Chapter 3
"I-I, I'm Miranda, Jan's room mate. Won't you come in?" she smiled sweetly. It was the same thing night after night and Miranda had done it for so long it sounded like a recording. Charles introduced himself as Jan's lucky number then took a seat on the sofa. He was one of the blatant jerks. The sort of guy only desperate women dated, but Miranda offered him a drink just the same. If Jan wanted to waste her time with losers like Charles, she wasn't going to pass judgment.
"You must be Miranda?" he said, bobbing his neck up and down like a turkey. She couldn't help wondering where he was six seconds ago when she told him that very thing, but bright wasn't an attribute the brazen possessed. Their oversized ego's usually blocked the passage of other people's words.
"Right." Miranda smiled, handing him the scotch. "and you're Charles."
"That's me, the one and only. Hey, good booze. So, where's the chick?"
"I would imagine in the coop." Miranda answered. She loved playing games with hustler's like Charles. It didn't make a good impression on his type but in a direct way that was welcome knowledge.
"Cute. You, Jan." he shouted. "burgers don't taste as good after they've sat under the heat lamp for two hours, get the lead out." he was laughing at his own cleverness. Miranda had to join in. This guy was definitely unique. Miranda would give anything to see the rock Jan lifted to find this jewel.
"You two lived here long?" he asked.
"Since last summer."
"You ain't sweet on each other, are you?" he joked. Miranda thought about it but decided messing with a mind like Charles's could prove dangerous to his health. She opted to deny involvement and just grin. Keep them wondering, she thought. Let the man squirm.
"So, Charles, I see you're dressed for dinner." Miranda said, noticing his blue jeans and torn tee-shirt. "Where will you and Jan be dining this evening.
"You're real cute, you know that." he smiled. "Hey, how about you and me getting together later. I'll get Jan home around mid-night and me and you can take it from there." Miranda couldn't tell if he was serious but she wasn't taking chances.
"Gee, I'd love to," she said, face serious, tone sincere. "but there's a freight train due in tonight with five million tons of explosives on it and I was hoping to get to the station before then and lay on the tracks in protest. I'm awfully sorry, Charles, maybe some other time."
Charles didn't accept Miranda's answer. Instead he got to his feet and came to where she was sitting then knelt in front of her and moved his tongue in and out several times.
"That's a shame, baby because you and me could make it real hot, you get my drift? I could really dig a compact pussy like yours, Miranda. Maybe you'd better reconsider before the offer is withdrawn."
"Well, I'll let you know, Charles, but don't hold your breath." Miranda put her hand to his shoulder motioning him to move away then she went to check on Jan.
Oddly enough, Jan seemed more relaxed with Charles than she was with Marty, and when they finally left, Miranda started laughing. Jan must be one horny lady, she thought. Why else would she want to date a geek like Charles.
The living room looked smaller than usual and Miranda could feel the walls closing in around her. Another night alone was too much to think about. She tried sketching, but couldn't shake the feeling, then tried reading, but it only got worse. Miranda decided she had to get out.
The paper said West Side Story was playing at the Valley Theater and she figured seeing it again would be a hoot. She made a call to her friend Karen and asked if she'd like to come along, but Karen was too much like Jan. Her date was due any minute and she had to get off the phone and finish her make-up.
When Miranda called Susan she got the tired excuse, washing hair, but Miranda didn't care for her anyway. It was for the best. She tried several others but they either had plans or had excuses and Miranda was faced with the decision to go out alone or just stay in.
She wasn't a wall flower by an stretch of the imagination, just preferred company at night. Hendersonville was a big town and Miranda didn't like the idea of walking the city streets alone. She was always fearful a strange man might lunge at her from a dark alley and yank her pocketbook from her shoulder pulling her muscle. Pain, in any form, was not something Miranda dealt gracefully with. She was chicken when it came to getting flu shots and even more skittish having a blood count where the nurse jabbed her finger with a razor blade.
The scheduled TV movie was, Broadway Sings, and even though she'd seen it at least 100 times, it was better to see it again then to risk a pulled muscle. Miranda checked the pantry for cocoa but Jan had used the last of it baking a birthday cake for Tim. She wouldn't have gone all the way to Vanderhorn's market but when you get a craving for a certain thing, nothing else will do.
Old man Vanderhorn was just closing up when she arrived. He let her in then locked the door behind her.
"Hello, missy, what can I get for you today?" he said. Miranda was appreciative he didn't turn her away. The next closest market was eight blocks down.
"Thanks, Mr. Vanderhorn." she said. "I need some cocoa."
Carl watched Miranda from his pass through window. She was so beautiful. Clean hair, smooth complexion. Her petite size was just right for Carl, at least he thought so. Carl stared at her for a long time. He watched her mouth when she spoke and listened intensely to her sweet feminine voice.
"Baking a sweet for your sweetheart?" Jesse asked, with a teasing grin.
"No, I don't have one of those. Just making some hot chocolate before the movie starts."
"What are you going to watch, little lady."
"Broadway Sings." she said.
"I know that movie." Carl blurted, from the pass through. Miranda looked across the room and saw him peeking out. He looked cute bent over with his face taking up the entire opening.
"You do!" she said, to Carl. "Did you like it?" Carl realized what he'd done and now Miranda was speaking to him. He wanted to die. He wanted to drop to his knees and faint never to wake again, but something in him responded and he answered Miranda.
"Loved it, it's one of my favorites."
"Mine too. It's coming on in ten minutes." she said. "Channel three." Miranda smiled at Carl then paid for the cocoa. Carl watched her every move as she left the store and his heart was pounding like a jack hammer hitting asphalt. He felt something for Miranda he'd never experienced before and it was making him nervous.
When he looked at his cock it had swollen inside his jeans and Carl put his hand to it feeling the bulge. He wanted to make it go away but knew it would take more than pressing his palm to it. He read books about sex. He could tell you anything you needed to know about anatomy, especially the female anatomy, but experiencing sexual arousal was new for Carl, at least direct sexual arousal. His only hard-ons came from looking at the Playboy magazines from Williard's News stand over on fifth.
Carl put his apron back on and covered the protruding cock bulge when Jesse came to the back. His father was ready to close up and go home but Carl didn't want to take off the apron.
"I'll stay and finish sweeping." Carl said.
"What did you say?" Jesse made him repeat it. He thought he heard it but being Carl's first request to stay after hours, he wasn't sure.
"I want to get some cleaning done before tomorrow morning, dad. I'll lock up before I leave."
"Do you think you can?" Jesse asked.
"Sure, I can lock a door." Carl said, showing his annoyance by the insult.
"Fine, here's the key, but you remember to lock both, you hear. The upper and lower, and make sure the alley door is closed tight before sliding the bolt." Carl convinced his father he could handle the job and Jesse went on home.
Miranda got half way home before realizing Mr. Vanderhorn had given her too much change. She gave him a five dollar bill for the cocoa and he gave her change for a ten. She scurried back to the store hoping to catch him before he left, but the place was dark.
Miranda pressed her face to the glass and had a look inside. She noticed the light on in the back room and decided to knock. When Carl hear the tapping, he came around to the front. There she was, standing outside with her beautiful face against the door. Carl froze. He didn't know what to do.
She spotted him through an opening between the Camel Filters display and Mrs. Vanderhorn's homemade cherry Danish case, and when she knocked again, Carl put the broom down then went to open up.
"I'm sorry to bother you." she said, as he opened the door. "Mr. Vanderhorn gave me too much money."
"Come in." Carl said. He stepped aside and let Miranda pass then locked the door.
"I was hoping to catch him before he left but I guess I can leave it with you?" She handed Carl the extra bills then waited for his reply. Carl couldn't focus on anything she was saying. His mind went blank. He wanted to calm himself but screaming now would be impossible.
"Will you tell Mr. Vanderhorn I returned his money?" she asked.
"You just missed him." Carl said. "He's gone home. I told him I wanted to stay and sweep up before tomorrow so he gave me the keys."
"Yes, well, if you'll just tell Mr. Vanderhorn that Miranda Saunderson returned his money. "She was amused by Carl's manner. He seemed friendly enough, but different somehow. He was soft spoken and polite and she liked the way he seemed nervous around her. It had been a long time since any man acted that way around her.
"I'll tell him as soon as I get home." Carl said.
"You don't have to do that." Miranda said. She didn't want him to make a special effort. "Just give it to him when you see him again."
"I'll see him when I get home."
"You'll, ah, I don't understand." Miranda smiled. He'd lost her somewhere along the line. Why would Mr. Vanderhorn's employee see him at home, she wondered.
"I still live there." Carl said, shrugging his shoulders as if to apologize for the fact:
"'wait, you're Mr. Vanderhorn's, son?" she asked with surprise. Carl nodded. "I had no idea. I thought you worked for him."
"I do."
"Well, ya, right, but you're his son." she said, flustered by the news. Why did the old man leave that part out the other day, she wondered. Mr. Vanderhorn didn't let on a bit.
"Are you missing your movie, Miss Miranda?" Carl asked, noting the time. She looked at her watch then grinned.
"Well, yes but that's okay. I wanted to get this back to Mr. Vanderhorn. I thought it might make his books come out wrong for the day. You know how it is when that happens. You can spend hours looking for it. Well, it was nice talking with you ... " she turned a palm waiting for him to fill the blank.
"Carl." he said, and with ease.
"Carl, good. I'll probably see you again." Miranda walked over to the door and waited for Carl to let her out. He slipped the key to the lock and started to turn and Miranda interrupted his action with a question.
"Is Broadway Sings really your favorite?" she asked, looking at his big hazel eyes.
"It sure is, well, one of them, I've got several."
"Would you consider watching it with me?" Carl wasn't sure what she meant. Did she want to come home with him and watch it or was she inviting him to her place. The thought of going to her place was more than he could stand.
"I, uh, I." he stammered.
"I'll tell you, Carl. I'm all alone at the house tonight and I'd really appreciate the company, besides, Broadway Sings is the sort of movie you need to share with someone. I'll make you some hot chocolate." Miranda smiled. She was desperate for company even if it meant asking a stranger again. Carl felt the sweat building on his upper lip. His pulse raced with a furry but he managed to nod.
"I have to call home first." he said. "I wouldn't want them to worry."
"Go right ahead, Carl, I'll wait." He dialed the number then grinned at Miranda like a school boy getting ready to cut class. Jesse answered the telephone and when Carl told him where he was going, Jesse was speechless.
"She's invited me to watch a movie with her so I'll be home late. The money is in the register. I'll lock up tight." Carl said, then hung up the phone.
All the way to Miranda's he was quiet. He just listened as her soft angel-like voice drifted from her lips out across the cool night air. Carl couldn't believe he was walking with her. She was too lovely for words, he thought, too beautiful to be seen with a stupid, clumsy, ox.
When Miranda told him to get comfortable and turn on the TV. Carl took the chair across from the sofa. He didn't want Miranda thinking him forward by sitting on the sofa. She might think he planned it that way just to get her to sit next to him.
It took less than ten minutes to make the hot chocolate and when she brought it in, Carl was still sitting in the chair. She put his on the end table on a coaster and Carl thanked her. He was intrigued with Miranda. The swan-like grace of her movements, the pearly shine of her straight teeth. He wanted to touch her, just once, just her hair, and smell her skin.
"I'd ask what I've missed." she said jokingly. "But I know this picture by heart."
"Me too." Carl said.
"You know, I didn't even realize you worked at the store, Carl. Why haven't I seen you before?"
"I stay in back most of the time." he said. "I make the meat platters."
"I've had one, God, they're great, Carl." Miranda smiled at him with both sides of her face, and Carl could see it was genuine. He was good about judging people by their smiles. If a person only used the muscles of their left side, it wasn't genuine. Miranda's face smiled a left and righter.
"You liked it?" Carl asked.
"You use such big pieces of meat on them. I just love the beef. It's so lean and it melts in your mouth."
"The beef is my favorite too." Carl said. He was more relaxed with her than he expected. She was friendly and had a way of making you feel at home. Carl's legs began to lose their stiffness and he let his knees drop apart hitting the arm rests of the chair.
"We have a lot in common, don't we, Carl?"
"We do?" he asked, surprised by her statement.
"Don't you think?"
"I guess." he said, nervously. Carl wouldn't presume to think he shared the same interests with a lady as beautiful as Miranda Saunderson, but when she pointed them out, he agreed by nodding.
"See, I told you." she said. "If you like monopoly, I'll just faint." Carl's lips felt numb with excitement. That was only his all time favorite board game. He'd play for hours if he could find a partner. He told Miranda and she laughed, letting herself fall back on the sofa cushion.
"Where have you been all my life, Carl Vanderhorn?" she said. "Wanna play?"
"What, now?" Carl said. "You'll miss your movie."
"Oh to hell with the movie, Carl. I've seen it. I'd love a good round of monopoly if you're up to it?"
They set the board up on the coffee table and each used a sofa cushion on the floor as their seat. Carl was banker and Miranda took on the duties as Real-Estate broker. She won the roll, and right off the bat ended up in jail.
"Don't sweat it." Carl said. "It's just a visit." Carl rolled doubles and wound up four spaces past her but when Miranda mentioned him being out in front, he got a sad look on his face.
"Did I say something wrong, Carl?" she asked, softly.
"Oh, no, you couldn't."
"Then why the long face?"
"No reason, I guess it's just hard for me to imagine being ahead of anyone." he said. Miranda heard the pain in his voice. What did he mean, she wondered. Carl could be ahead of any one. He was bright, intelligent and a deeper man than you'd expect to find working as a cold meat artist in the back of a family grocery market.
"Oh, I don't know, Carl. I can." Miranda said. "How about a refill?" she asked, reaching for his cup.
"May I make it with you?" he asked. Miranda liked the way Carl phrased his question. Coming from anyone else, she would have questioned it as a direct invitation to hump her box, but from Carl she knew what he meant. She let the corners of her mouth curl slightly then nodded. What Carl didn't know was she would gladly make it with him in the bedroom.
"Are you any good?" she asked, keeping the same train of thought.
"I don't know, I guess that would depend on how you like it."
"How I like it?" Miranda laughed. She wasn't sure he wasn't being coy but decided to play it through just in case.
"Well, wouldn't it?" he said.
"'Well, let's see." she said. "What if I told you I liked it hot?"
"I can do that." Carl said.
"And if I told you I liked it smooth?"
"Yep, I could do that too." he said, proudly. Miranda couldn't be sure Carl wasn't playing with her head. She had to find out. She thought hard on her next question then asked.
"Okay, wise guy, what if I wanted it black?" she stated firmly knowing that would reveal Carl's true state of mind.
"Well, I'd say that's the only thing I'm not in control of, but you'd have your wish just the same."
"Huh?" she questioned. "What do you mean?"
"Cocoa is already black, there's nothing I can do to change the color." he said, with perfect innocence.
"You know something, Carl Vanderhorn. I like you."
"Really?" he asked. Carl's eyes lit up like golden beacons and the tiny angel dusted flecks reflected a glimmer that made him extremely desirable.
Miranda looked at him closely. How could I have missed him all this time, she thought. She looked into Carl's shiny eyes then moved closer to him hoping he might take the gesture seriously and move toward her, but Carl just froze. He wasn't able to move a muscle. Her closeness was making his heart pound and when his heart pounded, his blood rushed, and when Carl's blood rushed, it filled his cock to capacity and before he could control himself, his pants bulged like rising bread dough in a warm covered bowl.
Miranda parted and Wet her lips making a move to kiss Carl's and he had no choice but to let her. Not that he would have pulled away had he been able, but to be kissed by the most gorgeous lady your eyes have ever witnessed and not be able to respond, well, that was something else again.
She closed her eyes and let her soft rosy lips brush to him hoping for a sign he approved, but Carl couldn't handle it. He was dumbfounded by the gesture and it was all he could do to keep standing.
"Is everything alright?" she whispered, backing off just enough to speak.
"Yes."
"Am I making you angry?" she whispered again, hoping he'd be truthful.
"No, you could never make me angry." Carl's breathing was labored. Having her soft breath tickle his ear was heaven. "Nervous." he said. "You're making me nervous."
Miranda gazed into his eyes and with one smooth motion, moved her mouth to his. She let the fullness of her lips envelope his and when Carl felt the warmth of her body pressing to his, he lost control.