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Episode 2


Copyright Information


Episode 2

Copyright © 2018 by K J Walt

First Publication: October 2018

Cover design by Pixie Moon

All art and logo copyright © 2018

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED: This literary work may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, including electronic or photographic reproduction, in whole or in part, without express written permission. Such action is illegal and in violation of the U.S. Copyright Law.

All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.


To all the people who love a crazy short story with a dog who has statue issues and loves cookies!

To my husband and children for all their support. Love you guys!

A shout-out goes to Jesse and Alexander Bettin for their helpful input!

Table of Contents:







Settle down, I don’t think so. Wandering and fighting are in my Gypsy blood.

My uncle left me an apartment complex filled with nutty people. Spinning Drug Dealer, Crossdresser, Darkolicious, Big Ears, Troll Lover, Rainbow Teen, Cookie Maker, and Rockie are just too much.

After meeting all of the tenants, I know I can’t stay. They’re annoying as hell.

Maybe the fish oil pills they’ve caused me to start taking will kick in before I have heart failure.

The need to sell this monstrosity and get back to my wandering lifestyle is burning me up. Nobody holds down a Gypsy.

Save some Money. Box Set Available! These short stories are loosely woven but can be enjoyed alone. This series is for people who like short, hilarious dramas where bullies never win and social-freaks are accepted for who they are.

Have a laugh and get to The End this evening!

Warning: You’ll find a French bulldog with lots of issues, adult language, politically incorrect characters, and violence. This story could be offensive to some…or a lot of people.

Scroll up and download to find out how The Slow Store people react to customers buying condoms.

Moneysaving Box Set Available!


YOSKA DRAPER – Inherited a mansion that was turned into an apartment complex from his unknown Pimp Daddy uncle, Gitano. AKA Guardian Troll

COMFREY REYNOLDS – Songwriter, Photographer who pays rent with sex. AKA Cookie Maker

ESSIE SOMMERS – Abandoned Teen who is riding for free. AKA Rainbow Teen

JAVIER SOLVAIR – Resident Barefoot, Drug Dealer. AKA Spinning Drug Dealer

ADRIAN FLETCHER – Sexy as fuck Crossdresser who can kick ass. AKA Crossdresser

CARTER MONTGOMERY – Wise, Beautifully Dark Skinned, Symmetrically Perfect Yoga instructor with an English accent. He is calm…most of the time. AKA Darkolicious

SANG SANCHEZ – Asian-Hispanic boyfriend of Carter who also has an English accent as well as a foot fetish. AKA Yellowlicious

RILEY AGUERRA – Big eared guy who is lost as fuck…until he isn’t. AKA Big Ears

SHEA BACINO – Troll Fanatic, Beer drinking, Tattoo artist. Yoska is pretty sure she doesn’t own one bra. AKA Troll Lover

SLATE RUTHERFORD – Badass biker boyfriend of Shea’s.

ROCKIE – French Bulldog with Statue and Narcolepsy issues.

(Rockie has cards and stuff out at zazzle dot com. KJ Walt Designs)

Dracu means fuck in Romanian.

Santa Madre de Tierra means Holy Mother of Earth in Spanish.








Yoska Draper

“You bloody wanker!” The English accent is thick and angry.

“What?” This voice sounds innocent.

I hear a scuffing sound and then a thud.

“Not today.” I leap up and head to my bedroom door. Sharp pain cuts through my toe. “Dracu!” As I hop around on one foot, my junk flops in the breeze. I draw a breath and visualize where I placed everything in my bedroom.

Yesterday I’d spent all day working my job and moving into this dump. I can still hear a muffled struggle going on but I can’t go out there in my birthday suit. With my toe still aching, I flick on a light, locate my pants and a T-shirt, then slide into them.

This is strange territory, I’ve never owned an apartment complex. And I won’t be the owner of this one for long if I get my way.

I see the box I slammed my toe into and snort. This place is already dumbing me down. Can’t even remember where my shit is.

I burst out my apartment door. A grunt from the lobby has me swiveling that way. Two males. The lights show they have amazing skin. Baryor, my best friend in the fighting troupe, would say they were delicious.

Darkolicious has Yellowlicious in a unique headlock. As much as I appreciate their fight, I can’t have this, not today.

I stroll over to the oblivious men. The craziness of this has me grinning. Yellowlicious’s eyes open and he blinks up at me. I keep grinning. This pretty boy is a blend of Asian and possibly Hispanic blood. The tight tank shirt he’s wearing shows he’s got sleek muscles.

“When did Shea get a new troll? The bloody fucker looks real.” He taps his opponent. “Carter, you wanker, answer me.”

Oh, this just gets better and better. An Asian possibly Hispanic mix with an English accent. And what’s with all the troll talk? If I was weak, I’d get a complex.

“I’m not listening to you. You’ll say anything to get me to free your playboy ass.”

“I’m not a playboy. What’s wrong with looking at bare feet?” Yellowlicious asks.

“Bugger. Nothing’s wrong with looking at bare feet. What’s wrong is you staring at bare feet and getting a hard-on,” Darkolicious says in his own English accent. This guy is wearing some sort of flowing pants and no shirt. His dark skin is radiant.

Yellowlicious taps his opponent again. “Let’s get back to the troll. It’s creeping me out.”

I raise an eyebrow and something flashes in Yellowlicious’s eyes. He frees an arm, elbows Darkolicious in the knee and performs a remarkable spin that twirls his buddy around behind him.

“Who are you?” Yellowlicious asks in his English and Asian flare.

A head pops up over the Asian’s shoulder and then beautiful golden eyes widen.

“This is private property.” He steps from behind his friend. “Is there something you need?”

“I need you two to stop fighting in the lobby.” Both men look ashamed. Good. “I’m Yoska Draper, the new owner of this grand palace.” I stare both men down. “Darkolicious, do you and Yellowlicious live here?”

Darkolicious gasps in surprise but he still steps over to me with his friend on his heels. “I live here. I’m Carter Montgomery and this is my friend, Sang Sanchez.”

Yes, I guessed his Hispanic side correctly. The Asian side is indisputable so I don’t get credit for that. But where did the British accent come from? With a little Gypsy luck, I won’t be here long enough to find out.

“Are you gay? Is that why you called us Darkolicious and Yellowlicious?” Carter asks with a crinkled brow as if he can’t believe I’m gay.

“I’m not gay but an old friend of mine was and as perfect as you two are he would have said you were both delicious.”

“You fancy us,” Sang says and then looks at my bare feet. “You have nicely shaped toes.”

Carter snaps his slim fingers. “Eyes up here, playboy,” he tells Sang.

Yellowlicious, crowds in closer. “He gets a little jealous.” He pauses at a gasp from Carter. “I’m his boyfriend.”

Carter scowls at Sang. “Not all the time.” His skin glows in this light. No wonder Sang is staking a claim. Carter looks back at me with his golden eyes. “I live in apartment number seven.”

Ah, number seven, the resident sex-god or pimp. I heard enough moans and sex talk from that apartment yesterday and the day before to keep a hard-on for weeks to come.

“You’re not pimping girls…” I glance at his maybe boyfriend and then back at Carter. “Or guys in your apartment, are you?”

Sang slaps his jean covered thigh and then laughs loud and lively. Horror transforms Carter’s perfectly symmetrical face. “I’m a bloody yoga instructor! I teach here and at a studio a mile from here.”

“Good, no pimping allowed.” Anymore. This is the suing era after all.

I turn to head back to my apartment and then stop and glance back at both men. “If you have to fight some more today, do it in the street.”

I head on and smirk when I hear a mumbled, “Germs are in the street.”

Carter Montgomery is no threat.

Back in my office, I settle in with a cup of cinnamon coffee sprinkled with rosemary sprigs. The aroma is soothing. I open the latest inventory list I’m to describe and put on Pleasure, Training, and More’s website.

I read the list and grin. “This is by far, the most fascinating job I’ve ever had. Eight years in and I still love it.”

I’m thinking hard on how to describe this mean-looking butt plug when a small glimmer of movement crosses my office window. A pink, black, and purple head pops into my office followed by a slender, teenaged body. Apartment number four, if I’m correct. When she bounces over and peers at my screen, I look at the butt plug and shrug.

She sits on the edge of my desk and looks boldly into my eyes. “I heard a troll moved in.” Her big brown eyes scan me as she scoots closer and gets deeper into my personal space. “I came by to see for myself.”

What the fuck?! “Where did you hear that? And who are you, Rainbow Teen?”

She touches her hair and gives me a one-sided grin. “I’m Essie. And these walls are thin. Real thin.”

“I take it you live here.”

Her sharp eyes never stop staring into my blue eyes. “Yep. I’m in apartment number four.” She glances around. “You gonna clean this place up?”

She’s a curious one. And cute with her bright pink T-shirt, jean shorts, wild hair, fearless eyes, and dimpled chin. She does have some personal space issues though.

“No, I’m going to sell it.”

Her eyes latch onto mine. “Don’t blame you. I would too if I were a troll.”

The gall of this kid. “If your curiosity has been assuaged, leave. I have work to finish.”

Doubt flashes in her huge brown eyes but just for a second. “When did watching porn become a job?”

Time to educate her. “Next time you snoop, pay more attention, Rainbow Teen. I’m not watching porn, I’m entering merchandise to a website for a company I work for.”

Her eyebrows shoot up to her crazy bangs. “That’s a real job?”

“Sure. How do you think people buy and sell online?” At her shrug, I glance at the clock. “If you’re done, Rainbow Teen, move along. I have a busy day.”

After one more look at my computer screen, Essie Sommers slips off my desk and out of the office with extreme stealth. I can appreciate that. I can also appreciate money. Back to describing the wonders of this butt plug.

I get a few items identified and uploaded before I smell marijuana and hear the low rumble of male voices. I look at the latest clitoris stimulator and sigh. “I’ll get back to you in a bit, sweetness.”

I have to meet all the residents. Even if they slow my job down. I exit my office door and then peer into the lobby. I scan two people. Both are tall.

A male wearing cargo pants and a tight white T-shirt. And a hot chick wearing a blue and white tie-dye striped, short dress with flowing sleeves. It drops off her pretty shoulders but its neckline is high enough to hide any cleavage. The way it cinches at the waist proves she’s nice and fit. Short, tan, stiletto boots finish the sexy outfit.

My junk tightens as I look the beauty over again. Until I notice the Adams apple, that is. Crossdresser. Damn. He’s still the hottest guy I’ve ever encountered. But guys just don’t do it for me. Not even ones with fine curves and butt length gorgeous auburn hair.

I watch the other male talk while leaning back and letting a fidget spinner whirl around on his forehead. I step closer and the guy jerks up. He catches the spinner with practiced ease. “Santa Madre de Tierra, a troll.”

What’s the deal with these people and trolls?

Crossdresser says, “He’s not a troll. Look at that pointed nose and wild hair. He’s related to Gitano. A much younger version, for sure, but the features are there.”

Pointed nose and wild hair. These tenants have some balls on them. Even Rainbow Teen.

At least they believe I’m related to Gitano. That helps. “So I hear, I’m Yoska Draper. Who are you two?”

With his fidgeter spinning in one hand and pot burning in the other, Spinner says, “Sorry, man. About the troll thing, you know. I’m Javier Solvair. I live in apartment number one.” His dark brown eyes turn somber. “Sorry about Gitano. He was a good man.”

Crossdresser takes a step closer and boldly looks me straight in the eyes. “I’m Adrian Fletcher. I live in apartment number three. Javier is correct, Gitano was a good man. How are you related to him?”

“I didn’t know him, but he has papers claiming I’m his nephew. From the photos I’ve seen of him, I believe it could be true.” Actually, our looks prove it’s true. I need to let that sink into my soul. There is no doubt.

Javier takes a hit of his left-handed cigarette and then holds it out to me. He’s a sharing soul. I take a hit. Hold, choke. “Good shit.” I take another hit and then hand it back.

“I’m glad you can appreciate high-quality weed,” Javier says.

“I can. But you can’t do it in here.” I look at the smoking joint and then into Javier’s eyes. “I’ve got potential buyers coming. Fuck this up and I’ll kick your ass, Spinner. Same goes for you, Crossdresser.”

Adrian gasps and Javier gives me a fidget spinner salute as I turn and go back to work.

I hear Adrian say, “He’s ruder than Gitano.”

“He’s just new here. We’ll have to give him time,” Spinner says.

The hits I inhaled are relaxing my muscles and calming my nerves. That was good shit.

I’VE GOTTEN in a bit of work and I’m taking a small break. Plus, I’m on the lookout for the realtor. I hear fists and know Jose is at it again. I hope my neighbor ends his fight before the realtor shows up. No need in scaring people. Not everybody can appreciate a good fight.

I’m getting a cream soda with a sprig of fresh rosemary when I hear the squeal of tires.

I look out my front window. Crossdresser tries to dodge a can thrown at him from some asshole in a big F150 truck.

Adrian rubs his grazed shoulder. The slump of those fine shoulders is sad to see. There is no way that was the first time that’s happened to him.

Close-minded people are soul crushing pieces of shit.

Jose punches his challenger hard and then yells, “You want me to kick his ass for you, Adrian?”

“No. Thanks though, Jose,” Adrian answers in a dejected voice. A voice I don’t like.

Jose gives Adrian a nod and then takes a punch from his powerful, bald-headed opponent. Jose blinks, growls and then knocks the guy out. Looks like Jose is keeping his title of King of the Fist Fighters.

I watch Adrian head to The Slow Store across the street. Adrian needs to locate his balls. If I was bisexual, I’d push his skirt up and help him find his family jewels. Those damn things are important.


Not long after Adrian enters the store, my heart leaps at the sight of my potential buyers. The realtor sign on the car is the one I’m waiting on. The quicker I sell, the better. I go to the door to meet them. They are eyeing the place with a critical stare.

In their defense, a paint-chipped, baby-shit-green home with orange-red trim isn’t pleasing to the eyes. For the moment, I’ll cut them some slack.

Big brown eyes and rainbow hair flash through my mind, followed by a superb body with an Adams apple. Darkolicious and Yellowlicious wrestle through my mind. Curly hair that has to smell like cookies and a kicker hourglass figure, are the next images to waltz around in my brain.

I blink and assess the potential buyers. Two buttoned up suits and a female with a bun tight enough to produce a facelift, cause my heart to lurch. Will these judgmental looking people be nice to the residents?

Spinner, Big Ears, and that ugly French bulldog aren’t normal either. None of them are.

I look at their expensive clothes and their predator stares. My stomach does a small flip and my chest burns. I need to double up on the fish oil pills. This shit is going to give me a heart attack or something equally awful.

I shove aside the unwanted emotions and doubts. This monstrosity has to sell.

“Hello, I’m Yoska Draper.”

Tight Bun extends her manly hand. “Hi, I’m T. B. Mann.”

As I shake her hand, I note her overly firm grip. I grin and hope I’m covering my inner victory. Tight Bun has to be what T. B. stands for. And her aggressive stance suits her last name well. Mann is a fighting name.

“I’m Bill Wallner.”

His cologne is as strong as his stare. I just barely stop myself from coughing.

The last man smiles at me. “And I’m the realtor, Tom Acosta. This house has great bones. Shall we go in and have a good look?”

No, just hand me a check. “Sure, it does have tenants so we can’t go in most of the apartments but number eight is empty so you can see it. My apartment, the lobby, and the rooftop patio are also accessible.”

I lead them inside and start the tour. I dodge ugly dog statue, scent, and stain questions like a pro. The sound of loud moaning and talk about pushing out bums has all three tight-asses frowning. I can virtually feel their harsh judgment.

“The tenant in seven is a yoga instructor,” I say. That should shut them up.

Their eyes tell me they’re not so sure of that. Fucking judgmental pricks.

I push open the door to the stairwell and answer a few more questions. All is going better until the lights flicker.


One man jumps and then the other. “What was that?” Tom asks as he examines the stairwell.

“What are you talking about? The lights? I’m sure it’s just a wire.” I hope they buy what I’m selling. I silently will the ghosts to stop with the inappropriate touching. “Let’s go up to the top floor. I believe you will love the patio and that’s where apartment number eight is.”

At the top of the stairs, Bill jumps but doesn’t say anything. And just like my estate lawyer did, I ignore all the paranormal shit going on.

I lead them out onto the patio. The scent of weed tells me Javier is smoking again. I show them the view and the hand-carved wooden rail. The details are above standard. They don’t have much bad to say about the rail but they are writing like crazy on a notepad. I dodge another smell question and then lead them to apartment number eight.

The lights flicker the second they all get inside. More notes are taken.


When Tight Bun spins around scowling, I know she was touched by a cold caress. She scribbles on her notepad and then looks at every nook and cranny with both guys on her heels.

After I answer a few more questions, I lead them to the second level. The sound of yelling has my heart plummeting. I open the door to the second floor and we all stand rooted to the ugly carpet.

Some idiot is standing outside number five. Comfrey’s apartment. He’s pounding on the door.

“I said pack your shit, I’ve given you enough time,” yells the idiot. He’s wearing designer jeans and a wife beater shirt. His muscles aren’t bulky enough to pull that shirt off.

Adrian is still in full crossdresser mode as he enters the hall and moves around us.

“Not on your life,” Comfrey yells through the door.

Crossdresser heads toward the rude male. “She said she’s not going. Respect her wishes.” He points to the stairs. “Disappear.”

“I’ll leave if you’ll come with me.” Sleazy eyes scan Adrian’s fit body.

“I doubt you can handle me.” Adrian flips a long strand of hair over his shoulder.

“I’d love to give it a try.”

“I thought you wanted Comfrey,” Adrian says with a disgusted huff.

The guy licks his lips and eyes Adrian. “You will be a fine replacement.”

“Sorry, I’m not into fucking asshole losers,” Adrian says with a sneer.

The guy snarls and then swings a fist. Adrian dodges and then elbows him in the back. The guy grunts as he falls and Adrian kicks him in the ass with a sharp stiletto heel.

Comfrey jerks open her door and zaps the guy’s face with pepper spray.

As the asshole yells about suing, Adrian gets him up and heads for the stairs. “There are cameras in here, idiot. Don’t come back or we’ll sue you,” Adrian snaps.

Damn, Crossdresser can fight and he’s smart. Looks like he knows where his balls are after all. Impressive fucker didn’t even drop his shopping bag.

I look at the tight-asses inspecting the complex and flinch when I see them writing notes.


“I’ll take this guy,” I tell Adrian.

“Thanks, I forgot to give Comfrey her stuff.” Adrian holds up a bag.

As Adrian goes back to Comfrey and slips into her apartment, I say to the suits, “Have a look around. I’ll meet you downstairs.”

I lead the whining ass along the stairs and then push him down the last three stairs. He stumbles and falls. I smirk as he hits the last stair hard and then rolls to the floor.

He squawks about suing. I punch him in the face. “Try that shit and you won’t live long enough to make the court date.”

I help him up and then lead him outside. I give him a punch to the kidneys as a reminder not to come back. He swings at me and I easily evade. He’s all bark. No fighting skills at all. No match for someone like me.

I remember how he talked to Comfrey and that he threw a punch at Adrian. “You’re an asshole.” I punch him in the face and then leave him by the sidewalk. Stupid fucker.

I go back in to find more note taking by the suits and some begging by a stranger. He must have come in the backdoor. I don’t know how much worse this can get.

The young, strong male is in the lobby begging a cute female wearing a troll shirt. The guy is begging for money. She gives him some shit, but she does stick her hand in her jeans pocket and then gives him the cash. As soon as he has it, he rushes past me and heads for the backdoor. What a dick.

The dick burns rubber as he leaves and then the sound of a motorcycle rumbles the front of the house.

More note taking.


In walks a guy with a jacket that has a motorcycle club symbol. More note taking happens.


I watch my sell go down the fucking drain.


When the door closes behind those judgmental pricks, I step into the lobby. MC Member is asking Tattooed Troll-shirt Wearing Cutie if she wants him to handle it. She says no and the look on the guy’s face tells me he doesn’t like it.

Time for me to get some more info. “I’m Yoska Draper, the new owner. Who are you two?”

The muscular male looks me over like he’s sizing me up and then grins. It’s a knowing grin. “I’m Slate Rutherford.” He pulls the wide-eyed female to his side. She adjusts her beer can as he says, “This is Shea Bacino. She lives —"

“In apartment number six.” She scowls at the six-foot male pinning her to his side. “I don’t need you to talk for me, Slate.”

He lets her go and raises his hands in surrender.

The piercing in her right eyebrow isn’t able to distract me from seeing the brightness of her green eyes. Or the look she gives Slate. Guy’s lucky she’s not magical or he’d sure as shit be a stuffed troll doll.

Shea. She has to be the reason I’ve been taking some much troll shit.

She takes a step closer to me and touches the tiny silver troll dangling from her lip ring. “There’s something familiar about you, Yoska.”

Slate’s dark-blue eyes give me a quick inspection. “Yeah, he looks like a younger version of Gitano.”

“No. I mean yes. But there’s something else.”

I frown at her and she drops her can of beer. She squeals and launches herself at me. I step back but she’s on me in a flash. Slender but strong arms wrap around me.

What the fuck?!

First Big Ears, then Rainbow Teen, and now Troll Lover. These people do not understand personal space.

Slate grabs Troll Lover and pulls her to his chest. “What are you doing, Shea? You never hug strangers.”

She pulls free and touches her right boob. “He’s my Guardian Troll.” Green eyes pierce me. “Here in the flesh. I must have done something right.”

What the fuck?

“I’m not a troll.” Dull-witted people live here. That’s for damn sure.

“He’s not a troll,” Slate agrees. His tone is nice and firm. Just what Troll Lover needs.

Troll Lover pulls her shirt down to almost nipple level. First, I realize she’s not wearing a bra and then thunder strikes.

The troll tattoo on her chest looks a lot like me when I frown. Is this a joke? I look closer. No. The ink is not fresh.

She tugs her shirt some more and this time I see some nip. Nice and rosy.

“See, it’s you,” she says.

I stop staring at her nipple. “There may be some resemblance but I’m not a guardian troll.”

She pulls her shirt back into place and then picks up her dropped can of beer. I watch as she swirls it and then take a sip.


Troll Lover smiles at me causing the troll on her lip ring to dance. “You being here is a good sign.”

“Don’t scare Yoska off,” Slate warns.

“Never,” she answers with crazy confidence.

The light catches on something in her short curly black hair. I look closer and wish I hadn’t. A troll on a clip is staring right at me.

I glance away and something in the lobby wallpaper catches my attention. I look closer and see eyes staring back at me. Demon looking eyes with a ghost of a face shape. Just a spooky hint of something in the wall.

This place is so fucked up.

I look away from the spooky wall and back to Troll Lover. “Number six. I’ve heard some buzzing coming from your apartment. It’s not something that needs to be fixed, is it?” She laughs, it’s a sweet sound. Maybe that’s what lured Slate in.

“No, I’m a tattoo artist. You’ll hear that buzzing a lot outside my door.”

Mystery solved. I’m glad it wasn’t something that had to be fixed. She does not need any insane proof that I’m here as a guardian.

The rumble of another bike vibrates the house.

“That’s Big Mike. He’s my next appointment.” Shea holds out her delicate hand. “I’m glad you’re here, Yoska.” Her eyes are holding a bit too much adoration for me.

Her grip is nice and firm. Just like her boobs and hug. Slate and I share a solid handshake and then I head to my office.

As a barrel-chested, muscular male enters the house, I hear Slate say, “Yoska is short but I sized him up. Anybody who underestimates him will be sorry.”

I smile as I enter my office. I figured that was what his knowing look was about. I sized him up too. Slate is not somebody I’m going to piss off.

“Yep, he’s a guardian,” Shea answers.


Can this place get any stranger?

From my office window, I see that the new guy is just as tall as Slate. Why do all these fuckers have to be so tall? Well, Shea is just a couple of inches over my five feet. And Rainbow Teen is shorter than me. I could fit in here.

I freeze and shake off that foolish thought. After getting a cream soda with a sprig of rosemary, I go back to work.

This time I’m working on Milosh Stanley’s online store, Gypsy Things. I need to call my buddy later and see how things are going.

I only get in thirty minutes, when the sound of male voices invade my ears, I pause to find out who it is. “Ah, Big Ears and Spinner.” I try to focus on work for another few minutes and then abandon it. I need to know the people I’m living with.

“What’s up? Why are you looking around like that?” Spinner asks Big Ears.

I peer out my office window and from the right angle I can see both men. Sure enough, Spinner has his fidgeter spinning on his ankle. Bare feet shining for all to see. I believe he was barefoot earlier as well. That might be a thing with him.

Big Ears shifts and looks around. “I think I’m being watched.”

“By who?”

“I don’t know.”

I step back as both men look around and even go look out the front windows. “I don’t see anyone,” Spinner says. He turns to Riley. “That’s quite the shiner you got. I heard you’re taking hits to lower your rent. Maybe that punch loosened something in your head. Save your brain, man, pay full price.”

“I can’t. I just lost another job. The guy I was helping build a gazebo got caught wetting his dick in the neighbor.”

“No shit?”

“In the fucking gazebo we were building.”

“Damn,” Javier mutters.

“Yeah, his wife shot him in the leg.”

Javier clenches his spinner. “Santa Madre de Tierra, not the third leg! Tell me he didn’t lose his third leg.”

“She tried but missed. She still got him pretty good so the job is off at least for now.”

“Damn, that sucks. I’ll ask around for you,” Spinner says.

“Thanks, Javier. I have one job I’m working on getting but it won’t last long. What you got going on right now?”

“Waiting on Maureen.”

Riley squeezes a tension ball he’s holding. “She’s in bad shape, huh?”

“Yeah, I hope she makes it.”

The ringing of my cell ends my private investigation.

Belcher. I man up and take the call.

It doesn’t take my estate lawyer long to deliver the bad news. My potential buyers have decided not to buy. I look at the puke-worthy wallpaper, ugly multi-colored carpet, and sniff the shady air. Between the appearance of this place and the crazy shit with the tenants, today’s sell was doomed.


I raise the blinds in my office and shift my desk so I have a better view of the lobby. Since my fucked-up tenants and their friends hang out there, I need to know who is in the house and what they are up to.

A scan of the lobby has me doing a double take. I squint and shake my head but the patch of grass in a carved wooden box doesn’t go away. How did I miss that and what is it? Probably someone’s idea of art. It’s so close to the couch it could get stepped on. I wonder who’d throw a fit about that. Crushing grass is a serious offense to some.

Another look and I see that strange French bulldog standing with one back paw raised and one ear up while the other ear is down. She’s statue still. How does she not blink? And her tongue has to be dry as desert sand. She has a bowl of water off to the side of the couch but she won’t leave her statue form to get a drink.

That dog has issues. Big Ears and Spinner don’t seem to mind as they talk too quietly for me to catch every word.

I just get settled back into work when I see a female walk by. She’s thin, too thin. I watch in horror as Spinner stops his fidgeter and whips out a few bags of weed.

That fucker is making a sell in the lobby! I storm out of the office and yell, “Sell that shit in the stairwell. You don’t do that in the fucking open.”

Spinning Drug Dealer shrugs and heads toward the stairs. “Don’t be bothered by him, Maureen. He’s new and hasn’t fully settled in yet.”

Light catches on a band around Maureen’s wrist. My stomach twists. It’s a hospital band. This is the woman Javier was hoping makes it.

Dracu! Why does life have to be so complicated?

I need a break. I go to the kitchen and see the basket of cookies. I eat the last one and moan as the perfectly sweet flavor hits my tongue. I relish it slowly and then look in the basket just in case I missed one. Nope, damn.

I believe Cookie Maker still owes me her rent. I look it up and sure enough, she’s late.


I snag the basket and head her way. The resident fidget spinning, drug dealer is gone. I smell pot in the stairwell. He’s not good at covering his tracks.

The stairwell door opens. “Hey, Yoska.”

I turn to see Big Ears. “Yeah?”

He comes over to me and stands way too fuckin’ close. “I really need the faucet replaced. The dripping noise is driving me crazy.”

I look at his huge ears. I bet they hear really well. The pleading in his eyes does me in. “I’ll look into it.” If I’m here long enough.

“Thanks,” he says and then heads out the door.

I hurry up the stairs and only get my junk touched once. That I’m not totally freaked out anymore tells me I’m getting too comfortable in this strange-ass place.

I travel across the ugly carpet until I get to apartment number five. I knock at the same time the buzzing comes from apartment number six. Troll Lover is giving a tattoo. Good. She makes money, she pays her rent.

“Who is it?” Comfrey calls through the door.

“It’s Yoska. I brought your basket back.”

The door opens. There’s a hint of sadness in her dark-brown eyes but she covers it quickly when our gazes meet. I scan lower and get mesmerized. Her tank top and stretchy pants reveal her kicking hourglass figure.

Her hand flutters over her slightly rounded belly. “I eat too many cookies.”

“No you don’t. You’re perfect.” I force my gaze away from her full chest and into her eyes. They are sparkling now. That sparkle draws me in. Makes me want to see it again.

“I brought this back.” I hold out the basket and she takes it. Our fingers touch briefly. That small touch has my junk tightening and paying attention. She’s electric in a way that has my mind racing with possibilities.

I need to get a grip. “Thanks for the cookies. They were the best I’ve had in a long time. And those dark ones with the raisins were fucking amazing.”

Her eyes become even brighter. “Those are my favorites too. The others don’t care for them, so I make them for myself… and now for you.”

“That’s sweet, don’t put yourself out, though.” My tongue is screaming for me to shut up.

“It’s no trouble. I love making cookies.” The light in her pretty eyes says it’s true.

I remember the idiot from earlier. “Are you okay…from earlier, you know? Who was that asshole?”

Her cheeks pinken. “A mistake that haunts me every so often.” At my raised eyebrow she goes on, “I dated Joe years ago. He flips out when he’s going through a dry spell and tries to get me to go back to him. Thanks for getting rid of him.”

“No problem.” I enjoyed shoving him down the last few steps. “I don’t think he’ll be back. Hey, I noticed you haven’t paid the rent. I can collect it while I’m here.”

Worry crosses her very readable face. “You want to come in?”

“Sure, we can talk inside.” Her place is neat. Ugly wallpaper and hideous carpet but clean and tidy with a hint of homemade cookie scent. No iffy smells in here.

As she puts the basket away, I glance around. Her apartment is much like number eight except it feels more welcoming. Cookie sheets and glass bowls are stacked on the tiny counter and add charm to her small kitchen. A guitar is on the couch and a nice camera is on an end table. Looks like she’s very creative.

She bites her lip as she approaches me. The worry is back in her eyes. Something in me doesn’t like that. I wait for her to tell me what’s going on.

Under my stare, she breaks quickly. “I’m a songwriter.” She glances at the guitar and then back at me.


She bites her lip again. Damn, that’s hot.

Worried eyes meet mine. “The problem is, we don’t have steady income.”

“And?” She’s a hard one to get a straight answer from.

She fidgets with the hem of her shirt. “Gitano used to let me slide when I couldn’t pay.”

“I’m not my uncle.” She frowns down at the carpet and it’s obvious she’s thinking hard. I could let her slide, in the name of art, but I already have Rainbow Teen riding for free.

Comfrey’s head snaps up. Her eyes are bright. “We could trade. I’m a good cook. If you get the ingredients, I’ll cook all your meals and I’ll throw cookies in for free.”

“That’s tempting.” My gaze is unwillingly drawn to her beautiful figure. My dick stirs even though this is an awful time for him to stand at attention. I force my gaze up only to find that hers is locked on my crotch. Of course, he swells even more. She brushes a mass of long, blonde curls over her shoulder as her gaze eats me up.

When our eyes meet, she says, “Do you have a wife or a girlfriend?”

My heart races as I realize where this could be going. “No.”

She steps closer to me. She’s just a few inches taller than me. Maybe three or four but all our important parts line up extremely well. My junk is starting to ache. Yep, my wood is demanding attention.

She licks her lower lip. “Maybe we could trade something else for the rent. Just when I’m struggling.”

I look at her perfect tits and ask, “What would that be?” Please say sex.

“You seem to like my body and I like yours.”

“Yes. So, what are you suggesting?” Please say sex.


Yes! “I could go for that deal.”

She smiles and looks down at my bulge. “One, two, or three times a month?”

“Two or three,” I answer casually, glad she can’t hear the roar of my blood rushing to my wood. If she knew how bad my dick wants her, she’d probably run off screaming.

She bites the corner of her lower lip and looks me straight in the eyes. “Maybe we should get started.”

Maybe she wouldn’t run off screaming. “That sounds fair.” I mentally do a victory dance. It’s an old Gypsy one with lots of hip swinging.

She leads me to her bedroom. She has a queen-sized bed that’s too big for the room but it’s perfect for fucking. I almost swallow my tongue when she strips out of her tank top and stretch pants.

She’s wearing some lacy, dark-green panty and bra set that has almost all of my blood surging to my junk. “You’re beautiful.”

She strolls over and touches my biceps. I flex them for her. Her dark eyes sparkle beautifully. This close I can see the unique hues of brown in her irises. Amazing.

“I love your muscles.”

I’m putting my boxing bag up tomorrow. As she feels me up, I dig out my wallet. I flip it open and check every section of it, twice.

She sniffs my neck and then licks it. A shiver skims down my back. “You smell nice and you taste good.”


“What does that mean?”

“It means fuck.” I hold up my wallet. “I need to get a condom. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

“I’ll be waiting for you.”

She plops down on the bed looking like a siren for sure. I couldn't care less if she’s the death of me, as long as I get some first.


I rush to my apartment and go through all my stuff. “Dracu, I’m out of condoms.”

I look out the window and see The Slow Store. I have to give them a shot.

I impatiently wait for the street to clear. As vehicles zoom by, I see Rainbow Teen get on the city bus. I’m glad she wasn’t getting off and coming my way. I’m too fired up to talk to her.

The street clears so I sprint across. I quietly enter the store like I did last time. There is a tai chi class going on in the back. The chick teaching is pure Oriental. Her flow is liquid.

I stare until Mazy comes over and asks, “Are you here to get in Sun Lee’s class?” Her white, decorated beehive hairdo sways as she turns to watch the class. The green and blue birds attached to spring clips dance around her head leaving the green vine to hold onto her beehive for dear life. “She doesn’t get to teach here often.”

“No, although it looks good. I’m here for condoms.”

A twinkle lights her brown eyes. “Protecting your penis is always a wise choice. Let me show you where the condoms are.”

“Condoms! Is someone getting laid? Or is there an itch? Condoms are good at keeping salve or a healing oil blend on a shaft. I can make up a batch of anti-itch cream in no time,” a female says to my right. I look over, it’s Blindy. She’s staring at a notepad and randomly pulling out essential oils.

“Jane,” Mazy calls, twice. When Jane looks over at us, Mazy says, “This is Gitano’s nephew, Yoska. Do you remember him?”

Jane looks up and squints at me. Girl needs some glasses.

Her red hair shifts as she nods. “Yes. It’s nice to see you again. Your uncle was such a good man. One of the finest I’ve known.” She looks me over. The freckles on her face shimmy as she crinkles her nose. “You’re not twitching. Are you sure you need anti-itch cream?”

Really? “I don’t –“

Mazy cuts me off, “He doesn’t need any cream. He’s here to buy condoms.”

Maybe they should just shout it from the rooftop.

“That’s good. No rash, just sex.” She pierces me with her green eyes. “Sex is good for you. Get as much as you can.”

“Will do.” I look back at Mazy. The birds are still dancing around without knocking the whole beehive down. I don’t let it distract me. “I’m kind of in a hurry.”

“Gotcha. Just be safe, okay? Carl, my third cousin’s best friend, was a bit overeager. He tried taking his pants off real fast and landed on his fully erect penis.”


“That wasn’t the worst part.” Mazy slams her hands together making the birds bob wildly. “He landed on a marble floor.”

“Damn,” I say. A ghost pain goes through my groin. “Poor guy.”

“He was rushed to the hospital and died a week later.”

My eyebrows leap up. “From landing on his dick?”

Her beehive wobbles as she nods. “His erection drove hard into his nuts and caused a rare blood clot to form. It traveled to his heart and killed him.”

“I can’t believe that.” Such a horrible way to go.

“I know. I was surprised myself. The blood vessels in his scrotum must have been enormous. With the hard-on he could have produced, it’s a shame he’s dead.”

When another customer comes in, Mazy smiles and waves at the female. “I’m helping this young man get some condoms. Safe sex is so important. I’ll be with you in a while, Lindey.”

“It’s okay. Jane’s recipe is what I’m after.”

Mazy nods as Jane starts talking to Lindey. “She’s a sculptor. Dang good at it but her hands get as rough as a mason’s.” She raises her eyebrows at me. “Some guys like a rough touch. Anyway, here’s what we’ve got. Let me know if you need help choosing.”

“I’ve got it.” Can this place get any crazier?

I look over their impressive stock, pick two different types and then head to the register. Blond Unibrow comes from the back carrying a watering can.

He looks at my condoms as Mazy rings them up. “Those are both great choices. They do just what they promise. These are extra slick but they don’t fall off. Those others really pleasure a sensitive woman with all those ribs.” He leans in closer. “Oh, extra-large. You’ve got a good package. I bet at your height your penis looks super-sized. Lucky you.”

Mazy cuts in, “Some woman is about to get real lucky. Or is it a guy?”

Oh God. “A woman.”

“I thought so,” Simon says. His bushy unibrow wiggles impressively. “Have fun.” He gives me a happy grin before he moves on to take care of the plants.

After paying and enduring a wink from Mazy, I finally leave The Slow Store. That is one appropriate name. Those people take their time and they are slow when it comes to knowing what appropriate conversation is.

The torturous event has my junk limp.

I carefully cross the street. The second I get in the front door, I see Big Ears and Darkolicious in the lobby. I give them a nod but I don’t stop. I head for the stairs. The thought of Comfrey in her panty set and all her curves is enough to get a rise out of me.

In the stairwell, I get a long cold caress to my junk but I don’t let it slow me down. I keep picturing Comfrey waiting on the bed for me.

By the time I knock on her door, I’m having to cool my jets. When she answers in her panty set, I know just what I’m going to do.

I lead her to the bedroom and have her sit on the edge of the bed. “Do you like to have your clit played with?”

“Yes.” Her eyes sparkle making my wood turn to steel.

The roar in my blood is back and it’s stronger than ever. “Lean back and let me show you what I can do with my pointed nose.”

End of Episode Two

I was sure Yoska was going to have heart failure when Javier whipped out his dried grass in the lobby. Strange fellow.

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