Evie

A desperate man meets a woman in a bar. The night starts off alright, that is until he discovers her secret

From the moment that the sun hits my face up until the second it bids farewell to my a*s, I work my tired bones until even my pain has developed aches. No, there’s nothing special about my story, it’s just another tale of a working-class hero who must sacrifice their body and youth in order to maintain a roof over his family’s head.

So, what magnificent profession am I in; pest control. That’s right. I remember way back in high school when I made the promise to my sweetheart, Crystal. We were at prom when I proposed at the lake house me and a few of the boys were renting. There I was on one knee with a ring in a box as I optimistically promised that young woman the world and every luxury that it holds. The speech was beautiful, a real tearjerker, and I meant every single word of it. Well, I thought I did, but back then I was full of piss and vinegar and still believed the lie that parents and teachers tell us our whole lives; that I can be anything in the world. What they fail to tell is that the world is a predatory environment where the working class gets constantly f*****g up the a*s. The American dream is called a dream because you need to be asleep in order to believe it and before I knew it I had woken up up and found myself neck deep in rodent carcasses.

Still, we weren’t doing all that bad. During the recession I miraculously maintained a steady customer base where I earned a respectable reputation for my business, which allowed me to put a down payment on a pretty nice two-story home in the Glen Pine suburban development. Half of my customers would f*****g slit their own mother’s throat for the chance to live in my home. And all the essentials of life are paid for, utility bills remain current and the refrigerator stays full to feed my wife and two children.

The problem is that it’s never enough. We live in a capitalist, media infused society where we are born and bred to be consumers. The economy and wealth of the nation lies on us making stupid purchases and commercials and social media have given rise to selling to our families a materialistic life that ensures that the American middle-class dwells in a revolving door of perpetual debt. My credit scores is garbage, and my family has more than most but like I said it’s never enough and who do you think has to deal with the attitudes and ridicule because I cannot make good on a promise made by a horny kid at prom?

Family is what really kills the middle class.

Needless to say, my sixteen hours a day kicking the asses of pests really casts a dark cloud over my life. I avoid going home so that the gang of ingrates can’t b***h and whine about how difficult their first world problems are. I’m sorry that I can’t give my teenage daughters a wardrobe of brand name clothing along with the latest and greatest smart phone because it costs over a grand. I’m sorry that my wife is unable to buy another goddamn designer purse or a brand-new car so she can drive to the mall every week and piss her allowance away.

Suck it up buttercup because this gravy train is maxed the f**k out and truth be told, with all the bulging waistlines in this household, it should serve as sufficient evidence that nobody is neglected.  Nobody’s starving, forced to make a package of ramen noodles last a month like the low-income families who must resort to public housing. And of all the fat asses in the house, mine included, nobody has got Crystal beat. At prom I proposed to a sexy hard body and yes, I put on about twenty pounds since those days but at least I don’t resemble a menopausal Jabba the Hutt. There should be an obesity clause in marriage certificates besides suicide.

If I didn’t have a place to unwind, I’d have already taken a high-powered carbine to the local mall and taken out a dozen or so soccer moms, yuppie dads and spoiled brats. I’d empty countless magazines into their gelatinous blubber as I interrupted their grotesque ritual of gorging themselves on grease and fat and when the carnage ended, and the SWAT team finally burst past my barricade I’d happily put the barrel into my mouth and welcome oblivion. And as for all your holy rollers who are concerned for my soul being damned to Hell because I committed a mortal sin, I say f**k you and f**k God. I don’t care how much Jesus suffered on the cross, Golgotha ain’t got s**t on the abuse I must endure at the hands of my own neurotic offspring.

I needed to find a place where a family man who’s fucked up his life can drink in peace. This place had to be unconcerned with my FICO score and still allow me a safe place where I can sit and drink my frustrations away. What I needed was the perfect bar where every man is treated as an equal, where the worker can b***h about how hard we have it. I needed a nonjudgmental place with a drab atmosphere full of shitbags who are equally worthless as a middle-class pest exterminator. I found this place in Joey’s Tavern, and I’ve never left since.

Every night the asses of working stiffs plop onto those splintered bar stools where they order pint after pint of that golden water. Misery loves company and its never lonely here. We all got a story, a pain in the a*s family and a grudge against…well, everything. Here we can be among our own worthless breed and b***h all night between gulps of beer and shots of whiskey. That’s right, I’m a raging alcoholic and proud of it because without liquor I’d already be a murder suicide statistic. Suffering is my lot in life, and Joey’s Tavern makes it sting just a little less.

Crystal took the little ingrates to her mother’s house for the weekend. Ever since our marriage started falling apart, she spends so much time there and I couldn’t be happier. Had she not turned into a sweaty fat f**k, I’d worry that she’d divorce me? It’s not that I want her, but if she leaves, she will take half of my earnings with her. She’s not stupid though, the nasty c**t knows that I spoil her, and she needs someone to pay her way through life. Single blimps like her won’t find a man worth a s**t, especially not an earner like me. It would f*****g kill her to drop from her middle-class housewife status. Sometimes I want to divorce her just so I can watch the maggot living in a roach infested ghetto, one of the complexes that I am paid to fumigate so that I can bask in the misery brought to her by poverty.

With the house empty and all to myself, why not spend my weekends pissing away dollars at the bar?

The night began like most endless conversations in small groups of rednecks scattered all about. Topics were divisive, but typically all participants harbored the same negative views regarding immigrants and blacks. A big topic was the Islamization of Banner Creek and although there were only two towel head families to move here, our white Christian population acted like our town had become ground zero for ISIS recruitment. At first, I intoxicated myself in the banter and cussing, that is until I saw something alien to this establishment, a beautiful woman.

As she passed by, I found myself lost in a blur of blond hair. She had swept me up in an aura of sweet-smelling perfume which had been strategically spritzed on her gorgeous frame. I don’t have the skills of a poet, so I am unable to do this woman justice in describing how perfect she was.

The woman was in her twenties, a short, voluptuous Hispanic with beautiful bronze skin and a flat belly. She had the sexiest lips and a set of plump, perky tits packaged with all the lusty curves a man can handle. To top it all off, her mesmerizing torso bled into a pair of well-defined hips and a thick, athletic booty which demanded worship.

The Latin goddess had no good reason to be here, she was so far out of place in this piss stinking hovel. She had to be looking for someone to treat her, to admire and keep her warm tonight. Every man in this place had to go home to the wives. For them there was nothing to gain from trying to except developing the worst case of blue balls, that is except for me that is. The family was two hours away and seeing that I was the only man who was capable of sealing the deal, I made the decision to satisfy my growing hunger for Mexican p***y.

“Hey there beautiful, the name’s Chad. Do you got a name?”

“Ivelisse, but you can call me Evie.”

She had a tiny voice that sounded like it was strummed out on the harps of angels. I ask to buy her a drink, which she eagerly accepted while inviting me to sit down and join her. I listened as she told me her story of growing up in Puerto Rico before moving to Queens, New York and eventually settling with her parents in Banner Creek. Lucky for me her parents went back to Puerto Rico and left her their mobile home where she spends much of her time painting and earning money as a social media model and personality. Honestly, I couldn’t really care less but I had been roped in by her accent as every word she spoke made my dick hard.

“It’s getting late.” Evie said as she glanced down at her phone.

“Is it past your bedtime?” She giggled at this and shot me a seductive look with those sexy brown peepers.

“Not really…tell you what, how’d’you like to take a girl home?”

Immediately, I rushed to the bar to pay Joe when he stopped me. At the door Evie was studying her window reflection as she applied a fresh coat of lipstick and as Joe handed me the money, he snapped his fingers to direct my attention towards him.

“Hey Chad.” he whispered. Annoyed, I turned to him with a killing glare.

“What the f**k could you possible want?”

He paused for a moment before shaking his head, dismissing the thought. “Just…just be careful with that one tonight, ok?”

Be careful? What had gotten into this a*****e? He was perhaps the biggest misogynistic pig in all of Banner Creek yet here he was telling me to be careful. I rolled my eyes and took my little taco by the hand. My head was drowning in perverted fantasies the entire ride as I engaged in meaningless chatter and patiently waited for the paradise Evie would offer once we got into her home.

She lived in a trailer park and her place was kind of a dump, but what did I f*****g care? She could have lived in a tent neighboring a septic processing plant for all I cared. In the living room, she pulled a baggie of crystal shards from between her breasts and asked if I got high. Not usually but I was open to anything, so I joined her in sniffing the lines of meth she cut out on the glass coffee table.

Evie dimmed the lights and instructed me to sit on the sofa. She began to dance, swinging her a*s around and slowly removing her blouse and bra. At first, I just sat there and took in the beauty of her breasts, but she broke the moment as she climbed on top of me. I wrapped my mouth around those large brown n*****s while running my hands down her lower back and onto her butt cheeks. She quickly peeled off her skirt to reveal a lacey thong. She stood up and turned around, planting my face between those fat cheeks while demanding I lick her a*s.

Eagerly I ran my tongue up and down the crack of her a*s, sucking on each cheek before gently poking her a*****e with my tongue. Evie moaned and started to speak Spanish as I sucked and licked that pretty pink opening. I removed her underwear when she instructed me to close my eyes and I obeyed.

I felt her tugging at my zipper before gently pulling my c**k out. Using her saliva as lubricant, she gently slid her hand up and down the shaft, slowly at first but quickly picking up the speed.

“Papi, I want to feel you in my culo, you think you can handle that?”

“What’s that mean?” I asked with a faint idea of what she meant.

She leaned close, pressing her lips against my ear and let out a soft breath before whispering, “It means I want you to stick that fat dick up my tight a*s, Papi.”

I felt her position herself, planting her feet firmly on the couch next to my thighs where she slowly lowered her body onto my c**k. Little at a time I fed my bone to her a*s until it swallowed every inch and she was sitting on my lap. At first, she took it slow, but it didn’t take long for her to kick it into gear. Suddenly she was bouncing up and down on my crotch like a seasoned porn star while she screamed and moaned.

I grabbed her by the waist and used it to control her movements. After a while I moved my hands to the front where I planned to plant my fingers into her soaking wet c**t… and then suddenly I stopped. Instantly I opened my eyes and found myself now staring at her sweat drenched bronze back with a thousand-yard stare. This absent look was the same one I’d seen on veterans at the bar while they sat quietly, reliving the trauma of war inside their heads. There was a sharp pain in my chest and at first, I thought it was a heart attack, but it was panic, and fear caused by what my horny little hands discovered between Evie’s thick thighs. I didn’t find a damp p***y to finger, instead I found my course hands wrapped around a big fat dick.

Evie was not a real woman, she was transgender, a f*****g shemale. This must have been what Joe was trying to warn me of but instead he let me walk into the lion’s den and now I had my c**k stuck up some f****t’s a*s. Evie had preyed on an emotionally unstable man and conned him into joining the homo brigade. I could only imagine the laughs being had by the men back at the bar.

“Yes Papi, stroke my c**k, make mama cum.”

My head was flooded with a thousand thoughts at once as I imagined my wife and kids discovering that the man of the house was nothing more than some limp wrist butt pirate. Even if Joe kept the whole thing a secret and didn’t open his big f*****g mouth, I still had to trust Evie not to brag to her f****t friends down at the Thirsty Whale Club, or Joey’s Tavern for that matter. My religious customers would drop their accounts faster than this shemale c**t was dropping her a*s on my lap, and before I knew it, I’d be losing my house. Then Crystal would leave me, take half of my business and money and piss it all away while I shuffled out child support working at the local diner as a line cook.

F**k that! Yeah, my life was sad and pathetic, but I f*****g worked hard for it and I wasn’t about to let some tranny take it all away from me. There was no way that I was going to lose everything. I bolted up from the sofa, launching Evie off my lap and crashing through the glass of her coffee table. She laid there crying, covered in blood and begging me to call her an ambulance. Yeah, sure b***h, I’ll get right on it. Instead, I grabbed a heavy metal ashtray off the ground and positioned it above my head.

“I’m not a goddamn f****t!”

With all my strength I brought the object down, smashing the back of her head. I repeated the motion over and over until her skull shattered into a million fragments and her pink brain matter began to seep out, blood dying her blond hair red. An animalistic instinct took over, and the brutality continued while blood sprayed all over my body. I screamed like a f*****g lunatic with each hard smack until I realized that I had pulverized her skull and was now hitting the wooden floor.

Slowly, I purged myself of the murderous rage that had led to Evie’s death. I took in deep breaths while clearing my head, gradually returning to a sobering state of clarity. There was a corpse on the floor, and I am responsible for it, and unless I want my secret to leak, I had to act.

I wrapped the body in a blanket and dropped it in the bed of my truck. After cleaning up the blood and broken glass, I stopped home to picked up a shovel before heading out to Cedar Rock. Driven by a survival instinct I quickly dug a hole in the dirt before dumping Evie’s broken body inside.  

“I’m sorry for how the night ended. For what it’s worth, I want to thank you for trying to help out a lost soul. May you find peace in death.”

The sun reluctantly rose behind the mountains as I pulled into town. I had worked myself to near exhaustion and wanted nothing more than to go home and pass out, but there was still something that I had to do.

I pulled into a driveway where I put the truck in park and softly killed the engine. For a moment I stared at the house belonging to Joe and his family, preparing myself for what had to be done. Gradually, I let the rage return from that dark place. When ready, I made my way up the walkway to the front door. Clutching a knife in my right hand, I rang the doorbell. A light came on in the front hall as the door swung open to a world of horror.