Starbucks

Garth pulled out of Arnie and said, and not for the first time since his unexpected arrival, and with a grin, “Just like old times.

“Now go get me a towel, bitch, and wipe my dick clean.”

Arnie’s panties and pantyhose were down around his knees, a double figure-8 stretched wide. It was awkward. He had to grasp his fem underwear with a fist and waddle from bed to bathroom where, after wiping his crack clean, he was able to restore them to their normal waist-high height. His red lipstick was smeared, from sucking Garth’s cock, but that would have to wait. At least his brunette wig was still on straight, more or less.

“I changed my mind,” Garth declared, as Arnie returned with the damp towel. He was standing now, shoulders back, lower lip thrust out. “Ever since I got out of the joint I’ve been wanting to take hot showers. Take three or four of ‘em in a day in the motel. Sometimes I’ll just stand under the faucet,” meaning, presumably, the shower head, “till the hot water runs out.”

“You can…take a shower here if you want,” Arnie said tentatively, warily. “I’ll get you a towel.”

“You do that, kemosabe. Pronto.”

Arnie, bath towel in hand, stood just inside the master bath watching Garth’s naked, muscular, overly tattooed body turn in the shower, through the frosted glass. Now that Garth’s big cock was out of him Arnie, despite himself, was getting a hard on. He didn’t want Garth to see it, though, beneath the thin sandwiched layers of sheer nylon and microfiber. Arnie didn’t want to encourage him. Out of the blue and over the sound of water’s stream Garth said:

“I’m still healthy as ever, by the way.”

Arnie rolled his eyes. Now you tell me, he thought, Garth’s load of semen buried deep inside him. The question of condoms had not come up. It had all happened rather fast.

Arnie headed to the mirror to refresh his lipstick. Maybe that would take his mind off Garth’s body, and his cock, and his undeniable, ineluctable desire to be fucked again. Garth hadn’t been lying. He ran the shower until the water turned cold, and the wide mirrors were all fogged up. Arnie had to smear a space with his hand.

Garth handed the damp towel back. “Dry my back off for me,” and Arnie did, blotting his inked muscles with the wadded, grey towel. Arnie detested tattoos.

Garth dressed.

“Anymore of that Starbucks shit? Coffee?

“Sure.”

“That’s another thing. Ever since I got out I’ve had this craving for good coffee. Remember that shit they used to serve us in the joint?”

“I do,” Arnie said, tossing the used towel on the tile floor. He would pick it up later. “I’ll make another pot.”

“Do that,” Garth said, with another misshapen grin. “Like a good wifey…”

As the two sipped fresh coffee in the kitchen, Arnie standing in his stocking feet, Garth seated, the latter speculated, “Bet it’d be easy to knock one of them places off.”

Arnie’s slender body tensed. “What places?”

“A Starbucks. All those do-nothing, pussy-assed millennials hangin’ around?”

“I don’t think that’d be a good idea,” Arnie replied, thinking all the while: That’s the understatement of the fucking year!

“Why not?”

“Cause you’d end up back in prison for one thing.”

“Not if we did it right.”

“We?”

“OK, me.”

“For another thing,” Arnie went on, amazing himself that he was even discussing this, “you know how crowded those places are, day and night?”

“So? Banks are crowded.”

“Not like this.”

Garth blew dismissive air. “Think about all the money they take in. You wait till after dark…”

“But it’s not real money,” Arnie explained. “Everybody at Starbucks pays with a credit card. Or with their phones.”

Garth looked up. “Whatayou mean their phones?”

“Their smart phones. It’s an app. You just wave it across the credit card machine, or whatever.”

Garth sipped his coffee. “Fucking blowhards…”

Arnie stood there, ankles crossed, dressed fem, in women’s underwear anyway, trying to recollect just how long Garth had been in the joint. Pre-cell phones? Before they got really “smart” at any rate? “Why are you even talking about such a thing, Garth?”

“What?”

“Robbing a store?”

“Quick cash.” Garth flashed another crooked grin: “Start-up money. Idn’t that what you entrepreneur types do? Raise start-up cash?”

“Not like that,” Arnie said dismissively.

“Yeah, right. Everything’s done nice and legal in your world. That’s why you did twentyeight months.”

“Twentysix.”

Garth shrugged. “Whatever. Robbing old ladies of their pensions…”

“I never stole any old lady’s pension, Garth.”

 “Well, whatever you did. It got you three years.”

A little over two, Arnie stood there thinking. Reduced by six months for good behavior. Though he decided not to correct the muscular 35-year-old sitting at his kitchen table. Let him think what he wants…

“You have to admit,” Garth said, holding out his coffee mug for a refill.

“What?”

“We had some good times.”

“In prison? I don’t remember them,” Arnie said, a bad taste in his mouth.

“Not even when you were getting laid? What a little slut you were.”

“Maybe by you,” Arnie conceded.

Garth set his mug down. He took his coffee black. He would’ve lit a cigarette up but decided that would be in bad taste. In a big, clean house like this? That was another fucking thing—you couldn’t smoke anywhere these days! Garth said, rather soberly:

“I had to loan you out to keep you safe, you know.”

“Me?”

Garth nodded. “There was only one of me and lots of them. I was only one person. Know what they do to guys like you in the joint?”

“Fuck ‘em?”

Garth laughed. “No, that’s best case. Coulda been a lot worse. A lot. As for the guard…,” Garth went on, looking Arnie’s long body up and down. He smiled. “How else was I gonna keep you in stockings and shit? And who else got private time in the showers so he—she—could shave her body? Razors? Are you shitting me? I had to keep him happy, you looking fem and all…so he’d smuggle in all the crap you needed to dress like a girl. It was…,” Garth struggled to think, while sipping more coffee, “…whata they call it? A vicious fucking circle.”

“Certainly not a virtuous one,” said Arnie.

“Huh?”

“Nothing.”

“Hey. How many times did you get fucked while in the joint? Ever add ‘em up?”

“By you?”

“By everybody.”

“I lost track,” Arnie said, that acrid taste returning to his mouth. And it wasn’t just the Starbucks coffee.

“Hundreds, I bet,” Garth estimated, with a surprising light in his eyes.

“Probably.”

“And over a dozen guys, if you include the guard.”

Arnie didn’t reply.

“Hell, I used to fuck your sissy ass just about every night…”

“Pretty often,” Arnie agreed.

“When you weren’t loaned out, I mean.”

“I preferred it with you.”

Garth’s dark eyes widened as he looked at Arnie. It was a voracious look. “I liked you too, you little slut,” he said. “Why do you think I looked you up?”

Arnie shuddered, inwardly. He thought he was done with prison. Done once and for all. Done with his cellmate Garth. Done with all the others. Done with everything except for the fem feelings revived in him the first time a man’s cock—Garth’s, in fact—penetrated him deeply, all the way in, and he, quite literally, saw stars. Stars, an infinite number of them, in the infinite darkness of space. Oh!

“I see you haven’t changed,” Garth said, with a seeming sneer.

“What do you mean?”

Garth gave Arnie the once over again. “I show up out of the blue. Ask you if you’re still dressing. You say yeah. I ask you t’dress for me. You come downstairs ten minutes later dressed like…this. A slut.

“Even your body’s shaved.”

Arnie forced a smile. “Some things never change…”

“Obviously. Mind if I smoke?”

“In the house?”

“No, out in the prison yard, asshole.”

“Oh. Well…”

It was a moot point. Muscle man had just lit up an unfiltered Camel. Old school. At least the burning tobacco smelled good—like a real cigarette.

“Or,” Garth said, the other shoe dropping, “instead of knocking a Starbucks or whatever off, you advance me a little loan. I’ll pay you back, don’t worry.”

Arnie’s arms had crossed beneath his empty bra cups. His bowed head was shaking. “Garth, I don’t think that’s such a good idea…”

“Why not?”

“Maybe a few bucks…”

“I was thinking more like a couple thousand.”

Arnie looked up, mouth open. “What?”

Garth refreshed his yellowed grin. “Payback for the protection. And for all the fucks. I’m letting you off easy. Ten bucks a fuck? What a deal…”

“Garth…That’s a lot of money…”

“Not for you. You’re rich.”

“I’m not rich. I just spent two years in prison. I’m catching up.”

“I just spent twelve, asshole. All I’m asking for is a couple thousand. Three, say. Or…I could go out and knock over a 7-11. They still have 7-11’s? Think of it this way, Sissy. You’d be rehabilitating me. Ain’t that what it’s all supposed to be about?”

Sissy.

Sissy, not Arnie, had been the name they all called him in prison. “Hey Sissy!” It had been humiliating—at first. But then, like all things, Arnie in his smuggled wig and makeup and women’s underwear…got used to it. Practically welcomed it. Especially as some guy’s flat abdomen and pubic hair rammed against his crack, yet another hard cock sliding deep in his well-used hole.

Arnie had gone for a physical after he got out of prison and when it came time for the prostate exam the doctor’s gloved middle finger had gone in him so easily, so readily, so roomily, it was like…nothing at all. Arnie had been going to this physician for years and now he wondered what the doctor must think of him. He was thinking, the doc…Arnold must’ve had a lot of anal sex during his prison stay. Or something. He even said to him, afterwards, the glove discarded:

“Do you practice safe sex?”

“Oh, yeah,” Arnie assured him.

“Well, your bloodwork came back fine. Cholesterol’s a little high, but…”

A relieved Arnie grinned. “Prison food…”

Now Arnie was no longer grinning, as unwanted grey cigarette smoke curled in the air. “Garth,” he started to repeat, “I don’t think—”

“And maybe you could put me up for a few weeks. A month. Two, tops. While I get back on my feet. Not like,” Garth said, glancing around the high-ceilinged first floor of Arnie’s house, “you ain’t got the room.”

Arnie frowned. Winced. It was a prolonged wince. “Garth…I don’t know. We’re not even supposed to be…”

“What?”

“Speaking to each other. Together. The requirements of my probation clearly state…No association with known criminals…”

Another grin. “Zat what I am to you? Nothing but a known criminal? After all the sex we had?”

“Well, you—”

“And who’s to know, slut? Your probation officer asks you…Where you living? You say…In my mansion.”

“It’s not a mansion.”

“My guy asks me. I tell him…In a halfway house. A fucking hostel. Who the fuck cares! They won’t know.”

“What if he pays me a visit?”

“And?”

“And you’re sitting in my kitchen having a smoke. I go back to prison.”

“You don’t go back to prison. I tell him…I stopped by. Old times’ sake. You let me in for a cup of coffee, that’s it. Felt sorry for me. Gave me a few bucks. I go on my way. A warning, that’s all.”

“They’ll trace the money.”

“It’s cash. You worry too much, Sissy. No law against withdrawing four thousand bucks, is there?”

“Now it’s four thousand?” Arnie was starting to sweat. It was running down from his shaved armpits to the chest straps of his bra.

A shrug. “Four would be nice. I passed a Starbucks on the way here. In this Uber crap? Playing Christian music on the radio. I didn’t even tip the motherfucker. Anyway, there’s a Starbucks out front. Big grocery store at the back. Lots of parking. You park at the grocery store. I go in, come out. We drive off. Here’s the killer,” Garth smiled. As if he’d just discovered how to turn lead into gold. “Big department store in the lot next door. Target or some shit? So here’s what we do. There’s an alley running behind the whole thing. You drive down the alley, back way, exit onto the highway. Interstate? We’re gone before they even know what hit ‘em.”

Sissy couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Shook her wigged head. “Garth…if I loan you all this money…”

“And it would be a loan.”

“Why would you need to rob a Starbucks?”

“Goddamn you’re stupid, Sissy. For a high-finance guy? So I could pay you back, asshole! Why do you think?”

“Garth…”

It was hopeless. The guy was either delusional or demented, one. Is that why they called them career criminals. Was it a sickness? An obsession? Like kinky sex? Arnie had to laugh. Like he would ever participate in a robbery. A getaway driver. An Accomplice. Get real, dude!

“What if…I gave you the money?” Arnie said.

“Gave?”

Arnie nodded.

“I wouldn’t have to pay you back?”

“I don’t want you robbing anybody.”

“It’d be fun!”

“We’d both end up back in prison.”

“What about staying here? Two months? Three, tops?” Grin. “How else are you gonna get laid all the time? Huh? You have a boyfriend?”

“No.”

“See?”

Arnie was out of arguments. Out of ammunition. Hadn’t Garth, the prick, just implicated him in a crime? What’d they call it? Accessory before the fact? Fuck. He was fucked…

“A couple of months,” Arnie agreed, with a muted sigh. “That’s all.”

Arnie’s teeth might be crooked, and yellowed, but at least he had a full mouth of them. Like a horse. And when you were down on your elbows and knees, ass in the air, it didn’t matter how he looked, facially. It was all about his body. It was all about his big balls and cock and his load. Oh!

“Gets you hard you little slut,” Garth observed, through nylon and microfiber.

“What?” Arnie asked. As if he didn’t know, looking down at himself. He felt, well, lost.

“Robbing that Starbucks.”

“Garth, that’s the worst idea in the world.”

“Turns you on, though.”

“No it doesn’t. It’s just that…”

“Come here, slut,” beckoning Arnie forward with a curling hand. “Know what I’ve never done?”

“No,” Arnie replied nervously, as he advanced.

“Sucked your little cock.”

“It’s not so…little,” Arnie said somewhat vainly.

“It’s long, I’ll give you that. Bring it here, slut. Bitch.”

And Arnie, breathing through his mouth, eyes elevated toward the kitchen ceiling, stood there as his former cellmate, and now roommate it seemed, and co-conspirator, yanked down his pantyhose and panties as one, and took his erection in his mouth.

To be truthful about it, Arnie—Sissy—didn’t like being sucked. After all, it wasn’t very fem was it? Plus, shooting his load turned Arnie into a typical male: he immediately lost interest afterwards. And Arnie—Sissy—in all her fem finery, liked to remain on edge. Horny in a girly, sissy, slutty kind of way. Wanting it. Wanting it up her ass again and again. Just like in prison.

Garth pulled back, Arnie’s penis falling out, and down, still swollen but going limp. His little balls abruptly emptied. She feeling quite like a he at this seminal, depleted moment.

Garth smiled—even before he swallowed.

“Cream with my coffee,” he said afterwards. “Cream with my coffee,” he repeated. “You’re a quick cummer.”

A breathless, very much confused Arnie, panties back up, emptied the pot in his former cellmate’s mug. As Garth said:

“So let’s drive to the bank here in a little bit. Get my cash. The Starbucks is on the way. We can check it out…”