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By DrSpin (drspin@newsguy.com)

Andy was dead drunk, and when he was like that somebody eventually had to take him home. We left him lying around for a while because it wasn't a pleasant task. Andy was one of those guys who fell to bits suddenly when he reached his limit. When he went he was gone. The trouble with Andy was that he did it all too often and his wife was pretty much sick and tired of it. Al's bucks night had been great up till now, but it was over and somebody had to take Andy home. We drew straws. Pete got the job and asked me to come with him. "You know her better than I do," he pleaded. "She'll be steaming."
I knocked on the door while Pete held Andy upright or thereabouts. Colleen was angry before she opened it. I could feel it through the wood panelling. She knew Andy would have used his key. If he could. Which he couldn't.
She was a tall girl. She stood in the frame of the doorway, lit by the lamp on the porch, and glared at us. I inclined my head in a gesture of apology. She glared some more, tightened the cord on her gown, turned and stomped away down the corridor. "You two can carry him upstairs and put him to bed," she said over her shoulder. "I'd be just as happy to leave him outside."
I'd done this once before. We carried and dragged him up the stairs and dumped him on the bed. The rest was up to him. We ventured down the stairs cautiously, shuffling like you do when you're ill at ease, and headed for the front door. "Wait just a minute," she called out sharply. It was a command and we stopped.
"Come in here," she said. "I want to talk to you."
She might have been named Colleen but she didn't look it. Nothing dainty about Andy's Colleen. She was taller than Pete and nearly as tall as I was, with black and bushy curly hair, big brown-black eyes, a long straight nose and a wide and full mouth. She was olive-skinned, straight-lined and the leggiest female you were likely to run across. Whatever Irish ancestry she might call on had been swamped by a strong line of middle-European Slavic inheritance. She was wearing a black-and-white Japanese-style kimono and her feet were bare.
"What the hell happened," she demanded. "He promised he'd be home early. You think I like staying up this late waiting for him to fall in the door?"
I shrugged. "He drank too much."
"Again."
"Again," I agreed.
"But he promised."
Pete took a step forward, trying to be helpful. "It was a pretty big night," he said. "I guess he got carried away with the excitement."
I winced. Pete was inexperienced. You didn't want to volunteer a lot of information. Just pay your dues, say you're sorry and get the hell out of it.
"Excitement?" Her interest picked up immediately.
"Well, yes," said Pete. "It was a buck's night, you know."
"Was it?" She tapped her fingers on the mantlepiece.
"Was it indeed? He didn't tell me that."
There you go. Now everybody was just that bit more upset. Pete looked over at me but I kept my face straight.
"So," she said. "A buck's night. I guess you had a stripper?"
"Sure," said Pete, who couldn't seem to help himself.
"You know how it is."
"Actually, I don't," she said, fixing her glare on him.
"Suppose you tell me?"
Pete cleared his throat. "Oh well, you know, it was Al's big night so we all chipped in. All ten of us. I mean, that's what you do."
"You all chipped in." She pondered that. "What did she cost?"
"$500," said Pete.
She laughed derisively. "You paid her $500? What did she do for that?"
Pete needed rescuing badly. "She took her clothes off," I said, as blandly as I could.
"And you paid her $500? Did you get your money's worth? She'd need to be Miss Universe." She turned her eyes back to Pete. She knew he was the blabbermouth. "Is that all she did?"
"Yes," I said. But at the same time, Pete was blabbing.
"She fooled around a bit," he said.
"Who with?"
"With Al," I said quickly. Pete, finally starting to learn something, nodded his head in agreement.
"Not with Andy?"
"Hey," I said. "Andy was way too drunk to fool around with anybody."
She eyed me suspiciously. "That's probably true."
A silence developed. I looked towards the doorway. Surely it was time to go.
"You guys are something else," she said. "You've got wives. Or girlfriends. But you pay some tart $500 to take off her clothes. What's the matter with you?"
"Colleen, it's just a sort of tradition," I said. "It means nothing."
"But I'm curious, Vince. I mean, how good was she? Was she really good looking?"
"She was okay. As strippers go."
"Well," she said, considering me. "For example, did she have better legs than me?"
"Hell no," I said honestly.
"Was she more attractive than me?"
"No way."
"Well, did she have a better body than me?"
"I wouldn't think so."
"You wouldn't think so. But you gave her $500. Would you give me $500 to take off my clothes?"
"Come on, Colleen. Give me a break."
"No, seriously."
"The question would never come up."
"I'm bringing it up, Vince. Would you pay me $500 to strip?"
I shuffled uncomfortably. "You're not a stripper."
"But if I decided to turn my hand to it, would you pay me $500?"
I waved my hand in a gesture of peace and understanding. "I guess so."
She leant towards me slightly. "Okay," she said. "I'll do it. Here and now. Give me $500."
I laughed. "We haven't got $500."
"How much have you got?"
I laughed again. "I've got 10 bucks."
She swung her attention to Pete. "How much have you got?"
Pete raised his eyebrows at me. "About $25, I guess."
"Not exactly a top offer," she said. "You give some tart $500 earlier tonight and I have to do the same job for $35. And, according to you, I look better than she did. What am I supposed to say to that?"
"You're supposed to turn it down," I said, looking for the exit line. "And we're supposed to go home."
"I'll tell you this," she said. "$35 is an insult and I'm turning it down. I wouldn't want to lose my amateur status for $35, so I'll do it for nothing."
"Huh?" Pete's exclamation was loud but to the point.
"But you don't get anything fancy. No dancing or music or striptease or the like. I'll just simply take off my clothes. Right?"
I knew I had a pained expression on my face. "Now look, "I said. "Colleen, this is certainly not right at all."
She tugged loose the belt of the kimono and shrugged off the garment with a simple and smooth shimmy of her shoulders. "Oops," she said. "Looks like I was wearing very little underneath."
The kimono pooled at her feet. She was wearing only black pants. And she was pretty damn good, no problem. Great long legs. Full breasts. Fine skin.
"Well, guys," she said with a faint smile on her mouth.
"Here's the truth of it. I swore a sacred and solemn curse to Andy that the next time he came in hopelessly late and hopelessly drunk I'd fuck the guy who brought him home." She sighed, "Obviously he didn't believe me. Now he's going to learn the hard way but two of you brought him home so I guess I'll have to fuck both of you." She turned her dark eyes on me. "You first."
Decision time. Do I turn and flee out the door? She was going to tell Andy, no doubt about it. She was planning a revenge fuck, pure and simple. He'd go off his face and come looking for us. On the other hand, she was top shelf. And I was bigger than Andy anyway. But he could fight like a cornered cat. Maybe he'd take it all out on my little mate. Poor Pete.
"If I must," I said.
Some events stand out like milestones in your life. This wasn't one of them. It would be fucking good for my ego to say I fucked her good and she was amazed by my good fucking performance. But I didn't even extract from her the smallest amount of affection, let alone gratification. All I can say is that I was there and I did it. Sheesh, you'd have given a passing stray dog a more polite acknowledgement than I got from Colleen.
I tend to get a bit mellow and aw-shucks sentimental after I've stuck a precious piece of me into a woman, even if she's boring holes through me with malevolent eyes. She didn't once crack a smile. She didn't raise an eyebrow. I'm not at all certain she even blinked. She was a real nice package but there weren't nothing inside the box.
Even a jaded and cynical hooker will say thanks, even if she's only talking about the money And maybe a comment on the weather or something complimentary about your shoes. Something. Anything. All Colleen said was: "Tell the ugly short guy it's his turn." I stood around outside the front door and waited for Pete. I didn't even get to have a second cigarette. "Right," he said, shutting the door behind him and looking anywhere but at me. "Let's get the hell out of here."
To my surprise, Andy didn't come hunting for us with a shotgun. It was as if it hadn't happened. Pete made it clear he didn't want to talk about it and the incident would have faded away except I couldn't quite shake the image of Colleen's long-legged body from my memory bank. Three weeks or so passed until I saw Andy. I was cajoling an automatic teller to give me cash when he tapped me on the shoulder.
"I've been out of circulation," he said "Colleen's been pissed off bigtime since Al's bucks party and I've had to mend a few bridges. She said you and Pete took me home that night and I want to say thanks, and you won't have to do it again."
"S'okay," I said. "It happens, even if it does happen more to you than most people."
"Right," he agreed. "But I've used up all my chances and I have to keep myself nice with Colleen for a while."
"She sure was not happy," I said.
"You bet. I realised how bad she was next day when she told me she screwed you and Pete to teach me a lesson."
I laughed hysterically, like it was the funniest joke I'd heard that month. It was lucky Andy was none too bright, because a lot of guys might have separated the laughter from the hysteria and become suspicious.
"Yeah," he said, laughing himself. "I didn't fall for that one. I mean, Colleen has always hated your guts. And Pete...well, no woman in her right mind would screw Pete."
"Yeah, right," I said. Whew.
"But it showed me how angry she really was," Andy said. "So I thought I ought to take note. For a while anyway."
So we'd got away with it. This was fine because I wished no harm on good old Andy and because Pete was a nervously married man. No problem for me in that direction, because I was notoriously in and out of relationships like a slippery fish, which was probably why Colleen regarded me less than warmly. Some women could be like that.
Unfortunately it was not the end of the matter. A few weeks later I was attending the opening of stage two of a casino development where Andy was some sort of deputy security boss. I had a drink in my hand and I was talking to a bunch of guys and, horrors, up came Andy and Colleen.
"Lookee here," said Colleen, pointing at me and then at Pete, who was also there. "Andy, here are the two guys I fucked the last time you were drunk and out of it."
But I had her measure. "Yeah right," I said, rolling my eyes. "I wish."
Andy laughed and slapped me on the shoulder. I laughed. The other guys laughed. We all laughed.
Except Colleen. And except Pete, who looked like he'd had a sudden attack of dysentery. "Not me either," he said, trying desperately to extend the joke to include him.
"That's right," said Colleen. "You couldn't get it up."
We all laughed again.
Except Colleen and Pete.
"Hey Vince," said Andy. "Seeing you know Colleen so well, look after her for me for a bit, will you? I have to be on duty for a little while."
"Sure," I said, although I wasn't by a long shot.
"I want to talk to you," she said to me as soon as Andy was out of earshot. She glanced around at the other guys and motioned with her head. "In private. Over there." I followed her to a neglected corner and she turned and looked at me directly. "I just want to offer you some sort of apology," she said.
I couldn't read her face. Was she serious? "For what?" I asked.
"That other night. I wasn't exactly very nice to you."
I raised my eyebrows. "Well, you didn't pour me a cold beer in a tall frosted glass, but I'm not complaining."
"You know what I mean," she said crossly.
I shrugged. "I know you were angry with Andy, if that's what you mean."
"But I didn't have to take it out on you." She smiled at me but I could see she was putting some effort into it.
"You only did what I asked you to do."
"Colleen, what's going on? You don't have to do this. You don't even like me."
"Maybe I like you better than I like him," she said. She meant her husband, of course.
"He didn't believe you?"
"You know he didn't."
"Look, Colleen, he told me he'd fucked up and he was going to try harder. Maybe you got your point across anyway."
"We'll see. Anyway I figured I owe you."
"Owe me what?"
"Another turn in the barrel."
Hey what? Did she mean what I thought she meant?
"Right now would be good," she said. "I know just the right place." I knew it made no sense. I tried to put it together but she grabbed me by the arm. "Quick," she said. "In here." She pushed open a door not five paces away. It didn't look like a door that should open but it did. She pulled me after her into a brightly-lit stairwell. "It's the fire escape," she said. "It's not properly finished yet."
Dry lumps of concert and lengths of metal pipe were scattered about. The official opening had arrived slightly too early for this part of the building. Colleen put her back to the wall, hiked up her dress and pulled down her pants to her knees. "This time," she said, "I guarantee a more friendly response."
Logic and reason disintegrated. Doing it against a wall may not be the easiest way to do it but it sure is one of the most blindingly erotic. I moved straight in, fumbling with my trousers as she wound her arms around my neck and kissed me hard and hot. She was tall and I had to bend my knees but I got straight on up there. True to her word, it was a very different Colleen. She wriggled urgently against me, threw her head back and gave it her best shot.
We rutted like animals in the stairwell. Savage sex. White hot mischief. A truly memorable fuck.. And in the afterglow, with me still buried in her, she said, with her head on my shoulder: "Well, that ought to do it."
"Do what?" I was panting still.
She gestured lazily at the ceiling and I looked up. I saw the security camera, its red eye winking. Oh shit.
"Guess who's in charge of the security cameras," she said.
Oh shit.
"He goes through all the tapes every morning," she said.