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Vision of the Spirit Ch. 01

By: wilderness



"Hey, Chief, what's your hurry?" Lisa blocked the front door with spread arms and bedroom eyes, naked.

Tom grinned. His resolve to leave diminished while another part of him expanded. "I have to get an early start, if I'm going to make the hike in two days." Suddenly, torn by indecision, he thumbed her nipples, weighed her proposition in the palm of each hand, and added, "You said Jack was coming home this morning. I don't want to make more trouble for you."

"His flight doesn't arrive until 10:00," she said, placing one hand on his shoulder and the other on his inseam. "Jack's probably banging one of his tramps right now. Why shouldn't I have my fun? We still have time to… How did you put it last night?"

"I can't remember. We were drunk."

With lips nestled against his throat, she whispered, "Oh, come on. You said you'd bang me like a barn door in a tornado." As her fingers pulled down his zipper, she added, "And you did, Tom-Tom. You blew my mind. You blew me a way. And then I blew you. Do you remember now, Tom-Tom?" Lisa had him by the balls, literally. 

"Don't call me Tom-Tom," he said, while thinking, 'This won't take long.' 

"What's the matter, Tom-Tom? Is the white squaw being disrespectful to the big, bad Brave? What are you going to do about it, Tom-Tom?" she goaded, while stroking him to full erection. "My, my, maybe I'll call you, Hung Bear. It suits you better."

They'd flirted for months and, now that Jack had fired him, Tom felt no guilt for fucking the neglected housewife. He growled at Lisa and threw her over his shoulder. "That's it! You asked for it." The trip to the living room couch was five quick steps of wiggling laughter. He slapped Lisa's ivory bottom a few times, flopped her down, threw off his clothes and fell between her legs. 

Lisa gripped his sides, and said, "C'mon, you savage, poke me with that spear!"

With a little adjustment he slipped between her warm folds.

"Oooo, that's so nice," she said, as he slowly pistoned in and out. Her hands rubbed up his chest. Her cunt squeezed with a rhythmic pulse. 

At 38, Lisa was the oldest woman he'd ever fucked, and one of the best. The energy transcended the age difference. 

A vase crashed when she kicked the coffee table. "I've always hated Jack's Ming shit." 

The couch squeaked in time with their motion. 

The vandalism continued as she reached up behind her head and purposely knocked over a Tiffany lamp. "Suck my nipples… That's it… oh my…"

Between slurps, Tom declared, "Areola is the breakfast of Warriors."

Lisa let him feast awhile, and then hinted, "I've never fucked in the dining room before."

Without withdrawal, they managed to sit up. Still connected, he carried her to the table and sat her on the edge. After sweeping the flowery centerpiece out of the way, Lisa leaned back on her arms. The walnut top made a sturdy platform and the chandelier looked like a brass trapeze, so Lisa grabbed it and Tom suspended her by the waist. They performed an erotic high wire act until the ceiling gave out. Crystal teardrops tinkled everywhere. 

He twirled her around and banged her from behind, playing a nipple between each thumb and index finger. One hand slipped down to pressure her clitoris into a swollen nub of ecstasy. Her breaths became ragged gasps; each thrust punctuated by a grunt. 

Lisa pushed away from the table, and said with a flurry, "I fucked Jack in his chair once."

Taking the cue, Tom pulled her to the red leather wing-back and sat down. Lisa straddled his thighs, impaled herself, and bounced with both hands on the creaky chair for leverage. His fingers applied the finishing touches necessary to coerce her body into surrender. She climaxed with a shuddering scream, and clamped his head to her tit. The pussy spasms were enough to trigger his coming. Waves of pleasure pumped semen inside of her.

After a quiet moment of recovery, she moaned into his ear, "Oh, God, that was so good."

With forced enthusiasm, he said, "Thanks Lisa, you're the best." 

These zipless fucks, although physically satisfying, often left Tom sullen when the thrill was gone. And this was one of those times. There must be more to life. The thousands of miles he traveled to make this pilgrimage into the mountains should redirect his life. At least he hoped it would.

Lifting free from the shrinking cock, Lisa stated in a matter of fact tone, "I'm going to miss you, Tom. If you're ever in Helena, look me up. I'll email you my sister's phone number." She pecked his lips like a period, end of sex. "Thanks for helping me pack the truck."

"No problem. Glad to help. I hope you find a better life. Jack is an ass and a fool."

"Yeah, well, he'll get what's coming to him from my lawyer." Lisa opened a buffet drawer and lifted out a silver box tied with a red ribbon. "I have a present for you."

After pulling on his jeans, Tom accepted the gift. "What's this for?"

Naked Lisa lit a cigarette, took a long drag and then said in a puff of acrid smoke, "It's a little something for the lonely nights. Maybe it will help you find your Spirit Guide."

The bottle of Jack Daniel's inside seemed a strange gift for a Vision Quest. People just don't get it.

"If you won't drink it, then maybe it'll come in handy as an antiseptic or anesthetic, in case you have to cut off an arm or something," she explained and then laughed. 

So much for emotional Good-byes. 

The clear weather made the four-hour drive into Glacier National Park serene. Wednesday was not a busy tourist day. In the light traffic, Tom relaxed, unwound, and prepared himself. 

Legally, he was not an Indian. Great, great, great Grandma Sunbeam made him only one-eighth Blackfoot, but his blood simmered with ancient memories and genetic restlessness. That's how it felt, anyway. So, over the last five years, he'd worked his way back along the Lewis and Clark trail until finally arriving at the spot where the French guide DuBois had met Grandma. The story, passed from generation to generation, told how DuBois saved a dying Blackfoot Warrior. Grateful to be alive, the Indian gave his youngest daughter away as a 'thank you'. DuBois returned with his bride to Philadelphia, and then abandoned her, with child. He was never heard from again. 

Tom decided to explore his heritage, and backtracked through space and time. After speaking with the old Blackfoot Medicine Man, Tom felt as though he had traveled back in time. 

The rusted out pickup truck was left in one of the long-term parking lots while Tom headed northwest on foot. Even in great physical shape, after two hours of the unrelenting climb, his legs felt leaden. The mountain breeze chilled his sweaty skin. 

The first night was spent under a star rich sky. Miles from earth light, the smallest dots blended into a faint, celestial cloud. He lay awake with gnawing hunger, trying to remember constellations and trying to connect with this ancient tradition. Fasting was part of the spiritual journey. Did starvation induce hallucinations? 

The next day, Tom continued to plod up the mountain. Thick clouds darkened the sky as a cold front swept in. The heavens opened and drenched the earth. Still, he marched in a northerly direction, occasionally marking the trail for the return trip. His mind sought the mystical signs promised by the Shaman. There were hawks and eagles overhead, bear and cougar tracks on the earth. The untrodden route wound along towering cliffs. Danger was important in a Vision Quest. If there were no fears to overcome the heart would not be tested. 

The trees whispered secrets he couldn't yet understand. Oneness with nature essential, Tom unbraided his black hair to flow in the wind and pick up signals, currents, and vibrations from the spirit world. Now soaked, it lay plastered and dripping down the middle of his back. 

An oak, recently split by lightening, blocked the path. Thinking it a good omen, Tom severed a branch with his hatchet to use as a walking stick. If nothing else was accomplished by this trek, he felt a wonderful freedom from mankind and a kinship with Mother Earth. How much was real and how much imagined only time would tell. And time meant nothing to him now. 

Reaching a craggy ledge, Tom leaned into the wind and rain, scanned the angry sky, spread his arms like Moses and shouted, "I'm ready, Spirit Guide. Give me a sign."

All sounds became entwined -- distant thunder, wind, and rain. The thunder rolled closer, and grew louder, until it was right overhead. Tom gazed toward heaven and envisioned brother thunder had transformed into a huge bird of prey. In reality, it was a seaplane, descending through the clouds and heading for Hungry Beaver Lake, which lapped the mountain's root. 

"Damn!" A wind gust sent a chill through his wet clothes and he suddenly felt disillusioned. "This is stupid." What's important now is shelter from the storm. 

Sure footed as a Big Horned ram, Tom bounced down the rock precipice, skittering loose stones over the edge. A game trail branched off into a stand of stunted pines, and he ran up it for several yards until an unfriendly tree root tripped him. The fall was so abrupt Tom had to let go of his walking stick to soften the landing. The oak rod flew into a bramble thicket and disappeared. 

After brushing the dirt from his scratched palms, Tom hunted for his stick. The thorny bushes discouraged the recovery effort, but the oak branch had become a symbol or at least a souvenir, so he gingerly worked his way through the prickles. About six feet in, completely hidden from the path, he found the oak staff, leaning against a barricaded entrance to an abandoned mine. Prospectors worked these mountains for gold a hundred years ago. Blinking the rain from his eyes, he pried at the moss-covered barrier. The oak limb proved stronger than the rotted pine logs and the cave mouth was quickly reopened for visitors. Tom grabbed the hatchet and flashlight from his pack, cleared a path, and warily scanned the interior, half expecting a flurry of bats or slither of snakes. But it appeared vacant and dry. Once inside the four foot opening, the roof became higher and he was able to stand upright. He panned the light along the walls and found simple paintings covered the surface from floor to ceiling. Little stick men with bows and arrows hunted fat, stick-legged buffalo. Another scene depicted teepees and fire dancers. In another, a Brave stood in the middle of a pack of wolves. Others showed bears chest deep in streams, and panthers in trees. Eagles and hawks flew across the ceiling. 

"This isn't a gold mine. It's an Indian cave." Tom didn't know the correct term, but the granite niche was obviously a place for spiritual rites. He shivered, not from the cold but from the miraculous discovery. Just when he'd doubted the journey's purpose the Great Spirit slapped him. 

A pile of charcoal at the mouth of the cave left evidence of a small fire. He found dry wood and tinder under ledges and built one, making a mental note to restock the supply later. As the fire warmed the rock and the flickering light made the Paleolithic murals dance Tom found reason to celebrate with his friend Jack Daniels. 

***

Hundreds of feet below, the seaplane splashed down to a rough landing on the choppy surface and cruised into a protected bay. 

"Ooo-wee, what a rush! Wasn't it little darlin'." 

Cheyenne smiled sweetly. Two years ago, alone and desperate for money, she succumbed to failure and learned to live off the fat of the land. It was clear that the most generous fat hung over the belts of lonely middle aged men. Cheyenne lived to ease their isolation. 

Today's companion, Tobias Wentworth, was no different, except he liked the fast and dangerous life of a drug smuggler. She swallowed a lump of fear, and said, "Yeah, Toby. That was some ride." Cheyenne glanced longingly at the shoreline and asked, "Now what?" 

"We wait."

After twenty minutes of small talk and scanning with binoculars, Toby became restless. "God, I'm so wired!" he said, and clapped his hands once. The plane seemed restless too, and bobbed in the light chop. The rain began to lessen. Toby leaned over and rubbed her leg. "Let me see those delicious ta-ta's of yours again."

Cheyenne leaned against the door and faced him. "Do we have time?" 

"I always got time for a sexy woman, Honey." The pink tongue pinched between nonexistent lips, a flat nose, and bulging eyes, gave Toby the sex appeal of a bulldog. But he had redeeming qualities, a generous attitude and a big, fat wallet.

With a wink and a smile, she said, "I've never done it in a plane before."

"Hey, I'm an experienced flyer," he promised, while lifting the black tee-shirt over her head. The stubby, nail-bitten fingers squeezed her nipples. "Damn, you sure are one fine lookin' Injun. What tribe you from?" 

If they weren't in the middle of nowhere she might have overreacted to his question. Her native blood, just a minor splash in the gene pool, had risen to the surface, and she hated it. It was a constant source of irritation. Blondes had more fun. Blondes had more business. The black hair, dark eyes, and high cheekbones, gave her an exotic sexiness certain men craved. And those certain men seemed to always want a rough encounter. Apparently, Indian blood meant 'I like it rough'. Once, she made the mistake of telling a client that her Great, Great Grandfather was from the Seminole tribe. When he jokingly called her a Semen Hole Indian he suffered a surprise attack and barely escaped with his scalp. 

This time, with significant money in the balance, she moaned with feigned excitement, closed her eyes and lied. "I'm Cheyenne, silly." 

Clumsy fingers worked loose the button of her jeans. "Are you a wild Injun?" 

Scarred fists tugged down the pants and panties. She lifted her ass and said, "Just for you, Toby." 

As a chubby finger probed between the folds of her cunt, Cheyenne slipped off her shoes and pushed the bunched fabric from her ankles. Naked and ready for the not-so-big event, she moaned and groaned at every mechanical poke and prod. "Oh yes, Baby," she encouraged, while reminding herself to make a dentist appointment and check her Mutual Funds. "That feels good." Time to reciprocate. She pushed him away, using enough force to be in the game, and then leaned down to unzip his fly. The window behind her head exploded. 

"Holy shit!" yelled Toby, turning quickly to start the engine. "Stay down!"

Cheyenne crawled behind the seats and curled up on the floor. "What's happening!" 

Another explosion left a hole in the passenger door. The engine fired. Toby applied full throttle and they bounced out into the lake. "It's a fucking double cross. They're trying to get the money…"

More shots fired in rapid succession as they skimmed away. Rain slanted in the broken window. Cheyenne stayed low. Toby pulled back on the stick. The ride smoothed out as the plane lifted from the choppy surface and climbed. She stayed in the back where it was relatively dry and watched their progress from between the seats. The view through the windshield was a streaky, green blur. The mountain loomed ahead. "Toby, shouldn't you turn?" 

No response. Thrusting her head forward, she saw a crimson stain on Toby's right side. His head sagged. He'd lost consciousness. The plane continued to climb but not enough. The treetops were seconds away. All she had time for was duck and cover.

Vision of the Spirit Ch. 02



It was time. The sun had fallen below the treetops. To facilitate the appearance of the Vision, the Medicine Man insisted, "You must obey the creed. Enter your Quest as you entered the world." 

Tom left the protection of the cave -- completely sober and completely nude. 

A hundred yards farther up the game trail, in the middle of a pine thicket Tom found a clearing perfect for the vision ground. Slow and silent, he began the prescribed ritual -- circle the area, commune with the Great Spirit and ignore the discomfort. Become one with nature. Be pure and plain. Seek only the wisdom of the earth…blah, blah, blah. This ordeal may last up to four days. Secretly he hoped the Spirit would show mercy and bring his guide sooner rather than later, wilderness survival really wasn't his thing. 'Maybe I'm not cut out for this. Not enough native blood.'

The unmistakable crack of gunshots, echoing up the valley, broke Tom's weak concentration. Even though they were miles away, he still felt outrageously vulnerable wandering naked through the forest. Motionless, he waited for the next sound, wary as a spooked buck. The silence so complete, it seemed the forest was holding its breath. 

Soon the roar of a plane engine increased until it was deafeningly close. He spotted the low flying craft through the dense pine boughs just before it belly-flopped into the treetops. The limbs dragged down the crippled bird, breaking off its wings. The fuselage split in two and the tail section headed off in a new direction. Tom dove for cover. Shards of metal whizzed overhead as the mangled mass hurtled by. The sputtering shriek of the engine stopped with an explosion. He waited cautionary moments before lifting his head.

The cockpit collided with a granite outcrop and caught fire. Unable to go near the wreck, he watched the trapped pilot for signs of life. A wave of nausea wrenched his empty stomach. The hopelessness of the situation brought up the taste of bile. Intense heat drove him back. Rain hissed as it boiled on the molten metal. 

"What the hell happened? What kind of fucked up vision is this?" Tom began to search the debris field. There wasn't much left, just miscellaneous junk and three duffel bags. He piled up the black bags and continued through the undergrowth until he reached the tail section -- suspended 10 feet off the ground. Movement to the right caught his eye. Quickly, he pushed through the thick vegetation and then froze in disbelief. A dazed, naked woman stumbled around, mumbling to herself. 

When she stooped to pick up a black tee-shirt, Tom asked, "Lady, are you all right?" 

A startled scream was the answer. She whirled around to face him. Blood and mud trickled down her rain soaked body. Her stunned expression would've been laughable in other circumstances. 

'How do I explain being naked in a forest? On the other hand, why is she naked?' 

Her eyes ran down his torso and stopped at his groin. The unnerving effect of her bold stare made his face warm. The last time he'd felt this embarrassed was at the age of fourteen, when his mother caught him masturbating to Playboy. 

Finally, the naked woman met his eyes again, and said something strange, "I can't do it now, I don't feel well." Then, she collapsed. 

Attempts to revive her proved futile. She might have internal bleeding or a head injury. Those were possibilities he couldn't do anything about, except make her comfortable. As gently as possible, Tom struggled to carry her limp body to the cave. Naked and wet, her slippery skin and dead weight became almost unmanageable. 

He laid her on his sleeping bag and rekindled the fire. Safe for the moment, he left to quickly salvage the few belongings. The cave was hot by the time he returned, and the woman's skin had nearly dried. Her cuts had begun to clot and scab over. Throwing the collected luggage into the back of the cave, Tom hurriedly dried himself and pulled on jeans before kneeling next to his patient. 

'What do I do now?' He placed a finger on her carotid artery. There was a pulse. She felt warm and alive. Her face looked peaceful. 'Without the blood and dirt she'd be attractive, probably mid-twenties.' 

Placing a hand on her shoulder, he gently shook. "Can you hear me, Ma'am? You're safe now. I'm just going to check your wounds." Tom's eyes scanned her arms and legs for evidence of fractures. They were long limbs, long and lithe. "What's your name?" He waited a few moments for any response. 

Somewhere in the past, he'd read an article about comatose patients who woke up and remembered people who'd talked to them. The stress and pressure of the situation tapped a nervous vein of adrenaline and Tom felt compelled to explain, "I don't know if you can hear me. My name is Thomas DuBois. You're going to be all right." Tom's eyes wandered over her breasts, passed her bellybutton ring and then stopped on her dark tuft of matted pubic hair. For the first time, he felt responsible for someone else's life, and it scared him. "This is fucked up. I'm out here looking for my guardian-spirit, and instead a naked woman falls out of the sky. This was not an option."

A tingle on his cheek made him turn to look. Slotted brown eyes were watching him. When they locked with his, she closed them once again, moistened her lips and said in a tired voice, "I don't know. You look like a guardian angel to me."

Softly, he asked, "Hey, how are you feeling?" while folding the sleeping bag over her.

"About as good as I look, probably." Her eyes opened wide and stared at the ceiling. "Where's Toby?"

"I'm so sorry. He… didn't make it out of the plane." The eyes closed and tears ran down her cheeks. Tom struggled with comforting words to say, and decided to remain silent. After a few minutes of thoughtful meditation, he said, "I'll make a signal fire. There'll be a search plane as soon as you're missed."

"Don't!" The abrupt command startled Tom. Her eyes flashed wild with panic. She glared at him, and in a hoarse whisper declared, "The only people who'll be searching for us are the ones who shot Toby." She grabbed his wrist with frenzied strength. "We've got to get out of here before they find us." 

"Who are, 'They'?" 

"I don't know, but they're killers!"

He patted the hand that was retarding the circulation to his own and tried to calm her. "No one will be coming up the mountain until tomorrow, so get some rest." 

She let go and scratched at the crusty blood on her temple. 

"How 'bout I boil some water and you can clean up a little. The last thing we need out here is an infection."

With a pitiful whimper, she rolled away, "I don't care anymore. My life is a fucked up mess. I'd be better off dead. It should've been me, not Toby." 

"I'm sorry about your boyfriend, but if his spirit is here, I'm sure he's thrilled you survived. It's a miracle." 

"My boyfriend? Toby wasn't my boyfriend. I hardly knew the freak. But he didn't deserve… this." She rolled back to witness his confusion, and declared, "If his spirit is anywhere, it's burning in hell, just like mine will be." 

Time to change the subject. "What's your name? I'm tired of calling you, 'Hey Lady'," he said, smiling.

Closing her eyes, she said for no apparent reason, "Call me whatever you want. Just leave the money on the dresser," and then rolled away again. The sleeping bag quivered as she trembled inside.

"What?" No explanation followed. Her incoherent remarks and unresponsiveness might indicate a concussion. Soothingly, he said, "I'll call you, Willow."

"Willow? That's a stupid name. Why Willow? If you call me Pussy Willow I'll scratch your eyes out."

A little annoyed, he answered, "If you don't like it then tell me your real name, Weeping Willow." 

No response. Tom boiled water. When it was ready he grabbed a clean bandana and then, armed with the steamy pot and a bar of soap, sat next to her. Deciding she wasn't in any condition to know what was best, Tom soaked the cloth, rubbed on a little soap and gently dabbed crud away from the side of her face. She ignored him, but the shivering stopped after a few minutes. 

"There, that sides finished. Only a couple scratches. They'll be gone in two weeks."

Silently, with eyes closed, she rolled onto her back. He continued to lave her face. 

"You should try to stay awake in case you have a concussion." Pausing a moment, he said, "Open your eyes. Let me see your pupils."

In the dim light, the black dilations nearly filled the mahogany irises.

A clinical mind, devoid of emotion, is what Tom needed but did not possess. It was exciting to lift the witch's mask and find Sleeping Beauty beneath. And, as the filthy facade came off, she seemed to relax, like an evil spell had been broken. Her face was now spotless, so he continued lower and cleansed her neck and shoulders. He worried about the painful sting as soap met abrasion, but Weeping Willow never complained. 

When Tom had finished washing her shoulders, he refilled the pot with clean water, returned, and said, "Turn over and I'll wash your back." 

"You're a kind man, Tom," said Willow, as she rolled over inside the bag. 

Pulling aside the flap until her back was exposed to the waist, he continued the sponge bath. "Tomorrow morning, if you're feeling up to the walk, we'll head out. It's at least a two day trip," he said, while washing a rather large scratch across her lower back. Her body flinched when he touched the sore, but she didn't make a sound. "You're pretty tough, for a girl."

She laughed for the first time. It was a hard-bitten, short bark. "And you're pretty gentle, for a guy." One dainty hand reached back and threw off the cover. "Don't stop there. This is very relaxing. You must be a massage therapist in the real world." 

Tom smiled, and said, "No, I'm just naturally gifted." 

After a brief swipe across her round buttocks, Tom moved down her muscled legs. There was a new tightness in his chest when he breathed and it sprang from his old internal conflict. The struggle to stay detached from his libido was getting harder, like his cock. 

To counteract his lecherous thought pattern, he asked, "What do you do in the real world?" 

After a long pause, Willow answered, "I'm an actress."

The delayed response set off alarm bells, 'Danger, important information being withheld.' He said, "Really? In Hollywood?"

"Las Vegas. I'm an… independent contractor. When parts open up, I apply."

"I see." He dabbed a nasty scratch on her right calf, "With these legs, you must be a dancer too. I hope you don't scar easily." 

Without warning or feigned modesty, Willow rolled over. "You think I have nice legs?" she asked, and began stroking her sable braid of hair, like an old comforting habit.

The sudden turn of events rattled Tom. If he maintained eye contact, and ignored her from the neck down, he should win an Oscar for his first role as a leading man. 

What would Tom Hanks say? "Sorry, I didn't mean to imply anything inappropriate." Although inappropriate thoughts bounced in his head like a Ping-Pong ball on steroids.

"That's okay. In my line of work appearance means everything. My looks are my bread and butter. When I loose them I'll have to wait tables or mop floors." Willow flipped the braid off her shoulder, placed her arms along her sides, and said, "I'm so tired. Would you please do my front, too? It feels so… soothing."

Tom thought, 'I wonder how many roles she got on the casting room couch.' Aloud and in an even tone, he managed an indifferent, "Sure." 

His hands trembled slightly as he wrung out the washcloth. Those dark eyes burned into him as he began to wash her clavicles and slowly move downward. Several welts and cuts marred the contour of each breast and required extra-special care. Tenderly, he ministered to each one. The nipples swelled -- became tight and erect. He felt the same way between his legs.

"Tom, I don't remember much about the crash but I remember seeing you, naked. What was that about?"

The heat rising in his face proved impossible to control. "It's just a part of a Blackfoot ritual. I was right in the middle of my Spirit walk when you crashed." 

Willow arched her back, and moaned, "Mmmm, that feels so nice."

Tongue-tied, he just smiled, completed the boob job, and re-soaked the cloth before returning it to the sensitive skin of her abdomen. He followed her gaze to the walls and ceiling.

With a hint of sarcasm, she said, "You have a nice cave here, Tom. Did you decorate it yourself?"

"No, I discovered it by accident," answered Tom, and then, in an effort to distract his mind from the inner thigh his fingers washed, he proceeded to tell his Vision Quest story. He rambled on about how there must be more to life, something was missing from his soul, and maybe he could find it within his Indian heritage. "So, here I am today. And what a weird and fatalistic trip it's been." 

When the story and the sponge bath ended Willow's eyes were closed. His erection had subsided. Tom felt pride in his self-control. "All done," he said, and covered her up. "I'll be right back."

"When you're done jerking off, I'd like to borrow a shirt."

The comment felt like a kick in the groin. She opened her eyes and caught the stunned look. "Hey, I saw your hard-on. And, believe me, I'd be disappointed if you didn't get one."

Nearly shouting, he said, "I'm going out to take a piss and get more firewood, and that's all!"

"Whatever… But I know you'll think of me when it's in your hand."

Tom stormed out. "What the fuck is the matter with her!"

The rain had stopped and the clouds had broken up. The twilight cast dim shadows and marked the dark path to the cliff. The dappled landscape stretched below under the glowing cobalt sky. Tom unzipped and struggled to pull out the swollen penis. Standing on the brink, he wanted to piss on the world, but Willow's body and the power of suggestion proved too much to overcome. "Damn it!" He had to unbutton his pants to push it back in. 

Mad at himself for being weak, Tom marched to the crash site. Near the tail section he found her black tee-shirt but nothing else. Dry wood was scarce. The search mission became a failure just like everything else on this Vision Quest. At least he'd calmed down enough to urinate. His bladder thanked him in a sigh of relief. 

Back at the mouth of the cave, he paused in the shadows to peek inside. The sleeping bag was empty and the contents of his backpack lay in a pile on the sandy floor. Deeper within, bent over one of the black bags, Willow's ass glowed white beneath his green flannel shirt. 

A hushed, "Oh my God," reached his ears as she dropped the bag.

Silently, Tom moved behind her. The contents of another black bag had her undivided attention.

"What's up?"

Willow shrieked and spun around. Packets of money tumbled onto his feet. 

She punched his shoulder, hard. "Don't do that!"

"What's all this?" With a quick scan of the ground, he counted eight stacks of twenties. "How much money is here?"

Panicky, she stroked her braid down the front of the shirt, and wailed, "I don't know, I don't know. But someone's going to be looking for it and I don't want to be here when they find it!" 

Her hands sliding over the thick rope of hair, the furrowed brow, anxious eyes, the glimpse of cleavage inside his shirt, long bare legs, her helplessness, her fear itself, triggered a powerful reaction. Tom grabbed her shoulders and shouted, "Tell me what the fuck is going on!"

"Ow, you're hurting me!" When his grip remained firm, she finally confessed, "Toby flew in here to make a drug buy. Whoever was waiting tried to doublecross him. But we got away… almost." 

Tom let go of her, went to the fire, and started kicking dirt into it. "Put the money back in the bags. I'll take them to the plane. Maybe they'll be satisfied with that, and they won't care what happened to you."

Without argument, Willow did what she was told and dragged the three bags to the entrance. 

"Stay quiet," he said, and left. 

Ruthless people kill for money. Afraid these people were on horseback, and already close by, Tom crept to the crash site, wary of every shadow. Luck was on his side for a change and he spread the bags amongst the debris without incident. 

When he returned to the cave and began to camouflage the entrance, Willow tapped on his shoulder. "I have to pee first."

He said, "Okay." 

She didn't move. "Do you have any toilet paper?"

"Oh, right. I'll get it." When he handed her the roll she still didn't move.

Sheepishly, she said, "You have to come with me. I'm afraid," and dragged him by the arm. "Find me a safe spot."

Off the trail, behind a bush, he found a secluded nook. "How's this?"

"Great." Immediately she lifted the shirt and squatted. 

Tom turned away.

"You can watch if you want. Some men like to." 

Disgusted, Tom said, "Why the hell did you say that? Why do you want to put those thoughts in my head? Don't you have any sense of modesty?"

The sound of splashing liquid stopped before she answered. "I'm sorry if I've offended you. I just don't like feeling worthless. And I don't want you to think I'm ungrateful for what you've done for me." 

"You're a strange woman, Willow. All you have to do is say, thank you."

She took his arm, and said, "Thank you." 

As they walked, she explained, "Men always expect more. Don't lie and say you didn't. I know you thought about fucking me. Admit it. I saw the bulge in your pants."

"Why are you trying to manipulate me? Stop messing with my head. I'm on your side. We're in this together. And just because I think something doesn't mean I expect to get it." 

"Yeah, well, people change sides all the time. You have to make yourself useful in this world if you're going to survive. If you need something, you have to trade something to the man who has it. It's basic supply and demand economics."

"Be careful, Willow," Tom tapped her chest, "That heart of yours is going to turn to stone."

Without another word, she entered the cave and Tom covered the entrance. It was pitch black inside. "Do you need anything?"

"Are we just going to sit and wait all night?"

"Do you have a better idea?"

"Get in the sleeping bag with me."

Tom fumbled around until he found the flashlight. "I'll put on more clothes and stand guard." 

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

"Shine the light over here. I can't find the zipper."

In the bright spotlight, Willow sat naked, lazily searching for the zipper. "I hope this doesn't bother you, but I can't sleep with clothes on. They're too confining." Slowly the bag sealed around her and she laid her head on the wadded flannel shirt. She pulled her braid over her shoulder and began stroking it again. It was a girlish affectation, but the sensuous motion touched him despite being an obvious phallic ploy. "Goodnight, Tom."

"Goodnight." He focused the beam on his pile of clothes that were once neatly folded in the pack. The temperature was dropping. It was going to be a long uncomfortable night. 

"Tom?"

"What."

"You want to open the whiskey?"

"No."

"It looks like it was a present."

"A friend of mine gave it to me."

"Is she pretty?"

"Very."

"So, you're being faithful to her. That's sweet."

"Hardly. She's married to someone else." As soon as the words left his mouth he felt doomed. 

"I guess you're not such a choir boy after all."

"No, I guess not."

"Then what's the problem? I promise not to bite." A few moments of silence, and then she continued, "I'm not going to be able to sleep if you're out there freezing to death. Come on! The patient needs some more of your bedside manner, Doctor DuBois."

He smiled and whispered to himself, "Fuck it," and peeled of his clothes. "Open up. I'm coming in."





Vision of the Spirit Ch. 02



An unzip sound gave direction in the dark. He felt the heat radiating from inside the bag before he made physical contact. Willow positioned herself against his back as he settled in on his side. 

She murmured, "Oh, you're much softer to sleep on than the ground." 

"You sure those cuts aren't going to hurt more with me in here?"

"Let's have a test." Warm arms snaked around his chest and she squeezed tight against his back. "Mmm, feels nice. Remember, I'm a tough girl."

Her pubic hair tickled his ass. "It's been two days since I showered," he warned.

There was audible sniffing, and then, "You smell woodsy. It's a manly smell. I like it." Her arm bent back over his shoulder and she played with the hair behind his ear. "I've never known a man with hair almost as long as mine." Several quiet moments passed as she toyed with it. "So, is this how the Indians lived?"

"I don't think they had sleeping bags."

Kisses began to tease his neck and shoulders. Fingers began to lightly trace his nipples. 

"You're a hottie, Doctor DuBois." He felt her nose burrow into his hair. "You know that, don't you." Her palms rubbed and squeezed his pectorals. Her breath tickled his ear. "Firm muscles. I love muscles."

Even though Tom knew this was all an act put on for his benefit, and she was just making herself 'useful', he couldn't deny the very real pleasure of her touch. One hand wandered down his stomach, explored his navel and then toyed with his pubes. His right ear was licked, the left nipple was pinched and a delicate hand wrapped around his cock. 

A groan escaped his lips as her hand teased up the shaft and twirled around the glans. 

"Oh yeah, that feels good doesn't it, Tommy." 

The hand on his chest left to join its partner at his groin. 

Her throaty voice whispered in his ear, "Where would I be without you? I would've died of exposure if you hadn't been waiting naked for naked me. There's symmetry in how we met. Don't you think?" 

The thought had crossed his mind.

Strokes on his cock began to intensify as the other hand fondled his balls. Willow hunched against his ass in a matching tempo. 

"I want to give you pleasure, Tommy. So much pleasure. Then you'll sleep like an angel and I'll be right here, snuggling naked all night."

His hips began to move.

"That's it, Honey. Help me. I like the feel of you, thrusting in my hand. Your balls are getting tight."

Fingernail tickles on his scrotum increased the building pressure. Visions of Willow's body appeared like cave paintings glowing in the dark, three dimensional and alive. Tom rolled onto his back.

"Oh, Baby. You're getting close. I can't wait to feel your juice shoot up your cock. Come on Baby. Do it for me."

A groan and arched hips signaled the satisfying explosion. Semen fired out with the power of postponed desire. One tight hand continued to work him up and down as the other teased the glans and blocked the spray. 

Willow kissed his chest and played with him until the erection softened. "Wow, you came a ton." One hand left and then returned with a cloth to mop up the mess. "Don't want to leave a wet spot." When finished, she laid her head on his chest without another word.

After some time, Tom said, "Thank you."

"Your welcome," answered Willow.



Vision of the Spirit Ch. 03



Tom didn't sleep well despite the orgasm. After a couple of fitful hours, he lay awake and struggled with a brain gone wild. Soon it would be dawn, and they'd have to leave the cave or risk being found by the killers. 

How far would they get in their condition? Hunger gnawed at his stomach. Willow was acting a little off center. 

The softness of her body had its own distracting appeal. Tom's train of thought derailed as she cuddled against him like a security blanket. Her sleep appeared undisturbed by their predicament. Encircling arms squeezed him tight, as if to verify his existence. A delicate hand slipped down to rest on his cock, probably a learned reaction by someone accustomed to male companionship. A mystery without many clues, her sexual aggressiveness and secret identity created suspicion about her innocence in this whole ordeal. And yet, her fear seemed real. Turmoil must be a constant companion in her life, and she'd developed carnal coping skills.

When the cave entrance materialized as a gray stain on a black wall, Tom decided it was time to move. "Willow," he whispered, "The sun's coming up and we have to go."

A soft groan of annoyance and then a playful hand on his awakened penis was her initial response. In a husky morning voice, she said, "Something else is coming up too." Lips grinned against his neck. 

Tom said, "There's no time for that. We need to scoot."

"Scoot? Did your grandma raise you? Nobody under 70 say's scoot," she declared, as her body stiffened in a morning stretch. It felt good to both of them.

"If we don't scoot we may not live long enough to be grandparents."

She giggled and, while cupping his balls, said, "Was that some kind of marriage proposal?" 

"C'mon let's go," he said, unzipping the bag and pulling free.

"Okay, okay."

"Shh, we need to be quiet." 

Obediently, Willow remained silent as they dressed by flashlight. Tom gave her pants and two pairs of socks to wear with the flannel shirt from the night before. He erased their footprints as best he could and grabbed the oak walking stick on the way out. 

The sky was clear. A few stars still twinkled in the west. The ground was cold and damp. 

At the cliff's edge, Tom turned uphill instead of down. Willow followed without question, gripping the waistband of the borrowed jeans with both hands to keep them up. After a hundred yards, they walked into the forest. Tom glanced down, from time to time, to check their location. 

When the crash site became visible below, they settled behind a bush to wait. Willow closed her eyes and rested her head on Tom's shoulder. As time passed, she curled up and laid her head in his lap. His attention was divided between watching for murdering thieves and ogling Willow as she napped. The baggy clothes did little to hide her sensuality. He knew what was underneath. A crusty patch of dried semen adorned the flannel shirt. 'Must be the cloth she cleaned up with last night.'

The sun rose warm in their faces. Willow nonchalantly loosened the two top buttons for ventilation, the act so innocent and yet so seductive. 

Movement below focused his attention on more serious matters. Two men on horseback had entered the clearing. They dismounted, and silently began a search. A few minutes later, the bags of money were tied behind saddles. From another direction, a third rider entered the field of view. Muffled words were exchanged. The men and horses moved toward the plane's tail section. Soon, metallic squeaks echoed up the mountain. 

Willow bolted upright. 

Tom gave her the finger-across-the-lips shush sign, and pointed. 

They watched the horses pull on ropes attached to the suspended debris until it fell to the ground. After a brief inspection, the riders wandered away in different directions and out of sight. 

Without making eye contact, Willow laid her head back on Tom's lap and remained silent. 

"Did any of them look familiar?" he asked.

"They were too far away." 

A short time later, she asked, "Can we go down there? I have an overnight bag in the back."

"Let's wait an hour and then I'll go down, alone."

Unbuttoning the heavy shirt, Willow said, "It's gonna be a hot one." She fluttered the fabric to cool her damp breasts and then left it open. "I think I'll catch some rays. You don't mind do you? I mean, it's nothing you haven't seen already."

Tom wanted to act cool. "Those scratches look like they're healing up."

She just grinned, closed her eyes and stroked her braid a few times, before asking, "Do we have any food? I'm hungry."

From an outside pocket of the backpack, Tom removed a zip lock bag filled with trail mix. "This is it. I wasn't planning on company." 

After a few mouthfuls, she said, "There's some snacks in the plane's left rear compartment." 

The direct sun became unbearable. 'If she doesn't mind, why should I,' thought Tom, and removed his shirt.

The voice from his lap said, "You're a good looking guy. Why aren't you hooked up with some nice girl?"

"I'm not the hookable kind," answered Tom. Yet this question cut to the very heart of his vision quest, why couldn't he be hooked on one woman and settle down. Leave it to a hooker to ask him the hard questions. 'Hooker, is that what she is?' The idea seemed like a revelation, but the evidence was as plain to see as her breasts. 'Why hadn't I figured it out before?' 

"Well, I just might try to catch you myself, Thomas DuBois. It's not everyday a lady gets rescued by a handsome stranger." 

He knew it was a joke, but the hooded eyes and sultry voice still made him tingle. The question, 'How does she define the word 'lady'?' popped into his head, but the timing was wrong for such an inflammatory question. 

At least one appetite needed to be satisfied. In frustrated compensation (at least on Tom's part), they emptied the baggy. Willow ate less than half. "You're carrying the pack and you're bigger. You should eat more." With a wink, she added, "You're going to need your strength."

A guy can only be teased so much before he has to do something, anything. Tom stood up in a crouch, and said, "Okay, it's been long enough. I'm going down."

"I was wondering if you'd ever get around to it," answered Willow, spreading her pant legs. "I should really wash up first."

The sexual innuendo briefly paralyzed Tom with graphic images. Shaking his head, he wondered aloud, "What am I supposed to do with you?"

She just continued to smile and sway her feet in a 'whatever you want', bare breasted pose.

Finally able to break away, Tom heard a faint, "Be careful."

Naked from the waist up, with wild hair flowing down past his shoulders, and brandishing the walking stick like a spear, Tom became an Indian warrior slinking through the forest. The possibility of sudden death hidden behind every tree created a heightened awareness, an intense excitement, as he swiftly collected Willow's carryon and two grocery bags of food from the wreckage. Several times he looked uphill to check on her. Barely visible through the brush, she gave the thumbs up signal.

The packages were too cumbersome to drag back through the undergrowth, so Tom turned and jogged toward the cliff path. When he rounded the last bend, thinking he was home free, one of the gunman stood urinating over the rock ledge. The rustling sound of the grocery bags startled him and he whirled around. 

Instantly, Tom dropped the bundles for a quick getaway. But the rifle tucked under the pisser's arm immediately pointed at him, along with a limp dick, so there was nothing left to do but raise his hands in surrender. 

Tom was a dead man gawking. 

Pisser assessed the situation, while packing away his main drain. "Where's the woman that goes with that bag?"

"Woman?" Tom shrugged, "I don't know anything about a woman. I'm just looting the wreck. And I hit the jackpot -- Doritos. You can have 'em." He said smiling, trying to make a new friend.

Pisser must've been Homophobic. Getting caught with his dick hung out in the wind made him mad. The metallic click of the rifle trigger becoming unlocked reached Tom's ears. "Last chance."

"Hey, Boys!" yelled Willow from a ledge ten feet above the pisser-killer. 

Both Tom and Pisser looked up. Their breath caught, as they admired the almost naked woman. Her nubile breasts jutted out, perky and luminous in the bright sun. The baggy pants had fallen to her knees, allowing her ebony pubic hair to become the spot on an unblemished surface that ultimately draws the eye. 

"Hi ya doin' Mike?"

Tom said, "Mike? You know this guy?"

Pisser just stared, and said, "My name ain't Mike."

"Sure it is, Sweetheart. Everyone knows a Mike Crowdick when they see one." Neither man noticed what she held in her right hand until Pisser got beaned with a rock. 

"You fuckin' Bitch!" he yelled, as the rifle swung to change targets. 

Willow ducked.

With no time to think, Tom hoisted his trusty oak stick and threw it. 

The flight of his lightening rod was straight, but not true. The aim was off to the left. Tom felt the agony of defeat clutch the pit of his stomach when the errant missile struck Pisser's horse in the rump instead of Pisser's head. Then something unexpected, yet totally understandable, happened. As if stung by a mammoth hornet, the startled horse kicked. Her right hoof connected with Pisser's ribs and launched him over the brink. 

Time became cartoon frozen. Nothing moved, until Tom's adrenaline burned off and he was able to walk to the edge and look over.

Willow met him there. They both looked. 

It was a long way down. 

Then they looked at the horse -- once again waiting calmly.

Then they looked at each other and smiled. 

Tom wrapped his arms around Willow and, in a moment of impulsive euphoria, kissed her. "You saved my life!"

The look on her face changed from shock to joy and then softened to embarrassment. "And you saved mine… again. Can't I ever even the score with you?" It must've been a rhetorical question. Before Tom could respond, she covered his mouth with hers in a long, deep kiss. Their sweat slick torsos rubbed pleasantly together. When they broke for air she picked up her pants. 


Tom announced, "I've met my Spirit Guide," and patted the flank of the docile mare. "My Indian name will be 'Kicking Horse'." 

Willow smiled, and said, "Too bad she wasn't a donkey. Then you'd be 'Kicking Ass'.

The remark caused an outbreak of laughter that bordered on hysterical. Realizing they might be overheard and danger was still very real, they lowered their voices and picked up the packages. 

"Shouldn't we take the horse?" asked Willow.

"No, if we leave it, the others might think it was an accident. Besides, we're not going to be on any path a horse could take." 

Tom led the way downhill until they were hidden enough for Willow to change into her own clothes. Pulling on a pair of tiny Daisy Duke cutoffs, she explained, "I didn't come prepared for hiking, but at least these will stay up." 

A bright red, rhinestone studded, belly shirt was the only top she had inside the bag. After thoughtful deliberation, Tom decided she should just wear a lacy black bra, for better camouflage. 

"Camouflage. Yeah, right!" said Willow, rolling her eyes.

"Don't tell me you're going to get modest, all of a sudden. At least the bra doesn't flash like a neon sign, 'look over here'." 

Her silent reaction to the comment flustered Tom. Apparently, he'd crossed some invisible line. She began to pull on that confounded braid again. 

Tom reached into his pack, pulled out his garage sale John Denver tee-shirt, and tossed it to her, saying, "Put on your sandals and lets go."

They marched down the mountainside at a Marine Corp. pace. Tom's trail markings paved the way.

Despite being poorly equipped, Willow showed an athletic prowess and an uncomplaining temperament. Somewhere along the trail she'd acquired her own walking stick. Frequent backward glances made Tom stumble more than a few times. She would just smile, knowingly. He wished she could be out front -- for less than wholesome reasons. 

After two hours of bushwhacking they stopped along a stream, to rest and refuel. Tom handed Willow the canteen. 

She extracted a plastic vial from the communal backpack and popped a pill into her mouth before drinking a few gulps.

"Allergies?" asked Tom.

"Birth control," answered Willow, and handed the canteen back without further comment, suggestive or otherwise. Taking off sandals and socks, she dipped her feet into the rushing current. "Ahh, that feels so nice."

For the first time, Tom thought he might be seeing the woman behind the veil of secrecy, and sat down to dangle his feet. "Willow, what's your real name?"

Her left hand pulled on the braid a few times before she answered, "Cheyenne." 

"What do your friends call you?"

"Willow."

They shared a pregnant silence, while the cold torrent massaged their tired feet and birds twittered love songs in the pines around them. 

He stole glances of her profile. 

She just stared into the sparkling water. 

Her white socks lay between them, and Tom noticed several pink stains. "Let me see your feet." 

A cool dampness soaked through his pants as he inspected the blistered toes and heels in his lap. "You should've said something," Tom scolded, patting them dry with his shirttail. He dug out the first-aid kit, and applied dabs of antiseptic ointment, gauze pads and surgical tape to protect the raw spots. "We'll go a little slower, from now on." 

"Thank you," she said, wiggling her toes. 

"You're welcome."

"Always prepared, aren't you. Were you an Eagle Scout?"

"No, I've always been more of a Beaver Scout." Her legs were striped with welts from the brush along the path. Tom frowned at the evidence of his neglected responsibility. He dipped a hand in the water and then, with the flat of his palm, cooled the marked flesh. 

She moaned as goose pimples spread up her thigh. 

"Too cold?" Tom asked.

"No, it's very soothing."

"These marks will be gone by tomorrow. Sorry, I should've picked an easier route."

Willow lay back on the boulder. "I'd rather be an ugly, scarred survivor than a cute cadaver. None of that, die-young-and-leave-an-attractive-corpse, bullshit for me." And then in a tone that sounded almost regretful, she added, "I owe you my life," and began to play with her braid.

"Ugly?" Tom said, and boldly ran a cool palm up her inner thigh until it touched denim. "You'll never be ugly, Willow."

She shivered.

In a soft baritone, Tom sang, "Did I ever tell you you're my hero?" and repeated the hand stroke, this time letting his fingertips slip under the fabric. 

"Nice voice," said Willow, closing her eyes.

"Remember, you saved my life too." 

"Sing some more."

"It's too soon. You never know who might be listening, and sound travels in the mountains." 

They weren't out of the woods yet, and it probably wasn't the best time to test her boundaries, but his hand was in perfect position and he wanted to find out if she was all talk. His fingers rested just inside the leg hole. It was a simple matter to push in a little farther and caress the front of her thigh and hip, back and forth, in an ever-widening arc, until he felt her hairline. 

There was a slight grin on her troubled face, as if the probing hand felt good and bad all at the same time. 

Her furrowed brow bothered Tom a little. "Don't you like this?"

"Yes, it feels very nice."

"You look a little nervous."

"I am."

Tom twirled his index finger in the coarse hair and felt her abdomen tighten. "Why?"

"I don't know, I shouldn't be. You deserve it. Go ahead and take it."

"Take it? I don't want to take it. I thought you wanted to give it." This whole scene was getting a little weird. Tom slipped the hand out and patted her hip. "I'm just trying to figure out what you want from me. After last night, I thought you'd like me to return the favor." He gathered his legs under him to stand. "If you're not interested, stop teasing me."

"No, wait." Willow grabbed his wrist and pulled him back down. 

Tom wondered if her hesitant and modest behavior might be just another well-rehearsed fictional character, but the tug on his heart felt just as real as the quirky tug on her braid. Tears welled up in her eyes, ready to spill over. They shimmered like the stream. "What's the matter?" 

Upset and unable to look at his face, Willow stared at his hand, still clutched in hers. She traced over his knuckles, between his fingers, and wrestled within herself. "I've used men… I haven't cared… I'm not sure I can…" Finally, she just blurted, "You deserve better."

Well, that was a revealing string of incomplete sentences. Tom watched a few tears splash onto the granite stage and wondered what the best reaction would be to this improvisation. He wet his hand in the stream, cupped her face and swiped tears away with his thumb. The way she pressed and rubbed her cheek into his cold palm hardened his heart. This was not the time to get maudlin. It was time to make a mile. "Whatever," he said, rising to his feet. "We should keep going -- at least a couple more hours."

Slowly, Willow pulled on her socks and sandals. Her body language had dejection written on every round-shouldered movement. 

Tom walked slower than before, picking an open path to ease the woman's suffering. Danger seemed far behind them now, which allowed him to relax enough to wrap his brain around this enigma called Willow, or Cheyenne. Two basic facts became clear. First, despite whatever happened in her past, he could trust her. Second, he wanted to fuck her. What surprised him was how difficult fact number two was to decide. All this honorable concern for her welfare was getting in the way of pleasure. Maybe if he just banged her, like any other available piece of ass, the attraction would fade and he could feel normal again. The burden for someone else's welfare was emotionally draining. 

Once the problem was solved in his head, Tom enjoyed the scenery. The azure sky, the twittering songbirds and the fragrant pine air, put a smile on his face, until he turned around to witness the anguish on Willow's face. She plodded along, head down, missing out on the exquisite day. 

A doe flushed from her bed twenty yards to the right. Tom stopped to watch her bound away, white tail flying. He pointed, so Willow would see it. For the first time in over an hour she smiled. 

"Beautiful," she whispered.

"How's your feet?" 

"Not bad. Your bandages helped a lot."

He wondered if she was lying. 

"Let's take a break," he said, dropping the pack and sitting on a log in the shade. "In another half-an-hour, or so, we'll be at the campsite. I think we're safe now. If someone sees us, they'll just think we're hiking around the lake." 

"Sit here," he said, and patted the log. "Let me look at them." 

She sat down and pulled off a sandal.

Kneeling at her feet, he said, "No, no, no! Let me do it." Gently rolling down the stained sock, he waggled his eyebrows, and said, "Taking your clothes off is one of my job perks."

"You mean, when I'm wearing clothes."

It was nice to hear her joke again. "Actually, I have a blister fetish. I'm so damn horny right now. You're my fantasy come true." 

Her feet didn't appear any worse, definitely a good sign. Pleased with his first aid, he massaged each one and then worked up her calves. She had shapely legs, although stubble now roughened the surface. Soon, he found himself kneeling between them, rubbing the tops above the knee, while gazing into her dark, hooded eyes. 

"What do you think you're doing, Horse?" 

He smiled at the use of his self-appointed Indian name. "My lover's call me, Stud."

She smirked with an unconvinced twinkle. "Oh really?"




Vision of the Spirit Ch. 03



Both his hands pushed under the shorts to massage the sensitive area where thigh meets abdomen. "No, not really." 

Willow responded physically, a little. Her eyes closed and her body tensed. "I think you've taken a wrong turn."

"No, I haven't. I've been following the path I marked on the way in."

"You know what I mean," she said, and pressed her hands on top of his, to stop their motion. 

Tom looked at her chest, and said, "John's eye tells me I'm on the right track." 

She followed his gaze down the front of her tee-shirt to where a nipple poked out John Denver's right eye.

Tom sang, "You fill up my senses, like a night in the forest." Leaning close to her ear, he whispered, "And I want to do the same for you," and then kissed her cheek. 

A shudder raced through Willow's body and up Tom's arms. It contained a secret message that his brain miraculously decoded. "That's what you're afraid of isn't it? You don't want to lose control."

Her lips parted, as if to answer, but instead she looked away.

Once again, Tom removed his hands from her shorts and stood up. "Have it your way. Get your shoes on and let's go." 

Quietly she complied, sulking like a child sent to bed without supper. 

After a mile she came up along side, and said, "I'm not afraid of losing control. You're close, but that's not it. I'm afraid of something else." 

Tom walked on, and waited for the other shoe to drop.

Finally, she said, "I'm not the woman I was before the crash. I won't be going back to Vegas. This is a new beginning."

"I'm happy for you. Sounds good," he said, in a matter-of-fact tone.

Willow sensed his indifference. "Kicking Horse, I think you're acting like a horse's ass."

"Hey, I'm just trying to distance myself from the biggest horse-cock tease on the face of the earth."

There was a long pause before she admitted, "I was awful, wasn't I." 

They continued in silence for a while, but there was a new bounce in Willow's step. She became more attentive to their surroundings and often pointed out birds and asked what kind they were. 

Tom surprised himself with how much he knew and Willow's many questions meant she enjoyed his tutelage. It was the most normal thing they'd done together. 

"Look, over there." He pointed at a goldfinch perched in a maple tree. "That's a gold hawk."

"A gold hawk? It looks like a little parakeet."

"They look cute and harmless, but that's their game. You stroll by, admiring the cute little Tweety-Pie, and then they strike. Once they sink their poisonous talons in you you're paralyzed in seconds." 

Willow furrowed her brow. 

"They remind me of some women I've met," he said, and tossed a rock to scare away the diminutive predator. "Don't worry, I'll protect you," he promised, taking her hand. "Stay close."

"Okay," she said, sounding a little put out by the bird lesson.

Willow's curiosity apparently sated, they walked silent, hand in hand. With a far away, deep in thought look on her face, she occasionally stroked the braid that lay over her shoulder, like a comforting reaction to an uncomfortable idea. 

They stopped at the edge of a 100-yard clearing, overgrown with tall grass and wild daisies. The surrounding trees blocked the sun but allowed a soft breeze to filter through. "This is it," announced Tom, dropping the pack and stretching his lower back and shoulders. "We'll stop here. It'll take about another four hours tomorrow." 

From a zipped pocket, he pulled out a bar of soap-on-a-rope and a razor. And from the main compartment, he pulled a change of clothes. "There's a great little pond just over the ridge, and I need a bath." He took five paces, before he added, "You can come and watch if you want. Some women like to." 

There was no response in favor or opposed. 

Huge boulders surrounded the pond, making it a secluded tub with a capacity for twenty, if they were very friendly. A stream pushed through the center, constantly refreshing the pool. Tom slid down the rock face to a ledge and removed his clothes. Never one to wade in slowly, he leaped into the center and shivered in the chin deep water until his body became accustomed. The sunshine and the cool bath rejuvenated his tired body. Quickly, he washed and shaved. 

Drifting on his back, he enjoyed the blue sky above, while listening to the muffled sounds of the brook. 

A pebble landed in his navel and scuttled his daydream. 

From the top of a rock, Willow smiled down. "You were right. It was fun to watch."

"Nice shot. I'm impressed. Maybe I should call you Stone Willow."

She lifted a grocery bag in one hand and the bottle of Jack Daniels' Old No. 7 in the other, and said, "I brought dinner."

"C'mon on in. The water's… chilly, but I'll warm you up."

She slipped down the smooth rock face, placed dinner off to the side and then stood on the rock shelf. They stared at one another in silence for a while, until Willow said, "What are you waiting for?"

"For you to join me."

She stroked the braid, and said, "I'm waiting for you. Don't you want your job perk?"

Faster than you can say, 'occupational therapy', Tom climbed out. "Of course I do, how could I forget." 

Naked and dripping a puddle, he stood over her. Their eyes locked, and Tom recognized the unmistakable look of anxiety. An odd tenderness subdued his passion. The vulnerable young woman behind those warm, brown eyes softened his heart. "Turn around."

He pulled the rubber band from her thick braid, saying, "I'm going to wash your hair, first." 

As he unraveled the hair, Tom understood Willow's penchant for stroking her braid, although his reaction to the softness was not to be calmed but to be aroused. Somehow, the undoing felt erotic. By letting him remove her comforter, she became more exposed and revealed a trust. 

The wavy strands gradually fanned out over her shoulders and down to the small of her back. Once the hair was undone, Tom wrapped his arms around her chest and buried his face in it, until his lips found the nape of her neck. She smelled naturally good, pheromone rich, and tasted salty. 

Her head tipped into his. "That tickles." 

He nuzzled her ear, while his hands raised 'John Denver' off her chest. When the shirt was bunched around her neck, he quit teasing her ear to pull it off. Tom's hands returned and unbuttoned her Daisy Dukes. He squatted, kissed the scratch on her lower back, and pulled the shorts down. 

With nothing left to remove, Tom picked up the whiskey bottle and took off its top. Holding it out, he said, "Ladies first."

"Thanks." Willow kissed the bottle open mouthed and swallowed several times, lowering the fluid level significantly before returning it.

Tom lifted it in salute, and said, "Here's looking at you." Then drank more than she did, in true macho style. The alcohol instantly warmed the center of his torso, and he resisted the urge to cough. "Wow," he croaked.

"Good, isn't it," she said, with a smirk.

He took her hand. "I know something better," and pulled her into the pool. 

"Oh, it's so cold," said Willow, shivering with her arms wrapped across her chest.

"Wait, you'll get used to it." Tom pulled her in for warmth and to feel their slippery bodies pressed together. She wrapped her arms around him and returned the hug. While embraced, he spun them around to place her in the sunshine. They stood silent for a time, listening to the natural world and their own thoughts.

Her cheek lay on his shoulder and her breath tickled his neck. She said, "This is nice. It's been a long time since I've really enjoyed someone holding me."

He didn't know what to say, so he didn't say anything, but the confession pleased him.

"What I'm afraid of," she continued, "I wonder if I can feel anything real anymore."

Tom used two fingers to force up her resistant chin, so that he could see her eyes. They swam in pools of their own. "Can you feel me now?" he asked.

A smile bloomed, fast and pure. "Yes."

He kissed her forehead. "Can you feel me now?"

"Uh-huh," she whispered.

He kissed one saline eyelid and then the other. "Can you feel me now?"

She nodded.

Bending slightly, he traced his lips over hers until they parted. Their mouths played gently at first. Tom increased the pressure and she returned it. Tongues came in as reinforcements. Where the lips led the bodies followed, and they squirmed together with growing desire. 

Tom pushed away, gripped her arms, and asked, "Did you feel that?"

She nodded with eyes closed. 

"Good," he said, "It's bath time."

The hair was first. Bar soap isn't the best for making suds, but if you use enough, it works. She leaned forward against his chest as he scrubbed the wet mop into a froth of bubbles. 

"Mmm, that's nice," she whispered. 

"It's time to rinse. Just relax and float," he said, and laid her back in the water, suspended horizontally by one hand between her shoulder blades and another one under her bottom. The current rinsed away most of it, and the rest by gently rocking her back and forth to make the hair undulate, like the finest of sea grass. 

Serenity beamed from her face, while erect nipples cut the water's surface like buoys marking a prime fishing spot. 

The whiskey empowered Tom's impulsiveness, and he couldn't resist the temptation to sample the sultry morsel. He bent down and captured one delicious bud between his lips. 

Her back arched, "Mmm."

Piloting her in slow circles, he kissed the breast and fondled her bottom. Then reversed course and sucked the other one, letting the cool water tease over her. 

A new, log-like navigational hazard jutted out from between his legs. Willow's hand ran aground along its length. She smiled. "Can I feel you now?"

"No, not now."

She became restless in his arms, so he let her feet sink and stood her up. 

Weak kneed, she leaned back against him for support, with his cock sandwiched between them.

"Hold still," he said, lathering his hands. And then scrubbed her from the shoulders up. "Rinse time," he warned, before a baptismal plunge, cradled in his arms. 

He carried her to the shallows and sat her on a rock. 

She stretched in the sunshine. 

"You look like a mermaid," he said, soaping up his hands. 

"You look like a sailor who just came in for shore leave," she responded, staring at his erection.

Ignoring the remark, Tom washed and rinsed her feet, taking time to remove the bandages and check her blisters. He spent extra, lingering moments above her knees. Next on the schedule was her back. After a ticklish rubbing, the rinse cycle became a splash war. A truce was declared, so that he could clean her front. Both parties seemed willing to end hostilities when his slippery hands caressed her breasts and then slid down between her thighs. 

Tom's blood began to overheat. He dragged her off the rock and back into the cool depths. She clung to his shoulders. Under the surface, his fingers slipped between her pussy lips. "Can you feel me now?"

"Oh yeah," was the breathy answer. 

Her body felt weightless, and Tom reveled in playing with his new pool toy. A finger penetrated her warm canal. He held it still, at first. Able to support her with one hand, he floated her up and onto her back, so he could watch his finger slip in and out of her. 

Willow's eyes were closed. She seemed lost in the sensation. 

Tom bent to suck a nipple, while his thumb swirled her clit. Her legs floated apart, like the first half of a frog kick, making everything easier to see and easier to do. 

The arm closest to Tom sank beneath the surface, groped his erection, and teased his glans between two agile fingers. The long foreplay had burned his fuse dangerously short. "Not yet," he pleaded.

She smiled, and said, "Sorry."

Holding her between the shoulders, he captured her mouth with his, and began to plunge his fingers in and out. The sound of frenzied splashing added audible excitement. 

She kissed back with renewed intensity. Her arm, wrapped around his back, squeezed. Her legs began to pump, unconsciously seeking a foothold to thrust against. With their mouths clamped together, Tom felt her moans against his lips. He could feel her pussy spasm around his fingers. She held him tighter, let out a muffled scream and arched her back. His unrelenting fingers continued, until her muscles stopped their waves of contraction.

Breaking the kiss, he twirled with her in his arms, and asked, "Did you feel that?"

Willow laughed, and said, "God, you know I did."

They stopped, and he set her feet down. 

She hugged him tight. "Thank you, that was wonderful." 

After a brief recovery, Willow pulled on his arm, saying, "Horse, come over here." 

They waded into the shallows, until they reached a large rock. "Sit," she commanded.

He sat, and Willow knelt in the water between his legs and attacked his lap. Her cool, wet hair draped over his stomach and hips, hiding her face from view. But he felt her lips kiss him, her tongue lick his cock, her fingers caress his scrotum. One cool hand rubbed up his chest, found his nipples and teased them. Her head began to bob with a motion intent on leveling the orgasm score one to one.

"Willow, that's amazing," he said, lifting aside the soggy strands to watch her lips work his shaft. A variety of hums and sucks soon had him at the point of release, and then she quit. His cock pulsed with every heartbeat. She just watched it throb, and smiled. When the peak subsided and the blood began to ebb, she sucked him back to the brink. 

After the third time, Tom thought his heart would explode before his balls. "Please, don't stop."

Hearing him beg made her grin. "Okay, I can use the protein." 

Once again, she engulfed his cock. Using both hands to steady it, to stroke it, and caress it, she played him slower than before. The rise to the peak crawled persistently higher. And when she sensed his point of release, Willow quickened her mouth, forcing the blast of ecstasy from his loins. Tom's seed pumped in waves of aching relief up his shaft and between her sucking lips, never to be seen again. 

She continued to toy with him until he softened. 

When she released his cock, Tom pulled her on top of him. Her cool flesh felt refreshing after the heat of sex. Her hair dragged along his sides. She tried to lay her head on his chest, but he wanted to kiss her, to taste her mouth. Willow liked the idea, so their kisses lingered. 

Finally they relaxed in a satisfied stupor. 

Several minutes passed, while Tom held her. These last two days had transformed from a nightmare to a dream come true. In his best Keano Reeves imitation, he said, "This has been a most excellent Vision Quest."

"How so?" she asked, hugging tighter and nuzzling under his chin. 

"In a way, it's been a two-fer. We've both been tested and become stronger, more self-confident people."

"Mm-hm."

There was more on his heart, but it bordered on naive pandering and would sound ridiculous if he said it aloud. "What are you going to do when we get back?"

"I don't know. What are you going to do?"

"Good question." He thought for a moment, and said, "I've worked across the country to get here, and I haven't planned any farther ahead than this. It might be fun to hang around for the Lewis and Clarke anniversary. If it wasn't for them, I wouldn't be me."

A finger traced around his left nipple before she said, "Ancestry's something you have no control over. What's that old saying? 'You can choose everything in life but your parents' or something like that."

This was getting too serious. Tom's stomach rumbled. "Let's eat. What's for supper?"

She pushed away and sat up. The bedraggled hair framed her breasts. "Lots of chips and crackers."

"Yum," he smiled, more at her than the menu. She was the main course and dessert. Everything else was appetizer.

"Oh, and we have whiskey!" she said, and held out a hand to pull him up.

"All right! A feast!" 

The food was in the shade on the opposite bank. Halfway across, they dunked to rinse off. He copped a feel and stole a kiss without protest.

As they climbed out onto the rock ledge, Tom asked, "Where's the backpack?"

She pointed. "Up behind that rock."

"I'll get the comb."

"Okay, I'll get dinner ready." 

They grinned foolishly at one another, like two lovers on a weekend getaway. 

Tom peeked over the rock rim, and scanned the perimeter. With nothing but flora in sight, he quickly grabbed his comb and returned to the nudie picnic. Willow had a smorgasbord of Tortillas, Sociables, Doritos and Ritz laid out on her tee-shirt. A new jar of mild salsa sat in the middle next to the two-thirds bottle of Old No. 7. 

He picked up the whiskey and toasted, "Thank you, Great Spirit, for guidance and unexpected friendship."

With a bright smile, Willow said, "Amen."

A twinge of affection tingled from his belly up to his ears -- something he never felt this soon after sex. What he needed was a gulp of firewater to douse such crazy emotions. It was just hunger acting out. When finished, he handed over the bottle and then moved behind her, saying, "Go ahead and eat. I'll comb your hair before it dries." 

After a taste from the bottle, Willow began to eat. Tom worked the comb through the thick tangle, trying not to pull. Every once in a while, she'd feed him over her shoulder. And every once in a while he'd just nibble her shoulder. When he did she laughed or acted ticklish. 

"Done!" The shiny hair lay in straight rows down her back. "When it dries I'll braid it for you."

"Switch places, and I'll do yours," said Willow. 

When she stood, her ass was right at eye level. And when she turned around, Tom began to comb her short hairs. "Hmm, not enough here to braid." 

"I hope not!" she said. "Now stop. It's my turn. Scoot forward."

He laughed. "Now I've got you saying it."

She pushed him. "C'mon, scoot!"

Tom slid forward, and laid out more chips and crackers. The gentle tension of the comb over his scalp and her light touches around his ears and shoulders held a rare tenderness. To be fussed over was something special.

"We should set up camp, soon," he said, covering an array of snacks with the chunky condiment. "We need to collect firewood and boil some drinking water." Holding a loaded chip over his shoulder, he asked, "Willow want a cracker?"

The comb stopped briefly, as she leaned against his back to take the morsel deep into her mouth and drag her lips over his fingers. "Than' 'ou."

Naked bliss continued until every hair was combed and they'd had their fill of junk food. The conversation remained superficial -- silly things, like politics and religion. After all was said and done, they agreed on tolerance. 

The sun began to fade, and the whiskey buzz rose. The bottle was half-empty, but Tom said, "half-full." 

Willow slurred, "You're such an op… opto… optometrist."

Tom laughed so hard he cried. The laughter proved contagious. She joined in the tearful outburst. Between breaths, she asked, "Whasso funny?"

When he explained her mistake, her face darkened. "I'm stupid."

"No, you're not!" He pulled her into a hug, buried his face in her hair, and whispered, "You're drunk," and then they laughed a little more.

Getting dressed required too much coordinated effort. Only their bottoms were covered when they left the privacy of the rock tub. 

Tom used his walking stick to knock down a crop circle in the middle of the daisy field. He gathered large stones for a fire ring, while Willow gathered some wood. Once the fire crackled with enough determination to stay lit, he put on a pot of water and they walked back to the stream to wash before bed. 

Upon their return to camp, Tom unrolled the sleeping bag, and said, "I'll braid yours if you'll braid mine."




Vision of the Spirit Ch. 03



"Deal," she said, and sat between his spread legs. 

Her hair was so soft, Tom wondered if he'd lost feeling in his fingers. Carefully, he divided the velvety mass and began to weave. 

Quiet minutes passed. Night songs of crickets and bullfrogs entertained them. A hoot owl added an occasional question. 

Willow interrupted to softly say, "My real name is Hannah."

Briefly stunned by the simple declaration, Tom paused to process the implications of this sudden revelation. "Hannah is a beautiful name."

"I was named after my mulatto Great, Great Grandmother, Hannah Roundtree. She was the daughter of an escaped slave, who married Joshua Roundtree, a Seminole."

Two inches from the end of her braid, Tom tripled twisted a red rubber band. He pulled her back against his chest and, using the tapered end of the braid, brushed her nipples erect. "All finished, Hannah Stone Willow Roundtree, et cetera, et cetera, et cetera."

Her head tipped back. She said thank you. He said you're welcome, and then kissed her fully. A breast filled each of his palms. His fingers kept busy, teasing the swollen peaks, until she sat up. "Okay, turn around and I'll do you." The grin on her face foretold unrevealed pleasures in his future.

Displaying superb dexterity, the braid was quickly finished, and she began to massage him. "My, you have strong shoulders. How does this feel?"

"Mmm, wonderful."

"I don't meet men like you… What I mean is, you're a nice guy…"

It sounded like an accusation. Tom interrupted, "I'm not! Listen, the day before we met, I screwed my Boss's wife. So don't tell me I'm nice."

A hand slithered over his shoulder and down his chest. Her warm skin pressed against his back. She kissed the nape of his neck, and whispered, "You're very nice."

"Don't say that!" He spun around and pushed her down. His hands trapped hers, their fingers laced, his mouth covered a breast. 

Hannah arched into the sensation, let him suck each side, before saying, "Stop." 

Tom didn't. 

She squeezed his fingers, pushed up against his weight, and said, "Stop," again. This time he did, and they locked eyes. "Do you know the stars?"

Confused, Tom sat up. "What?"

"The stars are beautiful out here. Can you show me any constellations?" said Hannah, as she removed her shorts. "Astronomy's always fascinated me," she explained, reaching over to unzip Tom's pants. He lifted his ass when she tugged them down and off.

"I know a few." 

Lying on her back, she said, "Show me."

Tom lay down beside her. She nestled comfortably in the crook of his arm, with her head on his shoulder.

Pointing skyward, he told what little he knew about the constellations of the Zodiac. "Those stars are Leo, the lion. Legend says, Leo had a hide so tough nothing could penetrate it. Hercules was on one of his quests when they fought. He tried to reason with the animal, but couldn't. So Hercules strangled him to death. The local womenfolk were very grateful." 

She rubbed her cheek on him, and said, "Another hero."

"And those stars," he said, pointing to a new group, "are the Gemini twins. They grew up to be the first professional gladiator cheerleaders. They did commercials for wine and grog and designer togas."

The giggle from his student only encouraged his absurd commentary. "Two of the easiest constellations to find are the Big Dipper and the Little Dipper. The Big Dipper, Ursa Major, is also known as the Greater Bear. The Little Dipper, Ursa Minor, is the Lesser Bear." Tom drew a circle in the air, and said, "That bunch of stars is Goldie Locks." 

"Oh, really," she said, turning sideways to gaze into his eyes. Her mouth moved to his, lingered and probed softly with her tongue. 

Astronomy class was over. Tom rolled on top of her and began the study of another heavenly body. His lips kissed down her throat, while one hand slipped between her legs. There were no protests this time. 

Lightly, with just one fingertip, he traced around her pussy, and said, "I've also studied female anatomy. This area is called the urogenital triangle. This here," he pushed a finger between her folds, "is the labia majora," again, he pushed, "this is the labia minora and, finally," the finger dragged up to tease a hardened bump that caused her hips to move, "this is the female Polaris, also known as the clitoris."

"I love a man who knows where everything is," groaned Hannah.

"Well then, allow me to show off," said Tom, as his mouth closed around a waiting nipple, and his fingers began to explore the slick triangle in earnest. 

"Oh, yes… do." Hannah grabbed his expanding cock and made good use of her dexterity. The other hand rubbed and squeezed his ass -- with more urgency as he touched her more intimately. 

The sound of his plunging fingers and her imploring moans drowned out the crickets and frogs. When her climax neared, he stopped and waited. Twice, he brought her to the edge. 

"Oh, you're a bad man!" she hissed, while humping air.

Positioned between Hannah's open thighs, he said, "I told you I wasn't nice," and slipped his cock inside her creamy warmth.

Hannah pulled him down. They kissed, locked in an embrace, each tensing internal muscles to send erotic vaginal missives.

Breaking away from his mouth, she said, "I want you to know. You're the first man to have me without a condom."

This admission seemed odd to Tom at first. And then he realized the implication. Slowly, he pumped his hips. "Thank you for trusting me." 

Conversation ended. Their coupling became needy and wanton. Nothing mattered except fulfillment of desire and sweet completion. 

The whiskey numbed Tom's senses enough to make it a long, pleasurable ride. 

Hannah, already near climax, came quickly. And then again as Tom exploded inside. Their bodies clamped tight, he rained down kisses in an expression of loving thankfulness. They lay together for twenty minutes and then repeated the act before falling asleep, wrapped in each other's arms.



Vision of the Spirit Ch. 04



Exhausted by Friday's adventure, Tom's dreamless sleep lasted well beyond dawn. When the sun finally touched his subconscious, he rolled away from the light and opened his eyes. Satisfied warmth surrounded him, as the memory of the previous night replayed. He sat up with a start, realizing Hannah wasn't pressed against his back. She was nowhere in sight. His chest tightened when he reached for his boots and they were gone as well. Scanning the dew kissed field he spotted a fresh path of bent grass pointing toward the homeward trail. 

Quickly, Tom broke camp. Checking the fire pit to make sure all the embers were out, he found the word 'thanks', printed with ash, on consecutive stones. "Damn it, what is she doing?" This was unbelievable. After all they shared she discarded him like a used condom. If that's what she wanted, then screw her. 

Tom sat down to reevaluate the situation and take inventory. The trail from here to the truck was well traveled. Hannah wouldn't get lost. His truck keys were gone, along with twenty dollars. The rest of his paycheck was still in the wallet. Twenty dollars wouldn't take her far, probably to the closest town with a bank and a bus station. 

Using strips of tree bark, he fashioned a crude pair of sandals and attached them to his sock-covered feet with gauze and medical tape. They weren't Air Jordan's, but they were better than bare footin'. The canteen was gone. So he drank his fill from what was left in the cooking pot, and headed out. The walk was slow and steady. Care had to be taken not to step on anything pointy. What a vision quest this turned out to be. The bottom line, the lesson learned, the secret of the universe was, life's a bitch, take what you can get, because sooner or later you get taken. 

As Tom marched along the dappled trail, his mood lightened and he decided the quest hadn't been so bad. The danger was real enough, the circumstances beyond belief. And the sex, well the sex had been unworldly good. Funny how he felt empty without her. Hannah Willow Roundtree could fuck the soul out of a man. It was good she left. Reality would be anticlimactic after yesterday. This way, the whole affair seemed like the crazy vision he'd hoped for.

The sun had passed its zenith by the time Tom reached the trailhead. He found his boots hanging from a tree branch, ready for pickup. More than a dozen vehicles were spread across the parking lot, but not his truck. He sat down on a bench next to a plywood map, laced up his boots, and pondered his next move. 

A man and woman exited the forest from another direction. The woman had her arm around the man's shoulders, as they limped to a dented green Impala. "I told you this was a stupid idea, Jack. The last thing I want to do on my vacation is wander through the fucking woods. Now I'll be laid up for the rest of the damn trip!"

"I'm sorry, Honey. Please don't swear. I really thought you'd like it once you were here. You have to admit it's beautiful."

"Oh yeah, it's fabulous, if you like bugs and dirt, it's fucking heaven."

Tom didn't want to interrupt their domestic bliss, but this might be his only chance to catch a ride for hours. "Excuse me," he said, walking toward the three legged pair. "Do you guys need any help?"

Jack eyed him suspiciously, and said, "No, we're okay. Thanks anyway."

The wife's demeanor changed the instant she saw Tom. A toothy smile bloomed. She smoothed her platinum hair, and retracted the claws that were visible only seconds before. "Hi. I just sprained my ankle. Nothing serious."

"Okay, great." Tom walked along with them a few feet, and said, "I was wondering if you're headed south. My truck was stolen, and I could use a lift to the nearest town."

"Oh, you poor man," said the wife. "Of course we can."

Jack smiled half-heartedly, and said, "sure."

"I'm Jill Stanhope and this is my husband Jack."

Tom introduced himself, and couldn't help but smile. "You're Jack and Jill?"

Jill's laugh echoed. "Yeah, we went up a hill," and laughed louder.

"Only I didn't break my crown, thank the Lord," said Jack.

The irritated face that Jill made left no doubt their relationship had tumbled down.

"Honey, why don't you sit in the back, so you can keep your foot elevated. Tom can ride in front with me."

After stowing Tom's pack and walking stick in the trunk, they drove off.

Jack asked, "Do you like gospel music?"

Jill sat behind her husband, and leaned against the door to stretch her leg across the seat. "Oh, Honey, don't play that. Put on some Garth Brooks. I just love Garth." When Tom glanced back she winked. "Are you Indian, Tom?"

"Just a little. Not enough to say so." Tom told them his Lewis and Clarke story.

"Wow, that's exciting. You're ancestors are a part of history."

Tom thought, 'what ancestors aren't a part of history?' He looked at Jack and asked, "Where are you guys from?"

Jill, the spokesmodel, jumped in. "We're from Little Falls, Idaho. You've never heard of it. We're here on vacation. I wanted to go to Reno, but Jack wanted to go to the mountains." A disgusted tone punctuated 'mountains'. 

Tom smiled, politely. 

Jill puckered her blood-red lips in a faux kiss and winked again.

"I love the mountains," said Jack. "I feel closer to God out here. Do you know Jesus, Tom?"

"Uh…"

"Oh, leave the poor man alone. He's just had his truck stolen, for Christ's sake."

"Jill, don't take the Lord's name in vain. God has a plan. Maybe today His plan was to bring Tom to us, so we could share the Gospel."

"Tom, just ignore him."

Jack began his salvation message. 

Tom's brain turned off, until Jill kicked the back of his seat. When he looked, she had her shirt pulled up under her chin to expose a nice pair of breasts. They had a slightly deflated appearance that said 'drained by rug rats'. Her wicked grin did not seem to invite salvation. Tom smiled appreciatively, and then stared out the window no matter how hard Jill kicked his seat. 

His ex-employer, Jack Mathews and wife Lisa came to mind. Here we go again, he thought. But things had changed for Tom. Trust and fidelity meant something to him now. Suddenly without it, life felt unpredictable and lonely. The pride he'd always felt in self-sufficiency paled compared to the experience of oneness he'd known briefly with Hannah. Maybe it was only foxhole infatuation. The struggle to survive had distilled their bond to its finest elements.

"We're all sinners, Tom, and fall short of the glory of God. If you ask forgiveness and repent, He will cleanse your sins."

"How long have you guys been born again?"

Jack glanced at the rearview mirror. "How long has it been, Honey?"

"Oh, about a week."

'I don't think it stuck to your wife,' thought Tom. On second thought, maybe Christianity was Jack's way of saving his marriage. He had to suspect how bad his wife behaved. A miracle was probably their only hope. "I wish you guys the best, but I've see too much hypocrisy to have faith in anything." Jill stopped kicking his seat. "How long have you guys been married?"

Jack smiled into the mirror, and said, "Five years."

"Any kids?"

"We have a son and daughter -- Eric and Missy. They're at the Grandparents for the week, so we could have some alone time."

"Hey, that's great. How old are they?"

"Twelve and ten."

"Wow, almost teenagers. You don't look old enough to have kids that age." It didn't take a Ph.D. to figure this one out. Jill married a fool to take care of her and her brood, and now she resented his stupidity, a classic female maneuver. Never trust a needy woman. Their silence confirmed his judgement. The guilty don't self-incriminate. Tom closed his eyes, and pretended to sleep. Hannah appeared in his mind's eye. God, he loved that name. Too bad she was a thieving whore.

Thirty minutes later, Tom entered the granite jailhouse of Antler Forks, and said, "I'd like to report a plane crash." 

The announcement drew people out of doorways like ants to sugar. Questions and paperwork took hours to complete. Somehow, Hannah never came up in conversation.

The sun had set before he was free to go. Detective Morris commanded, "Don't leave town without checking in. If you can't find a place to stay, you're welcome to sleep in one of the cells tonight."

Tom thanked him for the offer, but decided he'd rather sleep on the ground than inside a jail. 

Antler Forks was a typical tourist trap. The winter population of 1502 swelled to around 6000 in the summer. Neon and mercury vapor lit the streets and blotted out the stars that most of the visitors came to see. Tom passed bar after bar, hotel after hotel, until he reached the edge of town. A sign in front of a fieldstone house, with pretty stone cabins strung out along a white gravel driveway, flashed "Midway Motel _acancy".

A wrinkled old man in a holey tee-shirt answered the doorbell. Blue anchors and mermaids covered his leathery forearms. "What can I do for ya, Young Man?"

"I'd like a room for the night."

The man looked out the window, and asked, "Where's your car?"

Tom gave him the condensed version of recent events.

"Sounds like you've had a run of bad luck. Well, hang in there. It's a good life if ya don't weaken. You got thirty bucks?"

"Yes sir." Tom handed him two bills, and asked, "How'd you come up with the motel's name?"

"Midway?" He chuckled softly, and then stayed quiet for a few moments. "Most folks think it means they're halfway to someplace. I named her after the Battle of Midway."

"Were you there?"

"Yeah, I was there, aboard the USS Hammann, until she got torpedoed." His jaundiced eyes met Tom's, "people forget." The old swab handed over a key on a numbered ring and waved Tom away, "Now git. Don't wreck the place."

Cabin 9 was vintage 1950, everything chipped and worn down, but clean. The mattress sagged in the middle. After sleeping on the ground it felt like a cloud. Hunger pangs drew him away from the bed and back into town. Night rhythms vibrated from every barroom. An all-night diner, advertising homemade pies, proved irresistible. Waitresses and patrons noticed his unkempt appearance and whispered. 

'Maybe I should find a Laundromat.' Savoring the last bite of lemon meringue, Tom looked across the street and spied a familiar John Denver tee-shirt and a long black braid enter a crowded bar. "Check please!"

A sign outside 'The Syncopated Cynic' read: Karaoke contest Saturday night, cash prizes. Tom paid the cover charge, got his hand stamped, and melded into the smoky crowd. He stayed in the shadows, until he found an unoccupied space with a view of the room. Most of the patrons were men. This was a john rich environment. Hannah could make some serious money. All Tom wanted was his truck back before she hooked up.

The thumping music stopped, the lights dimmed and a spotlight focused on the small stage. A greasy, lounge lizard announced the first contestant. Unable to see the crowd's faces, Tom began to prowl. An attentive audience listened to the first mediocre performer, and then went back to their neglected drinks and conversations. 

Finally reaching the back of the room without success, Tom grabbed an empty stool, and sat down to rest and think.

A waitress, wearing a tissue-thin halter-top and spandex shorts, wiggled over, and asked, "Can I get you something?" When the bottle of Molsen Golden was delivered, Tom tipped and smiled generously. The hottie raked him with a look of interest, until she noticed his shabby clothes, and said, "Thanks, Doll."

Tom leaned his head against the wall, closed his eyes, and shut out the world, until a sultry voice began to belt out Janis Joplin's 'Piece of My Heart'. 

"Hey, come on, come on, come on, come on!

Didn't I make you feel…" 

The voice held depth and drama. He cracked an eyelid to take a peek and then rocked forward, amazed to see Hannah on stage. The audience became still. Her dirty Denver tee-shirt and the plethora of scratches on her slender limbs only enhanced the tragic refrain…

"You're out on the streets, you're looking good, Honey, deep down inside I know you know it ain't never been right, Never, never, never, never, never, never, never, never hear me cry at night, oh! Each time I tell myself that I can't stand the pain, But when you hold me in your arms, I'll sing it once again…"

Tom witnessed the glitter of tears on her cheeks. Whether they were real or fake, they worked. When Hannah finished, the crowd erupted in a standing ovation. She blew a kiss, took a bow and disappeared backstage. 

The next amateur commandeered the microphone, and gradually the room returned to its self-gratifying inattention. Except for Tom. Watchful, he worked his way stage right. After about five minutes, Hannah stepped from behind a curtain, and waded into the crowd. Many stopped to compliment her performance. She acted modest, humbly said thanks, while steadily moving to the back. Once there, Hannah stood against the wall, and people left her alone. She wore a satisfied grin, looked happy. He'd seen that grin before, under different circumstances, and felt a pang of disappointment that he wasn't there to share her moment of glory. Tom felt a strange pride, surprising warmth, toward the thieving whore. She had talent. Why did she throw her life away? 

A squeaky soprano broke into song and the male crowd cheered. The well-endowed blonde must have been confused about tonight's contest. She strutted across the stage in a wet tee-shirt. Her bunny hop performance raised a deafening roar. Tom couldn't even tell what song she pretended to sing. He glanced at Hannah, and his heart sank. She slumped forward, stared at the floor, and stroked her braid. At first, Tom didn't understand what happened. But when the next three women all performed in diminishing amounts of fabric and the cheers increased inversely proportional to their modesty, he realized the fix was in. To the Victoria's with the least secrets go the spoils. Hannah finished out of the money. Another little piece of her heart broken.

Anger swelled in Tom's chest. She was by far the best singer, and should've won. He waited for her reaction and hoped for the best, but expected the worst. 

Hannah didn't dwell on the loss. A few seconds later, her head was up. She reconnoitered, and settled on two potbellied, polyester playboys. After cupping a hand in front of her mouth for a breath check, Hannah leaned on the table between them and struck up a conversation.

This wasn't right. The whole plane crash ordeal was supposed to have changed Cheyenne back to Hannah. Tom wasn't about to let her off the hook so easily. She owed him, and he was going to make her accountable. Unnoticed, Tom moved behind her, tapped her shoulder, and said, "Nice song, Willow."

She snapped around so fast that her braid whacked one of the men hard across the face. Her eyes darted around, looking for the police or a possible escape route. "Hi, Tom. I'm glad to see you made it out safe. I knew you would." Her hand dove into her pocket and pulled out his truck keys. "Here, it's parked in the lot behind the bar." They stood for long seconds, eyeing each other. Once she realized Tom wasn't going to freak out, she relaxed a little. "Let's talk."

The man, still rubbing his cheek, yelled at their backs, "Where you going, Darlin'?"

Hannah waved good-bye with one hand and pulled Tom away with the other. "Sorry, Charlie."

Tom was at a loss for words, or feelings. One touch and his emotions became blender mix. He managed to shout, "You should've won."

Hannah ignored the comment and dragged him out into the cool night, where they could speak at normal volume. Dropping his hand, she said, "I didn't think I'd ever see you again, Tom. But, since you're here, I want to apologize for leaving without you."

All his anger had drained away, and before she spoke he'd already forgiven her. But why did he even care? It felt ridiculous. She should be in jail, until everything was sorted out.

"You're an nice guy, Tom. And I don't want my screwed up life messing up yours. I left without you because I don't want you any deeper in my… crap. Now that I'm safe, let's just say goodbye. I can take care of myself." She held out her hand.

The hand hovered, untouched. Tom said, "I thought you'd changed. What were you doing in there?"

Pushing both hands into her back pockets, Hannah looked down, bit her lip, and said, "I need money. I have to get to Vegas and clean out my bank account before I can start over. I don't have any ID."

"How much do you need?" said Tom, pulling out his wallet.

"I don't know."

"Is there a bus station here?"

"I don't know."

"Where are you going to sleep?"

"I don't know."

Tom's anger returned. "I'll tell you where you were going to sleep. In bed with the first horny slob you could find. Were you going to rip him off, too?" 

Hannah stroked her braid and began to cry. "So what? Why do you care?"

Unbelievable. "Come on." Tom grabbed her wrist and she followed without a struggle. "Where's my fucking truck?"

She pointed.

It was a lot faster to drive to the Midway motel than to walk. When he parked in front of cabin number 9 they sat quietly for a while.

"If you lend me some money, I'll pay you back."

"I don't think I have enough cash left. I can make a withdrawal on Monday."

"Not until Monday?"

"Is my company that bad, you can't wait 'til Monday?"

"No, that's not it…"

A blinding light suddenly burst through the windshield. Hannah screamed.

A voice shouted, "What are you doin' here?"

Tom recognized the wizened proprietor's gravelly voice. He opened his door and held up his hands. "It's Tom DuBois, from cabin 9."

The light clicked off. "I've been havin' me some trouble with break-ins lately," said the silhouette, tucking a shotgun under its arm. "Hey, I thought you said your truck was stolen."

"Turns out my girlfriend just borrowed it. Everything's cool."

The old man shook his head, turned away, and said, "Women… Good luck, DuBois."

"Sir, you got any washing machines around here?"

"They're broke."

Tom unlocked the cabin door, and said, "I have some clean clothes in the truck," then turned back. All of his worldly possessions were stowed beneath the fiberglass cap. There wasn't much, but he was relieved to find everything still in place. The street value of his tools and guitar would've easily paid for a trip to Las Vegas.

When he returned to the cabin, Hannah lay face down on the bed and appeared to be asleep. It had been a long day. First a shower and then about ten hours of shuteye sounded perfect. Quickly, he washed up, saving some hot water for his roommate. After pulling on clean underwear, Tom shook her, and said, "Get up, Stinky, and take a shower." 

Without seeming to open her eyes, Hannah dragged herself into the bathroom. Tom crawled between the cool sheets and tried to sleep, but the anticipation of her return energized his circuits. It wasn't long before the water stopped and the bathroom door opened. The light clicked off and she slipped into bed. The natural sag of the mattress brought them together. Hannah snuggled, naked against his back. A tender hand slipped over his chest and across his stomach. When her fingers hooked on the elastic waistband, she said, "You've got to be kidding. Take these off," and began to push them down.

Tom wanted to refuse, and say no, I'm too tired. He didn't like the idea she was paying him off. He didn't want to be the horny slob picked up at the bar. But his mind was weak and his body able. The underpants landed somewhere with a soft plop. Hannah wrapped him in her arms and gave his flesh what it wanted, kisses and caresses that had him ready without ever touching below the imaginary belt, but she was a professional, after all. 




Vision of the Spirit Ch. 04



After a nibble on his ear, she said, "Goodnight," and hugged him tight.

"Goodnight." Tom rolled over and captured the naked woman.

His hardness pressed into her leg, and she gasped, "Oh my." 

He felt the smile on her lips with his own. Then dragged his mouth down along her throat to a nipple and felt her tense from the pleasure. Her nails dug into his back. She was ready, with legs spread open. He lingered at the entrance. Her heels began to kick and push. Her hips thrust forward and he backed away.

"Do it!" she hissed.

"Do you want it?"

"Yes, now!"

"Are you sure?"

"Oh, why are you torturing me?" 

Hannah reached for his erection. He grabbed her wrists and pinned them over her head. At the speed of grass, he slipped inside her and she groaned. Several lubricated strokes later, he released her arms and she pulled him down. Their mouths danced together, feeding each others need. Without warning, she screamed and clamped him down with her legs. Her hips convulsed and he could feel her nails draw blood. 

Finally, her legs relaxed. 

Tom continued to pump with renewed lust. He lifted her legs over his shoulders and bent her in half. She was a rag doll now, letting him enjoy her body without opinion. In the dark, all he could do was imagine the beautiful face that went along with the soft moans and grunts.

The end came too soon. The spasm of release electrified his body. He could feel his soul discharge through his cock. The thieving whore owned him. Totally defenseless, he collapsed into her waiting arms, to be comforted. He was afraid, so afraid. What would he do when she left?




Vision of the Spirit Ch. 05



A gentle tug on Tom's arm woke him. Only half-aware, he clutched Hannah tight to his chest in a reflex triggered by dreams of abandonment. 

She brushed his cheek, and whispered, "I have to pee, but I'll be right back. I promise."

The curtains faintly glowed with sunrise. Rain and wind tapped on the glass. Tom languidly stretched, and enjoyed a lazy Sunday morning contentment. His thoughts floated between dream and reality. The warm bed felt like an ideal place to spend the day. After a few minutes, he rolled onto his side and watched for Hannah's return from the bathroom. The door opened and she emerged from the dark. Her hair was unbraided, and flowed in waves of black silk over her shoulders and breasts. Tom's heart beat a little faster when he pulled back the covers, and she slipped in.

Hannah kissed him with minty-fresh breath, and said, "Good morning." A cool hand slid across his hip. "Where's that nice stiffy you poked me with a few minutes ago?" She found what remained and then super-sized it with one adept finger, tracing its contour.

Tom rolled out of bed. "My turn." 

Impatiently, he brushed his teeth, while waiting for the erection to subside so he could relieve the pressure in his bladder. He washed the important parts and hurried back, ready to start the day off with a bang. The dim light revealed an empty bed. The front door was slightly ajar. "Not again." Thoughts switched from passion to rejection in the wink of an evil eye. Still naked, Tom swung the door wide, and yelled, "Hannah!" into the storm. The rain sizzled against his burning anger.

Without warning, Tom's head was struck from behind. He spun around to find a pillow at his feet. Mischievous eyes peeked at him from over the far side of the bed. Relief coursed through his veins, muscles relaxed. The joy he felt surprised him, his attachment to this woman unnerving. 

Slamming the door, Tom marched around the bed to confront the crouching sniper, hidden temptress. "If you think you can punk me without payback you're in for a rude surprise."

Hannah screamed, "You'll never take me alive!" and crawled away, over the bed. 

Tom caught both her ankles, dragged her crosswise on the mattress, and lay on her back. 

"Oh, you're cold!" she said, as he pushed her hair aside to kiss her shoulder. The struggle soon faded. Their skin temperatures reached equilibrium and then began to rise simultaneously. 

In a thick, distracted voice, Hannah whispered, "I surrender."

His fingers raked down her sides, grazing each breast, while his lips followed the ridges of her spine to a firm, round bottom. Kneading each globe, he kissed one side and then the other, sucking the flesh long enough to leave red welts for days. Grasping her hips, Tom flipped her over and reversed direction, up the front of her body, until his hands cupped her face. He stroked her cheeks with his thumbs, and asked, "Why should I believe you?"

Hannah broke eye contact, seemed to consider a number of answers, and said, "I promise, I'll never runaway from you again. I won't leave your side until you let me go. Is that what you want?"

"Hmm, that sounds about right," he said, as his index finger twirled a proud nipple. 

She closed her eyes, and smiled. "Last night, you told the old man I was your girlfriend. It sounded nice. I haven't been anyone's girlfriend in a long time." 

The curve of her breast teased his lips, until he enveloped a nipple with a gentle suction. Her hands cradled his face, while his tongue flicked the hardened tip. He blew a cool breeze across the wet peak. She shivered. 

"Well, Hannah, you can be my girlfriend, for today, at least." Tom liked the idea very much. Commitment had never been important. But Hannah was still a mystery, a lovely enigma worthy of emotional risk. In fact, the risk heightened the thrill. 

Her soft palms guided him to the other breast. 

While his tongue teased around the areola, Tom decided unconditional affection must be nonexistent in her life, and wondered how she would respond to an unrequited orgasm. "Hannah, What do you like?"

"What do I like?" With eyes closed, her brow furrowed in thought. Then softly she sang, "Raindrops on roses, And whiskers on kittens, Bright copper kettles, And warm woolen mittens, Brown paper packages, Tied up with strings, These are a few of my favorite things . . ." The song stopped, and she arched her back when he finally sucked on the pleasantly tortured breast. "I like what you're doing now very much, too."

"Roll over, I want to check your cuts." 

The bemused stare before turning over pleased him. He'd surprised her. 

Gathering her blanket of hair and placing it off to the side, Tom inspected the scratches that striped her back. Satisfied with their progress, he massaged her shoulders, saying, "Physical therapy always speeds recovery."

"You're the doctor."

Trailing his fingers lightly around the wounds, Tom soon worked his way back down to her bottom. Each round cheek fit nicely into his kneading grip. After a long fondle, he traced his fingers along the center cleft, until he cupped her sex underneath. Hannah remained still. Tom wondered if she'd fallen asleep. He began to stroke the mons and play with the meager tuft of hair. Hannah groaned and raised her hips, proving she wasn't.

"Did that hurt? Tell me if it did. Therapy shouldn't be painful."

Rolling onto her back, she raised up on her elbows, and smirked. "No, it didn't hurt. In fact, I think it's just what the doctor ordered." Her smoldering gaze burned down his body, until it rested on his throbbing cock. "Would you like to take my temperature with that?"

"Lay back. I'll decide the best form of treatment."

After a wicked grin, she did.

He fingered her bellybutton ring, and said, "Do you mind if I take off the hardware?"

"No."

Tom removed it, and then kissed her tummy. The smooth skin undulated in response, as his lips pecked here and there, landing in random, unexpected places. When he pushed apart her legs and knelt between them, Hannah reached for his jutting erection. He slapped away the hand, and said, "The patient must remain still during treatment. Put your hands over your head and close your eyes."

With a big smile, Hannah did as she was told. "Yes, Doctor." 

A vision from his wildest dreams lay before him. Tom rocked back on his heels, just to enjoy the view. The black hair fanned out to frame her face. Aside from the scratches, her skin looked unblemished, except for a freckle beneath her right nipple.

One eye cracked open, and she asked, "What are you doing?"

"A body scan. You have to be still and you have to be quiet for this to work," he said, just before kissing the freckle. The patient's body tensed under him. When Tom lay down on top of her, the soft skin-on-skin friction ignited all his senses. It wouldn't take much to set him off, and he hoped she felt the same way. But realistically, he was just another man using her body for pleasure and maybe she wouldn't feel much of anything. Damned, if he wasn't going to do his best.

Her face looked serene.

"Don't make a sound unless something hurts. Okay?"

"Okay."

"Shhh! What did I just say!"

A silent laugh wiggled her body and jiggled her breasts. It felt and looked wonderful.

"Here we go." Therapy began at her throat and moved down. Between kisses, Tom said, "Stimulating the nerve endings in your skin will speed healing. So, just let yourself go." A nipple poked into his palm. "I think you're body's responding," he added, tweaking the evidence. Hannah's mouth showed the effects, as well. Although silent, her lips changed from a smile to a round "oh" when treatment affected her positively. Empirical response would be his guide to her healing pleasure.

"Try to remain still," he said, cupping her sex. "This may feel uncomfortable at first." A finger slipped easily between the moist lips, telling him quite the opposite was true. With one hand, he spread the lips open, while the other positioned its middle finger at her entrance. "I'll go slow." And gradually the finger disappeared. He licked the index finger on the free hand, and rubbed her clitoris with it. Her hips bucked off the bed. 

"Stay still!"

Above her head, Hannah clutched two fistfuls of sheet in the strain for stillness. Tom's cock twitched at the idea he could do this. He could make her feel good. Although she'd been responsive before, he was never sure if it was authentic or pretend. She was a professional, after all.

The middle finger was joined by the index finger, moving in and out. He bent down and sucked a nipple.

Hannah groaned and shivered.

"Be quiet! You'll ruin the test results." Tiny quivers squeezed his fingers inside her. Either she was very good at faking, or she was on the edge of something big. The need to know drove his mouth between her legs. While one hand fondled a breast, and the other plunged her depths, Tom kissed the little swollen nub of Eros. Her body jerked as if shocked. "Don't move!" He sucked her clitoris harder, which resulted in the same involuntary spasm of pleasure. "You're going to ruin the test results if you keep moving." Fun was fun, but now it was show time. Doubling his digital encouragement, Tom applied full oral stimulus -- tongue, suck, nibble, and hum -- until Hannah lost control. With a high pitched squeal, her back arched, trying to push his head inside.

He wrapped his arms around her hips, and continued to suck the life out of her climax. Finally, she flopped down and pulled his head up by the ears. Their fingers entwined on the mattress above her head, and he kissed her. She kissed back with a lusty fervor. After a long, tongue-twisting embrace, Tom pushed away. "I told you not to move. You ruined the scan. So, now we'll have to do it all over again, later."

Exhausted, she just smiled, nodded agreement, and reached for his cock.

Tom sprang off the bed. "I'm going to grab some clothes from the truck. Let's go and get some breakfast. I'm starved." The confused look on Hannah's face made him grin. 

"What about you?" she said, pointedly staring at his bobbing erection.

"This wasn't about me. I did it for you." 

Tom quickly dressed, and ignored the naked woman on the bed. Once outside in the rain, his head cleared and he was able to think, a little. Opening the truck cap, he stood under the window for shelter and rummaged through some bags. 

Suddenly, Hannah stood beside him, peering into the truck bed. She was wearing the dirty Denver tee-shirt and nothing else. "Whatcha got in there? Look at all those tools. I knew you were good with your hands, but now I see you must be a professional."

Pulling a blanket from the pile, he draped it over her shoulders. "What the hell are you doing? You'll get us arrested."

She hooked her arm around his, looked him in the eye, and said, "I'm just keeping my promise. I won't leave your side until you let me go."

Tom's heart quickened. This was going to be a great day. "Well, okay then, you may wait for me inside."

Her bottom lip stuck out, and she simpered, "Do I have to?"

"Yes."

"Hmph," she grunted, and stalked off, into the cabin.

After grabbing the backpack and a garbage bag filled with clothes, Tom returned to the room and dropped them on the floor. Hannah sat cross-legged on the bed, reading. 

"What's that?"

"One of those Gideon Bibles." She wet a finger and turned the page. "These things are everywhere. I try to read a chapter every Sunday."

The complexity of this woman was beyond comprehension. It must be just another ruse. "When you're done, this bag has clean clothes in it. See if you can find something decent to wear. Then empty out the pack. We'll do laundry after breakfast. I'm going to find out if we can stay here another night." He turned to go. "I'll be right back."

"Yes, Sir."

He glanced back. She gave him a don't-be-long smile.

It took several minutes for the proprietor to answer the bell. The grizzled old man opened the office door, and gruffly asked, "You know anything about these damn computers? My daughter sent me a picture of my new grandson and I can't find the damn jay-pig file."

"I think you mean jpeg file."

"Yeah? Whatever."

"I probably can help you out. Where's the PC?"



"In here." The old man hobbled into the next room. 

Tom followed and entered a living room much like the cabin's interior. It had the same time warp décor, the same worn 1950's ambiance. After a quick check of the email folder, Tom said, "I don't think you downloaded the file. Do you have dial-up or a broadband connection?"

The old man gave him a puzzled look, and said, "It must be broadband. There's a lot of naked broads on there."

A laugh struggled to burst out. Tom choked it back, while tracing the wires at the back of the PC, and said, "You have dial-up, a telephone Internet connection. Go ahead and connect. It'll probably take a while to download the file."

Fifteen minutes later, Tom returned to the cabin with a free night's lodging at the Midway Motel. 

When he recounted his story to Hannah, she said, "That is so cute. You are such a Sweetie," and kissed his cheek. 

Physical contact with her always seemed to lead to impure thoughts. A little too abrupt, he asked, "Are you ready to go?"

"You tell me." She held her arms above her head and shimmied in a provocative pirouette. 

Even covered by his baggy jeans, rolled up to mid-calf, and a blue flannel shirt tied at her midriff, she was gorgeous. Underneath the flannel, he glimpsed her red, rhinestone studded belly shirt. "That'll work."

"Before we go, can I do one thing for you?"

Suspicious, he asked, "What?"

Hannah pointed at the desk chair. "Sit." 

Tom sat down. She moved behind him, and untangled his braid. After fluffing out the strands, she brushed it. When done, Hannah placed her arms around his neck, and whispered in his ear, "Now we look like a matched set."

Minutes later, seated across from one another at the Mountain View Diner, they sipped coffee, while reading the menu. 

After deciding on the Pancake Special, Tom pulled out his wallet and counted what was left. "Since I don't have to pay for the room tonight, I think I have enough to buy you some clothes that fit." 

Dolores the waitress stopped to take their orders.

Hannah said, "I'd like some buttered toast and orange juice, please."

Tom frowned at Hannah, and said, "Bring us two Pancake Specials, and more coffee, when you have a chance, Dolores."

"Okay, thanks guys. It'll be just a few minutes," She waddled off to the next table.

"You have to eat more than toast. When was the last time you had a decent meal?"

"I'll survive."

Tom stepped across the aisle and picked up a discarded newspaper from the counter. The local headline read, 'Plane Crash in Glacier'. He sat down beside Hannah. "Look."

Together they read the short article about a plane wreck found in the mountains by a hiker. There were no reports of missing flights. A helicopter would fly up today, weather permitting, to locate the crash site. 

"I should check in with the police, and let them know where I'm staying." 

Hannah remained silent and laid her head on his shoulder. Her hand ran up the inside of his leg and stopped below his crotch. The rest of the news was all small town gossip and tourist information. The weather report looked bad for the next three days. Thunder rumbled in the distance to verify the accuracy of the forecast.

When Delores returned with mounds of steaming calories, Tom asked, "Is there a bus station in town?" 

She pointed out the window. "The Greyhound stops at the Post Office once a day, Monday through Saturday. Schedules are inside. You buy the tickets at the bank."

"How about a Laundromat?"

"Around the corner and 5 miles down the road, in the strip mall."

"Thanks."

Tom began to devour his stack of pancakes. 

Hannah followed his lead by drowning her pile with maple syrup and jamming in a mouthful. With bulged out chipmunk cheeks, she mumbled, "Mm, Good." The next few minutes were all mastication without hesitation. When the last dollop of syrup was wiped up with a crust of toast and devoured, Hannah leaned back, and said, "Wow, what a great morning. I'm totally satisfied, in every way." Grabbing Tom's hand, she put it under her shirt and onto her belly. "Feel how stuffed I am. It's as hard as a rock."

After a quick glance around, Tom let his hand drift up to quickly grope a breast. "Yeah, you are a stuffed shirt."

"Ooo, naughty boy. Let me feel yours." She leaned over and kissed him, while a wandering hand slid over his six pack abs to cup his six-plus package. 

"How was everything?" asked Dolores, suddenly standing next to the table and scribbling on the check pad. 

"Everything was delicious, thanks."

"You guys look like you're in a hurry, so I won't ask if you want anything else." She slapped down the check. "Enjoy the rest of your day."

Hannah said, "We will. You do the same."

"I wish," said Dolores, and laughed.

They paid the bill, walked out into the rain and hopped in the truck. Hannah collected her hair and stroked the combined thickness hand over hand. She caught Tom watching and said, "What?"

"Why do you do that?"

She stopped, stuck her hands between her knees, and looked out the window. "I don't know. It feels good, I guess. It's just a stupid habit." 

"It makes you look vulnerable, like you're worried." He turned on the truck and shifted into drive.

With too much insistence, she said, "Well I'm not. I can take care of myself."

Annoyed, he said, "All I meant was, it touches my heart. I don't think you're as tough as you act."

Hannah glanced at him and then turned away to watch the 19th century, wood-frame buildings pass by. The renovated town center looked authentic Wild West, complete with plank sidewalks, horse troughs and hitching posts. The only concession to modern design was the paved street. Tourists could easily imagine a gunfight or a stagecoach arrival at any second. "This is a cute town. It's so cool, the way they've kept it." 

Out of the blue, Tom decided his future. "I think I'll hang out here for a while, settle down near the mountains and get a job at a hotel. I have a degree in management, and I'd like to run my own place someday. It'd be great to live around here. I could get to know Blackfoot history, and hike whenever I want." 

"That sounds like a nice life." She kept her face turned away.

Tom placed his arm across the seatback, rubbed Hannah's shoulder, and said, "You never know what kind of thrill you'll find in the mountains." She didn't respond, so he continued, "Yeah, I've had enough of big cities. Give me big sky from now on." Silently they drove on, until the first vestige of modern society appeared, a strip mall with a Kmart. "Looks like they're open. Let's get you some clothes."

Early Sunday morning seemed a retail down period, customers and staff barely there. Pushing a squeaky shopping cart, Tom navigated to women's wear with Hannah on his arm, subdued in a clingy, affectionate way, like a girlfriend. She was a good actress.

After counting his cash, Tom said, "If I can buy what you need for around fifty bucks, we'll have enough for laundry and dinner." 

"Are you sure?" 

"I'm sure."

"Okay." 

Hannah's first selection was a pair of canvas sneakers for six dollars. The second was a pair of white cotton panties for three dollars. She asked, "Do you think I need a bra?" and then struck a pose with hands on hips and chest out, priceless. 

"Uh, no, that would be a waste of money. But don't you need more than one pair of underpants?"

"Why? I don't need any until tomorrow." She smiled and wandered over to some sale-priced jeans, picked up a pair and disappeared into a fitting room.




Vision of the Spirit Ch. 05



While he waited, Tom strolled into the lingerie aisle and pictured Hannah's dark hair flowing over white lace. He held a wicked Merry Widow in his hand when she came out.

"That's sexy. I like your taste, but I think it would put us over budget. If you'd rather buy me that, I can always wear your clothes home."

Quickly, he put it back, and said, "Nah, you don't need it." 

"How do these look?" She spun on an imaginary runway and wiggled her bottom. The cheap denim hugged the long legs and firm ass like latex. Her body would make a brown paper bag look like haute couture.

"They'll do, in a pinch." And unable to resist, he did.

She grinned over her shoulder, while sashaying back to the fitting room. A few moments later, she called, "Tom, would you help me a sec?"

Standing next to the door, Tom said, "I'm here."

The door opened. A nude Hannah handed him the jeans. "Put these in the cart for me, please," she said, letting him get an eye full, before she slowly closed it. 

His heart pounded and his crotch tightened.

Standing motionless, with a perplexed face, and cradling a pair of jeans, attracted a salesgirl. "Can I help you, Sir?" 

She looked like a college coed, home for summer vacation. Straight shoulder-length blond hair framed a heart shaped face with sky-blue eyes. The smile was beyond perfect, every tooth straight and white, an orthodontic masterpiece. "Do you need help finding the right size? Is your wife about my height and weight?" She took the pants from Tom and held them up to her waist. "These would be too big, if she is."

At that moment, Hannah appeared at his side. "I'm not his wife. I'm just a friend." Running fingers through his hair, she said, "Isn't he cute?" then waggled her eyebrows up and down, and added, "He's single and a good kisser."

The girl turned a bright red, suitable for well-cooked lobster. "Oh, then, if you don't need any help, have a nice day." She began to rearrange sweaters on a round hanging rack, from small to extra large.

Tom glared at Hannah.

She whispered, "What's the matter? I think you two would look great together. She seems very nice -- sweet and innocent."

Dragging her by the elbow, Tom rolled to the checkout counter.

Hannah whined, "I didn't get a new shirt."

"We'll wash the Denver tee-shirt and you can keep it."

"Oh, you're so sweet. I was hoping to get it for a souvenir." She put her arm around his waist, hugged him sideways, and said, "I really think you and Blondie would make a nice, sweet couple."

Tom growled, "I told you before, I'm not nice and I'm not sweet."

"Why are you doing that?"

"Doing what?"

"When you get uptight, you jingle the change in your pocket."

"I do not!"

"You're even cuter when you get flustered."

After paying, Tom marched to the truck, as a sprinkle of rain fell. 

Hannah jogged to keep up. "Why don't you want to be called nice? What's the big deal?"

"It always sounds like you're mocking me."

For a while, the only sounds were soggy footfalls. "Well… maybe I am a little. Maybe, I'm jelous. Maybe, because I know I can never get back what I gave away -- my self-respect."

Tom stopped short and Hannah bumped into him. He grabbed her shoulders and held her at arm's length. "Listen to yourself. Think about what you just said." Her eyes were as wet as the puddle under their feet. "Self-respect comes from in here," he said, poking her forehead. "You decide if you have it or not. It's not something you lose, like your virginity." He let go of her and resumed his march to the truck. "I think you've traded your self-respect for self-contempt. Don't rag on me because you're weak. Don't be a quitter. Start over, like you promised." 

When they reached the truck, Tom unlocked the passenger door, and held it open.

Hannah slid onto the seat, and said a weak, "Thanks."

The short ride to the Flat Rock Laundromat was long enough for Tom's stomach to churn the pancake breakfast with guilt. Maybe he'd been too hard on her. It just seemed like such a waste. A woman with her beauty and talent shouldn't give up. And she was playful and good-natured when they were alone. Those were fine qualities. Why would anyone with so much potential throw it away? Finally, he decided everyone makes mistakes. Just leave her alone and let her go back to her life. She'll sort things out. If not, it's no big deal.

Tom parked next to the front door and pulled the dirty laundry from the back of the truck. 

Hannah carried her new clothes inside and removed the tags.

After dumping the laundry into a basket on wheels, Tom began to sort the colors from the whites. Hannah pushed him away, and said, "I'll do it. Go get some soap and quarters."

Her movements were quick and her face serious. She looked pissed. By the time he returned from the vending machine she'd already loaded two adjacent washers. Handing her the small box of Tide, he said, "I'm sorry. It's not my place to judge what you do with your life." He dropped quarters into the coin slots and started the fill cycle. "I'm going to the police station and check in. Will you be here when I get back?"

Pouring detergent into the machines, she answered with an unconvincing, "Yes. I promised I wouldn't leave. Remember?"

Tom moved up behind her and slipped sixteen quarters into her baggy pockets. "Here's money for the dryer." Leaving his hands in her pants, he pulled her back and pressed against her. "I like you, Hannah. I like you a lot." His hands rubbed the tops of her legs. "I think you're all that, and a bag of clean laundry."

She laughed once -- a tight, uneasy chirp. "Not yet, I'm not. Give me another hour and the clothes will be done."

Tom spun her around and kissed her quick, then walked to his truck. Before he drove away, he looked back inside. Hannah watched him through the window, stroking her hair.

The police had nothing new on the plane crash. In fact, they were surprised to see him. Tom had the impression they hoped he'd disappeared. The investigation probably ate into their summer pastime of ticketing tourists for imprudent speed. No personal aircraft had been reported missing. The bad weather kept the Feds from flying up to check his story. So, after thirty minutes, Tom gave them his temporary Midway Motel address and then drove back to the Flat Rock. 

Intentionally, Tom parked the truck out of view, and walked to the window to peek inside. Hannah had company. A tired young woman loaded a washer, while Hannah stood by, holding an infant. The child kicked and squirmed, while she made goofy faces and nuzzled its tummy. The baby grabbed fistfuls of Hannah's hair and delighted in tugging on it. Occasionally, the mother would glance at them and smile. 

Tom could understand the baby's delight with the soft strands. A mental image of Hannah in bed with him, playing with their baby, burst into his mind with unsettling ease. He shook it off and went inside. 

Hannah smiled at him through a web of taught hair. "Look what I found in the dryer."

"Hmm, I always thought babies came out of the oven, like buns."

The weary mother finished loading the washer, and said, "I wish." She took the baby from Hannah, and said, "Thanks."

"My pleasure." Hannah looked pleased. She grabbed Tom's arm, and said, "Tom, this is Andrea and Zachary."

"Hi, nice to meet you."

Andrea looked at Tom for the first time, and smoothed her curly hair before extending a hand. "Hi, nice to meet you too." Her gaze remained fixed on Tom, as she said, "I don't recall seeing you guys around here before. Are you on vacation?"

"Well, kinda. I'm might stay a while, if I can find a job. Hannah just dropped in for a visit."

Andrea looked at Hannah briefly, as she bounced fidgety Zachary in her arms. "Enjoy your stay," she said, and then headed for the magazine pile.

Hannah pulled Tom over to their machines, while whispering, "Did you see that look? She can't wait until I'm gone. You'd better watch out." She leaned against the washer and smiled. "So, I just dropped in for a visit, huh? That's pretty funny."

Placing his hands down on the white enamel top, he trapped her, and leaned in close. Tom pressed her against the washer, and the spin cycle vibrated through her body. Hannah put her arms around his neck and rubbed noses. If only they were alone, he'd try some washer-top sex. It would require a few more quarters to get the heavy-duty agitation. He glanced over at Andrea and caught her watching.

"I suppose you want a baby someday," said Tom, feeling the weird tenderness again. Maybe it was simply man's natural desire to breed.

"I don't know. I guess so, if my life was different and the right man was the daddy." She met his stare, and asked, "How 'bout you? Do you want kids?"

"No, I can live without that self-inflicted misery." It was a lie, meant to put a stop to this foolish topic. He was sorry he'd asked. Actually, Tom wanted to make a whole tribe of kids. Growing up as an only child, he'd always wanted to live in a full house.

"That's too bad. I think you'd make a good father," said Hannah, and then spun around to throw wet clothes into a basket. The long hair kept getting in the way. She constantly had to tuck it behind an ear to keep it out of her face.

Tom gathered her hair, pulled a spare rubber band from his pocket, and slipped it over the thick rope. After letting the black softness slip through his fingers a few times, he said, "There, now you have a horse tail."

"Thanks. You're nice AND kind." Hannah wheeled the basket of wet clothes to a dryer and transferred the load. "So, let me see if I understand your horse tail metaphor. If your new Indian name is Kicking Horse, does that mean my horse tail belongs to you? Are you calling me your piece of tail?"

Pressing into her back, Tom said, "Allow me to get the quarters." His hands slipped into her pockets and used the linings for mittens to tease her skin while collecting the needed quarters. "I would never dis you like that, Hannah. But what man, in his right mind, wouldn't want to call you 'his'."

She leaned back, laid her head on his shoulder, and whispered, "Stop it. Stop making me want to stay."

Tracing the crease of her sex through the pocket lining, Tom toyed with the quarters in the other.

Her eyes closed. "You're jingling your change again. Am I making you uptight?" 

"Yeah, I'm uptight." He pressed harder against her. "But not up tight enough to suit me."

With a slow motion grind, she worked her ass against his crotch. "Well then, I have something to look forward to." With a sudden thrust of her hips, she pushed him away.

Tom handed over the quarters and Hannah started the dryer. 

Seventy-two minutes later, the laundry was dry, neatly folded, and placed in the Midway Motel dresser. Prying one foot against the other, Hannah pushed the muddy sandals off her muddy feet. "Now what?"

"You should wash your feet."

"Then what?"

"Would you sing for me?"

Her eyes narrowed. "You want me to sing?"

"Yeah, I'll get my guitar." 

While Tom sat on the edge of the bed tuning the guitar, Hannah was in the bathroom washing her feet. She came out wearing only his blue flannel shirt, and flopped down beside him. "So, what do you want to hear?" 

The temptation to say 'forget it, let's just fuck' was hard to resist. She looked cute with the long sleeves covering her arms and hands, while her legs were bare all the way up. 

Tom said, "What do you know?"

She began to pace, while he played softly. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched her legs flex, back and forth. 

"I know some Joplin, some Carol King… lots of stuff."

"How about Sonny and Cher?" He strummed a few chords, and said, "I Got You Babe?"

Without hesitation, she sang out in a sultry voice that rivaled the original, "They say we're young and we don't know, We won't find out until we grow."

Tom was ready. "Well I don't know if all that's true, 'Cause you got me, and baby I got you."

"Whoa, nice Sonny."

"Babe…"

Then together, "I got you babe, I got you babe."

Hannah freed her hair from the rubber band, and swished it back in unerring Cher-ish style. "Wow, you're good," she said, before beginning the next verse. "They say our love won't pay the rent…"

Tom stood up. Hannah moved close and bumped him with her hip from time to time. She blew in his ear, licked it, and generally teased the hell out of him when it was his turn to sing. On the final "I got you, Babe" they were nose to nose, battling for the longest note and the biggest smile. 

Tom quit first, and laughed.

Hannah grabbed the guitar from his hands, tossed it on the bed, and put her arms around his neck. "You're something special, Mr. K. Horse. I can't remember when I've had so much fun." Her eyes closed, as her mouth touched his. 

He'd wanted to go slow, enjoy the moment. But when she kissed him, it felt so loving and he'd waited patiently all day with pent up desire, Tom couldn't hold back any longer. He wrapped his arms around her and held her tight. The kiss intensified. His hands slid down and under the shirt to fondle her bare ass. 

She jumped forward and wrapped her legs around his waist, knocking him backward onto the bed. He heard the guitar clatter to the floor. She pulled on his shirt. Buttons popped and fabric tore. Her intensity only inflamed him more. Grabbing two fistfuls of her shirt, he ripped open the front to expose her chest. A gasp escaped her lips, as she continued to rend his clothes. 

Her semi-nude, frantic struggle to get him naked was the supreme erotic vision. She was a wild woman. Her breasts swung in and out of view beneath the torn shirt. When his pants were undone she tugged on the legs, practically dragging him off the bed. Down to his tattered shirt and jockeys, she dove on top and kissed him, while pulling his arms out of each sleeve. He tried to slow her down, but she fought him off and yanked down his briefs. 

"That's what I need!" Instantly, she had it, kissed it, sucked it. 

Self-control was not an option. Their passion seemed to be one burning fuse connected to identical sticks of dynamite, timed to ignite equal explosions. 

His cock was now fully erect in her mouth. Reaching down, he gripped her hair and pulled her off. 

She glared at him, saliva glinting on her chin. 

"Come here."

On hands and knees, she crawled up, and blanketed their heads in hair. Grunts and groans punctuated a mashing kiss. She ground her pussy against his cock. He could feel its wetness on his skin. The realization that he brought her to this height of arousal felt surreal, unbelievable. 

Gripping her tight, Tom flipped her and reversed positions. 

She screamed and laughed and smiled with feral eyes. "Come on, Babe. You got me. Now do me," she said, wrapping her legs over his ass and pulling him down. 

Lined up perfectly, no hands required, Tom's length slid in. 

Hannah groaned and closed her eyes. 

Hips remained locked together, while mouths danced. Tom's finger traced a breast and teased a nipple, while Hannah drew invisible designs on his back.

"You are so beautiful, Hannah." Tom began to thrust. He felt her hand exploring at their juncture.

"You are so handsome, Tom. And nice." Her torrid gaze made 'nice' sound like a compliment for a change.

Tom pushed aside the remnants of her flannel shirt to expose both her breasts. They moved gracefully liquid with him. He tasted one.

Hannah groaned. "Fuck me, Horse." She kicked him. "Do it."

Two strokes later, Tom was at full gallop. He held her tight, chest to chest, and stared into her eyes. They were half-closed and unreadable. He felt her hand stirring between their stomachs. She was playing with herself, racing him to the finish. His tempo increased. Her eyes closed but her smile widened. "Look at me, Hannah." He studied one brown eye and then the other. Her pupils dilated, almost eclipsing the iris. Her breathing became ragged pants.

"I'm coming," she gasped.

Her body clamped around him, urging his release. Several strokes later, he felt it too. The needful pressure, the wonderful tingling. "Hannah" was all he said to announce his critical moment.

She understood and writhed beneath him, bringing physical pleasure to every nerve, inside and out. 

Nose to nose, they watched. Eye to eye, they read the other's bliss. Eye to mouth, they witnessed smiles of satisfaction. Mouth to mouth they consumed the other's 'thank you'.




Vision of the Spirit Ch. 06



The television droned baseball play-by-play as Police Chief Morris stared out the rain streaked window. His fingers absently traced over the swollen belly of his wife, Annie. 

"Willie, if you're not going to pay attention to the game, then pay attention to me."

He smiled down at her. Smiles didn't come naturally, but she could make him with just one word, 'Willie'. 

"That's better. You almost look happy to be here."

"I've never been happier." It was true. Funny how this second marriage suited his hermit personality, when his first only frustrated him. Older and wiser now, this singular attachment grounded him, gave him something better than crime to ponder. Annie's cheerful disposition seemed unfettered by his stoic persona; his brooding exterior was just a porous membrane that her bubbly spirit filtered through. 

"So, am I fat and ugly yet," she asked, crossing her eyes and sucking in her cheeks, making the freckles crowd together. 

"Fugly? Never." 

Her shirt was pushed up, so he could caress the baby through bare skin. It was a simple matter to lift the shirt over her swollen breasts and unhook the front clasp on the bra. "I'm going to be jelous, you know," said Bill, exposing the pink areolas. "I don't like to share my toys."

Annie closed her eyes and smiled when he circled one with a fingertip. "That's why I have two, one for you to play with and one to feed him."

"Him? I told you, I want a Daddy's girl."

"It's my body, and I want my first born to be a son -- Willie Junior. I want a little Willie, and a Big Willie." She rubbed her head against his crotch. "How is my Big Willie, anyway? I haven't seen him today." She wedged a hand in behind her head to cop a feel. "I think he'd like to come out and play."

"You think?"

Rolling onto her side, Annie opened the waistband. "Willie's getting excited." She reached inside his pants. "High big boy," said Annie, just before sucking its head between her lips. "Mmmm." 

Bill snaked a hand into her stretchy shorts to do his part. The hairy feel of her crotch was new and exciting. She'd let her pubes grow out for the birth. The idea of unfamiliar doctors and nurses finding out she shaved down there embarrassed her for some reason.

Maybe it was a hormone imbalance, or maybe Annie felt insecure about her sex appeal. Whatever the case, Bill was the recipient of some good lovin' from his prego hottie. The reality of making a baby had energized their coitus. Combining DNA to form a new life proved to be an erotic miracle.

After a few minutes of fingering, Annie was ready. She released his cock and knelt on the sofa with her hands on the back and her bottom stuck out over the edge. Rear entry was the position most comfortable now.

Bill pulled down her shorts and panties. She lifted her knees, so they would come all the way off. Bending over her back, he kissed her shoulders, while reaching underneath to play with her swaying breasts and round tummy. Her ass felt good against his erection. 

When he easily slipped a finger inside her liquid center, she moaned, "I'm ready." This usually meant Annie was close to orgasm. All he had to do was push in his cock and she would peak after a few strokes. 

With one hand on her hip and the other on her ass for balance, Bill's hard-on disappeared. "Honey, you feel so good." She liked it when he talked. 

Gripping the back of the couch for leverage, Annie pushed and pulled along his shaft at her own pace. Her butt jiggled a little more than it used to. That was okay. She'd always been on the skinny side. Now there were curves where none existed before. 

"Hey, you polished Willie to a shine. Now you see him, now you don't. Now you see him--"

"Finger, finger, finger." 

He reached around and teased her clit. 

Her hips moved faster. "Oh yeah, oh yeah."

With the other hand, Bill massaged her bottom and thighs.

Her movements became erratic. "Now, now."

Grabbing her hips in both hands, he took control and thrust hard -- pulling her back while pushing forward. Their skin slapped with a lusty rhythm. A few seconds later, Annie stiffened and whimpered as the orgasm hit. She slouched down and pressed her face into the back cushion, overwhelmed by the flood of sensations. 

Bill felt her flood lubricate his thrusts. Suddenly, it was like fucking a bowl of water, and Willie deflated. He'd reached his functional limitations. The ability to make love on demand was a young man's reality. Or, maybe it was the intrusive thoughts about the mysterious plane crash in the mountains that broke his concentration. 

Bill rubbed her ass one more time. "Wow, that was great." He slipped out and pulled her onto his lap. She snuggled against his chest, while he petted and kissed her hair.

"You still love me, don't you?" she asked, holding her belly with both hands. "I know this wasn't part of the plan."

"What are you talking about?" Bill laid his hands over hers. "This was always part of the plan."

"Yeah, but not for a couple of years."

"It doesn't matter. I only wanted to wait in case you finally got smart enough to dump my old, droopy ass. But now you're stuck with me." 

Bill pushed up her chin with a crooked finger and kissed her long and hard, unlike his manhood. Why DID he do the selfish thing and say yes? Why didn't he say, 'I don't want to get married, ever'? Then, she would have found someone her own age.

"You're not old. And I only want to have babies that look like you." She smiled, and added, "So you're stuck with ME, Officer Studdly Do-right."

Annie's reassurance helped, a little.

She stood up and stretched. "I'm going to take a nap." Leaning down with her hands on his knees, she looked him in the eye and said, "Why don't you go to the office, get whatever case you're thinking about off your mind, then come back here and screw me like a nympho wife deserves." After a quick grope of his balls, she left the room.

Annie was wise beyond her years, thought Bill, as he dialed the police station. "Hi Butch. Any news?"

The duty sergeant gave him an update. Nothing new, except Thomas DuBois stopped in to report he was staying at the Midway Motel.

"That's interesting. Makes me think he really did find something. I thought maybe he was just another crackpot trying to get attention. I'll swing by the Midway and talk to him again. If the chopper makes it up the mountain, give me a call."

A steady rain pounded against the windshield, making visibility as intermittent as the wipers. Ten minutes later, Bill stood beneath the leaking Midway Motel awning and rang the doorbell. When the door opened, he steeled himself. Tobias Wentworth was a crotchety old man. 

"Well, well. Chief Morris, come on in."

He seemed abnormally happy. "How are you, Mr. Wentworth?" 

"It's a good life if you don't weaken," he said, limping behind the front desk. He handed Bill a grainy, inkjet photo. "Just got a picture of my new grandson, Frederick Tobias Skinner."

"Congratulations." Bill handed it back, saying, "How's Penny doing."

"She says good, but with five kids, she's gotta be worn down to a nub."

"I think Penny can handle it. She always had a lot of energy." Summer nights in the backseat with energetic Penny were some of Bill's fondest memories.

"Yeah, she was a handful. But now she's settled down, and happy." Wentworth stared at the photo with an atypical look of fondness. "So, did you come by to tell me you caught my burglars?"

"No, Sir. I'm afraid not. Actually, I stopped to talk to one of your guests, Thomas Dubois."

Wentworth laughed. "I put a bad scare into him last night. He walked all the way out here yesterday, lookin' for a room. Had some wild story. Said his car was stolen. Later on, a pickup truck pulled in, and I thought them thieves came back for seconds. When I put my flashlight on 'em, Dubois' girlfriend nearly peed her pants."

"Girlfriend?"

"Yeah, she looks Injun, like him. Cute kid, from what I could see through the windshield. Kinda scratched up, though. Looked like she ran through a barbed wire fence." He chuckled, and added, "They seem nice enough. This morning, he helped me print my grandson's picture," waving the evidence. "What'd he do?"

"He didn't do anything. He's a witness, and I'd like to ask him a few more questions. What cabin is he in?"

"Number nine."

"How's business?"

"Rotten. The place is falling apart. You wanna buy me out, Bill?"

Pulling up his collar against the wind and rain, Bill said, "No thanks, I got enough problems just keeping a roof over my own head." 

"When's Annie due?"

"In about three months. See ya later."

"Be good."

Bill parked his dented Crown Victoria next to Dubois' rusted pickup and radioed in the plate number. When the plate came back with a clean record, he grabbed a half-bottle of Coca-Cola from the back and wiped it clean. Carefully holding it by the cap, he slipped it into his raincoat pocket.

Laughter filtered through the cabin door, one voice sounded male and the other female. In the silence that followed he thought of Annie at home in bed. Maybe this could wait until tomorrow. But since he was already there, he knocked. 

A few seconds later the door swung open and stopped at the end of a security chain. Partially clothed, Dubois blocked the view inside. "Chief Morris, what's up?"

"Hi, Mr. Dubois. I was wondering if we could go over what you saw on the mountain, again. Maybe I missed something, or something new will come to mind." Rain began to trickle down his neck.

"Now?"

"Well, the sooner I get this over with, the sooner I'll be out of your hair." Bill noticed the man's long hair and thought, 'shit'.

"Just a minute."

The door closed and Bill heard muffled conversation and movement. 

The door reopened. "C'mon in."

A visual sweep of the rumpled bed left Bill with the impression he'd interrupted a little somethin'-somethin'. The shirt Dubois put on looked freshly torn and was missing a few buttons. 

Taking the bottle of Coke from his pocket, Bill set it on the desk and then sat himself in the chair. "Have I come at a bad time?"

Dubois picked up a guitar from the floor and placed it back in its case. "No, we were just... singing."

"We?" Bill flipped open a pocket sized notebook and pretended disinterest.

"I met someone last night -- at a bar." 

Friendly like, Bill smiled, and said, "Oh yeah? What's their name? Maybe I know 'em."

The pause before Tom answered, "She's not from around here," seemed suspicious. 

From the bathroom came the sound of a toilet flush. 

"So, Tom, tell me again what you saw up there. And anything else you think is important. Like, did you see anyone else near the crash site?"

"...I did see three men on horseback the next day, from a distance."

"Hmm, that's new information."

The bathroom door opened. Bill stood up, as a young woman entered the room. The baggy clothes she wore were obviously Dubois'. They covered her completely except for her face. Even her long hair couldn't hide the fresh scratches on her cheeks and forehead. Studying the lateral stripes, he said, "Hi, I'm Bill Morris."

"Hi." She moved to the far side of the bed and lay down, facing away.

Sitting back down, Bill focused on the pad, and said, "Tom, tell me again, did you see the crash?"

"Yes."

"Was there anything wrong with the plane before it hit?"

"I don't know."

"Was the engine running, did it sound rough, was there smoke coming from the plane?"

Tom mulled over the questions, before answering. "The engine sounded normal. But I didn't really see the plane until it broke through the pine trees. Then I was diving for cover."

Bill looked up at Tom and said with sincerity, "Lucky you weren't hurt," and then went back to scribbling on his pad and asking questions. After getting the same answers as yesterday, Bill said, "Your friend's awfully quiet. She all right?"

"Yeah, she's just hungover."

Bill laughed. "I remember those days." In a serious tone he added, "Those scratches looked new. Reminds me of the time I went cross country skiing, and did a face plant through some pine boughs." 

A troubled look clouded Tom's face. "She said she was in an accident last week."

"Looks like she was lucky not to get seriously hurt, too." He smiled, and said, "Maybe you guys should pick some lottery numbers together. The Force is with you." They didn't react to the comment. "Sorry, I'm a Star Wars junky. Now, back to reality. Tell me about the guys on horses. How many were there again?"

"Three."

"Did you talk to them?"

"No."

"Did they see the crash, or go near the wreck?"

"I don't know."

"What's your lady friend's name?"

The question seemed to stun Dubois. He leaned forward, and whispered, "I got so drunk last night I don't remember. And I've been calling her Babe, to cover."

Bill tipped forward, and whispered, "Let me help you out." He leaned back in his chair, and said, "Miss, I'd like to ask you some questions."

"Why?"

"I was told by the motel owner that you're Tom's girlfriend. I want your name for the record, as a witness to these answers."

Tom's brow furrowed, and Bill knew he was trying to remember what else he'd said to Mr. Wentworth. 

The woman rolled over and sat up beside Tom. She kept her face downcast and hidden behind hair. "My name is Hannah Roundtree."

Bill wrote it down. "So, Hannah, what's going on? Are you Tom's girlfriend? Did you take his truck yesterday without permission?"

"Hey!" Tom stood up. "What's up with that shit? She didn't do anything."

"Is that right, Hannah? Then why is he covering for you? Tom, you go to a motel without a vehicle, say it was stolen, and then, all of a sudden, Hannah shows up with your truck, out of nowhere? You tell me you don't know her name. Something ain't right."

Tom pointed at the door. "Get out. I'm done. I told you all I know. Leave us alone."

Bill folded his notebook, left a business card on the desk, and calmly headed for the door. "Ms. Roundtree, don't drag Tom into something he doesn't deserve. Call me, if you want to talk." Standing in the doorway, he turned back and pointed at his bottle of Coke on the desk. "I forgot my soda." 

Before Tom could move, Hannah jumped up, grabbed the bottle, and handed it to Bill. She stared at him through liquid eyes. It was the remorseful look he'd seen a thousand times before from guilty people in trouble with the law. "Thanks."

Bill drove to the police station and dropped off the Coke bottle for fingerprint analysis. There was no doubt in his mind that the woman had deliberately grabbed the bottle before Dubois could put his prints on it. He began to wonder who was protecting who. They seemed too unselfish to be bad ass criminals. Dubois acted naïve, while the woman seemed street smart. This whole scene had a wrong-place-at-the-wrong-time feel. Sooner or later, the truth would work its way to the surface. It always did. The thickness of the shit piled on top of it determined how long it would take. 

Once the evidence was properly tagged and bagged, Bill headed home, satisfied the homeland was secure for another day. These two kids were definitely not terrorists trying to sneak across the boarder with a nuke-in-a-box or a plague-in-a-bag. 

The dashboard clock said it was dinnertime. Lately, Annie craved Chinese. So, Bill stopped and picked up mass quantities of chicken, beef, rice and vegetable numbers, hoping something would please her. She was a good woman, and deserved pampering. 

Gentle snoring greeted him at their bedroom door. She lay naked and vulnerable on top of the quilt, curled into a fetal position that mimicked the baby inside. The room appeared rose colored from dim light diffused through the curtains. His heart swelled with love and tenderness. Damn, he was a lucky son-of-a-bitch. Today, life was good. 

"Are you just going to stand there and stare?" 

"Did I wake you up? I'm sorry."

"That's okay." She stretched, and rolled onto her back. 

Bill sat down and traced small circles on her hip. The finger traveled, up and over her belly, all the way to a breast.

Annie squirmed a little. "What's on your alleged mind?"

Bill hovered over her, enjoying the view. "W. M. D."

She gave him a squinty, puzzled look.

"Woman of my dreams."

Her slender fingers laced together behind his head and coaxed his mouth to hers. The first kiss was light and textured by smiles. "Am I the woman of your dreams?"

"That's the truth, and nothing but the truth."

One hand left his face to massage his chest. "Do you have any proof, Officer Willie? There must be physical evidence, if you're going to convince a jury of your leers."

The fiery hair, fair skin, womanly body, how could he not leer. "I'm ready to testify." Her left nipple looked particularly sweet. With a barely there touch, he licked it. "What kind of proof would convince the jury? Just remember, anything you say can and will be used against you."

Annie raked his hair between her fingers a few times, and hinted, "I showered while you were gone."

He kissed down and over the swell of her tummy. "Then let me present my evidence orally before I bring out the hard facts."

She laughed, as his mouth touched the sensitive spot where leg meets abdomen. 

The baby bulge obstructed a view of her face, but the way her legs twitched against his ears when he kissed her sex told him she was moved by his opening statement. Covering her with his mouth, he tongue-tip-tickled her puffy lips. The fresh growth of reddish down teased his nose. Using his mouth as soft forceps, he gripped the outer lips on one side and gave them a little suck, and then treated the other side to the same. When Annie began to wiggle with anticipation, he pressed his nose against her, and blazed a wide swath up the slick valley. He inhaled deeply and smelled her arousal. "I think I've swung the jury over to my side." 

In a breathy voice, she answered, "You certainly have made a good first impression."

He spread her open with forked fingers. "You have a delicious little pussy. Did I ever tell you that?" The pale, freckled skin ended where pink and juicy began. He couldn't help sticking two fingers in.

"Are you trying to flatter the jury?"

"I think 'jury tampering' would be the correct term."

Annie wrapped a leg over his back and pulled him tight. "Good, then tell me how much you like my taste."

Bill dove in with the fervor of lawyer after a deep pocket. The harder he tried to suck her dry the wetter she got. Several minutes of intense negotiation ended in a whisper-to-scream orgasmic confession. 

After a short deliberation, Annie's exhausted voice announced the verdict, "That was... amazing." 

"Good," said Bill, stretching out beside her and gathering her in his arms. "I love you. You deserve the best and nothing but the best."

"I love you, too," she said, and pulled him in to a wandering wet kiss that washed her scent from his face.

They cuddled a few minutes. Bill massaged her lower back and legs.

When Annie became restless, and began to touch him in ways intended to invite a retrial, he began to have performance anxiety. "I brought home some Chinese for dinner. It's getting cold."

"Chinese!" She hugged him tight. "You're so good to me," and then rolled off the bed. "Why don't you take a shower, while I dish out the rice. After that, I'm going to suck Big Willie so hard your balls will disappear." 

"Ouch!" His dick twitched.

"Metaphorically speaking."

Bill watched her voluptuous body disappeared beneath a robe. "Where did you learn to trash talk like that?"

"My husband's a cop. He knows all the bad words."

A quick shower later, Bill and Annie sat together at the kitchen table and sampled every entree. 

Annie fed him something that sounded like 'moo goo' from her fork. He tried to put the image of oozing cow udders out of his mind. "Mm, I like MSG."




Vision of the Spirit Ch. 06



"The beef is so tender and the vegetables are the best." 

"Are you sure it's really beef?"

"Gross, please don't go there." She stood up. "Honey, you clean up in here and then meet me in the bedroom."

The cleanup took longer than it should have. Unconfident in his ability to deliver his package fully charged, Bill worried about hurting his wife's feelings. He'd heard from other husbands that pregnant women could be emotionally fragile. Maybe if he said the food made him sick. But that would only postpone the inevitable. Resigned to his fate, Bill entered their bedroom. 

Annie had the covers pulled back and lay on her side, reading Better Homes and Garden. She smiled and patted the mattress. "Come here, Honey. I won't bite... hard." 

"That's a relief." Bill stripped naked, while Annie watched.

"Okay, now put your head on your pillow and close your eyes."

He remembered a case in L. A. where a woman surprised her husband with a bullet this way.

The mattress sank, as Annie moved beside him. He felt her hand on his arm. She kissed him tenderly, moved his hands over his head and held them down. The kiss became passionate, as she straddled his waist. Her silk covered body pressed into his. Her hands rubbed up and down his forearms. The pillow under his head lifted, as she pushed underneath. Suddenly, he felt cold steel wrap around his wrists, heard the ratchet of handcuffs, and felt their tightness. He opened his eyes.

"You're not going anywhere until I'm done with you."

"Annie! Take 'em off."

"Nope." She just sat on him and grinned.

"Why not?"

"Because it turns me on," she said, shrugging the lacy robe from her shoulders.

"Well, it doesn't turn me on." Shackled by your own handcuffs was about the worst nightmare, right below getting shot by your own gun. Panic began to surge in his chest.

"You need to relax. Go with the flow." 

The cuffs were tied to the bed, his arm movement restricted to a few inches in any direction. Calmly as possible, he said, "Annie, if you don't take them off right now I'm going to freak out." 

"Don't do that." She massaged his chest. "I only want to make you feel good." She kissed his nipple. "Surrender to me." She teased the other with her finger.

"Annie--"

"Shush." She sat up and removed her robe. "Let me have my way for once."

Didn't she always get her way? "Okay, uncuff me and I'll just lie here."

"It's not the same. I like the power." Bending over him, her mouth within a fraction of his, she looked him in the eye and whispered, "I love you. Trust me. Let me tease you. Let me show you my naughty side." With the tip of her tongue, she tickled his lips and then sat upright.

What could he say that wouldn't hurt her feelings? She was his wife, and loved him enough to have his child. Even though he was the one chained to the bed, Annie looked like the vulnerable one -- sitting astride his hips, stomach bulging, breasts swollen, nipples erect and green eyes pleading indulgence.

Her fingers twirled his chest hair, as she explained, "I'm going to be a mother soon. I'll never be free to do whatever I want again without feeling the tug of responsibility. From now on, I'll be a role model under constant scrutiny and whatever I do won't be good enough. Parents are always responsible for their kids problems."

Bill thought she was about to cry. "Annie, you're going to be a fantastic mother. You're kind and nurturing..."

"I'm not!" She dismounted and lay her head on his hip. An arm fell across his thighs and pulled him tight against her cheek. 

He wanted to hold her, console her. "I think you're just tired. Undo my hands and let me give you a massage."

Ignoring his request, Annie drew circles around his crotch with a fingertip. "They say confession is good for the soul."

Confession? The word was usually music to his ears, but not this time. What could she possibly have to confess? The first thing that came to mind was the baby. It wasn't his. She'd chained him up so he couldn't lose control.

Her finger traced down to the tip of his cock and then lifted the tumescent shaft. She wrapped her lips around the end and sucked him in like a noodle. In a reflex to the sensation, Bill strained against his bonds. The realization he was powerless to stop her felt unnerving... and thrilling. 

She sucked, and played her tongue around his cock until he was hard. "See, its not so bad being my toy, now is it?"

He skirted the question by asking his own. "Do you have something to tell me?"

"You have a nice penis. I love your penis. I love the taste of your penis, the feel of it inside me. I love it, because it's attached to you."

Relieved, he said, "My penis and I took a vote, and we love you too."

Annie sat astride him, once again. She rose up on her knees, positioned his cock at her entrance and then slowly sat down. "Ah." Wearing a serene smile, she said, "I love intromission." 

Bill realized he was holding his breath and exhaled, then relaxed the strain against his wrists. Sitting on him was a vision. Her curly red hair, freckled breasts, and pregnant bulge appealed to his machismo. He thought, I did that. Aloud, he said, "You are so beautiful."

He groaned when she dismounted and assumed her oral position. Staring at his hard-on, she said, "I feel like I should tell you, there was a time when I wasn't so discriminating about penises and who they were attached to."

"You don't have to tell me anything. I know you weren't a virgin. It's not important."

Her tongue came out and licked him like a Popsicle. "I like the way I taste on you. It brings back college memories. I'm not proud of them, but I don't regret them either." She met his gaze. "I was part of a threesome, once." She licked him again, and asked, "Does that shock you?"

It did. So much that he couldn't answer because there was a lump in his throat. Finally, he swallowed and the lump traveled directly to his cock and made it harder still. "We all do crazy things when we're young."

Lazily, she fondled him to keep him ready, while fleshing out the story. "I was still very naïve in my junior year. I'd had a couple of boyfriends, but nothing life changing -- just fun and games really. 

When I got a letter from my mother, saying that Dad had cheated on her and she was filing for divorce, I was crushed. I'll never forget the day, October 3rd. The news shattered everything I believed in. I became sullen and withdrew socially." She played with him quietly for a while.

Bill could feel her pain and his erection began to fade. 

"Oh no you don't." Annie sucked him and tickled his balls until he'd regained the proper level of rigidity. "My English Professor noticed a change in my behavior, and took an interest. Professor Montgomery asked me to stay after class and talk. Margie was so smart and sophisticated. I must've acted like a starry-eyed groupie, hanging on her every word. Little did I know that I'd fallen into her trap."

Annie crawled up and dangled a nipple against his lips. He happily applied suction to make her smile. 

"She seduced me, Bill. She saw my weakness and took advantage of it. I felt so betrayed by my parents that I caved under the slightest pressure, just so I could feel grown up." Annie whispered in his ear, "I know it's wrong, but I still think about how good it felt." She kissed his cheek, and asked, "Do you still love me?"

"Of course, I love you." The picture of his slender wife in the arms of another woman burned in his mind's eye. "Are you bi?"

"No, not really. I think it was just a phase. I wanted to be loved by an adult, feel mature and worldly. Live above societal norms. Margie and her husband, Jack, filled that need." Once again, she straddled him and rode the peg for a silent minute with eyes closed. Her fingers rubbed between her legs, tangled in her coppery pubes. "It's so exciting to finally tell someone."

Bill's dick was like pipe.

A whimper escaped her lips. Her pussy clamped him in spasms of climax until she stopped moving. "Oh my..."

The pressure in Bill's scrotum dissipated.

After a brief rest, Annie dismounted and licked him again. "This reminds me of how Jack tasted after Margie fucked him." Her fist pumped him slowly while she talked. "Margie and I had been intimate for about a month, when she told me about their open marriage. It sounded so evolved. Their marriage would last through anything, unlike my parents." 

"So, how did it happen the first time?"

"You want to know?" She pumped his cock fast, taking him near the brink. "All men fantasize about having two women, don't they?" she said, and stopped.

"I can't speak for all men, but it's a common fantasy."

"You guys are animals. That's why we need to chain you up occasionally." She kissed his stomach first and then let her lips land in random, sensitive spots -- a nipple, a thigh, a testicle. "One night, Margie tied Jack up like this, and blindfolded him. Jack didn't know anything about me. She stripped him as I watched from the door. His body was lean, with lots of stamina from running marathons. I watched her make love to him. It was so erotic to see her turn him on. Then she said, 'Jack, I've got a friend who wants to join us, okay?' That was my cue. I went to the bed and sat down. Jack tensed when he felt it move under my weight. He probably thought she was kidding until then. Margie said, 'This is my friend Lori. I'm going to kiss her and then she'll kiss you.' We kissed loudly. And then I kissed him. He was totally into it, even blindfolded and tied. He had to stay that way. That was Margie's only rule."

Bill felt like his cum would hit the ceiling if Annie touched him at that moment.

"I did everything she asked, willingly. It was the wildest night of my life. At the end, Margie rode him until he started to peak. Then I gave him head until he finished. We all kissed goodbye, and that was the end. The semester was soon over. I don't think she ever told Jack who I was. Margie was done with me. We were cordial in the halls, but that was it. I suffered from bouts of depression and humiliation. I felt used and discarded. But, those feelings passed eventually. Now, I can look back and think of it as an adventure."

Her small hand fondled his sack. "I've become an old, married, pregnant lady, living in the past."

Bill ran a foot up her inner thigh. "You are the sexiest woman on the face of earth. I love who you are today, tomorrow and forever."

A teardrop fell cold on his hip. "Really?"

"Absolutely."

Without another word, her lips surrounded his cock head. With her left hand fondling his balls, and the right hand pumping his shaft, he rapidly reached critical mass. He gave the warning, "I'm there," just before the rockets burst behind his eyelids and the waves of fluid shot up through her clenched fist. He heard her groan with the effort of taking it all.

When she finished draining him, Annie unlocked the cuffs. They curled up together and fell asleep.



Vision of the Spirit Ch. 07



The cop folded his notebook, left a business card on the desk, and headed for the door. "Ms. Roundtree, don't drag Tom into something he doesn't deserve. Call me, when you want to talk." He stood in the doorway, turned back and pointed at his Coke bottle on the desk. "I forgot my soda." 

Before Tom could react, Hannah jumped up, grabbed the bottle, and handed it to the officer. She didn't know if Tom had a criminal record, but she wouldn't risk it. The man was right. Tom deserved better. 

When the cabin door closed, it closed on her future. The police now had her fingerprints. It wouldn't be long until her record would ruin everything. A chill swept down her spine. Blood drained to her feet. Her body swayed uncontrollably. Hannah wanted to move, but the floor seemed spongy, her knees wobbly. She felt herself sinking. 

Strong hands caught her and pulled her tight against a solid body. A voice from the woolly ether said, "Hannah, its gonna be all right."

On a cloud, she rose up, and floated. The room faded to black, but arms cradled her, held her safe. She dissolved into the inviting warmth, felt the bed give beneath her. Her mind hovered near unconsciousness, and gave up control. She let herself linger on the edge. A hand stroked her hair. Lips kissed her forehead. 

"I'll take care of you." 

Never had a man been so comforting and sympathetic. No one ever really cared. If only she could believe in something.

Just this once, she'd let herself indulge in the fantasy for a moment. "I'm scared."

"Don't be. It'll all work out." He kissed her. It was a sweet kiss, filled with promise. 

"You can't help me. No one can."

"I will. I need you with me. We're connected now… forever. The Great Spirit gave you to me. He didn't bring me an animal spirit guide, he brought you."

Tom gave Hannah a lingering kiss, and she felt its power course through her. The strange idea of a spiritual bond excited her. The providential events of the past few days reinforced the wild myth. Maybe Tom was right. Maybe she did belong to him now, only him. 

"Tom..." 

"Shhh."

A supernatural power was at work. It must be. Maybe it was in their blood, in their heritage, because Tom had discovered an untapped store of feral desire within her. Whenever he held her, her body readied for him, eager. It must be a sign. They WERE bonded. If Tom believed it, let it be so. Her strength returned, and she kissed back.

Tom wrapped her tight. The scratches on her back stung from the pressure. It felt good to be loved through the discomfort. The pain faded and into penance for past sin. An exhausted soul, Hannah needed peace and simplicity, and embraced Tom with desperate hope.

His mouth left her, and said, "It's stopped raining. Let's go for a walk."

"Really?" She fondled his bottom, and said, "I thought you had something else on your mind."

"Postponement only makes it better."

Usually, Hannah hurried her lovers, teased them to completion, just to get it over with. She didn't understand this expectant in-between time. Titillation was something she gave not something she received, until now. 

Without conviction, she said, "Maybe you should get in your truck and leave. The cop was right. Staying will screw up your life."

"Shut up, and put on your new clothes," he said, while removing his torn shirt.

The flash of his naked chest made her belly tingle. 

Hannah stood and wiggled, and the borrowed pants dropped to the floor. The shirttail was long enough to hide everything indecent. But it didn't stop him from looking. She made a good show of nothing but legs. 

"I can't get my new clothes dirty. I don't want to look like a slob on the bus tomorrow." 

Sitting on the bedside, she had her new jeans pulled halfway up, when Tom suddenly pushed her down and loomed above her. His eyes wandered to the fabric covering her sex. "I've decided I'm not letting you go."

"YOU decided?"

He knelt on the floor between her legs, grabbed behind her knees, and dragged her toward him. She felt the shirt ride up, felt cool air on hot skin. His head dipped, and his breath tickled. Juice began to flow anew.

"You said, you wouldn't leave my side until I let you go. Were you lying?"

"No, but--"

"Then do what I say." He stood and extended his hand. "Come on."

Outside, the gray clouds boiled overhead. Tom and Hannah strolled toward a maid's cart, parked in front of an open cabin. 

The grizzled proprietor, Mr. Wentworth, came out, this time armed with a toilet brush instead of a shotgun. "I see the Chief didn't arrest you two," and then he made a wheezing sound that may have been a laugh.

Tom smiled, and said, "No sir, we're not in any kind of trouble." 

"What can I getcha? Clean towels? Sheets? Rubbers?" He wheezed another laugh.

"No sir… Actually, I was hoping I could do something for you," Tom proceeded to give Mr. Wentworth a verbal résumé that went on for three minutes without a break. "So, I was hoping you could use some help. I'd like to live around here. But, I need a job."



Wentworth's squinty stare alternated between Tom and Hannah for long seconds, before he said, "Tell ya what. If you clean the cabins tonight, I'll think about it and let you know tomorrow." He handed the toilet brush to Hannah, and thumbed in the direction of the open door. "This one needs sheets and towels. The next one needs a thorough cleanin'. I'm spectin' a bunch tonight, and I need 'em done quick." As he walked away, he grumbled, "I'm too old for this crap. When you're done, stow everything in the barn."

Tom smiled at Hannah. "What did you just hear?"

After a short pause, she wrinkled her nose and said, "Work."

He grabbed the toilet brush from her. "Yeah, work… and opportunity." Tom looked around, before he added, "This is just between us. I want to own this place someday. It's perfect. Grab some sheets and I'll get started on the next cabin." 

With an arm full of linens, Hannah stood rooted in place and watched Tom push the cart away. When he disappeared inside, she got busy performing the mundane chores of housekeeping. Thoughts of an uncomplicated future began to percolate. The idea of a life here felt abnormally normal. 

She fought against the unrealistic expectation, and became distracted by her blistered feet. They were sore. She should tell Tom. He'd let her go back to the room. He's too nice. This whole 'bonded', spirit guide mythology might work to her advantage. She could goof off and heal up, while figuring out what to do next. 

When the bed was made, Hannah limped to the next cabin. 

Tom was inside, singing low, "Then put your little hand in mine,

There ain't no hill or mountain we can't climb,

Babe,"

Warmth gathered in her face. When she added her voice to the chorus, Tom spun around, smiling bright. 

Ninety minutes later, hot from hard labor, Hannah limped beside Tom, toward the barn.

Tom braked the cart, and said, "Your need to get off your feet. Go back to the cabin. I'll finish up."

"I'm fine." She smiled sweetly. "I can't leave you, remember?"

Tom pulled her in front. "Here, stand on the cart."

Hannah balanced on the edge, locked between his arms, as he pushed and made motor sounds. The growling whir drew closer. His face penetrated her hair. His breath tickled the back of her neck, then suddenly his lips rear-ended her. He pressed his chest against her shoulder blades. There was a long inhalation. His tongue licked behind her ear. "Mmm, you're salty. Let's pretend I'm a bull and you're a salt lick." They continued down the asphalt path, while Tom snacked on nape.

"It tickles." She bent her head sideways to stop the tingle that spread to her chest and groin.

At the end of the twisty path stood an old barn, built long before the motel. Tom pulled the wrought iron door handle and the heavy timber squeaked and echoed in the cavernous interior.

A sense of childish adventure bubble up, as Hannah rolled inside. The earthy aroma of old wood and fresh hay engulfed her. "Wow, I like the smell." 

The floor was a mottled gray cobblestone, making the cart ride too bumpy. Hanna stepped off and strolled down the center aisle, peeking inside the empty stalls. She counted six on a side. Four of them had clean sawdust on the floor. The rest were bare. Bygone animals had chewed curves into the top of the wainscot and hoof marks striped the inside walls. It reminded her of graffiti prisoners would leave in their cells.

The metallic rumble of a door sliding open made her turn around.

Tom said, "He must keep the cart in here with the cleaning supplies," and disappeared into a side room. 

Impetuously, Hannah ran to the far end of the aisle and searched for a place to hide. A ladder, nailed to the wall, caught her attention. The two-by-four rungs were blackened and worn along the top edge from countless feet. Quickly, she climbed up through a trap door and entered the hayloft. A grassy breeze wafted through an open window at each end. Pigeons and swallows fluttered in the hand-hewn beams overhead. The neatly stacked bales towered along the sides.

"Hannah?" yelled a muffled voice from below.

Darting through the canyon of hay, Hannah spotted a canvas tarp and picked it up. She wedged herself between the wall and the bales, and covered up. Waiting with heightened awareness, every flap of bird wing made her heart race faster. The musty darkness became humid from her excited breaths and body heat. 

Meant to be a spontaneous game of hide-and-seek, this black cocoon conjured unpleasant childhood memories of hiding from drunk Uncle Roger. She'd hid under dirty clothes in the laundry room, until he gave up or passed out, and the smell was similar to this moldy canvas. A fear that Tom might be pissed grew. Was there anger in his call? It was too distant to tell. She wasn't supposed to leave his side. He kept saying that she belonged to him. Maybe he was a whacked, control freak. No, he was sweet… wasn't he? Sweet at first, crazy after a while.

"Gotcha!"

The tarp flew off, and Hannah screamed with pure terror.

Tom's broad smile disappeared. "Hey, it just me, Babe." He sat down beside her, concern wrinkling his brow.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I don't know why I did that." She smiled weakly. "So much drama lately. Got me edgy." 

"I hear that." He reached toward her, and she flinched. His eyes dulled, and he withdrew his hand. "You've got some stuff in your hair."

"I do?" She felt bad for distrusting him. "Help me up. I'm stuck."

He pulled her out. She sat down. He sat beside her. When Hannah leaned her head on his shoulder, she felt his muscles relax.

Hannah whispered, "I'm a mess."

He leaned his head on hers. "Not so bad. Troubled, but not totaled." 

She turned to look at him. 

He was staring at the floor between his feet.

"You think there's hope for me?"

"I have high hopes for you," he said, pulling out a piece of Alfalfa. He chewed on the end without meeting her gaze. His jaw muscles knotted with the motion. 

To reassure him, she kissed his cheek, held her lips against it, enjoying the movement as he chewed. When the prolonged contact became ridiculous he smiled, and this made the muscles tease her lips differently. 

He leaned back and looked at her suspiciously. "What?"

"Nothing," she said, staying a few inches from him. She focused on the grassy sprig pinched between his lips, and thought of replacing it with her nipple. Leaning in, she closed her eyes and teased her nose against the grassy projection -- back and forth. "Mmm, tickles." Then she kissed him open mouthed, and came away with the vegetation.

He smiled. "You're a goof."

"Goof? That was supposed to be sexy as hell!"

"It was," said Tom, flatly, like he agreed just to prevent an argument. He began to preen 'stuff' from her hair. 

With a loud spit, Hannah got rid of the twig, grabbed fistfuls of his hair, and pulled him in for a sloppy tongue twister. 

Tom laughed for a few seconds, until he realized she was serious.

As hard as they kissed, his hands were gentle on her back. He seemed aware of her scratches, even in a passionate embrace. That was nice. She liked his gentleness. It was a rare trait in the men she'd known, and there were many. If experience counted, she had a high score. No need to reveal all, though. Knowledge was power. 

She used her palms to push him flat on the hay. Her hair hung down and framed his rugged face. "I like you -- a lot."

He made a crooked smile, and said, "Why, because I saved your scrawny ass?"

"Scrawny!" She playfully tried to slap him, but he blocked it and grabbed her wrists. Straddling him and the hay bale, she sat across his hips.

"Not really. You have a cute ass -- nice and round and compact." He cupped and squeezed each cheek. His eyes roamed around the loft. "When I own this place, I'll buy some quarter horses."

"Ooo, horse talk, you really know how to seduce a lady." She massaged his chest, and then unbuttoned the shirt to expose skin. His eyes closed, when she teased his nipples.

In a voice of dreamy pleasure, he said, "Maybe I'll guide trail rides up into the mountains. I could tell people the true story of two Indian lovers, and how the Great Spirit brought them together during a storm."

"That sounds romantic," she said, leaning down to kiss his sternum. He smelled good. She'd become accustomed to the smell of cologne, alcohol and tobacco on a man. His natural scent was just another enticing discovery. Her body readied, desire grew so easily.

He didn't seem to care, didn't force it. Was rejection an aphrodisiac? Did it make her want to try harder? With him, it did.

She opened his pants and teased the edge of his hairline, while kissing his neck.

Tom kept talking, describing the future, while his hands stroked her ribs, brushed against the sides of her breasts. "Maybe you'd like to stay, and reenact the plane crash. You could walk out of the trees wet and naked, for affect."

"Ha ha. I'm sure that would be a big hit." 

His palms lifted her breasts and verbal discourse faded. She sat upright, to allow the shirt buttons to be undone. He spread the fabric and admired the view. Nipples tingled and tightened. They reached out to him, making an offer.

Tom smiled. 

"What?"

"Your beautiful."

Hannah groaned with delight and kissed him, pressed against his chest. His hands slid inside the shirt, onto her back. She pushed a hand into his pants to feel him grow. The other hand cupped his face. 

She whispered, "You turn me on," then a kiss. "So much." To show him, she stood and threw off the shirt, kicked off her shoes and pulled off her pants. Naked, except for fallen white socks, she fell on top of him, pulling at his clothes.

"Wait… let me."

She knelt in the chaff and watched him take off his shirt and place it across the hay bale. He seemed self-conscious, awkwardly pushing down his pants while not looking at her. What changed? Because he had plans now, he wasn't just fucking around anymore?



His cock sprang out. The sight made her tummy quiver. It looked perfect, the best ever, and it was attached to HIM. Her bond partner. I'm bonded. "Mmm, let's bond," she said, reaching out, hefting it, and appraising the weight like gold on a scale. "You're beautiful." She kissed the tip.

Tom sat on the shirt-covered bale and Hannah sat on his lap. They embraced tenderly. His fingers played down her spine, along her thighs and then up her stomach to her breasts. Her readiness wet his leg. She vibrated with lust, and felt wonderfully feverish. 

Sexual control was her life. Hannah needed to take it back. Using both hands, she teased his erection, up and down. It flopped forward and touched her belly. Pre-cum left a damp spot near her navel. She pressed the firebrand tight and ground against it.

Tom coaxed her in for a lingering kiss, while teasing her nipples. When his hand joined hers on his cock they smiled at one another. She pinched the sensitive glans and rolled it. 

"I like that," he said, and then his fingers moved between her legs, close to her heat. The long, thick digits played around the edges, brushing over lips and clit. When she tried to thrust forward they disappeared, leaving the itch unscratched. 

"I like that," she confessed. But, she'd waited long enough. With one hand on his shoulder for balance and the other holding him steady, Hannah lifted up, let the tip penetrate, rocked a little to tease them both, and then sank down. "I like that the most."

For a while, they held one another and just kissed. She could feel him contracting his groin muscles, twitching inside, and returned the sexual Morris Code -- one long squeeze, two short, one tongue swirl, two groans.

His hands dropped to her bottom. They massaged and then separated her cheeks. Fingers played underneath, where their flesh joined together. She gave in to an urge, and bounced a couple of times, to start the end.

Tom broke their kiss and said, "Turn around."

"Turn around?"

"Yes."

She stood up, reluctantly turned around, and let him guide his cock in as she remounted. The angle was different, a nice sensation, but this was not one of her favorite positions. It was too submissive, too vulnerable. She wasn't in control this way. Usually the guy wanted her hands on him.

Tom pulled her back. His cock slipped halfway out. She felt her hair gathered up and pushed aside and then kisses on her shoulder. His hands came up to tease both nipples.

"I like that," she said, and tried to relax. 

As he toyed with her, the defenses melted. Worry about what was next faded. There was no pressure to perform.

Lips tickled her ear. A hand traced away from her breast, explored south, until it rested above her sex. "You're skin is so soft." A fingertip twirled her clitoris.

A gasp escaped her, and she clenched with the sensation. "Mmm."

He used her flow to sweeten the friction. With the other hand on her breasts, and his lips on her neck, she felt a climax surge up. Arousal became all encompassing. Hannah tried to lean forward, but he held her tight. She desperately wanted to push up and down with her legs, pump him in and out. But he denied her the pleasure, and the denial seemed to ferment the release.

Outside, a storm grew unnoticed. 

Her whispered, "Oh God…" was abruptly cut off by a thunderclap so near she felt the concussion. The shock made her jump and scream, but Tom held her in an iron grip, and intensified his efforts, as if the elements were using him as a conduit. Rain drumming on the barn roof became so loud her whimpers were only vibrations. Climax was near, electrified. Adrenaline rushed through her body with the speed of impossible pleasure. His gripped slackened, and she worked free. Leaning forward, she placed her hands on the hay and vigorously pounded onto his lap. Thunder echoed her screams, while his fingers prolonged the tempestuous finale.

Hannah slouched with exhaustion. Tom pulled her back to rest against him, their bodies slick with humidity and sweat. While her breathing slowed to normal, those hands continued to caress. The storm passed, as if in sync with her spending. His cock shrunk and came out. There was not the usual feel of gooey ooze. 

With a skip in her heart, she turned to look at his face and said, "You didn't cum?"

A soft kiss was the first response, and then he said, "No, I'm a little worn out. But, it was way fun. You are so hot. I can't wait until you're healed up." Then he kissed her again.

This was not normal. Men are not supposed to be like that. 




Vision of the Spirit Ch. 08



It was a miracle that Tom was able to hold back his orgasm. If Hannah had touched him, or thrust a few more times, he couldn't have prevented a seminal eruption. Fortunately, things worked according to plan, or didn't work in this case. Determined to show her that she was more than a sex object, he willfully fought against pleasure. While she fucked him, he mentally inventoried his truck, balanced his bank account and calculated his modest investment dividends to the end of the year. There was money to be earned, if he intended to buy the Midway motel.

Now resting naked on his lap, Hannah looked up at him and stroked a bundle of her hair, wearing the familiar face of concern. "Do you want me to play with you some more? It feels so weird when you don't come." 

He hugged her and said, "No thanks. We'd better get out of here while the rain's slowed." His dick began to stiffen again, as he watched her dress. Hastily, he pulled on his pants.

Tom descended the hayloft ladder first, intending to grab some firm ass when she climbed down. He'd made it halfway, when the barn door opened and Mr. Wentworth came in, followed by two men, leading three horses.

Quickly, Tom climbed back up and whispered, "Hannah, stay here. Don't come down until I tell you."

"What's wrong?"

"Maybe nothing, but we've got visitors -- men with horses. And one of the horses looks familiar." Without another word, he rushed down and walked toward the new arrivals. They stopped when he approached. The two strangers gave him an angry glare, like he'd killed their best friend. Tom smiled, and said, "All finished with the cabins, Mr. Wentworth." He pointed. "Did you want the cart put in the storeroom over there?"

"Yeah, that's where it goes. What were ya doin' back there?"

"Just looking the place over. This is a cool old barn. How old is it?"

"Damned if I know." The old man grabbed Tom's arm and pulled him back the way he came, saying over his shoulder to the horsemen, "Put the nags in the stalls that got sawdust. The kid's gonna throw down some hay for ya." 

When they were out of earshot, the old man whispered, "I got a bad feeling about these swabs. They got pissy attitudes. Go get 'em some hay, but don't talk to 'em. They ain't said ten words since they got here. I don't wana give 'em any reason to wreck the place. I've seen some assholes slink across the boarder before, and these guys fit the mold."

Wentworth pointed up. "There's a trapdoor right in the middle of the floor. Toss down a fresh bale."

"Okay, Boss." Tom smiled.

The old veteran shook his head and cackled. "You oughta take your girl up there sometime. Nothin' more fun than a real roll in the hay." 

"Thanks for the tip. I'll remember that," he said, climbing back up.

"Maybe I should rent the hayloft by the hour, like them city whorehouses." 

"Maybe."

Hannah waited impatiently at the top. "Was it them?"

"I think so."

"Oh my God," she hissed.

"Chill, Hannah. Just stay out of sight. It'll be okay." He grabbed a bale of hay and carried it to the trap door. "Stand back." The hinges squeaked as it swung open. "Look out below!" Tom kicked down the hay and dropped the door. "I'll come back for you when it's safe."

Hannah groaned and stroked her hair faster.

"It's okay. Just stay put."

Tom hurried back down, pulled the twine off the bale and threw slabs of hay into the stall feed racks. As he worked, he ignored Wentworth's advice. "Where you guys from? Been up in the mountains? Beautiful up there, isn't it."

They stood silent, with arms folded, and watched him work.

"I like horses, but I'm always afraid I'll get kicked. They can do some serious damage."

No reaction.

Wentworth broke in. "Why don't you fellas go get settled in your rooms. We'll take good care of the hay burners."

They looked at each other. One gave a head tilt signal to leave, and they did.

"What the hell were you doin'. I told you not to bug 'em."

"Sorry, Boss. Just trying to put the customers at ease."

"Bah… give 'em a descent room and leave 'em alone. That's all they want." 

Tom finished up, and they walked back toward the motel. The horsemen were hauling familiar black duffel bags from the horse trailer to cabin number 3.

"You think they're drug smugglers?" asked Tom.

"What? What made you say that?"

"I don't know, just a hunch."

"Well, don't go stickin' your nose in where it don't belong, unless you wanna get it wiped…off your face." The old man laughed.

"So, how about a job?"

"Are you good with your hands? Maybe I should ask your girl, Pocahontas." 

"You're a dirty old man. You know that?"

"It's all talk, Chief." He turned and headed toward home. "All I got left is bullshit."

"I want a job!"

"Ask me tomorrow."

Tom waited until the men had closed the cabin door, and then went back to collect Hannah. 

She was so frightened that she didn't even react to his hands fondling her ass as she climbed down the ladder. "What'll we do now?"

"I don't know yet, but somehow, I'm getting the cops to check 'em out." 

She clutched his arm, as they sneaked through the brush to the back of their cabin. "I should tell you something."

"Uh-oh. That sounds bad."

Seconds passed before Hannah continued. "I think Mr. Wentworth is related to Toby, the pilot of the airplane. His name was Tobias Wentworth, and he told me he knew the mountains and lakes in the area, because he grew up around here. I didn't even think of it, until now."

Tom stopped and thought for a while. Then he grabbed her by the arms, kissed her, and said, "Thanks for telling me, Babe." He pulled out his wallet, gave her 40 dollars and the keys to the truck, saying, "Go into town and hide. Get something to eat, go to the store, the bar, anywhere. Don't come back until after 11:00."

Her eyes grew big and round. "Don't do it."

"Don't do what."

"Whatever stupid thing you're about to do."

"Trust me."

"These guys are dangerous. I don't want you to get hurt… or worse."

In a voice harder than he intended, Tom said, "Do what I tell you. Remember, you belong to me now."

Wrapping her arms around him, she laid her head on his shoulder and hugged. They stood quietly for long seconds, before she walked away without a backward glance.

****

The drive to town took only five minutes. That left four hours and thirty-two minutes to kill. Hannah would do whatever Tom asked. She owed him her life, and liked being indebted to him. She liked belonging to someone that wanted her for more than a good fuck. The thought of losing him frightened her. The thought of food made her nervous stomach queasy. So she drove back to the strip mall, sat in the parking lot, and envied the families strolling in and out. As the night wore on, traffic became light. The grocery store was the only business open after 7 p.m. 

A pregnant woman in a green sedan parked next to Hannah. The woman smiled at her through the window, and then frowned briefly when her eyes focused on Hannah's scratches. Twenty minutes later, she came back with a cartload of bags. She opened the trunk, stood up straight and rubbed her belly for a while.

Hannah rolled down the window, and asked, "Do you need some help?"

The pretty redhead smiled. "No, I'm just feeling the baby kick." Then she became serious, and said, "How about you? Do you need help? You look a little banged up."

Tired of feeling worried and lonely, Hannah got out and limped over. "I'm okay. My life just sucks sometimes." She started transferring the bags from the cart to the trunk.

"Thank you. You're very kind. If my husband knew I was out doing this, he'd be mad. He's a little overprotective. Thinks because I'm pregnant I shouldn't work too hard." She grimaced and declared, "I'm delicate."

"He sounds like a good man."

The woman sighed, and said, "Yeah, he is. Too good a man to have any fun with, sometimes. But, since he's a cop, he has to set a good example. So, I give him some slack." She laughed. "I can't believe I just said that."

Setting in the last bag, Hannah said, "Your secret's safe with me," and then thought to herself, she's a cop's wife. I could use a friend like her. "Your husband works at night?"

The cutely freckled face laughed again. It was a light, easy laugh of happy contentment. "Actually, he's the police chief. That means he works all the time. They call, and he's gone."

"So, he got a call tonight?" Immediately, she thought of Tom and what might be happening at the motel. 

A troubled look darkened the woman's grin. "It's nothing much, a minor disturbance." She held out her hand, "Hi, I'm Annie. Nice to meet you."

Smiling at one another, they shook hands. 

"Hi, I'm Hannah. Nice to meet you, too."

"Okay Hannah, spill the beans, what's your story? What's a pretty girl like you doing in a parking lot like this, all scratched up and limping?"

"Whoa. Now there's a question with a complicated answer." The bizarre truth could not be told, so she hedged. "I've had some trouble. I'm just waiting for it to blow over."

Annie stared at her, and then raised her hands in disappointment. "That's it?"

"Yup."

"How long are you going to wait?"

"Until 11:00."

"Well then, why don't you follow me home and wait there. You can help with me with the groceries, so when Big Willie gets home he won't be angry. We can keep each other company."

"Big Willie?" Hannah laughed. "Police Chief Big Willie?" 

Annie touched Hannah's arm, leaned in close and whispered, "Please, don't tell anyone I called him Big Willie. That's my personal pet name for… him." A blush colored her face.

"You're trusting me with a lot of secrets, Annie. And you don't even know me."

"I'm a good judge of character. I know I can trust you, because I can tell that you keep secrets of your own." Annie gently rubbed Hannah's arm, and added, "Maybe later you'll share some with me." 

The compliment and kind touch gave Hannah goose bumps. Making friends with Annie might be a good move. She'd be a powerful ally. "I think I'll take you up on your offer. I don't know anyone else around here."

The house -- a two-story colonial with white siding and black shutters -- was on a dead-end road, set back and hidden by oak trees. All it needed was a white picket fence to be the American dream stereotype.

Annie stepped in the unlocked front door and turned on a light. "Excuse the mess." 

There was no mess. A newspaper lay on the floor. Hannah scanned the framed photos hung on the wall and immediately recognized the cop who interrogated them earlier today. "Is this your husband?"

Annie sighed, "Yes, that's my Big Willie." She continued into the kitchen. "Bring the bags in here, and I'll put the stuff away."

After Hannah made the last trip, Annie asked, "Why are you limping?"

"Oh, I've got some blisters."

"Turn on the TV and take a seat on the couch. I'm going to change my clothes. Then I'll make a foot bath and you can soak your feet."

"Don't bother. I probably should go." 

"No bother. Go relax."

Hannah thought it over, and decided she'd rather have company, than sit in the truck alone. So, she did what she was told. It was a very cozy, middle-class living room, with lots of knick-knacks to feed the eye. The huge comfy couch perfect for afternoon naps. The inviting smell of a recent meal reminded her stomach it was empty. She envied Annie and Willie, and realized the chrome and neon lights of Vegas had lost their appeal. Someday, maybe her life would be this solid. The possibility of having Tom's baby in the near future made her smile.

"Nice to see you looking happy." Annie placed a tub of warm, soapy water at Hannah's feet. "What were you thinking about?"

While removing her socks, she said, "I was thinking about how nice it must be to have a home like this and a family." When the water enveloped her aching feet, she sank back into the cushions. "Ahhh."

Annie smiled at her. "Feels good?"

"Oh yeah."

She sat down close beside her guest. "How'd you get so scratched up?" When Hannah's body visibly tensed, she said, "I promise, whatever you say won't be used against you."

"Are you a lawyer?"

"No, just an old, bored, married lady, looking for some excitement," she said, and touched Hannah's forehead. "Do they hurt?"

"Not anymore, they kinda itch, now."

For the first time, Hannah noticed the see-through quality of the lacy button-down blouse Annie changed into. It didn't cover her belly completely, or the fact that she was braless. The baggy green shorts were low on her hips, staying up by magic. 

Annie's soft finger traced the marks on her face. "You're a beautiful girl, Hannah. Fortunately, they don't look bad enough to leave a scar. Does this feel good?"

It did feel good, a feathery touch, more than friendly. Hannah's experience with latent sexuality and seduction began to ring alarm bells. "Yes," she said, in an apprehensive whisper. This was the police chief's wife. What had she gotten herself into now? 

"How'd it happen?" Annie asked, while pushing the long dark strands of hair aside to trace the red lines down Hannah's neck and into her shirt collar.

Hannah closed her eyes and relinquished her body to a stranger, like only a working girl could. "I fell through some pine branches."

"Where do they stop?" The bold woman's fingers unbuttoned Hannah's top two shirt buttons and pulled the loose fabric apart. 

Maybe the scandalous truth would stop her. "They don't. I was naked at the time." 

Annie laughed. "Oh my. There's a good story waiting to be told." After a few seconds of waiting, she stroked Hannah's cheek with the back of her fingers, and said, "You're wearing a man's shirt. Was it his fault? Did he hurt you?"

Why did everything have to get so screwed up? She thought of Tom, and the danger he might be in. The grim possibilities caused tears to well up and run down her cheeks. Hannah didn't know what to say or what to do. Tonight, everything hung in the balance, and what she did now might determine both their fates. If angered, Annie might destroy everything she hoped for. If pleased, Annie could be an important key to her future happiness. So, under pressure, she decided not to instigate anything. She simply said, "No, he didn't do it. He saved my life. I love him." 

The cushions shifted as Annie turned away, and with a new coolness in her voice said, "I hope everything works out for you." She picked up the remote and turned on the TV. Annie held Hannah's hand, while they watched 'Alias'. 

Halfway through the program, Annie said, "I think she is so hot." 

Hannah smiled and nodded.

Suddenly, Annie grabbed her swollen stomach, "Wow! That was a big one. Little Willie's wide awake." She turned to Hannah. "Have you ever felt a baby kick?"

"No, I haven't."

Annie pulled Hannah's compliant hand over and placed the open palm on her bare belly. Soon, there was the unmistakable sensation of a push. She laughed. "That is so weird. How does it feel inside?"

"I love it. The whole idea of making a baby is a major turn on." She continued to move Hannah's hand around to feel the baby's activity. After a while, she said, "That's my biggest problem."

"What's a problem?"

"Being turned on, all the time. For some bizarre reason, I can't get enough sex right now. My body is like wired for orgasm, and I'm insatiable, a bona fide nymphomaniac. Poor Big Willie is worn out. He doesn't know what to do with me." Annie dragged Hannah's palm upward and pressed it against her breast. She looked her straight in the eye, and whispered, "I'm desperate. My nipples are so sensitive, I'd come if somebody would just play with them."

They'd reached a critical moment. Hannah didn't dare pull away. Was this really what Annie wanted? She waited for a sign.

They stared at one another for tense seconds. Annie didn't release her hand. Instead, her brow knitted together and she pressed Hannah's palm tighter to her chest. "Please?"

In answer, Hannah made a nervous grin and squeezed her boob a little.

Annie loosened her grip and closed her eyes. "Oh thank you, just play with them a little. The way it would feel good to you."

"Okay."

Annie leaned back.

The areolas were clearly visible through the sheer blouse. It was easy for Hannah to tease in the right places. Soon, the excited nipples marked the exact spots. She gently twisted them through the fabric. 

"That feels wonderful." Annie stopped her, unbutton the shirt, and spread it open. Her sultry green eyes watched Hannah's reaction at the unveiling.

"You're very pretty. I think your freckles are so cute." Annie's flesh felt soft and hot. Her breasts were heavy. 

"My nipples are very sensitive, be gentle." 

The splash of the footbath, when Hannah turned to use two hands, broke the mood.

Annie giggled, and pulled her shirt together. "I'm sorry. This is stupid. Here you are, all beat up, and I'm feeling sorry for myself. I'm taking advantage of your bad situation."

There was a prolonged silence, as she waited for Hannah to offer a comment. But Hannah didn't know what was best. Should she act like a victim, start to cry and leave? Should she play the aggressor or the innocent maid? Maybe a neutral statement would suffice. "I think my feet are done." As she dried them off, she added, "They feel much better. Thank you." She picked up the tub and said, "I'll go dump this down the toilet."

When she came out of the bathroom Annie was waiting in the hallway, her shirt still unbuttoned, covering everything but an inch of skin down the center.

"Hannah… I think maybe… there should be a witness to your injuries. Just in case you want to file charges… sometime."

"Really? Then I should go to an emergency room?"

Annie smiled and actually blushed. "No, I thought… if you'd like… I could be your witness. I am the Chief's wife, after all. No one would doubt my word." 

The halting statement told Hannah that Annie wasn't familiar with seducing young girls. This wasn't a common occurrence, and probably only a recent manifestation of unhappiness or discontent. She felt sympathy for her. She also realized, whatever happened, no one would believe her story over Annie's. The best option was not to make her angry. "Okay, if you want to."

"Come into the guest room," said Annie, taking her by the hand and leading the way. "If you're ever desperate, and need a place to stay, you're welcome to stay here." She closed the bedroom door behind them.

What a strange thing for her to say. Hannah was touched and confused by the generous offer. "Thank you." 

Deciding she wasn't going to play the modest maiden any longer, Hannah stood with her back to Annie, unbuttoned her shirt and let it drop to the floor. A few seconds later, her jeans pooled around her ankles, no panties. She collected her hair and brought it to the front. "How do I look?"

Carpeted footfalls were soon followed by a gentle finger tracing along an itchy scab. A hushed voice near her left shoulder said, "Looks like you're healing fine. Any pain?" 

"Not really."

Two hands ran along her shoulders, down her back and stopped on her bottom, one hand on each cheek. Fingers began to knead her flesh, as a small mouth kissed her neck and a bare belly pressed against her spine.

Hannah spun around. A naked pregnant woman stood before her, grinning sheepishly and blushing. Annie was a little shorter, but not much. 

"Shocked?"

"After what happened in the living room, not really." Determined not make the first move, Hannah remained motionless.

Annie's eyes traveled down her body, making a visual inspection. Then one hand reached out and moved the mass of ebony hair aside to uncover the one hidden breast. "You are lovely, Hannah." A freckled hand came up to lie on her right breast, then lightly brushed down over her nipple. "I must look like a fat cow next to you."




Vision of the Spirit Ch. 08



"I think you're beautiful," said Hannah, and meant it. She'd never been close to a woman with child before. The voluptuous, fertilized body intrigued her. Before things went too far, she wanted to give Annie one last chance to stop. "Big Willie is a lucky man."

Annie looked down at the floor, and said, "Thank you." She moved away, sat on the edge of the bed, and appeared subdued. Her mussed red hair and creamy, freckled skin gave her a pregnant fairy like quality. A moment later, she lay back and Hannah spied a tuft of red hair between her legs. Annie began to play with herself. First the right nipple, her fingers teased around the tip until it grew large with excitement. Then she twisted the spongy nub. A while later, the free hand slipped between her legs and toyed in the folds.

Hannah began to feel aroused by watching the erotic exhibition. She also felt a little selfish. Annie hadn't been demanding. In fact she'd said, 'please'. Annie had been kind all night -- brought her home, soaked her feet, offered to let her stay, and now she probably felt rejected.

She went to the bed and lay down beside Annie. Her green eyes flashed open. They locked onto hers. "May I help?"

Annie removed her hands and nodded yes. "I'd like that, very much."

Hannah looked her over. The freckled chest was already pink with excitement. Both nipples were tight and extended, expecting attention. "I'd like to kiss you, is that all right?"

She barely nodded.

Her mouth was soft and compliant. 

As they explored, Hannah pressed against her, excited by the feel of the motherly profile. Annie groaned into her mouth when Hannah hugged her close. "Annie, your body feels wonderful."

"Yours too," said Annie, as her hand stroked Hannah's hair down to the small of her back. Separating from her partner, she kissed down the slender neck and kept going, all the way to a nipple, thereby demonstrating this wasn't going to be one-sided affection.

The soft tug made Hannah shiver. "Mmm." She pushed her away with a wet slurpy sound. And repaid the pleasure tit for tit.

Annie held her head gently in place, moaning her delight. 

They tenderly played with each other, slowly building the mutual level of arousal. 

Hannah found it a wonderfully strange sensation to know how her touches felt without actually feeling them. And then Annie would return the favor. A woman could only experience that thrill with another woman. She was lost in the moment, given up, done in, wholly enthralled by the uniqueness, and she became the aggressor. 

Getting on her knees, Hannah fondled Annie's breasts while kissing her belly. She placed a cheek against the taught skin, and said, "I want to have babies someday. At least a couple."

Annie rubbed her back, and said, "You will."

She kissed over the roundness and plunged her tongue into Annie's red valley without introductions. The mother's hips bucked with the sensation. "Oh, Honey…"

Then Hannah felt small fingers enter her own sex.

They began to work together, on opposite bodies. It was like a strange mirror image of feeling. Hannah would do it here and she'd feel it down there. They tried different techniques, experimented and shared styles they didn't know existed until now. New, even to Hannah.

Annie had a hair trigger clit, and Hannah stopped keeping track of her climaxes. But she was aware of Annie's increased effort to give one back, and it began to loom large. Growing with a force of nature she'd come to expect only from Tom's caress. It scared her a little, so it subsided briefly. 

Big Willie's wife was a tenacious lover and would not be denied. Hannah didn't know how many fingers were plunging in and out, but the one pair of lips, extorting her clitoris, left nothing behind when the final wave of pleasure crested and washed her away.

Afterward, the two sated and sweaty women lay entangled, kissing and smiling quietly. There was no pleasure left to give; and nothing left to say, except goodbye. 

"It's almost 11:00, Annie. I have to go." 

She understood. 

They both dressed. 

One last friendly peck at the door, and Hannah drove off, scared once more.



Vision of the Spirit Ch. 09



A police barricade blocked the road ahead. Hannah spotted the red strobes of emergency vehicles parked in front of the Midway Motel and her stomach tied itself into a noose. Afraid that something terrible had happened to Tom, she jumped out of the truck and sprinted past the row of hissing flares. 

"Hey, Lady, stop!" The sheriff, standing guard, was too fat and too slow to do anything except shoot her in the back or radio to the officers ahead. Fortunately, he chose the latter.

Police chief 'Big Willie' Morris marched out to meet her at the double yellow, no passing stripe. "Agnes Grundlemire?"

The sound of her real name stilled her feet and chilled her heart. The noose tightened. Truth had finally caught up. She wanted to deny it, but the lie wouldn't come. Instead, she scanned the confusion ahead, searching for a glimpse of Tom.

Chief Willie grabbed her firmly by the elbow and forced her back the way she came. "Where were you tonight, Agnes?"

"Don't call me that. I go by Hannah, now."

Chief Willie stopped and spun her, face to face. "Okay, Hannah, where were you?" 

"At the mall." She tried to twist away. "Let go!"

"The mall? Everything closed at 9 o'clock." 

His smug look of triumph and his iron grip made her angry. Retaliation seemed like the best defense. She stopped struggling and returned his glare. "I met someone."

"I bet you did. What was his name, and how much did you charge him for a blow job?"

Cops were all alike. They just loved to rub her nose in her arrest record. Contempt for his self-righteous attitude bubbled to the surface. Well, tonight Hannah had payback. She'd rubbed her nose in his wife's pussy, and now she wanted to rub his nose in his disgrace. "I met a woman. Her name was Annie, a very cute pregnant lady, who needed my help. I spent the evening at her place." 

Anger spread across his shadowy face and then melted into suspicion. "Shut the fuck up," he said, snapping handcuffs onto her wrists. He yelled over her shoulder, "Hank, put her in my car, and watch her." Then he spun on his heels and stalked back toward the motel, while flipping open a cell phone.

Hannah yelled at Chief Willie's back, "Where's Tom!"

He turned halfway, and indifferently answered, "He's dead!"

"Wha...? WHAT!"

Fat Hank yanked the chain between the handcuffs and pulled her like a bitch on a leash. "Come on. Let's go."

All the strength drained from her body. She stumbled and fell to her knees. The flabby, wheezing officer tugged on her arms, trying to make her stand. Her skin broke out in a cold sweat and she retched until there was nothing left. When some strength returned, enough to stagger back to the car, Hannah curled up on the backseat and fell into a bottomless despair. The bond she'd made with Tom suddenly vanished, along with any hope of redemption. She had no future. 

Voices mumbled outside. Eventually, the front door opened, someone got in and drove off. The only sounds were squawks from the police radio and the rumble of the V8 engine. Hanna remained curled up, her wet cheek slippery against the vinyl. 

A few minutes later, they stopped. The driver got out and opened the back door. Big Willie's flatfoot tone, growled, "Get out."

Hannah looked around and began to tremble. "Why are we here?"

"Shut up." Willie dragged her in the front door, through the dark living room, and down the hall. His head jerked in a double take, and they halted at the open door of the spare bedroom. Reaching in, he flicked on the light. The bedcovers were still rumpled from Annie and Hannah's recent tryst. 

Willie forced her into the room. "Sit... right there," he said, pointing at the corner.

Hannah squatted and watched, while he methodically searched the quilt, his face just inches from the surface. 

When he found what he wanted, Willie strode over and placed his open palm under her nose. "Explain this." 

The tangle of red and black hairs, evidence of climactic proportions, didn't require an explanation as far as Hannah was concerned. "You figure it out, Sherlock."

"Get up." When she stood, he grabbed her by the wrist and sniffed her fingers. Hannah hadn't washed her hands. The grimace on his face said, 'I smell pussy.'

"Honey, what's going on?" Sleepy Annie waddled naked into the room. When she spied Hannah, her eyes grew large, caution stiffened her spine, and her hands protectively cradled her belly. 

A pregnant silence filled the room. Hannah felt an emotion she'd thought was forever erased from her psyche -- guilt. An inverted Midas touch controlled her life. Everything she touched turned to shit. The rug between her feet became blurry, as tears welled up and spilled over.

Annie broke first. "William, why is Hannah in handcuffs?" 

Hannah looked up. The Chief stood motionless, staring at his wife. "Tell her! Go ahead! Tell her I'm a whore! Tell her I'm a murder suspect! Ask her if I was here tonight! What kind of fucking cop are you!"

Silence returned, as everyone exchanged fearful glances.

"Annie..." he faltered, now unable to keep his eyes focused on his wife. "Was she here, around 10:00 pm?" 

Annie swallowed hard, glanced at Hannah with something that looked like a plea for mercy, and said, "Yes, I was out, buying groceries, and she helped me with the bags. She had all those scratches. She looked like she was in trouble, so I asked her to help me unload. It was around eleven when she left."

Willie frowned at Hannah. 

Tears streamed down her face, as she smiled at Annie and said a silent 'thank you'. 

"Annie, go put some clothes on."

"Sorry," Annie quickly left the room.

Grabbing Hannah's arm, he said, "Let's go," and led her outside to the car. 

Once she was secured in the back and they were on the road, Chief Willie, barely audible, declared, "If you disappeared today, no one would miss you." It was a statement of fact, not a question, like he was working things out, making plans. The threat hung in the air like a fog, her future indiscernible. "I want a blood sample. If you give me that, I might let you go."

The finality of death suddenly had a strange appeal to Hannah. She'd been so close to it these past few days it seemed unavoidable. Everything she lived for was destroyed. What good was her life, anyway? 

"Please, tell me what happened at the motel. Tell me what happened to Tom."

The Chief met her eyes in the rear view mirror. "Why do you care?"

Hannah looked out the side window a moment, and then turned back to the mirror. "He saved my life. I loved him."

They drove on a few miles, before he began, "Mr. Wentworth, the motel owner, had been having a problem with thefts. Some of the guests had their cars broken into and their rooms ransacked. Tonight, the guy picked the wrong people to mess with. He broke into a truck that belonged to drug dealers, and they came out shooting. Wentworth stormed out with his shotgun -- the old coot's got more balls than brains. They took a shot at him too. Then your friend Tom jumped in. One of the other guests called the police. The rest is under investigation. Is there anything you want to add?" 

Hannah covered her face and sobbed. "Oh my god..." She was tired of hiding, living lies. The weight of grief compelled her to confess everything. She began with the seaplane flight to pick up drugs and ended with meeting Annie. Sex with Annie remained a secret. There was no need to ruin anyone else's life, although she knew Willie suspected something physical happened between them. Let them work it out.

Afterward, the ride was silent. 

They pulled into the emergency room parking lot of a country hospital no bigger than a motel. It was busy. Several ambulances idled nearby. 

"Hold out your hands." Chief Willie removed the handcuffs. "Don't run unless you want to get shot." He led her by the elbow to a door that opened into a boiler room. He cuffed her to a steel pipe, and grinned without humor. "Don't go away."

The wait was short. A scowling nurse came back with Willie. She drew several vials of Hannah's blood and left without any chitchat. The Chief unlocked Hannah, and said, "I'll take you back to the motel."

"No. I'll find a ride." 

He gave her a hard look. "What's the matter? Don't you trust me?"

"Not really."

"Why?"

He knew damn well why. But then, nothing mattered anymore, did it. If he took her out in a field and put a bullet in her head she'd be grateful. It would be an end to a lot of misery. "Let's go."

The return route took them down winding desolate roads. Chief Willie made a radio call filled with police gibberish she didn't understand. It might have been secret code for 'I'm going to cap a whore, don't bother me for a while. Over and out.' She didn't care. Any form of sleep, at this point, would be a pleasant release.

Only one police cruiser remained outside the Midway Motel. She'd left the keys in Tom's truck; now it was parked back where it started, out front of cabin number nine. The cabin windows were dark. Overwhelming grief squeezed Hannah's heart once again.

They parked next to the other police car and Chief Willie rolled down his window to talk to the officer. "Anything new?"

"Nope. Doc say's if Wentworth makes it through the night he might live."

"How 'bout the other guy?"

"He's okay. They checked him out. He's pretty cool about the whole thing. Just banged up."

"Go home, Sam. Nothing more to do here."

When the other car pulled away Chief Willie parked next to Tom's truck. After long seconds, he muttered sadly, "Annie's head is mixed up right now. Having this baby... she's scared, feels trapped..."

"I'm sorry. But she's a good woman. She'll be fine, once the baby comes and things settle down." She prayed it was the truth.

"Whatever happened between you two, no one would believe it. So don't think--"

"I don't want to make any trouble, Chief. Just let me see Tom one more time, and then I'll go. Would you let me see his body, please?" 

He turned and stared hard at her. "Tom did a brave thing tonight. He tried to save Wentworth's life. He's another guy with more balls than brains." Chief Willie got out and opened the back door. "Go on. I'll be in touch."

Hannah waited until his taillights disappear around the bend before entering the cabin. The bathroom light glowed beneath the closed door and the shower was running. Her heart began to pound with impossible hope. She ran into the cramped room and tore back the yellow curtain.

"Hey! Geeze, are you trying to give me a heart attack?"

"Tom!" She squealed with joy, and wrapped her arms around his shoulders. "You're not dead!"

"Uh, no. But you're killing my arm."

"Oh no! Baby." She released her grip and inspected the bandage on his shoulder. "Are you all right?" 

"Yeah, it's just a scratch." 

She stepped into the spray and hugged him tight. "I was so scared. I don't know what I'd do without you." She rubbed cheek against his chest and ran her hands down over his bottom. The twin globes were firm and slippery. "You're mine. We're bonded. You know that."

Tom wrapped her in his arms and kissed her hair. "I know." After a long hug, he added, "Mr. Wentworth is in the hospital. I don't know if he'll make it."

The water lubricated her fingers, as they slipped up his spine and tangled in his long hair. "The police just said the doctor thinks if he makes it through the night he has a good chance."

"I need to get some sleep. I'm going to keep the place running until he comes back or..." Tom didn't finish the thought. Unwrapping from her, he stepped out and toweled dry. 

Hannah stripped off her clothes and washed away any residue that would remind her of Annie. After hanging her wet clothes over the curtain rod and brushing her teeth, she cautiously made her way through the dark room to the bed. The sheets were cool, but Tom's heat radiated from the other side. His gentle snoring made her smile.

When Hannah rubbed her leg against his, he rolled over and pulled her close. An erection poked her thigh and she wondered what he might be dreaming. The memory of sex in the hayloft came to mind. Tom hadn't come. 

Her fingers explored between their bodies until they found what they wanted, and lightly traced his cock down to his balls. The two cream filled eggs were nestled tight in their wrinkled nest. 

There were no complaints, when she gently rested her leg on his thigh and placed his cock between her folds. A few hip grinds later, she slowly pushed down. 

His breathing caught a moment, and then resumed with a long sigh.

Hannah said nothing. She communicated internally with squeeze and stroke Morris code. 

Tom groaned, cupped her ass and pressed himself deep. His lips found her neck and she surrendered to the affection. It never felt this good with anyone else. She believed it. She believed in their spiritual bond. That's what made the difference. 

Pushing his shoulders flat, she straddled his waist and rode him gently from tip to base, the silky friction agonizing. Out of the dark, fingers caressed her, fondled her breasts. She felt him suddenly stiffen inside. "Come," she said, and bounced a little faster. His hands grabbed her hips for leverage. He made a bridge with his back, groaned, and then relaxed. 

There was a new wetness between her legs. Hannah hugged him and kissed him back to sleep.



Vision of the Spirit Ch. 10



Chief Willie Morris delayed going home as long as possible. The sky cleared and the sun had been up for an hour, when he pulled into his driveway. Several more minutes passed, until he gathered enough courage to go inside. The smell of sizzling bacon greeted his empty stomach. 

Annie was in the kitchen, humming a tune with the contentment he once found so cheerful and now found unnerving. "There you are!" The flimsy robe split open when she walked to him. "Your breakfast is going to get cold." She kissed his stubbly cheek, before leading him by the arm to the table. "Sit! Eat!"

After filling his glass with orange juice, Annie sat opposite him. "So, tell me everything that happened last night."

The request seemed truly innocent and sincere. Willie began to think his suspicions had been misguided, the evidence of her infidelity misread. "Wentworth's in critical condition…" he began. The events spilled out, just like any other day. Annie was his one outlet, his only relief from job stress. She listened carefully and asked pointed questions. 

His chest tightened when the subject of Hannah came up. Willie couldn't look her in the eye, as he explained her criminal record. Maybe Annie would see the error of her ways and see the danger she put them in by bringing her home.

She touched his hand, and said, "I feel sorry for her. I think she wants to turn her life around. Are you going to arrest her?"

Willie swallowed hard. "I don't know. I don't want to… because of last night."

Annie nodded, seeming to understand the implications. "No one would believe a word she said."

The statement unsettled Chief Willie. He'd expected a denial of any wrongdoing. Instead she reinforced his suspicions. "What exactly did happen, Annie?"

She squeezed his hand tight. "Honey, you knew what kind of wild woman you married. So don't act surprised when I'm just being who I am."

Willie pulled away, and stood up. "But you're pregnant! I thought that meant something!"

Calmly folding her hands on the table, she met his glare with sad eyes. "It does… It means a great deal to me. But, there's more to life than slow and steady. Sometimes the impulsive part of me needs to break free. When opportunity knocked, I had to answer. If you can't deal with it, we're in big trouble." 

****

Thursday morning, Hannah followed Tom as he pushed the linen cart to cabin number 5. 

"Wentworth's daughter is coming tomorrow. I want this place spotless. I hope she'll let us work here until he's out of the hospital."

She edged up beside him, slipped her hand in his back pocket and gave his butt a playful squeeze. Hannah had never been happier. Life as a bonded woman provided a comfortable routine. The days and nights were filled with Tom: watching Tom, following Tom, helping Tom, and fucking Tom. 

He turned his head and gave her body the up and down, horny eye that tickled all her erogenous zones. The daily fucking both thrilled and scared Hannah. In the past, she only wanted sex once in a while, enjoyed it on rare occasions. But, for the first time, she wanted a man, just one man. 

Men had always used her for their pleasure. She made good money, indulging their lust. That was the payoff. Now, she wanted something greater than money, she wanted what was priceless -- love and devotion. The thought of rejection frightened her. 'Why should he love me? How could he love me?' These questions seemed unanswerable. All she had to offer was a hard day's work and a hardcore night. 

The interior of cabin 5 was the typical messy morning aftermath. Tom approached the bed with an armload of clean sheets. "Wet spot."

"Really?" Hannah looked for herself. "Wow, weren't they the old couple?"

"So?"

"You think he popped some Viagra?" She stroked the length of her two-foot long plait. 

Tom stripped off the bedding and threw it in a pile by the door. "Better living through chemistry." He fluttered a clean sheet over the mattress, while glancing at her.

The habit of stroking her hair always seemed to ignite a fire in Tom, a fact that only encouraged her to do it intentionally, like now. "I don't think you'll ever need it."

He left the bedside, grabbed both her braids, and reined her in. Hannah resisted the pull a little, kept her eyes downcast and acted shy, until he tenderly kissed her lips. Suddenly, they were on the bed in a tangle of sheet. 

She clasped his cheeks between her palms and lifted his lips from her neck. "What are you doing? We're supposed to remove the wet spot, not replace it." 

His thumbs hooked the bottom of her tee shirt and pushed it up. "How do we know if the bedsprings are broken, unless we test them out?"

Cool air washed over her skin as he bent to kiss a bared breast. "You're the boss."

Tom's sexual stamina seemed boundless compared to her old clients. He liked long foreplay. Hannah enjoyed the seduction. 

A shadow passed over her eyelids. She opened them to see Police Chief Morris standing in the doorway. Their eyes met and then his steady gaze wandered down to where Tom skillfully pinched one nipple and noisily sucked on the other. Men were all a like. They couldn't resist temptation when opportunity knocked. 

Tom's hand cupped her sex. His fingers worked their way under the waistband to twirl her clitoris. 

Maybe a minute passed, before Chief Morris stepped outside.

Brushing Tom's cheek, she whispered, "I heard something. Someone's coming." 

Quickly, he pulled down her shirt and jumped up. Hannah adjusted her clothes, while Tom stepped outside to greet the officer. Their voices faded as they walked away. 

She continued to clean the room, letting her thoughts wander. Would Chief Willie come back and tell her to leave town? She decided not to leave, unless Tom left with her. Nothing was going to come between them now. She didn't care about anything else.

By the time the bathroom was scrubbed, the men returned. 

"Hannah, Chief Morris has news. The Fed's have found the plane wreck." 

Hannah tried not to react. She stepped outside and placed the cleaning supplies back on top of the cart. The sun was warm and the air smelled sweet. She focused on these simple pleasures to calm her pounding heart.

Chief Willie followed close behind. "Hannah, Annie wants to know if she could hire you to help with things around the house, like laundry, grocery shopping, cleaning." He paused, before adding, "That is, if you're staying."

Tom smiled. "Hey, that sounds great."

"I don't know… I have a lot to do around here." She saw disappointment darken her lover's face. "Let me think about it."

Chief Willie nodded, while writing his home phone number on a business card. He handed it to her, and said, "Okay, you think about it. Let her know… soon." He shook Tom's hand. "I'll be in touch."

Tom rolled the cart to the next room. As they picked up their cleaning supplies, he said, "The Police Chief asked you to help his wife. You should do it. Why do you look so sad?" 

How could she tell him the truth? Annie's job offer couldn't be good for her future. She was damned if she did, and damned if she didn't. "I don't know. I don't like hanging around the cops."

"If we're staying in this town, you need to get over it. The Chief's wife would be a totally excellent friend to have. If she trusts you, everyone else will too."

Hannah pressed her face into his neck and hugged him tight. Circumstances once again dictated her actions. She would just have to hope for the best and prepare for the worst. "I guess I could help her, a little while."

Only three cabins were rented. Hannah and Tom finished cleaning before noon. They pushed the cart back into the barn.

Before they left, Tom dragged out the hose to water the horses. "I think we deserve a break. What do you want to do the rest of the day?" 

'Nothing,' sprang to mind. Was she becoming a bore? "I don't know. What do you want to do?"

"Why don't you call Mrs. Morris and get that out of the way, and then we'll go on a picnic."

She pouted and stroked her braid. "Do I have to call her today?"

"Come on. Get it over with. Tell her yes or no, but don't leave her hanging."

"Oh, all right."

Tom turned the hose on Hannah. 

The frigid water took her breath away. "So, you want to play rough, do you?" She grabbed the nozzle and wrestled for control until they were both soaked. 

Laughing and holding hands, they ran back to cabin number 9 and showered together, to save water and electricity. 

Afterwards, Hannah sat on the bed; nervously flicking the tip of her braid between her fingers, while listening to the Morris' telephone ring. 

Tom put his head in her lap, kissed her bare stomach and rimmed her belly button. 

"Hello."

"Hi, Mrs. Morris? This is Hannah…I talked to your husband today--"

"Oh, hi! I'm glad you called. I hope you'll be able to help me out. I'd really appreciate it."

She sounded sincere. Maybe everything would be fine. "Sure, Mrs. Morris. When would you like me to come by?"

"Please, call me Annie. Can you come over this afternoon?"

"Uh, hold on." Hannah covered the receiver with her palm. "She wants me this afternoon."

Tom sat up, and wrinkled his nose in disappointment. "What time?"

"Annie? What time?"

"Two-ish?"

Hannah covered again, and repeated, "Two-ish."

"Yeah, that'd be good. You can take the truck. I'll see if I can fix the washing machine while you're gone." He smiled, kissed her neck and traced a finger around her nipple.

"Uh, Annie..." Now two hands teased her breasts, while a tongue traced her ear. "Okay, I'll see you around two."

"Great! See you then."

"Bye." Hannah put down the receiver and pressed Tom's hands to her body. "You are so bad. How am I supposed to concentrate when you're turning me on?" 

He pulled his head back and raised his eyebrows. "I am?"

She pushed him down, lay flat on his chest, and answered with a passionate kiss. "I want you." 

"Then take me."

Slipping a hand between them, she grasped his cock and rubbed it against her clit. Their juices mixed to create a slippery slope she couldn't resist sliding down. Never had she felt such harmony with a man, like they were synchronized, biologically in phase -- more evidence of a spiritual bond. She let herself go and freewheeled on sensation, on pleasure. As she began to pump along his cock there seemed to be an intuitive response from him. His touch held a fuel that ignited fires. His tongue left an itch that needed a scratch. Her climax grew near and he sensed it. 

Tom whispered, "Come on, Baby," and swirled her clit with his thumb, pushing her over the edge. 

Before her last spasm ended, Tom rolled them over and began to thrust with his own needful desire. Abruptly, he stopped. The started. Then stopped. Then started. In between starts he kissed her, sucked her, twiddled her, until another orgasm loomed. 

"What are you doing to me?"

He didn't answer and he didn't quit. She came hard again, and her back arched into his last thrust. She screamed without thought. Her hips quivered with rapid-fire jabs beyond conscious effort. His hands squeezed her bottom, as his cock pulsed deep within. Then, sweet bliss surrounded them. 

Large gulps of air expanded her chest. Breathily, she whispered, "Amazing…" and pulled him to her hungry lips. They lingered in the afterglow, allowing heart rates to calm.

Tom kissed her cheek. "I don't think I'll ever get enough of you." 

Hannah hugged him tight. Words that expressed her joy wouldn't come. Instead, she locked her ankles over his back and pressed him tight where they joined. They shared a smile and a long kiss.

Finally, Tom broke away. "Let's do lunch at the diner."

Fifteen minutes later, they sat in 'their' booth. 

Immediately, Dolores the waitress came over with menus. "Hey, Hero. How's it going?"

Tom smiled. "Pretty good. How are you?"

"Just dandy." She turned to Hannah. "Hi Hon, you taking good care of this guy?"

Hannah's face suddenly felt hot. "I'm trying."

"Well, good. That's all you can do. What do ya want to drink?"

"I'll just have water, thanks."

"And for you, Stud?"

Tom rubbed his stomach and winked at Hannah. "I've worked up a thirst, Dolores. I think I'd like a strawberry milkshake, please."

"You got it."

After Dolores left, Hannah gave Tom a crooked smile. "Stud? Where did that come from? I haven't been bragging about you."

"You look really satisfied, right now. I think other women can tell."

She smiled. "I really am."

Time was short, so they ate quickly. 

"Excuse me, Dolores, can I get the check?"

Dolores walked over and patted Tom's shoulder. "This one's on the house. Old man Wentworth is a fixture around here. It's just our way of saying 'thanks' for lookin' out for him." 

People at other tables overheard and smiled at him. Tom looked embarrassed. "Well… Thanks."

As they walked out, Hannah took his arm and experienced another new emotion -- a sense of pride in a male companion. It was thrilling to know other people respected him. She felt dignified.

Twenty minutes later, the decency glow dimmed as she pulled Tom's truck into the Morris' driveway. Two parked cars signaled the Chief was home, as well. 

"Hi, Hannah. Come in." 

Annie hugged her after she stepped inside the front door. "How are you doing? I hear you're helping to keep the motel open. That's so kind of you guys to do that."

"Tom really likes it here. One of his ancestors was from the Blackfoot tribe. He's hoping to find a permanent job and stay." 

"How about you?" Annie took her by the hand and led her through the living room.

"I… haven't decided." 

"There's no rush. Is there." They headed down the basement stairs. "I've got a ton of laundry to do and it hurts my back to stand over the machine. So, I'd appreciate your help with that."

"Sure."

The basement had been remodeled into a game room, with a pool table as the centerpiece. The backyard sloped away from the house. Through the windows, a swimming pool sparkled in the afternoon sun.

"How long have you been a prostitute?"

'Shit!' thought Hannah. She didn't answer for a while. Then, using her arrest record as a point of reference, she said, "On and off for about two years. But, I'm not anymore."

Annie opened a bi-fold door, to reveal the laundry room. Clothes lay in sorted piles on the vinyl floor. She explained to Hannah how everything worked and watched her start the first load. "Good job. Now the second thing I want you to do is outside." 

They walked single file to a poolside table. "Have a seat, Hannah." 

They sat down under the shade of a red umbrella, and Annie opened a travel case that was lying next to a bowl of water. She reached in and pulled out a washcloth, safety razor and shaving gel. "I wouldn't ask anyone else, but since you've already been down that road, so to speak, I thought I might get you to shave me." Annie sat back and put her hands on her belly. "Big Willie likes me smooth, and, at the moment, I can't see down there to do it myself." 

Hannah tensed. She had hoped for the best, but expected the worst, and here it was. People always came to the same conclusion -- once a whore, always a whore. "Is that all you want? Just a shave?" 

"What else would I want, Hannah?" Annie reached out with her bare foot and touched Hannah's calf.

It seemed like a question that didn't require a straight answer. "What if I say no?"

Annie stood and pulled off her shorts and panties. "It's a free country. No one is forcing you to do anything. But I like you, Hannah. I want to be your friend. Willie and I could help you… and Tom." She waited for an answer, naked from the waist down.

The implication was clear. The influential couple could help them, or they could destroy them. It was up to Hannah. "Well, I like you too." She traced her palm down Annie's hip. "Sit down and let's get started."

Annie sat on the edge of the chair and spread her legs.

Hannah wet the washcloth in the bowl of warm water and then knelt between the redhead's knees. "Where's the Chief?"

"Inside, doing paperwork."

Trying to make the process empty of all sexuality, Hannah roughly wet the wispy pubic hair with the washcloth. "You don't have much to begin with."

"I know. I'm not very hairy." 

Annie twitched when Hannah began to apply a thick coat of foam. 

"Well, isn't this a pretty picture." 

The deep voice made Hannah jump.

Annie smiled up at her husband. "I'm getting a shave."

Hannah nervously rinsed her fingers in the bowl of water and picked up the razor. "You want to do it?"

The Chief put a hand on Hannah's head and Annie's smile shrank a little. 

He said, "Show me how."

Hannah placed the razor against Annie's skin below her pregnant belly and stroked downward. "I like to start at the perimeter and work toward the lips, less chance of a nick that way." 

Annie closed her eyes and sighed. "That feels nice."

The Chief squatted next to Hannah. Slowly, he slid his fingers up Annie's leg to her inner thigh and pushed her left leg a little wider. "Let me try."

Hannah handed over the razor, and then pushed Annie's right leg farther away. 

Annie's pussy lips popped open, to reveal a pink dampness.

The Chief laid his palm on Annie's round stomach. "This turns you on, doesn't it?" 

She met her man's gaze, and breathily answered, "Yes."

Unsure of her role, Hannah remained an onlooker, as Chief Willie wet his middle finger and pressed it into his wife. It disappeared easily between the folds. He held it still, while trying to complete the shave. The intimacy between the husband and wife touched her, but she wished she were somewhere else. A vibe from the Chief told her he felt the same way, since he'd taken control of Annie. 

Hannah's reverie was broken, when Annie rubbed her foot along her leg. "I want you to help him." 

The Chief glanced at Hannah with a look of disappointment. "Don't let me cut her."

She moved to the other side of Annie's leg and reached over. Placing both hands near the woman's pussy, she stretched the skin taught at critical times. Within the confined space, the man's arm brushed against her with every small stroke. 

Between razor swipes, Willie began to seesaw his finger into his wife, while Hannah moved the labia to safety. 

The shaving cream mixed with Annie's cream and generated a new fragrance. Her spread leg began to twitch against Hannah's stomach when something felt particularly nice. Once again, Annie's eyes were closed, her breath a little ragged. 

The Chief put down the razor, looked over his work, and said, "Hand me the washcloth." 

After rinsing it in the bowl, Hannah passed it on. 

With obvious intent, he dabbed and stroked her clean. The other hand now slowly thrust two fingers in and out, while the thumb swirled her swollen clit. "Smooth as silk."

Annie looked at her husband and then at Hannah. "There's only one way to really tell how smooth."

"I don't have to be asked twice." Willie kissed up one thigh and then the other. His tongue laved around her sensitive bud, while his fingers continued to tease. "Not a rough patch to be found," he said, and then placed his lips over her clit. 

Annie arched into the sensation and moaned. 

Hannah, once again, became a voyeur. The Chief certainly looked like he knew what he was doing. No help needed with this procedure. It wasn't long before the moans and squishy slurps sent tingles to Hannah's tummy. The display of affection reminded her of how much she wanted Tom. Oh, how she wanted him right now. A kick from Annie brought her back to reality.

"Stand behind me, touch me."

Reluctantly, Hannah stood behind the chair and looked down the landscape of Annie's body. Her swollen belly hid the Chief's face, so she couldn't get a reaction to his wife's request. Lightly she massaged Annie's shoulders. The woman shuddered under her fingertips. 




Vision of the Spirit Ch. 10



Annie pulled up her tee shirt and exposed her freckled breasts. "My nipples."

The Chief lifted his head on that demand, his chin glazed with Annie's overflow. His arm continued it's in and out motion, while his eyes roamed up his wife's body and locked with Hannah's. An almost imperceptible nod gave approval. 

She slipped her fingers down the woman's dotted slopes and lightly circled the puffy areolas. She teased them a few seconds, before pinching the sensitive tips. 

Annie groaned, long and low.

The Chief's fixed stare observed every maneuver, every manipulation. Hannah understood the look on his face. She'd seen it many times before. This was a man who'd turned conscious control over to his dick. She couldn't see it, but she knew his cock begged to be released. The sooner this was over the better off she'd be. Hannah began to maul Annie's tits in earnest.

The woman's moans grew louder, until she demanded, "Honey, eat me."

Obediently, Chief Willie disappeared between her legs. 

Another shriek affirmed intimate contact. Seconds later, Annie's legs clamped his head like a vice and her bottom lifted off the chair. Hannah continued to tease the woman's nipples until Annie sank down and pushed the hands away. 

Annie's chest was pink and heaving. 

Chief Willie's face reappeared, pink and glistening. 

Hannah, just a plaything, strode away. "I need to check the laundry."



Vision of the Spirit Ch. 11



Hopelessness squeezed Hannah's stomach and tears filled her eyes. The wet laundry turned into a blur of colors, as she pulled each item from the washer and threw it into the dryer. 

The basement screen door creaked open and slammed shut. Approaching footfalls were heavy. They stopped close behind her.

"Come back outside when you're done." Chief Willie's tone was flat and demanding. 

Hannah asked, "Why?" although she knew the answer.

"We're not finished yet."

She stopped and focused on the white wall over the machine. "Well, maybe I am."

"Suit yourself, I've got an empty cell for you."

"I'd rather be in jail than break Tom's heart. He's going to find out about this." The thought brought more tears. "Shit like this never stays secret forever." 

"It better... for everyone's sake." The footsteps receded and the screen door signaled his exit.

Stalling as long as possible, Hannah gathered her nerve and decided to go back outside to complete the couple's kink. Maybe this would be it. Maybe they would get it out of their system and be done with her, today. She stopped at the door and looked through the screen. Chief Willie sat naked on the side of the pool with his legs in the water. His broad shoulders tapered to a love-handled waist. Once upon a time, he must've been quite the hunky specimen. His back was to her, but she could see flashes of Annie in the water between his spread thighs, her head bobbed in and out of sight. 

Hannah inhaled deeply, then exhaled slowly and walked toward them. 

When the door slammed behind her, Annie's head popped up. "Hannah, take off your clothes and get in the pool with me."

The Chief never turned to look, as she stripped beneath the umbrella shade. That seemed strange. Men always wanted to watch. 

Moving to the edge of the pool, she waited for further instructions. 

Annie slowly pumped her husband's sizable cock while smiling up at her. "He's a monster, isn't he?"

The Chief looked straight at Annie, as if Hannah didn't exist. Maybe a threesome wasn't his fantasy after all. Maybe it was all about keeping his wife happy. Hannah had some experience with couples and their sex drives. Usually the man was the initiator, but not this time. Willie seemed to be the reluctant participant. She felt a twinge of pity for him and then let it go. Emotions had to be switched off when you're the meat in a married sandwich. 

"Your scratches look better."

"Thanks, they feel better."

"What do you think, Willie?"

Slowly, the chief turned his head and inspected Hannah's body. His earlier reluctance faded, until she felt the full heat of his gaze. It stopped on her chest and her nipples tightened, lubrication flooded her vagina. Her body responded like a Pavlovian bitch, conditioned by repetitive training. 

"Very... nice."

"Come on. Get in with me."

The water was warm and only waist deep in the shallow end. She waded next to Annie, who let go of the cock and spread her arms wide for an embrace. "Kiss me."

The pregnant woman pressed herself tight against Hannah. The slippery skin on skin contact titillated, as they lingered in the sensation. While they kissed, Annie took Hannah's hand and placed it on the Chief's erection. Their fingers entwined with the cock between their palms. Annie started a long stroke from tip to base, while the women's tongues teased each other. 

Annie dragged Hannah's hand to the tip and rubbed her palm over the wet crown. She broke the kiss, looked her husband in the eye, and then licked Hannah's moist palm. 

The Chief's face was so red Hannah thought he was about to explode. 

"Mmm, Big Willie tastes good on you."

The Chief remained silent, but his eyes darted to Hannah. She glimpsed a look of hesitation, before he turned back and smiled at his wife. "I'm glad you think so."

Annie reached out and teased his glans, coating her fingers with more 'Willie juice', and then used it to paint her left nipple. Lifting her breast toward Hannah, she asked, "Care for a taste?"

Hannah glanced from wife to husband. Her whore instincts just weren't kicking in like they used to. She didn't want to be in these situations anymore. But she felt trapped, and that scared her. Hannah couldn't just walk away without risking everything she wanted with Tom. She hesitated, prayed for a sign, but Chief Willie just gawked at his wife's creamy tit. 

"Come on, Hannah. Try it." Annie grabbed Hannah's braids and pulled her head down until her mouth rested against the spongy nub. 

'This must be the sign I asked for.' She parted her lips and sucked in the wet morsel. Annie groaned when Hannah swirled the nipple with a practiced tongue. Willie juice was like every other man's juice, tasteless.

"Okay, that's enough." Chief Willie jumped into the pool and pushed Hannah away. He grabbed his wife by the shoulders and glared down at her. "I'm not sharing you."

Annie couldn't respond, because Willie wrapped her up in a passionate kiss and dragged her into deeper water. 

At first, Hannah feared the Chief was angry and would drown her. Annie's body floated up horizontal. Chief Willie cradled her nude form and spun in a slow circle, while kissing her breasts and round tummy in turn. Annie's hand massaged his scalp with increasing fervor. There was no argument.

The erotic sight triggered Hannah's fond memory of Tom in the mountain pool. As she watched the passionate exchange, warmth rose in her cheeks, until Willie waved her away. She quickly dried, dressed, and drove off, before they changed their minds.

****

Tom felt proud of himself, as he loaded dirty sheets into the industrial washer. After repairing a cracked hose and some mouse-chewed wires the thing agitated like a champ. 

Ten minutes later, Tom walked to his cabin and was surprised to see his pickup truck parked out front. Once inside, he heard the water running in the bath. 'Another shower?' 

He knocked on the bathroom door, and yelled, "Need some help?"

"No! No, I'll be out in a minute."

The sharpness of her voice made him anxious. Maybe things didn't go so well with Chief Morris's wife. 

Tom wandered over to the bedside and removed his dirty clothes. He lay down to wait in just his boxers. The room was warm and he was tired. The combination put him to sleep and he soon found himself in a dream world. It was a semi-conscious dream, like an out of body experience -- all his senses active and aware. 

The sun was hot, as he paddled a wide, dugout canoe. The craft gently rocked with each push. A woman sat in the bow and he matched his stroke to hers. Her long braid hung down to her waist and feminine muscles rippled beneath her glistening bronze skin. She appeared to be topless.

The distant shoreline was thickly wooded. He scanned the landscape and saw no evidence of man anywhere -- no buildings, no boats, nothing except green forest, blue sky and shimmering water. Peacefulness encompassed him, a calm certainty that life was good. The only thing he questioned was the identity of the woman. Tom tried to speak, but had no voice. He dipped his hand and flicked cold water onto the woman's back. No reaction. He tried several times without success. Finally, he scooped a handful and splashed her. 

She turned and smiled. It was Hannah. 

Tom's pulse quickened. He felt his mind expand with a tenderness that hurt. He'd never felt this powerful emotion before -- elation he was afraid to lose. 

The dream continued on in slow motion. Hannah put down her paddle and crawled back. Her breasts swayed, as she slinked on hands and knees. Tom stopped paddling when she knelt between his legs, closed her eyes and puckered up for a kiss. The softness of her mouth, the tickle of her tongue, felt real. The places their skin touched became hot and slippery with perspiration. 

Hannah moved away, but Tom wouldn't open his eyes, for fear she'd be gone. The moment was perfect and he didn't want the pleasure to end. 

A breeze whispered in his ear, "I love you", and then the dream faded to black. 

Tom woke slowly, his mind filled with surreal contentment. It took a while to remember where he was. One sensation still remained from the dream, the touch of Hannah's skin. But it wasn't a dream, after all. Hannah lie next to him -- her arm over his chest and her leg pressed against his thigh. Her slow, even exhales tickled his ear. She was his nude dream girl, and he felt the real fear of loss. 

Gently, he rolled away, and watched her with his head propped on his hand. Her braids were gone, and waves of ebony silk fanned across her back. She was the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen, despite the scratches. Feasting on her sweet curves -- the porcelain globes of her bottom, her tanned legs, and the breast pressed against the mattress -- he couldn't help but grow hard and uncomfortable. After straightening his cock inside his boxers, Tom noticed Hannah's eyes were open and staring at the tent he'd made. 

She grinned, then bit her bottom lip and hid her face in the pillow. 

Tom moved to her side and kissed her shoulder. "I was dreaming about you."

A muffled voice said, "Really?"

"Really."

Through a curtain of hair, she peeked at him. "Was it a sex dream?"

"No, we were in a canoe on a lake. It was weird."

She sat up, crossed her legs and draped her hair to cover nearly everything. "What was weird about it?"

"It was like, it happened in the past." Tom fell back and stared at the ceiling. "We were alone, in the middle of nowhere. It was summer. You sat in the front and I was in the back. I wasn't sure if it was you, so I splashed you, to make you turn around." Tom glanced at Hannah. She stroked a fistful of hair, while staring intently at his face. "When I saw it was you, I felt a huge rush."

"You mean a rush like nausea."

He met her gaze. "No, it felt fantastic. I've never felt happier."

Hannah groaned, flopped back and closed her eyes. 

Rising up on his elbow, Tom looked down on her. "It felt like it happened a long time ago, before civilization."

"That's what made you hard?"

"No." Tom brushed a strand of hair from her mouth. "Waking up and finding you next to me did that." Then, he bent down, cradled her face in his hands and softly kissed her. Hannah didn't return the affection, so he didn't push it. Her acquiescence felt like a test of honor and he wasn't going to force her into anything physical, even though his cock ached to be inside her.

He got up and pulled on a clean pair of jeans. "Are you hungry?"

Hannah slipped on her John Denver tee shirt, and then opened the small refrigerator. "On the way home I bought some sandwiches, potato salad and a bottle of wine. I thought we could have a picnic, after all." 

"Sweet!"

Tom packed the food and a blanket into his backpack. Then they headed to the motel office and turned on the 'No Vacancy' sign. 

"There's an old trail behind the barn. Let's see where it goes." Hannah followed Tom's lead. "I wish I knew how to saddle the horses, they probably could use some exercise."

The path was nearly overgrown, but soon they were in the woods and the path widened. Tom took her hand, and they walked side by side. "It's nice to hike with you and not worry about being shot."

Hannah laughed. "Let's hope we don't trespass." 

They crested a small hill and came upon a one-acre pond with a boulder-strewn shoreline. 

She squeezed his hand and pointed. "That's a pretty spot. Let's have our picnic over there." 

They wandered around to the other side and laid the blanket down in the sunshine on top of a flat outcrop. Hannah prepared the food. Tom opened the wine and set it in the water to chill. 

"So, how did it go with Annie?"

After a long pause, she said, "Okay."

"Just Okay?"

"It was kind of awkward. She wants things her way and Willie lets her."

"Willie?" Tom laughed. 

"That's what she calls him." She held out a full plate. "Here. I don't want to talk about it."

They ate quietly and watched a family of ducks swim single file across the pond. A loon glided onto the surface and then dove, only to reappear a distance away. His lonesome call echoed across the mirrored surface.

Tom spent half the time watching Hannah. He liked to watch her chew, liked the way her jaw muscle clenched into a knot. He liked the sweeping curve of her back, as she bent to eat over the plate. He liked the way her hair floated in the occasional breeze. Her seriousness bothered him.

She pulled a sweet pickle from her sandwich and wiggled it. "You want?"

He nodded, and leaned forward with an open mouth.

Hannah placed it carefully on his tongue. "It's like feeding a baby bird," she said, and then licked her fingers.

"If I was a baby bird you'd have to feed me from your beak."

A grin brightened her face. It was the playful look he'd seen before. His heart beat a little faster. 

"Oh, is that so." She dug between the sandwich buns and found another one. "Care for sloppy seconds?"

"No thanks."

She pouted.

"Just kidding."

This time, she pinched it between her lips and leaned forward. 

Tom moved in. Their eyes remained open, as he covered her mouth with his and sucked on the offered treat. She wouldn't release it at first, forcing more contact. He had to work his tongue between her lips to retrieve it. When she started to move away, he held the back of her head. One swallow and the pickle disappeared, but the kiss remained. Tenderly, he explored her mouth and delighted in the tart flavor. "Thanks."

Hannah returned the kiss with a burst of passion. "Thank you back."

They continued their silent meal until they were full. Hannah regressed into sullenness. 

Tom got up and brought the wine bottle back from shore. He removed his shirt, drank a slug and sat down with his back against a warm rock. 

"Are you going to Bogart that?"

"Yup." He took another hit.

Hannah ignored him for a while. "It's hot," she said, and pulled off her tee shirt. "Can I have a drink?"

"Come and get it."

He refused to ogle her topless approach. When she stood over him and held out her hand, he patted the rock between his legs. "Sit."

After a moment of indecision, she sat between his knees with her back to him. He handed over the bottle and began to braid her hair. She took a couple of swallows and then just sat still, while he wove the feathery strands together. 

"Great hair."

"Thanks. I like yours too."

A Heron landed across the pond. It waded in the shallows on stick legs, nabbing minnows and frogs with its sharp beak.

Tom tied off the braid with a rubber band from his pocket. "I should've known it was you in my dream. I remember seeing this freckle on your shoulder." He kissed it. "You didn't have any scratches in the dream. That's what threw me off."

"How do they look?"

"Healing up. A lot of them are almost gone." He flipped the heavy braid to her front and pulled her back against his chest. 

Hannah didn't resist. She nestled in and offered the wine.

After a big swallow, Tom set it aside and laced his fingers together over her stomach. She smelled like sunshine and fresh air. "Hannah..."

She tipped her head back to see his face. "What."

"I've said some things. Things like, you belong to me..." 

Hannah looked away, out over the pond. Her body stiffened. 

"If you want to go... don't feel like you have to stay, if you don't want to."

"Shut up, Horse." Hannah placed her hands on top of his. "There's no place I'd rather be."

"Okay... good."

"Good," she repeated, and reached back to caressed his cheek.

Tom picked up her braid and tickled her nose with the curled end. "Fine." 

"Fine and good," she said, and rubbed her shoulder blades against his damp chest. 

"Fine and dandy." He traced down her chest and circled a nipple with the braid brush. When that one became erect he teased the other.

"Mmm..." she snuggled closer and massaged the front of his thighs.

"It's kind of hot in the sun. Why don't we move the blanket to the shade."

Hannah spun around on her knees, and whispered, "I like the sound of that." She closed her eyes and leaned in for a kiss.

Tom trembled with the recognition this was his dream come true. Softly, he cupped her cheek and accepted the offer with lingering affection. 

At the end, they smiled. Hannah picked up the wine and Tom grabbed the blanket. He took her hand and led her to a stand of young pines. Carefully, they made their way through the tangled branches and into the secluded center, where Tom spread the blanket over a bed of soft decay. 

Hannah put the bottle down and watched Tom remove his boots and socks. He stood and hastily stripped off the jeans and boxers, then beckoned her with a curled finger. 

Coyly stroking her braid, she shuffled to him with downcast eyes. 

He laughed. "You're a good actress." But when he pushed up her chin, her eyes were filled with tears. "What's wrong?"

"I'm just happy."

He wrapped Hannah in his arms and rocked side to side. "Me too." 

Renewed passion burned inside. He hugged her tight and kissed her hard. Unrelenting, his lips traveled across her cheek, down her neck, to her breast. He suckled and fondled each one, as her fingers raked his scalp. When she moaned with every caress, his lips continued their journey down until he knelt and kissed her stomach. His fingers busied themselves undoing her pants. She held his head for balance, as he tugged them down to her ankles. In seconds she was naked. He rose up and buried his nose in her bush. "You smell so good." 

Hannah widened her stance, allowing him access. He cupped her bottom with his palms and tongued her forcefully. She gasped at the suddenness. Her breathing soon became ragged. When he teased her clitoris for the first time, her knees buckled. All her weight was supported with his hands and mouth.

Self-control lost the battle with desire and he pulled her down onto her back. He needed her. He wanted all of her. They kissed wildly and fought for air. He pressed between her splayed thighs and felt her shift beneath until they lined up. Hannah wrapped her legs over his back and he thrust home. She grunted and her breasts bounced against his chest. Her hands clawed his back. Desire drove him mad. He thrust again and again, taking her with force, the pleasure beyond all other. She pleaded for him to go faster. Tom felt her spasm around him. She screamed into his mouth, her fingers clutched his hair. He sucked her breath into his lungs and continued to pound. Their damp skin smacked loudly on impact. 

Her body shuddered. Her arms and legs relaxed their frantic grip. Her hands turned gentle. Tom reveled in her fulfillment. His orgasm rose like a phoenix from her ashes. It coursed through his being and shot through every fiber. He arched into her. He felt her legs tighten, holding him in, sensing his need. Deep, he sent his seed, each pulse a wave of intense joy. When it was over, Tom sank into her warmth. 

He whispered, "Unbelievable." 

She caressed his cheek. "Yes, you are."

They kissed and cuddled while his erection receded inside her. This was a moment he'd never forget. 



Vision of the Spirit Ch. 12



Thursday morning, Chief Morris sat at his desk and stared blankly at the police reports spread across his blotter. They listed the usual tourist crimes -- a stolen camera, drunken brawls, and loud parties. But the vision that replayed in his head came from yesterday -- his wife, Annie, in the arms of another woman. A knock on the door interrupted his daydream.

"Chief, someone's here to see you."

"Who is it?"

"She wouldn't say, said it was confidential." 

"Okay, send her in." Glad for the distraction, he scooped the documents into a neat pile and put them in the 'to do' basket.

The deputy returned moments later and stuck his head in. "Here she is, Chief."

Hannah entered the office and the deputy closed the door behind him. Her scent floated around the cramped room. He remembered the fragrance from the day before and it made his cock twitch. Even in an old baggy tee shirt and jeans her sex appeal was formidable, or maybe it was just the fact that he'd seen what was underneath, or maybe because he'd seen her suck his wife's tit. 

She didn't waste time with pleasantries. "I need money. You owe me, for taking care of your wife's dirty… laundry, and I want to get paid now."

Immediately, he became defensive. The word 'blackmail' sprang to mind. "You think I owe you after just one day, one… load? I think you still owe ME. You're lucky to be walking around free." The Chief stood, circled around his desk and stood over her. "Maybe I'd like you to take care of another load, right now." 

She backed off and turned away. "Listen, all I want is enough money for a bus ticket -- $80 bucks. Pay me and I'll get out of your life."

"You're leaving?"

"Yeah."

Chief Morris returned to his seat and eased the tension. He wasn't sure if he liked this turn of events. "Why? I thought you and Tom had something going."

She remained standing with her back to him. A hand rose to her face -- to wipe a tear? "It's over. I need to get back to Vegas."

"Tom doesn't have the money?"

"I've taken enough from him already."

"Does he know you're leaving?"

She didn't answer for a while. "No. I didn't want to fight about it."

The Chief opened a drawer and withdrew an envelope. "Here." He counted out five twenties and laid them on the edge of the desk. "Take a hundred. I appreciate what you've done… for Annie."

Hannah turned around, picked up the money, and laid down a set of keys. "I borrowed his truck. Please, give them back." She marched through the door. A faint, "Thanks," returned.

He sat there awhile, wondering if he should stop her. After all, she was part of an ongoing federal investigation, although no one else knew about her involvement, except Tom. The Chief's slow and steady life had switched to the fast lane in less than a week. Letting her leave simplified matters by one less complication. 

It was three o'clock, before Chief Morris found time to drive out to the Midway Motel. Six parked cars indicated the recent violence hadn't hurt the motel's business. Good for Wentworth if he survived, and good for Tom. Young Thomas DuBois seemed liked a genuinely nice guy. The whore was right to leave. He deserved better. Maybe things would finally go his way. 

There was no one in the motel office. The Chief began a search that led him to the barn. Inside, he found Tom standing next to a horse, adjusting a saddle cinch. 

"Chief Morris, how's it goin'?"

"Good Tom. How 'bout you?"

"Great! Mrs. Skinner taught me how to saddle a horse. Now I can give these nags some exercise."

The name 'Mrs. Skinner' didn't register at first.

"William? Willie Morris, is that you?"

He spun in the direction of the hushed feminine voice. His chest tightened at the sight of his first love, Penny Wentworth. She patted the back of an infant as she walked. Her face was as lovely as he'd remembered, just a little thinner and a few more lines that deepened when she smiled.

She hugged him with her free arm and kissed his cheek. "You look great. It's so good to see you!" The baby powder aroma lingered when they separated. A clatter of hoof beats broke his self-indulgent thoughts. 

Tom waved. "I'll leave you two to catch up. Thanks again, Mrs. Skinner."

"You're welcome. And call me Penny."

They watched him ride out the back door. 

A childish thrill tingled through the Chief. It felt like 20 years ago, all over again. While her eyes stayed fixed on the horse and Tom, he scanned her. 

Her cheeks blushed. "Why are you staring?"

"You haven't changed, Penny."

She turned and met his gaze. "Yes, I have. You just don't want to see it." Sadness softened the sky blue eyes. 

"I'm a cop. I know what's real and what's not." 

She quickly looked away. The reaction told him they still shared some affection.

Penny lowered the infant from her shoulder. "William, meet Freddie."

The boy was asleep. Blonde curls framed his pink face. 

"He looks like you."

Stroking Freddie's cheek with her index finger, Penny whispered, "He has his daddy's chin and eyes."

The mention of a husband cooled Willie's youthful reminiscing. "How is Mr. Skinner, anyway?"

She began to walk toward the front of the barn. "Pete's good." The tone of voice and body language told a different story. 

"How long will you be in town?"

"Only long enough to pack up Dad's clothes and make arrangements to take him home with me. The doctor said he needs to be taken care of when he gets out of the hospital and there's no one around here to do it."

They continued in silence, until they reached the parking lot. 

"Willie, I want your opinion. Tom told me he'd like to run the motel. He has an impressive resume -- college and experience. He's kept superb records and receipts for the past week. Do you think he can do it, or should I close the place up?" She searched his face and added. "I shouldn't call you Willie anymore, should I. You are the Chief of Police, now." She smiled. "Oh, I'm so proud of you."

"Thanks." It was his turn to feel his face redden. "I really don't know Tom very well. He's only been in town a week. But he seems knowledgeable and a hard worker. I ran a background check on him and he's clean." Then he remembered Tom's truck keys in his pocket and pulled them out. "He may not want to stay. His girlfriend just went back to Vegas without him."

"Oh, that's sad. Relationships are never easy -- always changing." The baby stirred and Penny hummed softly until he settled down. "Why did you run a background check on him?"

"He's a witness in an ongoing investigation. Just covering all the bases." He let her assume it had to do with her father's assault. 

They stood uncomfortably quiet for a time.

"Chief, can you recommend another motel? I can't stay here. You understand--"

"Sure, I… understand." He felt bile rise up into his throat. After all this time, the memory of that night still sickened him. "How about staying at my place. We have a lot of room. You could meet Annie."

"No, I don't want to impose--"

"You wouldn't. It'd be great. To be honest, I'd love to have Annie and you become friends. She's pregnant and scared to death. Maybe you could ease her mind."

Penny smiled warmly. "Aw, you're going to be a daddy? Will, that's so great, you'll be a wonderful father." She rubbed his arm. "I'd love to meet Annie. Why don't you call her first, just in case she's not up to it. I've got some more packing to do."

The Chief watched her walk away. Sweet memories, and thoughts of what might have been, spun in his head. The childhood infatuation still burned hot. Once Penny disappeared inside the motel office, he returned to the barn, dreading his next obligation. Tom had returned and was saddling a second horse.

He saw the Chief coming. "Is Hannah back? I thought we'd take a ride."

The best thing to do was just be blunt. "Tom… Hannah's not coming back."

Tom's brow wrinkled with confusion. "What are you talking about?"

Chief Willie held out Tom's truck keys. "She said to tell you she was going home and to give you your keys."

Tom froze and stared at the keys as if they were poison. Suddenly, he snapped. "Take me to town! Maybe I can catch her!"

"She left this morning. The bus is long gone." He put his arm around the young man. "Come on. I'll give you a ride to town."

The ride was long and silent. When he dropped Tom off he tried to encourage him. "You're doing a great job at the 'Midway'. I'll give you a good recommendation to Mrs. Skinner."

Tom got out, and mumbled, "Thanks, Chief." 

On the way back to the Midway Motel, Chief Willie phoned home. 

"Hello."

"Hi, Baby. How are you feeling?"

There was a hint of suspicion in her voice when she answered, "Fine. Why?"

"Would you feel up to a having a house guest?"

"Who is it?"

"Penny Skinner, Tobias Wentworth's daughter. She's in town for a couple of days to get her dad's affairs in order. She doesn't want to stay at the motel, so I thought we might be able to put her up. She has her baby, Freddie, with her. Maybe you two would hit it off, talk about mothering and… stuff."

"Stuff?"

"Yeah, woman stuff. That's all."

"Let me get this straight. We're talking about THE Penny, YOUR Penny?"

"Honey, that was a long time ago."

There was a deafening silence. Willie checked the cell phone display to make sure they were still connected.

Finally Annie said, "Okay, bring her home. I'll get the spare room ready," and hung up.

Willie was pissed. She had no right to get huffy after the stunt she pulled with Hannah.

The motel office was empty when he returned. Violin music drifted faintly through the closed door behind the counter. After knocking softly in case Freddie was asleep, he opened the door and entered the living room. The drapes were closed. It took a few seconds for his eyes to adjust. Silhouetted against the diffused window light, he spotted Penny laying in the recliner. Freddie was nestled in the crook of her arm. His face pressed against her bare breast. They both appeared to be fast asleep. 

Temptation had been flaunting itself for days. This time Willie didn't resist, and eased closer for a better look. The room was warm and stuffy. Penny had removed her blouse completely to breast-feed. The vision before him was both heartwarming and erotic. Penny's breasts were large with milk, her areolas much darker than when he saw them twenty years ago. Occasionally, Freddie's lips would work the nipple. 

The Chief felt a twinge of regret. This might have been his baby if he'd done things differently. Contemplating Penny's fair skin in the dim light, he realized how much his wife Annie resembled her. Soon, he'd see his own child at his wife's breast. Life would forever change. 

When his eyes wandered back to Penny's face he found her eyes open, studying him. He turned away. "I'm sorry--"

"Shhh."

The sound of the recliner moving upright was followed by Penny strolling past him to lay Freddie in the playpen. There was no embarrassment, no hurried cover up. She leaned over and combed her son's hair with her fingers. Her breast hung tauntingly above the child. Willie pictured himself lying beneath them and began to harden. Part of him felt ashamed, but the voyeur part would not turn away from his first love. She lingered there, as if she were alone in the room. The maternal scene only fanned Willie's desire. 

After what felt like minutes, Penny walked back to him. He kept eye contact, but reveled in his peripheral vision. 

Penny smiled, and said, "The girls have changed since you last saw them."

"The girls?"

She frowned and shook her head in disappointment. "I thought cops were supposed to be astute." Lifting her boobs, she said, "The girls." 

Willie laughed softly and accepted the invitation to study her openly. Blue veins crisscrossed under her ivory skin. The nipples were dark and extended. He still remembered how they felt and how they tasted. He remembered how sensitive they were and how she had her first orgasm, just from his caress. The first time would always be special. "They look delicious to me, Penny."

They stood silent, grinning like teenagers.

Finally, it dawned on him she might desire more than a visual comparison. Just when he was about to give in and touch her, she walked over the chair and picked up her bra. "You're still a sweetheart. I'm glad some people never change."

The comment felt like an insult. He wasn't a sweetheart. If she knew the lechery in his heart she'd be afraid. 

Burying the lust, he asked, "Is there anything I can help you with?"

Penny looked around the room as she buttoned her blouse. "I think the only thing I need to take is the playpen." She picked up Freddie and brought him to Willie. "Here, hold him while I fold it up."

Taking custody of criminals he was trained for, holding infants he was not. 

"He's not evidence. Don't be afraid to leave fingerprints." Penny positioned Freddie against his shoulder. "There, like that." She gave him a crooked smile. "You'd better get used to it."

The baby felt as light as a helium balloon. Willie stood motionless; afraid any movement might pop him or wake him. Penny finished packing up the playpen. Periodically she'd glance at them, shake her head and smirk. "Okay, Chief. I'll take the delinquent. You take the playpen."

Penny followed the Chief home. His anxiety level rose with every mile. Maybe putting the two loves of his life under the same roof was a mistake. 

When they pulled into the driveway, Annie came outside to greet them. "Hi, Penny. It's so nice to finally meet you. I'm just sorry it's under these tragic circumstances. How's your dad doing?" 

"Not too bad, considering his age. The old soldier has fought his last battle. No more shotgun patrols for him." 

Annie spotted Freddie in the car seat. She leaned and tickled his foot. "Who's this handsome dude?" 

Freddie gurgled and drooled in response -- legs and arms kicking and waving.

Penny smiled proudly. "That's my Freddie."

"Can I pick him up?"

"Sure."

The women strolled inside, happily chatting and getting acquainted. Willie lugged in the playpen and then made a second trip for luggage. When everything was stowed in the spare room he joined them in the kitchen.

Penny had both hands on Annie's bare stomach. "Wow, that's an active kid. Do you know if it's a boy or girl?"

"No. We don't want to know. But Willie wants a girl and I want a little Willie, because I've already got a big Willie, right Hon?" Annie grinned at her husband.

Chief Morris just smiled sheepishly. 

Penny added to his consternation by saying, "I remember. You're a lucky woman, Annie."

Annie laughed at their guest's candor. "You and Willie were… intimate?"

The conversation took a turn down a road best left untraveled. Willie spoke up. "No, Annie. We weren't. We just did some necking."

Penny didn't let it drop. "He was my first sexual experience and I was his. It was all very sweet." 

"Well, why didn't you go all the way?"

"Annie!" Willie couldn't believe she asked such personal questions.

"It's all right Will. I can talk about it now." Penny picked Freddie up from the blanket on the floor. "We would have, Annie. We had the whole event planned. But… I was raped in one of the motel cabins the night before our date. They never caught the guy. I became a basket case, totally traumatized. I left town to live with my Aunt Sally. And that was the end of our relationship."

Annie glanced back and forth between Penny and Will. "That's terrible. I'm so sorry…"

Will stared at the floor between his feet.

Penny sat down in a chair and unbuttoned her blouse halfway. "Ancient history." She placed Freddie at her chest and laid a blanket over his head. After some out of sight maneuvers, the pleasant sound of suckling filled the quiet room.

Curious, Annie moved closer. "Would you mind if I take a peek?"

Discreetly, Penny lifted the corner of the blanket.

"How does that feel?"

"At Freddie's age, it feels very nice. My nipples have always been sensitive. I've had a few orgasms while feeding. It's not uncommon."

Once again, Willie was reminded of their youthful experimentation and how he made her orgasm for the first time. The vision of breast-feeding suddenly made him uncomfortably aroused. "I'll get the grill started," he said, and left for the garage.

"When you were pregnant…" Annie went to the counter and poured fresh pea pods, into a bowl, "were you ever extra horny?"

"Oh, yeah. In the second trimester my hormones went crazy." 

Annie sighed. "That's a relief. I thought it was just me."

Freddie finished his meal. Penny got up and paced, while patting his back. "Well, get all you can now. Keep Willie satisfied, because soon you won't want anything to do with sex."

Annie laughed.

"I'm serious! Men feel neglected after the baby's born and some of them have affairs because of it. I know from experience."

The clank of dishes stopped. Annie frowned, and said, "Your husband--"

"Yes, Pete cheated, but we're working it out. I think he regrets its. All in all, we have a good life together."

"I don't think Willie would ever cheat on me."

"Why? He's a man and he's got needs. That's all it takes."

Annie stayed silent.

Freddie burp.

"Oh my, that must've felt good." Penny wandered toward the door. "I'm going to lay him down in the spare room."

"Okay."

She stopped at the kitchen door to make one more statement. "I met Hannah this morning, before she left for Vegas. Wow, now there's a girl with a sullied past and a lot of secrets. But I think she'll turn her life around if people give her a chance."



Vision of the Spirit Ch. 13



Chief Morris waited until the barbecue grill was good and hot and his libido was good and cold before wandering back into the kitchen. He slipped up behind his wife, Annie, and kissed her neck. "I love you." 

Annie spun around within his embrace, and hissed, "She knows!"

"Who? What?" 

After a glance at the door, she whispered, "Penny knows about us... and Hannah. Hannah told Penny her secrets and how she would turn her life around if people gave her a chance."

Willie chuckled and pulled her close. "She doesn't KNOW anything. Even if Hannah told her about us, it's all hearsay." Inside, his stomach tightened. The last person he wanted to have a poor opinion of him was Penny. He stroked Annie's hair in an attempt to calm her. "Why's it bothering you now? What happened to the wild woman?"

"Who's a wild woman?" Penny strolled in. "You two look cozy. Am I interrupting?"

"No, I just came in for some meat." Willie kissed his wife lip-smacking hard, and then abandoned her for the refrigerator. "Hamburgers okay?"

"Fine." Annie turned away and began to mix the salad.

Penny stopped beside Annie and put a hand on the center of her back. "Can I help?"

"Uh, sure. You can slice up some tomatoes. They're in the fridge."

Penny smiled at Willie, as her hand slid up and began to massage the back of Annie's neck. "Would get them for me?"

"You betcha." Quickly, he pulled them out and closed the door. 

Penny eased over behind Annie and began to knead her shoulders. "My, Honey, you are tense."

The metal salad bowl in front of his wife rattled and almost tumbled off the counter. "Not really."

The Chief's heart rate climbed, seeing his two great loves together. "I'd better get these burgers on the grill," he said, and forced himself out of the room.

While the meat sizzled so did Chief Willie's imagination. The whole kitchen scene was totally innocent, but his dirty mind made it titillating. The past couple of days had really screwed him up. 

Penny suddenly appeared beside him, sipping from a green bottle. "I hope you don't mind, I took one of your Heinies. A little beer helps me lactate. Gotta keep my udders full for junior."

They exchanged a long smile.

He said, "My Heinie is your Heinie." 

She laughed at their old joke and passed him the bottle. "Can you believe it's been twenty years? Where did the time go?" 

"I don't know. Seeing you again is so..." He flipped the patties instead of completing the thought. Volcanic emotions bubbled under the surface.

"Yeah, I know what you mean." She bumped him with her hip. "I think Annie's uptight with me around. What do you think?"

Swiftly, he piled the burgers onto a plate. "I think these are done and it's time to eat."

"Evasive maneuver?"

"Absolutely."

Throughout dinner, Chief Willie overcompensated for his wayward thoughts. "Annie, would you like more water?" "I'll open that." "Don't get up." "I'll get dessert." He held Annie's hand. He cleared the table. He did everything he could think of to fawn over his wife. To some degree it worked. She seemed to relax, and enjoyed Penny's childrearing stories. 

"The first kid is the hardest. I was afraid of making any mistakes. I wanted to be the perfect mother. When I potty trained James, I thought he was doing so well. I felt so proud of myself, until I caught him peeing in the bathroom wastebasket." After the laughter, Penny added, "Children humble you."

A silence filled the room as they ate slices of cherry cheesecake. 

Penny finished first and reached across the round table to touch both their hands. "Thank you guys so much. You've made this trip a tolerable experience." 

Annie answered for both of them. "It's our pleasure. I hope everything works out well for you."

"I need to see Dad again tonight." Penny stood, and paused a second. "I hate to impose any more, but would you mind watching Freddie? I hate taking him to the hospital. I'm afraid he might catch something, or if he gets fussy he might disturb the other patients." 

Chief Willie and Annie exchanged looks of confirmation. 

"We'd love to. Just tell me what to do," said Annie, collecting the plates.

"Let me get ready, and then I'll fill you in."

The husband and wife team tidied up the kitchen with efficient familiarity. When they were done Annie placed her hands on her lower back and stretched. "I need some fresh air. Lets sit out on the deck."

The sun had set below the roof, so the shade of the house kept them comfortable. The calm pool surface reflected the surrounding trees. They sat down on the porch swing. Willie placed his arm around his wife and gently rocked them. 

Annie laid her head on his shoulder. "I like Penny."

The Chief kissed her hair. "I'm glad."

"She told me her husband cheated on her after Freddie was born."

The news saddened him. Penny seemed to have a difficult life -- a rape victim, her brother dead, her father almost dead, and now this revelation. For all that, she seemed genuinely happy.

Minutes passed quietly, until Penny came to the screen door, and asked, "Annie, would you come in here for a second?"

"Sure." She kissed her husbands cheek. "Save my seat."

He patted her bottom on the way by.

A few more minutes idled away, until Annie came back to the door. "Sweetie, would you come in here, please."

His wife's use of the diminutive 'Sweetie' was usually followed by fun and games. Immediately, his senses were on high alert. 

"Wash your hands and then come into the living room."

"Why?"

"We are having a training seminar. You'll see." 

She left him alone at the kitchen sink to speculate. When he entered the living room the sight that greeted him exceeded his wildest imagination. Penny sat topless on the couch and his wife was massaging her right breast. 

"What's going on?"

"Shh!" Annie wrinkled her brow at him. "Be quiet and sit down on the other side."

Penny opened her eyes and timidly grinned. "Sorry Will, this is weird, huh? You don't have to be here if you don't want to--"

"Yes, he does. This is a perfect opportunity. I'm going to need his help someday soon." Annie's freckled fingers made circles against the top of Penny's chest and moved down toward the nipple.

Penny shrugged and patted the cushion to her left. "Time for a little hands-on experience." Despite the self-assured act, her voice quivered.

"Penny can't go to the hospital without expressing some milk for Freddie. Stress has her all tensed up and she can't... What did you call it?"

"It's called the let-down reflex. If I'm tense my milk won't flow. Massage helps to relax the muscles and release the milk." She started to get up. "This is silly. I'll just take Freddie with me." 

"No! Please, give us a chance." Annie gently pushed her back down. "Help us learn something. You'll be doing us a favor, and you don't really want to take Freddie to the hospital."

Penny glanced at both of them and sighed. "Okay." She leaned back and closed her eyes. A smile curled her lips. "Go ahead. Play with... I mean, massage my boobies. Start at the top and work your way down, kinda like a breast exam."

Annie continued to rub. Willie watched spellbound, as the freckled fingers caressed the pale breast, Penny's nipples distended with anticipation. 

Annie smiled at her husband with the sly, victorious expression she wore whenever she got her way. "Come on, Honey. Do your side."

Tentatively, he touched his first love near the collarbone. The skin felt hot. Following Annie's lead, he began the same circular rotation, gently pressing into the soft flesh. They worked in unison for several minutes, gradually descending halfway. 

Penny's lips parted and he felt her shudder. 

The rapt look on Annie's face made him think this was just a ruse to satisfy her recent lesbian predilections. He wanted to stop the pretense that they were doing this for educational purposes and fondle Penny for pleasure, just like old times. 

Penny squirmed. "It's working. I can feel the milk dropping." She looked into Willie's eyes and smiled. "It tingles."

The response, 'I always made you tingle,' was on the tip of his tongue.

Red faced, she sat up straight, and announced, "Man the pumps." 

Annie cradled the breast in her palm and gently stroked the underside back and forth. "Are you sure you're ready?" 

Milk dribbled from the nipple onto Penny's stomach. "Does that answer your question?"

The way Annie stared at the chalky drops, Willie would've bet money his wife was going to lick it off. Instead, in a hushed voice she said, "I guess so." Annie reached into a cloth bag on the floor and pulled out two baby bottles with suction cup lids. Handing one to Willie, she explained, "Breast pump."

He turned it every which way, and asked, "Where's the motor?"

Penny grabbed him by the wrist and guided the device toward her chest. "Put the breast-shield over my nipple like so." She covered herself. The hand on Willie's wrist was trembling. "Annie, if you get one of these and it makes your nipple sore, it's probably not the right size shield for you. And if your baby makes your nipples sore he may not be latching on correctly."

"Hey! I've had that problem with Big Willie."

They laughed. 

Annie boldly attached her breast pump to Penny. Willie thought she spent more time than necessary to line it up. 

Penny smiled shyly. "I've never felt so pampered before. I wonder if day spas offer this service." 

"Okay, how's that feel?" Annie held the pump in one hand and supported the breast with the other. 

"It feels good." Penny the pampered, leaned back. "Begin." 

Willie and Annie simultaneously squeezed the suction bulbs. 

"A baby sucks about 50 times a minute, so don't be afraid you're going to fast."

Willie pumped faster. Nothing happened for a minute, and then the mother's milk began to flow into the bottle. He shared a triumphant grin with Penny and Annie.

Annie scowled at his success. "Hey, what am I doing wrong?" 

Willie flashed her a haughty look. "You may own breasts, My Dear, but a man knows how to handle them."

Suddenly, milk ran into Annie's bottle. "Ha, so there, Mister Boobmaster."

Willie began to massage Penny's breast while pumping. "I'm going to fill mine first."

"Oh no you're not!" Annie began to rub the other breast, as well.

Penny closed her eyes, laid her head back and smiled at the ceiling. Goose flesh appeared on her arms. The husband and wife exchanged a raised eyebrow moment. Then their massage took on a decidedly sensual quality. 

"Let me help you out." Willie traced his hand to the other side, and they both fondled one breast. When they were satisfied with the flow they switched to his side. 

Willie was stronger and able to pump harder. After 10 minutes his bottle was almost full.

"I need a better angle," said Annie, and straddled Penny's leg. Her knee pressed into Penny's crotch.

It wasn't long before Penny's face changed from bliss to one of feebly concealed arousal. Her skin flushed and her lips pressed together as if to stifle a moan. 

Willie slowed the pump, while still fondling the sensitive skin. 

Penny's body flexed with restrained spasms. Her thighs clamped Annie's knee between them. 

Annie and Willie traded knowing glances. She removed her pump and dismounted. "You won, Sweetie. You filled yours first."

A little wobbly, Penny sat up and grinned. "No, I think I won."

Willie cupped Penny's jaw with his hand and caressed her cheek with his thumb. "Thanks for teaching us."

"It was my pleasure." Penny's gaze moved down his torso and spotted the bulge in his pants. Suddenly, she stood and closed her shirt. "I'd better get ready. Annie, lets go out in the kitchen and I'll tell you what to do when Freddie wakes up."

They left the room and left Willie crestfallen. 'Why did I let myself get carried away? I'm an idiot.' He went out to the garage, turned off the propane tank and covered the grill. He puttered around, tidied up the storage shelves and checked the mailbox. 

Finally Penny came out alone, appearing no worse for wear. 

With hands in his pockets, he strolled over to her car. "Everything okay?"

She grinned, and said, "Willie, that was the most fun I've had in a long time," and then surprised him with a hard kiss on the lips. 

They smiled stupidly. 

"Well, I'd better go."

Willie opened the door for her. Before he closed it, he bent down and said, "Thanks for the trip down mammary lane."

She laughed out loud and waved good-bye through tinted glass. 

The car disappeared around a curve and Willie was left to face the uncertainty inside. Everything happened so fast. Now he had to deal with the consequences. He still had feelings for Penny after all these years. The desire felt like a wound that never healed. 

Annie was in the kitchen washing the breast pumps. Their new baby monitor sat on the counter. 

Placing his arm around her shoulders, he said, "Can I help?"

"No, I'm almost done. Did Penny say when she'd be back?"

"Nope." While Annie's hands were busy, Willie took advantage. Pressing himself against her back, his hands explored the swell of her stomach. Gradually they roamed upwards, until they cupped her breasts. "I love you," he said, and nuzzled behind her ear.  

She lifted her shoulder in response and giggled. "Stop it! I'm working."

He pushed her hair aside to expose the sensitive nape. Placing his lips against her skin, he said, "Does this bother you? I'm sorry." A gentle lick behind the ear made her shiver. The splashing stopped, but no verbal response. 

Avoiding the nipples, his fingers circled her breasts and then traveled back down to her belly. "I love your body."

"Do you? Even now?"

"Always."

"You're not thinking about Penny?"

The question shocked him, because he was thinking of Penny. "No!"

She bent forward and pushed him away with her butt. "Go outside. Let me finish."

From the deck rail he looked up into the eastern sky and found Venus, glimmering faintly against an azure sky. The evening air was warm and humid. The sweet fragrance of roses floated up from the garden. Faint sounds from the kitchen pleased his ears like homey background music. It was a perfect summer night. Only one thing could make it better.

The screen door slid open and closed behind him. Willie felt something wet and cold against his arm. 

Annie brought him a beer. "I thought you might want this." Annie was also naked. 

He took the beer, and downed a swig. "Thanks, I do want it," he said, and set the bottle on the rail. 

She said, "Good, I really want it too," and unbuttoned his shorts. Her hands were in his briefs before the shorts hit the deck. Her lips covered his nipple. 

Always aggressive when she was horny, he enjoyed her advances. Petting her head, he asked, "Are you thinking about Penny?" 

A throaty laugh escaped her lips as she kissed down his body until she knelt in front of him. "Not really. You don't remind me of her at all." 

His underwear soon piled atop his outerwear and her talented mouth sucked his cock. The purr she made mingled with the distant crickets in a duet as strange as Willie Nelson and Madonna. When he was fully erect she stood up -- randy and ready. 

"You are a wild woman."

"Do you love me anyway?"

"I love you, because of it." She set him free in so many ways, taught him to live outside his skin. "Let's sit on the swing." 

When she sat down, he knelt between her legs. The to and fro motion added a little fun to their foreplay. She sat near the edge with her legs over his shoulders, so he could push and pull her pussy against his tongue and fingers. When she was close to coming, he pulled up a footstool and knelt on it. The height was perfect. A slow swing forward and in he went. It was a little awkward, but the difficulty kept him from blowing too soon. Periodically, he would push her away and come out completely, only to replace his cock with his mouth, or suck on her breasts, or kiss her.

"Do you like the way I taste?" 

"You know I do," Willie said, and then gave her a big lick to prove it.

"Kiss me." 

When he did, Annie kissed all of her essence away. 

A vision of Annie and Penny together popped into his head. It was time to get it done. He straightened up and pulled her onto his cock. He held the swing tight and made rapid thrusts. The sight of his penetrations always turned him on. Annie twisted her nipples, adding another erotic spectacle. A high-pitched squeal and her grasping thighs marked her finale. 

Willie slowed down, waiting for her recovery. Most of the time, Annie preferred separate but equal climaxes. She said it was more fun to see it than feel it. 

After a minute of recovery, Annie teased her nipples with just her fingertips and smiled seductively. "I'm feeling extra sexy tonight, Sweetie. Fuck me hard until you're close and then I want to suck you off." 

"I like the sound of that!" Once again, he sped up to a skin slapping pace, his glances alternating between her pussy, breasts and face. "Get ready. Almost there."

When he pulled out she sat up quickly with his help and grabbed his shaft. Her lips closed over the tip and hummed loudly. The other hand tickled his scrotum. 

"Ooo, That's so good. You like the taste, don't you." 

A muffled "Mmm hmm," answered. 

The first blast of cumm she swallowed. The next, she let the glans slip out to shoot a stream across her cheek and into her hair. Willie knew she did that for him. He liked to see the evidence. Finally, as the spasms slowed, she pumped his cock with her mouth, extracting every drop. 

She kissed the tip, smiled up at him, and said, "You were fully charged tonight, Sweetie. Any reason in particular?"

Willie knelt down and met her eye to eye. "You know why." Then he kissed her and tasted their mingled juices. 

"Wow, you are turned on." Annie used her index finger to swipe the semen from her cheek and then sucked it off. "Kiss me, again." 

His hands roamed her body as they connected for a long and sumptuous feast.

Suddenly, she broke away. "Did you hear that?"

"What?" Then he heard a whimper, and spotted the baby monitor next to the swing.

"Duty calls." 

Willie helped her up and watched her bare ass disappear inside the house. Then he sat down in the swing and watched the stars come out.



Vision of the Spirit Ch. 14



Penny felt emotionally drained, as she left the hospital and walked to her car. The doctor was satisfied with her father's improving condition. On Monday, a medical transport would move him to Mercy General, near her home. She'd be able to visit him everyday. 

A gust of cold mountain air sent a shiver through her, while she leaned against the car fender and phoned home. 

"Hello?" said a timid voice on the other end.

Automatically, mother-mode kicked in. Penny smiled. "Hi, Linda. How are you doing?"

"Mom!" Linda's excited voice turned away from the receiver and yelled. "Hey, Guys! Mom's on the phone!"

The connection rattled as multiple extensions picked up. Questions were fired at her from three directions. After answering them all, Penny asked an important question of her own. "Where's Dad?"

"He's not here."

"He's not?" She fought to keep suspicion out of her tone. "Did he say where he was going?"

"He went to get a part to fix the kitchen faucet."

She looked at her watch and doubted. "Okay. He should be home soon."

Oldest son, Brian said, "Yeah, right."

"I'll be home tomorrow. You call me if you need anything." 

They said their goodbyes and hung up. 

Immediately, Penny called her husband's cell phone and it went directly to voice mail. She sat in the parking lot for several minutes, fighting for composure. She could choose to be angry and hurt, or she could choose to live in the moment and enjoy life as it comes. Long ago, she'd learned how not to be a victim. She'd learned to control her emotions and make the best of the situation. 

Peter was out doing whatever made Peter happy, and now she was going to do whatever made her happy. First, she had one more errand to run.

At night, the Midway motel still made her uneasy. Tom wasn't in his cabin, so she wandered around the grounds, looking for him. The 'No Vacancy' sign was turned on, although there were only two cabins that appeared occupied. 

A faint guitar gave her direction and she followed it to the barn. The big door was open. Tom sat silhouetted in the yellow light, strumming bluesy chords. His long hair was loose and disheveled. Beer bottles sat in a bucket of ice at his side. Empties lay scattered in the dirt. 

"Hey! How's it going?"

Startled, Tom straightened up. He was bare-chested and acted a little embarrassed. Nervously, he combed a hand through his hair, and mumbled, "It's all good. How's Mr. Wentworth?"

"He's doing better. Dad would like to see you before he leaves on Monday." As she explained her father's transfer to another hospital, Penny admired his chiseled physique. He was a handsome young man, full of life. She wondered how his muscular chest would feel pressed against her. The vision of his potent virility focused on her body made her flesh warm, but she couldn't take advantage of him like that. Not like they took advantage of Hannah. "Aren't you cold?"

He held up his beer, and said, "Antifreeze. Would you like one?" 

"No thanks." Penny walked into the barn and flicked off the lights. "Tom, come with me. I have a proposition for you."

After he closed the barn door and put on his shirt, Tom followed Penny back to the motel office. 

She led him into the living room before speaking. "Dad isn't coming back. He's too old to take care of this place. We talked it over and, if you're interested, we'd like you to run the place. Dad's attorney will check in with you, periodically. The motel is paid for, so the only thing it needs is some management and maintenance. Whatever profit you make after expenses you can keep, for now. Everything happened so fast we're kind of winging it. Because you saved Dad's life, he's giving you this opportunity if you want it. If not, we'll just close the motel and put it on the market. I'm sure it would sell quickly."

Tom looked a little wobbly and she wondered if he was sober enough to make a rational decision. "You can sleep on it, and let me know what you want to do tomorrow. I've packed up most of Dad's personal stuff. You can move in here tomorrow night, after I'm gone. We'll work on getting the rest packed later." Reaching into her pocket, she said, "One more thing," and pulled out a slip of paper. "Here's Hannah's email address, at least she said it was. I'm leaving the computer here. We can keep in touch over the Internet. Dad's username and password are taped to the bottom of the keyboard. You can use them to log on, until you get your own account." She placed a hand on his shoulder and smiled warmly. "Good night. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Thanks, thanks a lot, Mrs. Skinner." Tom followed her out and waited until she was safely away.

Penny relaxed behind the wheel, satisfied every detail was complete. The rest of the night was for her personal gratification only. She didn't think it would be too difficult to get what she wanted. What she wanted was sex -- hardcore, sweaty, recreational sex. She deserved it, and she wanted to have it with Willie. 

'Twenty years ago, he should've been my first lover. Life brought me back for a second chance.' Instead, he would be her first adulterous lover. The only hiccup in the plan was Annie, his wife. The gossip from Hannah was that Annie wanted to swing with another woman, before settling into motherhood. Well, if that's what it took to get into bed with Big Willie, then so be it. A ménage à trios and lesbian sex would just be two more firsts. 

Getting naked with Annie would be strange indeed, thought Penny, but the earlier disguised fondling felt very nice. In fact, the cute little redhead's touch was quite exhilarating. Also, if Annie were involved, Penny wouldn't feel guilty about screwing her husband. Consensual sex would make everyone happy. 

Penny pressed a little harder on the accelerator.

Little Freddie was awake and fussy when she walked in the front door of the Morris residence. Annie was sitting on the living room sofa, trying to get him to drink from a baby bottle. 

"Hi, how's it going?" 

Annie smiled weakly. "Not so good. I think he wants the real thing."

Penny unbuttoned her blouse. "Okay little man, calm down. Mommy's here." She plopped down next to Annie, grabbed Freddie, and stuck her left nipple into his eager mouth. "Ouch! Take it easy." 

Annie watched with captivated interest, as Freddie engaged in resolute sucking. "I think he missed you."

"I'm sorry if I was gone too long. There were a lot of details to take care of. Freddie didn't cry the whole time, did he?"

"No, he's been great. The first feeding was no problem. But I guess two bottles in a row was more than he could stand. How's your dad doing?"

"Much better, thanks. Monday, he's being transferred to a hospital closer to home. But, I have to leave tomorrow. I phoned home and found out Peter's left the kids alone, again. He can't be trusted to do the right thing." Penny closed her eyes and tried to put aside the tension in her marriage. She took a deep breath and sighed. "I love this time with my babies. It's so peaceful and I feel so close them. It makes me important and needed, like my life means something." 

"You are important." Annie said, and laid a hand on Penny's arm. "Raising children must be very satisfying. Meeting you has given me hope. I'm a little scared. I'm afraid I'll lose my individuality."

"You will, for a while. But kids are worth it. They transform us into unselfish people. Are you going to breastfeed?" She opened her eyes. Annie still watched Freddie suck. The old familiar tingle vibrated to Penny's nipples.

"Yes, I am. You've convinced me," said Annie, meeting her eyes with tenderness beyond kinship. 

Again, Penny was reminded of their physical contact earlier in the day. The incident had planted a seed of sexual curiosity, and Penny decided to let it grow and flower. 

But what she really wanted to sprout and grow was a different sort of stem. "Where's Willie?"

Annie shrugged, and said, "It's after ten o'clock. He's in bed." She stood up. "I'm going to make some red raspberry leaf tea. Would you like some?"

Disappointed by the absent Willie, Penny managed a small grin and said, "That sounds delicious. I'd love some, thank you."

Freddie fell asleep. Apparently, he just missed his mommy and wanted her familiar comfort more than her milk. Penny carried him into the spare room and laid him down in the playpen. She watched him sleep, while trying to determine what to do. Finally, she decided to let Annie lead the way. 

'After all, tomorrow I'll be gone and no one will be the wiser. This is probably my last chance to experience sexual freedom… or maybe it's more like sexual healing.'

Out in the hall, Penny noticed the master bedroom door was open. She couldn't resist a peek inside. Willie was asleep. The television was still on, and the remote control rested under his large hand. A sheet was spread low on his hips, and dark pubic hair sprouted along the edge of white cotton. A prominent bulge marked his cock. He slept nude, just like she'd pictured him for so many years. There was a lot more hair on his chest than she remembered. Some of it was gray. His stomach was nearly flat, but not as well defined. The physical changes of age didn't take away any of her lust, they only made it ache with regret. When Penny returned to the living room, Annie was already seated on the couch and sipping tea. 

Penny sat down and picked up her steaming china cup. "Mmm, this is delicious."

"It's supposed to be good for pregnant women."

Silently, they savored their tea while glancing around the room, neither woman willing to broach their palpable nervousness. 

Consciously, Penny tried to swap the sexy thoughts about Willie with visions of Annie. She enjoyed the fantasy of someone new and different wanting her. The attention from another woman felt curiously intriguing. Too much time had passed since she'd thought of herself as attractive. Although careful to maintain her figure, no one really looked at her sexually, anymore. She was just a mom, doing mommy things. 

If her husband found satisfaction outside of their marriage, then why shouldn't she? But Annie wasn't flaunting the same impulsiveness she had earlier. Penny thought, 'Maybe I misread everything. Maybe my own pathetic need has tainted my perception of what really happened.' The silence became uncomfortable. "So, Annie, do you have any questions about breastfeeding?"

Annie set down her cup, curled her legs up on the cushion, and said, "As a matter of fact, I do. I was wondering… You mentioned if my nipples got sore, my baby might not be latching on correctly. I don't understand. What's the right way?"

Maybe this question was meant as an opportunity, an invitation to acknowledge interest. Penny smiled warmly, and thought, 'Don't jump to conclusions. It's just a question.' Unbuttoning her blouse, she answered, "Here, it's easier to show you." After unhooking the nursing bra flap and exposing a breast, she circled the dark areola with her finger. "Your baby should suck in as much of the breast as possible, not just the nipple." The tickling touch made the nipple expand. Penny trembled with apprehensive excitement. 

Annie leaned forward for a closer examination. "Your skin is beautiful -- flawless. I'm so sick of my freckles," and then asked in an offhand way, "You had an orgasm from the breast pumps, didn't you?"

Embarrassment colored Penny's face. Speaking about it seemed scandalous, like confessing a secret. But she wanted to be honest and felt compelled to encourage the mother-to-be. "I tried to stop it. But you guys made me feel so good, I couldn't help myself. You gave me a nice little skimmer."

Penny's blush must've hinted her self-consciousness. Annie quickly added, "It's okay. Willie and I were very turned on, too." She slid over and began to toy with Penny's blonde hair. "After you left, we made love out on the deck. Thank you for the unconventional foreplay!" Annie inched closer until their legs touched, and whispered, "I think he was pretending I was you." 

They exchanged smiles, Penny didn't know what to say, but she liked the imagery. 

Annie's focus wandered down to Penny's still exposed breast. "Another thing I wonder about … how does breast milk taste?" Her left arm snaked around Penny's shoulders, as her right hand moved to support the show-and-tell C cup. "May I?"

This was the point of no return. Penny's answer would start them down a path she'd never traveled before, or ever dreamt about. The hand was so delicate, felt so different than any other's touch. Penny became speechless. The word, 'yes', wouldn't form on her lips, so she nodded permission. 

Annie bent down and Penny cradled the back of her head. 

Penny closed her eyes to shut out everything except the sensations. First, Annie rubbed her cheek against it. The smoothness of Annie's skin was so unlike a man's bristly cheek, it surprised her. She felt a tongue circle the nipple with teasing slowness. Seconds later, warm lips closed around the tormented point and gently sucked. Then, Annie broke the connection to blow a cool stream of air across the damp tip, sending shivers to Penny's clitoris. 

Annie whispered, "Tell me if I latch on the right way, okay?" and then put her mouth back over the nipple and drew in most of the areola. 

"Oh, yes. That's very good." Penny's body responded. She tangled her fingers in the soft red hair and massaged Annie's scalp. Her other hand came up to support Annie's back. She felt her milk flowing into the young woman's mouth. 

Annie moaned at the rush of flavor. 

In response, a different sort of liquid began to flow between Penny's thighs. Unannounced, another small hand slipped inside her open blouse, edged underneath the bra and teased her other nipple. Shockwaves of pleasure pulsed with every pinch and pull. This new thrill created a confusing mix of emotions. Too soon, it ended. 

Annie sat up and smiled. "Your milk tastes sweet."

Still quivering, Penny waited until her heart rate returned to somewhere near normal. "I know. Peter likes it in his coffee."

Casually, Annie picked up her teacup. "Really? I'll have to try that sometime."

With no reason to stay exposed, Penny tucked her breast back into her bra, but left the blouse unbuttoned. 

They returned to casual tea sipping and quiet tension. 

Glancing at Annie, Penny struggled with her confusion. Part of her wanted to continue this exploration down the Lesbos path, part of her wanted to run away, and a third part wanted to run into the master bedroom and fuck Willie Morris until her head exploded. She had the distinct impression that Annie was waiting for a decision. Penny didn't know what to do. She'd never been a seducer of men and certainly not of women. She always preferred the man to be the aggressor. Perhaps Annie just needed a little confirmation. 

She thought, 'If I show a little forwardness, maybe Annie will take over.' In the interest of tit-for-tit, Penny offered, "You know, Annie, if you'd like, I could show you how a proper breast feeding would feel."

Annie's face beamed with pure delight. She answered in a sultry tone, "Would you? That would be very helpful." 

Once again, they set down their cups and saucers. This time, Annie pulled off her baggy tee shirt. "I like the easy access of front clasp bras." With that said, she parted the garment in the middle and let both breasts pop free. The bra was tossed on the floor along with the shirt.

The women smiled at one another.

Penny let her eyes drift down to Annie's chest and swollen belly. Unsure of how to proceed, she stalled for time and asked, "When are you due?"

"October."

Penny moved closer. Her hand trembled, as it traveled to rest on the younger woman's pregnant stomach. The skin was taut and smooth, like her own had been. Her eyes wandered back to the freckled chest. Annie's areolas were much smaller than her own, but the nipples were just as erect. "I like your freckles." The words quivered, and it pained her to hear it. She didn't like revealing any vulnerability. 

Annie placed a hand on Penny's shoulder. "Thank you. Willie likes them, too. He says they're cute. But I'm tired of being 'cute'. I want him to say I'm hot." She leaned back and closed her eyes.

Penny was glad that Annie closed her eyes. It gave her a private moment to contemplate another woman's nudity through voyeuristic eyes. Her body looked pretty much like hers. It had the same equipment, except firmer. The idea of having sex with the same parts remained oddly enticing. This other woman also had regular sex with Willie, and Penny envied that. "I think you look hot. You're body is filled with new life, made by love." She grazed the side of Annie's breast with the back of her hand. 

Annie flinched and then relaxed. 

Heart pounding, Penny thought, 'this is kind of thrilling. I can't believe I really want to do this. I want to fondle another woman.' 

Annie's chest had a pink, sun kissed hue. Her eyes were still closed, but an expectant grin curled her lips. 

Penny didn't hesitate anymore and quickly bent down to suck the right nipple without warning.

Annie's body jerked from the rush of sensation. 

The size of the nipple felt very different in her mouth than a man's -- spongy, and more surface to play with. For long seconds, Penny sucked as a child would, until Annie began to squirm. She stopped, and tried to sound clinical. "Okay, that's what a good breast latch feels like."

Before Penny could sit up, Annie grabbed the back of her head. "Please, show me on the other one, too."

Amazed at her own excitement, Penny didn't hesitate to say, "All right." This was definitely not an instructional experiment anymore. She applied soft, inflammatory kisses across her chest, on the way to the other side. Annie's chest turned a darker shade of pink. The realization of what she was doing with the wife of her first love struck home. She paused over Annie's heaving chest, and asked, "Do you love Willie? Is he good to you?"

"What? …" In a dreamy voice, she answered, "Of course I love him. No one has ever treated me better."

Reality had passed the point of her fantasy. The moment was genuine and electrifying. Penny licked circles around the sensitive tip and traced the abandoned nipple with her fingertip. 

Annie responded with sighs of pleasure, and said, "You know how to tease a woman."

"How about this?" Penny pinched Annie's nipple between tight lips and ground her jaw side to side, while flicking the tip with her tongue. 

A moan leaked from Annie, as she arched toward Penny's mouth. "Ooo, Willie likes to do that."

Penny sat up and moved one cushion away. "I know. He did it to me, a long time ago."

"Really? You remembered? That's… amazing."

The tea was gone. They had no more props to stall with, no educational charade to perpetuate. 

After a minute to ponder, Annie turned, leaned back against the arm of the sofa and put her feet up on the cushion between them. Boldly, she lifted her fanny, pushed her shorts and panties down to her ankles, and spread her knees.

Penny had seen the face of lust on women before. She'd seen it acted on the movie screen thousands of times. But to see another woman directing that wanton gaze toward her was intimidating. Peripherally, she could see the other woman's shiny pink lips. Her mind registered the complete shave. Penny felt the erotic magnetism pulling her eyes downward between the gaping thighs. Her consciousness screamed, 'this is what you wished for!' But, she couldn't break eye contact. Penny wouldn't allow herself the initiative.  

Annie said something, but it didn't register. Louder, she said, "Penny?"

"I'm sorry, what?"

"Did you have this dark line down your abdomen when you were pregnant?" Annie's fingers floated down her chest and over her belly. They traced the thin, brown line from Annie's navel to her open crotch. 




Vision of the Spirit Ch. 14



Penny's eyes obediently followed. "Uh… yes I did. It's called the linea nigra. Hormones cause it. Some people say if the line is really dark it means you'll have a boy."

"I hope that's true. I want a little boy." Annie languidly stroked up and down the line. "Did yours go away?" The hypnotic fingers drifted into Annie's pink zone and stopped. The index finger twirled the swollen clitoris. 

Penny's clit magically twitched in response. "Uh… yes, mine went away."

A red fingernail slipped further down and then gradually disappeared between the pliant lips. It pumped in and out several times, before Annie said, "Mmm, let me see." 

The request didn't sink in, until Annie sat up and took control of Penny's belt buckle. Quickly, she had Penny's pants unbuttoned. 

Penny didn't move. Adrenalin coursed through her body and her gaze remained fixed on the wet index finger, now unzipping her fly. 

"Stand up."

She obeyed. Room air washed over her legs. 

"Step out."

Just that easily, Penny stood naked from the waist down in front of another woman. Her shirttail hid some of the view. Annie placed her hands on Penny's abdomen and spread apart the thin fabric for a better look. She brought the wet finger over and tickled down Penny's stomach, until it stopped at the edge of the curly patch of hair. 

"A natural blonde! No line. You're right." Annie leaned forward and kissed the curve of Penny's tummy. "You are in great shape, very sexy," she said, and then raked her fingers up through the matted tuft, fluffing it out. 

Penny's knees weakened. She closed her eyes. Annie's palms push outward against her inner thighs and she responded by widening her stance. Warm breath and a nose tickled her hair, so Penny had to look.

Annie smiled up and said, "Mmm, you smell good." She reached between Penny's legs and slowly drew her fingernails down her bottom and back through. They traced the around her labia, then fanned out in the hair and massaged her skin. "Penny, I haven't thought about sex with a woman since college. But lately, I'm crazy for it. I don't know why. I think part of it's emotional, part of it's hormonal." She stood up and hugged her.

The softness of the naked woman sent tingles everywhere. Cautiously, Penny wrapped her arms around Annie's lower back, and said, "I've never done this before."

Annie stroked her cheek. "I kind of guessed that. It turns me on to be your first. I think it makes it more exciting, don't you?" She leaned close to nuzzle Penny's throat. 

It was true. The taboo novelty was thrilling. Tremors washed through her with ever-increasing pleasure. Like the walls of Jericho, Penny's innate barriers started to crumble under the onslaught of Annie's caress. "Yes, but what about Willie?"

"Willie?" Annie kissed lightly along the jaw line, until her lips teased Penny's ear. "Willie lets me have whatever I want. I wanted Hannah, but Hannah wasn't really interested. She just went along, and I'm sorry things went too far. When she finally said 'No', it was over." Annie pushed the blouse off Penny's shoulders. "If you want to stop, tell me now. But I think you want me. I think you're as hungry for affection as I am. Aren't you?"

Penny didn't say 'yes'. Instead, she dropped her arms and let the shirt slip off. She reached behind and unhooked her bra. The only thing keeping it up was Annie pressed against her chest.

Annie pushed the bra straps off Penny's shoulders and down her arms to expose her completely. Throwing the garment aside, she said, "That's a yes," and pulled Penny back into a tight embrace.

The feel of the naked woman, breast to breast, was very different -- smooth and round. Her heart pounded so hard, she knew Annie must have felt it too. 

Their eyes locked. 

Hesitantly, Annie moved in for a tender kiss. 

Once again, the uniqueness of another woman's skin pleased Penny. She savored the slick texture, as Annie's mouth opened to apply a little tongue, searching for a companion. Penny responded with a sigh and added a little tongue of her own. 

Immediately, Annie became aggressive. The small spark ignited a bonfire. Her lips pounced, skimmed and nipped, around Penny's face and neck, creating new tingles. She felt the hands on her back slip down to fondle her ass. They pulled tight and Annie began to writhe against her. 

Penny responded in kind, inflamed by the passion. She caressed Annie instinctively, as a woman. What she liked, Annie would like. She tangled her fingers in Annie's hair and kissed back, hard. 

The redhead groaned and slipped a hand between Penney's legs. 

The suddenness of fingers rubbing her clitoris made Penny gasp and thrust her hips spontaneously. Breathless, she pushed Annie away by the wrists, and whispered, "Time out."

Disappointment briefly registered on the redhead's face, then she smiled and relaxed. "I'm coming on too strong. Sorry."

"It's okay. I'm a little overwhelmed. That's all." Penny flopped down on the couch.

Annie sat close beside Penny and waved her fingers under her freckled nose. "You smell delicious," she said, and then sucked them into her mouth. "Mmm, you are." While Penny watched, Annie dragged the wet fingers down her chest and teased her own nipples until they were fully erect, and then continued down over her stomach. She leaned back so that Penny could see, and slipped two fingers into her vagina. Glistening with fresh lubrication, Annie pulled them out to tease her clit, while studying Penny's reaction.

Penny smiled at Annie and tried to be satisfied just to watch. The erotic spectacle transferred familiar sensation to Penny. So familiar, she could feel every touch. Truthfully, she wanted to participate but dared not interrupt.

Annie must have sensed her want. "Would you play with my nipples? They're so sensitive." 

It was a simple request. Penny thought, 'I can do that.' So, she edged closer and leaned over Annie. The scent of the other woman's arousal smelled invitingly familiar. To the best of her ability, Penny toyed with Annie's nipples. Taunting her with near touches and diminutive massage. The nipples reached out for a connection. It was fun to see Annie's face silently plead for the crowning stroke. When she did finally twirl one nipple, Annie shuddered and groaned. The power over someone else's pleasure began to consume Penny. She'd felt this thrill with men, but with a woman it was different, she could empathize, experience it vicariously. Familiarity bred excitement. "How am I doing?" she whispered, and then gently kissed Annie's lips.

"I'm lovin' it. You know what I like." Annie's fingers left her pussy and painted her left nipple. "Taste?"

A lump developed in Penny's throat. She swallowed hard and smiled. The request was inevitable. It was time to suck it up or zip it up. Not wanting to disappoint, she kissed her way down Annie's neck, along the inside swell of her breast to the shiny target and licked. "Mmm," she purred, and thought, 'Tastes like me.' A new determination energized Penny. The passiveness was pushed aside as excitement grew. The mysterious thrill of making another woman climax took hold. She fondled both breasts and reveled in Annie's twitches and groans. The final barrier had to be breached. Penny held Annie's gaze, and traced her fingertips down, until they rested on her smooth labia. She felt Annie spread her legs in acquiescence. Penny touched the warm moisture of another woman for the first time. She smiled, and said, "It's like touching myself without feeling it." 

"It feels wonderful," said Annie, and leaned forward for a kiss.

While they exchanged tongues, Penny slipped an index finger inside. Annie's back stiffened, as she groaned. Penny's thumb found Annie's clitoris and flicked it. The sudden jerk of the redhead's hips prompted more caresses to elicit more reactions. 

Annie broke the kiss and leaned back to float within a cloud of ecstasy. 

Penny put one arm around her back and bent to taste a nipple, while inserting her middle finger. She began to thrust into the clutching warmth, still thumbing her clit, and sucking the nipple. 

Annie's fingers tangled in Penny's hair, holding her in place. "Oh yeah, mmm, mmm…" Her hips made small, involuntary thrusts in response.

Penny's thighs slid together, wet from her own flow. Her pussy ached to be touched. First things first, give and then receive. The giving thrilled her beyond her wildest dreams. 

Annie slid down onto her back, and put her foot up on the back of the couch.

The sight of her own fingers plunging in and out of Annie inflamed Penny's lust. She couldn't resist the desire to taste the juice stirred by her hand and to find out what a woman's pussy felt like against her lips. Slowly, she bent down, while keeping eye contact with the sexy redhead. 

Annie's eyes were mere slits, but her smile grew large. Guessing Penny's intention, she groaned in a husky voice, "Yes, please do."

A new rush of excitement flooded Penny's senses as she neared the shiny pink lips. There were no freckles here. The labia were swollen and glistening with a natural readiness for a cock. But all she had to offer were hands and a mouth. She thought, 'I'll do my best to compensate,' and kept a slow thrust with her fingers, as her tongue tip licked a clitoris for the first time. The tangy flavor exploded on her taste buds, as Annie's hips jerked in response to the sensation. Penny puckered her lips and sucked on the erect morsel, while quickening her fingers. 

For several minutes, Penny teased Annie just as she would want to be teased, with slow and deliberate intensification. 

After a variety of kisses and fondling, Annie began to writhe uncontrollably. "I'm coming," squeaked from her panting lips, as her back suddenly arched and her thighs clamped tight around Penny's hand. Groans and squeals burst out with lusty fervor.

Penny felt the woman's internal tremors pulse around her imbedded fingers. Her pulse quickened and she felt hot all over, just from watching Annie's body wiggle in the frenzied release. When the sensations receded, Annie sagged into the couch.

Penny continued to stroke gently, until satisfied every last delightful twinge was gleaned from the redhead's body. Then, she sat back and watched Annie recover, happy with her success. When Annie opened her eyes, Penny made a show of licking her fingers. The sexy look on Annie's face made Penny shiver with anticipation. 

Annie said, "Thank you. That felt incredible." 

"I did okay?"

"You did great!" Annie sat up and pushed Penny onto her back. Her round belly slid up Penny's body, until she could reach over the arm of the couch and retrieve the television remote control from the side table. Annie's boob dangled suggestively over Penny's face. Annie took advantage of the opportunity, and said, "Well?"

Penny smiled and pulled Annie's torso down, until she could tease the nipple with the tip of her tongue. She heard Annie sigh and then she heard the TV click on, but there was no sound. Curious, Penny turned away from the puffy morsel to glance at the television. What she saw on the screen didn't sink at first. But when Annie sat up, and the woman on television sat up, she recognized the pregnant body. Stunned, Penny quickly sat up and saw her naked TV twin sit up, as well. "What's going on?"

"Security cameras," said Annie. "Willie has a network of closed circuit cameras in every room. Can't be too careful, these days." She pushed a button and the camera zoomed in, until just the couch filled the screen. "Sometimes it's fun to watch. I thought you might like to see how sexy you look while I make love to you."

The pregnant woman on TV leaned over and kissed the other woman on the cheek. Penny felt it. She thought, 'Another first, now I'm a porn actress.' A hand on the screen rose up and cradled a breast. She felt it all the way to her toes. When she looked down, there it was. Penny decided she liked this new, out-of-body experience. 

"Here," Annie handed the control to Penny, "Let me show you how it works. Push the plus button to zoom in and the minus button to zoom out. If you want to pan the camera from side to side, press the left and right buttons." 

"This is so cool." Penny played with the buttons and zoomed in for a close-up of the fingers pinching her nipple. Seeing it from a third person perspective seemed incredibly exciting. It was like watching a live sex show, something she'd fantasized about a few times. She panned the camera left, to focus on Annie's breast. She reached over, brushed it with her hand and saw it jiggle seductively on TV. Then she squeezed it and Annie moaned next to her. "Surround sound." 

"Lie back," said Annie, gently pushing her. 

Penny did what she was told, while switching her gaze from the TV to Annie. 

"Just enjoy." Annie knelt on the floor and began massaging Penny's breasts and kissing her stomach. 

The sensations momentarily took Penny's breath away. As Annie kissed lower, Penny turned her eyes to the TV. She zoomed out to see the whole couch, and then zoomed in to watch Annie's kisses from the side view. The extraordinary sensory input tickled every nerve ending to precipitous heights. She watched on TV as Annie buried her nose in her pubic hair. 

"Mmm, you smell so good."

Penny smiled down at Annie. 

Annie pushed her legs apart. Penny placed her right foot on the floor, opening herself up for Annie and the camera. The TV picture showed a close-up of Annie's fingers spreading the blonde haired lips apart and her pointed tongue inching toward a swollen clitoris. 

When it touched, Penny jumped from the sudden pleasure. The tongue wiggled all over the nub, dispatching neuron shooters that curled her toes. Next, Annie's lips move forward and gently sucked the glistening bump. The squirming woman on TV seemed so far removed from Penny, and yet physically connected. 

"Oh, Annie. That feels wonderful," she said, and tried to zoom out for a broader view. Distracted by the flood of tingles everywhere, she made a mistake and pushed the wrong button. A picture of the kitchen popped up on the screen. Quickly, she began channel surfing, trying to get back to the living room camera. Suddenly, the master bedroom appeared on the screen and the sight took her breath away. The camera was in a corner, about eye level. The panoramic shot captured the bed and the television. Willie appeared to be wide-awake and watching TV. On the twenty-inch bedroom screen Penny saw what she felt, Annie eating her pussy. Willie was riveted to their lesbian tryst, slowly pumping his huge cock. The first cock she'd ever touched.

Annie must've sensed a change in her lover, because she lifted her head to look at the TV. She giggled and said, "I think he likes the show," then slipped two fingers into Penny's pussy.

Penny was too flustered to enjoy it. "He knows?"

"Of course he knows. I wouldn't do anything without his consent." Annie took the control away, changed back to the living room channel and then gave it back. "I guess I should explain." She languidly stroked her fingers in and out of Penny while she organized her thoughts.

Penny's mind was a jumble of images. She tried to remember everything they'd done, everything he'd seen. If Willie watched the whole time, he witnessed them fondle each other, watched them kiss and watched her give his wife oral sex all the way to orgasm. The idea felt shamefully erotic. He could've stopped them if he wanted to. Instead, he chose to enjoy the show. The disappointment she'd felt earlier, because he wasn't involved at the beginning, transformed into a thrill that he really had been, kind of. He'd witnessed her first time with another woman. If he'd been there in person, she'd never have felt as uninhibited with Annie. 

"I want you to know this isn't something we've ever done before or ever plan on doing again, Penny." Annie kissed her tummy, then ran her tongue slowly down and over her clit. 

Penny watched it all on TV. Her heart pounded with increased excitement, knowing Willie was watching, too. 

With her lips lightly touching Penny's skin, Annie whispered, "I think we all need this. You and Willie have some unfinished business. You've always been a ghost in my marriage. Now's the time to exorcise all our demons." Once again, her fingers began to piston in and out. The squishiness of a wet pussy and sucking lips became the only sound.

The sensations were undeniably good, and Penny felt a rising climax. The TV screen was filled with naked bodies. Penny pulled aside Annie's hair to reveal more to Willie. 

Annie's free hand drifted up Penny's stomach and began to pinch and toy with her nipples. 

"Oh, that feels wonderful." Penny thrust her hips to meet Annie's fingers, letting herself go with the orgasmic flow. She began to pinch her own nipple, excited that Willie would see. This was a once in a lifetime performance. 

Annie's tongue worked magic. She had all the twists and turns only another woman would know. Changes in tempo and pressure made the sensations ebb and flow. 

"Oh, you're toying with me," moaned Penny. 

"Yes, I am." Annie kissed her way to Penny's chest. 

Her thumb replaced her tongue on Penny's clit, and the tremors increased exponentially. "Oh my god!" were Penny's last words. Pleasure waves began to swell and break from the epicenter of her sex. Annie kissed her open mouth as the fireworks exploded. Her own tart flavor added a new dimension. Uncontrollably, Penny's hips thrust against the fucking fingers. 

As the climax faded, Annie slowed her caress. 

Penny's heart pounded in her ears for long seconds. When she finally regained control of her limbs, she pulled Annie onto the couch. "Thank you. That was marvelous," she said, and gave her a deep and heartfelt kiss. 

"You're welcome. It was my pleasure."

They cuddled and fondled each other while their passions cooled. 

After a few minutes, Annie gripped Penny's face between her palms and met her gaze. "Okay, now it's Willie's turn. He's waiting for you. I'll stay here, until you're done." She picked up the remote and changed to the bedroom channel. Willie's cock had gone soft. "I'll be watching you two."

"Are you sure about this?" asked Penny, secretly afraid that she would say no.

"Yes, I'm sure. You both need to get this out of your system." Annie pecked her lips, stood and took the teacups out to the kitchen. 

Penny looked at the TV screen. Nervously, she waved in the direction of the living room's hidden security camera. Willie smiled and waved back, but that was it, there was no 'come here' finger curl to encourage her. 

'I guess it's up to me.' This was so bizarre. Everything today was beyond belief. Here she sat, naked, and thoroughly satisfied by another woman, yet she still wanted more. Penny was right. Willie was a ghost in her life. He'd always been the 'what if'. Now she had the chance to find out. Penny knew there was no reliving the past, but she could take back that one night, stolen from her long ago. 

She left the TV on the bedroom channel for Annie, stood up and slowly walked down the hall. Briefly, she peeked into the spare room. Freddie was sound asleep. As she continued down the hall, her heart began to pound with anticipation. Would this be all she'd hoped or would it be another disappointment? Whatever it turned out to be, she had to find out. 

When Penny reached the bedroom door, she suddenly felt embarrassed to be naked, embarrassed by her old body. Willie had seen her at 18, young, fit and sexy. Would he be disappointed? 

'Well, he's already seen me, so it won't be a surprise.' After a deep breath, she stepped into the room. 



Vision of the Spirit Ch. 15



Chief William Morris turned off the television and sat up on the edge of the bed. His wife, Annie, had been right. Penny was easily seduced. What surprised him most of all was how much it turned him on, watching them together. The old jealousy did not resurface, maybe because the other woman was Penny and not a stranger. Covering his face with his hands, he replayed their naked, entwined bodies. The vision of his two lifelong loves in each other's arms went far beyond erotic. 

When it was over, Penny had waved goodbye to herself on TV. She'd obviously enjoyed watching their performance. He would've never guessed she could be so uninhibited. What would Penny think if she knew he had watched them together?

Earlier in the evening, Annie had dared him "Watch us for a while. If she's really into it, then come join in... that is, if you're UP for it."

Well, Willie's dick had been up for it all right, but he didn't have the backbone to move him in there. Afraid Penny might freak out, he wouldn't risk losing her friendship. The fact that Penny didn't seem to have the same concern about having sex with his wife never crossed Willie's rattled mind. His wife was just an irresistible force of natural and unnatural urges. His thoughts switched to Annie, and what she would want when she came to bed. She'd probably want to fuck like wild dogs. He was definitely ready, and needed the release. 

Muffled footsteps entered the room and the bed shifted under someone's weight. Without looking, Willie asked, "How was it?"

"Incredible."

Chief Willie spun around, shocked to hear Penny's voice. She sat on the other side, facing the door, her bare back expanded and contracted with rapid breaths. At first, he didn't know what to say. But knowing Annie's recent predilection, he quickly put the pieces together. "You're okay with this?" 

"I am... if you are," came the whispered reply.

He let the question hang in the air, unable to confirm or deny his lust. The desire for Penny had always been there, a tickle in the recesses of his mind. She had remained an unfulfilled promise that had affected his life in so many ways. Her unsolved rape twenty years ago made him a cop today. 

When they were eighteen, infatuation ruled their bodies. But they never had the chance to see each other completely naked, although headed in that direction, like trains gaining speed after they'd left the station. Still virgins, they'd played around the edges for months, building momentum. Then, in one horrible moment, their desire to learn the secrets of sexual pleasure in each other's arms had been violently stolen away. Strangely, this moment felt like a second chance. The old, latent excitement returned. For once in his life Willie decided he would not do the right thing. He swung his legs onto the bed and knelt behind Penny. "Is Annie coming?"

In a breathy rush, Penny gave a one-word answer. "Watching."

Willie paused to consider what this meant for the future and then leaned down to kiss the top of her head. "There's no microphone. We can say anything, and she won't hear." He placed his hands on Penny's shoulders and she jumped. "Are you afraid of me?"

She was quiet for so long, he didn't think she was going to answer. "No, I just feel like a kid again. I've always wondered how it would've been with you."

He began to lightly knead her shoulders. "I know what you mean. I feel the same way. I've always felt cheated by..." He couldn't complete the thought aloud.

But Penny could. "The rape?"

"Yes." He slipped his hands into her hair and massaged her scalp. "You used to like this."

She sighed, and huskily said, "Still do. You haven't lost your touch." 

Years of restrained emotion boiled inside Willie. Afraid to release it, afraid to indulge an uncontrollable fantasy, he hedged, "I've thought about you, prayed for you, so many times over the years. I was really happy when I heard you were married." 

Letting her head tip with the motion of his hands, she asked, "Why?"

He pulled back on her shoulders and lowered her down. "Because, it made me think you had gotten better, that you were happy, and..." Once again he couldn't finish.

Penny opened her eyes and caught his gaze wandering over her. "And?"

Willie smiled his warmest smile. "...And finally able to enjoy what we started," he said, and bent to kiss her. Penny's lips parted invitingly and they lingered in the sweetness. 

When they separated, tears ran down her cheeks. 

He asked, "Are you sure you're okay?"

A trembling hand reached up and cupped his cheek. "You were always so adorably gentle. I'm glad you taught me how to enjoy a man's touch before the rape. Without the wonderful memory of what we shared, I may never have wanted to know what real love felt like. I might've been too messed up to try."

Willie's eyes flooded with uncontrollable emotion. "I wish... I wish I'd stopped at the motel that night. Maybe, if I had--"

"Hush." She pulled him back down and kissed him hard, her fingers tangled in his hair. 

The kiss grew until the heartache was replaced by pleasant memories and recent passion. Willie stroked her hair, and asked, "Remember our first kissed?"

Penny smiled up. "Of course I do. The night at the pond. God, I wanted you to touch me so bad, and all you did was kiss me and give me a little tongue. That was the first time I'd ever seen a bulge in a boy's pants. I had to fold my hands in my lap to keep from feeling you." Not so self-conscious now, her fingers lightly traced down his stomach, over his awakening cock, and then rested on top of his thigh.

Willie's eyes wander down, and he said, "One of my favorite memories was the night you showed me your breasts." He studied them, recapturing his boyhood affection. They were larger and sagged a little now, but just as enticing. "There's nothing like your first pair of real boobs. You acted shy and excited, all at once." He slid his palm up her stomach to cradle one. Penny's giggle encouraged him to use both hands. "I remember how soft they were and how afraid I was I'd hurt you. I remember the look on your face, how your eyes closed when something felt really good." Willie twirled her nipples with his fingertips and she closed her eyes, just like before.

She whispered, "I remember how wonderful it felt. I was swept away. You seemed to know just what to do. I don't think I would've stopped you that night. I wanted to know your touch everywhere." Her hand moved from his leg to lightly finger his erection. She tickled the crown, until he became fully hard. Her eyes remained closed and he knew she was reliving the past, as well. "I remember the first time I saw your penis, and its size shocked me. I didn't think you'd ever fit." Her fist wrapped around his cock and pumped slowly. "But I wanted to find out," she said, meeting his gaze with the unashamed confession of lust.

Wetness on Willie's fingers caught his attention. Milk leaked from Penny's right nipple. He slid flat onto his stomach and put his arms around her, pulling her close. The new position broke Penny's tantalizing grip and he was glad for that. This moment in time was not to be rushed. It was to be savored for the ages. 

Using the flat of his tongue, he licked up the side of her breast and then teased the nipple with just the tip. He felt a quiver pass through her body and heard a sigh escape her lips. More milk leaked out and he wrapped his lips around the tender volcano. Penny arched into his embrace. With a light suck, warm liquid flowed easily and the taste was pleasantly sweet. While he nursed briefly from one side and then the other, his hand tickled her flat stomach, slowly edging down, until it met the wisp of hair that marked another oasis. She looked and felt so different than Annie, yet familiar, like renewing an old acquaintance.

Penny grabbed his wrist, and said, "My turn." 

A nostalgic thrill tingled through him. Apparently, Penny was playing their old game they called 'Seduce and Surrender'. Years ago, when they first explored one another's body, they'd each take a turn caressing the other, until the sensations became unbearably good, then they would switch and show the other one just how good it felt.

"Okay," he said, and rolled onto his back while looking in the direction of the camera, wondering what Annie thought about this arrangement, now. 

Penny moved against his side and kissed his chest. "You're a lot hairier these days. I like how it feels," she confessed, while rubbing her nipples against the patch of fur briefly before kissing him. After long seconds, she began to trace her lips down his neck, nuzzling here and there, causing outbreaks of goose bumps and shivers. 

His hands wandered to her back and became familiar with its contours. The uniqueness of her skin as it slid against him inflamed the senses. With great concentration, he was able control the desire to just take what he wanted. Surrender was the patient game he had to play, for now. 

Penny's mouth closed around his nipple and teased it mercilessly. Between caresses, she asked, "Why would Annie share you like this?" 

The question proved an excellent distraction as Penny's kisses resumed a slow descent. Willie played with her hair and thought it over. "Annie is struggling with issues in her past and... she's afraid of being a mother."

Penny remained silent, as she passed by his navel. He felt her cheek brush the tip of his cock; her strands of blond silk dragged over the shaft and made it throb with every heartbeat. 

"I haven't been the best husband. To be honest, I haven't been a very affectionate man. She's tolerated my detachment and been understanding, until now. Your rape left its mark on me too; left me cold for years. I punished myself for not being there. Sex became something dirty and profane. I hated myself for wanting it and wouldn't have anything to do with women for a long time."

Penny kissed near the base of his erection. She stopped, and said, "Really? I'd never thought about how it might have affected you. I'm sorry I didn't call and talk to you--"

"My turn." Quickly, he pulled away and pushed her over. He looked determinedly into her eyes. She lay beneath his straddled arms and legs. "You have nothing to be sorry about. It's my problem."

A grin softened her concerned face, as her eyes wandered to the jutting erection. "Is there anything I can do, now?"

The offer drew him down. He lay fully on her, enjoyed the feel of her nakedness, kissed her with unrestrained ardor, and said, "You already are."

Rapidly losing patience, he kissed down her body until he was nose deep in golden hair. Her legs spread without prompting and feminine ambrosia filled his senses. Shiny lips gaped open, ready. He flicked with his tongue and she bucked. Probing deeper, he began to earnestly lick. Penny was his fantasy feast, laid out before him to satisfy decades of hunger. She was a picnic for his soul and his face became coated with her butter. Faraway, someone spoke, but a meal such as this should not be interrupted. Magic elixir poured from this fount of youth, soon he felt 18 again. Suddenly, the wellspring lifted and began to writhe. Willie gripped tight, unwilling to stop until his thirst was sated. 

Penny's thighs clamped together, and she gave him a hard pinch on the ass. "I SAID, MY TURN."

Willie sat up and licked his lips. "Sorry, I got carried away."

Pulling him down, she whispered in his ear, "Believe me, I noticed." She mounted him in the 69 position and lowered to her elbows. 

Willie felt a breeze across his cock and, a heartbeat later, feathery hair tickled his groin, once again. Her warm mouth engulfed just his glans. A soft hum vibrated down the shaft and echoed to his skull. A growl of supreme pleasure rumbled from his chest, as he closed his eyes and reveled in the velvety suction. The tantalizing mouth swallowed half the length, and then reversed direction. 

Taking a breath, Penny said in a silly voice, "Mmm, what a big nightstick you have, Officer Willie. What are you going to do with it?"

His eyes opened to the spectacular view of her pussy, hovering a foot a way. "Don't worry. I know how to use it and I'll make sure you're ready." Using her thighs as handholds, he lifted up and planted his face in her juicy center. 

They both returned to oral pleasures, each trying to show the other what they missed 20 years ago. 

Willie intensified the stimulation by plunging his fingers inside of Penny. She lost her train of suck and let him slip free. With little resistance, he was able to push her over and assume the dominant position. As his fingers toyed with her clit, he kissed her mouth, and asked, "Are you ready for me?"

There was an unexpected long pause. A serious frown clouded her face. "I don't know... To be honest, I am a little scared."

At first, Willie thought she was just play-acting the young virgin from their past, but when Penny didn't smile or show any sign of humor he realized this was no joke. "What's wrong?"

"If we do this, it will change everything. There's no going back." 

"I know," said Willie, continuing to caress, while positioning himself between her legs. Lying on top, he kissed her chest. "I think we need to do this... to put things right. There's no going forward if we don't." He rose up on his arms and placed his cock between her folds and pushed in a little. 

Penny closed her eyes, bit her bottom lip and placed her hands on Willie's hips. 

Willie pushed a little more, but she felt unbelievable tight. Was it nerves? After five kids, it couldn't be his size that was the problem. 

Unexpectedly, Penny shoved him away and rolled over. "I can't do it." Curling up into the fetal position, she whispered, "I wish I could, but I just can't." 

Stunned by the rejection, Willie knelt there motionless, wondering what to do. Finally, he found his voice and calmly said, "That's okay." To make as little contact as possible, he kissed her shoulder. "Thank you for showing me how beautiful you turned out."

The comment only made her whimper and bury her face in the flowery quilt. 

"Willie! What did you do?" Annie stormed naked into the room and immediately sided with Penny. She stroked Penny's blond head and declared, "Men are animals!"

"No, it's not his fault. He was wonderful." Penny sat up and gave them a weak smile. "I just got struck with a sudden case of guilt. I guess I'm not cut out to be a swinger." 

Annie cupped Penny's cheek. "Oh Baby, do we look like swingers to you?" she said, rubbing her pregnant stomach. "This was just a trip down memory lane, for both of us. Nothing that happens tonight leaves this house. What happens here stays here... and probably ends here." 

Willie heard the word 'probably' and wondered if this was really just a beginning for Annie. At the moment, the idea of more experiences like this was not totally undesirable. Tonight, his sex drive finally shifted out of neutral, so why not take it for a spin? Already, he looked forward to the next time, because this time was so wildly erotic if not totally fulfilling. But, as police chief, discretion would be paramount. For now, he would enjoy this one-time three-way to the hilt. If he couldn't have Penny, his sperm of the moment plan was to experience the thrill of having sex with Annie while Penny was in the room. Sliding over beside his wife, he kissed her neck, smiled as wickedly as he knew how, and said, "Thank you, Honey, for your understanding, and all that you do for me." 

"Aw, Sweetheart." Annie leaned his way and kissed him. 

With little effort, she glided into his arms and then down onto her back. They kissed passionately, while he fingered her into readiness. His wilted erection stiffened with renewed hope.

"Okay, Baby," said Annie, already huffing with desire. 

Willie got up and stood beside the bed, expecting his pregnant wife to want the comfort of rear entry. True to form, Annie, assumed the head down, ass up position at the edge of the mattress. He moved forward and massaged her bottom, tracing down to tease her clitoris.

Penny remained on the other side, openly watching the intimate exchange. 

Willie caught her voyeur eyes and they shared a smile. He winked at her.

Groaning, Annie said, "Don't make me wait."

He shrugged at Penny, and said, "Yes, Dear." Cock in one hand, Willie steadied himself with the other hand on Annie's back and edged forward.

"Wait! I want to see." Penny bounced off the bed and stood beside him. Her breathing was ragged from the effort of motion and the thrill of the moment. 

In an uncharacteristically bold move, Willie released his erection, and said, "Why don't you guide me in?" 

With round-eyed surprise, Penny squeaked, "What? No, I couldn't."

"Of course you can. We'd love it."

"Really?"

An exasperated groan came from Annie, and then, "Yes! Really!"

At first Penny seemed hesitant, but after a thoughtful moment, and with a smirk that expressed a revived sense of daring, she leaned against Willie's side and put one arm around his back and the other hand on his cock. "I guess I'm acting like a silly twat, aren't I." With a girlish lilt, she warned Annie, "Ready or not, here he comes," and pushed him forward until his glans nestled between Annie's labia. "I like a little tease first, don't you guys?" She rubbed his cock head up and down her slit. The squishy sound of Annie's damp valley and her low sighs gave the answer loud and clear, 'I'm randy and ready for action.'

Penny stared at the shiny helmet head, waiting to charge in. 

Willie reveled in the hot softness of Penny's body pressed against his side, her firm grip, and the taunt of his wife's awaiting pussy. 

Penny looked up into his face, and asked, "Everyone ready?"

"YES!" Annie was.

"Yes, Ma'am." Willie was.

Wrapping her thumb and middle finger around the tip of his cock, Penny slowly fed its length through her fingers and into Annie's pussy, observing the cock's disappearance with enthralled interest. When her hand was pinned between Willie's stomach and Annie's labia, she said, "How's that feel?"

Annie answered the question with a question. "Wouldn't you like to know?" 

Willie said, "Feels like home." He felt a playful internal squeeze from his wife and then Penny's fingers squeezed him around the base, as if she felt it too and responded. He hugged Penny tight with one arm and kissed her passionately, while shamelessly fondling her boobs with his free hand. As the buss intensified, the fingers encircling his cock slipped off. Willie felt the hand lower on his balls, teasing them and then move over to Annie's clitoris. 

Annie began to pump slowly back and forth. Pleasant moans and groans increased from everyone involved.

Fortunately for Willie, the first orgasm on the deck helped postpone his second.

Annie was another story. Sometimes it seemed as if the more she came the sooner the next orgasm followed.

Down below, where he connected with his wife, Willie felt Penny's fingers at work and soon realized she was spending all her time rubbing Annie's clitoris and not teasing him. At first he felt a twinge of resentment, but when Penny winked and kissed him, he understood she had ulterior motives. Well, if that were the case, he had some ideas of his own and began groping Penny with greater intensity.

She shuddered under his touch and closed her eyes. "Oh Annie, that big cock must feel so good. Does it feel good when I play with your clit too, Honey? Let me help you come, and come, and come."

Willie felt the speed of Penny's fingers increase, and had the impression she wanted to finish Annie off -- the sooner the better.

Annie always loved the encouragement of dirty talk. It wasn't but a few seconds later that she answered the call by turning into a quivering mass of womanly satisfaction.




Vision of the Spirit Ch. 15



Penny whispered in Willie's ear, "My turn."

First, they all lay down together with Annie in the middle, and gave her to time recover. All hands were on her, providing post-coital succor. 

Annie kissed Penny, and said, "That was amazing. Thank you." Then, she rolled over and kissed her husband. "Thank you, Sweetheart." 

Willie hugged Annie tight. As he kissed her, he felt Penny's hands trapped between them, fondling Annie's breasts. Willie rolled onto his back and complained, "You ladies are turning me on from so many directions, I'm afraid if this continues, my cock might stay hard for over 4 hours and I'll have to call 911."

"Oh, poor Baby," cooed Annie, snuggling close. "Do you need some relief? Tell me what you want."

Before he could answer, Penny said, "Annie, would it be alright if I changed my mind and borrowed Big Willie one time?"

Meeting her husband's gaze, she said, "I'm okay with it. You two have fantasized about each other for so long, you might as well finally do it and clear your heads," cupping Willie's balls, she added, "and pipes."

Willie hugged his wife, and enjoyed a long kiss. The round contour of her belly reminded him of his responsibility of a lifetime. Yet, Annie's unwavering free spirit made it possible for them to embrace a lifetime of adventure. The love he felt for her swelled his heart. Rubbing her stomach with both hands, he said, "I love you, Annie," loud enough for all to hear. 

"I love you too." She cupped his face between her palms and sweetly kissed him. "But, lets not be rude to our bed and breakfast guest." With that said, she rolled over and passionately kissed Penny. 

The vision of the two intimate women reenergized Willie's desire. Pressing against Annie's back, he took his pleasure fondling each of them while they were preoccupied. Seeming to be unaffected by his touch, Willie moved down, pushed apart their tangled legs and knelt between them.

They stopped kissing and looked his way. 

"Don't mind me. I'm just looking for something to do while you girls are busy."

The women smiled at him and then smiled at each other. 

Annie said, "I love a man that can amuse himself, don't you?"

"What's he going to do? Is he... imaginative, or will he just watch a ballgame on TV?" 

Willie grabbed the remote from the nightstand and switched it on. "TV, I'm going to watch the Hens vs. the Gamecock. It started a few minutes ago." 

When the three of them appeared on the 27-inch high-definition screen the girls laughed.

Penny said, "I like their uniforms."

Annie pointed. "Oh, I love this channel, A.N.N., the All Nude Network." 

"Well, you should love it. You're the channel's program director," Said Willie, settling himself between their knees and sliding his palms up their inner thighs. 

As his fingers neared the top, both women automatically opened their legs. They noticed their common reaction and laughed. They smirked at each other, and in unison said, "Great minds think alike." Propping themselves up on their elbows, they alternated their gaze between the 'live' and the 'televised' action.

Determined not to disappoint, Willie continued to tease the women's pussies. He fondled, tickled, wiggled and stroked for several minutes, until they fell back with delightful sighs. 

"Don't look now, but I think the Gamecock just scored two takedowns." 

There were no comments from the opposition, but Annie and Penny did exchange smiles. Annie turned onto her side to suck Penny's left nipple into her mouth.

It was thrilling for Willie to be able to enjoy both ladies at once and make comparisons. The women's bodies each felt a little different. Annie was wetter than Penny. Penny's clitoris was more pronounced and easily teased. Annie's pubes had started to grow back and there was a little stubble. Penny's wispy pubes were soft and curly. He scooted a little closer for a better grasp of the situation. Placing two fingers at the slippery opening of each vagina, he slowly entered both of his lovers. When the digits were buried to the hilt he used his thumbs to twirl and flick their clits, and then began to slowly finger fuck them. Their response to the increased stimulus was immediate, yet different. His wife began to gently thrust back and moan, but her mouth never left Penny's nipple. Penny clamped her eyes shut, squeezed tight on his stuffed fingers and arched with sudden release. Seconds later, Penny's orgasm seemed to trigger Annie's, and she began to twist and hump her own unique dance of the big O. Seeing and feeling their beautiful bodies writhe and buck on his fingertips nearly made Willie come spontaneously, like a wet dream. 

When they finally calmed down, he lay down between them with an arm over each one, and declared, "Man! You lovely ladies are so sexy." Several minutes passed, while Willie cuddled them. The only sounds heard were heavy breathing, wet kisses and an occasional "Unbelievable."

Willie bided his time, reluctant to start anything with Penny that might offend his wife. Confident that Annie would eventually bring the night to a satisfactory conclusion. 

Sure enough, without elaboration Annie announced, "Okay, I've had enough. He's all yours, Penny."

Penny sat up quickly, as if she'd been waiting for the starting gun. 

Annie moved off the bed, taking the remote with her. "I think I'll just sit over here and enjoy the show," she said, and sat down in the corner rocking chair. "If there are any questions, feel free to ask." She busied herself with adjusting the camera angle and zoom to get the best view of the bed.

Willie glanced at his wife and then at Penny. 

Penny grinned nervously, folded her hands between her legs and shyly looked down. 

Surprisingly, Willie found it difficult to get busy with Penny while Annie was present, but uninvolved. Somehow, it was different when both women were in bed participating. He realized how much he loved his wife, and feared he might hurt her feelings by giving affection to another woman alone. Apprehension eclipsed the life long fantasy to be with Penny. 

Annie noticed their inaction. "What's the matter with you two? What are you waiting for? Show me a little somethin' somethin'."

Penny and Willie exchanged looks, but neither moved or spoke. 

"After everything we've already done, you two are still going to act like Vestal Virgins?"

An hour ago, Willie would've fucked Penny until the whores came home, but now, "I guess I'm not comfortable having sex without you involved."

Annie's mouth opened and closed several times with false starts. Finally, she said with sincerity, "Honey, that's... so sweet." She rocked the chair a few times while deep in thought, and then asked, "Penny, have you ever thought about Willie while you masturbated?"

With her eyes fixed on Willie, Penny said, "All the time."

"Willie, have you ever--"

"All the time."

Annie lifted her right leg and laid it over the arm of the chair. "Okay! Now we're getting somewhere," she said, lightly tracing her fingers over her mons. "Tell me, Penny, when you thought about him, how would you start? What did you imagine Willie would do first?"

Penny grinned. "He'd slowly take off my clothes."

Annie laughed. "Okay, I guess we're past that part. What's next?"

Staring at her folded hands, she confessed, "I would picture myself standing in front of him. He would look at me and smile. It made me feel beautiful. He would hug me and kiss me."

"Let's see it. Both of you... act it out."

Seeming somewhat shy, Penny got off the bed and stood. 

Freed by Annie's direction to enjoy the moment, Willie stood to admire Penny -- his boyhood fantasy, come to life. With rapt attention to detail, his eyes gradually soaked her in from her red toenails, to her tapered legs, to the swell of her hips, to the soft blond bush, to the slight swell of her tummy, to the heaving swells of her breasts and erect nipples, to her graceful neck, to her flushed cheeks, alluring eyes and tousled blond hair. "You are as beautiful as I imagined, Penny."

A blush spread down to her chest, but she didn't respond. 

With deliberate restraint, he took Penny into his arms and hugged her trembling flesh to his. Her body's softness and heady fragrance filled his senses and began to harden his cock, yet again. Cupping her face in his hands, he tipped back her head and kissed her -- first with gentle lips and then more insistent. 

Her hands slipped up his back and pulled him tight.

A minute later, Annie said, "Wow, very hot. Now stop."

Afraid that something had displeased his wife, Willie immediately stopped kissing and looked over. On the contrary, she looked very pleased with her fingers in her crotch. 

Annie grinned at him. "Okay, Honey, your turn. What happened next in your fantasy?"

"I'll show you." Emboldened by his wife's curiosity, Willie swept Penny off her feet and into his arms. 

Penny shrieked and laughed. "Oh, I liked that," she cooed, placing an arm around his back and laying her head on his shoulder. 

To prolong the embrace, Willie carried her around to the other side of the bed, kissed her, and then placed her lightly on the mattress. He rolled Penny onto her stomach, straddled her thighs and began to massage her back. His erect cock pressed between the cleft of her round ass. Working his fingers down her spine and then out, to caress the swell of her flattened breasts, Willie smiled at his wife. 

Annie's face was flushed, as her thin fingers slipped in and out of sight between her splayed legs.

He found renewed exhilaration in Annie's approval and excitement at playing the 'my turn' game. The addition of her direction as an adoring audience only served to increase the erotic energy.

"Mmm, this feels wonderful," said Penny, lifting her hips slightly to tease.

Annie let him continue to rub Penny the right way, until his fingers finished kneading her bottom and then slipped between her legs. 

Penny's hips jerked from the pleasure, and Annie said, "Stop!"

Penny groaned. 

Willie grinned at Annie, as he dismounted. 

"Okay. What's next, Penny?"

Apparently losing her patience, Penny abruptly pushed Willie onto his back and lay between his legs, her face hovered over his cock. She gave him a devious smile and then licked him from base to tip and back. Then, encasing a testicle with her lips, Penny hummed and tongued the sensitive morsel. 

Surprised by her boldness, Willie laid back and relished the sensations. "Wow, that's fantastic. In my dreams, you were never so aggressive."

"Well, this is my fantasy now," she declared, and then sucked gently on the other testicle for long seconds, before nibbling up the shaft. When Penny reached the tip, she grasped the base and held it straight up. "My, my! You'd make a nice May pole." She looked over at Annie, and said, "May I?" 

Willie turned to see Annie nod assent.

Penny's lips began their descent, and danced around his pole as far as she could go. Her fist slid up to mark the downward limit. Once the range of motion was defined, Penny began to rapidly pump him up and down with her mouth. Her free hand tickled his balls. 

Willie groaned from the rush. Penny had definitely graduated from 'modest virgin' to 'lusty woman'. Her potent skill was clearly and swiftly felt. 

When his hips began to thrust in response, Annie said, "Stop!"

A sucking pop signaled Penny's compliance.

Willie's glistening shaft pulsed with every heartbeat, only a few strokes away from exploding. He waited until his breathing was near normal, before looking at Annie.

His wife smiled, and said, "Close one, huh?"

A nod was all he could muster. 

"Okay, I'm going to leave you two alone, now. End your fantasies any way you want. I'm just going to be a horny fly on the wall."

Willie shut his eyes and remembered all the ways he'd dreamt about Penny over the years. But what would she like? 

As if reading his mind, Penny lay down beside him, whispered, "Whatever you want, I'm ready," and then rolled onto her back. 

Both women had now given Willie the green light. He looked at Penny sideways, and they exchanged the same conspiratorial smile they shared 20-years ago. Rolling quickly on top of her, she squealed and laughed at his eagerness. If she was ready, then he was more than willing to oblige. Wrapping her in his arms, he kissed her passionately and then let his mouth roam with haphazard targets -- cheek, neck, ear, shoulder, and breast.

Penny provoked him with fingers in his hair, tracing down his back and squeezing his ass. Her moans were lavish and as welcoming as her body. 

Pushing her legs wide, he knelt between them. His mouth traveled down, leaving a damp trail, and soon overwhelmed her pussy. She gripped his hair and kept him there. Her hips began to buck against the tingling onrush. "Oh, Baby... I'm close."

Willie pulled away and moved over her. Holding himself up on straight arms, he probed with his cock, until the tip lodged in her entrance. Time stopped, as he gazed at the woman beneath him. The memory of a nubile girl was swept away. Penny was not the same person. She'd grown up, and turned into the beautiful woman he'd always hoped she'd be. The anger he'd suppressed all these years vanished. He pressed in a little and, once again, felt the tightness stop him. Concerned, he searched her face for signs of doubt and saw only wanton desire in the hooded eyes and sly grin.

Her clench relaxed. His cock slipped in an inch more and then she squeezed him to a halt. Barely audible, she whispered. "I've been doing my exercises."

Pressing his chest against hers, they rubbed noses. "You're amazing," he said and kissed her. Willie began to pump his hips with small thrusts. 

Penny let him gradually enter, until their hips ground together. She purred in his ear, "Oh, that feels so good. No one's ever been so deep." Her ankles crossed over his back. "Don't stop."

Kissing her, Willie withdrew slowly and reentered. Her grunt filled his mouth and her fingers raked his back. He did it again, and again, increasing the tempo with each thrust. She'd been close to coming before, and soon the wave of pleasure crested again. He felt her gripping spasm. He kept kissing her, swallowing her squeaks and squeals. A sudden wetness lubricated their motion. Faster, he pumped. The sound of smacking flesh filled the room. A second wave of clenching passion consumed her.

Willie felt the familiar tickle begin. Breaking the kiss, he looked down at Penny. 

She smiled and stroked his cheek. "Do it, Baby."

His response was automatic and forceful. Driving in and out, the pounding motion became totally instinct driven. Penny's heels pressed his ass on each thrust, spurring him on. The moment of release exploded with excruciating pleasure. Wave after wave pumped from him, drained him to exhaustion, until he slump panting into her arms.

She purred into his ear, "Thank you, Baby. That was wonderful."

"Thank you. You are wonderful." He hugged and kissed Penny, until his erection faded. When he rolled off, she excused herself and left for the bathroom. 

Annie lay down next to him. "Wow, that was some show!" She hugged her husband. "Was it everything you thought it would be?" 

A mistake now would ruin everything. Willie smiled warmly, and whispered, "Is Christmas morning ever as exciting as Christmas Eve?"

She looked at him quizzically. "I guess... not."

Before Annie could ask any more questions, Willie took her in his arms and kissed her with a renewed love of life. 



Vision of the Spirit Ch. 16



Thomas Dubois stood outside the Midway Motel office and watched the gray clouds rake across the jagged mountaintops. The leaves were gone from the trees, and with them the tourist season. Business was dead, and that left too much time to think. 

It had been a busy summer and autumn; the cabins were filled almost every night. Tom handled everything alone, which didn't leave any time for self-pity. During the day, he forgot about Hannah Roundtree, but at night she haunted his dreams.

A penetrating gust made Tom shiver. The cold wind hinted snow. He turned and went inside.

After a thorough cleaning, the old house smelled much better. The former owner, Tobias Wentworth, would never be mistaken for a hygienic man. Tom now thought of himself as the motel's 'new and improved' owner. That was his goal and he focused all his attention on achieving it.

He planned on painting the cabins and the house interiors over the winter. Maybe he'd have to take a part-time job to finance the improvements, but once the ski resorts opened the place might fill up again and it would pay for itself.

The motel business had always been a seasonal occupation. The simple kind of life Tom hoped for after college -- make money during the summer and travel during the winter. But someone was missing from his life's plan.

After sunset, Tom would sit at the computer, usually with a longneck bottle of beer for inspiration, and write about the day. Sometimes he wrote pages, other times just a few sentences. But without fail, every night he sent these memoirs to Hannah's presumed email address. Last week, after a long, uneventful day, he wrote a two-page letter, explaining his loneliness and heartache. When it was finished, and the moment came to click 'Send', the pointer drifted onto the delete button and he pushed that instead, marking the end of wishful thinking. 

Tonight, he dialed up the Internet, and then strolled into the kitchen for a beer. The near empty refrigerator painfully reminded him of his solitude. The holidays were coming, and they mattered this year. He had reasons to celebrate.

'Screw it.' Tom pried open the bottle, chugged a couple of thirsty swallows and wandered back to the computer. He logged into Yahoo and checked for email from Penny Skinner, Wentworth's daughter. The inbox displayed one new message. He clicked to open it, took a swig from the bottle, and then choked when the subject line appeared: 

'Are you okay?' Sent by: Cheyenne4u -- Hannah's email address. 

Long seconds passed while he stared at the monitor, afraid to read the message, afraid of having hope. After a few more pulls on the bottle, he steeled himself and opened the message:

Hi Tom,

I understand if you don't want to write me everyday. But send me a note once in a while, to let me know how you're doing. Please?

Hannah

Tom's emotions fluctuated between elation and despair. But foremost, he experienced flat-out relief. Why hadn't she written all these months? 

Quickly, he wrote a reply. 'You're alive! How are you?' and hit send. 

Nervously, Tom paced behind the desk chair, pressing the browser reload button every other pass. "Come on, Hannah, be there."

Thirty minutes and two beers later, Tom was about to log off, when another message finally appeared. 

Subject: All better.

The message read: Instant Message me. Hannah2u AOL.

He'd already downloaded the instant messenger program to chat with Penny about the motel business. It just took a few seconds to add Hannah2u into the buddy list.

When the text box opened, Tom played it cool, "Hannah, what's new?"

The window said that Hannah was typing, but nothing came up. She'd obviously deleted several responses, until finally she settled on an answer and sent, "Nothing much."

After all he'd written in his daily letters 'nothing much' pissed him off. Sarcastically, he typed, "Are you still in the adult entertainment business?"

A minute passed. No answer came. The buddy list still showed her connected. Tired of staring at the screen, he went for another beer.

On returning, the screen read, "I've stopped being a whore, if that's what you wanted to know. I'm a waitress in a bar, so technically I am still in the adult entertainment business."

The anger shriveled to regret. "I miss you," he wrote. "I dream about you."

"Really? I dream about you too."

That was more like it. "What do you dream?" 

As she typed, he sipped his beer. 

Finally she posted, "I dream about our time together, how special you made me feel, how safe. In my dreams you make me laugh and I wake up happy, like I did when I slept next to you. I dream about sex. You were the only man to make me feel satisfied. There has never been anyone in my life that made me feel so wonderful."

Tears welled up in his inebriated eyes. "Then... why did you leave?"

A few seconds passed, and she said, "I needed to get my head straight, talk to the police, and heal."

Tom began to type, then backspaced and started over several times. 

Before he could put his thoughts into words, she wrote, "I want to show you something. Just a minute."

Relieved, he wrote, "OK," and waited.

The beer made him sleepy. He closed his eyes, until the musical tone indicated Hannah's new entry. 

"The scratches are gone. How do I look?" said the text. After that, what appeared on his screen was a photograph of her reflection in a mirror. The camera rested on Hannah's left shoulder and the picture revealed her bare back from the neck to just below her buttocks. Not a hint of a scar was visible. Her braid was draped over the right shoulder. 

Tom scanned every perfect inch and his body responded. "Hannah, you're even more beautiful than I remember."

"Well, of course I am. Because I'm not all beat up, Silly. LOL"

"No one has ever looked as beautiful to me before we met, or since."

"Aw, thank you. Just for that, I'll send another."

Wide-awake now, Tom anxiously waited. This time, as the picture loaded, it revealed Hannah's front, with the camera held next to her ear -- her smile was heartwarming, and her body overwhelming.

Thoughtful seconds passed, until she wrote, "Well?"

"What can I say that would do you justice? Words cannot express your beauty and my sadness."

"Sadness?"

"Sad that you aren't here with me. I want a closer look. Can you blame me?"

Ten heartbeats later, she wrote, "No, I don't blame you. Maybe we'll meet again, someday."

"Why don't you come back? You don't have to live with me. We could start over... take it slow." In his heart, he wanted to add, 'You belong to me,' but didn't push his luck. 

Before she could respond, Tom's frustration boiled up, and he typed, "Why are you doing this? You know how I feel about you. You're totally being a cock tease!" He regretted saying it as soon as the words appeared on her side of the message screen, too late to take it back.

A short time later, she answered, "You're right, I am. I'm being selfish. I was afraid you were over me, and found someone else by now. See... I'm still trying to hold onto you with sex. I guess you can't teach an old whore new tricks."

Feverishly he typed, "I don't want you to learn any new tricks. I just want the old ones all for myself!"

"LOL. Then I've got you where I want you! There hasn't been a man in my life since you, and I don't want any. But, I'm not ready to be with you. There are things I need to resolve. After the plane crash, I was like a wounded animal. The next time you find me, I'll be a healthy woman. Can you bear with me?"

Tom's throat constricted with emotion. "Yes."

"Good, then bare with me."

At first, the altered word didn't register. "Okay, I'll try to be patient. I'll wait for you."

"No, Silly," said Hannah. "Get naked with me."

Out loud, he said, "What?" Then typed, "I don't know what you mean."

"Do you have a digital camera? Can you put pictures on the computer?"

Suddenly, Tom's mouth went dry. What she was requesting filtered through the beer fog. "No, I don't have a camera."

A frowning emoticon appeared. "I wish you did. I feel like you belong to me, and I want something to remind me of what I have waiting. A picture of you in the hayloft would be a memory worth reliving."

"God, she turns me on." Tom thought a moment, and responded, "I plan on buying one to take pictures of the motel for a website. I'll write it off as a business expense."

"Fabulous! Do it tomorrow. I'm so turned on. You should feel how wet I am."

Tom muttered, "I wish", as he adjusted the erection in his pants. "I'll try. I'm not sure what the local stores have in stock. I want a resolution of at least 5 mega-pixels."

"Are you sure that's enough to get all of you in the shot? I remember you more as 7 or 8 mega-prixels." She added a wink for emphasis. Then, another picture appeared. Her index and middle fingers were deep between her legs and the camera flash glinted on her damp labia.

Tom wrote, "You're killing me!"

"Whatever do you mean?" Another self-portrait grew on the screen. This time, her wet fingers pinched an engorged nipple. "I'm doing myself, thinking of your hands on me. Am I bad?"

"You are bad to the bone! And I love it."

"Aw Baby, I'd never be bad to your bone. How is your bone, by the way?"

"Lonely."

"Poor baby. Take him out and play with him for me."

Tom wasn't shy. He'd had a variety of sexual experiences, but never a virtual one. Masturbating to someone's written instructions felt kinky, but not impossibly so. "Does this turn you on as much as it does me?"

"More. I'm so close already." 

"I wish I was there, kneeling at you feet. I'd run my hands up your thighs and drag your ass out to the edge of the chair."

"Mmmm," was all she wrote.

"You'd smell so good, I'd put your legs over my shoulders and lick you like a Tootsie-pop." He waited, and then added, "Are your fingers busy? Type Y for yes, N for no."

"YYYY"

He smiled and had to adjust himself again. "That's my girl. Don't forget, you are MY girl now, and no one else's." He paused a few seconds, "After I licked you up and sucked on your clit, my fingers would slip inside, first one, and then two. My thumb would replace my mouth on your clit, while I kissed up your tummy. I remember how you sound. Your little squeaks turned me on -- so much. I remember everything about you, and it's making me ache." The memory burned bright in his mind's eye and he concentrated on the erotic image for a short while. "You still with me, Baby?"

"Y"

"Rub your clit with the left hand and pinch your left nipple with the right, okay?"

"Y"

"Good girl, that's so hot. I can picture myself doing you. I can feel your breast. My hand remembers the weight of it, the soft curve and the delicious tip." Tom shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "I'd let my fingers tease, while I kissed your neck, just under the ear where the jaw and neck meet. You're sensitive there. My tongue would give you goose bumps. I loved seeing goose bumps on you. It thrilled me to make you tingle like that." He sipped his beer, picturing Hannah naked. Her hands touching where he wanted to touch. "Then... when you were near coming, when your ragged breaths and moans told me you were seconds away... I'd kiss you with all the passion I have. I'd feast on your mouth, until I sucked every drop of lust from your body. And then I'd whisper 'That's just the beginning' and hold you all night."

Minutes passed without a message. Then she wrote, "Thank you," and posted a picture, revealing rosy skin and a satisfied grin.

"Hannah, you're gorgeous."

"What about you?"

"What about me?"

"I WANT TO RIP YOUR CLOTHES OFF!"

Tom laughed. "Why?"

"You know why."

"Because you don't like the style of my cheap taste?"

For an answer, Hannah posted another picture with the caption, "I love your style. I wear your shirt to bed every night." The photo showed Hannah on the edge of her bed, wearing nothing but his old, John Denver tee shirt. 

He wrote, "John never looked so good."

"You would look better on me."

"Then come here. You can wear me to bed every night."

Hannah answered with a non sequitur. "I have to work tomorrow night, until 2:00 am."

"I won't wait up."

"Buy the camera and email me some pictures -- to dream on."

"Let me warn you, I've gained 80lbs. I have a big beer belly and a rash I can't get rid of."

"You didn't get the rash from me. I've been tested." Hannah inserted a smiley, and continued, "Send the pictures anyway. I'll dream of taking care of you, in sickness and in health."

The quote taken from traditional wedding vows made Tom's face hot. "Good night, Hannah. Sweet dreams."

"Good night, Tom. I will have amazing dreams, thanks to you. I hope you do too."

'I love you' was on Tom's fingertips, but they wouldn't budge. 



Vision of the Spirit Ch. 17



Tom woke up in a good mood. 

It wasn't as good as an I-just-got-laid great mood, but it was the best he'd felt since Hannah disappeared. He'd dreamt about her again. Then, he got out of bed and ogled the naked pictures she'd sent the night before. 

Tom was so happy he decided to make breakfast. But the eggs were a month past their expiration date and the whole wheat bread was an unholy-green. Instead, he taped a note onto the office front door that read, 'Will return at 2:00,' and then drove to the village diner.

"Hiya Stud. Where ya been? Are you here to take me away from all this?"

"Good morning, Delores. Not today. I kinda like it around here. I'm not going anywhere, for a while."

"Really? Well, you ain't as smart as I thought." She placed a napkin roll of silverware in front of him. "Do you know what the difference is between genius and stupid?" 

Tom thought a moment, and said, "No, what's the difference?"

"Stupid has no limits." She winked a creased, ocean blue eyelid and then pulled a pencil out of her beehive hair. "What'll ya have?"

After placing an order of buttered toast, crispy bacon, sunny-side up eggs, and black coffee, Tom read the newspaper, mostly looking at sales ads for things he needed at the motel, like sheets, towels, paint and a digital camera. "Hey Delores, where would be a good place to buy a camera around here?"

She set down his food, and said, "That's easy. No place. If I were you, I'd drive over to Chester. They got a discount mall. That's where I go when I'm looking for a good deal."

"Thanks, I'll check it out."

Delores was right. Tom haggled a good deal on an 8 mega-pixel Canon. It cost more money than he wanted to spend, but the high quality was worth the extra green. Plus, leisure-suit-Larry the salesman knew what he was doing. "You'll be very pleased with this little beauty, and I'm sure the tripod will come in handy. Most guys come back a week later for that." He glanced left and then right, before leaning close and whispering, "I think they're taking boudoir pictures, if you know what I mean." He elbowed Tom suggestively. 

When Tom didn't answer, Larry continued, "You look like an outdoorsman. Do you hike?"

"Yeah, I like to hike."

"Man, then you gotta have this telephoto lens! It'll bring the wildlife up close and personal. I'll take 20% off, if you buy the extended warranty plan on the camera. You gotta have that, especially if you're taking it into the mountains. It's like an insurance policy. If the camera breaks, just bring us back the pieces and we'll give you a new one."

Tom left the store with a big hole in his bank account. His truck was parked at the other end of the mall and, as he walked in that direction, he saw a late model, black, Dodge pickup truck stop briefly along side his rusted out Ford and then speed away.  

Suspicion made Tom duck inside a doorway when the pickup turned in his direction and drove by. A split second glimpse of the driver made his heart rate jump. Hannah Roundtree was behind the wheel. She wasn't hundreds of miles away like he thought; she was only a few yards. Quickly, he peeked around the doorframe to watch her taillights. She stopped in front of a grocery store, where a twenty-something man pushed a shopping cart out and began loading bags into the truck bed. He yelled something at Hannah and gestured like a wild man, but she stayed hidden inside the cab. After shoving the empty cart into the wall, he stalked around to the passenger side and got in. Hannah drove away fast and the tires squealed left onto the street. 

Mind numb, Tom wandered to his truck and sat for a while, wondering what, if anything, he should do. Obviously, Hannah had recognized his truck and wasn't ready to see him. That hurt. But who was the pissed off guy? Tom saved Hannah's life once, did she need saving again? Was she making bad choices all over again? 

Fate seemed to be playing a prominent role in their crisscrossed lives, so Tom decided to let events unfold in accordance with the spirit powers he believed gave Hannah to him in the first place. With deliberate calmness, Tom unpacked his camera and attached the telephoto lens. He took several experimental pictures of people at the far end of the parking lot. When he was satisfied with the results, Tom drove off in the direction of Hannah's hasty departure. 

Chester wasn't much bigger than Antler Forks, but it did have an interstate off ramp, which meant truck stops and bars. Tom spotted the black pickup behind a strip club called 'Bouncing Betty's'. The lunch crowd had filled the lot with tractor-trailers. From across the street, he took several pictures of the bar and the black truck. The discovery of Hannah's place of employment darkened his mood considerably. Of course she'd strip. It made perfect sense. What Tom didn't understand was how taking her clothes off in front of strangers helped her become a healthier woman. His almost I-just-got-laid good mood instantly downgraded to an I-just-got-screwed, crappy mood. 

By the time Tom returned to the Midway motel he was depressed, angry, and feeling betrayed. He groaned at the sight of Penny Skinner's Suburban parked in front of his office. "Fucking great. Now what?" The motel owner's daughter usually let him know days in advance when she was coming. He looked at his watch. 'At least I'm back an hour early.'

Penny couldn't be found in any of the obvious places. Maybe she was in the barn. She liked the horses. Sure enough, the side door was open. The barn looked empty, but he heard the faint rustling of straw and a muffled groan. Tom noticed that the last stall on the right was inexplicably open. As he approached, the distressing sounds grew louder and unquestionably came from in there. Tom grew worried, so he ran. "Penny?"

Suddenly, the rustling became thrashing. Tom looked through the bars and spotted Chief Morris' white ass and Penny Skinner's impressive boobs, as they scrambled to cover up. 

After fearing the worst, the bare facts struck him as funny. Turning away, Tom laughed, and said, "Hi guys, I'm back. You don't have to stay in the stable. There is room at the inn, and I could really use the business." 

Chief Morris came out first, buckling his pants. "Very funny. Now leave us alone."

Tom almost asked the Chief how his wife and new baby boy were doing, but thought better of it. "Sorry, Chief. It's none of my business. I'm just glad Penny is okay. I thought she was dying in there," Tom said, all smiles. "But the offer of a room still stands. It's kind of cold out here." 

"No, thank you!"

"Okay then... I've got work to do." Tom strolled away. "Bye, Penny."

A small voice from inside the stall said, "Bye." 

Tom tried to stay calm and collected, as he readied his new camera to take pictures of the motel. The incident in the barn made him think he should have a tag line for his new website. Maybe he would rip off the Las Vegas motto, 'Whatever happens at the Midway, stays at the Midway', but that line had become cliché. Maybe a play on words would work, 'At the Midway, you can enjoy the rides like an adult', but that demeaned the Battle of Midway memory Tobias Wentworth intended for the motel's name. He'd have to think it over some more. 

After several pictures were taken of the cabins, Chief Morris and Penny wandered out from the barn, acting standoffish. Tom ignored them. 

They huddled next to her Suburban and whispered conspiratorially. Finally, Penny sheepishly walked over. "I don't know what to say, Tom. That was... pretty bad. I'm sorry."

Adjusting the camera angle, Tom said, "Sorry for what? You didn't do anything to me." He smiled and winked. "But I'll have to change the straw in the stall, later."

She blushed and shifted her weight a few times, apparently unsure of what to say next. Then decided to change the subject. "What are you doing?"

"I bought a camera today. I think the motel should have a website." 

"That's a great idea!"

"Does business pick up during ski season?"

"Well, it depends on how much snow we get. Sometimes the resorts fill up and we get the overflow crowd, but there's never as much business as in the summer."

"I'm going to paint the cabins. I was trying to decide how many I could close, without losing a lot of money."

"Don't worry about it. Dad doesn't need the money. Do whatever you want."

Tom looked at Penny and smiled appreciatively. "Thank you!"

"No... thank you, for your sensitivity and understanding, about our little indiscretion." She squeezed his arm appreciatively, before joining the Chief in the Suburban and driving away.

Tom waved, and thought, 'That worked out nice.'

Once the excitement was over, Tom continued to snap pictures of the motel and brood over Hannah. What should he do about her, if anything? What he wanted to do was drag her out of the strip club, caveman style, and talk some sense into her, make her stay away from bad influences, like seedy bars. But, then again, was the motel business any better? How many cheaters and two-timers rented rooms from him? Did people think of the Midway Motel as seedy? Shit, the Chief of Police was just cheating on his wife in the damn barn. How much more disreputable can it get?

Tom climbed up into the hayloft and took some photos of the spot where he made love to Hannah. He couldn't bring himself to disrobe for a portrait, but he did use the tripod and timer for one picture of himself sitting on a hay bale -- a piece of straw dangling from his lips. That would have to do for now. After everything that happened today, he was feeling practically asexual.

At the end of the day, Tom felt lonelier than usual. After a shower, he emailed the photos to Hannah, turned on the 'No Vacancy' sign and drove off into the night in search of human companionship. The asexual funk disappeared. He'd thought it over, and wondered: why would Hannah come back to this area, if it weren't to be close to him? What other reason could there be? Well, there was only one way to find out. He'd have to spy on her.

By the time he got to 'Bouncing Betty's' the place was already hopping. The only parking he could find was on the street, a block away. Inside the club, smoke hung like a cloud over a sea of ball caps and cowboy hats. The bump and grind music shook the floor, and the idea of Hannah dancing in front of this howling pack of horn dogs turned Tom's stomach. After just a couple of minutes, he decided this wasn't going to be the reunion he'd hoped it would be, and left. 

The night air smelled clean and crisp, perfect for walking. Downtown Chester deserved a little exploration. Everything was closed for the night, except the bars. He passed by the crowded dance clubs and stepped into a small back alley bar called Moe's. He bought a beer and relaxed on a stool to think about his next move. By the time Tom drank half the bottle, he'd determined from the stares, and the affectionate couple kissing by the pinball machine, he'd wandered into a gay bar. Time to mosey on to the next watering hole. 

Cranberry's Pub looked inviting. The crowd appeared young and professional. Both genders were in attendance. It was busy without being confined. After bumping his way to the back, Tom found an empty hubcap sized table with one barstool. He parked there, facing the wall. That way he could remain aloof, but still watch people in the strategically situated mirrors. 

Somehow, a waitress snuck up on him. "Hi, I'm Janice. Can I get you something from the bar?" 

She had a charming smile. Tom returned it. "Hi Janice. I'd love a Sam Adams from the bar... and a big greasy cheeseburger from the kitchen. What are my chances?"

"Pretty good, I think. I'll put in your order and bring back the beer right away."

"Thanks."

Janice tipped her head and brushed the hair from her eyes. "You're welcome."

Tom watched the reflection of Janice's tight jeans tick-tock away. It reminded him of Hannah, and he sighed. Flirting wasn't fun like it used to be. Tom behaved cordial to Janice the rest of the night. He didn't parry when she jabbed him with a tease. Soon, Janice got the message and kept the beers coming without the come-ons. 

Around ten o'clock, Tom needed another drink. No waitress had approached him for a while, and he didn't want to get up. It was such a comfortable, padded stool, with a hard wooden back that dug into his spine enough to keep him awake. The people in the mirrors drifted with a hypnotic, slow motion. And then there was the whole full bladder dilemma that was about to become a crisis. Life got complicated. 

"Screw it." Tom stood up and held onto the table for a few seconds, until the floor stopped rolling. The path to the men's room was twisty as a mountain path and almost as uneven. The relief of urinating felt just as rewarding as reaching a mountaintop, although the view not nearly as fine. 

Graffiti at eye level read: 'Why are you looking at this? The joke is your hand.' 

"Ha, ha. That's so fucking original." Tom left the men's room and headed for his stool. But the stool was gone, and a cuddly couple had taken his table. They held hands, leaned across, and whispered nose to nose. 

"Shit!" Heads turned briefly at Tom's outburst. The realization 'I'm shit-faced,' dawned suddenly. Normally, self-control was essential, but the day had turned out to be more than Tom wanted to handle sober. 

Yesterday, his future looked like a clear road, and then suddenly a crack appeared and started to spider web across his mental windshield, threatening to shatter and wreck his great American adventure. 

Tom felt out of gas, and made a pit stop at the bar. Placing two palms on the damp surface for stability, Tom asked for another beer, to soften the inevitable crash ahead.

The bartender glanced at him, while filling a shot with Jack Daniels. "Chief, I think you've had enough firewater for one night." 

The flannel shirted, John Deere caps, standing on either side of him, laughed. 

Bleary eyed, Tom gazed up and down the bar. The patrons had changed over the past hour. Redneck shitheads had replaced the yuppies. "What's so damn funny?" he demanded. "My ancestors saved your lost asses, and then you white fucks thanked us by stealing our land, and raping our women. This place is built on Indian land. Take your firewater and get the fuck off it. If any of you are related to Lewis and Clark tell me now, so I know who to scalp first."

Someone yanked Tom's braid, but when he spun around everyone feigned innocence. Seconds later, two hulking gym rats dragged him out by the arms and left him on the sidewalk in a pile. "Fuck you!"

He got kicked for that.

Time passed slowly, until two pink sneakers appeared in his watery vision. An annoyed voice said, "Nice performance, Horse."

He rolled onto his back and saw Hannah, standing with hands on hips, glaring down. "Thanks. But don't expect a bow, and don't expect an encore."

"Glad to hear that!" She knelt and helped him sit up. "That's not the way to make friends, in case you hadn't noticed."

Tom felt rejuvenated, just sitting next to Hannah. "What are you doing here?"

She ran her hand over his hair. "I work here. What are you doing here?"

"You work here? I thought you worked at 'Bouncing Betty's'."

"That dive!" She gripped his chin firmly. "I told you I was a waitress."

"I followed you in that black truck--"

She let go, stood and glared again. "Tom, have you been spying on me?"

"Well... yeah! I saw you check out my truck at the mall and then take off, like I was the last person on earth you wanted to see. What was that all about? Why are you hiding out in Chester, if I wasn't supposed to find you?"

Hannah sighed, and said, "I can't do this now. I just started my shift." She dug into her jeans pocket and held out a key. "Here. You're too drunk to drive."

Tom wobbled to his feet, his stomach still cramped from the size 13 sendoff. "Thanks. Is this the key to the city?"

Hannah gave him the impish grin he loved so much. "No. It's the key to my apartment." 

"I hope it close by, because I can't walk very well, either."

She placed a stabilizing arm around him and pointed across the street. "I live above the flower shop. There's a touch pad by the outside door. Press 4,6,7,7,3 to get in. At the top of the stairs, I'm apartment number 2. Leave the key under the mat for me."

Hannah's touch felt wonderful and he didn't want to leave, instead he buried his nose in her hair and breathed deeply. "Okay, I'll go in a second." 

When it was obvious he wasn't, she pushed free. "See you tomorrow, Babe."

"That sounds... so good." He grinned stupidly. "What was that door code?"

Hannah came back and tickled his ear with a whisper. "The key pad looks just like a phone pad. If you can spell 'horse', then you can get in."

Tom watched her walk away, the long braid swayed opposite to her hips. "You're beautiful, Hannah!"

She smiled and waved before going inside the bar. 

Tom felt a rush of childlike anticipation, as he cracked open Hannah's apartment door. The first thing he noticed, even before the lights were on, was the herbal scent. Maybe it came from the flowers downstairs, but it smelled like her hair. 

The entryway led to the kitchen. There was an old, white enamel sink -- worn and chipped down to the cast iron. Not a dish in sight. The dishtowel lay neatly folded on the drain board. Everything in its place. 

The tiny living room had a sheet covered couch and a threadbare overstuffed chair next to a floor lamp. Again, there was little evidence anyone actually lived there.

He went inside the orderly bathroom and peed, then moved on and stepped into her bedroom. This was the only room that looked lived in. The double bed was pushed against the wall and covered with pillows of different sizes and shapes. A one-eyed Teddy bear sat up against the headboard. Clothes were piled on a desk chair. The ratty John Denver tee shirt hung on the chair's back. A black dressing table was littered with exotic bottles and tubes. Their combined aroma made a heady bouquet of Hannah's different fragrances -- maybe different scents for different moods. Tom picked up a few perfume bottles and sniffed. This was a side of her he'd not had the pleasure to know, and he was thrilled with the chance to finally learn all about her, over time -- lots of time.

Tom fought the urge to open drawers, because this was her private space. He wouldn't intrude until she invited him in. Suddenly tired, he went back to the living room, laid down on the couch, and fell asleep.

A while later, something woke Tom. At first, it was part of his dream, but gradually he became aware that someone was really touching his shirt. There was enough streetlight filtering in through the window shade for Tom to identify his companion. "Hannah?"

"Yes."

"What are you doing?"

"Taking off your clothes."

"Okay." The sensation of her fingers working loose the buttons felt so nice, he laid there half awake and reveled in her attention.

"Tom, stand up. It's time for bed."

He was almost fully awake now, if not fully sober. Able to stand up under his own power, Hannah led him by the hand into her bedroom and began removing his clothes. She pulled away his shirt, and asked, "Where's the beer belly you told me about? And where's the rash?"

Tom chuckled, "I lied."

Hannah pressed against his chest, while her hands worked on his belt and zipper. "I can't bear a liar." She pushed down his pants and briefs, until they were piled around his ankles. When she stood up, her fingers brushed his cock. "Kiss me."

Tom leaned into the sweetest pair of lips ever made. A wintergreen breath mint passed into his mouth. "Thanks."

"My pleasure," she said, and moved away. 

As she unraveled her braid, Hannah grinned seductively, while looking him over. Tom sat down on the bed and watched her completely disrobe. When she began to throw the pillows on the floor he helped by hitting her with a couple. 




Vision of the Spirit Ch. 17



Hannah pulled back the covers and climbed in. 

"Aren't you going to wear Johnny D. tonight?"

"No, Silly. You're here. I'm wearing you instead, remember?"

"Oh, that's right."

When he climbed in next to her, Hannah tried to cover them up. Tom blocked her arm. "Wait, not yet." Tenderly, he ran his hands over her body. "You're so beautiful, Hannah. I've missed you, so much." 

She smiled and pulled him down. Her passionate kisses told him she was glad to be back. Since there were no scratches on her body to worry about, Tom released his pent-up desire to feel her skin pressed tightly to his. It was a pleasure beyond compare. 

Hannah let him explore her body for few glorious minutes, and then pushed him over onto his back. "Relax, Tom. It's my house, my rules," she said, and then lay fully on top of him. Her fingers entwined with his and pinned them against the mattress above his head, as her lips captured his. Her body glided against him with delightful friction. Her dampness increased along the underside of his shaft, as she teased them both. When ready, Hannah reached back and slipped Tom inside. The slow introduction to her warmth took him near the brink.

Hannah sat upright and groaned, "Oh Tom, that's so good." 

"It's unbelievably good." His hands slipped up her sides and onto her breasts. As he teased her nipples, she pulsed her muscles around his cock. 

Leaning down on her hands, she enclosed their faces in a tunnel of flowing hair. Hannah met his gaze and began a slow rise and fall. "This is a trip-to-the-moon good."

Tom let one hand fall to his stomach and explore their union. When Hannah's head flew back and she moaned with pleasure, he knew he found her most sensitive bud. "It's out-of-control-with-passion good."

"Yes... it... is!" Hannah bounced on him with increased vigor. 

Tom kept his fingers aggressive in their volatile persuasion, overloading her senses. Hair whipped his face, as she thrashed above. Soon, she had him on the brink of orgasm. "Hannah --"

"Me too! Me too!" 

Release came upon him in a flash of wanton heat and he gripped her waist, while thrusting and arching into her pounding flesh. 

Hannah screamed in climax and he felt their combined fluids flood between his legs. As the spasms diminished in intensity, she fell onto his chest, panting and laughing. "Oh... my... god..."

Hands tangled in her hair, as Tom pulled her mouth to his and ravished her lips with undeniable gratitude. "I love you." It slipped out, but he felt no regret, even though she did not respond in kind. 

They hugged, kissed and caressed softly, until Tom drifted off to sleep. 

Minutes or hours later, he awoke as Hannah rode him gently back to hardness. Their coupling remained unrushed to the end, and then sleep -- peaceful, connected sleep.



Vision of the Spirit Ch. 18



Tom woke up with a booming kettledrum between his ears. With every heartbeat, his temples throbbed. Gradually, the events from the night before replayed like glimpses through a fog, but he clearly recalled the climactic parts -- the Hannah parts. 

The sun was already above the window frame and Hannah wasn't in bed. Rolling onto his side, Tom checked the clock -- 10:00am. He groaned, fell back and tried to lie still, hoping the ache would cease and desist. But the need to pee eventually surpassed all other bodily discomforts. 

Forcing himself out of bed, he pulled on his white cotton briefs and wandered into the bathroom. After relieving the most critical need, Tom opened the rusted medicine cabinet and looked for an answer to his percussion problem. There were only two drugs to choose from. The first package held birth control pills (at least Hannah was acting responsibly). But Tom was in search of the morning after pill. He opened the other bottle, swallowed two Tylenol, and then gargled with mouthwash. 

Wandering into the living room, Tom found Hannah sitting in the chair by the window, a notebook computer on her lap. Her hair was disheveled, and the baggy John Denver tee shirt had fallen off one tapered shoulder. The shirttail only reached to mid-thigh. Her bare legs, pressed together, looked toned and tempting. "Good morning, Beautiful."

Hannah's eyes flicked away from the computer screen to acknowledge his entrance and then returned moments later with a more studied gaze of his near nakedness. "Good morning. How does the Horse's head feel today?"

Her playful grin quickened the tempo of Tom's cranial drum. "You mean the horses ass, don't you? Shoot me now and put me out of my misery." He flopped onto the couch and pulled the slipcover over his face to blot out the needling sunlight.

"Remember Janice?"

"Who?"

"The cute waitress that brought you too many beers last night."

"Oh...yeah," he mumbled. "I remember... not."

There was a metallic click and the sound of shuffling objects, and then a shadow blocked the light that burned through the thin fabric and his eyelids. Tom pulled down a corner and peeked. Hannah stood over him, hair everywhere, lips grinning, and happy nipples at attention.

She put her hands on her hips, and scanned his length, from toe to head. "Janice thought you were cute. She was trying to pick you up, but you didn't act interested."

A recollection of Janice came to mind. "Yeah? She's nice... but she's not you." Tom flopped the sheet back over his face.

The couch sagged, as Hannah sat on the edge. "Aw, that's sweet. I think you're... nicer than nice, too." Her hand began to rub along the inside of his thigh, starting at his knee and ending at his briefs. "I've never seen you so drunk before. What happened?"

The caress was difficult to ignore, but he tried hard. "I was having a bad day. I got depressed when I saw you drive away from my truck like you were running from a tornado, and then I saw the grocery guy yelling at you, and then your truck was parked at Bouncing Betty's--"

"You bounced to a lot of conclusions." Her fingers worked under the elastic band of the leg hole and pushed in to rub the front of his hip.

Seconds passed. Tom finally said, "I'm sorry... about last night. I didn't make trouble for you, did I?"

"Well, Janice is upset with me. At the end of her shift, she pointed you out and said she was going to hang around awhile, to see if you'd take her phone number. I told her to back off or I'd claw her eyes out. You were already mine."

Tom pulled the sheet down to look at Hannah. "You said that?"

"Yes, but I said it with a little more diplomacy. After all, I have to work with her."

"I'm yours," whispered Tom. "I like the sound of that." He closed his eyes. The headache began to lessen. "So, if I jumped to the wrong conclusions, then explain what I saw yesterday."

Well... I did run from you at the mall. That's true. I was scared, because it was bad timing and... I don't know... I just wasn't ready to deal with everything." The hand left his leg.

"Who was the angry prick?"

"That was Earl. He's the manager at 'Betty's'. Their cook quit, and a bachelor party was scheduled that night. He needed to pick up the food last minute, but then his car broke down. Sam asked me to pick Earl up. Sam owns 'Betty's' and the 'Cranberry'." 

Another quiet minute passed. Tom said, "I'm sorry for thinking the worst."

"Considering my history, I understand." Hannah sighed. "That's what hurts the most. Eventually, my past will ruin everything between us. Once a whore, always a whore."

"Not true!" Tom grabbed her arm and pulled her down to lie in front of him. He pressed against her back, hugged her tight, and kissed her neck below the ear. "The idea of other men seeing you naked made me jealous. I love you and I want you all for myself. It has nothing to do with the past. It's all about the future."

"The future." Hannah laughed. "I came back here because..." She rolled over and looked into his eyes. "Something happened on that mountain. I had to come back and find out if these feelings I have for you are real or just some kind of emotional delusion." She cupped his cheek, and said, "That's the second time today you've said you love me. Are you sure you're sober now?"

He kissed her softly. "Sober and sane."

"Sane? Don't push it." She buried her face in Tom's shoulder. "I got your email. The pictures were very nice... for real estate. But, where's the beefcake?" 

"I sent you one."

"Are you kidding me? One fully clothed picture on a hay bale. I'll call it 'The Thinker in the Hayloft' and send it to Farmers Almanac. How... Mayberry RFD can you get?"

He pulled up her tee shirt and rubbed her bottom. "After everything that happened, I wasn't feeling... adventurous." The firm, smooth handfuls reminded Tom of a not so enticing derriere. "If I'd been quick, I could've sent you a picture of Chief Willie's ass."

Hannah lifted her head. "What?"

"That's another thing that freaked me out yesterday. I caught Penny Wentworth and the Chief half naked in the barn. Talk about sleazy. His wife just had a baby!"

Hannah sat up. "You caught them screwing?" 

"Well, they were up to something that was clothing optional. I didn't see actual intercourse. But, it wasn't yoga. And there was a lot of moaning involved." 

"Wow, that's huge. What did they say?"

"Hey, that's exactly what Penny said. 'Wow, that's huge.'"

"Funny. But really."

"Penny just said she was sorry, and basically asked me to be quiet about their 'indiscretion'."

Hannah bounced off the couch and began to pace. "Aren't you afraid?"

Tom sat up and massaged his temples. "Afraid of what?" 

She wrung her hands, as she marched from wall to wall. "Afraid they'll... I don't know... kick you out, or make your life miserable, until they force you to leave?" 

Tom watched and tried to understand her anxiety. He wondered if fear, along with a poor self-image, had kept Hannah trapped in a life of prostitution. Was it all part of a basic need to feel safe and protected? Was he just a substitute to fill that void in her soul? Is love just a matter of filling in the blanks? 

Tom stood up and blocked her path. Wrapping her in his arms, he said, "If they do, then I'll deal with it. I didn't do anything wrong. I can't let their bad behavior ruin my life. All I can do is what's right for me," He kissed her forehead, and added, "and you."

Hannah looked up with a furrowed brow. "Me?"

"I just got you back. I won't let you disappear again so easily."

Her body melted against him. "You won't?" With her head on his shoulder, she wormed one hand under the elastic band to fondle his bottom. "Promise?"

"Promise. In fact, move in with me."

She squeezed him and kissed his neck. "And leave all this?" Tom felt her smile against his skin. 

"I know. I'm asking you to give up a lot," he said, petting her hair, "but there are fringe benefits to living with me."

"Oh yeah? Like what?" she asked, tracing both hands around to the front and tickling his abdomen lightly with her fingernails.

"Well... I'd make breakfast, once in a while." Hair slipped through his fingers, as he pulled her tight. With one arm around her waist and the other hand teasing her ear, Tom said, "I'd wash your truck once a month." Kissing the top of her head, he added, "I'd even wash your back." 

"Just my back?"

"Well, that's negotiable."

"Mmm, you make a good offer. I'll seriously consider it." Hannah pushed away and began to pack up the laptop. "I need to get ready for the lunch shift. Don't you have to work today?"

Tom stood there, unsure of what to do. 

On the way out of the room Hannah stopped, pulled out his waistband and adjusted the stiffy inside. "There, that feels better, doesn't it?" she said, giving the bulge one friendly pat, before walking away.

"Thanks, much better." The drumming headache returned with cymbals. Tom followed her down the hall. 

Hannah said, "I'm in a hurry," and kissed him goodbye, before disappearing into the bathroom. 

Tom dressed, wondering if he'd said something wrong. Maybe he should've been more serious about the reasons she should move in. Maybe it wasn't a good subject to joke about. 

Dressed and ready, Tom knocked on the bathroom door. "Hannah, when can I see you again?" 

Hannah shouted over the running water, "I don't know. I have to work every night this weekend. I'll email you. I don't have a phone." 

"Well... Okay. See you later. Thanks for... last night." Duh, that was dumb.

"Yes, it was fun. We'll talk soon."

Fun? Try as he might, his brain just wasn't functioning up to speed. There had to be an explanation for the sudden cold shoulder. He walked out, bewildered. The only conclusion he came up with was Hannah finally decided she could do better. She realized he wasn't good enough, smart enough, or rich enough to deserve a beauty like her. 

Tom arrived back at the motel at noon and was putting away groceries when the front-desk bell rang. A scowling gray haired man stood at the counter. The frown lines on his granite face were deep and looked permanently etched. "Good afternoon. Can I help you?"

"Man, this dump hasn't changed in 20 years. How much a night for a cabin?"

First impression: This guy's a prick. Tom shrugged off the insult. "Fifty dollars."

"Fifty! I'll give you twenty, and I want cabin 10."

"The price is $50, and there is no cabin 10."

"No 10!" He walked to the window and checked for himself. "I'll be damned. That's too bad. I had a great time in there. Fucked my first virgin."

What an asshole. "Fifty dollars and you can have cabin 9."

"All right, but you're rippin' me off." 

Money exchanged hands.

Tom held the key out of reach, and said, "Sign the guest book, please."

Grumbling, the stranger signed in. Tom looked at the name: Bob Smith.

"Satisfied?"

"Enjoy your stay," said Tom, and handed him the key.

"I won't. Hey, what happened to the geezer that used to own this place?"

"Retired."

"Any family still around?"

"Nope." Tom thought, 'This place is definitely on the fast track to Hell.' He'd have to find a way to improve the clientele. As the car pulled out, he jotted down the license plate number.

After lunch and a shower, Tom's head felt much better, and he began to make a list of materials he would need to begin painting. The bell at the front desk interrupted him. He wasn't surprised to see Penny Wentworth standing there. "Hi, Penny. Is this a surprise inspection?"

She gave him an embarrassed smile, and said, "No. I think yesterday had enough surprises, don't you?"

After an awkward moment, Tom changed the subject. "Did this place have ten cabins before?"

The simple question seemed to startle Penny. "Yes. But, Dad tore one down. Why do you ask?"

"This jerk that just checked in said he wanted to stay in cabin 10, because he had great memories."

Penny looked out the window. Her complexion paled. 

"The guy asked if any of your family still lived around here. I said 'no'. And if you ask me, this guy's personality is about 10 degrees below normal." Tom looked at the registry. "He said his name is Bob Smith. Do you know him?"

"No." Penny continued to stare blankly out the window.

He waited, but she wasn't inclined to restart the conversation. "So, what's up?"

Penny said softly, "Nothing. I just came to say goodbye. I don't think I'll be coming back for a long time." She turned to face him and her eyes were flooded. "Please don't make trouble for Chief Morris and Annie. I made a terrible mistake. I apologized to them, and I'm apologizing to you, for putting you in such an awkward situation."

Tom walked over and hugged her. "Don't worry, Penny. Everything will be fine. Thank you for the opportunity to manage the Midway. You'll always have a place to stay, whenever you want to come back and visit."

"Thank you." She patted his arm and left without another word or backward glance.

Less than an hour later, the front desk bell rang again. Pleased at the prospect of another paying customer, Tom hurried out of the living room. The vision of Hannah standing at the counter stopped him at the office door. 

They stared at each other for a few heartbeats, and then shared a smile, as the implication of her visit became understood. 

Hannah broke the silence. "I heard this was a nice place to stay. A friend said you have some kind of weird fringe benefits package and personal services?"

Tom stepped to the desk and opened the registry. "You've come at a perfect time. I have plenty of room and hours to make your stay unforgettable." He flipped some pages, and asked, "Do you have a reservation?"

She placed her hand over his. "Not really... It was more of an invitation."

They entwined fingers and the warmth of her hand traveled up to his face. Tom felt flushed and his heart jumped. "Will you be staying long?"

Timidly, Hannah looked away and then focused on their hands. "I'll be here as long as I'm allowed."

"Okay then! Let me add you to the guest book." Tom clicked his pen. "Name please."

She smiled at his due process. "Hannah Roundtree."

"That's a beautiful name."

"Thanks, I made it up myself."

He wrote it down, along with the date of arrival, and then filled in the check out date. Spinning the book around for her inspection, he said, "If this meets with your approval I'll help you bring in your luggage."

Hannah looked at the entry information and then at Tom. She smiled and a tear squeezed out. "Check out: Never?"

"I'll do my best to make sure you never want to."

Hannah pressed his hand to her cheek and then kissed it. "I hope I won't overstay my welcome." 

Tom came around to the other side and held her hands. "Hannah, you've made me a very happy man." They kissed tenderly and hugged. Then Tom put his arm around her shoulders and escorted her outside. "How much stuff do you have?"

"I just threw everything into the truck. Not too much."

"I thought you had to work today."

Hannah put her head on his shoulder. "I quit. There must be jobs closer to home."

"Are you kidding? Home is the job. You can help paint."

All of her possessions were packed in garbage bags. Tom grabbed two heavy ones and headed inside. Halfway across the living room, a bag ripped and shoes spilled out. It was several minutes before they were gathered up and moved into the bedroom.

On the way back outside, Tom heard Hannah yelling. "Stop it! Let go!" 

A man cried out in pain and then Tom heard a loud slap.

Running to the truck, He found Hannah struggling with the motel guest, Mr. Smith. "Hey! Let her go!" 

Smith pushed Hannah down, and said, "The bitch scratched me!" Gingerly, he wiped blood from his face. "You fucking whore."

Tom resisted the urge to punch him, and helped Hannah up. She rubbed her cheek and he noticed it was bright red. "Mr. Smith, what the hell were you doing?"

"I was just sayin' hi, and she attacked me. I don't know what her problem is. I guess I gotta show my money before I can talk to the bitch."

Hannah lunged, but Tom held her arms. 

She screamed at Smith, "You son-of-a-bitch! I'd never let you touch me. I don't care how much money you had. You're a pig!"

"Fuck you!" Smith stalked away. "God damn, Semen-hole Indian!"

Furious, Hannah shrieked and tried to twist free. "Let me go!"

"Not until you settle down and promise me you won't attack him."

She stopped struggling, and he let go of her arms. "What just happened?"

"I knew coming here was a mistake!" Hannah began to pace the length of the truck. "I'll never be free from my past. I'm just going to drag you down with me." 

"Not true. You can make a fresh start. I won't let anyone disrespect you like that." Tom wanted to believe it, but his stomach twisted into a pretzel. "You know him?"

"Oh yeah... I know Dewey. He was one of Toby Wentworth's 'business' associates." She emphasized the word 'business' in a way that hinted illegalities. "Last year, that prick drugged and raped me. But when you're a whore, rape is a little hard to prove. No one's going to believe a prostitute. The cops just assumed he didn't pay me for a trick and I was just trying to get even. But I'm telling you, that son-of-a-bitch is one sick motherfucker. He gets off on hurting women."

"You are not a whore. Stop saying that. Now come inside. Please." He touched Hannah's arm and she jerked away. This unrestrained anger was a side of her he'd not seen unleashed. But considering what this man had done to her, it was understandable.

She threw up her hands, and said, "I should go," and headed for the driver's door.

Afraid that touching Hannah would cause another outburst, Tom walked beside her, and said, "You can't leave. I have all your shoes. If you go, I'm keeping them." 

That made Hannah glance at him, and eventually sigh. "I do like my shoes." 

"I have a lot of closet space that needs filling." After a few moments of calm, something Hannah just mentioned struck him as odd. "His name is Dewey? He said it was Bob... Bob Smith."

"Then he lied to you. It's Jeffery Dewey. But everyone calls him Doo-Doo behind his back."

"Come inside. I'll call the cops. Maybe they'd be interested in someone who's using an alias."

Hannah looked at him with sad eyes and shook her head. "It doesn't matter. Once they checked my police record my testimony would be worthless." 

"Maybe there's an outstanding warrant on him and your testimony won't matter."

She placed her hand on the truck door handle and paused. "You know, Toby said that Doo-Doo bragged a lot when he was stoned. If he was only telling half the truth, he's raped a lot of women."

Tom placed his hand over hers and lifted it from the door. "I won't let you go. You have to trust me." She gave in, and let Tom lead her back inside. Immediately, he called the police and reported an assault.  

Fifteen minutes later, Chief Morris himself rang the office doorbell.

Tom greeted him alone, afraid that Hannah's presence would taint the seriousness of his allegations. "Chief, the man in cabin 9 assaulted my girlfriend. I want him arrested. And he's traveling under an assumed name. He must be hiding something."

The Chief didn't appear to be in a hurry. He removed a pad and pencil from his pocket, and said, "Tell me what happened."

Tom recounted the events, leaving Hannah's name out of the details.

"Where is this guy now?"

"He's in cabin 9."

The Chief walked to the window and looked out. "There's no car in front of 9."

"What?" Tom joined the Chief at the window. "He must've taken off. Doesn't that tell you he's guilty of something?"

"Maybe he just doesn't want any trouble."

"I'm sure he doesn't."

Both men turned at the sound of Hannah's voice. 




Vision of the Spirit Ch. 18



She added, "I'd bet he's got a few illegal drugs in his possession, if he's true to form."

The Chief looked from Hannah to Tom, and said, "Is she the assault victim?"

"Yes. Why should that matter? I saw it myself. He grabbed her, slapped her and pushed her down."

The Chief did not look impressed, as he scribbled in the notebook. 

"Listen Chief, this guy may be from around here. His name is Jeffery Dewey. Hannah says he's a rapist. Do you have any unsolved cases? The guy told me himself that he was here at the motel 20 years ago. He wanted to stay in cabin 10, because he... had his first virgin in there."

"What?" The Chief's head snapped up. "What kind of car was he driving?" Suddenly, he had a sense of urgency in his voice.

Tom grabbed the guest book and showed him the page. "That's his license number. The car was a black Mercedes two-door convertible."

"Chief?"

The two men looked at Hannah.

She wiggled her fingers vertically, like she was showing off a ring. "I scratched him."

Chief Morris pulled the police radio from his belt and called in an A.P.B. on the car and driver. Then added, "Send Eugene out to the Midway Motel to collect a DNA sample from under..." he stopped and politely asked, "What is your name Ma'am?"

"Hannah Roundtree."

"... from under Ms. Hannah Roundtree's fingernails." He signed off the radio and then jogged out the door, yelling, "I'll be in touch."

Once the technician arrived and collected the evidence, Hannah and Tom were free to bring in the rest of her bags from the truck. The enchantment of her arrival had been ruined, and Hannah's uneasiness was palpable. The lighthearted woman Tom loved had been pushed behind a wall of apprehensive silence. But he was determined to draw out her cheerful side. 

Lugging the bags down the hall, Tom asked, "Hannah, what room do you want?"

"What do you mean?" 

"What do you mean, what do I mean?" He stopped and looked back, and with all seriousness said, "There are three bedrooms. Pick one."

She stared at him with a furrowed brow. "Don't you want me to sleep with you?"

"Absolutely. I'm just sayin' I'll sleep with you in any room you want."

After rolling her eyes, she walked past and punched him playfully in the stomach. "You're a goof. I'm not Goldie Locks, ya know." 

Hannah looked in each room, but entered the one that was obviously Tom's. She began to unpack, and hang up clothes in the closet. "This feels weird. I've never shared a place with a guy for more than one night." Her eyes flashed to Tom, when she realized how bad that sounded. "Sorry."

Tom smiled. "Relax. I know what you mean. I've never lived with a woman before, either. It's a first for both of us."

"I guess so." She gave him an apologetic grin, and then turned to study the room. "Do you mind if I go shopping for a few things to put on the walls, do some decorating?"

"Well... the place is pretty barren. But I don't have a lot of money to spend... right now."

"That's okay. I've got money."

"Are you sure you want to spend it on decorating this place?"

Hannah met his gaze, and gave him a crooked smile. "This is our home now. Why wouldn't I?"

His throat constricted with emotion, and he could only nod agreement. Her nervousness seemed to be infectious. 

By the time everything was unpacked and put away, the sun had set. The tension between them had not lessened. Hannah still behaved like a guest, rather than a partner. Tom was at a loss how to bring back the fun they'd always shared in the past. He knew it was still possible, but now buried under the formality of commitment. "Are you hungry?"

Hannah sat down on the bed and began to unbraid her hair. "Not really. I'm kind of exhausted."

Climbing onto the bed behind her, Tom said, "Let me do that." Unweaving her hair seemed to loosen the day's tension. "I bought some groceries. How about a tossed salad?" He fluffed out the clumped strands and massaged her scalp.

"Mmm, that feels fantastic." Her chin fell to her chest and her head moved freely under his fingers. "A salad sounds great. What kind of dressing do you have?"

"Italian."

"Okay, but no onions."

Tom kissed the top of her head, and said, "You got it," and left for the kitchen.

A few minutes later, Hannah walked in wearing only the John Denver tee shirt and a pair of white ankle socks.

Tom did a double take, while slicing a tomato. Grinning with manly appreciation, he asked, "Are you warm enough?"

"Yes." She stepped behind him and unbraided his hair. "Be careful. Don't cut off a finger."

When Hannah was done, she moved beside him, put an arm around his waist and watched him slice a cucumber. "You're good in the kitchen." 

"Do you cook?"

She wrinkled her nose and shook her head, 'no'. "I don't eat that much." Placing her head on his shoulder, she added, "But I do clean. I like a clean house."

"Well, I'll try not to be a slob."

She squeezed him sideways. "From what I've seen so far, you're very neat. I'm impressed."

"So, I've given you a good first impression?"

"Well, you saved my life the first time we met. That was a good start."

Dumping the ingredients into bowls, he said, "I'm talking about now. How do you like me now?"

"Honestly?" Hannah kissed his cheek, and said, "I think you're fabulous... and deserve better than me." Then she picked up the two bowls and two forks, walked over to the table and sat down.

"Well, I think you're fabulous, and deserve better than me," said Tom. "What do you want to drink?"

"Choices?"

"Water or beer?"

"H2O on the rocks. I'll get it. What'll you have?"

"Same, please."

The phone rang. Tom left to find the cordless and talked briefly in the other room. He returned to his chair and sprinkled dressing on his salad. "That was Chief Morris. They caught Dewey. He was going 90 in a 45. Somehow they had probable cause to search the car and found a handgun. So, he's violated his parole and is locked up indefinitely."

Hannah raked her fork through the salad greens. "To bad they didn't just shoot him."

The room was quiet for a while. They shared glances and random smiles, trying to adjust to their new peaceful co-existence. 

"So, what do couples do for fun around here?" 

Tom shrugged, "How would I know. They don't spend the weekends at the motel, I know that."

"Yeah? Things are slow?"

"Dead. I'm hoping the ski season will bring in some business." Tom picked up their empty bowls and put them in the sink. This line of conversation was not improving his mood. "This motel sits on 150 acres of pristine woodland. If we had the money, we could build a spa or at least a place for people to have a fun weekend away."

"I like they way you say 'we'," said Hannah, as she stood up and pushed in their chairs.

Standing there in the tee shirt, she was a vision that inspired. "I know something fun we can do. Let's take some pictures to remember our first night together."

Hannah smiled. "Hey, that's a great idea!"

Tom gave her scantily clad body an admiring once over for effect. "Do you want to get dressed first?"

"I am dressed," said Hannah, pulling up the tee shirt as proof and revealing a lack of underwear.

His eyes grew round and he felt movement in his crotch. "I will admit... you look marvelous."

She dropped the shirt, placed her hands behind her back and gazed shyly at the floor. "I do?"

"Since we just ate dinner, maybe 'delicious' would be a more appropriate adjective. Let me warn you, I love dessert."

Hannah came over and pressed against him. "Let me warn you! I like my desserts creamy and filling." 

"Let me get my camera."

"All right. I'll be in the bedroom." As she walked down the hall, Hannah looked back and raised the shirt hem up to her waist. 

Tom watched the sensual sway, until the perfect bottom disappeared through the door. "Damn! This is going to be a fun winter."

The End