Chapter 12
"Denver?" Rose Smith asked as she lay naked in bed beside her husband. It had snowed during the night. From the second floor of E-Z Mount lodge, they had a Christmas card picture of the snow-ladened pines. Fred had risen earlier and lighted a fire in the pot-bellied stove—perhaps too much of a fire, which was the reason they had kicked off the covers. Rose repeated, "Denver? Why do you want to go to Denver?"
"I thought that's where you wanted to go—to see about the divorce." Fred was also nude. It had been the first night of their entire lives that they had slept together all night long, both completely bare.
Rose rolled over onto her side, put her hand to his chin and leaned over to plant a kiss on his lips. As she did, Fred raised his hand to cup her breast. She pulled her mouth away. "I don't really want to go to Denver," she said, tracing her forefinger down from his chin, over his chest and navel until it outlined the shape of his penis, "unless you really want to."
"It was your idea in the first place."
"Sorry about that, Fred." Her mouth was directly above his. As she clamped her lips to his lips, she clamped her fingers around the fullness of his cock. It throbbed and hardened at her insistent touch. He turned toward her so that his other hand could explore down into her crotch. Her mouth opened over his and she sucked his tongue in as if it were his cock.
The two sets of McAn twins had got up early on that second morning after Tom and Chuck had been apprehended. Since Rob's and Roy's main interest in coming to E-Z Mount in the first place was to see their old friend, Andy Kerr, they convinced their wives that they should journey on to Idaho to look him up. Besides, they had discovered there was good skiing snow where he was- and, after all, they could not stay in bed all the time.
The McAns bade the Joneses and Steve and Dot Weir a fond good-bye and took off. The four, Ed, Zoe, Steve and Dot stood with their arms around each other, like a chorus line, waving good-bye. Then they went back into the lodge where Ed had a blazing fire roaring in the fireplace.
Later that afternoon the Smiths checked out. They were returning to Pueblo and their children.
"Well, I'm certainly happy to see that you folks changed your minds," Zoe gushed, her old social worker attitude returning to the front. "I mean, my goodness, you seem so appropriately made for each other—and all."
"If it hadn't been for the Joneses," Fred admitted, as he held his arm protectively around his wife, "we probably would be discussing alimony at this very minute with some long-nosed judge."
"What did we do?" Zoe appeared shocked that they were being blamed for the turn of events.
"If you had not shown us that our marriage only needed variety in its sexual aspects," Rose inserted, "well, perhaps we would have completely forgotten how much in love we are."
"Oh, I'm so happy," Zoe gushed. "And so is Ed, aren't you, honey?"
"Oh, yes—yes."
"Well, then," Zoe said a while later, as the snow was falling and it was getting near night, "here we are in this great big old empty lodge—just the two of us. Why don't we invite Steve and Dot in for supper and a game—"
"A game?"
"Well, of Canasta—or Bridge—Hearts?" Pause. "Ed, why are you looking at me that way?"
"You think I can't tell after all this time when you have a twitchy twat?" Ed laughed good-naturedly and reached his hand forward to pinch his wife's tits.
"Why, what a thing to say!" Zoe feigned indignation. "Here I'm trying to be hospitable and neighborly—and, Ed Jones, you have the utter audacity to suggest that I'm only being—well, horny! The very idea!"
"Seems like a very good idea to me."
"It does?" Zoe giggled. "Well, now that you mentioned it—"
"But, dear heart—you were the one that mentioned it." Ed cupped her breasts and moved his hands around to stimulate that sensitive part of his wife's anatomy.
"I did? I did?" Zoe looked down at his hands fondling her. "Well—hmmm—come to think of it, maybe I did. Well, then, you may be right about the condition of my—I wish you wouldn't use the word twat, it sounds so coarse—pussy is more genteel. What was I saying? Oh, yes, you may be right about my twat twitching—I mean my—" They both broke into hysterical laughter.
Zoe outdid herself preparing a gourmet dinner. She could not cook that way for all their guests, but Dot and Steve were becoming "family". She even had candles on the table, along with the best silver and china.
The subject at dinner was the convicts. Now with a little time between themselves and the incident, they were able to discuss the situation with more detachment than they had the day before.
"Oh, I'm certain," Zoe said, waving her fork over her dessert, "that Tommy wouldn't have killed Chuck."
"Why do you say that?" Dot seemed interested.
"Well, you, of course, were not in a position to see, as I was." Zoe did not mean to make Dot feel uncomfortable. "Nor, with a tongue being—well, wherever it was and whatever it was doing—you were hardly in the frame of mind to be concerned with what was happening at that moment between Tommy and Chuck."
"What're you getting at, Zoe?" Ed usually was very patient, but he was curious as the others to hear his wife's theories.
"Well, simply; Tommy knew I was watching him—knew I wasn't occupied at somebody's crotch—he looked directly at me, almost daring me to knock the gun from his hand. He wanted me to." Zoe took another bite, then spoke with muffled words. "Certainly he called the police, and his initial intention may have been that he wanted them to find both Chuck and him dead—but he just couldn't go through with it."
"Why?"
"I don't really know," Zoe admitted, wide-eyed. "I've never really been about to understand that possessive type of thing that happens between two people—especially between two men—but I would say that death might have been more pleasant to look forward to, rather than going back to prison and God knows what punishment for having run away. I'll have to give that some more thought."
"I think you've given it quite enough, sweetheart." Ed kissed the back of her hand.
After coffee they were sitting in the living room of the Jones's private apartment. Steve was stretched out with his arms behind him, his ankles crossed and toes pointed. He looked terribly uncomfortable dressed up. In fact, Zoe thought, but did not say it, he looked uncomfortable just wearing clothes at all. There was a lull in the conversation.
"That was a great dinner, Zoe," Steve commented, and scratched his hand down his shirt front, pushing his jacket aside. "The only thing I can think of now, that would top it off just great, would be a good blow-job."
"Steve!" Dot pretended shock.
"Well, it would." Steve said, with a side look to his wife.
"Say, there's an idea," Zoe chimed in. "Ed?"
"Well, whatever you want to do, dear."
"Now you needn't sound so passive. I've been reading your mind for the last fifteen minutes, and it's had nothing but sex on it." Zoe laughed. "Or maybe it was just my mind hoping that that's what your mind was thinking."
Steve Weir had altered his position on the sofa, his legs still stretched out in front of him, now spread apart, but he had removed his clothing. Dot was slouched on the couch beside him in a similar position, her legs stretched out and spread. The young couple, however, had their mouths locked together in kissing as their hands stroked each other's bodies.
Zoe was on her knees between Steve's legs, his cock plunging up and down in her mouth. Ed was between Dot's legs, on his knees, licking his tongue into her snatch. Both Steve and Dot lurched their crotches upward as the frantic mouthing triggered them into fitful climaxes, flopping and reeling with the spasms of release.
Then, as the young couple fell into each other's arms, their bodies tightly pressed together as they reclined on the couch, Zoe straddled atop Ed's body, her hips above his face, her mouth aimed at his cock. As he pulled her pelvis down so that he could lick into her snatch, Zoe caught the neck of his cock with her hand, and lowered her mouth onto it.