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From: rache <rache696@yahoo.com>
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Subject: {ASSM} Job by Rachael Ross (M/F, Romance, [non-sexual] Violence)
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Date: Sun, 03 Jun 2007 06:10:02 -0400
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Job

Copyright 2007 Rachael Ross all rights reserved. Intended for adults
only.
Story Codes: M/F, Romance, [non-sexual] Violence

Note: The violence in this story is incidental to the plot. This isn't
a snuff story by any stretch of the imagination. There are actually
three other stories referenced obliquely, but I'll only name two of
them here, "Get Some" featuring a Vegas prostitute named Angela; and
Hitwife, which features a character named Rachael Rossi as a Mafia
Princess. Neither story is otherwise important to enjoying this one.
It's just trivia for the ASSM edition of Trivial Pursuit. -rr

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

Job
Fiction by rache


I needed work. The trashy little newspaper I was looking through, the
'Vegas Sexpress' was full of ads. Unfortunately, I wasn't in Las
Vegas. I was in Bellingham, Washington, sitting outside the Denny's
waiting for some dinner.

Jo popped her head out and hissed at me. I ran over and she thrust a
squarish Styrofoam box in my hands. "You gotta get out of here, Cal's
managing and he's gonna get pissed if he sees you."

"I'm not going back to Paul, no way." I shook my head.

"Go see dad then, shit."

"What, and listen to 6 hours of preaching before he whips my ass? Nah,
no thanks." I heard her boss yelling in the kitchen. "Thanks for the
food, Jo. I love you." I gave her a hug and she pushed a little wad of
money in my jacket pocket.

"That's all I got, Jo. I have to go, please call daddy okay?" Then she
was gone, closing the big red door and leaving me in the freezing
night. But she didn't have much choice.

We were both 'Jo' to each other, and even to most of the people we
knew. That's a long story, but the reason will be clear eventually,
maybe.

I'm 22 and separated from my new husband. Ha! Separated, that's funny.
We'd been married 7 months when I caught him in bed with some slut I'd
never seen before. In our bed! She just looked at me while I broke
stuff, ducking under the covers now and then. Paul, my husband,
thought he could explain until I broke his nose with a casserole dish.
I'm good at breaking stuff.

Sitting on the curb, really hoping a cop doesn't drive by while I'm
eating, wondering what to do. That's my life right now. Used to be I'd
measure my life in months or years. Somebody would ask, 'What are you
doing?' and I'd say 'I'm going to college' or 'I'm getting married'
but now, I'm just eating. My life is only good for the next 5 minutes,
after that I have no clue.

I called my dad. Just to make my sister happy. She'd given me 34
dollars. I counted it twice, so I owed her I guess.

"Hi, daddy."

"Job? Is that you?"

"Yeah, hi."

"Are you okay?"

"I'm fine, Daddy. I'm in Olympia." I lied.

"I'll come get you. Jonah called me, she said you...You and Paul were
split up."

"No, yeah... We split up, Daddy, but don't come get me I'm...I'm going to
Texas." It was the first place that popped into my head.

"Texas?"

"Yeah, gotta go Daddy, my ride's here. I love you." I hung up the pay
phone before he could say anything else.

The Denny's is right next to I-5, so I went south. I stood by the on-
ramp and stuck out my thumb; untying my long dark hair and trying to
look attractive bundled up in my leather jacket and faded jeans. It
was dark and the streetlight wasn't helping much, I doubted anyone
could even tell I was a girl until they were already driving by.

A guy did stop though, after 20 minutes, pulling over on the crunching
gravel so I could run up to the passenger side of his station wagon.
He leaned over and opened the door for me as I approached.

"Hop in." he said and I did, not bothering to look first. He could be
Jack the Ripper and I'd still need a lift.

"Where you headed?" He was middle-aged, average looking the way
everyone is. He was big though, very strong looking, and he kind of
felt like he could take care of himself. But it didn't make me
nervous, if anything it made me feel a little safer.

"I'm going to Las Vegas."

"Long trip. My name is Mike."

"I'm Job." He looked at me then, the way people do. "Like in the
Bible. My dad's a minister."

"I see."

"I have a twin sister, her name is Jonah."

Mike looked at me, as if trying to decide whether or not I was
serious.

"Your dad sounds like a real optimist."

I shrugged. "He wanted a boy."

That made him laugh finally. "Well, you got a break then, Job."

"Yeah." I nodded.

"I have friends in Vegas." He told me.

"Really? I'm going there to work...I hope. I don't really have anything
definite yet."

"What kind of work you do?" He dug in his pocket for some cigarettes
and offered me one, but I shook my head.

"I...well...I was a student until last June and I don't have a lot of
experience, you know, but I was looking in this paper and most of the
ads say no experience necessary." I had no clue what I was going to do
and just couldn't figure out a way to say it straight.

"What paper?" Mike took the Vegas Sexpress from me as I dug it out of
my handbag. He glanced at it in the dim artificial light, laughed and
gave it back. "You wanna be a pro?"

"A pro?" I asked. "What's a pro?"

"A prostitute." He looked over and smiled in the dim light. "A whore,
you know. That's what those ads are for."

"Oh, uh...They didn't really say that."

"Well, that's what an escort is. What a dancer is, at least for the
places advertising in that rag."

I didn't say anything for awhile and Mike smoked his cigarette. "What
do you do?" I finally asked.

"Me? I'm a troubleshooter." He had a wry little grin.

"What's that?"

"Well, it's like if somebody's in trouble, I make the trouble go
away." He chuckled. "One way or another."

"I don't get it."

"That's a good thing, Job, believe me." He lit another cigarette. We
were passing through Mt. Vernon. "I'm gonna have to stop in Everett
for a few hours, if you want you come with me while I see somebody.
You can take a shower maybe, change your clothes, whatever. It's a
long ways to Vegas."

"Uh, oh...I don't want to impose. Nah, that's okay. I'll just...I'll just
catch another ride then." I had no clue what he was talking about, but
going to somebody's house and taking a shower didn't sound like a good
idea.

"Besides, I don't have any other clothes." I laughed and even blushed
a little, because I felt really stupid.

"Yeah, I kinda noticed you was traveling light, kid." He smiled at me.
"It's okay though, really, ain't nobody ever going to hurt you while
I'm around."

"Oh." Who was talking about hurting me, I wondered.

"You believe that?" Mike looked at me again.

"I..." I flipped my hand with a little shrug. "Sure, yeah..."

"Okay, good. I got a feeling about you. I don't know why...Just a
feeling." I think he meant that last part for himself.

Mike didn't drop me off and I wasn't sure if I should have been happy
about that, or nervous. I guess I was both. We pulled up in front of a
nice house, on a nice street. It was quiet and Mike turned off the
engine.

"Look, I'm gonna level with you kid. There's somebody in that house
that's makin' trouble for some friends of mine. You remember what I
told I did for a living?"

"You're a troubleshooter." I said, not looking at him.

"You ever see a dead person, Job?" He was sitting very still and I
could hear crickets chirping outside the car. I shook my head. "Come
on, you'll like it."

I wasn't sure what he meant. The whole conversation was surreal and it
seemed as though this strange man was assuming a great deal, if he was
telling the truth. If he was only trying to scare me, well, I suppose
he was doing a pretty good job of that too. I felt very frightened,
but not...panicked. It was a good kind of fear, the kind that made me
feel like I could see and hear everything just a little better. I
walked with him up the sidewalk and he rang the doorbell.

The outside light turned on and the door opened, an older man, perhaps
50 or so, pudgy and balding looked out, staring at Mike. He didn't
seem to see me at all. "What do you want?" His voice was weary, as
though he'd dealt with Mike before.

"I wanna have a sit down, you know, some people got concerns." Mike
held out his hands. "Ten minutes, come on."

The guy stood aside and Mike walked in. "Nice place you got here."

I walked in behind Mike and the man noticed me for the first time.

"Who the fuck is this?" He stared at me like I was from another
planet.

"This is my niece, Job." Mike looked at me. "This is the guy I was
telling you about. Teddy Rask."

"Hi." I smiled a little and shifted my bag over my shoulder.

The guy turned around and started walking into the next room, a front
sitting room, when Mike pulled a gun out of his jacket, so quick and
smooth I didn't even realize it until I heard the soft bang and then
the somewhat louder thud of the man hitting the carpet.

Mike looked at his watch while I stared at the body on the floor. He'd
taken a bullet just behind the left ear and blood was pooling out
quickly. There was also quite a bit of blood and pink stuff on the
wall. I was glad I couldn't see the guy's face.

"You got about half an hour, then we gotta be gone. You ever been
arrested? For anything?" I shook my head. "I didn't figure. Okay, the
shower's upstairs, go get cleaned up and I'll fix us something to
eat."

I just nodded and went upstairs, trying not to touch anything, but
Mike hadn't seemed too concerned about that anyway. I felt a little
numb. Not sick, really, not like you might expect having just watched
a man get his brains blown out. I felt nothing at all and part of me
was already rationalizing that the guy had probably deserved it. Mike
wouldn't have done that to an innocent guy, would he?

A normal girl would have run, or screamed maybe, or fainted. A normal
girl would have been dead and I sat on the bathroom floor with my eyes
closed. There was a darkness there, the mythical abyss, and I was
staring deep into it.

I took a long hot shower, washing myself all over and even taking the
time to use one of the dead man's disposable razors to trim my pubic
hair, shave my legs, and underarms. I was just drying off when Mike
knocked on the door. "You about done, Job?"

"Yeah, be right out." I said. I felt much better and I found some
clothes in one of the bedrooms, a red tank-top that was just a little
too big, a light flannel shirt that I wore loose over that, and a pair
of white painter's pants that actually fit me pretty good. I wondered
whose clothes they were.

I went back downstairs and Mike was packing some sandwiches in Saran
Wrap. He grabbed a liter of Coke out of the refrigerator and we left
the house quietly. Mike drove as we ate and I asked him where we were
going.

"How about Vegas?" He smiled at me and took a bite of his sandwich.

"Really?" He nodded and I smiled.

"So you're a what? A hitman or something?" I was finishing my
sandwich, Mike had made them big and thick and good, with lots of
mayo.

"Yeah, that's a good word for it." He nodded. "That didn't bother you
back there, did it?"

"I don't know." I shrugged. "It didn't seem like anything. What did
the guy do?"

"He was supposed to pay some guys some money and he accidentally spent
it, blew it on some ponies." Mike shrugged. "He was weak like that.
Everybody's got a weakness."

"What's yours?" I looked at him with a little impish smile.

"Mine?" He laughed. "Kids like you."

"Oh yeah? You pick up a lot of strays?"

"Nope." He shook his head. "You're my second."

"What happened to the first?"

"Angela?" Mike smiled. "She's special, she's doing good."

"Good." I nodded and took a swallow of Coke, feeling it burn a little
the way it does sometimes.

"She's no hitter." Mike said softly, maybe to himself, and then he
glanced at me and then reached for a cigarette. "I bet you'd do it
though."

"Hitter? You mean kill somebody?"

"Yeah." He lit his cigarette and cracked his window. "Here." He
reached in his jacket and pulled out the pistol he'd used and handed
it to me. It was small, but the barrel was big and long, and heavier
than the rest of the gun.

I handled it gently. "Yeah." I decided out loud. "I could do it."

"That's a Browning .22 semi automatic. It's about as quiet a gun as
you can get, but it's only good for close work. Best is a shot
straight into the brain, the bullet is strong enough to go in, but not
really big enough to come back out. It just rattles around a lot,
mixes everything up in there."

"It looked like it put that Teddy guy's brains on the wall." I
observed.

"Yeah, he had a weak skull or something." Mike agreed. "Mostly it's a
lot neater than that. It's good for kneecapping too, shooting a guy's
patella out, like if he just needs a warning, you know."

"Sure." I nodded. "I heard that was a big thing in Ireland."

"Yeah, those crazy Micks." Mike laughed.

"Probably castrate somebody pretty good too, huh?" I pointed the gun
down at the floorboard between my feet.

"You got somebody in mind?" Mike's eyebrows went up a fraction.

"No." I giggled. "Just a thought."

"Uh-huh. Well, there's only a couple people use these, most guys like
the big hardware, good for the ego or something. The only real trick
to being a good hitter is to keep your mouth shut, your eyes open, and
be real discrete. The high profile guys, they get nabbed or clipped
pretty quick."

"Any hitgirls running around?" I handed Mike his gun back.

"Yeah, there's a made girl out in New York, but she's like Lucky
Luciano reincarnated. She's fuckin scary. Out here? It's the wild
west, nothing but cowboys."

"Hmmm...I always wanted to be a cowgirl." I laughed and wedged myself
against the door, feeling sleepy. "Are we going to drive all night?"

"We get to Spokane and I'll get us a room. Couple hours." He glanced
at me. "You don't mind sharing a room, do you?"

"Are we going to have sex, Mike?"

He licked his lips. "I guess that's up to you."

"Then I don't mind." I smiled and closed my eyes; there were worse
things I could imagine.

We ended up at a Motel 6 just off the interstate and we took a room
with two single beds, but we only needed one. Mike was big and
handsome in a James Gandolfini sort of way. With regular looks that
somehow seemed very easy to get used to. I was tiny by comparison. At
just 5'2" and a hundred pounds I was easily half his weight. He had
hazel eyes, I noticed, while mine are brown. Mike's hair is black, but
short. Mine is black and long. I'm more pretty than cute, but not
beautiful at all. I thought we made a pretty good couple.

He was more shy than I was in bed, maybe because I felt like I had
something to prove. I wanted to feel my independence and when I
finally got my legs over Mike's strong shoulders, making myself
vulnerable to someone other than my husband for the first time in
years, it felt wonderful. He was gentle at first, considerate and
aware that his cock was very large. Very, very large and when he
touched bottom I felt it, but it was good for both of us.

The third time we made love that night, it was much slower than the
first two, and we spent much of it talking, which is a good thing,
believe it or not. At least for me, I get as much pleasure from
conversational sex, as I do from raw animal fucking, two sides of the
same coin for me, and Mike was one of the few men I'd met who seemed
to understand that.

"Do you really think I could be a hitgirl, Mike?" I had my legs around
his waist, grinding my sex up against his cock slowly.

"Yeah, I do." He smiled and kissed my nose. "I was thinking, you know,
we were kind of a team already, maybe." He sounded hopeful.

"Nice." I smiled. "Yeah, I like that, huh. A team. You gonna teach me
everything?"

"Sure, I'll teach you good, kid." He was working his cock inside until
it just nudged my cervix, but it didn't hurt at all, it was just a
sweet caress deep inside me.

"Are you married, Mike?"

"No, are you?"

"Kind of. I'm separated." I hugged him close. "I can get a lawyer
though, he won't fight it."

"He's not too bright huh?"

"Why? What do you mean?"

"Cause I'd keep you around." He pushed himself inside with a soft
grunt and I felt him cumming again, adding to the already copious
amount of sperm swimming in my womb. "For a long time."

"Mmmm..." I sighed as Mike's chest pressed against my hard nipples.
"That was nice."

When I woke up in the morning Mike was already out the door. He'd left
me a note saying he was going to the coffee shop across the way. I
took a shower and threw on my clothes, walking out to find him on the
phone. There was coffee waiting at least and I ordered a bowl of
oatmeal, just because I hadn't had any since I was about 8 years old
and I suddenly missed it for some reason.

Mike returned a few minutes later and he sat down across from me in
the booth. A waitress warmed our coffee and we waited. "We're going to
stop in Reno, see a guy." Mike finally said after the waitress had
gone.

"See a guy?" I looked at him. "Like the guy in Everett?"

"Yeah." He shrugged a little.

"Was that your boss on the phone?"

"That was a guy in Vegas I do some work for. I don't really have a
boss, more like freelance stuff, ya know?"

"What's freelance pay?" I wondered, dunking my toast in my oatmeal. I
liked it that way.

"Depends. Soft stuff is a couple grand, hard stuff is more."

I laughed. "Soft and hard, huh?"

"Yeah, don't worry, we're only doing soft stuff til you get a feel for
it."

"I never had much use for soft stuff, Mike." I gave him a devlish
smile and rubbed his leg with my toe. I didn't remember oatmeal ever
making me so horny.

He grinned at me, but then took a more serious look. "One thing you
gotta know."

"What's that?"

"You go to Vegas with me and you can't go back. You know what I'm
saying?" I nodded but he wasn't so sure. "Nobody knows you yet.
Nobody, so I can let you go. But these people I work for, they ain't
gonna let you go. They'll just dig a hole, you understand me?"

"Yeah, I got it Mike." I gave him a serious look of my own.

We drove until lunchtime and stopped at a Burger King just off the
highway. We were taking a rather indirect route, I thought, on our way
to Boise and then south to Reno. But Mike said he wanted to see a guy.
We sat in the parking lot, eating slowly, watching the cars and trucks
go by, full of nameless, anonymous people like ourselves.

"How'd you get started Mike?" I asked him, just for conversation.

"I needed a job, you know. I grew up in a little town in Wisconsin. We
were poor so when I got old enough I took a job filling cigarette
machines for a guy in Milwaukee, driving the truck, making the
rounds."

I nodded like I knew what he was talking about.

"Then one day he says to me we're gonna park the truck and go back to
the warehouse and tell 'em it was heisted. I got 500 bucks for doin
that and we did some other stuff, little stuff. I was just 18 back
then and I guess somebody noticed I handled myself good."

"I wish I'd known you then." I smiled at him and Mike grinned.

"Yeah, and you was like ten, right? Anyway, I didn't say nothing,
didn't complain about the money, never got pinched. So I was clean,
you know?" He smiled at me, pausing to eat some of his fries. "Like
you." He slurped his coke. "So I got this job one night, an easy one.
Just wait for a guy and pull the trigger."

"Who was he?"

"I dunno. It didn't matter and I didn't ask."

"But you liked it, huh?"

"Nah. It was tough." Mike shook his head. "You don't ever want to like
it. You don't gotta dislike it though, either."

"Just a job." I nodded, thinking that was probably important.

We rode to Boise talking, well...Mike was talking, mostly I just
listened. I felt like a sponge, just soaking it all up. He talked
about simple things really, cause those were things that got people
caught. If you were gonna be a hitman you had to be invisible. He
drove right at the speed limit, setting the cruise control and
relaxing, even though everyone was passing us. Even an Idaho State
Trooper zipped by, not giving us a second look.

On the other side of Boise we turned off the highway and soon found
ourselves in a small dump of a trailer park.

"Welcome to the glamorous world of organized crime." Mike laughed at
the look on my face.

We pulled up to an ugly beige and white double wide that looked like
nobody had been there for awhile. There was a rusty swing set in the
tiny, grassless yard, with one chain broken and dragging in the dust.
A couple old faded flamingos stood in the front, presumably some
shrubs of one sort or another had grown there once.

Mike got out of the car and I followed him, looking around a little
nervously. There was some loud rap playing from someplace nearby,
echoing faintly. Someone else was using a chainsaw, it sounded like,
although there were precious few trees around. The street was littered
with old dented cars and a motorcycle or two, big mean looking
Harleys. It wasn't the kind of neighborhood I would have wanted to
visit alone, even in the middle of the afternoon.

Mike surprised me when he unlocked the door. "This is your place?" I
asked him.

"I have a few places, here and there. This one keeps the rain out
anyway. Come on, you can relax a bit."

The inside was much better than anyone would have suspected. Sparsely
furnished, to be sure, and a bit dusty. But it wasn't littered with
beer cans or a stained mattress or anything. We found ourselves
standing in a small kitchen. "The shower's back that way, by the
bedroom. I'm gonna run an errand, pick up some stuff. Let the water
for a bit, the pipes get rusty."

"You're gonna leave me here?" I made a face and Mike nodded.

"Yeah, just keep the door locked. The neighbors won't bother you." He
saw the look I was giving him and he laughed. "Okay, here." He reached
for a cookie jar shaped like a cow, lifting the lid and pulling out a
snub nosed revolver. "Just don't shoot me when I come back, okay?"

I hefted the gun in my hand. "Promise." I grinned.

"I'm gonna stop by the Piggly Wiggly too. You need anything?"

"Yeah, a home pregnancy test." I shrugged.

"You think me and you...we..." His eyes widened a bit as his finger
pointed back and forth between us and that made me laugh.

"No. I don't. It'd be too soon to check anyway. But I'm a few days
late and my husband might have given me a going away present, you
know?" I tried to smile. "I'm late all the time, no big deal. It's
just...I'd rather not be, okay?"

That was the truth too, my biological clock wasn't wound too awfully
tight. I'd gone as far as 10 days late before, when I knew there was
absolutely no chance of being pregnant. But this time...A pregnant
hitwoman? Yikes! The thought really bothered me a lot. I'd rather get
my bad news right away, if that's what it was.

The toilet bowel was stained from not being used for God knew how
long, but the shower was clean enough. And the water was good and hot.
I took a nice long shower, washing myself thoroughly. I toweled off
and found the bedroom, agreeably large and it took only a few minutes
to find sheets and blankets and pillowcases. I crawled into bed naked,
my hair still damp, but I didn't care.

I just lay there as the afternoon passed into evening and the light
changed slowly, thinking about everything Mike had told me. I wondered
why it didn't bother me, any of it, why it seemed perfectly okay to
kill people for money. I didn't have an answer when Mike woke me up,
his big warm body slipping into the bed next to mine.

"Mmmm...." I smiled sleepily with my eyes still shut, hugging him
tightly and enjoying the way his lightly furred chest felt against my
breasts. "I hope you're my boyfriend, because if your not..."

"Then what?" Mike whispered, and I felt his big hands going around my
waist, lifting me gently so I could lie on top of him, my thighs
straddling his hips.

"I don't know..." I gave a little squeal as his hands grabbed my ass,
cupping one smooth round cheek in each, squeezing me and lifting me so
his hard cock rubbed against my sex.

"He could get...jealous." I sighed and reached down, finding him once
again so large that I wondered how he'd ever fit inside me night
before.

"Uhhh...yeah..." Mike groaned as I worked the head between my folds
and then put my hands on his chest, sitting up carefully. "He'd be
seriously jealous."

He slid his hands up to my narrow waist, pressing down on my hips so
that I sank slowly down on his wonderful cock. It stretched me with
some small discomfort at first, but it felt so good too, it was
amazing.

"Let me do it, baby..." I whispered. "Let me fuck you good...Ohhh..."

I moved myself up and down, taking him deeper each time until the
straining length of him seemed to penetrate right into my belly. I had
him as deep as possible, pressing to the very bottom of my womb and it
sparked little explosions of pleasure with even the slightest
movement. But how could I ever stay still?

I rocked my hips, gyrating and grinding myself on Mike's hot cock,
bringing myself to a rapid spine tingling orgasm within just a few
seconds it seemed. I wondered, as I surrendered myself once more to
his strong hands, letting him move me as he wanted, fucking me harder
and deeper than I'd ever dreamt...I wondered, how had I ever lived
without this?

Mike was quick to recover too. He'd cum inside me quickly the first
time, but for the second he was taking his time and doing me right. He
put me on my stomach, with my ass in the air, propped up on a little
pillow. And he fucked me so nice, sliding his long hard cock in and
out of my sopping wet cunt easily now. Every stroke would touch
bottom, making me gasp and quiver like a little girl in heat.

I felt like a virgin again, and when Mike started fucking me hard,
slamming his cock inside I thought he was going to break something.
But I couldn't stop him, I wanted it too badly. I was struggling to
push my ass back against him, my vaginal walls conspiring to hold him
as best they could, until I was too weak even for that. When I felt
Mike's warm sperm filling my womb once again, I turned my head,
reaching back to pull his lips to mine, kissing him while his cock
throbbed in my belly.

"Uh...are you okay, Job?" Mike asked as he lifted himself off me. His
voice was full of concern and I looked at him, smiling and nodding.

I was fine, even more than fine, I thought. "Yeah. I might be walking
funny for a day or two though." I giggled lazily, feeling warm and
breathless all over.

"But...You're bleeding." He sounded genuinely worried and I reached
behind me, rubbing the wetness between my thighs and lifting my
fingers, covered with our juices and streaked pink with blood.

I laughed at him.

"For a hitman you sure are squeamish!" and Mike's look of confusion
was priceless. "I'm not late anymore. Thank you."

I lowered my head back to the mattress, sighing happily. That was one
less thing to worry about at least. "I guess I won't need that PT kit
after all, Mike."

I did need pads though and I sent Mike back to the store while I fixed
us something to eat. I decided I was going to have to do something
about this biological imperative my body was stuck with. I wasn't
going to be running around with a swollen belly whacking people, or
worse, pushing a baby carriage. And I wasn't going to give up Mike's
huge cock, either.

I suppose I could have asked him to get a vasectomy, but I was already
thinking there might be times when being a woman would be handy. You
know, just to put someone at ease, catch a guy when he was most
vulnerable. The thought of actually killing someone while we had sex
was an unexpected and perverse thrill, I admit. I wasn't sure it was
really a good thing though, and I doubted Mike would understand...at
least at first. I didn't even understand it, so I kept it secret.

"I need a gynecologist." I told Mike after he'd returned and we were
sitting at the small table eating.

"What for?" He looked at me. "Everything okay?"

I smiled at the concern in his voice, wondering if Paul had ever
expressed anything so genuine. "I'm fine, really. I just want to get
my tubes tied."

"Huh?" He stared at me. "You mean like...permanent?"

"Yeah." I shrugged. "Pretty much. I tried pills, a couple different
kinds. I'm sensitive to them...soooo..." I smiled. "It's no big thing,
right?"

"You're just a kid though. What if...I mean you might uh, find
somebody, you know. Build a house, get a cat, have a dozen kids or
something."

"Nah. I can't, I mean...There's no way out right? So what do I want
that stuff for?" Mike looked a little nervous. "You want kids Mike?"

He looked up, blushing just a little and it warmed me all over. He had
his dreams too, but we were living in the world.

"You're right, yeah. Babies belong to other people." He looked
decidedly unhappy and I stood up, leaving our meal unfinished and
taking him by the hand.

"Come on, let's go to bed." I whispered.

"I love you, Job." Mike looked at me.

"I know." I nodded and led him to someplace warm.

I was in the shower when someone knocked at the door. Mike was fixing
us some breakfast and I listened as he let the person in. It
frightened me, just a little. He hadn't said anything about someone
coming over.

I left the water running and slipped quietly into the bedroom, finding
the revolver Mike had given me the day before. I wrapped a red towel,
so faded it was practically pink, around my body and edged down the
hallway. Mike was back at the stove, scrambling some eggs and someone
else, a man with his back to me, was leaning against the wall. They
weren't saying much and I tip-toed within 6 feet of the guy without
being noticed.

CLA-ICK...

I pulled the hammer back, pointing the short barrel of the .357 magnum
at the back of the stranger's head. The sound was loud and
distinctive. I'd never fired a gun in my life, but I knew how it
worked and my hand was rock steady. If he moved I was going to put his
brains all over the kitchen.

But he didn't move, except to straighten himself, standing tall and
lifting his hands slowly away from his body.

Mike looked at me and smiled, holding up his spatula. "Job, it's okay
babe. This is a friend of ours."

"Turn around, slowly." I told the guy and he did it. He didn't look
happy or sad, just very serious. He was older, like Mike, somewhere in
his late thirties and thin. He was dressed casual, Dockers and a polo,
with a blue windbreaker unzipped.

"You weren't kidding, Mike." The guy spoke slowly. "She's gorgeous."

I lowered the gun and eased the hammer back into place.

He let out a deep breath. "A little paranoid maybe, but yeah...I can
see what you like."

Mike had gone back to his eggs and he just laughed. "Job, this is
Rich, he brought a little something for you."

"Hi." I smiled apologetically. "I wasn't expecting company."

"Sure. No problem, kid." He swept his fingers through his thinning
hair. "Anyway, here, take a look at these. Mike said you needed a new
toolbox, so here I am."

"We call him Mr. Goodwrench." Mike grinned, filling three plates
already piled with bacon. "Want toast?"

I nodded, giving Mike a little good morning kiss and he spanked my
towel covered ass with his spatula

"Maybe I should change..." I said.

"Nah, you're fine." Make was shaking his head. "Maybe you get a little
discount like that."

I gave him a look, teasing Mike for a moment and knowing then that I
loved him. I mean beyond a doubt and I sighed happily, walking back to
the bedroom. I felt sexy and loved and complete somehow, just being
close to Mike in a crappy trailer, wearing a ragged towel, watching
him scramble some eggs.

"Well, I need panties anyway." I said, but just to myself. It was a
pain getting my period.

The heavy drapes were closed and Rich had turned on a couple lamps by
the time I joined him, wearing a t-shirt and jeans now. He had a
bowling ball bag on the floor and he unzipped it, pulling out several
guns, each of them wrapped in cloth. He laid them out on the floor
while we sat on the sofa.

"Mike figured you'd want something small, compact, you know, purse
size. Something semi too...Of course if you like the hand cannons..."

He was looking at the revolver I was still holding, a big Smith
Security Six, and I was just carrying it around because it felt good.
I wanted to get used to it, to holding a gun, or just having one
handy.

"No." I shook my head and put my gun down next to me, leaning over and
peering closely at the weapons. "Tell me about this one." I pointed at
a black semi-automatic, a big one.

Mr. Goodwrench smiled at me and I looked back at him.

"What?" I smiled self-consciously and glanced up as Mike walked in to
join us, carrying our plates loaded with breakfast.

"You're going to be a real heartbreaker when you grow up, kid." Rich
chuckled and looked up at Mike. "God help us."

Mike just smiled at me and I think I blushed a little, but I looked
back down quick cause the tool guy was already talking again and I had
a whole lot to learn if I was gonna be the new cowgirl in town.

"Okay, that's a Colt Gold Cup, .45 caliber and match quality out of
the box..."


end
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