Saturday, November 30, 2013

Dear Jon - Chapter # 18

Hello all! My name is V.L. Locey.  I am a self-published and traditionally published author that lives in the mountains of Pennsylvania with my husband of over twenty-two years, my daughter who is seventeen, a herd of dairy goats, chickens, geese, ducks, turkeys, two dogs, two cats, and a partridge in a pear tree. For more info and links about me and my work, check out the Bio tab up above.

Being a fan of music – and many other things from the 40`s - I thought it would be keen to include the links to the songs mentioned in this story. Here`s Dinah Shore singing You`d Be So Nice To Come Home To. Feel free to play them as you read for atmosphere or wait until you’re done.

Enjoy!





Dear Jon

Chapter Eighteen


By


V.L. Locey

*~*~*

We left the radio on in the living-room. The soft strains helped Andy sleep it seemed. Also, it aided in setting the mood while helping to muffle the sounds of two men stealing a precious hour or two of pleasure.

Our clothes had been shed hastily. There was not much time to spare on seductive slow-paced strip teases. The lad could wake up at anytime, or a car could go past and spy my car hidden behind the low hanging pine boughs. Paranoia was a living breathing thing for men like me and Ross.

I arched upward, trying to take more of my lover inside of me. His mouth covered mine; his hands clutched my wrists as he held my arms above my head. His chest rubbed over mine enticingly. I wrapped my legs around his waist. Ross growled low and deep, his teeth nibbling my lower lip. He released my wrists then sat back, nearly withdrawing from me.

“Take yourself in hand.” I trembled at the command then gripped my prick tightly. He nodded, grabbed my knees, pushed them into my chest, and then began to move in a rhythm that soon had me begging for more while pleading for him to stop. “Which is it?” Ross panted as we dallied dangerously close to the summit.

“Don`t stop,” I whimpered. He didn`t. We both exploded within a moment of each other, Ross reaching his release first. It was the sight of him finding his ultimate satisfaction that helped me tumble. We collapsed to his dark green coverlet, sweaty and covered with semen, our arms and legs intertwined. My breathing was labored. He grew flaccid and slid out. I bemoaned the loss. He kissed me quickly then pulled the sheet over our damp bodies. His rough hand moved over my chest.

“Do you know how exciting your body is to me?” he asked raggedly, his fingertips finding a nipple that puckered at his touch.

“I think I have a pretty good idea.” I was fair-skinned, young, and possessed little body hair. “Would you like me to shave?” I had done so before for lovers and would gladly do so for Ross. He nodded then kissed me so passionately my toes curled like a wooly bear caterpillar that had been prodded.

“Jon, no matter where this goes or what happens, I want you to know that I am mad in love with you.”

“Ditto,” I said as my fingers crept through his salt-and-pepper hair. “Think you`re up for another round before I take Andy home?”

“I really wish I could wake up next to you. Do you know how badly I desire that?”

“Yeah, I really do,” I sighed, grabbing a handful of hair then pulling his mouth to mine. Why waste time talking about things that could never be? Moonlight was burning and so was our passion for each other.

***

“I feel like a vampire.”

Andy looked at me curiously as we bounced into Hannity Hills.

“What`s a vampire?” he asked, his cheeks pink with health. So exhausted was I that I almost told him vampires were bats that sucked the blood from people. Thankfully I didn`t. Who wanted the kid scared of brown bats?

“A vampire is a movie actor like Bela Lugosi,” I told him as we pulled into my lawyer’s office. Andy didn`t seem interested in such things. He climbed out of the car then took my hand, holding his wooden Trigger in his other hand. Miss Sourpuss didn`t seem overly thrilled to see us. I sat down gingerly. Andy clambered into the stuffed chair next to me. I wondered if our lack of suit, tie, and Fedora was what was getting us the evil eye from the receptionist. We were clean, if not a little wrinkled. I needed to purchase an iron, but that had to wait. Flat broke meant no extras. Good thing Ross enjoyed feeding us.

We had barely gotten comfortable when we were told to go in. Attorney Bartlett was behind his desk, his pudgy fingers steepled, and his critical eyes sharp. We shook hands and then I told him why I was here.

“So you need someone to watch the boy while you`re working,” Bartlett smiled, the disapproving mood lifting as I conformed – I mean talked. “That shouldn`t be an issue. For a small fee I`m sure I can locate a willing housewife.”

“That would be fine,” I said eying his phone. “I`m going to fill out applications at several businesses in town, and with Mr. Coleman agreeing to sell my paintings for me in his shop I-”

Bartlett leaned into his desk. His stomach was too large for him to lean over it while seated.

“Mr. Porter, I surely cannot tell you who to befriend in Hannity Hills, but I would caution you about Ross Coleman.”

I sat slack-jawed. Andy made soft whinnies and snorts. Someone in the reception area sneezed.

“Uhm, why is that?” I inquired crossing on leg over the other than instantly changing my mind.

Bartlett looked at Andrew then me. “He`s a man well into his fifties that has never been wed. And you with a young boy to protect . . .”

“I`ll stop by before I leave town to find out about a babysitter. Thank you for your help. ” I grabbed my nephew by the arm and left, nodding at the grim woman at the desk as I passed. I could not get outside quickly enough. We drove to the shop. Andy was oblivious. I grabbed the completed landscape from the back seat, nabbed Andy as he dallied on the sidewalk, and rushed into the shop to find Ross laughing with an attractive young woman with dark hair.

“Hello, Mr. Porter!” Ross smiled, motioning me to join them. I did, my eyes darting from Ross to the blue-eyed woman then to the back room. “Mr. Porter, this is Miss Abigail Jenkins, our town librarian.”

“Pleasure,” I said with a nod of my head. “I brought the landscape. Perhaps we could take it into the storage room and discuss a suitable consignment plan?”

Ross studied me closely. “That would be fine. If you`ll excuse us for just a moment, Miss Jenkins?”

“Of course.” She smiled warmly. Andy had found the stash of other handcrafted toys and was seated on the floor behind the cash register. Miss Jenkins sauntered off to browse. We slid into the backroom but left the door cracked in case Andrew called.

“Ross, the people of this town know about you,” I hissed as he took the oil from me.

“I know,” he said, tipping his head left then right as he drank in the painting. I blinked several times. Ross glanced at me. “You look stunned.”

“I am. I`m stunned that you`re not worried about it.”

“They don`t know anything, all they have are suspicions and as long as I keep my nose clean-”

“Clean as in having my car parked at your house every night?!”

“Jon,” he whispered, turning to peek through the cracked door then giving me a hard look, “You need to calm down. Suspicions are just that, suspicions. I`ve heard the whispers for years. How you heard them is the question.”

“I was talking to Bartlett about selling some paintings in your store. He cautioned me to make sure I protect Andrew from you.”

The thunder and lightning erupted in his stormy eyes when I passed that horrid detail along. I wanted to hold him and rain kisses along his sternly set jaw. I folded my arms over my chest instead.

“I won`t even dignify that disgusting comment with a reply. We do need to make the fog a bit denser though. Miss Jenkins! I`ve just discovered something I think you`ll be pleased to hear!”

I stared at Ross` wide back. I fumbled along behind him, lost as a man could be. Miss Jenkins came bustling over. She wore her peach colored frock nicely. Ross took her hand and placed it in mine.

“Mr. Porter has just said that he was grievously disappointed not to have a date for the dance at the community center this Saturday. Would you be willing to go with him?”

Miss Jenkins blushed prettily and bobbed her head. I felt my hand grow cold as it cradled her feminine one.

*~*~*


Wednesday, November 27, 2013

Autumn Rain

Abyrne Mostyn has joined us again with a short  romantic offering that suits the season well. Fate is a fickle mynx, and uses  all means in conspiracy against us.
 
 
Autumn Rain
by
Abyrne Mostyn 
 
Only the weeping willow remained unchanged. The other colorful leaves, long since path pavers on the walk, betrayed the lateness of the season. Skylar was down there with the fallen rainbow along the curb feeling cast off and walked on. Shareese had been the cause. Weeks had become months since they had had anything more than an argument between them and still he could not bring himself to believe there was anyone else for him.
Love was like that. Loss was like that too. The difference was perspective and a healthy dose of reality, but he could not bring himself to choke down the bitter pill. She was off somewhere dancing with someone else, without a thought for him. He didn’t think so, he knew so having seen her in the pub window bedecked and bedazzled for the night. It was one more slap to the cheek he had already turned.
Walking around with his eyes on the ground, he missed what was in front of him, then and now. Realities past and future were lost to the drek that balanced on the sewer grate waiting to fall. He wasn’t alone. Megan missed missing the collision with Skylar just as surely as neither looked up to see the oncoming person in their path. Misery, company, cliché.
The mad tangle of limbs, the hasty apologies, and the recognition of a kindred soul were the matter of a moments glance up after the fall. The universe is a conspiracy. Sometimes only to show you what it is that you need to see when you refuse to look.
Silent seconds passed into minutes and more measurable units of time as they grappled with the notion that somehow words weren’t necessary yet to convey the gaping hole they were wearing under their clothes. Like running a wet finger around the rim of a crystal glass the monotone soliloquy of each played between them with the sounds of a concert orchestra to accompany the pain they wore on their faces. Before they realized the leaves no longer crunched beneath their feet, or that the November rain would wash away the somber death knell they had been building, the moment was broken and the tiniest piece of patch snuck from the edge of each hole toward their center with the laughter that followed their awkward ‘Hi’ as they uttered at them at the same time.
The universe is a conspiracy. Walk with your eyes open, stand in the rain, and see the future for what it can be. They did.
 
Check out Abyrne's newet release: 
 


Oral Dilemma: Little Girl Blue

Will Roxanne ever catch a break? Will she ever find happiness or is fate determined to keep her blue?

 This image is not owned by Storytime Trysts all copyrights reserved to artist. 
 
Oral Dilemma: Little Girl Blue

by
Ellie Mack

“Fired? What do you mean fired? What the hell Mike?” I couldn’t believe it. Surely he was joking.
“Sorry, you ain’t waitressing for me anymore.” He was smiling but there was no hint of remorse in his eyes.
I looked at him in shocked disbelief, standing there staring at him for several minutes.
“ Mike, you’re an ass. Always got to be the joker. That’s just wrong man.” It was Johnny D, in that low sexy voice of his. “Roxanne sweetheart, you got some real soul. Since you are currently unemployed I got an opportunity for you.”
I turned to Johnny, then back glaring at Mike. “I’m listening”
“How ‘bout you open for the band next week on vocals. It’s a paid gig.”
I turned slowly to Johnny. “Seriously? What?” He had my full attention now.
Mike cleared his throat. “See, if you are in the band you can’t waitress. We’ve been wanting to do the live band thing again ever since Lorna left us 3 years ago. Me and Locks here knew last night when you sang that you had the sound we were looking for. I can’t afford to pay you to waitress and sing. Not until we start drawing a large crowd. It would be a raise actually. What do you say Rox?”
I was a little bit miffed at how he did it, but I had to admit it was exciting. Tara and I had the funds from mom’s house, and I felt like I could take a chance and have some fun. Plus, I figured if it didn’t work out I could go back to college.
“Sure, I’ll do it.”
“Alright then” Johnny D smiled. For an older guy he was downright sexy. That smile was devastating. It was decided when we would practice and where. Johnny had a full studio at his house. Mike planned on opening the following Saturday which didn’t give us much time. We met every day at two o’clock. I learned a lot about the guys, we learned about each other’s style and signals. Things just seemed to click as if we’d played together for years.
Of all the silly things Mike bought me an outfit to wear for my first performance. We had a regular party with pizza and drank to celebrate the night before. I wore my leather pants and soft flowing Bohemian style top that Mike selected for me. It wasn’t my usual style but it was nice. After about ten minutes I swore I’d never go back to plain jeans again. Other than a brief moment worrying about my makeup and hair I found myself completely relaxed as if I’d found my true calling in life.
It was difficult to think of it as work really, but in fact we were earning a few bucks. Mike had hired some college students to plaster flyers all over town and on every windshield for our debut. There were maybe forty people there that first night. The crowd steadily increased each week.
We mixed classical blues songs with new originals including several I had written. I was so inspired, I dug out old notebooks that I had songs in. Years of heartache, years of dad never being there, feeling unwanted gave me material to draw on. It was my life and emotions poured into song. I rewrote most of them, but a few were good in their elemental simplicity.
By the month’s end we had standing room only at the club. I’d discovered my own style in clothing, favoring my boots and a leather skirt with a tailored shirt. Chunky jewelry was a luxury I could afford now so I had plenty of it. I knew this ride wasn’t going to last, but I was determined to ride it to the end, budgeting my money with a portion for playing and investing the rest.
Life was good. I was happy, Tara was happy Mike was happy and I prepared myself for the bottom to drop out. It had been five months since this ride began, and I just knew that the end was coming. Knew that for me the ride never lasted.
At the end of the fifth month I had made a decision. I’d get as many songs out of me, out of my system as I could. Maybe it would help me get over whatever it was that plagued me.
It was a grueling night. It had been a long day with aggravation after aggravation, and the evening was just one bit of trouble after another. I walked to the bar between sets rolling my neck to ease the tension. “Make it a double Mark."
“Hello Roxanne. You look amazing. Been a long time.”
I knew that voice. My heart skipped a beat. Could it be?

Saturday, November 23, 2013

Dear Jon - Chapter # 17

Hello all! My name is V.L. Locey.  I am a self-published and traditionally published author that lives in the mountains of Pennsylvania with my husband of over twenty-two years, my daughter who is seventeen, a herd of dairy goats, chickens, geese, ducks, turkeys, two dogs, two cats, and a partridge in a pear tree. For more info and links about me and my work, check out the Bio tab up above.

Enough about me, let`s get to the romance!





Dear Jon

Chapter Seventeen
By


V.L. Locey

*~*~*

                Ross flipped the steaks. I could hear the fire in the brick pit flaring up as well as the sizzle of meat juices. I was sitting on the redwood swing by the pond keeping an eye on Andy as he tried his hand at fishing. We had about an hour before dark, give or take. I took a small sip of the gin and tonic Ross had prepared for me. The cubes made a reassuring clatter inside the tall frosted glass. There were birds rustling around in the pines that blocked the cabin from sight from the road.

            “Mourning doves getting ready to roost,” Ross said as he sat down beside me with care. The swing moved slightly. His hand rested on my knee. “Feeling better?” he asked while giving my knee a gentle squeeze.

            “I`m not sure what to do,” I said as I stared at the lime slice in my gin and tonic. “They`re asking me to be a totally different person, Ross.” I looked from my drink to the man on my right. “They`re trying to mold me into the very thing that I broke free from the day my father died.”

            “I know how hard it is for you, but sometimes we just have to conform.”

            “Why? Why the hell do we have to change to fit a stereotype? I`d be a damned good father figure to Andy just as I am!”

            Andrew looked from his bobber sitting atop the water at the sound of his name. Ross waved and asked if he had any bites. The lad shook his head, sandy hair falling into his eyes as he replied. I threw back a long pull of my cocktail.

            “Jon, I know you youngsters--”

            “Please don`t use that term to make me feel like a child.”

            “Very well, I`m sorry if I offended you,” he replied gently, his fingers applying a steady pressure that was quite heartening. “Let me rephrase. I know that the wild fire of reform and rebellion burns more brightly in the souls of young men. When you grow older – and I`m not making any sort of age reference about us- you learn to temper the fire with patience.”

            “I refuse to play their game.”

            “Then you chance losing Andrew,” Ross whispered, keeping our conversation private. “Would it be so terrible to grab a part-time job in Hannity Hills? You can still paint to add to your income, as we`ve discussed.”

            “And where do I draw the line?” I asked, turning my head to look right into his stunning grey eyes. “Do I move here and become a laborer at the feed mill? Do I marry some ditzy young farm girl? Do I live a lie for the rest of my life?!”

            “Yes, if it means that young man has his uncle, then yes, you work at the feed mill and you marry Becky Barley, the farmer’s daughter. You even go to the church that Becky says you go to, because in the end, that child`s needs are more important than yours.”

            He stood up and walked to his red brick fire pit. I sat there staring at a bat that had braved the last rays of sun to grab a mosquito rising from the pond. Andy giggled and pointed at the brown bat. I smiled and nodded. I stood up slowly, to ensure my legs had recovered from Ross` words better than my mind had. I met the man`s steady gaze over the steaks as he tended to them.

            “If I could, I would marry you in an instant,” I told him. He was not prepared for me to say something of such magnitude. In truth, the proclamation kind of shocked me as well. Of course the thought of a couple of fruits tying the knot was outlandish, and we both knew it. But even queers can dream, right?

            “You`d look wonderful in an apron, high heels, and pearls,” he said, one side of his mouth twitching.

            “Why do I have to be the woman?” I asked, sliding around the pit to stand at his side.

            “You`ve got better legs for the stockings.”

            “That’s true.” I raised my glass for a sip, peeking around the tall brick flue. Andy had forgotten about fishing to pursue the bat. Talk about an exercise in futility. When the lad ran behind a tall spruce I leaned over to grab a taste of Ross. His mouth claimed mine instantly. We broke apart when a child raced past with a stick. Do little boys go anywhere without a stick in their hands? “Andrew, stop running with sticks!” I shouted at his back. He threw the stick down but continued chasing the poor bat, his high-pitched squeals muddying the bats echo-location terribly I was sure.

            “And with that last statement your time in heels and garter belts is cemented into place,” Ross chuckled, forking a steak.

            “I think I`ve fallen in love with you,” I said.

            “Christ, Jon, is there any other startling news you`d like to throw at me tonight?” Ross asked, the steak nearly missing the platter he was placing it on. I shook my head. “Good,” he huffed as he cleared the racks of t-bones, “I don`t know if my old heart can take too many more shocks.”

            “I didn`t mean to throw you for a loop.”

            He placed the steaks to the picnic table then turned to look at me. “You didn`t. It was just a surprise to hear you saying what I too have been feeling.”

            “So now what?” I asked after we stood there in the dwindling sunlight staring at each other for a solid minute at least.

            “We`re going to eat dinner, go inside, listen to the radio, tuck Andrew into bed on the couch, and then go into my room where I plan to make love to you for hours.”

            “That`s not what I meant,” I countered as Andrew barreled around the side of the house, arriving as young boys do, in a blustering cloud of dirt, wild hair, sweat, and giggles.

            “Let tonight pass and then worry about tomorrow.” Ross waved a hand at the steaks, salad, and big baking potatoes wrapped in tin foil. “Have faith that things will work out. Be patient.”

            Cocking an eyebrow at the man, I sat down beside my nephew, dropped my head, and for the first time since I knew I was queer I asked God to help guide us through the trying times ahead.


*~*~*




Monday, November 18, 2013

Just Another After School Special

 
Just Another After School Special
Part Eight
By
Eva Rayne

Friday morning I slipped in the class room door just as Nick was pulling out the attendance sheet out of his bag.

I'm glad you could join us this morning, Izzie,” Nick said, handing the attendance sheet to a girl in the front row to start passing around. His tone was even, with a touch of reprimand, but the sparkle in his eyes and the secret smile on his lips when he looked back over told me he was still thinking about last night.

I'm sorry it was a late night,” I was sure by the smile on my face as I slid into my usual seat gave away how I had spent my night and I tried to not make eye contact with Nick and give it all away.

You gotta love thirsty Thursday around here, don't you?” Nick said with a chuckle and the room filled with a chorus of positive responses. I noticed for the first time how many people had bottles of water or Gatorade.

Nick chuckled, “How about since it is Friday we just go over some of the homework problems then get the hell out of here?”

His suggestion was met with cheers, sighs of relief and even a few whistles, and a few cringes as the volume in the room rose.

Volunteers to the board, any problems you had questions about from Wednesday's homework,” Nick instructed, pulling a handful of dry erase markers out of his bag and leaving them on the table.

Slowly, a handful of people made their way to the front of the room, notebooks or torn out pieces of paper in their hands. Nick caught my eye as I unzipped my back pack and I smiled before pulling out my notebook. The same notebook that Nick had written his number in just a few weeks ago.

While they're putting those up there,” Nick started again, “Let's talk Halloween.” Almost everyone in the room stopped talking. Halloween next Thursday night was the main topic on campus.

I'm not stupid, I know everyone of you is gonna end up going out next week so...” he trailed off.

So you're going to give us the day off?” a football player asked from the back of the room, looking like Christmas had come early.

I am,” Nick confirmed, chuckling. “And anyone who dresses up for class on Wednesday will get 5 bonus points.”

The rest of class passed quickly. We couldn't have been in there twenty minutes. Most of the time the conversation focused around Halloween, who was throwing a party and what everyone was dressing up as.

When Nick dismissed the class I hung back a little, copying down a problem from the board. Once the last person left the room he came over, sitting on the desktop next to me.

We cut it a little close this morning,”he said with a smile, leaning over and kissing me.

We'll just have to be more careful next time,” I said, unable to keep the cheesy smile off my face.

You want there to be a next time?” he asked, playfully tugging on a strand of my hair as I zipped my backpack.

Yeah, I do,” I told him, looking up into his sparkling eyes, “Do you?”

He grabbed my hand, pulling me up and to him, “I do,”


And that was how we spent the next month. We stole kisses after class, secret smiles, movie nights at his apartment. The days leading up to Thanksgiving break flew by.

Are you gonna miss me?” Nick asked me the last Sunday before break, curled up on his couch.

Maybe,” I teased, looking up to kiss his cheek.

Only maybe, huh?” he asked, tickling my sides.

Stop it!” I cried between giggles, trying to squirm away from him.

After a long moment he stopped, pulling me to him and kissing me instead, “Still only maybe?” he asked, his voice a husky whisper against my ear.

I guess I'll miss you,” I admitted, kissing him again.

Good, cause I'm gonna miss you,” he told me, laying down and pulling me down on top of him.

Then I better give you something good to remember,” I said, a sly smile on my lips as I leaned down, kissing him hard.

Saturday, November 16, 2013

Dear Jon - Chapter # 16

Hello all! My name is V.L. Locey.  I am a self-published and traditionally published author that lives in the mountains of Pennsylvania with my husband of over twenty-two years, my daughter who is seventeen, a herd of dairy goats, chickens, geese, ducks, turkeys, two dogs, two cats, and a partridge in a pear tree. For more info and links about me and my work, check out the Bio tab up above.

Being a fan of music – and many other things - from the 40`s - I thought it would be keen to include the links to the songs mentioned in this story. Here`s something a little different for you, an episode of Superman! Feel free to play them as you read for atmosphere or wait until you’re done.

Enjoy!





Dear Jon

Chapter Sixteen


By


V.L. Locey

*~*~*


One of the concerns showed up at the bungalow late Friday afternoon.

Andrew and the feathered greeting committee announced the visitor`s arrival. I was seated in the kitchen, a cup of coffee at my elbow, trying to get my checkbook to say we had enough cash to cover the bills coming in at a steady rate. Tossing the pen, bills, and checkbook aside, I walked out onto the front porch to see a tall lean man in a dour brown suit exiting a black Buick hardtop. He held an alligator satchel like it was his lifeline. I immediately thought he was a travelling salesman.

He approached me waiting on that cluttered stoop, his dark brown eyes drinking in the bungalow, the kid, and the way I stood. He had a long face like a mule, and one thick eyebrow instead of two. The man was giving me a sour stomach before we had even shook hands.

“Mr. Jon Porter, I`m Augustus Smith, Child Welfare Worker out of the Chestnut Grove office building,” he said, snapping a card at me in lieu of a handshake. I read the business card several times, hoping the glob of fear behind my adam`s apple would go away before I had to speak.

“Mr. Smith, won`t you come inside?” I asked. He did. The man moved like a mongoose. He hurried inside, his dark eyes touching on the sparse furnishings and tattered wallpaper. “Is this one of your paintings?”

“Yes, I`ve been working on switching from cityscapes which I did in New York to something with a more rural-”

“Is this where you plan to live with the child?” he asked, his satchel tight to his chest.

“Well, for the moment, yes. Things are sort of up in the-”

            He ran a finger over the top of the radio. I called myself all sorts of a shithead for not cleaning up better. His long nose wrinkled then he entered the kitchen, me hot on his heels. At least I had washed the dishes up after lunch.

            “Would you care for some coffee?” I asked. I hoped he could smell the lingering aroma of the bacon I had fried for lunch. He shook his head, pulled out a seat, and sat down still holding his satchel as if it would shield him from a bullet. I sat down across from him.

            “Do you often leave the child unattended in close proximity of a river?”

            I blinked at him. “It`s a creek and Andy knows not to wade out too-”

            He placed his alligator satchel on top of my paperwork, flipped it open, and then pulled out a sheaf of vellum all nicely held together with paperclips. One of my receipts fluttered to the floor. I stood up, excused myself, and went out the back door in search of my nephew. I found him sitting on the creek bank poking a toad with a stick while the geese paddled about in the shallow water.

            “Andy, can you come inside? I think Superman is on.”

            The boy came, but it was a slow shuffle. I guess toads are more fascinating than the man of steel. Mr. Smith shot us a sour look when we hurried past into the living room. I got the lad settled, found Clark Kent on Mutual Network, and then returned to the kitchen with my nerves beyond frayed.

            My chair creaked when I sat back down. Mr. Smith had placed slim glasses on his nose.

            “According to our research you are still single, is that right?”

            I nodded.

            “Do you intend to remain single?” he asked, his eyes oddly distorted through the thick glass.

            “I haven`t really thought about it. Are you sure I can`t get you any-”

            “Perhaps you should think about it,” he informed me curtly. Did they know? My palms grew damp. No, if they knew he would have removed Andrew from my sick clutches instantly. “The courts look much more favorably upon married couples. And this house could use a woman`s touch.”

            “I know it isn`t much but it`s all the boy has known. I`m not even sure if I`m going to remain here much . . . is that a bad thing?”

            “Well, your address in New York leaves a great deal to be desired. I realize that you`re an artist, but perhaps if you would relocate to a less bohemian part of the city?”

            “But my studio is there. Greenwich is the heart and soul of the artistic world in New York,” I argued as gently as possible. His shoulders squared.

            “It is also an area that is filled with sick degenerates. Of course, these are just my suggestions, Mr. Porter,” he sniffed. I instantly began to try to fix the mess, promising I would look into a new neighborhood before I took Andrew anywhere. That eased the man somewhat.

            “Now, since being an artist is not what we in the Child Welfare System would term to be a meaningful career, I have taken the liberty of placing your name into several businesses in Hannity Hills, to show the judge who will preside over this case that you are trying to act accordingly with the laws of God and state.”Mr. Smith shoved several forms at me then handed me a fountain pen.

            “What is this you want me to sign?” I asked, my thoughts in such a fog even Superman wouldn`t be able to see through them, x-ray vision or not.

            “This is just a form for applying for legal guardianship for your nephew. If you could sign them at the X, I`ll begin the proceedings,” he explained. I nodded, signed where directed, stood when he replaced the forms into his satchel, and then walked him to his car.

            “I`d suggest fixing up the house to the best of your abilities,” Mr. Smith said as he carefully placed his satchel to the front seat like it were a precious child. “I`ll return several times over the next few months to see if things are being done to the courts satisfaction. Oh, and when you are gainfully employed in this state, I will need to be notified so that your income tax information can be forwarded to our office. Thank you for being so cooperative and have a nice day, Mr. Porter.” He tipped his hat then jumped inside to sit beside his satchel.

The taillights on his Buick disappeared before I could make my feet move. I went inside, grabbed a wrinkled jacket and my favorite Fedora, rounded up Andy, and jumped into my car. Ross exited his home when we slid into the dirt driveway.

“I wasn`t expecting you two until later today,” he smiled as he walked over to greet us. I was barely out of the car when his grey eyes grew dark with worry. “What happened?” he asked.

Not giving two shits who might see, I threw my arms around Ross and held him right there in his driveway. Someone small tugged on my pant leg as I inhaled the aroma of Ross Coleman deep into my soul.

“Can I hug too?”

The young man was scooped up instantly.

*~*~*


Tuesday, November 12, 2013

Oral Dilemma: Jam

  Roxanne has been buried in grief so long she's lost all confidence in herself. Sometimes when we least expect it, opportunity knocks.   


 Storytime Trysts does not own copyrights to this image. 

Oral Dilemma: Jam
By
Ellie Mack 
Read Part 1 here
Read Part 2 here
Read Part 4 here
Read part 5 here.  
Read part 6 here.
Read part 7 here.  
Read part 8 here. 
Read part 9 here.
Read part 10 here.  
Read part 11 here.
Read part 12 here 
Read part 13 here
Read part 14 here.
Read part 15 here
Read Part 16 here 
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    Sirens blared, loud sirens going off that caused instant stabbing pain inside my head. A chain reaction of explosions that I just knew was killing brain cells. I covered my head with the blanket, praying for it to stop. After a few seconds it did but then restarted a few minutes later. It woke me enough to have to use the bathroom. As I staggered down the hall I realized it wasn’t sirens but rather my phone.
It took a concerted effort to read my phone, finally just hitting replay on my voice messages.
“Roxy this is Mike, I need you to come in at 2. It’s eleven and I haven’t heard back. Are you there?“There was a beep then another message.
“Roxanne, doll. I really need you to get up. You have to be here at 2. Call me! That’s it I’m coming over if you haven’t called me back by noon.”Again there was a beep.
It rang again in my hand “Hello?”
“Good. You’re finally up.”
“Finally? What the heck Mike, I’m not scheduled till seven.” I searched the refrigerator while talking.
“It’s nearly noon, I need you here by 2. Well before that actually. Change of plans doll, stuff happens you know? Tell you what, I’ll be there in half an hour to pick you up.”
It figured that when I had a hangover Carly would skip her shift. “No Mike I can be there.”
“You won’t regret it.”
“ I already do.” I yelled into the phone.
I could hear him laugh on the other end.“I’ll be there in a half an hour.” He hung up on me. I closed the fridge empty handed and went to shower.
At twelve thirty there was pounding on my door. “Ugh. For the love of God Mike stop it!” I screamed as I opened the door.
He stood there grinning like a kid with a new toy. “Wanted to make sure you hadn’t gone back to bed.” He shoved a bag of bagels and a large coffee at me. “You’re gonna like this Roxy.”
I groaned as he followed me to the kitchen. Coffee was little consolation for the explosion in my head.
“Tara around? She can come in with you as well.”
“I think she’s in class” Then I looked at the clock. “Oh, well she should be back any minute.
“Good, good!” Mike was agitated. I hadn’t seen him this excited since, well I hadn’t ever.
I listened to him ramble on about getting the band together, I envisioned a group of middle aged men like in that movie “Wild Hogs”. I couldn’t help but smile. There was a gleam in Mike’s eye that I hadn’t seen before. “What’s going on Mike?” I tore off a hunk of bagel and chewed.
“New thing! Well, a renewed thing. Gonna make some changes.”
“When did you decide all this?” I chewed another bite.
“Last night. Thought about it for a while, been wanting to do it but last night made up my mind. It’s time.”
Just as I finished my bagel, Tara came in. She was surprised to see him, but quickly agreed to go in with us. She changed clothes, then grabbed the bagel to eat on the way. There was only two times before that Mike had picked me up. The first was to get my official waitress uniform, he paid for the outfit and told me what was acceptable and not acceptable. He didn’t want any of the girls working for him to dress inappropriately. He saw a bit of his daughter in all of us. The second time my car was in the shop and it was pouring down rain.
When we arrived at the club Carly was working. This made me wonder what was up even more as I figured I was covering her shift.
“I thought you said Carly couldn’t make her shift?” I looked at Mike suspiciously.
“Never said that doll, you just assumed.” I could have sworn his eyes just twinkled. I really hated mind games but there was a certain fascination in watching Mike like up like a Christmas bulb.
I worked in the back room stocking the shelves occasionally catching a glimpse of Mike with an energy and excitement that I’d not seen before. I moved to the kitchen, cleaning the shelves and work surface. I heard several voices with Mike along with a great deal of clattering noise.
“Roxanne, come out here.”
I wiped my hands on my apron and grabbed a tray. Four distinguished gentlemen sat around the largest table with Mike. I took their orders then returned with their drinks.”
Once the food was served, I went back to the kitchen helping Mark with food preparations. I chopped vegetables,acting as his sou chef. Tara came in and took over what I was doing grinning like a fool. She told me to clean up and go check with Mike.
I wondered what was going on that I didn’t know about. It seemed everyone kept looking at me strangely. Were they talking about how poorly I did on the karaoke thing last night? That thought only made me more self conscious and wondering what was up.
Pushing through the double doors, I saw that the guys were no longer at the table but setting up instruments on the stage. I busied myself bussing the table, certain that it was what Mike wanted, to make sure we made a good impression on his friends. It was really good to see him in good spirits. It was apparent that he was excited for his friends to be there. As I cleaned, I listened to them warm up. The bass player resembled Bruce Willis with the cool confidence of a seasoned performer. The keyboardist began running his fingers over the keys as if he was caressing his lover. His long elegant fingers moved in fluid motions as his long jet black hair fell forward over his eyes as he played. Soon they were moving into familiar riffs of songs that I recognized. I couldn’t help but hum along. It was a secret passion that few people knew I had, a very selfish indulgence.
When they began playing through “Careless Love”, I couldn’t help but hear the soulful sounds of Ray Charles, singing softly under my breath. The guys sounded fantastic together. They sounded better than some bands I’d heard in clubs.
Love, oh love, oh careless love. Whoa Love, oh love, ohhh careless love. I’ll tell you what careless love can do.
“Roxy” Mike motioned me over to the band. I blushed, worrying that maybe I got a little loud in my humming and singing. I tucked my cloth in my apron walking sheepishly towards the stage. “Meet the guys. This is Chubs” He introduced the man on drums. He was far from chubby, in fact he looked gaunt and haggard. I shook his hand.
“This is Johnny D on keys” He reached his hand to shake mine, a smooth low sultry voice like Lou Rawls.
“Nice to meet you.” He grinned as he squeezed my hand. “You’re right Mike, she’s a looker.”
I blushed. Wasn’t expecting any compliments, and I knew I certainly wasn’t a “ looker”.
“Sandman on lead.” I shook his hand, he nodded to me not saying a word.
“And this sad case over here is my brother Matt, but we call him Locks.” He shyly extended his hand nodding.
“Guys this is Roxanne Winters, the doll with the voice.” I blushed smiling. “Join us in a little jam session Rox. We have the words printed off for you if you need them.” He handed me a bundle of pages stapled together. “Sing for us doll.”
They started on Kris Kristofferson’s song “Help Me Make IT Through the night.” A smooth transition slipping into “ Aint No Sunshine”. I couldn’t believe they were playing my favorites and letting me sing with them. After that Sandman kicked into some awesome riffs leading into “Damn Your Eyes.”
I loved that song, poured myself into it not caring what anyone thought, just feeling it all the way to the end never looking at the lyrics.
“ You ain’t jokin’ Mike, she got it.” It was Johnny D. “Can we do that one she sung?”
Locks fingers were magic on the strings. The soulful mourning that poured forth was better than Santana, similar to Bonamasso. I started in on Baddest Blues. I saw Tara lean against the bar, just listening, her ankles crossed elbows propped on the bar, tears flowing. There were a few people that had come in for the afternoon that seemed to enjoy the jam.
The last song the guys did was “Rock Me Baby.” I imagined the divine Etta James singing as I belted it out, putting a little extra passion into the song. It was a sensuous song after all, the sultry wails with a touch of raunch, made the lyrics “rock me baby, like I ain’t got no backbone” really hit home with me, pouring my heart into it.
When we finished, the place was packed and the applause was deafening.
Mike turned around grinning like a fiend, happy with his friends in the band. He looked out over the audience, basking in the applause and said: “Roxanne Winters, you’re fired.”