Killer Blonde 02

Twice more that week, Tasha appeared, walked across the floor, and then negotiated the stairs. Once she wore a micro-miniskirt and translucent top that showed off her breasts, nipples. The second time she wore a simple tank top and denim shorts that left nearly half of her pale white ass cheeks visible. When she came out of Marcus Whitehead's office and strolled back to her Lexus, everyone saw that her pale white ass cheeks were now light pink, as if she'd been spanked.

"I know you want me," Tasha said when Dwight came home. "I could see your little dick, all hard in your jeans."

She dropped her denim shorts to the floor, exposing her bald slit, with dried semen on it. She played with her pussy lips for a moment.

"All you have to do is eat me, eat my lover's sperm out of my pussy, Baby, and I'll let you fuck me," she said in her flat voice.

"You know you want to; you're hard right now," she whispered.

"Fuck you," Dwight choked out, tears of rage and shame mottling his cute little face.

A few days later, Tasha left for another trip with Marcus and Dwight packed up his meager belongings and moved back to his parents' home. He did not leave any note, didn't bother sending Tasha a text message; he simply left his wedding band on the kitchen table.

"Unky Dwight, you play Barbie with me?" Annabelle, his five year old niece begged.

Theresa, his older sister, claimed she had been at a party and someone had slipped something in her drink. No one believed her; she'd always been a promiscuous girl. But she insisted on keeping the baby, insisted on raising the baby.

"Sure," Dwight smiled at his lovely niece. "I'll be Ken, right?"

"Right; you're the boy," Annabelle agreed.

"Okay, Honey, I'm going to sit here and pick my nose and wipe the boogers on the couch," Dwight affected a high pitched voice.

"No, no, Unky Dwight!" Annabelle giggled. "You have to go to work!"

"And what do you have to do?" Dwight asked.

"I have to clean the house," Annabelle said.

Dwight suddenly felt a huge sense of loss.

This was how it was supposed to be. He was supposed to go to work, to provide for his loving wife and she was supposed to keep the house clean, and make dinner, and at night, tell him she loved him, and make slow, sweet love with him.

He knew when Tasha got home; she called his phone over and over. She did not leave any messages, just called his phone over and over.

Then when he showed up to work on Monday, Marcus himself quietly said to Dwight, "I'm very disappointed. I had hoped we could work something out."

Dwight did not answer, just stared at the man. Slowly, Marcus's face gained a shade of red until his rage was plainly evident to all the work crew. And still Dwight just stared at the man.

At eleven o'clock, Tasha strolled in, wearing another micro miniskirt and translucent top. She leisurely strolled across the floor, then up the stairs. She turned and gave Dwight a smirk at the door of Marcus's office, then entered.

A moment later, Heather's phone buzzed.

"Aucoin here," she barked.

"Hey, Dwight, Marcus wants to see you," Heather nodded with her head toward the stairs.

"Don't think so," Dwight said and completed a circuit panel.

"He says 'NOW,'" Heather said.

"I quit; he can't tell me what to do," Dwight spat, unplugged his soldering iron and stomped toward his locker.

"Dwight Thomas Doucet, get your fucking ass up here. Now!" Tasha screamed from the landing outside of Marcus's door.

Her blouse was unbuttoned; her magnificent breasts were fully exposed. The entire floor gawked up at her, but she paid them no mind.

Dwight grabbed his lunch from his locker; he had no other personal effects, and walked out as Tasha tried to scamper down the stairs after him. Her high heels caught and she very nearly tumbled. Fortunately, she did manage to catch the handrail in time.

Dwight did catch sight of Tasha in his rear view mirror as he peeled out of the parking lot of Whitehead Generators.

Packing up again was easy. Leaving his parents and his brother and sister and his niece was not so easy.

But Dwight knew Tasha, and Marcus would not give up that easily. And knew Tasha had no morals whatsoever, would not hesitate to make his family's life a living Hell.

He drove west, then north; Craig Elswell, a friend of Dwayne's had obtained a job on an oil rig in Oxmore, North Dakota. Craig had offered to get Dwayne on. Dwight hoped he'd be able to convince Craig to get him on.

"Son of a bitch!" Dwight gasped as the arctic blast greeted him when he opened his car door in Oxmore.

Craig had not told Dwayne, but he'd been run off the rig. The shift supervisor looked at the scrawny boy and shook his head.

Verizon, however, agreed to take the boy on. And the assistant manager of the Verizon store had a room for rent in his house.

Dwight also enrolled in classes at a local Vocational Training center, taking electronics.

"Damn, boy, other than not knowing what the H E double toothpicks you're doing, you know what you're doing," his instructor said, appraising Dwight's work.

Because of classes, Dwight was given the evening shift at the store. This often paired him with Lisa Crowfoot, who was part Native American, a descendant of the Dakota tribe. The small woman had a beautiful personality, long flowing black hair, and a sweet smile.

And a face that was horribly scarred, from just above her right eye to just below the left corner of her mouth. The scar was a straight, red, angry looking line and along the length were small indentations where someone had done a very clumsy job of stitching up the wound.

"Go ahead," Lisa quietly said, and Dwight realized he'd been staring.

"So, how did that happen?" he asked.

"My brother was very angry with my parents; he wanted a baby brother, so Darren decided if he killed me, they'd go back to the hospital and bring home a baby brother," Lisa said.

She looked at him with her dark eyes, sad little smile on her lips.

"So, he took a hatchet and split my face open," she said.

"Oh my God!" Dwight gasped, horrified.

"Fortunately, my mother came in to see if I needed a fresh diaper just as Darren was preparing to strike me again," Lisa said.

"Did he, did he, I'm sure he's sorry, right?" Dwight asked.

"Doubt it," Lisa shrugged. "He tried several times to kill me; putting poison in my formula, pushing me into the lake and holding me under, driving over me with the car."

"Jesus Christ!" Dwight gasped.

"Thankfully, he is in prison now," Lisa said. "But I live in fear of the day that some dumb ass liberal politician decides Darren has been rehabilitated and releases him back into society."

A customer came in, wanting a new phone and Dwight went to assist him.

"So, what's he in prison for?" Dwight asked as they were watching the clock until closing time.

"Bank robbery," Lisa said. "Darren's a psychopath; thinks if he wants something, he should be able to just take it."

"Sounds like my wife," Dwight said.

"Oh, you're married?" Lisa said, a twinge of sadness in her voice.

"Yeah, I guess, unless she's divorced me by now," Dwight said.

"Is she back in Louisiana?" Lisa asked hopefully.

"I guess," Dwight shrugged as two men entered the store.

"Damn return grid; whoever installed it did a shit job," one man was complaining.

"And the damned substation keeps shutting down," the other man agreed.

Dwight let Lisa assist them, or attempt to help them. The two men kept discussing the problem they were having and ignored the girl finally she shrugged and walked away from them.

"Gentlemen, I can take a look at that grid for you," Dwight offered.

"Know anything about them?" one man asked, finally turning away from his companion.

"Worked at Whitehead Generators for a little while," Dwight admitted.

"Well, this is a Pennington," the second man said. "But can't hurt; damned Pennington says it'll be three or four days before they can pull a guy off of their Alaska line."

Out at the rig, Dwight saw where the extreme cold had caused one of the multiple solder connections to snap. It would make the connection, then defrost enough to drop the connection. Then it would contract from the cold and again make the connection.

Within seconds, he crimped off the wires, then made a more solid connection. Then he checked and strengthened the other connections.

"And you said the substation keeps shutting down?" Dwight asked, crawling out from under the brace.

When Dwight got to the home where he was renting a room, he gave the assistant manager his two week notice.

"So, Bro, where are you?" Theresa, his sister casually asked when Dwight called home to share the good news of his newfound job and substantial pay increase with his family.

"Mom didn't tell you?" Dwight asked, thinking fast.

Theresa's tone of voice was too casual, too friendly. Normally, she was quite shrill and demanding.

"Yeah, Unky Dwight, where are you?" Annabelle excitedly asked.

"San Francisco, thought Mom told y'all that," Dwight said, thinking of the town because Lisa said she'd gone there last year and had loved it.

Dwight's last night at Verizon, he asked Lisa if she'd like to go to Red Lobster with him. Red Lobster was one of the fancier places in Oxmore, N.D., one of the few places to take a date if too young to go to Mickey's Bar for dancing.

"Why don't I just cook dinner at my place?" Lisa asked.

Dwight was almost late for his first day of work on the rigs, but he worked all day with a smile on his face. Then, that evening, he moved his meager stack of clothes out of the assistant manager's house and into Lisa's trailer.

THE END of 'Killer Blonde 02'

*Author's Note: I write these stories for my pleasure; I post them here for your enjoyment. I do thank you sincerely for reading my stories.

I especially thank those that take the time to rate my stories and those that leave comments.

Have a fantabulous day.