Page 3 of Choices

“Look, I didn’t see anything. Even if I did, what do I care about one drug dealer killing another? It has nothing to do with me. I won’t say a thing. Can we just pretend I was never there?” She pleads.

“Oh, but you did see something.”

“But you can’t kill me. A rich, white soccer mom? If I die or go missing or whatever, the cops will be all over you.” She hedges.

"You think I don't own the cops?"

Her swallow is audible.

It's a quiet twenty minutes, but I can hear her brain working. Trying to come up with an escape plan.

It isn't until we pull up to her house that she really starts panicking. Her breath starts coming in fast and her eyes dart between me and her house.

Now she gets it. I know where she lives. If she talks, there will be consequences.

I could have left her at the front door and called it a night. But something about her wide eyes, plump lips, and innocence has had my cock half-mast the entire drive. Like I said, something that hasn't happened in months. I want to know more about her. I want to see the inside of her house.

So, I pull her keys from her purse and walk around to her side of the SUV, opening the door for her and giving her an 'after you' motion. She hesitates forbarely a moment before she swallows and follows me as I let myself in the front door.

She shuts the door behind me and stands there nervously, shifting weight from foot to foot.

"I've got money, some jewelry. It's mostly fake, but I can get you more." She pleads.

"Mhm," I reply casually, walking around her space and taking in the details.

"My husband will be home any minute." She says with more force, and I smile.

"No, he won't."

"Yes, he will! He just got off work!" She shouts, her voice wobbly, belaying the lie.

"Let me guess. Hubby's away on a work trip, kids are with grandma, so you thought you'd revisit the old days and get high?"

I finally turn to assess her and her fair skin pales even more, that slack-jawed, deer-in-a-headlights look plastered on her beautiful face. My cock kicks up, demanding to be placed between her lips.

I subtly adjust my pants. Fucker.

I point to the family photos when I don't get a response. A thin, white-collar man appears in a few of the ones when the kids were the youngest, and then not in any taken in the last handful of years. But there's a man's raincoat hanging from the hangers by the door.

I look down and sigh.

"I just..."

She looks so utterly defeated, and my cock doesn't like that.

“I’m not going to kill you.” Annoyance laces my voice, although I'm more annoyed with my cock than with her.

“Then…then what are you going to do?”

I sigh.

“Do you have a pipe?”

Her face is back to surprised, and slightly confused.

“Oh…no…” she says sadly, as it dawns on her that she bought weed without any real way to smoke it. Clearly, she hadn't thought the entire thing through.

“Oh!” she says, lighting up with genuine joy.

---