Multiple Units #311

*Author's Note: Any and all persons engaging in any sexual activity are at least eighteen years of age.

Disclaimers: This story has been edited by myself, utilizing Microsoft Spell-check. You have been forewarned; expect to find mistakes.

*.*

Venice Apartments had a sign out front, with the name 'Venice Apartments' in black against a background of the Italian flag of green, white, and red. Encircling the name was the silhouette of a gondola and gondolier.

The complex was comprised of four separate buildings arranged in a square. Each building faced inward, faced the pool and small courtyard. The first building, the northeast building was three floors, with five apartments on each floor. Apartments 101, 105, 201, 205, 301 and 305 were two bedroom units. The three units in between each two bedroom unit were one bedroom units. The southeastern building had apartments 106 and 107 on the ground floor, each a two bedroom unit. The second and third floors had four single room efficiencies on each. The southwestern building was a duplicate of the northeastern building, each floor with a two bedroom unit on the corners, separated by three one bedroom units. And the northwestern building was a duplicate of the southeastern building, a ground floor of two units, each with two bedrooms, then eight one room efficiencies atop. Behind the northwestern building was a large laundry room and an exercise room.

Across the parking lot in front of the northeastern building was the rental office. And on top of the rental office was the apartment building's clubhouse. Each tenant had the right to reserve the clubhouse for parties, but they must notify the apartment manager of the desired time that they planned to use the clubhouse.

#311

"God damn, why these punk ass kids always got live on third floor?" Moses Edward Mosely grunted to his buddy as they lugged the heavy chest of drawers up to the third floor apartment.

"Know that's right," was Carl Franks' answer.

"Let me get the door," David McMahon said.

"Yeah, kid, you do that," Carl muttered to Moses.

"'Less want us shoving this through the window," Moses grunted.

"And..." David said, finally finding the appropriate key and unlocking the door to Apartment 311.

"Catch the light, huh?" Carl ordered as they stepped into the dark apartment.

"Huh," David said, flicking the switch up and down a few times.

"Kid, can't do much if we can't see what we doing," Moses grumbled to the boy.

"Huh," David said, returning from the dark interior of the apartment. "I went and had the lights turned on. I got it right here. St. Elizabeth Public Utilities."

"What we can do, shit, got that Four nineteen Browner street get to," Carl thought aloud. "Son, what we going have do is just put it all in here, open them curtains give us a little light, huh?"

"Then how I'm..." David whined.

"Son, lights supposed be on," Moses said, helping Carl to put the chest of drawers into a corner of the living room/dining room of the one bedroom apartment.

David pulled the paperwork from St. Elizabeth Parish Public Utilities and called the number printed on the invoice. Carl and Moses went from truck to apartment, unloading everything into the front room of the apartment.

"No ma'am, I did not cancel the order," David snapped to the unfortunate customer service representative. "Mean to tell me, I can just call in and cancel YOUR electricity? That's what you're telling me? That I can just call and cancel anyone's electricity?"

"My God damned mother," David explained to the sweating men as they propped a box onto the box spring and mattress leaning against the dining room wall.

"Hey, hey now! Huh? That's your momma, boy, woman what gave birth to you," Carl snapped.

"Yeah, well, didn't want me moving out, apparently," David said. "Lady said they'll have it turned on this Monday."

"Uh huh, two more boxes and we're done," Carl said, not caring about David, David's mother, or the boy's electricity problems.

David signed the paperwork, then slipped the two men a ten dollar bill each. Both Carl and Moses just rolled their eyes and did not thank the eighteen year old boy as they left.

"Hi Mom," David said cheerfully. "Apartment's beautiful. What? Any problems? Like what, Mother? What problems would I have, Mother?"

"Told you! Told you someone's moving in next door," a slightly chubby brunette triumphantly told a handsome blond youth as they stepped out of apartment 312.

"Yay, Heather's right. Heather's always right," the young man smiled as he closed the door of their apartment.

"Oh, shut up," Heather giggled, slapping the blond youth on his arm. "Let's go see who it is."

Since he had his door wide open, to let in some light, David heard all of the conversation. He carefully negotiated the small path through his boxes from kitchen to door.

Knock knock," Heather called out, while actually knocking twice on the door.

"Who's there?" David said.

"Hey!" Heather squealed, seeing David McMahon, a former classmate.

"Hey," David agreed.

He was startled when the attractive girl grabbed him in an embrace. He did not hesitate to return the hug, though.

"Hey!" the blond man affected a high pitch squeal and grabbed David in a bear hug.

"God! Shut up!" Heather said, again slapping her boyfriend's arm.

"So, y'all live here too?" David asked.

"For now," Damien, the blond agreed, pointing to 312.

"For now?" David asked.

"Yeah," Heather said, losing the smile. "SOMEONE didn't pay this month's rent even though I gave him the money."

"Hey, I told you, I paid that bitch," Damien said fervently.

"Then why are we being kicked out, Damien? Huh? Why are we being kicked out?" Heather demanded.

"I don't know," Damien said.

"Any. Way. We have until Thursday," Heather said, looking around. "Uh, forgot pay the light bill?"

"No. Believe this? My mother actually called and cancelled my electricity," David said.

"Duce, really?" Damien said.

"Yeah; didn't want me moving out, I guess," David shrugged.

"Yeah, my dad didn't want me moving in with Butt Head here," Heather agreed.

"But, you're glad you did," Damien asserted.

"How you going put everything up?" Heather asked, peering around in the semi-darkness.

"But you're glad you did, right?" Damien insisted.

"I don't know; been trying do what I can," David agreed.

"Damien, go get them flashlights," Heather said. "We'll help you, David."

Damien disappeared. A moment later, he reappeared with three small flashlights. Heather grabbed one and slipped the wrist strap over her hand. She then showed David that it was turned on by a twist. Turning the handle to the left widened the beam, turning it to the right narrowed the beam to a pinpoint, just before snapping it off again.

"Huh!" David smiled.

"All righty, where's uh, okay, these are plates and cups," Damien said, opening a box and using his flashlight to peer inside.

"Give that one here," Heather said. "I know the best place put everything for the kitchen."

"How you know David might not want it all somewhere else?" Damien asked, handing the box to Heather.

"Believe me, I know the kitchen better than you," Heather assured both men.

With light, and with three people working, what had seemed an insurmountable task began to move along quickly. But it was sweltering, stuffy in the apartment.

Damien was impulsive, tried to do too much on his own. David and Heather often had to get out of Damien's way as he barged back and forth.

"Oh, okay, pots; David? Best place is, you're left handed, right?" Heather said, putting a box on the linoleum floor of the small kitchenette.

"Uh huh; how'd you know that?" David asked as Heather knelt on the floor.

"Sat next to you in Mrs. Neidemeyer's class?" Heather said, opening a cabinet to the left of the oven-range combination.

"Uh, yeah," David said, throat dry.

Heather was wearing a half shirt. In her current position, on hands and knees, the bottom hem of her shirt had billowed open, showing David that she wore no bra underneath the thin garment.

Her breasts were slightly more than a handful. Hanging down as they were, they appeared cone shaped, each tipped with a light brown areolae, and small nipple.

Damien again barreled from living room to bedroom, a path that took him through the kitchen. David backed up against the refrigerator, getting out of Damien's way.

And when David did so, the beam of David's flashlight was directed from Heather's soft belly and cute breasts to her chubby backside, plump thighs. Her shorts were very baggy, and billowed open in the legs. David now had an unobstructed view of Heather's lightly furred pussy, her left butt cheek, and her light brown anus.

Her pubic hair had a few dots of white stuck to it. David's cock jerked to full hardness when he realized he was seeing dots of semen clinging, matting Heather's pubic hair. And as he stood, transfixed by the sight, a small trickle of semen began to ooze from Heather's anus. Her anus winked and another blob of semen trickled out of Heather's rectum.

"Oops," Heather suddenly announced. "David, please tell me you've got toilet paper."

Not waiting for an answer, Heather wiggled backward. David's beam of light stayed on Heather's pudgy backside, showing more semen bubbling from her anus.

Heather stepped into the bedroom, directed the beam on the floor, then to the door of the bathroom.

David readjusted his rampant erection, returned to the living room and found another box for the kitchen.

A moment later, Heather reappeared and again knelt on the floor. A pass with the flashlight showed David that her anus now looked slightly reddened, but there was no trace of the semen.

Finally, David and Damien wrestled the bed frame and headboard and footboard into the bedroom. Heather helped by shining her light so that they could hook the frame and headboard together.

"Ooh, nice," Heather said as she felt the mattress. No sag in the middle?"

"Hey, huh?" Damien snapped, sweating profusely.

"I uh, no, it's uh, I just bought it," David admitted.

Heather showed them where the chest of drawers should go and David had to agree. It was conveniently located, and was left a clear path from kitchen to bathroom, from bed to bathroom.

"Bunch of clothes and stuff in them boxes against the wall there," Damien said, pointing.

"Sheets are probably in there," Heather agreed.

"Thanks, y'all," David said.

"Man, huh?" Damien responded.

"David, you can't stay here tonight; you'll burn up," Heather said.

"Yeah," Damien agreed.

"Yeah, guess I'll just go on home," David sighed.

"Shit, why you don't just crash on our couch?" Heather asked as David found the box with his bedsheets.

"Yeah," Damien again agreed.

"Okay," David said after a long moment of hesitation.

"Oh! And I'm making chili pie, okay?" Heather said.

"'Bout only thing she can make without fucking it up," Damien joked.

Even in the near darkness, David could see Heather's face grow hard. Without a word, Heather shone her flashlight toward the front door and left the apartment.

"Dude, huh?" David said to Damien.

"What, huh?" Damien said, almost angrily.

"Man, since y'all got here, all you been doing is talking shit 'bout her," David shook his head. "Man, I was lucky enough have a girl like her?"

"Yeah?" Damien snapped, shoving David. "Well, you don't, huh? You don't have a girl like her, so back the fuck off, Dude."

Damien turned and stomped out of the bedroom. Then he turned and stomped back into the doorway of the bedroom.

"And she ain't that fucking great, hear? Fat ass bitch ain't that great. Always riding my ass, always bitching 'bout shit. She ain't that fucking great," Damien snarled.

David didn't say anything. What he had observed in the nearly two hours, Damien gave Heather plenty to complain about. He was reckless, impulsive, did not listen to directions.

And in the nearly two hours that they'd worked together, David found out that Damien was 'between jobs' at present. He'd been let go from the Flowers movie theater, but would not tell David or Heather why he'd been let go. He also would not divulge to David, or Heather why he had lost his job at Domino's Pizza. At present, they were surviving, barely, off of Heather's part time job with Taylor-Whitehead Recycling. Heather was also a full time student at the University of Louisiana at DeGarde, studying education.

"Fucking Candace, now SHE was, or no, that Debbie, remember her? They were ten times prettier than Heather. And neither one of them bitched half as much," Damien insisted.

David said nothing. What he remembered of Debbie, she had been quite impressed with Debbie. When David had bought his first car, an older Kia, he'd asked Debbie if she wanted to go to Bricks Pizzeria, then to the Joy Four. Debbie had stared at him for a moment, then turned and continued her conversation with Candace, as if David had not even spoken to her.

Candace, in David's opinion, had not been attractive in the least. She had large breasts. That was all she had. She had no personality, no grace, no aspirations.

David had been unfortunate enough to be saddled with Candace for a History paper in their senior year of high school. In order to avoid failing, David simply did the entire paper, put Candace's name on it and handed it in.

Damien turned and stomped out of the apartment. David breathed a sigh of relief; Damien seemed very volatile at times.

David put sheets and blanket on the bed. Then he tried to rearrange Damien's haphazard job of organizing David's closet. The bathroom was also a disaster area; David tripped over a box Damien had simply dropped in the doorway.

After putting his towels away, David found some underwear, a tee shirt and a pair of shorts. Gratefully, he slipped out of sodden pull over shirt and jeans and tennis shoes.

"Augh!" David actually cried out when the cold water hit him.

He took a quick shower, mainly just concentrating on washing hair and face, armpits and genitals. He then toweled off briskly, trying to warm up.

"Thanks a lot, Mom," David called out. "Thanks a whole hell of a lot."

Making sure he had his keys, David then walked to 312 and knocked on the door.

"What? Huh?" Damien screamed through the closed door.

"I uh, it's David," David said.

"Oh, oh yeah," Damien said, opening the door.

"Just that that bitch Keisha been by," Damien explained as David entered the cool apartment.

"Told us she hasn't seen the rent," Heather snapped as she stood in the kitchen.

David saw that both Heather and Damien had showered. Heather's brown hair was now tied back in a ponytail and Damien's hair was still wet.

Heather was dressed in a camisole top and loose shorts. Her belly would peek out between top and waistband as she stirred whatever she was cooking.

"Don't be putting too much chili powder in that, hear?" Damien demanded.

"Put half as much as I'm supposed put," Heather snapped.

David stood, unsure of where to sit as Damien and Heather bickered with one another. The two ignored David as they argued.

"Dude, huh?" Damien finally said, waving David to the couch.

David sat at the edge nearest to the door, so that he could see into the kitchen. He watched Heather's braless breasts gently swish back and forth as she browned the ground beef. Well, David hoped it was ground beef and not ground turkey. His mother bought ground turkey, insisted that it was so much better for them. To David, ground turkey was always too full of gristle.

"Oh, hey, your boxes, you didn't throw them out, huh?" Heather asked, peering into the living room.

"Hmm? Uh, no, they're all in the living room. I flattened them out," David agreed.

"We can have them?" Heather asked. "Told Damien save them, might need them, but of course, what'd he do?"

"Fuck, huh?" Damien snarled.

Suddenly, some music began thumping and blaring through the wall of the apartment. David winced at the intensity and volume. Damien got up from his recliner.

"Yeah, that's them ass holes in three fourteen," Damien said and pounded on the dining room wall.

"Three fourteen? Damn. Sounds like they're right next door," David commented.

"They are," Heather said, using a hand operated can opener to open a can of corn.

"But this is three twelve," David said.

"Turn it down, ass holes," Damien yelled and banged on the wall again.

"Guy owns this place apparently suffers from Triskaidekaphobia," Heather shrugged.

Some of the liquid splashed on her top and David watched as her breast became visible. His cock was quick to rise. He shifted in his seat.

"Heather likes using big fancy words. Thinks it makes her look smart," Damien sneered and came back to his recliner.

"Triskaidekaphobia is not a big fancy word, Damien," Heather snapped.

"Just means an irrational fear of the number thirteen," David agreed.

"What the fuck ever," Damien groused.

"So, there, Damien," Heather crowed then noticed that her top had become transparent over her left breast. "Sit! David! You was looking at my boob?"

"Not like you got anything he can see," Damien sneered.

Heather dashed out of the kitchen and disappeared from David's line of sight. David wondered just how uncomfortable it would actually be in his own apartment. The tension, the anger in this apartment was almost more stifling than the heat next door.

"And I got plenty," Heather defended. "It's a thirty four B, same size as that Debbie you always going on about."

"Uh huh, but Debbie ain't got a size forty four ass go with it," Damien chortled.

"Hey, I uh, listen, huh? Y'all going do this shit all night?" David finally asked.

Both Heather and Damien lapsed into a silence. The silence was punctuated by the still quite loud music next door, and Heather slapping whatever she was cooking.

"Be ready in a minute," Heather said tightly. "David, what you want drink?"

""I uh, what you got?" David asked.

"Got uh, God damn it, Damien! You drank last protein drink? Huh?" Heather yelled as she peered into the refrigerator.

"Shit! Didn't see your fucking name on it, huh?" Damien screamed back.

"Breakfast. What I have for breakfast? Every morning, what I have for breakfast? You seen it was the last one," Heather screamed.

"Water," David said quickly. "I'll just have water."

"And it was strawberry! You don't even like strawberry," Heather said, grabbing a glass from the cabinet.

"I'll have..." Damien said as Heather filled the glass with ice and water.

"Get it yourself, ass wipe," Heather said, slapping the glass on the table.

"Fucking give me that shit? Fucking give me attitude?" Damien yelled.

"Drank my last protein drink?" Heather screamed in reply.

"Think I see why your neighbors play their music loud," David muttered to himself.

"David, cheese and sour cream all right?" Heather asked.

"Uh, yeah, yeah," David agreed.

He actually enjoyed watching Heather grate the cheese over a bowl. Her breasts bounced and jostled as she very aggressively grated the cheddar cheese.

She prepared three bowls of chili pie. From what David could deduce, chili pie was a bowl of corn chips with ground meat, kidney beans, whole kernel corn and diced tomatoes poured over them. Heather added grated cheese and sour cream to the mixture.

"So I uh, where y'all moving to?" David asked as they sat at the table.

"Moving back in to my Dad's," Damien said.

Heather didn't say anything, just sullenly shoveled the food into her mouth. David looked at the cheap plates, the cheap flatware, the chipped glasses. The table was wobbly and the chairs weren't much sturdier.

"So, uh, when are y'all moving?" David asked as he was scraping the last of his chili pie into his mouth.

"Got until Thursday," Damien said.