sylvia121

Sylvia 121

I felt a little better at 9PM, when Tom and I followed behind TJ Soda, as he walked quickly to the stage.   The horrible thumping shit they called music began immediately.

The warm up band had been pretty good, if you liked hipidy hop music.  The warm up bands were always locals.  Some how the promoter always hired the best band in the area to warm up the crowd.  Usually they weren’t as good as the band that night though.

Mostly it was a cover band that did a lot of bump and grind shit.  So it was kind of nice to enjoy the music that came through he walls of the dressing room.  Okay enjoy may not have been the right words, but I didn’t want to take a Mac 10 to them either.

Rodney, Tom and I stood at the bottom of the stage waiting for the shit to end.  When it did, we hurried him to the dressing room.  I told Tom to go inside as I rushed to the bathroom.  I couldn’t decide which end to hang over the toilet bowl first.  I managed to work it out, but when I finished I found Tom and Rodney in the parking lot.  The bus was pulling out.

“You Okay,” Rodney asked.

“Sorry guy’s. I think it is the flu.  The doc said there is a two day version of it going around.  I should be okay tomorrow.”

“And if you need help in the middle of the night?  I think I should move in the extra room and make sure you are okay,” Rodney said.

“Sure you do that, then we both get to deal with a pissed off Joan.  I think I would rather die than spend two more months wath a boss who has a hard on for me,” I said it drifting back to the days in Afghanistan with my choice of those words.

Tom put his hand on my forehead.  You have a fever, look I got nobody waiting on me at home.  I left Randy with my daughter.  I can call and she will let him sleep over.  I can stay with Sylvia to make sure she is okay.  I’m working with you guys tomorrow anyway.  I can run for a change of clothes for tomorrow night.  I won’t have to leave her till after the show.  Maybe a night’s sleep is all she needs, if not she will have another day to mend.”

“Is that okay with you Sylvia,” Rodney asked.

“Well he doesn’t look like a rapist.  If he is he will be easy to find, he will be the one covered with vomit.” I said.

“Gee that sounds romantic,” Tom said.

“Just telling it like it is, so you wouldn’t get any ideas, you horny old man,” I commented.

“I guess I don’t have to worry about her.  But Tom keep your pistol handy.  Sylvia is a horny old lady,” Rodney said.

“Thanks Rodney I will.  I would hate to lose my virginity to the boss,” he said.  “That is just so trampy.  Do they still say that?”

Rodney and I both said, “No,” and laughed.

“You want me to drive you back to the motel,” Tom asked.

“No, I’m good.  Meet me at the Embassy Suites.  You know where that is?” I asked.

“On the same road as the Econo Lodge,” he said as confirmation.

“That’s the one,” I said heading for the SUV.  “Unit 23“

“Are you okay to drive?” Tom asked.

“I already answered that,” I said.  I looked at the day old coffee cup in the car and I tossed it.  That insulated travel cup had cost me five bucks, but looking at it made me ill.  I dry swallowed one of the anti nausea pill and then an anti fungal one as well.  While I was at it I took the OTC pain pill.  I wanted to barf and crap again, but I headed the SUV for the motel.  I decided along the way that I wasn’t going to make it but I did make it to a McDonald’s.

I found the bathroom to be clean. I didn’t get much more than water from either end of me.  I did buy a milk shake on the way out.  That chocolate milk shake was the best thing I had ever had.  It calmed my scratchy throat and seemed to sit on my stomach well enough.  I took all those pills again since they were no longer in my system.

Tom was waiting by the door when I arrived.  “Sorry to keep you waiting.  I stopped by McDonalds for a shake.” I said to him.

“Not a problem,” Tom said with real concern showing on his face.

Once we were inside I handed him a hundred dollar bill.  “Just to prove you are really working, not just babysitting for nothing.”

“You don’t have to pay me to stay the night.  I’m no whore,” he said laughing at me.

“That was for the concert, not sleeping here.  If anyone pays you it will be Rodney, so he could sleep with Joan.  Frankly I doubt she is worth a hundred bucks,”

“Damn, you are mean when you are sick,” he said.

“Mean hell, I’m a real bitch, when I’m sick,” I said to correct him.

“Yeah that to,” he replied.

“I’ll make you a deal.  If you go to the lobby and get us a couple of cokes, I’ll buy you a drink.” I suggested.

“You sure you are up to drinking?” he asked.

‘I’m not, but you can have one.  There is no need to deprive yourself for me,” I said.

“But what if I’m a mean drunk?” he asked.

“I have a 10,000volt stun gun, a .38 revolver, a Glock model 22, and two very sharp box openers, being a mean drunk would be a very bad idea.” I admitted.

“I’m not a mean drunk.  I just wanted to know you could protect yourself,” he said.

“Good, now you know,” I said.

“Now I know,” he agreed and went for ice and the cokes.

When Tom returned I had the bottle of cheap bourbon sitting on the small table.  He sat down and put the two canned cokes and the ice bucket down.  The table already held two of those disposable cups.  Tom made himself a drink. while I poured coke in a glass.  Unlike Tom’s, my glass had nothing but coke.  I drank it and held it down just fine.

“So what does the doc think,” he asked.

“48 hour flu or fugal infection,” I said.

“Bad coffee?” he asked.

“Could be,” I admitted.

“Bummer,” he as he took a big pull on the drink.

“You know that shit ain’t music,” he said.

“Yeah, I know.  I expect them to break out, with kill whitey, any minute,  Probably won’t, since white kids in the ‘burbs spend the most money on that shit,” I replied.

“Yeah, how the hell do they get so twisted?” he asked.

“TV,” I replied.

“Yeah I guess if tell it loud enough and long enough it becomes the truth,” he said.

“10-4 Herr Goebbels,” I replied.

“What do you think we are talking about here?” he said.

“The collective white man’s guilt,” I said.  “Since I’m not a white man, I don’t buy into it.  But if I were. I probably would buy into it.”

“Did you ever do a spade?” he asked.

“More than one,” I said not objecting to the words he used.  After all Tom was old school and they were just words.

“Is it true about the size?” he asked.  He didn’t seem to be getting an attitude.

“Sometimes, but not as often as they want you to believe.  Probably the average is a couple of inches longer, but I have met white men just as big or bigger.  Besides size isn’t a big deal, unless it is a big deal.” I said.

“Now that’s, deep,” he said.

It took me a second to get it, when I did I said, “Painful.”

“Good pain?” he asked.

“The best,” I replied.  “As pain goes, it beats the hell out of a fucked up hand.”

“Yeah,” Tom said.

“Tom did you ever watch porno films on line,” I asked after a minute of silent thought.

“Sure everybody does,” he said.

“Yeah they do,  The trick is how does the makers get paid.  Would you believe these days it’s all about the advertising.  They have some boutique film makers.  The advertiser orders what he wants, the producer makes it, then puts it on line with the advertisement.” I said.

“O—kay,” Tom said.

“Let me show you one,”  I found Mary Ellen’s web site.  I entered, ‘Cindy fucks Black Monster’ into the search line.  The screen filled with a dating service adv while the porn downloaded.  Then the film started and there I was sitting at the table watching my self with the man from the dance club in Dobson,

It only lasted seventeen minutes and change, but it was all hard core sucking and fucking.  There was a link to a paid service to see the unabridged film for 99cents.  But the real profit was from the advertisement on the first page for the dating service, and the one that would flash while it downloaded the full film for just 99cents,

“Holy shit Sylvia that was you.  Did you need money that badly?” he asked.

“No I needed the experience.  At the time I made that film I was a deputy sheriff.” I said.

“I have to admit, I have never watched interracial porn, but that was hot.  Did you do more.” he asked.

“Yeah you can find them at the website.  This is just between you and me.  No one else knows,” I said.

“Why did you tell me?” he asked.

“You just remind me of someone.  It’s no big thing,” I said.  “Now I think I can sleep.  I’m going to bed.  Tom, I lock my door.”

I was still tired when the five o’clock bell went off in my brain.  That morning I rolled over and went back to sleep.  Then Tom knocked on the door.  “Sylvia it’s noon you want to go to lunch?” he asked.

“Sure hold on a second.”  I got out of bed where I had slept in only my tee shirt from the day before.  I went to my pants and removed a ten dollar bill.  I knew I needed something, but it wasn’t coffee.  “While I shower would you run down to the convenience store and buy me a carton of chocolate milk, and one of orange juice.”

“Sure no problem.” Tom said as he stared at me,

After he left I manged to drag my ass into the bathroom.  I turned on the water in the shower.  It was really hot by the time I got in.  I finished the shower and realized I needed to empty my bowels, but I wasn’t nauseous.  I took that as a good sign.  It was still a little watery, but better.  I also felt like I was on the mend.  I didn’t feel feverish at all.

I came out of the shower then brushed my teeth.  I entered the little sitting room with wet hair, but wearing a clean tee shirt, panties and cargo pants.  The tee shirt was the Russian commando rip off, the panties were white cotton bikini style and the cargo pants were the black ones I wore whenever I was almost out of clean clothes.  It looked like a laundromat Sunday for sure.

Tom came in a few minutes later with a plastic grocery bag.  “The convenience store doesn’t carry chocolate milk so I went to the grocery store,” he explained.

“I knew I could count on you,” I said with a smile.

“Well, are you feeling better?” he asked.

“I’m already thinking about doing my laundry tomorrow, so I must be.  Yesterday I just wanted to find a quiet place to lay down and die.” I said.

“Good, the job is over tonight,” he said with a smile.

“No promises,” I replied.

“Same here,” he said.

About cindypress

sorry it is a mystery.
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6 Responses to sylvia121

  1. jack says:

    Good that she is feeling better, First time she has told anyone about the vids , HMM interesting Thanks

  2. Walt says:

    Cindy…is my last comment about my site in your hold box or did it go into the dark hole?
    Seems whenever I use the http in an address it won’t post. Weird.

    • jack says:

      wordpress as well as a lot of the internet is acting with a mind of its own , takes hours for post to show up if at all. Saturday and Sunday were horrible in the north east may be something to do with the floods in the Newyork area. All those getting power back and checkin mail , but it has sucked to put it mildly

    • cindypress says:

      I have no idea walk. I found it somewhere. Keep trying to link to it and if it doesnt work this time I will find a way to add a link/

  3. jack says:

    Thanks for the great writing and all the work you do.
    ps I added a chapter 7 to my story
    http://bjjonesmylife.wordpress.com

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