part 6 of the Slow Movin' series
I stared at my reflection, frowning at the lick of hair that just wouldn’t stay down. Didn’t seem to matter how much hair gel I used, there it perked, defying gravity. I swear, sometimes I look like that whiny little brat in those black and white TV shows. What was his name? Alfalfa?
“Hot date?”
Behind me, I saw Franklin in the mirror. He leaned against the shop’s bathroom door, arms crossed and a grin on his homely face.
“I’m hoping,” I said. My words might have been matter of fact, but I felt the heat rise on my skin as he laughed.
It was funny how things had turned out. Sure, I still get the occasional snooty attitudes from some folks when they come to the garage for a fill up. But if they want gas in their tanks, they don’t have much choice but to deal with me, do they? It's either that or go to the next township over for their fuel. Elle had returned during Christmas break, but stayed far away from me. It kind of hurt, but after Misty Sue and New Year’s Eve, I became too busy to dwell on our break up and scandal.
Apparently, my reputation shot up after New Year's. I didn’t figure Misty Sue would keep her mouth shut about us fooling around, not when it gave her plenty of ammunition to fight her husband’s philandering. But I didn’t expect how much my life would change. I was no longer some loser who couldn’t graduate high school, let alone find a husband. I was now a rebel, mysterious, someone to speculate on. As time went on, the guys hanging at the bar started talking to me more, treating me like I was one of them. And the women! Damn if half of them didn’t act all coy around me. I thought Elle was bad . . . these women put her to shame with their blatant touches and batting eyelashes!
And, of course, I needed consoling after her abandonment, didn’t I?
Sure, I still got shit from my peers. It was the older folks that were interested, the ones out of school for a year or six who realized their boring little lives weren’t going anywhere they thought they would at my age. So instead of being a pariah, I became one of the town characters.
Franklin brought me back to the present. “Who’s the lucky lady?”
I glared at him in the mirror. “I ain’t saying. If I do, it’ll be all over town by tomorrow.”
He appeared affronted as he pushed away from the doorjamb. “I wouldn’t say nothing, Slow. You know that.”
Turning, I grinned at him. “I know. But I said I’d be discrete.”
“Discrete?” He pondered that, and smiled. “She’s married, huh?”
I know my face turned red because he laughed at me.
“Go on. Get out of here.” He stepped back from the door. “I won’t expect you before noon tomorrow.”
“Noon?” I exited the bathroom, and grabbed my jacket hanging on the wall.
“Hell, if you’re going after a married woman, you’ll need all the rest you can get. She’s obviously in dire need of your . . . expertise.”
I shook my head, wishing I could just burst into flame and get it over with. “Shut up, Franklin.” I left the garage, hearing him hoot at me all the way to my pick up. I climbed in and started her engine, drowning out his laughter. When I took off, I had to admit to myself that I was somewhat pleased despite my embarrassment.
Ten minutes later, I pulled onto a side road in the woods on the south side of town. I shut the truck down, and got out, pulling a green tarp out of the back. It wouldn’t completely hide my wheels, but at least a cursory glance wouldn’t show I was in the area. Once I covered her up, I headed west. Less than a hundred yards further, I was on the edge of the tree line, looking at a house. The lawn was well manicured, and parts of it had been landscaped with wood chips and bushes and the like. It must take a lot of work to keep up a yard like that. I felt relief I didn’t have to mow the damned thing.
I saw the driveway from where I crouched. The garage was open, and it looked like Roy Levinson’s car was gone. He was supposed to be on a business trip, an overnighter to Halsey - some sort of conference for accountants or something. Deciding the coast was clear, I cut through the woods until I reached the back yard. From there I quickly let myself in the gate, glad the fence was high and hoping the neighbors weren't looking out their upper windows.
At the back door, I stopped and straightened my clothes, giving my hair another swipe in an attempt to get that damned cowlick in place. This was the first time I had come to a woman's house, and it made me a little nervous. Misty Sue and I always met at the shop or neutral ground. I've never been invited to her home. A couple of other women have made their intentions known, but I haven't snapped up their bait, yet. I fumbled in my pocket, pulling out a small box of caramels, and knocked.
The door fairly flew open, so I know she had to have been waiting for me. I dutifully held out the chocolates, forcing myself to stand straighter. “Happy birthday, Caroline.”
Mrs. Caroline Levinson smiled, affecting a shy demeanor. Of course, I knew better. She was no more bashful than Misty Sue Morris or any of the others were; I figured that one out when she groped me in the garage bathroom the week before last when she insisted we had run out of toilet paper.
She had gone to school the next county over. When she married Roy, she moved here and got to know the local gentry. Her life was pretty similar to Misty Sue’s and Elle’s, as a matter of fact. Cheerleader, well to do family, great expectations for college, doomed to marry above her station and squirt out the required two point two kids; small wonder that boredom had set in. It hadn’t been long before Misty Sue had spread the word. She was a regular public relations specialist.
“That’s so sweet, Slow,” she said as I was ushered into the house.
Once the door closed, I received my reward for bringing a gift, such as it was. She pressed against me, pushing me into the wall as she kissed me. Insistent, I returned the kiss hard, liking the way she moaned. Before I could go any further, she broke away, stepping completely back.
I protested, but she winked and put a finger over my lips. “We’ve got all night. Roy’s already called from the hotel, and the kids are visiting their grandmother.”
“All right, I’ll behave,” I said, holding my hands up in surrender. “For now.”
She evidently liked that. Her finger traced my lips. Then she took my hand, and pulled me further into the house. “Dinner’s almost finished. I hope you like chicken."
"Sure do," I said. Who cared what was for dinner? Dessert was what I looked forward to.
The house was big enough for one of those mud rooms, which is where I had entered. We passed a washer and dryer, and stepped into the kitchen. She settled me on a stool at the breakfast bar, pausing to mess up my imperfect hair with her hands as she gave me another toe curling kiss. She broke it off and glided to the refrigerator, leaving me panting.
"You want something to drink?"
"I want more than that," I said. She grinned back at me, unrepentant. "I'll take a beer if you've got one."
She opened the refrigerator and made a show of bending down, her tight skirt riding up her thighs and her ass swaying back and forth. God, what a tease! Had I missed the trail beaten to her door by her other playmates or something? No way was I the first to be invited to her home while her husband was away.
That got me to wondering if I was even the first woman to grace her bed.
The thought derailed me for a moment. By the time I worked past the surge of desire in my abdomen, she was setting two bottles on the counter. She popped the caps and slid one across to me, our fingers meeting and mingling with the icy wetness of the bottle.
"Thanks," I said, my voice a little gruff.
"You're welcome." She held the bottle for a full second or two, licking her lips, and then released it.
Man, was I thirsty!
"I'd better get back to the potatoes," she murmured, reluctantly stepping toward the stove.
"Okay," I said. "Do you want any help?"
"No. You just watch."
And watch I did. We talked as she stood over the pots and pans, chattering about what we were up to. I could care less about whether Roy Junior had made the Little League team,. She really didn't give a damn about the engine I was rebuilding at the shop. Still, we kept up the facade and my eyes caressed her with anticipation.
Caroline's hair was dark like Misty Sue's, but the resemblance went no further. Where Misty Sue was tall and thin, Caroline was shorter than me by a couple of inches and plumped out a bit more. That's not to say she was fat; don't get me wrong. There was just no doubt that she was a woman, through and through. She had more padding in all the right places as far as I was concerned, and I looked forward to seeing the parts of her hidden beneath the material of her skirt and blouse.
Of course, she was dressed to kill tonight. Truth be told, her clothes left little to the imagination, but imagine I did. Her skin was a creamy hue and she had chosen a dusty rose blouse which contrasted nicely with her coloring. It fit tight and was open dangerously low; I eagerly speculated on whether or not she'd fall out of it when she reached down to get something from a cupboard. The burgundy skirt was short enough that when she bent over to check the oven, it rose to an indecent level. I could almost see her panties and wondered whether she was wearing lace or not.
I took a long swig of my beer, wiping my mouth on my sleeve.
Eventually she proclaimed that dinner was ready. I offered to help her carry it into the dining room, but she waved away my suggestion, insisting I was her guest. Instead, she took my arm and escorted me into the next room, her ample breast rubbing against me. I put my hand on hers so that the backs of my fingers could also enjoy her bosom, and she hugged my arm with a smile that was more feral than I'd given her credit for.
This was going to be one hell of a roller coaster ride, no doubt about it. I could hardly wait.
I dutifully waited as she brought in a serving plate of roasted chicken, and bowls of mashed potatoes, green beans and gravy. After the meal arrived, she paused to light the candlesticks on the table and turned out the overhead light. My stomach grumbled in anticipation, and I wasn't sure which smelled better - the aromas from dinner or her subtle perfume.
I stood and helped her into her seat like a proper gentleman. We sat side by side rather than across from each other, our thighs brushing as we served each other and ate. Our conversation was about inconsequential things like weather and restaurants. When Caroline wasn't cutting her meat, her hand was in my lap, gently stroking my jeans, reaching dangerously high. I returned the favor since I was left handed, my right hand free to enjoy the texture of her legs.
I don't think I tasted a single thing I ate.
My physical hunger appeased, I removed my hand from her thigh long enough to use the cloth napkin and wipe my face and fingers. "That was fantastic, Caroline," I said, putting the napkin on the table. "Thank you."
She put on a pleased expression, trying to appear bashful, though I knew the truth of the matter. "I'm glad you enjoyed it, Slow."
My hand found hers still parked on my leg, and I stood, drawing her to her feet. "Do you have a stereo in the living room?" I asked.
Caroline smiled, tossing her napkin on her plate. "I do."
"Then it's only right that the birthday girl gets a dance." I lead her away from the table, locating the living room by trial and error. The furniture was stylish and colorful, the carpet thick beneath my boots. There was a street light on outside, illuminating the small cul de sac she lived on. From here her neighbors would easily see us and she pulled slightly back as I passed the picture window.
Pleased to find something she was uncomfortable with, I forced the issue and tugged her with me. "They can't see if we leave the lights off." I had begun to wonder if Caroline was going to turn into another Elle. While a roller coaster ride can be exhilarating, I wasn't about to ride one without the proper safety equipment. Caroline had to be shown I wasn't going to be her new doll, no matter how much we both wanted to have fun. And I certainly didn't want to put myself in the position I had been with Elle. One time of not having a lick of control was enough.
She conceded, though she hovered close by my side in an effort to block me from anyone else's view. While she nervously shifted - doing wonderful things to that skirt, I might add - I turned on her stereo and found a decent station. Then I turned off the one lamp, putting us in darkness.
Caroline relaxed considerably, but still glanced at the window, peering into her neighbors' houses to see if there were witnesses. I stood silently with her until my eyes had adjusted. Dancing isn't my strong suit, and the added obstacle course of a dark and strange living room could have disastrous results. When I felt confident I wouldn't step into the coffee table or armchair, I pulled her into my arms.
It was interesting being the taller partner for a change. Elle was my size and Misty Sue taller than me. The top of Caroline's head reached my nose, forcing me to bend down to kiss her. Her buxom body molded to mine and I liked the feel of it. Of course with the lights out Caroline had returned to her naturally aggressive state. She wrapped me in a full bodied hug, one of her hands promptly squeezing my ass.
"Don't waste any time, do you?" I chuckled.
"Life's short," she informed me as she briskly tugged my shirt from my pants. Once she found my skin, she relaxed into our slow dance, caressing my back. "Besides, I've been wanting to feel you against me since I heard you were available."
Available. Is that what Misty Sue was saying about me? I wouldn't put it past her; she had recently discovered her husband's philandering ways and I was recovering from a broken heart. She probably thought to 'ease' my pain with a lot of physical exertion. Kind of like what I was doing with her.
I put Misty Sue out of my mind. It was Caroline's day, and I had a mind to explore something new.
We danced for several minutes, her hand stroking my back and clutching my butt. Her fingers were nestled against my crotch from behind and the constant pressure there did the trick as we shuffled together. While I enjoyed the gathering excitement between my legs, I took her cue and pulled her blouse up enough for me to reach her skin. I caressed her face and throat with my other hand, occasionally sliding into her collar length hair to massage her scalp. When she sighed, I felt her warm breath against my sternum through my thin shirt.
The song changed into another and then a third. Her fingers rubbed circles on my butt and she nuzzled my neck, beginning to nibble the exposed flesh. My thigh pressed between hers and I could feel the heat of her want through the cloth of my jeans. Caroline had forgotten about the picture window and the potential of being sighted by her peers, and I began to move forward one slow step at a time until we reached the couch.
A commercial break interrupted the music and I took the opportunity to pull back enough to kiss her. It almost didn't work as she clutched at me, thinking I was disengaging. Both her hands were on my ass now, pinning me to her as she ground her pelvis against my thigh. Her hungry mouth devoured mine, and our kiss was fierce as we fought for control.
Her couch was one of those with high backs and sides. She was just tall enough to perch her ass on the arm of it as I surged forward. Caroline squeaked at the sudden support but quickly took it in stride. She put one foot up on the cushion and got comfortable, and I just knew that tiny skirt had ridden up in a delectable manner. Wanting to explore it for myself, I released her long enough to slide both my hands along her thighs. Oh, yeah. The material of her skirt nearly bunched together mid hip as her leg spread to the side.
She groaned as I slipped forward to cup her sex. Imagine my surprise when my fingers ran into curly hair rather than silk or cotton. God, she was as wild as Elle! She was also ready, my fingers wet with her desire after a mere touch. I wondered what she would have done had I been impatient at the dinner table. Or in the kitchen? A vision of her bending over the refrigerator, exposing herself to my questing hands, made me shudder.
It was torture, but I forced my hand away from her crotch. We fumbled together as she tried to grab me and return me to that heated wetness, but I prevailed. Instead, I used the opportunity to step away from her and unbuttoned her blouse. Her hands were wrapped in my shirt, trying to pull me back, but I stayed back and teased her with my lips and tongue. She tasted of our dinner and I had my fill of her as I struggled with her bra.
Her breasts spilled out of the brassiere and I sighed in wonder. "God, you're beautiful," I said, reaching for her. She was larger here, too, and I cupped her, loving the weight. Yeah, I've heard that more than a handful's too much, but Caroline blows that saying out of the water. I've never been much of a breast woman before now. I think that's going to change.
She literally hummed in approval as I gently kneaded her breasts and played with her nipples. They were dark in the night; were they brown or coral? I hoped to find out as soon as I got her into the bedroom where we could put a little light on the subject. Is the meantime, I crouched down and took one of them into my mouth. She cried out loud, her insistent hands burying in my hair as I enjoyed some dessert.
Caroline's skin tasted mighty nice, and her nipple filled my mouth. That's not to say she was destined for a freak show or anything. Her nipples were perfectly proportioned to the size of her breasts, but they were certainly larger than any I'd been introduced to before and I found them delightful. While I sucked and nibbled, I slid one arm behind her waist to support her. Then I pushed forward until she half reclined on the arm of the couch.
Bracing myself against the couch, I was able to free up my other hand to caress her from knee to shoulder and all stops in between. Her pants were harsh, her words of encouragement and groans of sexual frustration music to my ears. It took a little doing on her part, but she was able to pull my shirt up to my neck and her fingers massaged my back and shoulders.
With a grunt of exertion, she scooted down far enough until she rubbed her clit against my jeans. That sort of forced her tit away from my lips, but I was happy to continue my oral attentions on her throat and ears and mouth. My position and clothing didn't afford me much in the way of personal enjoyment, but I figured we had all night. Once I got the edge off this little hellion we could slow down and enjoy the process a bit more.
Her lower position made it easier for her to grab my ass again. Actually, she wrapped one hand around my belt and began rocking against me. Caroline transferred all her weight to the arm of the couch, leaving the one foot on the cushion and bringing the other up to straddle me. Her heel dug into my back, forcing me to follow a rough rhythm as she rubbed against my jeans.
Damn she was hot! I could feel the front of my pants soaking from her desire, feel the heat of her sex as she urged me on. The couch scooched back until it was firm against the wall and our not-so-dry fucking began to make the picture over it sway and thump. Her position had to be slightly uncomfortable, partially leaned back and her shoulders brushing the wood paneling next to the swinging picture frame. That didn't stop her arousal any; she ignored the discomfort, beginning to grunt and moan as she came closer to orgasm.
I know I was uncomfortable; I needed to come about as bad as she did at the moment. My boxers were soaked as much as the front of my pants, and I longed to have my clothes off to feel her skin against mine, her thick arousal coating my fingers and flowing over my tongue. Her hand on my belt only made matters worse as the seam of my jeans rode up into my crotch, rubbing agonizingly against my swollen clit. I added a little hitch to my movement in an effort to get off.
It didn't work for me, but it certainly worked for Caroline. Her undulating became frantic, her crooked leg squeezing me as close as humanly possible. Her free hand latched onto the back of my head and kissed me relentlessly. Then she turned her head aside to yell out, "God, yes! I'm coming!"
I think her voice rattled the window. I know it about busted my eardrum. Her body convulsed in all sorts of interesting ways, distracting me from the ringing in my ears as her grip on me tightened into a vise. Her orgasm sparked a deep sympathetic burn in my abdomen, and she cried aloud in wordless relief.
Left wanting, I slowed my hips but flexed my thigh muscles to enjoy the sensations shooting through me. I held Caroline close, balancing her suddenly lax body as she recuperated. Her chest heaved and I pulled back to watch the wonderful view, her breasts quivering as she breathed.
Eventually she roused enough to open her eyes. I was pleased to see the seductive spark was still there. I didn't think she was one of those women who climaxed and was finished for the night, and was relieved I had been right in my supposition. She pushed herself to sit up, her movements a little awkward, but I helped. Her skirt was rolled up to her waist and her blouse and bra hung open. "That was wonderful," she said, her voice a sated burr against my need.
I held her in my arms, liking the feel of her body pressed to mine. I still had my bra on, but my shirt was hiked up so my belly touched hers. "I'm glad you think so."
She sighed in my embrace, wrapping her arms around my waist for a hug. Her foot reached behind my thigh and stroked it. "I'm not done with you, yet."
"Mmm. Good to hear," I said. I kissed her hard and she responded in kind, all teeth and tongues. I wondered if this woman had an off button? Oh, well. At this point, who cared?
When we broke off, she said, "I've got a surprise in the bedroom for you."
"Really? But it's your birthday, not mine."
She laughed, a throaty sound, and pushed me back so she could stand. "Consider it a mutual gift."
Then she led me out of the dark living room.