Play Sexy For Me (Handy Mann Chronicles Book 1) Read online

  PLAY SEXY FOR ME

  By Jimmy M.F. Pudge

  &

  Douglas Vance Castagna

  Bad Mojo Press

  Copyright © 2014 by Jimmy Pudge & Douglas Vance Castagna

  This is a work of fiction. A messed up work of fiction and it is all a product of our messed up imaginations. So anything that may be resemble any actual events or people is purely coincidental.

  Cover art created by Holly Boyer Figueroa

  PRAISE FOR THE AUTHORS

  Jimmy Pudge

  "’Bad Billy,’ it's 'Of Mice and Men' meets the 'Texas Chainsaw Massacre.'"

  --R. Scott McCoy, Publisher of "Necrotic Tissue Magazine," author of "Feast" and the "White Face Bear"

  "If the Marquis de Sade wrote 'Peyton Place' and Russ Meyer turned it into a movie, it would be something like this."

  --Lee Widener, neverendingwonder.com, on Kitty’s Revenge.

  Douglas Vance Castagna

  “Castagna unleashes one of the most evil female entities known to man on his readers…and leaves them wondering if they too will fall victim as her prey in the future.”

  --Rebecca Besser, highly anthologized author of “Undead Drive-Thru,” and “Earth’s End”

  Ultimately, Lust works because it combines sex, death, mystery, and gruesome acts of violence in a very reduced space. There is no superfluous writing anywhere and the narrative moves along at a breakneck speed.

  --Gabino Iglesias, Reviewer at HorrorTalk.com, author of “Gutmouth.

  Chapter 1

  There wasn’t too much going on at one in the morning. I was just kind of hanging out, twisting back and forth in the swivel chair behind the front desk, trying to come up with a plot that I could use for my latest crime thriller. I’d been a self-publishing book author for a while now, and I was sure I was about to break through. My last novel had sold fourteen copies in only two months time. That was a record for me. And even though it was only 99 cents, which was really not too damn hot in the dog-eat-dog world of self-publishing, I was still getting exposure. Those fourteen people who had downloaded Forbidden Pleasures on a Hot Night, Part 5, yeah, they would spread the word about what a great writer Handy was. You better damn well believe that.

  I had started working in the motel industry, chiefly at the Dollar Inn, when the burger joint I flipped burgers for tossed my ass out the door for flirting with the patrons. Apparently you were not supposed to tell a customer what lovely tits she has on the way to the bathroom to clean shit off the toilet seats.

  This customer, a hefty looking blond, had spit burger out of her mouth when I’d made that comment and started screaming.

  That was my ass right there.

  So now here I was at the Dollar Inn on a Friday night writing crime thrillers, the rain and lightning partying outside, vibrating the glass front doors.

  I was about to turn on my laptop when the front door slid open and the howling wind screamed. The most beautiful girl I had ever seen in my life stepped inside, her red hair matted down with rain and her chevron dress soaked almost clean through. Her heels clicked as she walked across the room, the damp black luggage bag rolling behind her.

  I stood up and leaned over the counter suddenly very aware of the fact I hadn’t brushed my teeth in two days.

  “Can I help you?” I asked.

  She stood there shivering from the cold, her skin as pale as marble and her eyes large and soft green. She smiled, and I noticed there was a lot of worry in that angelic face of hers.

  “You all right?” I asked.

  “Fine,” she said, her teeth chattering. I looked behind her and saw she had dripped a trail of water behind her. My eyes moved to her chest. She had some nice C titties, and she must have been damn cold indeed because I could see huge nipples poking through the fabric of her dress. A man could cut glass with those diamonds.

  “Excuse me,” she said, her arms wrapping around her chest. My eyes moved from the nipples to the plump round breasts peeking out over the dress top to her eyes.

  “Are you the desk clerk?”

  “I am,” I said. “Handy’s the name and serving guests is the game.”

  She didn’t laugh or even smile at that comment, and this put a damper on my mood.

  “You need a room, lady?” I asked.

  “Please,” she said.

  “Single, non-smoking, no kitchen, twin bed—that sound alright to you?”

  “Fine,” she said.

  “How many nights?”

  “One,” she said. “Maybe two.”

  “I’ll just put you down for one, and you can book another night tomorrow. We never fill up at this shit hole.”

  “Oh,” she said, her lack of interest apparent.

  “Alright,” I said, turning my attention to the computer to check her fine ass in. I looked up.

  “I need to see some form of picture ID and a credit card.”

  She put her purse on the counter, unzipped it and rummaged through the contents, finally pulling out a small change purse. She unclasped it and produced two cards for me, a VISA card and a driver’s license.

  I studied her picture on the license and saw a very happy, beautiful looking girl staring back at me. I looked up from the ID and examined her current face. This was also a beautiful girl, but the happiness seemed to be missing.

  “Claire Watson,” I said, turning my attention back to the computer. “You don’t hear the name Claire too much anymore.” I typed in her address, card number, and all the other bullshit needed to rent a room, then handed the cards back. “I like that name, Claire. It’s classic, like Clint Eastwood movies.”

  She put the cards in her purse, and I asked her a final question. “What’s your license plate number?”

  “What?” she asked.

  “I need your tag, so your car won’t get towed or nothing.”

  “Oh,” she said, “a worried smile forming on her pale face, stretching the full lips. I pictured those lips around my manhood. It was a good picture.

  “I-I don’t have a car.”

  “Say what now?” I asked, the vision of my dick in her mouth going poof.

  “I don’t have a car.”

  “Well damn,” I said, “where did you come walking in from in this weather?”

  “My boyfriend,” she said, “we had a fight and he left me on the side of the interstate.”

  “Well, that’s no way to treat a lady,” I said, handing her the keys to room 204. “Say, girlfriend, you want to step back into my office and get a little coffee or something?”

  “No,” she said. “I just want out of these clothes so I can be comfortable.”

  “I want the same thing,” I said, caressing her palm as she took the keys from my hand.

  She turned and walked to the elevator, her heels clicking on the tile like a soldier marching to war.

  The doors opened, and she rolled her bag inside, hit a button and then disappeared.

  I went back to my story, but all I could think about was what a sexy ass woman Claire Watson was. I minimized my word document and got on the Internet, slowly surfing a red haired babes’ porn site. I found one with a similar face and a similar build, and her areolas were the size of whopper hamburger patties, a pale pink, barely visible. The nipples were like little red rosebuds, ripe for the plucking.

  I looked around the lobby, then stuck a hand in my pants, pretending the model’s face was Claire’s face. “Yeah, baby,” I whispered, “Daddy’s coming home for Christmas.”

  “Are you busy?” came a voice.

  I looked up like a criminal, caught in th
e act. “Claire!” I said surprised.

  She smiled at me, and she looked more like her license now. Her hair was dried and fire red and ran over her shoulders like twin waterfalls. She was wearing a plain gray t-shirt, but it was driving me wild. I don’t think she had a bra on, but they still looked perky and firm.

  “I got a Coke out of the machine,” she said, handing me a 20-ounce bottle. “It expired a month ago. I was wondering if I could have my money back.”

  “Sure!” I said, my voice cracking, jumping out of the chair and slamming my laptop shut. I reached into the drawer, withdrew a dollar and handed it to her.

  “Thanks,” she said.

  “No problem,” I replied.

  “I’m sorry about earlier.”

  “Earlier?” I asked, my balls blue with pain.

  “I didn’t mean to tell you about my problems. I’m sure you didn’t care to hear about my boyfriend abandoning me on the side of the road.”

  I noticed something in her eyes at that moment. Something I saw in the mirror every day. Loneliness. It was pretty damn obvious that Claire was desperate enough to strike up a conversation with anybody, including myself.

  “I’ll be honest with you,” I said, slowly withdrawing my hand from my pants and wiping it on my jeans. “You’re like a breath of fresh air for me. I know it sounds cliché, but you really light up my life, just hearing your voice. I don’t get many people wanting to converse with me.”

  She giggled. I could smell liquor on her breath. No wonder she was talking to me. She was drinking.

  “You’re a player,” she said.

  “No, no I’m not,” I said. “I’m just looking for someone to talk to.”

  “Me too,” she said.

  “Are you leaving tomorrow?” I asked.

  “No,” she said. “Probably not. I think I’ll stay a couple days and relax. I’ve been on the road for some time.”

  “Good,” I said. “I know a great place. The best little dive in the world for breakfast. I get off tomorrow at 10 a.m. Want to go with me to get some waffles?”

  Her eyes met mine, and I saw suspicion. I saw fear. But then her face relaxed, and she was an innocent girl in an awful world, looking for someone to treat her right. “Sure,” she said. “That would be nice.”

  She turned as if to leave, and I got afraid suddenly. Afraid this girl would leave without another word.

  “I’ve got some coffee in back if you’re thirsty,” I said. It was the only thing I could think of.

  She turned and looked at me, a smile on her face. “I need to get some sleep,” she said. “Just come by my room when you get off work and knock. I’ll be waiting.”

  “Sure,” I said, watching her ass in skintight shorts as it moved to the elevator.

  She got inside, turned and looked at me. “See you tomorrow!” she shouted.

  The door closed, and even though I had tomorrow to look forward too, I couldn’t help feeling sad.

  Chapter 2

  Somehow I managed to refrain from doing the old knuckle shuffle on the bologna pony. It wasn’t easy with the last sight of her being that magnificent ass, but for some reason, I was inspired to write. I managed to get about a thousand words done on my latest opus, not that I was ready to do cartwheels over the story, but I actually got started and that was no small thing. I had Claire and my rock hard erection to thank for that. As I vacuumed the lobby and got the continental coffee started, I checked out my reflection in a mirror and realized I needed to run a comb through my hair and either brush my teeth or find some mints before my shift was over. I sniffed my armpits and nodded, just a touch of manly musk; she should find that appealing. Most women do. Scent of a man. Can’t beat that, and it’s cheaper than cologne.

  The last few hours went by like wading through mud with rubber britches on, but soon it was quitting time. I got on the elevator and finger-combed my hair in the reflection of the doors as they closed. I got off on her floor and began walking toward her room and just as I got there, she opened up. Damn, what a fucking vision. She was fresh faced and her hair was real nice, though I would have liked to see more of her eye-opening cleavage. She looked like the kind of girl that wouldn’t look sideways at me, and that was pretty fucking cool since she was going to breakfast with me.

  “Just the man I wanted to see,” she said smiling.

  I’d be fucked if I wasn’t working on a chubby already.

  “Aw, don’t be telling me you’re gonna cancel our date. I was looking forward to it.”

  Her smiled grew brighter, if that was possible, and she said: “Of course not, I was wondering if you can help me with that stupid little safe in the room, it was giving me problems.”

  “They don’t call me Handy for nothing, darlin. Let me at it.” I brushed past her, feeling her nips against my arm, and I could feel them stiffen ever so slightly or maybe that was just my imagination. Never could quite figure that out.

  I pushed past her and showed her how to use the machine. They’re pretty simple to use, though I’m not really sure how secure they are. It turned out her credit card was scratched or something and you needed to use one to open it and lock it, so I asked her if she had a plastic bag, and she did. I showed her this trick where you put the card in the bag, then swipe it and it works. She thanked me and gave me a peck on the cheek and then put some things inside and locked it up. It looked as though she put in a small leather thingamajig and an envelope.

  “All done?” I asked hopefully. My stomach was crying out like the wild animals in the Serengeti.

  “All done, now what does a girl have to do to get some breakfast around here?”

  Damn, if I wasn’t so hungry I would have told her.

  #

  Now the Waffle House is a Southern thing. I know they may have some restaurants in PA, but it started right down here in the South. Right here in Georgia to be exact. Open 24 hours, great food and great prices. Though don’t ask for pancakes here, I mean why would you want to, the waffles are mouth watering. The placemats are the menus, and that was the first thing I pointed out to Claire as we sat by the window. When I go in myself I usually belly up to the counter but I wanted to impress Claire and chose a nice booth. She examined both sides of the menu then looked at me, actually catching me undressing her with my eyes again.

  “What’s good here?”

  “Everything. I guarantee you whatever you order will be an orgasm in your mouth.”

  She straightened up for a moment and cocked an eyebrow, “Really now?”

  “Gaurranfuckintee it darlin.”

  Maxine shuffled over to our table with coffee. She was my favorite waitress here, though far from a looker and I would take money that her nips where chafing against the waistband of her grannies, but she had a mouth on her. Also, I couldn’t help but picture her with a cigarette dangling from her lips. In fact, a few years back she used to smoke in the Waffle House, but then everybody got all health conscious and what not, so you can’t be smoking in public like that anymore. It took her a while to break the habit, though she is forever disappearing on cigarette breaks.

  “What ya having ya prick, you?” She jerked her thumb at Claire. “Who’s your lady friend?”

  Before I could answer, Claire thrust out her hand and introduced herself.

  “Hey Max, I’ll have the pork chops and eggs-“

  “Hash browns smothered, covered, and chunked?” Maxine cut in.

  I nodded approvingly, and then ordered for Claire. I ordered her a waffle with country ham and a biscuit with sausage gravy. “Don’t worry, I swear you will love it all.”

  Claire watched Maxine shuffle away and then looked back to me.

  “So tell me Handy, what’s this town like, seems really quiet?”

  “It is, though me and my boy like to hang out at the local Wal-Mart and scope out the ladies.”

  She laughed, music to my ears. “You’re kidding?”

  “Wouldn’t you like to know? But there are some things to d
o, there’s a cool bar or two some nice places to eat, fishing holes…you want to go sometime? I mean if you are around a while?”

  “Fishing?”

  I laughed, I couldn’t imagine her on my friends little boat trying to cast a line, but she would beat any company I could find.

  “No, I meant the bar, or get something to eat.”

  “Handy, we didn’t even have breakfast, yet.”

  I hung my head, a little sad, but she reached out and touched my hand, lightly and l met her gaze.

  “Its early. Who knows what will happen later right?”

  I smiled, and looked up to see some young pimply faced kid jaunt over with our grub. I attacked my food almost before it hit the table and she just looked at hers, then buttered her waffles and poured on the syrup.

  Between chews and coming up for air, I asked her about last night and the situation last night with her man that abandoned her. She played with her fork, making trails in the sausage gravy and biscuits; it smelled so good I could have licked the plate.

  “Mal, my boyfriend, well as of last night my ex-boyfriend, he was a real prick. He was abusive, but never landed me in the hospital, but he’d hurt me. He would like to twist my arm, hit me where no one could see the bruises, you know… that sort of thing, but that’s not the worst. He’s a bad man”

  “I’d say knocking around a knockout like you, well good, you’re done with him, you don’t need someone who can’t appreciate you”

  She smiled. “Thank you Handy, but there’s more, see, he, well…he’s a criminal. He has done some bad things and involved me in them too, and I do not want to be in that kind of life, always running, looking over your shoulder, it’s no way to live, and that’s what we had a fight about, so I ran. I didn’t know where to go and then from the highway I saw that cheesy Dollar Inn sign, lit up like a neon beacon leading me home, and well, it’s ironic since now I have no home, we were going on vacation, Mal and I, and all I have left of my life with him are those few suitcases and the clothes on my back. I was going to try to contact my sister, she lives a few towns over, but I can’t seem to reach her. I may need to stay a few more days here, but I don’t know what to do if he comes looking for me or gets to my sister first, but I…well I am sure he doesn’t have her address. I was going to try to sneak away to see her but those plans are shot to hell. I-I don’t even know why I’m telling you this, Handy, you just seem like a nice normal guy and I need someone to talk to, and well, now I’m just rambling aren’t I?”