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ajadelight · 5 years

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Cell Phone Affair - Part Final

She hit up three more strangers for use of their cell phone and then retired to her apartment. She called Ralph. “What you got for me, buddy?” “I got John Morgan. He’s the head teller at Bank of Chicago in the Rantoul Branch. He’s married to Yvonne for 7 years. They have no children but don’t know why. She doesn’t work and looks like she doesn’t want to. Found a few pictures of her and she looks sort of on the dumpy side, probably from too much eating and excessive couch sitting during the day. She’s beautiful, but she doesn’t look functional or enthusiastic. I’d probably reject dating her.” Wow! Got a live one there. I sent a text about Clyde and Jean, and the one who fed me, Danielle. The other three are Jimmy, Susan, and Robert. I just gave them an intriguing bully type of invitation.” “Cool. I’ll work on the other three and I might have a film crew available on this one. Wow! You rock, Amanda. I mean I really admire your courage. I’d have been dead on the first one.” “Not if you’re goal oriented and have an abundant blessing of feminine wiles and persuasion. Wink, wink. Pout a little. Look a little innocent. Look like a waif a little. Expose my cleavage a little. And these jeans that I stained to look like I’ve peed really attract and distract the men. And some women too. And the doors open without offering up sexual activity. I love it. Catch you later.”

An hour later Amanda called Yvonne. “How’s it going, Yvonne? Are you feeling all dandy and happy?” “So-so. Who’s this? Why are you concerned?” “I’m concerned because of John, your husband. Do you know him?” “What? Why are you concerned with him? Who is this?” “Here we go again. Always want unimportant things first. Who are you? Why are you? Question, prod, question, probe, anything but listen to the important things first!” “Knowing those things might keep me from hanging up on you. I’m not used to dealing with strangers and strange phone calls.” “Okay. I’m Amanda Collins. You’re Yvonne Morgan. I’m concerned with your husband because of what happened this morning. He loaned me his cell phone to make a call. During that call, he learned that I’m going to die in four days and it really shook him up. However, Ralph called John several times until John yelled at him. Ralph doesn’t want to see me die. John is so-so about it, but he tried to talk me out of it.” “You’re going to die and you know when?” “Yes. It’s scheduled on Saturday at noon, at the fountain in Walton Park. You want to come and join the crowd?” “Really? Is it an execution, or something? Never hear about that at noon in public. That’s very odd.” “I know. However, it’s me. I’m going to shoot myself by the fountain.” “That’s a nasty way to go.” “I know. I thought of a hanging, but there’s nothing around to assist me. I know I could rent a portable scaffold, but I wouldn’t be able to return it.” “Bummer. I’ve seen a man hanged and it was interesting. I’d like to see a woman hanged. I could return the scaffold for you. Which company has that? Is it A 2 Z Rentals or Acme Jiffy Rent?” Amanda moved the phone away and looked at it crossly. What the hell? She thought. She is a live one. She’s talking like me. “Uh, it would be A 2 Z. They deliver and set up, but don’t pick up after use.” “Interesting. What about price wise?” “They have two models. One is you stand on a chair and put the noose around your neck and wobble the chair out from under your feet. You drop only a few inches at most but that method works. Your neck stretches a wee bit while the rope cuts off the air supply. My dislike is it takes 14-20 minutes to die slowly from suffocation. It runs $250. The other model is faster, but you need someone to handcuff you, then put the noose around your neck, and then pull the handle to release the trap door. That breaks your neck and hastens your departure. That one runs $675 and has the pulley, the rope with noose pre-made, the 1000-pound tested tie bar for securing the rope, a knife for cutting it afterward, and the handcuffs with no key.” “Hmm. That second one sounds better. It must stretch your neck more while it snaps your neck from your spine and does an instant tighten up on your windpipe. You could think, ‘Oh, fuck!’ but never have the time to say it. Are you sure I can’t talk you into that one? I’d help you. I’d love to see your dainty little feet kicking around for something solid and not finding it. I hear girls pee after a few minutes.” “No. I’ve already decided.” “Darn my normal luck.” “You’ll get over it. Before Saturday I’ll send you a link for some women hangings on-line. That should satisfy your curiosity and give you a thrill. Anyway, I have my granddad’s service pistol and it’s loaded. I’ll do it that way, but thanks for the offer. That’s kind of you.” “You’re welcome. Now, why are you doing it?” “Because I’m tired of being left out, not thought of, not cared about, unloved, disowned and unwanted. I was the prototype for caring about people, whether I know them or not. You’ll find that out in a moment. But people don’t return that. It’s like they’re one-way streets and never want to give back. So, Saturday at noon, POW! Let them be sorry for a change.” “I’m sorry you let it get that far, Amanda. What about me?” “You? I’ve seen some pictures of you and after seeing John this morning, I think you and he have problems with love, sex, and rock and roll. You do, don’t you?” Yvonne was silent. “Did he tell you?” “He told me nothing with his mouth. Most men don’t unless they’re dealing with a prostitute. Then they slip her a couple of 20s and flap their gums something fierce. But I saw the way he watched me before my odd request. I drank too much the night before and I peed myself and he couldn’t seem to break away from that fact. Then I saw some pictures from the wedding online and then some of you now, and it breaks my heart, Yvonne. He hasn’t done you in what, maybe 3 months?” “Try 4 and it’s not because I haven’t tried, I do. He ignores me or just tells me to quit and moves me aside and opts for another channel on television and most often with a beer. And I try, Amanda. I even walk naked between the sofa and the television and he waves hard at me and tells me to get the F out of the way and get some clothes on. I don’t know what to do! One of his buddy’s is putting the make on me, but I’ve ignored him, so far. However, I’m getting desperate enough to take him up on that offer, regardless of the hell that might break loose. I mean I want it bad and he’s like from another planet where that doesn’t happen.” “Do you want some help? “Yes, please! What am I doing wrong?” “Well, get a grip and listen up. The first thing you do is lose those drab gray sweatpants. You wear them all the time, don’t you?” “Yes.” “Stop. Do you have ginger in the house? Doesn’t matter if it’s raw or powder.” “Yes. We both like ginger so I have some fresh root.” “Good. How about miniskirts and halters?” “Yes.” “Good. We can’t do anything about the tummy today, but we will get you laid. You can go to a gym and start a healthy nutrition plan on your own soon. For tonight leave your sweats and chartreuse tee in the hamper. Shower and dry everything but your coochie. Then, while it’s still slightly damp, rub it with some fresh ginger root and put your pants on. Top that with a short mini and a halter without the bra. Tie your hair back in a tail and use the same ginger root to dab behind your ears. Lose the necklace. Leave your skin there, inviting for some nibbling. Then don’t mention or even hint at sex. Just do what you normally do without that intrusion, add that temptation and tease, and before the night’s over, he’ll have you in bed and breathless. Can you do that?” “Yes. That sounds kind of exciting, even for me.” “Good. Then hit the gym and don’t diet. Consult with a nutritionist and let them help you lose the tummy fat and tone up your legs and ABS. And never parade naked in front of him, never. Try to adjust your habits so he never sees you even half naked. If you want a max tease to rip his pants open, stop undressing with a tight bra on and keep the rest covered, unless you drag him in the shower with you. Lock the door when you bathe. Change clothes there instead of standing over him in bed. Mysterious yourself up some. Keep the lights dim enough to be scarcely visible or don’t even let him kiss you in the bedroom unless the lights are completely out. Burn some candles for dancing light and lots of dark wispy shadows. Shift positions and move or slap his hands lightly to slow him down when he tries to uncover the good stuff. Make him work to get what you make him want. Your mystifying coochie will take care of everything else. And trust me, he can use it and never see it. All he needs is his fingers and his fence post when it’s ready. You can cut off the visual for the remainder of your together intercourses and he’ll be happy. So, will you for that matter.” “SCORE!” “That’s the ticket, Yvonne.” “What about daytime interlude that’s not planned?” “Fit your bedroom windows with heavy curtains and insist it happen there. Keep the curtains closed and when you reach the point of letting our clothes come off, cover from the waist down with a bed sheet. Force it to happen without even seeing your legs. And when you’re ready, adjust the sheet ONLY enough to let him inside while he’s kissing you or watching your eyes. Mystery! Imagination! Secrecy! Concealment! Keep yourself changing and put a different x on every treasure map you spring on him.” “Dang, Amanda. That sounds very exciting. My what a wellspring of sexual knowledge.” You can do it. Just practice them all and teach him to work with your sensuality until you get it.” “I will. Thanks, Amanda. I wish I could help you. I have your number, so I’ll call you tomorrow and let you know what happened.” “Thanks, sweetheart. You do that and have a great night tonight.”

She took a break and called Jean. Immediately Jean was on her case. Who is this? Why are you calling me?” “Your moral conscious, honey. This is Amanda. I talked with you, or rather listened to you yell at me earlier today. Remember?” “Yes. Why call me again?” “Because all that yelling told me you’re horny and not getting regular sexual relief. Otherwise, you’d not have been so hostile. Instant answer, please. True or false?” Jean sighed. “True. I thought it was you exhausting him.” “Nope. Social media is good for some things, Jean. It’s good for visuals versus a sexy voice, like you possess, at least on the phone. You’re dressed most of the time like the last woman I just helped. You dress comfortably in your own home, but to Clyde and the rest of the world, it sure looks sloppy and makes you appear very unkempt. The clothing and your body language say you’re a homeless woman but living in a home and wondering why you can’t get laid.” “Wow! That pisses me off, but I like your blunt approach.” “And right off hand, I’d say that you’ve not showered in 4 or 5 days and if you dropped your jeans, you’d probably smell like piss. That’s not a sexual turn-on for most men or even women. Why don’t you shower more frequently?” “Because I don’t think I smell bad.” “To you, maybe not, but to Clyde and other folks, you stink, honey. Besides the lack of smelling your own BO, why? Is there a reason?” “I don’t like to spend the time doing that. It takes 20 to 30 minutes and since I’m married, I didn’t figure it would matter that much. It’s not like I’m trying to date him and get his attention.” “Well, news flash, honey buns, if you want to get laid regularly, you need to spend the time bathing, or else spend the time with fantastic plastic for a cheap unsatisfying thrill. How’s that for blunt?”

“Pretty much in my face,” Jean said. “That’s the way I roll. And if I were straight or lesbian, your waist would be the line of demarcation, if I could get that far. Stale sweaty skin is up there on the gag scale.” “Oops! That hurts, but it makes sense. Why hasn’t he complained about it?” “He has. Every time he rejects sex with you, that’s a complaint. Every time he holds you at arms’ length, that’s a complaint. If he sniffs loudly and wrinkles his nose, that’s a complaint. But if you don’t understand and make an adjustment, then he has options to take care of himself.” “Oh, boy. That sucks!” “Sure does. From the cursory time I was with him today, I don’t see him going outside for another woman to handle the sex. It must happen when he’s in the shower, or you are and he disposes of the evidence. And you’d be so down on yourself, you’d never think of looking in the trash for a condom or something else to show.” The phone dropped and she heard mumbling in the background until she picked it up again. “I’m hurting. I’d never have thought to look. I’m sorry, Clyde, but just you wait. You’ll not have the chance to do this again; not unless I’m doing it for you.” “What?” asked Amanda. “A paper towel that can’t be denied.” “Um, um. I just got off the phone with another woman who had a similar problem. The solution is the same for you. Do you care to listen?” asked Amanda. “Yes. Since you figured me out so swiftly, lay it on me. I’m really hurting now. Are you really going to use the gun on Saturday?” “Yes. I can help other people, but I’m finished trying to help myself.” “Is there no way to stop you? There must be somebody or a group of people who can love you enough to keep you loved and wanting to be alive. Are you sure I can’t help you back enough?” “Hey, girlfriend, there’s always hope. Show up 20 minutes early on Saturday and give me the best Used Car Sales pitch the world has ever heard and we’ll see what happens. You might luck out. We both might luck out. Just show up and hit me with your best shot.

“Now pay attention to what I say. I want a call in the morning with a victory shout.”

Saturday morning at 11:30 Amanda was at the fountain, dressed in her clean but ragged clothes. She lay the weapon down on a chair by the table and covered it with a newspaper. Jean arrived at 11:35 and did not wait for her prepared sales pitch. She finished and stood back to see her effect on Amanda. “Man, that was good! You want to be that close a friend with me?” “Yes, and if necessary, I’ll become bisexual to keep you healthy, adjusted, and very alive.” A rental truck appeared and hailed her. “This is the place. Unload them next to the fountain. Jean watched as 6 tables and 36 chairs appeared and Amanda conned them into setting them up for her. Before they left, a DJ parked behind their van and asked where to put the equipment. Amanda showed him and then turned to a curious Jean. “Hey, girlfriend. That sales pitch really impressed me. We’ll give it a great try because I don’t want to die right now; not with so many people loving me. It’s wonderful to find someone who believes, acts and loves like you do.” She gave her a kiss on the mouth. “Great news! So, what’s really happening here?” Yvonne appeared and ran to join them from her car. “Okay, which one is Amanda?” “Me. I am the guilty party,” Yvonne grabbed in a bear hug. “Great. I’m Yvonne and I’ve destroyed all the death threats against you and all the bodily harm I wished to inflict. Wow, did I get laid! Felt like a virgin, losing it again after 4 months. Awesome! Now, can we stop this silly horse shit that you are committing suicide?” “Okay. You convinced me to live.” Two food vending trucks pulled up and parked on the curb. All the parties were right behind them and they all gathered at the fountain and waited anxiously for Amanda to speak or fire the weapon to take half her head off. She beckoned to Susan to stand beside her. “Hello, friends. Welcome to my suicide party. Thank you so much for showing up. I really didn’t want to do this, but what the hey? I wanted to get your attention. I’ve done all I can for you over the years. I’ve not missed a birthday or anniversary yet and I’m waiting on you to get busy with babies so I can add them to my heart and communication list. And while I waited, I also waited for this, but you missed it 3 times. DJ, hit it.” The DJ played Happy Birthday and Amanda started singing it to herself as the people blushed and then joined in at her request. She laughed with them about how she put the hoax over on them and welcomed the new additions to her friendly family. “The food vendors are the grill and drink stand for today. It will cost you nothing. I’ve saved three years for this day. What makes it extra special is I’m coming out today. I just can’t hide it any longer.” The DJ stopped the music and the gathering grew deathly quiet and watched her expectantly as she hugged Susan and kissed her cheek. “Yes. Ralph is not my biological brother. He just acted that way, until 3 months ago and we became lovers. And now we’ve encountered an oops and I’m like 9 weeks pregnant. And since we’ve loved each other undercover for so long, next month, same time, same place, we expect you all to join us here when we say our wedding vows. In the meantime, happy birthday to me and please party down!”

The End

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