15 comments/ 55410 views/ 34 favorites Bag Lady & the Retired Marine Ch. 01 By: SusanJillParker Susan lay in the corner of the doorway protected from the wind behind a dumpster. Even though it wasn't that cold yet, maybe from her not eating enough food, she was cold. She wrapped her arms around herself and shivered while remembering that she was hungry. She heard a noise that had awakened her and now she couldn't go back to sleep. She wondered what time it was. The bars must have just closed. There was someone coming. She peeked through the crack between the wall and the dumpster to see who was in her alley. Three, young men walked towards her talking and laughing. They looked harmless enough. When most times she remained silently motionless until they walked by, whenever hearing and/or spotting rats, roaches, or men she couldn't remain quiet. She needed money for breakfast. Always having second thoughts about approaching strangers, especially men, especially when there was more than one man together when she was so alone and so vulnerable in a deserted alley, yet desperate for something to eat, she grabbed her empty, coffee cup. Maybe today was the start of a better day. Maybe these three men were here to help her, an answer to her prayers. Flattening down her hair, hoping they'd take pity on her and give her a couple of dollars, she tried making herself more presentable to look less like a bum. "Spare change," she said holding up her empty cup and smiling just as they passed by her. "Help the homeless." All she needed was another quarter to buy herself a cup of coffee in the morning. If she got another dollar, she could buy a muffin too or an egg and sausage sandwich from McDonalds. Never thinking she'd be in this desperate position begging for spare change while sleeping in an alley, she couldn't go back to the shelter because of what happened to her the last time she was there. Better off and safer outdoors than she was inside, so long as the temperature wasn't so unbearably cold, she'd rather be sleeping here than to sleep there. "I ain't got no spare change and if I did, I wouldn't give it to you, you bum. Get a job," laughed a man and making his two friends laugh too. Watching them walk away, she lowered her cup and when they passed her, as if a cat sleeping on a couch, she curled herself back in a tight ball and pulled some cardboard over her. "Hey," said one man to his friend. "That's no dude. That's a broad." "A broad?" He stopped and turned around to look back at her. "No way." "Yeah, way, she has tits, big tits. I saw them when she stuck out her hand for money." The three men turned around and walked back over to her. Towering over her and with the dumpster blocking her escape, they surrounded her as if they were prison guards looking down at a frightened inmate. "If I give you my hard earned money," said the first man laughing. "What are you going to do for me?" He gave her a not so subtle hint what he wanted and expected her to do by grabbing at his crotch. "Do for you?" Susan looked up at him as if she was in a daze and had been awakened from her dream. In was late. She was tired and now that she was awake, she remembered how hungry she was before falling asleep. "What I'd do for you is to thank you very much for helping me to get something to eat," she said holding up her cup again. "That's not the kind of gratitude that I'm looking to have for helping a woman in need," said the first man. "What say you give us a look and a feel of those big tits," said the second man. "Then maybe we'll think about giving you some money." "Yeah, I'll give you a dollar for showing me your big tits and another dollar for giving me a feel of your big tits," said the third man. "Maybe I'll even give you five dollars for sucking my cock and cumming in your mouth, that is, so long as you swallow and don't spit." "No, I can't do that," said Susan clutching her shirt around her breasts as if she was clutching herself to protect her pocketbook from being stolen. Only she didn't have a pocketbook nor did she have any money. All she had were the clothes on her back, a bag of cans she collected, and a bag with some personal things, toothbrush, toothpaste, hair brush, roll of toilet paper, a clean pair of socks and panties, and some sanitary pads she stole from the ladies restroom. "Please, I'm begging you. I really could use a cup of coffee. All I need is another quarter," she said pleading with them to help her. "I done told you already. I'll give you a dollar if you flash me those big boobs," said the third man insisting. "Another dollar for giving me a feel and five dollars to suck my cock." "No, sorry," she said turning away from them. "I can't do that. I'm old enough to be your mother," she said with a nervous laugh while hoping, if they weren't going to help her, that they'd just go away and leave her alone. "That's okay," said the third man. "I like older woman. My mom's flashed me her tits and given me a feel from time to time, especially when I give her some weed." "Pervert," said one of his friends. "You felt up your mother?" "You'd feel her up too, if you had a mother as hot as my mom," he said in defense of his incestuous actions. "What if you suck my cock for a ten dollars?" The second man unzipped himself, reached his hand inside, and pulled out his cock. "Go away before I scream. I mean it," said Susan. "Go ahead and scream lady. Everyone screams all the time in this neighborhood," he said screaming at the top of his lungs. "Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh! See? No one cares about you and your tits but us." The first man reached for her and she pushed him away. The second man grabbed for her and pulled to a standing position while the third man reached to feel her breasts through her shirt but she slapped his hand away before he could touch them. "C'mon lady, give it up," said the first man feeling Susan's big breasts. "Show me your tits." "Stop it!" She slapped his hand away again while taking a step back and looking for a weapon. "Get away from me!" "My hand felt some big ass titties in that shirt you're wearing. You're not even wearing a bra, you slut," said the first man laughing. "She's not wearing a bra? Lemme have a feel," said the second man. The second man stepped closer for a feel of Susan's big tits and she slapped his hand away hard. Now with him too close to her for her to really haul back to whack him a good one, he stepped even closer and when he did, she slapped him hard across the face. Only more focused on feeling her big tits than he was on being slapped across his face, he reached out with both hands and grabbed two, full handfuls of her big boobs before ripping open her shirt to exposed her massive, D cup breasts. When she grabbed at her shirt to close it and to button it, the third man grabbed her from behind and grabbed both of her wrists. He pulled her arms behind her back while the first man had a good, long look and an uninterrupted feel of her big boobs. "Let go of me," she screamed squirming, turning, twisting, and pulling while the man touched, fondled, felt, and caressed her breasts while fingering, pulling, turning, and twisting her nipples. "Wow! Look at the tits on her. They're amazing. They're so big and so firm," said the second man laughing before leaning down to take her big nipples in his mouth. As if he had never sucked a tit, he was really sucking her tits. "Mama's got some big, milk jugs." "Give me a feel of those tits baby," said the first man. "She has bigger and shapelier breasts than the stripper in the club," said the first man. Immorally exposed and pulling away from the third man who held her arms behind her back, she launched herself at the second man who ripped open her shirt, fondled her breasts, and sucked her tits. As if she was Iron Mike Tyson charging across the ring at Leon Spinks, with a perfect textbook combination, she hit him hard with a straight, right hand to the nose and a left uppercut to the chin. The combination of quick, hard punches lifted his head up and back and knocked him down on his ass as if he was a losing opponent in a Blockhead Fighting Game. In one quick pull, the third man still positioned behind her, pulled down her sweat pants to her knees while laughing. "Look! She's not wearing any underwear. Her ass and pussy are right there," he said laughing. When Susan bent at the waist to retrieve her pants while exposing all of her ass and her blonde pussy to the one who pulled down her pants, he grabbed two handfuls of her naked ass before sticking his hand between her legs to cup her untrimmed, bushy, blonde pussy. "How dare you! You filthy pigs! You animals! Get the fuck away from me," she said screaming at them, fighting them, kicking them, and punching them while swinging and throwing anything at them that she could find in the alley. When she reached down to pull up her pants, the first man pushed her down on the dirty ground. Now with her legs spread as if a beetle on its back, all three men had a good look at her naked tits and her exposed pussy. While she was still down on the ground and trying to get up, the second man straddled her, unzipped himself, and pulled out his cock. "Suck my cock Mommy. Blow me! I need to cum in your little, bag lady mouth while feeling those massive tits," said the second man while laughing as he turned to look at his friends. "I'm next said the third man." "I'll take sloppy thirds said the first man laughing." When the second man pulled her up by her hair to stick his cock in her mouth, with a quick kick to his balls, she bent him over in pain. She pulled up her pants as she stood. Trying their best to overpower her, the other two were at her kicking her and punching her. Stuck in the corner in the way of Mohammad Ali doing his rope-a-dope, protecting her face while blocking their punches with her forearms and kicking back with her legs, she used the protection of the dumpster and the backdrop of the brick wall behind her to her advantage. Even though she was holding her own, with weak and tired from not eating and with them much younger opponents, there was just no way that she could defend herself against the three of them much longer. It was only a matter of time before she'd be overwhelmed, overpowered, and dragged inside of a doorway to be raped, beaten, and maybe even murdered. A senseless crime and a brutal murder, it was only a matter of time before she'd be just another homeless person found dead in an alley. "Get out of here! Leave me alone. Help! Help! Someone help me! Please! Call the police! Call 911! Help! Help! Rape! Rape!" "Help! Help! Someone help me!" The three men mocked her while laughing at her. "Ain't no one comin' to your rescue lady," said the first man. "Ain't no one gonna risk a bullet to help a bag lady," said the second man. "You're on your own baby," said the third man. To be continued... Bag Lady & the Retired Marine Ch. 02 Dave hates noise. Wanting the noise to stop and wanting everything to be quiet, Dave just wanted some peace. As if her scream was meant for only him to hear and as if the woman's distant scream was amplified and played through a speaker in his ear, her scream was deafening. Assaulting his senses, Dave came to action. With the vision of a marching band and a parade, with him in his dress blues, and with her scream playing his song in the background, he was ready to do battle. 'From the Halls of Montezuma to the shores of Tripoli. We fight our country's battles in the air, on land, and sea. First to fight for right and freedom and to keep our honor clean. We are proud to claim the title of United States Marine.' Not even trying to be quiet, there were four of them in an alley yelling, swearing, and making a lot of noise. Usually not having to repeat himself to get his message across, especially whenever referring to himself in the third person, Dave hates noise. It was after hours and they were downtown where even the police didn't dare respond unless they had plenty of backup, dogs, and were dressed in riot gear. Unable to sleep again, his nightly routine since retiring from the Marine Corps, Dave was out for an early morning walk again. With the night and the early morning hours filled with all kinds of nocturnal wildlife, he couldn't count the number of skunks, bats, rats, opossums, owls, stray cats, dirty dogs, and unfaithful husbands and wives that he's seen when walking around his neighborhood at these odd hours. When people should be home sleeping they were out at all hours doing whatever. Once in a while he'd even see a single mother walking with her young children. A world in motion there was always someone doing something and at this hour not much of it was legal. He wished he could run but running attracted too much attention, especially when running at this hour through a residential neighborhood. With all the break-ins and home invasions, after surviving three wars and nine deployments, with his luck he'd be shot running by someone's house. Best he kept a low profile by lurking in the shadows in the way of a Ninja warrior hiding before surprising its enemy. Always seeing someone before they saw him, if he didn't want someone to see him, they wouldn't. The element of surprise kept him alive. Usually, as long as he stayed off the main street it was quiet at this hour and he enjoyed being alone with his thoughts. He seldom had a problem or an altercation and if he did, an understatement, he could handle himself in any situation. Yet, because of a main water leak, so as not to wade through flooded streets, he had to alter his direction. Turning and twisting his way without ever knowing the reasons why, as if his life was his fated destiny to be at the right place at the right time, he had to take a detour and walk down the main road for a couple of blocks before cutting back to the relative safety of the residential neighborhood. Sometimes but not always referring to himself in the third person, understandably not always wrapped too tight after all he's been through, he experiences one if not all of the side effects of being in a war night and day. As if he's a resident in a mental ward in the way that noise unnerves him, worth repeating, Dave hates noise. It doesn't even have to be a big noise but noise goes right through him as if he's being electrocuted. He can't stand loud music. As if it's static noise, even people rudely, loudly, and obnoxiously talking on their cell phones at the bank in line ahead of him unnerves him and assaults his senses enough to make him leave the line. Noise makes him nervous, restless, and jittery. Noise makes him want to beat the crap out of the person creating all of the noise. "Shut the fuck up! Just shut the fuck up! Stop the noise. Close your hole before I close it for you!" Those were the thoughts that ran through Dave's mind in the way of a runaway freight train. Even though he'd never talk to someone like that, threaten them, and show them his hand, he'd just hit them to stop the noise. Running out of the house screaming with his hands over his ears, he'd never be good around a crying baby. That happened to him when he visited his sister after seeing combat action that he'd rather not remember. Never talking about all that he experienced, the memories were attached to him as if they were a second, raw, red, bleeding and painful to the touch skin. Reliving them in his nightly nightmares were bad enough and he'd have those horrible visions for the rest of his life. Back then, just before he retired, he was on leave for some much needed R & R to get his head back on straight after being wounded again in a battle that killed all of his men but him. Questioning why he was the only one to make it home, wishing that he was dead too, surviving is not all that it's cracked up to be when he's the last man standing. Charging them with a machine gun in each hand and a grenade in his mouth, no doubt, had there been a witness left to testify what he did to fight the enemy and to save his men, he'd be awarded the United States Congressional Medal of Honor. Only there were no witnesses. All the witnesses to his actions were dead. Still his commanding officer put in papers to give him another medal to pin on his chest and that's when he retired. He didn't want a medal pinned on his chest to remind him that his men were dead, that he was alive, and that he killed so many people. More than he could even possibly wear, he already had more than enough medals, ribbons, and stripes on his uniform to decorate the uniforms of a dozen men. He had no idea how many men he single-handily shot in that one battle but he killed a lot, enough to make everything go quiet. He knew it was quiet because he stood in the middle of his kill zone with smoking guns in hand while listening. The only sound he heard was the eeriness of death. He wondered if the men he killed were in their version of Heaven with a thousand virgins because surely alive and alone with his guilty conscience, bad memories, nightly nightmares, and sleepless nights, left alive and living here was his version of Hell. When he returned home and visited his sister, she had a new born baby that never stopped crying. Too much noise with her two other kids running around her small apartment always yelling and fighting, he couldn't stay there. He gave her enough money to pay her rent and to buy food but he had to leave. He was forced to listen to too many suffering Marines screaming in horrible pain after their limps were blown off by an IED roadside bomb, an improvised explosive device, that maimed and killed so many of his good buddies. Back then, the pencil pushers and bean counters were giving soldiers vehicles without armored plating and supplying them with guns that jammed. What were they thinking? No doubt, the defense contractors were thinking of all the money they'd make selling inferior armaments to the United States military. Apparently, they didn't care that they were responsible for the deaths and injuries of so many Americans fighting another useless war for power, oil, and money. If it wasn't for Senators Kennedy, Kerry, and McCain forcing Congress and the Pentagon to give his men what they needed to protect themselves and kill the enemy, more of his men would be wounded or dead. Ever since he was diagnosed with Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, the new term for battle fatigue, having had a few psychotic episodes, sometimes he acted as if he's a crazy man on mind altering drugs, Rambo on steroids with an ecstasy chaser. Even though he's had evidence of having PTSD for years, the military doctors didn't officially diagnose him as having that and didn't tell him that he was so afflicted until he was honorably discharged. How convenient for the military to use him in such a personally damaging way for their benefit. With all of the fighting and leadership experience he's had, too valuable of an asset to be sidelined, all they cared about was putting him back out on the battlefield. Even though he could claim it and put in for a disability with the Veterans Administration for all the times he was wounded in combat, preferring to leave that money on the table for a veteran who really needed it, not wanting anything more or less than what was coming to him, he retired at fifty-years-old. He gave thirty years of his life to his country and now he just wanted to be left alone in peace and in quiet with his 75% pension along with his pass to the base to buy whatever he needs at discounted prices. No more bomb blasts, no more rat-a-tat-tat machine gun fire, no more yells for "Medic!", no more waiting for the bomb that you never hear exploding or the bullet that you never hear coming for you, no more war, and no more noise. Just quiet, nothing else but silence enough to hear birds singing and crickets chirping. Just peace and quiet is all that he wants. Is that too much to ask to have after all that he's been through in helping to save his country from terrorism and their citizens from terrorists? "Can't I have some peace and quiet? Please?" Actually, the perfect candidate to be living in Montana, Wyoming, the back woods of Maine, or even Vermont, places where there are more animals than people, he should be living in the country rather than in the city because just a truck backfiring causes him to get down on the carpet or the street and grab his weapon. Yet, a city boy, he felt more comfortable in pollution, urban squalor, and over crowdedness than he did in the scenic majesty of mountains, lakes, and expansive scenery. The country was too quiet and, if left to his own devices, he could imagine himself going off the deep end and setting booby traps for anyone who dared trespass on his property. Yeah, best he should be out and about with people than seeing and imagining things that aren't there when living alone with his bad self. An understatement, Dave not only prefers the quiet, he needs the quiet to stay focused and centered. Quiet keeps him not only balance but also sane. He prefers reading and meditating than to listening to a television blaring endless commercials, annoying infomercials, and drug commercials that lists dozens of side effects. As if he's Master Po of Kung Fu, with his head shaven but his eyes wide open even when they're closed, he needs the deep solace that comes from personal reflection after experiencing such terrible trauma. With a head for math and an appreciation for science, he's self taught in chemistry. More than just knowing how to construct a bomb, he knows how to manufacture Ricin, a deadly poison to kill more than one person at a time. Only, angry enough to kill more than one, he had a list of people he'd like to see dead. Ricin, a weapon of mass destruction in quantities large enough to kill, all someone needed to do was to smell it. Yet, happy just to study chemistry, memorize chemical formulas, and know all the chemical compounds, he preferred the deep introspection of self-improvement tapes, along with the soft sounds of country western music. Jennifer Nettles of Sugarland is his favorite. More than once when alone at night, he's imagined himself with her. "Dave loves Jennifer Nettles." Unfortunately, no matter how he insulates his house for quiet, no matter how much medication his takes, no matter how much he meditates, and no matter how many self-improvement tapes and country western music he listens to, it's always the same. The noise that he hears inside hurts his head, infiltrates him, panics him, and attacks him as if the noise is trying to personally piss him off. In the way of a foul stench suddenly appearing in his nose, noise leaks in his home and fills his ears as if it's blood oozing beneath the cracks of his door, dripping from his ceiling, and crawling through the crevices of his windows. Everywhere he looks, he sees red. Everywhere he looks, he sees blood, the blood of his victims and the blood of his men. His hands are stained forever with their blood. Blood, blood, blood, even when he eats, breathes, and sleeps, he can taste their blood. Too horrific for even him, Mr. macho man, to go through, the memory dead bodies and the stench of burning skin will never leave his nostrils. Feeling as if he's covered in blood, routinely he takes two showers daily and still, he can't get rid of the sight and the smell of blood. Just when he thinks he's getting a handle on his rage something like this happens, more noise. The noise that's unnoticed by others is deafening to him. Dave hates noise and it's his duty as a Marine to make it quiet. Not as loud as it is in a closed confinement, the noise is better when he's out walking. His one last battle to fight and the biggest war for him to win, it's the noise that draws him right in for him to stop the noise and make it all quiet again. No longer being forced to live with it, Dave confronts it by handling it. "Dave hates noise. Shhh, be quiet. Don't make a sound. If you make a sound...I'll kill you. After that, after you're dead, they'll be no more noise and you'll be quiet forever." Even though he didn't like the odds and felt bad for the poor bastard being so beaten, three of them were beating up on one, helpless, homeless man. Even though it wasn't a fair fight, the one being beaten obviously wasn't afraid to defend himself and knew how to handle himself. Keeping a watchful eye while slowly walking by the alleyway, minding his own business, he was about to continue going along his way without stopping to help when he heard it. Having stuck his big nose in someone else's business too many times before, he wasn't going to intercede on someone else's fight again, even an unfair fight, that is, until he heard a woman's voice. "Stop! Don't! Leave me alone! Help! Please! Someone help me! Rape! Call 911! Rape!" Yeah, as disturbing as it was unbelievable that three men would beat up on a poor, homeless man, it was even more unbelievable that the one being beaten was a poor, homeless woman. As if he was on a reconnaissance mission and heard a sound, a mere foot passed the alley entrance, he stopped walking and stood frozen to listen. How could three men beat a poor, defenseless, homeless woman? How dare they! "That was a woman's voice. I'm sure of it. I heard a woman scream for help," he said for no one to hear. Immediately he remembered how the Taliban treated their women whenever they made too much noise. They'd just shoot them in the head. Problem solved. No more noise. Only, we're not animals. We've civilized and when a woman screams for help, with him being the right man, at the right place, and at the right time, she was lucky that Dave was there to help her. "Help! Someone please help me! Call 911! Help! Rape!" "That's not right. That's not fair. That's messed the fuck up. That's just nasty. Those dirty, fucking bastards," he said turning back to the alley. "How dare they make so much fucking noise!" To be continued... Bag Lady & the Retired Marine Ch. 03 Three men against one is not a fair fight, only the one being beaten and sexually assaulted is a woman. As if stepping in a phone booth to emerge as his own version of Super Marine, as if he was Charles Bronson in Death Wish, Sylvester Stallone in First Blood, or Arnold Schwarzenegger in Collateral Damage, a one man deadly fighting force, he couldn't live with himself if he didn't help her. After all he's been through to help people and after all the murderous acts he's done to save people, what kind of man would he be if he walks away from someone needing his help now? Even if she was a sad, street urchin of a bag lady, comparing her to some of those poor, defenseless Taliban women, she still had rights. She doesn't deserve to be beaten by three men just because she's a bag lady. She doesn't deserve to be sexually assaulted just because she's a woman alone in an alley. As does everyone else in this nation that he helped to keep free, she had the right to live her life without the fear of being beaten and sexually assaulted. She was still a human being and, in this stuck in a recession economy, with his sister being a single mom with three, small children on food stamps, welfare, Section 8 housing, and home heating oil assistance, homeless and helpless, she could have been his sister. She was a helpless and defenseless woman fighting three, fucked up men who, obviously, were trying to rape her. If all his hand-to-hand combat training was to come down to this one interaction with him playing the superhero Marine, he had to help her. He had to save her. There was no one else there to help her and it was up to him to save her. No longer a ticking time bomb, he no longer charged wildly with machine guns firing in each hand and a grenade in his mouth ready to throw to stop the noise by creating even more noise. He was now more able to control his rage somewhat, most times, but not all times, like now. Yet scratch the surface and his anger was still there pulsating, percolating, and brewing in the way of impatiently waiting for that first cup of coffee to be ready. It was as if there was an alien creature alive, living inside of him, and waiting to be unleashed upon these poor bastards who didn't know any better than to make noise. "Dave hates noise," he said cracking his knuckles in readiness to use them. As if a fuse, he could feel his anger flashing, seething, and burning until it erupted and exploded in his head. Only because of all the psychological therapy he's had, the medication he's taking, and meditation he's done, he was a different man that the wild man that had returned home from three wars and nine combat deployments. Now more in control of his emotions, more complete in his mind and body, he had the clarity of thought of a Zen master with all the fighting skills of a Ninja warrior and a Shaolin Monk combined. As if he was playing a video game, he saw everything. Now not only more able to control his anger but also he was able to harness his rage to use against those who caused the noise that angered him. "Dave really hates noise," he said trying to re-center himself to focus on what he needed to do. Never a barking dog, he didn't waste his energy with stupid talk and idle threats. Never striking anyone until his hand, his foot, his knee, his elbow, or his head was forced, every blow he threw hit his target with devastating accuracy and damaging aftereffects. With his strikes causing off the charts blunt force trauma, pity the poor bastards on the bad side of him. Pity the poor bastards who made noise that upset him. Pity these poor bastards who were going to pay what they did to this poor bag woman. Breaking a bone and/or severing a tendon, every kick caused damage. Able to knockdown and/or knockout his opponent with one lightning quick strike, every punch caused a devastating head injury. He knew precisely where to hit someone to stop the noise. He knew precisely how hard to hit someone to silence his opponent. Once all was quiet, the peace quelled his violent temper and troubled mind. Cause verses effect for the expected resultant conclusion, it was more the noise that bothered him than it was the man causing it. Only, pity the man, it was through silencing the man that he could stop the noise. If he was anything, because of his rage and because he was now more in control of his anger, the best of the best, he was an efficient killing machine paid and trained by the United States Marine Corps. Now, a retired Marine, he was free to walk the city streets as an innocuous civilian. Go figure. How can a trained killer not do what he's been trained to do? Just as he'd never be retired, he'd never be an innocuous civilian. A trained assassin, a killer, and a fighting machine turned into a mild, mannered neighbor. Perhaps not a superhero and a super marine but more of a wolf in sheep's clothing, nonetheless, he was no mild, mannered Clark Kent. A mindset that needed to be deprogrammed, it's impossible to go from one to the other without drugs and psychological therapy. From a killing machine to a man out for a walk, without having drugs, years of therapy, and without him leaving dead bodies behind of all those who pissed him off by making noise, living his life normally was as impossible as most men and woman who dared tried walking in his shoes. Only, much like serial killer Dexter who needed to kill to stop the quaking in his brain, every so often when the noise in his head grew too unbearably loud, Dave needed to stop the noise by beating the poor bastard to a bloody pulp who was responsible for making all the noise. "Oh, yeah, that will teach you to make noise. Next time, maybe you'll think twice about opening your big, loud mouth," he imagined saying to his victims, whether at a baseball game, a bar, or out for a walk as he was now, while justifying his brutal, physical attack. As if distracted by what was running through his mind, he refocused on his mission when he heard her voice again. "Help me! Someone help me! Please! Rape! Rape! Call 911! Call 911!" Already having had his fill of those making this raucous uproar, it was time to put an end to the noise. It was time to make everything and everyone quiet. With old habits hard to break and as if he was a one man SWAT team, he took a peek around the corner to clear it. Then he poked his head around the brick wall again before yelling. Before poking his head down the alley again and leaving it there to look to see what they'd do while looking to see if the path was clear for him to enter, with a one syllable word, he initiated contact with a yell. "Hey!" He could have verbally assaulted them personally by calling them vulgar names. Yet, a waste of breath and a distraction, even though he was intent on attacking them physically, if they so desired, not that he was a religious man, Dave rarely swore. He could have continued walking. He could have remained quiet. He could have minded his own business and allowed them to rape her and even murder her. He could have entered the alley stealthily and unannounced and slit all their throats before they even knew they were cut and bleeding out to die. Too busy sexually molesting her, with her shirt torn wide open and nearly pulled off of her, her big breasts so exposed and her pants pulled down around her ankles again to reveal her naked ass and pussy, they never would have seen him coming until he was right up on them. Even from a distance in the dim light, he could see she had a decent body for an old broad, big tits, round ass, and shapely legs with a flat stomach. In the way of flies on food or on a dead body, six hands were touching her, feeling her, fondling her, and caressing her everywhere. Obviously intent on raping her, when one wasn't feeling her big tits and fingering, pulling, turning, and twisting her nipples, another was feeling her ass or trying to finger her pussy while forcing her hands on their exposed, stiff pricks. What if this was his mother, his sister, his aunt, or his cousin? He hoped that someone would help them in the way that he was about to help her. With his decision already made by making his presence known with a yell, now he had to help her. As a man, Marine or not, it was the right thing to do. "Stop! Don't! No! Let me Go! Help someone! Help! Help! Rape! Call 911!" With the therapy, medication, and meditation changing his tactical offense, he could have done what he used to do with a volley of hands and feet. He could have run at them with fists punching and feet flying. Now with his calm mind working as if he's an alien robot programmed to complete a mission, he was focused and ready to engage the enemy as if a sensei ready to train his disciples. Able to read the make, the year, and the model of every vehicle and memorize every license plate of every car parked in that alley with just a quick look, these dudes better run but they didn't. Moving away from the brick wall and away from a lucky ricochet shot should they fire a gun but still staying in the shadows, as if advancing upon another fighter in the ring, he stepped out while keeping his body a narrow target instead of wide one. As if he was a professional quarterback on a champion football team, he changed his strategies of defense and tactics of offense with every step closer he took and every move they made. As if he was Anderson Silva, one of the greatest mixed martial arts fighters, ready, apprised, and aware, he was a professional and they were amateurs. "Go fuck yourself old man," said the smallest one. Discounting him with a stare as not a threat, he looked away from him to leer at and feel the woman's nearly naked body. "Old man? Dave's not an old man," he said referring to himself in the third person again. Looking good for his age with all the diet and exercise he does and with strangers mistaking his age for 45-years-old instead of 60-years-old, he couldn't believe he called him an old man. As if he threw water in his face, as if he slapped his face with a glove to challenge him to a duel, and as if he had chosen the one phrase that would anger him, he angered him. Still able to knockoff 250 pushups, a thousand crunches, a hundred pull-ups, still running 10 miles nearly every day, and punching his heavy bag for an hour, he bench presses 300 pounds for reps and sets. Still able to get and maintain an erection as hard and as long as he could in his 30's, he wasn't an old man by any stretch of the imagination yet. In the way that Arnold Schwarzenegger challenged Jack LaLanne to a pushup contest when he was in his thirties and Jack was in his sixties, Arnold stopped at 250 pushes and Jack continued to 1,200. "Back the fuck off old man," he said again when Dave continued advancing. "Old man my ass. Dave is not an old man," he said. Looking a bit like Bruce Willis in Unbreakable, Dave Ryan was the real deal, living version of David Dunn in the movie. Dave wasn't any old man that they've ever seen before. He wasn't ready to yell his battle rattle, 'Hoo-Rah!', just yet. He no longer needed that adrenaline rush to do what he needed to do, especially with these three, dimwitted fools. What he had now, being calmly in control, was so much better. When he knew that he was going to end the noise to make everything quiet, he had a clarity of mind that couldn't be distracted and a determination of purpose that couldn't be swayed. His decision was already made. Even if they begged him not to, apologized to the woman profusely for beating her and nearly stripping her naked, and paid her for all the damage and indignity they caused her, he'd still beat the shit out of them. Able to summon up enough adrenaline only when needed, he didn't need any additional adrenaline at all with these three fools. If he had to, only needing his right or left thumb, in the way that Sean Connery did as Lt. Colonel Caldwell in the Presidio, he could fight them all with one arm tied behind his back. Besides, just because he's retired from the Corps doesn't make him old, it made him smart and it made him still living above ground. Between coming in contact with missionary soldiers, he was pushing his luck rubbing elbows with the CIA. Sometimes hard to know who was the enemy, he figured if he was someone else's bitch, served one more master, and one more hitch, it would be his last one and he'd be coming home in a body bag as did so many of his buddies. "What's wrong with you for hitting a woman?" He stepped closer with each word. "Didn't your mother teach you anything?" No longer charging headlong into battle, he was smarter now. Instead of peppering his targets with the potty mouth of a drill instructor, which he was for a while, and with a dozen kicks and punches, he only needed one clear shot to make his point and to make his world quiet again. "Fuck off," said the tallest one. Rubbing their naked cocks against her nearly naked body, they were all touching her and feeling her while she struggled. Obviously, it was their intent to have a good time with her before they beat her bloody or killed her. "Let go of me! Stop! Stop touching me! Let me go!" "Get off of her now," he said putting his hand in his pocket to act as if I had a gun and, of course, he did. Registered to carry, he had a beauty of handgun on him just in case things got out of hand in this not so safe neighborhood where no one dared walk the streets after dark but for the criminals looking for oblivious victims and no one dared stopped to help anyone for fear that they'd be a victim too. Only, Dave was nobody's bitch. Between a .22 and a .45, he was carrying a .32 caliber, antique Beretta, small enough to conceal in the palm of his big hand yet powerful enough to kill. Only, a scared rule he didn't break, he never pulled a gun unless he's going to fire his weapon and if he discharged his gun, he wouldn't miss. "What's it to you? Mind your own fucking business," said the smallest one, a Hispanic man of about 20-years-old. "Beat it old man." The second man cold cocked her when she turned to look at him entering the alley and coming to her rescue. Then, as if dropping a hundred pound sack of potatoes in a warehouse, he pushed the woman to the ground, no doubt, in readiness to mount her and fuck her. Yet before he focused his attention to the woman, he gave Dave a deadeye look while the tallest one, a black man of about 25-years-old, kicked her in the ribs when she was unconsciously and defensively down on the ground. Assessing his enemy with the glance of a trained assassin, either him or them, he's killed more men, women, and children than he could count or even remember. He pegged the tall, black man as the most dangerous one of the three and he figured him for having a gun. He'd be going down first. The smallest man, no doubt angry that he was so small and always looking to prove how tough he is in front of his friends, was the most predictably unpredictable. He'd take him down at the same time that he'd disable the first man. The third guy, the one who just sucker punched the woman, along for the ride, was just a tag along and it wouldn't take much to disable him. "Assholes," he said under his breath to blow off some steam while entering the alley and looking up and all around. He wished he could carry a special card that identified him as a dangerous man and a killing machine, so that he wouldn't have to bother with creeps like this. Worn in the way of a police badge or a tattoo on his forehead, or even a 7th degree black belt sown into all of his clothes and worn around his waist, he imagined them running away like the rats that they are whenever they saw him coming. Yet outnumbered, even if he was a cop in uniform, too stupid or too high on drugs to know any better, he didn't think these dopes would run, especially if they thought that they had the upper hand with him being an old man. Besides, as if a pride of lions with their kill, being that the woman was nearly naked and on the ground, they'd never abandon her and their chance of having gangbang sex because of one, crazy, perceived as easy to handle, old man. Already committed after pissing him off by calling him an old man and needing to show them that he wasn't an old man, they were going down now. Mindful of an ambush, he's always leery of closed environments especially alleys where someone could be protecting their friends from above. As he walked closer, he eyed the woman. She was just an old, defenseless, dirty, bag lady of a pitiful woman dressed in rags, albeit with a smokin' hot body. Damn she had big, natural tits. Doing just fine defending herself, he felt bad for her because it wasn't until he opened his big mouth that they got the upper hand and demolished her. A tough, old broad and a real back alley brawler, she used the alley to her benefit by pushing off the wall while punching, kicking, ducking, bobbing, and weaving to make them miss and hit the wall behind her instead of hitting her. Someone taught her how to box and if the fight had been one-on-one instead of a three-on-one, she would have cleaned the street with their unconscious body. She was holding her own until, the one with all those prison tattoos surprised her and cold cocked her from the side, when she stopped punching and blocking to look at him entering the alley instead of looking at them. One punch to her soft, sweet spot and she dropped like his duffle bag when he finally made it home in one piece from the Middle East. "Cocksucker," he said under his breath again. "Now why did you do that? Dave doesn't like that. That makes Dave angry," he said referring to himself in the third person again and swearing again. "Dave?" The black man laughed. "Who the fuck is Dave?" "You better back the fuck off old man and mind your own fucking business before you get hurt," said the man in the middle with all the prison tats, a another Hispanic man, about 22-years-old, and the one who cold cocked the bag lady. "It's okay with me if he wants to take her place," said the biggest man with a laugh. "I don't care who I beat to a bloody pulp. I just need to hit someone," he said slamming his fist in his hand. They were all so young but old enough to know better and not too young to die for being so stupid. What Dave deemed as volunteers for dangerous duty, he wished he had these three in his squad. Either he'd straighten out in a real hurry or they'd be dead. No doubt, if they were in combat and thinking they were going to die and these three would die, they'd be peeing themselves. "You're a bunch of tough guys beating up an old, bag lady. Let's see how you do against a real man and against a United States Marine, Master, Gunnery Sergeant Ryan retired," he said looking down at his chest as if his nametag and/or medals were still there. "Something that I never give anyone, this is your one and only warning," he said. "Last chance, best you leave now before I hurt you three real bad." "When we're done with you, your mother, if she's still alive old man, won't recognize you," said the little man with the big mouth. As if he was Billy Jack in the movie of the same name, a half-bred, American, Cherokee Indian, ex-Green Beret, Viet Nam veteran, and a master of Korean martial art, Hapkido, in the way he did in the movie declaring what he'd do to them before he even did it, Dave boasted his actions. "First I'm going to hit your right temple with my right knuckle to render you unconscious," he said, "before kicking the gun from your friend's hand by hitting a pressure point on his forearm with my left, steel toe. Then, with a karate chop to his throat, he'll wish he was dead. Lastly, I'm going to hit your tattooed friend with an open handed slap to his solar plexus that will cause internal bleeding and horrible pain and/or death. And," he said pointing an index finger in the air as if an afterthought, "there's nothing that you can do to stop me." Bag Lady & the Retired Marine Ch. 03 "Say what? Are you warning us? Are you threatening us? Are you crazy? How are you going to hurt us real bad when I have a gun, my friend has a knife, and my other friend has a pipe," he said watching his friend pickup a pipe from the gutter. The black man turned to him with a face full of anger to tell him that there's no man and no amount of beatings that could set him straight to make him see the light. Only he hasn't had a beating until he got one from Dave. A real martial arts technician, punching him deep enough to damage a vital organ and to cause internal bleeding, Dave could hurt him without so much as leaving a bruise or a mark on the outside of his skin. The man reached in his waistband and, as if he was a quick draw, pulled out a gun before walking over to the woman on the ground. Knowing he had a gun before even seeing it, Dave already figured as much. "Leave her alone," Dave said while surveying them and the alleyway as he dared walked closer. "Fuck off man," said the third man, the one with all the tats turning to him menacingly while making himself a bigger target by facing him and confronting him in a menacing posture. Instead of turning his body to the side in the way of a boxer or a cage fighter to conceal his vulnerable spots, he left himself wide open to an assault. Dumb move. Apparently, they didn't know any fighting techniques. It was obvious that they've never had any training in hand-to-hand combat and have never been in a fair fight, the three of them against a retired, old man of a Marine. "Don't you know it's not right to hit a lady?" He distracted them by engaging their mini brains in conversation while walking closer. "Lady?" He laughed. "She ain't no lady," said the little one pulling a knife while the other two left her to walk up on either side of him. "She's a nothin' and a no one. She's nothin' but a whore. She's just another homeless bitch. Ain't no lady that would live and sleep in an alley with the roaches and the rats." "Yeah, this was all her fault for stopping us," said the tall man. "She asked us for money and I told her that I'd give her a dollar if she sucked my cock," he said grabbing himself in the way that Michael Jackson used to do. Not even interpreting the words, not hearing what he was saying, all that Dave knew was that he was yelling and Dave didn't like all the noise that he was causing. Without all the deafening noise and without the stench of death and burning vehicles, it was downtown Baghdad and it was downtown Kabul all over again. Suddenly as if under attack and he was, as if he needed to fight back and he did, it was as if it was all happening in slow motion. Knowing exactly what he was about to do, he was a second from leveling the playing field and stopping the noise. No doubt figuring that he was just some sixty-year-old fool intent on committing suicide, if they only knew who he was and if they only they had seen him fighting in battle, they would have fled the scene already but they stayed there as if daring him to fight. Fight or flight, Marines, even ex-Marines, and especially retired Marines don't run. Semper Fidelis, always faithful, he's never turned down a mission. Always able to stop the noise, as if he was Peter Graves as James Phelps in Mission Impossible, it was his accepted mission to save the woman now. Once a Marine always a Marine. Marines are born to be Marines. They never retire. Fighting is in their blood. Fighting is who they are, the best of the best, they're better than all the rest. Once finished fighting and once retired, they just learn to blend until something like this happens and they can't blend, they just react. Trained to put his opponent down on the ground and to render him helpless, he was expert at overpowering, disabling, and killing. As if there was a trigger that set him in motion, his years of training reflexive and without thinking, a combative defense that never leaves him and returns to him in an instant, he was ready, willing, and able. He was still a Marine and the music started playing in his head again. 'From the Halls of Montezuma to the shores of Tripoli. We fight our country's battles in the air, on land, and sea. First to fight for right and freedom and to keep our honor clean. We are proud to claim the title of United States Marine.' Besides, being that there was only three of them. With only one knife and one gun between them, it wasn't a fair fight. Just wanting to stop the noise while saving the woman, he'd rather fight than flee. He wouldn't feel right until they were all down on the ground unconscious and bleeding and she was safe from them. As if he was James Earl Jones as Sergeant Major Goody Nelson in Gardens of Stone, he gave an order. "Make a hole and make it wide," he yelled while marching towards them and as if he was walking through a swarm of enlistees in the barracks with the commanding officer walking behind him. "What? Huh? What the fuck does that mean, make a hole and make it wide?" The little man looked at him and laughed. "You're crazy old man but not too crazy to die." Too stupid to obey a simple order, wanting them to stay just the where they were, he knew that they wouldn't move if he ordered them to move. Without a weapon in his opened hands, as if he were Achilles in Homer's Iliad running towards Hector, the Prince of Troy, and his two bodyguards, he took three, giant running steps towards the three defenseless men. To be continued... Bag Lady & the Retired Marine Ch. 04 Dave befriends a homeless woman by giving her money and feeding her. With hands and feet flying too fast for the untrained eye to see and definitely too fast if you're the intended victim to defend against, as if it was a slight of hand, card trick that needed to be seen in slow motion to see it, appreciate it, and enjoy it, the noise stopped immediately. Almost before it even started, the altercation was over. Having trained these very techniques thousands of times at home, in the gym, in the Dojo, and in combat, these three men didn't stand a chance against Dave. Even though Dave already told them what he'd do to them and what to expect, they had no time to react. Before the smallest of the men could even react by reaching up his hand to slice him with his knife, Dave struck as if grabbing a fly in mid flight. In the way that he hit the little man on the side of the head with such speed and with such force, his right knuckle hit a bull's-eye on his right temple and he was unconscious before he even hit the ground. As if it was all a choreographed danced, the offensive moves were seamless. Fluid in motion and all at the same time, as if he was Matt Damon in Born Identity fighting the Zurich police in fast speed, when his hand hit the first man, his foot was already kicking the second one. He kicked the gun out of the biggest man's hand by hitting a pressure point in his forearm with his steel toed shoe and while fracturing his arm in the process. When the man watched his gun flying through the air instead of looking at Dave, stepping into him with an open handed chop to the throat, the man fell to the ground in pain with two hands to his neck and gasping for air. With a quick step and a side turn to the left, he moved seemingly without even thinking. As if he was a piston, squatting down and using his whole body to explode up with high pressured power, he flicked out his hand and doubled over the third man with a Karate shot with the heel of his hand to his solar plexus. Without having the time to even lift the pipe he was holding, down on the ground, it was a hit that would have stopped his heart had Dave hit him just a little higher and a little harder. Over in three seconds with one knuckle, one kick, one chop, and one open handed hit, it wasn't much of a fight. They would have had more of a chance had there been two more of them. He picked up the gun and as if disassembling his weapon to clean it and reassemble it again, he removed the clip, emptied the chamber, and threw it all in a trash bin. Then, he picked up the knife and broke it in two against the brick wall and tossed that in the trash bin too. Unless they were willing to jump in there and root around with the rats and roaches, he didn't think they'd retrieve them to use on anyone else. It took him longer to disable the weapons than it did to disarm the three men. The perfect scenario for him, he couldn't count how many men he's trained to face three, armed men in combat and these three, hapless men were just misfit, training dummies, and all with weapons that they didn't know how to use. First rule, never point a gun unless you're going to fire it and keep a knife close to your body, otherwise your attacker will just take it away and use it against you. Moreover, never give away your intentions, don't even flash a pipe until you're ready to use it. He guessed they didn't know any of that. "Are you okay?" Her shirt ripped wide open and her pants pulled down, he looked down at Susan on the ground nearly naked. With her big breasts exposed beneath her torn, open shirt and her pants down around her ankles to reveal her blonde pussy, flat stomach, and round ass, Dave felt as much sensitivity for the woman as he did lust. It had been a while since he had sex and he was horny by the naked views of her hot body. He put an arm beneath the woman to help her to her feet, while she bent at the waist to pull up her pants. Being that Dave likes big breasted, blonde women, even homeless women who looked at hot as she still did, even in her disheveled appearance, unable to advert his eyes from her nearly naked body, he watched her tits fall forward when she bent forward to pull up her pants. He couldn't help himself from imagining those big tits hanging down in his face while he felt, fondled, and sucked them and before she blew him. Recoiling from his leering stare, no doubt knowing that he's already seen most of her naked body, she clutched her shirt closed in embarrassed shame and false pride, being that she was homeless and sleeping in a dirty doorway in an alley. She grimaced when she reached her hand up to try and do something with her hair while holding her blouse closed with her other. "Yeah," she said looking up at him with shock, "thanks." She surveyed the three men motionless on the ground. "What happened to them? How did you do that so fast? I didn't even see you hit them." "I needed to stop the noise. They were making too much noise," said Dave holding his hands over his ears while shaking his head as if he was a disappointed and disapproving parent. "They were giving me a terrible headache with all the noise they were making. Dave doesn't like noise." "Dave? Who's the Hell is Dave? I thought you were alone," she said looking around the alley before taking a step away from him. With a street smart look, she summed him up before grabbing for the wall with an unsteady hand. "Are you sure you're okay?" He put a strong, steady hand beneath the inside of her arm again. She was rewarded with his kindness while he was rewarded with a feel of the side of her big breast pressed against his hand. "Yeah, I'm fine. Thanks. I'm just a little dizzy. They hit me pretty hard," she said pulling away from him while rubbing her jaw with one hand and closing her shirt and clutching her ribs with the other. "I think he may have broken my rib when he kicked me," she said grimacing in pain while tenderly feeling herself through her shirt with her fingers. "If I wasn't feeling so weak from not eating, I would have kicked their asses." "Breathe in," he said. "May I?" She allowed his hand access inside her shirt. Her reached inside her unbuttoned shirt to feel her rib with an experienced fingers and a gentle hand. "Take a big breath in and a slow breath out. Does it hurt to breathe?" Being that she wasn't wearing a bra and her breasts were so large, when he reached his hand inside her open shirt to feel her rib, her heavy breast rested on the top of his hand. After having been groped most of their lives, especially if they happen to have big breasts, most women know that men don't need to use their fingers and horny hands to feel women's breasts. Men have breast sensors all over their bodies. They can cop a cheap feel of a woman's breast with their forearm, elbow, knee, leg, shoulder, back, and even with the back of their hand. Solely from the firmness of her breast upon the back of his hand, as if he was Sherlock Holmes on a breast investigation, he deduced correctly that she was younger than she looked. In the way that she was holding her own in fighting them, he wondered if she was an undercover cop but if she was, she'd have plenty of backup watching her back. "No, it doesn't hurt to breathe but it hurts to move," she said. "Lucky for you it's only bruised and not broken," he said reaching his hand inside her unbuttoned shirt again to feel her rib again as his pretense to feel her breast again, if even only with the breast sensors on the back of his hand. "Thank you," she said and pulling away from him again when, no doubt, realizing that he was copping a cheap feel on the pretense of checking her for injuries. In the way she was so shapely put together, in checking her for more internal injuries, he'd love to give her a complete physical exam from pussy to breast. She had a beautiful body and he wouldn't mind seeing her naked again. "You'll be fine in a few weeks," he said reluctantly removing his hand from inside her shirt when she pulled away from him. As if he was an emergency room doctor and, in the way that he's helped soldiers survive battlefield wounds, he was more than qualified to tend to her bruised ribs. After seeing her up close, a real diamond in the rough, he'd love to give her the full attention that she needs. "Bastard," she said kicking the unconscious man in the ribs, the one who kicked her in the ribs, ribs, before kicking him in the face. "That's going to leave a bruise," he said laughing. "Okay that's enough," he said wrapping his arms around her and pulling her away from the man before giving him his own, swift Karate kick to the ribs. Definitely, in the way that he kicked him and knew how to hurt him, no doubt, he broke his ribs for the bruised ribs that he gave her. When he wrapped his arms around her, with both arms around both of her breasts and her round ass firmly pressed against the quickly emerging bulge in his pants, he imagined being with her and making love with her. "Bastard," she said more focused on the unconscious man than on him holding her while feeling her body with every sexual nerve ending that his body possesses. When Dave pulled her away from going berserk on the man, she spit her outrage on the man after extricating herself from his hold again. "You're thinly bony," he said. "You weigh nothing. When did you last eat?" He looked at her while imagining her in cleaner clothes, a short skirt and a low cut blouse, her hair done, and wearing makeup. She'd be stunning. He looked at her while wondering why she was out here alone with no one to protect her. He looked at her as if seeing her for the first time. "Eat? I dunno." She looked at him confused while wiping her nose with her dirty sleeve. "What day is it today? After a while, I lose track of time," she said with sadness. "When you're out here with no money and no hope, it's hard to tell one day from the next. They all feel the same with morning dragging into night before starting all over again." "C'mon. The diner is open down the block. I could use some grub and I hate eating alone. My treat." "Okay," she said picking up her two bags of cans. "Leave them," he said. "Leave them? Are you nuts?" She looked at him as if he were crazy. "I can't leave my cans." "You can't take those with you in the diner," he said. "I can't leave my cans," she stomped her foot as if she was a spoiled child. "Someone will take them. It took me all day to collect those cans. There's enough money in those bags to buy me coffee and a muffin and to eat off of for a couple of days. There must be three hundred cans in those bags. That's about fifteen dollars and there's not another can to be found in this whole alley," she said looking at her bags with a knowledgeable eye but a bit hard pressed to do the quick math in her head. She stared at her plastic bags as they were filled with money. "Here," he said handing her three twenties. "I just bought them from you. Now they're my cans. Leave them. C'mon, let's go eat." "Okay," she said stuffing the money in her pocket while stuffing the bags of cans behind a trash bin and covering them with cardboard. "I'm just making sure that no one steals your cans," she looked up at him and smiled while wiping dirt off her face with her dirty sleeve. "Will they allow me inside? I know the diner. I tried buying coffee there once before and they were rude to me," she looked at him with sadness. "Don't worry. You're with me. You're my guest. They'll allow you to eat there," he said with kindness. "Even though I was so cold, so tired, and even though I just wanted to sit and rest before falling over, they said that I had to take the coffee outside to drink," as if she was about to burst in tears, she continued telling him her sad tale. "As good as any other customer, I was a paying customer too," she said with anger. She paused as if thinking about if she should continue telling him the rest of her sad story. She looked away from him with an embarrassed look. "What? Tell me," he said. "Trust me. You're with a friend." "I really needed to use the bathroom and as soon as I walked back outside and the cold air hit me, I peed myself," she said beginning to cry. Dave wanted to hug her but backed off to give her some space. "I'm so sorry," said Dave, "and I apologize for their treatment of you. "I heard the waitress laugh to the other waitress that I smelled," she said looking at him with tears in her eyes. "Okay, yeah, sure, no doubt I smelled after I peed myself but I don't smell, especially in the cold," she said lifting her arm to smell her pit. "I don't know how anything can smell anything or anyone in the cold. Besides, I take a shower, not every day, but I shower in the shelter whenever I can." "Don't worry about not being served. You're my guest and you don't smell," he said moving her long, blonde hair out of the way with his hand while sniffing her and before taking her by the arm again, as she buttoned what buttons were left on her shirt. Not a typical bag lady, when he moved her lush, blonde hair out of the way, he imagined she was Rapunzel or Cinderella. He imagined moving her hair from her face just before her. As if she was a movie star on a sound stage, after seeing her closer and under the soft glow of the street light, and after she cleaned herself up, he wouldn't mind waking up to her every morning. Suddenly, he had an image of her wearing a long, lavender nightgown that buttoned halfway down the front. He imagined himself taking the time to slowly unbutton every button while looking to see what each unbuttoned button revealed before reaching his hand inside to feel her abundant breasts and finger her hard nipples while kissing her. Continuing his sudden enamored vision of her, especially after seeing her without any warm outerwear, he imagined dressing her for the cold while warming her within his strong arms. He imagined buying her fleece gloves, a tam hat, in the way that Talia Shire wore in Rocky as Adrian, and a scarf wrapped around her neck. Wearing nothing more than an unzipped, 800 down vest to keep her warm and to protect her from his horny hands, he imagined himself kissing her while feeling her everywhere. He imagined marrying her and buying her a cute, little, green Mini Cooper S as her wedding gift. A common occurrence, a protector falling for the victim, he wondered if she was falling for him too. "Thank you," she said. "You're kind." "Here," he said removing his light jacket. He pulled out his shirttails to cover his holstered gun. "Wear this," he said placing his jacket over her shoulders while holding out the jacket to help her arm inside. Taking her all in as if noticing her for the first time, he liked that fact that she was tall, maybe 5'9", and nearly as tall as he was. He liked that she was blonde and busty. He had a thing for blonde women with big tits. Only all the blondes he's ever been with were dyed blonde and judging from her pubic hair, she's a natural blonde just as her breasts are natural and not surgically enhanced. Unless she was a stripper and a hooker, he couldn't imagine a homeless woman living in the alley with silicone breasts. Unable see, he wondered what color eyes she had. Always too busy being a hardcore Marine, he never took the time to really look at a woman until now in the way that he was looking at her. All the women in his life were one night stands of drinking, desperate groping, and sweating in a cheap motel room. All of the women in his life didn't matter to him in the way that this woman suddenly mattered to him now. He wanted to help her and take care of her. Was this fate that they met or was he thinking more about her as a romantic connection than she was thinking about him? "Thanks," she said putting on his jacket and zippering it against the cold and to hide her exposed breasts while staring down at his concealed weapon. "You have a gun?" "Yes. I do. A part of me as if it's an extension of my hand, I don't go out without my weapon." "Then, I don't understand." "What don't you understand?" He looked at her. "Why didn't you use it on them?" "I didn't need to use my gun on them. I was in no imminent danger or threat of death to use deadly force. Besides I never pull my gun unless I'm going to use it," he said. "Furthermore, my gun could be taken from me and used against me. Besides my real weapons are my mind, my resolve, my hands, and my feet. None of those can be used against me. Sometimes, especially in close combat, a gun just gets in my way." He looked at her and smile, "And besides," he said with a laugh, "there were only three of them." "Yeah but, they could have--" "They could have what? Bled, vomited, and peed all over me?" He laughed. "As it was, it wasn't a fair fight," he said with a smug laugh. "Seriously," he said as if it was no big deal, "There were only three of them. Having been down this road before in more dangerous situations, it takes more than three to get the better of me." "But one had a gun, the other a knife, and I saw the third one reaching for a pipe. How is that not a fair fight? Fair for them but not for you," she said with a look of disbelief. "It was obvious to me in the way they were standing and holding their weapons that they had no idea how to use them. As far as I was concerned, their weapons were my weapons to take from them and to use on them," he said with a grin. "Who are you?" "I'm a United States Marine, Gunnery Sergeant Ryan, retired at your service Ma'am," he said with a shit eating grin. "Wow! Lucky me," she said returning his smile. "I'm unfamiliar with all the military designations but isn't a Gunnery Sergeant in the Marine Corps equal to a Sergeant Major in the Army?" "Yes. The navy has their Master Chief Petty Officer and the Air Force has the Chief Master Sergeant. All are the same pay grade. Why do you ask?" "I'm a movie buff. I used to watch the old black and white movies when I was a kid. A latch key kid, my Mom worked during the day and I stayed home alone after school. I remember watching this one, old movie, Soldier in the Rain, one of my all time favorite movies, right up there with Requiem for a Heavyweight with Anthony Quinn, on the Waterfront with Marlon Brando, and Old Man and the Sea with Spencer Tracy. Anyway, Solder in the Rain starred Jackie Gleason and Steve McQueen. Jackie Gleason played a tough, smart, Sergeant Major who did crossword puzzles in pen. Have you seen the movie?" "No. Well, here we are," he said opening the door of the diner. "Wait. I can't go in there. Can't we take the food to go," she said baulking by taking a step backward. "They'll recognize me. I'm hard to miss. There aren't many homeless women living in the street, especially one that's a tall, blonde, with big tits," she said with a laugh. "TBBT." "TBBT? What's that?" "That was my nickname in high school, TBBT, tall blonde with big tits," she said with a laugh. Grabbing her by the hand, he took her hand in his and walked in the diner ahead of her while pulling his reluctant, late night, supper guest along. "Hi Pete," he said with a wave. "My sister and I are going to grab the booth in back," he said pointing to the empty booth. "Yeah, sure, Dave," said Pete smiling at Dave before he scowled when eyeing Susan and her disheveled appearance. Pete didn't dare say a work after Dave stopped a robbery attempt one early morning. Open 24 hours, his usual routine after his late night, early morning walk was to hit the diner for coffee with apple pie and ice cream. As he approached the restaurant, always alert, Dave heard shouts from the street before opening the door to the small diner. Pete was out on the floor. He's never out on the floor. He's always positioned behind the open, high counter window in the kitchen, while his waitress takes cares of the customers out front. Bag Lady & the Retired Marine Ch. 04 With just a telling look from Pete, as if Dave was Clint Eastwood in the movie, Magnum Force, walking in his favorite restaurant for his morning coffee with the waitress salting his coffee instead of sugaring it, he knew there was more than coffee brewing. There was trouble. Not waiting for the men to reveal their weapons and make their deadly move, Dave made the first strike with a sidekick to the knee of the man who stood closest to him. His gun hit the floor before he did and reaching down to recover the weapon and coming up fast and hard, Dave pistol whipped the second man in the nuts with his friend's gun while taking his weapon from him too. Just as it was in the alley, the altercation was over in three seconds. Just it was in the alley, it took him longer to disable the weapons than to defeat the perpetrators. Pete called the police and had the two arrested. Ever since then, whatever he ordered was on the house. Only tonight, wanting to give this homeless woman a belated Thanksgiving Day feast, he intended to pay for her food. They sat in the booth across from one another. Sally, the waitress, handed them menus while looking from Dave to stare at Susan before looking back at Dave with a questioning look on her face. "Coffee?" Dave looked at Susan and she nodded. "Two coffees," he said and the waitress left to retrieve her pot. "Order whatever you want. Whatever you don't finish, you can take with you to eat later," he said. "Don't worry about what it costs. The prices here are cheap enough and I can afford anything you want." "Okay," said Susan already busy looking at the menu before she looked up to study Dave. "Thank you." "What's your name?" "Susan. Susan Jill Parker." To be continued... Bag Lady & the Retired Marine Ch. 05 Dave and Susan begin a beautiful friendship over breakfast. "Nice to meet you Susan Jill Parker. I'm Dave. Dave Ryan," he said offering her his big hand. Seeing her up close, as if seeing her for the first time, he saw her bloodied nose, her split lip, and the discolored, puffy mouse under her eye. His hero, she took as much of a beating as she gave. Those bastards, if they were here now, he'd beat the shit out of them all over again. With the odds stacked against her, he was just glad that he was there to help her and to save her. No telling what those men would have done to her had he not been there to come to her rescue. Definitely they would have raped her and maybe even murdered her. Always just the tip of the iceberg, just another sad statistic, a homeless woman found dead in an alley, end of story, was no big deal. Most times, no one even claimed the body to identify it. Buried in an unmarked grave, he couldn't imagine dying alone without family and friends mourning his death in the way that so many of his buddies died on the battlefield. When he died he wanted to die at home surrounded by all the people in his life. Only, having alienated everyone for the sake of the Marine Corps, he had no one to say good-bye to, to watch him pass, and to wish him well on the other side. He had no family and no friends. His only family was his sister and her children, but he hasn't seen them in years, hasn't even called her since the time that he ran from her house screaming because of the noise her children made. In exchange for his Marine good buddies, he lost all contact with everyone else years ago. Now that he doesn't drink and party in the way that he used to do, he lost contact with his Marine buddies too. If he was penniless and homeless, he'd be much like her, alone on the city streets. Only he figured her for having more of a story than that. Definitely with someone as good looking as she is, she had more of a story to tell. Besides her good looks and hot body, there was real intelligence behind those eyes. What he didn't know but he perceived, there was something in her that attracted him to her. Putting her beauty and body aside, be it her poise or her self-confidence, there was something about her that he liked. Having already seen her naked, he wondered what she'd be like in bed. "Nice to meet you Dave Ryan," she said returning his handshake with a smile before taking a big gulp of her coffee and downing the cup. For a homeless woman, she had soft hands and he figured her for a sexy secretary or an anal bookkeeper in her other life. She looked around as if she was looking for someone or something before leaning forward to whisper to him. "Do you think they'll allow me use the restroom?" For someone so brave against three men, she was so timid in her request to use the restroom. He could only imagine the verbal abuse she must have been subject to and taken when sneaking in a fast food joint to use their restroom without having the money enough to buy anything. "Sure. You're with me, a paying customer. C'mon, I'll show you where it is," he said using that as his excuse to help her up when she grimaced from moving and stood with bruised ribs. "It's right over there. You take your time and do whatever you need to do." It was then for the first time in the bright light of the diner that he saw how disheveled her appearance was. Looking as if she had worn them for days and, no doubt, slept in them too, her clothes were dirty, wrinkled, and stained. She looked as if she could use a bath, actually soak in a tub. In a country so rich and in a country that routinely helps the people of other less fortunate countries, he felt sorry for her and angry for her unfortunate situation. Feeling his need to help her, we should take care of our own citizens before reaching out to help the citizens of the world, especially when so many don't want our help and/or appreciate our help. Giving our money to Pakistan so that they can shelter the Taliban and giving our money to Egypt to watch them burn our flag in the street, is when he'd pull the plug on the gravy train to watch them come crawling and begging the United States of America for help. Suddenly, he was angry that so many people were unemployed or underemployed. He was angry that we sent all of our manufacturing jobs to Mexico, Japan, Taiwan, India, Brazil, and now China. It's nonsense that we support China by employing their people with all of our jobs and then have to borrow money from them. When did that happen? In a country so rich and so productive, everyone who's able to work and who wants to work should have a job. No one should be wandering the street with no place to sleep. No citizen of the United States, people he risked his life to protect, should go hungry. In the way that the CIA routinely replaces one dictator for another, it's time we cleared those old, white men out of Washington and replaced them with those who are willing to serve the public and not themselves. Instead of a Republican Party or a Democratic Party, just as our forefathers envisioned, we should have one party, the American Party. Not a party for the rich or a party for the poor but a party for everyone. He watched her walk down the hall and disappear in the ladies room. Nearly as tall as he was, she was tall and he didn't realize how tall she was, maybe 5'9", until she stood next to him. Wondering if she was wearing heels, she wasn't. She was wearing dirty, white tennis shoes. That's when it hit him. What woman doesn't have a proper pair of shoes? Hard not to notice and to be sexually attracted to, he wondered if she didn't have the body of a porn star, if he'd still have the need to help her and if he'd be sitting here with her now in the diner ready to feed her. Truth be told, obviously, he was just as alone and lonely as she was. Yet, was sex getting in the way of his compassion and commonsense? Was he more interested in fucking her than in helping her? Living in a dirty, back alley, she was a homeless woman for God sakes. Was he that desperate for a woman that he's now searching the back alleys of the city for them instead of hooking up with someone on an online dating site or in a bar? Maybe with all the shit that he's had to deal with in his life, he felt as disconnected as she was. Having been so wrapped up in himself and in the military while fighting the wars of the world, he never had the time or the need for a woman in his life as he had the time for and wanted someone now. Nonetheless the sudden sexual attraction that he felt for her, he'd like to take her home with him, that is, if she was agreeable to that but he didn't know how she'd react to his invitation. Not very suave with the ladies, he didn't even know how to go about asking her without insulting her or offending her. Just because she was homeless doesn't mean she wasn't proud. Everyone has pride whether false or real. Yet, if she was to accept his offer of shelter, once there, once alone with her in his house, then what? He's never been in a committed relationship. If nothing else, she could shower and he'd take her to buy new clothes tomorrow. Maybe he could take her someplace to get her hair, makeup done, and nails done. His very own version of Pretty Woman, he was curious what was beneath all that dirt and all that bad attitude. Then what? Once he feeds her, shelters her, dresses her, and gets her hair, makeup, and nails done, what happens then? Not being much of a deep thinker, playing it by ear and unable to answer his own question, he didn't know. Yet, careful where he thread, maybe she'd think that after saving her from those three men and buying her a hot meal that he was looking for sex and maybe he was. Even though he hadn't had sex in a while, since before he left the service and visited Bangkok for some much needed rest, recreation, and relaxation, he wasn't as interested in having sex with her as he was in helping her, or so he convinced himself to believe. Yeah, sure if sex was offered, he wouldn't refuse but more than that, he was lonely. He was more looking for companionship and conversation than in fucking her and in her sucking him. It's sadly funny how the pain of isolation and loneliness can sting more than the searing and piercing bite of a bullet. Having survived three bullet wounds and after receiving 5 Purple Hearts for injuries received in combat, he was a coward when it came to love. He feared starting a relationship that he wasn't capable of finishing. As if he had been shot in the heart, he was suddenly sad that he never married and had children. It was obvious to him now that he was no longer a Marine, how empty his life was. A life that was the envy of his friends, especially when he showed up wearing his uniform with all of his stripes and medals, he was the one who was envious of them. Having gotten all that he wanted then, they had all that he wished he had now. "I'm buying," said Dave walking over to Pete standing behind the kitchen counter window while waiting for Susan to emerge from the restroom. "Whatever she doesn't eat, she'll take with her," he said to Pete before turning his attention to the waitress. "And the next time she comes in for coffee, let her drink it here and don't embarrass her by saying that she smells." "Okay," said the waitress, "but that wasn't me Dave. That was Molly. Especially now knowing that she's your sister and being that it's been so cold outside, I would have allowed her to drink her coffee inside Dave," she said with a kind smile. "Thank you," he said to her. "Having been there myself, before I got this job, I know how it is on the street," she said. "I'll never forget how cold I was, the coldest I've been, while standing around with no place to go and counting down the minutes when waiting for the shelter to open. Standing in line with so many pitiful people, the thing that stuck with me was the indignity of it all and how I wasn't even able to support one person, myself." "Actually, she's not my sister. She's my friend," he said again, this time with a smile. "Thank you," said Dave handing her twenty dollars. As if she had taken a bath, Susan emerged from the bathroom twenty minutes later looking like someone else. Instead of dragging her tired ass behind her and instead of having the angry look of Tugboat Annie on her face, she strode from the bathroom as if she owned the place. Her hands and face were spotlessly clean and her hair was pulled back away from her face for Dave to notice that she had big, blue eyes, eyes that he couldn't stop staring into them. The biggest change in her was in her attitude. She was smiling instead of frowning. "Wow," he said. "If I didn't know we were the only two people here, I'd think you were someone else," he said with a laugh. "I hardly recognized you. You clean up real good. Actually, you're very good looking and with the right clothes, your hair done, and some makeup, you'd be stunning," he said while Roy Orbison's Pretty Woman played in his head. "Thank you," she said blushing, "but with you wanting to redo my wardrobe, my hair, and my makeup, you're not gay are you?" The waitress poured her more coffee and she laughed with the waitress before taking a big gulp of coffee. "Not that there's anything wrong with you being gay but--" "Gay? Me? Hardly. There's no don't ask, don't tell with me. What you see with me is what you get. Even though I'm an ex-Marine, I'm still a Marine. I'll always be a Marine," suddenly having the urge to salute her. "I'm all man, a macho man, and if I have a character flaw, it's sometimes that I'm too much man," he said taking her all in as if he was smelling and staring at a bouquet of roses. "I can see that," she said. "At ease, Marine," she said with a laugh. "I don't bite." Suddenly, while staring at the menu, they both fell quiet, that is, until Dave tripped all over his feelings, when opening up, something he never does. "It's different with you though. For some reason you let out my soft and sensitive side," he said staring at her. "And I like seeing the other side of me coming out when being with you. It makes me more human than being just a big, bad, ex-Marine." "Yeah, well, don't be crying in my food Midnight Cowboy. This is the first meal that I'll be eating in a long time that doesn't have alley dirt in it," she said laughing. "If I'm the Midnight Cowboy than you're my sidekick, Ratso Rizzo," he said with a laugh. "Eww. Gross. Gee thanks," she said laughing too. "Actually, that was a good movie," he said. "I'm surprised you remembered it." "I'm a huge movie buff. I've seen every Hoffman movie and Jon Voight was wonderful in that too. Just wondering," she said with a teasing laugh, "Did you like Brokeback Mountain too?" "Okay, enough with the gay jokes. I can assure you that I'm not gay," said Dave. In the way she was teasing him with their light hearted repartee, he wouldn't mind leaning over the table and kissing her to prove that he wasn't gay. He'd like to kiss her. After saving her, no doubt, saving her life for him, yeah, he'd like kiss her. He wished he could kiss he full, red lips. Only, she's the one who should kiss him, if only to show her gratitude. Suddenly, after seeing her naked in the alley, his mind was filled with the image of her without her clothes. He imagined her sitting across from him naked, as naked as she was in the alley. He imagined her wearing something sexy, a bra and panty from Victoria's Secret. The only real conversation he's had, if you want to call pillow talk conversations was with women he paid to fuck and suck him. Other than his sister, not knowing what to say or how to act, reminding himself of Clint Eastwood in Heartbreak Highway, when he played Gunnery Sergeant. Tom Highway, he's really never sat with and talked to a woman while she was wearing clothes. He remembered her tits, so big, and so full. Never had he seen breasts like that before. She had the most beautiful breasts he's ever seen and, suddenly feeling horny and feeling a deep sexual attraction for her, he'd love to feel them, see them again, and suck them. Only he feared that his sexual attraction for her would get in the way of helping her. Not being a psychiatrist, he hoped that his attraction to her was more than some convoluted need that stemmed from his childhood in wanting to help her and protect her. "Speaking of wondering, if you don't mind me asking, how old are you?" His question was met with a blank stare before she flashed him a soft smile. "It's not polite to ask a woman her age and/or her weight." "I only asked because you looked so much older in the alley than you do now that you're all cleaned up and looking so good," he said with an uncomfortable smile. "How old do I look?" She sat back in the booth and smiled. When she did that, sat like that, he imagined a photographer taking a family photo of her and her baby after they were married. "Thirty-something, thirty-three?" "Thank you. You're kind. I just turned 40 on July 26th." "Forty, the big four O, you don't look forty. That must have been hard for you." "Not as hard as being homeless and living on the street," she said with seriousness. "How old are you?" "How old do I look? No one guesses my age. Everyone is always wrong. They all thing that I'm younger than--" "Sixty?" "Sixty!" "Older?" "Hell no. Most people think I'm forty-five," he said striking a pose as if waiting for her to take his picture. "So," she laughed, "how the Hell old are you then?" "I'm fifty." "Oh, well, um, yeah, I can see that now. You don't look fifty, kind of, not at all, not really, I guess. You fooled me," she said laughing. "Very funny," he said sharing her laugh. "Well, this is a real unexpected treat with you coming to my rescue and then copping me to a free meal," she said changing the subject of age to voice her appreciation of his help and a free meal. "It's been a long time since I've eaten like this. I promise, when I get a job that I'll repay you for--" "There's no need to repay me. Pay it forward is all I ask you to do. Just as someone helped me when I was lost thirty years ago, before I joined the Marines and found my true calling, give a helping hand to someone else one day. You helping someone else will be my repayment and my reward." "Thank you." "So, what are you hungry to eat?" Even though he's been there a hundred times before and even though he orders the same thing every day, apple pie with ice cream and coffee, he opened the menu and stared at it as if seeing it for the first time. "Well, to be honest, I miss having breakfast. Most days all I can afford is a cup of coffee and sometimes a stale muffin. After walking by this diner in the morning and smelling the pancakes and sausages cooking on the grille, I've been dreaming about pancakes and sausages for weeks." "Well, think of me as your genie," he said with a laugh. "Your wish is my command," he said folding his arms across his body. "If it's flapjacks and sausages you want then pancakes and sausages you shall have." Ready to take their order, the waitress approached the table again with pen and pad in hand. "We'll start off with two orders of pancakes with a double side order of sausages," said Dave to the waitress. "Oh and can I'll have an omelet with hash browns, toast, and orange juice on the side?" As if asking his permission, Susan looked Dave before looking to waitress. "Yeah, whatever you want. That's good," said Dave. "I'm going to fatten you up," he said with a laugh after the waitress left. "You're too skinny." "Don't worry. Whatever I weight I gain goes to my tits," she said. "I was a D cup before losing fifteen pounds that I couldn't afford to lose. I've always been 130 pounds but weighed only 115, the last time I checked. I may even be less now that I haven't eaten all day or yesterday, I think." She looked at him and smiled. "Thank you in advance for giving me my tits back." "You're welcome Honey but," he liked calling her Honey and by the obvious smile on her face, she liked him calling her Honey too. "You still have tits, big tits, from what I saw of you in the alley." "God, that was so embarrassing," she said putting her head down and covering her eyes with her hand as if trying to erase the memory. "You saw too much of me," she said with a an embarrassed laugh. "You saw all of me. You saw what I'd never show until a fourth or fifth date." "The light was dim in the alley. I hardly saw anything of you," he said lying when he saw all of her, a sexy sight that burnt an indelible impression of her nakedness in his mind. He looked out the window when someone caught his attention. "Look," he said peering out the window and directing Susan to look where he pointed with his finger. "There's those three men," he said with a laugh. "And they're coming in here." "Oh, no they're not. Please don't let them hurt me again," she said picking up the knife from the table and holding it at the ready to defend herself. "Don't worry. I'll take care of it," said Dave getting out of the booth and walking to the door to meet them as if he was a bouncer. "Let's go in here," said the little man to the other two. As soon as he reached for the door, Dave was there waiting for him. "The diner if full. Go somewhere else." Immediately they retreated. By the looks on their faces, no doubt never expecting to see him again, especially so soon, they were afraid. With the smallest man helping the biggest man to walk and the third man limping behind as if he was drunk or elderly, the three, beaten victims made their way down the street before a police car slowed, pulled over, and stopped them. Calling for backup, two more police cars flew in from the opposite direction. Too injured to run, they threw their hands up in the air before getting down on the ground and the police took them in custody. Dave figured that someone must have made the call. Who knows, they may have been on a crime spree and maybe they had attacked someone else before attacking Susan. Bag Lady & the Retired Marine Ch. 05 "Good. I feel better. I'm glad they're arrested," said Susan before confessing. "I asked Pete to call the police. I have a good mind to go and press charges." "Leave it alone Susan. Better that you should remain an anonymous victim than having these men know your name," he said with a look of wisdom. "Yeah, you're right. No doubt, they'd track me down, even though it's not a difficult thing to find me being that I'm living on the streets," she said with sadness. "If you don't mind me asking, why are you on the street?" "I moved here from Boston last June to live with my Mom after divorcing my husband. We had a beautiful basement apartment across from the Susquehanna River. Then, in September, the worst flood in the history of the Susquehanna River happened. The water crested 30 feet above flood stage. The water was higher than the second floor of our apartment building." "I remember that flood. It rained, down poured actually for days." "The Red Cross gave us some clothes, food, and directed us to a shelter but not much else, and FEMA only helped those who owned homes not those who rented. With the flood water contaminated with home heating oil and raw sewage, and with the fire and police not allowing people back in their neighborhood for three weeks, until the water receded and the properties were inspected, I lost everything including my car. It's was thirteen-years-old anyway, but that car was better than walking and taking the bus. No doubt, if I still had the car, I'd be living it in." "I remember that the water in Hershey was as high as the roofs of the fast food restaurants and they had to demolish them and rebuild them. Wasn't there bison trapped under water that they had to shoot at the Hershey Zoo?" "Yeah that was sad," she said. "It's funny how some people cared more about those bison being trapped underwater than they did about all those people like me who lost their homes and possessions. Three people were killed in the flood, one was a firefighter trying to save an elderly man trapped upside down in his car. Both were swept away." "So, why aren't you in a shelter?" "I was but the shelters aren't safe. Believe it or not, that is, until tonight with those three men, I felt safer outside on the street than I felt in the shelter. There's a lot of crazy people in the shelter. I still go there to shower, wash my clothes, and grab a hot meal at the mission or the church. Even at the mission and the church, men are always grabbing at me and groping me. I was so tired and hungry one day that I didn't know that the man standing behind me had lifted my skirt nearly to my waist. He must have thought he had a live one, but I bashed him in the face with my food tray." Dave watched the waitress bring over the pancakes and sausages. "More coffee?" "Yes, please," said Susan. "So, I was thinking." "Yes?" "I don't want you to take this the wrong way but..." "But what?" "If you wanted to..." "Yes?" "Um, you know, um, you could bunk with me, until you got a job and back on your feet. I have a spare bedroom," he said looking at her before staring down at his food. "The grub is good here, although this is my first time eating anything other than apple pie and ice cream." She looked at him blankly. "Are you inviting me to stay with you." "Yes, I guess I am." "Do you have an Internet hookup?" "Internet hookup? Sure. Why?" "I write stories." "Stories? What kind of stories?" "Erotic literature." "Erotic literature? You mean sexy stories? Dirty stories?" "Yeah." "Cool." He looked at her in between bites of his food. "So is that a yes." "Yes." To be continued... Bag Lady & the Retired Marine Ch. 06 Dave invites Susan home to bunk with him. An odd couple and an unlikely pair, a retired and decorated, former Marine walking with a tall, blonde, beautiful, bag lady, both looked as if they were walking a death march instead of embarking on something new, exciting, and wonderful. They acted more like an old, married couple who barely tolerated one another rather than a man interested in a woman who gave him the eye. Whether it was the tension from their awkwardness and the uncertainty they felt as a not yet stated and defined couple, a real pair of misfits suddenly thrown together, no doubt they felt the anticipation from their obvious sexual attraction. Their mood suddenly changed from lightheartedness to seriousness. Sex was serious business, after all, when one hasn't had an intimate relationship for a long while and the other really never made love to a real woman other than being with prostitutes who, even if they spoke English, they didn't speak his language. Where Susan was outgoing, albeit angry and Dave was confidently in control, both grew quiet. Dave would have had a much easier time of sensing the changes in a woman and between a man and a woman if he were located in a desert and surrounded by the hot, blazing sun and the burning, blowing sand. Without given an order and before even agreeing to accept this mission of love and romance, he was out of his element in walking in public with Susan while trying to make small talk. Marines, even former Marines, unless they were jabbering with their buddies didn't have the time or see the need to make small talk. Being that nothing was small to them, war was all encompassing and too big of a deal to talk about nonsense. Certainly, Dave would rather face and armed terrorist than a beautiful woman. Nevertheless, out of their control, the stage was slowly setting for something to happen between them. As if there were incoming missiles, wanting to hit the ground and pull her down beneath him to protect her or to fuck her, he felt the change in the air as if there was an incoming mortar about to land and explode at his feet. The fact of the matter was that both of them were strong individuals. With Dave a bullheaded Taurus and Susan a proud Leo the lioness, after their firework display was over, their stage was set for sparks to fly. Be it for a head butting hostile exchange that would surely result in a difference of opinion and or an argument, being that she was just as strong willed and stubborn as he was, he was ready for rejection. Besides, even though she was easy on the eyes and attractive enough to make him interested and to keep him interested, unfortunately for both, she wasn't his type. Too tall, too blonde, too fair skinned, too busty, too talkative, and too much woman, especially when he was more than enough of a man to carry both sides of the conversation, she was too much of everything. Spirited, sexy, and smart, she was all that he never looked for in a woman. Spending what seemed like a lifetime overseas, especially in the middle east, he had grown accustomed to lusting over short, petite, small breasted, and shyly submissive woman with hair as dark as their eyes. He preferred a woman that he could control instead of taking the chance of starting a relationship with a woman who wanted to control him. Rejection or acceptance, sex, and/or love, with nothing really new but for the one they were with, both had traveled down this path many times before with others. A first time for everything, this was the first time that Dave invited a woman to his small, albeit efficient apartment and the first time he asked a woman to live with him or bunk with him, as he so romantically put it. He always found all that he needed and everything that he wanted by picking up a woman of the night and going to her place or to a cheap motel to hump and sweat. Now having second thoughts with every slow step he took, with his mind racing much faster than his feet were walking, normally, his pace was much quicker than this. Never being much of a conversationalist, especially after doing all of his talking in the diner or with a weapon in his deadly hand, while walking and thinking of something to say, he had nothing else to say. "You know, Dave, if you'd rather I not bunk with you," she said with an uncomfortable laugh, "we could forget this whole thing and go our separate ways. You saved my ass, gave me sixty bucks, and fed me a big meal. I appreciate all that you've done for me. I still have my bags of cans hidden behind the dumpster. I can go back to where I was living and to where I belong for the time being. A life I've grown accustomed to living, it's not as terribly bad as it seems on the surface," she said maintaining a stiff upper lip and a brave face. "You don't have to worry about me. I'll be okay," she said raising her head high and sticking out her enormous chest. "Really. I've come this far alone already. I really don't need any more of your help. Thank you for everything but--" "Don't be silly. This is good. Yeah, this is a good thing," he said as if trying to convince himself of that. "If I'm reticent at all, a creature of a stringent routine to get me through my day, it's because I'm not very good with change." "Trust me. I know. We all have our routines. Imagine me being flooded out of my house to roam the street, live in a shelter, and eat at a mission. Quite the change, I swear I'd have to make less of a change and would have had a better life had I gone to prison." "I hear you. Speaking of prison, don't forget, much in the way of someone serving a 30-year prison sentence, not that the Marine Corps was prison but, longer being in than being out, I was in the Corps for 30 years of my life. That drill, that discipline, and taking orders is the only routine that I know. The Corps was my home and my good buddies were my family. I always had a buddy to watch my back and never a woman. "I understand. Being retired from the Marines must be a big change for you," she said rolling her eyes how anyone could make a career out of the military. Taking orders and not making their own decisions about what to do and where to go whenever and wherever they wanted, while always in harm's way, without him realizing it, he was as much prisoner of the United States military as he was a proud Marine. "Just as I've never talked as much as I'm talking now, I don't know anything else. I've been with plenty of women but I never had a wife or a girlfriend. A lone wolf when it comes to love but a team player when it came to the Marines, other than my barracks buddies, I'm never been in a committed relationship." "Committed relationship? Hold on. Wait one second," said Susan standing still and staring at him sideways. "Back up. Where was I when we went from you buying me breakfast to me being your woman and you being my man? I don't need any stinking man to take care of me," she said with defiance. "I can take care of myself," she said looking at him while raising her voice with hostility. "You have a lot of nerve to think that I--" "I'm sorry. Jumping way ahead, I'm not good with words and I didn't mean to imply that we're together. I'm just worried--" "Worried? Worried about what?" "How to act with you in my apartment and what to say with you in my life? I feel as if I'm a pimply faced teenager on a first date." "You know, Dave, if it helps, let's go back to before I wasn't your girlfriend," said Susan with an uncomfortable laugh. "I'm just a woman you saved and a woman that you now feel responsible for," she said. "As if I'm your personal spoils of war, now that you have me or think that you own me, you don't have a clue what to do with me?" "You're taking this all wrong Susan. I didn't mean to suggest--" "So what do you do with me Dave? Huh? Tell me because just along for the ride, at your whim and whimsy, I'd like to know," she said making solid eye contact with him. "Do you fuck me or give me a place to stay. Maybe you'd like to do both. Tell me, would you prefer having sex with me before I go to sleep or after I awaken? Are you an evening person or a morning person." She stared at him and when he didn't answer, she punctuated her indignation. "Fuck you Dave! Fuck you," she said walking away. As soon as he saw her leaving his decision was made. No longer indecisive, he knew now what he needed to do. "Wait. Hold up. C'mon Susan. I didn't mean to--" She turned to confront him with a face full of as much confusion as she had of sorrowful hurt. "Just as you don't know what to make of this situation, I don't know either. Just as this is new ground for you, this is new ground for me too. Now I'm not saying that having sex is on the table or off the table. We're both consenting adults. Whatever happens, happens. We can take things slow and see what happens or we can just go our separate ways now. You tell me." He looked at her in the way that John Wayne looked at Maureen O'Hara in the Quiet Man. She was so pigheaded, just like him. Yet, unlike him, when he was mad and his face was all red, turned, and twisted with anger, she was so fucking beautiful when she was angry, even more beautiful when she emerged from the ladies room in the brightly lit diner. "Actually, now that we've put everything out there, especially the sex, I feel better with the pressure that I put on myself now off," he said letting out a sigh of relief. They walked a few blocks without saying anything before Dave pointed for her to take a side street with him that led away from the city to the more suburban part of town. "I like you Susan. I really do. I think you're a Hell of a woman, a special lady, and easy on the eyes but I'd rather face a firing squad than to be alone with a pretty woman who may be expecting more than I can give." "I know and I like you too Dave. Truthfully, I'm not expecting any more than a place to wash my dirty body, rest my cold, tired head, and have a cup of coffee and some grub in the morning. Then, I'll be on my way as if none of this ever happened. Okay?" "Okay," he said digging his hands deep in his pockets as if his pant pockets contained all of his answers. Not knowing what else to say to convince her otherwise to stay longer than a night, he agreed with her. "For the first time in my life, I feel safe. You make me feel that there's nothing you can't handle," she said being submissive to him for the first time. More of a man of action than of words, he stopped and turned to her. Perhaps because she suddenly showed him her soft side, he was more attracted to her. Then, out of the clear blue, as if he was pulling out his knife to slit her throat, he took her in his arms and kissed her. When he parted her lips with his tongue, she returned his passion with her own. Then, as if she was wearing a vest bomb, he abruptly pushed her away. "Sorry. Sorry. I'm so sorry," he said. "I don't know what came over me. Please forgive me." "No need to be sorry Dave unless you didn't mean to kiss me," she said with a nervous laugh. "I did," he said looking down to avoid making eye contact with her. "I did mean to kiss you but I don't believe in any of that mumbo jumbo about there's a reason for everything and--" "You mean, fate, kismet, and destiny?" "Yeah, I guess that's what I mean," he said still not looking at her while digging in his heels while being determined not to like her, want her, and need her. "What about love at first sight? Do you believe in that?" She looked at him when he didn't answer her. "Other than the Marine Corps, tell me, what else to you believe in besides the United States military? You don't think that some kind of cosmic attraction or magical force whether physical, spiritual, and/or emotional played a part in what happened tonight and with you interceding to save me?" She looked at him and smiled. "And you do?" He looked at her as if she was a prisoner of war and he was interrogating her. "To be honest, seeing you only from a distance, I thought you were nothing more than an old, bag lady. Then, when I saw you in the diner," he paused not wanting to tell her that his heart skipped a beat, "I never expected you to be this beautiful blonde." "Yeah, well, even if you don't I believe in all of that mumbo jumbo, I think that fate had everything to do with what happened here tonight. Right place at the right time, someone was tapping you on the shoulder and they weren't wearing a uniform other than wings and a halo." "So, what are you saying?" He looked at her as if she was a new recruit telling him that there was more to life than being a Marine. "Are you saying that there is more to all of this than me saving you, feeding you, and offering you a place to bunk?" "Duh? You asked me to bunk with you," she said laughing. "Wow! Right up there with asking me to be your woman, that's serious for you. Next you'll be making me a braid out of a terrorist's scalp and giving me that as a ring before pinning one of your medals on my chest," she said with a laugh. "Wait. Hold on now. I only asked you to spend the night...or two," he said looking at her. "I didn't ask you to marry me. Where did all that come from about me giving you a ring to put on your finger." Even in the frightful mess she was, underneath her messy hair, dirty fingernails, and makeup free face, he could tell that she was beautiful. In the way that her blonde hair was wild, frizzy, and pulled back as if restrained when the rest of her spirit wasn't, she looked as if she just woke up from bed after a long night of sex. She smelled of sex. She exuded sex. More than sexy, she was the epitome of what every man wants in a woman. He looked at her again and always more comfortable categorizing the women he knew, the closest woman he could imagine her being like was Kim Basinger, only younger, shapelier, and more beautiful. To be continued... Bag Lady & the Retired Marine Ch. 07 With nothing else to give him, Susan rewards Dave with a blowjob for saving her. They spent the rest of their walk in silence, Dave with his hands dug deep in his pockets with his eyes to the ground and Susan looking everywhere but at him. "This is me, right here. It's a basement apartment," he said. "It is?" She took a step back as if afraid. "What's the matter?" "I was flooded out of my basement apartment. I had just moved from Boston and was living with my Mom when the Susquehanna River flooded. Cresting 30' over flood stage level, it was 3 weeks before the cops, the fire department, and the building inspectors allowed us back in the building to salvage anything. Everything had turned to shit by then and there were dumpsters lining both sides of the street filled with everyone's ruined possessions." "Wow, that sucks," he said. "Even with the few possessions that I have, I can't imagine losing everything I own." "The water was up to the second story of the building where I lived," she said looking up at the second floor windows of the house. The water was contaminated with home heating oil and raw sewage." Reliving it again by talking about it, she had a look of sadness on her face as if it had just happened. "Well, there's no water here. I'm pretty far from the river and on a hill. You're safe from the water. If you want to worry about something, worry about being incinerated in a nuclear explosion," he said with a laugh. "Three Mile Island is right there," he said pointing to the smoke stacks. "The experts say that the nuclear plant can withstand a plane crashing into it but that's what they said about the Twin Towers too. I don't put much stock into what experts say about anything after seeing so many retired generals on CNN giving their biased opinions based about what they're told by the CIA to say." "It's scary to see those nuclear smoke stacks looming so close. Aren't you afraid?" "I don't even think about it," he said leading her down a flight of stairs. He opened his door and turned on the light. "Well this is it. Keep in mind that I'm a guy and I live alone," he said with a laugh. "It's so small and so neat. With your bunk there..." she said looking to the left. "And the couch there..." she said looking to the right. "And nothing between them but a TV..." she said looking at him. "Hardly the bachelor pad I expected, your apartment looks as if you just moved in or are about to move out," she said laughing. "What? You don't like my place? It suits me just fine. It's efficient and organized. I don't have to trip over stuff to find what I need." "It's just that..." "It's just that what?" "With no personal items displayed, it looks too much like a barracks room," she said. "All you need is a footlocker and a metal locker. "The footlocker is by my bed," he said pointing. "And the metal locker is there in the corner," he said laughing at how ridiculous his apartment looked to a stranger but how familiar it would look to another Marine. He looked around his room as if noticing it for the first time. His place did look as if it was in transition. With one foot here and the other foot there and his head stuck somewhere in the middle, it was then that he realized he still had his heart in the Marine Corps. "You're recreated your barracks Marine. Good for you," she said with a laugh while saluting him. "You know, now that you mention it, you're right. Except for the deletion of the metal walls, it does look like my old barracks," he said with a laugh. "Being that this is a basement apartment, I even have the little windows at ceiling height that I had in my barracks room when I was a drill instructor." "Except for that Marine recruiting poster, you don't even have a picture on the wall," she said walking over to it to study it. "Where'd you get this? It looks like the real McCoy." "It is. I did some recruiting when I was recovering from my last wound. Not much of a people person when I'm not slamming my fist in their face, I'm not much of a salesman either, even if it's when trying to convince someone to join the Marines. I figure, if they want to join, they'll join. Tired of lazy, mama boys, I'm not good at persuading someone to do what they don't want to do and to join something they're not geared up or ready to do. The last straw was when I threatened to kill someone for burning the flag in front of my office after they spit on my uniform." "Threatened?" She laughed. "You not the type to threaten anyone with words. I don't see you wasting your breath to threaten anyone. You're more of a man of action," she said remembering what he did in the alley to those three men. "Okay, so when I was escorting them off my property, they tripped and hit their head on the concrete numerous times when I was helping them to stand," he said with a laugh. "What's the matter? He asked when she was looking around the room again. "There's not much privacy," she said looking around the one bedroom studio apartment. "Do you have a bathroom with a tub?" "Sorry, I don't have a bathtub but I do have a shower. It's in back," he said pointing behind him, "in the corner." "I see," she said obviously looking where she'd sleep before eying the couch. "I could make something makeshift, stack some boxes or hang a curtain, if that will put you more at ease," he said. "Nah, it's okay. I'm used to not having any privacy in the shelter and on the street anyway, as you're well aware with those three men waking me up at one in the morning. This is so much better than what I'm used to having. This will suit me just fine. Do you have a spare sheet for the couch?" "You can take my bunk," he said look at his bunk with a guilty, sad look as if he was giving up his weapon or his dog for the sake of her comfort. "Nah, the couch, believe it or not, looks more comfortable," she said looking over at his tightly made bunk. "What did you steal that from your barracks?" "Actually, it's my old bed with a new mattress. My buddies gave it to me as a present when I retired." "You're kidding?" "Nope. I know. I was shocked as shit that they'd give me my old bunk. I couldn't believe it. I was so happy." "That's not what I meant," she said. "Never mind." "You mean that I'd even want my old bunk instead sleeping in a bed?" "Yeah." "I'd rather sleep on the floor than not sleep in my bunk. After sleeping on that thing for thirty years, when not deployed, I'm so used to my little cot that I can't sleep in a regular bed." "No wonder why you're not married," she said under her breath and too low for him to hear. "Believe it or not, much like my rifle, that bunk is my friend. We've seen some things together. Yes we have," he said with a sad smile on his face while shaking his head. "I bet you even named you bunk," she said laughing. "Don't be silly," he said before looking over at her and blurting. "Bob. I named my bunk Bob." "Bob? You named your bunk Bob? I can't believe you named your bunk Bob?" "I named my bunk after my best buddy was killed the first time I deployed to Iraq. He took a sniper shot to the head. The bullet traveled right through his helmet." "I'm sorry about Bob," she said. "Listen, I'd never get between you and your bunk," she said waving her two hands as if they were flashing lights on a railroad crossing while stepping away from his bunk. "I'll take the couch," she said again before she started laughing. "What's so funny?" "We are." "What do you mean?" "Listen to us? We're going on about your bunk. Neither one of us are any good at holding a normal conversation." "You're right," he said. "We are kind of a pathetic pair of misfits. With you sleeping in shelters, eating in missions, and wandering the streets and me spending years away from my country to defend my country and preferring this lumpy, old bunk to a real bed when finally home and retired," he said looking at her, "neither one of us is normal." "It's like we're made for one another," she said giving him an interested look with a soft smile. "You're not going to start with that fate and destiny crap again, are you? Because I don't believe in any of that stuff. What I believe in is the here and now and not some Angel bringing us together. If you ask me, especially in the way I've been living and watching men dying, with all that I've seen in war and in battle, and all that you had to do to survive, if I believe in anything, I believe in the Devil. There's no merciful God that I know who'd allow any of this to happen to anyone," he said. "Don't even say that. I'm not a religious woman but I know enough not to open my heart and my head to the Devil because he'll walk right in and take you over. Positive thoughts is what got me through then and positive thoughts is why I'm here with you now," she said. They looked at one another as if they were going to kiss again. No doubt, when she gave him the eye, she wanted to be kissed. Obviously, she expected him to kiss her. Instead, he looked at his watch. It's zero three hundred hours, I need some shuteye. I'm beat." "I need to shower, if you don't mind." "Help yourself," he said. "Do you have a towel I can use?" "There's a stack of them in the bathroom." "What did you steal these from the Marines?" She came out holding a thin, white towel in her hand. "They throw them away anyway. Besides, their towels are what I've been using for thirty years and all that I'm used to using. I don't like those plush, colored towels. Those towels are for faggots, sissies, and homos." "Boy don't ask and don't tell had you in mind when they passed that law," she said with a laugh. "Now that you're retired, that law is no longer in effect," she said with a laugh. "Sorry but spending all of my time with a bunch of jarheads tends to rub off some, especially when I was the biggest jarhead of them all," he said with a laugh. "There's some softer towels in the little closet outside of the bathroom." Susan opened the door and started laughing. "Red Marine Corps beach towels?" She pulled one from out of the closet. "These colored towels are very plush Dave," she said laughing. "Where'd you get these? The Army/Navy store?" "E-bay," he said. "They were having a closeout sale. I bought a dozen of them for fifty bucks. Amazon was selling the same towels for twenty bucks each. I got a deal," he said with a laugh. "Dave likes saving money," he said talking in the third person again. Susan stripped out of her clothes and before turning on the water, she popped her head out of the bathroom again. "Dave doesn't have an exhaust fan," she said laughing. "It's a basement apartment Susan. Unless vented outside and being that's not an outside wall, there's no inexpensive way to vent that," he said. She closed the door again, turned on the water and showered. Other than taking sponge baths at McDonalds and the gas station, it had been a few days since she had a real shower. The hot water felt good on her tired, bruised body. Her ribs still hurt where that asshole kicked her. With nothing else to wear but her dirty clothes, she emerged from the shower in just her towel. "Do you mind if I wash my clothes tomorrow?" "Sure, no problem." "I'm surprised you have a washer and dryer here." "Yeah, well, I don't do well in Laundromats, especially late at night. I have a habit of not minding my own business, especially when I see a couple of thugs bothering a woman," he said. "Yeah, with you having saved my ass, I know what you mean," she said. "I can give you a shirt to wear but with you nearly as tall as I am, my shirt won't cover much more than your tits and bellybutton." "It's okay. I don't mind sleeping in the nude. Matter of fact, I prefer sleeping naked after taking a hot, steamy shower. I'm all heated up now," she said waving her hand in front of her face before stopping to adjust her towel. She watched him stare at what he thought she might be showing when her towel slipped down a bit. "I put a sheet, a pillow, and a blanket on the couch. If it's okay with you, I don't leave any lights on. It's a thing that I took home with me from the war. Believe it or not, I can see, hear, and feel more in the dark than I can in the light." "Maybe I should leave the light on so that you don't ogle my naked body," she said with a laugh. "That's not what I meant," he said. "I know what you meant. Don't get so defensive all the time. I was just teasing," she said. "Besides, when you act so sensitive, people may think you're a faggot, sissy, or a homo," she said with a laugh. "You're a real comedian Susan. Good night." "Good night super Dave, my Superman who is definitely not a faggot, a sissy, or a homo," she said turning off the light before releasing the towel and settling in on the couch. Not asleep more than an hour, voices awakened her. "Dave! Wake up," said someone, a female voice. "Come out and play with us. We're so horny." "Dave someone is calling you," said Susan talking to Dave through the pitch black. "That's just Simone, Lucy, and Carmen," he said. "Ignore them and they'll go away." "Friends of yours?" "They're hookers," he said. "I see," she said. "No you don't see. Don't judge me lest you be judged. A man has to do what a man has to do. Any port in a storm, if you know what I mean." "I know what you mean. I get it Dave. You don't have to paint me a picture or give me an image that I'd rather not have. "After having lived through a storm of shit, I couldn't see bringing a woman into my life," he said. "Simone, Lucy, and Carmen aren't your typical, drug addicted, crack head prostitutes, they're nice." "You don't have to explain yourself or defend yourself to me David," she said. "I've done some things on the street that I'm not proud of doing when I needed a few dollars to eat." "Why are you calling me David all of a sudden?" "Sorry," she said. "I guess I was upset that you'd be with hookers. I thought better of you than that." "Better than me? I'm no saint Susan. I'm a trained killed, an assassin, given a free pass by wearing a United States Marine Corps uniform. I'm not altar boy or Boy Scout," he said with some anger. "Sorry to upset you Dave. Thank you for giving me a place to sleep," she said. They remained quiet for a few minutes before Dave spoke again. "What kind of things?" "Pardon?" "You said you've done some things on the street when you needed a few dollars to eat." "Oh, that. I flashed some men. I allowed men to touch me, feel me, and to see parts of my body for a few bucks. I even gave a few men hand jobs for money but nothing more than that. No fucking and no sucking," she said, "until those three guys wanted to gangbang me." "So, you approached them on the basis that you'd flash them and allow them to touch you for money?" "No. I didn't flash them or ask them for money for sex. I asked them for some spare change is all. Typically, how it works is a man will ask me to flash him my tits and I'll tell him that I will for five bucks but we didn't even reach that conversation before they attacked me. Besides, knowing what would happen, I'd never flash my body to three men," she said. "I'm just glad I was there," he said. "I can only imagine what they may have done to you." "Without doubt, they would have raped me, forced me to suck them, and maybe even murdered me," she said. They were quiet again until Dave spoke again. "I was just thinking..." said Dave. "I think I know what you're thinking," said Susan. "You do?" "I have a good idea," she said. They fell quiet again before Dave broke the silence again. "Would you give me a hand job Susan? After what you've been through, I wouldn't ask you to do that ordinarily, especially if you were a normal woman, but I'm horny after seeing you naked in the alley," he said. "A normal woman?" "You know what I mean Susan. Just as I'm no normal man, you're no normal woman," he said. "We're much alike in that regard." They fell silent again before Susan spoke this time. "How much did you see of me?" "I saw enough to know that you have a hot body," he said. Again they fell silent. "So, if I jerk you off, will you let me get some sleep?" "Yeah," he said, "and I'd sleep better too after passing on Simone, Lucy, and Carmen." "Bring it over here then and don't turn on the light. It's the least I can do for you after you saved me from those three, dirty bastards," she said. "I don't want you to think that just because I asked you to bunk with me that--" "I don't think that Dave. Just let me masturbate you so that I can get some sleep. Never getting much more than three or four hours sleep at a time, I'm tired." Dave removed his skivvies and walked over to her in the dark. She reached up for him and wrapped her fingers around his cock to slowly stroke him. "You have a big cock Dave," she said running her fingers down the length of him before moving her fingers across the head of his erect prick. "Thank you," he said. "In the horny way that I feel with you touching me and especially after seeing you and remembering how you look naked in the alley, it won't take me long to cum. Here's a tissue," he said. "I won't need a tissue," she said leaning forward to take him in her mouth. With one hand stroking him and her other hand cupping his balls, she sucked him while stroking him. "May I touch you?" "Sure," she said tossing her sheet aside. Dave reached down to fondle her big tits while fingering her erect nipples. Even though he could see some of her in the dark, he wished he could see her blowing him. It would be hotter to watch her sucking him while imagining her looking up at him with her big, blue eyes. With a gentle hand to the back of her blonde, pretty head, it didn't take Dave more than a few minutes to cum in her mouth and as soon as he did, he returned to his bunk. As if reveille awakened him, up at dawn after only getting a couple of hours of shuteye, Dave already had coffee brewed and bacon cooked. Dressed only in his skivvies, he perched himself in the chair by the couch and watched Susan sleep. His very own blonde angel, she was so damn beautiful. How could a woman who looked like this be homeless? Surely, some man would have scooped her up and taken her home, helped her, supported her, and loved her. She was sleeping with her arms over her head, her eyes closed, and her head turned to the side. Her shoulders and the top of her chest were exposed and her long leg and big foot was poking out of the sheet. Dave could see all the way up her thigh and if the sheet was pulled to the side just a little bit more, he'd see her pussy. She looked like a natural blonde but he wondered if she was. With only one way to find out, hooking the sheet with his big toe, it didn't take much more than him slowly and gradually pulling the sheet down with his outstretched foot to pull the sheet off of her enough to not only see that she was a natural blonde but also to see Susan's areolas, nipples, and big tits. She wasn't exposed more than a minute or two when she stirred. With her eyes still closed, he watched her touch her bare chest with her hand and slid her palm across her nipple to make it pop out before reaching down to slowly rub her pussy and finger her clit. He wondered if she was a horny as he was. He wondered if she was dreaming about him. He wondered if she was thinking about last night when she sucked his cock and he felt her breast while fingering her nipples. Then, as if he dropped a coin in her slot to make her come to life in the way that Tom Hanks did in the movie Big with the fortunetelling machine, she popped open her eyes. When she opened her eyes, she focused on him before pulling the sheet up to cover herself. Bag Lady & the Retired Marine Ch. 07 "Did you enjoy the show?" "I did," he said. "You have some big ass tits girlfriend." "Girlfriend? I'm not your girlfriend," she said defensively while looking at him with annoyance before looking at him with interest, "am I?" "I figure any woman who willingly sucks my cock and allows me to cum in her mouth while playing with her big titties is my girlfriend," he said with a laugh. "So, is Simone, Lucy, and Carmen your girlfriends too?" "That's different. Allow me to qualify what I said. Any woman who willingly sucks my cock and allows me to cum in her mouth while playing with her big titties and doesn't charge me money is my girlfriend," he said with a dirty laugh. "Sorry but I'm not that easy in quantifying my relationship with a man. It takes me more than just a blowjob for me to establish a boyfriend/girlfriend type of--" "Yeah, yeah, get off your high horse Susan. You know you like me as much as I like you. You know you want me as much as I want you. You're starting to make me believe that we were meant for one another," he said with a loving smile. With her arms still over her head and as if he was a magician doing a magic trick with a tablecloth, he pulled the sheet all the way off of her. "David!" She covered her nipples with her left hand and left forearm and her bushy blonde pussy with her right hand. "I had to see you in the morning light for me to know that I wasn't dreaming or sexually fantasizing. You're so beautiful Susan," he said. "May I have my sheet back now?" When he stood to return her sheet, she reached out and pulled down his skivvies. "Tit for tat," she said. With that, he launched the sheet across the room. "Two can play that game," he said reaching down to tickle her. "Don't. I'm ticklish. Don't. Oh, God," she said laughing. "Stop!" When she stood up naked to get away from him, with a big hand around her slender waist, he pulled her to him and kissed her again in the way he kissed her in the early morning when they were outside and on the way to his apartment. Only this time the kiss was longer and more passionate. This time, he touched, felt, and caressed her everywhere. Squeezing her ass, he cupped her tits before running a slow finger across her nipples and before reaching down to cup her pussy. "After watching you sleep like a blonde angel, I need to make love to you," he said. "Take me to you bunk and fuck me Marine," she said. "I've been a bad girl and I'm in need a good fucking." As if they were just married and on their Honeymoon, Dave scooped her up in his arms and carried her to his bed. To be continued... Bag Lady & the Retired Marine Ch. 08 Chapter 08 Hoping for the best, but receiving the worst reaction, Dave tells Susan that he loves her. Dave carried Susan's naked body to his bunk and put her down gently on her side as if she had been wounded in combat and he had carried her out of harm's way and to safety. Only, unlike he would if she was a wounded war buddy, he gave her a long, wet kiss. Then he ran around to the other side of the bunk to climb in his bed with his body turned to face her when lying down. Barely enough room for him, unless he slept like a prisoner in a prison cell, there wasn't enough room for the two of them to lay on their backs side by side. There wasn't much room for two to comfortably share his bunk. His bunk was small, as small as was his apartment and as was his need for comfort and things that were comfortable. Spending too many years riding in a bone rattling and tooth jarring Humvee, living in a tent, or sleeping on the ground, to him his bunk was all the comfort that he needed, that is, until he met Susan, invited her to share his bunk, and now had her in his life. "We're going to need a bigger bed," she said with a laugh and scooting over as much as she could without falling off the bunk while trying to make more room for him. "My ass is already hanging off the mattress. If I move anymore, I'll be on the floor," she said laughing. "You're right. This won't work and I want our first time together to be a special memory and not special in the way of sardines packed in tin," he said. "Aw, that's so romantic," she said giving him a long, wet kiss. "You're such a sweetie for such a dangerous man," she said. "I have an idea," he said. He got out of bed, walked to the living room, and pulled the six cushions from the couch and piled them on the floor in two neat rows. Then he got a sheet from the linen closet and covered the pillows with that. As if he was making his bunk in readiness to bounce a quarter, he took the time to tuck in a fold here and a crease there. "Don't mind me," she said resting her head on her elbow while watching him. "As if it's a worm on a fishing line and I'm the catch of the day, I'm just enjoying the show while watching your cock dance around as you walk, bend, stoop, and move," she said with a laugh. "I'm glad that I can entertain you," he said looking down to where she was staring. "You do have a nice cock Dave. You have a happy cock. I can't wait to see your cock so happy that's it's excited to be hard," she said with a dirty laugh. "That makes two of us," he said busy fixing the pillows into a makeshift bed as if he was building a improvised bridge over a small, impassable body of water. "Viola! How's this?" He looked at their new bed with pride. Perfect," she said getting out of his bunk and walking over to him naked. Sashaying over to him as if she was a model walking a runway, he watched her walking to him. "Wow," he said. "In the way you walk with one foot in front of the other as if you're a cat on the prowl, even if you weren't naked, you're a vision to behold. All you need is a fan to blow your hair back as you purse your lips and call my name." "I am a cat on the prowl," she said. "I'm your prowling pussy," she said clawing at the air. "Meow! Meow! Meow!" "Here pussy, pussy," he said. "I can't wait to lick you and to lap you." "Stop it. You're making me horny," she said laughing. "You make me wish my name had more syllables and took you longer to pronounce. You make me wish my name was Alexander, Bartholomew, Christopher, or Ebenezer instead of just one syllable Dave," he said with a laugh. "I'm coming to you Ebenezer," she said over exaggerating her walk to him by acting as if she was a stripper on stage before flopping down on the newly made pillow bed.. Dislodging one of the cushions, already she upset his neatly made bed. "Accustomed to a steady diet of K-rations and hookers, I never thought I'd have someone as beautiful and as shapely as you walking to me naked. I'll remember this moment for the rest of my life." "K-rations? What's that?" "Named after Ancel Keys who invented it in World War II, K-rations are the same as MRE's, meals ready to eat. It's the grub we eat in the field. It's not bad, albeit a bit bland and tasteless. Actually, some of it is pretty good. I have an entire panty filled with it," he said. "Would you like to try some?" "No, that's okay. I'll pass," she said. "Why do you have an entire pantry full of K-rations?" "Along with my bunk, pillow, blanket, helmet, custom duffle bag dyed in pink and stamped with 'Don't Ask Don't Tell, instead of my name and rank," he said with a laugh, "my buddies gave me my foot locker, metal locker, and cases of K-rations as a retirement gift. I'm surprised they didn't follow me home to build me a makeshift latrine," he said with a laugh. "They thought they were being funny but, honestly, except for the pink duffle bag, that is, they couldn't have gotten me better gifts than all that they gave me," he said wiping a tear from his eye. "I miss them." He looked at her with sad eyes, "Maybe..." "Maybe what?" "Oh, nothing. Sorry, I'm just getting sad eyed reminiscing," he said. "C'mon, don't do that Dave, start saying something and not finish it. You do that a lot. How can I know you if you don't open up to me?" She stared up at him while he stood over her. "Getting way ahead of myself, I was just about to say," he said suddenly looking nervous by his revealing confession. "I just thought that, um, that we could have them over, you know, after we got a bigger place." "Wait. Hold on. Back up," she said with a surprised look. "Skipping the part where you ask me to be your girlfriend, after asking me to bunk with you, and fast forwarding past the sexual part where we make love, albeit after already having given you a blowjob, are you asking me to live with you Dave?" "Well yeah. I guess I am," he said scratching his crew cut as if he had flees before running a hand over his face as if he had just awakened from a sound sleep. "I didn't think that I was but I guess I am asking you to live with me. Now that you're here and in my life, I can't imagine my life without you," he said falling to the pillows on his knees and taking her in his arms to kiss her. "So what do you say? Do you want to make this a more permanent arrangement?" "It's funny. Now that I've learned something about you, just like in the movie, Jerry Maguire when the deaf mute is signing to his girlfriend that she completes him, you're the piece of my pie that was missing. You complete me Dave Ryan and now that you're in it, I can't imagine my life without you either," she said returning his kiss with as much passion as he gave her. "Whew! I'm glad that's over. Even more difficult than nightly reconnaissance missions, that was the most difficult thing I've ever had to do. Look at me. I'm sweating bullets," he said wiping perspiration from his brow. Deep in thought, he looked at her as if he wanted to say something but couldn't find the words. "What?" "Ever since I invited you to bunk with me," he said looking at her, "when we were walking here and I slowed my pace and, thinking that I had second thoughts, you turned to leave, I've been wrestling with how and where you'd fit in my life. I mean, there wasn't a doubt that I wanted you. I guess I wanted you when you emerged from the bathroom in the diner looking like someone else," he said falling quiet to collect himself. "You must understand that other than the Marine Corps, I never had a relationship and even though the military and war is a man's dirty business, I've always thought of my Corps as my mistress," he said. "That's fucked up Dave but I get it because I get you. I know where you're coming from and I appreciate you allowing me more of a glimpse inside of you by opening up your heart to me," she said leaving her hand on his chest. "I'm glad you told me all of this. I'd rather know upfront where I fit in with your life." "This isn't easy for me Susan," he said taking her hand in his. "It's easier for me to beat the crap out of someone than to sit and have an open and honest conversation with a woman. When I was with Simone, Lucy, and Carmen, I don't think we ever had a meaningful conversation. It was all laughing, having fun, and just sex. Then, our relationship grew more into a friendship, after I beat the snot out of their pimp for beating them. They were my special friends, if you know what I mean. After that it was more about watching out for them, protecting them, and being responsible for them than having sex with them." "Well, now that you have me as your special friend, you don't need any more special friends, and if I find you with another special friend even your martial art skills won't save your ass from the wrath of me," she said with a laugh while giving him a kiss. "Stop it. You're scaring me," he said with a laugh. "What are you doing?" She reached for his tee shirt. "I've been dying to see what you look like naked," she said removing his tee shirt. She traced his scars and bullet wounds with her fingers before kissing each one. "Are all of these from battle." "Pretty much," he said. "These two are knife wounds are from a late, night bar fight in Bangkok when I was young and dumb and thought I was invincible," he said laughing. "Nothing has changed with you," she said. "I was just about to say that, as I still think that I'm invincible now in going up against three men, one with a gun, one with a knife, and the other with a pipe. What was I thinking? I need to slow down but I can't," he said. "Once a Marine always a Marine. I'll never change. Only, still pretty fast, I'm not as fast as I used to be." "They must have hurt," she said still kissing his old wounds and making love to every part of his body with her full, red lips. "Yeah, they hurt then but they're more of a nuisance now. I'm going to have real problems when I'm older. Between the nerve damage and the aches and pains that I'll obviously have along with my limited range of motion as I get older, I'm a candidate for Rheumatoid arthritis. As a way to work out my kinks, I've been thinking of taking up Tai Chi or Yoga to help with my convalescence in old age, something less confrontational than martial arts," he said with a laugh. "What about continuing your training in martial arts?" She looked at him as if he were her master and she was his student. "Even though martial arts is my life and a lifelong apprenticeship, Judo is part of my life and something that I can't unlearn. Being that I already know all that I need to know how to disable, maim, and kill someone, there's not much more I can be taught in that regard. Most martial artist never strike someone in anger or in fear. I've already killed too many men with my bare hands to count." "Aren't you afraid you'll forget what you know?" "I can't," he said with a laugh. "It's instinctive and reflexive especially when facing someone too drunk or too angry to think what he's going to do before he does it. I don't have to think. Much in the way of a cobra, I just strike and think later. Then, add in the fact that I have fast hands, have always had fast hands, taking them by surprise, I can disable someone standing over me while sitting down without even getting up." "Wow, you're my hero," she said giving him a kiss, "my Super hero," she said giving him another kiss. "Super Dave, that's who you are, named after that comedian stunt men but you're the real deal," she said hugging him and holding him. "I'm afraid to let you go. I'm afraid you'll disappear on me. I'm afraid you're just a dream and a figment of my imagination." "I'm real Susan and I'm here for as long as you want me," he said kissing her. When they broke from kissing, she looked at him as if really seeing him for the first time. Without their clothes to hide their imperfections, so long as they were open and honest with one another, literally and figuratively, they were naked. Being that they've both already been through the worse of things, they were looking for a fresh start with one another. "You know, just a mere few hours ago, I never thought I'd be in bed with anyone never mind a being in a pillow soft bed," she said with a laugh, "with a big, bad assed Marine who has mad fighting skills. You're just like Matt Damon in Bourne Legacy. Only, you're the real deal, Sylvester Stallone, Clint Eastwood, and Bruce Lee all wrapped up into one Marine Corps, Gunnery Sergeant Major, David Ryan." "And I never thought I'd be rescuing a bag lady who suddenly turned into a beautiful blonde. As if you're my very own Cinderella, if I believed in fairytales, this would be it for me, the bag lady and the Marine." "I thought you Marines were more into action than talking," she said reaching down to grab a handful of his cock, "What do you mean?" "Shut up and kiss me Marine." Dave kissed her and she returned his passion with her kiss. Feeling her big tits and reaching around her to squeeze her round ass, she slowly stroked him to a harder erection. "You're so beautiful Susan," he said gazing into her big, blue eyes. "Always attracted to petite, short, small breasted women, I'd never thought I'd fall for an Amazon women with massive breasts and big feet," he said laughing while looking down at her big feet. "Gees, what size are those feet? You'll never be blown over in a strong wind, that's for sure," he said laughing again. "I take a woman's size 11 D shoe," she said with an embarrassed laugh. "And you're still talking," she said laughing. "Fuck me Marine. Stick that big, hard cock inside my warm, wet pussy. After you rescued me, pretend that I'm your spoils of war. Take me. Make me your woman." Dave climbed on top of her and a bit unsteady on the springy pillows, he mounted her while Susan directed his cock inside of her. "First thing tomorrow, I'm going to buy a bigger bed," he said with a laugh. "No more talking Ebenezer," she said kissing him as he slowly penetrated her before slowing humping her. Susan returned his sexual lust with hers and, starting a slow rhythmic movement, they were making love. "Hmm, that feels good Dave." "You're so tight Susan," he said humping himself harder and deeper inside of her. "It's been quite some time since I've made love," she said returning his humps with hers. "I love you," he said whispering in her ear. "Wait? What? Back off. Get the fuck off of me. You love me?" She pulled away from him. Alone again and no longer a couple they were two different people separated by Susan's wide expanse of her resistance to feel love for anyone, including herself. To be continued... Bag Lady & the Retired Marine Ch. 09 Dave and Susan sitting in a tree k-i-s-s-i-n-g. I love you. Dave watched Susan sitting there as if he had pulled her plug or pulled out her batteries. Emotionless, she was comatose. When most women would love to hear that, he say the wrong thing by telling her that he loved her. Happy one minute and sad the next, he wondered if she was a manic depressive. What just happened? He didn't know. He had no idea. So full of life before, all that it took to turn her off was for him to say three words that meant so much to him and obviously so little to her, 'I love you.' She acted as if he had said I hate you instead of I love you. She acted as if he wanted to break up with her, not that they were ever together. She acted as if she wasn't interested in taking whatever the fuck they had to the next level, which he wanted to do. What did they have anyway? Obviously, they didn't have anything. Obviously, even though he thought they were, they weren't a couple. When it comes to women, he wondered if Simone, Lucy, and/or Carmen were available to give him some much needed advice if not some comfort. He wondered what they'd say and how they'd react if he told one of them that he loved them. No doubt, being that they were prostitutes and with their Johns telling them that all the time, they'd probably laugh in his face. A bag lady and a Marine having only met several hours ago, he was as much of a stranger to her as she was an enigma to him. Apparently, according to her immediate negative reaction and foul response, in the way that she recoiled from him and rejected him, they didn't have anything in common to maintain a boyfriend/girlfriend relationship, never mind love. What is love anyway? It's just a feeling. He had feelings for her but she didn't have feelings for him. When most men never want to commit, he was ready to ride off in the sunset with her, only there was a hitch and a fly in the ointment. 'Houston there's a problem. May Day! May Day! Negative to love. It's a no go. Abort the mission and scrub the relationship.' She sat there with the look of a woman who had been badly beaten before being brutalized emotionally, physically, and sexually. As if she were a human turtle hiding in her self-protective shell, not willing to show her emotions for fear, no doubt, that she'd be hurt again, she had the look of a woman who had disappeared inside of herself and withdrawn from life. Obviously, an understatement, she wasn't ready for love or any kind of a relationship for that matter. Not the best looking man, especially after having his face reconditioned with the stress of combat and with one too many blows to the head, maybe she was ready for love but not with him. After his ears stopped ringing and after the last cloud of black, putrid smoke cleared, always there was smoke after the fire and not before, she had the look that he had after he survived another bloody battle. Always as if a crescendo to their mission, the air was filled with the stench of fuel, oil, and burning rubber. He wonder how many deadly, cancerous carcinogens he inhaled. He wondered how many years being a Marine fighting wars took off of his life. She had that same dazed and empty look that he had when looking around to survey the damage and to take inventory of the dead and the wounded. Only her combat mission was living and his combat mission was dying, kill or be killed. 'Don't move! Show me your hands! Show me your hands! Get down on the ground! Get down on the ground! Don't move!' Those words echoed through his brain in seven languages. Yet too many only understood a bullet to the head. They hated Americans. They hated America. He never met so many people who were willing to die rather than to surrender to an American serviceman. Yet every year we support Pakistan with billions of dollars, money wasted over there that could be used to house the homeless and feed the hungry over here. For Pakistanis to hide terrorists while burning our flag, those two facts don't bode well when Congress approves more money going to Pakistan. If he were President and Commander in Chief of the military, he'd fired a couple of smart bombs one earmarked Pakistan and one airmailed to Afghanistan. 'Boom!' In an instant, the war would be over. Hamid Karzai, our puppet president in Afghanistan, in bed with the CIA from day one, holds no loyalty to the United States. If he had the chance to take Karzai out when he was there, he would have but he was protected, not so much by the Afghan military but by United States private contractors, mercenaries, men who were once just like him. Only, if he had assassinated their president, Secretary Clinton, the President, and the top generals and admirals from the pentagon would have been all over his ass. No doubt, they would have blamed him for destabilizing the area. They would have blamed him for making things much worse when there was no way things could get any better over there, which is why the Russians left years ago to end their war with Afghanistan. Yet, we're still there. Why? He could have worked for one of those private contractors. He could have worked for the CIA or any secret agency that did dirty deeds behind the scenes. He was qualified. He had the skills to kill, something that is still in high demand. They would have paid him buckets of money to work for them. Only, he saw how they worked and how they operated. Different from the Marines, he couldn't work with someone and for someone who wasn't watching his back and who was more concerned with their own. Only, with all of war and foreign policy out of his control, all he could do was to retire from the Marines and go on with his life. He couldn't do his job anymore. The patience he once had was gone with suicide bombers. Now he fired first and asked questions later. Shoot to kill or be blown to bits was always his standing orders. * * * * * 'I love you.' The words echoed in his head in the way of a bad dream. The words that lifted his spirit to say before made him sad now. She didn't have to say she didn't love him. She saw the shocked look in her eyes. A nanosecond glimpse in her soul, a trained assassin, he was skilled at detecting a liar. He could walk in a room cold and know which one to shoot first. Never was he wrong. Always was he right. Otherwise, he wouldn't be standing here as a retired Marine. He would have been a dead Marine years ago. With death always all around him, the stench of rotting corpses and the acrid smell of burning flesh is something he'll never forget. To this day, he can't enjoy a barbeque, raw meat burnt beyond recognition. How many of his buddies did he had to identify. If it wasn't for their dog tags, they'd be buried in an unmarked grave with so many other soldiers and marines who didn't have enough left of them to identify. Burning alive again in his nightmares, he still relives the horror, hears their screams, and sees the faces of all those buddies he couldn't save. Taking his gun and shooting them instead of watching them die a horrible death, acts of war never reported on the nightly news, he's done that more than once. If the military allowed the press to report everything that they witnessed and that happened instead of classifying their dirty laundry as top secret, there'd be a Congressional investigation where some Major, Captain, and Sergeant would be offered up as sacrificial lambs, when the army rotten from the head down. How many generals return home fatter and richer than when they arrived? There's a lot of retired generals who retired after going over to Iraq to pillage and Afghanistan to plunder. After a while, after seeing so many killed in combat, other than to fan the area with a blanket of machine gun fire, dead bodies no longer evoked a response in him. After a while, instead of killing the lowly enemy, men who were as brainwashed as he was, he wished he could kill the ones responsible for the deaths of so many of his buddies. Only, they'd court marshal and execute him if he started killing those powerful generals who knew the real story of why they were at war. Twisted enough by war and politics, it was time for him to retire and he did. His first time in combat, he was scared. Realizing fast that it was either him or them, fright turned to anger. Now unemotional, with bullets whizzing by his head, he used his calmness to his advantage when shooting off his 50-caliber machine gun. Still shooting until he was out of bullets or until everyone was quiet, he was a one man assault team. Because of his deadly accuracy, he had a lot of nicknames, Doctor Death, the Grim Reaper, the Sweeper, and recently, LMS, last man standing. After a while, as if they had never lived, the dead didn't look real. Except for the blood and the bullet holes, most appeared to be sleeping. Tit for tat and an eye for an eye, rat-a-tat-tat, rat-a-tat-tat, and rat-a-tat-tat, he grew tired of exchanging bullets. He envied the sniper, one bullet, one kill. Only snipers, once there was an eyeball on their location, had a short lifespan. He could clean and fire a gun faster than most could load a chamber and pull a trigger. Yet, unless he re-upped or became a mercenary soldier and worked for a private security outfit, what good is that skill now that he's a civilian and a law abiding citizen? Hard for him to cope, always looking for love and hoping for love but with love so elusive, he never found it. Being that he didn't know what he was looking for and being that love was just a feeling, how would he even know if he stumbled over love? When he thought that he did finally find love with Susan, he thought love would set him free. Only, as if plucking a rose with one less pedal, she loves me, she loves me not, she doesn't love him. As if he had been shot, the look she gave him hurt more than any bullet he's taken. Surely, he'd take a bullet over her look of rejection. Her look and then her reaction to his words stopped him cold. Defenseless against her mere words, always in control, she made him feel vulnerably unworthy of her affection. Having already survived being shot numerous times, in the way they make a vest that's impervious to bullets, he wished someone would make a bulletproof vest to protect his heart from love. It took a lot of whiskey for him to live with himself after losing all of his men in his last battle before retiring. The last man standing, even his buddies back at base looked at him as if he was bulletproof, invincible, and unable to die when he just wished he were dead. They feared him as much as they regarded him and respected him. Even though his last mission didn't work out so well, no doubt, sabotaged by the bad Intel from the CIA, everyone still wanted him to lead their squad. Even if it was the other guy and not him taking the bullet, they all knew they'd have a better chance of going home alive with Gunnery Master Sergeant Dave Ryan watching their back. Never considering himself lucky yet, always, he was the one spared. Always he was the was one of the ones not returning home in a body bag. Why him? Why them and not him? Why was he spared? Was he spared for Susan to so rudely dismiss him, not want him, and to look at him as if he were crazy to ever think that he'd have a chance of her loving him. She was a homeless, bag lady and, with no one in her life in the way that he had no one in his life, even she rejected him. Now that he finally had someone in his life, he didn't understand why his life continued to be so difficult. No longer at war, yet always it was a battle. When he's willing to love someone, why is it so hard for someone to love him? He's worked so hard to deserve better. "I'm sorry Susan," said Dave staring at her withdrawing inside of herself. Going from sorrow to anger, he withdrew his apology. "No. I'm not sorry for falling in love with you," he said with anger. "We're made for one another. Don't you see that? We were meant to be together," he said touching her hand when she didn't speak and taking her by her shoulders and shaking her when she didn't look at him. "I'm sorry Dave," was all that she said. "Damn it! We're both fucked up. Yet, here we are. You're just as broken as I am. No woman would want me and no man can deal with you. We have too much baggage to ever be normal but why not be abnormal together? This is our chance for something special so why not take the chance?" He let go of her when she stayed past him. "Say something. Say anything." "What do you want me to say? I have nothing to say," she said finally looking at him. "I don't love you. Okay? Is that what you want to hear? I don't love you." She looked at him with cold, distant eyes. She looked at him as if he was looking at a stranger. He did it now. Just as he had turned on her switch to have sex with him, he had turned off her switch by telling her that he loved her. How could he be so stupid not to know her reaction. If he were in field and she was some middle eastern woman, he would have summed her up with a look and at a glance. Yet, back home and a stranger in his own country, already making a big mistake, he had made the wrong move by telling her that he loved her. "I'm tired of living alone Susan. I'm tired of being alone. I'm tired of going places alone and doing things alone. I'm sick to death of having no one to talk to but myself. I want someone in my life. I want a woman to love and who will love me. I want you," he said. She put her fingers to her lips when he leaned to kiss her. "Don't talk. Just don't talk. It's better if you don't talk and we just have sex," she said looking at him. "Okay?" "Okay," he said. If he had any pride, he'd turn her down for sex but having sex with her without her having any love for him and any kind of affectionate emotion was still worth it. Surely, he could pretend she loved him while having sex with her. "Only--" She gave him the same impatient look that he gave his new recruits when they poured off the bus not knowing what to expect. "What?" "What about pillow talk?" "Pillow talk?" "I like talking dirty while making love, sorry, I mean, having sex and I figured that you do too," he said as if apologizing to his mother for his need to talk dirty after breaking something. Only, he wasn't the type of guy to have sex with his mother. Besides, Susan looked nothing like his mother, thank God. "Yeah, I do," she said with a dirty laugh. "How did you know that I do like pillow talk? Only, can we limit our conversation to pleasantries and pillow talk? Once you start complimenting me, Dave, you go overboard. You go all sappy on me," she said. "Not deserving of your compliments, your compliments made me feel uncomfortable. You're adulation makes me feel bad instead of good." "I know and you're right Susan. Suddenly, something I never was, with you pushing all of my buttons, I'm needy. Obviously I need you more than you need me," he said revealing his private thoughts. "Pining the loss of my beloved Marine Corps as if it's one of my buddies that just died, I'm like one of those guys living at home with their mother. Sucking at her tit for too long, the Marine Corps was my whole life. I never thought I'd be like that but you make me like that. I hate to say this and if my buddies ever heard me say this, I'd never hear the end of it," he said looking at her with sad eyes for understanding. "Say what?" "You bring out the woman in me," he said squeezing her hand while cringing from uttering the words. "What? I bring out the woman in you?" She looked at him as if he told her that he didn't love her when he did love her. She gave him a look that told him that it was impossible for her to not only love him but also to love anyone. "What are you suddenly gay? Are you going gay on me Dave?" "Hardly," he said with a laugh. "It's just being with you Susan is different than being with the guys, an understatement," he said laughing while looking at her sitting across from her naked. "You make me feel things that I never felt before," he said with a laugh while cupping her big breast in his hand. "Literally," she said with a laugh while looking down at his hand fondling her breast and watching his fingers fingering her nipple. "You make me want to do things that I never wanted to do before. You made me realize how much of my life I lost fighting and training men to fight someone else's war, a war waged just for the sake of money. Money, money, money, the death and dismemberment of some of the best men I've ever known, trained, and some of the best buddies I ever had is for the sake of money," he said suddenly looking as sad as he appeared angry. "Now that they're done with me, now that I'm done with them rather, just as you're the shell of the woman you used to be, I'm the shell of the man I used to be." "What do you mean?" She asked the question but her look confessed that she already knew the answer. "You know what I mean Susan. We both suffer from Post Traumatic Stress but for different reasons," he said. "I really don't want to talk about that with you," she said. "You because you were raped and brutalized by your relatives and by the men in your life and me because I was shot at and wounded in a war that I was ordered to fight not for freedom, not for terrorism, but for money," he said ignoring her request that he not discuss that part of her life. "War is big money. Their call to arms, a call that few of them have even answered themselves, old, fat, Caucasian men wave the United States flag and get rich while the rest of us die for money that our families will never have." "I am kind of a basket case," she said ignoring his confession to make her own. "I'm sorry for having that kind of reaction when you told me you love me but it's automatic. I would have had less of a reaction had you slapped me across the face. Suddenly feeling suffocated, I was stunned, shocked, and surprised." "I get it. I do. I know what you mean. I have the same reaction when someone startles me or sneaks up on me. If I don't catch myself, I could really hurt someone, even kill them. Even though I love the Marines, I'm their creation. I'm their monster. They made me who I am today, a man who lives alone, is suspicious of everyone, and barely likes himself never mind anyone else," he said. "You just described me," she said with sadness. "And then you come along and I'm saying something that I've never said to anyone before," he said looking at her, "that I love you. I love you Susan Jill Parker," he said lifting her chin to look in her eyes. "I love you. I don't care if you don't want me to say it and/or if you don't love me but I can't help from feeling what I feel and what I feel for you is a deep love and affection that transgresses just having sex. If I wanted just sex I could pay to have sex with Simone, Lucy, and/or Carmen." "Don't," she said putting her fingers to his lips. "Please stop saying that you love me when we both know that you don't and when we both know that you just want to be in love with someone, anyone, to feel something other than death and pain." "You're wrong about that. Yeah, sure, I'm a desperate man filled with anger and hate but I do love you, I do." "Sorry Dave but I can't love you. I don't have it in me to love you. I don't have it in me to love anyone," she said falling sadly silent again. "Just in the way that you are, I'm dead inside." "Why? I don't understand? Why can't you love me?" "You don't understand? I don't understand how someone can love me when I don't love myself. Sometimes, most times, all the time, I hate myself. I go around thinking that I wish I was dead. My interior monologue is filled with negative dialogue instead of with positive thoughts," she said looking at him sitting there with his mouth gaping open. Bag Lady & the Retired Marine Ch. 09 "And you just described me," he said nodding his head and clenching his fist as if he wanted to punch someone or hit something. Having said all they needed to say, they fell silent with neither of them talking. "Can't we just forget about love, stop all of this talking, and just have sex?" She looked at him. "I'm still horny." He looked at her long and hard before responding. As if she was his ship, his one last chance of happiness in life, she was slowly drifting away from the dock and he only had one running jump to hop aboard, otherwise, he'd be adrift at sea in the way he's always been aimlessly floating by not confronting his emotions when having sex with a prostitute. "Sure. Yeah. Okay. I can do that," he said. "So long as we can still have pillow talk." "Pillow talk? You want pillow talk Dave? I can give you pillow talk," she said grabbing his cock and watching it grow hard in her hand. "Slam that big, hard prick in my warm, wet pussy Marine but, before you do, lick me. Lick my cunt Dave. Make me wet with your tongue and fingers. Feel my big tits and finger my nipples. Make me want you Dave. I need to cum. I need to cum with your cock inside my pussy before I take your big prick inside of my mouth and suck you, really suck you until you shoot another warm, oozy load of cum inside my mouth that splashes against the back of my throat." "Holy shit! With that mouth you have on you, you could have been a Marine," he said laughing. "Stop fucking talking Dave and lick my pussy while using one finger to rub my clit and your other finger to fuck my cunt bitch," she said grabbing him around the neck and pulling his head down to her crotch. "You're my bitch now." Never one to disobey a direct order, just as commanded, Dave fell in between Susan's legs and licked her pussy while rubbing her clit with one finger and finger fucking her with his other. He used his other hand to reach up and fondle her big tits while fingering her erect, hard nipples. "I love your blonde pussy Susan," he said coming up for air with his mouth still on her pussy. "I love licking you," he said licking and licking her while fingering her. He had her squirming all over the sofa cushions. He had her moaning. Then, when he felt her legs tighten, when she was obviously ready to cum, she stopped and pulled him up to her. "Fuck me now Dave. I'm wet enough. I'm really to be drilled, Sergeant," she said. Dave mounted her and limiting his talking to pillow talk, he had his cock doing all the talking for him instead of his mouth. "You're so warm. You're so wet. You're so tight," he said wiggling his ass while moving his cock deeper inside of her with every hump and every thrust. As if they were one, hump for hump and thrust for thrust, they were together now for however long. She returned his passion with her own fucking him as hard as he was fucking her. "Fuck me Dave," she said humping him. "Fuck me," she said holding him. "Slam that big, hard cock inside of me," she said wrapping her legs around his strong back. "Hump me Marine. Fuck me Dave, really fuck me. Make me cum. I need to cum," she said. Fucking him as hard as he was fucking her, she rolled him over. Now sitting on top of him while humping and fucking him, with her big tits bobbing, swaying, and dancing, Dave reached up to harness her big boobs before she hurt herself with them. "You're tits are so big," he said. "You breasts are so firm," he said. "I love your huge knockers Susan," he said pulling, turning, and twisting her nipples. "I'm going to cum. You're going to make me cum," she said leaning down to him. With her hair hanging down all over his face as if his head was hidden by the blonde camouflage of tall grass that grew as tall as wheat and that had been burned blonde by the hot kiss by the sun, she kissed him. Humping him while kissing him, she continued to be humped while humping him. They were fucking more than they were making love. Taking command of the situation in the way that he always did, it was Dave's turn to roll her over and fuck her, and he did. Now fucking her harder and faster, slamming his cock inside of her, he was fucking Susan with all the strength and energy he had. He wanted her to cum. He needed her to cum. Maybe if he could make her cum, she'd want him. Maybe if he could make her cum, she'd never want to be without him. Maybe if he could make her cum, she'd love him as much as he loves her. "I'm cumming Dave. Oh God, I'm cumming. Yeah, that's it baby. Right there. Don't stop. Hump me harder. Hump me faster. Fuck me Dave. Fuck me. Fuck me. Fuck me." Totally spent, they collapsed in one another's arms. They stayed like that for what seemed like forever and what seemed like an hour when it was only a few minutes. "That was amazing Susan," he said kissing her while fondling her breasts. "Shhh," she said. "Don't ruin the moment by talking." Her eyes were closed and she looked as if she was sleeping. "I'm going to take a shower," he said feeling rejected by her again. He gave her a long, wet kiss before getting up and disappearing in the bathroom. When he returned, she was gone. To be continued... Bag Lady & the Retired Marine Ch. 10 Tyrone loses his head after taking Susan against her will and stripping her naked. Susan left Dave's apartment and with her hand tucked deep in her pockets and her head down, she walked in the cold, crisp, morning air alone with her thoughts. Normally always aware of her surroundings and of all those who were around her, a true survivor, she was never a victim in the way that so many other women were walking alone at this hour. Only this time, her mind was too troubled with thoughts of Michael and with conflicts of love, to think that she could be a victim. Too focused on a love now that will never be and with her walking out on him, abandoning him, after he was straight forwardly confessed his love for her, she was as upset as she was confused. "I can't believe he told me he loved me. How can he love me, when he just met me?" She talked to herself while walking away from Dave. "He doesn't even know me. He's no different than all the other guys wanting me just for sex and willing to say anything for me to stay with them until they tire of me when they see the real me, too damaged beyond repair and too damaged to take the time to help save me." Coming up on the next corner, she turned one way and looked the other way. No knowing where she was going, he continued walking straight while talking to herself. "All he sees is blonde hair, blue eyes, and big tits. All he sees is my pretty face and shapely body. Too enamored by the outside package to dare delve within to see the monsters that have taken residence in my being, he doesn't love me. He can't love me. No one can love me because I don't even love myself. He just loves the idea of being in love with someone who looks like me." * * * * * It was still early in the morning but not too late for hookers to still be out hustling Johns who were looking for some early morning, sexual action before they went to work. Simone, an attractive, tall, black woman with a big, black ass, Lucy, a hot, Asian woman with breasts as limited as her intelligence, and Carmen, a short, shapely, big breasted, albeit angry, Hispanic woman, walked the street advertising what they had and what they'd do for money. As much as the late evening was, the early morning was their busy time too. It was always the in between hours that were dead, those hours when men thought they'd get lucky at the bar or at the club but didn't. Most times, a hooker was their last, albeit necessary resort to feel some sexual pleasure. It was either having sex with them or returning home to their fat, cold, bitchy wives. Simone, Lucy, and Carmen's pimp, Tyrone, pulled up in his brand new, black, shiny Cadillac Escalade to collect what was due him from the night before just as Susan left Dave's basement apartment. Stereotypical of a pimp from a '70's movie, resplendent with the fancy car and colorful clothes, he did a disservice to the streetwalkers who worked for him by appearing so clichéd and acting so immoral. With many of the streetwalkers being single mom's, at least the women of the night had sex for a good reason. They needed the money for food, for rent, and to survive another day. With his fingers dipped into prostitution, drugs, and a strip club that he owned downtown, he didn't need what little money these woman made while doing everything and anything that their Johns wanted and expected them to do. "Who that?" He nodded his head in the direction of Susan emerging from Dave's apartment. A high school English teacher would cringe at how Tyrone decimated the English language. Then again, a high school English teacher earned a fraction of what Tyrone made to speak a language that was universally understood by those around him. "Who?" Lucy, not the brightest bulb, looked at him without looking behind her. "That smokin' hot, blonde bitch, you dumb ass," said Tyrone nodding his head in her direction again. "For a white woman, she has a nice, tight ass," he said making a satisfied face as if he was already having sex with her. "I'd love to tap that ass," he said grabbing himself while looking at Lucy. "Oh her," said Lucy turning her head to acknowledge Susan. "If she's trying to wiggle her white ass in my neighborhood, you need to have a talk with her and set her straight by putting the fear of God in her before I do," said Tyrone with anger. "You dig?" "Nah, she's no probrem Ty," she said waving a hand of total disinterest. Unable to correctly say her own name in English, saying it as Rucy instead of Lucy, she used R's to pronounce L's. "She's not a working girl," said Lucy with a shrug of her shoulders after turning her attention back to Tyrone from watching Susan walking down the sidewalk. "Who is she?" "That's Dave's new squeeze. I don't know her name. We never met," she said making a sour face of jealousy when looking back at Tyrone. She shook her head side to side as if she needed the extra head movement to convince Tyrone that she never met the woman. As if trying to dissuade his attention to Susan for him to give his attention to her, she reached in his SUV for his hand but he pulled his hand away. "Oh yeah?" He gave Susan's backside a low whistle. "I wonder if she needs a job. I wonder if she needs my protective services. I wonder if she likes sucking black cock," he said with a low laugh. "I could use a tall, busty, beautiful blonde to add to my stable of women," he said giving a smirk to Lucy. "I could use someone who'd add some class to the lowlifes who work for me now." "Fuck you Tyrone," said Carmen pointing her index finger at him as if she was stabbing him in the heart with a knife. "Go and fuck yourself," she said giving him the finger. "Watch your mouth Carmen or you'll be eating your food through a straw," he said laughing at her short fuse. "We saw her through Dave's window last night," said Simone. "They were both naked. Obviously, they just had sex or were about to have sex." "What you doin' hangin' around him for? I told you not to hang 'round him no more," he said banging his fist on his steering wheel. "After he disrespected me," said Tyrone and punctuating his point with his finger at her as if marking her with his urine so as to leave his scent to tell everyone that he owns her black ass. "I don't want his bus'ness no more. You dig?" "You mean after he beat your black ass for you beating us?" Carmen laughed. "Is that what you meant to say...bitch?" "I'm warnin' you Carmen. Watch your mouth girl. I can still give you a beatin'," said Tyrone giving her the evil eye. "You'll be sorry if you make me get out of my car." "I swear to God," said Carmen raising her voice with her right hand as if in court ready to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so help her God. "If you lay a hand on me," said Carmen stepping back from his Escalade and reaching down to remove her high heels, in case she had to run, no doubt fearing that his two bodyguards would chase after her, grab her, and beat her, "I'll tell Dave." "It don't matter if you rat me to that over the hill Marine, Carmen. I have protection now and we're all packin'," he said opening his jacket to show her the butt end of his gun while pointing to the two big, black men that filled his backseat. "Unless he's Superman, they're ain't no man who can stand up to three men with guns," said Tyrone with as much pent up anger as she had. "Ha! It don't matter what heat packing thugs you have with you Tyrone, you'd better not mess with Dave. Speaking of Superman, much like tugging on Superman's cape, spitting in the wind, or pulling the mask off the old, Lone Ranger, you don't mess around with...Dave." "You don't know nothin', you dumb ass whore," said Tyrone. "I know, just like me, Dave's from Detroit and he's a Marine and all Marines, worse than any punk ass, gang banger act as if they're all born in Detroit or from the south side of Chicago," she said standing her ground while talking her jive and punctuating each line with her manicured index finger. "Superman? Lone Ranger? Are you high on crack? What you talkin' 'bout? You need to go suck someone's cock before I beat your muddy ass for not earning me enough money," he said. "Those motherfucking Marines ain't afraid of nothin' and they certainly would never fear the likes of you," she said. "If you beat him with your fist, he'll come back at you with a knife, and if you beat him with a knife, he'll come back at you with a gun, and if you beat him with a gun--" "Yeah, yeah, blah, blah, whatever. Save your breath for suckin' cock Carmen. Maybe your mud colored ass needs to go back to Detroit," he said laughing and making the two men behind him laugh. "If you miss Detroit so much, I can put you on a bus home with a couple of black eyes and a few broken bones. Besides, I'm done with him. Next time I see him, I'll be peeing on his grave." "It was slow last night," said Simone, "and we thought Dave would want to pay to play. He's always up for some late night action. The man's a night owl. He never sleeps. Only, we didn't know he was entertaining her," said Simone watching Susan continue to slowly walk away. "His money ain't no good with my whores no more. You dig? Now go home and go to bed. There's a big party downtown at the convention center tonight. I need you looking rested and all virginal like," he said laughing. As if they were three peacocks in the way they were colorful dressed and adorned with extra makeup and big hair to attract men, he watched them in his rear view mirror walk in one direction as he slowly drove in the other direction with an eye glued to Susan's round, tight ass through his windshield. He slowed his Escalade to a crawl while watching Susan wiggling her ass down the street. Finally, close enough not to notice but close enough to strike in the way of a snake in the grass, he stopped his SUV when he neared her. "Go fetch and stick her ass in the backseat," he said to his two associates who sat in the backseat. As soon as they jump out of the car and grabbed Susan, he drove up for them to pull her inside, just as Carmen heard Susan's screams and turned to watch them taking her. "Hey! What the fuck! Let me go! Let go of me you cocksuckers. You don't know who you're dealing with," she said pulling and kicking. "I'll kick your ass. Take your fucking hands off of me. I'll kill you. I swear, I'll kill you." "Look," said Carmen when she turned from hearing Susan's screams. "Tyrone just took that lady." "What lady?" Always so oblivious to things that didn't concern her, Lucy was more concerned with her hair than with Susan being taken by Tyrone. "Dave's woman," said Carmen. Lucy turned to see Tyrone's men getting in the car with Susan and closing the door as the big SUV sped away. "Oh, my God," said Simone literally running away down the street. "There's gonna be trouble." * * * * * His usually thing to do when happy, Dave sang in the shower while thinking about the two orgasms he had just given Susan, one with his mouth and a second one with his cock. He wondered if his sexual passion for her had changed her mind about her being his steady girlfriend and moving in with him. Not much of a singer and unable to carry a tune, after one too many, near miss explosions damaged his hearing and sounding much like Arnold singing Yaketty Yak on the airplane in Twins, he caterwauled totally out of tune the only song he knew, The Marine Corps Hymn. "From the Halls of Montezuma To the Shores of Tripoli; We fight our country's battles In the air, on land and sea; First to fight for right and freedom And to keep our honor clean; We are proud to claim the title of United States Marine. Our flag's unfurled to every breeze From dawn to setting sun; We have fought in ev'ry clime and place Where we could take a gun; In the snow of far-off Northern lands And in sunny tropic scenes; You will find us always on the job-- The United States Marines. Here's health to you and to our Corps Which we are proud to serve In many a strife we've fought for life And never lost our nerve; If the Army and the Navy Ever look on Heaven's scenes; They will find the streets are guarded By United States Marines." Once out of his three minute shower, he called out to Susan from behind his closed, bathroom door. "I thought we'd do something today after breakfast," he said while drying himself with his towel. "We can have breakfast at the diner or go somewhere else. It's up to you, but the diner makes the best breakfast. I love their sausages when Pete burns them to a crisp. After that, I'm going to take you shopping. First we need to buy a mattress and then I'm going to take you to the mall for some new clothes, the works, shoes, pants, tops, sweaters, jacket, coat, hat, scarf, and gloves. Hey, what's your favorite color? I bet it's blue. You look good in blue," he said. When she didn't answer him, he stuck his head out the bathroom door. "Susan?" * * * * * Dave bolted out of the bathroom and slipped on his clothes as if there was a siren sounding a terrorist attack on his Marine Corps barracks. Running up to the sidewalk and looking in one direction and then the other, there was no one outside at that early morning hour except for Simone, Lucy, and Carmen about to round the corner. In a mad dash, he ran down to them. "Hey," he said immediately catching up to them. "Did you see Susan?" "Susan? Who's Susan?" Lucy looked at him as if she didn't know who he was talking about, even though she did. "Susan, the woman I was with last night and the reason why I didn't answer you calling me," he said with a laugh. "No, I didn't see her," said Lucy lying. "Tyrone took her Dave," said Carmen shooting Lucy a look before looking at Dave with concern. "He has two goons working for him now and they're all packing heat. They grabbed her and pulled her inside his SUV. Knowing you'd go after her, he'll kill you, Dave, for what you did to him." "Where does he live?" Dave looked at Carmen with the focused, scary stare he looked at a prisoner of war while trying to get information and/or a confession just with his bugged out eyes instead of with his fists. Carmen looked from Lucy to Simone. "We don't want no trouble Dave," said Lucy. "He'll beat the crap out of us again Dave, if you cause him anymore trouble," said Simone. "I can't take another beating Dave. He really hurt me the last time." "You didn't say that to me when I was beating the crap out of your pimp for beating you," said Dave with anger. "Tell me. Where does he live?" "He lives the next block over. He has a place over the strip club," said Simon. "He conducts all of his business there. He picked that place because of the big bay windows. He can see the entire street both ways from his desk," she said. "He'll see you coming from a mile away," she said. "Thanks for the intel," he said going back in his apartment to get some gear. "You be careful Dave," said Carmen. "Don't worry about me," he said. "Best you three lay low for a while," he said. "Ray row? We can't. We're working girls," said Lucy with attitude. She was sometimes difficult to understand when pronouncing her L's as R's. "Besides, we have a party to attend tonight at the convention center for Tyrone." "Not anymore you don't," said Dave with venom. "As of now, Tyrone is out of business for good." Dave stepped inside his apartment, grabbed his gun, and made a call on his cell phone. "I need you," he said to the person on the other end. "I got your back Dave," said the man on the other end. "What do you need?" "I need to go Jihad on a dude who took my woman. Get Big Louie and meet me at my place at zero seven hundred hours," he said. * * * * * "Let go of me. Let me go, you fucking bastards," yelled Susan kicking at Tyrone and throwing punches at the two men. Ready to take on all three in the way she did in the back alley, Tyrone knocked her to the carpet with a hard backhand before giving her a kick in her already still sore ribs. "Undress her. Strip her naked," said Tyron. "Let's see what she looks like without her clothes. Either she'll work for me downstairs as a stripper or she'll work for me on her back as my whore. Either way with that face and that body, she's a real moneymaker." Kicking and punching, Susan was no match for the two oversized men. His two men removed her blouse and shoes before pulling down her pants. Now dressed in just her bra and panty, not even bothering unhooking her bra, they tugged her bra over her head and off before stripping her of her panties. Naked within just a minute, they stood her up and tied her hands behind a pole that was conspicuously mounted in the living room. "Well, well, well," said Tyrone grabbing a handful of Susan's breast and pulling out her nipple to erection before reaching down between her legs to cup her pussy. "Don't touch me, you pig," she said struggling against her ties. When she recoiled from his touch and resisted his groping, without lubricating her, he forced his finger deep inside of her. "Unlike my other whores, you're nice and tight honey. You're too good to work downstairs stripping for bunch of drunken perverts. Branching out, you're going to be my star, my first call girl. I'll arrange for you to service only my very best customers," he said. "Fuck you. I'd kill you before I ever worked for you," she said. "We'll see," he said running his finger over her bruise where he slapped her. "I'll get you some ice from downstairs. Tell me, do you suck cock? Sure you do. I bet you do. I bet you're an excellent cocksucker," he said running an index finger across her lips. "We'll just see how good of a cocksucker you are after you suck my cock. "Fuck you," she said spitting in his face. "We'll see if you're still ungrateful for my help, after I take care of your boyfriend," said Tyrone whipping the spit from his face. * * * * * Precisely at zero seven hundred hours, an army green Hummer pulled up to Dave's apartment. Dressed in military fatigues, Mike, Dave's war buddy, another gunnery sergeant with CIA contacts, exited the vehicle for Dave to drive. Mike climbed in back with Big Louie, a third gunnery sergeant now working for a mercenary contractor. The three men synchronized their watches. As if driving in a convoy in readiness for a mission, albeit a one vehicle convoy, Dave slowly drove the Hummer to Tyrone's place. With the Hummer driving a slow blockage, the two men in back exited the vehicle while it was still moving and from the left side, out of view of Tyrone's big, bay windows that overlooked the street. Mike ran around back while, big Louie, climbed the fire escape to the roof, and Dave parked the vehicle on the sidewalk beneath the bay windows that jutted out and blocked Tyrone's view from seeing him parked there and seeing him enter from the front. A routine Seal Six team, stealth assault from the front, the back, and the roof, all three men were inside Tyrone's place at the same time and before he and his two men could react. They had the drop on them. Being that Tyrone owned the strip club downstairs and would routinely have women who wanted to be a stripper show him what they had before hiring them, Susan was already stripped naked and tied to a stripper's pole that he had in his living room. Entering the apartment together as if they were SWAT and this was a drug raid, they came in fast and hard. "Show me your hands! Show me your hands! Get down! Get down on the floor! Now," said Mike in his big, booming voice. "Don't fucking move or you're dead!" Sprawled out on the floor, right where Dave wanted him to be, with Tyrone frozen in place and with his hands held over his head, Dave and his buddy held their guns to the two bodyguard's heads. "It's your choice," said Dave. "I don't really care which. I'm just here to make your wish come true," he said. "Do you want to live or die?" Bag Lady & the Retired Marine Ch. 10 One man looked to the other before answering. "We want to live," he said. "We don't want to die, not for him." "Then, get up, empty your pockets of everything on the coffee table, money, keys, guns, and phones. After we're gone, they'll be here for you to collect when you return." Dave allowed the two men to walk out the front door unharmed. From the big bay windows, he watched them walk down the street and fall in the diner before he pulled out his cell phone. "Pete. Dave. Listen. Keep an eye on the two, big, black men who just walked in your diner and call me if they leave." "Okay Dave," said Pete. "What are you going to do to me?" Tyrone looked from Dave to his buddy with a smirk. "I'm not going to do anything to you. Should you prematurely be found, I don't want to leave a mark on you as evidence for the coroner," he said with dryness and as if he had done this many times before. "Now just as I told your associates, empty your pockets and put everything out in front of you, keys, wallet, guns. Then, remove your jewelry, watch, chain, and rings." Mike picked up everything that Tyrone put out as Dave went through his wallet and removed the his license and registration. "Do you have any identifying marks on you Tyrone, birthmarks or tattoos?" "Coroner? Identifying birthmarks? You jive mo'fucker, hold on, now. Give me a chance to--" "Chance? You want me to give you another chance for you to kill me and for you to rape Susan?" Dave shook his head no while holstering his gun. "You had your chance. I never give anyone a second chance and I already gave you a warning by beating you instead of killing you," said Dave. "Especially after what you did to my woman, I'm done with your black ass," he said walking to Susan and pulling the gag from her mouth. "Did they hurt you Susan?" "No," she said. "Answer the question," said Mike. Do you have any identifying birthmarks or tattoos?" "No. I don't have anything like that," said Tyrone. Dave touched the red mark on Susan's cheek and turned to look at Tyrone before looking back at her. "Did he do this to you?" "Yes," she said. "Did they..." "No," she said grabbing her clothes and quickly dressing when Dave untied her. "We just got here," she said not telling Dave that Tyrone finger fucked her. "I'm going to take you back to my place, unless you want me to take you somewhere else," he said looking at her with questioning eyes. "My men will take care of Tyrone for me." "After giving it a lot of thought, your place is where I want to be," she said getting dressed. "Hey! What about me?" Tyrone watched Dave leaving with Susan. "What about you?" Dave gave him a hard stare. "I'm leaving you in capable hands, besides, you no longer exist. You're a dead man," he said laughing. "By the way, Tyrone, I don't know if Carmen told you but I'm originally from Detroit. Carmen and I went to grade school together," he said with a laugh as a big man stepped in the room and made his presence known to Tyrone from behind him. "You are one, big, ugly, mo'fucker, white man," said Tyrone. "Alright, alright, you got me Dave. You got my attention. Let's just call this a mistake of poor judgment on my part. You dig? I'm sorry. I apologize. I'm sorry for hitting you miss and having my men strip you naked. I'm sorry for sticking my finger inside of you. I'm sorry, really I am. Let's call this a truce and let bygones be bygones. What do you say? Let's shake on it," said Tyrone lifting his head and offering Dave his hand. "You stuck your dirty finger inside of my woman?" "I'm sorry. I promise it won't happen again," said Tyrone. "You must be as stupid as I thought you were for dare messing with Susan. I don't take kindly to another man taking my woman and you went beyond the truce and let bygone be bygones part when you stripped her naked, hit her, and stuck your finger inside of her," said Dave looking at and nodding to Big Louie standing over him. "Yeah, well, you know what? I'd do it again. I'd fuck your girlfriend up her ass before sticking my shit covered cock in her mouth. You dig mo'fucker?" "Here's his wallet, license, registration, and car keys," said Dave picking the keys off the coffee table where Mike had put them. "He has the black Escalade parked out front. Put it on a ship to North Africa. He won't be needing a Cadillac where he's going. You and Big Louie split the proceeds as my payment for today." "Thanks Dave," said Mike. "Thanks Dave," said Big Louie. "Fuck you," said Tyrone. "Tyrone, allow me to introduce you to big Louie," said Dave as if introducing the Bear Jew in the baseball bat scene of Inglorious Basterds. "We've been through some shit together. Hell and back," said Dave looking and nodding his head from Big Louie to Mike before looking back to Tyrone. "There isn't anything that we wouldn't do for our buddy, even taking a bullet and we've already done that. Yet, it's unfortunate for you that we survived half a dozen wars to be here to deal with the likes of your sorry ass now." Tyrone turned to look up behind him at big Louie who was wider and taller than his doorway. As if to shake his hand but instead as if breaking a stack of board placed on cinder blocks, Big Louie leaned down to tap Tyrone's temple with the knuckle of his index finger. Tyrone was out cold as if he was hit to the back of the head with a baseball bat. Dave's buddies wrapped the floor with plastic, laid out Tyrone and with the swift, one stroke cut of a Samurai, Big Louie removed Tyrone's head, legs, and hands with a machete. His head went in one plastic bag, his legs in another, his hands in another, and the rest of him in a fourth. Just taking out the trash, they dumped the remains of him in four different dumpsters. To be continued... Bag Lady & the Retired Marine Ch. 11 Agreeing to move in with him, Dave and Susan become a couple. Dave and Susan climbed in the Hummer, drove to his apartment, and parked the big truck in front of his door. He knew his buddy would be by to collect his truck soon, after making arrangements to sell Tyrone's new Cadillac Escalade to the international contacts they had and load the luxury SUV on a container ship headed to North Africa. No matter what they were selling there were buyers everywhere to buy anything and they knew where to look to find them. "Are you okay?" He asked her finally when they pulled up in front of his apartment after driving there in silence not talking about what just happened. "Am I okay?" She looked as if waiting for him to ask that loaded question. She looked at him as if taking aim with a gun. If looks could kill, he'd be dead. "Susan, I just asked you one lousy question. I didn't attack you in the way you're about to attack me," he said wanting to slap her as much as he wanted to kiss her. Maybe because he found her tied to a strippers' pole naked but he was already sexually aroused that five men saw her naked. "You're really a piece of work Dave. Maybe because your entire life had been war and death, violence doesn't affect you in the way that it affects others," said Susan shaking her head while staring at him. "Based on how you go through life numbly after killing someone, apparently you don't know how you're supposed to feel. So, you tell me. How do you think I am?" "What?" He truly didn't hear what she had just said. He stopped listening to her when she started yelling at him. With both afflicted with Post Traumatic Stress Syndrome and each one handling their emotional condition differently, she was filled with rage. He just had to scratch the surface with her for her hair to stand up on her back. Perfect for one another as both of them played that troubled game, as soon as she raised her voice to him, he tuned her out. "I don't understand why you're so angry Susan." In the way that Tyrone and his two men had stripped her naked, he wanted to strip her naked and fuck her. He wanted to dominate her and control her so that she'd just shut the Hell up. He wanted to show her that he was the boss man and she was the lowly woman. "You don't understand why I'm so angry?" She stared at him without talking. "After being kidnapped, stripped naked, and slapped around by three men, do you really think that I'd be okay?" As if thinking about all that happened, she paused and he wondered if she was as sexually aroused being stripped naked as he was sexually excited seeing her tied to the stripper's pole naked. "Tyrone stuck his finger inside of me while touching me and feeling me everywhere." She looked at him with anger. Dave put his head down as if he was supposed to feel more than what he felt. Certainly, he felt glad that Susan was safe and sound but, as if she was blaming him for her putting herself in danger, he didn't understand why she was so angry about now. She was the one who had walked out on him. The only thing he felt now was anger anger giving his men the order to behead Tyrone. The only thing he felt was vengeance when he knew that Tyrone was dead and the proceeds of his sold truck would go as payment to his buddies for helping him. The only other thing that he felt was sexual excitement by the thought of Susan tied to the pole and standing there naked in front of three black men and his two friends, Mike and Big Louie. Proud that she was his woman, at least he hoped she was, Mike and Big Louie must have been besides themselves with lust when seeing Susan's hot, naked body and giant sized breasts. An unspoken code between them, knowing they'd never speak of it to say, he wondered what Mike and Big Louie thought of Susan's hot body. He knew they saw her. He knew they were looking. Having entered the room after Mike, Big Louie may not have seen as much of Susan as the other four men had. He now had second thoughts about allowing the other two men to go free after stripping Susan naked and touching her everywhere they shouldn't have felt her. Who knows, maybe he turned their lives around? Maybe after putting the fear of God in them, they'd take that as a second chance to give up drugs, prostitution, and violence. Able to easily disarm them, those two weren't cut out for that line of work. "I'm sorry that Tyrone sexually assaulted you but, if it means anything to you at all, I can promise you that he'll never touch you again," he said gripping the steering wheel as if he was gripping Tyrone's neck. Outraged that he had fingered his woman, he should have had Big Louie cut off his fingers before cutting off his head. In the way that some of his men have been tortured and killed by the Taliban, a slow death would have more befitted Tyrone for what he's done to women and how he treated and disrespected his childhood friend, Carmen from Detroit. Tyrone was lucky he hadn't had the time to force Susan to blow him. Then, instead of showing him mercy by having Big Louie make just one, quick cut, loping off pieces at a time, he would have made him feel real pain before he died. "You don't have a clue how I feel to ask me that question. You should know how I feel," she said no longer looking at him and sitting angrily quiet for a moment. "I thought they were going to rape me and gangbang me before killing me," she said softly as if talking to herself with her eyes welling up with tears. "I thought I'd never see you again," she said pausing to look at him before finishing the last of what she said in a whisper. "I thought I'd never get to tell you how I feel about you." He was stunned by her admission that she had feeling for him. Acting as if she hated him and wanted to kill him, to hear her confess that she had feelings for him was something he's been waiting to hear. "You have feeling for me?" He looked at her still feeling hurt, angry, and rejected that she walked out on him after telling her that he loved her. "How do you feel about me?" He looked at her waiting for her to respond and continued talking when she didn't. "Now that I've already told you how I feel about you and you didn't tell me now how you feel about me," he said looking at her with love while waiting for her to answer him. When she didn't answer him, he asked his question again. "How do you feel about me?" He wanted to reach out and hold her but, too far of a divide to cross, the wide center console of the Hummer was in the way of him putting his arm around her and having an intimate moment with her. Maybe if they were standing outside of the truck, he would have hugged her but in the horny way that he felt right now, she would have taken offense when he reached down to cup her sweet ass with one hand while feeling her big breast with his other. Instead he just reached out to pat and squeeze her shoulder before rubbing her left ear with his right hand as if she was a dog. Not knowing what else to do, Dave wasn't very good at intimate moments, especially when fully dressed. Apparently not much better than he was at showing her feelings, better at showing her anger, she seemed tensely uncomfortable with the conversation and with him putting her on the spot. As if he was a pesky mosquito, she voiced her obvious frustration to communicate by swatting his hand away from her ear. "Stop that," she said brushing his hand away. "I'm not your dog," she gave him a laugh. "Gees, Dave, for someone who knows how to handle himself in every situation, you're at a loss when it comes to women." Kettle black he wanted to say. She should talk because in the way she was acting now, other than fighting them, hitting them, kicking them, and punching them, she was at a loss when it came to handling men too. They were both so much alike in that regard. Both would rather be physical than emotional. Both would rather hit than talk. "Sorry," he said looking at her. "So how are you? You never told me how you are," He persisted in wanting to know her feelings but changed the subject when she didn't volunteer to tell him how she felt about him or about herself. "I don't have a clue how you are other than that you're angry at me and I don't know why," he said throwing up his hands as if he was surrendering, something he's unaccustomed to doing. He wondered if she loved him as much as he loved her. He wondered if this was the beginning of something good and everlasting. Just as he thought that, he panicked that his life would change with her in it for good. Then, he thought, what if she didn't want him. What if this was the end and the last time seeing her. "How do you think I am after five strange men saw me naked," she said playing with the bottom of her blouse. "Oh, that, yeah, well, you'll never see Tyrone's associates again and the only time you'll see my friends again is at their fourth of July barbeque," he said with a dirty, little laugh. He imagined her drunk and topless at one of his friend's pool parties, only she didn't drink. She didn't even smoke. And after her reaction now about being naked in front of five strange men, there's no way she'd be topless at one of his friend's drunken, pool parties. "Great. I won't bother wearing any clothes so that they'll recognize me. They won't have to go to the trouble of undressing me with their eyes," she said. He could only imagine her walking in his friend's backyard naked. He could only imagine the reaction of his friends and the outrage of their wives and girlfriends. He'd loved nothing better than to show off her hot body to the guys. "My friends aren't like that Susan. Guys who'd give their life for you have more respect for you than to hit on your woman," he said, at least liking to think that but knowing better. All of his friends were horny dogs. Glad to be alive when they returned home and not knowing if they'd survive their next mission, once they were drunk, whether they were wives, girlfriends, mothers, daughters, and/or sisters, all women were fair game and most women gave them what they wanted. "These are my best buddies from combat and there are lines that we never cross, especially when it comes to wives and girlfriends." When he said your woman, he thought of her as being his woman. Waiting for her to say differently, he waited for her to react to him referring to her as his woman but she didn't. Maybe she liked him calling her his woman as much as he liked the idea of her being his woman. Now that he's with her again, he'd like to have her as a permanent fixture in his life, that is, so long as she took anger management classes or therapy for her Post Traumatic Stress. "If you're waiting for me to say thank you, thank you," she said turning her head to make eye contact with him. "I'm alive and in one piece thanks to you and your friends," she said. "I don't know what they would have done to me had you not appeared." Alive in one piece was more than he could say for Tyrone thought Dave when thinking about Tyrone's body in three construction bags and tossed in three, different dumpsters. No doubt, never to be found again, he'd soon be on a barge to be dumped at sea or on his way to be part of a landfill. "I'm glad you're okay. I don't know what I'd do if they..." he said not finishing the thought. "I need a drink," she said shaking her head. "I'm sorry about not coming to your rescue sooner before Tyrone stripped you naked and," he paused with the thought of Tyrone fingering Susan. "It took me some time to get a team together." "A team? Weighing your options as if you're a tactical planner for the Pentagon, everything is military strategy with you." "Weighing my options is what I've been trained to do Susan. Most times able to remove my emotions from the equation, the men who aren't able to stay calm die, he said. "Doing the job that I was trained to do, I'm alive because I don't get angry. I just get even." "You don't know what it's like to be taken like that and to be so abused," she said wrapping her arms around herself as if she as cold. "Never so scared, I felt so helpless Dave." Not knowing how else to comfort her, he confessed how he felt in a similar situation. "Trust me Susan, I know what it's like to feel helpless. Having been held prisoner myself before, I know how you feel. You said that I don't know how you feel but for me to sense you were in danger, I must have had a clue to how you felt. Coming to your rescue yet again, I saved your ass again didn't I?" He looked at her with hurt. "After you ran out on me without even leaving me a note and without even acknowledging me telling you that I love you, I could have let you go but I had a feeling you needed my help." Dave fell silent while looking out the window of the hummer. Being in a hummer again, he had flashbacks of riding around in an armored vehicle in Iraq and Afghanistan. Ready to kill anyone who made a threatening move, even though he was honorably retired from the United States Marine Corps, nothing in how he felt about being ready for danger changed in him. Never letting his guard down, he was aware of every person and every car on the street. "Being with you is like living with a superhero," she said with seriousness. "Sometimes in the way I always seem to put myself in danger, you make me feel as dumb as Lois Lane. You're bigger than life Dave, the big, bad, retired Marine who took on the world and lived to tell about it. Glad that you donned your superhero uniform again to save me, you need to stop this avenger kick that you're on because you're not 30-years-old anymore. Besides, even though you still have the body to wear tights, I can't see you wearing a cape," she said with a laugh. "I know and you're right but I did it for you," he said looking at her with love. "Now that you're safe and Tyrone is no longer a problem, let's go home. You can have a drink and collect yourself," he said. "We can discuss our future together, if there is to be one." "Home?" She looked at him. "You mean here, your place and not the shelter where I've been living. Is this my home now? Is your home my home?" "Yes, my place, that is, until you can make other arrangement or until we can find a bigger place to make it your own," he said looking over at her and taking his hand in his as if he was about to propose. "Move in with me Susan. Live with me. I know you may not feel the same way that I already confessed how I feel about you, but let's give this a try and see what happens. Maybe you'll love me in time." "Being that I'm homeless, unemployed, and poor, you give a girl without options an attractive offer with a place to live, food to eat, and spending endless hours shopping for furniture and a bed," she said looking at him. "You are going to buy a bed and put that ugly, too small, lumpy, Marine Corps barracks cot in storage. Right?" He looked at her and smiled already knowing her answer that she was going to live with him. Two peas in a pod, she was just as unable to reveal her real feelings as he was unable to show how he truly felt about her without first being in bed with her naked. "Yes, even though the only beds I've slept in are that lumpy, Marine Corps' barracks cots and the bedbug, infested beds found at cheap motels, I will buy us a bed," he said smiling at her. "Okay?" "Good. It's been a long while since I've slept in my own bed and I just don't want any bed. I want one of those memory foam beds that they advertise on TV. I want a king size bed. It would be good to finally spread out in a big bed instead of having to sleep on my side as if I'm a prisoner in a prison cell," she said. "Make a list and we'll go shopping tomorrow." "Tomorrow? No, I want and I need to go shopping today. After all that's happened to me, I have a lot on my mind and shopping always makes me feel better, especially when I'm spending someone else's money." She laughed while looking at him with curiosity. "You do have money to afford to buy a bed and furniture. Right?" "I served overseas," he said with a proudly satisfied smile. "I was a career Marine. More than that, in the way of Rambo, I was the go to guy the colonel called to create the team needed to clean up the mess that the generals' made. The first one in and the last one out, money has never been an issue for me," he said with a little grin, "especially after being one of the first ones allowed in Iraq." "It must have been so awful for you to have served over there. I can only imagine the bugs," she said. Much bigger than tarantulas, he closed his eyes while allowing the memory of huge camel spiders to fill his mind. "There were so many worthless dinars laying around that I could have paved the street with them. We found 16 billion dollars in American money too, cash, stacked neatly and wrapped in plastic as if just received from the world's biggest drug deal. It's funny that Saddam didn't trust his own economy enough to buy dinars instead of dollars. I still don't know why he just didn't take his treasure troves of American money and leave his country. A dozen third world countries would have welcomed him and his money with open arms." "Iraq? After all of those air raids, that place was nothing more than a bombed out shithole. From the news photos they showed on TV, there was nothing left of it." "Along with members of Saddam's personal Republican Guard and his loyal and most trusted men, you have no idea how many United States officers and enlisted men enriched themselves after raiding Saddam Hussein's palaces. They were grabbing money by the millions of dollars. Not wanting to be the one to rat, everyone turned a blind eye. Saddam had billions of dollars lying around in cash, stashed here and hidden there behind walls. Everywhere we looked, we found stashes and caches of money," he said. "Only sixteen billion dollars of that was found and most of that went missing. Easy to find the money, the trick is to get the money out of the country and home without being detected and having the money confiscated." "How in the Hell do you do that when you're surrounded by other Marines and answering to a commanding officer?" "You really don't want to know," he said with a smug laugh. "Yet, so long as you had the contacts that I had, the easiest way out was to remove your uniform, cross the border into Jordan, and make your way to North Africa, but you needed inside help and plenty of cash to grease hands along the way to do that. Instead, most guys just wanted to go home rich. I was the guy they came to for that too. With all the people that I knew and contacts that I had, for a percentage, I was the man who could make that happen. What they did to launder that money after it was in country was their problem and not mine." "I don't think I want to know anything more other than that we have enough money to buy what we need," she said falling silent to study him. "Do you have enough money to buy me a car?" "A car? Of course I'll buy you a car. What kind and what color?" He laughed while looking at her big tits and long legs. "You'd look good in a red, Mustang Cobra convertible." She looked at him as if analyzing him. "Somehow I get the feeling that none of this bothers you. It's just another Special Op's Mission to you. You must miss living on the edge to get down and dirty with some of the miscreants who live around here and who control this neighborhood with guns, drugs, and fear." "After all that I survived in Iraq, Afghanistan, and every other God forsaken country I've been, nothing can fluster me, especially after spending two years in North Africa, the shithole of the world, where a 9-year-old would fill you with holes from a Kalashnikov rather than look at you. What happens here is child's play in comparison." As soon as Dave unlocked his door and allowed Susan inside, unable to control his lust for her, he grabbed her by her long blonde hair and spun her around. As if he was Tyrone stripping her naked and as if she wanted him to strip her naked, she allowed him to rip open her blouse, pull her bra off over her head without even unhooking, it, pull down her short skirt without unbuttoning and/or unzipping it. With just four pieces of clothes removed, she was naked. He carried her to his bunk, spread her legs and licked and fingered her until she screamed out an orgasm and begged for him to stop. Bag Lady & the Retired Marine Ch. 11 He wanted to fuck her but she was more intent on sucking him. She fell between his legs, unbuckled, unbuttoned, and unzipped him. She stopped and laughed when she saw what he was wearing. "Are those Marine Corps issue boxers?" "What? I was on a mission. This is what I wear beneath my fatigues," he said sharing her laugh. "At ease Marine," she said. "No, on second thought, it's best that you stay at attention," she said impaling her mouth with his cock. She sucked him and stroked him until he ejaculated the love and sexual passion he had for her in her mouth. Leaving him wanting more, she abandoned him for her shopping excursion. After getting cleaned up, as if they were already a couple and they were, they went shopping for furniture, a mattress, and a car for Susan. "I was thinking about the kind of car that I'd like to drive," she said looking at him. "And what did you decide?" "The Mustang is too attention getting and I already get enough of that with my blonde hair and big tits." "So long as it has a powerful engine, good brakes, and a manual transmission, I've always gone for the understated myself, which is why I drive the shit box that I drive," he said with a laugh. "I was thinking about a Volkswagen, a GTI, a two door with leather. I always liked those cars." "Okay. That's a fun little car to drive. A GTI it is." * * * * * Marquis and Anthony sat in their car waiting for Carmen to finish her business with her customer before Anthony climbed out to grab her as soon as she emerged from the doorway and walked away from their car. They knew where she was, what she's been doing, and where she was going. They've been following her for days. Waiting for her to emerge, Anthony got out of the car and, before Carmen spotted them and had the chance to remove her high heels to run. He grabbed her, pitched her in the backseat, and closed the door as Marquis drove away. To be continued... Bag Lady & the Retired Marine Ch. 12 The first annual Lara Logan party with Simone, Lucy, and Carmen as the main attraction. Marquis and Anthony sat in their car waiting for Carmen to finish her business with her customer. "Where that stupid bitch at," said Marquis. "If she spotted us and ran out the back way, I'll be pissed. Maybe you should go around the alley so that she don't duck out on us Anthony." Just about to open his car door and get out of the car, he saw the front door open and Carmen emerge counting her money on the stoop before depositing the wad of cash in her pocketbook. A street hustler, she knows better than to count her money in public but in the mood she was in, she'd dare anyone try and fuck with her or steal her hard earned money. Tired and fucked over by having sex with men she'd rather not even say hello to on the street corner, prostitution was the only way she knew how to support herself and her three children. Married to her handsome, perfect husband, she had a good life and was a good wife with a job that had benefits, until the recession hit her hard and she was let go from her job. In just a matter of a few months, her life went from good to bad to worse. She was saving to buy a house in the suburbs, that is, until her husband ran off with a woman he met at work. Leaving her to fend for herself and three, small children, he took their life savings with him. Desperate for money, she never would have considered becoming a prostitute had she not run into Simone after having not seen her in years. * * * * * "How you doin' Carmen? Long time no see," said Simone smiling and pointing out with her manicured finger as if she was using her fingertip to place her punctuation after her sentences. "Did you buy that dream house?" Again she punctuated her sentence with her fingertip. Carmen looked sad at the mere mention of her dream house and her husband running off with some slut from work. "My man ran off with another woman and took my all my down payment money," she said. "Now with me not working, living on my unemployment and unable to find a job, I'll never earn enough money for a house. I'll be lucky to keep my apartment. I'm already behind on my rent." "Bastard! Why would any man leave someone who looks as good as you do?" Simone looked at Carmen as if she was looking to buy a new car. "You know, my man is looking for another woman," she said. "Your man?" "My pimp," said Simone with a short smile. "You're a prostitute?" "When you say it like that Carmen, you hurt my feelings," said Simone putting a hand to the back of her hair before pushing out and putting her hand on her hip and throwing back her head laughing. "We do what we have to do to survive. No one but a fat, old, horny Caucasian man wants a black woman, not even a black man. What I was giving away for free after someone spent twenty dollars on me for a nice dinner, they now pay me hundreds of dollars to play." Simone looked at her with a satisfied smile while Carmen looked at her with shock. "I can't do that. I could never do that. Eww. That's so gross having some stranger's dick in my hand, my mouth, and my pussy," said Carmen waving her hand as if waving down a bus. "Just as I couldn't have sex with just anyone, I couldn't prostitute myself for money. I could never look my children in the eyes," she said, "knowing that I was a hooker." "It's just a job Carmen," said Simone with a shrug while looking at her fancy fingernails. "If it wasn't for me hooking, I couldn't afford to get my hair done and maintain my manicure, never mind go shopping for clothes." "I could never have sex for money," said Carmen. "Don't be stupid Carmen. Caucasian people prostitute themselves every day while working at a job they hate for the sake of a paycheck and health insurance benefits and for much less money than what I make hustling my black ass on the street," she said looking at her as if she was a counselor at the Welfare Office. "Answer me this Carmen," she said moving her finger through the air with her words, "how do you think your kids would feel if you were homeless, hungry, and living on the street?" "I don't know Simone. I just don't know. I mean the idea of having sex with different men, depending on the man and the amount of money he paid me to have sex with him, is as sexually exciting as it is sexually repulsive," she said. "I just don't know how you do it. How do you do it?" "Easy," she said with a laugh while hiking up her short skirt to expose her shapely black thighs and white panty clad pussy. "I spread my legs, open my mouth, and hold out my hand. That's how I do it. I could never make the amount of money that I earn working a 9-5 job at an hourly wage not much higher than minimum," she said. "Also unlike so many other prostitutes, not wasting my money on putting things up my nose, I don't do drugs. My pimp even takes care of my medical bills." "Yeah, well, you're tall and beautiful Simone. I'd even pay you to have sex with me," said Carmen with a laugh. "What man would pay me, a short, overweight, Hispanic woman to have sex with him?" She looked at Simone as if thinking about prostituting herself. "Overweight? You're not overweight. I wish I had your curvaceously shapely figure instead of my flagpole of a skinny, shapeless body," she said looking around. "Come with me for a minute. Step in my office," she said with a laugh while walking Carmen down a back alley and into a doorway. After looking to see if they were alone in the alley, Simone reached her hand out to feel Carmen's big tits, first one and then the other. Women feel other women's breasts differently than do men. Women don't grab and grope. As if they're feeling for the perfect melon at a produce counter, their feels are more quality feels instead of sexual feels. Women are more considerate and gentle and, as if giving a breast massage, Simone had sensuous hands instead of sexual hands. Carmen looked down at Simone's hands and watched her feeling her breasts. Then, as if she was going to kiss her, she looked up at her face with big, brown sexually aroused eyes. "You should at least buy me dinner before feeling me up," said Carmen with a breathless laugh. "It's been a long time since anyone has touched me like that," she said watching Simone's black hands before looking deeply in Simone's big, dark eyes. No doubt, taking Carmen's words as encouragement to continue, Simone continued feeling Carmen's massive tits especially when her big nipples made their impression through her blouse and bra. "You'd make a pile of money with tits like these Carmen. So big, so full, and so firm, I wish I had your tits. I wish I had your big nipples," she said finally removing her hand from Carmen's breasts and taking a step back to look at the huge impressions her tits made in her blouse. "I've been saving to buy me some titties like that but for tits that big, my doctor said it would cost me eight thousand dollars and that's more than I have right now after Lucy and I bought a condo together," she said staring at the huge mountains that Carmen's breasts made in her blouse. "Lemme see your titties," she said putting her fingernail to her lips. "Right here? Right now?" With a sudden face full of sexual excitement, Carmen looked around her to make sure no one was coming. "You're crazy." "C'mon, Carmen. Show me your tits. Maybe I'll ask my plastic surgeon to give me a set that looks just like yours," she said with a laugh. "We'll look like sisters, twin sisters with double D tits." "A black woman and a Hispanic woman? We'd hardly look like sister, never mind twin sisters, even if we both had the same breast size," said Carmen with a laugh. "Let me see your sisters," said Simone. "Okay," said Carmen. Carmen put her purse down on the ground and lifted her shirt and bra to show Simone her big tits. "Damn girl, you have beautiful knockers," said Simone feeling and fondling Carmen's big tits before fingering her nipples until they were hard and erect and before leaning down to take her big nipples in her mouth, first one and then the other. "Gees, Simone. What are you doing? You're making me so horny," said Carmen breathlessly. She put a gentle hand to the back of Simone's neck as if she was nursing a baby or allowing her husband to have his horny way with her tits. She pushed Simone's mouth forward as her encouragement for her to suck her nipples longer. "Damn girl, if I had boobs like your boobs," said Simone releasing Carmen's nipples from her mouth and standing. "I'd make big bucks. Most men want big tits, the bigger the tits the better. My friend Lucy has no tits but what she doesn't have in tits she makes up for with her mouth, her tight little Asian ass, and her insatiable pussy," said Simone. "You sure know a lot about Lucy," said Carmen with a nervous laugh while putting her tits away just as a big, black man entered the alley. "Lucy is my friend. She works and lives with me. We watch out for one another," said Simone giving Carmen a look before volunteering more information. "She's my lover." "You're lover?" Carmen let out a nervous laugh. "I didn't know you were lesbian. I should have known you were lesbian in the way you were feeling and sucking my tits," she laughed again. "Since when are you lesbian Simone? You were always popular with the men. You had so many boyfriends. Of all the women I've known, I'd never peg you for being lesbian." "I had a lot of boyfriend because I put out and was a slut. After fucking and sucking men who never give me what I want, Lucy knows how to treat a lady," she said. "Generous, giving, and unselfish, she's a wonderful lover. "You just made me horny sucking my nipples," said Carmen holding her palms over her nipples while whispering and giggling. "If you were a man, I'd get on my knees right here and right now in this dirty alley and suck your cock, so long as you still fondled my tits and fingered my nipples" she said with a dirty laugh. "If I were a man, I'd let you," said Simone. "You can always lick my pussy or I'll lick your pussy. We can even lick one another's pussy while in a 69 position," said Simone with a laugh. "No thanks. I'll pass," said Carmen returning her laugh. "I'll take a rain check. Maybe another time, when I'm desperate enough for a man to settle for a woman." The man who entered the alley walked closer. "Where you been at? I've been looking for you Simone," he said calling to her from a distance. "Where've you been hiding at?" He looked from Simone to Carmen and spoke as if Carmen wasn't even there. "Who that?" He asked finally nodding his head in Carmen's direction before looking back to Simone again. "This is my friend Carmen. Her man left her and stole all of her money," she said. "They were going to buy a house. Now she can't even afford her apartment." He gave Carmen a long, hard look as if he was about to buy a prize Pit Bull at the pet store. "You looking for work? You need a job?" Instead of looking up at her pretty face, he talked to her big tits. Carmen returned his inappropriate leer look with a bit of Detroit attitude. "Yeah, I'm looking for work. I'm desperate for money. I've been looking for a job but there are no--" "Lemme see those titties," he said stepping closer to grab two, big handfuls of Carmen's huge tits through her blouse and bra. "Are they real?" "Hey! What the fuck," said Carmen slapping his hands away and taking a step back. "Yeah, they're real." Ready to slap her across the face, instinctively Tyrone raised his big hand but withdrew it when a big smile took over his face and he started laughing. "You got some spunk girl. I like that. I like a woman who can stand up for herself, especially with the customers so that they don't take advantage of her and disrespect me by not paying her for services rendered," he said. "You dig?" "It's okay Carmen. Tyrone is my pimp. When it comes to women," she said nodding her head, "he's like a doctor. He has trained hands, fingers, mouth, and cock," she said with a laugh. "Doctor Tyrone," she said with a sexy smile. "She's got some big ass tits Tyrone, at least a D cup. And they're proud and not some saggy bags of blubber." "Double D," said Carmen looking from Simone to Tyrone. "Show him your tits Carmen," said Simone. "Let Doctor Tyrone see them." Pressured to show Tyrone her tits and desperate enough for money to prostitute herself to feed her kids and to keep herself from being evicted from her apartment, she reluctantly lifted her blouse and bra. Immediately Tyrone's big hands were all over Carmen's huge breasts. Having been horny ever since her man left and especially after Simone sucked her nipples, if Tyrone touched her tits and sucked her nipples in the way that Simone just did, she'd suck his cock. "You have big nipples. That's good. Men like that. Men would pay extra to suck your big nipples," he said fingering her nipples, before turning them, twisting them, and pulling them. He released the hold on her tits and nipples for Carmen to pull down her bra and blouse. "Do you suck cock?" He unzipped himself, reached his big hand inside his pants, and pulled out his prick. "Yeah, but I--" Carmen stared at his big, semi-erect, black cock. "Suck my cock," he said holding his semi-erect cock in his hand as if offering his prick to her. "I needs to know what you can do with your mouth, lips, hand, and tongue before I hire you." "Right here? Right now? In the alley? Someone may come," said Carmen looking all around her. "Ain't no one dare comes down here, especially when I'm around," he said with a big belly laugh. "This is my neighborhood. I own this territory. The only time the police comes is when escorted by SWAT to make a big drug bust, when looking for a fugitive, or when picking up their bag of cash to pass out to their buddies in blue," he said with another big laugh. "Go ahead and suck him Carmen," said Simone with a nod of her head as if she was encouraging her friend to take advantage of a spring fling sale at Macy's. "Consider this as part of the interview. You've already passed the first step by having a pretty face and having such big, beautiful breasts." "Shut up Simone and let the woman make her own decision if she wants the job or not," said Tyrone holding his big cock out in his hand. "Just as I'd never force a woman to suck me, I don't want to be forcing anyone to work for me. Tyrone ain't like that," he said referring to himself in the third person. "I guess I don't have much of a choice. If it wasn't for my kids, I wouldn't be doing this," said Carmen falling to her knees and taking his cock in her hand to stroke him before taking him in her mouth to suck him. As soon as she started sucking him, forcing her to continue, Tyrone put a heavy hand to the back of her head and humped her mouth while fucking her face. He didn't let her go until he exploded a volume of cum in her mouth and until Carmen swallowed. "You asshole," she said pushing him away, spitting out what was left his cum, and standing. "You're hired," said Tyrone, "but you best not spit your customer's cum out in the way you spit out mine. Men will pay extra for you to swallow. Men want to believe that you enjoyed sucking their pricks as much as they enjoyed you sucking their pricks. You dig?" "You got the job," said Simone jumping up and down as if Carmen had just won the lottery. "That's great," said Simone hugging her friend. "Show her the ropes Simone. I can use her tonight. There's a private party that I need you and Lucy to attend. Bring her along with you," he said, "and dress her. She can't be going to the party dressed like that and looking like someone's mother." * * * * * Anthony climbed out to grab Carmen as soon as she emerged from the doorway and walked away from their car. They knew where she was, who she was with, what she's been doing, and where she was going. With Lucy and Simone among the missing, since Tyrone disappeared, they've been following her for days and wanted to make sure that Tyrone wasn't coming back before stepping in to take over his business. Waiting for her to emerge, Anthony got out of the car and, before Carmen spotted them and had the chance to remove her high heels to run. With her kicking and screaming, he grabbed her by her long, dark hair, carried her beneath his big, strong arm, pitched her in the backseat, and closed the door as Marquis drove away. "Carmen," said Anthony with sarcasm while running a big hand across her breasts and squeezing her nipple. "How are you?" "Ow you fuck wad. That really hurt," she said in pain while slapping his hand away. "What do you want with me?" He looked at her and smiled. "You disrespected us. You haven't been paying us what you owe us Carmen," said Anthony. "We just want what's coming to us," he said giving her another smile as if he was on friendly terms with her. "I don't owe you shit. I owe Tyrone but he hasn't been around to collect," she said with her Detroit attitude all up in his face. "You're not my pimp. He is and when he comes around to collect, I'll pay him and no one else." "Yeah, well, unfortunately for you and fortunately for us," he said giving Marquis a high five. "Tyrone ain't around no more. I think that Marine took him out and put him where no one will find him. He ain't comin' back," said Anthony. "So now you owe us," said Marquis. "Bus'ness as usual, we're taking his place. We're your pimps now and you do who we tell you to do and when we tell you to do it," he said to her through the rearview mirror. "You dig?" "Go fuck yourself Marquis," said Carmen. "I don't answer to your sorry black ass. You ain't my pimps. I'll work for myself before I work for you two, miserable assholes." Anthony grabbed her arm when she reached for the door ready to jump from their vehicle and bolt when they were stopping for a red light. "We're here to help you Carmen. We're here to protect you," said Anthony with a laugh before slapping her face hard enough to get her attention when she looked across the street at a parked patrol car. "The only protection I need is from you two," she said pulling away from him again. Holding her close, he threw a possessive arm around her shoulders and pulled her close, close enough that her big tit was pressed against his ribs. "Has anyone given you any problems? Because if anyone is causing you any grief, Marquis, me, Smith, and Wesson will talk to them," he said opening his jacket enough for her to see the butt of a gun. "The only problems that I have now are from you two fuckups," said Carmen to Anthony before looking out the car window. "Where are you taking me?" "We're gonna pay Lucy and Simone a visit to let them know what's what," said Marquis. "They haven't been paying us either and it's time that they knew there's a new sheriff in town." "Lemme see that," said Anthony grabbing Carmen's purse. "Give that back to me," said Carmen grabbing for her purse but unable to reach it when Anthony held it away from her with his long arm. "Go ahead, take it," she said when Anthony put his other hand to her neck and squeezed. He opened her purse and pulled out a few hundred dollars. "Is this it? Is this all the money you earned working all night? Bullshit," he said staring at her. "It was a slow night. Maybe if Tyrone was around to make me my appointments I'd--" As if he was a horny teenager with his Prom date, he surprised her by reaching his big hand down her blouse and bra. Before she could react to his sexual assault, his hand was already down her blouse and inside of her bra. Carmen had big double D tits and she hid her money in her bra and beneath her breasts. "Damn Carmen. You have nice titties. The biggest and firmest titties I ever felt," he said giving Marquis a wink through the rearview mirror. Bag Lady & the Retired Marine Ch. 12 "There's no money in my bra Anthony, just tits." The easiest way to get at her money was to lift her bra from the front before lifting up her big boobs. Instead Anthony took the more difficult albeit more pleasurable route down her shirt and bra instead of up shirt and bra. Reaching inside her bra and feeling her tits while fingering her nipples, he reached beneath each big breast in his search for her money. He pulled out a small wad of cash from underneath each one of her big tits. Sticking his big hand in her bra again, not feeling for money this time, he felt, fondled, and caressed her big tits and fingered her nipples again before reaching beneath her breasts for the money and before she ejected his hand with a shove. "What's all this bitch?" He held the money up to her face. "Holding out on us?" "Asshole. If you're going to feel me, then you need to pay me," said Carmen with a sexy look while making a grab for the money but missing when Anthony pulled his hand away. "Shut up bitch," said Anthony slapping her hard across face again, this time harder. "I'm not paying you shit. You give me what I need for free, anytime I want it." He reached in between her legs and up her short skirt. "Don't fucking touch me," said Carmen recoiling from him while trying to close he legs, something she wasn't accustomed to doing lately, ever since she's been working for Tyrone. A good woman, a wife and a mother turned prostitute, had her husband not left her and taken all her money, she wouldn't be sitting here now with these two lowlifes. "I'll touch you anywhere and anytime I want bitch," said Anthony. "I own your Puerto Rican ass." "I'm not Puerto Rican. I'm Hispanic," she said with pride. "Whatever. All of you mud people look alike to me," he said with a laugh. "At least I know who my Daddy is. Who's your Daddy, Anthony?" "Watch your mouth," he said. Pulling the crotch of her panty forward before pushing her panty aside, he grabbed another wad of cash from between her legs before sticking a stiff finger in her pussy. "You filthy pig," she said pushing at his arm while squirming away from him. "What are you into snowballing? I hope you get a finger full of my John's cum to suck." "Careful Carmen or you'll be sucking my cock on the way to Lucy and Simone's place. All totaled, there's about two grand here," he said to Marquis while counting hundred's, fifties, and twenties and dumping the money in the front seat. Marquis grabbed the money and stuffed it in his pocket. "Simone trained you good. You've been a very busy girl," said Anthony. "What about me asshole? What do I live on if you take all of my money?" "What about you?" He gave her a hard stare. "You're been holding back on us for weeks. You've had plenty of money to live on by not giving us our share," he said. "You're lucky we don't ask you for a cut of that too, but this will do for now," said Anthony after Marquis pocketed her cash, "until you make more for us later. Matter of fact, you're right Carmen," he said unzipping himself and pulling out his cock. "What about me? Suck my prick." "Fuck you. I won't suck you. I'll bite it off before I suck it," she said looking down at his prick. "You do and I'll cut off your tits," he said lifting her blouse and bra to expose her big tits before reaching in his pocket to pull out a switch blade. "Don't do this Anthony. I won't suck you," she said trying to pull away from his grasp. "Blow me Carmen," said Anthony forcing her head down to his lap. He pulled her long, dark hair for her to open her mouth to scream for him to fill her mouth with all of him. "Suck my cock or I swear to God, I'll beat you senseless that even your own mother won't recognize you when trying to identify your dead body at the morgue." Reluctantly, Carmen gave Anthony what he wanted and just as they pulled up to Lucy and Simone's place, he ejaculated a load of his warm oozy lust in her mouth. Unlike Carmen who lived with her three kids, oxymoronic that they'd have sex with men for money to their sexual preference, Simone and Lucy lived together as lesbian lovers. Atop of an old warehouse just outside of town, isolated and desolate, Simone and Lucy lived a good, quiet life, that is, once they finished servicing men for the night. When they bought this condo, the owner had plans to develop the other seven floors but ran out of finances when his bank would no longer fund his renovation project. Even though the rest of the building looks like shit, his showcase palace, the top floor is spectacular. They never would have bought this place had it not had a secure front and back door, video surveillance, and a new elevator. A virtual fortress, Marquis and Anthony needed Carmen's help to get them inside. Hugging the outside of the building, Marquis pulled around the corner and parked his car out of sight of their security cameras and windows in case Lucy or Simone were looking out the window. Known to run and a fast runner, with an arm on each side of her, they escorted Carmen to the front door. "Tell them you need to talk to them about Tyrone. Tell them whatever you need to tell them to get us up there. And if you don't, I'll make you sorry that you're alive," said Anthony lifting her short skirt to pinch her ass." "Ow! Fuck! That fucking hurt and that's going to leave a bruise. Okay," said Carmen pulling away from Anthony. "What are you going to do them once up there? You won't hurt them, will you?" She looked from Anthony to Marquis. "You three working girls are our prized possessions, our moneymakers, why would we hurt you? We just want our money. We just want what's coming to us," said Marquis. "We just want to talk." "As we told you, we just want Lucy and Simone to know that we're their pimps now. Tyrone ain't comin' back," said Anthony. "We have plans for the business and want to tell them about a party." Carmen rang the bell to the front door and immediately Lucy answered while Anthony and Marquis stayed on either side of her and out of sight of the security camera. "Hi Carmen. Come on up," said Lucy buzzing open the door. As soon as Anthony and Marquis gained entry, they corralled the three women on the couch. "Lucy," said Anthony. "I'm going to go with you to get the money you owe us that you haven't been paying Tyrone." "I'm not giving you my money," said Lucy. "Tyrone is our pimp and not you two dumbasses," said Simone. "We're taking over Tyrone's bus'ness now," said Marquis. "Tyrone ain't coming back." "And what are you going to do for us? Are you going to make us appointments? We haven't been working as much without Tyrone making us appointments at the hotel," said Simone. "You're right," said Anthony. "We haven't been around to help you but now we are and as a show of good faith," he said giving Marquis a wink, "we're not going to take your money. As matter of fact, we're going to give Carmen back her money too," said Anthony holding out his hand for Marquis to give him the money he took from Carmen. Marquis reached in his pocket and pulled out Carmen's wad of money and handed it to Carmen. "I hope you know what you're doing brother," whispered Marquis to Anthony. "I do," said Anthony. "Look at this place. Just look at it. It's perfect he said looking at the beamed high ceilings and the exposed brick, pipes, and ducting. "It's so big." "Big for what?" Lucy looked from Anthony to Marquis. "Big for what? What my place big for?" "Don't you people pronounce your pronouns. You people need to learn the language before coming here to America," said Marquis. "You've been in this country since you've been a little girl and you still don't talk right Lucy," laughed Marquis. "How's this? You go fuck yourself up your asshole with your gun," said Lucy. "That's better," said Marquis laughing. "This is the perfect place to have our first, annual Lara Logan party." "Lara Logan?" Simone looked from Anthony to Marquis to Lucy and Carmen. "Who that? Is she another hooker?" "You could say that after her sex scandal and sex tape went public," said Carmen with a laugh. "Lara Logan is that news reporter who was sexually assaulted by two to three hundred Egyptian men in Tahrir Square," said Carmen looking from Lucy to Anthony. "Is that what you're going to do with us? Are you forcing us to have sex with hundreds of men." "What kind of pimp do you think I am?" Anthony looked at her and laughed. "I'd never allow so many men to sexually assault you. I've only invited 25 select men--" "Twenty-five? Oh no. That too much," said Lucy waving her hand as if a customer at a Chinese restaurant buffet was taking too much shrimp. "Lucy don't do twenty-five men. Lucy don't do five men or three men. Lucy do one man, or one woman, or one man with one woman at the same time but not twenty-five men," she said. "No, Lucy don't do that," she said continuing to refer to herself in the third person. "This isn't up for discussion," said Anthony. "I've already sold tickets to the first annual Lara Logan part for two thousand dollars a pop and you three are the star attraction." "I'm leaving," said Carmen. "Sit down," said Anthony. "You're working for us now." "I'm not sucking and fucking no twenty-five men," said Simone. "You will or we'll tie you naked and have our paying customers do whatever they want you to do." said Marquis. "You dig? Best you girls get ready as your invited guests will be here in an hour." "Here? You gave them my address?" Simone looked from Tyrone to Marquis. "Why you do that?" Lucy looked from Simone to Anthony and then to Marquis. "Why you do that? Why you do that?" "Because this is a good place for a Lara Logan party," said Anthony with a laugh. To be continued...