MORE SHORT STORIES FROM BEA
By Bea
SMASHWORDS EDITION
*****
PUBLISHED BY:
Bea on Smashwords
More Short Stories From Bea
Copyright @2011 by Bea
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*****
Let’s face it. You don’t expect women to be out on the highways looking for a ride in the middle of nowhere, do you? Especially with clouds full of snow lurking just up on the horizon. Especially with darkness falling.
I didn’t think it was a woman. Honest to god! If I had? I’d never have thought about it twice – I’d have stopped and offered her a ride. As it was? I ruminated for a bit. Too many damn stories about small guys like me being nice enough to offer someone a ride – and getting offed.
But there "He" was. Standing at the side of the road. Denim pants and denim jacket, Stetson laying low over the face. Scuffed high heeled boots (cowboy style) with one resting on a dusty, beat up looking duffel bag. Hardly paying any attention to what traffic was on the road – and there wasn’t much of that, I can tell you – I’d passed one car going in the opposite direction about ten minutes back – and in the flat ground stretching away up ahead, couldn’t see any signs of anybody else.
I pulled up and stopped about twenty yards past him, fully expecting him to make his way to my car. I knew he saw me because his hat twitched in my direction, but other than that, he didn’t move. So I backed up, lowering my passenger window as I did so. "Hey cowboy? Where you headin’?" (I’m no kind of cowboy myself, but out where I live? It’s kinda expected of you to talk that way).
A female version of Brad Pitt looked at me, Oval face with a squared off chin, bright blue eyes with a luminous quality about them. Absolutely no makeup. Nice full lips – sensual lips, parted to show a slight smile. "Away from here, I guess. Where you headin’?"
"Oh shit!" I said, then apologized. "I’m sorry ma’am. Thought you were a guy. No offense."
She nodded. "None taken. But are you offering me a ride? I sure am getting awful damn fed up just standing here."
I laughed. "Hop in. We’ll figure where to take you once we get moving."
"Thanks mister," she said, opening my rear passenger door and throwing her bag in there, then joined me in the front, closing both doors firmly behind her. "Ah!" she sighed. "Thank Christ! That was getting awful damn boring out there! Sure as hell looks like snow, too."
"Guess it would get boring at that," I laughed. "But how come you didn’t walk to the car when I stopped? Not that I minded, or anything. Just curious."
She gave me a level look. "Just didn’t want to look like I was beggin’ for a favor. Know what I mean?"
"I guess so," I answered, though if the positions had been reserved, knew that I’d have run like a rabbit up to anybody that stopped for me. "Texas?" I asked, having caught a taste of her accent.
She shrugged. "Close. Army brat, so I stayed in a lot of places – but Texas was one of the longest stays I had. You’re not from around here either, are you?" She asked.
"No. Seattle originally."
"And you came out here to get away from all that rain? Rather have snow?"
"Something like that. My wife – Janine – she’s from around here. Just dropped her off at the airport. She’s doing a book tour. When we started making money, I found that I liked the idea of privacy and nicer weather so we built out here."
"Your wife a writer?"
I smiled. "Well, it’s a long story. In a manner of speaking. Let’s just say that she’s the business head of the family – much better at doing the book tours and setting up the arrangements that I’d ever be. Not only that? She enjoys them. I’m Luke by the way. What’s your name?"
"Folks call me Andy?" she said.
"Annie?"
"Close enough – but I prefer Andy," she said.
"Okay – Andy it is! Where’re you heading Andy?"
"Next place up the road – wherever that is."
I looked at her. "The cut off to my place is twenty seven miles away, and there’s nothing between here and there. After that? Next Place is Kingston – and that’s about thirty five miles. You’d probably be better off if I took you back to Fillston – it’s only fourteen miles or so – and there’s a motel there."
She shook her head. "Mighty nice of you to offer, but it’s taken me quite a while to get this far from Fillston. Not much sense in me having to do it again. Don’t worry about it mister. Just take me along as far as you can, then you can drop me off and I’ll wait for the next car to come along."
I sighed. "Look. I’m married. Happily married. My wife’s gone for a while, I’ve told you that already – so please don’t think I’m putting a move on you. But if you want to come and stay at my place for the night?"
She grinned. "You thinkin’ I might be scared that you’ll ravish me?"
"Well, not in that many words. I just don’t want you thinking I was trying to take advantage, that’s all."
"Wouldn’t git yourself all shook up on my account," she drawled laconically.
"Okay then! Let’s head for the barn," I said in my best cowboy fashion and put my foot on the accelerator.
It didn’t take long to get home and we chatted some while I drove – though I did most of the talking. To be quite honest? She made me nervous and I tend to talk more than I should when I get that way. Don’t get me wrong. She wasn’t threatening or anything like that, but I found that she was giving me more and more bemused looks as we – or I should say "I" talked. I actually felt relieved when I finally drew into the driveway
Okay. I’m house proud. I’ll admit it. Take a great deal of pleasure from the lovely house that Janine and I designed and had built. Not huge by any means but, as Janine points out – who needs a lot of housework to do, huh? So, I was a little put out when Andy simply dumped her bag in the hallway and looked around. "Nice place," was all she said.
"Like a drink?" I offered. "Have a fully stocked bar."
She gave me a strange look. "I’ll pass, thanks. Could use a bite to eat though – if you could stretch to that? But don’t be puttin’ yourself out though. Cold leftovers would go down as well as anything else. Did your wife leave you stocked up when she left?"
"Stocked up?"
"Yeah. Cook you up a mess of meals and put them in the freezer. That kind of stocking up."
I laughed. "Janine? No ma’am. Can’t cook worth a lick. I do most of the cooking around here. How would a nice fat steak sound? Maybe a baked potato? A salad on the side?"
She nodded her head. "I wouldn’t say no, Luke – if it’s no trouble."
"No trouble at all!" I said grandly. "Why don’t I show you to your room. If you want you can freshen up and change if you’ve a mind to. You look hungry so I was thinking of doing the potato in the microwave – but if you give me a half hour or so? I could do a little better job of it."
She surprised me then. Wrapped an arm around my shoulders and gave me a hug. "That’s mighty homely of you Luke, and I don’t want to put you out, but it’s sorta nice to be fussed over, so if that makes you happy? Well I guess I wouldn’t say no."
She really wasn’t much bigger than me, but I was made suddenly aware of the whipcord strength in her arm and hand as she pulled me into her lean body. At the same time, I was absurdly happy at having someone to fuss over – although I sensed that she considered me feminine in some abstract way, which made me blush. When she saw, and smiled, at my embarrassment, this made me blush even more. "Come on then!" I said, tying to recover some level of masculinity. "Let’s get you into your room young lady!"
She made a tutting sound when I went to get her bag and a sort of shocked expression appeared on her face. "What are you doing Luke? That’s far too heavy for you! Put it down, please!"
It was surprisingly heavy but let’s face it, I could have managed. Her face showed a level of discomfort that puzzled me though and there was a tone in her voice that brooked no argument, so I put it down promptly. "That’s better!" She said briskly and once I’d put it down, picked it up then followed me to the guest room. I left her there and made my way back to the kitchen where I started getting a meal ready for both of us. Put a couple of potatoes into the microwave for a few minutes, then wrapped them in foil and threw them into the toaster oven. Got a couple of steaks out and made slices in the fat at the edges. Threw them in a quick marinade of Italian dressing. Heated up the grill in the center of the cooking island and started slicing and dicing the veggies for the salad.
I’d gotten engrossed in my cooking, so jumped a little in fright when she appeared suddenly at my elbow. She looked more like a boy than ever, slim and scrubbed looking in a white shirt and denim jeans. "Smells good!" she said, taking an appreciative sniff. Then she looked at the steaks sputtering on the grill, shooting off little spurts of hot fat. "Shouldn’t you be wearing an apron?" she said. "Getting your clothes all messed up."
"Not that important. I’ll be doing a wash tomorrow, and a little bit of spatter won’t do them any harm," I said.
She gave me another one of her ‘bemused’ looks and started looking around the kitchen. Then she saw some of Janine’s aprons hanging on hooks at the back of the door.
Now my wife is a very feminine woman. Not into cooking as I’ve indicated – but when she works in the kitchen or around the house, she likes to wear an apron. Naturally, they’re of a style that is functional enough I guess, but certainly feminine. Kinda flimsy and diaphanous. To tell the truth? I’ve worn one now and then when she wasn’t around. Felt funny doing it, mind you – but who’s going to know?
Somehow, I knew what Andy had in mind the second she started walking towards the aprons. Felt a peculiar tight feeling in my chest and had an instinctive, instantaneous, desire to escape. But how can a grown man run away from someone in his own kitchen. So stood there, pretending to be busy although totally helpless, as she walked back towards me, the froth of an apron in her hand.
"Don’t want you to be doing any extra washing on my account," she said. "Let’s get this on you, okay?"
That particular apron was of the wrap-around type – they used to call them ‘Hoover style’ I believe - but whatever it was called, I stood there submissively, even helping to fit my arms in through the openings as she wrapped me in it, then pulled the sashes around my waist and fastened me into it with a neat bow. "There!" she said, nodding in approval. "Much better!"
She took a half step back, then gently fluffed up the frilled collars. "Much better!" she repeated. "Looks nice on you." Then she patted my cheek gently. "You look cute when you blush. Know that?"
Flustered, and well aware of her amusement, I stammered something then went back to my cooking. "Mind setting the table?" I asked her over my shoulder.
She surprised me again by coming up to my back and putting her arms around my waist. "Would I seem ungrateful if I passed on that?" she whispered. "You’re the one that’s dressed for that kind of work, and I’m awful clumsy around a kitchen."
I knew I shouldn’t say what I was going to – but said it anyway. "What kind of work would that be?"
I felt her pull me in a lot closer to her and nuzzle into the back of my neck. "Why, woman’s work, sweetie. Woman’s work."
"I’m not a woman," I said. "Or hadn’t you noticed?"
"Didn’t say you wuz now, did I?" She was openly teasing me now. "Just said you wuz dressed for it – and you’re not gonna stand there in that pretty apron of yours and tell me that you’re not, are you?" Then she patted me, none to gently, on the rump. "Now you gonna get my food on the table or stand there fussin’ and grumpin’?"
I had to giggle. Everything she was saying and the tone she was using, was making me out to be like the typical ‘Little woman’, but I seemed to have no argument against her. She let me go and I went and set the table, then got the food on the table. By that time, she’d did a cursory check of our living room and found some of my books. "This one of your wife’s books?" she asked, thumbing through it.
"In a manner of speaking," I said. "Come and get your meal while it’s hot."
"Ain’t gonna argue with you none about that," she said and sat down at the table.
She’d requested a big glass of milk and I’d poured myself a glass of Cabernet. "Cheers!" I said, lifting my glass to clink against hers.
"D’you mind if I say grace first?" she asked.
"No problem," I answered. "Sorry. I’m just not used to it."
She nodded then said a quiet prayer, her eyes downcast – I tried not to listen, but she gave thanks for me and my kindness and asked that I be blessed. Once she’d said her ‘Amen’ she looked up, smiled, and got torn into the meal. She was not a sloppy eater by any means, but I was amazed at the speed with which a large steak, potato, and salad disappeared.
She’d put the book beside her on the table while she ate. Once she finished, however, she put her hand on it. "Thought you said her name was Janine?" she said. "This says her first name is Lucille. How come?"
"Never heard of pen names?"
"Course I have. But you never answered my question. "Is this HER pen name?"
"In a manner of speaking, yes." I answered.
She picked the book up and started reading some of the blurbs from the back: "Lucille Henderson’s done it again – another romance that’ll delight her ever growing number of readers.." Then she thumbed her way into the center of the book. Read from the text this time . . "I couldn’t figure out what dress to wear. Shona had been SO jealous of me the last time we met – and as the wife of Jeffrey’s new boss, I felt I couldn’t afford to alienate her. I opted for the coral chiffon. It was a pretty dress, but I’d learned soon after I’d bought it that it did nothing for my complexion so decided to wear it as I was pretty sure she’d feel superior once she saw me in it."
Andy looked up from the book and stared at me. "You keep saying that."
"What?"
"In a manner of speaking. Does your wife write under the name of Lucille Henderson?"
I could feel the sickly grin on my face. Sighed, but could hear the slight tinge of boast in my voice though I spoke as lightly as I could. "Caught me! I’m the writer in the family."
"So? You’re Lucille, huh?"
Andy laughed when I responded. "In a manner of speaking? Yes." Then she asked. "So that’s why there’s no picture of you on the dust cover? That’s why Janine goes and does the book tours?"
"Well – don’t think I’d do as good a job of passing as Lucille as she does." I said.
She looked at me and squinted her eyes. "My momma owned a beauty parlor. Wanted me to be an operator SO bad. Trained me and everything, but I just wasn’t interested. Know what I mean?"
I nodded.
"And looking at you? A little work? You could make one real nice looking woman." Then she laughed heartily. "Would you just go and look in a mirror and see how red you are? I swear. I’ve always been boyish – and I’ve been told it many times – and I can accept it. But tell a man he’s girlish? Good grief! It’s red faces all over the place!" She looked up at me. "Want a hand with the dishes?"
"Sure!" I said, grateful for the change in subject. "Grab an apron."
She looked at me. "I’m not that girlish!" she said.
"Neither am I!" I said stoutly. "So how come . ."
She interrupted firmly. "Lucille? Wasn’t it you picked that name? You like to cook. Even do laundry? I don’t know what else you do that’s girlish, but you’re more girlish than I am right now. So why don’t you just go and make me a pot of coffee honey – and stop all this fussin’, eh? I’ll clear off the table."
Her word was good. She cleared off the table, then sat reading through the book. Sometimes reading excerpts out loud. Other times commenting. "You ever been laced into a corset honey? Truthfully?" Or. "You had a bikini wax? You describe it reeeaaally well!" Or "You really think you’d look good in buttercup yellow lingerie?"
And I stood there, in my gossamer apron, alternately blushing and trying to project some semblance of masculinity – something that got more and more difficult to do. Finally, the dishes all rinsed and into the dishwasher, we sat at the kitchen table and sipped from mugs of coffee. She didn’t say anything as I added lots of cream and lots of sugar, but she didn’t have to. Just looked slightly askance at me over her mug of black.
The weather outside had unloaded snow. Just looking out the window made one feel cold. She pulled the drapes aside once and looked out. "Want me to leave in the mornin’?" she asked.
There was an undercurrent there. I knew, perfectly well, that if I’d answered in the affirmative, she’d have been gone the next day. She was giving me one last chance to escape.
"Don’t be silly Andy!" Was all I thought to say.
"On your own head be it," she replied, grinning, – and I knew what she meant.
We’d gone to bed early – about 10.00 a.m. I think. Me to my bedroom, her to hers. I woke up, sometime in the dark of the morning, with her standing over me. She was shaking her head ruefully. "Looks like you’re NOT gonna ravish me, honey? In that case . . .?" And she was kneeling on top of my bed – and taking me into her arms!
It doesn’t show me in a good light to admit that I was scared. But, you know? It was dark, and I’d been awakened out of a sound sleep. On top of that, I love Janine – so I protested. Okay, not much – but it’s hard to say anything when someone stronger than you is on top of you – and has their lips pressed – so I struggled some physically. This gave Andy a laugh. "Oh, behave Lucille!" she muttered, "I can tell this is what you want!"
And she was right. Janine and I love each other, but sexually we’re both inexperienced – mostly my fault as I have a very low sex drive I guess and, with her being very shy in bed, it didn’t lead to too much rousing sex.
But lying there, basically helpless, all need for me to be the aggressor stripped away, I found myself reacting to Andy as she over-rode my weak attempts to fight her off – and finally became Lucille, giving up my lips to her. Twining my arms around her and letting out happy little moans of excitement as she worked me to a pitch of excitement I’d never reached before. Then she slid her moist cavity onto my erection and, speaking softly and gently into my ear, slowly rode me to ejaculation. "Whoa Lucille!" she laughed as I bucked underneath her and shot my load in quantities I’d never known I had.
We cleaned ourselves off, and it seemed like the most natural thing for her to come back to my bed and let me lie there, with my head laying on her arm.
"But Andy?" I asked softly.
"Yeah honey?"
"Aren’t you taking a chance on getting pregnant? You on anything?"
"Don’t worry honey. I can’t. Long story – but to keep it short? One of the reasons I don’t like men? I was raped a long time ago. By the time I was cleaned out? So was my chances of having kids. Not that I wanted any to tell the truth – they just raped me because I was too much of a tomboy, I guess. Wanted to show me that I could never be a real man."
"But? You like me, don’t you Andy?" I protested.
I felt her smile in the darkness. "No offense honey," she said. "But you ain’t a real man either. But just hush up now d’you hear? Go to sleep."
I huffed a little bit about my manhood being questioned, but shut my eyes – and was asleep in seconds.
I was up first. Just put a robe on over my pajamas, and was in the kitchen when I heard the shower run, so started making breakfast as I’d already made a pot of coffee. Was in the process of squeezing some oranges for juice when she appeared, bright and shining in the kitchen. "Mornin’ Lucille," she said, bringing me another apron, then added. "C’mon now! Don’t be getting silly on me!" as I opened my mouth to protest.
Blushing, I put it on and tied the bow. Pouted my lips for a kiss when she took me in her arms. "That’s better!" she said after the kiss. Patted me possessively on my backside. "Smells good honey! Think I could eat a dead hoss!"
The snow had lessened but had laid down a few feet overnight. It looked cold outside, and I felt warm and comfortable. When I went to sit beside Andy at the table, I went to take my apron off. She just shook her head. "I like you in that. Now behave!" she said firmly. Meekly, and strangely content, I obeyed her.
"I was looking around back there. How come you have two bedrooms side by side like that?" she asked after she’d pushed her (empty) plate away and was enjoying her third cup of coffee.
"Well? Janine wanted her own bedroom – and felt I should be able to furnish my own. We both like our own beds too."
"Well, her room is purty, I’ll give you that. But why don’t you have a nice one too?" Andy asked this, then seeing my blush, apologized immediately. "Aw, I’m sorry honey! You mean to tell me that Janine doesn’t know that you’re really Lucille?"
"Well, I’m not, really" I answered.
"Mmmm. Tell me. You and her about the same size?"
"Pretty much. She might be a tad bigger than me, but we’re about the same weight."
"Ever worn her clothes?"
"No. Not really." I looked away.
"Lucille! Tell the truth now!"
"Well, it was just once! A Halloween party."
Andy smiled encouragingly. "A dress?"
"Yes." Grudgingly.
"A pretty dress?"
"Oh, I guess you could say that."
"A party dress?"
"Well, it was an evening dress if you must know!" I knew I was starting to pout, but couldn’t help it.
"Wear her lingerie too?" She was starting to smile.
"Well – it would have looked stupid if I hadn’t, don’t you think?"
"Of course!" Andy said soothingly. "What color was the dress?"
"A sort of peach."
"Like pink? A pink party dress?"
I didn’t answer, seeing full well, the implications in her question. She put a hand on my arm and surprised me with the calloused feel of it. "Lucille? I’m just teasing you, that’s all. Don’t get mad at me. Now, did Janine make you up? Do your hair?"
"She made me up, but I wore a wig."
"How come? It’s long enough to have been styled nicely."
"It was a lot shorter then."
"Ah! That makes sense. Still got it?"
"What? The wig?"
"Nah. The dress."
I shrugged. "Think so. Janine doesn’t throw much out – she can be a real pack rat at times."
Andy pushed back from the table. "You look a little flushed darlin’. Why don’t you do your dishes. Maybe that’ll cool you down?"
I tried not to show my relief. "Sure Andy. Why don’t you go and take it easy. I’ll tidy up everything!"
She nodded. "Okay. See yah."
I was just wiping down the kitchen counters when I heard a faint swishing noise behind me. Turned to find Andy standing behind me, holding the peach evening dress with the layered tulle skirts half-draped around her. "This the one?" She asked. "Was the only pink one I could find in Janine’s closet."