The Jerk-Off
by Jack Lynch
Chapter 19
Kara.
Deck got back in his vehicle. Taking a long breath in and out, he started the engine and pulled away from the curb.
A couple of minutes ago, after getting over the shock of hearing about his brother and the horror over how he had died, his mind was filled with a million thoughts at once.
Planning a funeral, finding Linnie Lee, telling Dickie Lee, the properties, the bank. Oh, and that fucker, Fred. That money would come in mighty handy right now. And then, another thought struck him like a bolt of lightning—Louie Lee's property. I wonder if he had a will .
"Sorry for your loss."
A voice from the back seat.
"Christ!" Deck yelled, losing momentary control over his SUV. The vehicle swerved for a second across the middle line, eliciting a blaring honk from an oncoming truck.
First, he tried to see him in the rear view mirror. Unable to make him out, he briefly turned his head to look back, but he was barely visible, having placed himself in the shadow of the back seat. Tinted windows made it harder to make out his features. He wore one of those broad brim caps, MAGA style, except his was gray, pulled down on his forehead.
"Who the fuck are you?"
"I'm either an angel from heaven or your worst nightmare. You get to choose, Deck."
"What the hell are you talking about?"
"The deal you were talking about back there? It's off the table."
"How do you know about that?"
"I was sitting at the next table. Didn't see me, huh?"
"Tell me why I can't take that deal, if I want to."
"Because you're going to be accepting a different offer."
"What kind of offer?"
"Our offer. We'll pay off your mortgage and give you a little help with your business."
"What does that mean?"
"Bring your loans current, take care of your overdrafts, and get you that hospital contract."
Hmmm . All of a sudden this sounded pretty good. That would solve a lot of problems. But, instantly, an unsettled feeling came over him.
"What do you get besides Ledecker Island? You must want something else."
"Yeah. A piece."
"Whaddaya mean, a piece?"
"We want to be your partner. We'll take a quarter share in your business."
"No fuckin' way, man!"
Silence from the back seat. Deck's heart was pounding so hard in his chest he thought, for a moment, he might be having a heart attack.
"I'll just take the other deal," he blurted out.
"I told ya, that deal is off the table," the guy said quietly.
"Why is it off the table?"
The guy just huffed.
Deck thought for a moment. First Dickie Lee, then the guy he just met with, now this guy. Where were these people all coming up with these numbers from? Were they the same people? Well, okay. For the umpteenth time since talking to Dickie Lee, he did some quick mental calculations. Getting out from under all this financial crap would give him some peace of mind. But, then, he'd have a partner. That could be complicated.
"But, where am I supposed to live?"
"You'll figure something out. From what I just heard, the Green's property is available. Maybe you can find someone to give you a loan on a new house over there."
"Somethin' to think about, I guess."
"You better think fast, asshole!"
With that, Deck could feel something sticking into his back, even through the thick leather upholstery of the front seat.
"Are you out of your fuckin' mind?" By this time, Deck's hands were clammy, fingers gripping the steering wheel. Sweat rolled down the side of his cheek.
"Think of the alternative," the guy responded more quietly.
"Which is?"
"The sky falling."
Deck was starting to come unhinged.
"I find out who you are and you're gonna be in a world of hurt," he growled.
Even with the sound of the engine and the tires on the road, he heard the click. A gun being cocked.
"Don't threaten me," the guy replied using an ominous tone. "You don't want to end up like that other guy, do ya? You know, the one who got his head blown off."
"Take it easy! Jesus!" Deck exclaimed.
"One more thing. That little blackmail scheme you got going with Fred? That's done. And now."
Deck smirked. "Are you telling me Freddie has something to do with all of this horseshit?"
"No he doesn't. You keep him outta this."
"This don't work out. I'll fry him first, then you!"
The gun blast was loud. But, inside the confines of the Escalade, it was positively deafening. The bullet went right through the seat, missing Deck's elbow by just centimeters, and into the right side of the dash, blasting the glove compartment to smithereens and igniting the air bag with a loud bang.
"Jesus fucking Christ!" Deck screamed, the vehicle swerving all the way over to the left shoulder before he got it under control.
He leaned over the back seat and whispered into Deck's ear, "I'm serious."
By this time, they were approaching The Bar and Gas.
"Stop the car and let me out," the guy ordered.
Deck did as he said. He wanted that prick and his gun out of his SUV as soon as possible. After he closed the back door, Deck twisted around in his seat, trying to get a better look at him. Somehow, he'd managed to turn and walk away quickly, his back to Deck. He could only make out that he was slender, fairly tall, and had dark hair, wearing a grubby t-shirt and an equally grubby pair of jeans. The gun, if there was one, appeared to be carefully hidden, somehow, on his body.
Kat had seen some big ones, just not one quite this big.
Forty-two feet of pure luxury, the Sea-Ray SLX 400 cabin cruiser, two bedrooms, a wet bar, two electric grills, big enough to entertain over twenty people, or so O told them. It was probably the biggest boat on Bay Lake, even bigger than most of the boats on Lake Minnetonka in the Twin Cities, where everyone paraded their water craft as if they were comparing the sizes of their dicks.
"How much did you pay for this?" She asked O.
Chuckling, he replied, "Oh, I dunno. I think it was one point two or something." He said it in a way that made her think he couldn't be bothered with details like that.
This was her first actual date with Fritz Wold. Their initial encounter, just a couple of days ago, was more of a hook-up. Kat had technically been minding her own business while nursing a wine cooler at Bar Harbor on Gull Lake. Deck was nowhere to be found, so she was kind of on the prowl. If she could have put money on it, she would have bet some guy would hit on her. And, actually she did put money on it—about $300 for a tiny bottle of Portrait of a Lady. Two little spritzes and the boys always came sniffing around.
It wasn't long before Fritz sidled up and introduced himself. After some verbal volleyball and a few more drinks, they hit the hay at his expansive home nestled on the north end of The Pines golf course. One side faced the course, the other a spectacular panorama of Roy Lake.
She didn't see much of the view, however. Most of the time she was at Fritz's place, she was flat on her back.
"That is some pussy, that is some pussy," Fritz murmured over and over, as he buried his mouth and jaw into her fire red crotch.
Kat couldn't help but chuckle. Didn't ya know half the population has the exact same thing , she thought, but didn't say? That's fine. Let him think her snatch was something special.
Later on, she was able to glance at the lights twinkling off the darkened lake, when she wore the strap-on Fritz insisted she use on him. He moaned and groaned non-stop as she jammed it up his ass, Kat having to practically bite her tongue off to keep from howling with laughter at the sounds he was making.
President of the Bank of the Ten Thousand Lakes, a boutique bank run out of handsome headquarters on the edge of Nisswa. The place looked more like the pro shop at an expensive country club, decorated in rich tones of hunter green, navy blue, and cherry wood. The carpeting was so thick it felt like you were walking on sponges when you strolled across the lobby. An institution that catered to the elite, mostly making loans to triple-A credit individuals and companies that had little need for financing. Of modest means looking for a car loan? Your request was usually met with a frown and a polite, we'll get back to you. They never did.
Kat was still trying to figure out the connection between the de la Renta's and Fritz. They really were lovely people. Even with their obvious wealth, Kara and O were so easy going and authentic. She eagerly lapped up O's stories of his father's career and connections, tales of his close friendships with the likes of Hillary Clinton and Oprah. Kat softly probed for some juicy tidbits about some of the celebs but O just smiled and politely shook his head.
Kara, OMG, what a lovely and sharp woman! Her upbringing sounded straight out of one of those thick paperback romance novels. Raised on her family's massive North Dakota ranch— twenty thousand acres, for God's sake! Cattle and horses out the yin-yang. Kara made it sound like she had practically been born on a horse. An experienced rider, winner of numerous equestrian competitions. She laughed when Kara told her about her favorite hobby as a kid. Trapping rattlesnakes, killing them, and selling the rattles through an upscale fashion catalog. A Bryn Mawr grad, which should have given her every connection in the World. It was the rattles that did it, however. O came across them in that catalog, stumbled across her at a Sigma Chi party in college, and the rest, as they say, is history.
A perfect day to tool around the lake. The twin 600-horsepower Mercury outboards were ridiculously overpowered. O barely had the throttle higher than troll speed so he could help entertain his guests, every once in a while, grabbing the steering wheel and jerking one way or another to avoid other lake traffic. Mostly, his job was to liberally sprinkle drinks around to Fritz, Kat, and Kara. Cooking and serving was left up to two guys who'd been hired on for the day from Lonesome Pine Restaurant and Bar.
"Miss, would you like the cole slaw or the cold potatoes with your pan fried walleye?" Elliott asked, as he bent over, one hand behind his back, and handed Kat a cloth napkin wrapped around metal cutlery, with the other.
After weeks of smelling like fish, Elliott had enough of Morey's. The stink was even in his hair! He was willing to give them two weeks' notice, but they cut him loose right away. No problem, as far as he was concerned. He had already lined up the job at Lonesome Pine as a server. Better pay, better smells, and he would be just minutes from Freddie's place. And, a lot closer to the action, as it were.
Kat smiled up at him. What a cutie! Azure blue eyes, a bit of scruff, a round face, man bun, and a slight frame. When he turned around, she noted how cute his ass looked. The back of his dark blue polo had somehow hitched up and caught on the waistband of his khaki shorts, revealing the roundness of his butt cheeks and his attractive narrow hips.
After lunch, the two couples repaired to the lower deck to change into swimsuits, the de la Renta's to the state room, big enough to hold a king-sized bed which, incidentally, had never been slept in. Fritz and Kat used the much smaller second bedroom, each taking turns using a head that was more splendiferous than those found in many fine hotels.
With the flip of a switch, O lowered a portion of the side hull and unfolded a swim terrace adding three feet to the beam, giving them a place to hang out just inches above the water. One at a time, they dropped off the side into the brilliantly blue water. After the requisite piddling around, they pulled themselves back onto the swimming terrace. Elliott was there ready to wrap each one of them up in luxuriously thick white bath towels.
After another round of drinks was passed around, the girls went up to the spacious bow seating section while O showed Fritz the impressive array of the boat's electronic controls and monitoring systems.
Reaching into a small side compartment, Kara pulled out a joint, quickly lighting up and sucking a long toke down her throat. Wordlessly, she nudged Kat's arm and offered it to her. She took it with a low chuckle. The two women laid back on the seat cushions, their feet extended toward the bow of the boat.
Within a few minutes, a beautiful day had an even better glow. The two women chatted on until Kat leaned forward, smiled hazily at Kara, and reached around to unsnap her swimsuit top.
"Do you mind?"
"Not at all," Kara replied with a grin, as she turned on her side to watch.
Topless, Kat's brazen display revealed a pair of perfect breasts, full and round, large chocolate brown nipples immediately stiffening in the light breeze. Pearly white skin, curiously the same shade as the rest of her body, outside of some of the freckles on her shoulders.
At that moment, Kara's mind and imagination got tickled. It had been a long time since she'd had this kind of feeling about another woman. Was it really that kind of feeling or was she just tantalized by the situation?
There had been other women, girls really, when she was younger. At first, Kara didn't realize she somehow attracted the attention of that kind, those girls who liked other girls. Early on, it was another girl who insisted on sitting next to her on the school bus, Kara only slightly aware that she edged closer and closer to her on each ride. Maybe it was the horseback riding or her tomboyishness, but hugs and touches from other girls eventually led to a subtle form of pawing. At first, she politely brushed their hands away, sometimes having to be firm, pushing them away, with a giggle.
Blessed with her family's Norwegian characteristics, she was the epitome of cuteness and good looks as a child, sublimely unaware of the attractions of straight blonde hair, brilliant blue eyes, a small nose, and thin lips. Her parents proudly displayed three flags on separate poles at the front gate of the ranch—the Stars and Stripes, the North Dakota state flag, and the flag of Norway. Grandma Effie would often hold Kara on her lap when she was little as she paged through the Sons of Norway magazine, pointing out the pictures of a faraway mountainous land.
It was only when she was away at equestrian competitions was she razzed about her Nordic-American accent with its "yahs" instead of "yeahs" and "oh-ahs" instead of "oh's." Some girls, those girls, found it to be more than just cute. Eventually she figured out she gave off some kind of a lipstick lesbian vibe that seemed to be cat nip for girls like that.
Kara was more or less groomed for Bryn Mawr College, unaware at the time that, just like its seven sisters' New England counterpart, Smith, the suburban Philadelphia school was a bastion of clam smackers. Still technically a girl's school, only a very thin transparent barrier remained between it and Haverford, the adjacent boy's college. Dorms, of course, were still exclusively female. Almost immediately, Kara became aware that girls were pairing up for various types of sexual encounters. Within the first three weeks, her roommate asked her to find another place to sleep because she wanted to host another girl for an overnight stay.
Even knowing all of this, she failed to pick up the cues when her art history teacher, Prue Lewarne, asked her if she would like to meet for a late night snack.
"Sit by me," Prue said, patting the bench of a deep dark booth at The Pullman, an eatery adjacent to campus.
Kara guessed Assistant Professor Lewarne was in her late thirties. Slender with dark brown hair just past her shoulders, sharp features. She had a large nose, attractive and interesting, that she, herself, made fun of, claiming it was the most obvious feature of her French ancestry.
She wanted to know all about Kara's background, seemingly entranced by her rural upbringing. It wasn't until half way through their little get-together that Kara realized she was on a date.
"How do you get your hair so soft?" Prue asked, reaching over and stroking it lightly.
"I dunno, Kara responded, blushing. "Prell?" She'd never really thought about it.
Later, accepting Prue's invitation back to her apartment, Kara allowed herself to be felt up, giving in to some soft kisses before loosening her lips and letting Prue explore her mouth with her tongue.
That tongue was put to further use a bit later. Now both naked, Prue pushed down on Kara's back, urging her to bend over a chair while she expertly ate her out from behind. She jumped when Prue pulled her ass cheeks apart and plunged her tongue right into Kara's ass. In seconds, she heard animal sounds, not realizing until later they were groans coming out of her own mouth.
They were an item for most of the semester until Kara caught Prue cheating on her with another co-ed. With a shrug, she decided there was a big wide world out there, filled with all kinds of wonderful women. Now that the dam was broken, it seemed like girls were practically lined up outside her door waiting for a chance to suck face and eat pussy.
It wasn't until the next year, tagging along with a bunch of other girls, that she met O at a frat mixer on Penn's campus. She was immediately dazzled by him and his exotic pedigree, caught off guard that he knew about her little rattler enterprise. Her sapphic bent was tossed aside in favor of a guy who spent the next two years courting her. A big New York City wedding, honeymoon in Bermuda, a social and cultural life built around art, fashion, and philanthropy. At the age of twenty-one, she had earned her Mrs. degree.
A difficult pregnancy, spotting throughout, confined to bed for the last two months, and they were blessed with Ozzie. Never again, her OB-GYN warned her with a shake of his finger, so she was one and done in the child bearing department.
Kara propped herself up on one elbow, turning to see if the guys were watching. They were no longer visible, having taken seats toward the back of the boat as they continued to chat. The two servers busied themselves at the grill and the galley station.
Turning back toward Kat, she popped the clasp on the front of her own top, letting the cups fall away from her breasts. With a soft smile, she shrugged the top off and laid back.
"You are so adorable, I bet your husband must just eat you up!" Kat murmured as she gazed at Kara. Perfectly firm, tea cup sized breasts, pinkish brown nipples, much smaller than hers, not much bigger than a man's.
Kara giggled as she stretched her arms over her head, letting them fall back along her sides. She was definitely feeling no pain, not caring at all whatever happened next.
Kat took another long drag, handed the joint to Kara, and flipped over on her stomach, placing her mouth almost parallel to Kara's chest.
"Hmmm," Kara murmured. Eyes trained to the sky, she placed one hand behind Kat's head and pulled her mouth onto her breast.
Neither of them even noticed when Elliott came forward and almost silently refreshed their drinks. As he watched the two women writhing away, Kat on top of Kara, he made some mental notes.
Thayer ripped out of the parking lot after work. At least, that was his intention.
Regrettable, troubling, annoying, bothersome. Here was Rome again, hands on the hood of his vehicle, as if he could prevent Thayer's Rogue from moving forward.
"Can I get a ride?" He asked.
Thayer huffed in disgust. Then, he sighed.
"Okay. Get in."
Not a word from C.O. Not. One. Fucking. Word! Even after he'd obliged him with those two snaps, the ones displaying his bare butt, no response. At first, Thayer thought that he had forgotten to push, send. Worse yet, maybe sent them to someone else. But, nope. After checking several times, he was certain C.O. had received them.
Rome blathered on the entire way while Thayer barely listened, grunting, nodding, and uh-huh-ing, once-in-a-while.
"Wanna come in?" Rome asked hopefully when they drove up to his house.
"No. I do not," Thayer responded firmly, a cross look on his face, eyes straight ahead.
"Okay. Well, see ya then."
Thayer watched him, head down, shaking it, as he walked away.
Am I being too much of an asshole , he asked himself? I mean, how bad could it be? Maybe, just show him—certainly, no touching. The thought of the other way around, him touching Romey, was gross. So, why was he getting hard?
When he got home, after finding a note in the kitchen from his mom, he went to his room and pulled his sweaty and stinking light cotton hoodie and a second t-shirt off and threw them on the floor. She'd be home later. If he was hungry, he was welcome to get a snack.
He flopped on his bed and checked his phone again for the umpteen jillionth time. He let out a gasp of frustration. Nothing. He used one hand to toss the phone on the floor with his other clothes. With the other, he stuck it down his pants, feeling for his dick. Groaning, he turned onto his stomach and humped the bed for a minute or so.
That certainly didn't do the trick. With a grimace, he sat up and yanked his shoes and socks off. Getting off the bed, he unbuckled his jeans and slid them to the floor, his underwear following. Of course, he was hard and, all of a sudden, kind of hungry.
Naked, he ambled into the kitchen, grabbed a bag of nuts and a Shasta, returning to his room, and fell on the bed. Chomping away and swirling soda down his throat, he grabbed his phone again and checked for messages. There were none, so he navigated to his favorite porn site, Chaturbate.
Of course, there were numerous men broadcasting, most of them were gross, either really old, overweight or old and overweight. The guy he liked to watch the most apparently wasn't online at the moment. He usually wasn't attracted to metro boys. TrickyO, however, was wicked cute and très très sexy. Skinny, very boyish, smooth beige skin, blondish hair cut in a kind of comb over, small facial features, round eyes, a juicy looking thick cock, and a butt hole that Thayer longed to lick.
He clicked on another guy, someone he'd never seen before. He resembled C.O. in some ways. Athletic build, blond hair, beige skin in the same tone. Naked, except that he wore long socks, kind of like the thin stockings a lot of basketball players wore these days. They came up to his mid-thighs. Attractive, somehow accentuating his smooth thighs and pink cock. Entranced, Thayer watched him, lightly stroking himself, until someone apparently paid the price to get him to go private.
It suddenly dawned on him to see if his sister had some stockings like that. Thigh highs or knee highs, the girls called them. Checking her dresser drawer, he found a pair that looked like the right kind. Sitting on her bed, he pulled one on, stretching it to his mid-thigh. That's about right , he thought, so he pulled the other one on, too.
Returning to his bedroom, he opened his closet door so he could see himself in the full length mirror. Turning this way and that, he decided he looked pretty hot. Would C.O. think so, too? Romey, maybe? He smirked. Well, Romey, yeah, probably. Turning with his back to the mirror, he twisted around so he could better see his butt. Round, the cheeks tipped a bit when he stood on his tiptoes, set-off better by the stockings. Turning to the side, he admired his bare hip, contrasting so nicely against the stretchy white fabric.
Now, down on the floor, one knee bent, he rubbed his hand against the inside of his thigh, finally grabbing onto the hard, thick, and leaky joint between his legs. Bringing both knees up, he rubbed his hand along the back of his thigh, nudging his middle finger against his anus until it popped in.
The orgasm, when it came a few minutes later, was enormous, of course. Thayer lay flat on his back, his eyes to the ceiling. Well, he smirked, I wonder what's on TV tonight.
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