The UPS Guy Read online

  Tonight, after the club….

  ••

  The pelting water of the shower head rained down on blond pretty Olivia’s toned young body with such warm hypnotic power that she couldn’t help but to fantasize about her one long ago desire; the UPS guy, Dex, the stripper on stage at CANDY MAN gyrating—his hot urine pouring across her blond lonely beauty in waves of rejection, superiority and the bleakest humiliation.

  Never did she have a chance with Dex Kellog—but that didn’t stop her mind from feeding the dreams.

  “Yes,” she cooed in the shower as she imagined Dex standing over her—his heavy hanging dick suspended between massive legs that were like those of a soccer player’s—his cruel rejecting stare as the long pretty penis drenched her blondness with the yellowing rays of his golden shower. Pissing on her; rejecting her; drenching and humiliating her.

  “Yes,” Olivia cried in ecstasy. “Oh, yes, Dex, please—I’d take any amount of bad treatment to be with you.”

  Drying off with a towel but still enraptured by the heat of her fantasies about the naked stud strewn across the white bed prop at CANDY MAN, Olivia laid down on her bed and decided to give in to the one pleasure that every human can guide her control—the sweet, perfect fulfillment known as masturbation.

  Tenderly, she touched herself. Her slender fingers pressed against the tight blond peach fuzz that was sprinkled over her fresh young lonely untouched vagina. And like a boy festooned in the twilight of wet dreams—she waded in, unafraid.

  Calm and serene; her heartbeat steady as butterflies fluttering—she touched herself until everything was as wet and slippery as passion frying on the belly of a mid-day sun.

  In and out, white fingers stirring the softly melting pink, she tossed and turned her head on the pillows with moans of delight.

  “Fuck me, Dex. My hot pussy wants you.”

  Like sugar and rain, the dewy rose got redder and redder until Olivia Nixon was so high, all she could do was close her eyes and drift away, deeper and deeper; warmer and warmer; faster and faster—to heaven.

  ••

  It’s Britney, bitch

  Rock that beat/

  DANCE!

  It’s Britney, bitch

  It’s Britney, bitch

  Gyrating Jungle; Britney Spears house mix

  OLIVIA…wild blond hair; hot pink mouth…black stiletto heels…silky breezy Reptile print….TURN IT UP/TURN IT UP…dark glasses/red high eyes…Olivia Nixon entered the club as though she were a carnival girl entering a circus.

  Anjulie’s “BOOM” mixed furiously into Utada’s beat for “Come Back to Me” and crashed wickedly, like techno-atoms into a thumping, heartless jamming “Spaceman” by The Killers.

  Olivia was dancing down the steps and into the crowded table section—her blue eyes sparkling as two hot sexy black guys practically escorted her half the way through the crowd, their eyes flashing desperate desire as they wanted her and wished they could spend the whole night lavishing her with attention. But Olivia didn’t know them too well and half-heartedly danced with one of them for a few minutes before spotting her friend Cathy in the crowd. Quickly, she deserted the sexy black guys to see what Cathy was doing.

  As usual, Cathy was there with her very handsome husband, Mike, and the two of them were dancing with other people. But as Olivia made her way through the crowd waving at them—they both left their dance partners and came together as a couple.

  Nothing, in Olivia’s mind, looked more right than Cathy and Mike together. They’d been married twelve years and often referred to themselves as “White poor-ass PARTY PEOPLE from New Jersey.” They loved to dance, drink beer and hang out with friends on Fridays and Saturdays, but tonight, a Wednesday, they showed up at the club to celebrate Mike’s new promotion as Chief Security Captain at the Lakeland Mall.

  This was a major deal, because Mike had left the Air Force and entered a promising career as a Fireman—but that all ended when the station tested his urine positive for marijuana and fired him on the spot. It had taken him years to get his bearings back as a security guard, but now being appointed top Captain, he was finally happy and feeling like the ‘big man’ again.

  “Congratulations!” Olivia yelled in Mike’s ear, attempting to shout over the blaring music as Cathy told her why they were out on a Wednesday celebrating.

  “Oh my god—you’re losing weight!” Olivia said to the grinning redheaded Cathy.

  Cathy had recently had a baby, she and Mike’s fourth kid, and she was still trying to lose the weight from it. Dancing, she claimed, helped her a lot with cardio exercise.

  “Thank you, Olivia—I’m still trying to get my sexy back so I can wrestle with this big lug.”

  “You’re beautiful to me no matter you look like,” Mike told his wife, seriously. “Don’t even trip, baby, just party.”

  “Awwww”

  They kissed—right there on the dance floor.

  Anyone who’d ever danced at Democratic Headquarters knew that Mike loved Cathy and Cathy loved Mike. But what young blond Olivia hadn’t known was how badly tall, handsome manly Mike wanted to fuck her—just one time.

  In fact, Olivia would have never known that hadn’t Cathy’s cell phone started ringing with an order she get to 17-B STAT. Cathy was an LVN, a nurse at ShermanOaksMedicalCenter—and though the couple was glad to be celebrating Mike’s new job status—it was Cathy who basically carried the bill load, and for that reason, they both agreed that she should cut her night short.

  “I’m leaving too” Mike announced. But Cathy insisted that he not stop celebrating just because she was needed at the hospital. They’d already paid the babysitter to take their older kids out for a movie and Shakey’s Pizza while Mike’s mom took care of the new baby, so there wasn’t any reason that Mike should go home and do nothing. Cathy turned to Olivia, asking the innocent pretty blond to keep her husband company and just pretend that Cathy was in the ladies room or somewhere nearby. “I want this big lug to have a good time tonight—you let Mike teach you some dance moves Olivia and make sure he doesn’t overdo the drinking.”

  “I will,” Olivia chirped, sweetly.

  Olivia adored Mike, mainly as an extension of her great affection for Cathy, and it never entered her mind that Mike was attracted to her or would make a pass.

  In fact as Cathy walked out of the club, Olivia sort of drifted away from Mike—expecting him to do his own thing—and went over to the bar to order herself a margarita.

  But before she could get a word out to Antonio, the sexy Puerto Rican bartender—a tall, handsome young college guy appeared behind her, the bottom portion of his face covered by a surgical mask, and immediately announced that he was buying a drink for her.

  “Excuse me?” Olivia smiled with huge blue eyes.

  The surgical mask really threw her off.

  “Allow me to introduce myself—my name is Timex B. I’m a photographer and a rapper.”

  “A rapper.”

  “Yeah—like Eminem.”

  Timex B. removed his surgical mask to reveal that he was even better looking than Olivia thought. WOW! What a fine ass guy; thick wavy brown hair, gray-green eyes, a dimpled chin and a tall, sinewy strong build.

  “Why were you wearing a surgical mask?”

  “Don’t you watch the news blondie? Swine flu is going around.”

  “Oh yeah—swine flu, I forgot.”

  “It’s just the latest in a long list of plots by the world governments to try and control population levels on earth—they’re coming up with diseases to kill us off.”

  Staring at him intensely, Olivia said, “I actually believe that.”

  Antonio, the bartender, was jealous but immediately served up drinks, and Olivia stood there staring up at the tall, thin but very attractive photographer, completely bemused at how he could have a name like Timex B.

  “I gave it to myself,” he told her. Then he wanted to know if she was a “model” or not. Said he wanted to photograph her
.

  “I dropped out of USC last semester,” Olivia informed him. “I’m a Graphic Designer for a firm in Rolling Hills, but I work from my Mac at home.”

  “You look lonely,” Timex B. told her. “In your eyes, you look like you’re an orphan, plus newly transplanted to a new city where you don’t know a living soul.”

  “My family’s here in Southern California. My mom is a psychiatrist and my sister’s happily married.”

  “What’s your name?”

  “Olivia…Olivia Nixon.”

  “Why are you so sad Olivia?”

  “I’m not sad, really. I’m just young…teetering on the brink of womanhood, and I’m realizing that…it’s not all that fun being young on the verge of womanhood. Something’s missing.”

  She wondered about men’s dicks and having one in her mouth. How that would feel and taste.

  “You’re one of the hottest girls I’ve seen this week. How come you’re so fine and don’t have a man?”

  I like to masturbate, Olivia wanted to tell him. Of course, she couldn’t say that, but deep inside, she wanted to tell the whole world—the reason I don’t have a boyfriend is because I prefer dreams; I like to masturbate; touch myself; create my own experiences.

  Instead, she asked, “Why do people always assume that just because a girl is blond and pretty, she’s never alone and everybody wants her? I mean, honestly—we go manless and alone a lot, just like every other type of girl.”

  “You’re saying nobody wants you?”

  “No—I’m just saying that I’m alone.”

  “I want you,” Timex B. blurted out, his eyes locked onto hers in a duel against the depth as both sets of eyes were dulled by the club’s blaring music.

  Olivia burst out laughing. Not just because Timex B. said he wanted her, but because she’d lost her virginity so recently and couldn’t for the life of her remember anything great about it or even the guy who’d taken it.

  All she knew is that she craved a follow up—more sex.

  She didn’t feel as though she’d done it yet and she wanted to have that feeling—like she’d done it.

  Timex B. asked her to dance. But as soon as they got out on the dance floor and were making some energetic moves—Cathy’s husband Mike came up to them and cut in.

  Mike was a good dancer and very sexy and very intimidating. He stepped in and took over Olivia like she was his woman or something.

  Timex B. kept wanting to ask her what the deal was.

  Eventually, as the song remixed into another song, she led the men back to the bar and introduced them to one another. For the tall darkly handsome and muscular Mike, she said, “My best friend Cathy’s husband Mike—he’s like an uncle to me.”

  Like an uncle.

  Mike immediately said, “Olivia—I’m not that much older than you. I’m thirty-four years old.”

  “I’m sorry Mike, I was just…”

  Suddenly Mike had his chest poked out, lion-like, his buff arms flexing like a stud. He didn’t like being treated like a third wheel. Especially when he knew that his experience and desire for Olivia could bring her more pleasure in the bedroom than Peon-boy could ever hope to.

  Olivia looked up in the red drunk eyes of the former Navy Seals adventurer and found herself astonished—floored—that he was, for the very first time in all the weeks she’d known him and his wife, looking at her as though he was lustful and attracted to her.

  Now, as they made eye contact, Mike turned up the heat. Being that Mike had fucked girlfriends of his wife before, he wasn’t the least bit in denial or embarrassed, but for Olivia—the color drained right out of her face!

  She couldn’t believe the suggestion in his eyes—the wolf inside such a fine ass man.

  “So—should I get lost or what?” Timex B. smiled.

  “No—no, you shouldn’t get lost,” Olivia recovered. “Let’s go dance, they’re jamming Beyonce.”

  Cold and dismissive, Olivia said to the tall handsome married man, “Later Mike.”

  But getting the kiss-off only made Mike more determined. He watched as she and Timex B. disappeared into the crowd and began dancing like sexual maniacs—Olivia obviously trying to convey that she was taken and had too many morals to be sleeping with her best friend’s husband.

  “Yeah right,” Mike muttered with a devilish grin. “I’m going to fuck the shit out of you, bitch.”

  Vintage Madonna exploded from the sound system.

  Power lighting/remix crashing…Olivia Nixon’s breasts so heavy and her hips and back bone just a little too loose as she shimmied down to the floor, poking her ass out for Timex B. to hump-dance against—then she spun ridiculously and shook her curves like a livewire, tossing her fabulous blond hair with gratuitous mod-looking poses and sexy black girl-type gyrations. The girl was dancing up a storm and Timex B. was impressed!

  She graduated to a Long Island Tea, then some mystic nasty blue drink that Timex B. suggested. After that, her old friend, the Sanjiya look-a-like Boy Bitch popped up, slinky and sexy-fem as ever and insisted that Timex B. give her just a few minutes for “girl talk.” “Yeah, you’re a girl alright,” Timex B. sulked as he remembered seeing “IT” in the Democratic Headquarters men’s room a few nights ago sucking some guy’s dick like there was no tomorrow. Boy Bitch, of course, had no shame and flagrantly batted his huge sexy eye lashes at Timex B., practically daring the fine ass white boy to even try and deny that Boy Bitch wasn’t one of the prettiest girls in the club, despite being a male. And, honestly, you couldn’t deny it—Boy Bitch was hot. Face beat like an Indian princess, fish net stockings, golden caramel skin, and that fabulous mane of Sanjiya hair. Shaking his ass to the music and seductively batting his lashes at Timex B., he nudged Olivia to come with him out back in the parking lot where people smoked their rolled marijuana sticks.

  “I got some weed,” Boy Bitch whispered in Olivia’s ear. “And it’s a blunt that smells like pussy when it burns, girl it’s good.”

  “Hell yeah, I wanna smoke some weed,” Olivia giggled as Timex B. excused them.

  “No sharing ha?” Timex B. called.

  “You don’t want to put your lips on the same blunt as a faggot, do you?” Boy Bitch shot back. “Us girls will be back—you just dance with somebody else, you fine ass white boy motherfucker. Blond shy girl will return to you hotter than ever, I guarantee it.”

  But as Olivia and Boy Bitch were making their exit, Olivia looked over her shoulder and saw that Timex B. was indeed enraptured with someone else—a really hot and sexy Latina beauty who was twisting out some dance moves that Olivia would never be able to manage. Immediately, Olivia felt jealous and threatened, because Timex B. looked so happy to be dancing with the hot Latina girl. It was instantly as though Olivia had never existed—would he be there when she got back from the parking lot?

  “Girl, come on,” Boy Bitch snapped.

  ••

  “Your college boy is fucking fine,” Boy Bitch said once they were out in the parking lot, ducked behind an SUV smoking a fat blunt.

  “Yeah, he’s into photography,” Olivia said. “He wants to take my picture.”

  “He should—you could be a model.”

  Olivia barely had time to exhale the burning marijuana smoke a register a thank you before some super fine brunette guy, a gym instructor with muscular arms and the sexiest, buffest legs Olivia had ever seen came into the parking lot and started making his way towards an Escalade.

  “Craig!” Boy Bitch shouted across the parking lot in a girl’s voice. And then this guy Craig put up a peace sign and shouted, “No rain tomorrow!”

  No rain tomorrow? What the fuck was he talking about?

  But apparently Boy Bitch knew what he was talking about, because he grabbed his stuff saying, “Girl, I gotta go—daddy’s a mean one. I’m going to suck him off and get fucked up my ass.”

  “What?”

  Craig’s escalade glided across the lot, stopping in front of the row of cars where Oli
via and Boy Bitch were perched, and sure as California smog, Boy Bitch ducked into the car, propping himself up in the passenger seat like a woman and elegantly closing the door. “Bye Olivia, be good.”

  The escalade sped off.

  “Well damn,” Olivia muttered as it was so quiet she could hear a pin drop.

  Sluggish but hot with a free-floating feel, she decided to walk back to the source of the thumping music and ground beating—the Democratic Headquarters, but as she started across the parking lot—she heard undeniable sex moans coming from one of the cars she was passing.

  She looked in the front glass window of a P.T. Cruiser and saw a naked black guy literally bouncing and poking between the legs of a naked black girl.

  “Oh my god!” Olivia gasped as she realized it was the black guy who’d danced with her when she first entered the club that night. He was fucking the black girl hard with the horniest thrusts, the movement of his buttocks rocking the long shiny dark legs of the naked girl, and when Olivia noticed the look of unbridled ecstasy on the girl’s pretty dark skinned face, Olivia immediately went from simply being hot to having erect, burning nipples and a suddenly wet pussy.

  “OOOOH Kevin, your thing is so big!” the pretty black girl screamed as her legs opened wider. “OOOOH Kevin, it hurts—don’t stop, it hurts—don’t stop—get my pussy, daddy!”

  The black guy dove his tongue in her mouth to quiet her down, and as the couple kissed, Olivia thought the black girl’s skin looked a lot like the gingerbread men Olivia and her mom baked on holidays. So dark, sweetly gooey and luminescent that Olivia could almost taste what the black guy was tasting as he sucked and kissed the pretty black girl’s neck.

  Fascinated at what she was seeing—Olivia didn’t walk faster or hurry towards Democratic Headquarters. She ducked down and went around to the side of the car, positing herself just behind the passenger seat window so that she could watch the black guy fucking the pretty black girl and not get caught watching by the black girl.