Southern Fried (22 page)

can snoop around and he’ll never be the wiser. I mean, if he’s

been spying all these years, maybe he has some notes hanging

around. Worth a try, anyway.”

“Dangerous,” I said.

“Not while he’s out like a light,” he replied.

I smiled. “No, I mean us. As a team. We’re dangerous.” Then

I glanced down at my ensemble, adding, “Think he’ll buy it?”

He patted me on the back. “Just keep the lights down low and

the distance between you high, and make sure he drinks fast.” He

swirled the bottle’s contents around. “Real fast.”

And then we were pulling up to the apartment building, my

heart galloping through a furlong. “Wish me luck,” I sighed,

between pursed lips, as I hopped out.

We met at the flight of stairs. “Walter,” he said, hand held out.

“Marlene,” I told him, handshake demure and ladylike.

“A beautiful name for a beautiful woman,” said he, leading me

up the stairs, the bottle of brandy held tight in my grip.

“Thank you,” I cooed, stomach gurgling, knees buckling.

Then into the belly of the beast we went. Again. I mean,

I’d made it nearly thirty years without seeing the inside of his

apartment, and now it’d been twice in less than a week. I owed it

to fucked up karma. Must’ve punted a kitty cat through a goalpost

southeRn FRied
139

in a past life, or something. Anyway, he ushered me inside, hand

on the small of my back. I jumped, blushed, and quickly found

the kitchen and two glasses.

He accepted the huge shot I poured and promptly clinked

glasses with me. “To new friends,” he toasted.

If he only knew, right? More like to old enemies. Still, I smiled

and faked a sip, eyeing him as I did so. Thankfully, he chugged his

down and walked over to the countertop to pour himself another

one. All while I deftly tossed mine into a nearby potted plant.

Then and only then did I finally exhale.

He turned around and filled my glass, sipping on his seconds

as he offered me a seat in the living room. I accepted as he sat

across from me on the sofa, grinning like a man who’d just won

the lottery. Thankfully, the place was dimly lit. But,
groan
, he

reached over and turned on a lamp. I reached over and turned it

off. “I, uh, I just had eye surgery. Bright light is painful.”

He nodded, taking another big sip. “Well, you’re entirely

too young for glaucoma or cataracts, my dear. I hope it wasn’t

anything…” Then he stifled a massive yawn. “… oh, excuse me,

too serious.”

I shook my head, thinking fast. “Laser eye surgery. Now I’m

twenty-twenty again.”
Phew
.

Again he yawned, taking another healthy sip. “Excuse me.

Guess I’m more tired than I thought.”

“Long day?” I asked, waiting expectantly for him to conk out.

He nodded, eyes already getting droopy. “Work problems.”

Then I nodded. “What kind of work are you in, Walter?”

His head tilted back. He jerked it forward. “Depends,” he

replied, with a crooked smile. “Two jobs. Second one might be

ending soon. First one, too.” Now he was slurring. Just a few

more minutes and I’d be home free. “Shame, I… I liked the

first.” His head tilted back again, but this time it stayed there.

“Family,” he managed, and then was out like a light.

I stood up and stared down at him. “Walter?” I said. “Walter?”

140 Rob Rosen

louder this time. I waited a minute. No response. Just heavy

breathing. I grabbed his legs and swung them around onto the

sofa, then removed his shoes and propped his head on a pillow.

He snored, peacefully. “Family, huh, Jeeves?” I whispered, a pang

in my chest. “Not supposed to spy on your family.”

Though spying on enemies is a different matter entirely.

I walked around, opening draws, cabinets. Not too surprisingly,

place was immaculate, everything neatly arranged. Same for the

bathroom, the bedroom. Even his boxers were folded in tight,

little stacks, socks rolled into perfect balls. But I had to hurry; Zeb

was waiting. Last room was the den, which doubled as his office.

Computer on, printer on, filing cabinets unlocked. I crossed my

fingers and had a look.

“Thank God,” I whispered, though whispering was fairly

unnecessary by that point.

The filing cabinet was full of folders, row after row of them,

all stuffed with notes that started from his first year with Granny

and ended with that very day. I couldn’t steal them or read them

all; it would’ve taken hours and hours. Instead, I scanned as much

as I could into his scanner, about a fifty pages worth, mostly from

the beginning and the end. Then I emailed them to myself before

I deleted the sent file and the scanned files just afterward. All in

all, it took about ten minutes.

Then I went back to the living room. Jeeves was just as I’d

left him. I smiled and wrote him a note:
Thanks for the fun evening.

Pleasure to meet you. I let myself out.
I figured, just in case we ran into each other again with me as Marlene, it would be best for him to

have a good impression of me. I tucked the note under his arm.

Then I stared at him again.

Okay, time for a little admission here. Yes, I hated him, but,

truth be told, when I was a teenager, all alone, yearning for some

love, from a man, I used to fantasize that he’d catch me jacking

off and, uh, well,
join me
. There’s a thin line between love and

hate, after all, and it’s easy to cross it with a hard dick in your

hand. Yeah, yeah, don’t be so shocked. Jeeves was a strapping

man back then. Tall and lean, broad shoulders, chiseled face. Very

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141

Rock Hudson with a southern drawl. Ice-cold and dry as bone,

but still dreamy, just the same. And he was still good looking,

especially like he was now, all helpless, stern features relaxed in

sleep, graying temples, big, strong hands.

I ran my fingers across his crow’s feet. Then I turned to go.

Then I turned back. I mean, when would I ever get a chance like

this again. And it was just a peek. Honestly. Just the top button

of his dress shirt. And the one below that. Just out of curiosity.

Because I’d never seen any flash of skin below that before. Not

in all those years we were together.

Jeeves had a thick matting of chest hair, black sprinkled

with gray. I parted the material, my breath suddenly ragged,

prick pulsing. “You’ve kept good care of yourself, old man,” I

whispered, admiring his dense pecs, thick, pink nipples, whirls

of hair around both of them. “Okay, just one more button and

I’m out of here.” Well, one and then another. He was still lean,

just the slightest paunch, hairy belly, defined, very un-Jeeves like.

See, I’d always imagined that he’d be hairless. And definitely not

tattooed just below his bellybutton. “Well, well, we’re just full of

surprises, Jeeves, aren’t we?”

I gulped as I stared down at his crotch. Then I looked at the

window, knowing that Zeb would be waiting and worried. I ran

over and opened it up. Zeb’s head popped out of the driver’s

side window as he looked up. I shot him a thumb’s up and then

motioned with my hands that I’d be right down. He grinned and

waved. Then I turned back around.

“Guess this makes us somewhat even, Jeeves,” I said,

buttoning him back up. Because fun was fun, but I needed to

get back to Zeb. Besides, I now had some closure. Finally. On

something.

Again I turned and headed out, waiting a minute for my cock

to go semi again, and ran back down the stairs. Zeb was standing

by the car door now, smiling. Oh, how I felt it: guilt, guilt, guilt.

But well-worth it. At least I had one dreamy moment with Jeeves

to last a lifetime. Now back to hating him again.

“Find out anything?” he asked, eagerly.

142 Rob Rosen

I couldn’t help but laugh. “Yeah, those pills are strong.”

He nodded. “They’re meant for a horse, boss.”

Or a jackass. “In any case, we have lots of reading to do

tonight.”

He reached over and down, reawakening the beast. “Just

reading?”

I groaned, buckets of come brimming near the surface. “Well,

not
just
, Zeb.” I leaned in and kissed him, hard. “Definitely not

just.”

We made it back to Zeb’s house as the sky was turning from

royal blue to inky black. It was a hot, sticky, southern night, tree

frogs croaking up an amphibian symphony that carried on the

warm breeze. We had a lot to get done, primarily printing and

reading all of the notes I’d emailed to myself. Still, I was horny

as all fuck from my encounter with Jeeves, single-sided and fairly

innocent though it was.

“Ever have sex with a woman before, Zeb?” I asked him,

before we’d reached his front door.

He laughed. “You know how you feel about that peach

brandy?” he asked.

“
Blech
?” I replied.

He touched fingertip to nose. “Exactly.
Blech
. Sexually

speaking, I mean.” He turned to me and smiled. “Why? Are we

calling Stella back here for a little ménage a no fucking way?”

Then I laughed and turned back around, walking to the middle

of his small, front lawn, surrounded on all sides by thick forest.

The moon was bright overhead, illuminating me in a warm, silver

glow. “What about a boy dressed like a girl?” I asked, devilishly.

He moved to the edge of the lawn and cocked his head.

“What about a boy dressed like a girl what?” he asked.

I unbuttoned my blouse, slowly, one button at a time, before

dropping the feather-light material to the grass. Then I shimmied

out of my skirt, kicking it on top of the blouse, leaving me in my

heels, my wig, my panties and padded bra. And, yes, even I find

that sentence terrifying.

He shook his head. “Nope,” he replied. “Can’t say as I have.

You?” he moved in closer, closer still.

144 Rob Rosen

I slid my fingers inside the elastic band of the panties, then

pushed the sides down. The silk dropped to the ground. I kicked

them off, my cock like a tree limb, jutting out, swaying in the

breeze. “You mean, fuck a boy dressed like a girl or get fucked by

a boy while dressed like a girl?”

“Either.”

I shook my head. “Not yet.” Then I sat down, the grass cool

on my bare ass. I spread my legs, heels digging in, cock jutting

out, steely stiff. “But no time like the present.”

He scratched his chin and pretended to think about it. “True,”

he eventually said. “But why not throw one more kink into it? I

mean, there’s still another option.” He turned and ran into the

house before I could guess the third alternative. Truth be told,

I think I was at my kink-limit: stroking my cock outside in a wig

and heels and padded bra, not to mention about ten pounds of

makeup. Still, when he came out in a wig, heels, padded bra and

not much else but a smile on his face and a rubber on his stiffy,

I realized I still had another notch to go. “See,” he said, running

over. “Now you can say you’ve been fucked by a boy dressed like

a girl while you were dressed like a girl, bare-assed on that boy-

girls front lawn.”

I lifted my legs up and winked my asshole at him. “Uh, yeah;

I probably won’t be admitting that any time soon.” I leaned back

on my elbows. “Still, the idea does seem to have some merit.”

He got on his knees and lubed up my hole with a bottle that

had been tucked into his bra. “The fucking part?”

He slid it in, just the head, while I gave my cock a stroke. I

sighed, eyelids fluttering. “Exactly.”

He held my calves and glided in all the way home, every nerve

ending in my body shooting off Fourth of July fireworks, the

biggest burst when he leaned in and down and kissed me. “You

feel good,” he moaned into my mouth.

“Ditto,” I said, gripping my pole.

He pulled out and then shoved it in again, out and in, smiling

at me now as his lips hovered just above mine. “I’m glad you’re

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145

my boss,” he whispered, with a crooked grin.

I nodded, picking up the pace on my cock. “And I’m glad

you’re my boyfriend.”

He paused and stared me in the eyes, deep, deep down, like

soul deep. “Me too, Trip,” he said, with a sigh, as his cock ground

in to the hilt. “Hottest boyfriend dressed like a girlfriend on my

front lawn ever.”

My head began to swim, a river of sweat pouring down my

face and back. “Sweet, if not weird,” I panted, balls rising now

as he began to pound away at me. “Now come with me Portia

de Chevy.”

He rocked his cock into my ass. “I thought you’d never ask,

Marlene.”

We howled into the night while he piston-fucked me, my cock

bursting a split second later, thick wads of come that spewed

onto my bra, all while he filled me with his heavy load. Drained,

he collapsed on top of me, our lips at last joined again, tongues

winding together, my hands on his sweat-soaked back, his dick