Kara had my number for sure. She kissed me while her hands made a rough move on my body. Then she realized I was wearing a shoulder holster. She stepped back with a curious look. The look said it all, should couldn’t have faked that surprise on her face. She had no idea who I was. That might be a good thing.
I took a deep breath before I removed the canvas parka. “It’s a .22 magnum revolver and no it isn’t a joke. I am licensed to carry it. I am a licensed private protective agent, body guard to you laymen.” I said.
“Do you always wear that. Even when you aren’t working?” she asked.
“Anytime I’m not sure what the threat might be, I wear it. I have no way to know who you really are. If you want, I will leave.” I said. “Guns freak some people out. I didn’t think it would freak you out.”
“No you don’t have to go, but I need to see your identification as a private protective agent,” she said.
“No problem,” I said removing my card case from my pants pocket. Another reason I liked loose pants with lots of pockets. She looked at it closely then handed it back with a serious look.
“Do you feel comfortable enough to take it off?” she asked.
“Sure,” I said. I didn’t mention the derringer or the dagger. I just slipped the shoulder rig off. I tossed it on the sofa. She again closed the gap between us. She reached down and unbuttoned the trousers. When they fell to the floor all my weapons were gone. I was at her mercy, because frankly I never was much of a fighter. I’m small and light in the ass. I don’t know Karate or any of those things. All I bring to a fight is my willingness to do whatever I can and that is no match for a two hundred pound man with ham hocks for hands. Or in this case a six foot woman with a very athletic body. If this turned rank, I would be at her mercy unless I found a weapon of some kind.
She had me almost naked when I stepped out of the trousers. I did have my bikini panties and bright red long sleeve tee shirt. Kara kissed me again. It was long wet and breath taking. I felt like I was being deprived of oxygen it was so intense. The temperature in the apartment must have risen ten degrees because it was suddenly uncomfortable.
She looked down at me when she broke the kiss and said, “Kneel.”
I shook my head and tried to step back. She held me with one hand on each arm and forced me to my knees. My face was even with her fleece covered mound.
“Take my running pants off,” she demanded in a quiet voice. Refusing never entered my mind. I just reached up to the waste and untied the string and pulled the pants over her hips. She kicked them off her feet. She stood over me in a black thong. “Take it off.” There was no question what she meant.
I reached up and pulled the piece of lace off her body. When it was on the floor, she spread her legs wide. “You know what to do,” she said almost angrily. I buried my face in her body. I had to balance against her as I used my hands to open the hood surrounding her clit. I sucked it between my lips. It was long enough to fit between them which was a little unusual. My clit was no more than a pea, it would never have done that.
She moaned and rocked moving my head while I tried to stay in contract with her clit. “Put your finger inside me,” she demanded.” She liked being in charge there was no doubt about that. She continued to move against me for some time before she moved me away then sat in the chair by her desk in the living room. Then she motioned me over. I tried to stand but she motioned for me to stay on my knees.
I moved between her legs and returned my face to her vagina. I covered the opening and sucked the liquid from it. The liquid from her body was much thinner than that from a man’s would have been. She continued to move under my mouth and hands as she stroked my hair. My hair was short enough so that she could pretend I was a man if that was her desire.
“Oh baby you eat pussy better than anyone I ever met. God I want to cum so much. I want to fill your mouth with it. Don’t you stop now.” she said as she forced me to make the seal over her opening even tighter. “You my whore Sylvia just like I’m a whore for the men at the club. You gonna be my whore ain’t you baby?” she asked. She had my mouth pressed so tight against her I couldn’t answer.
“Tell me you my whore baby, tell me now.” she said holding me close while she squirted her thin lubricant into my mouth. I couldn’t help coughing she came so much. “That’s a good whore you choke but you keep on sucking. That’s how I do it.” she said.
I wasn’t sure what had happened except I was so turned on that when she touched my clit I exploded and couldn’t stop for a long time. “You a good whore. You want to eat my pussy all the time don’t you whore?” she asked.
“Yes I want to eat you all the time,” I said.
“Say you want to eat my black pussy all the time, you white whore,” she demanded.
“Yes I want to eat your black pussy all the time,” I declared.
“Whenever I let you are you gonna eat my black pussy?” she asked.
“Yes I am going to eat your black pussy whenever you let me,” I said in a whisper.
“And you gonna come when I call you whore,” she asked.
“Yes I will come whenever you call me,” I said.
“Good now get dressed and go home and dream about my pussy,” she demanded.
“Alright,” I said.
“Call me ma’am you cunt,” she said.
“Yes ma’am,” I said.
Once I dressed and was back in my car I tried to assess what had happened. I had never known a woman so much in charge. One who knew how to dominate me. More important, I had never known a woman who could recognize that I would respond to that approach. Maybe even needed that kind of sexual encounter. I knew that it could just as easily have been a man. I was responding to the strength of my sex partner not the person.
I came to those conclusions while I rode back to County Seat. I stopped at the Hardee’s for coffee while I ran the scan of the last 24hours. I had run it before, but I ran it anyway. As usual it showed nothing.
When I got to the compound, I found the colonels mash was finished. It was a little more green than I usually ran, but it was ready so I strained the first ten gallons into the cooker. I added another two pounds of stalks to the mix and began to apply the heat.
The Brit called me about about two hours of the cooking. “So how was your meeting with Kara?” he asked.
“How do you know I went to meet her?” I asked.
“Because I know you. She is a mystery and you could never leave a mystery alone. So how was it?” he repeated.
“It was fine Brit,” I said.
“Well that’s good to know. So you coming by the pub tonight?” he asked.
“No, I think I’m going to stay home and cook my dinner tonight,” I said. It was out code to let him know I was in the still house.
“Okay well if you need anything let me know,” he said. He hung up immediately after the conversation ended. I cooked into the night. I put the liquor in a five gallon bucket with a lid to store tell the next one finished. It was the middle of the night when I refilled the cooker. I did take the time to clean out the residue from the first batch.
I strained the mash into the cooker added some more stalks then started the fire again. While I waited for the pot to boil I carried the residue from the first batch into the woods and poured it onto the ground. I would take the residue from the mash as well as the last cook out to a field near the house and spread it. It was supposed to be excellent fertilizer.
By the time I finished the third cook I had been almost three days in the still house. I left it to go to the house for food and to use the toilet. I was way to tired to bottle it but I did anyway. Then I took it up to the dry well I had built.
I slept for two days, then went into the still house and cleaned it thoroughly. Yes, I still had the still parts laying about but they were cleaned of any evidence. Just as I had done last time I took the condenser to the Brit’s pub, but this time we took it apart and scraped the copper. Scraping it, in out case, meant giving it to a scrap metal dealer. The CPVC and fittings, I tossed into a dumpster the county used to avoid trash pick up.
I thought I might keep the cooker, but then I decided I really didn’t want anything left over from the liquor business. I called around and found one place in the whole damn county that had use for a ten gallon cooker. The First Calvary Baptist Church of Dobson. They had a Brunswick stew every spring. At the moment they were juggling it between ten different pots trying to cook up eighty gallons. With the cooker I was donating they could cut it down to six pots. I had no idea how it would work but I loaded the into the back of the cruiser and carried it to the church’s fellowship hall kitchen, where the ladies of the church and the men of the church were cooking to beat hell. That fellowship hall reeked of game parboiling. There few smells worse than that.
With that cooker gone, I went home and called Monk. “Monk my friend why don’t you meet me for a cup of coffee.” I suggested.
“Well how about we make it a drink at the Brit’s pub,” he suggested. “I think you would be comfortable there. I know I would.”
“You know I think that is an excellent idea,” I suggested. “How about we make it for dinner tonight. They have a hamburger pie Mexican style tonight.”
“Say 7PM then?” he asked.
“Done, see you there,” I suggested.
That’s why I got to the bar at 6pm and had coffee until Monk showed up. We took a walk about back before dinner. That is where I explained I was out of the liquor and pot business. I might or might not run for sheriff, but I was out of the liquor business anyway.
“As long as you aren’t selling to anyone else,” Monk said.
“Monk, I want you to think back to that gang clubhouse in Dobson. Now I’m not selling to anyone else, but if I wanted to honey, I would do it and not think twice.” He looked a little sick, but nodded his understanding.
He decided he wasn’t hungry after all. He was gone when I had dinner with Jeremy and The Brit. I went home and checked the compound extra carefully that night.