DollarDreadfuls.Com Presents:
A
Letter
2 The
DreadfulDares
GrandMaster
Nine O’Clock PickUp
By
Wallace Williamson
Copyright February 2011 by Wallace Williamson
Covers and artwork created by Wallace Williamson
All rights reserved
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Nine O’clock PickUp
I’m a deliveryman for, well let’s just say I work for one of the big-time companies you’d recognize right away if I was to tell you the name. But I better not because I’m still working for them and I want to keep my job. And when you finish reading this, I think you’ll see why. I know these letters are supposed to have something to do with the games, but that don’t really come in till the end, so stick it out and you’ll see what I mean.
I’d been on the job for about 2 years, ever since I got out of the Army and started going to college at night, before things got real interesting, if you know what I mean. Don’t get me wrong, though, because it was always a good job. You get to meet all kinds of folks, if only briefly.
When I first started, they told us all a whole lot of rules about how to deal with the customers and such, especially when going to people’s homes. Our city isn’t real big, but we have 2 big colleges and I think that makes it feel bigger than it really is. So anyway, on top of all these rules and whatnot, all the old timers are always just itching to tell you their stories. Scary customers and of course the sexy ones. In my first year, I had my share of wacky customers and I got my cage rattled a few times in the bad hoods, but nothing so as to make me want to dump the job. And it wasn’t until a few months into my second year that I really got to some real sexy stuff.
Up until The Naked Ladies Club, that’s what I call them and you’ll see why in a little bit, anyway up till then I hadn’t seen much skin, well not the kind I like anyway. Most folks don’t answer the door when I ring the bell or knock when delivering. See, most deliveries to homes don’t have to be signed for, not really. You’d be amazed at how many fat guys answer the door in a T-shirt and boxers. Most girls put on a robe though. I did get one chick in an apartment building who was wearing a tight nipple-hugger tank T and thong panties. Her face got as red as her thong when she saw I wasn’t her boyfriend.
Then I finally met my first naked lady. It was a home pick-up, scheduled between 9 and 10 in the morning on a Tuesday. I got there at 9:15. Nice house in a real upscale neighborhood. Lots of hedges and bushes around the front door. In fact, you couldn’t even see the front door from the street.
Now, that always makes me stop and think before I go in, because you just can’t never tell who’s going to be hiding in a place like that and waiting to jump you — hell, these days assholes will shoot you dead just for shits&grins. But like I said, this was a real upscale kind of place, and I decided to just be careful, and take my pepper spray. I didn’t close the iron gate behind me, but it swung shut on its own anyway. I checked and it wasn’t locked, and I didn’t see nothing handy to prop it open, so I just went on up the walk to the door and rang the bell. The walk made a 90-degree turn into a little courtyard with a few outdoor iron chairs scattered around a round iron table. I rang the bell twice before I heard the latch click. What I didn’t find out till later was that before she opened the front door, she electrically locked the iron gate I’d just come through. I watch out for that kind of thing now. I was smiling up at the big security camera when the door opened, and when I looked at her, my jaw must’ve dropped almost right down to my feet like a rock.
The lady opened the door fully and stood there smiling back at me, and wearing only expensive looking spiky heeled sandals and makeup that was so perfect that it must’ve been put on by a pro. She was older than me, maybe late thirties, but had a body that worked out frequently and looked like it knew just what to do. She was stacked and packed, believe you me. Really gorgeous. The first real-live true-life blond I ever saw at both ends. And after a good little bit for me to get my eyes full, she turned and walked a little ways back into the hall, just so that I could watch her firm butt wiggle, and got the flat for me. By the time she got back to the door, I was well on my way to Woodsville, if you catch my drift. She handed me the package, leaned close to sign the receipt, and said, “Hope to see more of you.”
She stood there smiling at me as I walked down the L shaped walkway and turned towards the gate and out of sight of her. Just before I got to the iron gate I heard the lock open with a sharp crack and didn’t even think about it until quite some time later. I did notice that the flat she’d handed me smelled as good as she did, and I thought, “Man, have I got a story to tell the guys!”
But I never did.
I don’t know why.
But I just kind of held on to it without even thinking about why. It didn’t even occur to me that some of the other guys, and maybe even girls, might be doing the same thing. Couple of weeks later, I got another pick-up at the same address. Believe you me, I was there at 9 AM sharp as a tack!
To tell the truth, I didn’t really expect for the same thing to happen again. I hoped it would — hoped like hell! — but I couldn’t believe I’d really be that lucky again. And of course when the door swung open after my second ring, (I heard the iron gate lock this time!) it wasn’t my blond naked lady I’d seen the first time.
This one was a redhead.
A real redhead.
I know because even though her bush was neatly trimmed, it was as fiery as the straight hair on her head!
This naked lady was what they call one of those timeless beauties. Past young, nowhere near old. She was a little bit taller than the first blond was, a little bit less filled out, smaller breasts and hips, but tight and firm everywhere my eyes went. And they went everywhere, believe you me!
Just like the blond, her makeup was so light and perfectly done that you couldn’t even hardly tell she was wearing any. She seemed a tiny bit nervous, nothing you could really put your finger on, but she was a little stiffer than the other naked lady was. She smiled like she was determined to do this thing even if she didn’t feel like it, and walked back to get the package I’d come for, and my Johnson was hard as a concrete fence post by the time she got back. She pretended not to notice, but I caught her eyes flicking to my bulge a few times as she signed my board. When she handed the electronic board back to me, she glanced down at my crotch and said in a soft, slightly shaky whisper, “Nice package.” Then she just stood there smiling at me as I left. Just before I turned the corner and lost sight of her I gave her a little wave, and she waved back.