Dude shifted from foot to foot as he stood by the front door of the Mistress’s trailer.  He knew she worked nights and slept during the day, but goddamn.  It was already afternoon.  How long did she need to sleep?  Could it take her any longer to get to the door?  After a minute or so, he brought his fist out from under his armpit, ready to start knocking again when he heard footfalls inside the residence.  He tucked his fist back under his arm and stared at the blinds.  One lifted up, then fell back down.  He knew she saw his ass.  If that knob wasn’t unlocked soon, he was going to shoot it off.  Right as those violent thoughts were forming, the door cracked open.  He didn’t see her standing in the dark trailer, but figured she was holding the door open for him from behind it.  Once he wandered in, the door was promptly shut and was locked behind him.  He watched her silhouette wander from the door over to the couch, where she flopped down and flipped on the lamp beside her.

“Since when do I get day visits?” she asked, voice husky with sleep as she reached for the cigarettes and lighter that she kept on the end table.  She looked exhausted with her hair bunched up in a messy ponytail and her glasses nowhere in sight.  It would be a surprise if anything at all was beneath the skimpy robe that was hastily tied in the middle.  Dude might have felt bad for disturbing her beauty sleep if she didn’t look so damn hot like this.

“Just thought I’d swing by…”

The truth was that he was going through some pretty rough withdrawals and was desperate for a fix.  He hadn’t been able to find anything just lying around, so he needed some money first.  He didn’t dare say that though.  Not yet, at least.  As worn out as she looked and as insane as she was when she was cranky, he knew better than to open with that.  Even with his brain hurting this bad, he figured he’d try to be sweet… at least until he got what he wanted.  She gave no reaction to his bullshit other than lighting her cigarette and taking a deep drag.

“Get me a beer,” she said, flicking her ashes into the tray beside her.  He walked over to the refrigerator at the edge of her kitchenette and pulled it open.  The sight inside was dismal, though better stocked than his own.  The door was lined with condiments.  There were a few empty-looking takeout containers and three bottles of cheap beer sitting on the shelf above the empty crisping drawers.  The sight of them had his dry mouth watering.  Looking over his shoulder, he tried to gauge her mood.  She was leaned back on the couch, rubbing her eyes with one hand and dangling the cigarette over the ashtray with the other.

“… Mind if I have one?” he asked.  She only shrugged without changing position.  He took that as a yes and grabbed two.  “Starting pretty early, huh?”

She dropped her hand from her face and shot him a look when he walked them over.  Feeling like a gentleman, he cracked it open before handing it to her. 

“The hell’s got you so chipper?” she mumbled while accepting it.

“Seeing my favorite girl.”  He dropped down to sit beside her on the couch, kick his boots up on her coffee table, and crack open the beer to take a long pull for himself.  It wasn’t great, but it felt good on his empty stomach.  He threw an arm on the back of the couch behind her.  “You got the day off, honey?”

“Nah.  Pregaming for my shift.”

Dude didn’t miss the sarcasm in her reply.  She was a huge bitch when she was tired— well, an even more of a bitch.  He watched her chug her beer, then chase it down with another drag of her smoke.

“Breakfast of champions,” he commented, unable to resist being a smartass.  His smirk grew as she groaned audibly.  After setting the half-empty beer on the table and the half-smoked cigarette in the tray, she rested her elbow on the armrest with her head propped up on her fist to look him over.  He took this as his chance to take her in.  The robe had fell open a bit and he got a nice eyeful of her tits.  “You always answer the door looking like that?”

“If you were anyone else, I wouldn’t have answered,” she replied.

“Aw, I feel special,” said Dude.  “You wanted to see me as bad as I wanted to see you?”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” she said, reaching for her beer again.  She gulped down a little more before bringing her fist to her lips to stifle as it tried to come back up.  “Usually, there’s something in it for me when you come over unannounced.  You’re either horny or you need something, so which is it?”

“You know me too well.”  Dude placed a hand on her knee and smoothed up her thigh, stopping only at the edge of the robe.  He looked at her over the frames of his shades and gave her a squeeze.  “If I said both?”

She rolled her eyes and shooed his hand away.  “Let me guess, you need a fix?”

“Now, why’s that your first assumption?”

“I dunno.  Maybe it’s those bloodshot eyes… Or the fact that it’s always the first thing you run out of.”

Dude exhaled, sinking into the couch.  He tried to make himself look as pathetic as possible.  She never could resist a charity case, after all.  She’s said it herself that she’s got a soft spot for strays.  After running a hand over his head, he looked back towards her.

“I’ll be honest with you,” he said.  “Haven’t had any in days and I’m hanging by a fucking thread.  Head’s pounding, hands shaking.  Feeling like my heart’s trying to fight the rest of me.  I’m desperate, baby.  Just need to hold a little ‘til my check comes in.”

He waited, hoping his attempt to ride that thin line between laying it on too thick and believability was successful.  The frown remained etched on his face, though that wasn’t a chore to fake when his temples were pounding like this.  What he didn’t expect was her to reach forward a little to pull the frames off his face.  Soft fingertips traced his jaw after she placed them on the back of the couch.  He couldn’t help but lean into her touch, even if he felt like she was just mapping his face to smack the shit out of him for bothering her with some bullshit.  When his eyes met hers, he could see the spark of mischief flicker in them.

“Poor baby,” she said while her thumb stroked his cheek.  “How much you need?”

Damn, really?  Dude had to fight back a smirk.  This sugar baby shit was easy.  He should have started screwing a rich bitch sooner.  A hint of a smirk was on her lips now as she waited for his answer.  He’d fucked her long enough to know her generosity came at a price.  The real question wasn’t about monetary value.  She wanted to know what kind of debt he was willing to get into with her.  It was a good question; one he had asked himself.

“About a hundred-fifty will last me,” he said.  That number might have been a bit higher than he could afford to pay back with cash, but it was worth a shot.

“A hundred and fifty dollars?” she asked.  She waited until he nodded before whistling.  “And I suppose you’re willing to do a hundred and fifty dollars’ worth of work for me to earn it?”

There was a subtle implication in her tone that sent all the blood straight south.  He wondered how much a hundred and fifty dollars’ worth of dick was to her.  He was sure he could handle it, even if it did require him to go at it for a few days.

“Anything, honey,” he said, rubbing his hand up her thigh.  “I’m down to do anything you ask.”

Her thumb swiped over his cheek one more time before she leaned back and tossed one leg over the other.  The robe was riding dangerously high now.  He could see the curve of her ass as she reached for her beer and brought it to her lips.  She didn’t sip it just yet.  She let it hover in front of her mouth as she cut her eyes to the side.

“Haven’t had a chance to wash my dishes,” she said, tilting her head towards the kitchenette.  “Maybe you could start with those.”

Dude’s face fell as he looked over and spotted the mountain of dishes that were piled in the sink.  She had to be fucking kidding.  Pots, pans, cups, bowls, and plates stacked high.  No doubt that silverware was hiding out of sight.  Did this bitch even eat at home?  He swore she lived off take out.  How the fuck did she dirty so many dishes?  Gritting his teeth, he looked back over at her, laying languidly on the couch with that smug ass look on her face that he wanted to smack off.  It’d be nothing for him to knock her the fuck out and just dig in that panty drawer of hers for the stash of cash she kept in there.  The only thing stopping him from going through with that was the knowledge that one stunt like that and the well would dry up… if she didn’t find and kill him with her own hands first.  Whether he liked it or not, he was in her debt at this point.  Fooling with her had become a full-time job.

“Of course, honey,” he said, but he couldn’t keep his tone from dripping with disdain.  He shrugged off his coat and tossed it over the other arm of the couch.  After swiping his shades, he trudged over to the sink while sliding them back into place.  The pile looked even bigger when he stood in front of it, and he could see dried on food and worse caking the dishes.  With a sigh, he grabbed the yellow kitchen gloves that were draped over the edge of the counter and slid them on.  They were a tight fit, considering the fact his hands were about twice the size of hers.  He might just shoot up the entire trailer park if his finger touched an unidentified wet glob of food today with how nauseous he was already feeling, so they’d have to do.

“You look cute in those,” she commented from behind him.  “Wish I had an apron to put you in.”

After looking over his shoulder at her with a forced smile, he rolled his eyes and started moving the dishes out of the sink so he could fill it with water.  At least she was a flirty tyrant.  The Bitch would’ve just yelled at him to do it while throwing remotes and TV Guides in his direction the entire time.  And there wouldn’t be any money or crack or pussy involved, just more nagging.  He could deal with this.  Just grin and bear it.

It was difficult to work when he felt her eyes boring into him the entire time.  Any time he glanced back, she was over there smoking or sipping her beer while staring him down.  Was she waiting for him to fuck up and break a glass?  It wasn’t like he was working with fine china over here.  Nah… The way she was smirking to herself, she probably got off to making men slave for her.  He wanted to make a snide remark about her power trip, but decided against it.  Didn’t stop him from cussing her out in his head though.

Eventually, the filthy pile dwindled down to a few suds at the bottom of the sink and a drying rack full of spotless dishes.

“There,” said Dude, tugging the gloves off with a snap.  “Done.”

“With the dishes,” she replied.  “Grab that bucket of supplies from under the sink and go tidy up the bathroom.”

He sucked his teeth.  “Do you ever clean around here?”

After a long drag off her cigarette, she blew the smoke in his direction.  “Usually do on my days off…  Damn, if you would’ve showed up about an hour or two later, I might not have had any work for you.”

“Lucky me,” he grumbled, but flung open the door to the cabinet and grabbed the pail that held her cleaning products.  As he straightened up, a thought crossed his mind.  He leaned back against the counter.  “You know, if you went ahead and got me crack, this place would be gleaming, sweetie.  I’d be on my knees with a toothbrush cleaning grout for hours.  The toilet bowl’d be so clean you could eat soup out of it.”

She barked a laugh at this.

“Oh, I’m sure…  Maybe another time, ‘cause I don’t need all that today.  The sooner you quit stalling, the sooner you can get your fix.”

He exhaled and rubbed the bridge beneath his shades.  Shit, he really thought that’d work.  Silly him.  He forgot how much of a sadistic megalomaniac she could be.

“Right,” he mumbled, snatching the bucket up and disappearing into the bathroom.

The next few hours went much like this.  He’d finish one task; she’d find another.  After the bathroom, it was her bedroom.  The sheets needed to be swapped and the dirty clothes needed to be gathered.  Next, she had him collect, bag up, and take out the trash that lurked in every corner of the trailer—separating the glass, plastic, and cans into different bags, of course.  How could one grown woman who was barely at home long enough to sleep make such a fucking mess?  He knew she was the furthest someone could be from housewife material, but goddamn.

Dude’s patience had worn thin by the time he went to load her clothes in the washing machine.  He didn’t bother separating shit, just taking handfuls of lingerie, t-shirts, and skimpy bottoms out of the basket he balanced on his hip and shoving them into the washer.  When the basket was empty, he dropped it to the ground and nudged it out of the way with his foot, maybe with a little more force than necessary.  His hands shook as he measured out detergent into the cap, then poured it in; whether it was from withdrawals or agitation was anyone’s guess at this point.

“Here.  Wash these too.”

Dude looked over in the middle of shutting the lid, only to be hit in the face with a small bundle of cloth.  With a grumble, he leaned down to pick it up.  The fact that it was a pair of panties, slightly warm from just being removed from her body, didn’t register to him after scooping up so many pairs over the course of the afternoon.  Without sparing it a thought, he threw back the lid of the washing machine and tossed the article inside with the rest of the load.

“Any other last-minute additions?” he mumbled.

She didn’t say anything as her eyes scanned him.  “Wanna throw yours in there while you’re at it?”

“Nah, I’m good.”

She rolled her eyes, crossing her arms as she leaned back on the couch.  “Guess that’s it then.”

With her confirmation, he shut the lid on the washing machine once again and began the wash.

“What next, your majesty?”

“Awfully fucking bitchy for someone begging me for cash,” she said.  “Have you eaten today?  I’m sure you’ve worked up an appetite by now.”

Dude scrubbed his face.  If she asked him to cook, he was going to burn everything to the ground in the process.

“No,” he said through gritted teeth.  “I haven’t eaten.”

She curled a finger at him, beckoning him over.  “Come here.”

With a deep breath, Dude dropped the hand that had been holding his face and walked over.  He stood before where she sat on the couch.

“Knees.”

He dropped to his knees in front of her, figuring she was just too lazy to stand herself and hated straining her neck to talk to him.  She adjusted her position when he got down there, spreading her legs to rest on either side on him.  The robe fell open from that motion and exposed her to him.  He glanced down between her legs, but didn’t dare to stare.  She was probably just trying to rile him up before making him go outside and trim the hedges with a pair of scissors.  As he ruminated on hypothetical next tasks, she reached over to grab the phone off the coffee table behind him, letting the boobs that barely remained in her robe brush past his face on the way.  His eye twitched and he grit his teeth so hard they could’ve cracked.  If looks could kill, his would have been a rocket launcher as he watched her lean back and begin smugly punching a few buttons of the handset.  She eventually looked up at him just sitting there, impatiently waiting for his next orders.

“You gonna eat or what?” she asked, gesturing between her legs.  “Hate for the pizza guy to show up while you’re still working on the appetizer.”

Breathing through his nose, Dude lowered his face to her lap.  A glance up and he caught her nodding at him to proceed.  After another breath, his mouth was upon her.  Her leg hooked over his shoulder the moment she felt his lips and a sigh escaped her when his tongue slithered through her folds.  She melted against the couch.  One arm slung over the back and the other brought the phone to her ear.  Even with her thighs sandwiching his head, he heard the faint ringing come from the receiver.

“Hey, good afternoon.  Can I get one large Sausage Party and one Cheesus Crust…?”

The sound of her placing a fucking delivery order made Dude pause.  It was terrifying that she could keep her voice steady with someone lapping her clit.  The moment his mouth quit moving, she was quick to reach down and tug his hair.  The look she shot him after he grunted made him shut up and resume eating her out.

“Mm… Yep.  Oh, by the way… Is Terry working?” she asked, then waited for a response.  She hummed at the answer.  “Great.  Can you get him to bring extra parmesan…?  Perfect, thanks.”

The call ended and she tossed the phone to the other side of the couch.  Her head fell back and her hips angled upwards.

“Thirty minutes,” she breathed, combing her fingers through his hair.  “Finish me off by then, I’ll let you have the drugs and the money…  And I’ll throw in a hot meal.”

Dude’s eyes widened behind his shades and his breathing hitched.  Money, drugs, and dinner?  Shit, he was going to use the money to buy the drugs and food.  With newfound vigor, he gripped the underside of her thighs.  Maybe he could put up with her shit a little longer…