Chapter 8
Lisa eased her panties down just a little.
The fur of her pubic hair came into view, peeked over the top of her little panties. I could see the bushiness through the thin material. I could feel it.
Her nipples looked at me like two eyes.
Her panties eased down over the wide part of her hips. The material caught in her crotch, then pulled loose and I saw all her pubic hair, but before she stepped out of the pants she fell into an invisible swing and kicking her legs high in the air, she sailed over my head, then back. The cheeks of her ass lit in the swing, her legs kicking, and she sailed back and forth with her legs open, her head thrown back and her hair flying like a horse's mane. Her open thighs invited my head up them, up and up along their silky smooth skin until my face was right in the hair and my tongue was sliding through the lips of her vagina, right up into the heat of her body, and we fell back with her thighs straddling my face, my tongue rising into her like the gorging head of a prick, and her hair kept flying like a horse's mane.
I woke up with an erection. I was starving to death. It was after nine and the last time I had eaten anything was a candy bar just before I drove into the Perkins place.
I felt cocky as I rolled off the bed, my cock bouncing out of my crotch. "Stay stiff, you bastard," I said out loud, "until we get home to Lisa. And after we're home awhile, I might let you he down, not before."
I pulled on some clothes and banged out the screen door. The apple pie dump closed at nine and I was afraid I wasn't going to make it and would wind up with no supper at all. The logger's wife was looking out her window again.
Damn, I thought, maybe I can come back here tonight and throw it to her.
With only a little encouragement from Mrs. Perkins and Patsy, I had turned into a machine. I was ready to plow through every woman in Tongue River.
The Blue Sky was closed, lights out, even the neon sign over the door was dark. Now what. I sat in the car with the motor running and thought over where I might find something. I considered asking the logger's wife for a handout of some kind in return for a hand in, but I did not feel ready to face what I imagined to be her hulk of a husband who just might come stomping home at the wrong time with his calked boots walking up and down my spine.
Then I remembered the drive-in that Mrs. Davis had told me about. North I went, around a few turns in the road, and there snugly nestled in a protecting pocket of pine trees stood the Evergreen Drive-in, its neon glowing, two cars parked in front with trays on the driver's sides holding hamburgers and French fries and all kinds of good things.
A little girl, with her brown hair cut short under her ears was the only carhop. She was about eighteen. I watched her legs as she walked toward my car, her thighs disappearing into her short-skirted uniform and a little white apron. She seemed to move shyly, like a girl who was brave but not completely sure of herself. I liked her voice. She was smooth, clear-skinned, and had a bright smile. She reminded me of Lisa when I had first met her.
"What would you like?" she asked, fucking a little number card under my windshield wiper. There was so little business that there was no way she could have gotten any of the orders mixed up, but she probably had been told to put cards under windshield wipers and she seemed like the kind of girl who would follow instructions. Her breast brushed my car and I felt like it brushed my own shoulder.
"How about a deluxe burger," I said, " a large order of fries, and a large root beer."
"Okay." She wrote it all down, neatly and legibly.
When she walked away I thought about what she had between her legs, and how it wasn't going to change too much for her for the next twenty years, if Mrs. Perkins was any criteria. I took out my list of orchards and checked off the ones I had seen today; there were only three to go, and they were all higher on the mountain ridge so I could see them anytime in the next day or two because their pears would be ripening later than those closer to the river, valley. And within a day or so, maybe even tomorrow, the first loads of fruit would start arriving at the warehouse. I was doing a good job for the Exchange, and not a bad one for myself. Living on the expense account was the way to go, I thought.
It had been nice, very nice, screwing both Mrs. Perkins and Patsy, and on the same day. I wondered if I would see them again at all during my stay, or if all during the remainder of my visit I would be pounding my own meat, alone in my room, trying to work up the courage to visit the logger's wife and failing, trying to work up the courage to visit Mrs. Perkins again and failing that too. I wondered where Patsy lived.
When the carhop reappeared with my order I remembered where I had seen her before. She was the shy girl, who had been swimming with the other two in bikinis.
She was surprised when I hit her with it, but she hooked the tray on the window ledge without a problem. She took my money and dropped my change in my hand, carefully not touching my skin with her fingers. She seemed very sweet. "Oh, I go down there quite often. I live on that ranch just upriver." She smiled. Her two front teeth were slightly off center, but that only made her more attractive. Her teeth were white and pretty. "It was Mary and Marty with me. They were down visiting. I remember you now. I remember your car. You parked across the river. We saw you."
For a terrible moment I thought the girls had seen me jacking off a little further up the river.
But she said, "You were smoking, sitting in the car watching us. When we got out of the river you honked the horn."
I smiled, happy as could be. "That was me, all right."
'Well." She stood there, watched me pick up a French fry and slide it into my mouth. Her eyes were bright in the neon glow from the Evergreen sign.
'Want one?" I asked.
"No, thanks," she said, shaking her head. "I'm not allowed to eat on duty." She made a move like she was going to leave, then stopped. "Will you be in Tongue River very long?"
"Another couple of weeks. I work for the California Exchange, buying pears. If you're ever around the warehouse in the next couple weeks, drop by, I'll probably be there. I'll give you a pear."
"Maybe I will." She started away. "I'll tell Mary and Marty I met you. They'll think it's funny you came in, just like this."
"Why funny?"
"Oh, not funny, really. I didn't mean funny. It was just an expression." She went away.
When I had finished, she came to take the tray and I asked, "Do you work every night?"
She smiled like she was glad I asked. "Five nights. I don't work Monday and Thursday."
"When do you close here?"
"At ten."
"Okay." I smiled. I started the car. She stood there with the tray in one hand, her feet firmly on the gravel, her legs slightly parted. "I'll see you, okay?"
She smiled again. "Okay."
"What's your name?"
"Melanie. What's yours?"
"Giff."
"Okay."
"Okay."
"See you."
Without stretching our conversation any longer than necessary, I backed out and headed down the road.
Maybe I was making a mistake. Maybe I should have taken her out tonight, right after work. Maybe she wouldn't be there again, or maybe she would have time to think about it and would decide she didn't want to lie down with a stranger. I thought I probably should go slowly with her, but I must also be careful and not go too slow. Girls could be lost, I knew from bitter experience, either from going too fast with them or too slow, and to complicate life every girl was different. Incredible creatures.
Since it wasn't even ten yet and I sure as hell wasn't sleepy after meeting Melanie, I decided to take a drive and listen to my car radio. I could do that for nothing and save paying Mrs. Davis her measly dime. I passed through town again and saw that lights were on at the warehouse. Lou Carson's car was pulled up at the loading dock.
I stopped myself. I thought I'd go in and chew the fat with him about the harvest, and let him know that Exchange kids were no slouches when it came to night work.
Lights glared out of the open office door when I stepped up onto the loading platform. Everything else was dark, hidden in night shadows. I walked into the office and found Evelyn Carson hard at work on the books.
"Getting a little overtime?" I asked.
She laughed. "No, not me. The boss's wife just puts in overtime, she doesn't get any. I'm getting time sheets lined up for the crew."
"Lou around?" I asked.
"In the mechanic's room, overhauling a lift truck. I didn't feel like sitting home by myself so I tagged along."
"It's nice for Lou to be able to do two jobs at once, the bookkeeping as well as the mechanics."
"I don't think he appreciates it, Mr. Stewart." She had the easy, bantering manner of most people in the country, a simple, straight-forward way of kidding each other as well as themselves. These people didn't take themselves too seriously, and they were always ready to turn a comment into a joke. "I'm just a wrench, I think. When he needs me I'm there and when the job is finished he puts me back on the rack. Lou is very neat with his tools, and he keeps them in just the right order."
She was smiling, a friendly expression in her brown eyes, but I had a peculiar feeling that she had stopped joking. It was difficult to determine if she was making a serious comment about her marriage or if she simply had got caught in our line of conversation and hadn't known how to get out of it.
"But that's not why you're here, Mr. Stewart. You're no wrench. What brings you out so late?"
"I had supper at the drive-in and was sort of taking the long way back to the motel. I didn't want to pay a dime to listen to the radio in Mrs. Davis' place."
"Don't tell me she still has those old radios there. And it costs a dime to listen to them?"
"A dime. But you get a full half-hour."
She laughed again, with a tinkling sound in her throat. "I'm afraid Lou and I haven't been very hospitable. Why don't you come to supper some evening while you're here. We'd like it, and I can assure you I could feed you better than the Blue Sky or the drive-in.
"I'm sure you could. I'd like that a lot." From the looks of Evelyn, I thought she would be more at home behind a stove than slaving in the middle of the night over timesheets for her husband. "Thanks."
"Fine, Mr. Stewart. How about Tuesday? About six?"
"Fine with me, if you call me Giff?"
"Sure, Giff," she laughed.
"I'm not used to the Mister, is all."
She looked at me, smiled, and I shuffled my feet a bit, sort of half-turned to look around the office. I cleared my throat. I had just been invited to supper, like a grownup. I hardly knew what to say or do next. "Did you say Lou was here?"
"Yes." She kept smiling. "In the mechanic's room, working on the lift truck."
"Well, I guess I'll drop in on him and say hello. Can you tell me where it is?"
"On the basement level, below the packing shed. There'll be a light on and you'll probably hear Lou swearing at the machine. That's how he fixes things."
"Sometimes it helps."
"Oh," she suddenly cried, "I forgot. We got some pears in today. You don't know it yet."
"From where?"
"Ferguson. Down by the river. Three tote bins. Want to see them?"
She was like a girl with a new pair of skates.
"They're in cold storage." She jumped up from the desk. "Come on, I'll show you."
She took an old leather flight jacket from a nail behind the door and handed it to me. She brought for herself a wool, red-checkered coat with black striping.
She led me across the loading platform and into the pitch-black warehouse. I couldn't see a thing. "Here, take my hand." I took her hand and followed, trusting her to lead me to the pears. We went through passageways that got darker than the one just before, but she knew her way around that warehouse. It was like a Halloween maze your parents have fixed up for you and your friends, without anything scary in it.
At the back door of the cold storage room, we put on our coats and went inside. We could see our breath, even in the dark. She turned on a switch and the big room was flooded with overhead lights. The cooling machines kept up their low constant humming like the motors of a giant refrigerator. At the end of the room, near the far wall, were Ferguson's three tote bins of Bartletts.
We walked down to see them. I passed my hand over them, dug down into the bin to see if Ferguson had sorted the top layer to get rid of the culls. Ferguson was as honest as I had thought him to be when I bought his fruit. "These are nice pears," I said.
"Aren't they?" Evelyn turned one over in her hands. "Mr. Ferguson puts a lot of work into his orchard."
I looked over the other bins and found only a few that might have been No. 2s for size. Not one cull. I felt that Evelyn was watching me, that she was inspecting me as I inspected the fruit. "These are really nice," I said again. When I stopped, I turned toward her. She did not turn or move or look away from me. "I'm glad you brought me to see them."
"I thought you'd like to see them," she said. She almost took a step toward me. We were about three feet apart and I could easily have reached my arm out and taken her to my chest. I thought she. wanted me to.
She turned abruptly and walked toward the big front door. I followed, disappointed, thinking that she was going to lead me to the mechanic's room. Instead, when she reached the door, she put her hand on the light switch, waited until I was close behind her, then turned out the lights.
I couldn't see for the first few seconds, but I knew when she was near and I opened my arms for her to walk into them. I kissed her on the mouth. She held the back of my head with both hands, ran her fingers through my hair, and pressed her lips hard against mine. I bent her back a little, cradled her head in.my left hand and circled her waist with my right, pulled her tight against my stomach. She had to feel my prick that was suddenly hard against her front.
She pulled her mouth away. "Oh, Giff, Giff, Giff, you're so young. So young."
I kissed her again, ran my hand down across the loose jeans covering her ass.
"Oh Giff," she said, out of breath. "Come with me, come, come, this way." She pulled away and led me back deeper into the room. "Oh, you're almost young enough to be my son. Oh come with me." I was afraid she wanted to screw on top of Ferguson's pears and I knew if we did that I'd freeze my ass off in the 34 degree temperature. Damn her husband anyway.
Couldn't he have started his fucking refrigerator tomorrow?
Evelyn pressed me against the bins. "You're so young," she said.
"So are you," I said, believing it, chasing her lips with my tongue.
"I'm over thirty. Over thirty, damn it, you hear that?"
"You don't look thirty," I said, sucking her mouth.
"I don't feel it," she said around my tongue. "I feel seventeen. I've always felt seventeen."
Her hand found what it wanted. She squeezed my prick through my pants, like Bess had done the first time, but instead of making me come like Bess had, Evelyn found my zipper, worked it open, and slid her cold hand inside my pants. She caressed my prick through my shorts, then her fingers, warm now, worked inside the elastic band and pushed down my shorts and she pulled my cock out into the cold air.
It almost leaped out at her. After what it had gone through only this afternoon, I was amazed at how hard it was.
"It's frozen stiff," I said, kissing the top of Evelyn's head.
"It's not frozen at all," she said, sliding both hands around it, working two fingers inside my pants to run through my hair and around to my balls where they were drawn up against my crotch. "You have a nice cock, I'll bet the girls just love it."
She knelt in front of me and kissed its head. She circled its nub with her pursed lips, formed a puckered O, and slipped the head of my dick right inside her hot, soaking mouth. Her tongue quickly worked over its head, down under its very sensitive glans.
I was flabbergasted, delighted, and happy as hell. I did not pull back or resist at all, I moved my hips forward a little and spread my legs to give her more cock if she wanted it.
Her mouth opened more and she took it. She was very careful with her teeth and not once did she brush my skin with her ivories. Her mouth was like a warm, wet cunt, wanting to do the work and let me stand back to enjoy it.
I heard her breathing through her nose. The low hum of the refrigerating machines filled the dark room. It was like standing in cold, black outer space with a very wonderful, warm and hungry mouth fastened onto my cock trying to suck my inner self through its little hole. I was surprised how much suction Evelyn had. She knelt between my legs, sucking at the root of my life.
I spread my legs some more. She held my thighs with her arms, her hands spread out on my ass. She sort of half-murmured, half-sighed through her nostrils. I held her head, ran my fingers through her hair.
Her mouth was firm and her tongue busy. It was like Bess masturbating me, her hand gripping tight but slipping back and forth on its soapy palm, like the first time I got into Patsy this same afternoon, or maybe more like the second time. It was like the first time I jacked off in front of my sister's mirror, the time I lost my mind and rolled all over her bed, fucked her pillows, and finally shot my come against the mirror, my come running in slow motion toward the floor where I caught it in bathroom tissue.
Evelyn took me further into her mouth. I thought I could feel the head of my cock in her throat. She had just about all of it now and I did not know how she kept from choking. It was like she wanted to swallow me.
Her hands left my ass and two fingers squeezed the root of my cock where it came out of my pants. Her other hand found my balls, pressed up through my pants to hold my balls against my crotch. She drew back on me, opened her mouth, and the cold 34 degree air hit my skin, wet with saliva, and got cold instantly but her mouth was back on me, she slid my cock back into her mouth, sucked me back into her, and my hips began moving in a circle.
I held her head tight, wrapped my fingers in her hair, held her ears, ran my thumbs over her eyes. I couldn't get over the idea of a woman's face down there in my crotch. I was getting sucked off, I was getting some head, a blow job, my cock was in her mouth and she was loving it and so was I.
Holding her head, I pulled my cock back, almost out. Her lips nibbled eagerly, trying to suck it all back in. I brought it forward slowly, gently so I would not choke her, and she took more of it than she had before, sucked hard on me, her tongue and gums and jaws working together, and my hips began convulsing again.
My eyes closed in the dark. I took a deep breath of the almost-freezing air. My cock was the only warm part of my body and I felt like it was catching fire, a warming, pleasant blaze never to be extinguished by anyone. I leaned my upper body back away from her, my crotch moving toward.
She put both hands on my cock now, pressing with fingers against whatever part of it wasn't in her mouth. Her tongue and gums and jaws and lips sucked at me, sucked and sucked, kept after it, and I thought I was slipping down her throat, and it was like she had found another tongue, and another, and they were all circling, licking my dick, they were all going over and around and over and under sucking on the root of my life.
My knees felt like they leaped into her mouth. They became part of my cock, a further extension of it, and I rose onto the balls of my feet, then lowered onto my heels. I came up again as all of Evelyn's mouth seemed to close on every bit of my cock and my semen began to boil over. My balls started to burst to extinguish the fire in my cock, and when Evelyn felt my glans swell in her throat she squeezed with her fingers on my cock, constricting the tubes, and the semen when it burst through had the force of dammed-up water finally breaking loose in all directions.
She took all of my sweet young come. I filled her full from the top down, my first time in that direction, pumped until my balls felt empty, drained, and I felt fulfilled and empty at the same time.
Evelyn continued to suck until I was limp in her mouth. She drank me down like I had the nectar of life.
When she let me go I tucked myself quickly back inside my pants. I didn't want to catch a cold down there. I kissed her, rammed my tongue far into her mouth to catch a taste of myself but she had drank all of me, her mouth was clean, her tongue anxious for mine. I gave it to her.
"You're so sweet, GifF. So sweet and hard, and I love your prick. I love it. I love your prick."
I kissed her for that too, then said, "I love your mouth."
We went out through the back door. She led me back through the dark passageways and when we got into the fight of the loading platform we squinted at each other until our eyes were adjusted to the brightness. I looked at her face and thought that she was very attractive, but that she did show her age more than either Mrs. Perkins or Patsy had. I looked at her mouth that I had so recently fucked and wondered how I could face her husband.
"Do I look different?" she asked.
"No, well, maybe nicer."
"I'm sorry I did that, Giff. I couldn't help myself."
"I wanted you to. It was my fault." I was a generous bastard, I thought. The only way it could have been my fault was that I had a cock between my legs.
"I'm sorry," she said, "but I have to retract my invitation to supper. I'm embarrassed. Do you mind?"
"I think I understand, but I'd still like to come if you want me to."
T don't think I could face you, not a whole evening with Lou on the other side of the table. Not now."
I kissed her eyes, very quickly in case a neighbor, or maybe Lou, was standing somewhere in the dark. "Can you forgive me?" she asked.
"For my missing supper, yes. But not for the other. I want to do the other with you again, somewhere else, somewhere where it's warm."
"We can't again. There's too much danger in a small town."
Lou, as if to underscore what she had just said, was waiting in the lighted office. A smear of black grease crossed his face from an eyebrow to jawbone and his hands were rubbing each other with a cleanser to rid themselves of the black, slick stains.
I told him Evelyn had shown me Ferguson's pears. He grinned, said that Ferguson was one of the best damn growers in the valley.
We joked about what each of us were doing up so late. Lou seemed calmer than he had before, as if the arrival of the first load of pears made him realize that the harvest would take its normal route now, regardless of what either of us did, and since it was therefore out of his hands he could relax.
He said to Evelyn as she sat down at the timesheets, "I bet Giff is plenty sick of the Blue Sky. What do you say we have him over for supper the first of next week? Could you rustle up a stew or something?"
"Yes," she said, her voice hesitant. She wanted to decline, but did not know how. "I suppose I could."
I smiled at her with my eyes to. let her know that if the evening had to happen that I would make it as pleasant for her as I could.
Lou asked, "How would you like that, Giff? I bet you're tired of chicken-fried steaks."
"As a matter-of-fact, I am."
"It's settled then. What night is good for you? Though I suppose you're not finding too much in Tongue River to do at night. How about Tuesday?"
Evelyn asked, "You don't think we'll be working late Tuesday, taking pears in?"
Lou said, "Let's just not work late Tuesday night. Let's make a rule now. The growers will understand and won't bring anything in."
"It's okay with me," I said.
"Good, that's settled." Lou grinned at me, and plunged both hands back into the grease cleanser.
Evelyn walked me out to the loading platform. "Good night," she said.
"We couldn't get out of it, Evelyn."
"It'll be all right." Her voice was resigned, as if she had decided something that had troubled her for a long time. "It will be very nice indeed. Lou and I don't very often have guests for supper. I won't make any old stew for you, either. Not now, not after what I did. You're going to have a very nice supper."
"I'm sure I will." As I stepped off the platform, I slid my hand that was in the shadows along the outside of her thigh. She pulled back from my touch as if my hand was hot.
"Good night," she said. "Giff."
"Good night," I said. "Mrs. Carson."