[FMK] 12 Hard Inches: Chapter 2 (Patreon)

CHAPTER TWO

I took a quick shower, cleaning my crotch to ensure that I wouldn’t end up with an STI (a friend told me that it was impossible to get an STI if you scrubbed your cock right after sex). Then, I put on some sweatpants and rushed out the door, off to find Frank before he could find Daryl and tell him what happened.

My heart was racing. I knew that Daryl would blow my brains out with that shotgun if he found out that I filled his wife’s asshole with cum. He wouldn’t hesitate to pull that trigger. And sadly, that probably meant he wouldn’t even get a life sentence, because they would call it a crime of passion. I think you get a smaller sentence if it’s not premeditated.

“Have you seen Frank?” said to Caroline, who was out on her deck, smoking a blunt.

“Frank?” she said. “What in the hell do you want to talk to Frank for?”

“I need to talk to him about something important.”

“Daryl’s over in his office.”

“I don’t want to talk to Daryl,” I said.

“If it’s important, I wouldn’t waste my time with Frank,” Caroline said to me.

I just smiled and went off. I went over to Daryl’s office trailer. I could see Daryl inside, behind his desk, with a beer in front of him. He had a calm look on his face, suggesting he hadn’t yet heard the news—which meant Frank wasn’t there. So I kept hunting down the assistant trailer park supervisor.

“Have you seen Frank?” I asked Peter.

“Frank?” he said. “What do you want with that baboon?”

“I need to talk to him about something.”

“I think Daryl’s in his office.”

I groaned. I kept looking, going up and down those narrow trailer park streets. Frank usually wasn’t so hard to find; he was always trotting up and down those streets with his thumbs in his pockets, trying to look like some sort of cowboy. Hell, sometimes he even wore a lame cowboy hat, which was almost certainly from a costume store.

“Hey Raymond!” someone shouted out at me. “No work today?”

“I’m taking the day off,” I said. “Have you seen Frank?”

“Frank?” he said. “What do you want Frank for? He owe you money or something?”

“I just need to talk to him.”

“I haven’t seen him. In fact, I haven’t seen him at all this morning. Usually he’s trying to look into my windows, rubbing his greasy face all over my glass. You know, my wife had to hit him with a broom the other day because he kept sneaking through our backyard. He’s convinced my wife is growing dope in her garden.”

I didn’t have time to converse. I needed to find Frank before he told anyone about what he saw.

I decided to head down to Frank’s trailer, which was on the far end of the park, by the kids’ playground. Now, the kids were all playing, screaming, chasing one another helter-skelter in the streets. There was an old Buick trying to get by on the road, but the kids couldn’t care less, constantly darting in front of him. He tried honking to make the kids move, but one of the older kids (maybe ten) flipped him the bird and yelled, “Fuck off you old shit!”

I darted in front of the car and headed to Frank’s trailer. I went up his rotting steps. One of the boards collapsed underneath me, and I nearly fell straight through his shitty deck. All of his curtains were closed. I slowly walked up to his door. Now, my heart was pounding. I had no idea how I was going to convince him to keep his mouth shut. I didn’t want him to know that I was desperate, but I also didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of having something he could dangle over my head. I thought for a long moment before I reached my fist out to knock on his door.

But I didn’t quite get that far. Before I could knock, the other door opened: it was a sliding glass door that went into Frank’s bedroom. I turned, expecting Frank to step out. But instead of getting Frank, a woman stepped out.

She was an older woman wearing a robe on her top half and black fishnets on her bottom half. Her makeup was thick and her hair was a mess. A single, quick glance was enough to know that I was looking at a prostitute.

And I suppose that explained why Frank had suddenly vanished from the park; he went off to meet a whore at his house.

Now, the whore was lighting a cigarette, staring off at the playground, watching the little kids as they darted back and forth, screaming as they chased one another.

“You didn’t actually fuck that loser, did you?” I said, scaring her.

She gasped as she turned to me. She put her hand to her chest and said, “What the hell are you doing there?”

“I need to talk to Frank about something.”

“He’s in the shower,” she said. “And so what if I fucked him? What difference does it make to you?”

“I guess it doesn’t make a difference,” I said. “I honestly thought he liked guys.”

She rolled her eyes and looked away from me. I was honestly shocked that she would sleep with a guy like Frank, even if she was a hooker. She was older, maybe in her mid-forties, but she had a kind, pretty face. Her body was pretty good too: slender, curvy; she had large breasts, which were obviously natural (a rare commodity in that park). Her lips were plump and slippery. Her skin was remarkably smooth for her age. But it was the way that her fishnets hugged her plump thighs that made my gaze wander down.

“Can I help you with something?” she asked.

“You don’t mind if I go in, do you?” I said. “I really have to talk to Frank.”

“I mind you staring at my body like a hungry coyote,” she said. “Have some manners.”

“What kind of prostitute tells a guy to have manners?” I said.

She rolled her eyes and shook her head, looking away from me. So I reached for the door handle, but it was locked. Then I looked at that bedroom door. “You don’t mind if I slip through, do you?” I needed her to unlock the little latch on the other side of the gate.

“Do I mind?” she said. “I have no idea who you are, and this isn’t my house.”

“It’s important. I need to talk to him.”

She smiled and walked over to the gate. She put her forearms down on it and leaned forward, making her large breasts squish together. “Will you pay me to open it?”

“Hell no, I ain’t paying you anything. I just want to talk to Frank.”

“Well then you can wait until he’s done in the shower—and he’s still got forty-five minutes left with me, so you can wait until that’s up to.”

“I doubt Frank is good for a second round, beautiful,” I said, rolling my eyes.

She smiled. “Thanks for calling beautiful, but Frank is usually good for three rounds in his hour.”

“No shit,” I said, baffled. “Frank? I don’t believe you.”

“Well, it’s true.”

I shook my head, trying not to think of his big, fat gut rubbing all over the pretty prostitute. Even now, she smelled a bit like Frank: that cheap cologne that he bought on discount from Walmart. “Just let me through, lady.”

“Fifty bucks,” she said.

“Hell no,” I said.

“Then you aren’t getting through. You can wait.”

“It’s important,” I said. “Like—really important.”

“Wait,” she said, suddenly with a big smile on her face. She tossed her cigarette butt onto the gravel driveway, and then she leaned closer. “Are you the guy fucking his boss’s wife?”

I felt my skin turning white. “Who said anything about that?” I said, forcing a small laugh in an attempt to make myself sound less guilty.

“Frank just told me,” she said. “He was on his way here and he said he saw some guy named… what was the name? Raymond—that’s it. Raymond was fucking his boss’s wife. He said he’s as good as dead. I’m assuming you’re Raymond.”

“Why would you assume that?”

She grinned. “So I’m right,” she said. “You have a sweet look, Raymond. You definitely don’t look like the type of guy to go around fucking married guys’ wives.”

“That’s none of your business,” I said. “Just let me through to talk to Frank. I just want to straighten some things out.”

“You going to threaten him?” she said. “He’s one of my best clients. He tips better than anyone else. I don’t want him getting roughed up.”

“I’m not going to rough him up.”

“So what are you going to do?” she asked. “He’s going to tell his boss, you know. He loves that man more than he loves me. He’s all he ever talks about. Daryl this, Daryl that.”

“Look,” I said. “It’s really none of your business. I’m going to handle it. Nobody’s going to get hurt—myself included.”

“Well, if it’s none of my business, then I’m definitely not unlocking this gate.”

“Then I’ll just jump it,” I said.

“I’ll scream.”

“Why are you protecting him!?” I snapped. I felt my face turning red. This whore was getting under my skin, even though she was the only reason Frank hadn’t already squealed on me. He probably would have gone straight to his boss had he not been late for his appointment with his prostitute. “Lady, you’re going to end up getting me killed.”

“I don’t know you.”

“If I get killed, Daryl goes to prison, and then Frank is out a job.”

“Why would he be out a job? Wouldn’t he just become the park supervisor?” she asked with a big grin. That grin suggested that she was trying her best to get under my skin. This was funny to her; she really didn’t care one little bit about my wellbeing.

“Surely we can come to some sort of agreement here,” I said, calming my voice down. “I have nothing against Frank and I have nothing against you. You seem like a nice lady. You’re very beautiful. I’m sure Frank pays really good money to fuck you, and I would too. But let’s just be friendly, alright? I don’t want some crazy asshole coming after me with a shotgun. Right now, you’re keeping me from protecting my own life. If Frank picks up his phone and calls his boss, I’m fucked. Do you understand? I don’t want to die. So I really need to talk to Frank about this.”

“With all due respect,” she said, still with that big grin on his face. “I have no idea what you plan on saying to him. He’s got his mind set on telling Daryl about it. There’s nothing you can say to change his mind. No offence, but he doesn’t exactly have the nicest things to say about you. He said something about you selling dope to kids.”

“That was one time, and he was hardly a kid,” I said.

“You don’t sound like the greatest guy, Raymond.”

“I’m a wonderful guy,” I said. “And I’m even more wonderful when I’m not dead. So please, just let me through.”

She stared into my eyes with that big smile on her face. “Why don’t you let me talk to him?” she said. “He actually likes me. Maybe I can talk him out of ratting you out.”

I stared back into her eyes. I remained still for a long, long time, trying to decide if she was still trying to fuck with me, or if she was actually making me an offer.

“What do you want from me?” I said.

“What do you think I want?” she said.

“How much? And do I get my money back when he goes and squeals like the fat pig he is?”

“I charge a hundred an hour, so that would be a fine starting point,” she said.

“A hundred an hour?” I said. “How can you possibly get any business charging that much in this park!?”

She gasped. “Watch your tongue, dead boy!” she said, shaking her head. “I’m worth at least twice that.” She folded her arms and turned her chin up.

“Of course you are,” I said, biting my tongue. “I mean—I agree. I just don’t think the folk around here have that kind of scratch.”

“Well, I’m not from here,” she said. “I’m from Sutton. Frank pays for the commute.”

“What? He gives you four bucks for bus fare?”

“He pays for a cab,” she said, scolding me with narrowed eyes. “And my cab is coming back in thirty-five minutes, which isn’t a lot of time to talk to Frank, especially if he wants to go for another round. So are you going to pay me or not?”

“I’ll give you twenty,” I said.

“One-hundred,” she said firmly, not budging from her position.

“How do I know you will have any sway over him?”

“I have lots of sway,” she said. “I’m pretty sure he’s saving up to buy me a ring.”

“If I were you, I’d be taking that ring in to get tested,” I said.

“Don’t be an ass,” she growled. “I don’t like guys insulting my clients. One-hundred bucks and I’ll talk him out of ratting you out. I think that’s a fine deal. Surely you think your life is worth at least one-hundred bucks.”

“For one-hundred bucks, I’d expect your promise and a blowjob.”

She blushed. “You really want to throw in a blowjob?”

I shrugged my shoulders. “Just promise me to use mouthwash once you’re done with him.”

“Is that a deal?” she asked.

I dug into my sweatpants pockets and pulled out the cash that I had: sixty bucks. “I’ll give you the other forty at my place, when you come by for that blowjob. I’m in the red trailer on Crescent Street.”

She snatched that money from my fingertips. “Nice doing business with you, Raymond. I’m always happy to have a new client.”

“I’m no new client,” I said. “It’s just a deal.”

“Every guy I play with becomes a client,” she said. “Consider yourself warned.”

“Alright then, consider me warned,” I said, rolling my eyes. “Just do me a favour and make sure that fat boy is convinced to keep his mouth shut. I won’t make a good client when I’m dead.”

She grabbed my hand and shook it. That’s when I caught a whiff of her beautiful perfume. I’m pretty sure I’d smelled it before in that beauty section of Walmart, where I went to buy razors and shaving cream. It was one of the fancy perfumes they kept behind glass; I liked it.

I was nervous walking away from that trailer, leaving my fate in the hands of a fishnet-clad prostitute, whose name I didn’t even know. I had to put my faith in her though, because she was right: Frank hated my guts and there was nothing I could say to convince him to help me. There was nothing anyone could say in that park—but he apparently had a real thing for that whore, so if I was going to have any chance, it was with her.