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Acquisition

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*Author's Note: Any and all persons engaging in any sexual activity are at least eighteen years of age.

Chapter 1

Tommy MacElroy lay awake, not by choice, but because his wife's snoring was entering the third phase. It would stay at Phase Three for a few moments, a deep rumbling snore on each intake of breath, and then enter Phase Four. Phase Four was a deep rumbling snore on each intake of breath and a moaning hiss on each outflow of breath.

Phase Five, since Kaitlin had drank only beer tonight, would be a harsh snorting gasp on the intake. This phase, since she'd

Only drank beer, was usually enough to wake her.

Sometimes she'd take a sip of water from the glass she kept on her bedside table and this would slow the onset of Phase One, a deep breathing that would end with a little 'harrumph' at the end, then an outgoing sigh. Phase Two was quick to follow, a light snoring intake of breath.

If she drank hard liquor, which Kaitlin was wont to do, Phase One would very quickly morph into Phase Four, then Phase Five, but if she drank enough whiskey, Phase Five would go on and on until he jostled her enough to rouse her slightly.

Woe be it to Tommy, though, if he jostled Kaitlin too much, rousing her from her drunken slumber. Then his shrill wife would scream at him for waking her and she did not believe that she snored.

Kaitlin Monroe had drank only beer tonight because her mother, Patricia Monroe, her two brothers, the twins Chad and Jeffrey, and Sister Hillary had come over for 'a nice little family get-together.'

A 'nice little family get-together' usually consisted of long moments of awkward silence, punctuated by his mother in law pointing out that they were both nearly thirty years of age; why did they still live in an apartment? They were nearly thirty years of age; why didn't Tommy have a real job? They were nearly thirty years of age; did they ever plan on having children? And Chad and Jeffrey glaring with undisguised hostility at him. Hillary sympathized with Tommy, but since she often joined her sister in drinking, was unable to do more than just say 'come on y'all, leave him alone' every so often.

His own wife, who was the one that had decided they would wait on children, would just smirk at him when her mother brought up their lack of children. His wife, the formerly beautiful, voluptuous Kaitlin Monroe, now just a bloated remnant of her former beauty, would just smirk when her mother made snide remarks about his job at Clark's Drive-In.

Never mind the fact that it was his job that paid their rent, their groceries, Kaitlin's unending law school tuition, books, and other incidentals.

No, he rarely had any money left over, but he was paying their

bills.

Phase Five lasted for nearly three minutes until she jerked awake. Much to his relief, she did take a gulp of water before flopping back down into her mountain of pillows.

He put his fist into her back as she attempted to roll over, keeping her facing away from him. Now, maybe he could fall asleep.

For a few years, Kaitlin Monroe seemed to be happy with keeping their relationship where it was. He worked at Delphi's Diner as an assistant manager while she occasionally went to school, then took one or two semesters off 'to recharge.' She was happy still living at home with her beloved father, Judge Harold Monroe, mother Patricia, sister and two brothers.

Tommy had professed his love for her, had been professing this love since they'd first started dating in high school. Upon their graduation in 2005, he had proposed marriage and Kaitlin did not outright decline, but did say they would wait. Tommy knew then he should have walked and wished now he had done just that. But Kaitlin was always willing to let him play with her thirty eight E breasts and always willing to let him pound her hairless slit. She seemed to be especially turned on by danger; the fact that, at any moment, her father might storm into her room and catch

Them really got her motor running.

But every time Tommy brought up marriage, she would ask what the hurry was.

Then the summer riot of 2012, Delphi's Diner was one of the many DeGarde businesses that had gone up in flames.

DeGarde Dance Studio, the small studio right next door to the diner had also fell victim to the Angels 270's murderous rampage.

Tommy and Kizzy Clark, a friend and former classmate, stood, staring at the smoldering ruins of their places of employment. Kizzy held onto him and sobbed; she had loved dancing, had loved teaching dancing, and had genuinely loved each and every student of hers.

"Hey, boy," Stan Delchon, third generation owner of Delphi's Diner, the grandson of the original Mr. Delphi, gruffly said. "This is it; wife's been after me for ten years sell it now, Stan Junior and Barbara? They want nothing do with it; believe that? Place paid for them go to them fancy ass hotsy totsy schools of theirs and they don't even want to know. But, what're you going to do, huh? God damned kids, huh? Here, boy; you was a good kid; always liked you; you take care now."

With that, he stuffed a wad of one hundred dollar bills into Tommy's hand, patted the young man on the shoulder, and got into his Lincoln Continental and drove away.

Numbly, Tommy stuffed the money into his pocket. He jerked when his cell phone rang.

"Tom... Tommy?" Kaitlin sobbed into the telephone. "Tommy? My daddy? Those animals, those animals..."

Between fits of sobbing and screaming and wailing, Tommy was able to decipher that her father, the honorable Judge Harold Monroe had been gunned down as he sat in his black Mercedes-Benz.

The riot, in particular the Judge's murder and the funeral did receive much local attention.

Tommy thought it the height of hypocrisy that no one mentioned that the Judge had been in an area of Bender known to be frequented by prostitutes and their clientele.

A month after the murder, Chad and Jeffrey walked a chastened Kaitlin Monroe up the aisle to where a solemn Tommy MacElroy waited.

It bothered him, and his mother, that Kaitlin refused to take his last name. Her reasoning that 'Monroe is a name known and respected in the legal field of St. Elizabeth Parish' held very little water for Tommy or Gladys MacElroy,

But Kaitlin was adamant. Again, Tommy reflected as he stared at the unsympathetic digital clock, he should have walked away.

That evening, Tommy had toiled in the kitchen after toiling all day at Clark's Drive-In, making the lasagna, while Kaitlin spent her time putting on her make-up and trying on a few dresses and asking his opinion of each dress. He didn't know why she asked his opinion; no matter what he said, he was wrong for not noticing that she'd worn this dress the last time her family visited, or that there was a small tear right at the sleeve's arm hole, or it didn't' go with the shoes she had on.

"Looks like shit, Honey, why don't you just wear a table cloth and a pair of jumper cables?" he said after the sixth dress showing.

"God damn, don't know why I even fucking bother; you're such a fucking ass hole," she had shrilled, stomping away.

Thankfully, there was a harsh knock at the door, ending the fashion parade. Unfortunately, because he'd had to tidy up the apartment while also cooking dinner, the meal would be another twenty minutes before it could be served.

Twenty minutes. Twenty long minutes of uncomfortable silence or complaints. Twenty long minutes of Chad, Jeffrey, Hillary and Kaitlin helping themselves to his beer while Patricia complained about the low-quality wine he served. Low-quality or not, it did not stop her from emptying nearly the entire liter bottle.

Kaitlin's Phase Three started, but Tommy had finally managed to fall asleep.

The next morning was a blustery, cold November day, so Tommy fixed them both oatmeal for breakfast, but made sure to have plenty of sugar on hand. Kaitlin would render the breakfast nearly white with the amount of sugar she would heap into the bowl, all the while complaining that she hated oatmeal. He also had a steaming mug of coffee and a tall glass of orange juice ready.

"Morning," she groggily mumbled, staggering into the kitchen.

He looked at her in the harsh morning light. They were both twenty seven years old, but Kaitlin looked almost forty, with blotchy, puffy skin, wrinkles on her forehead, lifeless blonde hair that needed a serious washing. She had jowls that hung down and two double chins.

Standing nude in their small kitchen/dining room, her breasts, once two proud globes of flesh, were now sagging lumps of flesh that reached below her navel. Her pubic mound was scruffy looking; she had not bothered to shave it in several days. Her belly also protruded; she used to have a tiny waist. Her belly now mirrored her rear end, which was a fat jiggling mound above each cottage cheese thigh.

But she was his wife and he loved her. He had fallen in love with her because she was a beauty and he found it hard to turn that love off, even if she scarcely resembled that girl from so long ago.

He had no illusions of what he looked like. He still had the head of dark curls he'd had in high school. He still had the muscular arms and chest he'd had in high school; hard work made sure of that. His belly was beginning to soften just a bit; he resolved to do ten extra push ups that morning and each morning after that to try to get that tight abdomen he had been so proud of. His thighs and calves were also muscular; he spent many hours on his feet, running here and there, making sure the diner ran smoothly.

But there were lines on his face now and a few strands of gray were beginning to shoot through his dark curls. His mother would always comment on how tired he looked whenever he would come over to see her.

"Fucking hate oatmeal," Kaitlin grumbled, heaping three tablespoons of sugar into the bowl.

"Uh huh, cold outside, thought a good hot breakfast would get your day started right," Tommy said, taking his own bowl into the living room to eat at the couch.

To his left was the Judge's leather recliner. The chair had sat in Harold Monroe's home office, a big overstuffed ugly blue monstrosity that Kaitlin just had to have.

Tommy thought it was a very fitting reminder of Judge Harold Monroe. A large, overstuffed, ugly monstrosity that was an inconvenience.

"Oh, oh, oh, I need twenty bucks; see, it's Parker's birthday so we're all going to that Casa Ole's for lunch," Kaitlin interrupted his mindless ruminations.

"Oh, oh, oh! Tough shit; electric bill was almost three hundred this month because someone kept forgetting turn off the heater when she left," Tommy snapped. "Guess they'll just have to go to his birthday party without you."

"Fine, fucking ass hole," Kaitlin snarled bitterly.

Tommy made sure his wallet was firmly in his pocket until she got dressed and slammed out of the apartment, already twenty minutes late for class. He wasn't worried about her; she would either swing by her mother's, or by Hillary's place of work, or even borrow the money from a co-worker at the Law Office of Johnson, Johnson, and Lambert.

Since he did not have to go to work until four that evening, Tommy stretched out in the bed and was asleep within seconds of laying down.

Chapter 2

"Order up," Tommy yelled, even though Melinda Fontenot was five feet away, preparing the sodas for the order.

"Got it!" she yelled.

Outside, the cold blustery November day had turned into a cold, blustery and rainy November night. The high canopy of the drive-in kept the waitresses dry, for the most part, but every now and then, a gust of wind would blow the rain under the canopy and the poor girls would get sprayed.

"God damn; cold out there!" Debbie Dublachon, one of the waitresses complained bitterly as she skated in. "And believe this? Idiot out there wants a large hot fudge sundae! A sundae! I mean, it's what, twenty degrees out there?"

"Twenty degrees, it'd be snowing," Tommy corrected and quickly made the sundae while she waited.

"Might as well be," Debbie said then grabbed the sundae off the counter.

Kizzy Clark skated in, called out her order then dashed to the restroom. Nancy, the short order cook repeated the order, then dropped

The three hamburger patties onto the grill.

Tommy looked out to the row of customers' automobiles and grimaced as he saw Jack Vogel's Orange Charger pull up. A moment later, laden down with trays, Melinda came barreling into the diner.

"Hey Tommy," she called out.

"One cheeseburger, hold the meat, one cheeseburger, mayonnaise, lettuce, tomato, chili cheese fries," Tommy said before she could order.

"Yep," she beamed up at him.

Tommy sighed. Because Jack had been a classmate of his, and of Kizzy's, Melinda assumed that dating Jack meant that she and Tommy and Kizzy were friends.

Tommy didn't really have a problem with the bubbly girl, found her quite pretty to look at, and seemed to have a good head on her shoulders. But Jack Vogel had been an ass hole when they'd been at St. Thomas Aquinas together and Tommy had not liked the brash, arrogant man back then. Now that Jack Vogel wore a police uniform, he was even more brash and arrogant.

Tommy wondered if Jack could place an order for Melinda; if Jack knew that Melinda routinely ordered her cheeseburgers without meat.

Tommy poured the melted cheese onto the French fries but put chili on only one half of the plate; he knew that Melinda would eat from the meatless side of the plate.

Tommy was willing to bet that his wife, Kaitlin, did not know that Tommy mixed ketchup and Tabasco together to dip his French fries. Even after they'd been together for nine years, the few times she had offered to bring anything home for dinner, she still had to ask him what he wanted.

"Order up," he yelled while Melinda fixed Jack's cherry cola and her own diet cola.

Tommy was willing to bet Jack did not know that his girlfriend drank diet cola because she believed herself to be fat. Melinda was not fat. She had slightly large breasts, and a cute little bubble butt, but her belly was flat and her legs were muscular from hours and hours of skating.

"Order up!" Nancy announced and Kizzy grabbed it.

"How come Melinda's order was ready before mine?" Kizzy teased Nancy.

"Because, the sooner I feed Jack, the sooner he's gone," Tommy smiled and Kizzy shot him a wide smile.

Tommy admired her long brown hair, her firm buttocks and her extremely muscular legs as she skated away. Kizzy seemed to sense his eyes on her; she turned right at the door and shot him another wide smile.

He shook his head; it was a shame that Kizzy, as pretty as she was, happened to be as flat as a board in front.

"She's a looker, huh?" Nancy asked as she shook out a cigarette.

"Stuff's going to stunt your growth," Tommy teased.

The four foot, eight inch tall Nancy smirked, slapped him on his rear and waddled out the side door, letting in a tremendous blast of cold air.

Tommy used the time in between orders to clean the work area, to monitor the level of hot oil in the fry bins, to stack the plates and dishes and trays.

Kizzy watched him while she also kept an eye for new arrivals. Her father had been reluctant to hire Tommy on her recommendation, but now had to admit that Tommy MacElroy was a God-send

Debbie Dublachon, the baby sister of a former classmate, spent her down time busily texting with her boyfriend, Donald 'DJ' Pellichet, Junior. Debbie let out a shriek as Nancy opened the side door, letting in a blast of cold air. Tommy and Kizzy laughed and the eighteen year old girl glared at them.

Three times that night, Tommy had to run out into the cold rain to throw away garbage. After the drive-in closed at 10:00 pm, he quickly gathered all trash and made a last run for the dumpster. He came back, thoroughly soaked; a customer had obviously not seen him and had splashed him as they drove past.

"Go, go, I got this," Tommy ordered the three waitresses and Nancy.

He made sure all the doors were locked, the grill shut off, the fry vats turned off, then went and counted up that night's receipts.

Because John Clark was an unbelievable cheapskate, the heater shut off automatically at 10:00 pm and it was now quite chilly in the small office as Tommy made out the deposit slip and prepared the bank bag.

Finally, Tommy shrugged on his coat, put his left hand on his .32 snub nose and ran for his car.

He kept his eyes on the road around him, determining that he was not being followed, but still drove past the First Union Bank before doubling back, then racing up to the Night Deposit drop slot. This time, he pulled his pistol out, had the safety off then dropped the bag into the slot.

Not even Kaitlin knew Tommy owned a gun and had a Concealed Weapons Permit. His mother did know of the gun and was quite vocal about her fears. But she did agree with him, if anyone was going to rob him, she would rather Tommy be the one to shoot the robber, rather than the robber shoot Tommy.

Then he drove home to the second floor apartment.

Tommy looked up to the third floor apartment as two people stepped out onto the third floor landing. From where he sat, it appeared to be a young woman and man, but bundled as they were against the cold, it was hard to tell. Then he saw his upstairs neighbor open the door and hand the smaller bundled figure a purse.

Tommy's eyes opened wide; the petite red head was completely nude and obviously had no qualms about stepping outside, where she was visible to the parking lot and to the street.

He cursed the fact that it was dark; he could not tell if she was a natural red head or not; Kaitlin said their neighbor was not.

The cold was obviously too much for his neighbor, Tommy could not remember her name, and she gave both figures quick kisses then stepped back in to her apartment, closing the door.

Tommy sat in his darkened car until the two figures got into a late model BMW. He then got out and shivered in the cold rain.

Inside their apartment, Kaitlin lay sprawled on the couch, two textbooks on the floor next to an empty bottle of Evan Williams. He pursed his lips; that bottle had been less than two weeks old and he had bought it to replace the bottle that Chad and Jeffrey had emptied.

Tommy also knew Kaitlin would be in Phase Four and Five for much of the evening.

As he stood there, shivering with cold in his wet clothes, she was already in an unbelievable snorting grunting gasping version of Phase Five.

Tommy went into the bathroom, opened the hamper, and very nearly stormed back into the living room. He had asked her that morning, please wash his work clothes and she had promised. He had showed her where the roll of quarters was and she had again promised she would wash the clothes. She had even sealed the promise with a kiss.

But the hamper was just as full as it had been that morning.

He wearily showered off the stench of the day, and then pulled on his tee shirt and flannel shorts.

For a brief moment, Tommy debated on whether to wake Kaitlin. Between his entering the apartment and exiting the bathroom, she must have woken up; she was back at Phase Four snoring.

"Fuck her. Fucking tells me she'll do the clothes, oh I promise, then doesn't? Fuck her, she can sleep on the God damned couch," he muttered to himself and flopped into bed.

"Why you didn't wake me?" Kaitlin shrilled at him the next morning as he fixed their eggs, over medium, toast, and grits.

"Did; woke you up when I got home," Tommy lied. "Told me you just had a few more pages to do, then woke you up again when I got out of the shower and you said you'd be right in."

She looked confused.

"But uh, why you didn't wash my clothes like you said you would?" Tommy asked, slapping her plate in front of her.

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