples. 

"When do you have to be home?" She asked me.

"I have to be at work early in the morning." I told her, frowning. 

"Pick me up at seven for the laser light show." She told me. "I want you to meet my mom."

"That's sweet of you. I'll be here at seven on the nose." 

We toweled off and got dressed. We kissed goodnight standing on her front porch. I had the most surreal feeling of warmth as I drove home that night. 

This memory isn't going where I wanted it to go. 

Three days later Sharon was killed in a traffic accident. I quit my job and left town. 

Dammit man. 

I was trying to think about pussy. Now all I'm thinking about is her. The hurt doesn't sting as much after all these years. It's the things that could have been. They always kill me. 

I can't lie here in bed any more. I can hear voices from upstairs. I hear two voices. A third every so often. Two guys talking. Another one adding a little to the conversation. I'm going to figure out a way to make this motherfucker leave this girl alone. I haven't done anything with myself for a long damn time. I've got another erection. I guess it's my divining rod. I stand on my couch and hold my ear close to the ceiling.

"We're gonna have this  fucking party." The first voice says.

"Yeah but Lids isn't gonna play along."

"Yeah she'll bail like a bitch before she dances for a party."  The third voice interjects. 

"If I fucking tell her to she damn well will." The first voice. Must be Eric. Already I hate that name.

I've seen him. I know what he looks like. He's a stringy looking guy. Not tall. He's what my mama would have called lanky. He has a tattoo on the right side of his neck. It's a small black pointy shape that starts right above the collar and goes down. Looks like the tail of a dragon or a lizard or something. Probably something stylish that runs down his chest or maybe over to his right arm. I want to shank him right where the tattoo starts and pull down on him as hard as I can. Now he's wanting the girl, dammit her name is Lidia, now he wants Lidia to dance at a party for his trashy friends. You know, every time I picture her face I find it a hell of alot easier to imagine gutting that motherfucker like a pig. 

"You think she can do it?" The second voice.

It? What is 'it' ?

"I'm gonna spring Lisa on her. She won't expect it. If Lisa gets naked and dances Lids will have to outdo her. If she doesn't try I'll kick the shit out of her."  Eric says.

I feel like I'm being pumped full of hot air. I didn't know words could make my temper rise like this. 

"You think she's gonna do what you want? I think that would be cool as fuck. Lisa scrubbed me last time she was here. That was cool."  The third voice.

"You're fucking right she is. Lids is a fucking weakling. After Lisa comes in I'm gonna tell her to suck my dick right there in front of everybody. If she doesn't do it then Lisa will and she can go fuck herself." Eric replies. "And I'll deal with her later."

I hear a smacking sound. He's popping his fist into the palm of his open hand. 

I feel like a cartoon rocket. Building up and squirming around before it takes off. Eric keeps talking. I think this is about to get the better of me. I'm not a boy scout but goddamnit treating her like this just isn't right. Eric keeps talking. I guess I'm helpless not to listen. Even though I want to storm up there and kill the three of them.

"I want you to take the pictures for me. If she won't play then I'll fucking hold her down. After the way she talked to me I'm ready to ditch her ass anyway." Eric says.

"My little bro knows all that web page stuff. He can have that shit together in a couple of minutes." The second voice responds.

"Yeah man." The third voice says. He sounds like an imitation of Tommy Chong. "This hurricane party is gonna fucking rock."

Before I realize it I'm walking toward my door with the manriki in my hands. I'm going to go up there and knock on the door. When someone answers I am going to boot kick his ass and then cut Eric in two. And I'm going to do it right now. She's never done anything to deserve this.

Something stops me at the door. The doorknob in my left hand, the manriki in the right.

Wait. 

I don't know this girl. I'm assuming she's some sweet innocent little flower. What the fuck am I doing? I'm getting myself worked up over a stranger. The shame is, she is a stranger. I want to know her but the fact is I don't. Don't know a fucking thing about her. 

I knew a couple of girls back home who liked that kind of treatment. Hell, they lived for it. There was this girl named Gina who wanted me to slap her while we were screwing. Not just a little pop. A hard slap. I didn't do it. I liked it when she gave me little love bites during sex. I just couldn't bring myself to rough her up. Even if she did want it. We didn't get together again after that. And There was Jesselyn. She wanted me to whip her with my belt. Not just spank her. I mean whip her until she was bloody. She dropped her pants one time and showed me her ass. She had welts everywhere. I could see the clear impression of a belt buckle in several places. 

"Now that's what a girl wants." She told me.

If that is what a girl wants, then she's not the girl for me. I think I've been subconsciously hoping Lidia is the girl for me. But that's just foolishness. 

I'm going to have to do something to get this whole fucking thing off my mind. I sit down and drop the manriki in my lap. I'm going to check this girl out. I hate thinking of it like that. That's what it is, though. If she's like Gina or Jesselyn I'm going to find a way to make myself just let it go. Fucking force myself. Her voice sounded so anguished. I've heard my sister's voice sound like that before. That tore me up inside, just like Lidia's voice did. 

One good thing about this damned hurricane bearing down on me. Everything is closed now. The storefronts are boarded up. 'You loot we shoot' spray painted across plywood and particle board slapped over windows. I'm going to ride it out in my apartment. My building is an old brownstone. My apartment has only three windows. All three of them are barred and protected from the wind by other buildings on three sides.

 Lidia's apartment is at the end of the block from mine. The waterfront stretches around behind us to the south. It curves inward the closer it gets to the end of the block. It's about a quarter mile from the back of my building. I guess it's about a hundred yards from the back of hers as the waterfront curves in. Her building is a renovated office building. I looked at the apartments in there once. All the apartments are on a floor to themselves. It was too rich for my blood. I couldn't afford it at the time. That's how I ended up here. I realize I have a good idea what her apartment is like. How it's laid out. Each floor has a section of window with dozens of small panes about a foot square. Looks kinda artsy when they are kept clean. The multi pane windows all face the waterfront. There used to be a little park out there. Old guys playing chess and pretty girls jogging. Now it's used to dock boats. I bet the view isn't as nice as it used to be. 

I am thinking that the view in might be more interesting than the view out. This gets me to thinking.

I have been working the shipyard for a while now. I know alot of people. I never really talk to any of them but they all know me. My super at the shipyard gave me the nickname 'heavy' because I'll tackle anything. That's his word for anything rough or hard to do. ' That's a heavy job' or ' This is gonna be a heavy day '. I work the block and tackle that feeds cable into a big metal reel. The reel feeds the cable out to be used as a feeder line to pull hulls out into the bay. The welders finish their work on rigs built around the boats on the water. All day long I work the cables. I know it's the worst detail out there, but the other guys don't know how much I make, either. I earn more than the lower level office execs. My boss is a fair guy. Lucky for me. 

What I do is simple. I could be replaced by a machine that can do it faster. It just so happens that the machine that can replace me costs about a million times what they pay me in a year That's good job security for me. When I first took the job I got my ass whipped every day. The cables would draw and tense and jerk me around like a rag doll in a pitbull's mouth. I learned to watch the cable and know when it was going to bind or buck. Now I work that bastard like it's a fine violin. My arms have gotten alot more solid, but it's not really a matter of muscle. It's a matter of finesse. 

Sometimes the other guys will come along with their big arms and big mouths. 'Let me show you how to work this thing.' They all say. I play out about a yard of slack and hand them the cable. The same thing happens every time. They square off and give it a hard tug with both hands. The cable is big, so you have to hold it with two hands to get a good grip. A half second later they get jerked off their ass and look up at me all crazy like. They always remind me of the way Wiley Coyote looks after he smacks the side of a cliff. I pick the cable up and play out two or three yards. The line tenses up and I let go with my left hand. I hold the cable tense with my right hand. When I feel it begin to draw up the least bit I ease an inch or so of slack out. This lets the cable seat on the reel while it moves, and it spools up on the reel in perfect even loops. I keep my right arm flexed so it looks like I'm making a tremendous effort. 

The guys says all kinds of things when I do this. My response is always the same.

"If you think you want to fuck with me, think again."

That's probably the most I've said to anyone at work except my super. He's a good guy. He can tell I don't like to talk. Neither does he, matter of fact. 

Sometimes when I'm working the cable I pretend I'm working with the manriki in my hands. Seems this old weapon is natural to me. Just a little finesse and it really springs to life. I have the motion down to a science. It's ironic this thing ended up in my hands. I don't believe in any of that spiritual shit, but maybe there's a reason why this thing came to be mine. 

So I'm going to walk down to the waterfront and take a look at the boats there. I'm familiar with boats, I know how to look at them and look like i'm looking at them, if that makes sense to anybody. While I'm looking at the boats to the casual eye, I am going to be checking Lidia out and get all this hinky shit over with. People are scrambling around securing stuff all over. I won't stand out a bit. Everyone there will know my face. I'm a familiar on the biggest shipyard in town. They will think I'm here helping to bolt things down. 

About an hour has passed and I'm walking along the waterfront. It's raining like a mad bastard. I have a pair of binoculars inside my rain jacket. People are scurrying around like crabs. I stop and help this old couple anchor their sloop. The big wet ropes are giving them a hard time. I take the rope from the old lady's hands. She thanks me with a smile. She is standing their in her dark green rain slicker holding her hands close to her midriff like she is cold. I knot the rope at the bottom of a piling and brace my right foot on the edge of the concrete and wood barrier. I pull the boat to and as it floats closer I loop the rope around the piling and scotch it tight. I hold my boot out and the stop the boat as it floats toward me. The man repeats this at the stern of the boat. He climbs onto the boat. I push the boat out until the ropes are almost taut. He drops the anchor and hops off the port side then ties it to the pilings on the other side. I'm not a sailor, but that boat ain't going nowhere. The man gives me a slap on the shoulder and thanks me. 

"Anytime." I tell him.

Good. Just a guy helping to prepare for the storm.

I walk further down the waterfront until I'm behind her building. The windows are still intact. Some of them have been cleaned up by the tenants. You can see new panes in some of the square frames. They stand out even in the driving rain. I scan up and down the building. I can't see the higher floors with the naked eye so I use the binoculars. The window in the fifth floor stands out. The panes are all colored. It looks like stained glass at first. I wipe the rain drops off the lenses and dry them with my shirt. Another look and I can tell the panes are painted.

Nothing suspicious here. Just a guy surveying damage, maybe looking for missing shingles. 

There are about fifty panes in the window and all of them are painted. Pastel colors that flow together smoothly. Lots of blues and faded coral colors. It doesn't look like they make a picture. Maybe from the inside they make a recognizable image. From the outside it's just a big mosaic of pretty colors. I can imagine cruising by in a big yacht and seeing the sun shining bright on all these pretty window panes. I bet it looks peaceful. That's something a woman would paint. 

I tuck the binoculars back in my jacket. I scan the area around me. Plenty of people moving around the waterfront. Two buildings down from Lidia's there is a man climbing a service ladder up the side of the old brick structure. Well now. This is just too convenient. I walk to the back side of her building. There are two ladders. One on the left side of the building and one on the right. The one on the right leads up close to the outer edge of each window. It goes all the way to the roof. The right hand ladder also faces the inside of the alleyway between her building and the next one over. That's good. The one on the left stops two floors short of the top. I guess it's for checking the down spouts or gutters or something. 

I step on the right hand latter and apply some weight. It's solid as bedrock. I start scaling the ladder. I don't look around me first. If someone sees me I want to look like I know what I'm doing. The rungs are close together so I have to goose step my way up. I stop a few times on my way up and pretend to inspect the building here and there. When I finally reach the window with painted panes I decide to make sure I'm not under any kind of suspicion. I hold steady with my left hand and pull my wallet out with my right. I take out one of my old check stubs. I look at it, look up at the building. I look at the paper again and look back at the building. I nod and then put the check stub back in my wallet and return my wallet to my pocket.  

Nope, nothing suspicious here. Just a guy checking the building out. He's using a diagram and looking the place over. Probably looking for surface cracks in the brick face of the walls. Just like the guy down the row. 

I slowly swing to my left and look into the painted window. At first I can't see anything. The apartment is dim. A light is on to the right of my field of vision. A shadow is moving around there. The view through the painted window pane is distorted and blurred. I still can't tell what the painting is supposed to be of. Right now it's giving me some much needed seclusion. 

The shadow grows short and a form walks into my sight from the direction of the light. It's her. I freeze.

I don't need to be doing this. It's wrong. It's criminal. If I saw someone else doing this I wouldn't ask any questions. I would drag his ass down and kick the living shit out of him. But now I'm up here so I have to stay or go.

I stay. 

She's walking toward me. She turns a couple of feet short of the window and plops down to the right.  She's seated with her back to me. I can see the back of her head. I press my ear close to the window. A bright light comes on. I pull back and realize I'm breathing really fast. She sat down in a chair by the window and turned a lamp on. I creep back into place. The sky is cloudy and turbulent. No chance of a peek of sunshine coming through. With the light beside her I can't cast a shadow inside and alert her to my presence. I listen intently. 

I hear little beeps. She's dialing a telephone. She stops. More beeps. A pause, then more beeps. 

She's tying to make a phone call. Are the lines out? Shouldn't be. We haven't got any bad winds yet. More little beeps. No, she's just trying to make up her mind. She's dialing the number. Hanging up. Dialing it again. Hanging up again. She has to be terribly nervous. She's probably calling Eric. That fucker.

I hear her voice. She finally let the call go through.

"Mom?"

This comes as a relief to me. I'm glad she's calling her mother. Hopefully telling her she's going to stay with her until the cane blows over. Maybe she'll decide to stay there and not come back to Eric. Or maybe Eric won't be here when she comes back. 

"Yes Mom I know. You're right."

Come home baby. You still have time to evacuate safely. I'll have dinner waiting when you get here. 

I can't hear her mother's words but I know what they are saying. I know they are tugging at Lidia's heart.

I'll have your room ready. It's just the way you left it. 

"I want to Mom but I can't. Besides I'm on the outside edge of the bad weather . I just checked the weather."

It's still not safe baby. 

"It's no more dangerous than driving in this rain. I just wanted to let you know I am alright."

Lidia are you alright? Despite the weather. I know you Lidia. You've been depressed lately. Is there anything you need to talk about? You know I'm here for you honey.

"It's Eric Mom. I don't know what to do."

Tell me all about it Lidia.

"He's so different now. I want to break it off with him but I'm afraid to."

Lidia do you need me there?

"No Mom. I can take care of myself. I just hate the situation. He was really good to me when I met him. He made me feel strong. He gave me what I needed. Now that he knows I need him, he is making me hate him."

Some men are like that baby. You deserve better than that. You are a beautiful woman Lidia. The man for you is out there.

"I know. I just felt in my heart of hearts that he was the one. Now I know he's not. Some things have happened Mom. Things I can't live with."

Has he hurt you Lidia?

"I'm going to break it off with him tomorrow night. He's having some stupid hurricane party. I'm going to tell him it's over."

Lidia, darling, do you think it's a good idea? Come home and call him from here. 

"No Mom I have to do this face to face. The only way I can look at myself after the way he hurt me is to tell him to his face. Mom he used to give me support, make me feel able. Now he treats me like I can't live without him. I thought I needed to be treated that way, but I've made a terrible mistake. I've grown up alot in the past few weeks and I don't want to feel ashamed any more."

Her voice is trembling. She is close to tears.

Lidia you are a strong person. I don't want you to do this but if you think it is what you need then do it. Please just know what you are doing. Angry men are unpredictable animals. If he lays a hand on you call the police. Please baby.

"I will Mom." 

She is crying now. Little sniffles and snorts. She's close to breaking down and bawling. I know what she's thinking. If he lays a hand on her? He's already made a habit of slapping me around Mom and I let him do it. It excited me the first time but now it's gone too far. But I can't tell you any of that. I want to break up with him but I'm scared as hell to do it. Especially with his friends around. But now that I've talked to you about it I have to. I have to.
 
Lidia do what you think is right.

"Yes Mom I will. Promise. I got another scholarship offer in the mail yesterday. They want me to post a new painting on their web page and see the feedback they get."

Lidia I'm so proud of you.

She's an artist. That makes perfect sense to me. She's a work of art in herself. I can picture her standing in front of the window in a paint spattered t shirt and shorts. Her hair tied up in that sexy bun. A slender paint brush in one hand and another clenched in her teeth. An easel to one side of her with a neat row of open paint cans sitting on the little ledge. A paint smeared canvas resting in the easel where she mixes the colors to her liking. 

Right now she's sitting here crying to her mother over the telephone while I hide behind her like a fucking chicken thief. 

"Thank you Mom. I'm glad I can talk to you." 

I always have time for you Lidia. If you decide to come home I will be waiting for you. Just be safe. Please.

"I promise I will be. I love you Mom. Goodbye."

Goodbye Lidia. I love you.

I hear a beep. She hung the phone up. Now I can hear her crying. Long wails and sobs, deep breaths followed by more crying. The sound pierces me. Am I torturing myself as she much as he is torturing her? I look down. Sure enough I have a huge erection. My cock feels so hard it hurts. I've finally made up my mind. In my life of loneliness, scars and doubt, one solitary thing is for certain. 

I'm going to crash this hurricane party.

Fade To Black