Dead Nolte by Borne Wilder Read Free Book Online

Nolte’s only pinch toy; her younger sister
Martha had actually been the first to draw his unwanted attentions. His eyes
would follow her ass every time she walked past and when she stopped moving, he
would stare openly at her boyish breasts. The man had no shame.
    He was forever determined in his attempts to catch one of them
alone in a room, a mistake both girls had each made and tried never to repeat.
The two actually became quite adept at watching each other’s backs over the
years, a courtesy that quickly disappeared, as they went their separate ways in
adulthood. At this point in their lives, they were more than willing to throw
the other under the bus, if it measured out a few dollars.
    Nolte’s first success came when Martha had forgotten to lock
the door to the bathroom behind her. The absence of the lock clicking into
place had caught Nolte’s attention immediately, and he had sprung to his feet
like his ass was on fire. He had closed the distance, from the couch to the
bathroom at the speed of light. Without so much as a look around for potential
witnesses, as silent as smoke, he’d poured himself through the door. Alice
could just see the surprise/horror on Martha’s face as Nolte quietly closed the
door behind him. The asshole could move like a cat, and this time, the lock did
click into place.
    They were only in the bathroom for five minutes at the most.
Not much could happen in five minutes, Alice had thought, but the look on
Martha’s face, when she came out, told her a lot could happen in five minutes.
Bad things happen quickly. A few times she had asked Martha what had gone on,
but she never answered, she always shook her head and looked away, the last
time with tears in her eyes. Alice never asked again, instead she focused on
preventing her turn in the bathroom.
    Her precautionary measures proved to be insufficient; Nolte
was almost superhuman in his quest for forbidden fruit. Someone had once told
Alice, that locks were only there to keep honest people honest. She found this
to be so true, a dishonest person didn't give a shit about locks. A butter
knife, a credit card, a bobby pin, Nolte could pick locks like a seasoned cat
burglar.
    His second success with the girls was with Alice. A memory,
which she had, over the years, suppressed and buried so deep, it hardly
resembled a memory anymore. It seemed more akin to something someone had told
her about, rather than a personal experience.
    Mona, her mother, had been somewhat of a buffer, never
letting it go any further than pinching and groping, before she would slap
playfully at his hand and giggle, “You’re so bad.” Mona wasn’t about to bite
the hand that paid for her bourbon and necessaries, however, she did feel it
was her motherly duty to at least try and keep her husband’s dick out of her
daughters. Whether or not, she tried hard enough is still undecided.
    Mona had been damaged by men early on in her life, but
instead of hating and shunning them entirely, she used alcohol to dull the
sharp, hurtful edges that God, in his infinite wisdom, had seen fit to adorn
men with. Even so, she had still found it near almost impossible to keep one
around, who would not only accept her love of alcohol but also finance her
passion.
    Her love of the drink was deep and profound and something
she had come to desire above all else. Nolte seemed to be able to accept that
type of emotional commitment, without jealousy, and be satisfied with the small
portion of her heart she was able to share with him.
    The fact that she had two young daughters didn’t scare him
away either. He was everything she had been looking for in a man/sponsor, a
real family man, he was. As long as he kept her mind lubricated, in the manner
to which she had become accustomed, her girls could put up with a little ‘dirty
talk’ now and then.
    After Mona died, the gloves came off, literally. To be
cornered by Nolte, was comparable to being locked in a broom closet with