Lately I'm off a lot. Got my 2-year sheepskin in a dresser drawer that says I have the qualifications to be a technician. But I haven't been at the bench very much recently. We are all building a great pyramid. Now that this pyramid's complete, what do we do? What do we do.
I sat in my car at the park this morning, smoking a cigar. The temperature was in the twenties, and the car heater kept it almost sixty.
I fell asleep for a moment and woke. I heard some guys yelling. There were four or five cop cars. They told me to get out of the car. One officer had a pistol aimed at me. "Put your hands in the air!"
I wasn't the guy. The wind chill was considerable and my best cap was at home. I had no gloves. The police found out everything except who delivered me. My hands were out at my side. As icicles formed on my balls, I wondered if Dunkin' Donuts delivers.
I got back my driver's license and they all said thanks. The beefy guy was through giving me a light haze, and thanked me. Always happy to help. Go get some donuts.
Right after my liberation I got coffee(no donuts) to thaw my hands and feet, I went to the store where they have the good stuff from the Dominican Republic.
"That'll be $14.88, Mr.---"
"Don't do that, please." I told the guy to save it. Always that guy. I bought an 18-year old cigar, and some factory throw outs for a buck a piece. I paid in cash and flipped off the Indian. ......................
I had a lukewarm shower when I got home. My masculine organ was able to get aroused on its own. The knowledge I can get it up satisfied me. The warm water felt very good but I didn't jerk off. It seemed a good idea, after being out in sub-freezing cold.
My utility scissors were in the kitchen drawer. I cut the imported cigar just beneath the band. Elsa Benitez clipped a corona that way. I saw her do it in a beer ad. She used a cigar cutter.
I heard a knock on the front door I did not recognize. I debated about going to the door. I had on my powder blue boxers and moccasins. Maybe it was the guy collecting for the newspaper. It could be the guy's wife. I put on a pair of cutoff jeans and went to answer the door.
"Hi, how are you, sir? I am selling magazines to pay my way through college next year."
I raised my hand. I knew the spiel she was about to give me. I looked out past her. Down my street two young Mormon guys rode by on bicycles. "Isn't it cold to be out selling things?" I looked back at the girl. She was a couple of inches shorter than myself.
"Yeah. But I'm doing it." She grinned at me. She was pretty, wrapped up in a heavy red coat. Long, wavy russet hair fell out of her black baseball cap.
"Come in, I can't heat all of the outdoors, you know. She looked at me standing at the door with no shirt on and bit a nail. She appraised the situation, believing that she was soliciting a single man. A single man who bunked alone.
I moved aside. The girl walked in, popping her cap off.
"I'll leave the door open, if you feel more comfortable. What is your name?"
She was pulling off her coat. Depending on the bra padding, I was looking at a young woman with healthy mammary glands. She therefore ate food for lunch, instead of artificially sweetened breath mints.
"My name is Celia. It's alright, you can close the door. I'm not worried."
You have a damn nice body, I thought, closing the door. Maybe you ought to worry. Celia looked to be half my age, or less. Twenty-three or twenty-four. She was engaged. I never asked her age, or about the ring either.
"Can I get you something to drink?"
Celia was opening her folder, with the sales information inside. "I'm fine."
She looked up, pausing to notice my stomach. Yep, I got one.
"Coke alright?"
"If you are." Celia smiled, warmly this time.
After finding a shirt I walked back to the kitchen to get two Cokes. I looked back once at the hall mirror. Celia was sitting in my favorite chair, an old gray overstuffed chair with a neck rest.
I brought back the Cokes and set the cans on the coffee table. I'm going to enjoy this, I thought. I liked her. I like everybody.
"Come sit down on the sofa, so I can check all your, ah, sales info." I sat down. A friend gave me the sofa a few months back. The seat cushions were big and soft and perfect for a sweet little scam artist.
I took a swig of an ice-cold drink and listened while Celia went over all the magazines I could buy. She told me how much five subscriptions cost, plus other little additional costs. I set the Coke down, finally, and turned toward Celia.
"So what do you think?" Celia asked. She was looking over at me, casually. The girl had beautiful eyes, larger than average. Her eyes were tiny blue and white galaxies.
"I think you're crazy." I said, sounding highly amused. "I'm not going to buy any magazines today."
"But why not?"
"Celia, I have one friend downtown. He's not a cop. But he knows a few.
Celia said "What do you want him to do? What are you saying?" Celia was looking down at her glossy, just a tad perplexed.
"Celia, how long have you been selling the magazines?" I was thinking about the cigar lying over on the unfinished end table. I'd enjoy a smoke after my catch of the day.
"About three months. You're going to get the magazines." Celia rubbed her face, a bit agitated.
Celia had on an embroidered button-down shirt and a maroon tank. The top three buttons of the shirt were undone. I could see a little cleavage from my position. She looked real enough. Celia had very fair skin, just a few sun freckles.
"How many houses are you going to before your ride comes back?" I glanced with a slight interest at the magazine list.
