Sound Of Bounce

-1-

How often does someone wake-up with a huge, shit eating, split the corners of your mouth, swallowed the canary, Cheshire Cat grin and really know they’re doing it?

This was the first thing on Kylie’s mind as she felt that slight headache a person gets when they begin to become conscious while keeping their eyes shut. It was that waking from a deep and dead sleep while refusing to open your eyes a person did when they wanted that sleep to come back and last a little bit longer, even though they are fully aware that there’s no turning back from the waking. Sleep is over. It’s not coming back no matter how much you want it to.

Kylie had that huge, shit eating, split the corners of your mouth, swallowed the canary, Cheshire Cat grin on her face.

Opening her eyes she looked up to the ceiling. The warped and bowing squares of the panels which covered the ceiling of her apartment looked even more warped and bowed than usual. It was an easily remedied problem, had she had an interest in putting on her glasses.

Where are those anyway?

Kylie was not entirely sure. They could even be out in her car.

Did I even drive home?

Involuntarily she turned to her left and stretched, and as she did her hand brushed something cool on the nightstand that made a slight scraping sound as she moved it with her hand the further she stretched. This made her aware of a couple of things. Her glasses were there, one. Her body, from about the kidneys down, ached, two. This ache increased a little more as she stretched out her right leg, pointing her toes as much as she could.

“There are too many disturbing sounds coming from up there!”

With another involuntary motion she reached a little higher and snatched her glasses off the night stand. She opened the wire legs and slipped them on her face as she rolled onto her back and then used her elbows to adjust herself into a slight sitting position against her pillows, she felt herself laying a little off because her pillows, she realized quickly, were wildly out of position.

Kylie barley had time to contemplate trying to relax in this position as something solid landed on her stomach, nearly knocking the wind out of her. Dazed again for a moment she found herself looking into Mr. Tinkle’s yellow eyes. She made a slight moan and ran a hand, which made her aware of another ache in her shoulders, down his back.

“Raow,” the cat complained with a deep whisper.

Things had clamed down enough for him to come out of hiding. Kylie knew he had been hiding since she had gotten home the night before, as he always did when there was a stranger in the house. Under the bed. Not really the most advisable place, Mr. Tinkle, she thought to herself with a mischievous smile. “You think you would learn by now,” she said aloud.

“Raow,” the cat repeated. He turned his cool nose against her hand and rubbed against it as she moved it back up his body. Relaxing on top of her he began to purr.

“A girl like you shouldn’t be doing things like this,” Mrs. McDougal’s, her downstairs neighbor’s voice said in her head.

A girl like me?, Kylie thought to herself. What did the old woman think she meant?

“Raow meow, meeoow,” Mr. Tinkle complained further as she stopped stroking him.

Her concentration interrupted Kylie knew that it was something she would have to ponder more later on. “Okay, I get it,” she said, her own voice sounding slightly hoarse.

With a final sound, a cross between a meow and a purr, Mr. Tinkle rose and quickly trotted off of her and across the mattress. She watched him leap off the bed. There was a slight thud on the carpeted floor, followed by just a glimpse of the tip of his bushy tail as he went out of the bedroom.

Kylie gave a final groan to herself and threw the sheet off of her. Underneath she was naked, which was no surprise. No, not a surprise at all, she knew. However, as she looked down past the swell of her ample breasts to the rise of her belly, she was surprised to see that just above her navel, where her body creased marking the beginning of her stomach, a note had been left. She raised her knees and leaned forward to read.

I SHOOK YOUR BOUNCY BOOTY!!!!

She let out a sharp laugh. Then, quieting herself for no good reason, she smiled, feeling that corner of your mouth ripping grin once again.

“You sure did.” There was a tingle down below as she remembered. Last night had definitely been yummy.

“Raoooow!,” Mr. Tinkle called from the kitchen.

“Okay, I’m coming, kitty, I promise,” she called back. Slipping her legs over the side of the bed she looked to her dresser where the video recorder was sat up on a small tripod, aimed at the bed.

Oh, how many minutes of nothing at all are on there?, she wondered.

Kylie knew there was no time at the moment to figure it out. She put her feet on the floor, noting they felt a little more achy now that her full weight was on them. Then she went to the video recorder and turned it off, before heading to the kitchen to give the cat his breakfast. She had the day off after all, and there would be plenty of time to watch last night’s proceedings over and over if she pleased.

-2-

A good part of the morning Kylie stayed in her slight fog. She had fed Mr. Tinkle, and then herself had breakfast, which had consisted of little more than buttered toast and a glass of orange juice. The Roundhouse was on Nickelodeon when she had turned on the TV, and after several episodes she realized there was a marathon going on, no doubt because it had been off the air for a few years and there was nothing else better to run on Saturday morning. She really didn’t care to watch The Roundhouse, but she also hadn’t bothered to change the station. Getting dressed was another thing she had not bothered to do. She sat propped up against the arm of the couch, nude, with the cat for occasional company. Every now and then she would look down and look at what had been written above her stomach in felt tipped pen. She would grin and smile, occasionally giving a knowing giggle. Every so often she would also reach down and feel the stiff mat of her public hair, letting a finger slip across the lips, and sometimes just a bit deeper.

It was at one of those moments that she was about to slide her finger in just a bit deeper that the phone rang. Mr. Tinkle raised his head up and looked over her toes. As soon as she shifted her weight so she could turn to reach the phone, which was on its charger on the end table beside the couch, he quickly rose and jumped to the floor. Taking the phone in hand Kylie watched as her cat waddled toward the bathroom. She was about to press the receive button when she glanced down once more and read the message penned above her navel.

I SHOOK YOUR BOUNCY BOOTY!!!!

Taking a breath she smiled to herself, not quite as wide as to rip the corners of your mouth, but wide nonetheless. “Hello,” she said, her voice a musing sigh.

“Hello, Kylie, it’s Mrs. McDougal-”

-from downstairs, she finished in her head, rolling her eyes. The woman said the same thing every time she called, which at a time like this was all too often. She was nice enough most of the time, but when things were going on, like last night, Mrs. McDougal took being a nosy neighbor to a whole new level.

“I hear things have calmed down from last night,” the older woman said.

Again Kylie rolled her eyes. She opened her mouth and held a finger in front of it in the gag me sign before answering. “Oh, I think I noticed.”

“I see,” the other woman said, that disappointed grandma tone in her voice. “Your friend left a little after five this morning.”

“Really,” Kylie said. “I hadn’t noticed he was gone.” She glanced down at her abdomen.

I SHOOK YOUR BOUNCY BOOTY!!!!

She smiled to herself again and her cheeks burned. It was a coy, shy smile, although her thoughts were far from it. She slowly opened her legs feeling her meaty thighs spread apart.

“Wanna little, hey, sausage Alfredo? Huh? Huh?”

“You know you should be a little more serious about this,” Mrs. McDougal said. “I almost called the police.”

Yes you told me you were going to. Again she rolled her eyes.

“This kind of thing just isn’t appropriate for a girl like you.”

There it was again. …a girl like you.

“Those sounds you make are quite disturbing dear.”

“Mrs. McDougal,” she said, rolling here eyes once more. They felt like this time the were going to stick like that, the way her own grandmother had always sworn they would when she did it when she was little.

“Yes, dear?”

“How old are you?,” she asked. The was a plop of added weight on the cushion beside her as Mr. Tinkle jumped back on the couch. Kylie watched as he stretched and yawned widely as she awaited the other woman’s response. As with the phone greeting she already knew what the answer was.

“Why, I’m 73.”

Kylie had her own answer ready in return. “And I was born in 1973,” she said. “Which will make me 26 in September.” Mr. Tinkle put his nose to her ankle and rubbed. “Which means I am definitely an adult and in control of my own life. So what I do is my business.”

“But, Kylie, sweetie, a girl like you should not be doing things like that on your own.”

Despite her frustration with her downstairs neighbor she couldn’t help but smile. The fact was she hadn’t been doing things on her own, she had help in doing them. She glanced back at the message on her abdomen.

“Just what do you mean a girl like me?,” she asked. “A girl that wears glasses? Or a girl that is plus sized?” She turned and put her back against the arm of the couch, opening her legs slightly. “Mrs. McDougal it is 1999 and not 1909. Big girls with glasses have sex without being married nowadays.”

What Kylie really wanted to say was that big girls with glasses got fucked without being married, and that occasionally it was with someone’s boyfriend or with an already married to someone else someone, but she was sure Mrs. McDougal would already be shocked be her simple answer.

“It’s just a concern to me”, the older woman said.

Kylie rolled her eyes. Reaching down to the floor she found the remote to her stereo. Not your concern, she thought. She pressed the power button and arrowed down to the CD changer control. TLC’s ‘FanMail’ began to play. Again she smiled to herself. She had put the CD on when they had started to mess around. That she could remember more clearly now.

Mmmmm, and he was fucking me in the ass by the time it got to ‘I’m Good At Being Bad’.

Kylie began to move her hand down and stopped herself, remembering she was on the phone with her prudish downstairs neighbor. Mr. Tinkle took the motion as in invitation to come on up. He crossed the short distance on the couch, putting a cautious paw just above her pubic curls. Then he walked over her, laying down on her naked belly, and then purring.

“Did you and Mr. McDougal ever have sex on Sunday afternoons?,” Kylie found herself asking.

“Kylie!,” the old woman replied, sounding aghast. “I’m sorry, dear, but that kind of thing is none of your business.”

She nodded as she gripped the phone. “And that is my point, too. What I do and who I do it with are none of your business.”

The old woman was persistent, as Kylie knew she would be. Tripping her up was never the end of a conversation where she felt perhaps she had the moral high ground. “There is the matter of all the noise though.”

The noise? Really she was sure that Mrs. McDougal could do better than that. Sometimes at night she blasted her stereo past 10 until nearly dawn, especially if Doug or Emily and Bill, their other neighbors had gotten a new CD and brought it over. And there were weekends when they would come and by the time everyone had invited someone there would be ten people in her apartment, playing Glover or Crash Bandicoot or Smash Brothers from Friday night to Sunday morning. To her knowledge Mrs. McDougal never complained to Doug or Emily and Bill about noise from their apartments, so it seemed that she was the only one in their fourplex that the older woman ever bothered.

So Kylie had to conclude that she had selective hearing. The stereo playing loud music did not bother her. The sound of her PlayStation or N64 being played through the stereo did not bother her either, and if there was a rowdy crowd playing Mario Party that didn’t bother her. Ten people walking back and forth through her apartment, talking, apparently did not bother her. Even when she ran her apartment size washer in the kitchen, which was above Mrs. McDougal’s bedroom, at 3:00 A.M., that didn’t bother her. Whatever noise Bill and Emily made didn’t bother her, nor did any of the noise that Doug made with his girlfriend of the month.

No. It seemed Mrs. McDougal could only hear disturbing noises, however few and far between they were, from her apartment. Why her? Because she was a girl like her. An overweight girl in glasses with a cute face. For whatever reason those things made her a social outcast in the old woman’s view.

I wonder if she thinks I’m a nerd?, Kylie wondered.

“Those noises bother me.”

Especially from a girl like you, Kylie added in thought.

“Hearing those noises at night is very disturbing for me.”

I know, Kylie thought, rolling her eyes. You called and interrupted me from making those noises a couple of times last night.

“Kylie, dear,” Mrs. McDougal said, taking her voice to that understanding grandmother tone, the one they used to try and convince their grandchildren to do something to change their behavior without first resorting to threatening punishment. “Isn’t there something you could do so there is not as many of those sounds?”

Kylie sighed. In that second she wished she still smoked, because she would have surely sat up and lit one then. Short of finding a way to get you evicted, Mrs. McDougal?

“Want me to shake that big ass, girl?,” he had panted.

“I want you to put something else up there besides your fingers and that beer bottle,” she had gasped back.

“Maybe if,” the older woman went on, “I don’t know. If there was a way to tone things down.”

Again Kylie shook her head as she held the phone. She did her best to keep her voice even and reasonable normal, a feat made slightly harder because at the moment Mr. Tinkle decided to flex his toes and dig all of his front claws into her bare and soft flesh. “So which noises do you want me to work on the most, Mrs. McDougal? The moaning, the bed creaking or the part when I say oh that’s it, baby, fuck me harder?”

On the other end of the line the other woman took a sharp breath. “Why, I’ve never-”

“That’s the point, Marion, you never,” Kylie told her. He cheeks were red, her anger now rising. Mr. Tinkle opened his eyes and looked at her with a stupefied look on his face, twitching his ears back. “So next time don’t waste time calling me to complain about the noise, just call the police so I can have enough time to get fucked without having to stop.”

“Wh-, Kylie!,” the older woman sputtered on the other end of the line. “You can’t talk that way over the phone.”

“It’s 1999, Mrs. McDougal!,” Kylie replied. With that she took the phone away from her ear and pressed the hang up button.

How out of it could you get?

She looked down at Mr. Tinkle, who still had that look of worry on his face. “Right?”

Mr. Tinkle looked at her and twitched his left ear a couple of times. Then he silently rose to his full height and hopped off of her, waddling off to the bedroom.

“Thanks a lot,” she sighed. She looked at the phone in her hand, considering calling her back and telling her that Emily and Bill were going to come over next weekend and that there were going to try a threesome just to see if she could shock her downstairs neighbor a little bit more. Instead she sat the phone on the coffee table and looked down at her belly and the message penned there.

I SHOOK YOUR BOUNCY BOOTY!!!!