By Cindy and Walt
It seemed that I had my legal source for the pot waste. My next problem was going to be the license to buy processed marijuana waste. Since I didn’t have any idea where to get help I made a call to the Church Camp. They sure as fuck owed me a favor. I hadn’t called in any favors for all the years I worked for them, so I figured it was past time I did.
“Andrew I need a favor,” I said once he was on the line.
“Then drive across the mountain and ask,” he said before he hung up on me.
“Prick,” I whispered under my breath. Of course I knew it was the only way to be a hundred percent secure. I realized that he knew it was something important since I would never call to ask for tickets to the super bowl. He knew that it wasn’t that kind of favor. I began negotiations for the building across the street even before I had the license application.
“Well Miss Martin they want 50K for this building,” The good old boy Realtor explained while standing in front of his pickup truck.
“The owner wants me to pay 50K for a pile of bricks. You do know that is all the fuck there is here?” I asked.
“Maybe so, but it’s bricks in a pile across from your house,” he said with a smile.
“For what I want, I can buy any building, including a metal out of the box building, one that requires no renovations at all.” He knew it was true.
“So make me an offer and put some money with it. I’ll take it to the owner,” he said.
“Let me do some research and I’ll come up with a fair price. I need to get in here again and take some pictures,” I demanded. He just nodded so I got my camera. With it in hand, I did my second walk through of the day.
The second floor ceilings were dry. The Realtor had previously explained that the owner had the building inspected every three months and did then necessary repairs. The building’s roof had another five or more years of service, according to the latest inspection.
The inspection also told me the foundation was solid. Everything else was cosmetic. The building needed to be caulked and painted. The front glass would have to be removed and the spaces filled in with brick as well for the use I planned to make of it.
If this building were in a town with even average retail traffic, fifty K would be a steal. However it wasn’t in an area with even average retail expectations. It was going to wind up falling under it’s own weight if I didn’t save it. The owner and I both knew it.
“Okay my main problem is the whole area is zoned by the county as retail I’m sure. If I can get an exemption, I will give $40,000. If not, it isn’t worth anything to me,” I said.
“You didn’t have a problem putting that apartment over your shop,” he said.
“True, but I don’t need a second apartment,” I said.
“How about letting me work on the zoning change. I know these people and it’s in my own self interest to get it done quickly,” the man doing business in blue jeans said.
“Go for it,” I said. The farmer had said he would make his delivery in thirty days or so. If the Realtor couldn’t make it work I would just buy an acre of land outside the zone and put up a storage building. It would be more trouble, but I was going to honor my agreement with the pot farmer.
I left the Realtor to it. Since it was getting late on Tuesday afternoon I needed to switch gears. It was my plan to leave early the next morning for Church Camp. I wasn’t worried about the application for making pot tea. I just wanted it to happen quickly. Until I had the business, I had nothing on which to base a mortgage application. I needed that to show some bank to get a loan for operating expenses. I might not need a loan but better safe than sorry, I thought.
I waited until the evening to call Jeff. “Well hello Rita, I didn’t think you were real. There is so much mystery around you. I can’t find a digital footprint for you at all,” he said.
“You know I’m real Jeff, you just don’t know the real me,” I said and forced a laugh. “The real me needs a favor, can you come visit before the weekend. I can come get you, if you need me.”
“Can it be on the weekend?” he asked
“No, but I’m going to be on the road tomorrow. How about I plan to spend Thursday night at that motel where we met. Could you get Friday off or at least have a few hours to talk on Friday morning?” I asked.
“I can spend Thursday night with you there and follow you home,” he said. “Or maybe go to the festival with you.”
“Sorry, I’m going to be busy over the weekend. But we can be together Thursday night and talk business on Friday before I leave, if you want.
“Of course I do,” he said.
“Then I will check into the Motel again under the name Rita Martin.” I didn’t need a driver’s license for a room paid for with cash the last time I was there, so I didn’t expect to need one on the current trip.
At 5 AM on Wednesday morning I rode the three speed bike out to the farmer’s place, then turned and headed to the Dairy Queen. There I had a breakfast sandwich, before I headed back to the studio. The plan was to pack the truck for my trip to Church Camp, and the college town to meet with Jeff.
I drove almost directly past the small Georgia College town on the way to Church camp. I was on the road by 9 AM and arrived by 8 PM Wednesday. I discovered that one of the VIP cabins had been reserved for me, since I wasn’t expected to drive home that same day. That was a good thing.
Andrew had planned the evening meeting for 9 PM so there was time for a ham sandwich made in the dining hall’s kitchen. It was a DIY project and I didn’t mind at all, since I was starved. A ham and cheese sandwich, with corn chips and a coke made a pretty good DIY meal.
I sat in the dining hall, which could seat at least two hundred if push came to shove, to eat my sandwich. It was a cavernous room when empty. Of the two men who entered, I recognized only the one with the cane.
“Andrew, I’m glad to see you,” I said. “So who is your friend?”
“This is Hagar. Actually you two have met briefly,” Andrew said.
“I should remember him then, but I’m afraid I don’t,” I replied.
“Last summer on the cruise. Hagar was part of the Swamp’s security detail,” Andrew said.
“I’m sorry about what happened,” I said. I couldn’t decide what to say. He must have had a friend or two who died that day.
“Actually I headed that detail. I was with the old man that day. I lost a lot of friends and almost my total security detail. Andrew’s people all came home,” he said. “All except you.”
“I just missed the boat. I did get home,” I said.
“You look very different. Somehow you seem more appealing. Maybe I mean more relaxed, but you are way too thin,” he said. Obviously the man lacked filters. I liked that about him.
“I had a bad case of worms,” I said then turned to Andrew. “Do you want to talk about my favor, or should I wait.”
“Hagar insisted on being here for the meeting,” Andrew said.
I turned my attention to the second man. “Really why is that?” I asked.
“I have some contacts which Andrew does not have. I might be able to help in a different way,” Hagar said.
“I understood, that like me, you retired after that fiasco,” I said not kindly at all.
“That is true, but I still have a marker or two out there floating around,” he said sadly. He didn’t seem angrily at all.
“Okay let’s get to it. What do you need?” Andrew asked.
I outlined my business plan for them both. I didn’t go into how I planned to make it happen. Just my need for the rails greased now and then.
“For instance at the moment I need a federal permit to buy raw pot and manufactured products with it. I want to make products that house wives and grannies will purchase,” I said. “Something they can fool themselves and others with. Kind of like the old medicine show tonics back in the day.”
“Sounds like a good plan to me,” Hagar said. “How about it Andrew? Do you know anyone who can get her a license?”
“I think I can arrange it rather quickly. It’s a small favor to ask,” Andrew said.
“Good,” I replied. I didn’t gush thank you nor did I act entitled. I treated it as a favor period.
“Now is that all for the moment?” Andrew asked.
“Yes,” I replied.
“In that case let me buy you a drink,” Hagar suggested.
“Is Hagar your code name or your real name?” I asked.
“My mom knew me as the French version of Buddy Baker,” he said.
“Then I will be happy to share a drink with you,” I replied. The liquor bottle had no label, so I figured it was homemade by some local mountain man. It was strong, but had a nice back taste of caramel applesauce. “That’s good stuff,” I said.
“Too sweet for me, but if you like it we will drink it,” Buddy said. Andrew had one glass and left. After three drinks Buddy asked, “How bad was it?”
I knew exactly what he meant. “Bad enough to cure me of my need for excitement,” I replied.
“I can only imagine,” he said.
“I expect you can do more than imagine. You are one of the old time Legionaries,” I suggested.
“How did you know?” he asked.
“You have a French accent and you walk like you have a board up your ass, although you still limp,” I said. “Afghanistan?”
“Afghanistan, Chad, and a couple of other hell holes,” he said. “I never lost a whole detail till that fucking cruise.”
“To those no longer with us,” I said lifting my glass.
“To the living, the dead, and the living dead,” he said.
“Here here,” I agreed.
It was midnight when we helped each other to the VIP cabin. We fell asleep in the same bed. We slept together, but not really together. I woke up and turned to see him beside me as the sound of a bugle drifted between the mountains.
Hung over or not I crawled from the bed and dressed for a morning run. A tight short sleeve thermal tee shirt and running shorts turned into my running outfit. I thought I was going to leave Buddy in bed, but he rushed to join me. We joined the others for their morning run.
Buddy ran along quite well considering he wore all the wrong clothes. I, on the other hand, fell far behind in my running togs. I might mention again here, that I hate to run. I arrived back in the compound out of breath and in pain. I had some back pain whenever I exercised. I ran the last mile in significant pain but then so did Buddy. He seemed to handle it better than me.
I made it through the door and sat on the bed for about ten minutes. During that time buddy went to the cabin he had been assigned, got his clothes then went to the showers. He wasn’t back when I went to the bathhouse for my shower. When I finished I returned to find him sitting alone in the VIP cabin where we had slept the night before.
“How would you like some free labor while you set up the business?” Buddy asked.
“Honey, that would be great, except that I already have a life. I can’t commit to anything at all right now,” I said.
“I’m talking about free labor nothing else. I can build my own life anywhere I go. So you don’t have to entertain me,” he said.
“Okay, I’ll try to find you a place to live, if you really want to do this,” I suggested.
“I will sleep on your floor till we find me a place. If that is okay?” he asked.
“Yes it’s okay. Go home load up a truck and come to Mossberg any time after next Monday,” I suggested.
“Tuesday morning with a truck full of shit,” Buddy said. “I will be in front of your place.” I took a good look at him. He was over forty, most likely over fifty. It was hard to tell with his shaved head and powerful body. He wasn’t much taller than me, but I felt as though he could snap me like a twig. He also had the most adorable French accent. All in all he struck me as the French Mafia soldier trying to go straight type.
I knew for damn sure that no one in Mossberg would fuck with him. He actually might come in handy when negotiating a contract, I thought.
I was in the pizza restaurant waiting for Jeff at 2 PM. I was expecting him to meet me at any time. I also expected him to try and get me into bed. Since I had gotten into town earlier than I thought, I might let him get me into bed. The only thing I needed to do on Friday was get home to load my truck and drive ninety miles to the next show. That show was in a town one hundred miles north of New Orleans. It was there that I would meet Bobby Joe and Billy Joe. It had been arranged in the emails sent back and forth between me and Billy Joe.
At that moment I was more concerned with Jeff. I had need of his expertise. Meeting Jeff had really started the ball rolling for me. Actually it was the two Joes who had started me thinking but they were not the authors of the idea. They had just begun my reintroduction to marijuana. Since it was a controlled but legal operation, it was the type of business I had been wanting to establish in Mossberg. I found the legal cover of a licensed manufacturing operation appealing.
There was no telling how much crap I could get myself into from the small beginning. I hadn’t even scratched the surface of the possibilities.
“Well hello,” I said as Jeff approached me. I allowed him to lean over and kiss me. “I see you found me. I hope it wasn’t an inconvenience to meet here.” I didn’t really care if it was or not.
“Not really I just cut a class short. So how have you been?” he asked.
“Really busy,” I said smiling at him. He asked just the right questions for a nerd.
“Oh what have you been up to?” he asked.
“I have been getting ready to go into the green tea business,” I said with a wicked smile. “You do remember talking about it with me?”
“Oh my, do you mean what I think?” he asked.
“I do indeed. I came to ask for your help. I know you are in grad school, but I need you to devise a recipe for me,” I said.
“What’s in it for me?” he asked smiling.
“One night of mind blowing sex and the knowledge that you are helping a lot of women,” I replied. I went on to explain what I planned to make and how I planned to market it. I explained it in even less detail than I had for Andrew.
“So how large should the batches be?” he asked. I could see the wheels turning.
“Let’s say I put in a hundred pounds of the raw material. How much tea should I add to make it a brew with a better taste?” I asked.
“It isn’t quite that simple. What you are talking about using is the woodiest part of the plant. You need to chop it then treat it to break down the fiber base. But you can’t wet it. That will make it a truly interesting problem. You need exactly the right amount of moist heat, for exactly the right amount of time,” he explained.
“Okay, so I use a kind of tobacco barn to process it?” I asked.
“Sort of like that. Then you mix it with tea and package it,” he suggested.
“Can you write me directions that even I can understand?” I asked.
“Sure, I will need two weeks to experiment on it. It should be fun and I can publish the results, I assume?” he asked.
“As long as you allow me to patent the process,” I suggested.
“Why not, nobody else is going to want to use it. So sure go for it,” he said.
I had a feeling he was dead wrong about it’s value, but I said nothing. After the pizza, for which I paid, we drove to the same motel as before, the one where we had stayed a week before. After I checked us in we entered the room and close the door. It was the last anyone saw of us till the next morning.
“God you are so beautiful,” the wimpy Jeff said. I was surprised how less attractive he was in person than in my memory. It didn’t matter. He could still turn me on. He still had the hands and the mouth I remembered. As a matter of fact they worked better in real life, than they had in my memory. My memory had been fogged by the beer and the pot.
He was one of the few men I ever met who really enjoyed using his mouth on me. He kissed my clit leaving it wet with his saliva. He also seemed to sense that I was flooding my lubricants onto the bed. I was soaked and soaked the bed but I didn’t care. All I cared about was fighting my way through a huge orgasm.
When I came it was with a bone crushing intensity. Even then he didn’t stop. Because of him I rode the crest of the orgasm for several more minutes. Even after he stopped manipulating my clit the orgasm continued. My nerves were so sensitive that even when he just touched my breast, it caused me to start flooding again.
It took several minutes for me to calm down. It was a good thing he didn’t force his cock into my mouth. The result would surely have been clenched teeth. That might have ended not with a mouth full of cum, but a mouth filled with blood. I was that far out of rational thought and self control.
I lay on the bed and gasped for breath. It took me at least twenty minutes to get back to myself. When I did, I rolled over toward him and took his penis in my mouth. In the glow of the huge orgasm, it continued to feel good to me. I usually was ready to just go to sleep after an orgasm even close to that intensity, but not with Jeff. That afternoon, just as I had the week before, I wanted to give him something since he had given me such a beautiful orgasm.
I licked his penis until he was groaning, then I kiss the head and sucked it gently. I sucked it as an infant sucks on his mother’s breasts. I tried to get milk from his cock, but of course the flow was much less than it would have been from a woman’s breast. Within minutes he was trying to push his cock deeper into my mouth. I wanted to make it last for him even though he seemed desperate to cum right away. I had to stop all together and squeeze on the base of his penis really hard to stop the flow of his semen before it started.
When he calmed down I took his cock and sucked it into my throat. He pushed it hard until it entered my throat. I felt him fill my throat with cum, but almost all of it bypassed my mouth only because I was able to keep my throat open. I lay on my stomach for an hour or more.
When I finally felt better, Jeff was erect and the head of his penis lay against my butt. I reached back and slowly rubbed the head of his erect penis against my anus. It took me several minutes, but I finally had his precum coating my rectum. I pushed back which was the signal for him to force his cock into my ass.
It took him no time at all to get the message. He forced his cock into my ass. Jeff’s cock was just average, but it felt better than most in my ass. It felt good because it didn’t over stretch the opening or create a feeling in me of a too full ass. It just felt pleasantly strange. I even responded to the strange sensation of it rubbing me the wrong way as he pump in and out of me. I was emotionally aroused first then my body began to react on a purely physical level. I was surprised that his movement seemed to stimulate my clitoris and vaginal muscles. I finally came. It wasn’t another gut wrenching orgasm, but it was satisfying none the less.
I just wanted to sleep after Jeff came in me the second time. I felt a little queasy, but I knew it would pass. I was pretty sure what I was doing wasn’t approved by Good Housekeeping, but I really didn’t give a fuck. I didn’t even care that Bobby Joe or Billie Joe might be able to sense that I had been truly fucked the day before. I knew semen would seep from my ass.
That Friday morning I did the power walk thing before I went back to the motel. I had plenty of time but I was antsy to leave. Jeff pulled me to him for a long kiss. “Do it again,” he begged.
“If you don’t forget our deal. One week you have the procedure written and emailed to me?” I asked.
“I promise,” he said.
It didn’t hurt that I had my hand wrapped about his cock while I asked. I slipped to my knees in my not too fresh running outfit from the day before. I sucked his cock into my throat on the first stroke. I held it there while I worked my throat muscles. It didn’t take long at all for him to empty his testicles into my stomach. I pulled back but held his penis in my mouth as he finished shooting.
“God Damn that is so fucking good,” he said.