Balls of Cobalt Blue: The Story
by
Stanfield Major
© 2007 by Stanfield Major
All rights reserved
ISBN: 9781458024459
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Smashwords Edition
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This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
This book is for ADULT AUDIENCES ONLY. It contains substantial sexually explicit scenes and graphic language which may be considered offensive by some readers. All sexually active characters in this work are 18 years of age or older.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.
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"I'll give you fifty dollars if you'll skinny dip in the fountain right now," Penny said as she parked her bike beside mine in the little alley next to the restaurant.
Vicente, our employer at El Rojo Gallo, had assigned me the task of scrubbing the ring of scum off the colorful Mexican tiles that lined the reservoir. Because I'm a guy, I guess. None of the women had to do these kinds of chores even though, as a waiter, my status was the same as theirs.
"Given my money situation I might take you up on that," I said, turning to look at her. The brush dangled in my hand. She flashed me a roguish grin and disappeared through the front door. I sat savoring the after image of her vigorous stocky body fading into the interior. Remembering the sparkle in her eyes.
It was the end of the tourist season and things were slow. Which was part of the reason I was out here scrubbing the fountain. I thought about Penny's challenge as I went back to work. It made the morning sun brighter, the air piquant.
Four days ago we'd urged a sluggish afternoon along with episodic conversation and Penny had mentioned that she'd been an English major at Iowa State University. Although I'd always found her attractive it was at that point that my interest in her quickened. Once she'd returned from checking on one of her tables I told her I was a writer. Her eyes filled with new respect. I told her I'd posted a number of my poems and one of my short stories online. One of my tables required attention. When I got back she asked me how she could access my writing. With a bit of trepidation, having had a couple of bad experiences mixing my private passion with the politics of the workplace, I gave her the Internet address.
"You're a very good writer, Stephen," she said the first time she saw me the next morning. "I'm impressed. I liked your short story a lot. Do you have any more?"
This is where things got sticky for me. "Yes, I do, but I'm not sure I feel comfortable sharing them with you." I could see that all I'd succeeded in doing was grab her attention.
"Why not?"
"Well," I said, "they're dirty. Erotica, if you will."
She gave me a speculative look and then laughed. "Stephen. I'm thirty-six years old, not a child. And whatever your fantasies are it's all basic human stuff."
"I'm not concerned about you so much as the fact that we work together. I've gotten into some difficulties at other jobs when I shared this side of myself."
Throughout the day she kept pleading her case. "I enjoy hardcore porn sometimes," she whispered once, picking up a coffee pot as I was returning one. "Believe me, I'm unshockable," she added later when our paths crossed again, "I'd love to see those stories."
I was amused by her attempts to convince me how worldly she was, how dirty minded. Yet her persistence made me feel shy and on the spot. But at last, flattered by her insistence, I gave her the Internet address. The next day, Wednesday, was her usual day off so this morning was the first time I'd seen her since giving her the key to my secret fantasy life. And the first words out of her mouth involved asking me to take off my clothes. I assumed she'd liked what she'd read.
"Hey," I said when I saw her after I'd finished cleaning the fountain. "You're no fun. You didn't stay to watch."
"You can always do an encore."
I mumbled something. On one hand I was shaken by her flirtatious challenges but on the other I enjoyed them very much. I liked the direction things were going. There were several more brief exchanges, all in a light teasing tone, in which we both kept upping the ante. And then the noon rush came and we didn't have the privacy or the time for more words. But my brain was churning. This was so much fun. I loved the fact that she wasn't backing down. I decided to confront her with a proposal.
"Let's go outside," I said, once the rush was over. She gave me a quizzical glance but didn't offer any resistance. We left Brooke and Cindy to watch our stations. "I've been thinking about our conversation," I said. We passed through the side door into the alley. "Usually I take women out of their comfort zones but you've taken me out of mine."
"I'm sorry, Stephen," she said.
"Oh no," I said. "I like it. But I have a dare for you."
"Okay," she said.
"The fountain out front doesn't work for me because I'd just as soon keep my job but how about if we could find someplace outdoors reasonably private?"
"And?"
"And you can keep your fifty dollars. If you show me yours I'll show you mine."
"Okay," she said. Without the least bit of hesitation. I was more than a little stunned. At this point Vicente's brown face appeared on the other side of the screen door and informed us that we had customers. Penny and I gazed into each other's eyes for a long moment and then I pulled the door open and we walked inside.
And I started to sweat. Bullets. I took orders and delivered plates of burritos and enchiladas but my mind was clenched with fear. What if she goes to Vicente and says, "Stephen asked me to get naked and I'm very offended." What if she thinks I'm nuts and closes down. What if. What if. I was hoping for the best but prepared for the worst. I caught her eye a couple of times and tried to gauge her state of mind but couldn't. Things slowed down again and I decided to confront the issue directly. I stopped her outside the door of the women's restroom.
"Was I out of line?" I said. Our eyes met.
"Concerning our conversation earlier? About someplace outdoors?"
"Yeah."
She shrugged in a way that conveyed to me that she didn't have a problem.
"You're cool with it?" I asked.
"Sure," she said. "I don't agree to things I don't feel right about." I was giddy with relief.
Later, during the quiet afternoon, we went on to plan the details of when and where. We decided on Saturday afternoon after work, since the next day, Friday, she had an appointment. We agreed that we'd ride our bikes to a place she knew of not far from a house where she used to live.
"I'm used to women either closing down or running away when I come up with these harebrained ideas," I said. "It means a lot to me that you're willing to do this."
"Life's too short to let your fears limit you," she told me. "And anyway, I grew up with four brothers so I don't find men to be especially scary."
"I used to go to the nude beach when I lived in California. I've been to a couple of nudist camps too. So I've had some experience with this sort of thing."
"I've done a few things like that myself," she said. "Taking showers outdoors while camping with friends. Skinny dipping. I'm comfortable with my body so it's no big deal."
SHE PUT IN A SHORT day on Friday, before leaving for her appointment, but I had a chance to talk with her for a few minutes and didn't see any signs that she was having reservations.
On Saturday morning, before going to work, I rolled up a thick blanket and attached it to my bike with bungee cords. I also put a couple of condoms in my wallet. Neither of us had broached the subject of our being sexual together but then nothing we'd said took it out of consideration. My nerves sang with anticipation as I pedaled to the restaurant.
She was parking her bike as I rode up and I could see that she'd caught sight of the blanket. We exchanged a quick secret smile before she headed inside. I wasn't far behind.
The time dragged by. We chatted when we had the chance but neither of us mentioned the adventure we'd planned. At long last it was time for us to leave and we walked out to our bikes together. Since she knew where we were going she took the lead once we'd mounted up. I followed her for a couple of miles until she stopped at the beginning of a gravel road that led down into a rocky canyon. On the floor of the canyon two sets of railroad tracks ran parallel to the primitive road.
"We'll have to walk the bikes from here," she said. It took some effort to get the bikes down the steep decline but soon the road became relatively level.
"So, what got you started writing erotic stories?"
"Well," I said, "sex can drag us into situations where we learn things about ourselves that we might not be motivated to discover any other way. That interests me."
She nodded.
"We enter into something thinking that all we want is an orgasm and emerge with a new way of perceiving the world."
"Sounds serious," she said. She was walking enough in front of me that I couldn't see her face but I could hear her smile.
"Yeah, well, to be quite frank I started out writing stories about what I call 'passionate plumbing'. Detailed descriptions of sex acts, that is. But somewhere along the line the sex acts became less interesting to me than the dynamics between the people involved."
"Hmmm," she said.
Several minutes later we were climbing high into the rocks beside the road. When we got to a reasonably flat area behind several large boulders I spread out the blanket I'd taken off my bike. We both hesitated for a second, now that the moment of truth had arrived, and then I pulled my t-shirt over my head. I looked over and saw that she'd kicked off her sandals and was sliding her spandex shorts from under her dress.
"You know, I didn't wear a dress until I was twenty-three," she said. "The only reason I wear them now is because Vicente insists we do."
While I untied my shoes she slipped out of her dress, standing there in a pair of lime-green v-string panties and a multi-colored bathing suit top. I unbuckled my belt, unzipped, and pushed my jeans down my legs.
"We've wondered if you wore underwear. Brooke and I said you didn't and Cindy said you did."
"I haven't worn underwear since I was a kid," I said. "Didn't make sense to me."
She unhooked the top and let her medium sized breasts swing free. Tucking her fingers into the sides of her panties she pushed them down. I noted that she was almost hairless, though not shaven.
"You're so white." She said. "Your arms and face are tanned but the rest of you isn't."
"At the nudist camp they called people like me 'cottontails'."
"Well, I'll never have that problem," she said, smiling as she sat down beside me.
I lay on my side, leaning on my elbow, and drank in the sight of her body as she stretched out on her back. Her nipples were the size of thimbles and almost as dark as blackberries. She was, what my fourth grade teacher called, 'pleasantly plump'. Very pleasantly.
She observed my gaze. "I feel I need to say something," she said. "I realize that my agreeing to get naked with you might suggest otherwise but I don't do casual sex."
I was disappointed. I couldn't help it. But to be fair to her I had to admit that she'd never hinted that sex would be part of the experience. "You don't care if I get blue balls?" I said, keeping my tone light.
"Not really," she said with that sparkle in her eyes. We both laughed.
"I haven't been with anyone for awhile," I said, my voice more emotional than I'd intended.
"Yeah, for me too."
"What do you do for sex? Or doesn't it bother you?"
She turned her head to look at me directly. "I'm not sure what you mean by 'bother'. But I masturbate." I nodded and she turned away. We could hear a train approaching.
The train rumbled past. I wondered if the engineer could see us. Maybe our faces. I thought our bodies were probably hidden by the rocks.
"Perhaps we could masturbate together," I said. "We'd be sharing what we do separately. Not exactly like having sex but there is intimacy. And stimulation."
She thought about that for awhile. "I could see doing that," she said. "But not today."
The conversation rambled on into more ordinary topics. We talked about work and shared a bit about our pasts. She seemed to feel comfortable with me. I felt a deep gratitude to her for giving me the gift of her nakedness. Another train passed, going the other way.
"I'd better be getting back," she said at last.
We put our clothes back on, rolled up the blanket, and climbed down out of the rocks. Recovering our bikes we walked back up the gravel road, chatting as we went, until we reached the street.
"This was fun," she said. We stood side by side.
"For me too," I said. "How about having dinner with me tomorrow? At my place."
"As long as we're clear about the sex thing," she said, giving me a meaningful glance.
"Of course, Penny. I like you. I plain enjoy being with you. Would hamburgers and a salad be too prosaic?"
"Sounds good."
We climbed onto our bikes and headed in opposite directions.
"Thank you," she called as she crossed the street.
"No, thank you," I called back. I was rewarded with another sparkle from her dark eyes. It warmed me to my core.
I GOT TO WORK before she did the next morning and was wrapping silverware in napkins with Cindy and Brooke when she arrived.
"I hope that little problem with the color blue got worked out," she said. Brooke and Cindy looked mystified. Penny and I shared a secret smile.
"No, but that's okay," I said.
The day passed quickly. The restaurant was busy as it often is on Sundays when the locals either decide to let someone else do the cooking or stop by for something after church. Once our shift was over I gave her directions to my house. She agreed to come by around five.
I spent the rest of the afternoon tidying things up and readying the outdoor grill. My activity made my two cats, Harold and Maude, nervous and they kept chasing each other around the house until I cranked up the vacuum cleaner which sent them both scurrying under the bed.
I heard the crunch of gravel in my driveway just before five and opened the door to investigate. Penny had stepped out of a firetruck-red Jeep Wrangler and was reaching back inside.
"I didn't know you had a car," I said. "All I've seen you ride is the bike."
"Yes, well, I like to ride the bike. I need the exercise. And gas prices being what they are, you know. I hope you don't mind if I brought dessert," she said, holding a box containing a pie in her hands.
"No, that's great. I didn't think of dessert." I stepped aside to let her in.
"Oh, wow." She said, looking around my living room at the profusion of books. "You could open a library."
"I can't seem to pass a used book store without buying a couple," I said, leading her into the kitchen. "And I find it very hard to part with one once it's bought." Harold and Maude had appeared, tails in the air, to examine the guest and give her their stamp of approval. "These are my cats," I said, introducing them. "I hope you're not allergic, I should have asked."
"I love cats. These two are quite a pair." After depositing the pie on the counter she crouched down to get better acquainted. Her t-shirt fell away from her body and I could see she was wearing a regular bra this time. Turquoise.
I picked up the plate on which four hamburger patties had been thawing. "I'll get these on the grill and then come back to make the dressing for the salad."
When I returned she was looking through my books. "Very interesting," she said. I mixed the ingredients of the dressing while she continued to browse. Fifteen minutes later everything was ready. We stood next to each other at the counter, built our hamburgers, and filled our salad bowls. And then we carried them outside to the table on the patio. The grill was still exuding flavorful smoke. "Hey, it's nice out here," she said.
We ate in silence, exchanging occasional friendly glances. It felt good to be with her.
"I don't feel ready for pie yet," I said when I finished.
"I don't either."
"But what I would like to do, if you're interested, is listen to A Prairie Home Companion, Garrison Keillor's radio variety show on NPR."
"I'm not familiar with it," she said. "But sure, if you want to."
"They sometimes do skits about English majors I thought you'd enjoy."
"Okay."
"I do have to warn you, though, that about the only comfortable place in the house is my bed. I'm more into buying books than couches or chairs."
Her look and head shake expressed wry amazement. "I guess that's all right. You didn't jump me when you had me naked so I guess I can trust you not to do it now."
We took the dirty dishes into the kitchen. While she made a side trip to the bathroom I turned on the radio and got into the bed next to the wall, arranging the pillows so that we'd be able to sit up. The toilet flushed and a moment later she joined me.
I was gratified to see that she enjoyed the music and humor. They didn't perform a skit about English majors but there were plenty of good laughs without one. About halfway through the program I put my arm around her shoulders. She went kind of still for a couple of minutes and then she relaxed against me, putting her arm on my stomach.
"I liked that," she said when the show ended. "I'll have to start listening." A program of Celtic music began. We continued to lean together without speaking.
"Would you like to get naked with me?" She said at last.
I felt a warm flush spread through my body. "I thought about it but I wasn't going to ask," I said. "I'd love to. I love looking at you."
"I don't know why I like it. I've never done this with anyone else," she said. She got out of bed. I watched as her t-shirt slid up her back and over her head and then was tossed into the upholstered armchair nearby. "I feel comfortable with you somehow," she said, turning to face me as she reached around to unhook her bra. "You have a nice way of looking at me."
I absorbed the revelation of her breasts as the bra joined the t-shirt on the chair. I'd taken off my own t-shirt and was pushing my jeans down my legs. She observed me closely.
"And I like to look too," she said, with a touch of shyness. She unzipped her jeans and pulled them off one leg and then the other. For a moment she stood there wearing only a pair of turquoise v-string panties and then the panties lay on top of the rest of her clothes and she was kneeling on the bed, her breasts swaying, looking at my crotch. "They don't look blue," she said.
We both laughed. The radio was filling the air with the sound of a mournful ballad about some act of violence in an ancient time.
She cupped them. I looked down to see my scrotum nestled in the palm of her small brown hand. She moved her fingers, watching the egg shaped forms shift in their sack. I was beginning to swell. She watched that too.
"Penny," I said. I was having trouble with my breathing. "This isn't quite fair. You're the one who doesn't want us to be sexual."
"I like holding them," she said. "They're definitely not blue, though."
"They will be if you keep this up."
She laughed. She let them go and ran a finger down the ridge of my cock. In an instant I was erect. "You said something about our masturbating together."