To anyone else it might have seemed a crazy idea but it is truly a perfect plan. I figured out a modern way to live free and "live off the land". Over the years I've written many unpublished stories and novels. I know the business as well as anyone actually in the business. It was all fun. Soon, I'd have more time on my hands to write and then the checks would just come rolling in.
Literotica, an Internet site, daily accumulates off the wall, sexually oriented stories in a very large volume. One evening, after reading a really bad story, with sexual positions that were physically impossible, I took notice of the author's profile. Then another and then another.
Micro-town-girl caught my interest in a twisted way; she described herself as rubenesque, early 30's, living somewhere between No and Where in Iowa, and a wannabe author. I found many more like her so I responded to a few. We critiqued each other's work but we really wanted to know more about one another.
Micro-town-girl invited me to visit for a week. She lived alone in her own house and had a spare bedroom. It seems like she wants someone to get her out of the small town as badly as I wanted to disappear into one. That's why I left Pompano Beach, Florida early this morning with all my worldly possessions. I pulled into the parking lot of Lockley, Iowa's finest, and only, supermarket and called Peace Blanchard.
"Hi Peace, Elliot, how are you?" I asked.
"Fine Elliot. You're fast. Are you at the supermarket?" she asked.
"Yes, as we agreed," I answered.
"I am about ten minutes north of town. See you then. Bye," she replied. Lockley looked to be a small, mid-state farming town which had seen prosperous days perhaps a generation ago. Mature trees filled the courthouse square and the stately but livable homes lined the main streets.
Eventually, a green minivan approached my car. A shapely, early 30's, nice looking woman with shoulder length dark hair got out of her van. "Peace?" I asked as I approached her car.
"Elliot? Nice to meet you," she replied with a wide, welcoming smile. She offered a cheek for me to kiss. As I gave her the obligatory welcome kiss she pulled me into a hug. She seemed to make a point of rubbing her ample boobs against my chest.
"Nice to meet you, Peace. You look sharp. You described yourself as rubenesque but you're not; you're just sexy. Shall I follow you?" I asked.
"Thank you, Elliot. You are very kind. I think you might have topped just how good looking you said you are. I am sorry but my two errands this morning took longer than I expected. I have a closing this Friday morning and I am so nervous. We have to watch closings so closely. I assume you've heard what the real estate market is like?" she asked.
"You didn't tell me that you were a Realtor," I replied. "Good," I spoke in my mind. "You certainly can't support yourself with that drivel you wrote. But I'm here to help you become better."
"Follow me," she glared, "it's not far."
She drove five blocks through a neighborhood of nice homes to her house. She pulled into the double driveway and I backed my car in.
"You backed in your car. Are you a police officer, Elliot?" she asked.
"No, it's easier if you have to jump it. Besides, I'd rather not advertise my tag," I answered. "I'm a little behind on my payments, you know."
"This economy is something else," she replied.
"You've got a beautiful house, Peace," I commended her as I grabbed some suitcases. "Why are you selling it?"
"I'm not really selling it," she said. "It's an old Realtor's trick. You put a sign in front of your own house to get the calls. Sometimes you pick up a buyer that way." She opened up the unlocked door and led me to a vacant bedroom. "Put your things anywhere you like," she said.
"You have a beautiful house, Peace," I said noticing that there was not too much stuff in it.
"Hello, Peace?" a female voice asked. I peaked out the door to see a man and woman walk in the front door.
"Hi," Peace answered. "Elliot, please come in here. I would like you to meet my sister and her husband." I left the bags where they were and returned to the living room.
"Hi," I announced, "I'm Elliot Hagen from Pompano Beach, Florida. Nice to meet you." I offered a hand to the gentleman.
"Oh, yah dude, I'm Ronnie and this is Honey, my wife," he lazily offered. "Nice to meet you. Peace, do you have something for us?" he asked indicating the end of our exchange of greetings.
"Yes, Ronnie, I just returned from the stockbroker in Milsaps. Give me a minute," Peace answered annoyed.
Something looked out of place with the slender sister. She spoke, "Look, I'm on my lunch break. We can come back if it is too much now. Ronnie just had to get his money, you know."
"Okay, then let's do it," replied Peace as she sat down dining table. She spread the contents of the bank envelope on the table. She counted out one thousand dollars and put it in one pile then counted out nine hundred and fifty two dollars and put it into another pile.
"Ain't she great, Elliot?" said Ronnie picking up the nine hundred dollar pile. "Works like a charm, I'd say." He counted out ninety five dollars and pushed the pile towards Peace. "Thanks again, Peace. Do you have another?"
"Yes, I do. I got one yesterday," answered Peace.
"What the fuck, let's do it," he said and pushed the thousand dollar pile toward Peace. She scooped up the thousand and put it into the bank envelope.
"Asshole, don't use that language in front of our guests, okay?" said Honey. "And give me my money." Ronnie reached into his pocket and paid out two hundred to his wife. She spoke to me, "He often 'forgets' to pay me but that doesn't work. Usually, we go out to celebrate and take turns picking."
"Yah, it's my turn to pick and I know where Elliot and I want to go, don't we man? Londonville!" he emphasized.
"We're not taking a guest to fucking Londonville so don't argue with us," barked Honey at her husband. She looked at me again and said, "Londonville is a sleazy topless joint. Unless, you'd really like to go?"
