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The Drifter Ch. 01

By: harding



1: Handyman

I came in over the Rockies in the Spring leaving their snow behind and drove down into the rich California farmland. I found a place to rent on the south edge of Visalia. The area was run down and many of the houses stood empty. No one wanted to buy, so I managed to rent, week on week, which suited me perfectly. The house was small, poorly built with inner walls that shook when you walked across the floor, but it was cheap, it was dry, and there was no long lease. I had been staying in a motel, found the house in a copy of the Visalia Times Delta I picked up on a bench. I was glad to move out of the motel, it was costing more than I could afford, and my sleep was constantly interrupted by the noises coming through the paper thin walls.

With the rent so low, if I could find another job at weekends I might even be able to put some money aside.

I had no plans to stay around long. It was not deliberate, but in the year I had been living this way I knew, within three months, that itch would start up and I'd need to move on. I would get uncomfortable with familiarity. Didn't like it when people think they're getting to know me. I don't why, and don't want to analyze it too much, but suspect it's a flaw in my character. It doesn't worry me much. When the itch arrives, I'll pack what little stuff I have in the back of my pick up and head out in whatever direction appeals on the day.

I picked up work easily - even these days I always manage to find work. I didn't mind what I did, and I didn't much care how little it paid just so long as I could put a roof over my head and eat five days out of seven. A strong back and willing pair of hands could always find someone in need them. This time I'd landed a decent job at a local feed merchants a mile west of town. I started at six and spent all day lifting hundred weight sacks of corn, wheat and cattle feed on and off trailers, hauling them up to the storage racks that soared up inside the tall feed building.

Maybe in a week I'd look around for some bar work. I guess, like all towns, Friday and Saturday could get rough, but I didn't mind using my strength to keep order when drinkers had taken on too many. I was good with my fists as well as my hands, but never went looking for trouble and, thankfully, trouble didn't usually come looking for me. On the few occasions it did, I managed to handle it.

Friday evening I'd read about the house and driven over. A bored real estate woman showed me around, filling the tiny space with her perfume. She asked $400 a month and I offered $200 and she made a show of thinking it over. She wanted me to sign a six month lease but I insisted on week by week. We both knew if she played hardball the place was going to stay empty. I signed some papers, gave her a check for the first month and watched her legs - good legs - as she dipped into her low sports car. She caught me looking and gave me a tired smile.

I had everything I needed already in my truck. I had been paying the motel day to day, so took my single bag inside and unpacked. It took less than ten minutes. Eight pairs of shorts and socks. Three pairs or jeans. Six t shirts. Two good cotton shirts and two pairs of boots. All my shaving gear was in my wash bag. I placed it on the edge of the bath, sorry there was no shower, but I could cope with a bath for a few months.

Saturday evening I pulled one of the beers off the six pack I had put in the refrigerator and took it outside onto the porch. I had an old canvas chair in the back of my truck and I unfolded it and leaned back against the wooden boards, feet up on the rail, sipping beer and watching as the sky darkened and the the stars came out. The evening was warm and the beer felt good going down.

Every now and then a car or truck would go past on the street, the people inside mostly ignoring me, some turning their heads to check me out. I wasn't threatening, I didn't alarm people, even for a tall guy who is in good shape. It was something about my eyes, about the relaxation around my mouth.

As it got full dark the insects grew louder. Scent of flowers came to me on the breeze, and I could hear voices from some of the houses. Across the street a tv was playing a game show and the background drone was punctuated by cheering and applause when someone won. 

The house to my right was even more run down than my rental, and the place was dark. I hadn't seen anyone in there yet, and I wondered if they were on vacation or maybe the place was empty. There were a lot of houses around like that, empty, boarded up, somebody's loss.

On the other side was a slightly larger two storey, lights flooding out through small windows, splashing distorted rectangles of yellow across the dusty grass between us. Music was playing, clear through the open windows, a rock band, something I almost recognized. Sounded good, and made me wonder where there was in town I could go to hear some music. There was always somewhere. I'd check it out, but not tonight. Tonight was for indulgence, for more beer and to settle into my temporary home.

It would become claustrophobic eventually, it always did, but I didn't need to think about that now. The pattern had repeated enough times now for me to know it would come, and to know there was nothing I could do about it, so why worry?

I fetched another beer and leaned back again in the chair. On my left the door of the inhabited house opened, spilling light across onto the sidewalk and someone stepped out. They walked to the sidewalk and dumped a plastic bag into the trash can. When they turned back I saw it was a woman, older than me, somewhere in her mid twenties, tall and very slim. She started back to the house and then stopped suddenly as she caught sight of me. She moved her head, looking into her house then back at me then began to walk again. She might have nodded her head, I wasn't sure, but she didn't say anything and the door closed behind her.

Behind the music I heard voices, indistinguishable, but they hadn't been there before, I was sure. Maybe she was telling her husband they had a neighbor.

***

Sunday morning I lay on the queen size bed that almost completely filled the one small bedroom, sweat beading off me and pooling in the hollows of my naked body. Sunlight glowed behind the thin drapes and I pulled myself up on two pillows so I could gaze around at the single room. The door was on my right. If I stretched my six-two length right out I could touch the wall beyond the bed. The door was open in an unsuccessful attempt to cool the place down and I could see into the small living room/kitchen. Just three rooms, the whole place maybe forty feet by twenty. Small. Hot. Good enough.

The shallow roof gave me eight feet of height, which was plenty, but it caught the sun and now, just after ten, the small space had turned into a sauna. At the moment I was enjoying it, lying naked and letting the sweat seep out of me, but I imagined it wasn't always going to be a novelty.

My long body was completely relaxed, my hands linked behind my head, ankles crossed. My dark brown hair was cut a little long and covered my ears, curling even after I wetted it and dragged a comb through. I needed a shave, hadn't used a razor since Friday morning, but would wait until Monday. I usually didn't bother over the weekend, and quite liked the soft stubble that formed by Sunday.

My shoulders are wide and my chest flat, ropes of muscle showing under the skin. I'm probably underweight, but the muscle stopped me from looking skinny.

Curls of dark hair sparsely covered my chest and ran down in a narrow line along my flat belly, widening into pubic hair. My cock lay sideways across my hip, thick and heavy even in repose. My legs were long and gave me most of my extra height. More muscle showed in my thighs, calves tapering down to narrow feet. Dressed in shirt and jeans, with my best boots on, I looked like some old time cowboy as I walked down the street. Now, naked and sheened with sweat I felt ridiculously satisfied with myself. I have a chronic lack of ambition - so much so, I saw it as an asset rather than a flaw.

I looked around the room again, my eyes heavy, and drew the hot air deep into my lungs and stretched. Maybe this week I'd look around, see what action there was, try to get laid. I liked sex - liked it a lot. But I didn't want commitment, and always chose women who would demand nothing of me. Bored housewives were good, those who were thirty and up, whose marriages had settled into routine. It was ironic, I knew, but I came across it time and again where the husband had gone in search of outside pleasure while his wife simmered with suppressed passion. If only those husbands looked under their noses they'd find some of the best sex around. But it was something about grass being greener.

I had no age limit, just an attractiveness limit. It was, I knew, not set that high, because sometimes beauty was more than skin deep. Some of the best sex I'd ever had had been with women in their forties who would not have raised a second glance. But press the right buttons, undo the right buttons, and you found them surprisingly sexy naked, and very dirty minded.

I know, I sound full of shit: self-satisfied - and it's true. Barely twenty years old and I think I've got it all worked out. Ambition's for those stupid enough not to realize we all end up as worm food. 

I smiled and watched as my cock twitched and filled, creeping across my hip.

What the fuck, I thought, smiling again and reached down and started to stroke it, feeling it's thickness stiffen and grow inside my palm. I'd look around, maybe find someone in the week, but for now it felt good to rub myself and I lay against the bed, in the heat, and slowly bring myself to a climax. 

I let the semen dry on my skin, mixing with sweat. I'd get up in a while, run a bath and then talk a walk. There was nothing to do all day, nowhere to be, no-one to satisfy other than myself. Life was sweet.

***

I didn't see my neighbor again until I came back from work Tuesday evening. I pulled up just after six and locked my truck. I was heading to the front door when I heard the music again: good rock, southern tinged, not Skynrd but something just like. I had the key in my hand when the neighbor's door opened and the same woman stepped out onto the porch. She stood looking at the road, at my truck, then turned her head to me and smiled.

She lifted her hand in a tentative wave and said, "Hi," softly.

I nodded, said, "Hi," back.

"I saw you moving in," she said. Her voice was very soft and she looked away from me when she spoke, only turning back after she had finished.

"Saturday," I said, gazing back at her. I had only seen her briefly in the dark two nights before. Now, in the soft evening light I studied her more carefully, liking what I saw. I knew I would never make a move on her, next door wives were bad, bad luck, but that didn't stop me appreciating her subtle beauty. I thought a lot of men would probably miss it.

She was tall, probably over five-eight, and very slim. Her hair was flame red and cut short and straight around her face. Big bright green eyes. Big lips. Long neck. Her body was lean and she held herself on one foot, balanced and comfortable. Small breasts, no more than 34B, slim hips and legs. She wore a plain t shirt and blue jeans.

"Yeah, Saturday," she agreed.

I nodded at her place and said, "I like the music. Who is it? I don't recognize the band."

"They're local. I don't think they're known out of state, but I really like them. Band of Angels, they're called. I've seen them four times now." Her smile widened, showing her teeth, one of her incisors crooked out of true - sexy.

"They're good," I said, then turned and stepped across towards her. "I'm Mike." I held my hand out as I approached her.

She looked away again, then half turned towards me and put her own hand out. I gripped hers in my rough palm, being careful not to squeeze. But she returned my light pressure and so I firmed my grip and she followed suit. Her hand felt delicate but strong. Her fingers were rough on the ends and along her palm.

"I'm Emily. Emily Michelson. My husband's Troy."

"Nice to meet you, Emily. I don't think I've seen your husband around."

"He works long hours. And he keeps to himself most of the time." Her voice was casual, and I heard no hidden meaning behind her words. That was good. It meant I could allow myself to like this pretty, young wife. She seemed to think for a moment, then said, in the same soft, diffident voice, "I've made coffee. D'you want some?"

I looked down at the paper sac I was holding, then said, "Let me put these groceries away and I'd love some."

Emily smiled and nodded. I pushed the door open with my hip and put the food away: milk and eggs in the refrigerator, bread and fruit on the small side table, more beer left out but three bottles slipped down on a shelf next to the milk.

I had just finished when I heard a soft knock against my door. Emily was standing there with two steaming mugs. "I brought it over, is that OK?"

"Sure. Come in, if you can find space."

She stepped through the door, handed me one of the mugs, then perched on the arm of my couch. She looked around. "You keep it pretty neat."

I sat on the other arm of the couch, turned sideways, putting my feet on the cushions so I was looking at Emily. I laughed softly. "Not a lot to keep tidy, is there."

She smiled back, sipped at her too hot coffee.

I felt unexpectedly at ease with her. She told me she worked at the local market, selling fruit and salad vegetables until 3 p.m. She was twenty-five (older than I had thought) and no kids yet. Troy wasn't sure about kids. And Troy, what did he do? Sold stuff, she said. Any kind of stuff. He tended to move between jobs a lot, she said. 

One year he sold aluminum siding, next it was double glazing, second hand cars, trailer rentals... There was no bitterness in her voice as she told me about her husband's peripatetic existence, just a soft acceptance. This was her life. She graduated High School but College was never on the agenda for either of them. I formed the impression she was smarter than her husband, but was OK with that. Life wasn't good, but it wasn't too bad either. They got by, and if any of Troy's schemes worked out they'd be able to buy their own house.

She asked about me, and as I told her a version of my story it sounded in my own ears like I was just a couple of steps up from being a vagrant. I didn't elaborate on why I started living this way: a father who knocked me around, a mother who drank herself into oblivion by mid afternoon. No siblings. No roots. That was kept back, only the result, my wandering, giving some hint to my past.

We finished our coffee and I handed my cold mug back.

"I'd better get Troy's meal on," she said. "It was nice to visit. I liked talking to you, Mike."

"Visit anytime you like, Emily."

"Yeah?"

"Sure."

***

I worked overtime the rest of that week, and by the time I would arrive home it was dark. The lights were always on next door, but I couldn't hear any music through the closed windows. On Friday I put on my good shirt and good boots and drove into town, walked between bars asking about work. Finally, on my fourth attempt I was offered two evenings if I wanted them. I could try out tomorrow, Saturday night, see if it worked out. I thanked the manager and shook his hand, bought a beer and took my bottle over to a table. I sat and watched the room, getting a feel for the place.

The clientele were mostly working men and women, dressed up like me for Friday night, drinking beer and eating burgers that were cooked in the small kitchen out behind the bar. A juke box played rock and country. At one end of the bar was a small stage, but it was empty tonight and spare tables had been set up there to provide extra space.

I finished my beer slowly, said goodnight and walked out into the cool night. It was late, after eleven, and I'd probably had more beer than I should. It was a mile back to my place, but I decided to walk. I couldn't risk getting pulled over.

As I turned into the road most of the houses were dark, but lights still shone through Emily's windows. As I got closer I heard raised voices. A man's voice - the mysterious Troy. To begin with, from a distance, it was noise. A deep voice, raised, angry. As I got closer I could make out words.

"... the fuck you wanna be doing this for... waste of fuckin' time..."

A break. Emily saying something I couldn't hear.

"You're my fuckin' wife, girl, you don't get to have ambitions!"

I reached my door and stood. I couldn't just go in and ignore this. Troy sounded mad, worked up, so I waited where I was.

Emily's voice sounded, raised, but the words were indistinguishable.

"The fuck you will!" Troy shouted. "No wife of mine is gonna show herself up on no fuckin' stage. And as for this piece of crap..." 

"Troy, no!" Emily's voice came clearly across the night.

There was a hollow sound, booming, and then a loud crash and splintering of wood. "Now you can't fuckin' show me up, can you."

"Troy!" Emily yelled again, her voice breaking.

There was another loud crash. I stepped away from my door and across to the larger two storey. I rapped loudly on the door. 

"Is everything all right in there?" I called out.

More crashing, sounded like a table going over.

I didn't knock again, just tried the handle. The door was unlocked and I pushed it open and stepped inside, the brightness dazzling my eyes.

Emily and Troy were standing at the far side of the room. A small kitchen table was turned over. Troy held the neck of a jumbo guitar in his hands. The body hung loose, dangling by the strings. They both turned to look at me, Troy's face red, Emily's streaked with tears.

"Who the fuck are you!" Troy said, menace in his voice.

"I live next door. I heard the noise." I looked at Emily. "Are you OK?"

Troy looked from me to his wife, then back to me.

"You know this cock sucker?"

Emily nodded.

Troy dropped the broken guitar and took three steps towards me.

"You been sniffin' around, boy? You been after my fuckin' wife?" His face grew redder, fists bunching at his sides. He lifted onto his toes to make himself taller.

I watched him approach and then slow. I relaxed my shoulders and shook my arms to loosen them. Troy was big, but not as tall as me. He weighed forty pounds more, some of it muscle, most of it not.

I held my hands up, "I'm a concerned neighbor, man, that's all."

Troy took another step towards me, and I didn't think the man was listening any longer. Over Troy's shoulder I saw Emily step back into a corner. Her eyes darted between me, her husband, and the broken guitar. She drew the back of her arm across her face, smearing tears and snot.

"Concerned my fuckin' ass. You wanna get into her pants, I fuckin' know what you're like. Actin' all concerned and all you want is some pussy. Well, she's my fuckin' pussy so you can just fuck off outa here right now!"

"When I know she's OK," I said, my voice steel.

"She's none of your business!" Troy stepped forward again, his hands coming up. 

I saw the swing coming in Troy's eyes and stepped aside, lifted my arm and pushed the fist aside. Troy followed with another roundhouse and I turned and took it on my shoulder. The man could hit, there was power being the punch, and I knew I didn't want to get into this but it had gone too far now.

Emily's hands were over her mouth, eyes wide above her fingers.

Troy started swinging more punches, stepping close, and I continued to push them away or take them on my shoulders. I was hoping he would get tired and realize there was no real fight going on. But instead my refusal to respond seemed to make him madder. He tried to step closer, but I wasn't giving ground.


The Drifter Ch. 01



I could not believe my eyes when the black pickup truck drove up to the farmhouse and their granddaughter hopped out. I was standing by the barn, hitching up the hay wagon to the farm truck, and had to stop when I saw her run up to the porch to greet her grandparents. They told me she was coming to help with the haying for the weekend, but I had no idea she would be so hot looking.

She had dusty blonde hair, tied in a ponytail that fell below her shoulders. Her cowboy boots came just below her knees and revealed well toned thighs, but it was her tight cut-off jeans and equally tight red T-shirt that made me gasp. I wasn't certain how old she was, but I guessed in her late twenties, or early thirties. 

I had just turned forty-three and wanted to get away from my dead-end jobs as a carpenter, but also a marriage that went south, leaving me bitter and broke—fortunately, no kids. I had been working my way west in my beat up pick-up truck and stayed on Route Sixty-six because of the old song, Get Your Kicks on Route Sixty-Six. I stopped at towns and found odd jobs along the way. Sometimes I slept in my truck, sometimes in a cheap motel and treated myself to a hot shower. 

I had answered an ad for a temporary farmhand on a little cattle ranch called the G&L Ranch outside of Tulsa, Oklahoma. I had just been hired that morning to help with the haying.

Standing there, I watched her hug her grandparents and chat for a minute, and then she and her grandfather came over to me by the barn. I could see she wasn't wearing a bra because her grapefruit sized tits jiggled, and the small peaks of her nipples practically poked through the tight red shirt. 

"This is our granddaughter, Carla...told you she'd be working with you." 

"I'm Josh, glad to meet you, Carla." I shook her hand, smiled, looked into her blue eyes and tried not to look at her nipples. 

She smiled back and had the cutest dimples, but then quickly looked away and seemed tense. I could tell she was shy and uncomfortable around people she didn't know, but sensed by the way she was dressed, that underneath her quiet, shy manner was a sensual, passionate woman, who dressed provocatively and liked men to look at her. 

"The hay is all cut and dry but my baler is busted, so you two will have to bale her up and bring it back to the barn." He looked up at the sky. "It's supposed to rain later today, so you'll have to work fast to get her in." 

"Well, the hay wagon is all hitched up so we're ready to go." I glanced back at it, then at Carla. 

"Good," her grandfather said. "I'll be in the North pasture fixing the fences, so I'll see you all at lunch." 

"Hop in the truck, Carla. Let's get started," I said, walking towards it. 

"Just a minute," she said and ran to her truck and came back wearing a straw cowboy hat that somehow made her look even sexier. I was in the truck, waiting and put on my red faded baseball cap over my long, shaggy brown hair. 

"Okay, I'm ready," she said when she climbed in, but didn't look at me.

We took off and Carla was quiet as we drove up the bumpy road to the field. I glanced over at her and could feel she was tense by the stiff way she sat with her hands folded on her lap.

We didn't speak, but a few times she turned to me and our eyes met, but then she'd quickly look away again. I think she liked being in the truck with me, but her shyness made her tense and apprehensive. I wanted to get her to relax. 

"Nice folks, your grandparents. I'm glad I got this job," I said, trying to break the ice.

"Yeah, I love them and I like coming out here to visit and help." She glanced at me, then turned to look straight ahead. 

I kept looking at her bare legs and her breasts straining the tight t-shirt and thought how I would love to move my hand on the inside of her smooth, tan thighs. I was turned on, but had no idea how I could get past her shyness. 

"So, Carla, do you have a man in your life?" I asked, looking over at her. 

"No, I don't." 

Again, she glanced at me, then back out the window and was nervously biting her lower lip.

"I'm surprised. I'd think a sexy woman like you would have guys chasing after you." 

She blushed when I said that. 

"You're blushing." I chuckled. 

"I'm not used to men saying I'm sexy." 

"Well, I think you are...very sexy." 

"Thank you." She glanced at me, her face still pink, then quickly turned away. 

I could tell she liked my saying that, but she just looked straight ahead with her hands folded tighly on her lap. I knew she was mulling over my words. I was hoping by letting her know I liked how she looked and making little sexual comments I would penetrate her shyness and arouse her. I guess you could say I was slowly trying to seduce her and, like I said, I had a feeling about her and hoped I was right. 

When we reached the spot where the hay was cut, I stopped the truck, and we both hopped out and looked out at the field. I was admiring the open space and the way the hay glowed in the hot morning sunlight, then, after a minute, went to the back of the truck and got the big ball of twine we would use to tie the bales. I threw her a pair of work gloves and put mine on. 

"Let's work together," I said. "We'll make up the piles of hay, and then you'll hold them in place while I tie and cut the twine with my penknife."

Carla nodded and we got to work. We worked smoothly and quickly, and I could tell she was used to this kind of work by how tightly she was able to gather the hay while I tied. We kept glancing at each other, and I tried to get a conversation going, but she answered in short sentences. Still, I could feel there was something in the way our eyes met that made me know she liked being with me and was relaxing.

I told her where I was from, that I was drifting from place to place along Route Sixty-six because of my fascination with the historic highway. I asked if she knew the song about getting your kicks on Route Sixty-six, then chuckled, "So far I haven't had any kicks, but was hopeful." I looked into her eyes and smiled, suggestively, then quickly added, how I happen to be in the area and saw the ad. 

"So you like adventure," she said, after a silence and looked at me and had a slight, playful smile on her lips that surprised me. 

"Yep, there's nothing like a little adventure to put some spice in your life." 

"Maybe that's what I need...a little adventure." She closed her eyes and looked away. 

I nodded and didn't say anything but felt her discontent. 

While she gathered up the piles of hay and held them tightly, I tied and cut the twine. We were standing pretty close to each other and a few times I caught her glancing at me then quickly turn away. 

"You're really good at this, Carla. I like strong women." 

"You do, do you? And why might I ask do you like strong women?"

She had that slight, playful smile and I sensed she was relaxing enough to tease me.

"I think it's sexy and strong women are usually passionate, and I like passion."

Carla didn't say anything, but just held the hay with her gloved fingers while I tied. 

"I have a feeling you're a passionate woman."

"Thank you," she responded and blushed. 

"You're blushing again." 

"I guess I'm not used to this kind of conversation." 

"So do you think you're a passionate woman?"

She hesitated. "Yes, I think I am, but I don't have much opportunity to be passionate," she added and sighed. "I think I'm too shy."

"I can see you're shy, but I think you're sexy. Do you like men looking at you?" 

She hesitated again, her blue eyes looking up at me."Yes, I like it." She swallowed and took a deep breath. "But then I don't know what to do." 

I looked at her tits and how her shirt clung to her sweaty body.

"Do you like how I'm looking at you?" I made sure she knew where I was looking before raising my eyes to hers. 

"Yes," she answered, looking at my eyes, then turned away. 

"Good," I said, nodding and sensing that being in this open field alone with me was helping her relax. 

We were both quiet as we continued working. A few times our gloved hands touched, or our arms and shoulders bumped when she held the hay and I tied.

"We're getting to be a pretty good team," I said and smiled. 

Again, our gazes met, but this time she didn't look away, and I saw that slight smile on her lips. She didn't say anything, but I knew she was feeling more comfortable and liked how I was talking and looking at her. 

Within two hours or so we had tied up about fifty bales and left them in their spot as we moved on. It was getting hot and both of us were sweating. I stopped and took out the piece of towel I had in my back pocket, took off my cap and wiped my forehead. Carla took off her straw cowboy hat and wiped her brow with the small cloth she had. Her t-shirt was wet from sweating and clinging to her body, making her nipples stand out even more. 

Again, she saw me glance at her tits, but neither of us said anything. 

"How about a five minute break, then we'll get the rest of it," I said and sat down on the last bale we tied. 

We took off our gloves and she sat down next to me. There wasn't much room on the bale. Our thighs touched, but neither of us moved. I could feel her warm bare thigh pressed against my thigh and how her tight cutoffs pressed against her crotch. She didn't move her leg away and knew I was making progress. 

"Sure is hot," I said, noticing how strands of her blonde hair stuck to the back of her sweaty neck. She tugged at her tight t-shirt, pulling it out to let some air in. Her bare legs had pieces of hay clinging to them.

"I'm surprised you're wearing those short cut-offs to do this haying."

"Well, they're much cooler in the heat then my other jeans--that's why."

"They look good on you and it's smart to be comfortable in this heat."

"Yeah," she said, looking at me, and then out at the field where more cut hay lay. She looked up at the dark clouds and pointed. "Looks like we're going to get some rain soon, we better hurry." 

"You're right," I said, nodding and stood up, then surprised her by taking both of her hands and pulled her up off the hay bale. When she stood up, our bodies were close, practically touching. I kept hold of her hands, smiled and saw her surprise, then suddenly felt the urge to hug her. 

I made a bold move, not sure how she would respond and wrapped my arms around her, pulling her to me. She didn't push me away. Quickly, I moved my hand down to her round ass and held her to me, pressing my body against her. I knew she could feel my hard cock, but she let me hold her.

Our lips moved closer as I held her to me. I was grinding slowly and wondered what she would do, but she started moving with me. Then I kissed her hard and my probing tongue opened her mouth. She took my tongue and surprised me when she responded with hers. I continued grinding against her. My hands squeezed her ass through the tight cut-offs and felt the frayed edges and the skin of her ass cheeks. Still she didn't stop me, but continued to kiss and grind. She spread her legs wide apart, arched her back and started to slide her jean covered crotch up and down my bulging cock. Her cowboy hat fell to the ground. I was surprised how she responded like that and knew I was right. She was a real hottie under that shy exterior. 

Her firm round ass felt good in my hands and we continued to slowly grind, moving a little faster, moaning as we got hotter. She pressed harder against my cock. Her hands gripped my ass. She spread her legs farther apart and pulled me closer while arching her back. Moving faster, we slammed against each other, practically fucking through our jeans, both of us getting hungrier. 

Suddenly, she pushed me away, gasping, her face flushed, and I could tell she liked what happened, but then got scared and backed off. "We better get back to work." she said, breathing heavily, swallowing. She gazed into my eyes, then looked away, panting, slightly flustered, then looked back at me. 

"You're right," I said, not wanting to let go of her ass. "We better, or we won't get this hay in before it rains." 

My hard cock was still throbbing, and I saw her glance at the bulge in my jeans, her face flushed. She swallowed and looked at me, still panting, then I noticed a slight smile on her lips, letting me know she liked what just happened but was also stunned and bewildered. 

She bent over to pick up her cowboy hat, then put on her gloves and walked away, her hips swaying slightly. My eyes were fixed on her ass straining her tight cut-offs. 

I knew it was just a matter of time and that what just happened was the beginning of wild afternoon. We quickly got to work and didn't say anything, but clearly there was tension and anticipation building. Both of us were quiet as she piled up the hay into a bale and I tied. She moved to gather more hay and began forming the next pile. We had a good rhythm going. 

While we worked, we kept glancing at each other but didn't speak. I liked how her sweaty t-shirt clung to her body and revealed her tits and nipples. When she bent over to gather more hay, I gasped at the sight of her round ass straining her tight cut-offs. My cock bulged in my jeans. 

Though the sexual tension between us was there, we worked hard for the next hour as the sky grew darker and the wind picked up. "We better get the hay in the wagon and back to the barn," I shouted. 

"We only have a few more bales," she said. "Go get the truck and wagon while I get these bales."

"Okay, I'll be back in a few minutes." I looked up at the dark clouds, then ran past all the tied up hay bales towards the truck. We would have to work quickly to load up the hay wagon and get back to the barn before the rain. 

I drove up around the hay bales to where she was waiting but then noticed something was different. She stood with her hands on her hips, her legs slightly apart, the seam of her tight cut-offs pressed against her crotch. The way she stood forced her tits to strain her sweaty red t-shirt. 

While she watched me get out of the truck, she had a slight smile on her lips and for some reason her eyes seemed more confident, no longer shy, almost brazen and seductive. Her straw cowboy hat resting on the back of her head. Something had changed. It was as if she he decided to let go and let something happen. I wasn't sure what, but there was something in her eyes and her smile that excited me. Why is she looking at me like that? What's going on with her?

I had maneuvered the truck so that it faced the direction of the barn. We started loading up the hay wagon, working our way backwards. I was impressed with how strong and energetic she was. She stood at the rear of the hay wagon and I tossed her the bales which she lifted and walked toward the front and piled them up. 

I would get in the truck and drive another fifty feet and start that routine again. We worked quickly and soon had the wagon almost filled with the hay, but we had a little more to do. 

"We better hurry," she shouted, both of us looking up at the approaching dark clouds and felt the stronger wind.

"We'll make it," I shouted, tossing another bale to her which she added to the pile. The wagon was filled and wouldn't hold much more. Finally I threw her the last bale which she lifted and put on the top of the stacked pile. When she stretched, her tight cut-offs rose, revealing her ass cheeks below the frayed edge. I was already hard and when she jumped down from the rear of the wagon, I caught her as she fell forward against me. I fell to the ground, pulling her down on top of me and she straddled me. Though she was surprised at first when I grabbed her ass, she leaned over me and we kissed and she started moving her crotch over my hard cock.

While we kissed, our tongues swirling in our mouths, we started grinding harder as my hands squeezed her ass, urging her on. Suddenly, she was moving harder and harder, no longer shy, but now letting her sexuality loose, grinding faster. "Oh Fuck!" she gasped, lifting her mouth from mine as she rocked back and forth, pressing harder against my cock, becoming more aggressive. "Man, this feels so good," she said and kissed me fiercely. 

I was surprised at how she had suddenly turned from a shy, quiet woman into an inferno of passion, grinding her tight jean covered pussy against my hard throbbing cock. She leaned forward, putting her arms over my head as she rocked harder against me and looked down into my eyes, "I want you to fuck me hard!"

I have to admit I didn't expect those words, or for things to happen so fast, but I was happy to have uncorked the bottled up Carla. I was right. Behind her shyness was a hot sex fiend. 

"You want this hard cock, don't you." 

"Yeah, you know what I want." She growled and I couldn't believe the amazing change in her. I got me a wildcat.

Suddenly, we felt raindrops as we lay on the ground practically fucking through our clothes. We kept going at it, ignoring the first few rain drops. I pushed her onto her back, got on top and spread her legs, then started grinding my cock harder and looked down into her hungry eyes. "You're going to be my little slut, aren't you?" I was surprised I had said that. I knew she wasn't a slut.

"Maybe," she said, smirking at me. "If you think you can handle me."

The rain started coming down harder and I got up. I pulled her up and we smiled, looking into each others hungry eyes. 

"You'll see how I can handle you." 

"Oh, yeah," she said with a devilish grin. 

We hopped into the truck and I drove down to the barn, driving pretty fast, bouncing up and down on the rough ground, trying to beat the downpour. 

At the barn, she hopped out and opened the barn door and I backed the hay wagon in before it really started to come down. The truck was outside, but the hay wagon was in the safety of the barn. 

I saw Carla's grandfather driving his truck down from the other field. He saw that we had backed the wagon into the barn and waved. He parked down by the house, got out and ran up onto the porch to get out of the rain and yelled through cupped hands, "Good, you got her in just in time." 

Carla stood in the barn's entrance and waved. "We'll be down when the rain stops," she shouted. 

Her grandfather waved then went into the house. 

Carla looked at me, sitting in the truck. She stood inside the barn's entrance and yelled at me, "Get in here, mister."

I hopped out of the truck and dashed through the rain to the barn.

Carla smiled and then ran toward the rear of the barn to a ladder that went up to the hay loft. With her hands and one foot on the ladder, she yelled, "If you want me, come get me!" She smiled and then started climbing up the ladder.

I followed and got to the ladder just as she got to the top and liked how she smiled down at me while I had my eyes on her ass straining the tight cut-offs. When I got to the top, I saw several hay bales piled against the wall at the other end of the barn. Actually, I had my sleeping bag up there because that's where I was sleeping. It lay open in the corner of the loft, "Welcome to my bedroom," I shouted.

It was pretty dark in the loft and the rain was now beating hard against the roof, but there was light coming from the open loft door and the barn door below. Carla backed up towards the pile of hay bales stacked against the wall as I moved towards her. Our eyes were locked on each other as she continued backing up, luring me to her. 

She pulled the rubber band from her ponytail letting her light brown fall below her shoulders. 

I couldn't believe how this shy, quiet woman had become a wanton vixen. 

Neither of us spoke as I moved closer to her. She was now leaning back against the pile of hay bales with her bare legs spread apart, her cowboy hat and boots adding to her sexiness. She arched her back and spread her legs wider apart. The seam of her tight cut-offs pressed against pussy. 




The Drifter Ch. 01



She put her hands on her tits and started playing with them as she leaned against the wall. She was not as innocent as I she first appeared and knew what she was doing. My hard cock was bulging in my jeans and I saw where her eyes were looking. She bit her lower lip and watched me moving closer.

"You want to fuck me, don't you?" she finally said and pushed her pelvis forward with her legs apart as if opening herself to me. 

All inhibitions were gone. We were like caged wild animals wanting each other. Raw unbridled lust was in the air as I moved towards her, our eyes locked on each others eyes. She looked at my cock straining my jeans. I grabbed my balls, cupping them. Then she cupped her pussy. 

"You want this cock, don't you?" I said, holding my crotch.

"And you want this cunt," she snarled, rubbing her pussy. 

Suddenly, I stepped forward, grabbed her and roughly turned her around and pushed her hard against the wall of hay bales. I spread her legs slightly and rubbed my throbbing cock against her tight jean covered ass. I quickly grabbed one of her tits with one hand and gripped her pussy with the other one. 

"You're a little cock tease, aren't you?" I growled into her ear.

"Yeah, I am. What are you gonna do about it?"

"You're asking for trouble," I said as I held her pussy and tit, grinding my cock harder against her ass. "I'm going to fuck your brains out." 

"You are, are you? You think I'm going to let you fuck me. You think you're in charge of me, do you? You think I'm going to give you my cunt?" 

"Yes, I'm going to take your cunt," I said, grinding my hard cock into her ass, rubbing her pussy harder. "I'm going to own your cunt," I said, unable to believe the scenario that we created and that she was so into it. 

"You think so, do you?" She started squirming and tried to buck me off of her.

I grabbed her tighter. "Where do you think you're going?"

"Let go of me, you bastard! You can't have me! Let me go!" she shouted, squirming and rubbing her ass harder against my cock. I grabbed her pussy tighter as she squirmed harder and tried to get away. 

Suddenly, I turned her around and threw her down on a hay bale and pounced on her. She spread her legs apart. My bulging cock pressed against her jean-covered pussy. I pinned her arms over her head, my mouth just above her lips and looked down into her eyes. 

"Let me go! Let me go!" she screamed, squirming and bucking beneath me. I knew what she was doing. This was part of her game to get me to ravish her. I knew it was one of her fantasies.

"You want this cock, don't you" I began to grind and hump her.

"Get off of me," she screamed, squirming under me. 

"Shut up," I said and put my hand over her mouth. "You don't want your grandfather to know what a slut you are," I said, holding her down. 

She squirmed, trying to talk through my hand. I was humping her harder now, my cock grinding into the seam of her tight cut-offs, both of us getting hotter and hornier. 

"I want you to beg for my cock. I know you want it bad." 

"No way, you fucker!" she said when I took my hand away.

"I know you want it." I got up on my knees and lowered my jeans and took my hard cock out and held it over her pussy. She looked at it, her mouth wide open and panting. I quickly pulled off her boots, unbuttoned her cutoffs and lowered the zipper. When she lifted her ass, I stepped back and peeled them down her legs. She was squirming as I pulled them from her body then practically ripped her panties off of her and looked down at her dripping pussy. I grabbed her smooth tan legs and pulled her slightly forward so that she was lying on the edge of the hay bale with her bare feet on the straw covered floor, her legs wide apart. 

"You're going to beg for my cock before I'm through with you." 

I got down on my knees and lifted her smooth tan legs over my shoulders, moved forward into the warm valley of her thighs and began licking and lapping her wet, juicy pussy from her ass to her clit. 

"Oh Fuck!" Carla shouted and jolted each time my tongue licked her clit. With her head thrashing from side to side, she grabbed my hair, lifted her ass and forced my tongue deeper. "Eat me! Eat me! Don't fucking stop! Oh my god! Oh Fuckkkk!"

Her screaming was urging me on. What a hot, wild, sex crazed woman had been unleashed. I found her clit and continued sucking and licking. "Oh, yes! Do that! Do that! Yeah! Yeah! Do that! I'm going to cum!" 

I put my middle finger in her tight pussy and felt it grip my finger as I moved it in and out. 

She was thrashing and bucking harder and so out of her mind, it was all I could do to hold my mouth on her clit. I entered a second finger and loved how tight she was as I devoured her clit. I curved my fingers and rubbed her g-spot. She trembled and tensed. 

"Oh, fuck! I'm cumming!" Her whole body shook violently as a huge orgasm swept over her. "Don't stop! Don't stop!" She gripped and pulled my hair tighter and gushed her cum all over my mouth and fingers. 

By now, my hard cock was a red hot pole. Behind me was another hay bale. I suddenly pulled Carla up, gripped her ass in my hands and sat down on the hay bale with Carla straddling me. I wrapped my arms around her as she came down hard on my cock. 

"Oh Fuck! You're cock is huge!" she yelled as I filled her tight pussy with one thrust. The height of the hay bale let her keep her bare feet on the ground so she could lift her self up and come down hard on my cock. 

"Ride me! Ride me! Ride your stallion, Cowgirl!" 

She still had her tight t-shirt on, and I could see her tits bouncing underneath her shirt as she rode me harder and harder like she was on a bucking bronco. Suddenly, she grabbed her t-shirt, pulled it over her head and threw it in back of her. She put both hands on her round tits, squeezing and rubbing them, then moved one hand to her clit. With her feet still on the barn floor, I loved watching my cock going in and out of her dripping pussy as she galloped on my cock. 

"Oh, man, this is so good. I love riding you like this! Come on, fuck me, stud! Fuck me!" 

Lifting herself, she came down harder and harder, impaling herself. "Oh, fuck. I'm going to cum. I can't stand it! I'm going to cum again!" 

She was screaming and looking up at the ceiling of the barn. Her whole body shook as spasm after spasm ripped through her. "Oh my God, I'm cumming...Oh my God!" she yelled as she convulsed violently before collapsing on top of me, her tits crushed against my chest, her wetness dripping all over my throbbing cock and thighs. 

I knew I wasn't going to last much longer as this wild fucking drove me insane. I quickly lifted her off of my cock and pushed her down to the hay covered wooden floor. She was on her back with her legs spread wide apart, her swollen, juicy pussy so open to me. I got down on my knees between her legs. Our eyes locked on each other. 

"Take me! Take me! I'm safe."

"I am too!" I shouted, unworried because I'd had a vasectomy. 

I was crazed. My throbbing cock was so hard. Her screaming to take her was too much for me. I reared back and with one hard thrust filled her tight pussy. 

"Yeah, fuck your slut!" She knew that her dirty talking would drive both of us over the edge. I pulled all the way out and then rammed my cock deep and hard. 

This was the raunchiest, hottest fucking I had ever done and I couldn't believe what a wild passionate woman had been unleashed. With her legs over my shoulders, her round ass off the hay covered floor, this angle let me pound down into her pussy like a jackhammer. My balls bounced against her ass and my cock rubbed against her engorged clit with each thrust. 

"Harder! Harder! Take me! Take me!" 

"Your cunt is mine!" 

"Yes! Yes! Yes! Just fuck me! Fuck me harder! 

Harder! Harder!" 

I pulled out and rammed my cock harder and faster with each thrust and suddenly felt my cock swelling, my orgasm rising, "I'm cumming! Oh Carla, Carla, I'm cumming!"

"Give it to me! Give it to me! Give me your cum! 

Shoot it in me!" she screamed as I fucked her harder and faster, unable to believe what a hot woman I had found. 

Just then, as if a dam had burst, my swollen cock erupted and hot cum gushed out of me. She was on the verge of another orgasm as her pussy squeezed my cock. Both of us screamed when my hard thrusts shot gobs of cum into her. Our orgasms crashed like waves against the rocks and drove us over the edge of sanity. I writhed then collapsed on her as the last of my cum spurted into her overflowing pussy. She spread her long legs wide part on both sides of me. I lay on her, unable to budge with my deflated cock still deep in her pussy and could feel the warm wetness between us. We were panting and gasping. 

The rain was pouring on the roof of the barn as we lay there, unable to move. Finally, I lifted my head and looked at her beneath me. We smiled at each other, both of us trying to catch our breath and wondering what we would say after such wild intensity. 

"Do you think your grandparents heard us?" I asked after a few breathless moments. 

"Nah! They wouldn't hear us with this heavy rain, and they probably think we were waiting for it to slow down before running to the house. Also they're both hard of hearing."

I laughed and then rolled onto my back and gathered Carla in my arms. She was laying half on me with her head on my shoulder. We looked up at the ceiling of the barn and listened to the rain.

"That was a pretty wild roll in the hay." I smiled into her blue eyes.

"It sure was." She chuckled. "I've been helping them bring in the hay for many years, but I never had a helper like you before." She paused and looked deep into my eyes then in a softer voice said, "Thank you." 

"For what?" I noticed she had tears in the corner of her blue eyes. 

"For letting me out." She squeezed my hand and smiled. "I'm not really a slut, but it was exciting to pretend."

"I know. The imagination has a life of its own and can be petty wild."

"Well, I have a wild imagination. Sometimes my fantasies are so real I don't know where I am." 

"Well, I never expected to find anyone like you when I answered that ad for a hired hand. That just goes to prove it's good not to have expectations." 

"Why?" A puzzled look came to her eyes. 

"Because when you don't have expectations, you're never disappointed and often you're surprised and delighted, so I try never to have expectations."

"Well, what do you expect will happen with us?" 

"We'll see. I have no expectations. One day at a time."

Laying there in the dim light of the hay loft, I got up on my elbow and looked down at her, smiled and wiped a tear away from her cheek. I pushed a few strands of her hair away and kissed her forehead, then her nose, then her chin, then her lips. She put her hand on my head and we kissed each other, tenderly.

We gazed into each others eyes and smiled. She seemed like a different person than the one I met when we first greeted. Her blue eyes sparkled and her face seemed radiant. 

It had stopped raining. Lying there, I wasn't sure what I was feeling but sensed that what started as lust earlier was becoming something else. There was a lot more to Carla than I had realized. 

"Let's go down to the house and get some lunch," I said, shoving my confusion aside. "We still have to get this hay into the loft this 

afternoon."

We got dressed and climbed down from the loft and stood in the entrance of the barn next to the hay wagon. It had stopped raining but drops were falling from a beam just above us. I took Carla in my arms and held her close. We kissed gently, warmly before walking quietly down to the house. Carla, no longer shy with me, stomped through a puddle and laughed like a little girl.

Standing on the porch before opening the screen door, I turned to her, "Remember, no expectations, we still have the rest of the weekend and who knows what surprises await us."

Carla smiled and shook my hand as if we had made an agreement. "That's a deal," she said, smiling, "No expectations."



The Drifter Ch. 01



Troy threw a punch which I deflected with my arm, then he stepped away and I thought it was over, but he turned and grabbed a long bladed kitchen knife from the unit next to us. I saw the blade come up, saw the look in Troy's eyes, all rationality gone, and knew the man was going to use it.

I moved. I stepped forward and gripped Troy's right arm tight at the wrist. He tried to twist away but my hands were big and my grip like a vice after years of hard manual labor. Troy swung with his left. I let it glance off my head, ducking under most of the blow. I raised my leg and pulled down on Troy's arm, slamming his wrist into my knee. Troy's hand went limp and the knife clattered on the floor. I kicked it away hard. I still had Troy's wrist in my grip and I pulled him forward, swung my left hand up and slammed it into his chin. 

The man's knees went and he slid down to the floor, shaking his head.

I stepped around him and went to Emily. "Are you OK?" I asked, my hands on her shoulders. I could feel her shaking.

She shook her head, then nodded, looked over my shoulder at her slumped husband.

"He broke my guitar," she said, a tremor in her voice. She held the broken neck in her hand.

Troy was coming round now, muttering under his breath. He grabbed hold of a chair and tried to pull himself up, but his legs were still gone and he had to hold hard to the chair to stop himself going down again.

"Come with me," I said, and drew her towards the door, my hand on her arm.

"Where the fuck are you going?" Troy grunted.

"Somewhere safe," I said. "I'll bring her back in the morning. When you've sobered up."

"Keep the cunt."

"We'll be back in the morning," I said from the doorway, and drew Emily away. She followed in a daze, dragging the broken guitar with her.

I took her into my place and locked the door, not that the flimsy wood was going to keep anyone out. I sat Emily on the couch and took the guitar out of her hand, laid it on the kitchen table.

I knelt down in front of her and took her hands in mine. "You sure you're OK? What was that all about?"

Tears were rolling down her cheeks again, and she tried to swipe them away.

"Me and Lizzie singing. He doesn't want me doing it."

"Lizzie?"

"My friend. Best friend. We've been friends since, like, tenth grade. We play guitar together and sing. It's our... escape," she sighed.

"And Troy doesn't like that?"

Emily shook her head. "He doesn't mind us singing, I guess, though he doesn't like it either. He doesn't like music. You might have noticed it usually stops when he gets home. What he really doesn't like is the idea of us performing on stage."

I looked at her. "You perform?"

She sniffled and shook her head. "Not yet. We were gonna though. Open mic in Fresno. We'd got it all planned, got our shit together. We've been practicing for, like, months."

"And Troy doesn't like the idea."

"Doesn't want me showing myself up on stage."

I nodded and sat back on my heels. "D'you want a beer?"

She looked at me, the tears drying now. Her face was blotchy and red, her eyes pink. I still thought she was beautiful, and told myself to be careful.

Emily nodded. I went to the refrigerator and brought two bottle back, snapped the caps off with my fingers.

I went to the broken guitar and started looking it over. I moved the parts carefully, loosened the hanging strings and laid them aside, then tried to match the neck back to the body.

"I think this can be fixed," I said.

Emily was slumped on the couch, sipping at her beer. She straightened up and turned to look at me. "You do?"

"It looks worse than it is. The neck can be glued back on. The truss rod's broken loose, but I can build the heel back up and re-sit it. He's damaged the body some just here, but I think that's fixable too."

"I haven't got money to fix it." Her eyes welled with tears again, but she held herself back.

"I can do it," I said. "I'll take it into work. There's a workshop out back they'll let me use. Can I have it for a couple of days?"

She looked at me, then nodded. "You can really do that?"

"I can try."

"Thanks," she whispered, and started to cry again.

I sat on the arm of the couch and handed her some tissues.

"What am I gonna do, Mike?"

"About Troy?"

She nodded, sniffing.

"D'you love him?"

Emily blew her nose loudly then shook her head. "Not anymore."

"Leave him then."

"I can't afford to do that."

"What about this friend of your, Lizzie? Can you move in with her?"

"I guess, for a while. But..."

"What? She married too? Hubby won't want you around?"

"No. She lives on her own. But I don't want to impose on her."

"Until you get straight then. Make that clear."

"Lizzie's..." Emily shook her head. "She's such a good friend. I'm sure she'll let me stay. I'm sure she'll let me stay as long as I want, but I'd feel wrong about it."

"Let's see what the morning brings, yeah?"

She nodded.

"You can stay here tonight." I said.

Emily looked me in the eyes.

"You can have the bed through there," I said. "I'll use the couch."

"I can sleep here," Emily said, "You have your bed."

I shook my head. "I'm not going to sleep much anyway."

Emily looked at me. "Troy's gonna think were fucking, you know that?"

I nodded.

"You can if you want," Emily said, her voice a whisper.

"Fuck you?" I said.

Emily nodded.

"Thanks," I grinned, "but it's OK."

"OK," she said back, but I could see in her face she thought I didn't want to, she wasn't pretty or sexy enough. And I knew, whatever I said now, she wouldn't believe me so I had to let it go.

"Use my toothbrush. I think we'd better get some rest."

Emily used my bathroom, came out in her t shirt and panties and went into the bedroom. She left the door open and I watched as she snuggled deep under my covers and wriggled her head on the pillows. Her eyes were starting to close already.

"It smells of you," she muttered.

I laughed. "Sorry. I should have changed the sheets."

She shook her head. "Nice. Makes me feel safe."

I turned out the lights and stretched out on the couch, turned towards the door. It was all quiet next door, and I wondered what Troy was going to do.

***

I hadn't meant to sleep, but jerked suddenly awake to the sound of mugs being filled with coffee, and smelled the aroma.

Emily was standing in my small kitchen area, her back to me, still in her panties and t shirt and I lay where I was admiring the way the cotton stretched across her small ass. She was tiny, I thought - not the hips and ass of a grown woman at all. Her legs were pale and slim, nicely shaped. 

She turned and caught me looking, glanced down at herself and blushed. "Sorry, I should have got dressed. I just kinda forgot I wasn't at home."

"You look just fine to me."

She brought my coffee over, and though I tried not to look my gaze drifted down to her crotch. Her panties were small, a strip of pale belly showing above them before her t shirt started. Her pubic hair shadowed the front of her panties. There was a distinct mound cupped inside them. When I looked up to take my coffee I saw that Emily had known where I was looking. She didn't seem upset, and I realized she was incredibly relaxed about her body.

She dropped into the corner of the couch, one leg tucked underneath her. I looked again, could see the outline of her pussy clearly cradled in the soft cotton covering her.

Emily sipped her coffee in quick little slurps. It was too hot, but she seemed to want something to do. Then she said, "Thanks Mike, for last night."

I nodded, said nothing.

"I think I slept better than I have for years. You make me feel safe."

I watched her, enjoying the lissome strength of her body. I would, I admitted, like to fuck her, but I would not. I needed to be careful now. Casual sex was one thing, getting involved in some kind of messed up relationship something else, something I didn't need. Freedom meant not getting involved. Unless it was already too late.

"What are you going to do?" I asked.

Emily looked at me, puzzled.

"We'd better go over to your place, see if Troy's calmed down."

She grimaced and shook her head. "I was thinking last night. I don't want to go back to him... I'm gonna call Lizzie, like you said, see if we can work something out."

"You'd still better go and see him," I said.

Emily pulled a face.

"You have to." I said.

"Come with me then?"

"Of course."

She smiled. "You know... " she stopped, looked into my eyes. "Mike, why are you so easy to talk to? I was about to tell you something then, and then I thought, fuck this is too personal... but I still wanna tell you..." She frowned.

I shrugged. "Tell me anything you want, Emily."

"Yeah?"

"Sure. I don't get shocked."

She finished her coffee, leaned down and placed her mug on the floor. Her body was loose and flexible and it seemed no effort at all for her to fold over and reach the floor without moving her legs.

"Me and Troy... we don't, you know, have sex any more. Haven't for a while now."

"Is that you or him?"

"Him. Of course. You think if Troy wanted sex and I didn't that would make any difference?" She shook her head. "It's him. And I don't know why. Am I so ugly?"

I smiled. "Not even a little bit."

Emily smiled back. "Really?"

"I think you're beautiful, Emily. I'm not gonna try and fuck you, but that doesn't mean I don't find you attractive."

She was blushing a little. "He doesn't even kiss me any more. Fuck!" she raised her voice. "I'm just so fucking pissed. Why have I been putting up with this shit for so long, Mike?"

"People do," I said.

"But I don't want to. I'm gonna be thirty before I know it, then forty. Life's passing me by, and I'm rotting away in some god-awful marriage to a bastard I don't even like anymore."

"Did you love him?"

"Once. Maybe. At the start. " She shook her head in frustration. "I don't know. It was something you did, back then. Finish High School, get a job, get married. Troy was good looking. He was thinner in those days, and he was nice to me. It was only after..." She sighed deeply and stared at me.

"What?" I said, smiling.

"Fuck him," Emily said. Then: "Mike, can I ask you to do something for me?"

"Sure."

"You don't know what yet."

"OK. But it's still yes."

She grinned. "Oh - in that case lend me a million bucks?"

We both laughed.

"Kiss me," she added when we had stopped. "I've forgotten what it's like to be kissed. How sad is that? I won't hold you to anything, and it doesn't need to mean anything, but I'm just so... so fucking pissed and angry and I would like you to just fucking kiss me, once!"

I put my mug down and moved over towards her. I put my hands on her slim shoulders and pulled her towards me. Emily tilted her head, I titled mine and our lips met.

I opened my mouth, letting Emily's lips lightly inside my own, and when her mouth opened as well I probed gently for her tongue. It was all gentle. Her mouth was warm and tasted of coffee. Her tongue was small and quick, and my own explored her gently. We kissed for over a minute, and then I drew back and moved away.

Emily watched me, her lips still slightly parted, then she looked down and pulled her t shirt hem so the cotton tightened over her small breasts.

"Look what you've done," she said, laughing softly. Her nipples showed hard through the thin material. "I can't remember the last time that happened." She seemed to have no modesty about her body or its reactions. I imagined she would be wonderful to fuck, and I wondered if Troy knew what he was losing.

"You'd better get dressed before I get carried away," I said.

"I wouldn't mind," Emily said quietly.

"Me too," I said. "But life's complicated enough for you right now, don't you think? Let's go face the day."

***

There was no sign of Troy, other than the message he had left. Sprayed across the front of the small house in black paint was "FUCK YUO BITCH". I suppressed a smile at his inability to spell even a simple word right, but I guess he had been pretty pissed when he wrote it. 

Inside most of the furniture and electrical goods were gone. The tiny house looked forlorn. Emily stood in the middle of the room and hugged herself. I watched her, waiting for a reaction, but she seemed calm.

I knelt under her small sink and found some bleach, rags, cleaning materials, and went outside and started to work away at the paint. It was lucky, I thought, it wasn't a work day or I'd be looking for a new job by now. After a while Emily came out and joined me. It took two hours, and you could still see what had been written then, but this time because of the paler wood. I spent another half hour working around these areas until the worst no longer showed.

When we had finished Emily made us both a sandwich and then announced she stank like an old whore and needed a shower.

"You've got a shower?" I said.

"Upstairs. It's tiny, but it works. You want one after?"

"If that's OK?"

She laughed. "I think I owe you a shower, at least, don't you? I'm just going to call Lizzie and get her over here. We need to talk."

I sat on one of the two kitchen chairs that Troy had left. The new couch was missing, as was the TV and stereo. He must have worked through the night emptying the place.

Emily was upstairs, the shower running, when a woman came to the door and said, "You must be the mysterious neighbor. Mike, isn't it?"

I stood up and went to shake her hand. "Lizzie?"

She grinned, ignored my hand and stood on her toes to kiss my cheek. "Emily's told me all about you."

"She has?"

"Hunky good looking dude moves in next door. You think us girls don't talk?"

"I'd offer you something, but I don't think there's anything left," I said. "Emily's in the shower."

"And Troy?" Lizzie said, her face serious.

"Gone. Don't know where. Emily might."

"Back to his loser family, I expect," Lizzie said. "Loser family, loser man. Good fucking riddance."

"Don't hold back," I said, instantly liking this woman. She was shorter than Emily, and completely different. Her auburn hair was long and came down over her shoulders, wavy and thick. She weighed twenty pounds more than Emily, not that this made her heavy. She was dressed in an old gray shirt and blue jeans tucked into pointed cowboy boots. Her prominent breasts pushed against the material of the shirt, and the unbuttoned top showed a deep cleavage. Her face was pretty and her mouth had a prominent lower lip covered now in bright red lipstick.

She looked like she belonged serving behind a bar, and for all I knew that's what she did. I liked her a lot, but in a different way to Emily.

We both heard the shower stop and a couple of minutes later Emily came down the narrow stairs with a big towel wrapped around her, long legs still damp.

"Lizzie!" she exclaimed, and came over to her friend. Tears formed suddenly in her eyes and the two women met and hugged. Emily sobbed on Lizzie's shoulder and I felt uncomfortable, intruding on their emotions. After a moment I stood and made for the door.

"No, don't go," Emily said, stopping me. I turned back. She was looking over Lizzie's shoulder, her face still covered in tears. "What about your shower?"

Suddenly I laughed, and couldn't stop. I bent over and clutched my knees and let go the tension I hadn't known was there.

When I straightened up they were both looking at me, Emily clutching the towel over her small breasts, Lizzie with her hands on her hips.

"I thought you said he was OK?" Lizzie said, and they both started to giggle, clutching at each other.

I pulled myself up and put on a serious face. "I'm going to take that fucking shower then."

They just giggled more and watched as I walked up the stairs, and when I glanced back they were looking at my tight butt in my jeans. Lizzie rolled her eyes and grinned and Emily punched her on the shoulder.

***

When I came back down, smelling of pink soap and Emily's shampoo she was dressed and they had tidied the place, but it still looked bare.

"Have you talked?" I asked.

Emily nodded.

"And?"

"Lizzie's gonna move in here with me. She says she's struggling to pay the rent on her place and I'd be helping her out. I've got two bedrooms, and it's not like I need them both."

I sat on a stool and looked at the two women, so different to each other, both so attractive in their own ways.

"And if Troy comes back?"

"We'll yell for you."

"And if I'm out?"

"Troy's not so tough a couple of hard girls can't handle him," Lizzie said, and I could hear steel in her voice. These two were close, I realized. They had a friendship built over a long time, and a history I could only guess at. That was good. They could cope without me, and that made me feel easier.

"Don't try," I said. "If I'm around, yell, OK?"

"Sir," Lizzie said, and snapped off a salute.

I stood up. "I'm gonna see if I can do anything with that guitar. I'll see you later, and remember, be careful."

I left them to it and picked up the broken guitar, remembered I had no wheels and so walked into town with it until I found my truck. On the way I passed a small music shop that was open and went inside and bought a new set of guitar strings. The long haired guy behind the counter looked at the sad guitar and asked if I wanted it fixed. I told him I could handle it and he shrugged, not believing me. I drove out to the feed store and asked if I could use the workshop.

I spent most of the day sanding, scraping, filing, gluing and varnishing. By the time I finished the light was going from the sky and everyone else had gone. I left the guitar to set in a complicated array of clamps and locked the workshop, tucked the key in my jeans pocket and drove home. Only then did I remember I was due to start at the bar in an hour. I wondered about going straight there, then decided I needed to check that Emily was still alright so went back to my place and knocked on her door.

Lizzie opened it and kissed my cheek. Inside was transformed. Lizzie had brought some of her furniture over. The smell of baking filled the space, and Emily handed me an opened bottle of beer and kissed my other cheek. I could get used to this, I thought.

"We've been waiting for you," Emily said. "I've cooked for us all, and there's wine cooling."

I grinned and raised my arms. "Sorry girls. I'm due to start my new job in, " I glanced at my watch, "fifteen minutes."

"New job?"

"At Malone's. Bar work. Sorry."

Emily's face fell, but Lizzie just shrugged. "Emily's pot roast isn't all it's made out to be anyway, Mike. Come on girl, get changed, we'll eat out at Malone's tonight. We're gonna toast your independence from the biggest dickhead this side the Rockies."

Emily stared at her then grinned.

I went ahead. It was already busy when they finally walked in about nine, and my jaw dropped. They had changed out of the t shirts and jeans. Lizzie wore a short dress that came only half way to her knees. A white blouse was open to show her cleavage, with a dark waistcoat over it. They had both showered again and their hair and skin glowed.

Emily was in a simple, single piece dress that buttoned up the front, dark gray and unpatterned. Her long, lissome body moved inside the soft material as though she was made of oil and behind the bar I felt my cock fill and grow heavy.

They came over and sat at the bar, ordered beer and I filled two tall glasses. After a while they took their beers across to a table and fed money into the juke box. After two country songs finished, hard rock jumped out. The bar filled up and I found myself busy. I had been introduced around when I arrived, and shared duties with a young woman called Sandi who was working her way through college. As we moved to and fro in the narrow space behind the bar she would bump my hip with hers, a couple of times leaning past me and putting her arm on my waist to steady herself.




The Drifter Ch. 01



Might be a good idea, I thought, to get myself laid and take my mind of Emily. Sandi was giving the right signals, and she looked OK too. She didn't tug at me the way Emily did, or even Lizzie, but it would ease the need in me.

Around ten I took an order of two burgers across to the women and when I put them on the table Lizzie ran her hand up inside my thigh and then cupped my ass in her palm.

"Sexual harassment," I said. "I could get you thrown out for that."

Lizzie pouted and ate a fry. "How about if Emily did it?" she asked, a knowing look in her eyes.

"Have to throw you both out, then."

Lizzie patted my ass and grinned.

Later, during a brief lull I managed to gab myself half a burger.

Around midnight things slowed, and finally the bar was nearly empty. Lizzie and Emily still had their table. During the evening they had been joined a couple of times by guys trying to score. On each occasion they had been friendly, flirted a while and then let them down gently.

Sandi and I stood side by side washing glasses.

"Friends of yours?" Sandi asked, and I realized I'd been staring.

"Yeah," I admitted.

"Well, if you ever fancy a change," Sandi said, and bumped her hip against me.

I looked down on her grinning face. "What are young people coming to?" I said.

"Young people ain't coming as much as they'd like, is what it is," she said.

I felt good, because she wasn't serious, and I knew if I needed to take my mind off Emily she was available, and it would be easy, no strings, no come back.

At half past midnight I made my way out the front door with Emily and Lizzie. They walked either side of me, linking arms with me, giggling like schoolgirls.

"How much have you two had to drink?" I said.

"You served us most of it, bud," Lizzie said.

"I don't remember serving you this much," I said.

"You gonna drive us home, Mike? I brought my car, but I'm not in any state tonight."

"Sure."

They lined up across the bench seat of my truck, Emily in the middle now, and I drove back through the empty streets. We were half a mile from home when a dark pick up passed us going the other way and Emily turned in her seat to watch it pass.

"I think that was Troy's truck," she said.

I checked my mirrors, but all I could see was red lights fading.

"You sure?"

Emily shook her head. "Not certain, but it looked like his."

"You think he's been back?"

"I don't know," she said.

"I don't like to think of him coming back when we're home," Lizzie said.

I was silent for a while, until we pulled up in front of my place. The street was dark and silent.

"I want you both to stay at my place tonight," I said. "In case he comes back. You can use my bed. I'll take the couch again."

They surprised me by agreeing without argument. I unlocked my door while they went to Emily's and came back with beer, wine, and the cold pot roast and some bread. While they made sandwiches I stripped the bed and put clean sheets on, then we all sat on the couch and ate cold roast sandwiches. I drank a beer quickly and opened a second. The girls opened the wine.

Lizzie quizzed me about my lifestyle, asking if it was true I never stayed long in any one place.

"So you'll move on from here?" she finished.

"Sure," I said.

Lizzie said nothing. Emily was half awake, leaning against her friend's shoulder, her long legs stretched out. Lizzie's short skirt had ridden up and showed most of her thighs. Her blouse seemed to have unpopped a couple more buttons as well. Lizzie had her arm round Emily's waist and they both looked comfortable and relaxed.

"You got any dice?" Lizzie asked.

"Dice? I think so, somewhere. Why?"

"Let's play a game. The night is young, and I'm bored."

"What d'you want to play?"

"Truth or dare," Lizzie said. "It'll be fun."

"Aww," Emily said, waking a little, "I always end up showing my tits when we play that."

"So?" Lizzie said. Mike won't mind, I'm sure, will you?"

"I promise not to look," I said, crossing my heart. I got up and went to find the dice. The girls sat on the floor and Lizzie started to tear up pieces or paper and write down dares, her tongue poking from the corner of her mouth. She handed a pile of paper to Emily and told her to put some down as well. I found the dice and came back. It seemed they didn't want my input on the dares.

They piled the rough pieces of paper into a pile, face down, and we each threw the dice to see who went first. Lizzie told us the only rule was, if you threw a six you could skip your turn. Emily threw a six, Lizzie a three and I got a one.

"Truth or dare," Lizzie said, her eyes bright.

"Truth." I said.

Lizzie bit her bottom lip, thinking, then said. "Which of us do you like the most? As in - like," she emphasized the word, rolling her eyes comically.

"Not fair," I said.

"Dare then."

"I can't answer your question," I said, and picked up the top piece of paper and turned it over. I read it and said, "Who the fuck wrote this?"

"Read it out," Emily said, contributing now.

"Drop your pants and show your ass," I said, raising an eyebrow.

"That was mine," Lizzie said.

"Why doesn't that surprise me?" I said.

"Go on then," Lizzie said.

"I'm not sure I like this game."

"You'll get your turn."

I sighed and stood, turned away from them.

"Not fair," Lizzie complained.

"That's my ass side," I said, looking back. I unbuckled my belt, popped the buttons on my fly and dropped my jeans.

"And..." Lizzie said.

"And what?"

"That's not your ass, Mike. That's your Calvins."

I gripped the elastic waistband and tugged my shorts down, straightened up.

"You two are very quiet," I said, after the air had been cooling me for half a minute.

"Just admiring a work or art," Lizzie replied, and they both giggled.

"Can I get dressed now?"

"I guess," Emily sighed.

I bent and pulled my shorts up, tugged my jeans and buttoned them again.

Emily's turn was next, and as the last one to go it was my turn to ask the question: "Truth or Dare?"

"Truth," she said firmly.

"OK..." I made a show of thinking, but I already knew what I wanted to ask. It had been on my mind all day, since seeing how they behaved together. I believed I knew the answer already. "Have you ever kissed another girl?"

Emily laughed. "Easy. No, I haven't."

Her answer surprised me. The way they acted together, the way Lizzie looked at Emily, I had thought there was something in their past. Maybe it had just been my horny mind making up scenarios.

"Not even thought about it?" 

"Not fair - that's two questions," Emily said.

I pulled a face and both girls laughed.

"He looks so sad!" Lizzie said. "Tell him, Emily, before he starts to cry."

Emily looked at her friend for a moment then back at me. "Yeah - thought about it - maybe... But if I get to answer an extra question, so do you, fair?"

"Not my turn," I said.

"Then I take my answer back."

"Now, now, no fighting," Lizzie interrupted. "You can save your question for your turn."

I looked away, aware I had been staring into Emily's eyes, looking into her large dark pupils surrounded by brilliant green.

It was Lizzie's turn, and Emily asked her Truth or Dare.

Lizzie grinned wickedly, "Dare, of course."

Emily rolled her eyes. "I knew you'd say that. How did I know you'd say that?" She took the top piece of ragged paper and read it out: "You must remove one major article of clothing.

Lizzie tried to make a face, but we could both see she was enjoying herself.

"Top or bottom..." she made a show of thinking about it. She looked at us both.

"Don't ask me," Emily said.

"Really? Mike?"

"Difficult," I replied. "But... top."

Lizzie grinned. "Men are so fucking predictable." But she unbuttoned her blouse and shucked it back off her shoulders. She had a pale blue bra cupping her large breasts, semi-transparent and lacy, her dark nipples clearly visible through the thin material.

I made an effort not to stare, but it was difficult.

"Get you back now," Lizzie said, leaning forward and giving me a good view down her impressive cleavage. "Truth or Dare."

"I'd better follow suit," I said. "Dare then."

Lizzie took the next slip of paper and read it, burst out laughing. "You're going to regret this... Tell us your most secret sexual fantasy!"

I threw a five and cursed.

Emily giggled, and I felt uneasy. Truth or not?

As if reading my mind, Emily said, "No cheating," and Lizzie, almost at the same time said, "I'll be able to tell if you fib."

The answer was easy, I knew, but was it too obvious with these gorgeous women playing with me? I thought a moment longer, then made my decision.

"Nothing very original, I'm afraid. I'm a man. We're very predictable."

"And...?" Lizzie prompted after a moment.

"You know," I said, shrugging.

"Tell us," Emily and Lizzie said together.

"Two women at the same time," I said quietly.

"Can't hear you," Lizzie said, but Emily had gone quiet.

"I'd like to fuck two women together," I said, louder.

Lizzie laughed. "You're right. You are predictable. But at least it wasn't the other one."

"The other one?" Emily asked.

Lizzie rolled her eyes, pushed her finger through a tight hole made with her other hand. She raised her eyebrows.

Emily blushed bright red and stared down at the pile of paper.

I shrugged and said, "Truth or Dare," to Emily.

She was smiling when she looked up, still blushing. "Dare," she said firmly, following our lead.

I picked up the next slip of paper. I didn't know how many there were, and when they were going to cycle back around.

"Kiss the person to your left," I read out, then looked up and realized that would be Lizzie and not me. I didn't know if I was disappointed or not. "You did say you'd wondered about it," I added.

Emily looked down at her hands, but Lizzie said, "S'okay with me, babe."

Emily glanced at her.

"And no cheating," I said, incredibly aroused now. "Real kissing, not a little peck."

"Does it say that on the card?" Emily asked.

"No. But I think it's implied..."

Emily turned to Lizzie, who looked at her and nodded.

Emily leaned over and Lizzie moved towards her. Emily hesitated. Lizzie put her hand behind Emily's head and pulled her towards her. Their lips met, lightly at first. It was awkward. Emily looked embarrassed, Lizzie disappointed. They pulled apart.

"Try again..." I said, and coughed the huskiness from my voice. "That wasn't a kiss!"

This time it was Emily who leaned over and initiated the kiss. I could see her lips open slightly just before they met Lizzie's, and then the two women were kissing... really kissing... Lizzie turned her head and her mouth opened. Their eyes closed, their mouths parted, and as they kissed there appeared a flash of tongues exploring. I watched in rapt fascination. The kiss went on and on, both the girls obviously getting deeply into it.

Finally, they parted, slowly, reluctantly. Emily sat back, her face flushed. Lizzie's skin above her breasts was pink.

"Wow," I breathed, "That was unbelievable..."

Emily looked down at her hands. Lizzie gave a quirky smile. Outside there was the sound of an engine, loud, and a clunk as something pulled up and onto the curb.

I sat back, looking around and listening. The women's eyes opened wide, showing fear and uncertainty.

The engine revved loudly and then shut off. A door slammed. A voice sounded.

"...ing bitch! Where are you, bitch!"

"It's Troy," Emily whispered, her hand flying to her mouth.

I stood up and went to the door.

"No!" Emily said.

"He's not going away," I said. They could hear Troy kicking at the door of the house next door, the sound of splintering wood. "You two stay here. Call the cops."

I opened the door and stepped outside, shutting it behind me.

"She's not home," I said.

Troy continued to kick at the door, only slowly hearing my voice and turning towards it. When he saw me he grinned, "It's the fucking asshole from next door! Hey, asshole, where's the bitch?"

"Go home," I said. "She doesn't want to see you - not ever again."

"She's my fucking wife!" Troy screamed, spittle flying from his mouth. "She'll do as I fucking say!"

"No, she won't. She'll do what she wants to do," I said, my voice soft but full of menace.

Troy laughed. It was an evil sound. "I'll fucking kill her first," he hissed.

I held up my hands, took a step towards the other man. "Let's just cool down here, yeah? You left her, remember? From what I hear the marriage was dead a long time ago. Just leave and find a new life, okay?"

"Fuck you!" Troy screamed. He reached behind him and pulled out a pistol. "Fuck you!" He yelled again, then, "You getting in her pants, yeah? You fucking her now? Well fucking good luck, 'cos she's no fucking good anyway." Troy looked down, looked at the pistol in his hand as though it was nothing to do with him, then up at me. Slowly, he grinned. Then he raised the gun.

I saw it coming, saw the look in Troy's eyes. The man was out of control. The pistol was coming up.

I ran at him.

Troy lifted the pistol and his finger jerked at the trigger. Nothing happened. He fumbled with the safety and snicked it off.

I was twenty feet away. Too far, I wondered? Shit!

The pistol came up again, but Troy was panicking as I quickly closed the gap. He snatched at the trigger and a loud explosion shattered the quiet of the street. A bullet dug into the ground in front of me, and I tried to run harder.

Troy raised the gun, but overcompensated and when he fired again the bullet went above my shoulder. I heard the sound as it passed my ear, and a crash behind as it buried itself somewhere in my house. Then I was on him. I grabbed his right wrist and pushed the gun up, slammed my shoulder into him, knocking him backwards. Troy fell hard on his back and I followed, dropping my knees onto his chest. I heard the air leave Troy's lungs, maybe the crack of a rib.

I yanked Troy's arm and the gun flew loose and clattered off along the sidewalk.

Troy managed to get a hard fist into the side of my face and I felt skin break. I slammed my head down on Troy's nose and heard it shatter. I lifted my knees and planted them on Troy's arms, held his hands down. Troy bucked wildly but he couldn't get loose.

I felt him stop moving and looked down at Emily's husband. His nose was flattened and spouting blood. His eyes were wide and wild, still not surrendering. In the distance I could hear sirens approaching. I sat on Troy until the cruiser screamed to a halt, then lifted my hands and stepped back, keeping my arms up as two cops came at me with their weapons aimed.

After that, it was a long night. Lizzie and Emily came out and started explaining that Troy was Emily's husband, but he had left, was abusive, had turned up and started shooting.

The cops found Troy's gun, listened some more, then put cuffs on and drove him off. All along the street people stood in their nightwear, in housecoats, watching the entertainment.

They took Troy downtown and asked us to follow and we spent two hours writing statements, being quizzed, until finally they believed us.

I drove back and pulled up outside our houses. The sky was getting light.

"You'd better get some sleep," I said. "At least you can sleep safe. Troy's going to be locked up for a while yet."

Each in turn kissed me on the lips and went across the narrow space between the houses. I stood watching them, stood a long time after their door closed, then sighed and turned inside to clean up.

***

I knew I couldn't sleep so I drove back to the warehouse, unlocked the workshop and checked Emily's guitar over. I tested the join and it seemed good. I ran my hands over the repaired front piece, and though it would never be perfect, it looked OK. Finally, I unwrapped the new set of strings and restrung the instrument. I couldn't play myself, not much, but I could tune it and strum a couple of chords.

The action seemed good, the sound even better. I rubbed a soft cloth over the guitar to clean off my fingerprints and locked the workshop up.

I pulled up in front of my house and took the guitar across to Emily's, knocked on the door. There was no reply so I tried the handle, but it was locked. It would be, of course, after last night. I knocked again, put my ear to the door, thought I could hear something and jumped back as the door opened and Lizzie stood there in an old towelling robe, her hair in disarray, her face creased by sleep.

"What time d'you call this?" she mumbled.

I held the guitar out. Lizzie looked at it, nodded, and took it from me, went inside and closed the door. I turned away and went back to my place.

Last night, I believed I had been on the verge of getting laid. Getting laid in a major way. Troy had put at end to that, and I wondered if it had been my one chance. Knowing my luck, yeah.

I undressed and lay on my bed, hands behind my head, starting to sweat as the sun warmed the room. The window and door were both open but there was no breeze and I cooked gently.

I was beginning to doze when a tap sounded on the door, and before I could get fully awake it opened and Emily stepped inside.

For a moment she stood, slowly noticing me in the darkened room, then she said, "Oh, sorry," and turned around.

I pulled myself up and drew the covers to my waist. "Decent now," I said.

Emily turned back, grinning lopsidedly. "I never thought," she said.

"No big deal," I said.

She smiled. "I wanted to thank you, Mike, for the guitar. It's wonderful."

"I wasn't sure if it would still play OK."

"It's wonderful," she said again, and came quickly across into by bedroom and knelt beside the bed and put her arms tightly around my bare shoulders. "Thank you."

I hesitated, then put my arm gently over her shoulder. I could feel her shaking, could feel the dampness on my bare skin, and knew she was crying.

"Hey," I said. "Come on, I fixed it, didn't I?"

Emily nodded against my shoulder, then lifted her face and kissed me hard on the mouth.

"Nobody's ever done anything as nice as that for me, not ever."

"It's no big deal," I said, trying to rearrange the sheet to cover my growing erection.

"It is to me," Emily said. She sat back, wiping her face with the back of her hand. "Lizzie's making breakfast. Ten minutes?"

I nodded, and she stood and walked from the room. I watched the lissome move of her body in her jeans and when she had gone slumped back onto the bed and groaned. I didn't need this. I was a free agent, tumbleweed blowing where the wind took me. I didn't need this at all.

***

Over breakfast I asked if Emily would play me something, and she shook her head and said, "No."

My face fell. After what I'd done?

"You can hear us next weekend. There's that open mic in Fresno. Lunchtime Sunday. You're gonna have to wait until then. And me and Lizzie need to practice, so we're gonna need some time to ourselves this week."

I continued to stare, then went back to my eggs. Good, I thought. I need some distance.

But it was one hell of a long week. I worked hard, tiring myself out, and although each evening I was invited next door to eat, the erotic heat of the previous Saturday seemed to have evaporated.

Friday and Saturday I worked in the bar, and last thing Saturday I almost offered to drive Sandi home. She would have said yes, I knew, and we would have fucked somewhere on the way back to her folk's house. But I didn't ask. I wanted to. my cock wanted me to ask, and I desperately needed release, however meaningless. Sandi hung around, expecting me to say something. I cleaned glasses and deliberately avoided her eyes. Eventually she said goodnight and left and I sighed deeply, finished behind the bar and took my envelope from Marty.




The Drifter Ch. 01



I slept late Sunday, naked on the covers, my cock hard even as I slept, rigidly jutting up over my belly.

When I woke it was still hard, and I lay still, refusing to grip it.

Eventually I rose and ran a bath, soaked for a half hour then dressed in my best jeans, shirt and boots.

The bar hosting the open mic was forty miles up CA 99. This time Lizzie sat in the middle and Emily on the right. Two guitar cases lay in the back of the truck. Neither woman said much on the way, and I guessed they were nervous.

Their nerves were wound tighter when they arrived and signed in. The main room had a small stage at one end, and was almost completely full.

"I wasn't expecting this," Emily said. "I thought there'd be, like, ten people, but this..."

I looked around. There were probably over a hundred people in the room.

I got myself a beer, the single bottle I would allow because I was driving back, and we sat at a table at the back of the room and watched as acts came on, performed their three songs and left. The audience seemed knowledgeable, and applauded either politely or enthusiastically depending on the quality of the performers.

There were a couple of bands, who seemed to take an age to set up even though a drum kit and amps were provided.

A few solo performers, one girl who particularly impressed me, and then, suddenly, it was the turn of the girls.

Emily and Lizzie took their guitars to the stage, arranged microphones, plugged in, tapped and said "testing one two one two" then looked at each other.

Lizzie nodded and Emily started to play fingerstyle. I realized I knew the tune, searched for it and then smiled. It was Round Here by Counting Crows, the first track on their first album, and Emily played it superbly. Lizzie came in on the fourth bar, and then they began to sing, Emily carrying the main tune, Lizzie harmonizing.

I sat stunned, not believing what I was hearing. They were unbelievable. I liked the original tune, had once owned the CD it came from, but this was something else - they were making the song their own! Lizzie's voice was pure and clear, Emily's a revelation. She was more confident than I had imagined, a sexy huskiness to her voice that sent shivers up my spine. They made, well, beautiful music together.

The audience agreed, because when the song ended they burst into enthusiastic applause, whistles and whoops sounding.

Emily looked relieved. Lizzie grinned. They glanced at each other and went into their second song. This time it was more upbeat, an old Everly brothers cover. The reaction was the same and they stormed into their third and final song. This was unfamiliar, and I realized it must be an original. I was worried, because the audience would have nothing to hang onto. The tune was completely new to me and everyone else in the room.

It didn't seem to matter. At the end people stood and applauded, shouting and yelling, asking for more. Emily and Lizzie started to unplug and stand up, but the compere jumped onstage and stopped them.

"Another one?" he yelled into the mic.

The audience yelled back: "Yes!"

He looked at the girls. "You got something else?"

They looked at each other. Lizzie mouthed something and Emily nodded.

"One more then," the compere said, and the audience whooped.

They went into Handyman. It was the James Taylor version, closer to that than the original, but with their own twist. The words were changed, the chorus coming as "You're my handyman..." Emily stared at me the whole time she sang, and I shifted in my seat, uncomfortable.

At the end the audience got to their feet again, but this time there was no additional encore and the girls unplugged and came back to the table, grinning.

"OK?" Lizzie asked as they sat down.

I shook my head, "Fucking unbelievable! Why didn't you let me listen to you before? That was amazing!"

Emily smiled shyly. "We wanted to make it a surprise. Something special for you."

"It was certainly that."

Lizzie and Emily were high on the reaction, and I went and brought a bottle of house wine and after they finished that fetched another.

They sat and watched the remaining acts, but the result was obvious.

At the end, the panel of judges voted on the result. There were prizes: $100 for the winner, $50 for second, $10 for third. Emily and Lizzie went up to collect their prize. I sat back on my chair and stretched my legs out, basking in reflected glory as they performed a final song. They redid the Handyman cover, and I wondered idly how much material they really had.

We all piled into my truck and started back. The girls were high and giggly, amazed they had won on their first ever appearance.

"You doing that again?" I asked.

"Too fucking right," Lizzie said.

"When's the next one?"

"Next Thursday, in Bakersfield. Can you drive us again, Mike? Pretty please?" Lizzie simpered. "We'd be ever so grateful."

"I guess," I said, suppressing a smile, knowing now why they had been giving me the cold shoulder all week.

Emily opened the envelope and pulled out the pile of bills, fanning them in front of Lizzie.

"Hundred bucks, Liz," she said. "Hundred fucking bucks."

Lizzie grinned and suddenly kissed Emily. Kissed her hard and long. Emily stiffened for a moment, then kissed back. I watched from the corner of my eye and felt myself grow heavy inside my jeans.

Lizzie hugged Emily to her, pulled her under her shoulder. "Me and you, babe, me and you," she said softly. Emily wriggled into her, put her arm across her friend's waist.

Five miles outside town Lizzie suddenly said, "Stop!"

I hit the brakes and slewed to a halt on the verge. "What the...?"

"I gotta piss. Sorry," Lizzie said. "All that wine. Hang on." She opened the door and darted out, ran to the bushes lining the highway. We both watched her go, both watched her drop her jeans and squat. She had hidden in the bushes, but in some way though that hid her from the highway it displayed her to us. We watched silently as Lizzie let a huge stream of piss go, steaming in the cooling evening air. Even from this distance I could hear the sound.

"She's wild, your friend," I said.

I felt Emily lean against me, felt her small breasts press into my side. "I love her," Emily said.

"She loves you too, I can tell," I said.

Emily leaned closer, put her hand on my leg. "I love you too, Mike. You know that."

I looked at her. I looked and wanted to kiss her. And I could have. Was about to, but Lizzie was pulling up her panties and jeans and running back to the truck. She jumped in, filling the cab with her personality.

"Fuck I needed that!" she said, and we burst into laughter.

***

I pulled up in front of the houses, and they invited me in. An area had been cleared in the center of the living room, a pile of neat cards placed in the center, together with dice and cushions.

"We were interrupted last week," Lizzie said, "And me and Emily talked about it, and we both wanna carry on with the game. You up for that, Mike?"

I looked at them and grinned. "You bet."

"More booze," Lizzie said, and fetched wine and beer. She sat cross legged and patted the cushions. She reached under her cushion and pulled out a long joint and raised her eyebrows.

I nodded. I guessed Emily already knew about it. Lizzie lit up and took a lung full, passed it on to Emily as she held the smoke down. Emily repeated the process and passed it to me. The stuff was strong and I immediately felt my head spin. I took another drag and passed it back.

"I think it was your turn," Lizzie said.

"My...?"

"You were gonna ask Emily something."

"Oh... yeah." I tried to think, to get my head back to where it had been a week before.

The room was starting to fill with shadows, but only a couple of small side lamps were turned on. The room was hot, and I could feel sweat pooling down my belly.

Then I said, "No - it was Emily's turn."

"It was?" Lizzie said.

"I'm pretty sure..."

"OK. Em - your turn then. And I'm a dare."

Emily laughed. "Of course you are." She picked up one of the new, neat cards and read, "Tell us about your most deviant sexual fantasy. No cheating."

Lizzie grinned and wriggled as though she couldn't contain herself.

"Well... " she started. "My wickedest... OK." She straightened up, pushing her breasts out so they strained at her blouse. "I've always kinda wanted to be spanked."

"Spanked?" Emily said, her eyes wide.

"Yeah. Spanked. I've always had this thing... never done it... never done anything about it... about being spanked. Having my naked ass smacked with a bare hand. Or something else."

"Hard?" Emily asked.

"Yeah, hard," Emily said. "No point otherwise. But not so hard it hurts like fuck - just to sting."

"But you never said this to anyone before?" I said.

"Never played truth and dare like this before," Lizzie said. "And never felt as though I was in the right company. This is a fantasy," she said. "And fantasies are... like, weird, yeah? I wanna have my ass spanked, but I've never done it, and I don't wanna ask anyone I don't trust. Don't wanna say it in front of people I don't trust."

I let my breath out in a long whoosh.

"What about you, Mike?" Lizzie asked.

"What about me? I don't think I want to be spanked, tell the truth."

"You told us your fantasy last week. Was that real?"

I swallowed and nodded.

Lizzie turned to Emily. "How about you, babe?"

Emily frowned. "It's not my turn."

"I think we've gone beyond turns," Lizzie said.

"We have?"

Lizzie nodded.

"Well... no, I don't wanna be spanked either."

Lizzie leaned over and took Emily's hand. "You trust me, don't you?"

Emily nodded.

"You trust Mike?"

Emily nodded again, glancing at me.

"Then you can tell us anything."

Emily looked down at her lap, started to speak very softly. "I'm curious..." she said.

"Go on..." Lizzie whispered.

"I don't wanna be spanked... but it's something to do with... down there, you know?"

"Mm-hm?" Lizzie said.

Emily looked at her, looked at me, then down again. I thought my cock was going to burst out of my jeans it was so hard.

"Troy wouldn't have ever dreamed of doing this. I did kind of drop a hint, when we started up, but he made out like it was something really disgusting and I made a joke of it. Never mentioned it again."

"What?" I croaked.

"I'd like someone to lick my pussy," Emily said, so softly we could barely hear her, and her cheeks went crimson as she blushed..

"You mean you've never?" Lizzie said.

Emily nodded. "Have you ever...?"

Lizzie laughed. "I thought everyone had!"

"Not me, " Emily said.

"Well..." Lizzie said, looking up as though she was thinking, "The night is young, girl."

Emily turned even redder, nipped at her full bottom lip with her teeth.

They were quiet for a long time, then Lizzie picked up a card and turned to me. "Truth or Dare, Mike?"

I started. "Dare, I guess."

Lizzie turned the card over and read: "Strip to your underwear."

I stood and pulled my t shirt over my head, unbuttoned my jeans and tugged them down. I had to kick my boots off first, then pulled the jeans over my feet and tugged my socks off. My cock was thick inside my briefs, and I made no attempt to hide it, standing tall in front of them before sitting back down cross legged. I looked at them both, saw them watching me, their eyes taking in my muscled chest and stomach, my long legs, darting to my shorts and taking in the bulge there. I felt a flutter in my belly, and knew it was going to happen tonight.

I watched Lizzie return the card, but she didn't slip it into the bottom put placed it back on the top of the small pile. It was my turn.

"Dare..." Emily said softly.

I picked up the card and showed it to her. She looked down, looked at Lizzie, then stood.

She sighed theatrically and said, "I told you I always end up with my tits out."

Her t shirt came off first and she wore no bra. Her small breasts trembled as she dropped her arms back down, her nipples stiff nubs on their apex. She unclipped her waistband and pulled the zip of her jeans down, wriggled them over her hips and leaned over as she pulled them down her legs. She kicked them off and straightened up, as I had, allowing us to view her.

She was long and slim, narrow hips, concave belly, long legs. She wore small yellow panties cut high along the sides, narrow over her pussy. Her bush shadowed the front, a few stray hairs poking out of one side. She waited a moment, then folded down onto the floor, pulling her legs into a perfect lotus. She leaned forward and placed the card back, on the top of the pile. We both watched her.

Lizzie didn't even bother with the question, just stood and unbuttoned her blouse and shucked it off her shoulders. She unclipped her jeans and pulled them down, a harder job over her hips than it had been for Emily. Her blue panties snagged and almost came with them, almost showing her pussy but she tugged them back up, tugged them tight so they clearly outlined her crack. She stood displaying as well, then shook her head.

"I overdressed," she said, and reached around and unclipped her bra. It sagged away from her heavy breasts and she slid it free, tossed it onto the floor. Where Emily's breasts had trembled, Lizzie's shook and swayed. Large and heavy they parted so her nipples pointed away from each other. She lifted one of her hands and ran it lightly over the smooth skin on the underside of one breast, lifted it's weight, then drifted her finger up to a nipple and circled it. I watched the large dark nub stiffen and lengthen. Lizzie sat down, not as flexible as Emily, her legs out in front of her, leaned back on her elbows.

"Well..." she said.

I looked from one to the other, admiring them both and admiring their differences. Emily's small breasts had a perfect shape; her nipples were smaller and pale pink; hardly any areola showed around them and they perked upwards slightly, pointing towards the ceiling. Lizzie's breasts were huge by comparison but somehow I found them less sexy - still sexy, fuck yes - just not quite as alluring; her nipples were very long and almost black, the areola was the size of a silver dollar, dark brown and puckered; they pointed directly at me, swaying as she breathed.

Emily's stomach was long and lean, stretching down to her lemon panties; muscle showed through the skin, her navel long and stretched, moving in and out with each breath. Her crossed legs pulled her panties tight over her pussy, opening around her thighs so that short hairs peeked through. She had hardly any hips, narrow and slim. Her thighs were hollowed and long.

Lizzie was more convex than concave, her navel tucked inwards by the extra flesh. Her pale blue panties were unbelievably brief and pulled up inside her pussy so tightly the outside edges of her labia showed. No hair strayed out from the material, and her pussy lips were clean shaven. Her hips were wide and shapely, her thighs sculpted. I wanted to roll her over and strip her and look at her ass, imagining its firm roundness. I wanted to roll her over and slap her and see if she really wanted to be spanked. I wanted to lay Emily down and push my tongue into her pussy and make her cum.

Of course, I did none of these things. Instead I watched Lizzie finally put the card into the bottom of the pile. She looked at me and raised her eyebrows. I nodded.

She leaned forwards, her breasts dipping and swaying, and slid the top card off. It occurred to me that she, or the two of them, had had all week to come up with these tasks. Had deliberately arranged them to suit their purpose. Seemed OK with me.

Lizzie made a show of reading the card and grinned.

"Remove one item of clothing," she said.

"Only one?"

She nodded.

I looked down at myself, making a show of deciding, then lay on my back and tugged my shorts down. I was looking along my body at them both, but they were not looking at my face. Both of them watched my hands as my shorts pulled down. I made a pretence of struggling with them, lifting a leg, tugging at the black cotton.

My pubic hair came into view, widening from the line of hair that ran down from my belly.

The base of my cock appeared, thick and pale against the dark hair. I slid the shorts further down my thighs, revealing more of my cock, the cotton holding me down, slowly exposing my length. I knew I had nothing at all to be worried about.

My shorts were now half way to my knees and still my cock continued to reveal itself. Finally the dark purple head showed and I heard Lizzie gasp. I wriggled and tugged and my cock came free and slapped upwards onto my belly, showing my heavy ball sac. I lifted a knee and pulled my shorts off and discarded them, sat back up and crossed my legs again. I cupped my balls and lifted them, easing them between my thighs to a more comfortable position. My cock stuck out, hard and thick. My uncircumcised foreskin had pulled right back and the large purple head quivered, bouncing with my heartbeat. The tip was slick with my pre-cum and I was as hard as I had ever been.

"Fuck..." Lizzie whispered. Emily said nothing, but I could see her mouth was open and she was breathing in short gasps. I looked down and saw the front of her panties showing signs of her arousal. I wanted to fuck them both so much, but I was also enjoying the game, the tease, the pretence.

Lizzie shook her head as though to clear it and leaned forward. She slipped the card into the bottom of the pile and I looked at her and raised an eyebrow. She just returned a smile. The rules were changing - rules, I thought, what fucking rules?

I leaned across and slid the top card off, looked at Emily. She was still staring at my cock and when I said, "Truth or Dare," she jumped, that quick flush spreading again over her face.

"Da-" she started, and her voiced croaked. She coughed and repeated it: "Dare, or course."

I nodded and turned the card over.

"Lie down and kiss the person on your right." I read the card to myself again. It wasn't what I had expected. Lizzie was on Emily's right. There was a second line and I read that as well: "You must kiss for at least five minutes."

Lizzie looked at her friend, Emily looked down at her hands.

"How about it?" Lizzie said. "We did kiss last week, and... well, I quite enjoyed it, don't know about you."

Emily nodded briefly.

Lizzie stood up and walked across the small room, came back with a wind up timer from the cooker. It clicked loudly as she turned the key and she set it for five minutes and then lay on her side looking at Emily.

Emily looked at me, shyly, as though asking my permission, although what I had to do with this I wasn't sure, but I nodded anyway and she unfolded her legs and lay on her side, inches from Lizzie. They lay on the carpet, facing each other, and I waited.

Lizzie put her hand behind Emily's neck, and Emily leaned in to the kiss. I saw their mouths open just before they met, and then they touched. After a moment they began to move, faces turning, mouths opening and tugging. I saw Lizzie's tongue slide between Emily's lips, then saw Emily nip at Lizzie's protruding bottom lip with her teeth. They moved closer together and their breasts met. Emily was at least four inches taller, and her breasts much smaller. Lizzie's globes flattened against hers. Lizzie's hand slid down and cradled the small of Emily's back. I leaned back, watching, but neither of them seemed even aware I was there, they were both completely involved in what they were doing.

Emily lifted her hand and put it on Lizzie's side, then slid it inwards onto her breast. Lizzie gasped, then moved to allow access and Emily cupped her heavy breast in her hand and tugged at her large nipple.

Lizzie rolled onto her back and Emily followed, lying half on top of her, her leg sliding down between Lizzie's, her thigh pressing onto her friend's pussy. Lizzie slowly pulsed her hips, riding against Emily's leg.




The Drifter Ch. 01



I wondered if I could stop myself from cumming, but could not turn away. The dare had been a kiss, nothing more, and although their bodies met in all kinds of places they did not let their lips part. I watched Lizzie's hand slide down over Emily's hip, then across to her ass. She slid her fingers in under the material and stroked Emily's naked skin. Emily's hand began to move down over Lizzie's belly, reached the top of her panties and hesitated and the timer dinged, startling us all.

For a while they continued to kiss, only slowly pulling apart and then nipping at each other. Finally, Emily pulled back and rolled away. I could see her panties were really wet now, glanced and saw Lizzie was in the same state of arousal. My cock was leaking quantities of pre-cum that soaked the head and occasionally dripped down onto my thigh.

They slowly sat back up, both flushed. Lizzie looked directly into my eyes and smiled. Emily avoided my gaze.

I looked at Lizzie and said, "Your turn."

"Fuck this," she said.

"Chickening out?" I asked.

She laughed softly. "You know what's gonna happen, Mike, why not just do it?"

"Your turn," I repeated. I reached for the top card, but instead of turning it over I picked up the pen they had been using and crossed out what was written and scrawled a new dare.

"Read it," Lizzie said, her voice hoarse.

Emily was looking at me as well, her eyes glittering. The scent of pussy and cock was rich in the air, pheromones oozing out of our bodies.

Without looking down I said, "Remove all of your clothes and lick the pussy of the person on your left."

Emily gasped, that rapid flush coloring her face once more.

Lizzie grinned and tugged at her panties. They slid down her hips and revealed a plump, damp, totally shaved pussy. She tossed the tiny slip of blue material aside.

Emily was leaning back against an armchair, watching her, glancing down at her naked pussy. She seemed out of it and when Lizzie knelt and moved across to her she offered no resistance as her friend slid her hands into the elastic of her panties and tugged. They caught and Emily lifted her hips and Lizzie pulled them down and off. She put her hand on Emily's chest and pushed her back, grabbed her legs and tugged her towards her, lifted her knees and parted her legs.

Emily's sweet pussy opened and revealed itself. Her bush was as flame red as her hair, only slightly trimmed, but sparse so that nothing was hidden.

"Have you ever done this before?" I said, resting my hand on Lizzie's ankle.

"Never. But I've had it done to me, and I'm a girl, and I know what I like."

She glanced briefly at me, turned back to her friend. She reached up and stroked Emily's small breasts, ran the back of her finger down over Emily's long flat belly and over her pussy. Emily jerked and trembled as Lizzie touched her sex.

Then Lizzie lowered her face and kissed Emily below her navel, slid down and licked the inside of her thigh. Emily moaned and rolled her head. Sweat beaded her face and stuck her hair down along her neck.

Lizzie teased a moment longer, then slid her tongue onto her target. She began to lick at Emily's wet pussy, nipping her clitoris with her teeth. Lizzie's ass stuck up in the air, and the sight of her plump naked pussy nestling between her thighs was too distracting. I rolled around and lay with my head close to Emily's hips so I could watch the action. I saw Lizzie glance quickly at me, and she put her hand once on the side of my face then returned it to Emily's breast.

Emily's eyes were closed and I don't believe she knew I was there. I wanted to touch them both but resisted. We were still playing the game - one hell of a game, but it excited me to follow the rules. My cock ached and I was desperate to cum, but I resisted touching either myself or them.

Lizzie's tongue probed into Emily's wet pussy. This close I could smell the scent of her sex strongly. Emily's clitoris was large and engorged, poking out of its hood like a miniature cock, jutting out almost an inch and Lizzie alternated between licking Emily's pussy and tugging her big clitoris into her mouth and sucking on it.

"Emily," I said softly.

She opened her eyes slowly and rolled her head to look at me. All embarrassment was gone now as unadulterated lust filled her.

"Is it as good as you thought?" I asked. 

She smiled. "Better... so much better... but you must do this too, later, I want to know how it feels with a man as well... you will, Mike, please?"

I was on fire. I wanted to touch her, to kiss her, but I held back. It was a test to me now, to see if I could resist, to see if I could wait.

I nodded, watching her beautiful face as it filled with ecstasy. Lizzie had been working her for ten minutes now, and I had seen how expert she was, bringing Emily to the brink and then pulling back. Now Emily's hips were pulsing, soft moans coming from her lips. She kept her eyes open, continued to stare at me as Lizzie brought her close, closer, and there. Emily's eyes opened wide, and although she stared at me I don't believe she saw anything. Her body jerked, trembled and spasmed. Her eyes rolled back, showing only white, and she bit hard down on her lip.

Lizzie felt her cum and pushed two fingers into Emily's sopping pussy, tugged on her clit and when a small gush of fluid splashed out of Emily's pussy she licked it up with her tongue.

Emily gasped, curling into herself, her thighs closing around Lizzie and trapping her. She hugged her friend's head into her pussy and jerked, her mouth open, her eyes wide, staring into mine, and as she began to relax and slump back she grinned.

Lizzie pulled back and sat on her heels, idly playing with her breasts and nipples.

"So," she said. "Worth the wait?"

"Fucking hell," Emily said. "If I'd known it felt like that, I'd have got you to do me years ago."

Lizzie looked at her and smiled. "You only needed to ask, babe."

Emily stared at her, cocked her head to one side. She shivered suddenly, then said, "I want to do it to you too."

"You only need to ask," Lizzie said softly.

I coughed and sat back, returning to the cards. I picked the next one up and scribbled through the words already there and scrawled new ones. The girls slowly looked away from each other and towards me.

"I think it's your turn, Liz," I said.

She grinned. "You cheating again, Mike?"

"Did you mind the last one?"

She shook her head. "Oh no..."

I passed the card to Emily, as officially it was her turn to read it, but the game had gone way beyond rules now.

"You must lie on your stomach and allow yourself to be spanked."

Lizzie's grin grew wide and she immediately rolled over and shook her ass. Her round cheeks quivered, pale and sculpted. Emily leaned over and slid her hand down over Lizzie's back, over her ass and along her inner thigh.

"Spank me," Lizzie muttered.

Emily laid her hand on her friend's ass and gave it a light slap.

"Fuck that," Lizzie grunted. "Mike, show her how to do it."

I knelt on her other side and slapped her hard - not as hard as I could, I needed to find a limit, and this was not something I had ever done before, not something I had even thought of. Her ass quivered and my hand left a faint red mark.

"Uhn," Lizzie grunted.

Emily slapped her on the other cheek, hitting her as hard as I had and Lizzie grunted again and lifted her ass.

"Hang on," I said, and pulled two cushions off the chair. I lifted Lizzie's hips and slid the cushions underneath her. Now her ass stuck up in the air, her knees slightly bent, her legs parted and her wet pussy exposed. I shivered, wanting to kneel between her thighs and fill that pussy with my cock, but that was not the dare. Not yet. Even so, I allowed my hand to trail up her thigh and lightly stroke her pussy. Then I slapped her again and she cried out and Emily slapped her as well and she grunted and I slapped her and she jerked up and back down.

"More," she grunted.

Emily leaned over and kissed Lizzie's back, whispered into her ear. "You like this?"

"I fucking love it," Lizzie moaned. "I think I'm gonna cum..."

We were all on the edge, and only Emily had gained any release.

I started to slap Lizzie's ass, varying the approach and strength, and Emily followed my lead. The cheeks of Lizzie's ass were now bright pink, but she moaned and grunted at each slap, and before long the moans formed a continuous sound and her ass was pumping up and down as we spanked her. I aimed a much harder slap right across both cheeks and she squealed and I slapped her again, more lightly, and she grunted and started to cum.

Her ass trembled, and I slapped her. Emily slapped her and then I grabbed her hand and pulled it and slid it down between Lizzie's thighs and placed her fingers on her friend's pussy. Emily looked into my eyes and I nodded and she started to pump two fingers inside Lizzie.

I slapped her again and she shouted "Fuck!" once, very loudly, and then she was jerking all over, rolling from side to side so Emily found difficulty keeping her fingers inside Lizzie's pussy. I grunted as well, and breathed hard, making a huge effort to hold myself back. I could feel my balls pulling tight against my body, and I was on the point of shooting my seed without anyone ever touching me.

Emily looked at me as Lizzie's climax began to fade, a frown on her pretty face.

"Mike, are you OK?"

I nodded. "Nearly came," I grunted.

"Oh," she said.

"Fuck fuck fuck," Lizzie moaned, rolling over onto her back.

"Are you sore?" Emily asked, leaning over her friend and stroking her big breasts.

"Not really. I guess. But it was so fucking worth it. I've wanted someone to do that for so long... and now... fuck!" She sat up and pulled Emily to her and kissed her, let her go and grabbed me and kissed me, mouth open, tongue probing. I could taste Emily's pussy on her lips.

"Now," Lizzie said, releasing me. "I think the next one's Mike's."

Emily giggled. Lizzie reached for the card and repeated my actions, scribbling out the dare and writing her own. She held the card against her breasts and looked at me, at Emily.

"Read it," Emily said.

Lizzie made of show of looking, but she knew what was there.

"You must let two beautiful women suck your cock until you cum."

"Not again," I said, and they giggled. "Besides, where the hell am I gonna find two beautiful women at this time of night?"

"That's a tough one," Lizzie said. "Guess you'll have to make do with us."

I sighed. "If I have to."

"Lie down then," Lizzie said, and pushed against my chest. I went backwards, leaning against the pile of cushions I had laid for her. I could feel her cum damp against my shoulder.

The two of them knelt beside me, looking down at my cock. Neither of them made any move.

Finally Lizzie looked at Emily and said, "You start." Her voice was serious all of a sudden, and Emily looked back at her and nodded. This was about more than fun now.

Emily reached down and circled her hand around my cock, didn't rub, just held it.

"I think I should warn you, I'm on a hair trigger here," I said.

"Good," Emily said, and lowered her head and slid my cock into her mouth. I groaned and threw my head back as her wet hot mouth enclosed me. Her agile tongue flickered and toyed with the ridge of my cock.

I felt another hand slide along my thigh and cradle my balls, then a tongue follow and start to lick them.

Emily moved back and Lizzie grabbed me and guided my into her mouth. Her lips were plumper, her tongue bigger and less delicate, but she took me deeper inside than Emily had and sucked five inches of me into the wet cavity. I grunted and felt a pressure and thought I was about to cum, and held back hard. Lizzie felt me tighten and pulled back and a single jet of cum spilled from me. Lizzie spread it along my cock and then sucked her fingers. Emily touched me and then took me into her mouth again, licking the cum from the side of my cock with her tongue.

I held on hard, drawing into myself, and the moment passed, faded. It had only ever happened to me on a few occasions before, but as then I found after the first precursor of my climax I was less sensitive, could last a little longer.

Emily pushed in, and for a moment I was locked between two mouths, my cock sliding from one set of lips to the other, then Lizzie grabbed me and pulled me deep again, pulled me out and stuck me into Emily's mouth. I reached up, a hand to each, and found their breasts, Emily's small and smooth and firm, Lizzie's large and soft and giving.

They fought over my cock, Lizzie in charge, passing me from mouth to mouth and rubbing me at the same time. After my first small jet I was managing to hold on better, but I knew it would not be long, and wondered who was going to take my cum.

I felt a hand stroke my balls and then push down between my thighs, searching for my ass. Fucking Lizzie, I thought, but when I opened my eyes it was Emily whose slim fingers pushed back, seeking. I shifted, opening my legs, allowing her access, suddenly extremely hot at the thought of what she wanted to do. Her fingertip found my ass and I saw her smile as she knew where she was, then she pushed and her finger opened me up and went inside.

That was it. My balls shrunk tight and I jerked upwards. Emily dropped her head and sucked me in and I came once hard into her mouth. Lizzie grabbed me and pulled me over, drew me deep, deep inside her and I shot a second load. Lizzie pulled me out and rubbed me hard and I shot again, arcing up onto my belly, came a fourth time and splashed their lips as they fought to suck me, Emily winning, me wanting her to win as she drew me inside, her agile tongue flickering, and she let me empty the rest of my seed in her mouth.

I groaned and twitched as my cock became sensitive, and Emily gently stroked me with her tongue. I grabbed her arm and pulled her up to me, grabbed Lizzie with my other hand. I kissed Emily, opening her mouth with my tongue, tasting my own cum of her lips, then kissed Lizzie, her taste different, her mouth different. I felt both their hands on my cock, still hard, stroking me.

They rested across me, Emily's small breasts and Lizzie's large ones flattened on my chest as we exchanged kisses, me kissing them, they kissing each other.

"Now," Lizzie said, leaning on her elbows. "Seeing as the stunt cock here's still up for action, how about we girls get ourselves fucked?" She looked at Emily, who grinned and nodded, and they kissed hard over my chest.

"Fuck Lizzie first," Emily said, kissing me.

"You sure?"

She nodded. "I want you to cum inside me when you fuck me," she said shyly.

Lizzie leaned down and kissed me, lifted her leg and straddled me. Emily found my cock and guided me into her friend. Lizzie was tight, her pussy plump and I pushed and found resistance, then pushed more and she settled down on me with a grunt. I grabbed Emily and tugged her over, guided her onto my face and licked her damp pussy and she lowered herself down. Even though my face was pressed into her slim ass I knew they were kissing, touching each other, as I worked them both.

Lizzie rode me hard, and after a minute Emily rolled off me and went behind her and made out she was fucking her ass, pushing her red pubes against her friend, reaching around and rolling Lizzie's big breasts in her hands. Emily pushed Lizzie down onto me and lowered her head and began to lick her plump ass. I felt her tongue touch my balls, explore the base of my cock where it sank into Lizzie's pussy, then move back and upwards and I imagined her licking Lizzie's asshole. That girl has a thing about asses, I thought.

Lizzie pulled off me and rolled over, lying on her back, and I briefly slid my cock into her mouth, letting her taste her own juices, then slid down and entered her again. Emily came up behind me this time and I felt her soft public hair brushing against my butt. She turned and pushed herself against my ass, humping against me, then her hand came down and she pushed a wetted finger inside me again. I reached around and held her to me, opening myself to her, her finger buried, her pussy bumping against me.

Emily pulled away and grabbed my shoulders, tugging me back. I slid out of Lizzie, and Emily replaced me, fucking herself against her, then grabbed her hips and pulled, encouraging her onto her stomach. She lifted Lizzie's hips, pulled her legs apart and looked at me. I slid between Lizzie's thighs and entered her from behind, driving myself hard into her. Lizzie's head hung down and she was breathing hard and I knew she was close now. I drove into her, reached forward and squeezed her breasts, my hand tangling with Emily's.

Then Emily pulled me back again, pressed against my back, her arm curling around and gripping my cock. She stroked me, then guided the head of my cock onto Lizzie's puckered asshole. She was leaning around me, watching as my cock rested against the tight hole. Emily wetted her fingers and spread spit on her friends ass and then pushed her hips against me, encouraging me. Lizzie turned around and rolled away.

"No," she said. "I don't wanna do that."

Emily slid around me and lay across her friend. "Have you ever tried?"

"Tried it once," Lizzie said. "Didn't like it."

"We could be really gentle," Emily said.

Lizzie shook her head. "Not tonight. Not now."

"Maybe sometime?" Emily said, suddenly the one in control, all night the shy one, the quiet one, and now here was something she seemed to be really into and she was trying hard to let me assfuck her friend.

"I don't know," Lizzie said.

Emily looked down at her, stoked her breasts, dropped her hand and stroked her pussy, kissed her. "OK then. I promise. Roll over again and I promise."

Lizzie looked at her, not sure she believed, but allowed herself to be turned. Emily pulled her back up and I moved and slipped back inside her oiled tightness. Emily wriggled, sliding in underneath, her legs raised around Lizzie's head, and slid back and started to lick her friend's clit as I pounded her from behind. Lizzie grunted, and I felt her tighten around me. She dropped her head and licked Emily's pussy, sucked on her long hard clitoris.

Emily reached an arm through and cupped my balls, then probed back again, searching, seeking, finding my asshole and pushing inside. The girl was obsessed.

"Fuck her," she grunted, her voice muffled as she sucked Lizzie's pussy. "Fuck her hard and make her cum."

I drove into Lizzie, burying my cock deep and she tightened again. I reached around and pulled her breasts. Reached down and found Emily's pussy and slipped a finger inside her, beside Lizzie's mouth and tongue. 

Lizzie groaned and jerked. I straightened and grabbed her wide hips, pounded hard into her, pleasuring her, knowing I would not cum yet, and she pushed back and screamed as she came, jerking and jumping under me, Emily's tongue wetting my balls as Lizzie's pussy moved away, then finding it again and bringing a second climax ripping through her.

Finally, Lizzie lifted her head and moaned, "Enough... stop for God's sake, before you kill me..."

I stopped pumping but left my hard cock filling her. She straightened up, pulling away from me and I slid out. Emily, still beneath, grabbed my cock and sucked it hungrily into her mouth.

Lizzie rolled aside, gasping, sweat coating her. She looked at Emily, still sucking my cock, and said, "Where the fuck did this animal come from?"

Emily glanced at her, mouth full of cock, and I felt her lips tighten as she grinned. She slid me out of her mouth and said, "I'm free at last, Lizzie. Free to be who I am."

Lizzie leaned across and kissed her. "Then be it, babe. Be it." She looked up at me and nodded, as though giving me permission for something, but I didn't know what.




The Drifter Ch. 02



After the sun rose in the sky, Monica noticed that Joe was not beside her. She got dressed and headed back into the house and went to the kitchen and noticed something smelling real good coming from there. She walked in and noticed Joe in the kitchen cooking her breakfast which consisted of eggs, salmon cakes and potatoes with fresh coffee brewing, she knew she gained a new love but not one that was good in front of the stove. Joe looked back and saw her standing behind him smiling with approval.

"Good Morning" Joe said to her as he finished up the breakfast. 

"Good Morning to you too" she replied back and gave him a soft kiss. 

"I hope you are hungry, because I made a nice helping for us today. I want to finish the upper level of the barn and then go to the lake nearby" Joe said to her.

"Sure thing, let's eat, get dressed and rolling on the barn today." Monica told him. 

After eating and cleaning the kitchen, they both heard a hard knock at the door. It was Boyd with his friends demanding to see Joe.

"Open the fucking door!!!! I know he is in there!!!" Boyd yelled. 

Monica could not believe that her perfect morning was totally ruined by her douchebag ex boyfriend.

Joe had risen up and looked out of the window and he noticed that Boyd and his crew came in earnest. Joe came back and comforted Monica.

"I fucking hate him!!!" Monica said as tears welled up in her eyes.

"Don't worry, I'll take care of it." Joe said very calmly. He then went to the door, and saw Boyd standing there, cocky as ever.

"You think that you can just punch me and get away with it? Not in this town!!!" Boyd said and laughed at the same time. Joe stood there with a stern look on his face knowing if he wanted to he could beat Boyd to a bloddy pulp. 

"Leave now." Joe said to Boyd and his crew. Boyd on the other hand, did not take orders very well, then again he didn't think he needed to since his family pretty much owned the town.

"I leave when I want. And you owe me an apology." Boyd replied in his most stern voice, in the loosest form of the word that is. Boyd's friend Tommy tried to sucker punch Joe but Joe saw it coming, stepped back and grabbed Tommy's wrist, kicked him behind the knee causing it to snap and then dislocated his shoulder. As Tommy writhed in pain, Boyd's other friend (or lackey if you want to call them that) Marcus tried to get one in on Joe too but Joe kicked Marcus in the chest and caused him to fly off of the porch and onto the ground. Boyd was left standing alone, practically scared shitless as he went number one in his pants. 

"I'm outta here." He said but Joe gave him one parting shot square on the jaw. Boyd wasn't knocked out but he damn sure felt the shot that Joe delivered. The trio quickly left in their truck and Joe sat down to collect his thoughts. Monica came outside and wrapped herself around Joe.

"I am glad he is gone, I hope he does not come back." She said to Joe. 

"If he is smart, he won't" He replied and then said "I'll have the barn done in a few hours, get some rest." He told her and kissed her on the forehead. She went back inside to shower and lay down and he went right to work on the barn. 

He finished the barn by nightfall and he came into the guesthouse to clean up and get changed.

After cleaning up, he came inside to the house, Monica was done preparing dinner for two. 

"I hope you are hungry, because I sure am" She smiled. 

"Oh I am, I have a full appetite to satisfy." He replied as he looked at her in a blue sundress which clung to her body perfectly, and Joe was starting to get a rise in his jeans once again. 

The two had a lovely dinner, laughing and joking and enjoying one anothers company. They both retired to the living room in front of a lit fire that Monica had set up. She had laid on the couch while she had her feet laid across Joe's lap. Joe was relaxed as she was, and he started to rub her feet softly. 

"That feels good. Keep going." She told him and he obliged, he wanted to do the whole leg for her as she laid down. He positioned himself on the floor and gave her a leg massage. For Monica this was going to be one enjoyable massage and she was in a bit of a playful mood too, so she carefuly inched her dress up, exposing her thigh to Joe, then arched her right leg up in an angle exposing her panties to him. 

"Make sure you get my left thigh, it's been tightening up on me." She said and Joe obliged and massaged it deep and hard while he looked up her dress and stared at her white laced panties. He inched up slowly as he reached the outside lining of them, and he carefully slid his fingers inside of her panty line and into her pussy which was becoming wet by the second. She lifted up quickly and Joe had moved his hand. Her eyes were now lust driven and her emotions were at a fever pitch. Joe, sensing this stood up and removed his shirt from his body and she removed her dress from hers. She then kissed his chest, his navel and went to his pants and opened them exposing his hard member. She stroked it at first, them kissed the head of it and slowly took him into her mouth as she gave him a slow and sexy blowjob. Joe stood there as he watched her head move back and forth and he was on cloud nine from it.Then, she pulled his cock out of her mouth and stroked it slowly. Monica then stood up to kiss Joe and Joe picked her up, ripped her panties off of her and lifted her pussy towards his face and he proceeded to taste her pussy like a ravenous creature hunting for prey. Monica sat on him, gripping his head with one hand while the other gripped her right breast as she was about to have another orgasm from Joe's mouth.

"YES!!!!!!!" She yelled out. Joe stopped as she put her face towards his. She wanted him inside of her and she wanted it now. 

"Fuck me hard, deep and fast." Monica commanded to Joe. Joe then places himself on top of her, took his hard cock and slammed it right inside her cunt. Monica gripped his back tight as he filled her up completely.

"AHHHH!!!!" She yelled out and he kissed her as he slid in and out of her. She rubbed the pubic mound of her cunt as she watched Joe's cock carefully slide in and out.

"MMMMMMMMMM, YES!!!!" She screamed out in pleasure as Joe kept ramming in and out of her for nearly 40 minutes. Joe was surprised he kept going this long but he knew he had to cum sometime so he quickly rolled over and had her ride him for ten more minutes while he pounded her from underneath hard and fast.

"I'M CUMMING!!!!!" He yelled out. 

"I'M CUMMING TOO!!!!" She replied back. 

Then Joe and Monica came in Unison as she drenched herself all over his cock he shot load afer load into her womb once again. Joe and Monica's relationship was growing stronger and stronger byeach passsing day as they slept by the fire.

"We didn't get to go to the lake today." She said softly as her fingers twirled in his hair as she laid on his chest.

"No worries, we have all day tomorrow." He replied and smiled as the two then slept together by the fireplace.



The Drifter Ch. 02



When we entered the house, Carla's grandfather was just finishing his sandwich and washed it down with a bottle of beer. Her grandmother, a tiny, thin woman with gray hair tied in a bun, sat next to him at the round oak table with a cup of tea and half a sandwich on her plate. I noticed she didn't eat the crust. Our ham and cheese sandwiches were waiting for us on pale green plates. A pitcher of lemonade sat in the center of the table and next to our plates were two empty mason jars to drink from. I could have gone for a beer but was reluctant to ask since it wasn't offered. 

Carla sat down in the chair next to her grandmother and I sat across from her. 

"Help yourself to the lemonade," her grandmother said to me then turned to Carla. "So how's accounting school going?"

"It's good. I have one more year then I have to see if I can find a job. Uncle Charley said he might be able to hire me in his firm, but he'll have to see if his business picks up. He said the recession has hurt since several of his clients went out of business."

Her grandfather shook his head, "I know about that. I'm just about holding on," he said, nodding and shaking his head. "Every month the price of feed and seeds goes up and it's hard to get a decent price for the cattle at the slaughter house. It's the middlemen who make the money. It almost doesn't pay to be a rancher these days. It sure ain't like it used to be."

Carla was quiet while her grandfather spoke.

"Well, you sure have a beautiful place," I said, pouring myself some lemonade, then took a bite of my sandwich. "I'm glad to have the chance to help out and earn a few bucks and get to know your granddaughter. She's a good hard worker." I glanced at her and thought how sexy she looked in that tight red shirt, but also how pretty she was now that she was relaxed with me. 

"Thanks," Carla said and looked at me with her dimpled smile.

"Yes, she's a good girl. Always willing to come out and help us when we need an extra hand. She was raised right, even though she lost her dad in Iraq."

"Oh, I didn't know that." I glanced at her and saw her tense and swallow, but not react and sensed how much she holds in. 

"It ain't easy losing a son, but he was doing his duty just like I did in Vietnam in the Sixties." 

I didn't want to say anything about those two wars because I was opposed to the invasion of Iraq and Afghanistan and remembered going on marches protesting the war in Vietnam with my dad during the Seventies. 

"Anyway, her mom did her best and they're a good church going family. Carla always did well in school and she works at that youth center in Jay. We're proud of her, just like we were proud of her father."

Carla listened and took a bite of her sandwich, but I could tell she was uncomfortable by the conversation, especially after what had been unleashed in the hay loft.

"We still have to get the hay in," she said, "It was raining too hard before."

"Too bad my son can't take over the ranch," he continued as if she hadn't said anything. "Don't know what I'm going to do with this place when I can't keep it up, that is, if I don't lose it to the bank like some of the others have around here."

Carla's grandmother took a deep breath and reached for his empty plate, then picked up her plate with the crumbs and pieces of crust. "Everything will be alright, George. You have to have faith. That's what it takes...faith." 

"I know you're right, but it ain't easy working all these years and ending up with nothing. Faith don't pay the damn bills."

I had finished my sandwich and and glanced over at Carla and sensed her discomfort. She closed her eyes and looked away. I could feel her withdrawing into her quiet, shy self and sensed she was holding in pain and memories. At the same time, I couldn't help but feel captivated by her almost angelic face, her smooth, radiant skin, the soft lips I had kissed. I could sense she was caught in two worlds-the world she had grown up in without a father, her religious family, her hardworking grandparents and the expectations of finishing her accounting course, and then working for her Uncle Charley. But also there was an awareness of her sexual yearning and desire for something more. I remembered how she expressed her need for adventure when I told her about my life and how she looked at me, as if the thought of adventure awakened a secret desire to be free. 

Sitting at the table, I wanted to be alone with her, to hold her, reach inside her hidden self and help her become the real Carla, the woman who was imprisoned by expectations to be the good girl.

"I miss my horse, Daisy," she said, changing the course of the conversation. 

"Did you have a horse," I asked, glad that the conversation had changed. 

"Yes, I had Daisy until a few years ago. I loved riding her. I loved feeling the wind when we rode through the pasture and over to Peter's Pond and I could swim there while Daisy ate the grass. That was one of my favorite things to do."

"Sounds like fun," I said. 

"You were quite the rider," her grandfather said.

"Hey, I have a picture of Daisy and me up in my room." She suddenly stood up. "Would you like to see it?"

"Sure," I said, completely surprised that she was inviting me to her room in front of her grandparents. 

"We'll just be a minute," she said to them before they could react. "I want to show Josh that picture of Daisy and then we'll go out and get the hay up in the loft." 

Carla dashed over to the stairway. "Come on, Josh. I really want you to see my picture of Daisy."

I'm not sure what her grandparents thought. I'm sure they were shocked, but Carla didn't seem to care when she ran up the well worn steps and I followed, amazed at her sudden audacity. I don't believe she did that.

When we entered her room, she closed the door and pushed me up against it, wrapping her arms around me and we kissed, her body pressed against mine. I couldn't believe how daring Carla had become, but sensed she was determined to take advantage of this opportunity to let her passionate, sexuality emerge.

She dropped to her knees, unbuttoned my jeans, lowered the zipper, grabbed my hard cock and looked up at me, "I want this," she said and started licking and sucking my cock with hunger and energy. I just gave in to her hot slurping mouth and her tongue moving up and down my hard cock.

She didn't seem to care that her grandparents were downstairs, probably wondering about their granddaughter suddenly taking a stranger up to her bedroom, but I wasn't going to argue with her actions and grabbed her hair and fucked her mouth, knowing the two of us were now throwing caution to the wind and riding the waves of an adventure with no idea where it would take us.

I looked down at her taking my thrusting cock in her warm, wet mouth, both of us trying to keep our sounds down. She snaked her hand inside her tight cutoffs and started fucking herself while giving me the blow job of my life. Just before I was about to explode, she took her mouth away, gasping for air and looked up at me, saliva on her lips and glistening on my swollen cock.

While I watched her hand moving inside, bulging her tight cut-offs, her wet mouth continued devouring my swelling cock. I looked down at her moving her fingers faster and harder, my hard cock filling her mouth. 

She moved her mouth faster up and down my cock as I pumped harder and deeper, her lips and tongue bringing me closer to an intense orgasm. Her fingers moved faster in her pussy when suddenly I let loose and shot gobs of cum into her mouth and saw it dribbling down her chin. She then fell onto her back, her legs wide apart, her hand still moving wildly inside her tight cut-offs. Her eyes stared hungrily up at my limp wet cock dangling from my jeans. Her mouth was wide open and I could see her choking back a scream as she convulsed wildly before she collapsed on the floor with her legs wide apart, her mouth wide open. Damn that was hot.

I got down on my knees between her legs, leaned over to kiss her and tasted my cum on her lips. With her arms wrapped around me, she held me to her warm, soft body. 

"Thanks for inviting me to see a picture of your horse." I smiled into her eyes.

"You're quite welcome," she said, smiling. "Did I surprise you?"

"Yes, but you're the surprise."

"Yes, I think I'm surprising myself. I told you, I needed an adventure."

"I know and I think we're going to have a wilder adventure before I leave."

"But I thought you said no expectations." She looked up at me with a devilish smile.

"You know the old saying,'make hay while the sun shines.'"

Carla laughed and pushed me off of her just we heard, "Carla, what's going on up there?"

"We'll be right down, Granny. I was just showing Josh more pictures of Daisy," Carla shouted, while I stood up and zipped my jeans. 

I chuckled as Carla got up, then glanced around the room at her bed with four posts, a pink quilt and two puffed up pillows."Nice room," I said, looking at the two windows with white frilly curtains.

"Yes, they keep this room for me. I used to spend a lot more time here when I was younger. Now it's just once in awhile, but always at haying time."

"Carla," her grandmother called again, louder. 

"Coming, Granny," she answered, then giggled and whispered, "I like cumming with you." She said it with a sly, playful smile and then opened the bedroom door. 

I chuckled at her pun and followed her back downstairs.

Her grandmother was at the bottom of the stairs and Carla kissed her on the cheek, then rushed past her and continued to the screen door, "We've got work to do," she called back as the door slammed. 

I followed her, surprised how casual and brazen she was being, so unlike the quiet, shy Carla I met that morning. 

When we got up to the barn, I wasn't certain what to do since I had never done this kind of work before, but Carla was experienced. 

"Pull the truck out of the barn and I'll get up in the loft with the block and tackle while you hook on the bales and pull the rope and I'll stack the hay."

"Sounds like a plan." 

I hopped into the truck, drove it forward so the pile of hay was in position. Carla ran back into the barn and within a minute, looked down from the open loft door, waved and started lowering the rope with a big hook on it. I climbed into the back of the truck, grabbed the rope and hook. 

After getting it around the twine, I pulled and lifted the bale up to where Carla could reach and take the hay to be piled. We got into a rhythm of hooking, pulling and piling. 

I was impressed with how strong and swift she was. I could see the beads of sweat on her face and arms, how her tight T-shirt was clinging as she stretched and moved. I was sweating too and stopped to take my towel out to wipe my face and the back of my neck. We worked steadily for thirty or so minutes and had half of the hay in the barn. 

"Let's take a break," she called. "We can switch jobs, if you want."

I sat down on one of the bales and she sat up in the loft with her legs hanging over the edge. I looked up at her and admired how pretty she looked with the cowboy boots and straw hat. I was thirsty and wished we had brought bottles of water out with us, then thought of the beer her grandfather had at lunch. 

"I sure could go for a cold beer, right now," I shouted up.

"Me, too. I'd love one."

Just then her grandfather came out of the house and started walking to his truck. He looked up at us and then Carla surprised me.

"Hey, Gramps, how about bringing Josh and me a beer?" 

He hesitated for a second, "You say, you want a beer," he shouted back and looked startled.

"Yeah, how about it? Please, bring each of us a beer." 

He seemed puzzled. He shook his head. "Guess it's alright." 

I was surprised that Carla did that, but I could tell her grandfather was too. I watched him walking towards the house, shaking his head as if bewildered. He turned back to look at me in the hay wagon and then up at Carla sitting on the edge of the hayloft. 

"I think you shocked him," I yelled up at her. 

"I also shocked Granny taking you up to my bedroom. I'm tired of being an angel."

I nodded and looked up at her sitting on the edge of the loft and wondered if it was me that brought this change, or she was already on the brink of breaking out of her shyness like a prisoner escaping from her prison. I didn't know the answer, but I liked seeing it and wondered what the next day would bring before I headed out. 

When her grandfather returned with two open bottles of beer, Carla came down from the loft, hopped up into the back of the hay wagon and sat with me on one of the bales. He handed us the beer and we clicked bottles and both took big gulping drinks.

"Never saw you drink a beer, Carla," he said.

"I'm thirty-fours years old. I'm not a little girl, Gramps. I'm a woman and this isn't the first beer I've had."

"Does your mother know that?" he asked, watching her take a swig.

"Doubt it," she said. "But there are other things she doesn't know."

"Really, is that so?" 

He rubbed his chin and looked at her sitting next to me. "Well, guess I better get back to fixing that fence in the pasture," he said and walked back to his truck parked in front of the house. He got in, backed up and turned around and looked over at us sitting in the back of the hay wagon. 

"Thanks for the beer, George," I yelled, lifting it. "See you later."

Carla took another gulp of her beer and leaned against me, pressing her arm against mine. "Am I surprising you?" 

"Not really, I could see through your shyness this morning. I knew there was a passionate woman behind your shyness."

"You were right, but I'm surprising myself. I've never let myself feel like this before."

"Why?"

"Fear and not feeling good about myself. All the expectations. It's exhausting being me." She sighed deeply and took a gulp of beer.

"What made you change?"

"You know why. You did it."

"Maybe, but you had to want to change." 

"I was afraid and I'm really shy, but you touched something in me the way you talked. You really turned me on and when you grabbed me up in the hayfield, I wanted to let loose and now I just want to be the real me, not the good little girl like everyone thinks I am. I want to be bad, but I also want to be loved."

"Bad? Loved?" 

"Yeah, I have fantasies. I met some guys online and I watch porn. I've gone to bars and I play with myself imagining a guy taking me, but then I want him to fall in love with me. That's what I want-to be taken, ravished by someone who also loves me. That would be a dream come true." 

"You're being honest, but I know what you mean by bad. That's why you're wearing those tight cut-offs and no bra under that t-shirt. You want to turn guys on."

"Right, I do, but I was afraid to really let go until today. I never met anyone like you before. 

But I'm not a virgin. In fact, I almost got married a few years ago to a guy."

"What happened, why didn't you get married?"

"He didn't get it. He only cared about himself and he didn't have any imagination. His name is Allen and wants to be a doctor. It was always the same thing. I needed more...a lot more because there's this other side of me—a wild side. I knew I wouldn't last with him. When we broke up he called me all kinds of names. Everything was my fault."

"Too bad." I took a final gulp of the beer.

"We're still friends, I guess. He's got another girlfriend and I'm happy for him, but I can tell he hasn't forgiven me for breaking off the engagement before we got married."

Carla finished her beer then stood up while I continued sitting. She moved in front of me, straddling my legs, then sat down, putting her arms around me, pushing her tits against my chest and started grinding her pussy against my cock. She opened my mouth with her tongue. My cock got hard and I grabbed her ass and pulled her against me and started thrusting my cock against her pussy. 

I knew we couldn't do much because her grandmother might see us, but we both wanted to. Our kissing grew fiercer, but then we pulled our mouths apart, gasping. We looked at each other. Suddenly she stood up, her bare legs on each side of mine, her cowboy boots next to my feet, her tight cut-offs pressing against her crotch an inch from my mouth, her hard nipples poking at her tight t-shirt. It was all I could do not to grab her and throw her down on the hay wagon floor and fuck her. 

"We better get back to work," she said, still breathing heavily and looked down at my cock bulging in my jeans, then looked at the farmhouse.

"Right, let's get the rest of this hay in."

"Yes, we better." 

She took a deep breath, then hopped off and ran back into the barn, her round ass straining her cut-offs. Damn, she's driving me crazy.

We continued working in the hot sun, both of us sweating. It was good to see the hay wagon almost empty. We had six or seven bales to go. I was tired and moving a little slower, but Carla stood up in the loft waiting for me to hook up another bale. 

"Keep going, we're almost done," she shouted.

I took a deep breath and grabbed another bale and pulled it up to the loft. I thought about my sleeping bag up there and how good it would be to rest. When the last bale was lifted, Carla grabbed it and shouted down, "Come on up here, your sleeping bag looks like an appealing place for a little rest."

"You're a mind reader," I called back and wiped my neck and head with the towel then jumped off the hay wagon. When I looked up, Carla was gone and I wondered if she was waiting for me in my hay-filled bedroom. Fortunately, there was a spigot for water just inside the barn. I grabbed our empty beer bottles, rinsed them out, filled them with water and managed to climb up the ladder holding both bottles in one hand. 

"Great," she said and took a big swig. I lay down on my open sleeping bag and propped my head against my backpack and finished half the water in one gulp and loved how the cool wetness took away the dryness in my parched throat. Carla was lying on her side with her head resting on her hand propped up on her elbow. Her skin was still moist with beads of sweat on her arms and legs and above her upper lip. I looked up at her in the dappled light coming into the barn from the loft door, then glanced at the stacked hay bales covering over half of the floor. 

"So where to next, drifter," she said, knowing I would be heading out in the morning after getting paid.

"Not sure, I never know until I get there. I take one day at a time."

"Wish I could live like that." 

I didn't say anything but could see her eyes closing as if she was dreaming what that would be like. She sighed deeply then narrowed her eyes as she looked at me.

"What are you thinking?" I asked. 

"You don't want to know," she said, biting her lower lip.

"Yes, I do, what's going on with you."

"I just got the wildest idea."

"What?"

"Take me with you."

"Are you serious?"

"I think I am."

"How can you do that? Don't you have your accounting classes and your job at the youth center?"

"I know but I think I need to get away."

I listened and could see her mind churning. I could see the way her blue eyes sparkled that she was excited.

"Take me with you. It'll be fun."

The thought of traveling with Carla, a sexy young woman who had released herself from her shy, frightened self, was tempting. I looked at her tits stretching her red t-shirt, her long smooth legs barely covered by her tight cut-offs, her dusty blonde hair still hanging loosely over her shoulders, a few strands hanging in front of her eyes, and wondered what it would be like to have a traveling companion who had told me how much she wants to be ravished. But then I realized, she also wants to be loved. I didn't know if I could be what she wanted and wondered if I could love anybody after breaking up with my wife. 




The Drifter Ch. 02



She leaned over and before kissing me, placed her hand on my cock."I bet you'd like to have a hot traveling buddy like me."

"Are you seducing me?"

"Yes," she said and kissed me harder, her probing tongue slid over my lips into my mouth. Her hand rubbed my hard cock. I knew she was showing me what I'd be missing if I didn't take her with me. 

She knew what she was doing and it was working. The idea of having Carla to fuck whenever and where ever excited me and I pulled her on top of me. Our tongues swirled wildly as she straddled me. I squeezed her ass through the thin tight denim and felt the skin of her ass cheeks as she slid up and down the length of my bulging cock. Her hungry passion ignited my desire to drive my cock into her tight pussy.

She grabbed my hands and lifted them over my head. Suddenly, she sat up and pulled her T-shirt over her head, revealing her firm tits and bullet sized nipples, then leaned over me again. I moved my hands from over my head to grab and squeeze, then took one of her luscious tits in my mouth. 

When I did, she moaned and started grinding and humping my cock like she was crazed. We were still wet with sweat but that added to the heat of our lust.

She started grinding and humping harder until I bucked her onto her back and got on my knees between her wide open legs. I lowered my zipper and jeans while she did the same with her cut-offs. Our hungry eyes fixed on each other. I leaned forward and pulled her cut offs over her hips, getting her to squirm out of them and knew I would have to take off her cowboy boots.

"Hurry!" she yelled, lifting one foot while I pulled it off, then the other. When I moved forward, she grabbed my rock hard cock and started rubbing her dripping pussy with it. She lifted her ass and arched her back."Take me! Take me!" 

Loving the intense sensation of her wet pussy lips on the head of my cock, I savored the feeling and hesitated before I reared my hips back and rammed my cock into her tight pussy and drove her back to the floor. I held my cock deep in her clutching pussy before pulling out and thrusting again and again, each thrust harder than the last. With her feet flat on the floor, she lifted her ass up and arched her back to meet my thrusts. I loved how she lifted herself again and again while I drove her back to the floor. 

"Come on Josh, fuck me, fuck me. Take me, oh my God! That's it, harder! Harder! Oh, my God! I'm cumming! I'm cumming! Fuck me!"

I knew I wasn't far behind. Her pussy gripped and squeezed my cock as she exploded in ecstatic convulsions. I continued pounding her as hard as 

I could and grabbed her hands and lifted her arms over her head, our fingers intertwined, my orgasm rising, my cock swelling. 

"Take it! Take it!" I screamed, fucking her as hard as I could, ravishing her. My whole body writhed as I exploded in an overwhelming orgasm. Gobs of cum spurted into her hot, juicy pussy as she erupted again. Both of us were screaming before I collapsed heavily on her, dizzy and aware I just had one of the wildest fucks of my life. 

Unable to budge and feeling the wetness between our bodies, the aroma of our sex in the air, her tits crushed against my chest, I heard her sobs and lifted my head from her shoulder. I lay on her and felt her strong arms and legs wrapped around me and moved my fingers to her flushed cheeks and wiped a tear from her cheek and smiled into her eyes.

"Are you serious, you want to run away with me?" 

"Very," she said, looking up at me. "I've wanted to run away for a long time, but always backed out."

"Really."

"Take me with you. You know me like no one else does. I want to be me for the first time."

"I don't know what to say."

"Say yes."

"Won't people wonder where you are if you just disappear? Will you be reported missing?

"I'll call my mom from some place and tell her I'm okay, not to worry."

"Your grandparents will suspect you went with me."

"Not if I take my truck and then hide it somewhere. They'll think you went one way and I went the other. We can meet up somewhere." 

"You're serious aren't you?"

"Yes, I told you I need an adventure. All my life I've been the good girl, doing what was expected, pleasing people, being obedient, afraid to rock the boat."

"I don't know, I'm kind of a loner. I take one day at a time, find work then move on."

"I'll do the same. I have some money on my credit card, some savings. I'll withdraw it and I'll find work too."

"Doesn't it bother you that we've just met? We've known each for half a day and you want to take off with me. Isn't that risky?"

"Look, if it doesn't work out,you can just bring me back to my truck or to a bus station and that will be it. No expectations, like you said."

"You learn fast." I chuckled and smiled at her. 

"You're a good teacher." She reached up and touched my cheek. 

I was tempted to say yes but didn't. I gazed into her pleading eyes and took a deep breath as I struggled with my uncertainty. 

I was about to say, "let me think about it"when we heard footsteps coming into the barn and her grandmother, calling, "Carla, Where are you?" 

"I'm up here, Granny. I was just resting." She scrambled into her cut-offs.

"Where's that young man?" 

"I don't know. Maybe he went for a walk. I was just resting and he went somewhere."

"That's funny. I saw him come into the barn." 

I could tell she was just below us, standing next to the ladder. 

"He might have come in for some water, but I don't know where he is." 

"Well, you be careful around him. I saw the way he was looking at you."

"Is that so," Carla responded and glanced at me. "Why shouldn't he look at me, I'm beautiful." 

Carla put on her boots while I sat as still as I could, then watched Carla make her way down the ladder. Just before she disappeared from the loft, she looked over at me with my jeans half off.

"Carla, what's gotten into you?" Her grandmother's voice was shrill. 

"Nothing has gotten into me. What are you worried about?"

"Well, I don't know. I just saw how he was looking at you and then you took him up to your bedroom."

"I just wanted to show him my picture of Daisy. What's wrong with that? Stop worrying. I can take care of myself. I'm thirty-four and so what if he was looking at me. If you want to know, I liked how he looked at me."

"Well, be careful, young lady, he's a stranger, a drifter. You don't know anything about him. That's all I want to say."

"Okay, you told me, let's drop it. Come on, Granny let's make our hungry men some dinner."

When they left the barn, I lay back on my sleeping bag with my head propped on my backpack and wondered what it would be like if Carla took off with me and we went from place to place, finding work. I was surprised how my life was suddenly changing by answering that ad. I had earned seventy five bucks for a day's work and was ending up with a sexy young woman who a few hours ago could hardly look at me, and now, she wanted to run away. This seemed like something that would happen in a movie. 

I thought of the movie, "Bonnie and Clyde," how he was a drifter and stopped in a town and met a shy, bored woman and they went off robbing banks and being outlaws. "That's what she wants. She wants to rebel and break out of what's proper and acceptable and be a bad girl." Then I remembered she also wanted someone who loved her for who she was. 

Still, I wasn't sure what I felt about the idea. Talk about not having expectations...this was something I never thought would happen when I answered that ad.



The Drifter Ch. 03



At dinner, Carla looked scrubbed after a shower. Her hair was slightly wet and tied in a pony tail. She wore a simple white, flowery sundress that came just above her knees and was cut low, revealing her tan shoulders, bare arms and a little cleavage. She looked angelic with tiny silver earrings and a bracelet on her wrist. I noticed she was barefooted when she walked in from the kitchen carrying a bowl of mashed potatoes in one hand and a smaller bowl of peas. Her grandmother, wearing the same long gray dress she had on earlier, followed and carried a large platter with sliced roast beef in one hand and a pitcher of water in the other. A vase of zinnias and cosmos sat in the center of the table.

I had showered under a hose in back of the barn and changed into a clean pair of faded jeans and an old green t-shirt. Her grandfather wore the same bib overalls he had on at lunch and a washed out white undershirt. I noticed the white stubble on his chin and his gnarled fingers gripping a bottle of beer. I glanced at the bottle and he saw where I was looking. He picked up the bottle and poured some of his beer into my water glass but didn't offer me a bottle. 

"Thanks," I said and nodded. Stingy bastard, I thought as I took a sip. 

"So, where you heading, Josh," he asked, leaning back in his chair. "Not that it's any of my business."

"Not sure. I'll just stay on Route Sixty-six and see where I end up tomorrow. I always find a job doing something."

I glanced over at Carla as she helped herself to the mashed potatoes and a slice of roast beef.

Her grandmother sat down next to her husband but was staring at me. I could feel her eyes trying to size me up. I smiled at her.

"This all looks delicious," I said to her. "I really worked up an appetite today and haven't had roast beef since I don't know when."

Carla was quiet as she sliced her meat into small pieces and poured gravy over the potatoes. 

We were all quiet, eating. The only sound was the clicking of our forks on the plates. I looked down at my food, then glanced up and saw her grandmother still staring at me. Wonder why she's looking at me like that.

"Beautiful flowers," I said, breaking the silence.

"I brought them in," Carla said. "I love flowers."

"I do too." I glanced at her then back at the flowers.

I wanted to say something more to get a conversation going. I looked at her grandfather chewing a piece of roast beef, not looking up. 

Her grandmother moved a few peas with her fork. Carla lifted a forkful of mashed potatoes to her mouth, then surprised me when she faced me and opened her mouth and moved her tongue slowly over her upper lip and her lower lip. I don't believe she did that. 

I glanced at her grandmother, her eyebrows raised. 

"Damn, she saw that. I wonder what's she's thinking," I thought.

I saw the shock on her grandmother's face, then watched Carla place the mashed potatoes in her mouth and look away as if nothing had happened. 

Not knowing what to think or do, I swallowed and turned to see her grandfather poking at another piece of meat with his fork and lift it to his mouth, oblivious to what just happened. 

"So, George, did you always want to be a rancher?" I asked, wanting to break the awkward silence.

He looked up, chewing his roast beef, and shook his head as if remembering something. 

"No, I wanted to get as far from this ranch as I could, even though I knew my father had other plans. Ever since I was a kid, I wanted to be an astronomer."

"Really," Carla said."I didn't know that."

"Yep, I studied the stars, had a telescope I got when I was twelve and I read books about it and was going to go to college after high school, then Vietnam came along and I went and signed up with a couple of my friends. I mean, that was the thing to do in those days, fighting the Communists. I was lucky not to lose a leg or something like my friend, Caleb and I made it through in one piece. I still wanted to be an astronomer, but my father had a heart attack and needed me, then he passed on and now I've been a god damn rancher going on forty-three years."

I listened, not sure what to say. 

"Then I met this pretty woman, here. She lived down the road and we got married--what's it been, Lilian, forty-seven years." He glanced at is wife. "And we had Charles. He'd be forty-five if it weren't for Iraq, but he brought this beautiful granddaughter into our lives."

I glanced over at Carla staring at him and knew she was trying to absorb anything she could about her father. 

"Carla kind of looks like Charles," he continued. "Anyways, my wanting to be an astronomer got shoved aside and that was that and now I don't know what's going to happen to this ranch when I'm not able to keep it up. It was my grandfather's during the dust bowl day. Do you know about that, the thirties when Oklahoma got buried in dust?" He paused, shook his head, not waiting for an answer. "I heard all the stories...it was hell, I'm told and we got pictures where you could hardly see cause it was so windy and the sky was all dark. My grandfather held on somehow, but had to sell off a lot of land. Lots of people left for California and other places."

"I read Steinbeck's, 'Grapes of Wrath,'" I said.

"Never read it but saw that Henry Fonda movie." 

"I saw the movie too," I said and glanced at Lilian and Carla, not sure if I should bring up the topic of climate change. "I know it was a tough time in those days, but it's getting tough now with all the droughts in the Midwest and lots of farms are losing their crops and cattle are dying."

"Yeah, it's been dry here for three years now. I hear all this talk about the climate changing and another dust bowl coming...who knows? I was lucky to get as much hay as I did, but it ain't enough. That barn used to be filled to the rafters. Now I have to buy more and I'll be broke again."

"It will get better," Lilian said. "We just have to have faith."

He didn't say anything, but shook his head at her, then turned to Carla, "You make sure you don't give up your dream to be an accountant." 

"Gramps, being an accountant isn't my dream. It's a job and that's all it will be."

"Well, its security," her grandmother said. 

"I know," Carla responded. "Good old security. That's all I hear from my stepfather and my mom...security."  

Her grandparents looked at her and I could tell they were shocked by her sarcasm. 

"What's wrong with security," her grandfather said.

"There's more to life than security. And maybe I'll have that when and if I get a job and that's a big if." 

She turned to me. "Josh, do you have security?"

I was surprised by her question. "No, not really, I guess I live on the edge and pay as I go. What I earn after a day or two of work, I spend to get me through the day. I live one day at a time. All I have is my truck, my tools, two pair of jeans and few old shirts, a sleeping bag and a wool blanket when I sleep in the truck."

"But your life is exciting. You're traveling. You're seeing the country and meeting different people. I'd like that."

"Carla, you can't live like that," her grandmother said. "What do you mean you'd like to live like he's living?"

"His name's Josh, Granny." Carla turned and glared at her.

"Yes, I know, but what's getting into you, Carla?"

"Nothing is getting into me. Can we change the subject?"

A hush came over the table with her grandparents staring at her, then at me. I was suddenly caught in the middle after describing how I live and Carla's saying she'd like to live like that. 

Her grandfather took a deep breath. "You seem different. I was surprised when you asked for a beer."

"Did she do that?" her grandmother asked, raising her eyebrows. "George, did you give her a beer." 

"Yes, he gave me a beer. I drink beer and I do other things." Carla leaned forward.

"Other things?" her grandmother asked. 

"Nothing you would approve of. Please, can we change the subject?"  

"Of course," her grandmother said. She seemed stunned and stared at Carla, then at her husband. 

I swallowed, disturbed by the sudden tension.

"I have some peach cobbler. Would y'all like some with a little vanilla ice cream?"

"You'll love Lilian's peach cobbler," George said, facing me, then looked at Carla. "Calm down, darlin'. This ain't nothing to get so riled up about. We're just interested in your welfare."

"I know," she sighed."It's just me. I'm sorry, but I'm not a little girl and you talk to me like I'm still twelve. I love you Gramps," she said, then turned to her grandmother. "I love coming to visit and helping with the hay and I don't mean to upset you, but I feel like you don't really know me."

"Of course we know you. We've seen you grow up when you lived here with your mom before she got married again and moved back to Jay. We know what a smart and pretty young woman you've become and we're proud of you, don't you know that?"

Carla glanced at me and knew I understood how caught she was. 

"You're proud of who you think I am and who you want me to be."

Her grandparents looked at her then at each other. Her grandmother glanced at me then faced Carla. "What's come over you? I've never heard you talk like this."

"That's because I keep everything bottled in and go along with how I am supposed to be, but you don't have a clue about what I think and feel. I'm a lot more than the sweet, good girl who goes to church and sings in the choir and gets good grades in college and works at a youth center. That's not all I am and I'm sick of pretending I'm that person when I'm not."

"Carla!" her grandmother said.What's gotten into you?"   She looked at me and took a deep breath. "The only person who knows me is Josh." 

They both looked at me. I didn't know where to look, so I took a sip of my beer. I couldn't believe she said that.  

Her grandmother narrowed her eyes. "What's going on with you two?"

I looked down at the food on my plate, stunned that Carla brought me into this situation.

"Did he get you to ask for a beer?" Her grandmother glared at me then looked at her husband. "Why did you get her a beer?" 

He looked at me, then at Carla, then back at Lilian. He shrugged his shoulders indicating he didn't know what to say.

"I told you I've had beer plenty of times. That's what I mean. You think I'm still a little girl. I'm thirty-four and I'm sick of all of this pretending I'm who everyone wants me to be."

"What do you mean he knows you? How could that be? He just showed up here."

"He just does because he knew I was hiding?"

"Hiding?" her grandfather said. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Carla leaned back in her chair and looked at me, then closed her eyes. She sighed deeply and looked at her grandmother then back at her grandfather. Both of them stared at her. I didn't know where to look or what to do. Silence hung over the table like a dark cloud before a storm. 

After a minute of tense silence, Lilian stood up. "Well, let me get this cobbler. Maybe some sweet peach cobbler will make a difference."

I could tell this was a family that avoided confrontations and conflict and swallowed a lot of their thoughts and feelings. 

"You're leaving in the morning, aren't you?" Her grandfather turned to me, then glanced up at his wife who stopped and waited for my answer. 

"Yes, I'll be on my way pretty early, probably before breakfast."

After hearing my plan, Lilian went into the kitchen. I noticed her glance at Carla before she left the room and could tell she was relieved to hear I was leaving in the morning. 

"I'll get some breakfast on the road." 

When I said that, Carla looked at me and I could see she was wondering about me taking her with me. 

"Where are you heading?" Her grandfather asked.

"Good question."

I glanced at her grandmother coming back to the table with the peach cobbler. She placed it on the table and sat down.   

"That sure looks good," I said, leaning forward and sniffing the sweet aroma.  

"Peaches come from our own peach trees," he said. 

Carla also leaned forward, "Granny makes the best peach cobbler ever." 

I was relieved that the previous tension had left and sensed Carla was trying to distract her grandparents from the previous incident. There was no way they could suspect she was wanting to meet up with me. I hadn't agreed to take her with me because our talking about it got interrupted.

Carla served me a plate of peach cobbler and smiled. Here you go, Mister." 

When she said that both her grandparents looked at her, then at me and I tried to pretend it was Carla being friendly and not flirty. "Well, thank you Miss," I said and took the plate from her. 

I was certain they suspected something because of our playfulness and how she told them I was the only one who knew her. "They know something's going on," I thought.

"This is delicious, Lilian," I said, after taking a bite. "You sure know how to make a great peach cobbler." I turned to George. "You're a lucky man to have her."

"Thank you. I know how lucky I am," he said and smiled at Lilian.

Still, underneath my attempt to keep their suspicions about Carla and me out of the picture, I knew that if she suddenly did not return home, they would suspect I had lured her away. I watched everyone taking bites of the peach cobbler while I wondered what I should do. Am I asking for trouble? It would be nuts to take her with me?   

When I finished eating I looked up. No one had spoken while we ate. I watched Carla bring the fork to her mouth for her final bite. I looked at her lips and liked how she closed her eyes as she savored the taste and saw how sensual she was. When she opened her eyes, she turned to me and smiled. I noticed her dimples, her blue eyes, her radiant smooth skin, the swell of her breasts and wondered what it would be like to have her traveling with me, running away from the secure world she knows to face the unknown with a drifter who never knew what the next day would bring. 

"How about if I do the dishes in exchange for such a delicious meal?"

I was hoping my offer would ease their wariness about me, but I also knew they saw Carla smiling at me.

Lilian narrowed her suspicious eyes. She looked at Carla, then at George, then back at me. "Thank you but that's not necessary," she said and stood up. "Carla and I can do them."  "Well, then maybe I'll take a little walk and head back to the barn. I've got a little battery powered lantern and I've been keeping a journal about my travels I might turn into a book."

"I didn't know you wrote," Carla said. 

"Yeah, I like writing. Something I've been doing since I was a kid." 

"So you're taking off in the morning," George asked. 

"At the crack of dawn." I stood up. 

"Well, let me pay you for your work now. You and Carla got that hay in just in time today. You worked fast and hard. Wish I could afford to keep you on here."   

"That would be good. You have a good place here, but I know how hard it is to keep things going with the way things are and you seem like good people."

Carla listened while she cleared the table.

"Money's in the parlor. I'll be right back," he said as he pushed his chair aside and stood up. 

When her grandfather went into the other room to get my pay and her grandmother went into the kitchen, Carla came over to me. Holding several dirty dishes in both hands, she glanced at the kitchen to make sure her grandmother couldn't see. 

"I know what you're thinking," she whispered.

"You do?"

"You're afraid they know something is up and if I run off with you they will suspect you."

"That's right. It's risky."

"Let's do it."

"I don't know. I don't want trouble."

"Please, take me. I need this. I want to go with you. You won't be sorry."

Just then her grandfather came in the room with the money and saw Carla talking to me.

"Well, good luck, Josh. It was nice working with you." She put one of the dishes on the table and shook my hand. 

"Good luck with your course and I hope you get to work with your Uncle Charley."

"Thanks," she smiled, then picked up the dish.

"Here you go," her grandfather said, handing me the folded up bills.

"Thanks." I put the money in my pocket without counting. 

Carla stood next to her grandfather. I stood there in the awkward silence. "And thanks for the work. I appreciate it."

"Where you heading?" he asked again.

"Not sure. Where ever I can find the next job, I guess."

I didn't want to say much in case Carla actually came with me.

When I opened the screen door, I looked at Carla and could feel her eyes gazing into mine. I could feel her intensity, her yearning, her need to know if I would take her with me. In that split second, not knowing what to say or do, I reached for George's hand to shake. "Maybe I'll stop by in the spring if I come this way."

"That would be good. Maybe I'll have work for you. Who knows?" 

I glanced back at Carla holding the dirty dishes and looking at me. At that moment, I wished her grandfather wasn't there so I could hug her and let her know I understood her pain and desire, but I was equally uncertain what I wanted to do. 

I opened the screen door and waved goodbye to George and Carla. I heard the door slam. It was just getting dark. After a few steps, I glanced back at the house and saw George turning on a lamp in the living room and remembered how he called it the parlor. "How quaint," I thought. I could see Carla putting dishes into the kitchen sink, standing next to her grandmother and wondered what she was thinking. 

I remembered how passionate and wild she became after I broke through her shyness and that what started out as lust was now a lot more—what that was I didn't know. And now she wanted to burst free and go with me after knowing me for one day. I had no idea how that would happen since I would be leaving first thing in the morning and everything was left unresolved.

I continued walking up to the barn and wondered what it would be like taking Carla into my drifting life. I didn't know. It was dark in the barn, but there was enough remaining twilight so that I could see the ladder. In the loft I looked at the stacks of hay we had gathered, then turned on my lamp and laid down on my sleeping back. I propped my head against my backpack and looked up at rough boards of the roof. I remembered Carla's wildness, her unleashed passion and wondered, despite the risk and uncertainty, if I decided to take her with me, how that would happen? Everything was in the air.  ***** "Wake up, wake up." 

Startled, I opened my eyes and felt Carla's hand on my shoulder. She was leaning over me. At first I didn't know where I was, but saw the pale glow of her flashlight and heard her voice. I was sleeping on my stomach on top of my sleeping bag with my wool blanket over me. Through my grogginess, I heard her say, "It's me. Wake up."

"What time is it?" I lifted my head and looked up at her. 

"Twelve-thirty. We have to talk." She put her hand over the light so it wasn't glaring in my eyes.  

I rolled onto my back and in the dim light saw she was wearing a white short, satiny nightgown that barely covered her thighs and an old unbuttoned blue flannel shirt that didn't do much to cover her cleavage as she leaned over me. She sat on her knees next to me.

"Are you going to take me with you?" 

"You're really serious." I knew she was by the pleading look in her eyes.

"Yes, very. I need to do this."

"It's risky. Your grandparents already suspect something is going on."

"I know, but I already called my best friend Hannah and I told my grandparents that's where I'm going."

"But what about your classes and your mom and step-father?"

"I'll call my mom in the morning. You'll already be gone. Hannah will cover for me and by the time they realize I'm not coming home, we'll be far away."




The Drifter Ch. 03



"You're something else. You have it all planned."  

"I do and I'll get cash at the ATM machine at the bank near here and they'll never know where I am and after we meet, I can hide my truck somewhere. What do you think?"

I looked up at her and saw the determination in her eyes but didn't know what to say. 

"I don't know. It's risky and I'm a loner. I never know from one day to the next where I'll be. And we hardly know each other. We just met today."

"I know, but I trust my intuition. I knew when you grabbed me in the field this afternoon, I felt your power. I was really turned on. I know I got frightened and pulled away, but while we worked we touched and I also felt your gentleness. I knew you had things to teach me. I knew I needed to escape my life. I was being smothered. I need to let the real me out. Please, take me with you."

The thought of traveling with this passionate, sexy, smart, beautiful woman was appealing. I could feel her intensity and remembered how wildly we fucked earlier, how she took the chance to take me up to her bedroom with her grandparents downstairs, how she wanted to escape the confines of her conventional existence, how she was leaning over me, wearing that sheer nightgown, tantalizing me. 

"I don't know. I never thought I'd being be helping someone run away."

"You're the one who said never have expectations."

"I know." 

She moved closer and lifted up my blanket and laid down beside me, pressing her warm body against mine. I knew she was seducing me to take her with me. What have I unleashed?

"See what happens when you don't have expectations." 

She lifted her leg over mine and rested it on my already hard cock. I could feel her pussy pressed against my hip and her fingers caressing my chest. She knows what's she's doing. She knows how to get what she wants."

"You want to take me with you, don't you?" 

"Are you trying to seduce me?" 

Her leg was moving up and down, rubbing my throbbing cock.

"Yes." She smiled then moved her leg away and started stroking my hard cock with her hand. 

"You're bad." I looked into her eyes and saw the coy, playful smile on her lips.

"I know. Do I surprise you?"

I chuckled. "Yes and no. I knew underneath your shy, frightened, good girl appearance was a passionate woman. I felt your spirit but your wanting to run away surprises me."

"I'm surprising myself and I know you saw me and that's why I want you to take me with you. You won't be sorry...and maybe I have things to teach you." She smiled and gazed playfully into my eyes.

Her saying that stunned me and I became more curious about her and what was emerging. Where is this heading? Who is this woman? What's happening to my life? 

With a devilish smile, she moved to straddle me. Laying on top of me, her breasts were crushed against my chest and her wet pussy pressed against the length of my hard cock. When we kissed, her tongue entered my mouth, toying with mine. Our kissing grew wilder. I gripped her ass under the silky fabric of her nightgown and loved the firm, round, smoothness as I squeezed her flesh and felt the wet sensation of her slippery pussy lips sliding slowly up and down my hard cock. As she moved faster, the head of my cock grazed her clit. Her moans and gasps told me she wanted more. I gripped her ass tighter and helped her slide her slippery wet pussy up and down my rock hard cock. I lifted myself and pressed harder against her dripping pussy which caused her to suddenly sit straight up. She grabbed my cock and leaning back rubbed the head against her clit. Soft moans came from her throat. She was taking control, using my cock like it was her toy and the sensation of watching her give herself pleasure as she straddled me was the most erotic thing I had ever seen. Her pussy was dripping all over my cock as she rubbed herself faster and harder, her eyes closed, her mouth opened, and her hand gripped my throbbing cock as she rubbed her clit harder, faster.

"Oh God! I love this." 

Suddenly, she lifted herself over the head of my cock and came down hard, impaling herself, then stopped and held it deep. The warm wet sensation of her tight pussy gripping my cock was more than I could bear. I looked up at her closed eyes and watched her her savoring the fullness of my cock deep in her tight pussy. 

"Oh my God, you feel so big." 

She started swiveling her hips. Her pussy was squeezing my cock, then suddenly she leaned forward and kissed me hard. I could feel her energy and power, her craving, her yearning to know ecstasy. Lifting her head, her blue eyes gazed hungrily into mine. She placed her hands on my chest as she wiggled her ass, causing my cock to swell inside of her with her slow gyrating. I knew I wouldn't last much longer and was trying to hold back. She started moving faster, harder. She was driving me crazy as the need to cum rose. Suddenly, she lifted herself and came down hard and swallowed my cock. Her whole body was in a frenzy. I gripped her waist and lifted her then pulled her down harder.

"Yes, yes! Oh I love this," she yelled. I lifted her again and pulled her down on my cock while thrusting into her as hard as I could. She was riding me like a crazed cowgirl.

I could feel her tensing and trembling. Her tight pussy squeezed my cock. Suddenly, thrusting hard, her whole body convulsed. "I'm there...oh my god. I'm cumming. Don't stop! Don't stop! Oh my God! Fuck me!" 

I kept thrusting through her orgasm, her pussy squeezing and soaking my cock as she erupted and then collapsed on me. That's when I gripped her ass and bucked her roughly onto her back and pounced on her and pounded her hard and fast.

She wrapped her strong legs around my back and pulled me deeper with each hard thrust. Her tight pussy squeezed my swelling cock as she tensed and shook again and suddenly, unable to hold back, I exploded in an overwhelming orgasm that swept over me like a huge wave crashing against the rocks and caused her to erupt with me in another wild orgasm. I writhed and screamed in ecstasy as the last of my cum spurted into her overflowing pussy. I collapsed on her, unable to budge, my cock deep in her. I lay on her, panting and gasping, wallowing in the warmth of our bodies. I could barely think, but knew I had experienced something special.

After several minutes of laying on her, loving how she felt under me, the wetness between us, the sweat, I kissed her shoulder, tasting the salt on her skin, then slowly lifted my head. In the dim glow of her flashlight laying next to her, I heard her sobbing and could see tears on the edge of her blue eyes and flushed cheeks. I leaned forward and kissed her lips gently. 

"Well, it looks l have a pretty hot traveling companion." I smiled, looking into her teary eyes. 

She smiled up at me and took a deep breath. I noticed her dimples, her face still flushed from our wildness. We were silent, breathing in the moment. She wrapped her arms around me and caressed my back.

"Thank you for this and for taking me with you." 

"Let's take one day at a time." 

"Right. No expectations." We shook hands. 

"That's a deal." I chuckled.

She moved her fingers through my shaggy hair, then touched my cheek. 

"I'm leaving at dawn. I don't know the area. Where should we meet?"

"There's a diner about five miles from here. Betty's Diner. I know her. I used to babysit for her before we moved to Jay. Let's meet there. I bet I can hide my truck there. Her husband, Dustin is a mechanic and has a big garage and a lot of old cars there."

"Sounds like a plan." 

She pushed me off of her and onto my back. She got up on her knees and tightened her flannel shirt, covering her breasts, then leaned over and kissed me.

"Are you afraid," I asked. 

"Yes, I've never done anything like this. I was always afraid of rocking the boat, but I want to do this. I have to get away. I'm suffocating." 

I nodded and didn't say anything, but could see her swallow a deep breath as if gathering her determination and courage to face the unknown. 

"I'll be fine. You'll see."

"I think you will be." I smiled then repeated, "One day at a time...now get some sleep and I'll see you at Betty's Diner around nine."

When she climbed down the ladder and I heard the squeak of the barn door, I looked up at the ceiling and thought about Carla and my life of drifting from one town to the next, living with uncertainty. In the distance, I heard the hoots of an owl and listened. That owl sounds as lonely as I am. Maybe we're all drifters.

I pulled my blanket over me and and before falling asleep wondered if I was crazy to take her with me.



The Drifter Ch. 04



Before leaving the ranch I cleaned up my messy truck which meant clearing the littered passenger seat and floor of several paper coffee cups, candy wrappers, a crumpled potato chip bag, crumbs and the classified section of the newspaper with the circled ad I answered—also, a few old cassette tapes which I put back in the glove compartment. I parked next to the barn and hosed the truck down to wash away the grime. I had a cab on the back of the truck where I slept and crawled into it to clean that out. I had a shaggy gray rug and placed my sleeping bag and backpack on it. I moved my tool box out of the way and put my books in a pile then glanced at the porno magazine I used for my fantasy wanks and wondered if I should hide it. "Nah! She knows I'm a guy on road... I have nothing to hide."

It was still early and I had a few hours to kill before meeting Carla at Betty's diner which was just five miles away. I remembered her telling me about Peter's Pond where she used to ride her horse, Daisy and decided to see if I could find it. I knew it was in the North Pasture so I drove up the hill where her grandfather worked the day before and found it at the far end. I imagined Carla riding there and swimming while Daisy was tied to the big shade tree nearby. 

I sat in the truck and looked out at the still water, then looked around at the expanse of land and wondered what it would be like to work for her grandfather, but quickly dismissed that idea. Oklahoma was just a place I was passing through as I explored Route Sixty-six and doubted I'd ever come back this way. I thought about Carla growing up here before moving to Jay when her mother remarried and wondered if she would ever want to come back to her roots. 

I got out of the truck and leaned against the front and looked up at the sun getting higher and how the pink clouds cast a pink glow on the dark water. I thought about Carla running away with me. Would our relationship evolve into something deeper, or would I be a stepping stone to someone else, someplace else? "One day at a time I muttered half to myself, half out loud." 

Forty-five minutes later, I arrived at Betty's Diner which opened at seven. I glanced up at the clock over the front door and saw it was eight-fifteen. It was half empty, but quickly filled up as more people came in, mostly men wearing flannel shirts, jeans and cowboy hats. They sat at the counter on the round red leather stools and leaned over their coffee mugs and talked to one another in loud, boisterous voices. A few older women dressed in skirts and frilly blouses came in and sat at the front booth and chatted. I noticed they all wore red lipstick. I guessed they were secretaries, bank tellers or salesgirls. I'm a people watcher and try to imagine what their lives are like. 

I sat at a booth at the rear of the diner and ordered a coffee from a tall, young woman with red hair and freckles, wearing a pink waitress uniform with the name Renee stitched on it. 

"Coffee. Is that it?" she asked, ready to write my order.

"For now. I'm waiting for someone... then I'll order some breakfast."

Sipping my coffee, I looked out the window at cars and pickup trucks pulling in and pulling out, big tractor trucks rushing by in both directions. Several trucks were loaded with bales of hay and I realized other ranchers were doing what I had just done. I half listened to the twangy music playing from a radio. I glanced up at the clock on the wall over the front door. It was almost nine and wondered if Carla would show up, but then I saw her truck pull in and park next to mine. 

She was wearing tight jeans with her cowboy boots, a pale blue T-shirt and the unbuttoned flannel shirt she wore in the barn. Her dusty brown hair was in a ponytail that fell just below her shoulders. When she looked up and saw me through the window, I could tell she was excited by her smile and remembered her tense, shy smile when we first met. Damn she's pretty, I thought and watched her walk to the entrance, carrying a small green backpack.

"Well, here I am." She sat down and placed her backpack next to her.

"So, you're really going to do this."

"Yes. I bet you thought I'd back out, didn't you?"

"I don't know." I shrugged.

"I'm all set. I have a suitcase I took from Granny and took some of the clothes I kept there. She won't even know it's gone and I already stopped at Dustin's garage and he said I could keep my truck there, so I'll take it there when we leave and we'll be on our way." 

"Does he know why?"

"No and he didn't ask, but I think he wanted to. He looked at me kind of funny. Betty will figure it out if she sees us. You can't fool Betty. I hope I can tell her."

"Really. You want to tell her. Maybe we should leave so she doesn't see us." I looked around to see if she was there, even though I didn't know what she looked like.

"Don't be worried. I want to tell her. She's cool and I'm famished. When she hears what I'm doing, she'll say great. She won't tell a soul. I know her and she's got a wild streak. She told me lots of stories when I babysat. She'll say, 'Go for it.'"

When the waitress came over, she said, "Hi Carla. Ain't seen you for awhile." 

"I know. I came for the haying at my Grandpa's."

Renee nodded and glanced at me then back at Carla and knew she was sizing me up and wondering what was going on.

"Are you ready to order?" She looked at me like I was a specimen in a microscope. 

Carla didn't even look at the menu."The hotcakes are great here... that's what I'm having."

"Then I'll have that with eggs up and sausage." I looked up at Renee while she wrote it down and noticed her red lipstick and that she was chewing gum.

"Me, too," Carla said. "I just want the hot cakes and no sausage. And I'm dying for a cup of coffee." 

When Renee left, Carla leaned back. Her unbuttoned flannel shirt opened and I glanced at her t-shirt straining against her breasts and could see she wasn't wearing a bra. 

Carla knew where I was looking but didn't say a word.

"You look pretty sexy. Do you ever wear a bra?"

"I hate bras... only wear them when I'm at school or church. Does that bother you?" She smiled. "Oh, and the youth center," she added and chuckled. 

"No, it doesn't bother me. I like that you don't. Is it your way of rebelling?"

"I don't know. Maybe. Sometimes they jiggle too much, but I told you I like when guys look at me..even though I don't know what to do. I get tense. I hate being so shy." She smiled at me. "I like that I'm not shy with you."

"I'm curious about something. Do you think women dress to attract men or dress to please themselves?"

"I don't know for sure. I think some women do and some women don't know if they do or not. It's hard being a women in our culture. Sex is all over the place... in advertisements, in the movies, in the music and most men gawk even if they try to hide it."  

"It's confusing for men, too, but I always look at a sexy woman." I took a sip of coffee and looked at her over the rim of my mug. 

Carla smiled and gazed into my eyes, then leaned forward and whispered. "I like how you look at me."

"Good." I nodded and returned her smile.. 

"I read something in some magazine. Maybe it was People. Not sure. Anyway some famous female philosopher from France said, 'Men like watching women and women like being watched.' I think that's true."

Listening to Carla and learning more about how she thought fascinated me. I wanted to find out what made her so shy and frightened and what she wanted for her life. I remembered the conversation we had at dinner about security, how she really didn't want to be an accountant but was convinced to go for a degree so that she could work for her Uncle Charley. I remembered how she knew she needed an adventure in order to release her hidden self, and here she was sitting in Betty's Diner with me. I could feel her intelligence, her need, her yearning and passion to feel alive and saw me as her way to escape. Looking at her I wondered,"Is it possible to escape, or do you always bring who you are with you?"

Just then, I looked up and saw a tall, plump woman with bleached blonde hair walking towards our table. She wore black slacks and a green T-shirt with the word Betty's Diner written across the front. A small white apron folded in half was wrapped around her waist. Behind her was Renee bringing us our breakfast. 

Betty stopped a few tables away, smiled and said something to the customers, then came to us and sat down next to Carla.

"Thought that was you," she said, hugging her then glanced at me. 

Renee put our plates down in front of us. "Here we go,"she said and placed the Log Cabin syrup in the center of the table. "Let me know if you want anything else." She glanced at me again and smiled.

"How's it going, Carla?" Betty asked. "Been awhile since I seen you."

"I'm good. By the way this is Josh, my new friend." She looked at me then back at Betty. "He worked at the ranch yesterday."

"Pleased to meet you," she said and reached across the table to shake my hand. She had a real Oklahoma twang which was much stronger than Carla's. 

"Nice place, you have here," I said, looking at her and could see she was sizing me up but pretending not to. 

"Thanks... keeps me busy. So, what are doing in our neck of the woods?"

"Passing through. Did some haying yesterday for Carla's grandfather and now I'm moving on."

"Where you heading?" She glanced at Carla then back at me. 

"Not sure. Wherever I can find a little work." 

I sliced up my hot cakes and took a bite. I knew she was trying to figure out why we were together.

"Sounds exciting. Not being tied down. Never thought I'd have a diner, but here I am."

"Well, I never thought I'd be on the road like this, but here I am. I needed to get away, so I packed up my truck a month or so ago and took off."

Betty nodded. "I know what you mean. I grew up around here and wanted to go someplace. I wanted to go to New York and get a career in something, but married Dustin right out of high school, had two kids and there I was. Then I saw this place was for sale and here I am fourteen goin' on fifteen years later. Carla babysat for the kids for a few years when she was in high school and we've been friends ever since. I love her like she was my own. That's my story."

Carla glanced at me and took a deep breath. She looked out the window and then took a gulp of coffee. She looked down at her plate and glanced back at me. She bit her lower lip and it looked like she was wanting to say something but was hesitating. 

Betty turned to her and narrowed her eyes. "Okay, out with it. I can see something's going on with you. I can read you like a book."

"Promise you won't tell." Carla put down her fork. 

"Of course. You know you can trust me. What is it? You're not pregnant are you?" 

"I'm going with him." She took a deep breath and looked at Betty for her reaction.

Betty didn't respond, but made a low grunt as she absorbed what she heard. She glanced at me then back at Carla. 

"I need to do this. I need to get away from here. I know what you're thinking." Carla looked at me then looked back at Betty.

"You do, do you?" Betty smiled and shook her head. 

"You're thinking how could I take off with someone I just met yesterday." Carla's eyes were fixed on Betty's eyes as if trying to read her mind. 

"Well, yes, that sure crossed my mind." Betty narrowed her eyes and bit her lower lip as she thought. "It's pretty crazy. Risky." 

"You always said, 'trust your intuition.' Well, that's what I'm doing. It feels right. He knows me like no one else."

"That's not true, Carla. I know you like no one else. I knew you weren't happy pleasing everyone. You've been depressed for years. I could see you were all locked up and wanting to burst free. I saw it in your art work... those drawings and paintings you did when the kids were napping. I saw your passion and we talked a lot. I knew you were an artist. Do you remember what I told you when you were about to marry that guy, Allen, the one who wanted to be a doctor." 

I listened to Betty, eager to hear what she was saying about Carla. I knew she almost married and remember how she said it would have been a mistake. I knew there was a lot we didn't know about each other, that it was crazy and risky, like Betty said. I didn't know Carla was an artist, but then so much was hidden and bursting to be free. 

"Yes, I remember what you said," Carla responded. "You said I needed someone as strong and passionate as I was and that Allen would end up boring me to death. I knew you were right, but my mom and my stepfather wanted to send me to a shrink when I broke it off. They said, Allen would take care of me and I'd have security." 

"Right. But you would have ended up cheating on him. You'd have kids and you'd be divorced in five years. I saw it all. You'd end up like a lot of women around here who did what they were supposed to and now they're miserable and reading romance books and watching porn while their husbands get drunk."

"How long have you been married?" I asked, interrupting her. 

"Going on seventeen years." She smiled. "We've had our ups and downs but he's a good man. Stubborn, but I really love the guy even when he's a goof-ball." 

"Cool."I nodded. "My marriage didn't last five. We were definitely not on the same page. No kids, though."

I managed to finish my breakfast during the conversation, but Carla hardly ate. I wanted to get going, but knew she wanted to know what Betty thought, wanted her approval and the certainty she wouldn't tell anyone.

Betty nodded and I could see by the way she looked at me, she was wondering if I'd be good for Carla. I smiled at her and met her eyes. She turned to Carla and took her hand. 

"I won't tell a soul except Dustin and he won't tell."

"I already asked him if I could keep my truck there for awhile but didn't tell him why. Please don't tell Dustin what I'm doing. I don't want him to know. I know he won't approve. Don't say a word to him... please." 

Betty didn't say anything at first, but I could tell by the way she looked at Carla she was bothered, but then she nodded and put her arm around Carla and hugged her. "Okay, I won't tell him. It'll be our secret. I won't say a word." She smiled. "You got my blessings. Go for it." 

She glanced at me. "You look like a good man. I can see you're kind and Carla wouldn't choose to go with you unless she knew it was right for her. It might not last forever, but so what. Life's about learning."

She turned around to look back at the counter, then at the door and saw people waiting to be seated. She stood up and smiled,"Finish your breakfast and take one day at a time."

"That's my philosophy," I said. 

"Mine too. Anything else is a guess. My grandpa always said, 'The only thing that's certain is that nothing is certain.'"

"That's for sure." I chuckled. 

"I'll write to you," Carla said. "I love you... thanks for being a friend."

"Love you, too." Betty leaned over and hugged Carla and kissed her on the forehead. She smiled and nodded at me then rushed to the front door. 

"Told you she'd say, 'go for it.'" She took a deep breath as if relieved and smiled. 

Before we left, she said, "When he's not looking, take my suitcase from my truck and put it in yours."

I followed her to Dustin's garage next door and parked next to her truck. When she hopped out, she grabbed her green backpack and ran up to Dustin.

He was a big bear of a man with a pot belly, a graying goatee, faded overalls and an old black baseball cap. I sat in my truck for a moment and looked around at his front yard which was littered with car parts, a pile of old tires, a tow truck with Dustin's Garage painted on the side and a row of cars parked along the edge of his property, waiting to be repaired. 

When she stood in front of him so that his back was facing me, I got out of my truck, opened her passenger door, grabbed her suitcase, and put it in the back of my truck. He turned around when he heard my door slam when I got back in. He glanced at me then continued talking to Carla. 

When she ran back to my truck, she turned to wave at him and yelled, "The keys are in the truck."

I looked over at Dustin as he watched Carla climb into my truck and knew he was puzzled by the way he narrowed his eyes. I put my arm out my window and waved, just to be friendly. He nodded back but stood there looking at me. I watched Carla place her small green backpack on the floor then glanced up and saw Dustin watching us. 

I didn't say anything when I turned on the ignition. I backed up and turned around and drove towards the road. I glanced in my rear view mirror and saw Dustin still watching us while I waited for the traffic to pass. I saw him take out a pencil from his shirt pocket and a small notebook and write something down. I was sure it was my license number. "That's interesting," I thought and pulled out onto the highway. 

It felt strange having a passenger after over a month of being alone. I glanced over at her as we turned right onto Route Sixty-six and drove past Betty's Diner and headed west—where to? I wasn't certain. 

"So, are you ready for an adventure?"

"I think so. It feels weird. I've never done anything like this. My mom usually calls me everyday and when I don't answer after a day or two, she'll worry, then she'll call my grandparents and they'll worry. My mom is such a worrier. I hate making her worry."

"You said your friend Hannah will cover for you." I glanced at her and could see by her scrunched eyebrows, she was upset and thinking. 

"She will, but I didn't let my mom know I was going there. I should call, but I hate lying."

"So what are you going to do?" 

"Don't know. This is really hard. I never rock the boat but keep things to myself." She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, holding it in, then slowly exhaled. "What should I do?"

"I'm not going to tell you what to do. I never tell people what they should do. You said you needed to get away. You needed this... so deal with it." I glanced at her and knew I was sounding gruff. 

"Are you angry at me? You sound upset. Are you sorry you're taking me?"

"No, I'm not angry and I don't know if I'm sorry I'm taking you with me. This is weird for me too, but you have to take charge of your life."

"I'm trying. That's why I'm in this truck with you, but I told you, I've always done what other people think I should do." She turned away and looked out the side window and sighed—something she did a lot. 

I didn't say a word and let the heavy silence fill the space. I thought about turning on the radio, but kept my eyes straight ahead and drove behind a slow truck filled with hay bales. I noticed a plaque on the side of the road with gold-plated writing that said Historic Scenic Highway and below that the words, "The Mother Road" and remembered when I read Steinbeck's The Grapes of Wrath, that the Oakies named it that on their way to California. 

We were both quiet. After a few silent minutes, Carla reached into the pocket of her flannel shirt, took out her cell phone, hit a key and listened before speaking then left a message. 

"Mom, don't worry. I'm at Hannah's for a few days."

She took a deep breath and stared at the phone then quickly closed it and shook her head. I could see how disturbed she was as she put the phone back in her shirt pocket. "I left a message."

"You also lied." 

"I know." She looked at me. "Fuck! Why am I such a wimp?"

"You're not a wimp. Sometimes you have to tell a lie to be honest to yourself."

"I hate lying to my mom. I mean it's not the first time. It's like when my granny was shocked that I had a beer. I don't want to be the goody goody they think I am. They don't know the real me."




The Drifter Ch. 04



"I do."

"I know." She looked at me and smiled. "I want to be the real me with you. You'll see." 

"What will I see?" 

"You'll find out I'm insatiable." She reached over and put her hand on my thigh, moving it close to my cock and smiled, biting her lower lip.

I put my hand on her thigh, moving it slowly closer to her crotch but not touching, teasing her and smiled, "I'm insatiable too."

I was glad that the mood had changed. Still, I knew it would take awhile before she really broke free and became more comfortable. Neither of us spoke, but the sexual tension made me aware of the adventure we were both on. 

I remembered my own struggle to become free of my family's expectations. My father was a surgeon at Einstein Hospital in Philadelphia where I grew up—Doctor Ezra Wiseman. My mother was a high school principal. When I dropped out of college in my junior year and moved to Vermont to join a communal farm in the nineties, they tried to be supportive like good progressive liberals, but I became too radical for them. They were aware of the corruption and inequality, but also comfortable and secure. I remember reading somewhere, "Security is the enemy of the people."

I hated the hypocrisy of their lives and we argued a lot. They knew the system was built on war and exploitation of other countries in order to keep our country secure and prosperous. They were opposed to the wars and went on protests and signed petitions, but still, they enjoyed their big house, including a house on Long Beach Island, two cars and lived a pretty extravagant upper middle class life.

When I was in college I knew I couldn't be a doctor like my dad hoped. I was aware that our dependence on oil and the globalization by multi- national corporations would only get worse and that our consumer-oriented society was not only dependent on exploitations of slave labor in third world countries, it was also unsustainable. They weren't happy when I dropped out. 

The commune was good for awhile. We were all drop-outs, but we were floundering. I lived with a woman named Vicky, but she was a trust fund hippie rebelling against her upper middle class family, like me, except I didn't have a trust fund and had to work. She wanted to get married and didn't want me to be a carpenter, but that was all I could do to make some money. I'm not sure what she wanted me to be, but I left the farm and Vicki after we had a big blowup. I saw the commune fall apart because of drugs and selfishness. I knew so many people my age who were lost, frustrated and angry. 

I moved to Maine and worked as a carpenter for a boat builder and married an artist named Lee. Neither of us wanted to have children, but when she had a bad reaction to birth control pills, I decided to have a vasectomy. I also realized marriage was not for me. I started writing stories and more and more knew that's what I wanted to do, but it bothered Lee that I wasn't there for her like she wanted. When I wasn't working at the boatyard, I wrote. We fought a lot. Finally, I said, "I'm out of here," and we got a divorce. 

Two years ago I went to the Occupy Wall Street to protest the way banks have this country by the balls until that got busted by the police. After that I was pretty lost. So I decided to hit the road and take Route Sixty-six to California, never expecting to meet Carla and here we were drifting west, one day at time. My plan was to eventually go to Bolinas in northern California where my friends Steve and Catherine lived. I hadn't seen them in over ten years. They had a daughter, Zoe who was eight or nine when they left. 

While we were driving through one small town after another I noticed that Route Sixty-six was the Main Street of all of the towns. We drove past many famous places I had read about. We drove through through El Reno, Bridgeport and Talmadgeburg which was a boarded up ghost town. I told Carla a little history of the highway, how it was mostly a dirt and gravel road until the thirties then eventually got paved. In the fifties tourists traveled it and lots of businesses benefited from that. Nat King Cole had a hit record of the song, Get Your Kicks on Route Sixty Six. But then the highway wasn't being maintained and some parts got closed. When the interstate was built in the Sixties, Route Sixty-six got by-passed and lots of the business and towns had hard times, some of them becoming ghost towns. But then in the nineties it had a revival because of people wanting to go back in time and enjoy the legends about the highway. So a lot of business started up... mostly gaudy tourist traps.

Carla told me what she knew about the dust bowl days because her great grandmother told her stories from when she was a child and how hard it was to see and breathe and that lots of people died from lung disease. I told her about a Ken Burns documentary I had seen that said it was a ten year drought with huge wind-storms and that the same thing could happen today because of climate change.

She knew what I was talking about because of the drought that they were having and how hard it has been for her grandfather the last four years and her Uncle Charley's accounting firm was struggling. 

After driving for a few hours, we stopped in a small town named Okemah because I knew that as where Woody Guthrie grew up. He was the hero to a lot of folk musicians I listened to like Bob Dylan and Rambling Jack Elliott. I told Carla about him and was surprised when she started singing Woody's song, This Land is Your Land. She said they learned about him in school and they sang that song, but she really didn't like his music. 

I guess I wasn't surprised. He didn't have the best voice and his songs were about people struggling and the need for unions. She told me she listened to Christian Rock. When she said that I chuckled to myself but didn't respond. 

We stopped at a small restaurant outside of Okemah that had pictures of Woody Guthrie's old house and lots of pictures of people from the depression wearing overalls and long dresses standing next to old cars. 

Over lunch, I told her I was thinking we should head to a town I knew above San Francisco named Bolinas. I told her about my friends Steve and Catherine and their daughter, Zoe.

"Really, San Francisco? That's pretty far away. I never heard of Bolinas." 

"It's a really cool place and no one would ever find you there. It's off the beaten track and special. 

"Why? What's so special about it?" 

"It's hard to find the town because there aren't any signs. Every time the state puts up signs, the people take them down."

Carla seemed puzzled and fascinated then asked why they did that.

"They don't want it to become a suburb of San Francisco. There's a book I read about it called, "The Town That Fought to Save Itself." It was written in the late Seventies about how the people stopped a big sewer project that would have changed the town into a suburb of San Francisco. They had all kinds of protests and won. They stopped the project, but it also made the town famous and that's why they take the signs down. A lot of the roads are still unpaved and unless you know how to find the town, you can't go there. They try to keep it a secret."

Carla listened and I wondered what she thought. She leaned back and finished drinking her root beer then made a loud noise sipping at the ice through the straw while she gazed at me. 

"What do you think about going there?" I asked and shoved my coffee mug aside and waited for her answer. I could see her thinking, nodding. I liked the way she narrowed her eyes as she thought. 

"I want to go there. It sounds really interesting and you're right. Sounds like no one will find me there and it's far away."

"Cool. It might take us a week to get there. I'll call my friend Steve and tell him we're on our way."

I hadn't spoken to him in years. I took out my cell phone and called and wasn't surprised to hear him say, "Cool. We can put you up for awhile."

I noticed how Carla was watching me as I talked. When I hung up, I said, "Good. You'll like him and his wife, Catherine. We go way back. It's amazing how I haven't talked to him in a few years and then he picked up the phone it seemed like yesterday. I'm glad we're going there."

We drove to the Oklahoma border and just as it was getting dark, decided it was time to stop for the night. I had been driving for six hours and except for filling up with gas, using the fairly clean bathrooms, getting coffee and some snacks, we chatted and then would be quiet. Carla dozed off and I glanced at her sleeping with her head against the door. I still found it difficult to believe this sweet, sexy woman was with me. I knew she was complicated and struggling with who she was and who she wanted to be. She's not alone, I thought. A few times, I reached over to touch her and she opened her eyes and smiled at me then fell back to sleep. Such a sweet smile. Maybe this will work out. We'll see.

There were a lot of motels and restaurants along the highway. When I stop at a motel I always like to know there's a diner nearby, or the motel has a restaurant attached. Just ahead I saw the Dixie Motel and down the road Johnny's Hotcake House. 

When I stopped, Carla woke up and looked around. "Where are we?"

"Time to stop for the night. This looks like an okay place, a little shabby but there's a restaurant down the road."

We got out and walked up to the small office with a sign on the green door that said, "Welcome" and below that "No Pets." 

No one was at the desk when we went into the tiny motel office. I rang the bell and a tall, skinny man with thick horn-rimmed glasses came out of a backroom to sign us in. He looked at both of us without a smile of greeting, took out a form from under the counter and stuttered, "Hhhhh how long?" 

"Just the night," I said, surprised that he stuttered and wondered if he was the owner or the owner's son. 

"T-t-t-t that will b-b-be seventy f-f- five-dollars." He straightened his glasses and stared at Carla then at me. 

I handed him the seventy dollars I earned yesterday and saw that I had about twenty bucks left. 

He turned the form he was writing on for us to sign. "N-n-need both of your names and y-y-your license n-n-number."

I remembered seeing Dustin take my license number and wondered if this would be a problem, but dismissed the thought and wrote down my number. I was anxious to get to the room, take a shower then

get some dinner, but looking at Carla next to me in the office I noticed how beautiful and sexy she looked in her tight jeans the tight red T-shirt under her flannel shirt. She was looking at the clerk, concentrating and studying his face and knew, like me, she was fascinated by people. 

I glanced at her and she smiled at me and bit her lower lip in a seductive way and suddenly knew I wanted to make mad passionate love to her. Maybe dinner can wait. 

"C-c-check out is n-n-noon," he said, sliding the key over the counter. While I signed my name on the form, he looked at Carla through his thick horn-rimmed glasses. I could see him moving his eyes up and down her body, obviously seeing what I was seeing and liking it. He straightened his glasses and stared at her when she signed her name. 

"Enjoy your n-n-night," he said,then looked down at the form. "You, too, c-c-Carla." The way he grinned it was clear he knew we were going to have a hot night and I knew he was jealous. 

Carla grabbed her suitcase from the back of my truck and handed me my backpack. When we walked to the door, feeling playful, I slapped her ass gently and didn't think anything of it. I was just feeling frisky. 

She turned to me and smiled. "Mmm I like that."

"You do?"

"Yes. It turns me on."

"Hmm. I'm learning more things about you."

So I slapped her ass harder and she moaned and I could feel both of us getting aroused even before I opened the door.

When we entered and I closed the door, we put our things down and she flopped on the bed on her stomach. Her ass strained her tight jeans. My cock immediately got hard. She turned her head to look at me.

"Come on and spank your bad girl." She smiled and wiggled her ass, surprising me at what she was revealing. 

Aside from the playful smack outside, I had never spanked a woman, but the way she smiled and invited me to spank her, excited me. "Hmm, this is interesting."

She got up on her knees and wiggled her ass again. "I'm such a bad, dirty girl, come on spank me hard."

I got on my knees behind her and looked down at her round ass wiggling and slapped her.

"Oh, I'm such a naughty girl... spank me... harder."

I didn't know what fantasy she was acting out, or where her desire to be spanked came from, but I spanked her ass harder, then harder and felt her ass jiggle with each slap. I'm not certain what came over me or what my spanking unleashed in her, but it made my cock hard and suddenly I wanted to ravish her. 

I pushed her hard onto her stomach and pounced on her and started grinding my throbbing hard cock against her jean covered ass. I suddenly wanted to possess her, take her, drive her insane. I grabbed her hands and lifted her arms above her head, our fingers entwined then I hissed into her ear, "I'm going to fuck your brains out." 

I heard her gasp and squirm under me and knew she was as hot as I was. She lifted her self and pushed her ass against my hard cock forcing me to grind and hump her round ass harder. I don't know what came over me, but I knew I wanted to dominate her and could feel her desire to have me do whatever I wanted. With my hard cock pressed against the crack in her ass through her jeans, I took one of my hands from hers and reached under and cupped her pussy mound in my palm, gripping it, "Your cunt is mine."

"Yeah! Talk dirty to me. Fuck you bad little girl." 

She gasped and started thrusting herself against my hand. With each movement, my cock pressed harder against her ass. She was doing all she could to fuck my hand. I couldn't stand it and wanted to take her and fuck her as hard as I could. We were both getting hotter, hornier and desperate. 

My hand gripped her pussy tighter while I humped her ass harder.

"Own me!" She lifted and turned to face me above her. "Take me! Make me yours!"

No woman had ever said that to me, but her words were taking me some place I had never been, but it felt right. She was bringing out something in me I was not aware of. 

"Fuck me! Fuck me! I need your cock now!"

I flipped her roughly onto her back. She spread her legs and I pounced on her, both of us fucking through our jeans. I leaned forward and we kissed wildly, our tongues dueling while our bodies slammed against each other desperate to fuck each other, the barrier of our clothes driving us crazy with lust.

I got up on my knees between her legs and unbuttoned my jeans while she did the same. We moved frantically to get our clothes off. I pulled my t-shirt over my head and lowered my jeans, pushing them off while she lifted her ass, pushing her jeans over her hips. I moved forward, grabbed her tight jeans and peeled them off, taking her soaked panties at the same time.

I saw her eyes looking at my hard cock sticking straight out as I hovered over her. I took my cock and moved the head up and down her dripping pussy lips while she writhed under me. When my cock grazed her clit she jolted. "Don't tease me! Don't tease me! Fuck me! Take me!"

I reared back and rammed my cock into her tight pussy as hard as I could. I went all the way with one thrust then pulled out and thrust again and again, faster, harder while she lifted her ass and I drove her back to the bed, my cock filling her with each thrust.

"Harder! Harder!" Her screams filled the room and urged me to thrust as hard as I could. 

We were both sweating and the bed was banging against the wall. My cock was swelling and I knew I was getting close and could feel her tensing, trembling. Her tight pussy squeezed my cock. "Oh, my God. I'm cumming. I'm cumming. Fuck me!"

When she erupted in wild convulsions, her pussy spasms gripped my cock. Her loud screams urged me to thrust faster and harder. My whole body tensed and trembled. My orgasm crested and rose like a huge wave ready to sweep me away. Her tight pussy squeezed my swollen cock. I kept thrusting harder and harder, faster and faster, my need to release suddenly hit like a volcano and I erupted in a wild, huge orgasm that ripped through my body. Hot gushes of my cum shot out of me like lava and filled her overflowing pussy. Both of us screamed at the top of our lungs. I writhed in ecstasy and kept thrusting until the last of my cum shot into her tight pussy causing her to convulse and scream even louder, "Oh, my God. I'm cumming again. Keep fucking me!" 

When I collapsed on her, unable to budge, she wrapped her arms and legs around me in an intense embrace. I could hear her sobbing and remembered how she cried in the barn last night. 

I lifted my head and wiped a tear with my finger. 

She smiled, even though there were tears in her eyes. Her face was flushed and her hair was splayed on the pillow. 

"You're beautiful." I kissed her lips gently.

"Thank you and thank you for taking me with you." Her eyes were wet, her sweet voice almost a whisper.

"One day at a time, my dear," I said, glad she was with me and surprised how it all began with my spanking her. I was fascinated by her wild and passionate imagination. She was right, maybe I wouldn't be sorry. We kissed tenderly. 

"You surprise me." I said, softly. 

"Good! See what happens when you don't have expectations. I might have more surprises for you." She laughed.

"Is that so?"

She lifted her head and kissed me, then said. "I'm famished."

Ten minutes later we walked into Johnny's Hot Cake House and sat at a booth towards the rear. It was busy and noisy. Country-western music was playing. 

She reached over the table and took my hands and smiled. "Did I surprise you when I wanted you to spank me."

"Yes. I never did that before. Your saying you're a bad girl and wanting me to spank you surprised me, but I got into it. Where did that come from?"

"I don't know. Maybe it's being sick of being a good girl. I sneak and watch porn and wait until I tell you somethings Hannah and I do. I have this insatiable desire to be fucked hard, to be ravished. I have a wild imagination and lot of fantasies. That was one of them." 

I listened to her confessing and knew she hoped I would fulfill her wild sexual desires and that taking off with me was part of the adventure she craved. I was her way to sexual freedom.

"Sounds like we're going to have a fun trip."

"You don't know how much I need this."

"I think I do. You want to escape the boredom and emptiness of your life and want to live on the edge. You want to feel alive."

"You're right." She nodded and smiled. "I love how you know me. It's liberating and I trust you will not hurt me."

"We're not so different, Carla."

"I know. I can tell a lot about you by how we fuck."

"What can you tell?"

"That you're passionate and you're also escaping your empty life. You're searching for something real and honest. That's why you're kind of drifting." 

I nodded. "Maybe we're all drifters... even people who think they're not."

"I think you're right." 

When she said that I knew Carla was special. She was smart, honest and passionate and loved sex as much as I did. 

"I'm glad you decided to take me with you. I know you're a loner and don't want complications. I know what you meant by living one day at a time and having no expectations, but I think we could be good for each other."

"We'll see," I said and felt a swelling sweep over me that I hadn't felt in a longtime and wondered if I was falling in love with her. I didn't know. I was confused. 




The Drifter Ch. 04



We had hamburgers and fries, then headed back to the Dixie Motel. Both of us were exhausted. We cuddled and kissed. I loved the way she lay half on me with her head on my shoulder. It felt good to hold each other and feel close, but just before we fell asleep, her cell phone rang. She picked it up from the night table next to the bed and looked at who was calling.

"On no. It's my mom." 

She didn't answer but held the phone to her ear and waited for the message. She pressed a button so that I could hear. 

"I know you're not at Hannah's and that you left your truck at Dustin's and left with some stranger. You're making a big mistake. I'm worried about you. Call me. Please call me. Come home."

She closed her eyes and looked at me. Neither of us spoke.

"What are you going to do?" I finally asked.

"I'm not going to call her. I know she's upset, but I'm determined to do this. I don't want to hear her worried voice and her begging me to come home. Damn it, this is hard." 

"I didn't tell you, but Dustin took down my license number. If your mom calls the police, they could find us."

"Oh no. That jerk. Betty doesn't know him like I do."

"What do you mean?

"When I baby sat, I could tell by how he looked at me and flirted, he wanted something to happen and I was just a teenager. I tried to keep my distance and avoid him, but he would come back to the house when Betty was at the diner and try to seduce me. I was seventeen, but he didn't care. Nothing ever happened. I dealt with it because I loved the kids and knew how much Betty needed me to babysit. I also know he cheated on her in the back of his garage and he knows I knew. I could never tell Betty." 

"So that's why he took my license number. He didn't like seeing you taking off with another man."

"I guess that's right. I don't know for sure, but my mom called my grandparents and they know what you look like. I know she's going to call the police."

I didn't say anything, but could see Carla was upset and thinking. I knew it was risky helping her run away, but I didn't think this would happen. I was torn. I didn't want to be in trouble with the law, but I was falling in love with her and now, more than anything wanted her to escape and find the freedom to be who she was and not what everyone expected. 

I took her hand. "We'll make it."

"I'm sorry I'm getting you in trouble. I didn't think she would find out so soon."

"We'll make it," I repeated. "Let's get some sleep."

We kissed goodnight, but we both lay awake in the dark wondering what would happen.



The Drifter Ch. 05



When I woke up, I wanted to make an early start, but was surprised that despite our tense situation, Carla had other ideas and was stroking my cock, letting me know she wanted a good wake-up fuck.

"You really are insatiable aren't you?" 

"Yes, and I know you like that. You're already hard." 

She crawled between my legs and started moving her tongue slowly up and down my hard cock, delicately licking, while her devilish blue eyes watched me writhing. She took my cock in her mouth and bobbed up and down, then swallowed, taking it deep in her mouth, driving me insane with her mouth and tongue moving faster, bobbing up and down, sensing I was close. Just as I was on the verge, my cock swelling in her mouth, my ass lifted off the bed, she pulled her mouth away and smiled. I fell back to the bed and looked at her saliva covered lips just above my hard cock.  

"I like teasing you." She smiled and I noticed her dimples.

"You're playing with fire," I said, looking at her wet lips.

"Oh yeah." 

"Yeah!"

"What are you going to do?"

"You know what I'm going to do."

She smirked. "You want to fuck me, don't you?"

"Yes. I want to fuck you."

"You'll have to catch me first." She laughed and jumped out of bed and dashed into the bathroom and turned on the shower.  

I ran after her and grabbed her while the water got warm. We kissed and rubbed our naked bodies. I gripped her ass and she gripped mine. When we climbed in the shower, she grabbed my cock, "I want this." 

We stood under the steamy water and kissed while she rubbed her pussy with the head of my cock. I liked how aggressive she had become and knew this was another one of her fantasies.

I grabbed the soap and washcloth and moved it up and down her back and between her legs, but then, I took charge and quickly turned her around to face the wall. I pushed her against the wet tiles."Bend over!"

She smiled back at me, then pressed her hands against the tiled wall, her legs apart, her wet hair falling forward over her face. I leaned over and rammed my cock into her pussy as hard as I could. 

"Oh, yes...Fuck me! Fuck me!" Her words echoed in the shower which was now filled with steam. 

I rammed her pussy as hard as I could while she pushed back taking my cock deep. It didn't take long before she exploded and screamed. I kept thrusting, loving how her pussy clutched my cock. With her hands on the wall, she pushed back, taking me deeper, squeezing my thrusting cock, both of us screaming. My whole body tensed; my cock swelled in her tight pussy. My whole body shook as I exploded in an overwhelming orgasm and shot gobs of my hot cum into her overflowing pussy. My wailing voice filled the shower. I leaned over her under the pounding water, unable to budge. After a minute, she turned and we embraced under the warm water.

At breakfast we sat in the same booth we sat in the night before. We had Johnny's famous hot cakes and Carla said Betty's were better because she adds vanilla. Still, she left half of them, pushed the plate aside. She held her coffee mug with both hands as she sipped. Both of us were quiet. I could tell she was upset about her mother's phone call . She glanced out the window then looked at me. "Now what?" 

"Not sure. I think we have some time before the police come looking for you, I mean, us. It's only been one day and they probably get lots of calls from frantic mothers looking for their run away daughters." 

"Are you sorry you got into this mess with me?" She looked at me and I could see she was dreading my answer. 

"Not yet. I'll tell you if they catch up with us."

She nodded, then sighed deeply. I could feel her searching my eyes for something more reassuring. I glanced at her hands gripping her empty coffee mug. 

"What are you thinking?" She looked at me over the rim of her mug.  

"I'm thinking how brave you are to do this."

"I'm scared. I've never done anything like this."   

"Me either."

I reached for her hands. She released the coffee mug and took mine. 

"I can't believe this is happening. I'm actually doing something. Thank you for taking this chance with me. I don't know what's going to happen, but I hope I can really break away."

"One day at a time."

"Right. And no expectations." She smiled. 

"Right, but you can hope. Hope and expectations are different. You can hope things will be a certain way, but then you have to wait and see what happens. Like I can hope we make it to Bolinas and not get caught by the police, but who knows what will happen. We'll see." 

I finished my coffee and glanced out at my truck in the parking lot. "I was wondering if I should see about trading in my truck for something different. Maybe get a different license number."

"Would you really do that?" 

"I don't know. I love this old truck. It's been my traveling companion for quite some time, but maybe it would be the wise thing to do under the circumstances."

"I'm really complicating your life, aren't I?"

"Yes, you certainly are." I said it in a serious voice, then smiled. 

"Sorry," she said and took her hand from mine. She sighed deeply and closed her eyes--the sign of someone who holds a lot in.  

"Listen, Carla, you're not complicating my life, I am." I took her hands back and squeezed. "I decided to take you with me. I could have said no way am I taking you with me, but I didn't and I'm glad I took you. I have no regrets."

"Really, no regrets."

"No regrets. Maybe it's crazy to do this, but here we are, we'll make it. What's life if you don't take chances."

Carla didn't say anything, but I could feel her mulling over my words. She narrowed her eyes. "I was right. You have a lot to teach me, but maybe you won't be sorry and maybe I have things to teach you." She smiled, seductively, tilting her head to the side and bit her lower lip. 

"We'll see." I chuckled and knew what she meant. "Let's get on the road."

I stood up, glanced at the check, put ten dollars on the table and realized I only had ten dollars left and we'd be relying on her money. I followed her out of the restaurant and to the truck. When we got in, she took out her cell phone and glanced at it. "Oh, damn, another message from my mom." 

"What did she say?"

Carla closed her eyes, obviously upset. She sighed and pressed the button and played the message so I could hear. 

"I've called the police. I told them you were kidnapped. They know his license number and what he looks like. Call me and let me know you're alright and they'll stop looking for you. Please come home." 

"That doesn't sound good. They think I'm a kidnapper." I slumped back in my seat and stared straight ahead. "Maybe, I should trade this truck in on something. I only have ten bucks and I don't think I can get another job now that they're looking for me." 

Carla didn't say anything. She reached over and took my hand. We sat there for a few minutes. "I have money. Remember I got cash from the ATM. We'll be okay."

We were on the Texas border and kept driving along Route Sixty-six. We were on the northern part called the Panhandle. We drove through several small towns and every time I saw a police car, I trembled and wondered if they had my license number and were on the look out for a green pick-up truck. I glanced in the rear view mirror to see if they were following, but I knew it was just a matter of time before they'd be looking for me.

I drove past several used car lots but didn't stop. They looked pretty run down and I didn't see any pick-up trucks. We drove through a small town called Tomkinsville and on the outskirts, sitting in a driveway by the road, I spotted a black pickup truck with a cab on the back and a for sale sign on the windshield. What luck.

I pulled over to the side and parked next to it. I got out and wondered where the owner was. Carla stood next to me but didn't say anything. While I walked around the truck, looking in the back, examining the tires, I heard a dog bark and looked up and saw an old man limping towards us. He had shaggy long gray hair, a thin face and wore a faded blue baseball cap.

"Good truck, mister," he said in a gravelly voice. He looked at me and at Carla. 

"Looks good. How much?" 

"Well, I'm asking five hundred. It's got a lot of miles but runs good. Don't burn oil."

"I don't have five hundred, but I'll trade you my truck for it. Mine's a '98 Chevy. A lot newer than yours."

"What am I gonna do with a truck when I'm trying to sell this one."

"You'd get a lot more for mine. It's probably worth at least eight hundred, maybe a thousand."

"I don't know," he said and rubbed his chin. "I'm trying to get rid of things, but you're right. I could get more for yours. Let me think on it a minute...why don't you come up to the house and we can talk about it more." 

I didn't really want to do that. I just wanted to trade my truck for his and get on the road before the police started looking for my truck. 

"Okay, but we can't stay too long." 

He nodded, then looked at Carla. "You look familiar," he said. "Seems like I seen you somewhere. I don't know."

We entered his kitchen which smelled like stale tobacco. The table was littered with newspapers and unopened mail. The television was on in the living room but no one was listening.

He picked up a piece of mail."Look at this, will ya? Says I might have won a million dollars from this publishing clearing house." 

"That's great," Carla said. 

"Don't know what I'd do with a million dollars, but I sure would like to figure it out. I'm going to fill this thing out and send it in. I have a feeling I'm going to win this million dollars. I just have a feeling."

"I hope you do," Carla said.

I happened to glance in at the television in the other room and was stunned to see a picture of Carla and the announcer saying she's been missing for two days and has been kidnapped by a drifter named Joshua Wiseman. Damn, they know my name.

I glanced at the old guy talking to Carla and continued listening. I realized that he must have seen her picture and that's why she looked familiar. I was glad he wasn't paying any attention to the television while talking to Carla. I listened to the television. "If you have any information please contact your local police. The kidnapper is driving a green ninety-eight Chevrolet truck with the license number on your screen."

I went back to where they were standing. "So, how about this trade. It's a good deal for you." He paused and looked at me and then at Carla "Okay, it's a deal. I'll trade you. Why not? Might make a few more bucks for it." 

"Do you have the title?"

"Yep, it's in the glove compartment. Just come on down and I'll sign it over to you and you can give me your title and we'll call it even. Sounds like a good deal for me."     We walked back to our trucks at the end of the driveway. He took the title from his glove compartment, signed it and handed it to me and I did the same. I kept his license plate and he kept mine, even though mine was from Pennsylvania. I'm not sure how legal that deal was, but that's what happened. It took five minutes to empty out the back of my truck and pile it in the back of our new truck. Just as we drove off, he said to Carla. "Damn you look familiar."

Carla didn't say anything while I started up the truck and headed for the highway. She waved and shouted back to him. "Hope you win the million dollars."

While we headed west, I told her what I saw on the television and why she looked familiar to him.

"Wow! That was close. I don't believe this is happening."

"Well, even though we have this truck, they have your photo on the television and they know my name."

"That means we won't be able to stay in motels and we'll have to be careful where we stop."

"Right."

Four hours later, we drove through Amarillo, New Mexico. Carla stayed in the truck so she wouldn't be recognized when we stopped for gas. She handed me thirty dollars while ran into the convenience store to pay and bought some sandwiches, potato chips and two large coffees. There was a television on a shelf above a counter where people were having lunch. Carla's photo came on the screen with the same announcement I had heard earlier, but they also had a sketch of me with long shaggy hair, my long nose and narrow eyes. I was surprised at how much it looked like me and wondered who described me to the artist. 

When I got back in the truck, I told Carla what I saw. 

"I feel bad. I've gotten you in trouble with the police." She looked at me and I could see her concern.  

"I think once we get to Bolinas, we'll be okay, but that's several days away. We'll just have to be careful." 

I could see the Black Mountains in the distance and decided to get to the foothills and camp someplace. I kept driving and could see the sun setting below the mountain, but didn't see a place where we could pull over. I knew it would get chilly as soon as the sun went down. I wanted to make a fire but we needed to find a place where we would not be seen from the road. We drove past a lake and I noticed a narrow road next to it and wondered where it went. 

I turned right and followed it as it twisted its way though the woods surrounding the lake. It was getting dark and I couldn't find a clearing. Carla was leaning forward. "We'll find a spot."

"I hope so, this road could go on forever and we can't park on this road."

I continued driving on the twisting, narrow road. 

It was getting darker because of the trees on both sides. Just as I turned a bend, another little road appeared and I took a chance and turned onto it and within fifty yards saw the lake shimmering in the dim twilight. I stopped on the edge of the lake and saw there was a small clearing nearby. I noticed a small fire pit surrounded by rocks and a small pile of logs. A metal grading leaned against the logs. It looked like this was a place where people fished and camped. 

"Here we are. This is perfect. What luck."

When we hopped out of the truck, we stood next to each other and admired the still water. 

"Let's gather some kindling and make a fire."

Carla dashed off towards the edge of the woods and came back with an arm load. I had a battery operated lantern in the truck that I used to read and write by at night. We arranged the logs over the kindling and within fifteen minutes had a good fire going. I didn't know whether we were on private property or not, but felt certain we'd be okay as long as no one saw the fire.

I got out my camping gear and found in my supplies a can of chicken noodle soup, two cans of ravioli in sauce and a large can of beef stew. 

"Well, madam," I said and held up each can. "This is the menu and I am going to serve you a gourmet dinner. What would you like? The beef stew is delicious, but madam might like the canned ravioli."

"Hmmm. Let me see." Carla put her finger on her chin and narrowed her eyes as she looked up at the cans. "It all looks so appetizing, I can't decide."

I smiled and held up my can opener. "May I recommend the beef stew. It comes with a delectable gravy and is filled with potatoes, carrots, peas, wonderful beans, a touch of corn and beef from factory raised cows."

"The beef stew sounds lovely. I will take your recommendation. Thank you, sir."

"I'll just open this can and pour it into this pot and within five minutes you will have such a delicious dinner your tongue will throw a party for your mouth."

"Hmm. A party for my mouth. I like the sound of that."

I ignored her playful comment and opened the can of beef stew and poured it into the pot. "Is madam hungry?"

"Very hungry," she said, moving her tongue over her lower lip then her upper lip. "Are you hungry?" 

"I am." "Good. I like hungry men." She bit her lower lip and smiled, tilting her head to the side the way she does when she's being coy.

"What a tease," I thought, enjoying her sexy playfulness. 

I placed the pot of stew on the grating. Carla was sitting on one of the logs that surrounded the fire pit. I looked up at her face glowing from the fire. We were quiet, breathing in the moment. 

"This is nice," I said, changing the mood.

"Perfect." She nodded and smiled, revealing her dimples.

I stirred the stew and saw it was beginning to bubble. It was now dark and the only light was the fire and the lantern. I grabbed two mugs, filled the yellow one with stew and handed it to her. I filled my slightly chipped green mug and sat next to her on the log. We clicked mugs. "To fine dining," I said.

"I'll second that."  

Later, in the back of my truck, under my sleeping bag, we made slow, passionate love. We kissed tenderly and touched gently. Her body felt so warm and soft and we both wanted to explore and savor each other. We touched and kissed all over our bodies. We alternated positions with me on top, her arms and legs holding me and then she pushed me onto my back and straddled my body. Our mouths, tongues and hands caressed each other. 

Then I was on top of her, pressing my hardness and could feel her wetness. She spread her legs and we were both grinding slowly, kissing, touching, enjoying the slow pleasure we were sharing and wanting to hold on to the quivering sensations that swept over us. I moved my hands through her hair and her hands moved down my back and gripped my ass and pulled me harder against her. The grip of her hands made me grab her hair in my fingers and pull. 

"I love when you pull my hair." "Good." I pulled harder and felt her lift herself higher and wrap her legs tighter.  

We kissed deeply with moans that soon grew louder. With my cock deep in her, our bodies moved slowly together as one. We were on the verge of erupting in huge orgasms. I was thrusting harder then suddenly stopped and held my cock deep and still. We held each other and wallowed in the exquisite pleasure we were giving each other. It was as if we were slow dancing to music only we could hear. Our bodies barely moved. I loved how she felt under me with her legs wrapped around me as she held me deep in her. We didn't want this to end and I could feel her muscles squeezing my cock while I slowly swiveled my hips and sensed our need to cum growing. We were moving together slowly, savoring the sensation, the intensity rising as I gyrated faster and she lifted her hips. 

"Please, Please! Now!" 

Her hungry eyes looked deep into mine as she lifted her ass. I reared back and with on hard thrust drove her back to the sleeping bag. Oh yessss! Yesss!"

I rammed my cock deeper and harder with each thrust.

"Harder! Harder! Fuck me harder!"

Our slow lovemaking was now passionate fucking. 

Our bodies slammed against each other in wild abandon. Carla was unlike any woman I had ever fucked before. She was releasing years of fury and using my cock to unlock all that had been held captive.  

"Take me! Take me! Oh my God. Take me! I want you to take me."

Her intensity was almost more than I could stand, but her screaming wildness and complete abandon inspired me to pound my cock harder, faster, deeper. Her primal screams filled my truck as she arched her back.

"Oh, my God. I'm cumming. I'm cumming. Fuck me harder! Harder!"

It was all I could do to hold onto her as she convulsed and erupted in a huge orgasm. Her tight pussy squeezed my swollen cock and I felt my whole body shake as gobs of cum shot into her tight pussy while I writhed in the most intense orgasm of my life before I collapsed heavily on her. I was panting and gasping for air while her strong arms and legs embraced me. I lay still, unable to budge and felt closer to her in that moment than ever before. I felt her heart and breathing and suddenly didn't care that I was a fugitive. I loved that she was with me in this truck by this lake in the middle of nowhere. Only now existed. 




The Drifter Ch. 05



After a few minutes of embracing each other, I lifted my head and smiled into her eyes.  

"We'll make it." 

She looked up at me and smiled. "I know!"

By eight, we were on the road. I had made coffee over the fire and surprised Carla with apple cinnamon muffins I bought at the convenience store the day before. I made more coffee and filled the thermos.

We were heading towards the Black Mountains. When we crossed the Colorado River, I noticed it seemed shallow and remembered reading with alarm how more and more water had been used for irrigation during the droughts and was being diverted to California because of water shortages and the river was barely a trickle before reaching the Gulf of Mexico. 

"See how low the river is. That's serious."

"I know. My grandpa talks about the drought a lot. He's worried. All the ranchers are." As we crossed the bridge, Carla stared at the river then looked at me as if trying to read my mind. I closed my eyes at the thought of the water crisis not only there but all around the world. I shook my head then turned to her. "It's only going to get worse."   

In the distance we could see Mount Perkins. I knew we should stock up with water because once over the mountain we would be in the Mojave Desert and in eastern California. I also knew I was low on gas and hoped we would find a gas station where we could also fill up some jugs with water. 

We pulled into an old dusty gas station on the outskirts of Oatman, Arizona. It was a pretty dilapidated town that had once been a thriving place because of the gold mines. Now it was practically a ghost town. Oatman was like a lot of towns that were boom towns when the mines were attracting businesses, but then faded into obscurity when the mines closed. 

After driving through a mostly boarded up town with a small grocery store that was opened and, a few doors away, The Gold Nugget Saloon. I chuckled at the faded name over the front door that was badly needing paint. Every other place was closed. On the outskirts of the town was an old gas station with the sign, Gus's Gas Station and Auto Repair hung on a post just off the highway. It had two pumps and seemed like a gas station from another era. An open sign was in the window and I noticed an old Esso sign leaning against the side of the garage. The small dilapidated building had a few loose boards and faded yellow paint.

When I pulled up next to one of the pumps, a small boy in jeans and a torn pale green T-shirt came out of the building. He had long blond hair that came down near his shoulders and a yellow baseball cap which he wore backwards. I glanced up and saw an old bald headed man standing in the doorway, watching. He wore a short sleeved tan shirt, black baggy pants that were worn out at the knees and held up with black suspenders. He was a small man, thin and wiry with a narrow face and dark bags under his eyes. He looked weary as he leaned against the wall with his hands in his pockets.    

The boy came around to my door. "How much gas do you want, mister?"

"Fill'er up," I said, surprised that a kid was going to pump gas rather than it being the computerized self-serve gas stations I was used to.  

I got out of the truck and noticed Carla looking at the old man standing in the doorway. 

"I'm going to check the oil," I said to the boy.  

"I'll do it, mister. That's my job." 

"Thanks," I said and watched him lift the hose from the old pump.

I could see it was heavy for him, but he managed to pull it to my gas tank and started pumping. I looked around and noticed several piles of tires next to an old tow truck parked alongside of the building. The wide door to the garage was half open. Next to the front door sat an old red soda case and I wondered if it was empty or filled with ice cold bottles of soda, then doubted it. Two rickety wooden chairs were on the other side of the front door and I imagined the old man and the boy sitting there watching the traffic go by. 

I looked at the boy holding the nuzzle of the hose and guessed he was twelve or younger and wondered why he was here pumping gas and not in school.

"What's your name?" I asked, standing next to him. 

"Fred." He narrowed his eyes. "Why do you want to know?"

"I just wanted to know. I'm not used to seeing a kid your age pumping gas."

"Well, I've been helping Jim." He looked up at the old man standing in the doorway. "This is his place."

"Cool." 

I looked up at Jim with his hands in his pocket, watching us. I noticed he was looking at Carla in the truck and wondered whether he was recognizing her. 

"Well,it's good that your helping him. Are you related to him?"

"No, he's just a friend. I like helping him and he shows me lots of stuff about cars. I like cars and learning how to fix things."

"Do you go to school?"

"I'm supposed to, but I don't go. This is better." He took the hose away from the gas tank and put it back where it belonged. "You're full now."

"Does your mom know you're not in school?" 

"Don't have a mom or a dad. Jim kind of took me in."

"Really. I'm sorry you don't have a mom or dad." 

I glanced at Jim lighting up a cigarette.  Fred didn't say anything and I was reluctant to ask more. 

"I'll check the oil," he said and went to the front of the truck. I opened the door and released the hood. 

Just then Carla got out of the truck. "I'm going to go to the bathroom."

Once the hood was up, I stood next to the boy while he looked for the oil stick. I watched Carla go up to Jim in the doorway. When she spoke, he nodded and pointed with his thumb to the side of the building but didn't speak. When she walked away, he watched her for a second or two, then looked back at what Fred was doing. 

"You're oil's okay, mister." He showed me the stick.

"How much do I owe you?" I asked when he put the hood down. 

"Thirty-five dollars and seventy-two cents." He didn't look at the pump to check the amount and I could see he was a smart boy. 

"Okay, my friend is going to pay when she comes out of the bathroom," I said and followed him up to the where Jim was standing. 

"Pretty woman, you got with you," Jim said.

"Thanks. Looks like your gas station is the last of a kind. I don't see gas stations like this anymore where someone actually pumps gas and checks the oil."

"Hey Fred." He turned to the boy. "Didn't you forget to wash his windshield?"

"Oh, right. I did. I'll do it now." He looked up at me. "Sorry."  

I turned and watched him run back to my truck just as Carla came around from the side of the building. Jim watched her walking towards us but didn't say anything. Again, I wondered if he recognized her. 

"Fred's a good kid..learns fast and I like having him around." 

We watched Fred spray the windshield and wipe it with a rag he had in his pocket. 

"He's had a rough time. Too bad about his parents. They were both drunks and then his father stabbed his mom in a big fight...killed her and he's in prison for life and now Fred lives here in the backroom where I live." 

"I'd think some agency would be taking care of him," Carla said. 

"They found a home for him but he hated it and took off." He took a deep breath and a puff from his cigarette.

"Aren't they looking for him? Do they know he's here," I asked. 

"Nope." He looked at Fred. "They don't know where he is. He's kinda hiding here. Fact is he can learn more here than in school. Good thing we both like to read. I have a pretty good library in the back."

"Really. That's good. So you kind of adopted him. Is that right?"

"I think we adopted each other." Jim said. "He kind of showed up like a stray cat and started hanging around. He loves cars and I'm teaching him what I know, but who knows what's going to happen when I'm not around."

"It's interesting how people find each other." I glanced at Carla and I thought about how we had found each other two days ago and now we were on the run with the police after me. She looked at me and I wondered if she was thinking the same thing.

"Yeah, it's interesting how life happens." Jim said, exhaling smoke through his nose. 

"So how much do we owe you?" Carla asked. 

Fred had joined us in front in the doorway and Jim asked him what the gas cost. 

"Thirty-five-seventy two."

Carla opened up her backpack and took out her wallet, counted out the money and handed it to Jim. Just then, her cell phone rang. She glanced at it and closed her eye as if shutting out reality, then listened to the message. 

"On no," she gasped when she closed her phone. "They found your old truck and the guy told them what happened. The police have the license number."

"Hey, what's going on. Why are the police after you?" Jim looked at me. 

"That's not good...Damn!"

I was surprised that she said anything out loud but turned to Jim. "It's a long story." 

"Are you outlaws?" Jim scratched his face and looked at Carla. 

"No we're not outlaws," Carla said. "He's helping me like you're helping Fred."

"I don't get what you mean. Why are the cops after you?"

"My mom thinks he kidnapped me so she called the police, but I'm running away and he's helping me. It's hard to explain. I'm not being kidnapped."

Jim didn't say anything, but looked at me and Carla, then nodded. He glanced at Fred and rubbed his chin. I could see he was trying to figure out what was going on. 

"So you're like Romeo and Juliet...star crossed lovers." He chuckled.

"I'd say we're more like Bonnie and Clyde except we aren't bank robbers." I was surprised he knew that line from Romeo and Juliet. 

"Oh right. Bonnie and Clyde. I heard about them. They robbed a bank near here once...that was in the thirties...during the Depression."   

"What should we do?" Carla asked. 

"I don't know for sure. We could take a chance and see if we can make it to Bolinas, or we should hide out for awhile some place?"

I noticed Fred listening and look at Carla. 

"Maybe it's none of my business, miss, but why are you running away from home?" 

Carla glanced at me before answering. "I just needed to get away from how I was living. I wasn't happy trying to fit it."

"That's why I ran away," Fred said, looking up at Jim then back at Carla. "I hated where they made me live."

"I guess I'm running away too," I added. 

"Where did you say you was heading?" Jim asked.  

"Bolinas." 

"Bolinas...where the hell is that?" 

"Northern California...just above San Francisco."

Jim nodded, took a deep weary sigh, then sat down on one of the chairs and took out another cigarette. 

"You won't make it in that truck. They'll catch you." Jim said. "You might have to hide out somewhere 'till you can get another truck or change license plates."

"You're probably right." I looked at Carla. 

"Where can we hide?" Carla asked. 

I glanced over at the truck parked by the gas pump. I knew kidnapping a women was considered big news and there would be interviews with a frantic mother and soon everyone would be on the lookout for me. Carla's face and the sketch of me would be on television and in newspapers. I looked at Carla's frightened face and wondered if I had made a huge mistake taking her, but also knew I was falling in love with her. 

"I think I know where you can hide," Jim said. "It might be a little strange, but I know this woman Anna who would hide you—she's a character that's for sure...but no would find you there."

Carla and I glanced at each other but didn't speak. Both of us were thinking about what Jim was suggesting. 

"Where is she? Is it far from here?" I asked. 

Jim pointed to the Black Mountains. "Maybe forty miles over the mountain...Near Death Valley in the desert. She's in an old ghost town called Hesterville, but she changed the name to Avalon...don't know why." Jim puffed on his cigarette. "If you make it there, you'll be set for awhile."

"Avalon," I repeated. "How could she change the name of a town?"

"She just did." Jim shrugged. "She's a strange one and just does what she wants to."  

I knew we were near the Mojave Desert and remembered I wanted to fill up our jugs with water. 

"Carla, if we hide out with her we'd be a day or so from Santa Monica. Then we'd have to go up the coast to reach Bolinas, what do you think?"

"How can we find her?" Carla asked Jim. 

"I'll give you directions. Tell her Jim sent you. She knows me and you're not the first folks I sent to her. By the way, she's kind of an outlaw too."

The more he spoke, the more fascinated I was, but more than that--we had to find a place to hide. 

"Mind if I fill up a jug or two of water," I asked. 

"Well, just a jug or two but no more. Water is getting scarce these days. Don't want my well to run dry."

"I'll get the water," Carla said and ran to the truck.

"How do you know this woman if she lives on the other side of the mountain in the desert."

"Well, she stopped here about five, maybe six years ago. Her car broke down right in front of here and I had to fix her Buick. She said she used to be a ballet dancer in New York and was on her way to Hollywood." 

"So why is she living near Death Valley in the desert?" 

"You'll see when you meet her." Jim chuckled and took a deep draw on his cigarette then coughed. "She's a character though. We became friends when she invited me out there to see what she was doing. That was two years ago. Craziest thing I ever saw, but she'll hide you."

"Interesting. I'm looking forward to meeting her." 

"She was pretty famous according to the newspaper articles she showed me in this big scrapbook...a big star in ballet...Just tell her Jim sent you."

When Carla returned with two jugs of water, we said goodbye to Jim and Fred and pulled out onto Route Sixty-six and headed for the Black Mountains. I glanced in the rear view mirror and saw the two of them standing by the front door. Jim had his hands in his pocket and Fred waved. 

When the gas station faded from view, Carla looked over at me.

"Are you sorry you took me with you and now the police are looking for you?"

"No, I'm not sorry. I just hope we don't get caught."

She reached over and gave my hand a squeeze. 

While driving, I made sure I stayed within the speed limit and kept my eyes on the look out for police cars but didn't see any. We drove up the steep, twisting roads climbing the mountain and stopped near the top to look out at the Mojave Desert in the distance.

"Why would anyone choose to live in a ghost town?" Carla asked.

"We'll find out soon." Sitting in the truck, I looked out at the wide, flat and dry panorama stretching as far as I could see. I was quiet and absorbing the mysterious beauty of the desert. 

After five minutes, I turned on the ignition. Driving down the steep mountain road made me think of life's twists and turns. I glanced at Carla and could see she was deep in thought, like me. When we drove towards the desert, I could feel the temperature rising. I looked at the gas gauge and saw we we were half full.

"Jim said forty miles and we'd be there, didn't he?" 

Just then, I saw smoke billowing out from under the hood and pulled over to the side of the road.  

"Damn, what a place to break down." 

While cars and trucks sped by us, I got out of the truck and carefully lifted the hood, making sure to avoid the hot steam. I'm pretty good with repairing cars and hoped this wasn't too serious. What was serious though was the police car I saw heading in our direction. I glanced at Carla sitting in the truck then leaned over to see what was wrong. Two minutes later, the police car stopped in back of my truck and I could hear the crunch of his footsteps getting closer. 

When he stood next to me, I saw he was a sheriff and not the State Police. I noticed he didn't look at my license plate and seemed more concerned that I was having mechanical trouble. 

He had a pot belly that hung over his belt and strained the buttons on his tan shirt. I glanced at his badge then at his jowls and double chin. His wide brimmed cowboy hat shaded his eyes. 

"Not a good place to break down," he said. "People die out here from the heat." 

"I know, but I think the hose from the radiator broke loose...that's what I'm checking."  

I glanced up and saw Carla sitting in the truck, then noticed her duck down so she couldn't be seen. 

"Where are you heading?" he asked as several cars sped by. He chuckled. "No one pays attention to the goddamn speed limit on this road." He turned and watched a red sports car roar by. "I must give six or seven tickets a day out here....fifty bucks, sometimes over a hundred depending on the speed."

"I bet." I touched the hose to see if it was cooling down. 

"Hope you can fix her. Not a gas station for miles."  "I got my tools in the back. I think I can handle it. It's the hose and I need to see if I can attach it." 

He looked at me and narrowed his eyes. "Where did you say you were heading?"

"I'm visiting a friend not far from here in Avalon."

"Avalon? Don't tell me you know that nut, Anna?"

"Well, she's not exactly a friend, but I heard about her and wanted to meet her." 

He shook his head as if agitated. "She lives in the old ghost town, Hesterville and changed the name to Avalon when she opened her theater. Craziest goddamn thing you ever saw."

"Well, that's where I'm heading." I didn't know about the theater. 

"I better wait here with you and see if you can get your truck going. Don't want you stranded out here in the heat."

"Thanks." 

I went to the rear of the truck to get my tools. While he followed me, he glanced into the truck and saw Carla ducking. 

"Hey, miss, you should come out and get some air. It's too damn hot to sit in that truck with the air conditioner off." Then I heard him ask. "Are you looking for something?"    

"Yes, I'm looking for a ring I dropped. I'll be out in a minute."

When I brought my tools to the front of the truck, the sheriff followed me just as Carla got out of the truck. I was glad she leaned against the side door, avoiding any chances of being recognized. 

"They say that woman, Anna was a famous ballet dancer in New York and was on her way to Hollywood and ended up staying in Hesterville and fixed up an old theater there then changed the name to Avalon like it's her town. Craziest thing. A theater in a ghost town." He shook his head.  "Some friends told me about her. I'm a writer so I thought I'd find out more about her and write a story."

He glanced over at Carla."Now ain't that better being out of that hot truck."

"Yes, much better. I found my ring."

"Good," The sheriff said and smiled. "I'm glad."

It was really hot as the sun got higher and I noticed the dark wet spots staining his shirt under his arm pits. 

"I got it," I said, making sure it was tight and then closed the hood. 

"Well, good luck to you. Hope you get a good story out of that crazy woman. Say hello to Mosa for me...she's a cutie who works with that nut." 

He glanced over at Carla then back at me. When I returned my tools to the back of the truck, he walked back to his car.

Carla got back into the truck and I waved back at the sheriff.

"That was close." I climbed back behind the wheel and glanced in the rear view mirror. 

"I don't think he recognized me." Carla leaned her head against the back of the seat and exhaled a deep sigh. 

I turned on the ignition and waited for the sheriff to drive off in front of us. We were back on the road looking for Avalon.



The Drifter Ch. 06



As I drove along Route Sixty-six past various stores, restaurants, and billboards, we were both quiet, lost in our thoughts. I knew Avalon was about forty miles from the Black Mountains and that we'd soon be there. I saw a sign that announced we were entering Death Valley. Carla held my map on her lap while we drove past the sparse vegetation, mostly Joshua Trees, sagebrush and odd shaped cactus. Dusty bronze colored hills rose from the flat land. They created deep valleys and basins that looked like dried up lake beds. The sun was hot and the blue sky was cloudless. Large birds circled high above us and I wondered if they were eagles or hawks. I looked out at the mountains that seemed to be surrounding us. We were still on Route Sixty-six, but the highway was twisting down a steep hill deep into a valley, and then it became flat again with open barren land on both sides that were surrounded by ragged cliffs, high hills and dunes. 

Carla studied the map, moving her finger. "Looks like Hesterville is not too far."

I knew that Death Valley was well below sea level. I looked out at the high cliffs and the changing vegetation. Only a few cars and trucks passed us going in the opposite direction. Twenty minutes later, I drove past a hand painted red and white sign that said, "Avalon Theater–five miles." 

"Did you see that sign?" I asked. 

"Yes. Looks like we're almost there," Carla closed the map.

Five minutes later we passed another brightly colored sign, "Avalon Theater--two miles."

Soon, I saw an old splintered sign that said Entering Hesterville in faded letters, but Hesterville was crossed out with a thick black line and above it Avalon painted in red letters. 

I continued driving until I came to a crossroads and saw a small sign with an arrow pointing to the right that said, "To Avalon."

"Why do you think she changed the name of the town to Avalon?" Carla asked when I made the turn. 

"Who knows? Maybe we'll find out. I think Avalon is connected to the King Arthur legend and has mystical connotations, but that's all I know. Anyway, it's strange, and probably illegal, to decide to change the name of a town."  

Within minutes we drove into a town of dilapidated wooden buildings on both sides of the street. An old gas station with a dangling Esso sign was on the corner and it reminded me of Jim's gas station. I drove slowly down the street and saw it was one block long—not much of a town. Several old cars and rusted pick-up trucks were angled facing the sidewalk, a few with flat tires. Half of the buildings were boarded up, or had broken windows, but the street was not littered with trash, and it seemed like the sidewalks had been swept. I was surprised at how neat and clean the town seemed despite the faded and splintered buildings and broken down cars and trucks. One building was an old hotel with a torn awning and a sign above it with the word Hesterville Hotel crossed out and Avalon written over it. Next to it was Dot's Cafe. A small red sign on the door said closed. Next to the cafe was an old barber shop with one of those old red and white barber poles. On the other side of the street was Al's Hardware with a rusted bench in front and then, next to the store, an old bank, with rusted bars on the front door and windows.  

Carla was quiet and looked at everything with wide eyes and a slightly opened mouth. As we drove passed the old, shabby buildings, I saw the town was one long block and wondered where we would find Anna. It didn't look like there were any people in the town, and yet it didn't feel abandoned. I was baffled. 

"This is spooky," Carla said, leaning forward. "How could anybody live here."

"I don't know, but it looks pretty clean. Seems like someone is living here."

Then I saw a building at the end of the block that looked like a theater. It was brightly painted and almost glowed in contrast to the other buildings. It had an art deco appearance, a style that was popular in the thirties and forties. It was painted a bright yellow with green trim. It had a small marquee hanging over the sidewalk with the words Avalon Theater painted in bright red. When I parked in front of it, I saw a small ticket booth painted in the same yellow and green with a small sign on the window--Ticket Office opens at seven-thirty. In back of the ticket booth were two doors with shiny brass handles leading to the inside of the theater. On the front of the theater were two large posters of a woman in a graceful ballet pose wearing a short, pink fluffy skirt, white tights and pink toe shoes and the name Anna Polovna printed in bold black letters. There was also a large poster leaning on an easel --Swan Lake--Tonight at Eight."

I looked at Carla and could see her startled eyes as she read the signs and stared at the theater.

"I don't believe my eyes. I never expected to see this theater," I said.

"This is unreal.It's freaking me out." Carla's eyes were wide open.

"I wonder if Anna is inside." I was unable to take my eyes off of the posters. 

"There's one way to find out," Carla said. "Lets go inside."

Just as I opened the truck door, an old dark skinned man with a bushy white mustache covering his upper lip came out of the theater. He was carrying a broom and started sweeping. A wide brimmed straw cowboy hat shaded his eyes. I was sure he was Mexican. He looked startled at first to see me walking towards him with Carla slightly behind me. He stopped sweeping when he saw us, then immediately started sweeping again, ignoring us and seemed strangely unconcerned that we were there. 

"Excuse me, I'm looking for a woman named Anna." I spoke softly.

"She's resting for her performance tonight." He glanced at me then continued sweeping. 

"A friend of hers sent us to see her. It's important that we meet." Carla said. 

He looked at Carla then at me and nodded. "I will tell her you are here and see if she wants to see anyone. She just finished rehearsing and is resting, but you can come inside and get away from the heat." He leaned the broom against the box office and walked into the theater. 

I glanced up and saw there were many light bulbs lining the edges of the marquee and wondered if they worked. I imagined them lighting up the area around the theater at night.

When he returned, he waved us into the theater.

"What's your name?" I asked. "I'm Josh and this is Carla." 

"Miguel," he answered and glanced again at both of us but didn't say anything.

We walked through the narrow lobby covered with a bright red carpet. On both walls were dozens of photos and posters. Many of them were glossy, theatrical photographs of a young ballerina with dark hair in a bun, a narrow face with her arms, hands and fingers extended gracefully. The colorful large posters advertised the names of various ballets performed by Anna Polovna. I was dazzled as I looked at them. Cinderella, Sleeping Beauty, Giselle, Don Quixote, Romeo and Juliet. Each of them had pictures of Anna Polovna either solo or with a male partner in tights. Several said Carnegie Hall, Boston Opera House, Radio City Music Hall, La Scala and many other theaters in foreign countries. I saw a few framed posters of faded newspaper articles. One headline from the New York Times read, "Anna Polovna Thrills at Sold Out Performance."  

What was a famous ballet dancer doing in a ghost town? How did this brightly painted theater appear in Death Valley? I was mystified and remembered Jim warning us she was a character.

"I don't believe my eyes," I said and turned to Carla after reading the article and then looked around at all of the posters that lined the lobby.

"This is amazing," Carla said, looking at everything. "I don't get it."

Just then Miguel came back from inside the dark theater and waved to us. "Come, Senor with me. Anna will meet you." He held the large door open and stood aside as we passed him. 

When we entered the dimly lighted theater and stood at the rear, we saw a wide center aisle that descended to a stage. On both sides of the aisle were fifteen rows of seats that were upholstered in a dark maroon material. There must have been a hundred and fifty seats that looked in excellent condition. A red carpet leading to the stage was immaculate and above the auditorium was a large chandelier. 

"Look." Carla stopped and pointed.

Painted on all of the walls above us was a balcony that circled the theater with a wide variety of men and women painted on the wall. The men wore tuxedos or suits and the women had gowns with sparkling necklaces. Some wore glasses or had small binoculars in their hands. Some of the women wore large fancy hats with feathers. The balcony had a painted brass railing and the front was colorful and intricately detailed. 

I was stunned.It was beautiful and bizarre mural that went all around the theater. Someone had spent a great deal of time painting it. Carla's eyes and mouth were wide open as if in awe.

Miguel waited for us in front of the stage. After a few minutes, we continued walking down the aisle towards the dimly lit stage which was draped on both sides with long maroon velvet curtains. At the rear of the stage in the pale light was a huge painting of a lake, trees and several swans which I assumed was the set for the evening performance of Swan Lake. 

"What a beautiful theater," I said to Miguel when we stopped at the front. I looked back at the red upholstered seats, the chandelier and at the painted audience in the balcony, unable to believe what I was seeing. 

"Who painted the balcony and all those people?" Carla asked. 

"Mosa," Miguel answered. "She is from the Mojave tribe. She is an artist and she painted the people for Madam Anna." 

"Madam Anna," I repeated.

"Yes, Madam Anna."

We followed Miguel through a heavy curtain on the side of the stage and walked up a narrow stairway to a door with a big yellow star painted on the dark wood and Anna Polovna written in gilded letters above the star. He knocked and waited.

"Come in, please." Her voice was low, somewhat husky and reminded me of what is called a whiskey voice. I detected a European accent.

When we entered, we saw a thin, fragile looking old woman leaning back on a small green couch with her legs extended the length of it. Several colorful pillows were behind her. She was wearing a green satin kimono covered with large painted flowers. Her high cheekbones were colored with pale pink rouge. Blue make-up covered her eye lids which were lined with mascara, but nothing could hide the dark bags under her eyes, or the wrinkles lining her face. I noticed her hands were bony with blue veins and long thin fingers with the nails polished bright red. Her hair was dyed black and tied in a bun. I guessed she was in her sixties.  

"And who may I ask are you?" she asked in a deep, husky, accented voice.      

"I'm Josh and this is Carla. Jim told us to come here. He has an old gas station neat Oatsville."

"Ah yes, Jim, a dear man. He helped me when my car broke down several years ago." 

"He said you could help us," Carla said.

"Help you?" She narrowed her eyes. 

"It's a long story, but the police are after us because they think Josh kidnapped me, but he didn't. I ran away. He's helping me."

"Ah, so you want to hide here, is that what you want?" She nodded and glanced at me. 

"Yes.They have pictures of me on television and they know our license number. We have to stay out of sight. It's all a big mistake."

While Carla spoke I looked around her dressing room and saw a small dressing table with light bulbs surrounding a mirror and silver containers of makeup, but I also saw a bottle of Jack Daniels and an empty glass. 

"Would you like a drink?" She noticed where I was looking. "I could use a drink. Then we can see how I can help you." 

"That sounds good." 

I stood up and walked over to the table and asked Carla if she wanted any. When she nodded no, I poured the bourbon into Anna's glass and into one I found on top of a small refrigerator. 

"There's ice in the refrigerator," she said. 

"You have a beautiful theater," Carla said.

"Thank you, my dear. Yes, I love my theater."

I found the ice cubes and put them in our glasses and noticed several empty bourbon bottles on the floor next to her dressing table. 

"Thank you so much," she said when I handed her the drink. 

I raised my glass to Anna in a gesture of good luck, but we didn't click glasses or say anything.

"I'm so delighted that you like my theater. I am performing Swan Lake tonight. I hope you can attend, although I believe we may be sold out." 

She took a sip of her drink. 

"We would love to," Carla said. 

"So you're running away, young lady. May I ask why."

"It's hard to explain, but I was being forced to be someone I wasn't. I felt trapped trying to fit everyone's expectations. I had to get away. That's why I took off with Josh when he was working at my grandparent's ranch. I've never done anything like this."

"And you, Josh what's your story?" 

Before I could respond, Anna had finished her drink and held her empty glass out to me. "More."

I was surprised by her demand and could see she was used to being catered to. I took her glass and refilled it. When I handed it to her, she smiled but didn't say thank you. 

"Now tell me your story."

"My story is not that interesting. I'm just taking a trip...working my way to California...taking one day at a time, then I met Carla a few days ago and here we are."

"Yes and you have found Avalon and my theater." 

I glanced at Carla who was staring at Anna as if she was looking at an object in a museum. 

"I saw all of your pictures in the lobby and read the newspaper articles about you. You were famous. A big star." Carla's eyes were wide with fascination. 

"Yes, I have had a wonderful career and still do. I was on my way to Hollywood to become a movie star. I wanted to be on the silver screen and dance for the whole world."

"But why are you here? This is a ghost town." Carla leaned forward. "I don't understand."

"I know it must seem strange to you, but I was inspired. You see, I was on my way to California when my car broke down again. I ran out of oil and my wonderful Buick just wouldn't go any farther. I had all of my savings with me. I made a great deal of money as a ballerina, but I don't trust banks. My father lost a fortune in the Depression, but that's another story. I am world famous, as you know, but I was now competing with younger ballerinas and that's why I decided to go to Hollywood. But my car broke down in this town. I was stranded in Death Valley. There was no one around and no telephone. I got out of my car and walked up and down the street to see if I could find anyone to help me and then I saw it--this old theater. I still don't know why, but I decided to walk in. It was unlocked which I took as a sign. The theater was dirty and filled with spider webs, but suddenly I knew I wanted to stay here. It came to me like a bolt of out of the blue and I knew I was meant to bring this theater back to life. It was as if God spoke to me and that's what I have done thanks to Miguel and Mosa and a few other people who believed in me. I've never been happier."  

"But this is a ghost town,"Carla said. "I thought you wanted to perform for the whole world...that's what you said."

"I still do, but I fell in love with this theater. I followed my dream to have my own theater. I believe the world will come here to Avalon to see me perform."

She took a deep drink and emptied her glass, then looked down at the ice cubes, and then suddenly swung her arms out wide. "See, I have made a beautiful theater where I perform all of my favorite ballets to wonderful cheers and applause. All of my performances are sold out. Often I take a dozen curtain calls. You will see me perform Swan Lake tonight. I will leave tickets for you at the box office."

I looked at Carla who was still staring at Anna. We were both spellbound, but I was also concerned about the police finding us. I wondered how she survived when her car broke down and no one was around, but put that thought aside.

"I'm fascinated by your story, but is it possible that we hide here for awhile?" 

She narrowed her eyes and looked at me and then at Carla. "Yes, of course you can hide here. The police won't come here. They think I'm crazy, but I'm not. I know exactly what I am doing. They're angry that I renamed the town Avalon, but now they ignore me; however, my fans adore me and that is all that matters." 

"Good, you seem happy." 

I glanced at her empty glass and remembered the empty bottles I saw on the floor next to her table.

"I am happy...very happy. What could be better than having one's own theater...This is a dream come true." 

She finished her drink and handed me the glass. "Just a little more." 

"You're lucky," Carla said. "I hope I can make my dreams come true."

"Just don't let anyone or anything stop you," Anna said. "They will try, but you have to defy them...that's the test."

"Test?" Carla asked, narrowing her puzzled eyes.

"Yes, of your determination and character. Nothing must stop you."

I refilled her glass and listened. I knew what she meant because I had been tested many times.

"Where can we hide?" I asked, anxious to find out.

"There's an old trailer in back of the theater. It's empty now but clean. That is where the carpenters I hire stayed. My trailer is next to it. You can stay there for as long as you need to. Miguel will show you where it is, but now I must rest."

"That sounds great," I said and finished my drink. I stood up, then put the glass on the dressing table, "Thanks for the drink. I needed that."  

Anna nodded and took a sip of her drink. Though she had been drinking a lot, she did not seem drunk. She sure can hold her liquor, I thought and realized I was a little woozy. 

"I'll leave tickets for you at the door. You will be my guests."

"Thank you. I look forward to seeing you perform tonight."

I stood up and put my empty glass on the table and glanced at myself in the mirror. I needed a shave and saw my shaggy long hair was almost to my shoulders. I straightened my faded baseball cap.

When we left her dressing room, we walked through the theater. I looked up at the mural of a balcony filled with painted people, at the chandelier, then saw Miguel dusting the arms of the seats. He was moving through one of the rows of chairs towards the rear of the theater. I could hear him humming. At first he didn't see me, but then looked up when I interrupted him. He glanced at me, then at Carla, but did not stop dusting. 

"Excuse me, Miguel, can you show us to the trailer out back. Anna said we could stay there." 

"Si, senor," he said, but continued dusting.

"Would you mind showing us. We've been on the road all day." I know he heard the insistence in my voice, but continued dusting. 

"I don't need to show you. Drive your truck around the corner and you will see a pink trailer. Next to it is the old workers' trailer. It is unlocked. It will be hot, but there is an air conditioner. I have too much to do to get the theater ready for tonight." He took a weary breath and went back to dusting. 

When we got back into the truck, I sat and looked at the theater, then at the poster of Anna Polovna. I looked back at the empty street and the boarded up buildings, the scattered old trucks and cars, then glanced at Carla who was looking out the front window, deep in thought. 

"Well, here we are." I reached for her hand. 

She turned and squeezed my hand. "My adventure is getting pretty weird. I never thought I'd see anything like this."

"Me either, but at least we have a place to hide."

"Do you think she's nuts?" 

"Probably, but so what? She has her own theater and she seems happy. That's more than I can say for a lot of people." 




The Drifter Ch. 06



"But this isn't real. She's living in her own made up world."

"Maybe we all live in our own made up world." I glanced at her, then looked back at the theater and the sign advertising Swan Lake. 

"My world isn't made up. I'm running away and now the police are after you...that's real."

"I didn't say anything, but nodded, then turned on the ignition and drove around the theater to the back. About fifty feet from the rear of theater was a long pink trailer with flower boxes lining the windows. They were filled with red, blue and yellow plastic flowers. I noticed a television aerial on the roof and a thick electric wire coming from the theater. In front of the trailer was a small gravel path leading to the front door. On both sides of the path were several large plastic pink flamingos. The sight of them made me chuckle and mutter, What are pink flamingos doing in the desert? 

I drove another thirty or so feet and parked in front of a small,shabby white and brown trailer. It was rounded at the back and the hitch at the front was propped up on a big rock. A long yellow heavy duty extension cord ran between the two trailers. 

When we walked to the rear of my truck to get our backpacks, I glanced at Carla in disbelief that I was here with her in the middle of nowhere taking one day at a time. I liked how her dusty blonde ponytail hung just below her shoulders. While she looked around I thought she looked both innocent and sexy at the same. The urge to embrace her came over me. I took her hand and turned her to face me and kissed her. She wrapped her arms around me and returned my kiss, then smiled and gazed into my eyes. 

"That was nice," she said. 

"We'll make it." I squeezed her hand, then opened the back of the truck. We got our backpacks and walked up to the trailer. As soon as I opened the door we were hit with a blast of heat that made us stop. I kept the door open and then walked in, looked around and saw a small refrigerator, a dirty sink, a gray Formica table with a bench on one side and a folded brown canvas chair facing it. I chuckled at the crooked "Home Sweet Home" sign on the wall. 

"So this must be where the carpenters stayed." 

Carla rubbed her finger on the dusty counter next to the sink then walked to the small bedroom at the rear of the trailer.

"I wonder what they thought about this job and working for Anna," I said.

"Probably the same as we're thinking, but money is money."

I turned on the air conditioner and knew it would take awhile to cool the trailer down. 

"Sure is hot in here," Carla said from the bedroom. 

"It won't be hot for too long. It will cool down soon." 

"I think I would like to make it hotter," she said.

I looked up from fiddling with the dial and saw Carla lift her T-shirt over her head.I was stunned by what she was doing, especially in the heat of the trailer.

She stood in front of the bed, gazing at me while she unbuttoned her jeans, and slowly unzipped them. She had a seductive smile on her lips as she shook her hips and started to lower her jeans. "I like it hot." 

Though I was sweating from the heat of the trailer, I watched her as she started to squirm out of her jeans. I took off my t-shirt as I walked to her. Damn she's sexy. I was getting hard. 

I looked around the trailer and noticed the green curtains on the back window, the beige, soiled carpet and felt the stifling heat. 

When she put her arms around me, I kissed the top of her head, then embraced her and felt her soft breasts against my chest. Though I was turned on, I couldn't shake the danger we were in from my mind and suddenly, my lust dissipated. 

"I hope we're safe here," I said, rubbing the soft skin on her back.

"I do too. I don't want you to get caught for being a kidnapper and I don't want to go home." 

"I know, but we can't stay here forever." I held her close, but I know she felt I was distracted.

We were holding each other when I suddenly got the idea of continuing our trip in the trailer. I didn't say anything at first as the thought about the trailer swelled in me. I released Carla and took her hand. 

"I just had an idea. I wonder if we can buy this trailer off of Anna. We could hide in here no matter where we are."

"Wow, that's a great idea, but we don't have any money."

"I know, but maybe we can do some work for her in exchange."

"The police would never find us if we had this trailer. Do you think she'll go for it?" 

"We'll see." I was inspired by the idea.  

Carla put her arms around me again and kissed me, then started to stroke my cock, arousing me. Now, I wanted her. I kissed her and moved my hands to her ass and pulled her against me. We kissed harder and started grinding against each other. The steam was rising, when someone knocked at the door. I was startled. 

"Looks like we have company," I said. 

I slipped on my t-shirt and Carla zipped and buttoned her jeans. I went to the door. When I opened it, I saw a small woman with long black hair that fell halfway down her back, smooth light brown skin with high cheekbones and dark eyes. She was wearing jeans and a colorful flowery blouse. 

"Can I come in," she asked."I must talk to you." 

When I held the door open for her, Carla came to us and stood in back of me. 

"I am Mosa. I am Anna's friend." 

She spoke in a low voice and I could see concern in her eyes.

"You're the artist who painted the balcony with all of the people." Carla said.

"Yes and I paint the sets for her performances." 

"Why are you here? What can we do for you?"

"You are not safe here," she said. 

"How do you know?" I asked. 

"How do you know who we are?" Carla asked.

"I saw you on the television. I live with Anna next door and I saw you when you parked."

"But no one else knows we are here. Who would find us? This a ghost town."

"The sheriff knows you are here. He said you told him you were coming here. He called me on my cellphone. I know him because he has been here many times before when we made all of the Avalon signs. He thinks we are crazy and dislikes Anna. He is not a nice man. Believe me I know." 

"Oh, no." Carla placed her hands over her eyes and shook her head. 

"He must have realized it was us when he went back to his office," I said. 

"Why are you helping us if you saw the story on the news? They think I am a kidnapper."

"I saw you hug when you got out of the truck. I saw how you held her hand. You're not a kidnapper. You're helping her. I can tell."

"Good. Thank you, but what should we do?" Carla asked. "I thought we would be safe here."

"You can hide your truck and I will say you are not here," Mosa said. "Then you will be safe when he leaves. He will be here soon. We must hurry."

"He probably won't come alone, if he thinks we're here," I said. 

"Where can we hide?" Carla asked.

"We can't stay here...they will search every building. They probably have dogs with them." 

"My father lives in a trailer on the reservation. It's not far. He will hide you. I will call and tell him you are coming." 

She took out her cell phone and pressed his number. I was surprised she had a cell phone and could get a signal here and hoped our phones worked. I was baffled how they had electricity and phone service but didn't have time to ask her. I also wondered why the sheriff called her.

She closed her phone."My father will hide you...but you must hurry!"

"Thank you," Carla said, then hugged her. 

  **** 

When we entered the Mojave Reservation, we drove passed several shabby, isolated mobile homes and a few shacks that sat on dry barren land with a few old pickup trucks and dusty cars parked along side of them. We were looking for a gray trailer with a blue awning. Scattered shrubs and cactus grew between the trailers and old houses. Bronze, jagged mountains were in the distance. The sun was getting lower in the western sky and would soon set behind the hills. I knew the temperature dropped when the sun went down. 

Mosa said she would call us when the sheriff left and we could return to the trailer. 

"I'm surprised the sheriff called her," I said.

"Why would he have her cell phone number?" Carla leaned forward looking for the gray trailer. 

"Who knows? Maybe he's got the hots for her. He called her a cutie." 

"I know he's been there before to tell Anna she had no right to change the name of the town or something. Maybe he called to make sure we were there and told her not to say anything. Anyway, it's strange that he called Mosa, but lucky for us. We would have been caught." She closed her eyes at the thought. 

When we saw the trailer with a faded blue awning and pulled up in front, a small, thin man with long white hair and wrinkled, leathery skin opened the screen door. He was smoking a corn cob pipe. When I got closer I noticed his narrow, almond shaped brown eyes and high cheekbones. 

"Come in out of the heat," he said, waving at us to hurry. 

When we entered, I was surprised to see how orderly his trailer was. It was warm. A circular fan in the ceiling was moving slowly and a small fan on the table next to a recliner was swiveling from side to side. The small kitchen had dishes stacked in the drain. I could smell something cooking and saw a big black pot on the stove and a wooden spoon on the counter. One whole wall was lined with books from floor to ceiling and on the chair next to a small pot bellied stove was a stack of books and magazines. On another wall were at least a dozen unframed paintings of animals, birds, the mountains, and the barren landscape. Two of the paintings were large. I was stunned by their colors and vividness and wondered who painted them. What amazing paintings, I thought. 

On a long shelf were at least a dozen carved animals and birds lined next to each other. I could see how detailed they were. In the corner was a small desk with an old typewriter and a large pile of papers, obviously a manuscript. A sheet of paper was in the typewriter and I wondered if he was writing a book. Next to the manuscript was an open spiral notebook with a pen laying on it. Above the desk was a photograph of a young man wearing a marine uniform. That must be his son, I thought before turning back to the old man. 

He cleared some magazines from a wooden kitchen chair with red leather on the seat and pulled another similar chair away from the kitchen table.

"Here take a seat. Make yourself at home. Mosa said the sheriff is after you...what's that about? You're safe here."

He spoke without pausing and we both sat down. He seemed glad that we were there and I assumed he spent a lot of time alone. 

I was fascinated by the welcoming look in his dark eyes and knew I was in the presence of an unusual man. He was not what I expected and remembered my philosophy about expectations. 

Before speaking I gazed again around the room at all of the books and art work. I glanced at Carla who was also looking around the trailer, obviously as fascinated as I was.  

When we sat down, I told him our story. He listened and nodded, narrowing his eyes. 

"So they think you're a kidnapper," he said and lit his corncob pipe.  

We still hadn't introduced ourselves but just talked about our situation. Sometimes names are not important when you are together for an emergency. Still, I was curious about him.

"Are you a writer," I asked, glancing over at his desk. 

"I guess I am since I write every day. Always have."

"Have you published anything?"

"A few poems in a Native American magazine. But I just write. One day I will publish more."

"That looks like a big book on your desk," I said, turning to glance at it.

"It's a history of our people. How we came to live here over a thousand years ago and what our lives have become since others moved on this land. I have gathered many of our stories."

"Wow," Carla said. "That's great. I'm impressed."

"It's important that I tell our story. I don't have any grandchildren. Mosa will probably never marry and my son was killed in Vietnam."

"Is that him over your desk?" I asked. 

"Yes, he was drafted like a lot of Indians. He was smart and wanted to be a doctor, but the country had other plans and he went to fight and show he was a good American." He shook his head and sighed, "It is hard to be an Indian in this country. We are the forgotten people."

He stood up and took a puff from his pipe, then went to the stove to stir what he was cooking. 

"Smells good, what are you making?" Carla asked. 

"Black bean soup."

He leaned over to smell the aroma. He closed his eyes then nodded as if he knew the taste he wanted, and then came back to his seat across from us. 

"Your daughter is an amazing artist," Carla said. "We saw what she did at Anna Polovna's theater." 

He looked at the paintings on the wall. "Yes, she is talented and special. She has been an artist since she was four or five. You will learn how special she is."

"Do you know Anna Polovana?" 

"Yes. She is also special." He narrowed his eyes and nodded as if he was thinking about her. "She has a vision for that ghost town." 

"Do you think she's crazy...a world famous ballerina making a theater in the desert and changing the name of the town to Avalon."

"Who am I to say who's crazy or not? I have written books and poetry and doubt anyone will ever read them. Maybe we are all crazy." He took a puff of his pipe. "If we are all crazy then no one is crazy. I no longer know what being crazy is." 

"Interesting," I chuckled. 

Just then the phone rang. "That must be Mosa. She's the only one who calls me." 

When he stood up to answer it, I remembered telling Carla, "We're all drifters." Maybe we're all crazy drifters. 

I looked at him holding the black receiver of the wall phone on the wall by his desk. It looked like something from another time. I remembered our family had a phone like that when I was growing up. 

"I will tell them," he said, then hung up and turned to us."He's gone. It is safe to go back. You should hurry because it will be dark and cold soon."

When I stood up I realized we had never shared names. 

"By the way, I'm Josh and this is Carla. What's your name?"

"Oh, yes, our names," he chuckled."My American name is Charles, but my ancient name is Yuma. I am named for the river now called the Colorado River."

When we shook hands, he gazed into my eyes as if seeing something. I wondered what he was thinking. 

"You are a good man. You will find your way."

"Thank you, I need to hear that." 

He looked at Carla. "I see wisdom in you. You, too will find your way."

Carla smiled and didn't say anything at first, but then took a deep breath."I hope so. I'm working on it."

I was surprised to hear him mention her wisdom but sensed he was right and that I was in the process of discovering the real Carla. 

When we stood outside by my truck, I looked at his old trailer and the blue awning. I looked out at the desert noticed the setting sun just above the hills. I looked at Charles standing by his front door. I thought about my drifting from town to town, meeting Carla by accident,sensing her hidden self and hearing how Charles thought she was a wise woman and here we were. His words to both of us, you will find your way resonated in me with a warm glow. When we climbed back into the truck I took Carla's hand, happy she was with me. We both waved to Charles.

While I drove away, I glanced back at him in the rear view mirror and thought about him living so isolated in the desert, writing books and poetry, carving animals that no one might ever see. We drove past the old and faded reservation sign and through the darkening desert back to Avalon. 

          *****          

When we parked in front of our trailer, Mosa ran out of Anna's trailer and greeted us. I could see how much she looked like her father, especially around her narrow, almond shaped brown eyes and high cheekbones. She was small and I could feel the same intensity and power I felt in his presence. Her bronze colored skin was smooth with no signs of wrinkles and her long black hair, now braided, came halfway down her back. She was beautiful in a mysterious way and radiated an energy that came through her eyes. The same energy I saw earlier in the vibrant paintings. Though she still wore the same flowery blouse she had on earlier, she had a half buttoned checkered flannel shirt now that it was getting dark and cooler. 

"I think you are safe now," she said. 

"Good, did the sheriff come alone?" Carla asked. 

"No, he had his deputy, Oscar and the State Police were with him. They looked all over the town for you. I told him you were here earlier but left and that I didn't speak to you. I had to lie. He talked to Anna and to Miguel and they also lied."

We grabbed our gear from the back of my truck and returned all of our supplies to the trailer. Mosa helped. The desert temperature had dropped dramatically so we didn't need the air conditioner. We turned on the dim overhead light which gave the trailer a warm glow. Carla found a small lamp and put it on the kitchen table while I opened a can of chicken noodle soup and heated it on the two burner stove. 

"I was impressed with your father," I said as I stirred. 

"Thank you. He has had a hard life. My mother died when I was five and he raised my brother and me in that trailer."

"We saw your paintings...they're amazing." Carla found three bowls in one of the cabinets. "Do you want to have dinner with us?"

"No, I must go and help Anna with her hair and make up. Also, the box office opens soon and I must change my clothes to sell the tickets." 

"Do you actually sell tickets. I mean, do people come to her performances."

"Yes, last week ten people came," Mosa said. 

"Really. I'm surprised." 

"I know it must be strange for you to see her theater here, but she is dedicated. She said the day her car broke down five years ago and she saw this old decaying theater she had a vision. She said it was a dream come true to have her own theater. It came to her like a bolt of lightning from heaven. She believes her dancing will bring Avalon back to life and that the restaurant will reopen and the hotel will have guests and the shops will have customers. That is why she has brought the theater back to life."

"Build it and they will come," I said. "Is that what she believes?"

"Yes, she has a dream and she believes it will become a reality."

I didn't know what to think. Carla and I glanced at each other. 

"What do you think?" I asked. 

"I love Anna. I love the Avalon Theater. I love her dream. She gave work to several carpenters, plumbers, electricians and painters to bring the theater back to life. She has spent all of her money and has worked very hard. I spent a year painting the balcony with all the people. To me it was like the Sistine Chapel. Anna inspired me. I think it is a beautiful dream and she is a magical dancer. You will see." 

I was baffled by Mosa's story and uncertain of her sanity as well as Anna's, but I felt her conviction. It seemed crazy that a ghost town in Death Valley could come back to life because Anna decided to build a theater there. Still, Mosa didn't seem crazy and neither did Miquel. I even began to doubt my own sanity helping Carla and finding myself being hunted by the police for being a kidnapper. I was lost in my own thoughts as I stirred the soup, but could not deny the fact that the theater was here and Mosa was going to sell tickets and the ballet, Swan Lake would be performed in a little over an hour. Am I in the twilight zone? I thought, remembering re-runs of an old TV show I watched when I was a kid.  

When Mosa left, we sat at the table eating our soup. I looked around the small, cozy trailer and thought how cool it would be to have the trailer as a way of hiding from the police.




The Drifter Ch. 06



"I wonder if I can do some work here in exchange for the trailer." 

"Really, do you think Anna would go for it." Carla's eyes widened. 

"I have my tools. There must be some projects I could do that would be worth it to her. We could work together like we did in the hayfield."

"We didn't just work in the hayfield," Carla smiled. "You seduced me and made me want an adventure...and here we are."

"Right," I chuckled. "And now I'm a kidnapper."

Later, all of the marquee lights were on when we stood in front of the theater. It was dazzling and seemed to glow in the darkness. It was so bright and radiant it made the dilapidated buildings of the rest of the town invisible. The theater was like an oasis in the desert. Several cars and pickup trucks were parked across the street and at least a dozen well-dressed people stood in front of the ticket office buying tickets from Mosa. In the lobby were others looking at the posters. Several women wore long dresses with shawls on their shoulders. The men were dressed in dark suits with neckties. 

"I think we're under dressed," Carla whispered.

"I don't believe what I'm seeing." I looked around completely baffled.

When we approached the brightly lit box office, Mosa smiled. She had a red flower in her dark hair and wore a white peasant blouse that revealed her shoulders. Several colorful beaded necklaces hung from her neck and I noticed a tattoo of a bird on her arm. 

"Anna has left tickets for you," she said, handing us two tickets. 

"You have quite a crowd here," I said, glancing around. 

"Yes, this is a good night. Many of the people come to all of the performances and this year, more than last year. She is creating a following."

"How do they know about it?" Carla asked.

"The newspaper. Many stories have been written about Anna and the theater. People are curious and they come and tell others. Though the officials think she is breaking the law and crazy, people applaud what she has done and don't care about the law. I think they like that she is defying the law and creating a theater in this ghost town." 

"Interesting," I responded, still bewildered.

When we walked through the lobby, several people looked at us in our jeans. Still, since we were going to the theater, Carla wore her flannel shirt and had her hair down. I decided to tie my long hair into a ponytail and wore a brown sweater I hardly wear. 

Miguel stood at rear of the lobby in front of the open door that led into the auditorium. He no longer looked like a janitor but was wearing a white dress shirt with a black bow tie and neatly pressed black pants. He looked elegant with his white hair, white bushy mustache and dark skin.  

He bowed his head slightly when he took our tickets and handed each of us programs.

"Good Evening, Senor and Senorita." 

"Good evening, Miguel," I responded and returned his nod.

"You look handsome," Carla said. 

Miguel smiled slightly."You have excellent seats in the center."

When we took our seats, the rest of the audience gradually took their seats and sat scattered in the mostly empty theater. Four people sat directly in back of us. A couple sat at the other end of our row and glanced at us. The chandelier above us cast a dim light and I was able to read the program. On the front was an elegant, detailed pen and ink drawing of toe shoes. Under the picture in beautiful calligraphy, "The Avalon Theater proudly presents Swan Lake with Anna Polovna." 

I was sure Mosa had made the drawing of the toe shoes. Inside, also hand written in beautiful calligraphy was a short biography of Anna and a quote from her. "Swan Lake is my favorite ballet. I first performed it at the Metropolitan Opera in New York when I was twenty-two. I have performed it on many stages all over the world and am now proud to perform it at the Avalon Theater." 

On the opposite page was a history of the ballet. I read it and was impressed with how much care had been taken to present information about the composer Peter Tchaikovsky and the folk tale about a princess that was turned into a swan by the curse of an evil sorcerer. It was first performed by the Bolshoi Ballet in eighteen-seventy-seven. 

When the lights of the chandelier dimmed, a spotlight shone on the bare stage and focused on the set that Mosa had painted. It was a picture of a lake surrounded by willow trees and a dozen or so swans on the water.

"What a beautiful painting," Carla whispered. "Mosa is a genius."

Suddenly, the chandelier lights went out. The theater was dark and then another spotlight made the stage glow. Recorded music came through speakers mounted on either side of the stage. It was scratchy, but it didn't seem to matter as Tchaikovsky's music filled the theater. I glanced down at the program and saw she was performing solo excerpts from the ballet and the first one was "The Grand Adage."

When Anna entered the stage, several people applauded. I remembered earlier how she was slightly drunk in her dressing room and looked old and weary, but the woman I saw on the staged was now transformed and seemed vibrant and youthful. She moved gracefully across the stage on her toes, her arms extended, her long legs carrying her as if on air. Her hair was in a tight bun and her head held high on her long neck. She twirled, leaped and gracefully moved her arms and hands as if they were the swan's wings and then she rose on her toes and with her arms extended, spun around faster and faster, almost in a blur. When she finished her dance, she came to the front of the stage and bent low in an elegant curtsy. She left the stage and the spotlight blackened the stage. A few minutes later, Anna returned to the stages and danced to another theme and then another. She seemed tireless and I was dazzled by her performance and how she held the audience spellbound.

When she finished and curtsied, the audience applauded, but then a recording came on with thunderous applause and "Bravo! Bravo! being shouted. It was odd to hear what sounded like the a large crowd applauding and cheering. Anna blew kisses to the audience and it seemed like the loud applause was a drug she needed. I glanced up at the painted balcony and noticed everyone of the faces had smiles painted on their lips, something I hadn't noticed earlier. 

After Anna curtsied several times and the dozen or so people in the audience stood up and clapped along with the thunderous recorded applause, Mosa came down the aisle carrying a bouquet of roses. I whispered to Carla, "Where would she get roses around here?" I wondered if they were plastic but wasn't certain.

While Carla and I applauded, I glanced around at the others applauding,then at Anna accepting the flowers and blowing kisses out at the audience. After she dashed across the stage and disappeared into the wings, we sat in stunned silence staring at the empty stage.

When the stage lights were turned off, the chandelier above us came on and brought back the dim light. As people walked up the center aisle, a few people glanced at us as they walked by our row. One woman narrowed her eyes when she looked at Carla. She looked at me, then back at Carla before continuing up the aisle. I hoped we weren't recognized, but also wondered by their formal clothes if they were pretending to be living more aristocratic lives. Still, I was concerned by the way the woman looked at us.

When the theater was empty and we were about to leave the auditorium, Miquel came to us and handed us a note. It was from Anna written in flowing letters. "Please join me in my trailer for a drink." 

I thought this would be a good time to ask if I could barter my labor for the trailer. Before going there, we stood outside under the marquee's bright lights. We watched the people drive away and could see their headlights shine on the desolate street as they drove past the dilapidated buildings and old cars as they left the ghost town. 

A few moments later, the lights of the marquee went out and we stood in the cool air and dark until a spotlight on the corner of the theater came on. 

"Well that was something," I said, astonished at what I had experienced.

"I loved it. I thought it was magical. She's amazing." Carla glanced at the poster of Anna in front of the theater, barely visible in the dim light. 

"You're right, but it was also weird." 

Carla didn't say anything, but I could feel her thinking. My mind was swirling with what I had just experienced. I glanced at Carla and could tell she was equally baffled. When we started walking, Carla hooked her arm in my elbow. I glanced up at the spotlight and saw hundreds of insects buzzing in its heat. Except for the spotlight, we were surrounded by darkness, but the spotlight helped us find our way to Anna's trailer.

When we knocked, Mosa opened the green wooden door and we entered. 

"Welcome," she smiled. She still had the red flower in her hair. 

Anna was lounging in a dark green recliner. Her dark hair was no longer in a tight bun but now loose and flowed below her shoulders. She wore black slacks and the flowery kimono she had worn earlier. She was barefooted and had a glass of bourbon in her hand which she held up to us in greeting. On the floor next to the chair was a large white ceramic bowl with water and I imagined she had been soaking her feet. 

"I loved your performance," Carla said. "I never saw a ballet before."

Mosa sat down next to Anna and took her hand. They smiled at each other and I realized they were lovers. Interesting, I thought, suddenly realizing why Mosa was living in Anna's trailer.

"Mosa, darling, would you be a dear and pour our guests a drink."

"I'll just have a little," Carla said, indicating with her fingers what a little looked like. 

While Mosa poured our drinks, Carla and I sat on a small beige couch across from her. 

"I'm delighted you were able to see my performance and my beautiful theater. Isn't it divine?"

"Yes, I'm so impressed with what you have done with the theater. It's amazing," I said. "I don't know how you did it."

"It was passion and faith." She glanced over at Mosa. "And finding talent like this wonderful artist."

"Faith?" Carla asked. "Are you religious? Do you mean faith in God?"

"No, faith in myself and my vision," she answered just as Mosa handed us our drinks. "Passion and faith that I could bring the theater back to life and that is what I have done."

"Well, it also took a lot of work," I said."I'm a carpenter and I can see how much work was involved." 

I took a sip of my bourbon and watched Carla sniff before bringing the glass to her lips. I could see she wasn't used to drinking hard liquor though I knew she liked beer.

Mosa sat next to Anna, but she was drinking water. I saw how she looked at me as if she knew what was on my mind. 

I wasn't sure what to say about getting the trailer, but tried to form the sentence in my head while Anna spoke. I was glad Carla was paying attention to what Anna was saying because my mind was elsewhere. 

"I have a proposition," I announced, just as Anna finished saying something about her dream for the town. 

"Yes, what is it?" Anna looked at me and narrowed her eyes.

"We could use your trailer to hide from the police. I would like to earn it in exchange for building something you need. A Barter."

"Interesting." Anna bit her lower lip as she thought. She sat back and I could she was considering my offer. She gazed at me, then glanced at Mosa. 

"Carla and I will give you a week of labor in exchange for the trailer."

Anna rubbed her chin as she listened then spoke.

"Do you think you can renovate the restaurant up the street?"

"Do you mean Dot's Cafe? We saw it when we drove in."

"Yes, but it will now be The Bistro," she said. "I love that name...The Bistro."

"I will help," Mosa said. 

"Cool!" Carla said. "You can paint more people on the walls...pictures of people eating."

At first, I thought Carla shouldn't have said that. It sounded sarcastic, but maybe it was me who heard it that way. Carla was being enthusiastic and serious, while I was still thinking this whole thing was completely nuts. Still, what difference did it make? 

"Yes, I can renovate the restaurant if you get the supplies. We'll bring that restaurant back to life for you. We can get a lot done in a week...you will have The Bistro and we will have the trailer."

I finished my drink and noticed that Carla had emptied the little bit she had in her glass. 

"Mind if I pour myself a little more," I asked. 

"Pour me more," Anna said, holding up her glass. "Let's celebrate."

"Me, too," Carla said. 

"Are you sure?" I saw that her glass was empty.

"Yes.I want more." She scowled slightly in fake annoyance, then smiled.

I took her glass and poured a little more and saw her watching. 

"More...a little more than that," she said.

"Okay," I said and half filled her glass, then poured more into Anna's glass and mine. 

"We'll check out the place tomorrow and make some plans." 

"I have stored a great deal of lumber and we have paint. It's in the back of the hotel. I'm sure I have everything you will need. I planned ahead because I knew I would need it. Now I have very little money, but one day I will be rich again...and famous."

I realized what a smart woman Anna was even though I also wondered about her sanity. Is she shrewd or nuts? I thought and glanced at Mosa and wondered about her also.  

I finished my drink and saw that Carla had finished hers. When we stood up to leave, I knew she was drunk when she wobbled and leaned against me. 

While I put my arm around Carla and we walked to the front door, I turned to Mosa. "Let's meet in front of the restaurant at eight."

She smiled and nodded. 

"Good night, Anna," I said and guided Carla out the door.

When we staggered into our trailer, we were already kissing and groping and it wasn't long before we made wild, drunk love, rolling over and over on the bed. Carla did all she could to keep her screams down but couldn't. Either could I. We were both out of our minds. I was sure Anna and Mosa heard us, but in our drunken state, didn't care. After our lustful fucking, we lay in each others' arms and fell into a deep sleep.



The Drifter Ch. 07



When we walked into what was once Dot's Cafe, I was surprised the restaurant did not smell moldy and guessed it was because of the dryness of the desert. I stood in the entrance and looked up at the huge spider webs covering the circular fan, light fixtures, and the ceiling in the corners of the room. The restaurant was filthy with thick layers of dust and debris. Old newspapers were piled in a corner by the door. Dirty jars, coffee mugs and various dishes and bowls were stacked in dust on a shelf behind a long splintered wooden counter. A dozen dirty round wooden stools sat in front of the counter. On another shelf sat old pots and pans. A six burner dust covered black stove sat behind the counter with a large pot on it. 

On the opposite wall, across from the counter, were three wooden booths. I could see they were once brown but were now faded and covered with dust and spider webs. One large round table sat in the center of the room. A few smaller tables were along another wall. In front of the window were three more tables. Seeing all of the tables and chairs in place with spider webs under the legs, I imagined people sitting there many years ago and could almost hear the ghost of chatter in the silence. I glanced in the small bathroom and saw the remnants of dead mice in the toilet. One day Dot's restaurant was alive with activity and then it slowly died. 

While Carla and Mosa walked around, I saw a large yellowed poster tacked to the wall with the words menu at the top. The letters were a faded red, but I was able to read what Dot served as well as the prices. Eggs with bacon, toast and coffee-fifteen cents, Dot's Hot Cakes with sausage and coffee—twenty-two cents, Hamburger on bun with the works—eighteen cents, coffee and tea—five cents. At the bottom: Friday night special—Roast Beef with mashed potatoes and succotash -Ninety-five cents. Apple Pie and ice cream—twenty-five cents. 

I chuckled when I thought about the price of food today and wondered what happened that made everything more expensive. Standing next to the counter I looked around and felt I had stepped back in time, but I also saw what had to be done in the next week to turn Dot's Cafe into The Bistro.

"I think this place needs spit and polish. We can make it beautiful,"Carla said, as she stood next to me and looked around. 

"I can see it," Mosa said. "I will paint a mural and I have many paintings I can put on the wall. I know other artists too."

"It might need more than spit and polish," I said. "I'll see if the building is structurally sound and do what I can, but I also want to repair and refinish the counter and the tables and chairs. I used to work for a boat builder in Maine, and think I can make those booths special." 

"Anna told me she wants a stage for entertainment. She said people will drive great distances for good entertainment and good food."

"That's true," I said and wondered if Mosa was right. Anna was magical. Maybe she would actually bring Avalon to life. I was mystified by Anna and amazed how Carla and I had drifted into this ghost town in Death Valley and here we were about to help Anna bring a dilapidated restaurant back to life in exchange for the trailer.

For a moment, I wondered if we should stay and hide here and become part of Anna's dream. There's something appealing about making dreams come true. The police had already checked it out and we'd be safe, but then I realized I wanted to make it to Bolinas with Carla. Though I didn't know what they were, I knew I had my own dreams. I wanted to see my old friends, Steve and Catherine and be in a town that had no road signs to it. Perhaps there, I would find what I was looking for. Having the trailer would give us a good shot at getting there without getting caught. 

We got busy and worked from eight to six every day. Miquel worked with us. Mosa made sandwiches and within two days the walls were clean enough for her to start painting a mural. I was sanding the counter and started on the tables and decided I would do the refinishing when all of the furniture was ready. After doing that and saw that the counter, stools and booths looked brand new, I built the small stage in the corner. I had checked all of the lumber and supplies in the hotel next door and saw that in addition to wood, nails and screws, there were several gallons of paint and varnish. 

Anna came to see what we were doing every day. She stood in the doorway and looked around. She smiled and nodded but didn't say a word. After five minutes she would wave goodbye and walk away, but I could tell she was happy. 

On the day I was working on the stage, she came over and watched. I looked up at her and could see her mind was far away. Her eyes were closed and she had a smile on her lips as if she was remembering something. I wanted to ask what she was thinking about but didn't. Then she spoke. 

"I love a good stage. All of my life I have lived to be on the stage. The theater is my life. You are making me happy." 

When she left I thought about her life as a world famous ballerina who performed on stages in New York and Europe and now on a stage in a ghost town. I remembered her saying she would be rich and famous again as if she knew it was going to happen. While I worked, I wondered if she was delusional or profound. 

Two more days and we will be on our way, I thought as I nailed down the last board on the stage. Mosa was on a ladder painting the mural on the wall. She was halfway finished and I could see what looked like the barren mountains surrounding Death Valley, but also saw she was painting a lush green garden with willow trees, colorful flowers and a huge waterfall pouring into a pond. She was creating an oasis in the desert and I knew she was painting Avalon. I was in awe of her talent. The half finished mural seemed to glow.

The next day, Miguel entered and was carrying a large wooden sign with The Bistro carved into the wood. The letters were painted a bright yellow and almost looked like gold. I couldn't believe my eyes. 

"That's magnificent," I said.

"Did you make that sign?" Carla asked.

"Si." Miguel smiled. 

"Good job, Miguel. It's perfect," Mosa said from the ladder. 

"Can you hang the sign outside?" he asked me. 

"I'll need your help, but yes, I can hang it."

It took over an hour to hang the sign above the door. When I climbed down from the ladder, I stood back on the sidewalk and looked up at the sign and then at the front of the building that Miguel had also painted with light blue paint and a yellow trim. I couldn't believe my eyes. Like the theater, the building sparkled in the late afternoon sun.

Carla had worked behind the counter and scrubbed the stove and the hood over it and made it shine. The dishes, pots and pans and silverware sparkled. I had made a shelf for wine glasses above the counter. Mosa had finished her mural of an oasis in the desert and had hung several of her paintings on the wall over the brown varnished booths. 

Anna came in and looked around. She applauded and smiled. "The trailer is yours."

Carla and I hugged in happiness in the sparkling cafe. We were glad to have helped Anna and her dream for Avalon, but we were excited to know we would be on the road again. While we embraced, Carla kissed my ear and whispered, "Take me home." I knew how she wanted to celebrate.

Though we made love every night before we went to sleep, and our morning snuggling always started slow, most mornings it ended with our rolling over each other several times before I lifted her arms above her head with Carla shouting, "Own me!" She loved being taken, but we both knew it was a playful fantasy, that I would never want to own her-still, there was something primal being expressed.

But that night, we celebrated with a hot, wild fuck, then, after having another can of chicken noodle soup, we made tender, slow love and fell asleep in each others arms.

The next morning, I hitched the trailer to my truck. After hugging Anna, Mosa and Miguel in front of our trailer, we started to drive away, but stopped for a minute in front of the theater and looked at it one last time. It seemed to glow in the morning sunlight. I looked at the poster of a much younger Anna on her toes, her arms extended and knew I would never forget her. 

I drove slowly up the street past several old dusty cars, then stopped in front of the restaurant. I looked up at the sign and the brightly painted blue and yellow building. 

"It's such a cute place. It's amazing," Carla said, staring at it. 

It was dazzling and I remembered what it looked like a week earlier and how it had been transformed. I looked up at the sign over the entrance.

"It's weird seeing a restaurant in this ghost town. There's no food. No chef. No one knows it exists. I wonder if anyone will ever eat there." 

"Maybe they will come just like people are starting to come to her theater." Carla shrugged her shoulder. "Who knows?"

After admiring The Bistro for a few minutes, I glanced at the boarded up hotel next door with Avalon written over the blacked out Hesterville and wondered if that was next. I glanced in the rear view mirror at the trailer and drove out of town and back to the highway that would take us to Santa Monica and the end of Route Sixty-six. We drove past the Mojave Reservation and I remembered meeting Charles and wondered what would become of his book. After two hours, I saw we were low on gas. I remembered passing a sign advertising The Mojave Truck Stop. 

A half hour later we were there. We pulled up to one of a dozen pumps. I felt confident that the license on my truck would not be seen because of the trailer, I was concerned that the California license on the trailer had expired. I also knew there were photos of Carla and a sketch of me being circulated and shown on television. 

I decided to take a chance and go inside to get some coffee and a snack while Carla paid for the gas and hoped we wouldn't be recognized.

While we poured ourselves coffee, Carla's cell phone rang. Again, she didn't answer it, but listened to the message so that I could hear her mother sobbing. "Please call and let us know you're alive. Please. I'm hysterical."

Carla closed her phone and slipped it into her shirt pocket. I could tell she was upset by how she closed her eyes and swallowed, as if holding back tears. She took a deep breath and started towards the door. "Let's go."

At the counter, I saw the headline on the newspaper. "Kidnapper Still on the Loose." A sketch of me was on the front page. I glanced at the young girl behind the counter and hoped she wouldn't look up and recognize me, then quickly went outside while Carla paid her.

Though I felt safer with the trailer, I knew we had to be careful until we got to Bolinas. When Carla got back into the truck, I took a sip of my coffee and turned to her. "I hope we make it." 

"We will," Carla said, but then she sighed deeply and I could see she was upset from hearing her mother's worried voice.

"Damn, I hate making my mom worry. Maybe I should call her."

"It's your call, Cara." I glanced her, but wished she had called before all of this running had started.

"I'm afraid she'll beg me to come home if I tell her I wasn't kidnapped."

"If you tell her you weren't kidnapped, the police would stop looking for me. You would be a run away and that's not a crime. Maybe we wouldn't be in all this trouble if you would just tell her the truth." I know she heard the frustration in my voice.

Carla closed her eyes and shook her head from side to side. "I know. I know, but I'm afraid to hear her voice." 

I knew she was afraid of her mother's pressure on her life and was avoiding confronting her. I didn't know what to say to comfort her. I wanted to give her the courage to tell her mother the truth that she wasn't kidnapped and the truth of why she ran away, but knew the courage had to come from her and not from me. 

"I can't go home. I need to be with you and I need to be me." She spoke with her eyes closed. 

I watched her take a deep sigh and could see she was trying to hold back tears. Her eyes were closed. Her lips were quivering. Though I wished she would tell her mother that she wasn't kidnapped, that she had to get away, and knew she'd feel relief, I didn't say anything. I knew if she told her mother the truth, we wouldn't be on the run from the police. I wouldn't be a hunted kidnapper, an outlaw. I wondered if I should be more insistent, but wanted her to break through her fear and end this mess. A few times I started to say something but swallowed my words. 

It was painful to see her suffering and was frustrated by her reluctance. "Say something. Do something," I muttered to myself, then turned on the ignition. I sighed deeply in frustration, then gripped the steering wheel and drove out of the gas station, uncertain where I was going and what would happen to us after Bolinas.



The Drifter Ch. 08



Three hours later, after driving past huge groves of orange trees, we arrived in Santa Monica and saw a large pier with the sign "Route Sixty-six ends here." I had made it. A warm sense of triumphant came over me for driving the entire historic route from Chicago. I wanted to walk on the boardwalk and enjoy the liveliness, but was afraid Carla and I would be recognized. 

It's not easy to find a parking place with a trailer, but we found one near the beach where a few other trailers parked. We sat in the truck and looked out at the Pacific and watched the waves, smelled the salt air and listened to the sound of the surf. The beach was lined with palm trees and hundreds of sail boats and large yachts sparkled on the slate gray water. 

It was a warm, sunny day and the beach was crowded. People walked by our trailer in bathing suits and light clothing. Everyone seemed tan. Some ate ice cream cones or carried beach umbrellas. Many were riding bicycles, skate boards or went by on roller skates. It seemed festive especially after a week on the Mojave desert. 

I had to get out and stretch and took the chance I wouldn't be noticed. Carla and I walked over to a bench on the edge of the boardwalk and looked out at the ocean. Just as I took a deep breath of salt air, I glanced down at a trash can and saw a folded up newspaper. I picked it up and saw the headline—Five State Manhunt for Kidnapper Continues. 

"Fuck!" I showed it to Carla. 

"I'm sorry. This is horrible."

"Carla, you have to call your mom and tell her you weren't kidnapped. This has to be over. I had no idea this would happen when I agreed to take you with me." 

"Are you sorry?"

"I don't know what I'm feeling. I'm not a kidnapper. I understand you're afraid to talk to your mother, but unless you do, we will be hiding and and running, I don't want to live like this."

Carla walked away from me, but I could see by her tense shoulders and the way she moved she was upset. I glanced back at the newspaper then looked out at the ocean and crowded beach. I was angry, but wondered if I was angry at her, or at myself for being in this situation, for not insisting that Carla call her mom and clear things us. I cursed my own stupidity. I did this to myself. What's wrong with me? 

While I was standing there, a police car drove by. I didn't want them to see me so I faced the ocean, but I also didn't want them to recognize Carla. Her picture was in all of the papers and on television and I knew the police had seen bulletins. I glanced over at her and knew she didn't see the police. 

I heard the police car stop and a door slam. I didn't want to turn around so I lifted the newspaper to hide my face and pretended I was reading. Carla was standing about ten feet from me when I saw the police walk up to her. I didn't know what to do. I knew if I went back to the trailer and they realized they had found Carla, they would find me. If I walked away, I could hide in the crowd, duck into a bar or coffee shop. When the police started talking to her, she glanced at me then quickly started speaking. I had no idea what she was saying. Perhaps she was lying and saying she's not the person, but then I realized this is nuts. I'm not a kidnapper. If Carla wasn't going to face reality and call her mother, I was going to end this and tell the truth. 

I walked over to Carla, took her hand and faced the two policemen. I lifted Carla's hand to them and felt her gripping mine. We looked at each other before I spoke. 

"She wasn't kidnapped. She's running away and came willingly. This is all a huge mistake."

"What are you talking about?" The taller policeman stared at me, bewildered. 

"He's right. He didn't kidnap me. I asked him to take me with him. My mom got it all wrong. This is a huge mistake. I wasn't kidnapped."

The taller policeman glanced at me and then at Carla."Why didn't you call her and tell her you weren't kidnapped. The report said someone called and said you were taken against your will."

"That was Dustin. I left my truck there. He's not a nice man. He must have told my grandfather what he saw and then my mom called the police. I asked Josh to take me with him. I wasn't kidnapped."

They were both quiet and looked at us then at each other. I noticed the small policeman had a scar next to his mouth. He took a deep

breath. "Are you sure you weren't brainwashed by him—that happens."

"I'm not brainwashed. This is not his fault. I asked him to take me. Please believe me. He's not a kidnapper." 

"If I was a kidnapper, do you think I'd come over to you? I'm trying to end this nightmare." 

I saw the taller policeman narrow his eyes and step towards me. "Listen, I can't let you go. She could be brainwashed."

The other policeman grabbed my arm. "Come with us. We're taking you in."

I let go of Carla's hand and tried shaking his arm loose, but he suddenly grabbed my other arm, turned me around and snapped handcuffs on my wrists and told me my rights. 

"Hey!This is a mistake."

"Let him go," Carla shouted. 

"God damn it Carla, call your mom, now." 

"Let him go. He didn't kidnap me."

Suddenly, while I was being shoved into the police car, a crowd gathered around us. 

"That's the kidnapper," someone shouted. 

"No, he's not," Carla shouted back. 

"Call your mom," I yelled as I was being pushed into the backseat of the car. 

"Come with us, Miss," the other policeman said after speaking into the small phone on his shoulder. 

"Bastard!" someone yelled at me. 

"Pervert!" another voice shouted. 

Another police car pulled up and Carla was put into the backseat. 

"He's not a kidnapper," Carla yelled at the crowd. "He didn't kidnap me."

When we drove away, I looked at the trailer and realized it was open and that my tools were in the back of my truck. I glanced back and saw Carla sitting in the back of the other car. She looked frightened, but so was I. I had never been arrested before. 

When we arrived at police headquarters, I was led into a small room with a table in the center. I was still handcuffed and angry. A few minutes later, Carla came in. I saw her eyes were red. When she came over to me and put her arms around me, I stiffened and felt the handcuffs pulling at my wrists. 

"I'm so sorry. I didn't want this to happen." 

She hugged me and I could feel her anguish, but I also wanted the handcuffs off of me and to be released. 

"Carla, you have to call your mom. This should not have happened. You have to talk to her and tell her the truth."

"You're right. I know I should have talked to her before. I was afraid."

"Well, stop being afraid, goddamn it!"

The two policemen were standing by the table, listening when the door opened and a tall, chubby, bald headed man came in. He wore a white shirt with the collar opened and a loose tie. I noticed a badge on his belt and a small gun on his hip. He had a folder which he threw on the table. He looked like a character from an old TV show.

"I'm Sargent Marshall. Now, tell me what the hell's going on here? He sat down and looked up at Carla with her arms around me.

"He didn't kidnap me. This is all my fault. I can explain." Carla took a deep breath.

"I hope so. The police in five states have been looking for you."

One of the policemen took the handcuffs off and I took a deep breath. 

"Thanks, man." I rubbed my wrists and turned to the detective. "All I did was take her with me when she asked. She's got problems at home. I didn't fucking kidnap her."

I was angry and just wanted to be on my way. I thought about Carla's problems at home, but at the moment I didn't care and suddenly wasn't sure whether I wanted Carla to come with me or not. Her reluctance to confront her mother created this mess. All I wanted was to be left alone without hassles and to get as far away as I could with or without her. 

I turned to Carla. "I told you I was a loner." 

"I know you did."

Carla reached for my hand which I pulled away. I was confused and couldn't look at her. She was the reason I was in this mess. Why did I agree to to take her? Why the fuck was I so stupid when I just wanted to get on with my life? Why didn't I just tell her to get over it and call her mom?

Even though she didn't know Dustin would take my license number and give it to the police, or realize her running away would result in a massive manhunt, still, she hid her truck there and when her mom called, she could have said something, but didn't. I tried to understand and accept her fear of confronting her mother, but in hindsight I was angry at myself for being so understanding. Why am I such an idiot? 

She turned to the detective. "He didn't kidnap me. This is my fault." 

"So you're running away...is that what you're doing?"

"Yes. It's a long story, but yes. We just met at my grandfather's ranch a little over a week ago and I saw my chance to get away. I had to get away. He's helping me. This is all a big mistake."

"That's the truth. Now can I get out of here and be on my way?"

When I said that, I didn't look at Carla. I couldn't. I just wanted to be out of there and free. I had my own problems, I didn't need hers. 

I knew I left a wife in Maine. Her parents thought I was a bum and my parents wanted me to see a shrink. I was just as trapped in expectations as Carla. I was unhappy and lost. I needed space. I needed to be alone, but when she begged me to take her, why did I say yes? Was it lust or love that motivated me? I didn't know. She was beautiful and sexy and needed me, so I said yes when I should have said no. Sometimes the line between lust and love is thin and one thing leads to another. Sometimes, the real reasons we do things are the ones we are least conscious of. Maybe we're all selfish and self absorbed and pretend we're not. Who knows? All I knew was I was angry and wanted to be out of there and knew she felt my coldness.

"I'm so sorry," Carla said and took my hand.

I could hear the tremble in her voice and wanted to resist the anguish I heard. I was being torn apart. 

"I'm so sorry," she repeated. 

Her words were like a dagger and I felt cruel not facing her.

"I love you." She touched my arm, urging me to turn around, but I stiffened and didn't budge. I felt myself hardening and becoming protective of my life and sinking back into my shell like a clam.

I glanced at the detective standing in front of me and then at the two policemen. I couldn't believe this was actually happening. This is like some movie. 

"Can I go?" 

"Not yet. We have to check and see if her mother will drop the charges." 

"Why? Carla already told you the story. She's the so-called victim." 

"I'll call my mom and tell her what's happening and make her drop the charges."

I turned to her and yelled. "I wish you had done that before. You could have saved us a lot of grief. This whole mess is nuts. Why the fuck didn't you call her." 

I knew I was being brutal by suddenly attacking her and recognized my passive aggressive tendencies from other relationships that caused blowups. 

Carla looked away, then took the cell phone out of her shirt pocket and made the call. She was crying and the tears on her cheeks broke my heart. I was surprised she would talk to her mother in front of the police and realized it didn't matter. I was glad she was finally calling and hoped this would be the end of this mess, but I was also wondering if I should end this relationship, put her on a bus and go back to being a loner. I was confused and angry. Who needs this? Why am I doing this? 

I watched Carla hold the phone to her ear and close her eyes as if she was praying for strength. She gripped the phone, then opened her eyes when she heard her mother's voice. She glanced at me as if wanting my approval and support, then took a deep swallow of air before speaking. 

"Mom, it's me...yes, it's me, Carla. I'm in California at a police station. Calm down, Mom. I'm fine. I wasn't kidnapped. I know I should have called, but I couldn't. I'm really sorry." 

She nodded and listened then closed her eyes and I knew she was being lectured. 

"Mom you have to listen to me. I'm not coming home. I can't. You have to drop the charges. I'll let you speak to the detective here."

Carla glanced at me then turned away. "Please, mom, for once in my life will you listen to me. How can I make you understand...I have to do this and you have to talk to the detective and drop the charges and end this nightmare...I'm giving my phone to him, now tell him. Please!"

When she handed the phone to Detective Marshall, she took a deep breath and placed her hand on her heart. "That was so hard." 

"Carla, I'm glad you spoke to your mom, but I'm not sure this is going to work."

"What are you saying?" 

"I'm saying I think I made a mistake taking you with me."

She was stunned and I knew I took the breath out of her.

"But we're free now. The charges will be dropped. We can go to Bolinas."

Detective Marshall handed Carla the phone. "Okay, you two are free to go. I'll get the word out that the charges have been dropped, but your troubles aren't over."

"Why? What do you mean?" I asked. 

"I can drop the charges but this is a big story. You're in all of the newspapers and on television. Everyone's going to want to know about you two."

When he said that, I turned to Carla, "I'm out of here. I don't want this."

"Wait. Please, I want to go with you."

"I want to be alone. That's why I left. I feel trapped. I don't want to be a big story."

"You can't just leave me here." 

I didn't respond and realized I needed a ride back to my truck and trailer. 

"Can I get a lift back to my truck so I can get going."

"Follow me," the smaller policeman said. "We'll take you back." 

"Thanks," I said and started towards the door.

"Are you coming, Miss?" The taller policeman asked.

"I don't know," she answered then looked at me. "Am I?"

Her question broke my heart. I looked at her standing in front of the table. I wasn't sure what to say, but knew I couldn't leave her stranded at the police station and she had her stuff in the trailer. 

"Yes, come on Carla then we'll figure out what's next."



The Drifter Ch. 09



While driving north on Route One, we were stuck in bumper to bumper traffic around LA. The so-called expressway was slow and crowded with cars, trucks, motorcycles and buses. Horns were honking and exhaust was rising from cars that moved a few feet and then would not budge for five or so minutes. I thought about the people who drove this expressway everyday to work and then back home and imagined the number of hours they spent in their cars sitting in polluted traffic. This is insane. I bet they spend two or three weeks a year just sitting in their idling cars. 

On both sides of the congested highway were glitzy malls, fast food restaurants, car dealerships, billboards advertising hotels, motels, lawyers, vodka, or beer, or whiskey, or soda and they all seemed to have pictures of glamorous, sexy women, holding a glass to their red lips and looking out with seductive eyes. Route Sixty-six had been littered with advertising billboards and florescent flashing lights, but nothing like the sprawling, crowded jungle of signs, buildings and cars around LA. 

We drove past the Hollywood sign on the side of a high hill.

"Wow!" Carla leaned forward and looked up at it.

"That's probably the most famous sign in the world." 

"I can't believe I'm here. I love movies."

"I do too, but there's a lot of junk made here that cost millions of dollars to make and it's all escapism."

"I know, but I like romantic comedies. Sometimes they're silly, but I like to laugh."

"I never watch romantic comedies—they're so unreal and stupid."

"I always go with my best friend, Hannah. You'd like her."

"I would, why?"

"She's fun. She's who I go to bars with. If my mom ever knew where I went with Hannah, she would have a heart attack."

"Well, you almost gave her a heart attack thinking you were kidnapped."

"I know, but that's what I mean, she doesn't know the real me."

"I know the real you."

Carla laughed. "That's for sure."

"Tell me about the bars you go to with Hannah. I'm curious. I know you like looking sexy; you told me you like when guys look at you, but then you freeze and don't know what to do."

"That's true, but I like going to those places with Hannah. I'm kind of her safety net so she doesn't have to go alone. We get all dolled up, you know tight dresses, lots of cleavage. You should see this mini-skirt I have. I feel so sexy in it. You'd get really hard if you saw me."

"Yes, but if I came up to you and made a play for you what would you do?"

"I'd clam up. I'd blush like I did in the truck when you said you thought I was sexy, but if I have a few drinks, I loosen up."

"Really, you didn't tell me that part."

"I don't really like the taste, but you saw what happened when I drank at Anna's the other night. If the guy buys me a drink, it helps me relax and I can handle the flirting. I get horny."

We were stuck behind a big truck and moving at a snail's pace-stopping, sitting, then starting before stopping again for several minutes—so I was enjoying learning more about Carla. It's funny how you think you know a person, and then they open up another part of themselves and you discover another layer. I remembered being in the truck with her going up to the hayfield and how different it was after I broke through and we fucked in the barn. I remembered her telling me she was insatiable. I didn't say anything when she said that, but I was intrigued and wanted to find out how insatiable. 

"So tell me what happens when you relax and this guy comes on to you."

"Why do you want to know?" She tilted her head and smiled coyly.

"Because I'm curious about you. I want to know who I'm going to Bolinas with."

"I see." She nodded, thinking of what to say. "Well, it all depends on the guy. Sometimes I tell him to please move his hand away when he touches my thigh, and sometimes, if I like his looks, I let him move his hand under my short skirt and let him know I'm interested."

I was getting hard listening.

"Then what?"

"Depends."

"On what?"

"How hot he's making me and how drunk I am."

My cock was bulging in my jeans.

Just then horns were blasting in the cars behind us and the truck in front of us was spewing fumes. Carla leaned back and I could see her nipples poking at her tight T-shirt. 

"So if this guy makes you horny and hot, what do you do?"

"Like I said, it depends on what he's doing and how many drinks I've had."

"Okay, so you've had a few drinks and he's got his hand under your skirt and he's rubbing your thigh, what would you do?"

When she saw the bulge in my jeans, she smiled, then bit her lower lip and moved her hand to my hard cock and started rubbing it.

"This is what I'd do and I'd whisper in his ear, "I want this."

"And..."

"We'd go out to his car and I'd give him a blow job like I did to you in my bedroom, and then we'd fuck in the back seat." She paused and saw the expression on my face and added, "It only happened once, usually, I chicken out, but I like turning guys on." 

Still, I was surprised to hear what she was saying. She wasn't as innocent as I first believed. 

Just as Carla unzipped my jeans and reached for my cock, the truck in front of me started moving. I hadn't noticed until the car in back of me blasted his horn and jarred me back to where we were. She lifted her head and sat back in her seat."To be continued,"she said. 

Traffic started moving faster and I realized there had been an accident when we passed a tow truck and several police cars with their twirling blue flashing lights. 

"So you're not the innocent good girl your grandparents and mom think you are."

"Well, I'm not a slut, Josh. I just like going out with Hannah to a bar every once in awhile. What's wrong with that?"

"I don't think you're a slut. I think it's cool that you let the good girl who wants to be bad out."

"It's not easy being one way with my mom. It was killing me. The pressure to become an accountant when that's not what I want to be and not marrying Allen...if they knew about my on-line life, they'd be shocked."

"Really," I said.

"You're finding out a lot about me, aren't you?"

"Yes, but I'm not surprised. I'm glad you're letting me know more about the real Carla."

She took my hand and squeezed it.

"I'm glad you accept me. That's what I need...a man who accepts me and who loves to fuck as much as I do."

I lifted her hand to my lips and kissed her fingers. After over an hour of bumper to bumper, we were able to drive smoothly now that we were away from LA. We drove past dozens of suburban housing developments where all of the houses looked alike and next to them, stood high rise office buildings that gleamed in the late morning sun. I knew at one time this was all farm land or small towns, but now was congested and ugly. We listened to music on the radio. For awhile, Carla napped with her head against the window. We parked in a rest stop and went into the trailer for lunch. We were tempted to lay down on the bed and mess around, but decided we'd better keep going if we wanted to reach Bolinas before dark. 

Carla took over the driving, while I rested. The radio was playing some rock and roll and I enjoyed watching her hands drumming on the steering wheel and bopping her head from side to side. She knew the words to songs I had never heard. She asked me if the music bothered me while I was resting. I told her it didn't and I liked watching her play the steering wheel. 

While she drove, we were now in more open space. I looked out at huge farms with long rows of various vegetables growing as far as I could see. Every few rows had huge hoses spinning and spraying long arching gushes of water over the acres of crops. I remembered seeing the trickling Colorado River and knew it had been diverted to irrigate these fields. I was aware of the world's water crisis and saw how these ignorant practices came from greed and desperation. It hurt to think where it was all heading.  

It was mid-afternoon when we stopped at a gas station about fifty miles or so south of San Francisco. It was a busy highway with strip malls, and all the fast food places on both sides of the road. It felt good to go into the convenience store and get a coffee and snack and not feel like I was a fugitive. 

Next to the gas station we noticed a bar called "The Pussy Cat." It had a big sign with a red blinking florescent sign that said, "Ten Gorgeous Girls, Nine Gorgeous Costumes."

"That's a strip joint. What a funny sign," I said. 

"Let's check it out," Carla said.

"Are you serious?"

"Yes. I've never been in one."

"Me either, but I don't believe you want to go into a strip joint. Why do you want to check it out?"

"I just do. Come on. I've always wanted to see what it's like."

"I think we should keep going. We're three hours away. I want to get to Bolinas before it gets dark." 

"Let's check it out. Come on. Fifteen minutes and then we'll go."

I reluctantly said yes and we drove the truck and trailer to the bar next door and parked off to the side. The parking spots in front were all taken with a variety of cars, pickup trucks and motorcycles. Some of the cars were definitely high end ones. I noticed a red Porche and several shiny black BMWs. The sign on the door said No Cover Charge. 

"I could go for a beer," I said when I opened the door. 

It was dark inside, but we could see the brightly lighted stage with a long metal pole in the center and a dancer in a skimpy costume holding it with both hands, arching her back with the pole between her legs. She was moving to the sound of a saxophone and drums. A long bar was on one side and half of the tables were filled with a variety of men, mostly in their forties or fifties, and a few women dressed in tight dresses, showing a lot of cleavage. I was certain they were prostitutes. Two waitresses wearing tight black shorts, tank tops and cat ears on their heads, carried drinks. It was crowded for an afternoon. We found two stools and ordered two drafts from the bartender—a woman with bleached blonde hair, probably in her fifties wearing a tight T-shirt and jeans. I couldn't help but chuckle at the small cross that hung just above her cleavage.

We clicked glasses and faced the stage and watched the woman with her back arched sliding up and down the pole between her legs, her long black hair almost touched the floor, her large breasts sat on her chest like balloons. She looked out at the audience of men-some wearing expensive looking suits, others in t-shirts and jeans and, at one table, four young, drunk sailors in their starched white uniforms who were watching with their tongues hanging out. One of the women wearing a red dress sat on an old man's lap and played with his white hair and licked his ear. Another was leaning against a bald headed man with a mustache. I could see her hand was between his legs. Several tables were at the edge of the stage and one of the men threw money, while the others sat staring up at the dancer with their eyes and mouths wide open. One man yelled, "Show me your tits!" Another yelled, "Ride my pole!" 

I finished my beer and glanced at Carla watching the dancer, while I was watching the men and thought how desperate for sex they must be to come to a strip joint in the afternoon to gawk at a sexy woman earning money by tantalizing them. 

"See enough," I asked Carla.

"Yes, this is kind of weird, but I wanted to see it."

"We live in a sex-starved culture. Why do you think pornography gets more hits on the internet than any other sites?"

Carla didn't answer.

"And women are no different than men," I continued. "Most of these men are probably married, or were married and come here to watch a sexy, practically naked woman dancing with a pole between her legs, but women are no different. Many women are just as sex-starved." 

"It's kind of sad," Carla said. 

"Many people are forced to live hypocritical lives. Thoreau said, 'The mass of of men live lives of quiet desperation.'"

Carla finished her beer and hopped off of her stool. "I know about desperation."

"Me, too." 

Two hours later we were driving past San Francisco and crossed the Golden Gate Bridge. Route One was still crowded, but I knew we were getting closer when I saw a sign for Stinson Beach. According to my directions, Bolinas was about ten miles away. I knew that Bolinas was a peninsula off of the highway. I had instructions to look for a Mexican restaurant, and then go exactly one mile and look for a small road on the left and take that for two miles and we'd see a farm on the right and then a school building and we'd be in Bolinas. 

"Steve's place is on the Mesa," I said, leaning forward over the steering wheel. 

"What's a Mesa?" Carla also leaned forward, looking.

"It's a plateau that leads to the cliffs overlooking an ocean."

When we found the dirt road leading to the Mesa, it was steep and bumpy with lots of pot holes and gullies. I drove slowly and felt the strain of pulling the trailer. When we reached the top, I followed Steve's direction and turned left on to another dirt road that had huge pot holes. I wondered what this road was like after a heavy rain and the large holes became small lakes. 

"I wonder why they don't fix these roads," Carla asked. 

"'Cause people would drive too fast. I bet that's why."

We drove down the dirt road past several old houses and a sheep farm. When I saw the sign, Poplar Road, I knew we were there. I could see the Pacific Ocean about a hundred yards from where we turned into the lane leading to Steve's house. 

"What's that?" Carla asked.

I looked up and saw what looked like a huge dark cloud heading towards us and getting closer. It was coming from the ocean and I had never seen anything like that. It covered the sun, though it was still daylight. 

I parked and got out of the truck and watched the dark cloud getting closer. It seemed ominous as it came closer and swept over the house, making it difficult to see. I saw a guy walking towards us and wondered if it was Steve. 

Who ever it was looked like he was coming out of the mysterious dark cloud. Carla stood next to me. When he got closer, he waved and I saw it was Steve. His hair was still long but much grayer than the last time I saw him. 

"Welcome to shangra-la," he said when we hugged. 

"Is this fog we're standing in? I've never seen anything like this." 

"Yeah. It gets like this every afternoon around this time, and in the morning, but then it burns off. You'll see. You're going to love it here."

"I already do," Carla said and shook Steve's hand. "I'm Carla."

I was surprised when she said that and saw how confident she seemed to introduce herself before I did.

"That's some trailer," Steve said when he looked at it in back of us.

"Wait 'till you hear how we got it. This has been quite a trip."

"We've got a lot of catching up to do. Come up to the house. Your trailer's fine where it is...we can hook you up to the electricity. It's solar."

"Great. So you're off the grid."

"Most people up here are...and we get great wind."

We walked through the thick fog, and then I saw his house was a white geodesic dome. It was round and surrounded by gardens filled with vegetables and flowers on raised beds. It had a wire fence around it and sunflowers on both side of the path that led through the large, lush garden.

Catherine greeted us at the glass sliding door and hugged me. "You look great, Josh," she said, then smiled and hugged Carla even before they were introduced and said, "Welcome." 

Catherine is a tall, slender black woman with light brown skin. Her dark hair was braided. She was wearing a long skirt and was barefooted. I always thought Steve was lucky to be married to such a beautiful woman. 

"This is Carla," I said.

"I'm Catherine. You're just in time for dinner." 

"I remember your cooking when we lived in Philly," I said. 

We were standing in the kitchen but saw it was a section of the round open space. A round oak table was in the area next to the kitchen and I looked around at the couches and chairs across from us. The floor was concrete and I could feel the heat and knew it was a radiant slab. On one side of the dome was a small greenhouse attached and I could see rows of green in it. 

"Cool house," I said as I looked around. 

"Sit down and I'll tell you about it," Steve said.

"Can I help you," Carla asked Catherine. 

"You can grab that bottle of wine."

Catherine had a big wooden bowl filled a colorful salad and placed in the center of the table. Carla was right behind her with the wine. Steve lit the tall red candle.

"It's shabbos," he said.

I had forgotten it was a Friday night. Both of us were Jewish but not at all religious in the conventional sense.

I poured wine into Carla's glass and into Catherine's, then passed the bottle to Steve. 

We lifted and clicked glasses, said L'Chaim, then took sips. 

Then Steve said, "On shabbos we say appreciations. Anything that comes to us that we appreciate, we share."

"I like that idea," Carla said. "Can I begin."

Again, I was surprised that Carla offered and didn't seem at all shy. Catherine took her hand and held it as if supporting her. Carla closed her eyes and was gathering her thoughts, then took a deep breath before speaking.

"I appreciate Josh for taking me with him and here we are. I appreciate that I'm far away from home and feel free and no longer have to pretend I'm this someone I'm not."

I was surprised that Carla was being so revealing with people she had just met. Steve and Catherine listened, and I could see they were fascinated. 

I knew they would be astonished to hear what we had been through and why Carla was with me. I couldn't wait to tell them about Avalon and Anna Polovona and how we got the trailer. 

Catherine took a sip of wine and said how much she appreciated her garden and the how tall the sunflowers were. Then she said, "I appreciate Steve and how he listens to me and I can say what I think and feel."

Steve smiled at Catherine and I liked how they looked at each other. Then he said how he appreciates Catherine and what a great cook and baker she is and how he appreciates the Mesa and how perfect it was for growing great sensemilla. 

I knew that Carla didn't know what that was, but I chuckled to learn what he was doing.

When it was my turn, I said I appreciated not having the police after me and that I was no longer being hunted for being a kidnapper. I knew my appreciation would bring them up to speed with my life and also shock them, but it was also a huge relief to be able to put what I was feeling into words. 

Suddenly, I took Carla's hand, squeezed it and glanced at her. "I also appreciate how I somehow stumbled into meeting Carla on a small ranch in Oklahoma and what happens when you don't have expectations."

I chuckled to see her blush.

After we clicked glasses and sipped our wine, I asked how Zoe was doing and couldn't believe she had just turned twenty-one and had graduated from Berkeley. Steve said, "She majored in Anthropology but is working at Starbucks' in San Francisco along with other well educated coffee makers." 

After dinner, we sat on the couches on the other side of the room. Steve rolled a joint and we got pretty stoned. Carla giggled a lot but mostly listened to the three of us speak about our old friends, what was happening in the world. Steve knew a lot about economics and went on a stoned riff about how the whole world economy is on the brink of collapse. I told him about driving on the expressway past all the malls and car dealers. 

This whole country is in a state of denial," he said, then interrupted his statement with, "what do you think of this weed." 

"It's great and I think you're right about denial and wait 'till climate change really hits. You should see what's happening in Oklahoma. Carla's grandfather is afraid of losing his ranch because the drought is getting so bad."




The Drifter Ch. 09



Carla looked up when she heard me mention her grandfather. 

"He wanted to hire Josh but can't afford it and he's getting old. I know he and my grandmother are worried. They all wanted me to be an account and have security. Fuck that!"

Steve and Catherine listened and then looked at me.

"So what are your plans, Josh?" Steve asked. 

"Don't know for sure. I'm looking for a place to settle that's far away from where I've been. I've been drifting my way across the country, working here and there and was cutting hay and met Carla and he were are and I don't know what's next."

"Stay here. You can stay in your trailer and use the house if you need to and help me make this homestead keep us alive."

"Really, are you serious?"

"Yes, you're a good carpenter and I'm not. Catherine's a great gardener and sounds like Carla has been around livestock and farms. I'm tinkerer and computer geek...web design and repairs. I barter my services for different things. I also harvest a good crop of sensemilla and do pretty good with that."

"What's that?" Carla asked. 

"It's what your smoking. It's the flower buds of marijuana. I just started harvesting."

"Is that legal?" Carla's eyes widened.

"What if I told you that Al, the chief of police has a crop on his property?" 

"The chief of police...are you serious?" I couldn't believe what I heard. 

"I am. Also, harvest time can be pretty dangerous around here with guys from other towns trying to rip us off. Most growers keep dogs in their gardens and some sleep out there with shotguns."

"Do you do that?" I asked.

"No, but I have a set up with one of those motion detectors. If someone goes out there in the middle of the night, a recording of barking dogs scares them off and a spotlight comes on."

"Wow, that's cool...you always were a peacekeeper."

Steve chuckled. "It's actually pretty peaceful here. People share stuff and we have an underground economy. We barter, we sell weed...that's our cash crop, but mostly we barter with each other and try to live alongside the other economy...which, as you may know, is bullshit."

Later that night in the trailer, we stayed up late and talked. We were both still high and stood outside and looked up at the stars. It was a clear night and a three quarter moon was over the Pacific. I looked at the dome-house glowing in the moonlight and on the gardens surrounding it. Nearby was a fenced in chicken house.

We made passionate love and I know the trailer must have rock and rolled from our wildness. I think the relief of being there, plus the wine and pot brought our lovemaking and fucking to a place where the there was no barrier. We felt free. 

Later I asked, "Do you want to stay here and see what happens?"

"Yes, I love it here," Carla answered. "This feels like home." 

And that's what happened. We've been here going on two years. I work with Steve and built a shop for his computer repair business. Carla works with Catherine in the garden, but she also started painting. She's really good and I remembered Betty telling me about her drawing with the kids when she babysat and telling her she was an artist. 

We live in the trailer...mostly for sleeping and share meals with Steve and Catherine. I started writing stories and just had one published in a small literary journal. Her mom and stepfather came to visit last year and though they were shocked, they accepted how she was living and I think they accepted me...who knows? 

If this book I'm writing sells and I do well, I might build a small house on Steve's land and use the trailer as a studio for Carla. Now, she barters for a studio in back of this rich woman's house by cleaning it once a week. She's starting to sell her paintings.

I'm on the second draft of this book. It's called "The Drifter" and I'm using my initials and my last name. Who knows? Maybe one day, the name J.E. Wiseman will be well known.