Save The Slow Dances for Me

"You, no charge," she said, pointing to the manager of the restaurant.

Carl nodded his thanks and helped Michelle from her seat. He dropped a twenty dollar bill for the waitress; the manager might be paying for their dinner but he wouldn't be giving the waitress any tips.

"Here's where you make up some bullshit to get me back see your place," Michelle said when Carl started the car.

"Hmm? Oh, oh thanks; I'm been out of the dating pool for a while," Carl smiled. "Wasn't quite sure when I was supposed to do that."

"Well? I'm waiting," Michelle said as Carl drove toward the Venice Apartment complex.

"Um, uh, oh! Okay, hey Michelle you've not seen what a good job the delivery crew did setting up everything," Carl said. "Would you like to come see my apartment?"

"Mr. Boudreaux! Really? On the first date? I, well! Just what kind of girl do you think I am?" Michelle screeched.

"The kind of girl I'd love to sit on my couch with while we kiss," Carl said after his surprise wore off.

"Oh! Well, that sounds like fun. I think I'd like to sit on your couch and kiss," Michelle agreed.

"Do you have coffee?" Michelle asked as Carl unlocked the door of his apartment.

"Mm hmm; want a cup?" Carl asked and nodded at his red-headed neighbor as she peeked out at them from her door.

"No," Michelle said, proceeding Carl into the apartment. "But in the morning..."

Michelle O'Connor did not shave her pussy; there was just a few strands of brown hair on her puffy pubic mound. Her inner lips peeked out, wet and dark pink.

Michelle used her mouth and tongue and hands to milk Carl's first ejaculation; it had been months and he was quick to respond. After she swallowed his load, Michelle flopped onto her back and spread her legs for Carl to return the favor.

Carl wasted no time getting right to the task at hand. He used his tongue, lips and fingers to bring Michelle to two screaming orgasms before crawling up and nibbling on her half-dollar coin sized dusky pink areoles and hard nipples.

"Condoms?" Carl asked right before sliding himself into her very snug pussy.

"On the pill," Michelle informed him. "Go ahead, give it to me. Give it all to me."

After fucking her to a screaming, thrashing orgasm, Carl informed her that his back had been somewhat wrenched when he delivered that body blow to the crazed woman at the restaurant.

"Oh, okay, lay down," Michelle agreed.

Carl slowly pulled out of her wet pussy. Her pussy gave a squelching sound when he pulled out.

"Okay, all comfy now?" Michelle asked just before swallowing him down to the root.

"Mm hmm, all comfy cozy," Carl groaned as her tongue lapped at his sensitive cockhead.

"Good," Michelle said, releasing him with an audible pop.

Carl watched as she wiggled around and straddled his erection. She smiled down at him as she guided his erection to the mouth of her pussy. They both groaned as her lips opened to accept him.

"I got titties," Michelle reminded Carl.

"Uh huh; they some mighty cute titties," Carl agreed, fondling them.

""I, shit, I, I'm getting close," Michelle hissed then started to buck on him.

"God damn I'm going need an ice pack bad," Carl thought as she bounced frantically on him.

"Fuck yes!" Michelle squealed and froze.

"Fuck yeah," Carl agreed and pumped his sperm deep into her.

Dismounting, Michelle used her mouth to clean him. Declaring their combined taste was even better than chocolate cake, Michelle scampered from the bed into the bathroom.

Wincing, Carl made his way from the bed to the kitchen. He grabbed the flexible ice pack from the freezer and brought it back to the bedroom.

"You like anal?" Michelle asked as she exited his bathroom.

Despite the agony in his back, Carl's cock began to revive. Michelle asked for the remote to his bed and noticed that he was laying on an ice pack.

"I, oh, oh God, Carl! I, did I do that?" she gasped.

"No, no, knocking that woman away from my ex-wife did that," Carl groaned.

"Oh, but still, God, I, I didn't make it any better, did I?" Michelle asked, softly stroking his face with her small hand.

"Probably not, but so what? I, I'm pretty sure I had fun," Carl smiled tightly.

"And...." Michelle said, releasing the air from her side of the bed. "I wanted to cuddle with you, but you're side's hard as a brick."

"Uh huh, but it feels good to me," Carl agreed. "Damn, how much air you going let out?"

"And...I like my side at forty," Michelle said. "I got the same model at home."

Michelle crawled over, placed her lips to his and then placed her small head on his chest.

**.**

"Would you please state your name for the record?" David Hightower, the Assistant DA and lead prosecuting attorney for St. Ann Parish asked.

"Laci Faye Boudreaux," Laci whispered.

"I'm sorry, could you please speak a little louder?" David asked.

"I can't. My vocal cords were damaged when April Theriot slashed my throat," Laci whispered.

"Objection, your Honor. Allegedly," Eric Greene, April Theeriot's attorney called out.

So noted," Judge Linda Newenberg tiredly agreed.

"So, you cannot speak louder because someone slashed your vocal cords?" David asked, clanking at the jury.

"Objection," Eric again called out.

"Merely establishing why she cannot speak above a whisper, your Honor; I did not name whom may or may not have done the slashing," David smirked.

"Mr. Hightower," Judge Linda Newenberg warned.

Despite many objections interrupting her testimony, Laci did recount the events of the evening in question. Eric did cross-examine the witness, but Laci did not veer from the truth, so Eric was unable to shake her testimony.

"No further questions, your Honor," Eric said.

Laci was led from the courtroom by a Bender Police Department Police Officer. Her orange jumpsuit made her pale skin and white blonde hair look even paler.

As she passed her ex-husband, Laci looked over and whispered, "I love you."

"Too bad so sad," Carl muttered as his ex-wife left the courtroom.

"The prosecution calls Mr. Carl Boudreaux to the stand," David called out.

Carl stiffly walked to the stand, stood ramrod straight and took the oath. Then he sat in the firm chair.

In the cross-examination, Eric did bring up the relationship between Carl and Laci. He hypothesized that, perhaps Carl may be a little biased in his testimony against April Theriot.

"Sir, at no time did I offer my opinion," Carl stated deliberately. "I used no adverbs or adjectives; I stated the facts as they are."

"But, you are not unhappy that your wife was injured while she was on a date with another man?" Eric suggested.

"I am neither happy nor unhappy that Laci Fontenot, I mean, Boudreaux was stabbed," Carl said. "What I am unhappy about is a good silk tie was ruined; the Dry Cleaner's couldn't get the blood out of it. Thankfully, though, they were able to save the suit jacket and the shirt; apparently they were a cotton blend."

"No further questions, your Honor," Eric said, seeing that Carl Boudreaux was unflappable in his testimony.

After being excused, Carl saw it was four o'clock. Seeing no reason to go to his job, Carl drove to the modest brick home on Wilford Road. Letting himself in, he shrugged out of his suit jacket and loosed his tie. He then fixed himself a scotch and soda.

"There one for me?" Marnie Vogel asked, stepping into the kitchen just as Carl prepared to take a sip.

"Well, of course; I made this for you," Carl smiled and kissed the forty eight year old woman.

"Nah, I don't need it," Marnie said, gently pushing him away. "But tell me, how did it go?"

"Went fine, I guess," Carl shrugged. "They put Laci on first, then put me on and..."

"Laci? You, you saw your ex-wife Laci, hmm?" Marnie asked, her jealousy bubbling up and spilling over quickly.

"Mm hmm; let me tell you, orange is not her color," Carl said, giving Marnie a light slap on her backside. "Careful darling, your jealousy is showing."

Dinner was basically out of a can and a jar; Marnie was not much of a cook. Carl was quick but efficient in cleaning everything up; he could sense Marnie's need.

True to his intuition, Marnie was stripping out of her work clothes. There was no preamble, no foreplay, just a removal of her slacks and blouse and undergarments. Carl attempted to kiss her but she lightly pushed him away and lay on the bed facing away from him.

Carl removed his own clothing and spooned behind her. Marnie lifted her right leg and bent her leg at the knee. Carl held her right leg up and pressed the head of his cock against her wet pussy.

"Okay, okay," Marnie said impatiently after he'd thrust himself into her a few times.

Pulling out of her pussy, Carl pressed the head of his cock against her resisting anus and thrust forward. Marnie let out a small guttural grunt as Carl shoved himself into her bowels.

"Quit," Marnie ordered as Carl kissed her on the slope of her neck where it met her shoulders.

A moment later, Marnie cursed and barked in orgasm. She slapped at his right hand when he brought it from her thigh and brought it to her pussy. Ignoring her efforts, Carl kissed her neck and rubbed her clitoris. Marnie again barked out in orgasm.

"Yyeess!" Marnie growled as Carl stiffened and pumped his semen deep into her guts.

"Quit, God damn, what, what is your problem?" Marnie snarled as Carl kissed her throat again.

Carl accepted that his girlfriend had some mighty peculiar notions about sex. She seemed to believe that sex was dirty, vulgar, shameful, and necessary. She did not see the need for affection or love; after all, there was no affection or love in voiding one's bowels or emptying one's bladder. There were no intimacies needed when taking a shower or brushing one's teeth.

"Think you been listening to your boss a little too much there," Carl thought as Marnie hurried to her bathroom.

"All yours," Marnie said, almost cheerfully when she stepped out, now wearing her customary sleep shirt of tattered old tee shirt advertising the Broadway musical 'Cats.' Carl knew the tee shirt had belonged to her deceased husband; knew the man had commited suicide, but knew none of the pertinent details.

Carl showered, scrubbing his cock clean. Toweling himself dry, Carl then brushed his teeth and pulled on a tee shirt and a pair of boxers.

Stepping from the bathroom, Carl wasn't surprised to see Marnie lying on her back, tee shirt wadded up to under her throat. Again, there was no foreplay, no passion as he slipped his boxers off and mounted her.

He thrust in and out, looking into her vacant eyes. A kiss to her lips snapped her to the here and now and her empty eyes filled with anger.

"God damn it; why? Why do you have to do that?" Marnie snarled.

"Because I don't like fucking a corpse," Carl hissed bitterly.

Pulling out of her sloppy pussy, Carl knee walked forward, stroking his cock. Marnie gave him one last hateful glare before shutting her eyes. Carl spurted his hot semen onto her face, making sure to coat her unsmiling lips.

While she went into the bathroom to clean herself up, Carl pulled his boxers on and left the bedroom. In the living room, his second scotch and soda in his hand, Carl sat and thought. The blaring television from the bedroom did not seep into his consciousness as he thought.

Michelle O'Connor had been a fun distraction. She was lively, bubbly, affectionate, and draining. It took an inordinate amount of energy to keep up with the beautiful little pixie. Carl truly believed he was falling in love with Michelle when she suddenly announced that she'd met the love of her life. Just like that, their romance came to an abrupt end.

The cute little red-headed neighbor had moved out and a three hundred pound mannish sixty year old woman had moved into Apartment #109. At the depths of his blue mood, Marnie Vogel, the receptionist at Sylvia Hooperstein's office had called and asked Carl if he would accompany her to an event at the Lopez Center, an event honoring Dr. Sylvia Hooperstein.

"Fraud of the year?" Carl thought, but said he'd be delighted and honored to accompany Marnie to the event.

Immediately after the evening's festivities, Marnie had wiggled into the back seat of Carl's sedan, hiked her ankle length cocktail dress up to her navel and demanded that Carl fuck her. Carl looked at her very hairy pussy, seeing the abundant sprigs of gray threaded through the light brown tendrils and had to think of Michelle, the little red-headed neighbor, the very attractive lesbian couple that lived in Apartment 104 in order to achieve an erection.

"Sex is good, I mean, most of the time it's great," Carl thought, twisting the glass in his hand. "But, shit! Just...shit."

"So when is her trial?" Marnie asked at the breakfast table the next morning.

"Hmm? Her trial? It's ongoing, it's right now," Carl asked, eating his shredded wheat cereal. "Remember? I testi...."

"Not that. Her. Your ex-wife," Marnie said, spooning her yogurt into her mouth.

"Hmm? Oh, oh Laci? On the fifth; first Tuesday," Carl said.

"Oh," Marnie said, looking away.

"Yeah, the sex is good, but..." Carl thought as they both left her house.

There were no hugs, no kisses, no endearments spoken. Marnie got into her twenty five year old Toyota Camry and Carl got into his Chevy. With a wave from him and a head nod from her, they drove away.

At the St. Ann Courthouse, David Hightower told Carl his participation in the trial was concluded. If they needed him, they would contact him and schedule him, but for now, Carl was done.

"See? There's a reason you didn't sell your stuff," Carl thought and drove to Tab Properties Leasing Office.

Forty minutes later, he had a new apartment. Forty three minutes later, he had arranged with Short Moves to move his furniture from his storage unit to his new apartment.

"Come and go as he pleases, huh Butch?" Billy said when Carl came into the IT office.

"Hmm? Oh, shit! Hey, it's time for my coffee break; see you," Carl said, pretending to glance at his watch.

"Bitch, nuh uh, get down to Acquisitions," Billy laughed. "They just sent word that their print requests aren't going through."

"Paper? Toner, who wants to bet on what?" Carl agreed, grabbing his tool bag and making sure he had toner cartridges in the sealed sleeve.

"I got fifty on toner; I would hope they're smart enough to check the paper," Butch said.

"Toner. Definitely toner," Billy agreed as Carl left the office.

"You both lose," Carl laughed twenty minutes later. "Paper. And, of course, since they'd sent like a hundred requests for that one document?"

"You're making that up," Billy laughed. "But since you missed your coffee break?"

"Too bad so sad," Butch chimed in.

Sensing what her reaction would be, Carl waited until Friday night to let Marnie know he was moving out. It was not cowardice but rather a matter of convenience that Carl waited as long as he did. He was fairly certain the attractive older woman would scream and rant and rave, possibly even throw things. And once she'd exhausted her rage, she would then demand that he leave her home at once.

Instead, she let out a long drawn out sigh and said, "Well, I was wondering how long it would take. You fucking men are all alike."

"I..." Carl said, then shut up.

"So, what's her name? I know her?" Marnie asked bitterly, facing away from him.

"I, who?" Carl asked.

"Her. Her, the bitch you leaving me for," Marnie shrilled, finally showing some emotion.

"Marnie, there, there is no...' there's no one," Carl said.

"Oh bull shit. You going tell me you giving up the pussy, fucking me and don't have some bitch on the side?" Marnie demanded.

No amount of protestations would convince Marnie that Carl did not have some whore on the side. Marnie finally rolled over and sobbed bitter tears. Carl lay awake, listening to her harsh sobs.

As usual, Carl made the bed in the morning. His last act before leaving the bedroom was to take off his plain white tee shirt and lay it on the pillow on his side of the bed. All his clothing had already been packed into his car's trunk and backseat.

"Bye," Marnie spat out as Carl put coffee cup and bowl and spoon into the dishwasher.

"Bye," Carl agreed.

Carl waited to see if she would say anything else. She just stood, noisily jerked the dishwasher open and savagely jammed her dirty spoon into the silverware tray.

"Bye," Carl said again. "Keys are on the..."

"Bye! All right? Good bye!" Marnie snarled, marching out of the kitchen.

"Bye," Carl said, closing the door.

Carl did not have to testify at Laci's trial; Penny Jones, her attorney accepted a plea bargain for her client. Instead of second degree murder in the stabbing death of Michael Brookes, Sarah Guillory, The DA of St. Elizabeth Parish and Penny Jones worked out an aggravated manslaughter charge. Judge Marie Robichaux sentenced Laci Faye Boudreaux to serve out her sentence in Hearst Medium Security Penitentiary in East Turn, Louisiana.

Lying in her hospital bed after April's attack, Laci did the math in her head. Only one person had known that she would be at the Hanging Gardens that evening, only one person knew she would be at The Hanging Gardens Thai restaurant with Chad Theriot.

"So...divorced? Hey, let me take you to Side By Side, a little celebration tonight," Michael Brookes had preened as Laci prepared to leave the office to go to the courthouse.

"Oh, that's sweet, but I already got a date; Chad's taking me to the Hanging Gardens tonight," Laci had said.

At the time, Laci had actually smirked at the dark red face of her supervisor. She knew he was infatuated with her. She also knew, Michael Brookes was neither as intelligent as he believed himself to be, or as handsome, irresistible as he fancied himself to be.

"Fucking weasel," Laci mouthed, staring up at the acoustic tile of her hospital room. "You God damned fucking weasel."

Two weeks after the near-fatal incident, Laci returned to work, a white strip of adhesive tape holding the gauze over the stitches on her throat. She accepted the hug from Aymee Winn, who had been filling in as Michael's AA during Laci's absence.

"God damn, girl, how you put up with his bull shit?" Aymee asked, grabbing her personal Cartier pen from the desk's surface and preparing to leave the outer office.

"Not easy," Laci whispered, voice still hoarse sounding.

As Aymee left the outer office, Laci took the key for Michael's office from the middle drawer of her desk. As quietly as she could, she unlocked the door of his office. She then pulled a knife from her Barragona bag, a knife comparable to the one April Theriot had used on her. Laci flung open the door to Michael's office and caught him masturbating to a male-male-female bisexual video streaming on his computer.

"I almost died," Laci tried to scream, but could only rasp out. "Let's see how you like it, fucking ass hole."

Carl wasn't there to body block Laci. Carl wasn't there to wad up a linen napkin and staunch the spray of blood from Michael's slashed throat.

Aymee had forgotten to grab her coffee mug; it had 'Oxygen Thief' in big bold white lettering on the black mug. She screamed as she saw Laci with a bloody knife in her hand and Michael flailing helplessly while his life sprayed out of him.

Chris Fontenot sobbed helplessly as his baby, his only daughter prepared to leave the courtroom. Father and daughter hugged for several long moments, sobbing together. Finally, a deputy nudged the two apart.

Laci stumbled slightly when she saw her ex-husband standing just behind her father. He gave her a sad smile and she gamely tried to return the smile.

"I should have danced with you," Laci whispered. "I, I should have danced with you."

Her ex-husband wiped his watery eyes and shrugged his shoulders. Laci allowed herself to be led from the courtroom by the two deputies. She did not turn and look back as the deputy on her left opened the side door of the courtroom and urged her through the open doorway.