The Contractor - Part 1d by nova

What happened next was too good to be true but I wasn't going to complain. She stopped, smiled again, an asked me, "What do you think of all this?" She had an accent which just made her hotter. I went stupid but was saved from junior high stammering because of my script.

"I think they're demonstrating that the American spirit is still alive. People everywhere are waking up and realizing that the 1% are looting the worlds economy while condemning the planet to environmental disaster and the remaining populace to poverty."

I followed it with a solemn look and tried really hard to maintain eye contact. Damn that woman was top heavy.

"You're so right. Do you mind if I sit? I've been walking all morning."

Did I mind? Of course not. I patted the ledge I was sitting on and told her, "Sure. You new here?"

She sat down and even better she sat close. She was wearing black jeggings. I loved women in jeggings. Spandex hadn't died -- it had just mutated into something better. When she sat down she bent over just a little to set her backpack down and her blouse gaped open enough for me to see the swell of her breasts. I got even stupider if that was possible.

"Oh yes. I today walked from the monument to your President Jefferson to the Capitol and back to here. Now I am hungry." Then she dropped her eyes to my crotch for just a second. A faint but definite alarm bell rang somewhere way back where a tiny part of my brain still capable of rational thought still functioned.

"So where are you from?"

"Sweden." She smiled. "It was a long flight. Have you ever been there?"

My brain did fireworks accompanied by the sound of a jackpot cashing in. "Swedish! Yes! A Euroslut!" layered over the top of it.

Don't fuck this up Dakota!

"

"No. I've only been to Asia...courtesy of the US government."

She looked at me quizzically. I noticed the faint crows feet traced in the skin that radiated from those beautiful blue eyes. "Cougar! I'm going to be raped!" Damn, I was hitting the checklist of easiness with marks in all the boxes.

"Ah no...always wanted too. No, I just got out of the military. Hey, maybe you could tell me more about Sweden over lunch. I'll even buy, not that there is a lot of choices here."

We were close enough to Potbellies and I could tell her it was ethnic American food. There were better places close by but I wasn't going to spend that much money even for a Swedish super model. If she said she wanted to try one I would just plead cash flow problems from buying textbooks for my classes. Hell, with a little luck she would pick up the check.

"I like military men. They are so...clean. I have a better idea. Why don't we eat in my room. I bought some healthy food, here it is so hard to find, and you can tell me about your adventures in far away places."

"Sure! I would love to but I would rather hear you talk about Sweden."

"I'm sure we will find many things to talk about." She stood up, and said, "Come. I'm so very hungry."

I wondered if that was some kind of Swedish code word for horny. I hoped so.I was going to be late getting back to work but I was okay with that.

The Contractor - Chapter 1c - by nova

I didn't know what to think about the OWS people. I knew a little about how bad the economy was because all I could find was temp work and I was happy to have found that. I was hoping to get a real job, preferably one with the federal government, so I could make some real money because what I was making as a temp wasn't cutting it and my meager savings was depleting rapidly. Far too rapidly.

Not that I made all that much doing IT for a non-profit that was big on saving the world but less concerned about paying the people who actually worked there a decent wage. I did learn that the "save the world" types usually were self righteous assholes when it came to dealing with real people which was probably why I was a little leery of them.

That all changed when I met her. Looking back, most of the changes in life, and few of them were positive, resulted from my intense love of women.

I changed OWS sites a few days before I met her. The old one wasn't working for me anymore. The tourist season was coming to an end, there was a chill in the air, and I was getting tired of walking the extra block for nothing. I was eating lunch at the other site, the one in front of the National Theater when I saw her.

She was gorgeous. Blond, blue eyes, full breasted on a slim, tight body. She was also alone which was even better. No problem with cutting her out of the herd or the friend who took about three seconds to become impatient. Best of all she was taking pictures with her cell and glancing back at me. I smiled. She smiled back. She started walking towards me. Life was looking good.

The Contractor - Chapter 1b - by nova

My life has been a series of accidents that I have managed to show up for. Nothing really out of the ordinary, the usual right place, wrong time. I ended up in the business because I was setup, and I will probably exit it through one.

I can't say I liked the man I became but I tried to do what I thought was best as long as it didn't inconvenience me too much. I would like to say that what I write here is my apology, that the scales have dropped from my eyes, that it hurt following off the horse, but you know what? I would be lying, and I promised myself I would tell the truth here. I have seen the world through all the rose colored glasses offered by each of the major players and when you take them off you see that the messed up, tired, and getting worse shit hadn't gotten any rosier.

I was one of the first people to consistently show up when the OWS movement first started. Not because I was ready to protest the evil injustices that the bankers had inflicted upon the innocent borrowers of America. Hell, I had a job, of sorts. I didn't have much of a life but who did back then? What I also didn't have was a woman and OWS attracted them. I was working a temp job a couple blocks from McPherson Square in Washington, DC where they liked to lurk. I went there because it was an amusing way to kill time and when I started going there were attractive women buzzing around.

There were a few DC women, mostly drawn to check it out because they worked nearby. I didn't bother with them though they would have been a lot more convenient over the long term. Why? I couldn't afford them. To into the career, money, and status all of which I was sorely lacking in.

I tried working the summer tourist women but that was a no go for the most part until I learned the secret. It was easy once I figured it out. I just needed to look like a protester, talk like a protester, but stay well groomed and casually mention I had a place of my own. On the weekends I brought my guitar, stayed on the edges, and strummed. That was a killer once I had the pitch perfected. If it seemed appropriate, and with the European tourists it always was, I would also ask towards the end if they liked to get high?

The women of OWS? They were interesting, but at the time I found them lacking. I hadn't really thought it out but somewhere in the back of my head I had realized that if you want to hunt the same waterhole on a daily basis hooking up with one of the local sheep would mean no more variety in my meals.

I was young, white, and in shape from my time in the Navy and because I didn't eat a lot. I worked the fact that I was a "vet" in at the top as part of my casual give them the data they want to hear so I could get some pitch. It wasn't as one way as it sounds. I mean they got to experience the passionate young rebel for a night or two and I got laid. It evolved into the same pitch I used without much change over the next few years with pretty decent success.

The Contractor - Chapter 1a - by nova

Yeah, I'm a contractor. Not one of the best and not one of the worst. Mostly I have been around since the beginning and I saw a lot of shit happen. Once I was proud of that, you know in a been there done that kind of way. The problem is I've become a liability and believe you me, I know what happens when you become a liability to the people that run things. It's only a matter of time before I disappear or have an accident. Probably I will just disappear. It's no longer important to observe the niceties and hasn't been for years.

They'll want to keep it low key though. I would. I'm not the only loose end out there and it would be smart to take of as many of us as possible before word gets around.

So I'm writing this as my insurance policy and at best it's going to be a weak form of term life. My hope is it will buy me some time and time is what I need the most. The winds of change are blowing and if I can avoid getting blown away I might be able to come out the other side in one piece. I just typed that, looked at it, and told myself "cliche." The problem is cliches, like generalizations, work because they speak the truth. What I write here is the truth and many of the people who will populate it never had enough originality to even qualify as one.

During the low moments,the late at night, strain the ears listening to nothing and everything nights, my heart beat thumping in my chest nights, I know if they want me bad enough nothing will matter. What makes it even more ironic is the only people that could help me would be more than happy to put a bullet in my head. Life is a bitch. It always has been. It will always be one.