Seymour Leggs - Tease Them With Ease

It hit her wrist. She gasped. Then it squirted with might and splattered her belly. She grappled with the spitting cock in absolute panic. She didn't know what to do. Neil's sperm shot in every direction, hitting her, hitting him, smearing the auto upholstery. Any pleasure Neil might have gotten from his climax was ruined by her crying, jumping panic.

"Why didn't you tell me?" she screeched.

"Oh, for Christ's sake… "

She tried to rub the cream from her wrist and discovered the stuff was sticky. "Oh…" she cried.

"Oh, shit," mumbled Neil as he tucked his cock away, zipped his pants, and started the car.

Even though the next day was Sunday, Neil went over to the apartments. He was worried, nothing was going right anymore. He had told Christine off before taking her home last night, called her a juvenile, a cry-baby, a prick-tease who deserved a spanking.

And there was still the Felix problem. He had no idea what was going to happen with the feline photographer. If Felix went ahead with his threat of exposing him to Helen's husband, he'd be finished. He'd lose his job for sure, and he'd probably lose his good health if the husband ever caught up with him.

Neil went to the pump house and sat down. He wanted to sort out all the possibilities, try to find a solution. But nothing came.

As he went outside he saw Mr. Crocker sitting in his usual chair, dark glasses, cane, and all. The old gent nodded at him. Neil still wasn't sure if the man recognized him or was nodding to sleep. He approached the gray-haired head as it bobbed slightly up and down.

"Working on Sundays now?" Mr. Crocker asked.

"Oh, no, Mr. Crocker," said Neil. "I just came over to think"

Mr. Crocker giggled. "Oh! I see. You come to where you work to think now!"

"What's so funny about that?" asked Neil.

"It's not funny, Neil. But it is a sign you're working too hard. Can't get away from it… or is something else bothering you? Something that's around here?"

The ancient man had a way of putting his finger right on the problem. Neil sat down beside him and looked at the crystal-blue water in the pool. "Yeah, I have problems… I've got big ones.

"Well, my boy, I asked you to report to me. To let an old man get his kicks by hearing of your heroic adventures. I think it's about time you let me in on the less pleasant aspects of your famous life."

"You sound like you knew there would be problems," said Neil.

"Of course I knew. Nothing fun ever comes free. It costs. We all pay our dues to the gods of pleasure. Hell, I paid mine… I never knew a man who didn't have to pay a high price for his ticket to pleasure," said Crocker.

"It's that guy Felix. The photographer who lives next door to Helen."

"I know who you mean." Mr. Crocker chuckled. "I've been keeping an old, bleary eye on him."

"Did you know he was the one who took my picture? The one that got in the papers?"

Crocker nodded. "Yep."

"Well, he took more shots than that"

"Oh yeah?" Mr. Crocker was amused, much to Neil's discomfort.

"Yeah. You see, Helen and I… well, we… uh, she was real grateful to me for saving her daughter. We got carried away with the thanks in her patio…"

"You nailed her in the patio, huh?"

Mr. Crocker was sitting up straight, he had his head cocked toward Neil. "Go on… this is getting good."

"Well, Felix was peeking through the fence and took a lot of pictures of me and Helen… "

"Did you see them?"

Neil nodded. "I'll say I did. He must have a dozen of me and her. He's got a lot of her sunbathing in the nude, too."

“Well, the little creep," said Mr. Crocker. "I never would have thought he liked the female anatomy."

"He threatened to give one of me and, her to her husband. You've seen her husband, haven't you?"

Mr. Crocker let out a guffaw that grated on Neil's nerves. "Oh? Hah! That monster would smash every bone in your young body! How did you stop him?"

"He said he'd burn the pictures if I posed for him with a model. I did. Then he wanted me. I was trying to refuse when his roommate came in. They had a big fight and I took off before the pictures were burned. Now I don't know what to think."

"Oh."

"I don't trust him."

Mr. Crocker rubbed his hand across his face while thinking. "You just want to get those pictures, huh?"

"Yeah, I sure do."

"Where's he keep them?"

"In his kitchen. That's his darkroom."

Humph. Neil, my boy, you're in a real heap of trouble if that bitch Felix decides to put the pressure on you. And I'm sure he will. I've seen the way he looks at you… man, if I ever had a woman stare at me that way it would bring life back to parts of my body… oh, never mind." Mr. Crocker shook the thought from his head. "We've got to find a way out of this for you.

"I don't know what to do. I've thought of everything I can."

"Just let me rest on it, Neil. No problem exists without a solution. Some need time to get worked out, some are easy. This one should be classified as a can of worms. But maybe I'll think of something…"

The old man nodded off to sleep and Neil stood. He didn't feel any better. The chances of Mr. Crocker figuring it out were slim. He was a nice old man but not too alert. Neil went back to the pump house and sat inside.

He was bothered by something else. Christine. He was pretty mean to her last night when she started to cry. But he was tired of her childish behavior, Still, he could have been more understanding. After all, she basically was still a child. She wasn't a woman yet… like Helen.

He wished he could go to Helen and explain about Felix. Maybe she could think of something. But today was Sunday, her husband would be home. No, definitely not today.

A ballcock is a toilet mechanism which controls the flow of water into the tank. Neil found a note from Mr. Walker in the pump house that afternoon. That's what Miss Bailey needed, a ballcock.

The ballcock was sitting in a small cardboard box next to the note. Neil found a wrench, some pliers, and assorted plumbing tools, picked up the ballcock, and headed for the apartment of Miss Bailey.

His mind really wasn't on his work. He had too many worries to be overly concerned with a broken toilet. But orders were orders, life must go on. He decided to get the job done as quickly as possible, then seek out Mr. Crocker to see if the old man had come up with a solution for him.

He had seen Miss Bailey before. Once he helped her cart several boxes up to her apartment. The boxes contained cosmetics. She was one of those door-to-door salesladies. She had even been to his home a few times to sell different lipsticks and stuff to his mother.

He liked her. She was a friendly, outgoing lady with the happiest smile he had ever seen. Her teeth were large, shining-white ivories of such flawless perfection they dazzled everyone. She usually wore her hair in some elaborate hairdo, always the "latest." Neil understood she had to present herself in such a fashionable manner to be successful at selling cosmetics.

He rang her bell.

"Hello, Neil," she said with a happy smile as the door opened. "Please come in."

"Hi, Miss Bailey, I'm here to fix your toilet," said Neil.

"Oh, you dear. I'm so glad. The blasted thing's been running all night… driving me crazy. I hardly got any sleep." She led the way to the pink bathroom and pointed at the pesky porcelain john.

"I don't think it should take long," said Neil.

"Good," she answered. "As soon as it's fixed I'm going to take a nap. I was so tired today I quit early."

Neil lifted the cover off the toilet tank and peered down inside. A noisy trickle of water was flowing from the stem of the ballcock He reached in and twisted the brass mechanism. The water sprayed into the air like a fountain and soaked his shirt and face.