Third World Americans

"Shit. Money is money. How many dollar bills did you have shoved in your G-string? Hell, some of those women you were with probably picked up bills with their pussy lips."

"Yeah, but at least we didn't get them all sticky and greasy like Hairy the hand humping hog. You like the smell of pussy anyway."

"Shut up woman. Your gonna get me in trouble-- makin' me laugh out loud and shit."

"Oh, hell, you don't need me to get you in trouble. You do that good enough yourself. I can't believe I put up with your shit."

"Look. I think he found it."

Taco Guy bends over a recliner and then stands up with something in his hand. He sticks it in his back pocket. Then he disappears into a room and comes back out with a black and turquoise western shirt on. He's buttoning it up as he heads out the door. Denise and I watch intensely, waiting to see if he'll come back, if maybe he forgot something.

"I think he's gone for the night." I say to Denise.

"He has a hot date. Maybe he'll bring her home and lube her up."

I'm laughing quietly when I go to a gap in the hedge and hop over a chain link fence. I look back and forth and I don't see anybody in the yard or on the street. I walk casually up to the large picture window of Hairy's apartment and look in. I look back at Denise and she shrugs her shoulders at me. I wave her over and watch her put a foot in the chain link fence and hop over. She walks over to me like a cat. I'm thinking if any person saw her with her hands out, stepping on the balls of her feet, they would be suspicious.

"What the hell you doin' creeping over here like you have a stick up your ass woman? People be thinkin' you're trying to rob the place and shit. Act like you live here, like your looking for your kid's ball or something."

"We are trying to rob the place. I'm sorry I'm not the expert. I haven't learned how to support my habit like you yet. Give me time, I'll be walking into people's places like a ghost and stealing their social security checks."

"Well I'll be right here waiting."

I pull a hammer from inside my pants. My belt was holding it against me. I hand it to Denise and say, "Hold this."

"I don't want to hold this. I don't want people thinking I broke the guy's window."

"Just shut up and hold it." I whisper to her loudly, shoving it in her chest. She looks at me with her eyes wide open, and then reluctantly takes it. I look at the edge of the interior pane of the large sliding window, there's two panes. I think I can see where the latch is. These aluminum paned windows are the best things that ever happened. I put both my hands on the glass and then push up and over, trying to see if the latch will give. Maybe it's worn or didn't catch. Just my luck, it's not the case. I push the window as far right as I can then check the pane to see if there's any gap. It looks like there's enough of a gap to get a grip on with the hammer. "Denise. Give me the hammer."

I take the claws of the hammer and try to wedge them into the gap. I put my shoulder into it and it looks like the gap is widening, and it's not helping the aluminum either. When I get it jammed in far enough, I grab the handle and pull back. There's a pop sound and then a tinkle of metal. The window slides over about an inch. I hand the hammer back to Denise then slide the window over. The ledge is just above my waste, so I put my hands on it, stiffen my elbows, raising my feet off the ground, and then fall forward into the apartment.

I look around. It looks like an average bachelor pad. TV on one side of the room, chair on the other. This guy must be the only Mexican that doesn't live with his family. There's a short round table next to the recliner and an ashtray with an orange Bic lighter next to it. I walk over and shove the lighter into my pocket. I can see through the entryway that leads into his room. I see his bed. I poke my head into the bedroom and look right and left to make sure nobody is here. His headboard is shoved up against the same wall as the window. There's a night stand near the bed and a bookcase to the left of the entryway. There's a dresser against the left wall. I go back into his living room/kitchen. There's an island counter or bar between the living room and the kitchen. I walk over to the refrigerator, open it up and there's a pan filled with what looks like enchiladas and another that looks like chorizo, tortillas, salsa, some apples and bananas and lettuce and-- aha-- six pack of Budweiser. I break me off a cold one, pop her open and chug her halfway down. I wipe my mouth with my forearm and sigh with appreciation, "Aaaaah."

It's time to find out what Hairy's got hidden away. I open all his cupboards and pull all the drawers out. I rummage through all the junk and find nothing. I go into Hairy's room; I pull two drawers open on his night stand and find nothing, no Vaseline, no condoms, no porn. Hairy is a good Church-going-fella. It's time to check the bookcase. I pull each book out and hold it with the spine up then flip through the pages to see if anything falls out. I'm about halfway through the books when I hear something in the living room. I freeze and listen. It sounds like somebody rummaging through one of the drawers. I breathe easy again and walk into the living room.

"Denise, god damn it!" I say in an angry whisper. "Get your ass back out there and keep guard! Keep your ears open and your eyes open. Listen for police radios. They won't be using their sirens. They'll be trying to sneak up on us. You'll see colors from the lights and you'll hear voices from their radios. Now get your but back out there and keep watch."

She looks at me with a smile as I stand, pointing toward the window. She holds up a flashlight and says, "Look what I found."

"That's great, take it out with you. We'll need it tonight. Now get your ass out that window and keep your ears and eyes open." I push my finger toward the window like I'm in an elevator. "Get. Get. Get. And don't come back in here."

"Alright, you don't have to be such a jerk about it."

As she goes by me, I lightly kick her in the butt. "Keep your ears and eyes open."

"I will. I will."

When I see she's back outside, I go back into Hairy's room and finish with the books. I pull out all his dresser drawers and dump his clothes on the floor, nothing. I just went through all this trouble for nothing. I start to head back to the living room and as I get to the entry way I notice that the drawers in Hairy's night stand aren't pulled all the way out. I say, scratching my chin, "I wonder. . ." I push the top drawer back in. I pick up the bottom drawer, shake it up and down, pulling it at the same time, and work it out. I chuck it behind me and look in the hole where the drawer was. Sure enough, there's an area beneath it. There, in the space beneath the nightstand, is a brown paper sack. Removing the sack from under the night stand, I reach into it and pull out a stack of bills. The top one is a hundred dollar bill. I look in the sack and there's another stack. Two stacks, about a half inch. I shove the first stack back in and then shove the paper sack down the front of my pants.

When I climb out the window, Denise is leaning with her back against the wall, and the flashlight pointed at her face, flicking it off and on. I grab her hand with the flashlight and put a finger up to my lips. "Don't say a fucking word," I tell her in my most serious whisper. "Let's get the fuck out of here."

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Its dark out now, but the street lights bathe things in their green luminescence. It's cooler out now, but I can still feel heat radiating up from the asphalt. I'm holding Denise's hand as we're walking between a high concrete wall and some covered parking spaces. I see a garbage can and I let go of her hand. I pull out the hammer from my pants and put it in the garbage can. I take the flashlight from Denise and put it in the can next to the hammer. I take her hand and we walk to the end of the wall and then turn into the parking lot of the C-store.

"Denise, baby, you buy anything you want. I'm going to have a big ol' burrito and some Gatorade."

"Wow, you must have found some money." Denise looked at me then her eyes got big and she covered her mouth. "Oh shit, can I talk now?"

I put my arm around her neck and gave her a big kiss on the mouth. "Baby, you can talk all you want. Just don't tell anybody where we been. I found enough to keep us going for long while."

She gave me a quick kiss back and said, "All right!" She jumped up and down clapping her hands, and then she skipped up to the store, happy like a kid on a sugar rush going to buy a new puppy. I didn't see where she went inside. I just walked in casually to see who was checking. It was Jess.

"Marcus, you crazy fool, where you been?"

"Just out with my girlfriend, thought we'd come in and stock up."

"Stock up. What, is the world going to end? You know you're always welcome over to our place." Then Jess said low enough so only I could hear, "as long as you haven't got that with you." Then she made a face, like she had a shot of cheap liquor. Jess always liked me since we were in high school. She was not a bad looking woman either. She just always had standards, always getting into people's lives and trying to improve them. I could never understand how whenever she seen me, even with her parents, she would always say hi to me and try to find out what I was up to. She made that face and stuck out her tongue, like the white was going to creep across the floor from Denise and crawl up her leg. I never understood why Jess was so mean behind Denise's back. Jess always seemed like an educated, cultured woman to me, the kind of woman that every person wanted to be with, but only a lucky few had the privilege. I always thought she'll make a man a good wife some day, just not me. I'm young. I still have some living to do.

"Now Jess, why you got to be like that? You know Denise is my girl. When you going to get yourself a man? Quit standing around here in this neighborhood wasting your good looks on me."

"You know they come in here asking me out all the time. I treat them all just like you Marcus. I let them all know when they clean up their act I'll be ready. It's not going to be long now Marcus. Your fool ass will be traipsing in here all alone and you'll be wondering what happened to me. You'll be saying, "Why did I let Jess go? What the hell did I do with my life?"

I was opening a burrito by the microwave. I wasn't paying attention to Jess. She could go on and on for hours and important shit would be going on like people getting arrested and kids stealing candy and people in the parking lot getting high. All she ever talked about was how people around here never took things seriously and never had any ambition and wasted their lives cruisin' and drinkin'. I closed the microwave, pressed the buttons and went to the case and got out a bottle of Gatorade. I guzzled it almost to the bottom and patted my stomach.

"You feel better now sweetheart," Denise's voice said next to my ear. I felt her hand soft on my back and she started rubbing it. "Can I get these?" She held up a couple of paperback books.

"Hell yeah. You want anything else?"

"A burrito, did you put one in there for me?"

"No. Go get one."

She took the Gatorade from me and drank the rest. I took another bottle from the refrigerated case and went to check on my burrito. As I took my burrito out, holding the wrapper with the tips of my fingers, Denise put hers in. I took a bite and it burned the inside of my mouth. "Aaaaaaaaaah! Aaaaaaaah! Aaaaaah!"

"What did you do? Burn your mouth."

"Hell yeah," I said with my mouth open wide, trying to breath in and cool my tongue. "Want a bite?"

"No. I'll let it cool first."

I drank some of my Gatorade. Denise put the books on the checkout counter.

"Is that all?" Jess asked with sarcastic condescension.

"No," I said, "I'll let you know when we're done. Go ahead and find us some munchies and supplies Denise."

I walked over to the counter, put my elbow on it, and flipped through one of Denise's books. "You know, I coulda been the next Langston Hughes if I wanted too."

"Langston Hughes, more like Eddie Murphy. When was the last time you read a book Marcus?"

"When I was in High school."

"Exactly. What are you doing with this girl Marcus? Look at you, in your dirty old jeans with your yellow-- brown-- no wait a minute, oh yeah, white tee-shirt. You actually don't smell like somebody scraped dog shit off their shoe in the store today. I can't believe you Marcus. You're a talented man. You used to make me and all my friends laugh. You even had my mom and dad in stitches."

"Yeah, that was a long time ago Jess. I'm just finding myself now. You know, getting some experience for the future. When I find something I like, I'll do good, you'll see. I have big plans. Me and Denise, we're just fooling around, finding the things in life we like. You'll find yourself a man Jess. You don't need to get down on people because their lives aren't perfect. See, you're not going to work in this store all your life. You'll meet that man and he'll sweep you off your feet and give you the house and the fence and the dog and the kids. You'll have it all Jess. Just show my woman Denise a little respect. We're finding our way just like you. We just do it a different way."

"You're so full of shit Marcus. You are damn good at it though. I'm actually giving your load a bull some thought."

"That's all I'm asking from my queen of the store."

Denise walked up to the counter and put two sub sandwiches in cellophane, and two apples and oranges up. She went back and returned with a hand full of candy bars. Then went back again and returned with two forty ounce bottles of Olde English. Jess looked at the stuff, looked at me, and then looked at Jess. She put everything in bags for us and then said, "You call this taking care of each other? You all know what you're doing?"

"We have enough. We'll come back when we need more."

"Really," Jess says, looking like her mother scolding one of her brothers. She reaches out and grabs my wrist and flips my arm over. "Yeah, you'll get some more all right. You know you should be taking better care of him white girl."

I pay for the stuff with a hundred. Jess takes it forcefully from my hand and slams it in the register then shoves the change in my face. "I don't want to know where you got that," she says. "And don't be telling people I change those for you here."

I hand one of the bags to Denise. She takes it with her free arm, since she's eating her burrito with the other, and then I take the other sack for myself. As I'm leaving I hear Denise say to Jess, "Would you have any matches?"

"You crazy girl, take your stuff and go have a good time. I'm not living with that on my conscience."

We walk out of the store, back to the alley long enough to retrieve our things, and then head home.

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I'm happy when we get back to the house because I'm starting to feel like I need a shot. I'm sweating, irritable, and I can feel a weight at the bottom of my stomach, but it hasn't started making me nauseous yet. After Denise and I empty the bags, I tell her to get the outfit and she puts her hand on my cheek then takes my top lip in her mouth. She kisses me with her mouth sideways and I open. Our tongues meet and we embrace. I'm feeling resistance in my pants, and then Denise's thigh moves up between my legs. My balls tingle like an arm or leg falling asleep and my under shorts are chafing under my cock. Denise kisses my top lip again and then kisses next to my ear. Then she says, "One more fuck before we get loaded, I need to feel you. Please. . ."

I want to push her away and get things started, but when she pushes her thigh against my hard prick and reaches beneath my shirt, rubbing her hands on my back, sexual adrenaline bleeds under my skin like before. There's that sweet soulful Novocain under my skin and the weight in my stomach seems to get smaller and my need for Denise becomes a conscious desire to cooperate, to let my irritability sit back and watch for a while. I know there's relief when I hear Denise in my ear, "Let's get these clothes off so you can get inside me. I'm wet and you're hot. Put up your arms and I'll get that shirt off you."

After she removes my shirt, it doesn't take long before all our clothes are off like before and we're in each other's arms kissing on the mattress, like horny high-school kids in a car: petting, kissing with open mouths and tongues, licking, and humping each other's legs. We're lying on our sides, necking, when the overpowering urge to be inside her hits me. I reach behind her with both arms and turn her onto her back. Then I get between her legs and ease into her like entering a hot tub. Nice and slow, feeling the wetness easing up until I'm completely covered and I enjoy the immersion. I'm in another place now and I can feel the smiles on our faces. It's dark, yet I can still picture every detail of Denise's round, shiny, cheeks with her broad smile squishing them beneath her eyes; her light brown eyes, the golden brown, sparkling like flakes of metal beneath a clear coat of lacquer, mirrors into my own soul. As I lift my butt for the first thrust, I press my lips into hers and I feel her pert, childish nose against mine, and it's like when a little girl whose face lights up when you touch the tip. And then everything starts.

It doesn't take long for me to slip into a good pace. I'm moaning with pleasure and saying Denise's name and I can hear her beneath me doing the same. Her nails dig into my back, but she doesn't scratch. Her knees are bent and spread apart, and she has good leverage with her feet planted in the mattress. She's pushing up into me and we're a solid functioning sex beast. Each thrust is a rapturous impact: Her tits shaking back and forth, my long thin body straining like a panther taking down its prey. It's only a matter of time now. Just pace myself, don't speed up too soon.

"Oooh fuck," Denise says. She starts breathing heavy and there's a high note at the end of each exhale. I feel her hitting my ribs with the palms of her hands.

That's what I've been waiting for. I sink my knees into the mattress and thrust my cock straight into her, hard, fast, building a quick rhythm that I can't control. Denise is screaming and her hands are waving, hitting the mattress, hitting me. How long can I keep this up? Not long. I'm boiling. I'm boiling. Oh fuck, I'm boiling over! I'm screaming. There are no words for this. I'm just pounding life out of myself, pounding life into her. I'm screaming at the plywood covering the sliding doors.

When I finally slow down, Denise reaches up with her hand and feels my forehead. She smoothes back the sweat from my brow. Then she lightly plays with the hair on the side of my head. I've stopped now, but I can still feel my length inside her.

"We're done now sweetheart," she says in the most soothing voice. "You can stop now. You can get up and get things ready now."

I kiss her top lip. I kiss her cheek. I say in her ear, "Hold on a minute baby. Just a minute, I need a minute." I kiss her ear. "Sometimes I just need to be inside you and I can't let go."

She wraps her arms around me and we embrace until I feel the blood leaving my cock. I pull out and Denise kisses my mouth and my cheeks and I kiss her back and when we are completely separate from one another, not touching, the world is cold and alien. I sit for a moment. Waiting for my mind to form reality, I let my senses return to the room, and then Denise touches my shoulder and I feel my skin twitch.

"Are you OK Marcus?"

"Yeah. . . I'm just resting. Are you ready for a shot?"