JESSICA

I had just turned 17, or maybe I was just about to--I can't remember. I was working at a grocery store, and I was having a cigarette on my break, standing on front of the store. From a car that's sitting there comes the voice of a little kid.

"Hey boy!"

I look down at the kid that's yelling at me.

"Yeah?" I say.

"My mom wants to know your name," she said, and behind her from my perspective, sitting in the front seat, the mom's getting embarrassed.

"Don't say that to him," but she looks at me and smiles. "Hi."

"Hi. I'm Nate."

"I'm Jessica." We shook hand over her daughter. "Now, look I'm not trying to hit on you or anything." And then she quit talking for a while. I didn't say anything. Truthfully I didn't care if she was hitting on me or not. She wasn't very pretty. She was pretty enough, but in an older way. I guessed her at about 30, and not very well preserved for that.

She must have noticed the odd way I smoke cigarettes because she said, "Need a lot of nicotine, huh?" At the time I smoked Newport 100s, about the harshest cigarette there is, and I took out the filters before I smoked them.

"Yeah-got to get that nicotine, it's the breakfast of champions." Women love to hear shit like that.

"Do you smoke good buds?"

"Well, I try to."

"I've got some great buds at my house, you want to come over and smoke?"

"Well, when I get off work, okay."

"I'm not trying to hit on you or anything, I just moved here, and I don't know anybody but-" Right then a raggedy looking black guy came and got in the car with her. "You get what you needed?" she said to him.

"Yeah." To me she said, "Well, what time do you get off?"

"Uh…10:30."

"I'll pick you up, okay?"

"Sounds good."

At 10:30 I get off and begin walking home. I forgot what her car looked like and I figured if she really was there she'd find me. She did. I heard a horn blast a couple times before I turned and looked-she yelled out "What's up?"

Her daughter wasn't with her. She had changed from dirty sweatpants and a T-shirt to a nice black skirt. I thought she had nice legs. But her face was somehow less attractive. There seemed to be little dots all over it, but when I tried to focus on them they disappeared.

"So, once again, I'm not trying to hit on you or anything." Which she obviously was. "I just moved to Gainesville, right, and I'm living in Cedar Ridge, which is like, ghetto central, you know? My neighborhood's full of crazies, and I just don't know anybody at all. I'm going to Community College, okay, and I'm just like, sick of hanging out with all these 18 and 19 year olds."

"Well, how old do you think I am?"

"I mean, probably 17 or 18, but like, you've-"

"17" or maybe I said 16 cause like I said I can't remember which it was.

"17? Okay, but you've got like a mature way you hold yourself or something."

Yeah. Okay. "Well, how old are you?"

"I'm 24."

Back at her house her daughter was asleep in a chair in the living room. We sat down on the couch, she pulled out a bag of weed, and I packed her pipe while she got a bottle of Sangria. We drank and smoked and talked. She did most of the talking. She repeated the fascinating tale of how she'd moved to Gainesville recently, and didn't know anybody yet except the people who lived in the ghetto where she lived. But it wasn't a real ghetto--just the medium-sized town equivalent--a large apartment complex that attracted lower income people. On the same block was a complex where rich college kids live, and across the street from that one were luxury houses.

While we sat there smoking a bunch of black guys in the neighborhood kept knocking on the door. She said they all wanted to fuck her and they might try and scare me somehow. I wasn't scared. I came to this same ghetto to buy weed occasionally. Eventually she let a couple of them in, but I forget why because she seemed to really hate them. They came in and asked for something to drink. One guy was holding a butter knife for no reason at all. Another guy looked about 11 years old. Jessica offered him some Sangria, and he said "No, I been drinkin some Thundabird-I don't like to mix my liquors." I was amazed at the sophisticated knowledge of drink this 11-year-old had.

They left and she told me the kid was actually about 15, and that seemed like a better age to know that much about alcohol. I couldn't get over how he looked 11, though.

Me: "Hey, why did that guy have that butter knife with him?"

Jessica: "Oh, I don't fuckin know, that guy's a damn crackhead."

Me: "Yeah?"

Jessica: "Yeah. He just got on it like, a week ago. And he's just been acting really weird lately, like he just runs around yelling 'Smokey!' like, you know from Friday, the crackhead in that? And he'll carry that knife around all the time, like he's gonna do anything with a butter knife. Yeah, his parents called the cops the other day on him."

Me: "What happened?"

Jessica: "The cops came and talked to him and they said they didn't notice anything strange about him. They said he was a very nice guy."

She kept saying "I'm not trying to hit on you or anything," but when she mentioned she needed to begin working out, I said "No way, you look great now--lookit, lookit this tummy of yours, nice and firm," and I started feeling her up, beginning at her stomach. Soon, the bottle of wine empty, about a quarter ounce of weed smoked between us, and with her daughter who was only 7 or 8 years younger than me asleep on the chair six feet away, we were kissing and dry humping.

She led me into the bedroom. I wanted the lights on, but she refused. We fucked in total darkness. I couldn't see her pussy in my face. It was great, in fact--the best sex I'd had so far and would have for a while. I have no idea what she really thought of it, being she was much more experienced than me.

The next day when I woke up the sun was out and light in the room was unavoidable. I finally got a good look at her. I winced and went back to sleep.

She woke me up later and said I could take a shower while she fixed us some breakfast. I didn't argue. I wasn't too keen on a morning fuck or a shower fuck with her.

I finished my shower and walked into the room. Her daughter just stared at me.

Jessica: "Oh, Jenny, we didn't do anything."

She gave me a ride home. Picture us parked in the parking lot of an apartment complex now.

Jessica: "Do you want to see me again?"

Me: "Yeah, I'd like that." I wasn't sure if I actually would.

Jessica: "Let me show you something before you decide." She pulled out her ID and showed it to me. Birthdate: 1966. She was 33 years old, twice as old as me.

Me: "Um…I don't know…..let me think. Come by my work soon, okay?"

Jessica: "Okay." I got out and went home. I never saw her again.

THE END

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