Previously, on A Young American…
To start at the beginning, go here.
A week went by as I received and ignored several calls from Harold about returning to work. I came back from the grocery store and set everything down, noticing the flyer on the counter about the dog. I went upstairs to 304 to see if someone had taken him. A man in a stained wife beater with a trucker belly answered the door.
“Yeah.” He said, sounding annoyed.
“Hi, I’m here about the flyer.”
“Martha! Someone’s here about that fuckin’ dog!” He walked away from the door and I let myself in. The apartment looked a lot like mine, except it was a huge mess. A surprisingly attractive woman came out of the bedroom with a towel around her head and a robe around her body. She looked young, somewhere in the late 20s to early 30s range, and a thin strand of dark red hair protruded from the towel.
“Hi, can you hold on one second while I get dressed?” I nodded, because my tongue was in too many knots to say anything. She had a little weight on her, but she was far from fat. I was excited to see what she’d come out in. She left the bedroom in a stunning low cut green top that matched her eyes and tight black pants on.
Her hair was still wet and some of it fell over half her face. The hottest thing a woman could ever do to me was cover half her face with hair. I guess it was because it aired some sort of mystery about her, at least that’s what a psychologist might tell me. Either way I kept one hand in my pocket to hold my boner down. She grabbed her keys and opened the front door.
“Albert doesn’t like having people in the house, so is it all right if we talk in the lounge?”
“Uh, su-sure.” I managed to say. I took another look at the flyer, “Where’s uh… Thommy?” Stupid name.
“My daughter’s walking him now. Don’t worry, I’ll let you see him if you’re still interested.” We walked down to the lounge and talked for a good 30 minutes about how old he was and that he needed regular visits to the vet.
“He also takes some arthritis medicine.”
“Sounds like you really love this dog,” I said, “I haven’t been able to get a word in over the past half hour.”
“I do.” She nodded. “That’s kinda why I didn’t wanna put him in a place with a bunch of other dogs. He needs personal attention.”
“You said your daughter’s walking him. Is she old enough to go walking around on her own?” I asked, fishing for Martha’s age.
“Oh yeah, she’s 14.” I was unable to hide my surprised look, which made her laugh. “What’s that about?”
“How old are you?”
“Thirty-three.” She said sullenly, “I had her with Albert when we were dating in high school.”
That explains a lot, I thought. The only way a man like Albert could get a woman like Martha was in high school, where for whatever reason the ugly gene just hadn’t kicked in yet, and from the brief time I spent with the man, neither did the douche bag gene.
Martha’s phone rang, and she gave me the “one second” motion, “Hey Shannon. Where are you?” She nodded, agreed, and hung up. “That was my daughter. She’s down the street at Elevation Burger. You want to come with me to get her? You can meet Thommy. And grab a bite to eat. It’s a great burger place.”
“Sure.” I shrugged.
“Great, it’s just a short walk, maybe 10 minutes. Let me text Albert and let him know.” I stood up at the same time as her and felt her breathe a slight warm sigh women only breathed when reading romance novels. We walked out together and just like she said the burger place was close, and Shannon was sitting outside with Thommy. She stood up and waved. Martha waved back excitedly. “They won’t let me take Thommy inside, but there’s tables right here we could sit at.” I took the dog’s leash.
“I’ll stay out here with him and you guys can get some food. It’ll give me time to size him up.” Martha gave me an Aw, how sweet look and they went inside to order.
“Do you want anything?” She asked.
“Just a cheeseburger and coke is fine.” Thommy and I took a seat. He wagged his tail at me and I pet his black, white and gray fur. “Man, you’re old as hell.” He looked at me, panting. I always did love dogs. I hadn’t had one since Sam, who died a year before my parents. I brushed the side of his head. Shannon and her mom came out of the door, juggling the food. I got up and grabbed my drink from Martha’s hands.
“Thanks.” I said, “How much do I owe you?”
“Don’t worry about it.” We sat and ate our lunch on this surprisingly warm afternoon. “What do you think?” She asked, “Do you like him?”
“Yeah, he’s a good old pup. I can look after him while you guys are away.” Her face lit up.
“Oh thank you so much. I can give you money for dog food and stuff.” I waved her off, saying I could handle it. After the meal we all walked back to the apartment, one big happy family. When we got inside Martha had Shannon take the dog upstairs and thanked me for helping her out. She came in for a hug, and when she let go she remained just as close, staring at me. We were stuck in a moment, until she knew I wasn’t going to bite, so she leaned in for a kiss.
I tried to pull myself back, but her lips were so soft, and her hair had dried into that cursed vibrant red that I couldn’t ignore on my best of days. Our lips pressed against each other, and instinctively opened in a rhythm that made it seem like they belonged together. Our tongues fought like fencers. Touché. It wasn’t until I put a hand on the back of her head that she mustered the strength to back away.
“Um, okay.” She stroked her hair behind her ear, “What’s your apartment number so we know where to bring Thommy.” How could they just do that? Why was it so easy for them?
“208.” I said, reaching in my pocket for a cigarette.
“Great! Well, um, thank you again for helping us with this, and I’ll see you tomorrow to drop him off.” She turned around and hopped on the elevator. After the doors closed I stepped outside and smoked, watching the cars go by, feeling both proud and ashamed that I had given into her advances. Back in my apartment clothes were scattered throughout as I had yet to purchase a laundry basket. I picked them up and started loading the washer, double-checking to make sure there was nothing left in any pants pockets. I found some gum, a few loose cigarettes, and a folded up piece of paper with a name and number written on it. It was Charlie, the Superman who got roped into that knife sales thing with me. I put the rest of the clothes in the wash, started it up and gave him a call.
“Hello?” he said.
“Yeah, I’m calling because someone recommended I buy this knife set from you. Something about Slicers, Inc. or something?”
“Oh, hold on!” I heard him rifling through some paperwork.
“Relax,” I said, “I’m the guy who was with you at that orientation.”
He laughed, “Man, you had me going for a second. I really thought you wanted to buy a set of these fine cutleries!” He said, sarcastically.
“Yeah, how long did it take you to quit?”
“I tried for like a week, and then when I ran out of people I just said fuck it. That Harold guy’s been trying to get me to come back for whatever reason but I’m not bothering with it. What about you?”
“It was even worse. I had to go with them on a door-to-door run. Whaddya say we discuss our misadventures over a beer somewhere? I’m pretty new to this whole area.” It was like asking someone out on a date, only more awkward. There was quite a long pause, at least I thought there was, and then, “Sure. There’s a wing house over in East Orange, do you know where that is?”
“I have a GPS in my car that does. Just give me the address and a time to go.”
“Well I’ll probably head down there in about an hour or so, if you just wanna meet there.”
“Okay.” I said, and he gave me the address. The place was called Hath No Fury, which sounded like it was going to be a knock off Hooters of some kind. I hung up the phone with Charlie and got ready for the big date. We got there, got a table and traded experiences, determining whose was worse. At least we tried to. I was right about the place being a knock off Hooters, because the ladies walked around in short shorts, low, low, low cut tops and spent every second of their time trying to flirt our money out of us.
“Wait a minute, so you’re saying you sold some knives to a beaten woman, who used those same knives to later kill her abusive husband?”
“That’s right.” I nodded, finishing my beer.
“I don’t believe it.” He said, “There’s no way you sold a set of knives.” We drank and ate for the next hour and a half, and it’s safe to say I came home that night with one more person in my corner. Meeting a new friend was much like a job interview. Go in with good stories, listen well, and don’t answer the phone. As fun as it was to hang out with someone again, it didn’t solve my sexual problems, and going to that wing house actually made it worse.
I turned on the television and searched for some porn, but I was pretty much over that. After a few of those soft-core movies I started to realize that they are less of a porno and more of a bad movie with extra nudity. Then I discovered the Spice network. I checked out some descriptions and it looked like it was hardcore back to basics fucking.
No lame stories, no talking. Just straight up fucking, sucking, and eating. While I could do without the eating, I certainly was enticed by the other prospects. I almost went for it when I saw that it was 30 bucks for a four-hour slot. I didn’t want to pay 30 dollars and I definitely didn’t want to watch porn for four hours. I started looking around on the Internet. After about five minutes of searching, if that, I found a place called redtube.
There were tons of free porn all separated into different categories for me. One of the biggest things that always bothered me about porn was that the women were faking it almost all the time. Even if they were good at acting, I couldn’t get it out of my mind that they weren’t really enjoying it.
That was one of the few things that turned me off. I tolerated it in the soft-core because I had nothing else and didn’t normally watch porn, but now that I was used to it, I had to do something new, so I clicked on the amateur section. Homemade porn was as good as homemade food, except my mother was, hopefully, not involved. I clicked around until I saw one called “Drunken whore pleases her man”.
It was a woman who was obviously drunk, but also cock-hungry as hell. She practically raped the man, tugging on his cock furiously, sucking it. It was when she pushed him on the hard cement and climbed on top of him, shoving her tongue down his mouth and feeling for his cock that I couldn’t hold mine down any longer. I leaned back in my chair and pulled it out, stroking it as furiously as the drunken woman.
She didn’t say a word. She just moaned, groaned and rode that poor frat boy. She didn’t look at the camera once. She kept her eye on the prize and he squeezed her nipples. She got off of him and went back down to his dick, practically pulling the come right out of it, before getting it all over her face, then licking his dick clean while massaging his balls. It was then that I came, again all over my fucking pants. Disgusting, thick, smelly liquid.
“Goddamnit!” I shouted, closing the browser. I angrily got up and wiped myself off with a towel again before turning out the lights and going to sleep. Jerking off never worked out for me in the end, yet I couldn’t stop once that blood had started flowing. The next morning I woke up to a knocking on my door. It was too light not to be a woman. I looked through the peephole and it was Shannon standing there with Thommy. I opened the door, “Well, hello.” I said, “Where’s your mom?”
She shrugged, “I guess she just wanted me to bring him down here to you.” I took the leash and let Thommy run around inside.
“Here’re all his things.” She said, taking off her backpack.
“Thank you.” I said, “And tell your mom I hope you guys have a good trip.”
“Okay.” She left and I came back inside to see the dog sitting in the middle of the room, wagging his tale.
“Well,” I said, “welcome.” I opened up his bag. Inside there were the usuals; food bowl, medicine, flea shit, and a note, folded up. I opened it, and it basically just reminded me to replace his arthritis medicine, and at the bottom there were a few XO’s and a kiss imprint. I smiled, then threw it away and set up the dog’s little corner of the apartment.