Nail Clippers, Pages 13 & 14

Previously.

Soon enough we reach the point where the story went off the rails in my head. Until then, enjoy. 🙂

****

Jax carried several bags of fertilizer to the garden behind the porch; his rose plants needed some attention. Dropping the bags, two rabbits hopped off. If Jetta would let him, he would do something about those rabbits, but she insisted they he leave them alone. Every year, she started a garden and every year the rabbits ate most of it. Circle of life indeed. Jetta joined him carrying a tray of plants.

“Hey, my rabbits,” she cheerfully said, pointing at the white tails hoping around a corner.

“Yes, your rabbits,” Jax said sarcastically, “This year…”

“You will not do anything to my rabbits,” Jetta interrupted.

“What? No, this year I am going to get a blue rose.”

Every year he tried to grow a blue rose and while Jetta thought he would never be successful, she had to admit that some of the roses he did grow were pretty and the color in the yard was always pleasant.

Putting on her best, “of course you will look,” “This will be the year.”

“Don’t give me that look. This is the year,” he replied as he started unpacking the tray of plants.

“Want something to drink?”

“Please,” Jax replied, arranging the plants in neat rows.

In the kitchen, Jetta wiped off the counter before opening the refrigerator; reaching for two Cokes, the doorbell sounded, ding-dong, followed by a knock. Leaving the refrigerator door open, Jetta answered the front door; at the door was a short woman wearing a dark blue Package Express Nationwide International Services uniform. Her white name patch proudly announcing her name, Erin. She smiled at Jetta, and then frowned as an ambulance roared down the street. Jetta looked down the street after the ambulance and shrugged her shoulders.

“I have your package,” Erin said cheerfully, as she held up a box wrapped in brown paper, “Uh…”

The brown paper box buzzed and shook hard enough to cause Erin’s hands to shake. Jetta heard the loud buzzing and gave Erin a knowing smirk. Jetta took the vibrating box from Erin’s hands. Holding onto the box made her fingertips started to tingle. Erin pulled a handheld signature device from a hip holster and held it out to Jetta who set the box down. Vibrating on the ground the box started to move, Jetta put a foot on top of the box halting the box’s escape.

“It’s from my aunt,” Jetta said with another smirk as she signed on the line.

“Have a good day,” Erin said with a smile, raising an eyebrow towards the vibrating box under Jetta’s foot.

Puddles and Whiskers, Wash and Dry Brush Phase 14

Previously.

On the job

Grinding her teeth, something her dentist advised her to stop, Puddles shot daggers at Chuck, head in his chest sleeping in the passenger seat.

SNORE

Ten. Ten snores in the past, glancing at the clock, five minutes, each one louder and longer than the last. Her left ear twitched. At this rate, his snores would blow this surveillance. Chuck slid deeper into the seat; another loud, long snore mirroring his descent filled the car and Puddles was positive the coffin love motel they were watching. Grabbing Chuck’s shoulder, Puddles shook him.

“What,” Chuck snapped looking around the car in a panic.

Puddles held a single claw tipped finger up to him, “Sshhhh.”

“Was I…”

Thrusting the finger in front of Chuck’s face, “Not another sound.”

Sitting up, straightening his clothes, Chuck looked around for a few minutes before asking, “Anything?”

Puddles rolled her eyes, “No, nothing since he went into Love Buy The Hour. Miss Sad Face’s husband went in with Tart of the Month an hour ago. Whiskers caught all of the action on vid.”

“Where is Whiskers?” Chuck asked, while looking out the window at the front of the motel.

“Watching the side exit. Now keep watch and no more snoring.”

Fifteen minutes of silence.

“How do you do this?” Chuck started, “I’m bored and sleepy,” he finished with a wide mouthed yawn.

Puddles stared at Chuck deciding how to respond, leaning towards flushing her irritation at him out on him when Whiskers’ face appeared on the windshield monitor, “They are leaving. I will follow the husband. You and Chuck follow his partner.”

“Will do,” Puddles responded closing the vid-window.

“There goes Whiskers,” Chuck pointed at Whisker’s hover leaving the parking lot.

Puddles nodded as she positioned the car a few car lengths behind Tart of the Month’s car entering traffic.

“Why are we following her?” Chuck asked as he snapped vid of her car.

“What?”

“We have her license number and we have her face. Why not use CIS to get all of her data and be done in five minutes?”

“What does her data prove to Miss Sad Face?”

“Who?”

“The client. Miss…” Puddles tried to remember her name for a second as she changed lanes, “whatever her name is.”

“She can know who her husband is sleeping with.”

“Data proves nothing. She will want proof. Vid of her husband and,” gesturing at Tart of the Week’s car, “her is proof she can see.”

“So we follow her where?” Chuck asked.

“Wherever she goes. I’m hoping she is headed home.”

“Me too.”

Quiet time

Silence.

Blessed silence.

Sitting in the dark, watching the side exit of the Love Buy The Hour coffin motel, Whiskers relished the peace and quiet. No Puddles. No Chuck. No noise of the city. Nothing, but silence. After a week of rushing around the city, interviews with clients, and the frustration of a case ending without resolution was draining.

Following people around Stroud, taking vid and holo of them entering and leaving places revolted Whiskers, normally. Cases like this gave him a dirty feeling, bottom feeding on the misery of others did not sit well with him. However, peace and quiet did and cases like this were all about peace and quiet.

Pairing Chuck with Puddles ensured Whiskers quiet time. Leaning forward, Whiskers swiped across the windshield flipping through case information. Mister Ethan Harowe mid-level wageslave at Wanlot, married six years, no outstanding debts or for that matter, anything else. Wrapping this case up, a matter of a few more hours of following and recording.

Incoming message light flashing caught Whiskers attention, only a few individuals knew the car’s private message address. Two taps on the windshield cleared the casefile, another tap brought up the message. Sender unknown, Whiskers sat back. A quick glance at the clock, enough time to start a trace. A few minutes later, trace started and Mister Howe exited Love Buy The Hour kissing Caroline Tarr deeply before heading to his car. Mister Howe drove past, oblivious to Whiskers. Swiping the windshield established connection with Puddles in their car.

“They are leaving. I will follow the husband. You and Chuck follow his partner,” Whiskers said, starting the car, following Mister Howe.

An hour of late night traffic later, Mister Howe never deviating from the most direct path to his blockhouse apartment, pulling into an adjacent parking spot, Whiskers watched Mister Howe enter the elevator. Sitting back, Whiskers pulled up the vid images from tonight’s work; plenty of clear images of Mister Howe and partner. Checking the trace, a dead end. Curiosity warred with security. Security won, filing the message away, Whiskers headed back to the office.

Nail Clippers, Pages 11 & 12

Previously.

****

“You can’t. I know you can’t,” Chaz said, voice cracking each time he said can’t.

“I will bet you twenty dollars I can,” Devon retorted, superiority dripping from each word.

Chaz turned away from the television, pointed at Devin with his mayonnaise-smeared controller, “Twenty dollars?”

“Yep,” Devin replied wearing a smug look.

Chaz turned back to the television, he whined, “Damnit, I died.

On screen, Chaz’s character lay dead among a pile of zombies. Tossing his controller onto a table, Chaz stood up and grabbed his ass. Finding only skin he looked embarrassed.

“Deal,” Chaz said while glancing around the room for his wallet, “You swallow that sausage whole and you get twenty.”

Devin, his superior smile plastered across his face, picked up the sausage.

“Wait a minute,” Chaz interrupted, “Swallowing the whole sausage is too easy for you.” Chaz finished with a smirk and waggling his junk in Devin’s direction.

“Fuck you,” Devin retorted. “What do you have in mind?”

****

Arms loaded with bags, back feeling their weight, Old Man Jenkins returned home. Barbossa, ignorant or non-caring of the load Jenkins carried wrapped herself around his legs as soon as the front door opened.

“Meow.”

“What have they done this time?” Jenkins asked.

A length entangled leg rub later Barbossa trotted off to the kitchen. Looking over her shoulder to see if Jenkins followed. Setting the heavy bags down by the door, Jenkins kicked off his shoes and followed. He hoped Barbossa was hungry and nothing more, but her tone said otherwise.

Standing in the kitchen doorway, Jenkins shouted, “What in the HELL!”

“Meow,” Barbossa concurred from a countertop.

“I think Devin needs a doctor,” Chaz said from the floor, his voice cracking on the words Devin and doctor.

Bent over the kitchen table, Devin looked in pain, number ten on the pain chart, his hands were white knuckled gripping the edges. A column of smoke drifted from Devin’s ass to the ceiling. His pale white ass red and shiny coated in something-Jenkins assumed mayonnaise. Chaz lay on the floor, his face blacked with soot and meat. Pieces of meat covered the wall behind Chaz.

 

Puddles and Whiskers, Wash and Dry Brush Phase 12

Previously.

The wash and dry brush phase is almost over, two or three more sections. Since I started I have added around 10 pages of new text. Next up for existing work, letting it sit for a bit while I work on the new material. Bet you are happy for that. Until then, enjoy. 🙂

The Second Client of the Day

“What do you think of this one?” Puddles asked Whiskers.

“Looks like a frying pan to me,” he blandly replied.

“Single forged no need to worry if the handle will separate with a good hit,” Puddles went on, “And look at the weight.”

“What do the reviews say about its ability to survive an impact?” Whiskers sarcastically asked.

Puddles extended a single middle claw in Whiskers direction, “Ass. I’m ordering this.”

“Have you pulled the data on the Harowes yet?”

I sent a message to Chuck,” Puddles said to Whiskers, “asking him to get the data on the Harowes.”

“That will save us some time. Reviewing the information she gave us, this should be a night or two of work at most.”

“A quick case, nice.”

At the sound of the door chime, two vid-displays on their desk activated; two korogin males wearing matching black leather outfits waited. The bone facial plates concealed their expressions and through the vid made telling them apart difficult. One of them with both ears and neck pierced down to his collarbone, looked at the vid-camera and pressed the door chime. Another chime.

“Friends of yours?” Whiskers asked Puddles with a smirk.

Her left flattened before responding, “They look like gangers and I bet they don’t have any isstas.”

“Let us find out,” Whiskers replied, opening the door.

Walking in step into the office, their heavy boots made each step thud ominously. The pierced korogin pushed a chair over to Puddles side of the desk. The other korogin stood, glaring, behind the seated korogin.

“I want to hire you to watch me while I am in town,” the sitting korogin abruptly announced.

“To do what?” Whiskers asked.

“Keep an eye on me while I’m in the city,” he said a bit slower.

Whisker’s ears descended a bit, eyes narrowed, “You want us to watch you, why?”

Puddles began a staccato beat with one of her paws trying not to glare at either of the korogin. Silence from the black clad, heavily pierced korogin male sitting across the messy side of the desk and from his similarly black clad bodyguard glowering behind him. Whiskers looked at Puddles. Puddles shrugged before turning her attention back to the korogin.

“I’m trying to understand what you want from our agency,” she said. Paws on her side of the desk, one drumming a staccato beat, “We don’t do body guard work and you have…” gesturing with the non-staccato paw at the bodyguard.

The korogin in front of her looked over his shoulder, looked back and smiled or at least what Puddles took as a smile; the bone plates on korogin faces made reading any expression a gamble at best. A low rumble from both korogin, turned into belly clutching laughter. Whiskers ears wide apart and tail swishing, shrugged his confusion to Puddles. Puddles ears went flat, tail slashing her irritation with these two rising quickly.

“What am I missing?” she hissed at them.

“You don’t recognize us?” bodyguard asked around the last of his laughter.

“Should we,” Whiskers asked hesitantly.

The sitting korogin abruptly stopped laughing, “You don’t know who we are, for real?” Looking over his shoulder, he barked in korogin, “Tak-ga shinnat ur gagganoth.”

Bodyguard shook his head before speaking, “Does Acid Chamber sound familiar?”

“The quadstomp duo?” Whiskers replied ignoring the stunned look on Puddles face.

“That’s us,” the bodyguard said.

“We will take the job,” Whiskers said in a rush.

Nail Clippers, Pages 9 & 10

Previously.

“Oh my god,” Jetta moaned.

Jax continued thrusting his fingers into her pussy and licking her clit as her hips jerked and twitched. Orgasm contractions gripped his fingers tightly. He loved knowing he gave her pleasure.

“Enough. Enough,” she said scooting back from his fingers and tongue.

He stood up next to the bed as she sat up. Jetta leaned towards Jax, as he started to get onto the bed; planting a kiss on his lips, she tasted herself. Grabbing his hard cock, “This,” shaking his cock, “will have to wait until we get back from the hardware store.”

“But, babe.”

“We need to get going,” Jetta said sliding off the bed.

Two hours later and Jetta was ready to go back home and hide under the covers. Next time she promised herself, blow him before going to the hardware store; a solid hour of non-stop puns and jokes.

“Babe. Babe,” Jax shouted from the other end of the aisle, “look, I got HARD wood.”

She looked knowing what she would see…and, yes, he was holding up another plank of wood. Jetta shook her head in silent laughter. A quick trip to pick up supplies for the summer and the deck, that was the plan, unfortunately, for her, Jax was in a mood. She turned to shout at him, but he disappeared again, like a kid in a candy store.

Jetta heard a cart with squeaky wheels approaching, she whirled ready for another of Jax’s puns and to give him a small piece of her mind. The old man pushing the cart stopped, a shocked look flashed across his face. The heat of embarrassment washed over Jetta’s face.

“Sorry,” she mumbled, “I thought you were someone else.”

“I am glad I am not that person,” Old Man Jenkins replied.

“Really, I am sorry. It’s been a long shopping trip.”

“What are you here for?” Jenkins asked.

“Summer outdoor supplies and some stuff to fix the deck. What are you here for?”

Jenkins hesitated for a moment, pretending to clean off his glasses, “Um…I have a special project. I..uh…am finishing up my basement. Making the room I have always wanted,” he said in a rush.

“That sounds interesting,” Jetta replied.

“Wanna screw,” Jax said from behind her holding the largest screw she had ever seen in front of her face.

Old Man Jenkins laughed. His laughing got Jetta to laugh. Jetta grabbed the screw out of his hand and looked over her shoulder at Jax with her best, “not right now look.” Jax smiled like nothing had happened.

“He thought it was funny,” Jax said of Jenkins who was still laughing.

“This is my better half, Jax,” Jetta said.

“Hello,” Jax said, “I see you have hard wood too?”

All three of the giggled and snorted.

“I think I found what we are looking for a couple of aisles over,” Jax said to Jetta.

“Have you seen rope?” Jenkins asked Jax.

Jax thought for a moment, a mischievous look on his face, “Two aisle over next to the blue balls.”

Jetta nudged Jax in the ribs and gave him “the look” again.

“What?” Jax started, “There is a bin of blue balls. You know for kids.”

“Thank you,” Jenkins replied shaking his head and laughing, “It was nice meeting you both. Maybe our paths will cross again.”

“Nice meeting you,” Jetta said.

Old Man Jenkins went one way and Jax and Jetta went another way.

Puddles and Whiskers, Wash and Dry Brush Phase 11

Previously.

A conversation in an office…

Sitting at her side of the desk, Puddles spun her favorite interface pen for the hundredth time. Down time bored her, waiting for clients bored her, wondering how Whiskers trip to the SCPD keep her awake. Another spin, the interface point swung past her slowing down to point at her empty “Mom’s Favorite Kitty” cup. Letting out another bored sigh, Puddles went to get a cup of coffee; at least that might keep her awake.

Coffee in hand, she remembered her need for a new frying pan. Firing up the desk interface Puddles began to shop and surf. Swipe, swipe, pinch, swipe, close, open…a weak knock, so weak Puddles did not hear the first five. A weak shuffling, halting gait to the desk. A weak voice, a whisper barely heard and she was sitting across from Puddles. Weak clothing, brown, non-descript wageslave uniform of whatever corp employed her.

Puddles recalled yesterday’s conversation after noodles, “We need more clients,” Whiskers said.

“We need to find who screwed us and get our isstas,” she responded.

“Until then,” Whiskers replied while handing her his tablet, “we have a list of potential clients. We need the isstas.”

“Fine.”

“Be on your better behavior around the clients.”

“I’ll try,” Puddles responded with a smirk.

Camile Harowe, the first potential client on the list, continued to irritate Puddles with her very presence. Thankfully, Whiskers returned and she gave Whiskers the particulars of her case a second time. Wringing her hands, eyes pooling with tears, and that pungent odor of perfume didn’t mask her stench of desperation.

“Gathering evidence of your husband’s infidelities, should take us a week,” Whisker said while consulting his data-pad. Sliding the data-pad across his immaculately clean side of the desk, “Sign at the bottom and once the issta transfer is confirmed we will take the job.”

Puddles stifled an irritated grunt, catching cheating spouses-so low rent.

“Thank you so much,” the woman replied, “I hope I am wrong. I love him so much…”

“But you have a hunch,” Puddles interrupted as she snatching the data-pad back.

Whiskers grabbed the data-pad out of Puddles paw before the data-pad got lost in the mess of her side of the desk, “Thank you Camile. We will be in touch.”

As soon as the door closed, “What nickname did you give this client?”

“You don’t want to know,” Puddles dismissed the question with a wave and returned to shopping for a new frying pan.

Nail Clippers, Pages 7 & 8

Previously.

Barbossa explored the tornado shelter while Jenkins stood in the center mentally making plans. Turning in place, he envisioned each wall, moving his hands, simulating where each piece of equipment and storage would go and how he would use them. As he mentally built the room, he made a shopping list as well.

“Meow.”

Jenkins broke away from his planning at Barbossa’s meow and pawing in a corner.

“What have you found?”

“Meow,” the cat replied.

With a swipe of her paw, Barbossa dislodged the remains of a joint, sending it flying across the tornado shelter floor. Ducking under the lightbulb hanging from a wire, Jenkins squatted over the joint. The barest hint of a familiar scent took him back to another time.

[Wavy blurry going back in time visual]

A much younger Jenkins lying in bed talking to a woman with a flower in her hair smoking a joint. Jenkins waves his hand in front of his face to disperse the thick pungent cloud floating around him.

“Trinity, do you have to blow that into my face?” an exasperated Jenkins asked.

She laughed while holding the joint out to Jenkins. Her laugh caused Jenkins to cringe. He pushed her hand away from his face. Other than the sex, Jenkins could not think of a single reason to be around Trinity. Her life was a mess and she could never put two coherent thoughts together in a row. Often she blurted out the most inane statements, embarrassing him in front of his friends. When they asked why he continued to see her Jenkins shrugged his shoulders.

“I want to do something different tonight,” Jenkins said.

“Like what?” Trinity asked between huffs. She exhaled into his face causing him to cough.

“I want to tie you down,” he replied, a dark look crossed his face.

“Sure,” she replied taking a long drag on the joint.

“I’ll be back in a second. You get undressed.”

A few minutes later Jenkins tightened down the last knot on the scarf around Trinity’s wrist. She lay spread eagle on the bed, eyelids half-closed. Wasting no time, Jenkins climbed on the bed between her legs and lay down, eyeballing her hairy pussy. Wasting no time, Jenkins jammed his face onto her pussy and feverously licked her crotch. Trinity giggled, which quickly turned into that laugh. Cringing, he sat up.

“Don’t stop, baby,” she said around laughs.

Jenkins untied her feet from the bed and pushed her legs up and apart. With her legs out of the way, he resumed eating her out. She kept giggling and laughing. That laugh grating on his nerves more and more. Sitting up, Jenkins put her legs on his shoulders and drove his cock into her pussy. Trinity moaned and giggled. Leaning forward he drove in and out of her, hoping to finish before her laughter got to him.

“That’s it baby,” she said, “Give it to me good.”

Grabbing her shoulders, he pulled himself forward, thrusting like a mad man. She continued to giggle and laugh. He leaned in, putting her knees on her large tits, using the angle to thrust harder and deeper into her. Using his anger at her, at her non-stop giggling and laughing, to fuel his thrusts. Hoping he could fuck her to stop laughing. His hands creeped from her shoulders to her neck. Grasping her neck, he tried to fuck her silent.

“Yes, baby. Yes. Harder,” each word between laughs, “Harder.”

Jenkins grip on her neck tightened with each angry thrust. The smacking of their flesh sounding like slaps in the room. Just shut up, he kept thinking.

“STOP LAUGHING!” Jenkins roared as he gave her one last hard thrust, trying to crush her voice box with his cock.

Opening his eyes, Trinity’s face was beet red and her eyes had rolled in the back of her head. She was not breathing. Jenkins sat back on his heels, his cock plopping out of her pussy, her legs crashed to the bed. He sat there wondering what to do, but happy she stopped laughing. Edges of panic crept into sexual bliss.

Suddenly Trinity gasped. Gasped again and began coughing…

[Wavy blurry going forward in time visual]

Standing up, Jenkins adjusted his pants due to his erection. Smiling, he pocketed the remains of the joint and finished his mental shopping list.

“Let’s go,” he said to Barbossa, “We have a lot of work to do.”

“Meow,” Barbossa replied scampering up the wooden stairs.