Multiple Units #109

"Outsourcing?" Kirsten asked, after she'd managed to decipher what Randy had mumbled out.

"See, got a business? Um, say, oh, a real estate office? Got couple agents, couple admins, well, what happens one the agent's gets a little too friendly with one admins? The admin; where's she going go? They too small have an HR, so we come in, we they HR," Randy mumbled.

"Got it," Kirsten said, even though she didn't fully comprehend what Randy had mumbled.

Kirsten was afraid, if she asked any more questions, it would lead to another hour or two of Randy's talking. He was too drunk and she didn't have the patience to sit through another long-winded explanation.

"Anyway, Tom hired me; just had my ninety day review. See, I had put out couple fires, one right up street at that soap place," Randy said. "And, other day, Deanna called my cell phone, asked me I'm going walk her up the aisle. You know, Daddies, they dream of the day they going get do that."

Kirsten sat again and waited. She saw the self-pity, the self-recrimination in Randy's beautiful green eyes.

"When I said yes, Deanna then hits me with all the bills I got pay," Randy spat out. "Told her get her mother's fuck buddy walk her."

Randy lapsed into silence again. Kirsten gently took his glass from his hand; he was in danger of dumping the few cubes of melting ice onto his carpet. He looked up, dazed expression on his handsome face.

"You should lay down for a bit," Kirsten advised, gently kissing his slack mouth.

She put his glass into the dishwasher and closed the flimsy appliance. The builders of the apartment building had not splurged on the appliances for their apartments. The refrigerator was also fairly flimsy and the ice maker in Kirsten's refrigerator had never worked.

"Thanks for the drink," Kirsten said, picking up her beach towel.

"Mm hmm," Randy agreed.

"Bye," Kirsten said, giving his slack mouth another kiss. "See you around."

Sunday afternoon, Kirsten returned from dinner at her mother's home. She unlocked the door of Apartment 109 just as Randy exited Apartment 110. She paused and he smiled wanly at her.

"Mm, God," Kirsten mumbled to herself, seeing the sexy chest hairs peeking out of the opening of his polo style shirt.

"Hi, neighbor," Randy smiled.

"Hi, neighbor," Kirsten smiled. "Just getting back from church."

"Oh? Where do you go?" Randy asked, checking that he had his wallet and keys.

"St. Patrick's, over there in Elgee," Kirsten said.

"Oh! You, you're Catholic?" Randy asked.

"You're in Cajun country; just about everybody's Catholic," Kirsten smiled.

"Yes, I've noticed that," Randy said, turning to walk away.

"I uh, hey, you want, I, I got some rum and Coke," Kirsten offered.

"I, you know what? That, that might be just what I need," Randy agreed and turned back to smile at Kirsten.

"Just let me get out of this," Kirsten said as Randy sat in her tweed barrel chair.

Kirsten decided on her crop top and khaki shorts. The top was a light pink in color; at first glance, it almost appeared that Kirsten was not wearing any top at all.

"Kirsten quickly made their drinks and skipped into her living room. She and Randy silently toasted one another, then took a sip.

"Thank you. I uh, I normally don't care for cola, but, this is quite tasty," Randy said.

"Oh, that's right; you told me that yesterday," Kirsten remembered.

"I did?" Randy asked, frowning.

"Mm hmm. Also told me about Deanna's wedding," Kirsten said, taking another sip of her drink.

"I tell you both her and her mother called me last night?" Randy asked.

"Hmm? No, no, I left about one, little after," Kirsten said. "They called you?"

Mm hmm, called me, screaming at me the wedding was ruined, all because of me, all because of my male pride," Randy said, taking a large gulp of his drink.

"Hope you hung up on them," Kirsten said. "You know how to block their phone number?"

"I did; they used Terrence's phone," Randy smiled tightly. "Anyway, Leslie told me she hopes I rot in Hell, and Deanna, well, what she said really isn't worth repeating."

"I'm sorry," Kirsten said softly, placing her hand on Randy's hand.

Their first kiss was a tender kiss. Kirsten and Randy touched lips and held the kiss for a moment. Kirsten put her glass onto the coffee table, on her coaster and wrapped her arms around Randy's neck. His tongue was thick, his kiss was insistent.

Leslie must have taught Randy how to eat a woman's pussy. Moments after entering her bedroom, Randy had Kirsten grunted, tugging at Randy's hair as he licked, fingered and sucked her to a mewling, thrashing orgasm.

After her orgasm waned, Kirsten didn't have time to think. Randy just effortlessly flipped her onto her belly and pulled her onto her knees.

"Mm! Oh, oh God!" Kirsten cried out as Randy slid his thick cock into her snug pussy from behind.

"Oh, yes," Kirsten cried out as Randy's hands came up and grabbed her hanging breasts in a firm grasp.

Moments later, Kirsten again mewled in orgasm as Randy hammered her very forcefully. Her third orgasm came as he pumped a torrent of his sperm into her pussy. They both slumped onto the bed, his hairy belly and chest rasping against her smooth back.

"Oh, oh yes," Kirsten hissed as Randy pulled his cock from her sloppy pussy and rolled onto his back.

"You, you're the third woman I've ever..." Randy murmured.

"Third? Only the third?" Kirsten asked.

The twenty two year old woman had lost count of how many boys, young men she'd had in her bed, in the back seats of their cars, on the grass of the Kimble Academy football field late at night. There's been three on the football field, but Randy was the seventh or eighth man to enter her bedroom since she'd moved here four months ago.

"Mm hmm," Randy said. "There was Leslie, and then Mrs. Thompson, Penny's mother; that was one very well put together woman."

"Hmm," Kirsten said, then bent over and began to stroke Randy's sticky cock.

"Oh, oh my goodness," Randy enthused as Kirsten began to tongue his cock. "Oh, Kirsten, you, that, you don't need to do that."

Kirsten swallowed the length of his cock down her throat. Randy's was the fourth or fifth uncircumcised cock Kirsten had ever seen and she found that she enjoyed the feeling of their thick foreskin rubbing and rasping along her inner walls as they thrust in and out of her.

When Randy was fully erect, Kirsten released his cock with a 'pop' then swung her leg over and mounted him. "Mm! Oh!" Randy cried out, green eyes wide with wonder.

Kirsten mewled out as Randy's hands again gripped her swinging breasts. He tugged and twisted her rock hard nipples and Kirsten panted, close to her orgasm.

After Randy pumped his second load into her, Kirsten rolled off of him and wiggled back until her buttocks pressed against him.

"Hold me," Kirsten demanded.

Randy wrapped his right arm over her waist, pressing his wonderfully hairy body against her flesh.

Kirsten woke up and shivered. She was cold, lying nude on top of her comforter. Randy was not in bed with her.

Padding nude from her bedroom, Kirsten saw that Randy's clothes were gone. The stove's clock told her it was two thirty two; she'd slept for close to an hour.

She showered, washing off the dried sweat and semen. Then she sat on the corner of her bed and applied her skin lotion.

A knock sounded on her door and Kirsten shrugged on her robe. A second knock came a moment later.

"Coming, I'm coming," Kirsten called out.

"Hi, I, uh, I'm really not much of a cook, but I do know how to make pretty good chili," Randy said. "Mm, come over at about six?"

"I'll be there," Kirsten smiled.

Over mediocre chili, Kirsten and Randy talked. Mostly, Kirsten talked about growing up in Kimble, Louisiana, her father skipping out on them when she was two years old, and her daddy and her mother marrying when Kirsten was five. At first, Randy was horrified to find out that Kirsten was only twenty two years old; she was only two years older than his Deanna.

Randy's headboard did abut Kirsten's headboard. Unlike Kirsten's headboard, though, Randy's headboard smacked against the wall with each thrust of Randy's cock.

"Need to put a towel between the headboard and the wall," Kirsten giggled, wrapping her legs around Randy's thick waist.

"Tomorrow, we're having red beans and rice," Kirsten said as she prepared to leave his apartment. "Bring the whiskey and ginger ale for an after dinner cocktail."

"Okay, but on Wednesday? I need you to come with me to look at a few houses. Personally, there is just something wrong in apartment living. Every month, you're just paying rent and at the end of the month, you've nothing to show for that month's rent," Randy said.

Tammy Hale, a beautiful red head of Davis Realty showed the couple around the St. Elizabeth Parish area. For three months, at least three days out of each week, in the evenings, Tammy would plaster a smile on her face and show the unreasonable, demanding client and his young companion around.

"Mr. Bogdanovich, I'm not sure what it is that you're looking for," Tammy finally said. "I mean, are you really looking? Or is this just how you get your kicks? Looking at houses?"

Kirsten wanted to agree with the real estate agent. Out of the sixty or so homes they'd looked at, they were starting to blend together in her mind, she'd absolutely loved eight, really liked about ten of them, and would have been happy to live in most of the houses they'd seen. But Randy found fault with each and every home they'd seen.

Kirsten knew better than to agree, out loud with Tammy. The one time she'd voice an opinion about a home, Randy had fixed her with an ice cold glare. Then, alone in his apartment, he quietly, forcefully told Kirsten that this was to be his home. It was his money. It was his home, his choice.

"Ms. Hale, you've shown us some very fine homes, but they just, they just did not appeal to my taste," Randy said, voice tight.

"Mr. Bogdanovich, perhaps you would be more comfortable with a male agent?" Tammy Hale suggested. "I would be happy to refer you to Victor Roberts?"

"Since you seem to be incompetent at your job?" Randy agreed.

Kirsten looked at Randy, shocked. She looked at the beautiful young woman and saw the hurt Randy's harsh words had caused. But, ever the professional, Tammy nodded her head and took out her cell phone.

"Hi, Victor. That client I spoke to you about? Yes, yes, that's the one. Could you meet us at fourteen twenty one Fontenot Road? Excellent," Tammy said.

"He'll be here in twenty minutes," Tammy said flatly and went outside to wait for her business associate.

Kirsten was torn; she wanted to go outside and comfort, console the real estate agent. But she knew Randy would somehow see that as a betrayal of sorts. She also knew, any words she spoke on behalf of the real estate agent would be harshly rebuked by Randy.

"Starting to see why Leslie fucked around on you," Kirsten thought, again admiring the flat cooktop stove.

"Hi! Mr. Bogdanovich? Victor Roberts," A chubby young man bounded into the house, hand outstretched. "All right, let's see, okay, come over here to the counter and let's draw out a plan. If you fail to plan, then plan to fail, right?"

Randy shot Kirsten a satisfied smirk, as if to say 'See? This is a real estate agent; not that red headed slut.'

Victor was thorough in his interrogation of Randy Bogdanovich; bedrooms, bathrooms, approximate lot size, new construction, pre-owned. After nearly an hour, Victor plugged everything into his tablet and nodded with satisfaction.

"Five seventeen Cross Circle might just be what you're looking for. If that doesn't fill the bill, then there's six twenty one Caledonia, out in Pinoak," Victor mused. "Ready to take a ride?"

Kirsten was sure they'd looked at 517 Cross Circle. She was even more sure when they pulled up to the red mottled brick two story structure. What cemented her knowledge that they'd seen the house before was the gaudy water fountain in front of the house.

"We've seen this one; it's not quite what I'm looking for," Randy spoke before Victor shut off the engine.

"Okay, then, Caledonia," Victor said good-naturedly.

Kirsten did not know what was any better or worse about 621 Caledonia Court, Pinoak, Louisiana than any of the other homes they'd seen. But Randy was looking around with excitement as Victor punched in his code into the lockbox. The interior, again, was no better or worse than the jumbled assortment of homes, but Randy marched around, looking at everything with interest.

"What do you think?" Randy asked Kirsten excitedly.

"It's pretty nice," Kirsten agreed.

She had been Randy's lover long enough to know, if she said anything negative about the house, Randy would be upset. An upset Randy was a petulant Randy.

"Shed in the back yard? Is a model of the house," Victor pointed out through the French doors.

"Well, how about that?" Randy laughed, seeing that the tool shed in the rear did look like a miniature replica of the main house.

"That's cute," Kirsten agreed.

"Been on the market; oh, hey, been on the market one week as of today," Victor said.

Kirsten was mystified about what it was that Randy was so excited about. The house on Magnolia Way, in Baylor Lake, the one she'd really fallen in love with was much nicer, the colors were soothing, the location was optimal, and it was six hundred square feet larger than this house. For the same dollar amount. And the next door neighbors had been a young married couple with a beautiful little girl just learning to walk. Kirsten had wanted to squeeze Bethany up in a big hug; the girl was so adorable.

"So, how long have you two been together?" Victor asked politely as he stared at his tablet.

"We're just neighbors," Randy said glibly, fiddling with the knobs on the stove, already assuming ownership of the house.

"Just neighbors?" Kirsten felt the sting of tears.

"Hmm," Victor agreed, looking up and seeing the look on Kirsten's face.

"Very good neighbors," Randy said cheerfully, putting an arm around Kirsten's waist.

"Hmm," Victor said again.

The offer was accepted and Randy and Victor set up a closing date. Kirsten tried to be happy for Randy but felt herself being diminished in order of importance in Randy's eyes. They spent nearly every night, usually in Randy's bed because he didn't like Kirsten's bed, or the smell of her cosmetics or perfume. He didn't care for her cooking, preferring to go out to eat most nights.

"So, how many boxes do you think you'll need?" Randy asked Kirsten one night, after very vigorous sex.

"Boxes? Boxes for what?" Kirsten asked, wiggling to get out of bed.

"For the move?" Randy asked. "Oh, we're not taking that table of yours, but the couch? And that chair? They would be perfect in the sitting room; my furniture is already tagged for the man cave."

"Um, about ten, I guess," Kirsten said, stepping into his bathroom.

"That table was my Mom's table; we're not getting rid of it," Kirsten thought.

A small shudder of excitement and of fear rippled through her. Apparently, Randy intended for Kirsten to move with him.

The next evening, Randy carried ten boxes into Kirsten's apartment and placed them next to her sofa. He also put a large roll of packing tape and several sheets of bubble wrap on her coffee table. Kirsten smiled and announced that fried chicken was almost ready to eat.

"All right, so, what are we packing first?" Randy asked the moment their dinner plates were cleared away.

Kirsten allowed Randy to pack the things she didn't use on a daily basis. Most of her dishes and large bowls were not used that often. He tightened her lips but said nothing when Randy insulted the dishes her daddy had given to her as a moving gift.

"Okay, that's a good start," Randy announced as he taped the third box shut. "You spending the night?"

"I uh, no, we, we're doing a deposition tomorrow," Kirsten said. "Nicole wants me in at seven thirty to get everything set up in the conference room."

"You didn't do that this afternoon?" Randy asked, his disdain for the sloppy planning of Nicole Banks very evident.

"No, Mr. Eichenbach had an estate probate run over," Kirsten said, fighting very hard against her irritation.

The deposition was a brutal one. Both parties were more than hostile toward one another. Both aggrieved parties verged on being murderous toward each other. Polly Chastaine and Nicole Banks, however, maintained their professional demeanor throughout the ordeal.

Once again, Daniel Eichenback waited until four twenty five before 'discovering' that he had some time sensitive data that needed to be brought to the St. Ann Parish Courthouse.

"Seriously? Mr. Eichenbach, you know they close at five, right?" Kirsten said. "You can't email them?"

"They need the hard copies, the man lisped, growing more and more agitated.

Kirsten sighed, took the files and rushed to her car. She called the clerk of court's office as she raced out of the parking lot. She screamed in frustration as she got the voice mail. When the phone beeped, Kirsten left a message asking that they be patient; she was in route with some files that needed to be entered no later than today.

Then Kirsten called Nicole's office and let her immediate supervisor know of Daniel's latest foul-up. Nicole gave a heavy sigh and cautioned Kirsten to be careful; Daniel's files were not worth Kirsten getting a speeding ticket over.

"Kirsten, it was anyone else but you? I would have skipped out," Robin Theriot, a beautiful red head smiled as Kirsten scampered into the clerk's office with three minutes to spare.

"Hey! Oh my God! When, when did you start working here?" Kirsten gasped, seeing her friend and former classmate.

The two friends caught up while Robin took care of Kirsten's files. Kirsten waited while robin clocked out and the two walked out of the office into the late afternoon sun.

"So, when you coming over? I've got a new grill been dying to try out," Robin asked, giving Kirsten a seductive look.

"Robin, you're vegan; what are you going to grill?" Kirsten asked, genuinely curious.

"I'm not vegan; I'm vegetarian," Robin huffed.

"Like there's any difference? They're both annoying," Kirsten teased. "But seriously, what are you going to grill?"

"I do these pineapple skewers? Oh, baby! To die for," Robin enthused.

"Your number still five three five six?" Kirsten smiled, unlocking her car door. "How 'bout I call you?"

That night, Randy took Kirsten to Jade Gardens for Chinese food. Despite Kirsten's warnings, randy got the shrimp lo mien. Kirsten ordered the Mandarin Beef and fought down the smirk as Randy stoically chewed his way through the obviously flash frozen shrimp.

"Okay, let's get started on your packing," Randy said as they pulled into the parking lot of Venice Apartments.

"Randy, God, look, I've had the shittiest day, okay," Kirsten begged off. "Please, can we just have a couple of drinks and go to bed? The closing's what? Two weeks out?"

"The longer you wait, the more stressed out you're going to be," Randy said, but grudgingly agreed that they'd wait until the morning.

After two ginger ale and whiskeys for her and three ginger ale and whiskeys for Randy, they went to bed and made love. Even as she achieved orgasm, Kirsten did wonder if it was love.

In the morning, as Randy swept through his kitchen, packing up things, Kirsten prepared a simple breakfast of French toast, bacon and sausage links. Randy loved sausage links; Kirsten preferred bacon.

After their breakfast, with Randy complaining about Kirsten's coffee; it was too strong for him, there was a knock at the door. Kirsten wasn't even sure it had been a knock; she'd knocked the bowl with the remnants of her egg custard into the miniscule sink and it had made a clatter.