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Cindy relaxed in her office, frankly relieved that the day was over. She had just one appointment to end the day with and she could hit the road for the weekend at her favorite ski resort, 150 miles away in Kamloops. Her role as associate professor of psychology at the community college included fielding a generic group of students who used her often as a sounding board for guidance in matters more than merely her specialty. She had felt like a guidance counsellor on more than one occasion.
This visit, however, had put a bit of arch in her eyebrow when she noticed the attending party. It was Josh, one of the older students who had finished his military tour and who had returned to college to get a degree. One of her more mature students, Cindy had more than once noticed his muscular good looks during class, even to the extent of literally finding herself staring at him during an exam, with the entire room quiet as a mouse. He had looked up at the time, catching her eyes staring, and had smiled. Somewhat flustered, she had smiled back, but the image had lingered for her in the privacy of her apartment. causing more than one session with Mr. Plastic.
But Josh was also one her brightest students as well. He brought a fresh look to old dilemmas, always offering these offbeat but amazingly relevant observations. He had a touch of the anarchist in him and she thought it was really intriguing. She frankly liked him. This was a meeting she was actually looking forward to.
He heard a knock at her office door, peered out into the hallway and saw Josh, waiting,. notebooks in hand. She experienced a strange rush of feelings as she smiled and welcomed him inside. She locked her office door as was almost never her trait with these meetings, returned to her seat and sat down. “Josh, please have a seat. Nice to see you,” she smiled.
Danny could not believe his good fortune. Tickets to The Scorpions concert this evening had been hand-delivered by a grateful boss, who had smiled and proffered them as a reward for Danny winning the contract for the renovation of the Opera House. Danny’s boss had smiled widely and broken the good news, along with delivering this reward at the same time. He also told Danny to take the day off with pay and mentioned a free lunch, on him, at the local eatery. A great day indeed. Danny had done all that and even gone to the zoo, just for a change. All his friends were at work and he relished an afternoon of idle walking. It had been great.
After showering and shaving, Danny made his way to the convention center for the concert. Still aglow after the office politics, Danny was feeling super. Entering a half hour early, he offered his ticket, got stamped and made his way to the nearest bar. The line was small and Danny got himself a large bourbon and coke, sipping it as he meandered inside the huge hall. Surveying the audience and just people-watching, Danny noticed an amazing range of ages for this concert. Scorpions fans crossed a lot of age ranges, including some gorgeous women. Danny felt a frisky, free sort of feeling tonight, as if the world were coming to him. He went out for his second drink, paid for it, then joined the crowd at the floor level, where the acoustics would be aimed. He wanted to hear it all.
Pressing inside the thick crowd, Danny lodged himself somewhere near dead center, squirming through the crowd until he found a bizarre little opening, apparently “made for him”. There was a couple next to him and a group of appropriately rowdy and fun folks behind. The lights went down and there was an audible hush in the audience as the DJ came on and made a mad introduction for the Scorpions. Suddenly, the music began.
Walking the beat again was refreshing to Mike. After 27 years on the force, some even spent as Detective, Mike had asked form something else. The loss in pay bothered him less too since he had invested well and his kids were now gone. No, he wanted something else besides just the routineness of evil and the disappointments people had become. Mike literally asked for a job, walking a beat. And he was glad, now. Here on the streets of Portland, he knew all the whores by their first names. He had popped the same kids for selling drugs a few times, but they knew he would not hesitate to do it again. He was still trim and strong as an ox. He had boxed Golden Gloves and done well. He was always overmatching anyone wanting some of that. Mike laughed to himself, “50 is the new 30!”.
What he found most surprising about aging is how fucking horny he had become. Maybe it was some fear of losing it, he didn’t know. His wife has tuned him out long ago, invested in her social life, selling insurance and real estate. She was developing a career now and she had laughed at Mike for wanting to make less money. Mike had shrugged. He was used to her and he realized their days were numbered. He had a couple of pretty good stand-by’s and they seemed to enjoy that he was relishing this new sexual exploration and energy. “No,” Mike thought to himself, “life is pretty fucking good.”
He passed by a Lingerie store downtown and peered inside. Someone had robbed it a month ago, so it had become a regular stop. A nice-looking lady was arranging phones in the window, full-breasted with a plunging neckline sweater on and gorgeous in the face. Mike started, wincing at how his cock responded like some other puppet on a stick. “My fucking meat puppet,” he laughed to himself. “Little bastard owns me.” It was very early and he had not seen this one before. “Dam, she’s smokin’ hot,” Mike rumbled to himself. “I’d hit it.” As he said it, she leaned in toward the window. Her top was hanging somewhat loose and Mike had the very pleasant vista of two full tits, nearly fully revealed under her baggy top. He could not tear his eyes away.
Bob sat in his office, reading the newspapers his equipment manager always brought him, mornings.”Major League Bob” as the locals referred to him had been a baseball coach here at the University for a decade now. He loved his job and was wedded to the sport, his ex wife a testament to this fact. The travel and late nights over beers with assistants had assured Bob of a lonely existence, not a whit regretful about this fact. As he sat, he mused about the single life, pondering how he literally enjoyed his solitude and the opportunities it offered to follow one’s “whims”, as he called them, into the lives of many different women, as opposed to one. Which then brought up last night at Brenda’s. He felt a stirring in his pants over Brenda and their evening together.
He had gone to a local bar with Matt, his third base coach, to run down the scouting report for he next game. He had been hailed by quite a few of the locals and had waved back, smiling to phrases like “Go get em, coach!” and “Nice game against Arizona, Coach!”. The cute waitress had batted her eyes at him, drawing some laughter from Matt, a happily married father of 6 who had said: “Uh oh. Major League Bob’s newest conquest.” laughing uproariously. Bob had shrugged and tossed it off as Matt’s usual ribbing, silently enjoying it. They reviewed the report in all seriousness.
But the waitress had been somewhat persistent. Bringing another beer, she had accidentally laid her breasts on Bob’s arm while taking the money and setting the beers down. Smiling up at him, she asked: “Anything else, guys?” Once again, Matt had laughed, the bastard. Bob wrestled with a fleeting image of this gal under him and admitted he liked the notion. But they continued and he forgot about her. Finally leaving the bar, Bob had scanned the place for his flirty little sweetheart but not seen her. He would now go home and relax and the thought pleased him.
Carl left the office in a rush. He had a few errands left in the day and he wanted to finish early so he could catch the game on TV at 6. Getting into his Esacalde and feeling the air conditioning come on reliably gave some pleasure as his sweaty brow on this hot day had begun to drip. He stopped at the bank and made the deposits from renter’s checks, making a mental note to have his handyman check the air conditioning at all of his 134 units. Driving down Sepulvada, Carl pondered what he would do with his next visit.
Barbara Willingsly had been late yet again on her rent. This time, she was a month behind. As a truism in the business of rent collection, allowing her to go further behind could lead to disaster. Often, it was better to just evict them rather than face a continuing drama and a further slide into indebtedness. She could get herself into some bigass hole and never come out. He’d seen it before.
Oh, he knew her story. Both she and her old man had lost their manufacturing jobs at a microchip plant nearby. The company had transported the work over seas. The live in boyfriend, he knew from talking with her last month, had found a job at a local bottling plant as a driver, working hideously long hours for not much pay. They had gotten themselves into a pickle. Carl approached the apartment complex and sighed. “Fuck it, I think I’ll just boot them.”
The dull hum of the nearby blower in his ear, Earl continued raking in the small bed nearest the house, clearing leaves, seedlings and other Springtime debris off the bark mulch. Gorgeous huge Douglas Firs stretched upwards, towering above and providing a canopy of protection against the incessant misty rain on this late Winter day. Earl kept up a steady rhythm, making small piles to come back and manually collect for disposal later at the dump. The freshness of the air was invigorating to him and allowed his well-muscled frame to easily complete these menial garden tasks with some actual pleasure.
As Earl brushed the mulch nearer the house, he passed the window of the Hanson’s living room. A shadow passed across the window, and Earl jumped back to avoid discovery. Funny how these rich people inspired a feeling of a “necessary anonymity” in their help. Earl immediately resented his own impulses. “Fucking rich mother fuckers.” he muttered under his breath. He peered again inside, looking for a pleasant and typically well-arranged vista of tidy furniture and fixings. As he did, he noticed the lady of the house, Daphne, at a desk, typing. She reached up and adjusted what appeared to be a camera and then he got a wallop to the gut. Daphne then proceeded to remove her top. Indeed, she pulled it completely off and sat in front of her screen, topless, her gorgeously ripe breasts protruding as she ran her hands across them, then cupped them for what had to be some lucky onlooker. Fascinated, Earl stood frozen to the spot. Daphne stood up, once again taking care to adjust the setting on her little camera above her screen. “Fuck!”, Earl exclaimed under his breath.
She stripped now. Rotating, seemingly to provide a full view of herself, she began taking everything off. She removed her pj bottoms, revealing a pair of white thing panties, tufts of blonde hair sticking from the sides in the front, as apparent and full-looking as any quim he had ever seen.