Eighth Street downtown wasn't the best section of town but if you went through the city's urban development program you could pick up an old Victorian for a song. That's what Miranda Saunderson, and her room mate, Jan Feldon did last summer. It was the Wendell place, one hundred-thirty years old, and Miranda finally convinced Jan it was the buy of the century.
Miranda and Jan were the owners, operators of Hendersonville's lingerie boutique, located in the heart of downtown, next to the deli and Cheap Shot camera store. They started the business back in eighty three but didn't share a home until Miranda pointed out the savings to both if they bought a home together.
That was her forte, saving money. Miranda was the sort of girl who lived frugally. She kept her share of the profits stashed away in bank accounts all over town, while Jan, well, let's just say the only thing Jan Feldon ever saved were ticket stubs from the Van Halen concert at Hendersonville's civic center last October, and a picture of Tom Cruise she acquired after buying her Lady Buxton.
It was getting late and Marty would arrive any minute. Jan scurried around the house getting ready while Miranda fixed a chef salad for supper. Typical scene of their lives together. Miranda spent her free time sketching designs for their lingerie store while Jan danced, kissed, flirted and frittered her evenings away on the arm of a different male escort every night.
"What time is it now?" Jan yelled from the bathroom.
"Quarter till."
"Shit! Well, he'll just have to wait." Jan said, with defiance. She pretended to mind running late for her dates, but the truth was, she loved keeping the men waiting. Jan thought it gave her the edge
"Jan will be ready shortly, Marty. So, where are over the evening. She figured if you make a man simmer with anticipation right from the start, the entire evening would be under your control.
Miranda got the salad dressing from the refrigerator then sat to enjoy the meal. She was used to dining alone. It was a nightly ritual, as Jan rarely ate at home. She flipped on the news then settled back.
"Well?" Jan asked, entering the room. "What do you think?" Miranda looked up then gave a grin.
"He'll go nuts." she said.
"You think so?"
"Absolutely, Jan, how could it miss. It's terrific."
"I'm wearing the Sean LeFlur." Jan said, spinning around once then striking a sexy pose. Miranda didn't comment. Sean LeFlur was underwear. She wasn't quite sure how to respond.
Just then, the doorbell rang and Jan scampered to the bedroom. She told Miranda to invite him in then keep him occupied until she was ready. Miranda didn't question it. She already knew the game. She opened the door and Marty came inside.
"Hi, I'm Miranda, Jan's room mate, won't you come in?" she smiled sweetly. Marty introduced himself then took a seat on the sofa. He had flowers and candy for Jan and when Miranda offered him a drink, she took the pretty bouquet and put it in water.
"Jan will be ready shortly, Marty. So, where are you two going?" she asked.
"I thought we might have dinner at Marilee's then get in some dancing." he said, taking his scotch.
"Marilee's?" Miranda smiled. "Lovely restaurant." she said, showing approval. "The Ninth Street Disco?" she added.
"Ya, Jan likes it there. So, Jan tells me you're the designer for the shop?"
"Not really." Miranda blushed. She fancied herself a designer but was too humble to openly refer to herself as one. After all, she had no formal training in the field. It was just something she liked doing and something she did well. "I dabble in it." she said.
"I'd say no was more than a dabble. Jan's modeled several of your creations for me and I must tell you." Marty fanned his palm up and down gesturing heat, then smiled. There it was again, Miranda thought. Reference to Jan's underwear. Miranda wondered how many Hendersonville men had actually seen them. She dated a different man every night, all three hundred sixty five of them, and had been doing so since high school. Miranda's numerically efficient brain went to work with a quick calculation, figuring a potential of possible viewers and, after allowing for the standard ten percent margin of error, concluded the total number of men who actually saw Jan's under things could be, one thousand, nine hundred seventy. Naw, she thought, there's no way. Miranda thanked Marty for the compliment then filled his glass again with scotch.
"Careful," he warned, jokingly. "I'm a madman when drunk." Miranda blushed. She wasn't in practice talking with men. She dated once, in high school, but Chad Barrett wasn't a challenge to her feminine charm. He took her to the drive-in picture show and gurgled soda pop in between devouring two foot longs with chili,- onion and relish. Making an effort with him would be like sticking your finger in an electric fan without getting cut. It would be the ultimate challenge but who would want to try?
"Don't get drunk, Marty." Miranda said. "Jan would never forgive me if her date passed out before you two had a chance to eat dinner."
"Speaking of dinner, where is that woman?" Marty asked, looking at his watch. It was getting late and their reservation wouldn't keep forever. "I'll go see what's keeping her." Miranda smiled. "Don't go away." Miranda went to the bedroom and found Jan listening to a Van Halen tape. She couldn't believe the attitude of the girl. A perfectly handsome gentleman waiting to whisk her off to dinner and she was keeping him all this time for no good reason.
"Jan." Miranda shook her shoulder. Jan removed the ear phones. "Are you coming?"
"In a minute." Jan said, putting them back on.
"Jan." Miranda shook her again.
"What?"
"Marty is waiting."
"So, let him."
"It's getting late, Jan. Maybe you'd better go. He brought flowers and candy." Miranda said, her eyes wide with brow raised. Miranda was impressed by Marty's romantic gesture. No one ever brought her flowers or candy. No one ever brought Miranda anything. She figured when Jan learned of her dates sweet offering the girl would put down the ear phones and hurry to be, by his side.
"Oh, just great." she sneered. "I hate it when they do that." she snipped. "Men are such assholes, Miranda, don't you think so?" Miranda didn't understand her room mates reaction. Giving flowers and candy seemed like a perfectly lovely thing for a man to do.
"I thought it was sweet." she said.
"My ass! Don't they realize we don't look the way we do just by accident? Candy, for God's sake, Miranda. Would you eat it?"
"Well, sure I would." Miranda said. "Maybe not in one night, but sure, I'd nibble. Good grief, Jan, the man didn't have to bring a thing. I like Marty. He seems very romantic. Anyway, he's starting to look at his watch. I think you'd better come on."
"Oh, alright, just give me another minute. Ya know what your problem is, Miranda?" Jan asked, smirking. "You give too much importance to a man. They're all just after one thing and the longer we keep them waiting for it, the more control we have deciding when and how then get it."
Miranda entertained Marty another five minutes before Jan finally came out with her bright red mini showing off the shapely curves of her sexy legs and Marty looked as if he'd explode the minute she entered the room. Jan had flare. She was exciting and flamboyant, yet sensually mysterious. Miranda often thought she'd like to be more like her business partner. Jan was flirtatious and vibrant. She had a knack of wooing customers, especially the men, and livening up a room seemed her specialty. Keeping the books and sketching a few designs didn't have the ostentatious appeal Miranda fantasized about, but it was what she did best and, after all, for every mover and shaker there had to be an opposite. It was nature's law.
Marty hailed a cab and they drove toward Marilee's. She sat with her knees to him and let his eyes feast on the sight of silk stocking disappearing under the skirt. Marty didn't waste a second looking at Jan's feminine figure. He took in every curve of it before the cabbie turned the first corner, and by the time they made Marilee's, his cock was feeling the heat.
The table was beautiful and Marty pulled out her chair. Jan always made it a point to flaunt her figure and as she sat down, let her date see a glimpse of garter belt.
"I just love Marilee's. "Jan purred. "Don't you?"
"It's very nice, Jan, very nice." Marty said. His eyes looked hungry but the menu at Marilee's wasn't what he had in mind. It alone wouldn't be enough to satisfy the pangs. He needed more than mere food to stop the yearning in his stomach. He needed Jan.
"So, did you and Miranda get to know each other?" she asked, putting her napkin in place.
"Miranda, sure, I guess. She's a nice kid. A little too goody-goody, but nice. Now, you on the other hand." he said, making that same stupid fanning motion.
"What do you mean, goody-goody?" she asked.
"Nothing, just ... well, you know what I mean, Jan. Miranda is the kind of girl you fix your brother up with. She's sweet and pleasant. She's the sort of girl you'd date if you wanted hot tea by the fire and a bag of Pepperidge Farm cookies. I like the kid, she's just, well, not a fire ball, you know what I mean?"
"Ya, Miranda is kind of dull, isn't she?" Jan smiled. Jan asked her dates the same questions, the first always what they thought about Miranda. She did it to feel the tingle of lust it gave her as all the men noted Miranda's sweet personality but lack of fire. Jan liked hearing it. She needed to hear it to feel superior. It was her only way to compensate for the void she felt working along side a woman who could handle any thing. Jan knew Miranda's brain was the reason behind their business success and she felt inferior to her most of the time, but when Jan's dates remarked that Miranda lacked fire, she somehow became engulfed in it, and the rest of the evening was hot for both she and her nightly selection.
* * * * *
The dishes were washed and put away and Miranda changed into the long tee-shirt nightie she'd bought during her trip to Disney World. She took out her sketch pad and doodled a few lines then let the book fall to her lap. Miranda didn't want to admit this, but she was lonely. Sitting home night after night was getting to her and after talking with Jan's date she felt the realization stronger than ever.
She thought back to their conversation and remembered the way Marty looked at her when she spoke. Miranda liked it when a man looked right into her eyes. She took it as a sign he had nothing to hide, that he was up front, honest and. to be trusted. Some men looked off when they talked, and Miranda wasn't comfortable with that. The guy at Best Gas Station did that and she figured him to be married and stepping out on the wife.
Miranda did that. She imagined whole scenarios about people's lives just by the color of their hair or the way they moved their lips when they talked. She fancied herself a good judge of character, able to pick out the good guys from the bad, but more than that, Miranda justified her loneliness because of her ability to judge people. She told herself that was the reason she didn't date. There was no one out there who's character couldn't be questioned, except of course Jan's dates, which all seemed to her the pick of the crop.
She made some hot tea then settled in for the nine o'clock movie. Miranda loved the old black and white's. Fred and Ginger toyed with romance between their spontaneous dance numbers and Jimmy Stewart had such innocent appeal. She absolutely fell in love with him in, Mr. Smith goes to Washington. Miranda wondered at what point in his career he became known as James. Maybe, she thought, it was after the war when he made, It's a Wonderful Life, but Miranda didn't dwell on it. She just soaked him in, whether they billed him as Jimmy or James.
Tonight's feature starred Jean Crane in, Pinky, one of Miranda's favorites. It seemed silly having someone as light as Crane portray a black woman but her performance was so convincing, the viewer had no choice but to believe it. Miranda wondered what her life would be like had she been born black. Would she have the shop with Jan? Would she even know Jan? Was it right for Pinky to deny the white's assumption she was white? Miranda tried to put herself in the same situation then speculate what she might have done. Probably the same thing, she thought. It wouldn't be a matter of denying her race so much, just a way to get further alone in life. Blacks didn't have it easy back in Pinky's time, and for that matter, Miranda reasoned, they still don't.
The evening dragged on and after the movie Miranda went to bed. She wasn't tired really, but it was bed-time, and at bed-time you go to bed. She stared at the ceiling for awhile then rolled over on her stomach and tried counting sheep. Whom ever came up with that idea must have had mush for brains, she thought. Not only couldn't she picture what a sheep looked like, the three animals she did manage to conjure up kept slamming their heads into the hurdles. Miranda figured it was better to stare at the ceiling than get a headache watching poor furry creatures break their necks.
She thought about Marty again seeing his pretty green eyes in her mind. What if Marty liked me better than Jan, she thought? What if he really wanted to take me to Marilee's but was too much the gentleman to break his date with her? Miranda closed her eyes and fantasized the scene.
Marty knocked at the door and she let him in. Right away, his face lit up seeing Miranda's girlish figure and smooth complexion. She could tell he was eager to kiss her, but for the sake of lady-like behavior, she wouldn't let him, at least not yet.
She offered him a drink then took the seat next to him. Marty couldn't concentrate on anything but her. His upper lip began to sweat and excitement welled in his veins. He undid his tie then the buttons on his shirt, and Miranda watched as he slipped it off exposing his muscular chest and long masculine arms.
Marty moved close to her on the sofa. He took her in his arms and pressed her face to his bare chest. She felt the wetness in her pussy as he kissed her tenderly on the lips and just as she was about to break free, he reached down fingering her smooth soft slit.
Miranda couldn't fight it. The passion in her veins flowed like rain water down a gutter blocked street. She spread her thighs for him letting his masculine finger dip all the way in, then she lay back on the sofa as Marty knelt between her legs.
The heat from his tongue warmed her soaking hole and the deeper he probed, the hotter she became. Her hands took his head and pulled him closer. Miranda felt the length his tongue slipping in and out, and she held him to her, letting the stimulation of lust overpower her body. Miranda's finger darted in and out of her pussy as she fantasized about Jan's date. She imagined Marty's moans of pleasure as he slid his swollen cock into her wide eager snatch and she moaned in reply, feeling the thrusts of her digit going deeper up the slimy canal. Miranda hadn't been flicked by a man in three years. She felt so guilty getting drunk that night and picking up a total stranger that she made it a policy not to date, until every memory of that evening was erased from her mind. She masturbated to get relief, that's how she managed, and usually she found herself masturbating using a fantasy involving Jan's date. If she liked him, she'd indulge, but if she didn't, she'd eat ice cream. That was the way it worked out, but this night, Miranda was indulging. She was feeling the deep penetrating throbs of Marty's cock as he buried it in her pussy and nothing would spoil it.
* * * * *
When Jan came home Miranda was washing her hands. Two minutes sooner and Jan would have had solid evidence which might have changed her opinion about her shy withdrawn room mate. Jan said hello then got a beer from the kitchen before coming in to tell Miranda about her date. Jan made it a point to fill her in. She liked seeing the envy on Miranda's face.
"So, ask me what happened?" Jan said. Miranda dried her hands then grinned.
"What happened?" she smiled.
"He's the biggest jerk I've ever been out with, that's what happened." Jan followed Miranda to her room then told of Marty's attempts to get her in the sack. Miranda listened with her usual keen interest.
"We were dancing, right. The jerk grabs my ass and say's, hey, baby, let's get the fuck out of here." Jan said. Jan used that word all the time. She tossed it around like a little leaguer tosses his balls but Miranda never used it. The F-word wasn't a word ladies should make part of their vocabulary.
"Did you leave?" Miranda asked.
"Sure we did, what do you think." Jan laughed. She liked teasing Miranda. She got a kick seeing her squirm for the details.
"Where'd you go?" Miranda asked, hoping Jan would take the usual pleasure in describing her evening.
"Lake House." Jan said.
"You're kidding? That's the classiest hotel in town. Did you get a room?" Miranda's face lit up.
"No stupid, we fucked on the lobby floor, of course we got a room. It was great. I swear, Miranda, it was the nicest place I'd ever been in. They had crystal chandeliers in the rooms, can you imagine?" Miranda thought it amusing hearing Jan go on and on about the hotel's interior. There she was, in the swankiest hotel this side of the Mississippi River with a man handsome enough to be on television, and all she talked about was light bulbs on the ceiling. What was wrong with this girl, Miranda thought. Had she had so many men that taking in the decor had become more exciting?
"It sounds lovely, Jan." Miranda said, shaking her head in wonder. "So, will you be seeing Marty again?"
"Are you kidding, of course not."
"Why not?"
"Because."
"Because why, Jan. He seemed like a nice guy."
"All men seem like nice guys to you, Miranda, God girl, you need to get out more. Marty's a jerk. He's the kind of guy you take out, spend his money, get a good luck, and let go. God, I'm tired." Jan said, stretching both arms over her head. "I'm going to bed."
"Jan." Miranda said, stopping her before she left. "Can I ask you something?"
"Sure."
Miranda wasn't certain how to do this. She'd never done it before and wasn't sure how to ask without seeming indelicate, but under the circumstances, she had to ask. It seemed like such a waste not to.
"I wonder, well, if you're not going to see Marty anymore, do you think he'd go out with me?" Miranda felt the blood of embarrassment rush to her face. How did she manage to get those words out, she wondered. It was border line humiliating just putting herself in the position of begging for another woman's rejects but to do it with such desperation in her voice was even more degrading. Jan looked at her, then a big grin smeared her face. She was astounded with Miranda. One, for asking, and two, for asking when she knew the man only wanted pussy.
"Getting a little tired of serving sentence?" she joked, referring to Miranda's self imposed prison term for sowing wild oats with a stranger.
"I just don't see any reason to let Marty get away." she said, being as rational as she could.
"Hey, far be it from me to hog the field, honey. There's more than enough players out there for the two of us. Sure, I don't see the harm in your asking Marty out. I'll give you his number."
"I couldn't ask him, Jan." Miranda said.
"Well, how do you expect to go out with him then?"
"I figured he'd want to ask me." Miranda said.
Chapter Two
"Just lay it over there!" Jesse barked. "Jesus Christ, you'd think I was asking you to do brain surgery. Put it, no, not like that, here, just watch what I do!"
Jesse Vanderhorn always spoke to his son that way. He barked at him. Carl worked in his father's grocery store and after Carl's testing showed a slight disability in his learning skills, Jesse lost patience with the young man and became more difficult to please.
"Okay, dad, I can do it now." Carl said.
"Be careful, don't make a mess with it. That's it, just lay the, no, no, no!" Jesse grabbed the plastic wrap from Carl's hands and told him to wash up for lunch. He wrapped the block of cheddar then came to the front of the store.
"What can I get for you today, Mrs. Simmons?" Jesse asked the customer.
"Have you got some elbow macaroni?" the little old lady said. "I want the small kind, Jesse, not that big kind."
"Right over here, Mrs. Simmons." Jesse led her down aisle three to get the box of macaroni. He bent over backward for customers, showing them every kindness, but to his own family, Jesse was a tyrant.
"What else for you, Mrs. Simmons?"
"I need some milk."
"Right over here. You stay, I'll get it for you. Two percent, Mrs. Simmons?" he yelled from the cooler.
"Yes, I want the two. I don't want that watery stuff, Jesse. I don't like that watery kind."
Carl worked in back cutting cheese and preparing cold cut platters. He seldom came out front, more because Jesse didn't want the embarrassment than a lack of desire. Carl worked every day at Vanderhorn's grocery. His mother, Alice, usually helped him with the duties but this day she was seeing the eye doctor.
Carl watched Mrs. Simmons from the pass through. He spied on all the customers that way. It was his way of mingling with the rest of the world. He'd stand back from the small opening and take quick glances to the front. Once he saw a young kid put a candy bar in his pocket but Carl didn't tell his father. Jesse would have called the police and Carl couldn't see the point.
Mrs. Simmons paid for her order then left. Jesse was quick to open the door and warmly tell her to come again. His reputation around town was one of good standing. Jesse Vanderhorn, they'd say. What a pleasant man. What a saint.
Carl sliced the roast beef thin then rolled it into cylinders and arranged them on the lettuce bed covering the aluminum tray. He'd sometimes stick decorative toothpicks through the meat rolls to hold them together but Jesse always had to rearrange them. He was rarely satisfied with Carl's efforts, no matter how good.
"Carl!" the old man yelled. "Come out here!" Carl came to the pass through and looked out. Jesse was holding up a broken pickle jar.
"Get the mop and clear away this mess." he ordered. The young man did as he was told.
The heavy mop bucket squeaked noisily when Carl rolled it to the aisle. He'd meant to spray WD-40 on the metal wheels but kept forgetting. The pickle juice was everywhere and Carl gave a sigh making up his mind where to begin. First, he picked up the pickles and, for lack of anyplace else to put them, slipped them into his apron pocket. Next, he took out a rag and wiped the splashing's off the other jars. When a jar of pickles smashes to the floor it sprays the juice all over the other goods. It seemed the logical way to clean, from the top down, but Jesse found fault and told him to mop first, and again, Carl did what he was told.
"There's my little darling." Jesse said, speaking to Miranda as she came into the store.
"Hi, Mr. Vanderhorn." she said.
"Jesse! Jesse!" the old man smiled. "What can I get for you today, missy?" Carl turned around and looked at Miranda. Her long silky hair flowed past her shoulders and her tiny frame and feminine curves made his knees weak and his heart nervous.
"Just some milk, Mr. Vanderhorn." she said.
"What am I gonna have to do to get you to call me Jesse?" he asked with a grin. "Hey, it ain't every day I ask a pretty young girl to call me by my first name." But it was. Jesse Vanderhorn flirted with all the young customer's, especially Miranda. He liked her. She was always sweet and always respectful. When she came in, he made it a point to wait on her. Miranda wasn't like some of the girls. Some would call him old man and make fun of his bald head, but Miranda always showed class.
"Now, Mr. Vanderhorn, what would your wife think if I were to start calling you by your first name?" she joked. "Mrs. Vanderhorn wouldn't let me come in and shop anymore, then where would I get my milk and eggs?"
"Never you mind about the misses, you darling sweet girl." he said. "You just leave that to me. What else can I get for you?" he asked.
"Nothing, thanks."
"Who's that?" Miranda asked, seeing Carl on the aisle with the mop.
"He's nobody, just a helper. You need tea?"
"No, not today, thanks. I don't remember ever seeing him before, has he worked here long?"
"Ya, long time. Carl works in back."
"He's kind of cute." Miranda said.
"You think so, eh, Carl, come over here. You come meet Miss Miranda Saunderson." Jesse yelled. Carl felt like Jesse had just nailed a sign to his back reading, Ox at work, Don't feed the animals. His heart jumped into his throat then fell to his stomach and before Jesse had the chance to order him over a second time, Carl disappeared to the back.
"What's the matter with him?" Miranda asked.
"Nothing's the matter, Carl's just shy. Two twenty nine." Jesse said, ringing her order.
Miranda thanked the old man then gave her regards for Mrs. Vanderhorn before leaving. Jesse ran to hold the door for her then ran to the back room once the store was vacant.
"Why'd you run like that?" he yelled at his son. "You looked stupid running away like that. The lady don't bite, you know. You were rude to the girl, Carl. What's the matter with you?"
"I don't know."
"What's the matter, girls scare you, Carl?" Carl shrugged. "Aaaah! What's a father gonna do with a son like you? Put that tray away before it goes bad. I can't afford wasting good cuts that way. I ain't made of money you know. Go on, put it in the cooler."
"It's not " Carl started to tell Jesse he hadn't finished but the old man refused back talk.
"Ah, ah, ah, never mind the lip. You just do what I tell ya!" Jesse went to wait on his customers leaving Carl to follow out his orders.
Carl was a handsome young man, tall, slender, dark brown hair with unusual hazel eyes. They had yellow flecks of color surrounding his pupils and his mother always told him the angels had dusted them giving him great vision. Carl liked his mother. She was kind and loving, but sometime even Alice made him feel awkward. She would never intentionally hurt Carl's feelings but in all her pampering and fussing, sometimes made him feel like a child and not a lull grown man.
It was a Catch 22 life for him at the store. Had Jesse seen the unfinished platter in the cooler, Carl would have gotten a lecture on cheating the customers out of their fair share, and if he got caught disobeying his father's orders, he'd hear the one about fatherly respect and how a child owe's that. Carl made sure his father was busy with customers before finishing the tray and putting it in the cooler.
He thought about the beautiful lady Jesse wanted him to meet and how she was the loveliest thing he'd ever set eyes on. He'd seen Miranda in the store a number of times but each time he kept well hidden in the back spying at her from the safety of his pass through window. From the moment he first lay eyes on Miranda, Carl felt something exciting in his soul. He wanted to be near her, to feel her hair and touch her smooth soft skin, but he would never assume such a fantasy could come true, but at least now he knew her name. He thought it was the most beautiful name he'd ever heard.
Carl never dated. He dropped out of school in the ninth grade and never experienced what it was like to kiss a woman. His only experience was speculation from seeing movies and watching it on the big screen.
Alice often dwelled on the improbability of having grandchildren. She knew how it was for Carl. He was awkward. His social skills were seriously lacking because he kept himself cooped up all day away from others. He never practiced speech with strangers. Carl was the sort of timid soul who would wander a city street completely lost before he'd ask directions. He didn't want the risk involved in dealing with people. What if they laughed at him, or worse, ignored him? Alice tried to resolve herself to the fact that Carl was an undesirable but at times she would sit and cry feeling the deep sense of loss.
Jesse, on the other hand, clung to the belief his son was a freak. Carl was an embarrassment to the family. An odd ball, clumsy and stupid. The boy showed no common sense, as far as he could tell, and between the two parents, Carl was made to feel different from the jest of the world. He felt like the odd man out, awkward, clumsy, and undesirable.
Carl saw the mop resting against the wall by the back room door and remembered the aisle still needed mopping, but before he could pick it up and start back, Jesse was yelling for him to take care of it.
Alice came back from the doctor right as Jesse was getting ready to slap the boy and when she saw her husband's hand raised, let out a cry.
"Don't you dare!" she shouted. "What is going on here?"
"Never mind, what." Jesse barked. "He's got it coming." Jesse lowered his hand but Alice wanted an explanation.
"For what?" she insisted. "What terrible thing did Carl do now?" she said, mocking Jesse's sense of terrible happenings.
"Aaah, never mind, just forget it." Jesse stormed off. Alice putdown her coat then came to the boy.
"What happened, Carl?" she asked, stroking his hair. Carl was glad to, see his mother but why did she have to stroke him as if he were a wounded puppy, he thought. If Jesse had slapped him, he could have taken it. She didn't have to treat him like a helpless victim.
"Nothing, ma, dad got upset because of the pickle juice, that's all."
"What pickle juice?" she asked. Carl explained .about the broken jar and as he related it, Alice's eyes grew cold and angry.
"Never mind, Carl, you stay back here. I want to have a word with your father." She stormed from the back room to the register where Jesse was counting the days receipts.
"What's the matter with you?" she snapped at Jesse. "How come you use the boy?"
"What are you talking about, use? I don't use Carl, he uses us." Jesse believed that about his son. Part of him wanted to think the boy was incapable and therefore dependent on them yet the other half of his reasoning was thinking Carl wanted a free ride.
"You smash a jar of pickles and the boy has to clean it up? What kind of arrangement is that?" Alice questioned.
"It's his job!" Jesse barked.
"Since when? Since when is it Carl's job to clean up after you?"
"Oh, Mama-mia, Alice, what? The boy can't mop pickles now, what? It's Carl's job to keep this store clean, you know that. When the pickles break, it's his job to take care of it. For Christ sake, if I can't use him to mop up around here, what the hell good is he?"
"His job is making platters, Jesse, you know damn right well, Carl makes the platters. You break pickles, you clean them up. No more do I want my son mopping up pickles."
"Your son? I'm the boys father, for Christ sake. What, he can't help an old man now?"
"Oh, don't give me that old man stuff, Jesse, it's worn out. You're not too old to go to Flannery's Bar. You're not too old to chase Marilyn Arnelli around the stinking pool table. I don't wanna hear from old no more. Carl don't mop the pickles, that's all I gotta say."
"I'll tell you, Alice, maybe Carl needs a new job, eh? Maybe working at the store ain't such a good idea. He can't, mop, he can't clean. He can't be trusted to make platters the way he should. I think maybe you should find your son another job. Something special for his kind. How about we get him a job sweeping the sidewalks, or maybe he could carry birdseed to the feeders the city puts out.
I think he could be trusted with that. I don't wanna argue about this no more, the boy isn't pulling his load around here. He needs to be in a special place where he can be with his kind."
"What, his kind? We're his kind!"
"No!" Jesse yelled, pointing a finger to Alice's face. "We're his parents that's all we are. His kind lives in institutions, they don't work in grocery stores!"
Carl listened as his parents argued. It wasn't the first time he'd heard it. They did it once a week if they did it at all. Carl understood what they were saying. The testing he took showed slight disability in learning, that didn't mean he hadn't learned. He was a full functioning male with intelligence and pride, feelings and desires. He wasn't unaware how his behavior affected Alive and Jesse, just too timid to make a change in it.
When he attempted to think on his own, Jesse squashed the effort, sitting his mental abilities were too lacking for initiative. When he gave in to his father and let the old man brow beat him, Alice was there to lick his wounds. She didn't stand up for him. She didn't say, Jesse, let the boy think for himself, he's capable. Alice just tried to smooth his hurts. Even now as she stood toe to toe over the pickle issue, it wasn't clear what she wanted.
Was she saying, Carl doesn't mop pickles because he's the platter boy, capable of producing quality meat trays for the customers and if it's a janitor you want hire unskilled labor, or was she saying, hey, you don't make my poor, helpless baby clean up your mess, as a matter of principal because he's a poor helpless baby?
Whatever the issue, Carl was sick of hearing them argue. It never changed anything. Jesse still made him feel like a bumbling doofus and Alice came around licking his wounds. When would they let him grow into his manhood, he wondered. When will Jesse and Alice begin to see him as a full grown man?
"Don't you ever say that to me, Jesse Vanderhorn, never! There's nothing wrong with Carl that a kind word from you wouldn't cure."
"Oh, sure, now it's my fault he's an idiot." Jesse shouted.
"The, boy is no idiot, he's just slow. There's a big difference in the two, Jesse, you of all people should know that."
"What is that supposed to mean, Alice?"
"Never mind, what! You just don't make Carl mop broken pickles, that's all I gotta say." Alice stormed into the back room to be with Carl but he'd left the mop resting against the butcher block and the door to the alley wide open. He was gone.
* * * * *
Carl ran down Attison Boulevard toward the shore. He had to get away from the shouting. Another minute and he'd have exploded. His long lags looked like hinged sticks and he didn't stop running until reaching Atlantic Highway.
Walking along the peaceful ocean front had a soothing effect on Carl. The gentle crashing of high tide waves set his ears to ringing and he loved the smell of salted air and the whispering flutters of seagull's wings.
It was cold by the shoreline and Carl had run out without his jacket, but he forged ahead up the long stretch of private beach, tucking his hands into his pockets and nestling his chin to his collar bone. He wondered if other families fought this way. The yelling; the anger? Did other father's hate their son's as much as Jesse hated him, and did other mother's suffocate with kindness the way Alice buried him with hers?
The more Carl thought about his life, the angrier he felt. It wasn't the pickles. Carl didn't mind helping out and keeping the store ship-shape. He was a Vanderhorn too. His reputation was on the line just as Jesse's. It was the way Jesse went about it. It was his degrading tone and demanding demeanor Carl had trouble understanding. It wasn't necessary to shout. He could hear, he wasn't deaf or dumb. Why couldn't Jesse inform him that a jar broke on isle two? Why was it always an order instead of a revelation? And, Alice. She meant well, but her coddling left him frustrated. To just shove it aside would seem rude but at times that's what he yearned to do. Carl wanted to shove the both of them aside, but didn't know how.
He roamed the cold shoreline trying to calm himself but the anger welled inside like hot lava must churn in the bowels of the earth. He needed to release the burning and the only way he knew how was to physically lash out. Carl never directed his anger toward people. He was sensible enough to recognize the division between the people who hurt and the innocent public. He took his anger out on himself by bashing rocks to his legs or hitting his fist to a concrete wall until the blood ran off his elbow.
"Hey you?" A voice yelled. "This is private beach here. You're not supposed to be here." Carl turned around and saw a middle-aged man in bathing trunks quickly approaching. His mouth was moving, but in his anger, Carl couldn't make out the words.
"I'll have to ask you not to walk on this section of the beach anymore." the man said. "I pay good money for this beach and part of the reason is because it's private. Hey, are you listening to me?" the man shouted. -
"What, I'm sorry." Carl said. He finally realized the man was speaking to him.
"I said get off this beach."
"Why?" Carl asked.
"I told you why, are you, retarded? Don't come around here anymore, this is private beach. If I see you here again I'll call the police." When the man turned around, Carl watched him walk off in a huff. What had he done wrong, he wondered? And since when had the ocean become private property? Carl became confused. His family's arguing drove him off and now a stranger was driving him from the one place he found solitude. Carl began to scream as loud as he could. His mouth opened; his knees bent, and he let out a shrill that could be heard a mile up the beach. The man turned to look and when he saw Carl screaming; ran toward his house to call the police.
For thirty seconds Carl let off steam and when his scream finished, he felt better. It was easier than punching stone and much more tolerable than pounding his shin with a rock.
He walked to the road then had a seat on the bus bench. Carl watched the traffic passing, the shiny new cars zipping from light to light, passing, honking, rushing nowhere in particular. He felt a sense of calm in having no place to go, but Carl had to go somewhere. Everyone needed to be somewhere.
He thought about staying on the bus bench but reasoned the driver's would get angry having to stop then his refusing to board. He thought about going to the library but his card was home in his wallet, and besides, he'd already read every book they had.
Finally, Carl concluded there was only one place he could go. He started toward Attison with a heavy heart and when he came to the alley, stopped to take a deep breath before going on. The grocery store was just a few doors down and he hoped Jesse and Alice were through arguing. It would push him over the edge to hear their shouting now. He came to the back door and took another deep breath. When he stepped inside, Alice was in the back room. She was checking the meat platters for the morning pick-ups, seeing to it he had done them correctly.
"Carl!" she said, tears in her eyes, running to hug her baby boy. "Where did you go, I was so worried?"
"Nowhere, ma, I just went out."
"Out, where out? You could have been hurt, Carl. You shouldn't just go out without telling me. I worry so much. Are you alright?"
"Ma, stop worrying about me, okay?" Carl said, hoping Alice might listen to his meaning.
"How can a mother do that, Carl?" she said, hugging her boy.
Chapter Three
"I-I, I'm Miranda, Jan's room mate. Won't you come in?" she smiled sweetly. It was the same thing night after night and Miranda had done it for so long it sounded like a recording. Charles introduced himself as Jan's lucky number then took a seat on the sofa. He was one of the blatant jerks. The sort of guy only desperate women dated, but Miranda offered him a drink just the same. If Jan wanted to waste her time with losers like Charles, she wasn't going to pass judgment.
"You must be Miranda?" he said, bobbing his neck up and down like a turkey. She couldn't help wondering where he was six seconds ago when she told him that very thing, but bright wasn't an attribute the brazen possessed. Their oversized ego's usually blocked the passage of other people's words.
"Right." Miranda smiled, handing him the scotch. "and you're Charles."
"That's me, the one and only. Hey, good booze. So, where's the chick?"
"I would imagine in the coop." Miranda answered. She loved playing games with hustler's like Charles. It didn't make a good impression on his type but in a direct way that was welcome knowledge.
"Cute. You, Jan." he shouted. "burgers don't taste as good after they've sat under the heat lamp for two hours, get the lead out." he was laughing at his own cleverness. Miranda had to join in. This guy was definitely unique. Miranda would give anything to see the rock Jan lifted to find this jewel.
"You two lived here long?" he asked.
"Since last summer."
"You ain't sweet on each other, are you?" he joked. Miranda thought about it but decided messing with a mind like Charles's could prove dangerous to his health. She opted to deny involvement and just grin. Keep them wondering, she thought. Let the man squirm.
"So, Charles, I see you're dressed for dinner." Miranda said, noticing his blue jeans and torn tee-shirt. "Where will you and Jan be dining this evening.
"You're real cute, you know that." he smiled. "Hey, how about you and me getting together later. I'll get Jan home around mid-night and me and you can take it from there." Miranda couldn't tell if he was serious but she wasn't taking chances.
"Gee, I'd love to," she said, face serious, tone sincere. "but there's a freight train due in tonight with five million tons of explosives on it and I was hoping to get to the station before then and lay on the tracks in protest. I'm awfully sorry, Charles, maybe some other time."
Charles didn't accept Miranda's answer. Instead he got to his feet and came to where she was sitting then knelt in front of her and moved his tongue in and out several times.
"That's a shame, baby because you and me could make it real hot, you get my drift? I could really dig a compact pussy like yours, Miranda. Maybe you'd better reconsider before the offer is withdrawn."
"Well, I'll let you know, Charles, but don't hold your breath." Miranda put her hand to his shoulder motioning him to move away then she went to check on Jan.
* * * * *
Oddly enough, Jan seemed more relaxed with Charles than she was with Marty, and when they finally left, Miranda started laughing. Jan must be one horny lady, she thought. Why else would she want to date a geek like Charles.
The living room looked smaller than usual and Miranda could feel the walls closing in around her. Another night alone was too much to think about. She tried sketching, but couldn't shake the feeling, then tried reading, but it only got worse. Miranda decided she had to get out.
The paper said West Side Story was playing at the Valley Theater and she figured seeing it again would be a hoot. She made a call to her friend Karen and asked if she'd like to come along, but Karen was too much like Jan. Her date was due any minute and she had to get off the phone and finish her make-up.
When Miranda called Susan she got the tired excuse, washing hair, but Miranda didn't care for her anyway. It was for the best. She tried several others but they either had plans or had excuses and Miranda was faced with the decision to go out alone or just stay in.
She wasn't a wall flower by an stretch of the imagination, just preferred company at night. Hendersonville was a big town and Miranda didn't like the idea of walking the city streets alone. She was always fearful a strange man might lunge at her from a dark alley and yank her pocketbook from her shoulder pulling her muscle. Pain, in any form, was not something Miranda dealt gracefully with. She was chicken when it came to getting flu shots and even more skittish having a blood count where the nurse jabbed her finger with a razor blade.
The scheduled TV movie was, Broadway Sings, and even though she'd seen it at least 100 times, it was better to see it again then to risk a pulled muscle. Miranda checked the pantry for cocoa but Jan had used the last of it baking a birthday cake for Tim. She wouldn't have gone all the way to Vanderhorn's market but when you get a craving for a certain thing, nothing else will do.
* * * * *
Old man Vanderhorn was just closing up when she arrived. He let her in then locked the door behind her.
"Hello, missy, what can I get for you today?" he said. Miranda was appreciative he didn't turn her away. The next closest market was eight blocks down.
"Thanks, Mr. Vanderhorn." she said. "I need some cocoa."
Carl watched Miranda from his pass through window. She was so beautiful. Clean hair, smooth complexion. Her petite size was just right for Carl, at least he thought so. Carl stared at her for a long time. He watched her mouth when she spoke and listened intensely to her sweet feminine voice.
"Baking a sweet for your sweetheart?" Jesse asked, with a teasing grin.
"No, I don't have one of those. Just making some hot chocolate before the movie starts."
"What are you going to watch, little lady."
"Broadway Sings." she said.
"I know that movie." Carl blurted, from the pass through. Miranda looked across the room and saw him peeking out. He looked cute bent over with his face taking up the entire opening.
"You do!" she said, to Carl. "Did you like it?" Carl realized what he'd done and now Miranda was speaking to him. He wanted to die. He wanted to drop to his knees and faint never to wake again, but something in him responded and he answered Miranda.
"Loved it, it's one of my favorites."
"Mine too. It's coming on in ten minutes." she said. "Channel three." Miranda smiled at Carl then paid for the cocoa. Carl watched her every move as she left the store and his heart was pounding like a jack hammer hitting asphalt. He felt something for Miranda he'd never experienced before and it was making him nervous.
When he looked at his cock it had swollen inside his jeans and Carl put his hand to it feeling the bulge. He wanted to make it go away but knew it would take more than pressing his palm to it. He read books about sex. He could tell you anything you needed to know about anatomy, especially the female anatomy, but experiencing sexual arousal was new for Carl, at least direct sexual arousal. His only hard-ons came from looking at the Playboy magazines from Williard's News stand over on fifth.
Carl put his apron back on and covered the protruding cock bulge when Jesse came to the back. His father was ready to close up and go home but Carl didn't want to take off the apron.
"I'll stay and finish sweeping." Carl said.
"What did you say?" Jesse made him repeat it. He thought he heard it but being Carl's first request to stay after hours, he wasn't sure.
"I want to get some cleaning done before tomorrow morning, dad. I'll lock up before I leave."
"Do you think you can?" Jesse asked.
"Sure, I can lock a door." Carl said, showing his annoyance by the insult.
"Fine, here's the key, but you remember to lock both, you hear. The upper and lower, and make sure the alley door is closed tight before sliding the bolt." Carl convinced his father he could handle the job and Jesse went on home.
Miranda got half way home before realizing Mr. Vanderhorn had given her too much change. She gave him a five dollar bill for the cocoa and he gave her change for a ten. She scurried back to the store hoping to catch him before he left, but the place was dark.
Miranda pressed her face to the glass and had a look inside. She noticed the light on in the back room and decided to knock. When Carl hear the tapping, he came around to the front. There she was, standing outside with her beautiful face against the door. Carl froze. He didn't know what to do.
She spotted him through an opening between the Camel Filters display and Mrs. Vanderhorn's homemade cherry Danish case, and when she knocked again, Carl put the broom down then went to open up.
"I'm sorry to bother you." she said, as he opened the door. "Mr. Vanderhorn gave me too much money."
"Come in." Carl said. He stepped aside and let Miranda pass then locked the door.
"I was hoping to catch him before he left but I guess I can leave it with you?" She handed Carl the extra bills then waited for his reply. Carl couldn't focus on anything she was saying. His mind went blank. He wanted to calm himself but screaming now would be impossible.
"Will you tell Mr. Vanderhorn I returned his money?" she asked.
"You just missed him." Carl said. "He's gone home. I told him I wanted to stay and sweep up before tomorrow so he gave me the keys."
"Yes, well, if you'll just tell Mr. Vanderhorn that Miranda Saunderson returned his money. "She was amused by Carl's manner. He seemed friendly enough, but different somehow. He was soft spoken and polite and she liked the way he seemed nervous around her. It had been a long time since any man acted that way around her.
"I'll tell him as soon as I get home." Carl said.
"You don't have to do that." Miranda said. She didn't want him to make a special effort. "Just give it to him when you see him again."
"I'll see him when I get home."
"You'll, ah, I don't understand." Miranda smiled. He'd lost her somewhere along the line. Why would Mr. Vanderhorn's employee see him at home, she wondered.
"I still live there." Carl said, shrugging his shoulders as if to apologize for the fact:
"'wait, you're Mr. Vanderhorn's, son?" she asked with surprise. Carl nodded. "I had no idea. I thought you worked for him."
"I do."
"Well, ya, right, but you're his son." she said, flustered by the news. Why did the old man leave that part out the other day, she wondered. Mr. Vanderhorn didn't let on a bit.
"Are you missing your movie, Miss Miranda?" Carl asked, noting the time. She looked at her watch then grinned.
"Well, yes but that's okay. I wanted to get this back to Mr. Vanderhorn. I thought it might make his books come out wrong for the day. You know how it is when that happens. You can spend hours looking for it. Well, it was nice talking with you ... " she turned a palm waiting for him to fill the blank.
"Carl." he said, and with ease.
"Carl, good. I'll probably see you again." Miranda walked over to the door and waited for Carl to let her out. He slipped the key to the lock and started to turn and Miranda interrupted his action with a question.
"Is Broadway Sings really your favorite?" she asked, looking at his big hazel eyes.
"It sure is, well, one of them, I've got several."
"Would you consider watching it with me?" Carl wasn't sure what she meant. Did she want to come home with him and watch it or was she inviting him to her place. The thought of going to her place was more than he could stand.
"I, uh, I." he stammered.
"I'll tell you, Carl. I'm all alone at the house tonight and I'd really appreciate the company, besides, Broadway Sings is the sort of movie you need to share with someone. I'll make you some hot chocolate." Miranda smiled. She was desperate for company even if it meant asking a stranger again. Carl felt the sweat building on his upper lip. His pulse raced with a furry but he managed to nod.
"I have to call home first." he said. "I wouldn't want them to worry."
"Go right ahead, Carl, I'll wait." He dialed the number then grinned at Miranda like a school boy getting ready to cut class. Jesse answered the telephone and when Carl told him where he was going, Jesse was speechless.
"She's invited me to watch a movie with her so I'll be home late. The money is in the register. I'll lock up tight." Carl said, then hung up the phone.
* * * * *
All the way to Miranda's he was quiet. He just listened as her soft angel-like voice drifted from her lips out across the cool night air. Carl couldn't believe he was walking with her. She was too lovely for words, he thought, too beautiful to be seen with a stupid, clumsy, ox.
* * * * *
When Miranda told him to get comfortable and turn on the TV. Carl took the chair across from the sofa. He didn't want Miranda thinking him forward by sitting on the sofa. She might think he planned it that way just to get her to sit next to him.
It took less than ten minutes to make the hot chocolate and when she brought it in, Carl was still sitting in the chair. She put his on the end table on a coaster and Carl thanked her. He was intrigued with Miranda. The swan-like grace of her movements, the pearly shine of her straight teeth. He wanted to touch her, just once, just her hair, and smell her skin.
"I'd ask what I've missed." she said jokingly. "But I know this picture by heart."
"Me too." Carl said.
"You know, I didn't even realize you worked at the store, Carl. Why haven't I seen you before?"
"I stay in back most of the time." he said. "I make the meat platters."
"I've had one, God, they're great, Carl." Miranda smiled at him with both sides of her face, and Carl could see it was genuine. He was good about judging people by their smiles. If a person only used the muscles of their left side, it wasn't genuine. Miranda's face smiled a left and righter.
"You liked it?" Carl asked.
"You use such big pieces of meat on them. I just love the beef. It's so lean and it melts in your mouth."
"The beef is my favorite too." Carl said. He was more relaxed with her than he expected. She was friendly and had a way of making you feel at home. Carl's legs began to lose their stiffness and he let his knees drop apart hitting the arm rests of the chair.
"We have a lot in common, don't we, Carl?"
"We do?" he asked, surprised by her statement.
"Don't you think?"
"I guess." he said, nervously. Carl wouldn't presume to think he shared the same interests with a lady as beautiful as Miranda Saunderson, but when she pointed them out, he agreed by nodding.
"See, I told you." she said. "If you like monopoly, I'll just faint." Carl's lips felt numb with excitement. That was only his all time favorite board game. He'd play for hours if he could find a partner. He told Miranda and she laughed, letting herself fall back on the sofa cushion.
"Where have you been all my life, Carl Vanderhorn?" she said. "Wanna play?"
"What, now?" Carl said. "You'll miss your movie."
"Oh to hell with the movie, Carl. I've seen it. I'd love a good round of monopoly if you're up to it?"
They set the board up on the coffee table and each used a sofa cushion on the floor as their seat. Carl was banker and Miranda took on the duties as Real-Estate broker. She won the roll, and right off the bat ended up in jail.
"Don't sweat it." Carl said. "It's just a visit." Carl rolled doubles and wound up four spaces past her but when Miranda mentioned him being out in front, he got a sad look on his face.
"Did I say something wrong, Carl?" she asked, softly.
"Oh, no, you couldn't."
"Then why the long face?"
"No reason, I guess it's just hard for me to imagine being ahead of anyone." he said. Miranda heard the pain in his voice. What did he mean, she wondered. Carl could be ahead of any one. He was bright, intelligent and a deeper man than you'd expect to find working as a cold meat artist in the back of a family grocery market.
"Oh, I don't know, Carl. I can." Miranda said. "How about a refill?" she asked, reaching for his cup.
"May I make it with you?" he asked. Miranda liked the way Carl phrased his question. Coming from anyone else, she would have questioned it as a direct invitation to hump her box, but from Carl she knew what he meant. She let the corners of her mouth curl slightly then nodded. What Carl didn't know was she would gladly make it with him in the bedroom.
"Are you any good?" she asked, keeping the same train of thought.
"I don't know, I guess that would depend on how you like it."
"How I like it?" Miranda laughed. She wasn't sure he wasn't being coy but decided to play it through just in case.
"Well, wouldn't it?" he said.
"'Well, let's see." she said. "What if I told you I liked it hot?"
"I can do that." Carl said.
"And if I told you I liked it smooth?"
"Yep, I could do that too." he said, proudly. Miranda couldn't be sure Carl wasn't playing with her head. She had to find out. She thought hard on her next question then asked.
"Okay, wise guy, what if I wanted it black?" she stated firmly knowing that would reveal Carl's true state of mind.
"Well, I'd say that's the only thing I'm not in control of, but you'd have your wish just the same."
"Huh?" she questioned. "What do you mean?"
"Cocoa is already black, there's nothing I can do to change the color." he said, with perfect innocence.
"You know something, Carl Vanderhorn. I like you."
"Really?" he asked. Carl's eyes lit up like golden beacons and the tiny angel dusted flecks reflected a glimmer that made him extremely desirable.
Miranda looked at him closely. How could I have missed him all this time, she thought. She looked into Carl's shiny eyes then moved closer to him hoping he might take the gesture seriously and move toward her, but Carl just froze. He wasn't able to move a muscle. Her closeness was making his heart pound and when his heart pounded, his blood rushed, and when Carl's blood rushed, it filled his cock to capacity and before he could control himself, his pants bulged like rising bread dough in a warm covered bowl.
Miranda parted and Wet her lips making a move to kiss Carl's and he had no choice but to let her. Not that he would have pulled away had he been able, but to be kissed by the most gorgeous lady your eyes have ever witnessed and not be able to respond, well, that was something else again.
She closed her eyes and let her soft rosy lips brush to him hoping for a sign he approved, but Carl couldn't handle it. He was dumbfounded by the gesture and it was all he could do to keep standing.
"Is everything alright?" she whispered, backing off just enough to speak.
"Yes."
"Am I making you angry?" she whispered again, hoping he'd be truthful.
"No, you could never make me angry." Carl's breathing was labored. Having her soft breath tickle his ear was heaven. "Nervous." he said. "You're making me nervous."
Miranda gazed into his eyes and with one smooth motion, moved her mouth to his. She let the fullness of her lips envelope his and when Carl felt the warmth of her body pressing to his, he lost control.
Chapter Four
Carl's arms wrapped around Miranda tightly and he awkwardly lunged to her, forcing her off balance, but she didn't fall. Miranda held her ground trying to break his hold.
"Carl, wait." she said, squirming in his locked arms. "Slow down, wait." she said again, but he was out of control. The passion burning in his body could light a thousand fires and letting her go would be like giving up his air supply.
"Stop!" she shouted, and Carl did. He realized his actions and put his hands to his side then lowered his head.
"Carl, please, just listen." Miranda tried soothing him. It was obvious to her he meant no harm. His sad face and boy like mannerisms captivated Miranda's heart.
"Come on, Carl, let's go in the living room and sit down." Miranda took his hand leading him out of the kitchen and when they got to the other room, Carl started for the front door.
"Where are you going?"
"I should leave now, Miranda, please, just let me go home."
"I'd rather you stayed, Carl." Miranda said sweetly, and he looked at her to make sure the request was genuine.
"Please, come sit with me. We'll talk. Everything is okay, Carl, please." He wasn't sure why Miranda wasn't angry but welcomed the chance to smooth things over. Leaving wouldn't smooth anything but his embarrassment. Carl sat in the chair across from the sofa but when Miranda took her seat she motioned for him to join her.
"Are you sure you want me that close to you?" he asked.
"Yes, I'm sure. Come on, sit with me, please." Carl did what he was told. Miranda took his hand then tenderly patted it. "Look, we just need to slow down, that's all, Carl. I'm not upset with you. If you really want to know, I'm flattered."
"Flattered?" Carl asked. How in the world could she feel that way after what he'd done, he wondered?
"Yes," Miranda giggled. "It isn't every day a man loses control over me, Carl." He immediately stood up and started to leave again but Miranda stopped him. "Why do you want to go?" she asked. "Because I did lose control, Miranda. I did exactly that. You said it isn't every day a man loses control over you, well it isn't every day this man loses it. I've never done this, Miranda, you have to believe me. This has never happened before."
Miranda assumed he meant his loss of control. She had no idea he meant the experience itself. She assumed at his age he'd been with a woman before.
"All the more reason why I'm flattered then, isn't it? Carl, I meant what I said about liking you. I still do. We just need to slow down, that's all. Why are, you so nervous around me?" Miranda asked. She hoped it would be the right starting place.
"I don't know" Carl said, blushing. How could he tell her the truth. How could he say, because your beauty makes me weak and the sight of you steals my heart.
"But, you must know, Carl, think about it."
He got up from the sofa and paced the room.
Miranda watched him move up one end of the living room then down again. Her question hit hard and Carl wasn't able to answer. He wanted to die. He wanted to drop to his knees and faint, never to get up again.
Suddenly, he bolted for the front door. Miranda couldn't stop him this time. He was halfway down the walk by the time she got to the door. Carl ran all the way home and Miranda felt terrible about it.
Jan opened the shop then made coffee. The girls needed a full pot to get through the morning. It was sale day at the boutique and Miranda's designs were featured.
Her line of peach satin teddy's designed last summer were on special and her newest creation, a flame red knit body stocking, was the special of the day. Inner You Boutique catered to the discriminating woman, which was a fancy way of saying the broads with bucks. The garments were first class and extremely expensive. Jan and Miranda had many male customers who bought regularly for their wives and Jan's flirtatious salesmanship was a cinch for that kind of customer. Miranda had known Jan to model the items for male customers giving them the fantasy that their wives would look as sexy, but few women could look as sexy as Jan Feldon. She was hot.
Miranda worked on the books until ten and when the first customers came in, she helped Jan on the sales floor. Miranda didn't have the same polish in dealing with the public but she did manage to make a few sales. She was thankful her livelihood didn't rely on it however, she'd starve. After things died down, Miranda went back to her office and left Jan to handle the last male client.
"I'll be happy to model it for you." Jan said. His eyes lit up at the mere notion and when she returned wearing the skimpy black item, he had to sit down.
"You'll notice the French Cut over the thigh." Jan said, turning her hip toward the man then running her perfectly manicured fingers over her flesh.
"Any woman would love this for those late evening get together's."
"It's absolutely spectacular." the man said gawking. His mind was made up to purchase but he hesitated in telling her. Just a minute longer, he thought. It wasn't every day a man could get live sexy models while selecting their wives undergarments and Paul wanted this moment to last.
"Please, take your time, Mr. Hamilton. Lingerie can't be rushed." Jan whispered when she spoke with men. The sounds slipped from her mouth like silk thread through satin. She enjoyed turning them on then watching them fight to control their bodies. It was a boost to her ego and a real fun thing to see. Paul was struggling with his body. His cock was tingling as Jan paraded up and back in front of his eyes. He could see through the lace of the garment to her pink nipples and the natural light hair on her luscious pussy made his mouth water.
"I'll take it." Paul said, mesmerized by Jan's appeal.
"Would you like to see something else?" she asked. Paul wondered if Jan might consider modeling the string bikini style outfit hanging by the back mirror and when he asked, she told him she would, but only in private.
Miranda came out for coffee just as Jan finished changing. She watched her partner lingering in the corner with Paul and after several girlish giggles, he took his purchase and left.
All morning Miranda thought about Carl and how he'd run out on her. She worried about him. It wasn't unusual for Miranda to have bad luck with a date but this wasn't bad luck, it was something different. Carl was different. He was real and kind, gentle yet scared. If she only had another chance to talk with him maybe they could iron out the problem.
Jan seemed happy in the store that morning. She pranced about the place making new window displays and folding the stock. They sold a few items but not many. Miranda knew they needed more money if the business was to keep afloat. It seemed the same every month. Their sales would be dragging then Jan would come in at the last minute with a report of sales she'd made and forgot to write down. Miranda didn't question the transaction, after all, money was money, but she wondered who Jan was making all the ghost sales to.
"Miranda." Jan shouted. "Are you in the back?"
"I'm in my office." Miranda answered.
"Listen, I've got something to take care of this afternoon so I thought I'd get started. Will you be here for the rest of the day?"
"I guess."
"Good, well, I'm gonna get going. Just lock up when you leave, I won't be back."
"Where are you going?" Miranda asked. She didn't think it was prying. They always told one another where they'd be in case of emergency.
"Just out, okay." Jan smiled. It was obvious to Miranda that Jan didn't want to say.
"Fine, I'll take care of the shop, have a good time."
After Jan left, Miranda looked over the books again. She noticed a strange entry under sales, one which wasn't there that morning. Jan had written it in. It was another ghost sales entry and Miranda shook her head. Either Jan was too stupid to write the sales in as they occurred or she was getting a last minute purchase from someone every month which always pulled them through to the black.
A few hours past and Miranda was bored. The store was quiet, no customers since morning, and she was getting a headache. She thought about stopping in at the Vanderhorn's store to see Carl but figured it might be better to let him make the first move. After milling around with nothing to do, Miranda decided to just go home.
* * * * *
"That's the one, Jan." Paul said, sitting on the bed. "I want you to wear it." Jan modeled the tight string bikini Paul liked one more time making him squirm with anticipation then she came to him putting her breasts to his face. Paul pulled her close and licked the fleshy mounds then slowly slipped the shoulder straps of her underwear down exposing her tits completely.
"And you're certain she won't come home?" Paul asked.
"Yes, will you stop worrying, Paul. Miranda is hard at work. She told me she'd be there for the rest of the day."
"If I get caught with you, Jan, it'll end my marriage. I can't let that happen, at least not yet."
"You're getting to be a bore, Paul, you know that." Jan said, pressing her breasts to his lips. That would shut him up, she figured. Paul slipped her bikini off the rest of the way then undressed himself. He was eager for an afternoon of fucking and Jan was the hole he planned to ream.
His cock shot up like a rocket on the fourth of July when he saw her pussy hairs. Paul lived with a woman who's body had been ruined by too much pasta and seeing this slender, sexy frame in front of him now was like being in his favorite candy store. He wanted it all.
Jan got on the bed and Paul followed. He slid up between her legs and pressed the tip of his dick to her slit. She purred like a well fed kitten when he slipped it inside. The wetness of her feminine cunt swallowed Paul's cock all the way to the base.
"Oh, God, Jan, this is wonderful." he moaned.
"You like it?" Jan smiled. As if she didn't know. All the men she flicked liked it, and at two hundred a pop she had to make sure of that. Jan moved her agile hips up and down on Paul's penetrating meat. She squeezed her pussy muscles clamping down on the shaft then milking it hard. Paul gasped a couple of times when she slammed her pelvis to his but it was a gasp of excitement, not pain.
"I want to eat you." Paul moaned.
"I'm all yours, do whatever you like." Jan let the male customers go their own way for the full half hour. She figured if they paid that much money for her she'd give them free rein. Paul slinked down and put his tongue to her slit then lapped the length of it, from ass to clit. His wife never allowed him to eat pussy. Most wives lost their husbands that way. If a man couldn't get his taste at home he was bound and determined to get it some place else. One thing for certain, he would get it.
Paul licked and tongue fucked Jan's juicy cunt until he couldn't stand the excitement any longer. He had to ram his meat back into her pussy and fuck until he exploded. She let him slip up behind her ass and stick it in from that angle and when he did his cock lasted three good humps before spitting the wad.
She moved over letting the man lay flat to rest. Jan usually made her customers leave after their first climax but Paul, she liked personally. She wanted him to work her over before he left.
Jan went to her closet and got a box of rubber toys she often played with when she was alone, and when Paul saw them his eyes bugged out.
"What is that?" he asked, seeing the thick rubber cock-like dildo.
"This is what I want you to give me." Jan smiled. She handed Paul the contraption then mounted him, straddling his chest.
"You just lay there Paul, and let this big fucker do the work." Jan spread her legs putting one beside Paul's head and the other by his waist. Her juicy slit was oozing what was left of his jism and Paul watched it trickle out of her cunt and dribble onto his chest. He lined up the rubber cock then slowly let the knob pass inside. Jan squirmed onto it then slowly took in up: One inch at a time she lowered her body onto it until the huge rubber dong disappeared up her hole.
Paul loved watching the way her cunt muscles wrapped around the thing. It was the first time he'd seen a pussy in action. His wife never allowed him to look at her and Paul was getting an education.
"Fuck me with it, Paul. Fuck me hard." Jan said, moving up and down to aid his efforts. Paul did what she asked, slamming the dong deep, then yanking it out again. He reamed her pretty slit until she wailed for more then after his cock had rested he made her .bend over on her hands and knees while he rammed her pussy with the dong and tongue licked her ass opening.
Jan went wild for Paul. She gave him the best act in her bag and by the time he managed to bring her off, Paul was ready to hump again. He slipped his cock inside her asshole and started fucking and just when he was in the middle of the most erotic feeling of his life, Miranda came home.
They didn't hear her come in. Miranda was always quiet as a mouse. She put her things on the kitchen table then stopped for a minute to listen. Strange sounds were coming from the back of the house and she rushed to see what they were.
Miranda swung open the door to her bedroom and there was Paul and Jan entangled in sexual bliss. She froze for a second, knowing they hadn't seen her yet and she watched Paul flicking Jan's asshole with all his might.
Miranda pictured herself in that position with Carl Vanderhorn. She wanted his cock up her ass, as well as every where else. If only he hadn't run out that way, she thought, I'd already have had him.
When Paul's cock reached the boiling point he couldn't stop fucking Jan, and even after seeing Miranda at the doorway, he had to continue. It was the sort of feeling he couldn't turn off, an over the edge sort of lust that had to be let out, but right after his dick spewed it's cream, he yanked out the penetrating cockmeat and covered himself with the bed sheet.
"Miranda!" Jan shouted. "What are you doing here?"
"I came home early. Excuse me, I didn't mean to interrupt." Miranda left the bedroom somewhat in shock. It was the man from the store, she remembered, the married man buying lingerie for his wife. Miranda was beginning to see her room mate in a different light. She was beginning to understand where the money came from for those monthly ghost sales. Jan followed Miranda to the kitchen and tried to explain.
"Listen, you've got to understand, Miranda. This is business." she said, wrapping her robe around her cum soaked body.
"Business?"
"Yes, damnit, business. I can't go into it now but you've got to try and understand."
"I think I understand perfectly, Jan. The ghost sales?" Miranda asked.
"We aren't making enough from the lingerie sales, Miranda, we haven't been for a long time. I didn't want the business to fold, I thought you knew that."
"I knew sales were down and we've been struggling but I had no idea where the ghost sales came from nor the money. You should have said something. We could have taken a bank loan."
"Oh, please ... " Jan laughed. "Why should we borrow money when we can make it like this. Do you have any idea how easy it is to make this kind of dough. Men will pay a fortune for a piece, Miranda. The single ones are so fucking tired of playing the cunt game they'll gladly drop a wad to unload, and the married men, great day, those poor bastards live with women who won't even suck them off. I pick up anywhere from eight hundred to fifteen hundred a day, Miranda, a fucking day, girl, are you listening to me?"
"Hey, I'm not angry. It's your life, Jan. Fine, if you're happy flicking, then I'm happy for you." Miranda said. Jan started laughing. She couldn't believe it, Miranda said the word.
"Did you hear yourself just now, Miranda? You said the F-word."
"What, fuck?" Miranda asked. "Fuck, fuck, fuck. Hey, I know more that that one." she continued. "Cock, cock, cock. How about, blow job, blow job, blow job, or maybe you'd be happy to hear me say cunt, pussy, dick, hard-on, or ass flick. What's the big deal, Jan, you think I don't know those words. You think I don't know what they are or mean?" Miranda was annoyed. She was tired of Jan treating her like a sheltered wall flower.
"The difference between you and me is, I know them and choose not to use them, that's all."
"Why are you so angry, Miranda?" Jan asked, with confusion.
"I'm not angry." she yelled, but the truth was she was jealous. Jan always got the best and Miranda got the books. She wanted to feel a thick cock slamming against her pelvis bone too. She wanted Carl's.
"Do you want me to ask Paul if he'd do it with you?" Jan asked, thinking that might calm her down.
"Oh, please, Jan, for God's sake. I'm tired of groveling for your left-overs."
"Excuse me ladies." Paul said, standing by the bedroom door fully dressed. "I'll be leaving now."
"Paul, wait." Jan said. "Don't go. We have the rest of the afternoon. Miranda was just leaving, and besides, I'm not finished with you. Miranda, you were just leaving, right?" Jan said, making a face at her. Miranda looked at Jan with contempt then said,"
"Sure, I'm on my way. You two have a nice afternoon. I won't be back until mid-night. Stay as long as you like, Paul." She grabbed her pocketbook then stormed out.
Jan took Paul's arm and led him back to the bedroom. She wasn't the least bit concerned over Miranda's temper. Jan knew she'd calm down after a movie and be back to her sweet self in no time.
"I don't know, Jan, maybe I should leave?" Paul said.
"Don't be silly. You don't have to go yet."
"But, this is Miranda's house. I can't just put her out that way."
"First of all, you didn't put her out, I did, and secondly, she's already gone. Stop worrying over Miranda, will you. It's me you need to worry over."
"Do you think she recognized me?"
"She remembered seeing you in the store, yes."
"Oh, God." Paul said, sitting on the bed and covering his face.
"Paul, Miranda doesn't know you from Adam. You're just a customer who came in to buy lingerie, that's all. What do you think, she'll run out and spend the evening trying to locate your wife?"
Paul wouldn't budge. He sat on the bed like a wounded dog trying to get the courage to walk.
"Come on, Paul, snap out of it." Jan knelt in front of him then began unzipping his pants.
"What are you doing?" he asked.
"How about a blow job, Paul?" Jan cooed. "When was the last time Sharon gave you a good suck?"
"Sharon never sucks me, you know that." Paul said, letting Jan continue the undressing.
"Exactly, Paul, that's what I mean. Let me take care of you. I'll make you feel so good you won't ever want to go home again." She placed her warm lips around Paul's cock head and gently sucked him up and when the man felt his blood rushing, he lay back letting Jan take what she wanted.
"That's a good boy." Jan whispered. "You just let Jan take good care of you. I'll make all your hurts disappear."
Chapter Five
"You haven't said three words to me all day, dad, why?" Carl asked.
"You didn't want to hear what I had to say last night when you called, why listen to me now?"
"Last night there wasn't anything you could have said to change my mind, dad."
"So, you hang up the phone on me?" Jesse shouted.
"I was finished talking, that's all."
"Ya, well, so am I!" Jesse stormed into the kitchen for a piece of Alice's pie and Carl followed close behind. Carl wanted to tell his father about Miranda. He wanted to ask about love and get his father's advise, but Jesse wouldn't have a thing to do with it. He refused his son all the time and this would be no exception.
"Please, dad, won't you just listen to me?" Carl begged. He wanted a normal relationship with Jesse. He watched television, he saw what a father son relationship was supposed to be like. It hurt him deeply whenever Jesse ignored him this way, but Carl was determined to make his dad listen.
"Miranda asked me to watch a movie, that's all. I like her, dad, I have for a long time."
"What long time, you just met her?"
"Yes, but she's been coming into the store for a long time. I've watched her, dad. I've seen her come in for milk and eggs a lot."
"What are you telling me, that you spy on our good customer's?" Jesse ranted. "Alice, did you hear that, this boy spies on our customer's. The next thing you know he'll be kidnapping them and raping them."
"Jesse!" Alice shouted. She was appalled by her husband's implication.
"Carl would never do any such thing, and you know it."
"Do we, Alice? Do we know what this derelict is capable of, really."
"Dad, please stop this." Carl begged. He couldn't stand it any longer. His father came up with new names to call him almost on a daily basis, and they cut to the bone.
"I'm not a derelict, dad. I'm me, Carl. I don't hurt people and I don't rape them." Jesse turned around and started out of the kitchen but Carl blocked his passage. He wasn't letting Jesse run out on him any more. They were going to discuss this and clear the air.
"Get out of my way, you sorry derelict." Jesse yelled.
"No, I want you to talk to me, dad."
"Jesse, hear the boy out." Alice pleaded.
"What's to hear? I don't want to know what he did to that sweet little girl. She was one of our best customer's and now what? We'll be lucky if we ever see her again. You had no right to go over there, Carl. You should have said no."
"Dad, I love Miranda Saunderson." Carl said. His mother's face went blank when the words slipped out of her son's lips. He loved a woman, she thought, my dear Lord, my son loves a woman. Visions of tiny grandchildren came to her mind and suddenly she was prepared to fight Jesse no matter what it took.
"Listen to the boy, Jesse. He loves this girl." she said.
"Love, what is that? This boy has no concept of love. Look at him." Jesse barked, pointing to Carl. "He's an overgrown idiot, a clumsy, stupid fool. He'll never be able to support a wife, what? Don't talk to me about love. This boy loves only himself, that was evident when he hung up the phone on me last night."
"Dad, I didn't hang up on you, I was simply finished talking. Ma, make him listen to me." Carl pleaded. Why was Jesse so upset, he wondered. Was it because he hung up without giving him the chance to object? Carl knew his father would object. He always raised objection whenever Carl wanted to branch out, but Jesse objected just as strongly when he didn't. What was the man's problem?
no more talk." Jesse shouted. "I'm done with the talking. You want to pretend you're normal fine, but don't expect me to play this stupid game."
"What's the matter with you, Jesse?" Alice shouted. "This boy is more normal than half the youth in this stinking city. He don't use drugs, he don't drink, he don't smoke nothing, what do you think is normal? Carl is a good boy. He's got a learning problem, so what. You think he's not normal because his letters get jumbled up in his head, aaaah!" Alice threw up her hands.
"I drink." Carl said. His words brought stillness to the room and Jesse took it upon himself to break it.
"Great, now he's a drunk, don't stick up for him no more, Alice, you don't know this boy. You don't know what he's capable of doing."
"I'm not a drunk, dad." Carl said, calmly. "I just said I drink. I had a glass of wine last night over at Miranda's."
"Wonderful!" Jesse shouted. "So you think you're in love with a girl who's got a drinking problem, that's just great. Fine, you keep seeing that slut and soon she'll have you swilling the stuff like water."
"Miranda is no slut, dad!" Carl took offense to his father's slur. He didn't mind Jesse calling him names but he wouldn't allow him to bad mouth his girl. Miranda was a sweet lady and he wouldn't stand idly by and listen to is father run her down.
"How the hell would you know?" Jesse shouted. "You don't even know what a slut is."
"Yes, I do." Carl said.
"Oh, my God." Alice sighed, taking a seat at the table.
"A slut is a woman who lets men fuck her all the time." Carl blurted.
"Mama-mia!" Alice wailed.
"What kind of talk is that in front of your mother? Have you gone mad? Tell her you're sorry, go on, tell her. You don't say that filth in my house, you understand me?"
"You say it all the time, dad." Carl stated. He was confused by his father's reaction to the word.
He'd heard Jesse using it with some of the female customer's in the store.
"I never use such language!" Jesse denied.
"Holy Mary, mother of God." Alice moaned.
"Shut the hell up with that, Alice, for God's sake, we don't need to hear that on top of everything else."
"Don't you yell at me, you sorry old man!" she snapped.
"So you finally admit it then." Jesse quipped. "Old man!"
"I know my son, that's what I admit, and my Carl don't make up stories. If he heard you say that word, then you said it. My Carl don't lie." Alice banged her fist on the kitchen table and gave Jesse a stare that would shatter glass. She defied her husband, and for the first time stood up for her son fighting for Jesse to recognize his manhood.
"Carl is a full grown man, Jesse. He's not stupid like you say. He's bright and kind and intelligent. What, you think he needs to stay around here and work in the back? My Carl can go anywhere. He can get a job anywhere and he can fall in love with a woman, he can drink if he likes, he can even make babies if he wants to. You don't tell him he can't no more, Jesse, no more. My Carl is a man, you speak to him like a man!" Alice's voice got lower as she spoke. It was a winding down after saying all the things she wanted to say but never had the courage. Jesse was stunned at his wife's behavior. Alice yelled at him before but she never defied him. She never defended Carl's manhood, and Jesse was confused.
"You don't know what you say, Alice. This boy is not full grown up here." Jesse said, pointing to his head. "He don't understand about certain things. Love? What does he know from love?"
"I know it's when you care more about the other person than you do yourself." Carl said.
"See there!" Alice snapped. "He knows plenty."
"Shut up, boy. You don't know shit about life. This Miranda, she takes you home, she gives you wine? Then what, huh? Did she make you take your pants down, Carl. Did she make you touch her or did she touch you?"
"Mama-mia, I don't believe this." Alice sighed again.
"If you're asking if we made love, the answer is no. She kissed me, that's all."
"Kissed you, what, on the dick she kissed you, Carl?"
"For God's sake, Jesse, stop this talk." Alice shouted.
"No, dad, the lips." Carl yelled. "She just kissed me on the lips."
"And you let this slut violate you?" Jesse screamed.
"Miranda is no slut, dad, stop calling her that. She is a lovely lady with a kindness about her I've never seen in anyone I've ever known."
"From who do you know, Carl?" Jesse demanded. "You don't know anybody else. You keep cooped up in the store all day and you stay in your room all night, doing God knows what in there, so who do you know?"
"I only meant she's a lovely lady. Kind and gentle."
"And she drinks and she forces you to kiss her mouth!" Jesse screamed.
"She didn't force me, dad, I let her do it. I only wish I could have kissed her back."
"What, she have you tied up, you couldn't kiss her, what?" Jesse wouldn't stop shouting. He overreacted in a way more unlike anything Alice or Carl had ever seen. The veins in his neck bulged like ridges and the purple blood in them made him look as if he might explode any minute. His face was deep red, and his mouth splattered saliva with every yell. Carl couldn't understand Jesse's reaction, and neither could Alice.
"No Dad, I was too nervous to kiss her. She's so beautiful." Carl said, softly.
"Leave the boy alone, Jesse, can't you see he's upset now. You have no right to treat him this way." Alice insisted. "He's your son, for God's sake, not some reject you found pilfering through your garbage can. Carl is in love, Jesse, can't you be happy for the boy?"
"Ma, please, I'm not a boy." Carl said, angrily. "I'm a man, okay. A full grown man. I have feeling and dreams, I understand about things like work and love. There is nothing abnormal about me so please, stop calling me a boy, and stop treating me as if I were retarded. I get my letters mixed up, so what. I can read a little, I can read numbers just fine. I'm not a mental case, so please stop treating me like one!" Carl shook his head in frustration then sat down hard on a kitchen chair.
Fine!" Jesse hollered. "You want to be a man, you want to fuck some pussy, fine, then you get yourself another girl besides this Miranda person."
"Mother of God." Alice shouted. She cringed at Jesse's choice of words. Never before had she heard such filth from his lips. She didn't know he knew such language.
"Don't fuck my customer's, Carl. You want cunt, you get it from someone else, or better yet you go buy it. I won't have you humping my customer's, you hear me."
"For God's sake, dad, stop this, will you. I'm not fucking Miranda."
"Carl!" Alice screamed. "Don't say those things!"
"But, I'm not, ma. We kissed, that's all. I'm not interested in Miranda for sex."
"So now you admit it." Jesse shouted. "We kissed, you say. So, you did kiss this cock teasing slut."
"I swear to God, if you call her that one more time, I'll ... I'll " Carl stammered. He was going to threaten Jesse's life, but that was his own father. He couldn't bring himself to say the words and in his frustration slammed his fist to the kitchen table putting a deep split in the wood. Alice jumped three feet in the air when Carl's fist hit the wood. It scared her half to death, but Jesse, he just bitched about the damage.
"You call yourself a man, huh. A man don't go around breaking things like this, you sorry cunt fucker!"
"God, Jesse. stop with this talk." Alice begged.
"Shut up, you!" Jesse told him wife. "You just keep your mouth quiet!"
"Don't yell at my mother." Carl said, calmly. He was angrier than he'd ever been and it had a calming effect on him. His emotions had past the violent stage and as they slipped beyond rage to a peaceful self assurance, Jesse shut up. He could see the anger in Carl's eyes. The fierce determination that demanded Jesse stop his yelling, and Jesse kept still hoping Carl would let him sit at the table and talk.
"Okay," Jesse said. "We'll talk." he slowly moved to a chair and sat down. Carl took his seat too and Alice just watched the both of them staring at each other. She had never seen her husband back down from Carl, but then, she'd never seen Carl defend himself this way.
"So, what do you want me to say?" Jesse asked.
"I want you to listen." Carl said, still staring Jesse down. "For the first time, I'd like you to just sit there with your mouth closed and listen to what I have to say." Jesse gave a loud huffing sound from air being forced out his nostrils, but Carl gave him that and continued.
"For a long time now, you have put me down. I understand your fears about me, dad. I do. I know you think I'm not right up here, but you're wrong."
Alice listened to her son speak. He was perfectly articulate and sensibly calm. It was the first time she'd ever seen him so confident, and it felt good.
"I have a problem reading some letters, I know that, but I've been working on that. I've read the books in the library and I think I've made great progress." Carl said.
"What are you talking, you've read the books in the library" Jesse laughed. "Nobody reads a library full of books."
"Well, I have, and I'm learning all the time." Carl went on. "I may not seem like a man to you, dad, but I'm a man. I understand the responsibilities of being an adult and I want to have them more than anything in this world. I want to find another job, not one connected with the family store, and I want to fall in love and have a family of my own. I want to make love to a woman."
"Oh, God help me." Alice wailed.
"And, I want to take care of her for the rest of her life. I want to marry Miranda Saunderson, dad, and I think she wants me."
"What makes you think this Miranda wants you?" Jesse asked, remaining calm.
"She invited me to her place last night and she kissed me." Carl said.
"What, so now you think you'll ask her to marry?" Jesse laughed.
"Not right now, no, but soon." Carl said.
"Come on ... Alice, help me out here. Tell this boy the truth. Don't let him hurt himself this way."
"Carl." his mother said. "Do you think Miranda feels the same about you as you feel about her?" she asked.
"Jesus Christ, Alice, that's not what I meant." Jesse's voice started to raise. "Tell the boy it don't mean nothing when a woman asks him to a movie. Tell him woman kiss all the time and it means nothing."
"Miranda wouldn't have kissed me if she didn't like me, and besides, she told me she did, twice."
"Okay, so she likes you, Carl. That's not the same as she wants to marry. Alice, please, say something to this boy."
"I'm not a boy!" Carl snapped.
"Okay, okay, man then. Carl, Miranda is a nice lady right?" Jesse asked. Carl nodded "She's pretty, she's a business woman, right?" Carl agreed. "Okay fine, what the hell would a pretty, bright, desirable business woman want with you?"
"Don't start again, Jesse." Alice said.
"What, I'm speaking the truth." Jesse yelled. "He's a cold meat platter maker in the back of his father's store, for God's sake, think, Alice. Why would this girl want him when she could have a lawyer, a doctor maybe?"
"She likes me, dad, she said so."
"So, she likes you, big deal. Carl, you gotta understand about women. They say they like you just to get something from you, that's all."
"Don't tell the boy that." Alice snapped.
"I'm a man, damnit!"
"Man, schman, what's the difference? Son, women just want money from men or sex, that's all. This Miranda just wants something from you."
"I don't have any money." Carl said.
"Right, now we're getting some place, for Christ sake, you stupid, she wants your dick, just like I tried to tell you before. The little cock fucking slut wants my Carl's dick, Alice!" Jesse pushed away from the table then stood up. He was ranting again and Carl joined in.
"Don't say that about her, I'm warning you!" he yelled. "Miranda isn't a slut!"
"Please stop this." Alice begged, but it was too late. The two men were screaming at each other again.
Alice wouldn't listen to it. She ran out of the kitchen to the living room. There was nothing more she could do. Jesse wouldn't give in and she feared Carl wouldn't either. It would have to end the way it ended, and Alice knew it. As she ran toward the stairs, the front doorbell rang. Alice didn't want to answer it but when she saw Miranda through the lace door curtain opened the door.
"This is a bad time for you to come here." Alice said. "Carl can't come out."
"Is he alright?" Miranda asked. She could hear the yelling from the kitchen and became concerned. "Is everything alright, Mrs. Vanderhorn?" she asked.
"Fine, just fine, now go away. I'll tell Carl you were here." Alice started to close the door but before she could Carl came running into the living room. He was trying to get away from Jesse. When he saw Miranda at the door, his heart skipped a beat. Seeing her again was just the strength he needed. He smiled at her, then went to her.
Jesse followed his son into the living room. He was winning the argument before Carl ran out and wasn't about to let him get away. Jesse saw Miranda at the door and laughed. He figured she was just the right person to pay a visit.
"So, the little lady has come to see, Carl." he said. "Come in, come in. Get out of the way and let Miss Miranda inside, Alice." Miranda stepped into the house and Alice closed the door. The room was silent. Carl didn't speak; neither did Alice, and Jesse was too busy gloating to talk. Miranda didn't know what they were arguing about but she could sense it was a bad time.
"Perhaps I could- come back later?" she said.
"Don't be stupid, missy, come in. We were just talking about you." Jesse laughed.
"Come on, Miranda. We'll go see a movie." Carl said. He wanted her out of there before Jesse said something stupid, but before the door knob turned, his father had let it come out.
"We were discussing why a girl like you would want a boy like our Carl?" Jesse said. "He don't have money, you know that, missy. Carl hasn't got a thing you might want, unless of course, you wanted cock. Carl has lots of cock."
"Jesse!" Alice screamed.
"Never mind, Alice, she should know what the boy has to offer. That is what you're after, isn't it, Miranda?"
"I'll come back another time, Carl." Miranda said scared half out of her wits. She didn't know what to say to Mr. Vanderhorn. Why was he talking to her that way, she wondered.
"Maybe you can call me." she said to Carl. Jesse ran over and slammed the front door forcing Miranda aside. He wasn't letting her off that easily.
"Nobody goes nowhere." Jesse yelled. Alice felt faint. Her knees became so weak she had to sit on the steps.
"We just want to know why you want our son, that's all. It's a simple question. We want you to tell him yourself that the only reason you told him you liked him was to get in his pants. Tell him, Miranda, go on. Let the boy hear it from you so he'll know the truth." Miranda wasn't going to answer Mr. Vanderhorn's lewd remark but if she didn't, Carl might thing it was the truth.
"I told Carl I like him because he's a gentle, sweet, tender man with a bright head on his shoulders and yes, I'd like to make love with him sometime, but that isn't why I said it."
"You want to make love with me?" Carl smiled, feeling his heart soar.
"Yes, Carl, I would. I really would."
Chapter Six
Carl grabbed Miranda's hand and they ran out of Jesse's house, down the sidewalk, to the corner. He felt free for the first time in his life, and happier than he'd ever experienced. Miranda kept up with him, but it wasn't easy. Carl leaped along the sidewalk pulling her every step of the way.
"Slow down, Carl." she laughed.
"You have to say that to me all the time, don't you?" he smiled. Hearing Miranda say she wanted to make love with him made him feel like a man for the first time in his life and nothing anyone could say could ever take that away.
Carl slowed down and let Miranda catch her breath. She bent over taking a rest and Carl paced back and forth over the sidewalk.
"Let me take you out to dinner." Carl said.
"Okay, where?"
"Anywhere you want to go." he said, Carl didn't care. What ever Miranda wanted was fine with him.
"But I thought you didn't have money, Carl?" Miranda asked. She heard Jesse say Carl was broke. How much could he have working in a grocery store all day?
"I have plenty of money, Miranda, see." Carl took out his wallet and showed her a wad big enough to choke a horse. She couldn't imagine where he would get such a roll and was afraid to ask, but Miranda wanted to be sure Carl wasn't spending money that wasn't his.
"Carl." Miranda asked, with tact. "Where did you get that?"
"I earned it." he said, proudly.
"Where?"
"Working."
"At the store?" Miranda questioned. She knew Carl couldn't make more than minimum wage.
"Ya, at the store."
"How much do you make, Carl?" Miranda asked, curiosity mounting.
"Dad pays me four dollars an hour." Carl said. "But after taxes I make about a hundred and thirty dollars every week."
Miranda made six times that and still had to pinch pennies. She couldn't imagine anyone getting by on such a meager amount, but then it occurred to her, Carl lived at home. He didn't go out, didn't drink. He didn't have much to spend his money on and if he saved most of it, he just might have some put away.
"I'm not prying or anything Carl, but just out of curiosity, how much money do you have." she asked.
"Well, there's about sixteen hundred here." he said, innocently. "Is that what you wanted to know, or were you asking how much money I have everywhere else?"
"I guess everywhere else." Miranda smiled.
Carl thought about the question for a minute then asked if she wanted to know because she wanted his money and when Miranda told him absolutely not, he believed her.
"Dad said all women want money or sex. I'm glad you just want sex." he smiled.
"Carl! That's not true." Miranda said. She was annoyed that Jesse would tell him such a thing.
"I don't want your money or sex."
"But, you told me you wanted to make love, Miranda."
"Yes, well, I do, but that's not the same thing."
"Why not?"
"It just isn't, that's all, damn, Carl. If sex was all I wanted I could get that anywhere. I told you I wanted to make love with you because I like you very much, Carl."
"Well, okay, I'll tell you then." Carl said. He told Miranda that he'd been working at the store for eleven years, ever since he turned sixteen. He'd saved his checks every week for all that time, except every Christmas when he spent a little for gifts. Between the money he'd put away and the interest he'd earned, Carl was boasting a bank account holding more than one hundred thirty seven thousand dollars. Miranda's face turned white. She couldn't imagine him having that kind of money, but Carl proved it by letting her see his bank book.
"Does Mr. Vanderhorn know about this?" she asked.
"No, neither does mom. They think I spend my money on books and magazines."
"Why, do you have a lot of them?" Miranda figured he must have for Jesse and Alice to think that's where one hundred thirty bucks a week was going.
"Oh, sure, I've got tons of them. I get magazines from Williard's New stand, but he gives them to me. I always get one copy of every one he sells."
"How you don't steal them, do you?"
"Stealing isn't legal, Miranda." Carl said. "He gives the outdated copies to me. When I get them they're a month out of date but most of the time you can't tell, unless it's Time or News Week. They sometimes have old news, but most of the others are just as fresh as if they were the current issue. I also have a lot of books. I buy some at yard sales and library sales. I've got the whole collection of Sherlock Holmes murder mysteries and I only gave three dollars for them."
"That's amazing." Miranda said, with a warm smile.
"Ya, I never allow myself to spend more than ten dollars on books in a months time, but at twenty five cents a book, I can get forty of them. I don't always find that many, but sometimes I do."
"Do you read them all?" Miranda was impressed. She'd never known anyone who read forty books before, and the way Carl was talking, that was a months haul for him.
"Sure, I do. I've read every book in the library." Carl said. He didn't think that unusual. He thought everyone read, books at night. Some people worked nights but they must read during the daytime, that way his reasoning.
"The library?" Miranda questioned. "Nobody has read all the books in a library, Carl." she smiled.
"That's what my dad said too, but it's true, Miranda. Why would I lie about something like that? We have to get off this corner now." Carl said.
"Why?"
"It has a bus bench on it."
"So?"
"Well, if the driver comes and we don't get on, he'll be pissed that he had to stop." Carl explained.
"Let's get on it then, Carl. Let's take a bus all the way across town and back."
"What for?"
"Just because. Let's just ride around until we see a place we want to stop." When the bus came they boarded. Miranda paid the fare. She wanted to put his mind at ease about wanting his money. They rode for miles looking at all the lights and decorations in the store windows, then got off to have dinner.
Carl was a gentleman all through the evening. He was considerate and kind, loving and funny.
Miranda liked him more and more and when they decided to take in a movie, she kissed him as. soon as the house lights went dark. Carl kissed back this time controlling him passion. If Miranda wanted to make love with him, that must mean his dream to marry her was becoming a reality. He lost his nervousness somewhat and was better able to respond without mauling her.
They watched a sex film, It wasn't a good one, but they both were intrigued with it. The leading man was a shoe repair man living alone. He kept his shop in the rear of his home and worked late at night fixing shoes. One night a young girl came to the shop wanting her heel repaired and when the man let her inside, she laughed at him.
The man grabbed the young girl then locked the door. He put a gag on her so her screams couldn't be heard then he carried her to the back room. His cobblers bench was long and made of oak. The man cleared it by using his arm and knocking everything to the floor. He hoisted the young girl up to the wooden table then tied her hands and feet with rope. She squirmed and twisted trying to break free, but to no avail.
After pulling all the shades in the shop, the man came to the table and looked at the girl. .She was young and lovely, not unlike Miranda, and he unbuttoned her blouse letting her breasts fall free. Next he pulled off her skirt and panties leaving her completely nude and vulnerable.
The young girl acted afraid but Miranda and Carl could easily see it was an act. She needed three or four more years of acting school to convince the audience, but they figured there was no harm in using imagination.
The man stood along side of the young naked girls body and grinned devilishly. He touched her nipples with his fingers then let them travel the length of her body all the way to her toes. He was teasing the girl, poking and probing her curves before using a more stimulating method of fondling.
The camera gave Miranda and Carl a close up of the girls pussy slit. It zoomed in close showing the pink folds of skin surrounding her hole and Miranda looked over at Carl for his reaction. He was leaning forward in the seat taking in every detail and she smiled at him deciding not to disturb his enjoyment.
The shoe repair man slipped his finger up her pussy, pushing it all the way in, and she squirmed on it trying to get him away, but the more she wiggled, the faster his finger darted in and out. He wanted to finger her cunt until it flowed wet with juice.
After the man managed to get the girl's cunt running, he went around and inched between her spread thighs. The camera had to shoot from overhead to catch the shot. It showed the long tongue slipping in and out of the girls pussy and he was lapping up her cunt cream as quickly as she dribbled it. His face wasn't touching the girls body, just his unusually long tongue, and after several minutes watching him lick her snatch, the camera moved around under the table showing the man's stiff cock. He was masturbating himself while he sucked her slit clean and getting it ready to fuck the pretty maiden until she fainted from the pain.
Miranda winced seeing the size of his schlong, but all men in sex movies had unusually large cocks. John Holmes sported a fourteen inch cock and this guys made his look dwarfed. He held the thick meat up then backed his face away from the young girls wet slit. His eyes were shining with lust as he stood on a stool to line up the throbbing cockmeat with her pussy.
It was, of course, a perfect match, and when he rammed it to her, the girls ass lifted off the table. The man slipped his hands under her ass cheeks raising her onto his dick. He flicked her cunt so fast the camera had to back off to keep from getting a blurred shot. Miranda's own pussy started to twinge at the thought of tacking a cock that size. She could almost feel the pain it would induce and as Carl looked over at her, she was engrossed in the picture. He figured she must be enjoying it and opted not to disturb her.
The man violated the girl in every imaginable way. He fucked her throat then took her virgin asshole. He even drove a thick hammer handle up her cunt and made her dizzy with pain. He worked the girl over with every ounce of strength he had and when his huge cock finally shot it's load, Miranda watched with amazement.
The camera man pulled in close as the massive cock squirted cum. The man held it over the girls mouth and let the spray squirt from his piss hole so that the camera caught every blast. His dick pulsated like a fire hose filling with water and the slit in his knob opened like the mouth of a volcano. Hot lather flowed from it, streaming out the slit past the girls face then onto the floor. It was firing fast, one stream after the other and as the man realized he was missing the girt, he stood up on the stool and pointed his cock downward. The girl opened her mouth and took in the jism. It was hot and thick and she swallowed every drop she could get.
The man bled his cock for her, milking the hot cum up the shaft and into her eager lips. She wanted it and he gave it to her. Next, he went around to the girls cunt and lapped it a few times licking up her sweet excitement. Carl loved seeing that part. He longed to taste Miranda's cunt the same way.
The shoe repair man took out three rubber dongs from under the work bench. Miranda felt embarrassed seeing them because they were just like hers. She kept a supply of rubber cocks on hand for all the lonely nights she spent watching old movies.
The man used the biggest dildo in the girls pussy. The camera came in for the close up and the entire screen was filled with the shot of her wide spread pussy lips and gushing cunt slit. He shoved the dick in until it sank all the way to the fake rubber balls.
The huge veins on the thing rubbed to her clit and the girl, shaken at first, began humping her pussy onto it like a wild animal. She was hungry for a fuck and the man used his fake thick cock to give her what she needed.
Next, he pulled out another dong and slid it up her ass. She wailed out when it penetrated but the rag tied around her mouth didn't let the scream be heard. It was a muffled sound, like air pressing against the side of a rubber tube.
The camera showed how the man alternated dongs in her holes. First, he'd let the big cock thrust all the way up her cunt and as it came out, the one in her ass went deep. He was showing it in slow motion for the audience and Carl was completely absorbed with the action. His cock swelled to full size and Miranda noticed him squirming in the seat trying to get comfortable.
She couldn't fault Carl for getting aroused. Her own slit felt like it was draining from her canal into her panties and when she reached under her dress for a quick feel, discovered she was right. The crotch of her panties was soaking wet.
Miranda thought she'd give Carl a thrill. She reached over and took his hand guiding it up her dress to the wet place. Carl's eyes got big when he felt her thigh and bigger yet when he felt her wetness but when Miranda pulled aside her panties and let him dip a finger to her pussy, Carl's eyes almost came out of their sockets.
He fingered her slit in the movie theater with passion. Sliding it up and down, in and out, in and out, until his hand was drenched from her cunt juices.
Miranda slumped forward letting her hips come to the edge of the chair and Carl was able to go deeper. He finger flicked her pussy deeply and Miranda wondered if his cock was as large as his hands were big. She'd heard you could tell the size of a man's dick by the size of his hands. If there was any truth to it at all, Miranda was in for a dick about as huge as the shoe repairman's on the screen.
Carl looked into Miranda's eyes as if to say, please, I need you, and she looked back with the same message. He slipped from his chair and tried to squeeze in front of her but there wasn't room. She made him get back in his seat and finger her some more.
Carl's cock was screaming to get out of his pants. It was pressed so tightly against the fabric his blood supply was choking off. Miranda reached over and let the thing free. She unzipped his pants and pulled it through the slit in his jockey shorts. When Carl's dick came out it stretched halfway up his abdomen. She couldn't believe the size of it.
He looked at her again this time saying, please, let me luck you now, an Miranda couldn't deny him. She got up from her chair and sat in Carl's lap putting her sopping wet hole around the throbbing rod then slowly lowered herself onto it as if impaling herself on a long sword.
The chills running through Carl's body were electric. This was the first time in his life he'd fucked a pussy and it was better that he ever imagined. The slick wet walls of her cunt enveloped his cock and the smoothness of it made him wince with passion.
She took him in as far as she could and Carl closed his eyes and let the feelings overtake his body. She slowly pumped up and down on Carl's cock and the more she did, the more difficult his breathing became. He huffed air from his nostrils like a bull and he clenched his teeth together, grinding them into one another.
As Carl's passion rose, so did Miranda's, and soon she was humping her cunt over his, cock like a woman possessed. The men in the seats around them were watching them flick, but Miranda didn't Scare. She wanted Carl's hard long cock as deep up her pussy as it would go and nothing was going to keep her from bringing him off or being brought off.
His balls started to draw tight. Carl could feel the excitement in his bones and he moved his hips up and down meeting Miranda's strokes. He was flicking cunt. Really getting a piece of it and it felt better than good. He put his hands to Miranda's hips under her dress then pulled her down on his cockmeat. She let him, even helped, and as Carl felt the cum in his balls begin to well he pulled faster letting his body relax and the hot lather from his dick make its way out the shaft and up Miranda's deep sucking cunt.
When Miranda saw Carl cumming she continued humping her pussy onto his dick. She rubbed the thick veins of his shaft over and over her cut pulling the foreskin up and down until she climaxed on it. It took her longer to bring herself off but Carl held fast letting her finish. The men next to Carl watched as his Miranda came off and they all had their cocks in hand masturbating as she went over the top.
"Everybody's looking at us, Miranda." Carl said, noticing it.
"Where?" she asked turning around. There they were, men surrounding them on all sides and Miranda felt awful. She was embarrassed beyond imagination until Carl asked her if it was good. She told him the best and when the men around them cheered, she smiled.
"I'd like to marry you, Miranda." Carl said. He just knew this was the perfect time to solidify their relationship, but Miranda went cold with the words and climbed off his cock. Her pussy dripped cum all over his slacks as she tried to get back to her seat and Carl wondered why she was acting so upset.
"Is everything alright?" he asked.
"No, Carl."
"What's the matter?"
"Let's just get out of here."
"Why, Miranda?"
"Just come on." She got up and ran up the aisle then out to the street. Carl tucked his spent cock in then followed.
"Miranda, wait up." he yelled. She stopped for him and turned around.
"Why did you have to spoil everything?" she asked.
"How? What did I do?" Carl was confused. He didn't understand what was wrong.
"Why did you say that?"
"What, ask you to marry me?"
"Yes, damnit!"
"I love you, Miranda, that's why. I've loved you from the beginning."
"Oh, please, Carl. We've know each other for hours, what beginning?" Miranda ran down the street with Carl chasing her and when she wasn't able to run any further, she stopped.
"Everything was so good, Carl. Why did you ruin it? I won't marry you, Carl, damn you. Why did you say that?"
Carl didn't understand. He thought she wanted the same as he. He thought Miranda loved him, why else would she want to luck him that way? He didn't try to keep up with her when she started running again. He just let her go.
Miranda ran all the way to the bus stop then sat on the bench. She was confused and hurt. Carl made a mockery of her in front of everyone. He let her make a fool of herself by flicking him in front of complete strangers then he joked about it by suggesting they marry. Any girl who flicks in a movie theater isn't the marrying kind, she reasoned. Why did he insult her that way? Miranda reasoned she had it coming. If she would stoop so low as to lose her control that way, he had a right to make fun of her.
Miranda was so wrapped up in her own guilt that she failed to realize Carl was serious. He wasn't making digs, or poking fun. He loved her and he wanted to marry her and have babies and a dog and a house full of cats. She couldn't see the innocence of the man, or the purity of heart because her own self doubting got in the way.
Carl walked home a shattered man. Jesse was right, all women wanted was money and cock. Miranda got what she wanted and now she wanted to move on. He felt sick on his stomach and Carl stopped to throw up. More than anything he wanted Miranda for his wife, but what hope was there now if all she wanted was cock?
Chapter Seven
The bus dropped her off three blocks from Vanderhorn's store and Miranda walked toward home, eyes tearing, spirit depressed. She felt terrible for losing control that way. She was eager to have Carl but regretted taking him that way.
She tried not to look at the store as she passed but it was impossible. She was drawn to it. Drawn to Carl's little place of work. Miranda glanced through the store window and just as she got past the door, Jesse opened it and called to her.
"Missy." he said. "Missy Miranda?" She turned and looked at the old man. Miranda didn't want any trouble from Jesse. She glared at him but his face was calm, his voice gentle. She didn't see the harm in talking with him providing he kept civil. Miranda figured he would offer an apology for earlier and she wanted to give him the chance.
"Mr. Vanderhorn?" she said, letting him know she was willing to listen.
"Missy, please, may I speak with you a minute?" he asked. "Please, I promise I won't yell at you again, or say unkind things to you, Missy. I just need to speak with you. Please come inside and we can talk. Jesse looked sincere but what could he possibly have to say, she wondered.
"We can talk right here." she said.
"Please, Missy Miranda, not out here where people will heir. I must tell you about my Carl. The street isn't the place." Jesse was pleading, as if some horrible secret would be exposed in the street and his family would be forever ruined. She could see the earnest expression in his eyes, a man desperate to make things right, and because it was his store and because Miranda wasn't the sort to turn people out, she agreed to talk inside. She stepped into the store and Jesse locked the door.
"Just to keep customer's out." he explained. He pulled down the door shade then asked if she'd like something to drink.
"Help yourself to anything, Miss Miranda." he said. Jesse was being too kind, almost deviously kind, but Miranda took a coke then asked what he wanted to say. Jesse was reluctant to talk. He asked if she'd come to the back room where they could sit. She followed him and Jesse got her a chair. He took pains for her comfort then thanked her for coming inside.
"I want to tell you about my son." Jesse started. He looked tired. Weary was a better was to describe him. His face looked ragged, like he'd just finished battling a wind storm.
"Alright." Miranda said. "But, I must tell you, Mr. Vanderhorn, I think very highly of Carl. I realize you don't approve of us seeing one another, but Carl is a grown man and should be able to date if he chooses."
"Yes, and that's why you should listen to what I have to say." Jesse pulled his chair closer to Miranda's. He was sitting close enough to touch her knees if he took the notion, and Miranda sipped her coke and let him continue.
"Carl is a special boy, Missy. He's not like other men."
"I realize that, Mr. Vanderhorn." she said.
"Carl is different." Jesse said, looking at her. She wondered what the point was. She realized Carl was special, Jesse didn't have to tell her that.
"What is it you want me to know, Mr. Vanderhorn?" she asked, losing patience.
"Carl is, well ... " he hesitated. "Carl is slow, Missy."
"But, he's smart. He's not the dummy you think he is." she said.
"No, no dummy, this I know. I'm not saying he's not smart, Miranda, Carl is slow. He doesn't know about certain things and a girl like you could harm a boy like Carl."
"I would never hurt Carl." Miranda insisted. She didn't like Jesse's implication one bit. There was nothing she did, or would ever do, to hurt Carl Vanderhorn. She liked the man.
"Let me finish." Jesse snapped. Miranda watched Jesse struggle to gain composure. He was like an explosive ready to ignite and she backed off letting him speak. The very last thing she wanted was a scene with Jesse Vanderhorn.
"My Carl, he's a good boy, Missy, a real good boy. He never hurts no one, my Carl. He keeps to himself, and that's the way it should be." Jesse stated. Miranda didn't agree with Mr. Vanderhorn, but she let him have his say.
"My Carl, he does well by himself. He works in the store, he doesn't bother the customer's. He keeps quiet back here, Missy. Carl is a quiet boy. He needs to stay away from the people because Carl, he's like an animal."
Miranda heard enough. It was one thing to say Carl was different, even slow, but to call him an animal? She had to interrupt.
"Mr. Vanderhorn, what are you trying to say?" she asked, abruptly. "Are you telling me to stay away from Carl, because if you are, just save your breath. First of all, he probably won't want to see me again and even if he did, nothing you could say would keep me from that. I like Carl, I like him very much, and as much as you think he's an animal, I find him to be the opposite."
"Carl's never experienced a woman, Missy, not until ... " Jesse stopped. He didn't want to let her know he was in the theater tonight. He watched them flicking in the movie house and Jesse wasn't going to let it slip.
"My Carl, he don't understand about the women, Missy. He only knows about them from magazines. He's never had a real woman. He wouldn't behave the right way. I'm afraid for you, Missy, that's why I want to talk. You could be in danger with my Carl." Jesse said it in an apologetic fashion. Miranda felt odd knowing the truth but wasn't sure she should mention it. If Jesse knew they had done it in the movie theater he might become violent and toss her out. She decided to listen.
"Carl, he dated no one all the way through school, Missy. He left school early and never developed. He's a normal man though, with normal
desires for the women, you know what I mean. I just think he might get over excited and harm you in some way." Jesse said. His concern for Miranda's welfare didn't seem genuine. His expression did, and so did his voice, but Miranda had trouble accepting his words. If Jesse had been concerned for her welfare then why would he make those ugly remarks about she and Carl? She let him talk but needed more than a few words to convince her he was sincere.
"My Carl, he's like a young animal, Missy. You know what I'm saying, don't you?"
"To be honest, Mr. Vanderhorn, no I don't. Carl is wonderful to me. He's gentle and sweet. He got a little worked up the other night when we kissed but it wasn't difficult to calm him. I don't fear for my safety around Carl, Mr. Vanderhorn, I trust him completely."
"How did you calm him?" Jesse asked.
"I just asked him to slow down, that's all."
"Then what?" Jesse's eyes were getting more intense. He wanted the truth from Miranda about the other night. He wanted to know what they did.
"You know, Carl is a grown man, Mr. Vanderhorn. He shouldn't have to talk with you about his sex life."
"You lucked my Carl, then?" Jesse asked with outrage.
"No, we didn't do that, and what if we had, what business would that be of yours. You know, this conversation is silly. Carl doesn't have to answer to you and neither do I. Does Mrs. Vanderhorn know you ask these things?"
"Never mind, Mrs. Vanderhorn, Missy. Alice doesn't know from nothing. It's Carl I want to deal with, Carl and you." Jesse leaned forward putting a hand to Miranda's knee then he pressed harder than he should and asked if she liked Carl's dick.
"I don't have to answer this." Miranda said, attempting to get up, but Jesse didn't allow it. He stood and pushed her back down in the chair then grabbed her hair to make her sit still.
"I saw what you did, Missy. I was there in the movie house tonight. You lucked my Carl in the theater, I saw it. I got a cure for girlies like you, Missy. Girls like you go around teasing old men with your charms then you luck their boys, leaving the old man out in the cold. I have a cure for your kind."
"Let me go, you old fool. What's gotten into you?" Miranda yelled. She wanted to run but Jesse had such a grip on her hair she wasn't able. He would have pulled it out by the roots had she attempted to move.
"My Carl thinks he can come in here and steal my lady, but I won't let him. It was fine when he was younger. Then he wasn't a problem in the Store, then I didn't have to fight for my ladies, but now ... now he's a man and he takes from me. Carl never had proper respect for his father, Missy. That's wrong not to show proper respect. He can't take you, I won't allow that."
"Old man, what in hell are you talking about?" Miranda asked, squirming from the pain in having her hair tugged. She became fearful of Jesse. His eyes glassed over and he wasn't making sense.
"Us, Missy, us. I've had my eye on you. I've been courting you all these months and Carl won't take you from me."
"You're nuts, Jesse, you know that?" Miranda yelled.
"Keep your voice down, Missy." Jesse pulled a rag off the butcher block counter and stuffed it in her mouth then forced her to stand up. He made her climb up on the butcher block and lay down. Miranda didn't know what to do. If she tried to run the old man would hurt her badly, but if she did as he said, it might be worse. As she got up on the block, Miranda kicked Jesse in the stomach then made a wild dash for the back door. It was locked tight and before she had the chance to get away, Jesse had grabbed her by the hair.
"No, no, no." he mocked. "You won't get away from me that easily. I have to teach you a lesson, Missy I have to make you understand that you don't luck with my boy." Jesse slammed Miranda's body against the steel door then bent her arms behind her and pulled up. He was hurting her. She had to go where he led or he'd break her arms.
"Up!" Jesse yelled. Forcing her up on the block again. This time he looped rope around her legs and tied them down. He pulled on them hard until her thighs were spread wide, then he wrapped the rope around the table legs.
"You won't get away from me, Missy. Not now." Jesse's eyes stared at her body. It was as if he could see through her, and when he secured her arms, Miranda panicked. She began thrashing trying to break free but Jesse had tied her so securely, she wasn't able to move more than half and inch in any direction.
"No use, Miss Miranda. You may as well give up." he said. "I'm going to teach you about men like my Carl and why you shouldn't luck with him." Jesse said. He pulled his chair close to the butcher block then had a seat. He wiped his brow then slipped the hanky back in his pocket.
Miranda watched his every move. What would he do, she thought. Has he gone mad? She listened as Jesse explained more about his Carl. She could see the envy in his eyes, the hatred for the boy. She imagined that Jesse's mind believed Carl was trying to take his girlfriend away and he would punish her for letting it happen.
"Carl don't need you the way I need you, Missy Miranda. Carl has his books and magazines. I've caught him with them. He takes off his pants and lays on the bathroom floor with them, I know I look under the door and see what Carl does. He makes noise in there, Missy, like a wild animal killing prey. My Carl, he's a big boy, eh?" Jesse smiled.
"Where you think he gets that, Missy?" Jesse smiled again. "You think he's big, Missy?" Miranda didn't respond. She just glared at the sick old man and waited.
"Let me prove what I say." Jesse said standing. He undid his pants then slipped them off. Next, his boxer shorts came down, and Miranda felt sorry for him. Jesse sported a cock half the size of Carl's but in his mind he was bigger than the boy.
"You see this dick, Missy?" Jesse asked, lifting the limp shaft then bobbing it up and down. "This is a family inheritance, that's what this is. My Carl, he got his cock from me, you can see that, can't you Missy?" Jesse asked. Miranda, again, didn't respond, but this time Jesse slapped her mouth.
"Say!" he demanded, and Miranda agreed. "That's better, Missy. When I ask you, you say, do you understand?" Miranda nodded. She was afraid of Jesse. He'd gone mad, and the more he talked the worse it became.
"I want to see your pussy, Missy." Jesse reached up and slipped Miranda's panties down. Her legs were so wide apart they only came to mid-thigh, and when Jesse took the butcher knife and sliced them off her body, Miranda whimpered. He was reckless with the thing and she was afraid he'd cut her legs.
Jesse lifted Miranda's dress exposing her nude body from the waist down. He positioned himself between her legs for a closer look and as his breath got closer and closer to her cunt, Miranda began crying. What would the old maniac do, she feared.
"Look at this." Jesse said smiling devilishly. His eyes fixed to her slit and his face lit up like a lamp. He was gawking at her spread pussy slit and rubbing his cock at the same time. Jesse wanted to fuck it but he held off.
His finger poked at Miranda's hole. He flipped the lips back and forth watching them stick together then he used his finger to separate them again. He was watching her muscles tensing and loving every second.
Miranda's cunt muscles tightened when the tip of his finger touched her opening, as if she could have kept Jesse's finger out if he'd wanted to finger her. He teased her, making her use the muscles then he lowered his face and did the same with his tongue.
Miranda was spread wide. She wasn't able to budge an inch and when Jesse licked her opening with the tip of his tongue, she flinched and clamped down. The old man laughed. He thought it was amusing the way she reacted. He wanted to show her there was no sense in fighting him. He'd get inside her slit anyway.
"You can't stop me, Missy, why try? Here, you squeeze down on my finger as bard as you can and let's just see how much you can prevent." Jesse forced his middle finger up her cunt and it dragged against the dry walls until his finger went deep enough to find lubrication from Carl's deposit, and when the old man's finger ran through the cock slime, he became angry.
"You slut!" he yelled, jabbing her slit hard with his finger. "You like a cock, Missy, I'll show you what flicking sluts like you should have." Jesse ran across the room and took out a frozen salami from the freezer case. He wrapped his hanky to it then ran back and shoved it into Miranda's cunt.
The freezing temperature of the thick meat made her cry Out and the forceful way Jesse reamed her hole gave her pain. She wanted to get away but couldn't move, and the more she struggled the more difficulty Jesse had making the think go in. He forced it up and when Miranda figured she'd do better to relax and take it, the man stopped.
"A slut like you will take meat, eh, Missy." he said. "You like the salami too, don't you?" Jesse was out of control. He yanked out the thick frozen meat tube and threw it to the floor then he used both hands to spread her slit wide. His tongue sank deep up her pussy and he bit the tender flesh of her pussy lips as he tongue fucked the hole.
Jesse licked her for several seconds then hit her hard. He wanted to make her suffer for making a fool of him. He wanted Miranda and she ran off with Carl. Jesse taught all the young girls a lesson when they refused him. He used the back room to teach them respect. Slut's shouldn't shun old men, he said. Slut's should be lucky an old man wants them.
Miranda lay as still as possible. She tried to relax and keep the pain down to a minimum but Jesse had had enough of her. He was planning to dispose of her the way he got rid of the others. He picked up the butcher knife then came around to her neck.
"I'm sorry, Missy, but this can't end any other way. Carl shouldn't have let you destroy him this way. He's just a boy, Missy, a stupid boy. He'll be better off with you out of the way and so will I." Jesse lifted the knife over Miranda, and just as he was about to stab her, he heard a rattling at the back door. He turned to see Carl entering the back room, and when Carl took in the scene, his mouth hung open in awe.
Miranda was tied to the butcher block table, her legs apart, and Jesse stood over her with the long thick butcher knife. Carl didn't know what to think. He became confused then realized Jesse was going to kill Miranda.
"What are you doing?" Carl questioned, walking toward Jesse.
"Stay where you are, Carl, or I'll cut her." Jesse shouted. Carl stopped. He could see the old man meant every word. "What are you doing here, you should be home?" Jesse added. He hadn't planned on Carl coming to the store. He figured after Miranda ran off, the way she did, he'd go home to his room full of magazines.
"I came for the aprons, dad."
"Not now, you can get them later." Jesse yelled.
"What are you doing to Miranda?"
"Teaching her a lesson for you, Carl. "Jesse said.
"Me?"
"Yes, son. She ran out on you, I saw her. Shed left you in the movie house alone and she made a fool out of you in front of the others. She's no good, Carl, no good, we must get rid of her." Jesse insisted. Carl knew his father was mad. It was in his eye, the same distant stare he used when yelling at him for some little mistake he'd make with the platters. Carl didn't know how yet, but he had to get the knife from Jesse, and get it fast.
"She didn't run out, dad. Miranda didn't leave me."
"I saw her, Carl. I was there." Jesse insisted. Carl's mind was reeling faster than it ever had. He was frantically assessing the situation and when he remembered something his mother told him about arguing, he looked at his father and smiled.
"I wanted to teach her a lesson too." Carl said. "I wanted to teach her that I'm not a dummy. Miranda thinks I am, dad." he said.
Miranda's eyes widened with Carl's words. None of it was true and she became fearful Carl was cracked too. She couldn't believe he'd slip away from her that way. Miranda didn't want to die but the more Carl spoke, the more evident it became that her time was up.
"Let me, dad." Carl said. "I'm the one who should get rid of her. I want to teach her." Carl stepped closer and Jesse became confused. He hadn't expected Carl to be this agreeable. Could it be the boy finally saw it his way, he wondered. Jesse lowered the knife and stepped back. He was mesmerized by Carl's advancing form and when the boy was close enough, he grabbed the knife and knocked Jesse to the floor.
Miranda's heart soared. She realized it was all an act Carl put on to get the weapon. He cut the ropes holding her legs and arms then turned the knife on his father.
"You sick old man!" Carl screamed. "Is this what you do back here at night?" he asked. "You teach girls lessons?"
"Carl, son." Jesse pleaded. "It's for their own good, I have to do it. They are bad girls, Carl. I only teach the bad girls."
"Miranda isn't bad, she's wonderful. Get up, you old fool." Carl ordered. Miranda jumped down from the block and stayed behind Carl. She kept away from Jesse, hiding behind the shelter of Carl's form.
"What are you doing, son?" Jesse pleaded. His face twisted, his eyes still glassed over.
"Get back!" Carl snapped. He didn't know what to do with Jesse. "Sit down and keep quiet!"
"What are you going to do, Carl?" Jesse pleaded again.
"Carl," Miranda said. "You can't hurt him. If you do; you'll go to prison, you don't want that. You'll have to call the police, Carl, that's what you have to do."
"Don't listen to her, Carl, it's a lie. If the police see you holding that knife on me they'll put you away."
Carl became confused. His father was right about the knife. What could he do?
"Let me think!" Carl shouted. "Just shut up and let me think!" Carl shouted. Jesse and Miranda were talking a mile a minute. He couldn't think. It was too confusing for Carl, trying to sort out what to do. He held the knife on Jesse while Miranda kept to the side out of the way. Jesse kept dogging Carl and the boy was frustrated. What Jesse said made sense.
"She ran out on you, Carl. All her kind wants is money or cock." he said. "Didn't she run out of the movie house right after you let her have it?" Jesse drove the point home. He wanted Carl to see slut's like Miranda are all alike and deserve punishment. He kept saying it over and over again until finally, Carl told him to stop.
"Carl, think about it, go on. Think for the first time. She took your dick in front of those other men and she made you luck her. She humped up and down on you until you lost your semen. That was your semen, Carl, what you needed to be a father, and she stole it from you. You've lost it now. You can't be a father now, Carl, not without your semen." Jesse went on and on, and again, Carl warned him to shut up, but he wouldn't. He kept talking making Carl more confused.
"Did she ask if you'd pay for the movie?" he said, thinking he'd get Carl on another track.
"No, I offered to pay for the movie. Miranda didn't ask me to pay."
"Did you show her your money?" Jesse asked.
"Don't listen to him, Carl, he's lying. He's trying to turn you against me, can't you see that? I didn't take anything from you, Carl, think. What about all those books you've read? You know about semen, Carl, think. Your body will make more, you know that, and the money, I don't want your money, Carl. Please, don't listen to him, Carl, women want more than money and dicks." she pleaded.
"She's lying, Carl, she ran away because of the money. You're broke, Carl, Miranda wants a man with money. Did she ask how much you had?" Jesse asked, frantically. He knew he had to talk fast or Miranda might convince him she was right.
"She asked about all my money." Carl said, thinking back.
"What did you tell her?" Jesse asked. He just knew when Carl told Miranda he was broke he could use her running away to prove his point, but when Carl told him about the money, Jesse was shocked.
"What are you talking about, Carl? You don't have any money."
"I do have money. It's in my account." Carl insisted.
"If I wanted your money, Carl, would I have run away? You have plenty of money, don't you see that. I ran because I wanted to get away, Carl. I was trying to get away from myself for hurting you the way I did. I thought you were angry with me in the movie house. I was lashing back at you." Miranda tried to explain and Carl listened but didn't understand. Was she angry at him or was he supposed to be angry with her, his mind became a jumble.
"She's lying, Carl, she's a woman, they only want cock and money and when Missy here knew she couldn't get your money, she flicked your cock then ran." Jesse shouted.
"Just shut up, both of you!" Carl insisted. He was more confused than before, but when Miranda pleaded with him and finally explained that she felt awful making it with him in front of the others and she thought he'd lost respect for her, Carl responded with understanding. Jesse tried telling him it was a lie but Carl wouldn't listen. He knew Miranda was telling the truth.
"You had no right to tie up Miranda that way, dad. She never hurt you, and even if she had, you can't go around tying up people." Carl said. "Come over here." Carl poked the knife at his father making the old man move toward the cooler. He forced Jesse inside then told him he'd be back with the police.
He forced Jesse against the shelf and the impact of Jesse's body hitting it made a package fall off the top. Jesse's face became fearful seeing the wrapped package and when Carl picked it. up shivers ran through his body and it wasn't the cold air from the freezer causing it. The severed hand of a young girl fell from the package to the cooler floor and Miranda screamed. Carl jumped back three feet and Jesse hung his head low saying nothing.
"Oh, God, Carl, what has he done?" Miranda said, taking hold of Carl's arm. "We have to get the police." she added.
"What is this, dad, explain what this is?" Carl insisted. He couldn't believe his own father would do such madness but there it was, the evidence, and Carl felt sick. When the package moved again, a foot fell out, then an ear. Carl threw it down then ran from the cooler and Miranda followed slamming the door locking Jesse inside.
"What am I going to do?" Carl asked.
"We must get the police, Carl.
* * * * *
Carl and Miranda ran from the store leaving Jesse locked in the cooler with the evidence. Carl ran toward home and she followed. He was half in shock and half angry How could Jesse do such a thing? How could he be so sick, and what about Miranda? How could he consider doing the same thing to such a sweet girl?
When they reached Carl's house it was dark. Alice had been asleep for hours. Carl fumbled with his keys to find the right one, but he was so upset he couldn't do it. He pounded at the front door until Alice came and opened up.
"My God, Carl, what is it?" she asked, seeing the fear on his face.
"Don't ask, ma, not now." he said. Carl ran up to his room and slammed the door leaving Miranda alone with Mrs. Vanderhorn. She didn't know what to say. The old lady looked so concerned but if Miranda told her about the cooler and Jesse, she might go into shock or worse, have an attack right there in the living room.
"What's wrong with Carl, Miranda? Tell me, please."
"He'll be fine, Mrs. Vanderhorn, please, just sit down."
"Did you say something to upset my Carl?" she asked. Miranda had to laugh. There was nothing she could possibly have said to induce such fear in a man.
"No, Mrs. Vanderhorn, I didn't say anything to Carl. He'll be fine, just give him a minute.
"I'm going to check." Alice started for the stairway but Miranda grabbed her arm and pulled the woman back.
"Let go of me, you little hussie!" Alice barked.
"Please, just leave him alone, Mrs. Vanderhorn. Carl will come down when " Before the words left her lips, Carl was on his way down. He looked into his mother's eyes then wept.
"Carl, my boy, what is the matter?"
She followed her son to the living room then had a seat. Carl couldn't tell his mother the truth. It was too awful, too gruesome. She must be told but he didn't know how to do it. He looked to Miranda but she was just as uncertain. Finally Carl asked his mother to make coffee. He wanted to get her out of the room while he telephoned the police. She was reluctant at first but Carl promised he'd tell her all about it when she got back.
Alice went to the kitchen and put on the coffee. She was getting the cups ready when she heard the dial on the phone. Carl was making a call. Alice picked up the extension and listened. She covered the mouthpiece and waited for the line to answer.
"Police emergency, officer Alderman speaking." Alice cringed when she heard Carl talking to the police. She knew something awful must have happened to Jesse.
"I'm calling to report a murder." Carl said. "I found the body at Vanderhorn's Grocery Store on ... "
"Ya, I know Vanderhorn's store, who am I speaking with?" the officer asked.
"This is Carl Vanderhorn, Jesse's son."
"Right, we met once last year. Now, slow down and tell me what you found?" officer Alderman said.
"A human hand, a human foot and a human ear. They are inside my father's store wrapped in a package in the freezer. My father is locked in there with it. I found him trying to murder my girlfriend tonight and when I stopped him and untied Miranda, we found the body parts."
"Whoa, whoa, slow it down, son, what's this all about. Are we talking about Jesse Vanderhorn?" the office asked.
"Yes, he's my father. I'm afraid he's killed a girl. Please, get to the store quickly. We left him locked in the freezer."
"Will you meet us at the store and open up?" the policeman asked. Carl agreed. He hung up the phone then sat down next to Miranda.
"It's done." he said. "Finished. I have to meet them there."
"I want to come with you." Miranda said.
"Oh, God, Miranda, mother?" Carl said. He jumped up then ran into the kitchen. Alice wasn't there. The coffee was on, but she was nowhere to be found.
The store was pitch black and when Alice came in through the back door she turned on the light. The butcher block still had ropes tied to it where Miranda was held and the salami he forced inside her was on the floor. Alice picked it up then threw it down quickly when she realized what had happened.
The freezer door was locked from the outside and as Alice peeked in the window, she saw Jesse trying to hide packages. She knew what he was doing and the fact that he was trying to hide them made him guilty. Alice Vanderhorn had spent years living with Jesse and she put up with more torment than most. He was a tyrant. A barking, demanding, violent tyrant who beat her, and forced her to perform unusual sex acts. She hated the very sight of the man, and now this. Alice had reached the end of her rope. She could no longer suffer the consequences of Jesse's life.
* * * * *
Carl and Miranda waited for officer Alderman to arrive. They watched from the street in front of the store. Carl was calm, at least more than he was, and Miranda seemed to handle things better too. They worried about Alice but figured she'd gone back to bed. It was late, after all, and Alice most likely figured Carl and Miranda had a fight.
"What do you think will happen to your dad, Carl?" Miranda asked, thinking about the human body parts he kept in the cooler.
"I don't know."
"He'll have to go to trial, you know."
"Yes, I knew that much. I guess he'll have to die for what he's done."
"What if they find him crazy, Carl. They might you know, he seemed awfully crazy to me." Miranda said.
"Jesse isn't crazy, Miranda, he knew what he was doing. He's a tyrant, that's all. I hope they hang him for what he's done."
"I wish the police would get here." Miranda said, feeling the chill from the evening air.
"I don't. I hope they take an hour. That way Jesse will be frozen solid." Carl looked to the sidewalk and spotted his signature. He turned to Miranda and smiled.
"I put that in the day they poured the walkway." he said proudly. "I was a small boy then. I've lived my whole life right here on this block."
"I grew up out west." Miranda said. "My daddy hat a cattle ranch out there and I used to ride all the time. I might go back someday." she said.
"It's the police, good, they're here."
"You Carl Vanderhorn?" the officer asked.
"Yes, and this is Miranda Saunderson. My dad is inside the store, come on, I'll show you." Carl said.
"Not so fast, Mr. Vanderhorn. Where exactly did you leave him?"
"In the cooler, sir. There was no other place. He's been locked in there for thirty minutes, I've kept track of the time."
"And you say there are human remains in the cooler with him?"
"Yes, in a package. It was up on the top shelf but when I threw dad in, it came down."
"Why were you throwing him in the cooler, sir?" the officer asked.
"This is ridiculous!" Miranda spoke up. "Can't you guys get the story after Jesse comes out of the freezer?"
"No ma'am, we can't. We'll get it now, just keep still." the man said.
"He had Miranda tied up in the back room and was going to stab her when I caught him. I didn't know what else to do." Carl said.
"Fine, show us where you've got Mr. Vanderhorn." Carl unlocked the front door then turned on the lights. As the door opened, a loud shrill scream came from the back and officer Lambert and Mahaley pushed Carl aside and ran to the back room.
The screams came from the cooler and when they ran around to the door, saw Alice Vanderhorn slumped over a stack of cardboard boxes. Jesse was holding a knife and the officer's drew their guns and demanded he drop it, but Jesse got that look in his eye and when he saw the way Carl looked at him, he threw the weapon at one of the officers and the other one shot him.
His old tired body fell to the floor and when the officer felt his pulse he was dead. Alice was also gone and when Carl realized what had happened, he broke down. Miranda helped him to a chair then hugged him tightly. The officers found the remains of Jesse's victims on the top shelf of the cooler, and once they called for the coroner, Carl had to be taken to the hospital in shock.
* * * * *
Miranda crawled into bed and wept. Leaving Carl at the hospital was difficult but he needed rest. She thought about the horrible tragedy with Carl's parents and tried to sleep but the horror of it kept playing over and over in her mind like a recording. She was sobbing heavily when Jan came home and when the girl heard Miranda crying, came to her bedroom.
"Miranda, is everything alright?" she asked.
"Yes, go away."
"Hey, there's someone here I want you to meet." Jan said. "Robert, come meet Miranda." The young man stepped into Miranda's bedroom then went up to her. He was drunk, as was Jan, and when he threw back Miranda's covers and sat next to her, Miranda was startled by the strangers intrusion and she jumped off the bed then backed away from him. Jan laughed so hard she wet herself and had to run to the bathroom. When Robert was alone with Miranda, he stripped down while she watched and started fondling his cock.
"Hey, honey, Jan's told me all about your .problem. She said you don't get any. I can fix that for you, sweetheart." he slurred.
"Get out of my room." Miranda shouted, but Robert moved closer. He was a big man, six feet, and wide shoulder's. Robert pressed Miranda up against the wall then kissed her mouth.
His breath stank of stale beer and cigarettes and Miranda thought she'd get sick if he didn't stop. Robert's hand slipped to her crotch and grabbed a feel of her cunt but when Jan came back and saw him, she became angry.
"What the luck are you doing?" she asked loudly.
"Hey, baby, you told me your little friend didn't get any dick so I was just giving her some of mine."
"Get him away from me, Jan!" Miranda screamed. After all she'd gone through, the last thing she wanted was a drunk man pawing her bones. The way Miranda tried to fight him off made Jan bust out laughing and when Robert saw that, he moved closer to Miranda knocking her to the bed.
Her sore body hit the mattress and Robert's cock hit against her pelvis bone. He scrambled to get it inside the girls pussy and Jan continued laughing. She was high and drunk. It wasn't unusual for her to lose control. Jan really wanted Miranda to have fun and in her drunken state, figured she was.
Robert managed to luck Miranda's pussy. He forced his thick cock between her legs then rammed it all the way in. Miranda was sore from Jesse's torture and she started to cry but Robert wouldn't stop.
When Jan finally noticed Miranda's pain, she pulled her date off the girl and when he slapped her, Jan hit him over the head with a vase. She beat Robert all the way out the front door and when he got into the hallway, dick still out, Jan slammed and locked the door. She ran back to check on Miranda but the girl was routing around in her closet.
"What are you doing?" Jan asked.
"Leaving, that's what!" Miranda yelled.
"Where?"
"Back home."
"Miranda, you are home." Jan laughed. She was acting silly and trying to take the suitcase from Miranda but the girl managed to shove Jan on the bed then start packing.
"Come on, Miranda, really, where are you going this rune of night?"
"I told you where."
"West? What the luck's out there?" Jan giggled.
"Get out of my way, Jan." Miranda said, pushing her aside. She was bound and determined to leave. She'd taken all the Jan Feldon she could stomach and all the trauma her heart could manage.
"Did you have a fight with that boy of yours?"
"No."
"Okay, so why are you acting this way?" Jan probed.
"I'm just fed up, Jan, okay. I don't want to talk about it."
"Well, how the tuck are we gonna fix what's wrong if you won't talk about it, honey. Come on, sit here with big sister, Jan and tell me all about what's eating you, or is that it honey, is it cause nobody's eating you?" Jan laughed again.
"I'm sick of you, Jan Feldon. You're nothing but a cheap luck."
"Hey, honey you'd better watch them F-words." she warned through her laughter. "They'll start becoming part of your every day talking and then who will you put down? You always did, didn't you, Miranda, put me down, I mean?"
"You put yourself down, Jan."
"Stay with me, Miranda, don't leave me. What'll I do without you?" Miranda looked at her drunken friend then sneered.
"Hire a tucking maid, Jan!" Miranda stormed out of the house then hailed a cab. She wanted out of Hendersonville forever and told the cabbie to drive to the airport.
She jumped inside and was on her way home. The business wasn't making it anyway and Jan could do just fine keeping things up to pay the bills. She wanted to feel the cool western wind in her hair and smell the clean air again.
Miranda inherited her father's ranch when he passed on. Her mother died when she was young but she never told anyone. Miranda didn't want others to know what she was worth. Her father left her a huge estate with plenty of acreage and even more money.
She worried about Carl. He was all alone in the hospital. Both parents gone in the same night, and now she was running out. She made the driver turn around and head toward the hospital. Miranda wanted to say good-bye to Carl and explain why she had to leave. She couldn't bear another minute of that city or its people.
Chapter Nine
Carl was resting quietly when nurse Devon entered his room. She brought fresh water and a wash cloth for his throbbing head. Miss Devon stood at the foot of Carl's bed smiling as she watched his young firm body squirming under the sheets. She liked the way his hips moved and the way his shoulders fanned out from his tiny waist.
Carl was resting with his eyes closed. The upset in losing both parents was too much for him to cope with. Nurse Devon gave him a shot earlier and it was helping.
"Carl?" she called softly. "How are you feeling?" Carl mumbled something and the nurse had to get closer to make it out. She nestled her lovely face to his neck then asked him to repeat the words. Carl's fading voice mumbled fine, and nurse Devon grinned.
"I'm going to sit with you awhile, Carl, would you like that?" Carl nodded.
"Fine." he managed again.
Nurse Devon sat next to him putting the cool cloth to his head. She wanted to help him feel better but was more interested in looking at his body. She lifted the sheets and saw he was still fully dressed.
"Let me get you out of these things, Carl. You can't rest comfortably in these jeans." The young nurse closed the door to Carl's room and hung out the do not disturb sign. She wanted time alone with him and planned to steal. it.
She removed the sheet from Carl's stretched out form then put it on the chair next to the bed. Nurse Devon liked the shape of Carl Vanderhorn. She liked his size and appearance. She enjoyed taking care of all her young male patients and showed them all the same good treatment.
Nurse Devon unzipped Carl's jeans then slid them down past his knees. She lifted his feet and took the pants off then folded them and put them on the table.
Next, she unbuttoned his shirt. Carl's chest was full and covered with fine hair. He was a handsome man alright, lull grown with a masculine shape any woman would want to fondle.
When she had him down to his under shorts, nurse Devon hesitated. She didn't know if pulling them off was such a good idea. What if he objected, or better yet, what if she were caught? She checked the door again making sure all was clear then she decided to remove them.
Slowly she slipped the underwear down around his hips and Carl lay perfectly still letting the woman undress him. The medication had relaxed him completely and he wasn't aware she was up to any wrong doing.
As nurse Devon's hands glided over Carl's hips, he flinched. She was tickling him, something he wasn't used to feeling around his hip area. Carl never felt a woman's, hands on him before, at least not where nurse Devon had hers.
Her eyes got as big as silver dollars when she saw his limp dick. It was bigger than her boyfriends when he was rock hard. Miss Devon wondered how large the thing might get with a little stroking.
She checked the door again then sat down to experiment. She decided to give Carl a rub-down. The lotion was cold and Carl moaned as she applied it to his stomach but soon the heat from her palm made everything alright and Carl lay back enjoying the treatment.
Miss Devon rubbed his stomach with tiny circles getting closer to his cock with every round. She tickled his belly button then his sides and when her palm edge brushed to his dick, Carl groaned slightly. He wanted her to continue.
His legs spread apart letting her know how much he liked the rubbing and nurse Devon smiled letting her fingers make their way lower to his groin.
She cupped her hand and grabbed his balls. Carl moaned when the warm palm held them. He'd never felt a female hand on his nuts before and it felt better than he imagined.
"Is everything alright?" she asked with a whisper. Carl nodded. His breathing increased and soon he was squirming in his bed.
Nurse Devon had one palm rubbing his dick and the other his balls. She worked him over gently letting the blood fill his cock shaft and as it grew and grew, she watched with awe. Never, in all her years as a nurse, had she seen such a huge dong. It seemed to stretch halfway up his stomach. Nurse Devon rubbed the foreskin of Carl's cock up and down. She closed her fist then coated the thick shank with lotion making her movements sensual and slow. Carl was in heaven with nurse Devon's touch. She was tenderly but firmly massaging his cock and it felt wonderful.
When Carl began to respond to her touch, nurse Devon lowered her mouth to it. She took the head inside sucking it in past the rim. Her wet tongue licked all over the tip of his dick. She tried to force it inside his piss slit but it wouldn't go. Carl was loving the feeling. Between the pill he'd taken and nurse Devon's hot lips, his cock was growing steadily Carl was groggy. He couldn't see what was happening but he could feel it. The relaxed feeling in his body made him close his eyes and feel the excitement nurse Devon brought.
When she started sucking his shaft, Carl couldn't hold back. His hips moved to her mouth and he humped his ass up and down in the bed hoping to drive her soft hot mouth further down. Nurse Devon sucked in every inch she was able but her mouth was no match for the size of the man. He was huge, Thick shank of meat with large bulging veins and a big helmet with well defined rim. His was a cock supreme, the royal cock. It was a man's penis, no question, all meat and all ready.
Carl pumped nurse Devon's mouth. His balls swelled then tightened and his pulse raced. He was getting head and loving it. She loved it too, feeling the fullness of the man inside her. Nurse Devon wanted to climb up on him and ram his cock up her soaking slit. She quickly pulled up her uniform to reveal a garter belt and stockings but no panties.
She learned long ago to be prepared for every shift.
She mounted the man then let his rod slip into her hole. It was heaven feeling her hot wet box sliding down over his shaft. Carl thought of Miranda's cunt and how it made him feel at the movie house. He wondered how she was? Where she was? He wanted to see her again and feel her silky cunt tucking up and down over his long meat pole.
Carl's hands held nurse Devon's hips. He drove the pole deep into her slit and she took every inch. His balls ached with cum and just as it was about to explode, Miranda came in the room.
She froze at the doorway watching nurse Devon's tiny ass humping up and down on Carl's cock. She could see the woman's ass cheeks slamming against his balls, and Carl, he was humping it into nurse Devon as fast as he could move. Miranda was shocked at the sight.
Carl let out a moan when his dick exploded with spray. His cock convulsed sending a torrent of shimmering cum into Miss Devon's slit. He pulled her body onto his rod and held it there until every drop of the jism squirted into her slick canal.
Nurse Devon climbed off carefully. She didn't want to startle Carl or make him flinch from her movements and when she put down her dress and started for the bathroom, she saw Miranda at the foot of the bed.
"Who are you?" Devon asked.
"I'm Carl's girlfriend." Miranda said, glaring at the lady.
"Oh, well, he's resting now, as you can see."
"Miranda?" Carl asked with a smile. "What are you doing here? I thought you'd be home asleep by now."
"What were you doing, Carl?" Miranda asked.
"The nurse fucked me." he stated. That was the thing about Carl, he was direct and honest. It didn't matter what the subject, he'd tell it like it was. Miranda couldn't get angry with him because he was so honest. She was annoyed however but mostly with the nurse.
"I'll see to it his needs are met from now on, nurse. You may go." Miranda snapped, and nurse Devon stepped into the bathroom.
"I came to see if you're alright, Carl?" she said, sitting next to him on the bed.
"Better now." Carl said, and Miranda wasn't sure what he meant. Better now that he was resting in the hospital and had been given some drugs or better now because Nurse Good-Body just cleaned his pipes.
"How do you mean?" she asked.
"Just better. I feel fine now. I'll probably go home tomorrow." Carl said, then thought about that. Home where, he thought, to his father and mothers place? Somehow that didn't seem like the right thing to do.
"Well, that's another reason why I stopped by, Carl. I wanted to say good-bye." The room went silent. Carl felt his heart sinking when Miranda spoke the words. Where was she going that a goodbye was necessary?
"Where?" he blurted.
"West."
"Your family's place?"
"Yes."
"But, Miranda, what about us?"
"You don't need me, Carl, look at you. Even the nurses are clammering for you. You'll get over me in no time." Carl sat up in bed. He didn't want to get over Miranda. He wanted to marry Miranda and have babies, and live in a house with a white picket fence, and have a dog and a cat. He didn't want nurse Devon, or any other hot cunt babe. He wanted Miranda Saunderson, the most beautiful woman in the world.
"You can't, Miranda."
"But, I am."
"No, please." he begged.
"Carl, I have to."
"Why?"
"Because, that's why. I just can't stay here anymore." Miranda thought about her life in Hendersonville and the more she remembered of it the stronger her desire became to get out. Jan Feldon was using her, the men she brought home used her, even Carl would eventually wind up using her. She had to get away.
"Please, Miranda, don't leave me. I love you."
"Carl, you just think you love me, look at you. You can have any woman you want. You have looks, personality, you've got a great cock and a ton of money to live happily ever after. You don't need me."
"But I want to live happily ever after with you." he pleaded.
"Look, I didn't come to discuss this, just to tell you good-bye." Miranda got up then leaned over and kissed his forehead. She was going west and nothing anyone would say could stop her.
"I hope you get out soon, Carl, and I hope you have a happy life. Good luck."
"Miranda, wait, please, don't do this." Carl jumped up from his bed but felt too weak from the sex with nurse Devon to take a step. His legs were shaking and his knees gave way. He had to lay down again. He called to Miranda from his bed but she wouldn't turn around. She took a deep breath and left the room.
"Nurse, Devon! Nurse Devon!" Carl yelled.
"What is it honey?" she asked, stepping from the bathroom.
"I have to catch Miranda, nurse Devon, please. Don't let her get away."
She had been listening to their conversation and heard about Carl's money. Nurse Devon wasn't about-to go chasing another woman for this man. She planned to snag him for herself.
"Now there honey pie, I'm here for you. Let her go, Carl. If she loved you she'd be here. This Miranda obviously cares more about herself than she does for you. You let her go, honey and you and me will take care of each other."
Carl had no choice but to do what nurse Devon told him. She wouldn't go after Miranda and he couldn't. He plopped back in the bed then stared at the ceiling.
"Carl, didn't you like the fun we just had?" Devon asked.
"Sure, I did."
"Well, why the long face?"
"You're my nurse, Miss Devon, Miranda was my girl."
"Nurses are somebody's girl too, Carl. I'd like to be yours."
* * * * *
When Carl got home from the hospital the house felt eerie. It was dark and damp and the air hung with memories. Carl couldn't stand being there, not after what Jesse had done. He had to take a motel and sell the place.
Christie Devon came with him to the Realtor's office. She wanted to help Carl through his problems and see to it he got a square deal. Christie spent all her spare time with Carl. She wanted his cock and his money, just like Jesse told him, but Carl didn't see that. He saw a sweet helpful lady trying to make him feel good and help him with his money.
Once the house sold, Christie helped Carl find an apartment. She spent his money to buy furniture then spent more of it to buy him a new car. She used a little of the money to buy clothes for herself, but Christie Devon told him they were for his benefit. Carl didn't mind. He didn't need money. He needed Miranda and without her, everything seemed a waste.
He thought about Miranda night and day. He even went to the house and spoke with Jan. She gave him Miranda's address but not before asking him in for a drink. Jan tried with all her sensual powers to get Carl in the sack but he couldn't, not after kissing Miranda in that house.
Carl went back to his apartment and found Christie cooking supper. She'd all but moved in and he figured it was just as well. If he couldn't have Miranda he may as well settle for Christie. She wasn't that bad anyway. She had a pretty face and a nice wet tight cunt to fuck.
After supper Carl proposed and Christie accepted. She was overjoyed and he was happy for her, but his own feelings were a different story. He still wanted Miranda.
Over the next several weeks, Christie made preparations for their wedding. She hired the photographer, ordered the invitations, ordered the cake. She made all the church arrangements and even handled arrangements for Carl's bachelor party. He didn't know any one to invite so Christie arranged a gathering of all her old flames.
Every man at the bachelor party had tucked Christie at one time or the other but Carl didn't mind hearing them talk about it. He didn't love the girl so it didn't bother him. Christie was just that kind of girl, he figured. She needed men and lots of them. He couldn't see himself starting a family with her but if he couldn't get the one he wanted he'd take what he could get.
The wedding day arrived. Carl was standing in the church waiting for the ritual to begin and he was wondering about Miranda. He could see her riding her daddy's horses and wearing tight jeans and boots. It turned him on just thinking about it. He wanted her more than ever. Christie was preparing to make the walk. She didn't waste a minute humping half the ushers the night before, after all, Carl was her meal ticket and stud performer, nothing more. Christie wasn't in love with the man, just his assets.
They played the music and the bride marched down the aisle being given away by none other than her last boyfriend. She did look lovely, long flowing hair, not as pretty as Miranda's, and big brown eyes, but no where near the beauty of Miranda's. Christie was a sexy little tart, but no where near as mysterious as Miranda, and as Carl watched her approach, he felt his heart die.
"Dearly beloved." the preacher began. The room became a blur to Carl. He was losing his hearing. The minister's lips were moving but he couldn't make out the sound.
"We are gathered here today in the sight of God ... " Carl couldn't stand it. He had to get out of there. The guests would faint if he ran out but he'd faint if he stayed.
Christie was all smiles. She was marrying one hundred thirty some odd grand with a huge pleasure pole and it didn't matter to her what anybody thought. All the men in the room were her ex-lovers and they all knew why she chose Carl.
"To join together this man and this woman Carl felt faint. He was sweating like a stuck pig. His life flashed in front of his eyes. For a minute, he was back in the store gazing out through his pass through window at the only girl he ever wanted. She was smiling and wearing that short black mini she used to wear. His heart felt heavy thinking about marrying another. He couldn't ... he wouldn't!
"In holy matrimony." the preacher said, and Carl said no.
"Excuse me." he said to the reverend. "Ah, excuse me, there's a small problem we need to take care of before the ceremony goes any further." Carl said. The preacher was stunned but willing to listen. He was used to something going wrong at every wedding because something always did. This was the first time he'd been interrupted however, except that one time when Janet Dickson's father objected on the grounds that Walter was gay. Mrs. Dickson had a fainting spell when she found out how her husband knew. The preacher listened to Carl voice his concerns.
"Ah, I realize we've all gathered here today to witness a joining of two people but there's a problem with all of this." he said. "You see, Pm in love with another woman."
The room was so silent you could hear a fart and Carl let the stillness lag for several seconds before going on.
"I met her last year while working in my father's store. I fell in love with her immediately. She's beautiful, ah, oh, not to say Christie isn't, but Miranda is spectacular, whereas Christie here is pretty."
"Carl!" Christie yelled. "What are you doing?"
"We can't do this, Christie, I don't love you."
"So what?" she snapped. "What makes you think I love you?"
"You're marrying me, Christie?"
"So, you're marrying me too."
"But, see, that's the thing, Christie, I'm not marrying you. I want to marry Miranda." Carl said.
"Oh, tuck this, get up here and shut your mouth. We've paid for this wedding and it's cost a mint too. Just forget Miranda, Carl. The girl isn't good for you." Christie tugged at his clothes trying to force him back to the alter but Carl wouldn't budge. He made up his mind and that was that. He wanted Miranda Saunderson and he was going to find her.
"No, Christie, I won't. I won't marry a woman I don't love."
"Please, Carl, you're just scared. All men get scared when they come to the alter. Just take a deep breath and you'll be fine."
THE END
Author's Note
Cornelia Q. Kissinger is my name, and I hope you've enjoyed reading my latest erotic tome. I know I enjoyed writing it! I get so turned on when I sit at my typewriter each evening, in front of a crackling fire, and tap away, capturing my most lurid and exciting sexual fantasies on paper!
I always type in the nude.
Not only do I find it more comfortable, but when I feel at loss for words, I can just glance at the mirror on the wall, and inspiration courses through me!
I'm quite a voluptuous woman. I'm twenty-eight years old with long blue black hair and almond shaped violet eyes.
My figure is shaped like a perfect hour glass, and I'm quite proud of my enormous, jutting, milky breasts.
I've been writing smutty fiction since I was a senior at Vassar.
Not only did this activity prove to be very lucratic, but also very rewarding.
I love my work, and I'm well paid for doing it! My husband, Lannie, owns a construction company just outside of Butte, Montana.
He's an incredibly hot man, and I'm still as much turned on by him as I was on our wedding night five years ago!
He's a big, brawny, outdoors type with a macho, hairy body and ten inches of fat, throbbing cockmeat.
Lannie loves to read my novels.
In fact, every evening when he gets home from work, Lannie takes a long shower, slips on his bathrobe, and sits by the fire, reading the pages I have written during the day.
Invariably, he gets a huge, throbbing hard-on.
And I take a break from my typewriter to kneel between his strong, hairy legs, open his robe, and wrap my lips hungrily around his rigid, pulsing member.
Lannie loves it that I'm so sexually uninhibited. We always try to spice up our sex life with novel new things.
Our favorite pastime is getting some third person to join in.
Sometimes, we enjoy having a lovely young mulatto woman over, and Lannie and I absolutely devour her luscious body before Lannie tucks us both.
On other occasions, Lannie brings home one or two of his strapping construction workers and watches while they tuck the bejangles out of me!
Lannie loves taking photos of me having sex with other men, and I guess I'm kind of an exhibitionist that way, too!