| Mature Fiction posted October 23, 2008 |
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ZeeZee ends up in a cheezy state.
Minor Details in the life of ZeeZee
by zeezeewriter
The author has placed a warning on this post for language.
The author has placed a warning on this post for sexual content.
The first words out of his mouth were, “Zee, what in the hell are you doing out here?”
Sloan cuts to the chase with conversation and copulation. I like that in a man.
“Waiting,” I answered, as I rearranged my butt on the tree stump I’d been sitting on for the last hour.
“For what, a limo to pull up?”
“No, I’m waiting for your big hairy ass to come and rescue me.”
I watched him look around, his eyes following the path. I could almost read his mind. He stayed in the boat, as if touching the ground with his feet would be too painful.
“Why here Zee?”
“Why not here?” I answered. “I like this place. Lots of lovely memories.”
Back in the day, Sloan owned this piece of land and the log cabin at the end of the path. Owned, as in past tense. It was his link to his sanity; his place to run to when life became too painful. Many bodies were buried here, bodies of hate and anguish and torment. He buried his own body here, let the banks foreclose and rowed away for what he thought was the last time. I bought his santuary ... a lifetime ago.
“What the fuck are you doing in Wisconsin? You hate Wisconsin,” he said as he continued to look up the path towards the cabin.
“I do not hate Wisconsin. I just don’t care to spend any time in the state of Wisconsin. The smell of cheese upsets my stomach. Did you bring the Vodka?”
“Sorry Sweetie, I was too busy trying to respond to your convoluted S.O.S.
“Pretty big word for you, Sloan, convoluted.” I said to him, as he pulled off his shoes and socks and waded to shore.
“I did manage to learn a few things from you, but the word convoluted was not one of them,” he said.
He refused to mention the oddity of our location. I liked that about him. Licking wounds had never been a pastime for Sloan.
“What’s that noise?” I asked, as he approached.
“What noise?”
“That constant, irritating, noise, I’ve been forced to listen to for the last hour; listen ... shhh ... there.”
“That would be a cricket, Zee,” He said, as he joined me on a rock next to my stump.
“A cricket?”
“Yes,” he answered.
“A male cricket. They rub their legs together to attract a mate.”
“And that works for them?”
“Apparently.”
“I used to love the way you rubbed your legs against mine,” I cooed at him.
“Stop it, Zee, you’re making the crickets blush. Now ... let’s get the fuck out of here.”
“We can’t just yet.”
“And ... why not?”
“Him,” I said, pointing in the direction of the cabin.
Sloan looked over at the lump next to the trees.
“What the ...?”
“He’s dead.”
“Jesus Fucking Christ, Lady. You could have mentioned that when you called me.”
He was upset. I hated when he got upset. His neck turned red and angry.
“What ... and ruin the surprise? Me thinks he had a heart attack.”
He walked over to the young man; currently a dead young man.
“That would explain his pants around his ankles?”
“No silly ... he pulled his own pants down around his ankles.”
“Before or after he wrapped his tie around his own neck three times and tied it in a noose?”
“Oh ... you noticed. A mere fetish. Who would have ever known?”
“His wife? He’s got a ring on his left hand.”
“A minor detail,” I said, as I flashed him a quick glimpse of my garter belt.
He ignored my attempt to seduce him and I hated the idea of wasting a good pair of black stockings due to a minor glitch. My motto: Carpe Penis, seize the opportunity to get laid.
“So what are you going to do with his body?’ he asked.
“Gee, I thought you would handle that little detail, otherwise, I could have called Q to pick me up.”
“Of course, how silly of me,” He snipped.
“Let’s not get your prize lapdog’s hands soiled.”
I crossed and uncrossed my legs. “My thoughts exactly.”
“You know, you could have rowed yourself out of here and left the body.”
“You must be kidding. I do not row.”
“So, who is this former hard-on?”
“Him? No one special. Just Ms. O’s personal chef. I wanted to show him a mushroom patch; at least that was my ploy. I did show him a patch. We discussed herbs and spices and a very hot conversation ensued. One thing led to another and he asked me to lift up on his tie to heighten his enjoyment. Apparently, I don’t know my own strength.”
“Look closer,” Sloan said, as he moved over the body.
“Where?”
“Right here ... on his left nut. The one the size of a grapefruit.”
“Jeepers, Sloan. He didn’t start out with balls that size, I would have noticed. I like balls. I pay special attention to them.”
“Snake bite.”
“A SNAKE! ... You must be kidding,” I shrieked.
I could hear him in the distance. “Where you headed, Zee? Zee Zee ... come back ... I thought you didn’t know how to row? ZEE ZEE ... STOP!”
The first words out of his mouth were, “Zee, what in the hell are you doing out here?”
Sloan cuts to the chase with conversation and copulation. I like that in a man.
“Waiting,” I answered, as I rearranged my butt on the tree stump I’d been sitting on for the last hour.
“For what, a limo to pull up?”
“No, I’m waiting for your big hairy ass to come and rescue me.”
I watched him look around, his eyes following the path. I could almost read his mind. He stayed in the boat, as if touching the ground with his feet would be too painful.
“Why here Zee?”
“Why not here?” I answered. “I like this place. Lots of lovely memories.”
Back in the day, Sloan owned this piece of land and the log cabin at the end of the path. Owned, as in past tense. It was his link to his sanity; his place to run to when life became too painful. Many bodies were buried here, bodies of hate and anguish and torment. He buried his own body here, let the banks foreclose and rowed away for what he thought was the last time. I bought his santuary ... a lifetime ago.
“What the fuck are you doing in Wisconsin? You hate Wisconsin,” he said as he continued to look up the path towards the cabin.
“I do not hate Wisconsin. I just don’t care to spend any time in the state of Wisconsin. The smell of cheese upsets my stomach. Did you bring the Vodka?”
“Sorry Sweetie, I was too busy trying to respond to your convoluted S.O.S.
“Pretty big word for you, Sloan, convoluted.” I said to him, as he pulled off his shoes and socks and waded to shore.
“I did manage to learn a few things from you, but the word convoluted was not one of them,” he said.
He refused to mention the oddity of our location. I liked that about him. Licking wounds had never been a pastime for Sloan.
“What’s that noise?” I asked, as he approached.
“What noise?”
“That constant, irritating, noise, I’ve been forced to listen to for the last hour; listen ... shhh ... there.”
“That would be a cricket, Zee,” He said, as he joined me on a rock next to my stump.
“A cricket?”
“Yes,” he answered.
“A male cricket. They rub their legs together to attract a mate.”
“And that works for them?”
“Apparently.”
“I used to love the way you rubbed your legs against mine,” I cooed at him.
“Stop it, Zee, you’re making the crickets blush. Now ... let’s get the fuck out of here.”
“We can’t just yet.”
“And ... why not?”
“Him,” I said, pointing in the direction of the cabin.
Sloan looked over at the lump next to the trees.
“What the ...?”
“He’s dead.”
“Jesus Fucking Christ, Lady. You could have mentioned that when you called me.”
He was upset. I hated when he got upset. His neck turned red and angry.
“What ... and ruin the surprise? Me thinks he had a heart attack.”
He walked over to the young man; currently a dead young man.
“That would explain his pants around his ankles?”
“No silly ... he pulled his own pants down around his ankles.”
“Before or after he wrapped his tie around his own neck three times and tied it in a noose?”
“Oh ... you noticed. A mere fetish. Who would have ever known?”
“His wife? He’s got a ring on his left hand.”
“A minor detail,” I said, as I flashed him a quick glimpse of my garter belt.
He ignored my attempt to seduce him and I hated the idea of wasting a good pair of black stockings due to a minor glitch. My motto: Carpe Penis, seize the opportunity to get laid.
“So what are you going to do with his body?’ he asked.
“Gee, I thought you would handle that little detail, otherwise, I could have called Q to pick me up.”
“Of course, how silly of me,” He snipped.
“Let’s not get your prize lapdog’s hands soiled.”
I crossed and uncrossed my legs. “My thoughts exactly.”
“You know, you could have rowed yourself out of here and left the body.”
“You must be kidding. I do not row.”
“So, who is this former hard-on?”
“Him? No one special. Just Ms. O’s personal chef. I wanted to show him a mushroom patch; at least that was my ploy. I did show him a patch. We discussed herbs and spices and a very hot conversation ensued. One thing led to another and he asked me to lift up on his tie to heighten his enjoyment. Apparently, I don’t know my own strength.”
“Look closer,” Sloan said, as he moved over the body.
“Where?”
“Right here ... on his left nut. The one the size of a grapefruit.”
“Jeepers, Sloan. He didn’t start out with balls that size, I would have noticed. I like balls. I pay special attention to them.”
“Snake bite.”
“A SNAKE! ... You must be kidding,” I shrieked.
I could hear him in the distance. “Where you headed, Zee? Zee Zee ... come back ... I thought you didn’t know how to row? ZEE ZEE ... STOP!”
 Recognized |
I need all the help I can get on this one. The on going saga of ZeeZee an friends. Please slice and dice. ZeeZee
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