Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience.
 
 Lena

   by oyster50

   CopyrightÂ(C) 2016 by oyster50

   Description: Life has odd twists and turns.  Jay returns to his hometown
for his dad's funeral.  He already knows Lena but a gulf of years separate
them.  Or do they?
Tags: Ma/Fa, Consensual, Heterosexual, Fiction, Cream Pie, Oral Sex,
Menstrual Play, Slow

   Chapter 1

   Merry freakin' Christmas.

   There a lot of bad things that can happen in one's life.  I had one
right now.  My sister met me at my hotel to attend our dad's funeral.  I
was three states away on a construction job when my sister called me with
the tearful news.  I was the road that afternoon.

   Travel?  I traveled.  Work.  The good money was somewhere out there,
usually surrounded by a sea of mud on a construction site.  I managed to
get back home every couple of months and every one of those trips was
reconnecting with Dad and Cathy, my sister.  Dad was retired.  Mom had
succumbed to cancer five years before, and Dad chose to stay in the family
home, in comfortable surroundings where he'd lived for forty years in the
house he and Mom bought when she found out she was pregnant with me.

   And that's where Dad lived.  And died.  Frantic tearful phone call from
Cathy.  Aneurism hit dad while he was doing what he loved dearly, puttering
in the lush greenery of his garden.  Yes, on the Gulf Coast you can garden
right into winter.  Dad's cabbages and greens and turnips and Brussels
sprouts were healthy.  We hadn't had a frost yet, so there were even
tomatoes still out there.  For Dad, it was his happy place.  From the
condition of the garden, he probably was smiling when the event hit him.

   Cathy and I walked into Dad's house.  I couldn't keep the sobs from
coming forth as for the first time I opened the door and didn't hear his
voice.  She left.  I was sitting on the sofa when I heard a soft knock on
the door.  "Come in," I called.

   The door opened to present one Miss Lena, as in "Angelina" Crosby,
daughter of the neighbors next door.  Lena had, for the past five years,
since she was thirteen or fourteen, come over twice a week and helped Dad
take care of the house, filling in the gaps that Dad couldn't do himself
and relieving Cathy from some of the chores.

   "I'm so sorry, Mister Harris," she said, real tears coursing down
youthful cheeks.  Her sobs didn't help mine one bit and we hugged one
another, weeping over the loss of my dad and her friend.  Cathy'd told me
that it was Lena who'd discovered Dad's lifeless form in his garden.  I
could hardly imagine a more horrible thing.

   The funeral was two days later.  Sis and I stood grimly as distant
relatives greeted us and the dozens of Dad's former co-workers, some
grey-headed retirees like him, others younger guys who'd worked on his
crews.  That is, Cathy was on one side, hands folded together.  On the
other side was Lena, dressed in her Sunday dress, almost incongruent in
simple colors.  And every time she felt me shudder as one friend after
another expressed regret for Dad's passing, Lena grasped my arm.  If I
sniffled, Lena sobbed.

   And at the end of the day Cathy went home with her husband and kids and
I went back to Dad's house.  Pulling up in the driveway in Dad's pickup
truck, I saw a familiar form crossing the yard.  Lena, still in that dress.

   Okay.  Me.  James Eric Harris.  "Jay" to my friends and family.  Forty.
Six-one.  Two hundred pounds.  My hair was dark brown, but the gray was
showing, too, and it was still just a tad longer than the military buzz
from my service years ago.  I was an engineer, well enough known in
construction circles to be in somewhat of a demand.  I worked when I
wanted, generally ten months out of the year.

   Lena, on the other hand ...  Lena's folks had moved next door to Mom and
Dad when she was five.  At five, Lena was a little cotton-topped thing,
hair so blonde it was almost colorless.  The first time I ever saw her, she
came through the fence to see Dad in his garden.  She was wearing a little
blue cotton jumper, and I immediately tagged her with "Smurfette", which
started her giggling.  Over the years, I got updates on her growth on my
visits home.  In the passing of twelve years, Lena grew taller to her
present five-ten, but never got over the gawky legginess she acquired in
puberty.  The hair got several shades darker, but still blonde.

   Her mom and dad had another three kids, too, and I think the oldest of
those three, two years younger than Lena and as she gently said,
"retarded", before "developmentally disabled" came into vogue, was a reason
that Lena was somewhat socially inept.  Her parents were good people, good
neighbors, and honest and hard-working, but they struggled on the poor
income from the dad and the occasional work of the mom to make ends meet,
leaving Lena to care for her brothers and sister.

   It was that Lena who was walking towards me, her blonde hair swinging
just below her jawline; short, unrestrained, unadorned, straight-cut bangs
a clean line above serious blue eyes.

   "Hi, Mister Harris," she said from halfway across the yard.  "Are you
doing okay?"

   "About as good as can be expected," I said.

   "I know," she said.  "I'm gonna miss your dad, Mister Harris.  He was
always so nice to me."

   "Lena," I said, "I won't call you Smurfette if you don't call me Mister
Harris."

   "Okay, Mister Jay," she answered.

   "Closer," I said.  "How about just Jay?"

   "You're an adult, Mister Jay," she said uncertainly.

   "And you're what, Smurfette?  Seventeen?  Eighteen?"

   "Eighteen.  Since last month."

   "So call me Jay, fellow adult.  It streamlines conversation."

   "S'pose I LIKE being called Smurfette?"

   "Okay, then.  I promise to call you Smurfette on happy occasions."

   A vestigial smile passed across her lips.  "I used to come over almost
every afternoon and sit on the porch and talk with your dad, Jay.  I'm
gonna miss that."

   "I know, Lena.  I'm gonna miss the phone calls and the visits.  This was
home, Lena." I caught another sob.

   "I'm still not over Denny dying yet.  This is too many, Jay." She looked
at me with wet eyes.  Her little brother had other problems besides mental
development and they resulted in his passing away four months ago.  Dad had
told me the sad story.  I was on the wrong side of the country for that
funeral.  Dad was there.

   "I'm sorry, Lena.  I know it's tough.  I should've been ready.  Dad was
seventy-four.  But he was Dad.  He was supposed to live forever."

   "I know," she said.  "And he was so healthy.  At least we thought so. 
It was horrible." She looked at me, eyes reddened.  "His truck was here, so
I knew he was home.  I knocked, because that was the day I come over to
clean and do the laundry for him.  And he didn't answer, so I walked around
back ...  And he was in his garden."

   "In his garden.  You know, Lena, I think that's as good a place as any
for his last day." I sighed.

   "Yeah, I know," she said.  "His place.  Oh, Mom's got dinner ready if
you want a plate.  I can bring you one."

   "Nah," I said, "Thanks, but I think I'm just gonna go get something."

   "Jay," she said softly, "By yourself?  Let me bring us a plate, okay?"

   I looked at those blue eyes.  "Okay, Smurfette."

   She smiled as she walked away.

   A few minutes later she was back, carrying a tray with two plates.  We
went inside and sat at Dad's table, eating, the meal punctuated by sighs
and short sentences.

   "So what happens now, Jay?  I mean ...  this is his house..."

   "I know, Lena.  Cathy and I will start going through his stuff tomorrow.
It's just me and her, so it won't take long to divide stuff up." I looked
at her.  "You know, he talked about how good you were, helping him.  He
probably wants you to have something.  If there's anything..."

   "Your dad was like my grandpa, Jay.  I don't know what I'd want.  Do you
have any pictures of him?"

   "On my laptop," I said.  "And some DVDs.  I spent a long time scanning
everything.  Wanna see?"

   "Sure," she said.

   I fired up the laptop and started through the directory of Dad.

   "That one!" she said.  "That's HIM!  In his garden."

   "I'll get it printed for you tomorrow, Lena."

   "Thank you, Jay," she said.  She picked up a DVD.  "Are these private?"

   "No," I said.  "Just old pictures.  Every family has 'em."

   "Show me," she said simply.  Her chair was scooted up next to mine, but
I was getting uncomfortable sitting on the hard kitchen chairs.

   "Wanna go sit on the sofa?  It's more comfortable."

   "Sure," she answered.

   We sat on the sofa as I worked through some pictures.

   "Wait!" she said, "THAT folder..."

   "Which one?" I asked.

   "The one that says "Jay in the army"," she answered.

   "Oh, that's just pictures from..."

   "When you were in the army.  I remember your dad talking about that.  He
was proud of you."

   "He told me I was crazy.  I told him ROTC would help me through college.
Then I ended up in the war." I showed her pictures of a younger me in the
company of other young men, another place, another life.

   "That's YOU?" she squealed.

   "Yeah, amazing what a decade and a half will do."

   She looked at me with those cool blue eyes.

   We spent another hour looking at pictures, her questioning, me
commenting, her arm against mine.  Finally it was getting late.  She
retrieved the two plates and I opened the door for her.

   "You don't mind me being here with you and Mizz Cathy?  You're sure?"
she asked.

   "I'm sure," I said.

   The next three days were alternately happy and sad as my sister and I
went through the closets and cabinets.  Goodwill got a big pile of clothing
and I promised them furniture in the near future.

   And there was the will.  Dad's retirement account, pretty flush.  Life
insurance.  Savings accounts.  The house was bought and paid for.  There
was twenty-five acres on a hill in the middle of the state.  I knew the
place.  A quick discussion and I traded my share of the house for her share
of that land.  I'm thinking -long forest road, then through the woods to an
overgrown old homestead - security and privacy.  I don't really need the
quick cash that selling Dad's house would give me, not in the interest of a
future cabin in the woods.

   We pretty much figured the rest out.  Somewhat surprising, though, was a
codicil delivering the sum of ten thousand dollars to one Miss Angelina
Crosby.  I looked at Cathy.  Cathy looked at me.  The attorney looked at
the two of us.

   I spoke first.  "College money, Lena?"

   "I never expected that, guys," she said.  "He gave me money every week
for helping out around the house.  That was more than enough..."

   "Darlin', Dad wanted to help you, that's all," Cathy said.

   Tears filled Lena's eyes.

   The rest of the meeting was filled with signing papers and handing over
addresses and bank account information to facilitate transfers of funds.

   I drove home with Lena in the truck beside me.

   "I can't believe he left me that money, Jay," she said.

   "You planning on college?"

   "I don't know, Jay.  I was dreaming ...  Mom and Dad can't afford it. 
And this money would really help them.  They're always behind, always
struggling." She sighed.

   "Lena, is your money gonna help?  Really?" I asked.

   "Yeah, it will.  Really.  But I'm eighteen, Jay.  I need to get out."

   "Out?  From your mom and dad's?"

   "I know it sounds crazy, but yeah.  And I could stay there forever, I
know, but..."

   "But what, Lena?" I asked.

   "But it's just ...  Jay ...  I need to do something different."

   "Well, you're eighteen.  Nobody can legally stop you.  But..."

   She smiled.  "But I could go do something stupid, huh, Jay?  That's what
you're saying?"

   "You could, Lena.  Thousands do.  Some recover.  Some don't.  Some think
they did until twenty years later and they're sitting in the middle of
something that's NOT their dream..." Yeah, it was a speech.  Like I was
talking to myself.

   Or my ex-wife.

   "Who're you talkin' to, Jay?  Me or you?"

   "You, lookin' forward.  Me, lookin' backward." I looked at her.

   Blue eyes met mine.  "You're talkin' about your divorce, I'm guessing."

   "Yeah ...  Eight years of marriage is a pretty sizable thing to find out
it's not going to work."

   "That was when I was fourteen.  I remember you stayin' here.  You were
lost."

   "It was a bad time, Lena.  I spent entirely too much time trying to save
something that wasn't working.  And then she just up and announced a new
boyfriend."

   "So you're over it now?"

   "Mostly.  I do my thing on the road.  Make money that stays in MY bank
account.  I enjoy my work."

   "You said that," she said.  "Uh, guys on the road out of town? 
Girlfriends?"

   "Nuh-uh.  Haven't seen anyone that looked like what I want.  You? 
Boyfriends?"

   "Same answer," she stated.  "Up until Denny died, I was too busy helping
Mom and Dad and trying to keep up in school.  Your dad was nice.  Gave me a
way to make a little spending money.  Gave me a quiet space and time.  And
Jay, you have to know how much I enjoyed the time I spent with him.  He was
the granddad I wished for."

   I grew sadder, thinking about all the time I should've stayed closer to
home.  Said so.

   "He loved his kids.  He was so proud of you, you know ...  That you went
to college, that you were an engineer, and doing good at it."

   "Dad made all that possible.  I should've been here more."

   "Don't beat yourself up, Jay.  He understood.  Valued every trip you
made back here, too, but he understood."

   "I wanna think so, Lena.  It's gonna be hard believing that I won't have
him to come visit any more."

   "Me, too.  Now I guess I need to get serious about getting on with my
life." She sighed heavily, then, "We can sit around being sad.  Or not.  I
got enough to pay my own way.  How about we go do dinner somewhere and we
won't have to cook."

   "What about your family?"

   "They know I'm kinda fried over your dad's passing.  I'll tell 'em where
I'm going."

   "I'd be glad to have dinner with you," I said.  "Movie afterward?"

   "Sure.  There's one I wouldn't mind seeing."

   "My treat," I said.

   "I have money.  I can pay my own way."

   "So, okay.  Do that some other time.  Accept this as just a friend out
with a friend."

   She smiled.  Yes, it's tempered by the surrounding events.

   During dinner we talked about her aspirations for college.

   "Your dad's gift would certainly help me on my way, Jay," she said, "but
I really want to get out of the house and on my own."

   "Boy?" I asked.

   "Heavens, no.  I do have a couple of high school girl friends who have
an apartment.  I could move in with them.  Pay part of the rent and the
utilities.  Get a job.  Start college in the fall.  See where I am after
the first semester or two ...  What about you?"

   "We're getting to some of the interesting parts of Phase One of my
project.  Looks like they're going to slide right into Phase Two and keep
me there, so I'm thinking that I'll be a couple more years there, at least.
If I want it."

   "Why would you not want it?" she asked.

   "Oh, I dunno.  I guess that when the project starts winding down, a lot
of the big, fun stuff is over.  Time to move on."

   "Just like that?  Get a job somewhere else?"

   "I'm an engineer with construction experience.  I have a bit of a
reputation and I've built relationships with people who go on to other
projects.  Makes me kind of portable."

   "Must be nice," she said.

   "Yeah ...  From a work standpoint, it's some of the very best work, at
least in my opinion.  From the standpoint of a personal life, it's kind of
tough."

   "You, like, meet women?  I mean..." She had a way of looking at me
slightly sideways, just dripping with shyness.

   "That's not something I want to do, Lena," I said.  "Too many down
sides."

   "Like what?"

   "Isn't it obvious?"

   "Well, I can think of a few.  I sort of want to hear the ones YOU think
of."

   "Why?"

   "Right now you're being my adult mentor.  I ...  I'm not the most
socially adept person, you know..."

   "I didn't know."

   "Well, I'm not," she stated.  "I..."

   "I don't understand.  You come off as intelligent, you're certainly
attractive..."

   She smiled a soft, demure smile.  "Thank you.  It's nice to be told, but
I don't think so..."

   "You are.  Trust me."

   "I guess I had a lot going on with taking care of Denny and your dad.  I
didn't HAVE to take care of your dad.  It was just a pleasant thing.  I
think that maybe I used it as an excuse to NOT go out..."

   "Why?" I asked.  "I know what MY reasons are.  What are yours?"

   "Money.  Mom and Dad do good keeping us in clothes, but they don't have
the money to let me be whatever's passing for style this month.  I live in
an old house in an old neighborhood.  I don't get popular music and TV and
videos.  It's easier to avoid..."

   "But you said you had friends.  That apartment?"

   "Two more outsiders.  Now, back to you..."

   "I won't do quickies and short-term relationships.  One-night stands. 
Nope.  A bad marriage made me hurt for a long time.  Maybe it still does."

   "'S hard to move on after a loss like that, I guess.  I mean, Denny ...
Now your dad." Her eyes saddened.

   "Death is a natural part of life," I said, being terrifically profound.
Dad - my dad.  I wanted him to be there forever.

   "Denny was before his time," she said.  "But all his problems ...  I
dunno how he would have done as an adult.  They have those program homes
for the developmentally disabled, but I don't think Denny would have liked
it and I don't think he would have ever understood."

   "I suppose you're right, Lena.  I can't begin to put myself in Denny's
place."

   "It was so good when he was happy," she said.  She heaved a long sigh.
"Let's change the subject.  Thank you for bringing me here."

   "It's a plain ol' Chinese restaurant, Lena.  Next time I'm in town, how
about a good steak?"

   "It is but to dream," she said.

   "We'd do it tomorrow, but I'm on my way back..."

   "I'll take you up on that," she said.  "A date.  For some unspecified
time in the future.  When do you expect to be back?"

   "I suspect there's going to be a break in February.  If you're still
here..."

   She smiled, those cornflower-blue eyes searing me.  "Where else would I
be?  Either I'll still be living at home or I will have moved in with my
friends.  One of my teachers says she can get me on with an industrial
supply company.  They need somebody with 'Girl Friday' skills.  I can
follow instructions, I can read, and I can type."

   "Don't let earning a paycheck get in the way of your college..."

   "I know.  Common trap."

   I brought Lena home after the movie, returned to my hotel room, packed
everything except what I needed to wear the next day.

   In the morning I got up, hit the road, driving all day and into the
evening.  It was ten when I got back into the apartment I was renting for
the current project.  I was walking into my door when my phone buzzed.  I
looked.  Lena.

   "Hey, Lena," I said.

   "Hi," she said softly.  "You said you'd get there around ten."

   "I'm just walking through the door," I said.

   "Just checking to make sure you're all right."

   "I am.  Long drive.  Listened to music.  Thought."

   Monday morning, bright and early, I was back at work.  I accepted wishes
of sympathy from a bunch of my co-workers.  That's nice.  My desk had a
much higher stack of paper work.  That's not nice.  But it IS the job. 
After work, supper was a can of soup and a sandwich, courtesy of a quick
stop at a grocery on the way to the apartment, followed by a shower and
plans to find something on TV.

   I felt lonely, unusually lonely.  I guess that dad's passing had sort of
severed some of my roots.  I remembered the phone call last night, put the
soft, rounded face to the voice in my head.  Ah, if I was younger.  And not
here.  There.  Definitely there.  This was a fight I often had with myself.
Bouts of loneliness.  I always overcame them before, but before, the face
was some composite, generic female.

   This time I had a face.  Didn't make it easier.  Monday night football
started.  I settled back to watch two teams I cared nothing about, put my
laptop on my lap, started surfing the list of sites on my 'favorites' list.
NO porn.  I didn't need that.

   About fifteen minutes into the game my email program chimed.  Incoming
email.  The quick tag said 'LenaC1998'.

   Dear JayI hope you didn't mind me checking in on you last night.

   With your dad gone, I think I lost the person I used to talk with most.

   If you don't mind, maybe I can call you.  It would be sort of like
penpals, except over the phone.

   Email me back if it's okay with you.  I won't call late.  I have school.
You have work.

   It would just be nice to have somebody to talk with.

   Sincerely,

   Lena



   Formulating an answer to that message took less time than the wings of a
thought.

   LenaGlad to be somebody you feel you can talk with.  I enjoyed the time
we spent hanging out, aside from the circumstances that brought the two of
us together.

   Call me any time.

   Jay





   Chapter 2

   Over the next months, I won't characterize the frequency of phone calls
from Lena as sporadic, just not really consistent.  I relished them. 
Really did.  She's bright.  After the pall of Dad's passing wore away, she
became more light-hearted and funny.  Email was a thing, too, all very
benign - pictures flowing both ways - me of my worksite and the surrounding
area, hers being cute things she found on the Internet to share, pensive
notes on school and home.

   Halfway through, I found myself beginning to fear that one day I'd get
one that said, "Dear Jay - I met this guy..."

   I guess I pressed the subject.

   LenaI got your pictures today.  I'm glad to see you participating in
extracurricular activities.  You form friendships in those groups that will
last a lifetime.

   Refurbishing that old lady's home is good for your karma, and it's funny
seeing a bunch of high school girls in old clothes and coveralls painting
and cleaning.

   I especially liked that close-up your friend shot of you.  You look good
with a rag tied over your hair and paint on your cheek.

   You said that the guys from the group were doing the yardwork.  I'm
still surprised you're not dating one of them.

   Jay



   I'm glad she didn't reply to that note with a phone call.  I don't know
that I might not have gone stupid.

   JayThank you for the pictures from your Saturday excursion.  Mountains!
Valleys!  And I've never been out of Louisiana.  I can only live through
others sometimes.  I'd love to see all that.  One day I will.

   About the guys in the service club, no, I won't date any of them.  I
know they're supposed to be sort of 'upper tier' because of their
membership, but I listen to all the talk from girls who know them and those
guys are still teenaged males.  Yes, one of them will read a sonnet or
discuss a classic film, but all the while that is a ploy to achieve a goal.
That goal is not an honorable and long-lasting relationship.  What they
want, I'm not going to give, and I am not going to put myself on the path
to being yet another faceless female to some guy who thinks entirely too
much of himself.

   Since you brought the subject up, I don't think you understand how
old-fashioned I am about some parts of life.  I want to marry one day.  I
saw the marriage your folks had.  Even after your mom passed away, your dad
still revered her.  We talked about that many times.  I watched my own
parents.  They stayed together through the hard times, Dad's employment
troubles, the strain of raising poor Denny, all of that.  They're still
together.

   Mom says that love conquers all.  I know that's trite, but she believes
it.  Dad believes it.  We go to church, and you know what the church
teaches, but if you look around you'll see how many people don't take that
message to heart.

   So I have a goal.  I may be reaching for the stars, but we're meant to
reach.  We're meant to keep our eyes on the divine.

   I am not going to be diverted by some eighteen year old jock whose
parents gave him his very own new pickup truck.

   Lena



   Okay, I read that one with a catch in my throat.  Now she'd ruled out
everybody up to the age of eighteen.  That left college guys.  It was
approaching graduation time for Lena.  Her grades kept her at the top of
the class, maybe not the valedictorian, but certainly in the very top
tiers. Conversations with her told me that she wasn't the recipient of
social promotions.  She had a vocabulary and thought processes to go along
with the grades.

   And she wasn't talking about college.

   LenaCollege!  It's getting close.  I know you can do late registration,
but you risk not getting the classes or schedules you want.

   Jay

   I hated the response I received.

   JayI didn't tell you.  The money your dad left me - it's gone.  I had
planned on helping Mom and Dad over a tight spot.  The spot was bigger than
I imagined.

   I've been part-timing work for a while, you know, but no matter how
thrifty I am, my bank account is not going to support summer or fall
tuition.  I was hoping for the summer semester, but there's no way.

   Darla says she can get me on with a friend at a REAL job in an
industrial facility as an entry-level analyst.  That's what they call what
used to be secretaries and administrative assistants now.  Maybe, just
maybe I could have enough to start the fall semester, but then I'd be back
to part-time hours someplace because it's not likely that an employer will
work around my college schedule except maybe for a fast food joint.

   I'm almost of a mind to take the industrial job and see if I can do
night school.  It might take years, but I could get a degree.

   Do you have any ideas?

   Lena



   That warranted my return message.

   LenaThis is not the news I wanted to hear.  Call me as soon as you can.

   Jay

   I hit 'send'.  In five minutes the phone buzzed its way through Lena's
ringtone.

   "Hey, Lena," I said.

   "Hi, Jay," she said softly.  "I guess I know what this is about."

   "College, Lena.  Your future.  Yes."

   "What I said in my email, that's what happened.  I know what you told me
when I first found out about the money.  I was just gonna help a little - a
couple of thousand.  Then Dad's old truck blew an engine.  Bills.  Always
bills.  Jobs are just starting to pick up so Dad can find steady work, but
when they weren't around, Mom and Dad went pretty deep into a hole.  What
was I supposed to do?  They raised me.  I live there."

   I sighed.  "You did what you had to do.  Your parents raised a good
daughter.  I'd've probably done the same thing, sweetie," I said.  Yes. 
Pet name.  "So now you're planning..."

   "To go to work after I graduate.  Darla's dad is an office whatever for
this big industrial supply house.  They were planning on putting an
entry-level analyst on the payroll starting in June, because they knew that
there would be graduates looking..."

   "Lots of college grads, baby," I said.  Another pet name.  I caught
myself.  I might be pushing it.

   "I helped Darla get over a couple of hurdles.  Her dad knows this. 
Darla's going to college.  He said he'd get me an inside track to that job
if I wanted it.  Darla's going to intern with them over the summer.  If I
work out, I get a permanent job."

   "Lena," I said, "That's the curse of small success.  You get something
that will get you by, and you stop there.  Don't get trapped."

   "It has too much going for it, Jay.  I could make enough to actually get
out, maybe split an apartment with another girl, like I planned before..."

   "That fell through.  Your friends got the apartment, one of them
immediately moved a boyfriend in and she got pregnant."

   "In retrospect, all too predictable," she said.

   "So naturally you're thinking about doing the same thing and expecting
different results."

   "I'm trying to find somebody like me, Jay."

   "There IS nobody like you, Lena."

   "I'm not all that, Jay."

   "You are, Lena.  You can't see it because you're on the inside looking
out."

   "Nobody else notices, Jay."

   "They do.  One day somebody will..." I said it, inwardly hoping either
that I was wrong or that I'd have a pistol in the ear of the guy that did.

   "I don't have choices, Jay.  Another month..."

   "I got your graduation invitation."

   "You said you'd be here."

   "And I will."

   More conversations over the next couple of weeks, she's the one that
broached the idea that she'd forever be tied down if she stayed with her
mom and dad, and slowly she started considering the idea of starting anew
somewhere else.

   "That's VERY difficult, Lena," I said.  "Move to a new town, get a job,
set up housekeeping ...  All on a shoestring.  Difficult."

   There was a tone of silent desperation in her voice.  "I'm trying to
think of something.  Make something happen.  There's got to be a way."

   "Lean on me, Lena.  Whatever I can do..."

   That's not an easy note to take to bed.  First, that a good friend was
facing an apparently hopeless situation for a future, second, that I had an
imagined feeling growing past the 'help a young friend' stage, over Lena.

   The next three weeks went by, the dying stages of Phase One of my
project.  The general contractor knew my desire to take a couple of weeks
from the middle of May.  My boss came to talk with me.

   "Jay, you ARE coming back for Phase Two, right?"

   "Wouldn't miss it for the world," I said.

   "The GANTT chart says we won't actually NEED you until middle of June,
soonest.  Can't keep you on the payroll.  Is that going to be a problem?"

   "No.  I'm good.  Still got the apartment.  And the astronomical salary
you guys give me, I was able to save TWO jars full of quarters."

   "Smartass."

   "You always did have stellar interpersonal skills.  One reason I'm
staying," I laughed.

   "I appreciate the continuity.  We're losing a lot of people," he said.

   I'm an electrical guy.  I distinctly felt a current start to flow in the
light bulb circuit in my head.

   "How about your documents analyst?" I already knew she was leaving when
I asked, but one must adhere to form.

   "She's gone.  Her husband's one of the process guys, right?"

   "Yeah.  He's pulling up for a job in Galveston, Texas."

   "Imagine that - leaving the scenic state of Missouri to go to that fetid
swamp."

   "You LIVED a hundred miles up the coast from that fetid swamp."

   "You know the difference between Louisiana and a steaming pile of shit,
Andy?"

   Andy knows my sense of humor.  He steels himself.  "I'll regret this,
but tell me."

   I smiled.  "The difference between Louisiana and a steaming pile of shit
is the Texas state line."

   "Old," Andy grimaced.  "First time I heard it, it was the Sabine River."
The Sabine River is a big part of the line that divides Louisiana and
Texas, so the joke would still work well, but I didn't expect Andy to know
it.

   "You said you wanted to get back home for a week or two anyway.  Go. 
Visit old friends and family.  That's what I'm doing.  See you back here on
Monday, the third week of June."

   "Nothing like a construction site in the summer," I said.  "Now, back to
my question about that records analyst."

   "You got somebody?"

   "I might."

   "Interest me," he said.

   "Eighteen.  Graduates high school in a couple of weeks.  I'm going to
watch her do it."

   "No experience."

   "She has been part-timing in retail.  She does things in the office. 
Smart.  Like a 3.9 GPA.  Sciences.  Math.  Computer-literate, past the
point Livy was, for damned sure.  She'll learn fast."

   "Risky."

   "I don't even know if she's interested," I said.  "But if I can get
'er..."

   "Here's how we'll do it," he said.  "YOU, my Cajun friend, are going to
be her supervisor.  You train 'er."

   "Extra pay?"

   "Oh, hell no.  Off the books.  Docs clerk is under the project
engineer's umbrella, but I'll explain the situation.  I hope it works."

   Inwardly I thought 'I hope SHE takes the opportunity.' "If she tries,
Andy, she'll succeed."

   "How well do you know this girl?"

   "She's my dad's next door neighbor.  I met 'er when they moved next
door. She's been helping Dad right up until the end.  Very responsible. 
Mature for her years.  Smart.  Kind of dead-ended where she is, though."

   Old Andy's eyes softened.  "Giving a kid a chance.  Mighty decent of
you."

   "I try."

   "No, I'm serious.  You weren't on Leslie's scoreboard."

   Leslie was what we call a 'plant 10', a girl who might be a five or six
anywhere outside an industrial site.  She fucked just about anybody who'd
buy her a couple of dinners and a few drinks.  Made herself available to
me. I declined.  One - morals.  Two - rumors that one of her 'partners' had
somehow picked up a strain of gonorrhea that took a flamethrower to kill.

   "Not what I'm looking for, bud.  You know me better."

   "I did after I heard you turned Leslie down.  You got that apartment. 
You could've had a full-time Leslie."

   "Leslie got herself forty miles of dick off this project," I said. 
"She's got the morals of a cat in heat, and for heaven's sake, she puts
makeup on with a trowel..."

   "So you stuff 'er in the shower, scrub 'er down, and THEN fuck 'er."

   "Man, I love it when you're subtle.  But no.  I'd rather have my time to
myself, take off exploring on weekends."

   "I heard she could suck-start a Harley," he laughed.

   "Admirable skillset, I'm sure.  Not exactly what my lifestyle is open
for, though."

   The Monday before Lena's Thursday graduation I had my truck packed with
clothes and computer and other niceties.  A hotel room, mid-range in price
and amenities, was booked for my stay.  I hit the road early in the
morning, timing my drive to arrive at Lena's in time for dinner.

   Lena knew my itinerary.

   "As soon as you get into town, come by and get me.  We'll go to dinner."

   "Right after I check into the hotel," I said.

   "No," she replied petulantly.  "Come get me.  Go check in, then we go to
dinner.  Something wrong with that plan?"

   "Only the part where I check into the hotel with a teenaged girl in
tow."

   Giggle.  "I'll sit in the truck."

   "Oh, that makes it MUCH better..."

   "We're going to dinner.  Maybe a movie if there's something we both can
stand.  Then you'll bring me home and you'll go to your hotel.  Simple."

   I drove the remaining miles trying to think of what movies were out
right now, and which restaurants were still open.  They seem to come and
go, goods ones pop up, make a name, then fail for whatever reason, leaving
the mediocrity of chain restaurants and fast food joints that seemed to
keep going forever.

   I know that Lena expresses interest in good food, although she's not
very experienced in dining out.  Her family never had the money for it more
than a couple of times a year, and she was the soul of thrift.  I never
gave a second thought to taking Lena out to dinner, though.  Money wasn't
MY particular problem, at least not for the amount that would give her
whatever meal she desired.

   I woke Siri up, had her dial up Lena's phone.  Lena's phone.  Truth. 
Was MY phone.  Lena's folks couldn't afford, or didn't see the need for, a
phone for Lena.  For me, it was simple.  I upgraded, kept the old one on my
plan, mailed it to Lena, told her not to sweat the bill, and when she was
on her feet, she could put it on her own plan.

   It rang three times.

   "Where are you?"

   "Just coming into town.  Put your ball gown on."

   "Am I to expect a pumpkin carriage and a team of magically altered
mice?"

   "Certainly, princess," I laughed.  "But you're more likely to see a
three year old pickup truck."

   "Hmmmph!  Imagine!  I guess I'll settle, though..."

   I knocked on the door.  Lena's mom came to answer it, Lena hard on her
heels.

   "Hi, Jay," Wanda said.

   "Hi, Wanda.  How're you doing?"

   "Getting by," she said.  "You're here for Lena?"

   "Yeah," I said.  "Gotta have somebody to go to dinner with."

   "Don't spoil 'er.  Money's tight.  She'll have to come back to reality
too soon."

   "I'll be careful," I said.  "I know a place that serves a particularly
fine gruel."

   Wanda laughed.  "We can only afford generic gruel.  You two have fun."

   Lena.  Blue dress to match the cornflower eyes.  Hair at jawline length,
simple perfection that let her slight natural curl make its own statement.

   She bounced out to the truck with me.  I opened her door.  She's NOT
used to wearing dresses.  It's a big truck, just a little higher off the
ground than stock, so she reversed, heaved herself up to the seat.  When
she did, legs spread.

   I had to force myself to turn my head.  Long, white thighs, firm, just
shy of muscular, culminating in a covering of light blue to match the
dress.

   She realized.  Squeaked, "Sorry!"

   Silently I closed her door, went around to the other side and got in the
driver's seat.

   "I said, 'sorry'."

   "It's okay.  Things happen."

   "You're upset."

   "I'm okay.  Really."

   "Shouldn't affect you like that.  I just accidentally flashed you. 
Surely you've seen that stuff before."

   "Yes."

   "And you caught the vapors every time?"

   "No.  Lena, you're different."

   "I'm just a girl."

   "Girl.  That's part of it.  And you're kind of like my best friend.  One
does not stare at one's best friend's crotch."

   "One's best friend does not usually flash said crotch in her best
friend's face, either.  No big deal, okay.  Sorry." She gazed at me.  "Best
friend?"

   "Yes."

   "That's something.  I never had anybody just come out and say 'best
friend'.  I got plenty of that 'bff' stuff, but it's like so much of teen
conversation.  That's just fluff.  Like those Styrofoam peanuts they use to
pack things for shipping.  Protects everybody from having to sit there and
think about talking seriously." She paused.  "You never just rattle on. 
You think about what you're saying.  Words from you mean things.  Like
now."

   "Well, that part's true."

   "How'd that happen?" she asked.

   "You and I, we just sort started talking, sharing things."

   "Long distance relationship," she said.  "People used to have pen pals,
Gramma says.  People used to write each other for years.  Sometimes they'd
meet."

   "We met, then started the long distance thing."

   "And we're meeting again.  I've been thinking about that job thing you
talked about."

   "It 's an opportunity, that's all.  Best I can do."

   "Where would I live?"

   "Uh, well ...  I figure a few things.  First, I have a two-bedroom
apartment.  One could be yours for ...  However long you want it - get a
couple of paychecks under your belt, then find yourself a place.  They may
have some in the same complex.  We could share a ride to work.  If you're
itching to get your own place real fast, I can loan you what you need.  No
interest.  Pay back when you can..."

   "Share an apartment with you.  An hour ago you were all worried about me
being seen checking into a hotel with you, and now you're proposing that I
live in the same apartment.  Come on, Jay."

   "What?"

   "Sad thing is, I'm considering it."

   "Look at it this way, Lena.  It's construction.  Money's good.  The job
doesn't go on forever.  If you stay thrifty, you could bank a lot of money.
Might be enough for a few semesters.  'Nother thing.  Construction's kind
of insular.  If you do the job and get a good reputation, you can generally
roll over into another one, if that's what you want."

   "That's what YOU do," she said.

   "It is." We pulled into the covered drive of the hotel.

   She started giggling.  "S'pose I walk in with you, and when you're
registering, I sort of hold onto you and call you 'Uncle Jay' and bat my
eyes a lot?"

   "You're a horrible little girl.  What do YOU know about 'Uncle Jay'
anyway?"

   "Isn't that the stereotype of the young girl and the older man?"

   "I always wanted to be the older man.  Not necessarily with a young
girl, but, you know, older..."

   "You're forty, right?" she asked.

   "Yeah.  So?"

   "If I may be so bold, you're not in bad shape for an older man.  Let's
go get you checked in for your nights of debauchery."

   "Didn't know you were an evil little thing," I laughed.

   We exited.  That is, I exited, went to her side of the truck, let her
out, noting that she chastely kept her knees together.

   "See!" she giggled.  "I made a concerted effort NOT to give you a heart
attack."

   I grabbed my luggage, thinking that putting it in the room would save me
time later.  We walked in together.  I went to the front desk.  Lena headed
toward the chairs in the lobby, making herself comfortable in one.  I was
third in line.  I was paying attention to the two guys checking in ahead of
me when my phone buzzed.

   I looked.  Lena.  I glanced over at her.  She was smirking.  I looked at
the message.  "U look like UR getting ready to rob a bank."

   I gave her an exaggerated frown.  Her eyes laughed in response.

   Finally I got checked in.  Keycards in hand, I turned to Lena.  "You can
wait here.  I won't be but a minute."

   "I wanna see the room," she said, rising.  "I haven't stayed in many
hotels.  None of 'em were this nice.  Show me."

   "Okay," I said.  "Come on!"

   She giggled a little louder than normal, hooked her hand inside my arm
as we walked to the elevator.

   Inside, I asked, "Why'd you do THAT?"

   "Oh, feeling kinda frisky," she said.  "I can imagine what they're
thinking already so I gave 'em food for thought."

   "You LIVE in this town, Lena.  Your reputation..."

   "Nobody cares, Jay, except for a small handful of people.  Two of those
are Mom and Dad and they know you and they know me.  A few people at
church, maybe, but I can't imagine them really caring.  Besides..."

   The elevator stopped on the third floor.  We got out, found the room.  I
was holding a bag in each hand, keycards under a thumb.  "Take a card. 
Open the door."

   She pulled a card, quickly looked at it, locating the reference arrows,
stuck it in the slot.  The light turned green.  She pushed the handle. 
Held the door open for me.

   I hustled past her.

   "Never saw a lock like that.  Last time I was in a hotel it was with Mom
and Dad and the kids and we had a key."

   "Hard to find places that use keys these days," I said.

   She looked around.  "Two beds?"

   "Yeah.  I didn't specify.  I only need a couple of feet of one of 'em."

   She pirouetted, flopped back on one of the beds.  "Wow!  Nice mattress."
Giggle.  "Now I feel a little naughty.  I've been in bed in YOUR hotel
room."

   I shuddered inside, thinking about that.  Looked at her, her tall,
blonde self, in a dress, on her back, in MY room.

   "Come on, nut," I said.  "Before you make me lose my mind."

   She sat up.  "Okay, that's probably best."

   We hit a seafood joint based on her choice, ate, talked.

   "Jay," she said.  "I sort of talked with Mom and Dad about moving up
there with you to Missouri for that job."

   "You told them you'd be sharing my apartment?"

   "Not exactly.  Just said that this was one of those jobs where housing
was available.  That's not exactly a lie."

   "Well, I don't want them to think we're shacking up," I said.

   "We are NOT shacking up.  Platonic.  We've known each other for a
decade. We've become good friends.  We could be like those two old guys in
that movie, you know?  The Odd Couple?"

   "That was my intent.  There's a development, though, Lena."

   "What kind of development?"

   "I talked with my boss.  Since you're new at this, we sort of decided
that you'd be helped by some training, so he's gonna foot the bill for the
two of us before Phase Two starts.  We get to work up the completion
package for Phase One."

   "That's good, right?" she asked.

   "If you're up for it, but I wanted to ask you, in case you might have
plans for between now and that last date I gave you."

   "I was excited, Jay.  New life.  All that."

   "Another thing, though."

   "Yes?"

   "Since you're a trainee, they want to pay you fifteen bucks an hour
until the new project kicks off.  I told them that if we had a couple of
weeks to get you up to speed, you'd be worth full wages when the project
starts."

   "Fifteen DOLLARS?"

   "Too little?" I asked.

   "Noooo, that's astronomical," she squeaked.  "And I'll get a RAISE?"

   "Yeah.  Somewhere around the mid-twenties.  And eligible for more a bit
later.  All you have to do is learn your job and prove you can do it."

   "Oh, if YOU teach me, I can do it, Jay," she said.

   Those eyes, though ...  Was I reading something there that wasn't really
there?  Am I deluding myself?

   "It's up to you, though, Lena.  It isn't classroom any more.  This is
real world stuff."

   "You'll teach me some of it and I'll learn the rest.  I'm not stupid."

   "That wouldn't be the Lena I know," I said.

   The ticket for the meal showed up.  She grabbed her purse, started to
open it.

   "I got this," I said.

   "I can pay my way, Jay.  I told you that.  That's why I chose this place
tonight.  I can afford a good meal and you don't have to pay my way."

   "I want to pay your way.  It's not a strain.  Really.  Save your money.
You're gonna need a few sets of work clothes."

   We got in the truck to head out, to bring her home, to get me in my
hotel room for a deserved night's sleep after the early start this morning
to get me here.

   "Jay," she said softly, "this is kind of like a date, okay?"

   "You and me?  A date?"

   "Yeah.  Friends, right?  So it's kind of a date."

   "If it was a date, sweetie, I'd've taken you to that movie."

   "You said you were tired.  You've been driving all day, now this," she
said.

   "I owe you.  If you want, tomorrow?"

   "I would love that.  What time?"

   "Make it dinner and a movie," I said.

   "That's like a date."

   "It's Jay having a great evening out with his best friend.  I'd much
rather sit across the table from you for dinner than scoot into a corner by
myself."

   "Oh," she said tersely.

   I caught the tone.  "I didn't mean it like it sounds, Lena.  I really
enjoyed this evening."

   We pulled into her driveway.

   "I enjoyed it too, Jay."

   "Let me walk you to your door," I said.  It was as ambiguous a move as I
could think of.  Only a jerk would drop a girl off in her driveway and
drive off, but walking to the door, that could well signify something.

   I hustled around the truck to open the door for her, grasped her waist
as she stepped out.  We walked to the door together.

   "And this is the way to end a date, I'm told, Jay.  Even if it's just us
friends." And she kissed me.





   Chapter 3

   A whole day in town by myself.  Lena's graduation in in a couple of
days. I had appropriate clothes for attending that function.  No, I didn't
need a suit.  This is a high school graduation in the Deep South.  I had a
short-sleeved business shirt that I intended on wearing without a tie.  The
light blue shirt and slacks would put me in the upper quintile of the
audience.  Had I worn a tie, I'd be a one percenter.  Ah, well...

   Today, Lena's in school, her last day before graduation.  We have plans
for dinner and a movie this evening.

   "Date!" she says, laughing.

   "Friends spending time with each other," I countered, almost in
self-defense.  I was trying hard NOT to think of it that way.  Age.  Me at
forty, Lena at eighteen.  Personality.  Me, set in my ways, Lena, bright,
looking into the future.  Okay, Jay, you're just being helpful.  It's okay
to like the girl.

   Really like the girl.

   But know you're looking at ephemera, subject to be as long-lived as the
rainbow colors of a soap bubble on a summer zephyr.  I knew that a big part
of it was purely altruistic, helping a bright young person who might really
benefit from a bit of a boost.  She helped Dad, therefore I will help her.

   Yeah, keep telling yourself that.

   I wandered around town, driving past the old school, the old haunts,
marveling at the growth of the suburbs as people left the old
neighborhoods. I sighed at that thought.  Dad's house, the house I grew up
in, is in one of those older neighborhoods.  In a decade it will ...  Well,
I can drive through some neighborhoods that are a decade or two ahead of
Dad's place in the timeline.  I can see how far down those places have
slid. Sad.  Circle of life, though.

   Nearing the end of the school day I'd managed to sink myself into a
black, deep funk and I only partially understood why.  I retreated to my
hotel room.  I was supposed to pick Lena up at five-thirty.  At two I was
in the room, lying in my bed, earbuds in my ears.  That didn't work,
either. I got up to drive around a bit more.

   At four the phone rang.  Lena.

   "Hi, Lena.  What's up?" I was hoping desperately that she wasn't calling
to cancel the evening.

   "Not much.  Uh, would you mind picking me up right now?"

   "Something wrong?" There was a sort of note in her voice.

   "No, not really.  Just wanna sort of get away from here."

   "I'm on the way," I said.

   "Where are you?  Hotel?"

   "No.  I'm just driving around.  I need to change if I'm gonna pick you
up, though..."

   "Change later.  Pick me up now." She sounded uncharacteristically
urgent.

   "Oooo-kay, then.  Five minutes out."

   "I'll be waiting in the driveway."

   "Something wrong?" I asked again.

   "Talk to you later," she said.

   I drove on, mulling the mysterious content of the conversation.

   Nothing.  Drive.  Listen.  My iPhone is bluetoothed to the truck's sound
system and I'm running my 'All Mozart, all the time' playlist.  I navigate
down familiar streets, spot Lena at the end of her drive, carrying a
shopping bag in one hand.  I stop on the street and let her climb in.

   "Okay, what's wrong?"

   "Oh, Mom and I had a little spat," she said.

   "You sounded stressed."

   "I am.  I graduate Thursday.  Mom's, well, she's ...  I don't know WHY
she's so anxious to get me to move out.  I mean, it's just recently. 
Before you said anything about me getting a job up there, she was okay..."

   "What's your dad say?"

   "Dad's just Dad.  He doesn't say much.  And he's certainly not gonna
contradict Mom."

   "You don't think this has something to do with your sister's hospital
stay?" Lena's little sister had gone in the hospital with a ruptured
appendix, the result of a bit too much time spent on home remedies.

   "Ughhhh!  I know.  But why am I a target?"

   "Stressed out.  People get stressed, they don't follow logical thought
patterns."

   "She said that she thought you and I had a thing going."

   "Uh ...  What'd you say?"

   "I told her that you were perfectly honorable and even if I DID have a
thing going with YOU, then she should be proud that I made good choices."

   "You didn't say that!" I blurted.

   "I certainly did.  We don't have a thing going, but whatever ...  Jay,
I'm a good girl.  Always have been.  I go to church with my family every
time we go.  I even go by myself sometimes.  It's a beautiful Sunday
morning walk.  But I believe that stuff.  I believe YOU when you say I get
my own room and we're perfectly platonic.  But Mom wants to think..."

   "Your mom is trying in her own mind to make up for having you leave home
by telling herself that you really should be going, for any reason ...  If
you're a BAD girl, it's easier on her."

   "I'm NOT a bad girl, Jay," she reaffirmed.

   "I know that, Lena.  Dad never said that.  And if I thought you were,
you wouldn't be sitting in this truck.  So what's in the bag?"

   "That dress you liked last night.  I thought I'd wear it again.  You
don't mind, do you?  I don't have much of a wardrobe."

   "You can if you want, but where are you gonna change?"

   "Same place you are going to change.  Your room."

   "Huh?!?" I blurted.

   "We'll go to the hotel, and when it's time to go, one of us will use the
bathroom to change.  Privacy."

   "If you say so," I replied.  I regarded the creature next to me.  She
still had that rounded face and upturned nose that made her so ridiculously
cute when she was a kid.  Now she had a blush on her cheeks, accenting
those pale blue eyes.

   "What are you listening to?" she said, turning the volume back up on the
sound system.

   "Mozart."

   "Good stuff.  I listen to everything, you know, but come on, you can't
beat this.  What is that?"

   "THE clarinet concerto."

   "Yeah, see, that's what I like.  He's supposed to be doing a clarinet
concerto, and the whole orchestra gets to feel like it's important.  Listen
carefully to that flute line coming up."

   "How do you know this?"

   "Music appreciation in high school.  Most of the class was jocks who
needed passing grades to play sports.  I actually appreciated the music."
She smiled.  "You must like this.  It's on YOUR stereo."

   We got to the hotel, went to the room.

   "What TV channels can you get?" she asked.

   I handed her the list.  "Watch whatever..."

   "What do YOU watch?"

   "I put something on that doesn't have a lot of yelling, then I read
while it's on."

   "Sounds kind of bland."

   "I'm by myself most of the time, and it works for me."

   "Are we going to fight over the TV?" she asked.

   "Nope.  If it gets too bad, I'll get another one.  I have one in my
bedroom and one in the living room at the apartment."

   "You watch TV in bed?"

   "Yeah ...  It's my way of easing off into sleep - put something mindless
on, set the sleep timer, and doze off."

   By this time she'd kicked her shoes off and was rearranging pillows on
one of the beds.  She stretched out, turned on the TV.  "We have an hour.
Relax."

   I got out of my own shoes and assumed a comfortable position on the
other bed.  She turned, regarded me with a bemused look.

   "Well, you didn't assault me."

   "Who'd assault his best friend?"

   "You keep saying that, Jay.  I'm gonna start believing it."

   "Not hard to believe," I said.

   "How's this?" she asked, waving the TV remote in the direction of the
screen.  I saw a crocodile with a menu in mind in an African river.

   "That's good," I said.

   "Like you said, Kinda mindless." Snicker.  "The crocodile wins this
one..."

   "Yeah, they do get repetitive," I said.

   "So you think we can do this?"

   "Dinner and a movie?"

   "No, silly.  Coexist in the same apartment for months and not kill each
other."

   "I think so.  You know how to do housework.  We share that.  We'll work
in the same place, share a ride, unless you decide you want your own car
and your own place."

   "Maybe later," she said.  "I think staying with you is a good way to get
myself stabilized.  I mean, it's some risk - IF I can learn the job, and IF
I can stand doing the job."

   We'd talked a bit about what her work would be.  It would be a terror to
me, I admitted, but it's pretty good conditions and for somebody just
starting out, it's good money.

   "You'll do just fine," I said.  "Your biggest risk will be a pulled
muscle from loading the printer.  Those rolls of paper are big."

   "I really get excited thinking about it, Jay.  But won't I interfere
with your life?  I mean, living with me, isn't that gonna cut into your
dating prospects?"

   "I don't look at my situation there as providing dating prospects, my
dear.  Town girls that might be interested in us transient construction
types aren't usually candidates for extended relationship[s."

   "You've looked?"

   "I've observed.  There's a difference."

   "What about other women you work with?"

   "One is well advised not to fish off the company pier," I said. 
"There's a bit of that going on, but it's usually short-lived and serial
for both parties involved.  I would prefer a prospective mate NOT have been
in bed with most of the other guys on the job."

   "I couldn't do that," she sighed.  "I see it in school.  Girls and guys
who're just plain promiscuous.  I couldn't."

   "Good.  I think you're a pretty neat girl.  Dad talked about you.  He
worried, you know.  Said you were pretty and he was afraid you were
naïve."

   "I'm not naïve," she said.  "I just have standards, and the guy who
might meet those standards, it is highly unlikely that he will demonstrate
them well in high school.  Your dad was nice to me.  I'm glad he cared."

   "He watched you dating."

   "I didn't 'date' date.  I went out with groups of friends, male and
female," she stated.  "Besides, how much did you talk to your dad about
me?"

   "Dad talked about things that made him happy - his garden was one of
them.  You were another.  And we've had this conversation before."

   "And you, like, paid attention?  When your dad mentioned me?"

   "Always paid attention when I got back here to spend time with Dad."

   "Yeah, I miss 'im.  I know you do, too, but I really do, you know.  You
remind me of him in a lot of ways."

   "Really?"

   "Yeah," she said.  "Your expressions.  Your eyes.  I can see a lot of
his looks in you." She rolled onto her side facing me across the gap
between the beds.  "See?!?  I pay attention, too."

   The thing is, she didn't know how a simple move like that bored itself
into my mind.  Here's this female person who is totally oblivious as to how
she could just lay there in a monochrome T-shirt and jeans and make bells
ring in my head.

   Lena's turn:

   Eighteen years old, school, at least the high school part, is over, and
Mom and Dad are broke.  All those factors leave Angelina Crosby, that would
be me, with few options in life.

   My next door neighbor, a fine old man, a friend, and honestly a
benefactor, passed away before Christmas.  Mister Harris was the kindly
grandfather missing from my life.  I'd known him since we moved in next
door to him.  Three or four days a week I visited him that last few years,
taking care of his light housekeeping, helping him keep his independence.
He paid me with money, but that paled in comparison to the payment I
received from him in conversation, stories, wisdom, just being around a
good person.

   I am the one who found him dead one day.  Mister Harris loved his garden
and worked in it daily.  He had a little stool he took with him as he
worked.  He'd work until he got tired, he'd sit on his stool and rest, then
get up, move it a bit, work some more.  I helped him many a day.  He loved
it.  Everybody in the neighborhood benefited from gifts of fresh produce.

   I had expected to walk into his house, find him enjoying his afternoon
coffee, that day.  I didn't.  I called.  I looked in every room of the
house, calling his name.  No answer.  Then I went out into the back yard.
There he was lying in one of the neat rows between turnips and cabbage just
beginning to head up.  He was already cold when I got to him.

   I lost a friend.  I spent a lot of time the next few days with Jay,
Mister Harris's son.  I don't know - we seemed to connect.  He's single -
divorced.  Works as an engineer, out of town on some construction project
or another.  Mister Harris was proud of Jay.

   I'd known Jay since I was five.  He was already an adult, but I sort of
watched him come and go as I grew up.  Now, here we are.  I lost my own
brother a bit before Mister Harris died.  It was easy to talk with Jay
about my loss and his loss and our loss.

   I think that acquaintance became friendship in the aftermath of his
loss. Before he left, we'd agreed to stay in touch - emails, phone calls,
that sort of thing.  I really think he was thinking he's being nice to a
friend of his dad, helping a kid who could use help, just being a friend.

   My final year of high school.  Mister Harris's funeral sort of punched
the fun out of the Christmas break.  The last few months of the year.  I'm
not worried about graduating.  The classes aren't really hard.  People,
though, can be quite disappointing.

   I suppose that working and visiting Mister Harris a few times a week
took an important spot in my life.  After he passed on, I had evenings
free. I tried to get into the social scene.

   Didn't work for me.  First, I'm from the poor side of town.  I suppose
that automatically confers upon me a certain expectation that I'm stupid
and easy.  I am neither.  Second, I didn't have my own car, nor were Mom
and Dad disposed to haul me around to the various venues wherein one might
interact with one's peers.

   Still, I did get picked up for a date or two.  That's where I found
about that expectation of morality.  I had to fight off what was apparently
an octopus at a movie.  Double date, at that, and I should have known
something was afoot when we ended up in the back row.  My protests ended up
ruining the other couple's evening as well, because my 'friend' was
fondling her date's exposed dick.  That ended when I made a scene.  I left
the theater, called Dad for a ride home.

   I got a phone call from my 'friend' the next day.

   "What's with you, girl?!?" Macy asked.

   "You mean why didn't I let Jaxon feel me up?"

   "He's a good one, Lena.  He's popular."

   "He's not that popular with me," I said.  "I didn't appreciate the idea
that a couple of kisses and he gets to feel me up.  And I am NOT going to
play with his dick!" When I said that, I knew I'd just tossed a pretty good
dig at Macy.

   "Oh, you're all coy 'n' shit," Macy said.  "It's no big deal.  Just a
piece of meat, like holding his hand."

   "I held his hand.  His dick is a bit further into a relationship than I
wanted to be with him."

   "What relationship?" Macy asked.  "Just hookin' up.  Friendly like, you
know."

   "No, I don't know ...  There's more to sex than just hookin' up.  I
don't hook up."

   "You're missin' it, girl," Macy said.  "You need to loosen up.  You're
never gonna get asked out again."

   And that's where Macy went off the bottom of my list of friends.  It
also marked the last time I went on a 'date'.  I did join some of my
contemporaries at the mall for a Saturday evening movie, but it was always
a group with no official couples.  I could stomach that.

   I also found myself rushing home afterward to see if I had an email from
Jay.  Or I tried to get home early enough so I could talk with him on the
phone.

   "So what'd you do this evening, Lena?" Jay asked.

   "Went to a movie with the bunch," I said.

   "No date?"

   "No, I'm not dating.  Bad experience." That's as much of it as I'd told
him for a while.  "Three girls, two guys.  Movie.  Food court.  Hang out."

   "Well, glad you had fun, Lena."

   Something about the way he asked me every Saturday, like he was scared
to find out something.

   "You didn't go out with anyone, did you?" I asked.

   "Not if you mean like a date," he said.  "Me and a couple of other guys
from work, we met for dinner.  They wanted to go to a gentlemen's club..."

   "Titty bar," I said bravely.

   He snorted.  "What do you know about titty bars?"

   "Uh, a girl at school, her sister's working at one.  Told me I could
work there, since I'm eighteen, but she said I really needed bigger ... 
you know..." I am a good B-cup.  That's it.  Implants were mentioned. 
Another girl who's not on my list of friends now.

   "Don't do that, Lena..." Jay said, almost sadly.  I caught that.

   "I'm not.  No matter how much money Brianna says her sister makes."

   "Baby," he said, 'You always seem to have a sense of decency."

   "I've been told that my sense of decency is an anachronism."

   "You're a girl who knows what an anachronism is," Jay said.

   I smiled.  I know he can't see me, not unless he's paying attention to
my words and he has a vivid imagination, but when Jay gives me a
compliment, I smile.  There's something of his dad's looks in Jay's face,
something that just says honesty, when he's talking.  I imagine that while
I'm talking with him.

   "So then I should rule out pole-dancing as a career path," I said with a
bit of a sassy tone.

   "Not that you wouldn't be good at it," he said.  "You're tall and you're
blonde and that floats a lot of boats..."

   "But no tits," I said.

   "Geeze, Lena, I don't want to start talking about your tits!"

   "Welllll..." I squeaked.  "They're appropriate data in this
conversation."

   "I don't want to be here in my apartment by myself with images of YOUR
tits in my head..."

   That's the first time that it became real ...  He's a guy.  He thinks of
ME like THAT.

   "Don't succumb to your baser instincts, Jay," I said.  Did I mention
that I'm a straight-A student in language and literature?  I am.  Probably
going to get an award at graduation.  And Jay likes the verbal twists we
inject into conversation.

   "Stop that, Lena!"

   "Okay, Jay."

   I liked the phone calls.  Mom was glad she didn't have to pay the bill.
Jay's gift of an old iPhone and my inclusion on his cellular plan meant I
could talk as much as I want.  By May, I looked.  Eighty-eight percent of
my phone time was with Jay.

   Some other things happened in the interim as well.  I was floored when I
found that Mister Harris had mentioned me in his will, leaving me ten
thousand dollars.  I never expected it.  Now I wish it had been put in some
kind of a trust so it could only be used for college, as Jay thinks it was
intended.

   Dad's truck needed an overhaul.  Money.  The central heat thingie burned
through.  Money.  The ten thousand dwindled like water from a leaking
barrel.  I did manage to improve my wardrobe a bit, but with graduation
approaching, the ten thousand was right at two.

   I knew that college wasn't an option with that number.  There were
always student loans, but those things are all over the news these days. 
One of the few friends I had at school made me an offer.  Her dad's a
manager for some kind of industrial supply business and she says her dad
might put me on in an entry-level position.

   I know it's a trap.  She says that if I'm good enough, the pay will go
up.  And there I'll be, high school grad with a job just good enough to
keep me from going to college.  Naturally I told Jay this.

   I'd talked about doing this and sharing an apartment with a couple of
friends who'd graduated last year.  Of course one of those girls got
pregnant and the apartment idea crashed.

   "Don't get trapped, Lena."

   "What am I supposed to do?"

   "I dunno.  Let me think about it."

   We talked over options on the next few calls.

   Jay came back into town for my graduation.  On his first night back in
town, he invited me to dinner.  Well, he would've, except I sort of invited
myself.

   "I'll come by and get you right after I check into the hotel," he said.

   "No," I retorted.  "Come get me.  Then go check in.  Then we'll go to
dinner.  What's wrong with that idea?"

   "Nothing, except for the part where I check into a hotel with a teenaged
girl."

   I giggled.  "I'll sit in your truck and wait."

   "Yeah, that makes it MUCH better."

   "You're taking me to dinner.  Maybe a movie, too, if there's something
we can both stand.  Then you'll bring me home and you'll go back to the
hotel.  Nothing easier," I said.

   He picked me up at the house, spoke with Mom a bit.  Mom and I ... 
Well, I think she's stressed about money again and she knows I have two
thousand in the bank and she's kind of mad at me, so it's freeing when I
get in Jay's truck.  I'm wearing a dress, a favorite one, light blue.

   Jay's a gentleman.  He goes around to the passenger door, opens it for
me.

   Did I mention it's a BIG truck?

   I really didn't mean to do it, but you have to understand that I don't
spend a whole lot of time in dresses in the first place and in the second
place, I didn't give a lot of thought to the activity of hoisting myself up
and into the seat.  My legs spread pretty wide.  That dress rode up on my
thighs.

   And Jay turned colors.  He turned his head, being all too obvious about
it.

   "Sorry," I managed to squeak.

   He didn't say anything.  He closed my door, then went around and got in
the driver's seat.

   "I said I'm sorry," I repeated.

   "I'm okay," he said.  "Things happen."

   "You're upset," I said softly.  "I didn't mean to..."

   "I'm okay.  Really."

   "Shouldn't affect you like that, Jay.  I just accidentally flashed you.
Surely you've seen that stuff before."

   "Yes."

   "And you caught the vapors every time?"

   "No.  Lena, you're different."

   "I'm just a girl," I said.

   "Girl.  That's part of it.  And you're kind of like my best friend.  One
does not stare at one's best friend's crotch."

   "One's best friend does not usually flash said crotch in her best
friend's face, either.  No big deal, okay.  Sorry." She gazed at me.  "Best
friend?"

   "Yes."

   "That's something.  I never had anybody just come out and say 'best
friend'." I just heard him voice part of what I'd sort of understood. 
"Best friend".  That's important.  It's not like that 'bff' garbage on
FaceBook or whatever.  Jay doesn't toss words around like that.  "That
means something, Jay.  You never just rattle on.  You think about what
you're saying.  Words from you mean things.  Like now."

   "Well, that part's true."

   "How'd that happen?" I asked, pressing him a little bit.

   "You and I, we just sort started talking, sharing things."

   "Long distance relationship, Jay.  People used to have pen pals, Gramma
says.  People used to write each other for years.  Sometimes they'd meet."

   "We met, then started the long distance thing."

   I thought about that.  We had a 'thing'.  Such a horrible choice of
words.  It could mean so many, well, THINGS.  I sighed.  "And we're meeting
again.  I've been thinking about that job thing you talked about."

   "It 's an opportunity, that's all," Jay said.  "Best I can do."

   "Where would I live?"

   "Uh, well ...  I figure a few things.  First, I have a two-bedroom
apartment.  One could be yours for ...  However long you want it - get a
couple of paychecks under your belt, then find yourself a place.  They may
have some in the same complex.  We could share a ride to work.  If you're
itching to get your own place real fast, I can loan you what you need.  No
interest.  Pay back when you can ...  Or if it works, there's no reason for
you to move..."

   "Share an apartment with you.  An hour ago you were all worried about me
being seen checking into a hotel with you, and now you're proposing that I
live in the same apartment.  Come on, Jay."

   "What?"

   "Sad thing is, I'm considering it."

   "And that's sad?" he returned.  "Look at it this way, Lena.  It's
construction.  Money's good.  The job doesn't go on forever.  If you stay
thrifty, you could bank a lot of money.  Might be enough for a few
semesters.  'Nother thing.  Construction's kind of insular.  If you do the
job and get a good reputation, you can generally roll over into another
one, if that's what you want."

   "That's what YOU do," I said.  "A few months here, a few months
there..."

   "It is." We pulled into the covered drive of the hotel.

   I started giggling again.  Something about being around Jay, I feel like
I can let happiness show.  "S'pose I walk in with you, and when you're
registering, I sort of hold onto you and call you 'Uncle Jay' and bat my
eyes a lot?"

   "You're a horrible little girl.  What do YOU know about 'Uncle Jay'
anyway?"

   "Isn't that the stereotype of the young girl and the older man?"

   "I always wanted to be the older man.  Not necessarily with a young
girl, but, you know, older..."

   "You're forty, right?" she asked.

   "Yeah.  So?"

   "If I may be so bold, you're not in bad shape for an older man.  Let's
go get you checked in for your nights of debauchery." Yes, I'm pushing it
just a little.  I understand that a bit of flirtation is common in
friendships.

   "Didn't remember you being this evil," he laughed.  At least he's
laughing.

   We exited.  He got out first, came around to my door, and this time I
made a concerted effort to keep my knees together.

   "See!" I giggled.  "I tried NOT to give you a heart attack."

   I watched him check in, staying back a discreet distance, but when he
turned with his keycard to go to his room, I stepped up and looped my hand
inside his arm.  He gave me a look.  I smirked back.

   It's a nice hotel room.  The few times I've been inside a hotel, it's
been the cheapest one we could find because Denny was in the hospital and
we had to be there with him and we didn't have much money.

   This one's NICE.  Two beds, I noted out loud.

   "I only need a little bit of one," Jay said, "so it doesn't matter."

   I guess I really shouldn't've done it, but I turned around, let myself
fall back onto one of those beds.  He looked at me.

   "Now I can say I've been in bed in YOUR hotel room."

   "Come on, Lena.  Let's get out of here before I lose my mind."





   Chapter 4

   Jay's turn:

   Lena was still giggling when we left the hotel, heading to dinner.

   "You act like you're proud of yourself for that one," I said.

   "Oh, yeah," she giggled.  "All the stuff going on, just for a second I
let myself loose.  Lightened up.  You didn't mind, did you?"

   "No, it's good to see you happy."

   I'm liking the smiling, a little bit sassy, version of Lena.  I was
somewhat concerned about her previous passive nature.  It's not exactly the
thing you want to carry anywhere on a big construction project.

   "I've packed, you know..."

   I swiveled my head to look at her.

   "Packed?"

   "Uh-huh.  I sort of told Mom and Dad that you were my ride to the new
job after graduation."

   "What about those post-graduation parties and stuff?" I asked, already
knowing the answer.

   She gave it to me.  "I didn't go to the pre-graduation parties.  Why
would I want to go to the ones after graduation?  Oh, I know ...  I could
get drunk or stoned or both, end up with no panties, wondering who did what
to me ...  That's gotta be fun..."

   "It's not always like that," I said.

   "Sometimes it is.  I know a girl at church ...  At school she decided
that maybe, just that one time, she'd go to a party.  Got invited by a
second-string football player.  She was flattered." Lena sighed sadly. 
"She's pregnant.  Wants to think that her 'date' was the daddy, but some
punch spiked with Lord knows what, she was semi-conscious.  The gossip is
that she was quite the attraction at the party for several guys."

   I guess my look gave me away.

   "Lena ain't that.  So much for 'go with a crowd.  You'll be safe.'
Brandy wasn't safe."

   "Lena's smarter than that," I said, really wanting to believe that. 
"But seriously ...  packed?"

   "Uh-huh.  So after I get my diploma, if you want to drag me up there
with you, I'm ready." She paused.  "Of course, if you'd planned on
something else ...  I know you said they'd let you start training me in the
middle of June.  And you said something about a vacation.  So I can wait if
I need to."

   There was a slight change in inflection on 'if I need to'.

   "I was going to take a couple of weeks."

   She turned her head demurely.  "I've never been on a real vacation.  We
never could afford it.  We went on a weekend some summers, spent the night
at a hotel, did a water park or something.  What's your idea of a
vacation?"

   "I'm a history buff.  History ...  I was thinking of Civil War
battlefields.  Not the kind of thing that a lot of people do."

   "So you spend your day walking around a battlefield..." she started.

   "Walk over the ground, knowing that hundreds of men died there in a war
fewer and fewer people understand.  I usually read up on the battle before
I visit."

   "And you do this by yourself."

   "Yeah," I said.  "Not exactly what you tell some woman - 'Hey, let's
take a vacation and spend it thinking about people dying...  ' So I do it
for the person I know who'll understand.  That would be me."

   "You're just saying that, aren't you?"

   "Saying what?"

   She sighed.  "How did you know?"

   "What are you talking about, Lena?"

   "My high school research paper was on the Civil War, post-Gettysburg."

   "Seriously?"

   "You can read it if you want.  I made an 'A'.  You know, your dad used
to talk about how you would've been a historian if it had made sense as a
career.  I sort of got interested.  Couldn't understand how somebody would
get into history like that.  I sort of understand now."

   "Uh..." I spoke, trying to buy a little time to understand the
conversation and collect my thoughts.  "So you're saying that YOU would
like that trip?"

   "I would," she affirmed, head bobbing.  "But if it's a solitary thing
for you..."

   "Wasn't specifically, but like I said, who would I even ask?"

   "Me."

   "Lena, you know that it'll be a series of overnights in hotel room after
hotel room."

   "You get somebody who knows about divisions and regiments and grapeshot
and abatis 'n stuff like that..." She smiled shyly.  "And you can get rooms
like the one you have right now, with two beds.  Jay, I dress chastely at
home in the evenings.  I won't change that, okay.  I won't tease you or
anything.  I'll be good."

   I thought about that.  Apparently Lena was of the conventional mindset
that if a woman wanted to tease a man, she'd have to don some frilly
negligee or something.  That's not it at all, not for me.  I'm trying to
suppress an image of Lena NOT teasing.  What would she wear to do that? 
I'm thinking a set of chemical hazard coveralls, complete with full head
coverage.

   She noted the pause.  "You're thinking, aren't you.  Forget I said
anything."

   "No, no, no ...  We can do this..."

   "If it's not working, I can get a bus ticket home," she said.

   "No, I think it'll be a good shakedown for us ending up in that
apartment.  Compared to a hotel room for a couple of weeks, that apartment
will seem positively palatial."

   "Palatial," she repeated.  "Vocabulary.  I can use mine, too, I guess."

   "I like it better that way."

   "So!  After my graduation, we load up in your truck and take off for..."

   "Vicksburg," I said.  "Then Corinth.  Shiloh.  Then Chattanooga."

   "Really?"

   "Really."

   "I have my money.  I can help pay for all this," she said.

   "Uh, well, okay ...  The room doesn't cost any more for two than it does
for one.  Breakfasts are usually free.  Then we'll argue..."

   "Take me to buy some clothes before dinner, then."

   "Why?"

   "I think that 'bouncing around a battlefield' clothes will also be great
for work clothes, right?"

   "Right."

   "Let me go shop a bit."

   "Okay."

   She giggled.  "It won't be bad.  I know what size jeans and shirts I
wear.  I bought a couple of pair last month.  I'll get a couple more.  Then
we can eat.  There's a Chinese restaurant..."

   "Yeah, that'll work."

   She's true to her word.  We went to the store she specified, NOT at the
mall, I followed her inside because I didn't relish sitting outside in my
truck, waiting.  She walked right up to the rack of jeans, grabbed a couple
of pairs.

   "Hold these," she ordered.  I did.

   She surveyed a rack of blouses, picked a couple.  "Hold these, too."

   "Okay."

   Then she slid over into the lingerie department.

   "Hold up, there, cowgirl," I said.  "I ain't carrying your panties
around."

   She giggled.  "Oh, you DO have limits, then." And she picked three pair.
Pastels.  Hip-huggers.  I bit the inside of my mouth.

   A package of socks went on top of my pile, then as we headed out to the
cashier, she stopped at the perfume counter.  She eyed the fanciful array
of bottles, picked one.  Spritzed one wrist.  Rubbed it against the other,
then offered that to me.  "Yes or no?"

   "Nobody I know of wears that." I didn't add that I was not recently
close enough to a woman to really smell her perfume, but...  "Yes.  Very
nice."

   She grabbed a package.  "My splurge.  Let's go."

   We checked out, did the restaurant, then went into the movie theater. 
Okay, Lena's a high school girl, there's only two theaters in town, and
they're popular among her age group both as places of employment and as
social venues.

   Two girls and a guy came up.

   "Hi, Lena," one of the girls said.  "Last movie before graduation?"

   "You betcha," Lena popped.  She grabbed my hand.  "This is my
benefactor, Jay Harris.  Jay, this is Kitty, and this one is Eileen, but
she spells it A-I-S-L-I-N and this is Jeremy."

   "Uh, what's a benefactor," Aislin asked.

   "Somebody who comes home for her graduation and makes sure she has a
good summer job," Lena said.  "I'm going to be a documents analyst for a
construction company."

   "Uh ...  What do they do?" Jeremy asked.

   Lena had asked me this, wanting details.  "Drawings, revisions, change
orders, documentation packages.  At twenty-four bucks an hour after I train
for a couple of weeks."

   "Duuuuude," Jeremy replied.  "I need a benefactor."

   "Lena's helped my dad for the last few years of his life.  This is
karma," I said.

   Inside the theater, we found a pair of seats at a comfortable distance
back from the screen.

   "Benefactor?!?  Where'd THAT come from?"

   "Too much time reading literature," she said.  "Perhaps we could've had
MORE fun if I'd said 'sugar daddy'."

   "You have an evil streak."

   "Yeah.  Uh-huh.  Like they won't take 'benefactor' and get 'sugar daddy'
out of it on their own."

   By the end of the movie they'd have gotten more fuel to move from
benefactor to sugar daddy as Lena (perfectly innocently, I'm sure) slumped
sideways and leaned her head on my shoulder.

   I dared not to do what most of me desperately wanted to do - put my arm
around her.

   Afterward - "You didn't mind, did you?"

   "Mind what?"

   "Me leanin' on you like that."

   "Not at all."

   "I was tired.  There you were.  Just seemed like the right thing to do."

   "Rather flattering," I said.

   "Flattering?  Jay, you know who you are.  You're good people.  Your dad
was good people.  I'm lucky you don't have a Missus Jay.  I don't think
she'd approve of dragging me along on your vacation."

   We drove her home and I walked her to the door.  Neat-looking thing, is
Lena.  As we pulled into her driveway, she asked, "Do you have plans for
tomorrow evening?"

   "No.  Got something in mind?"

   "Not yet.  You sure I'm not keeping you from doing something you really
want to do?"

   I couldn't say that I really wanted to have her around, so I said "Let's
compare notes in the morning.  You have rehearsal at one, don't you?"

   "Yeah.  We need to rehearse how to get a diploma and run like the
blazes," she said.  "And the next night ...  Graduation." She turned to me.
"When can we leave after that?"

   "Are you in a hurry?"

   "Kinda," she said.

   "You're in a hurry to take off across the country with some random
guy..."

   "Jay, you are HARDLY random.  We've talked for hours and hours.  We've
run the roads together.  I'm looking forward to taking off on a trip with
my best friend who just happens to be a guy.  What's wrong with that?"

   "Nothing, except how it looks to your mom and dad."

   "I'm eighteen.  I'm one less mouth to feed, Jay.  If things work out for
me, I can actually send them a little bit to help out when Dad's out of
work.  But I want to get OUT."

   "So Saturday morning?  Late?"

   "Yes," she said, with some finality.  "And I'm leaving these clothes in
your truck.  Except this," she said, retrieving the box that contained her
perfume.

   I brought Lena home at the end of our evening.  Yes, I walked her to the
door, and yes, she tiptoed to kiss my cheek.  "Good night, Jay.  Thanks for
making me feel special."

   I guess that makes me an animal, then, when I got to the hotel room,
showered, and jerked one off, trying to fantasize about some generic
female, but she kept looking like...

   I rolled over at eight the next morning when my cellphone went off.

   "Hi, Lena..."

   "Tell me you're not still in bed..."

   "I am.  I thought that mid-morning..."

   "SEE?!?" she squeaked.  "You and I, we don't think the same way.  I was
thinking breakfast..."

   "You got it.  Be there in twenty minutes..."

   She was standing in the driveway, her practical purse in hand, hopped in
as soon as the tires stopped turning.

   "Anxious, are we?"

   "Mom.  I told her I was leaving for Missouri Saturday.  She kinda went
off on me, accused me of running off with you..."

   "You kinda are, you know..."

   "But she made it sound like I was doing something immoral.  I'm not,
Jay. Am I?"

   "Well, some people could look at the idea of me and you vacationing
together as a little indicator."

   "We're in the same room.  That's it.  And the apartment.  I'll have my
own room.  Right?"

   "You convinced me, Lena.  Maybe your Mom's compensating for losing her
daughter."

   "By making me feel like trash?"

   "Different people have different ways of coping."

   "But does she know how that makes me feel?"

   "Darlin'," I said.  When I realized what I'd said, the words were
already out.  Her head snapped over to look at me.  I continued as if
nothing happened.  "You're just going to have to give her hugs and kiss her
goodbye and let things sink in.  It's a big step for both of you."

   We pulled into the parking lot of a little diner that I knew to serve a
good breakfast.  By the time the plates arrived, Lena was calming down. 
Conversation was light - the day, weather, the prospects for the
afternoon's rehearsal turning into chaos.

   "Guaranteed," she said.  "Some kids think they're soooo original. 
Pranks I've heard about since I was old enough to pay attention." She
sighed.  "I can get through this.  I can get through tomorrow.  And I
expect YOU to take me out after the ceremony."

   "I figured you did," I smiled.  "I left my dance card open, just for
you."

   "Yeah, you should, you know, 'specially if you start calling me
'darlin'."

   "You caught that."

   "I listen to every word you say, Jay.  You need to realize that you are
my best friend and my connection to a sane and exciting universe."

   "You won't think that when you've had a few weeks on the job you're
starting.  The construction biz is noted for an assortment of characters.
I'm one of them."

   "I will be, too," she grinned.

   Another goodnight kiss on the cheek, another night in a hotel room
trying to find something half-interesting on TV, failing, settling for
background noise and looking for a new book on my iPad.

   The next day was graduation day.  She graduated.  I know this because I
saw her in royal blue robes, collecting her diploma, and I met her and her
parents in the parking lot afterward.  I had reservations at one of the
town's upscale restaurants, my treat, for the whole bunch.

   I kept Lena for a while after dinner.  She didn't seem to mind.  We
solidified plans.  I'd pick her up for breakfast the next morning and we'd
be off.

   Another kiss on the cheek.  Another night by myself in the hotel room. I
stretched out on the bed and took advantage of my last night of privacy for
a while, stroking myself to orgasm, trying to conjure up a female face that
didn't look like a five foot ten inch blonde girl with piercing blue eyes.

   I'd just crumpled up the results in a hotel washcloth when my phone
rang. After ten.  Either a disaster or a wrong number or ...  Lena.

   "Hi, Lena," I said.

   "Hi, Jay.  I know we've been together every day since you got into town,
but I'm restless.  I thought maybe I could talk to you..."

   "You always can.  How's it feel to be a high school graduate?"

   "Small feeling of success, Jay.  I got the same piece of paper as a
bunch of people who can't count past ten with their shoes on."

   "But YOU learned things, Lena.  You got knowledge.  Of course, you
started out smart."

   "Thank you, Jay.  You always build me up."

   "You should know who you are, Lena."

   "I know what I am, Jay.  I'm excited about tomorrow.  Leaving."

   "Me, too," I countered.  "First vacation I've really taken since I can't
remember when.  And I have a friend to share it with me."

   "Are you gonna let me drive?"

   "Why not?  I think you can figure it out.  You've been driving for a
couple of years, at least.  Have you driven your dad's pickup?"

   "Well, yeah..."

   "Same thing."

   "I'm excited."

   She sounded excited.  Happy.  Happier than I can remember, for all the
times we've talked since December.  I admitted, "I am, too.  I've always
wanted to make this trip."

   Soft giggle.  "I've always wanted to make ANY trip."

   "Any?"

   "Always wanted to GO.  This is better, though.  Best friend, and we both
have a goal."

   We talked a bit about tomorrow's itinerary and then we hung up and I
went to sleep.  I slept until seven the next morning, got a phone call from
guess who.

   "Come get me.  It's time for breakfast."

   "Just as soon as I get dressed and pack up, little girl."

   Giggle.  "Yeah.  Hurry."

   I shook hands with Lena's dad and hugged her mom, promising to look
after their daughter as best I could.  We loaded her luggage into the back
seat of my crew cab.  I held her door while she got in.  No, this time
she's wearing jeans, but spread legs are spread legs and she's certainly
pleasing to the eye.

   As I slide into the driver's seat, I'm wondering if I might have let
myself in for a massive breakdown.  Lena's so innocent in some ways. 
Naïve.  But she's bright and expectant and eager to get into life as an
adult.  I hope I'm doing the right thing.  I hope I'm not trying to do ...
I don't know what it is I'm trying not to do.  I'm trying to be decent.

   She reached over and grabbed my hand.  I looked at her with questions.

   "I wanna say a prayer before we get started.  This is kinda momentous."

   "Okay," I said.  I watched her bow her head.

   "Lord, this is a new page in my life," she prayed.  "Help me keep my
steps on the right path and take care of me and my very special friend Jay.
Amen."

   Now I'm feeling all sorts of things.  'Special friend'.  And she's
praying that she stays on the right path.  How can I hold dishonorable
thoughts after that?

   "Let's roll," she stated.

   I backed the truck out of the drive, an act requiring that I retrieve my
hand.  Lena waved at her mom who was standing in the front door, watching
us leave.  She waved back, disappearing in the rearview mirror as we drove
off.

   "Big step, little girl," I said.

   "I know.  My stomach's in knots.  Good stuff and bad stuff and worries
and anticipations and I don't know what else." She looked at me.  I caught
it out of the corner of my eye.  "Tell me you want me with you."

   "I want you with me," I said.  I was telling the truth.  The part that
worries me, though, is the limits on 'want'.

   We caught a convenient diner and enjoyed breakfast before we left town.

   "Dad says we can't get this coffee in Missouri," she said, sipping her
mug.

   "I brought a couple of pounds.  And I do better.  You'll see when we get
there."

   "You keep telling me that.  Why didn't you bring yours with you?"

   "It doesn't travel well, and if it's back there, then that's a good
reason to think of it as home." I paused.  "More or less."

   "Home," she repeated.  "It's in the rearview mirror..."

   "Not too late to change your mind," I said.

   "D'ya think I should?"

   "I can't read what's in your head and in your heart.  I thought we
talked about this plenty, but this is a big step."

   "Jay, this is one of the steps I have to take to quit being a kid and
start being an adult," she said.

   "There!" I laughed.  "That's the Lena I was used to hearing."

   "Gonna be moody for a day or two, Jay.  That time of the month, you
know..."

   "Forewarned is fore-armed," I said.  "I assume you have all the proper
paraphernalia, right?"

   "Yes, I do.  And I know myself and I'll try to not come apart on you,"
she said.  "But since we're going to be living together, you should know
these things."

   I shook my head.  "Living together.  Sounds a whole lot different than
what we're planning."

   "I know, but it IS the truth."

   "Yeah, okay, little scholar."

   "Well," she giggled, "YOU know what I mean and I know what I mean.  Let
the others see what they wish to see."

   And I'm thinking, at least that bad little boy inside my head is
thinking, that a bit of reality must go with the illusion ...  I mean,
seriously, she's young, pretty, in an off-track kind of way.  Says one of
her friends told her she was 'angular', whatever that's supposed to mean.
She's tall, five feet ten inches, and some folks would say 'lanky', but
when she's happy or excited, she's got a youthful bounce.  There're those
blue eyes and blonde hair, makes her look like she's a refugee from a
travelogue for Iceland, except her accent is pure South Louisiana.

   A man could do a lot worse than the girl sitting across the console in
the front of my pickup truck.

   A drive-through burger was lunch.  We reached our goal in Vicksburg in
mid-afternoon, having avoided the major roads.  "If we're not in a hurry,
Jay, let's see what the scenery looks like," Lena said, pulling my iPad
from its location in my computer bag.

   I'm going to like the way this girl travels.





   Chapter 5

   Jay's turn:

   We hit Vicksburg with Lena holding my iPad in her lap, surfing for
tourist information.  She found an antebellum home and museum that looked
interesting, so that became our first destination.  We did the tourist
thing, absorbing the information, the history, the lore, as presented by a
nice lady who acted as tour guide.  Lena paid rapt attention.

   After the tour of the home and the grounds we got back into the car,
went to find the Mississippi River.  Yes, at one time that home was on the
bank of the river.  The home didn't move.  The river did.

   We found a spot, sat on the levee for a while.

   "It's rather magical, you know," Lena said.  "That water there flows
from the northern heart of the country all the way into the Gulf.  You can
get out there on it and go right out into the world."

   "Yeah."

   "Just like me, Jay.  I got on the highway this morning and I'm going
right out into the world."

   "You are."

   "Lots of people live their whole lives never living more than fifty
miles from where they were born."

   "Not as common as it used to be, but you're right."

   She turned towards me.  "You don't know it, maybe, but YOU are playing
the part of that river, Jay.  I don't know how I would've broken free..."

   "You'd've broken free, Lena.  If you wanted."

   "I don't know.  I ...  I do a self-assessment and I think I'm kind of
passive."

   "I don't see 'passive'," I returned.  "I see careful, though.  There's a
difference."

   She gazed at me.  "Until you came along, I didn't have anybody to give
me any options."

   "You wanna know something, kiddo?"

   She looked at me.  "It's gotta be good if it's preceded by 'kiddo',
right?"

   "Add 'smart-ass' to your job skills.  Seriously, I'm glad it's me."

   "You are, aren't you?" she said with a little smile.

   "Yes.  You're smart, you're funny, we sort of match tastes and
interests. I would've hated to miss this."

   "Me?"

   "You."

   She smiled a bit more.  "We'll make a good team."

   Conversation shifted to a huge tow on the river, nine barges lashed
together, pushed downstream by a big towboat.

   "Why do they call it a 'towboat' when it pushes?" she smirked.

   "Because EVERY trade likes to have its bits of history, its secrets. 
They probably tried pulling a time or two, but you lose the ability to
control..."

   "I can picture that," she said.

   "Just wait.  When you get into what YOU are going to do, you'll have a
head full of strange terms and acronyms and abbreviations."

   We walked up the levee for some distance, looking at the river over the
trees between the levee itself and the actual riverbank, then we turned
around and returned to the truck as the sun started downward.

   It was that time.  Check into the hotel.  With Lena.  Two of us in the
same room, and the idea of her undressing just mere feet from me,
showering, doing all those things that women do in the bathroom, then
finally going to sleep in a bed only a few feet away ...  I have lots of
thoughts.  I wonder if she's having the same ones.

   We have a plan - check into the hotel, drop our luggage, then go find
dinner, following advice from the hotel desk clerk for some good barbecue.

   Dinner was not a disappointment, nor was a requested stop at a chain
bookstore.

   "I just want to see if I can find something good to read," she said.

   "You can download books onto your iPhone," I countered.

   "Yeah, I know, but the little screen..."

   "Kindle app for your iPad."

   "I don't have an iPad, remember?"

   "We'll fix that when we get to Missouri," I said.  "I have a spare. 
It's yours."

   "Let's go buy me some books."

   Easily done.  I found a volume of the complete poetry of Rudyard
Kipling. Sure, everything he's ever written is available for free on the
Internet, a few clicks away, but the idea of having the printed page is
still comforting.  The very act of reading, relaxing, napping with a paper
volume lying on my chest, that's still a very pleasant part of life.

   All this, though, was simply stalling what HAD to happen.  We both knew
it.  We'd both assented to it.  All that, though, was intellectual
exercise. We were now faced with the reality.  Lena, a delectable teen
female, and I, a middle-aged male, were going back to the same hotel room.

   She turned toward me as we drove out of the bookstore parking lot.  "I
know what you're thinking."

   "Okay, little girl, what am I thinking?"

   "You're nervous about going back to the hotel with me."

   "Well, yeah.  Kinda."

   "I know.  I am, too." She smiled a little, soft smile that she shared
with me.  "But I wouldn't be here if I didn't think we'd be okay, right?"

   "Right," I replied.  "Still nervous, though..."

   "We're both sensible people.  I can 'adult' quite well, you know."

   "I know.  You're level-headed."

   "It's that whole male-female thing, I know.  We can do that right."

   "I think so," I said.  My thoughts, however, weren't quite as assured.
Still, I looked at my companion over there and she seemed to hold none of
my trepidation.

   The trepidation ratcheted up a level after we parked the truck.  Meeting
at the tailgate, she grabbed my hand, tugging me toward the entrance.

   She noted my questioning look.  "Oh, don't get nutty, Jay.  Friends hold
hands.  I'm excited.  This is a milestone in my life."

   "Milestone?"

   "First time I've slept away as an adult.  Very first." Her eyes told me
something.

   "Okay." I relaxed.  It did feel good to have my hand held.  She let it
go when we got to the door.  I led her through the lobby, stopping to grab
a couple of free cookies to take to the room.  I fished the keycard out of
my pocket, opened the door, and let Lena in first.

   She made it to the end of the short entrance hall before she turned,
smiling a demure yet devilish smirk.

   "What?" I asked, returning the smile.

   "First time I've decided to spend a night with a guy, Jay..."

   "Don't tease me, Lena."

   "Ohhhhh," she giggled.  "So it IS a tease, then ...  I wasn't sure if
you had any reactions at all."

   "You're my cutie," I said.  "Of course I have reactions.  I suppress
them, is all."

   Giggle.  "YOUR cutie?"

   "You know how you are, Lena."

   "Yeah.  We've talked about this.  Too tall.  My friends use the word
'angular'.  Flat-chested.  Abrasive personality."

   "None of the above," I said, "and you KNOW it."

   "Do I?" She backed up, sat on the end of one of the two beds.

   "Yes.  You're endlessly fascinating to talk with.  I've had fun being
with you today.  You're a delight."

   "You are, too, you know."

   "Lena..."

   "Jaaayyyyyyy," she said.

   "Lena, we were supposed to be friends..."

   "I know, Jay.  That's what we said before we left.  I dunno, though..."

   "Lena..."

   "Jay, I'm having second thoughts."

   "Like 'I wanna go home' thoughts."

   Those big blue eyes gazed at me.  I knew exactly what she was thinking,
at least on the surface.  She shook her head, bouncing that blonde hair for
me.  Does she know how that affects me?

   "No.  More like revisiting that whole 'just two friends' thing."

   "Oh, god, Lena..."

   "I am I horrible, Jay?"

   "No, Lena, but I'm trying very hard not to be horrible myself."

   "Oh gosh, Jay," she said in a rush of words, "Don't tell me that I'm a
stupid deluded slut, trying to seduce you." Her face was disassembling as I
watched.  A tear found its way down from the corner of her eye to trace a
path down her cheek.

   Maybe it was a mistake.  Maybe I should've NOT did what I did, but
here's a crying female and I'm a protective male type, so I dropped onto
one knee before her and gathered her into my arms.

   Now she was sobbing.  Man, I know how to fix things, I told myself.

   "Now you feel sorry for me AND you think I'm a stupid deluded slut," she
said through sobs.

   "No, not even close, angel," I said.  "I honestly meant to maintain my
distance, let us be friends, help you out on your way into adulthood..."

   "And I ruined it all," she sobbed.  "Because I was stupid and romantic
and had all these ideas..."

   "What ideas?"

   "That if we spent enough time together, you'd decide you NEEDED..." and
she sobbed some more.

   I seriously should have taken a class in consoling crying women, because
I could have probably gotten a better idea to use right now than the one I
used.  I brushed my lips across her cheek, catching the errant tear.

   She sort of relaxed into my arms, still sobbing.  "Jay, I don't want
your pity."

   "Lena, first, you're my best friend.  What sort of friend wouldn't try
to console his friend if she was having a crisis?"

   "What's second?" she whimpered.

   "I'm old, you're young..."

   "I know how old you are, Jay."

   "But..."

   She pulled her face back a bit.  I started to let go of her but she
shook her head.  "No.  It needs to be this close."

   We gazed at each other for a moment, our faces only inches apart.

   "Remember when you stayed at your Dad's right after your divorce?"

   "Yeah."

   "Your mom had been gone a year.  Your dad loved having you there.  I
came over almost every day, because that's what we'd worked out.  I'd come
over, vacuum, do laundry, just help him with the house.  You sort of took
some of my work, but I still came over.  The three of us used to sit on the
porch in the evening and talk."

   "I know.  Helped me get over the divorce."

   "I remember talking to just you.  Your dad was in his garden."

   "You asked how I was dealing with the divorce.  What I liked that made
me marry 'er, what happened."

   "I was awfully nosy.  But I was learning about you." She let the corners
of her mouth turn up just a tiny bit.  If she's keeping score, she thinks
she's gaining.  "I kept it all locked away.  Didn't know what I was
supposed to do with it..."

   "You were fourteen, Lena..."

   "And I didn't know if I was supposed to apply what I got from you and
what I got from talking with your dad, if I was supposed to apply that to
some undetermined male in my future, or what."

   I kept listening.  I think that's what she expected.

   "Nobody showed up.  Friends in high school.  None of 'em.  Church guys.
None of 'em.  I was just content to visit with your dad and do an
occasional evening with a gang of friends, but I was waiting and I didn't
know why I was waiting.  I just knew that trying to force the situation
would land me in one of those bad scenes that a lot of people get into,
especially foolish girls in my age group.  You know ...  pregnant, no
husband ...  or a husband that's not a family man." She sighed.  "I miss
your dad.  My good, good friend.  You showed up, and it was just like you
were supposed to slide into that 'good friend' position for a while, and
then after a while I sort of thought I understood what was going on."

   "What was going on?"

   "You and I were talking almost every night.  I thought you REALLY liked
me..."

   "I really do," I said.

   "I'm glad, but let me finish..."

   "Uh, Lena, can I move?  I'm getting a cramp in my leg..." I was still
kneeling before her.

   "Only if you get comfortable and still hold me."

   "Okay." Oh, boy, Jay.  What are you doing?  I knew what I was doing, at
least I thought so.  I got up, scanned the room.  Two beds.  A dresser with
a TV on it.  An occasional chair with an ottoman.  I headed for the chair.

   Now, think about this.  If you're kneeling in front of somebody sitting
on the foot of the bed, it's easy to put your arms around them.  Sitting in
that chair, though...

   I don't know if she thought about it or WHAT she thought, but she simply
backed up to the arm of the chair and sat back, landing in my lap and in my
arms.  Bad, bad, bad...

   "Arms.  Put your arms around me and hold me.  I'm very sad and
distraught."

   "And you're playing me like a trout, now..."

   "No, I'm really not.  Jay ...  This last week ...  You know how much
time we spent together?"

   "A lot," I admitted.

   "Yes.  Is it going to surprise you when I tell you it was the best week
of my whole life?"

   "You flatter me."

   "Truth, Jay," she said seriously.  She connected our eyes together
again.

   "Always, Lena."

   "What did you think about it?  Was it fun?  Enjoyable?  Satisfying?"

   "Made me very uncomfortable."

   Her face fell.  "Oh, Jay, I'm sooooo sorry..."

   "You didn't let me finish, Lena.  I was uncomfortable because I had so
much fun."

   "And that made you uncomfortable?"

   "Lena, you are the forbidden fruit."

   "Why did you think I was forbidden?"

   "Oh, come on, Lena.  Forty.  Eighteen.  You're standing at the door to
your future.  I'm halfway through mine.  I don't know if I could begin to
keep up with you."

   "You kept up with me today.  We hiked a couple of miles up the levee and
back."

   "That's not exactly what I meant."

   "Oh ...  the 'sex' thing.  I heard that men worry about that a lot."

   "I've heard horror stories of guys who married girls a bit too young,
Lena.  Women reach their sexual peak in their thirties.  Men are way into a
downhill slide by that point."

   "So marriage is all about sex," she stated.

   "Hey, wait!  How'd we get on the subject of marriage, anyway?"

   Giggle.  "You brought the subject up."

   "This is the strangest conversation I ever had." I looked.  She's
smiling.  "You think you've won."

   "I would hope you'd think we both won."

   "Lena..."

   "Jayyyy," she said softly.  "I wanted to be here.  The trip.  This room.
Whatever else happens."

   "Lena," I countered, "It appears that the rules are changing."

   "Rules?  What rules?"

   "The rules about sleeping in the same bed, the whole 'make sure you're
fully clothed', that sort of thing."

   She squealed, "Ten minutes ago you were ready to haul me home.  Now
we're SLEEPING together?  Boy!"

   I stuttered, "But ...  you..."

   "Don't get crazy.  We might..." she was smiling now.

   "You think you've won."

   Still smiling.  "I didn't even know we were playing a game."

   "Be careful of what prize you select, cutie."

   "You call me cutie," she smiled.

   "Well, you are.  And I can say it more now."

   "You really were afraid..."

   "Lena," I admitted, "I almost talked myself out of this.  I thought that
the temptation would be more than I could handle.  You looked so happy and
expectant about it, especially when we started talking about this trip..."

   "I was reading something in you."

   "Something that I wouldn't admit to myself.  Are you sure?"

   She didn't verbalize an answer.  Her lips met mine.  I don't think
Lena's done a lot of kissing.  Her lips were soft, moist, though, and they
were THERE.  Mine spread a little, letting the tip of my tongue brush her
lips.  They parted.  Tongues touched, the kiss deepened, lengthened. 
Finally, we parted.

   "Oh, gosh, Jay ...  That's how that's supposed to be." She wiggled into
me closer.  Another kiss, initiated by her.  My hand stroked her hair,
caressed her face.  Her 'mmmmmm' resonated into the kiss.  When that kiss
ended, she had beads of sweat on her brow.

   "I'm on fire, Jay," she said.

   "Me, too.  That's the dangerous part."

   She put her head on my shoulder.  "L-word," she said.

   "L-word back at you."

   "Really?" she squeaked.

   "'Fraid so.  Wasn't supposed to happen.  Was there.  Was supposed to
suppress it and fight periods of blue funk about it."

   "Don't," she said.  "We're good friends, okay.  Good friends take care
of each other.  Empathize.  Support." And she sat back, slapped my
shoulder. "You sweated today.  You need a shower.  So do I.  I'll go
first."

   Was a smallish shower in the hotel room, anyway.  If things progressed,
I'd like to get into the shower with Lena, and now I was feeling a lot less
guilty about entertaining the thought.

   I heard the shower stop, the sounds of teeth getting brushed, then the
door opened and she bounded out, clad in a long nightshirt, carrying a hair
dryer in one hand.

   "I'll dry my hair out here so you can get your shower, 'kay?"

   "Thank you," I said.  I surveyed the creature plugging the dryer in. 
Well, that told me the expected level of clothing for the evening.  I don't
know what I was expecting, like maybe she'd come out of the bathroom naked.

   Now there's a thought.  I grabbed my shaving kit and a newly purchased
pair of pajamas and hit the bathroom for my own purposes, finishing up with
a shave and a splash of aftershave.

   She giggled when I walked out.  "Those pajamas are brand new, aren't
they?"

   "Yeah."

   Another titter.  "You bought 'em so you wouldn't be indecent around me,
right?"

   I nodded.

   "So noble, Jay.  Is what I'm wearing decent enough?" She spread her
arms. Sitting cross-legged on the bed, everything was covered under a layer
of cotton knit fabric.

   "Yes.  Quite nice."

   "Should I have bought one of those lacy negligees?"

   "If that's YOUR thing.  I personally hate them."

   "I thought they're supposed to be all kinds of sexy and alluring."

   "Maybe to some guys.  I'm wired differently."

   "Just like the 'makeup' thing, I guess," she said.  We'd had that
discussion over a meal together when she remarked about a particularly
noteworthy production of a woman assembled with great care from the heels
to the coiffure, with appropriate blotches and streaks in between.

   "So I don't need to go buy makeup now?"

   "Huh?"

   "Remember?  We talked.  You said you were wired differently about
makeup. And negligees.  So I can just wear this and no makeup, right?"

   "And you're beautiful..."

   "Nobody ever told me I'm beautiful, Jay."

   "You are."

   "Then maybe you oughtta bring your pajama-clad self over here and kiss
me."

   "That's dangerous."

   "Why?"

   "Same bed..."

   "I invited you."

   "Kissing."

   She smiled.  "I think I LIKE kissing."

   "It's pretty popular," I said, crawling towards her.

   Probably would have been better if she didn't wrap her arms around me
and rock backward, pulling me halfway atop her.

   "You're making this very hard, Lena..."

   Her eyes laughed with a new-found light.  "Oh.  Is that what THAT is?"

   "That's a horrible, horrible pun, and I am trying to be a nice guy and
that thing has almost no conscience."

   "That bad, huh?"

   "And it draws the blood supply from my brain so I can't think straight."

   She took advantage of my proximity to shut off my soliloquy with a kiss,
then, "It's okay, Jay.  At least I don't totally disgust you."

   "You're nowhere near disgusting.  That's part of the problem."

   "Why is it a problem, Jay?  We can be silly and happy and..."

   "And I don't know if I can handle that, Lena.  I fall pretty hard."

   "So fall for me."

   "But six months from now, you decide on greener pastures..."

   "I don't think I'm that 'greener pasture' kind of girl, Jay.  Do you
really?"

   "I don't want a typical teenager, Lena."

   "Jay.  Seriously.  Have I EVER acted like a typical anything, that you
know of?  Did your dad ever say that?  All the times we talked for an hour
in the evening, did I come off that way?"

   "No."

   "That's data, Jay.  You didn't come off like a middle-aged lecher with
your dick hanging out, either."

   "It gets sunburnt when I do that," I quipped.

   She slapped me playfully.  "Stoppit!  You're making fun of me."

   "I'm making fun WITH you.  There's a difference."

   She pulled my face to hers.  Searing kiss.  Lena learns fast.  "I think
I'm really going to like making fun with you, Jay." She wiggled herself
further underneath me.

   "Lena..."

   "Playing around, Jay."

   "Feels serious, little girl."

   Kiss.  "I'm not a little girl, Jay.  I'm eighteen.  I know girls my age
that have three kids, that are on their second marriage..."

   "That's them, Lena.  You're my little girl."

   "I can live with that, up to a point." Wiggle.  "But I want to FEEL,
Jay..."

   "Oh god, Lena, don't tease me..."

   "We're making out, Jay.  Kissing.  Hugging." She wiggled again.  I know
she feels my erection pressing against her.  "Just making each other feel
deliciously hot and bothered.  I know I am.  I know you are..."

   "Uh, one little thing, Lena."

   Kiss.  "What's that?"

   "Usually, when two people make out, there's an end point.  Both of them
retire to their respective corners and cool off until the next encounter.
We don't seem to have that option here."

   "I know of other outcomes," she said.

   "I'm trying hard..."

   So help me, she giggled again, and wiggled against me, just for effect.

   "Lena..."

   "Jay, this is all new to me.  I've heard of girls who've had much worse
experiences."

   "L-word, Lena.  It's not about me and my immediate desires..."

   She smiled.  "L-word, and who has a say over MY immediate desires?  But
okay.  Let's cool off.  Let's see what's on TV.  Do you think you can lie
in bed beside me without frothing at the mouth?"

   "I guarantee I can do that," I said, tossing the TV remote to her. 
"Find something calming."

   She scrolled through the station menu, let out a little giggle, then
said, "This one."

   I recognized the title.  Romantic comedy.  Chick flick.  Okay.  She's
still playing the game.

   "Okay," I said.  I got up, retrieved a couple of pillows off the other
bed, propped up to watch, felt her re-arrange herself very closely beside
me.

   Wasn't a movie channel.  That meant commercial breaks.  At the first
one, she twisted around.  "This is good."

   "What?  The movie?"

   "No.  Being here with YOU."

   "That part is very good." I noted that her free hand was roaming over my
chest.

   "So.  Hairy chest?"

   "Lena?"

   "Never mind.  I'll just get you to go to the pool with me tomorrow
evening, then I'll see..."

   "Seeing's not the issue, little girl."

   She smiled.  "Uh-huh." Her fingers inserted themselves between the
buttons of my pajama top.  Giggle.  "Hairy.  Good."

   "Oh god, Lena..."

   A kiss on my cheek.  "Hush and watch the movie." As her fingers
unbuttoned my top.

   Okay.  She sets the limits.  It feels good to be touched.  She rolled
back to watch the movie.  I was anticipating the next commercial.

   It came on.  The new car shown on TV disappeared behind the blonde hair
of the girl kissing me.  I went with it.  Kissed back with all my heart, my
arms drawing her as close as she seemed to want.  I caressed her head as we
kissed.  That took care of one hand.  The other started at the small of her
back, went up, back down.  Lower.  Luscious curve.  No adverse indications
from the owner.  In fact, she pushed herself more on top of me.

   Self-control.  I need some.  She needs some.  SOMEBODY in this room
needs some, and there isn't any to be found.





   Chapter 6

   "Lena, you're entirely too lovely," I gasped.  I desperately wanted to
get my hands on the feminine form molding itself against me, but I just
couldn't get over the hurdle.  Conscience.  Morals.  And I'm tangled up
with a sweet thing in a nightshirt and I just can't get myself to think
that I should see how far I could get because I know she's swept up in the
moment and what's okay right now with two sets of raging sex drives could
well lead to regret when the rush subsided.

   Naturally that meant that when she moved more atop me, my arms dragged
her into wonderfully arousing contact.

   Like I needed more arousal at this stage of the game.

   There was a break in the kissing.  My Lena's face, bright-eyed, inches
from my own.

   "Oh, Jay..." she sighed.

   "Lena," I replied.  I didn't have a lot of blood supply freed up to
facilitate thought processes at the moment, as evidenced by my hands
cupping the rounded cheeks of her ass.

   At first, she moaned assent, her lips meeting mine, her hips pushing
against me.

   Then...  "Oh, god, Jay ...  Too much.  Too much.  Too soon..." and she
rolled sideways.

   "Oh god, this is ALL my fault ...  I teased you..." she cried.  Cried.
As in 'tears'.

   She'd been the one to stop and now I had no idea as to what to do about
it.  I couldn't let her blame herself, but how did I comfort her?  My
options - leave her to herself, letting her assign blame to HER actions, or
just try and comfort her?  I chose the second option, gently, almost
tentatively putting my arms around her, just holding her as she sobbed.

   "I'm ...  I'm not a bad girl, Jay ...  I'm not.  This is all first
time..."

   "It's okay, Lena.  We both got carried away.  If I need to let you have
your own room, I can do that..."

   "Noooooo," she sobbed.  "But I..." she drew in a deep breath.  "Jay ...
I need to think..."

   "Okay.  You go ahead and think.  Do you want to be held while you think,
or should we retire to neutral corners?"

   "No.  Hold me.  Just like this.  Well, maybe if we could just lay back a
little.  On pillows."

   We nestled comfortably.  I held her gently, no roaming hands, no
thrusting hips, nothing.  Not that I didn't think about it.  Or not think.
On a purely physical level, those motions would have been pleasurable.

   Okay, I did succumb to the desire to touch her hair, idly playing with
the ends where they curled near the curve of her jaw.

   Silent.  Let her decide when to talk.

   Finally, soft voice.  "Jay?"

   "Yes, my Lena."

   "Why do you say 'my Lena'?"

   "Because you're my best friend.  And..."

   "And more?  More than just friends?"

   "'Fraid so.  Makes all this very complex to me."

   "Me, too.  You're my friend, you know.  Closest.  Very closest.  I
never, ever want to lose that, Jay."

   "What makes you even entertain the thought that you could lose that?"

   "If you think I'm not who you thought I was..."

   "Okay, little dove," I said, "What do I think you are?"

   "Innocent.  Not terribly disgusting to look at.  Reasonably
intelligent."

   "Uncorrupted.  Cute and desirable.  And smart."

   "Really, Jay?"

   "Really.  Whole different set of issues.  I mean, two guys with a common
interest, that's one thing, but a guy and a girl, and there's some physical
attraction between them, that's another set of issues."

   She shook her head.  "I don't want there to be issues, Jay," she told me
softly, "But ...  L-word."

   "I'll say it, Lena.  Love.  Okay?"

   "Me?"

   "Yeah.  Tragic, ain't it?"

   "Tragic?" she gasped.

   "Mmm-hmm.  I made you cry.  Not exactly what I was going for."

   "Jay, truth, okay?  Were you going for this when you started?"

   "This what?"

   "This 'get Lena in a hotel room and go nuts with 'er'.  That 'what'."

   "Assuredly not." I sighed.  "This is what I wanted NOT to happen.  I
thought 'me and my best friend, doing that history thing'.  Period."

   "That's what I thought, too.  I hoped you didn't have an ulterior
motive."

   "I'm pretty simple, Lena.  Really.  Motive?  You happy.  Me happy.  Life
goes on."

   She'd stopped the tears.  Actually moved against me, although nowhere
near the heated move from earlier.  "Jay, you and me.  Life goes on.  I
didn't mean to lead you on."

   "Baby," I said.  Her eyes sparked when she heard me say it.  "We're male
and female and I'm attracted to you and apparently you're attracted to me
and neither of us had to lead anything."

   "It's supposed to mean something.  Every step of the way, it's supposed
to mean something.  Right up to where we were..."

   "Where were we, Lena?"

   "Very close to a place where there's no turning back." She turned her
face down.  "And that means something.  It really does."

   "It should, Lena.  I guess I got used to the idea that's popular today,
that it doesn't mean something special."

   "I know all about hooking up and serial partners and 'it's just
physical' and all that and maybe if I wasn't Lena, I could believe that. 
But I'm me, Jay.  I get to be me.  And I get to think that it means
something."

   "You've never..."

   She shook her head.  "Closest I ever came was tonight.  You kissed me,
we kissed, I felt it all through my body.  Jay, it was more than I was
ready for.  I lost it.  Almost..."

   "I know.  I was there, remember..."

   "So I was..."

   "You were Lena, ever so desirable and exciting.  I almost lost track of
the fact that you're my Lena, best friend and person whom I'm supposed to
protect, not take advantage of."

   "You weren't taking advantage, Jay."

   "One of us is supposed to be watching for traps, Lena."

   "Yes, I suppose."

   "The way you kiss me, it's a trap."

   "Love, Jay.  You and me.  It's the first time I've been in love and I
don't know what I'm doing."

   "Not like there's an instruction book, Lena.  I thought I knew once. 
Apparently my version and her version didn't match."

   "Did she read with you, Jay?"

   interesting thought.  I ran through the list of memories.  Didn't come
up with 'reading together'.  Had several clips of 'What are you gonna do?
Read all afternoon?' "No," I replied honestly.

   "I will read with you.  Just like I walked with you.  Just like tomorrow
we will visit the battlefield and you'll notice something and I will
understand."

   "That's the Lena I was expecting," I said.  "The Lena with the soft lips
and the sighs ...  I wasn't expecting that one."

   "You don't have to deal with her," Lena said.

   "I didn't mean that I didn't like her."

   She smiled a little.  "I guess I liked being that Lena, too.  But ... 
Jay.  I wasn't teasing you.  We just can't..."

   "I understand."

   "Do you really, Jay?  I mean, you've probably done that a lot, with a
bunch of different women.  You're the first guy whose tongue's been in my
mouth.  First guy who touched me like that.  First guy I FELT..."

   "You felt what I felt..."

   "I suppose I did.  I don't know how I stopped.  We would have mated."

   "Mated."

   "Yes.  That's what it REALLY means."

   "It doesn't mean that to a lot of people."

   "It does, to me," she said.  She watched my eyes.  "Bad part is, YOU
understand."

   "How do you know I understand?"

   "Because I know you.  I know you after your divorce.  I know that it was
a violation of you that SHE didn't think that."

   "I sort of knew that much about her before we got married," I said.  "I
thought she and I had something different."

   "That's what two people are supposed to have.  Something different."

   She giggled.

   "Now you're laughing."

   "Yeah.  We're adults with morals.  How novel."

   "Lena..."

   "I know.  It's who we are.  But Jay?"

   "Yes?"

   "It was VERY good.  For me, I mean."

   "Oh, gee, Lena ...  You had me at a hundred and ten percent."

   She smiled.  "Us stopping, that doesn't mean that I don't want you to
kiss me any more.  Or hug.  You have no idea how much I wanted to be
hugged."

   "So you mean..."

   She answered my question by the expedient of covering my mouth with
hers. This time when our lips parted, she smiled at me.

   "I love you, Jay," she said.  "But we have limits.  I am not about to
skip town one night and end up in your bed the next.  We will be friends,
just like we were friends before.  Let this relationship grow."

   "Lena, that is just plain weird."

   "I know, but such are the rules.  I can't let myself, Jay.  Not until
something says that we are correct for each other."

   "Until then..."

   "Stop worrying and kiss me some more."

   What movie?  And try reading when your partner is subject to roll over
and plant a good one on your lips.

   Still, we have plans for tomorrow and there comes the time when the
lights go out and you try to get some sleep.

   "A kiss goodnight?" I asked.

   She smiled.  "You know it, Jay." She slid over to my bedside, crawled
over me, kissed me.  "I do love you, you know."

   "I love you too, Lena.  We'll figure this out."

   She slid back to her bed, pulled the covers up as I watched, then she
turned out the table lamp.

   Sleep didn't come.  I tossed and I turned for what seemed like hours.  A
glance at the clock, though, told me differently.  I normally go right to
sleep.  Today, tonight really, was just too much shock to my head.

   I lay on my back, trying to will myself into slumber.  I could hear the
faint rustle of covers in the bed next to me, telling me I wasn't the only
one suffering.

   Finally, a soft voice.  "Jay?"

   "Nnn-hnn..."

   "You're not asleep either."

   "No."

   "I know what's wrong.  Don't misread this." I felt the cool air hit me
as the covers were raised and she slipped under them next to me.

   "Lena..." I didn't know if I have that much self-control, but I didn't
want to disappoint Lena.  She snuggled into me.

   "We were closer than this, earlier, Jay.  Maybe this will let me sleep."

   "What about this?" I asked, turning towards her, enveloping her in my
arms.

   "Mmmmm.  Even better." A little kiss, then she buried her face into my
chest.

   Yes, sleep came.  There was something about the innocence of her action
that allowed me to drift off, like I was already into a pleasant dream
state, the sweet smell of her fragrant hair filling my thoughts.

   We parted during the night, naturally.  I semi-woke when I rolled over a
time or two, woke a couple more times when she repositioned herself,
finding me, fitting against me.

   It would've been easy to get VERY aroused, but somehow that wasn't what
happened.  When she finally woke up, she scooted up, kissed me.

   "I really slept good, Jay."

   "Me, too."

   "I hope I didn't tease you all night."

   "No.  You just sort of made things work right.  Like..." I wanted to say
'like you're supposed to be there', but I didn't.  " ...  just really
comfortable and caring."

   Her eyes took an enigmatic cast.  "Yeah," she said with a gentle smile.
"Like that.  Let's go find breakfast."

   We tidied ourselves up, got dressed, grabbed cameras and a daypack and
left the room.  We bypassed the free breakfast offered by the hotel for one
at a little local diner up the road, enjoying fresh coffee while we waited
for our plates to arrive.

   "Honest answer, Jay," Lena said, her eyes boring into

   "Always, Lena.  Or if I don't want to answer, I'll tell you..."

   "Last night.  Did you stop because I'm not that pretty?"

   "Are you SERIOUS?!?"

   "Yes."

   "Lena, it was only the utmost amount of self-control ...  when we first
kissed, when we first curled up together ...  You're beautiful.  Things
that make you desirable, they're more than looks."

   "So I m not physically repugnant?"

   "No.  Definitely not.  And dredging up 'repugnant' is one example of the
OTHER reasons."

   "Then why did you stop?"

   "Because YOU said 'stop'.  And YOU are more important to me than my
urges of the moment.  The physical part..."

   I stopped talking when the waitress showed up with our plates.  When she
left, Lena's eyes laughed.  "Saved by the bell, you think?  Jay, you're
going to explain all this to me."

   "What was I supposed to do?  Force you?"

   "Did you want to?"

   "In about the worst way.  I'm a normal male.  You, my dear, are a
delectable dish of a female.  However, you and me, we're embarking on a
journey together and I didn't want to start it by physically assaulting
you."

   "Why?"

   "Aside from the fact that doing so would have been rape, I enjoy all the
OTHER parts of you and I don't want to lose those parts, either."

   "Eat your biscuit.  That's a pretty good answer," she smirked.

   "Thank you."

   We spent the rest of the day, just as we'd planned, touring the
Vicksburg battlefield, guidebook in hand.

   Pictures.  Lots of pictures.  Best one of the day, in my eye, anyway,
was of Lena standing atop a battlement, looking away, the sunlight catching
her breeze-swept hair blowing back from her face, a profile.

   Snack for lunch, plans for a good meal for dinner, then finally tired
and full, we returned to the hotel room.

   "Trade you," she said.

   "Trade me what?"

   "Foot rubs.  After we shower.  You rub my feet, I'll rub yours."

   "Perfect trade," I said.  "Who's first into the shower?"

   "Me," she said.

   Left me sitting in the easy chair, trying to read, instead imagining
things I shouldn't imagine, things going on in a steamy shower involving an
intriguing blonde.  I kept going back to my book, to little relief.

   Finally the door opened, bringing a whiff of fragrance as she strode
out.

   "You didn't dry your hair."

   "No.  That dryer, too often, I'll get scorched.  When you finish your
shower, whatever towels are left, I'll use them."

   "I have learned something," I chuckled.

   "That's what I'm here for," she chortled back.

   My own shower was extended for a couple of minutes as a soapy hand took
care of what I thought was entirely too much pent up pressure.  I'm quick,
though.  Primed.  I get out of the shower, shave, brush my teeth, get
dressed in pajamas, then exit, bringing an unused bath towel with me.  Lena
looks up and I toss it to her.

   "Thank you," she said.

   I knelt at the foot of her bed, grabbed a pink foot and started
kneading. She flopped backward onto her pillows.

   "Oh, god, that feels good..."

   I allowed my hands to travel up her calves but no further.  When I
stopped...  "Do you mind if I just sort of absorb all that, Jay?  I'll keep
my end of the bargain.  I promise.  But this is soooo good."

   "Okay," I said, rising.  I turned towards my own bed.

   "No.  Right here," she told me, patting the bed beside her.

   I can't pass that up.  After all, I LIKE Lena on so many levels, and
based on our last night's slumber, there's an aspect of physical contact
that we both find pleasant that stops well short of sex.  That's what I'm
thinking is happening now.

   Okay, she's a little more playful than when we're in in bed for the
purposes of sleeping.  Last night, the last thing I remember before she
went silent in my arms was a sigh, then the sweet warmth of her presence.
Today, there's a playful giggle, the eyes twinkle, and there's a quick
kiss, followed by a questioning look.

   I kiss her back, feel her soft lips mold to my mouth, her tongue
dancing. I can't help myself.  I pull her close, my hand touching the
dampness of her water-darkened hair.

   "I should've ran away with you last Christmas, Jay," she whispered. 
"Finished school while you worked."

   "Couldn't, Lena.  I don't think I could live with you that long
without..."

   Giggle.  "Maybe ...  That's what we're supposed to be doing when we
start working, right?"

   "Right."

   "You said we could."

   "We can.  As long as you keep saying 'no'."

   "Oh, then it's on me, huh?" She showed her concern by kissing me.

   "I'll try to be good, Lena.  I didn't know what being close to you would
do."

   "Mmmmmm," she kissed.  "Like this?"

   "Exactly like that."

   "But you smell good," she said.  "I wanna get close to you and just
breathe..." Her face moved, putting her lips nuzzling my neck below my ear.

   "Oh, god, Lena..."

   "And there's another thing..." she whispered, fastening her mouth to my
neck with gentle suction.

   "You're too much..."

   "Am I?"

   "You are."

   She pulled up, putting us nose to nose.  "Okay.  I'll be good.  Does
that really affect you?"

   I demonstrated by gently teasing my lips around her neck.  Her hands
clasped my head.  She squealed.

   "Good lord!  It does." She giggled, grabbed the TV remote.  "Movie.  I
need a distraction."

   "You ARE a distraction."

   "I know.  I wasn't going to be.  That's what I told myself.  I said,
'Lena, he's your friend.  He's doing you a favor.  It's a good thing. 
Don't mess it up by reading anything more into it'."

   "I was holding the same thoughts.  So now what?"

   "Nothing wrong with this," she said, "Don't you think?  I mean, kissing,
cuddling..."

   "Very friendly."

   "No, Jay.  More than friendly.  L-word, remember?"

   "I do remember, Lena.  I cherish that thought."

   Her forehead bumped mine, her eyes an inch away.  "Do you really?  I
mean, you've been married.  You've dated.  You've had relationships.  I'm
hopelessly..."

   "Undamaged."

   "That's not what I was going to say."

   She clicked the remote, finally landing on a movie that looked
half-interesting.  I snatched pillows from my bed to add to hers, creating
a lounge for the two of us.  We started watching the movie, talking about
its premise, the looks of the characters.

   It wasn't a premium movie channel, so we had to contend with commercial
breaks.  I finally grabbed my iPad to read while I spent half my attention
on the movie.

   "I do that, too.  Mom thinks it's strange."

   "I'm surprised you don't think it's strange."

   "I do it, too."

   "You said that."

   "I know.  But you wouldn't mind if I..."

   "No.  What'd you say about us reading together?"

   "I remember that.  I did that last night, got kissed in the middle of
it."

   Giggle.  "You're subject to get kissed in the middle of it again."

   "Didn't say it was a bad thing."

   Movie.  Read.  About the next two commercial breaks, she rolled over,
putting her book on the bed behind her.

   "I'm about to be kissed, huh?" I asked.

   "Yeah, if you can stand it."

   "I suppose." Giggle made the kiss all the sweeter.  Her hand, though,
fumbled with the buttons on my pajama top.

   "What are you doing?"

   "Unbuttoning this.  A guy's bare chest, not supposed to be big deal,
huh? You go swimming without a shirt, don't you?"

   "Yeah, but..."

   "Am I missing something?"

   "Sensitive..."

   "Really?  I thought that since guys went without shirts, it was no big
deal ...  touching..." she said as her hand snaked inside.

   "Last night..." I started.

   "I just checked to see if you had a hairy chest.  I wanna see it..."

   "My chest.  Lena, if I said I wanted to see YOUR chest..."

   "Girls're different." She worked the last button loose and I was
powerless to stop her.  She curled her fingers, dragging a path across my
pecs, avoiding (Thank god!) my nipples.  "Neat.  Jay, you have a nice
chest."

   "Thank you.  You're killing me."

   "Oh, I'm just ...  The hair.  Sensations.  It's a 'touch' thing..."

   "Talk about..."

   "No, I mean, it's a touch thing to me.  New feelings.  Exploring..."
More tracing.  "If it's too much, I'll stop..."

   "Oh god..."

   "Want me to stop?"

   I shook my head.

   "Good," she grinned.  "I sort of like this.  And this..." And the thing
planted her cheek on my chest, rubbing.

   I could have screamed and made her stop, maybe just asked her to stop,
but what I actually did was stroke her head, enjoying her as she seemed to
be enjoying me.

   The movie came back on and she rolled away, leaving me almost gasping.
My pajama bottoms were tented up, obviously so.  If she noticed, and she
could hardly avoid noticing, she ignored it.

   I didn't ignore it.  I covered it with a pillow, trying to make it look
like a random movement.

   Didn't work.  She giggled.  "I know what that is, Jay."

   "Well, first, it's YOUR fault, and second, I'm trying NOT to be
obvious."

   "It's okay.  I get that way.  It's just less obvious.  I need to cool
off too, you know."

   "Watch the stupid movie."

   Giggle.

   "Lena..."

   "Okay."

   We watched until the next commercial break, then she turned to me,
propping up on an elbow.  "Wanna know something?"

   "Is it going to kill me?"

   "No, silly."

   "Okay."

   "That's the first time I actually CAUSED one."

   "Baby, it shouldn't be a surprise.  And it's not the first.  When you
kissed me last night..."

   "It's the first.  Not 'this time is the first'."

   "I told you.  Physically attractive."

   "Flat-chested.  Angular."

   "Angel.  Perfectly..."

   "My face.  My nose..."

   "Cute.  Desirable..."

   "If you kiss me, I'll let you win this one," she said.

   So I kissed her.

   "Okay," she sighed.  "I'll allow you your delusions.  If you want to
think I'm pretty..."

   "Pretty.  Beautiful.  Cute.  Alluring.  Desirable." She silenced me with
a kiss again.  While we were kissing, she grabbed the corner of my
protective pillow and yanked it aside.

   "Lena..."

   "Stop fighting with me, Jay."

   "Well..."

   "Well, nothing.  I know a little about those..."

   "Played 'doctor'?"

   "Never.  But I helped Mom and Dad with Denny all his life, and he ... 
matured.  He needed help dressing sometimes.  I saw it.  Just natural, you
know ...  He didn't mean anything by it flopping around.  Or when it got
stiff."

   "Did you ever, you know..."

   "Play with it?  Gosh no!  He was my brother.  And you know, mentally
challenged."

   "Kids explore."

   "I babysat.  I know the general conformation of the all the appropriate
appurtenances."

   "Appropriate appurtenances," I repeated.

   "Yeah.  You know.  But yours, well, I noticed and I know it's my fault,
okay?" The sound changed on the TV.  "Movie!" she stated.

   'Good, ' I thought.  I don't know how much of this I'm supposed to
stand. Is she being this teasingly obtuse, expecting me to roll over, take
her into my arms and ravish her, as my basest instincts want to do?  I
thought about it.  Didn't quite get that vibe.  Here she is, innocent,
playful, she LIKES me.  If I do something stupid, I could ruin ALL of this.
And I don't know what 'stupid' is.

   The movie got more absurd.  We laughed together.  When it was over -
bedtime.

   "Like last night, okay?" she said bashfully.

   "Of course."

   "Like I'm supposed to be here," she said.  "Last night - first time I
slept with an adult since I was a kid."

   "Uh, that wouldn't be quite as impactful if you weren't an adult
yourself."

   "It's not impact, Jay," she said softly.  "We slept last night.  We will
sleep tonight.  Okay?"

   Kiss.  Lights out.





   Chapter 7

   Lena's turn:

   The first night on the road with Jay.  I have no earthly idea what I'm
doing.  I'm lying in my own bed, thinking that I'll just drift off to sleep
but that's not happening.

   My mind is going like somebody tossed marbles into a blender.

   I've done what most people do sooner or later when entering adulthood -
I left Mom and Dad's house.  I'll even acknowledge that for many people
that move involved taking off with a person of the opposite sex with whom
one has a relationship of various different types.

   Jay and I have a relationship of a different type.  You see, I think
he's it.  I love him.  Sort of figured out in the weeks we talked since
Christmas, almost every night.  Christmas presents from Jay were an iPad
and a MacBook and an iPhone, and he put me on his cellular plan.  Darned
right I'm gonna use it to talk with him every evening.

   Friends at school, though, girls I talked with regularly, as soon as I
mentioned my nightly sessions with Jay, well, they thought...

   "Phone sex?  Sexting?" Janine asked with a smirk.

   "It's not that kind of thing, Janine," I replied.  "We're FRIENDS!"

   "Girl, don't give me that," she retorted.  "Older guy.  You're talking
with him every night.  That's waaaay past 'friend'.  So you showin' 'im the
goodies?"

   "No!" I squeaked.

   Left school thinking about it, though.  Careful assessment of my
relationship with Jay.  I definitely know it's a friendship, but it's over
a long distance.

   Every night, though, he talked with me, listening to me prattle on about
school stuff, we had serious conversations about current events, about who
was reading what, about music, food.  Every night I knew a little bit more
about him and he knew a little bit more about me and I knew I was watching
something growing within my mind.  And my heart.

   When Jay came down for graduation, we solidified a plan for my future,
me leaving town with him.  He'd managed somehow to convince people that I
could be a documents clerk on a construction project that he was
engineering.  He offered me a bedroom in his apartment until I could get on
my feet.

   I thought it was cute.  Here he is, thinking that we were going to have
some sort of platonic 'odd couple' thing going, and I'm thinking that
there's a ninety-five percent chance that before we get too far into it,
we're going to be together in every sense of the word.

   Now, you see, it's easy to get all these bright ideas when they're
almost hypothetical.  I mean, Jay's five hundred miles away, working six
days a week, and I can see his face every night and hear his voice, but
it's kind of disconnected.

   Reality set in when he showed up and we actually decided.  I started to
get cold feet.

   Then he warmed my feet up by proposing that he and I do a trip to
satisfy some shared love of Civil War history.  I know ...  Slick devil,
ain't he?  Using history to get me off away from my family.

   So we took off on the trip and here we are in a hotel room together,
having had a truly great day that culminated in...

   Up to this point, I've been kissed.  After tonight, I understand the
meaning of the word 'artless'.  I didn't realize that kissing would affect
my whole body.  I know I affected Jay's body.  It was visible and obvious
and we came very close to losing control right here in this bed.

   Between the two of us, though, we came up with enough brain to stop and
pull back.  Literally.  I pressed against him and I could FEEL him and this
was NOT supposed to happen to me.

   Hypothetical.  All I had was hypothetical knowledge of the way I thought
things were supposed to work between a man and a woman, like they'd give
cogent thought to each step of the path between holding hands and, like in
those old movies, waves crashing on the beach.

   We came (and that's a bad choice of words, I think) close to being
inundated by those waves.  I keep telling myself that I don't want to make
that final move until, as I told Jay, we're sure.  Trouble is, I'm lying on
my back in this bed and I'm pretty sure.  That assurance partly comes from
the fact that he didn't push me any further than I wished to be pushed,
maybe he didn't even push as hard as I WANTED to be pushed.

   'Lena, you have a new view of yourself, ' I thought.  'You totally
failed to understand what you've read and what you've seen in movies and on
TV and what you've heard in all those conversations at school.  You just
found out that there's so much more.'

   I tossed and turned for a while, then, "Jay?"

   "Nnn-hnn," came the reply.

   "You're not asleep, either, are you?"

   "No," he said softly, like he was afraid that speaking loud would
further drive away any hopes for sleep.

   "I know what's wrong," I said.  "Don't misread this." I lifted up the
covers on HIS bed and slid in beside MY Jay.  He started to protest.  "Jay,
we were closer than this a while ago.  Maybe this will let me sleep."

   "How about this?" he said, wrapping me in his arms.

   "Mmmm," I moaned just a little, then pushed up to kiss him.  It was much
better.  I went to sleep with his nose in my hair, breathing me in.

   We slept.  We tossed and turned, naturally, and once or twice I woke
with a start, then realized that this was Jay and I was supposed to be in
this bed.  I went back to sleep every time, and every time either one of us
was facing the other, we held on.  I was snuggling spoon-style into his
back one time, putting my arm around him.  It occurred to me that my hand
...  But no.  Not that night.

   I do so much enjoy getting kissed first thing in the morning.

   We went to breakfast.  I teased.  I know I teased, but I think Jay needs
some gentle guidance.  "Last night, Jay.  Did you stop because you find me
repugnant?"

   He looked shocked.  "There are a lot of things I see in you, Lena. 
Repugnant is not any of them."

   See?!?  I make him admit it.  Verbalize it.

   "So why did you stop?"

   "Because YOU said stop.  And I value everything you already mean to me
above the pleasure we might have enjoyed..."

   Okay.  I don't play fair.  "WE might have enjoyed?  You presume, sir..."
He almost choked on his coffee.

   Our plates arrived.

   "Saved by the bell," I said to him.  Maybe he knows it's a game, too.

   We spent a perfect day doing the Vicksburg battlefield, had a wonderful
dinner and returned to our room.

   I propositioned him.  "Trade you?"

   "Trade me what?"

   "Foot rubs.  After we shower, you rub my feet, I rub yours."

   After that, it seemed completely natural for us to get into some hugging
and kissing and...

   I love the cologne he uses.  I should--I directed him to buy it and he
smells good enough to eat.  I had my face buried between his ear and his
shoulder, just breathing, feeling him, holding him, letting his hands touch
me so lovingly.  Seemed to be just the right spot to kiss, so I did, mouth
slightly open, a little suction, a little lick with the tip of my tongue.
He almost came unglued.

   "God, Lena ...  You're too much..."

   I played innocent.  It wasn't difficult.  I mostly am.  "That really
affects you that much?"

   And he showed me.  His lips, my neck, I felt my whole body start to glow
...  I grabbed his head, not knowing whether to hold him there or to push
him away.  I squealed.

   Too much more of that and I'd be throwing my clothes up in the air.

   I took a deep breath.  "Movie," I blurted.  "We need a distraction."

   "You ARE a distraction," was his reply.

   And I'm very happy with that.

   We slowed down for a while, talked about the L-word we'd said to each
other, then we read and watched TV, stopping to do just enough kissing to
keep the glow going without letting it break into a full-blown
conflagration.

   A commercial break interrupted the movie.  I put my book down.

   "I'm about to be kissed, ain't I?" he asked with a grin.

   "If you can stand it."

   We started kissing.  I started unbuttoning his pajama top.

   "Uh, Lena..."

   "I touched you there last night, Jay.  Just wanna look, okay?"

   "Uh, what if I tried that with YOU?"

   Sanity kept me from just peeling my top off right then and there, but
I'm trying to proceed slowly.  I got his chest exposed, dragged my fingers
through that curly hair, got moans from him.  Learned that this guy's
sensitive to that.  I like it.  I laid my head on his chest, feeling his
wiry hair against it.  The movie came back on and I moved back to my
pillow.

   I noticed that his pajamas were poking waaaay up.  Sexually aroused, was
my Jay.  He put a pillow on top of it.

   "I know what that is, Jay," I said.  "It's okay, you know..."

   "I'm trying not to be obvious."

   "I'm not obvious," I said.

   "It's YOUR fault," he said.

   "I get affected, too.  We need to cool off."

   "Watch the stupid movie," he chided.

   I giggled.

   "Lena..."

   "Okay." I played it to sound a little disappointed.

   We watched until the next commercial break, then I turned back to him.
"Wanna know something?"

   "Is it going to kill me?"

   "No, love."

   "Okay."

   "That's the first time I actually CAUSED one."

   "Baby, it shouldn't be a surprise.  And it's not the first.  When you
kissed me last night..."

   "It's the first.  Not 'this time is the first'."

   "I told you.  Physically attractive."

   "Flat-chested.  Angular."

   "Angel.  Perfectly..." and he touched me, tugged just a little bit and
we were wrapped up, kissing.

   "My face.  My nose..."

   "Cute.  Desirable..." He kissed those.

   "If you kiss me on the lips I'll let you win this one," I said.

   The guy can KISS.

   "Okay," I sighed when we parted...  "I'll allow you your delusions.  If
you want to think I'm pretty..."

   "Pretty.  Beautiful.  Cute.  Alluring.  Desirable."

   I shut him up with another kiss.  While we were kissing, I grabbed the
corner of that stupid pillow and pulled it off him.

   "Lena..."

   "Stop fighting with me, Jay."

   "Well..."

   "Well, nothing.  I know a little about those..."

   "Played 'doctor'?"

   "Never.  But I helped Mom and Dad with Denny all his life, and he ... 
matured.  He needed help dressing sometimes.  I saw it.  Just natural, you
know ...  He didn't mean anything by it flopping around.  Or when it got
stiff."

   Yeah, there before Denny's health took a dive, getting him dressed or
undressed was an adventure.  He'd get erect at the slightest bit of
stimulation.  I know what Denny looked like.  From what I can see, Jay's is
bigger.  And forbidden in a different way than Denny's was.

   "Did you ever, you know..." he asked.

   "Play with it?  Gosh no!  He was my brother.  And you know, mentally
challenged."

   "Kids explore."

   "I babysat.  I know the general conformation of the all the appropriate
appurtenances." I learned that little boys get erect quite often, too, but
I never PLAYED with one.

   "Appropriate appurtenances," he repeated.

   "Movie!" I commanded.

   I think we can do this if we keep exposures limited.  But now I'm
watching the movie and, no, I'm not.  I'm ACTING like I'm watching the
movie, but I'm checking out the phenomenon I created on my Jay.  One of
these days...

   The movie hit a funny stretch and we both laughed.  I looked, the lump
was gone.  It's probably for the better.  When the movie ended, it was time
to go to sleep.

   "Just like last night," I said.

   "Lena Crosby, you're killin' me."

   "Wonderful way to die, don't you think?" I said as I scooted into his
bed.

   Lovely.  I had the room's air conditioner turned down as far as It would
go.  The coolness meant that each other's warmth was welcome.  Wouldn't've
mattered, honestly.  I'd've stuck our sweaty bodies together.  But this is
better.

   We started out with me spooned up in front of him, his arms around me. I
drifted off to sleep with the feel of his even breathing.  During the
night, though, we rolled apart.  I woke up a bit when I needed to roll
over. In the night, he'd rolled away from me, my butt got exposed by the
movement of the covers, and I was a little bit chilly and there's this heat
source breathing softly right there.

   I snuggled up behind him.  I had to put my left arm over him, so I
scooted down a little so it would be around his waist.  I put my arm in
place, gently arranged myself, and there's my hand and ...  One little
squeeze couldn't hurt, right?

   I gently covered that plump lump in his pajamas with my hand, squeezed
very gently, getting its measure.

   It started GROWING!  And his leg straightened.

   I got a little scared.  I'm not ready for this.  I rolled onto my back,
away from Jay.  He didn't move any further, so I imagine he stayed asleep.

   Me, though ...  I replayed that touch.  It's a strange consistency, that
part, and so alive ...  I actually felt it growing in my hand.

   I lay back on my pillow, realizing that I, Angelina Crosby, had that
power over THIS man.  Just being around him, happy, somewhat scantily clad,
kissing, I'd seen him aroused.  And now, in the depths of the night, just a
touch...

   The thought had me tingling, moistening.  My right hand made its way to
my tingling tootie.  I thought I could do myself a little one, relieve the
tension just enough to go back to sleep.

   Fingers.  Two.  One on each side of my button, something I discovered
entirely on my own, my personal gift to me.  Wiggle.  Circle.  Slide ... 
Okay ...  Same two fingers, hunch just a little so I could push them inside
...  then back up and ...  circles.  I had to bite my lip to keep from
squealing.

   OH, god!  Being in bed with Jay makes THAT better.

   I am sooo lost.  I need to bring Jay to my lostness with me.  I don't
want to be here alone any more.

   And now I can roll back behind him and go to sleep.  When I put my arm
over him, his hand covers mine, squeezes, and pulls me closer, and now I'm
wondering how much asleep he really was.  He didn't say anything, though.

   I felt him get out of bed in the morning, heard bathroom sounds, then
the bed moved as he got back into it.  He slid all the way over to me,
wrapped me up, nuzzled me.

   "Lena, do you know that I love you?"

   "Do you really?"

   "Really." His smile is a little bit different.  A detectable difference.

   My turn to go answer the call of nature.  I return.  I expected to find
him half-dressed.  Nope.  Still in bed.

   "Just a few more minutes, doll," he said.

   "You betcha," I giggled.  I slid under the covers.  His hands grasped my
waist, pulling me to him.  I wrapped my arms around his neck.  Our lips
met. Hot!

   Full body contact, his strong hands pulling me to him.  Hot!

   That THING hard, pressing against me, that part of me liquefying.  Past
HOT!

   He kissed me like our faces were melting together.  We parted with a
sigh.  One of his hands, freed from my waist, slapped me playfully on the
butt.

   "Let's get dressed..." he grinned.

   "I don't wanna move..." I languished back, sighing.

   "C'mon.  If I get back in bed with you..."

   "I don't care..."

   "You're Lena, and you DO care..."

   "Oooo-kay, then..." I got up.  "That's better than a cup of coffee,
Jay."

   "Gets MY blood flowing," He laughed.  "You're ...  you're truly a
jewel."

   Okay, so HE thinks he can fire me up like that and get away with it. 
Let's see how the new game is played.

   I laid out my jeans and my blouse and a clean bra on the foot of my bed.
He was digging out jeans and a shirt for himself.  He looked, saw my
clothes.

   Assured that he was looking, I turned my back to him, grabbed the hem of
my nightshirt, and in one swift move, I stripped it over my head.  Now, my
back is to him.  All he can see is me from the rear, clad in panties.

   "Lena!" he managed to squeak.

   "Oh, pooh, Jay.  You can't see anything." I bent over, pants in my
hands, stepped in and pulled them up.  Then I grabbed my bra.  Had it on in
a matter of a couple of seconds, then the blouse ...  I was buttoning it
when I turned back to him.

   Poor Jay.  I play to win.  He's standing there, mouth partly open,
speechless.  The front of his pajamas is poking WAAAAY out.

   I giggled.  "Payback for that last kiss, okay?" And I smiled.

   "You don't play fair."

   "Oh, don't I?"

   He looked directly at me, hooked his thumbs in the waistband of his
pajama bottoms and stripped them off in front of me.  That erection went
down just a little bit, but now it was only hidden by his blue underwear.
Blue, dammit!  He KNOWS that blue's my favorite color.

   Still keeping his eyes on me, he pulls his jeans on.  I don't know if he
deliberately made a big deal of it, but he had to push that THING to get it
into his pants.  He put his belt on, filled his pockets - wallet, pocket
knife, a second knife, he says 'tactical folder', car keys.  Lastly he
pulled a lightweight shirt over his head.

   Grinned at me.  "Still like your game?"

   I realized that my lips were dry.  I licked them.  "Game?"

   He sat down to put his socks and shoes on.  I moved to get past him, got
lassoed by his arms, pulling me onto his lap.  I squealed.  Squealed some
more when his lips hit my neck.

   "Jay!"

   "I don't think I got enough of you, Lena."

   "Mmmm-hmmm," I giggled.  I wiggled free, turned two hundred and seventy
degrees and straddled his lap.  I'd seen the move on TV or something.  Good
time to try it, I thought.

   There was a surprised look on his face that quickly morphed into a
smile.

   "How much of me do you want?"

   "All of you," he said.

   "Be careful what you wish for," I said.

   There's a very bad disadvantage to the position I was in.  Yes, I'm
happily in his arms and I'm above him and I look down into his eyes and if
he turns his face up, it means we kiss.  But just a little bit lower down
on me, a part of me that should NOT be getting stimulated is rubbing
something on him that should not be getting stimulated and I'm getting an
explosion of feelings that, while absolutely wonderful, are going to get me
past the point that either of us has any real control.

   So I kiss him on the nose and jump off.  A deep breath.  And, "We need
to pack up."

   He laughs.  LAUGHS!  "You DO know how to play this game."

   "You, sir, are quite adept yourself.  If this was baseball, we were THIS
close to a bench-clearing brawl." I held my right hand up, thumb a
half-inch from my index finger.

   "Closer than that," he laughed.

   So I'm thinking, YES!  We can laugh about it right now.  But one of
these days...

   And seriously, who else would I choose?  Not a matter of whether, but
when.





   Chapter 8

   Jay's turn:

   Lena likes kissing and hugging and she's very agile and energetic and --
Last night I thought we'd -- We didn't.  God knows I wanted to, but Lena's
precious and if I'm misreading this, I could move her away from me.  I
don't want that.  If she wants to play and tease, then we'll play, and I'll
get teased, and that's just the way it is.

   Then she almost killed me this morning.

   I got out of bed to ease the pressure in my bladder, returned to bed. 
She did the same thing.  When she returned to bedside, I said, "Just a few
more minutes, babe."

   "Sure," she smiled.  Crawled in beside me.  She was just soooo close,
bright-eyed, smiling.  And I KNOW she likes kissing.  Let's see --

   My hands grasped her waist, pulling her to me.  This time, I just did it
- moving my arms to embrace her, pulling her body full length against mine.
Erection?  You better believe.  And I pulled her against it.  I know she
felt it.  Her body was fluid, forming against me.

   Motel room.  Privacy is rather spotty.  Yesterday morning she
disappeared into the bathroom to get dressed.  I got dressed in the room.

   This morning, though, she turned her back to me, peeled that nightshirt
off over her head, leaving her standing in her panties, naked from there
up.

   All I could do was squeak her name.

   "Oh, you can't see anything," she giggled.  GIGGLED!  And she pulled her
pants on, then, still turned away, put on her bra, then the blouse she was
going to wear today.  She was still buttoning it up when she turned back to
me, still giggling.

   "Payback for that last kiss," she grinned.

   "You don't play fair," I said.

   "Oh, I don't?" her eyes flashed sassily.

   Okay, two can play this game.  I hooked my thumbs in the waistband of my
pajama bottoms, staring into her eyes, and I bent, pulling them down to my
feet.  Still looking at her face, I stood up.  I was wearing nothing but
blue briefs.  She likes blue.  Her favorite color.

   I kept watching her face, pulled my jeans up, filled my pockets, pulled
a lightweight shirt over my head.

   "Still like your game?" I queried.

   The little darlin' actually licked her lips.

   I plopped down on the chair to put on my socks and shoes.  She started
past me.  Ain't gonna happen.  I tossed an arm around her waist, pulling
her down into my lap.

   She squealed.  Squealed again when I got my lips on her neck.  "Jay!"

   "I don't think I got enough of you, Lena."

   "Mmmm-hmmm," she said, kissing me, then she bounced, twisted, straddled
me.

   Oh, god -- her jeans.  My jeans.  A couple of pairs of underwear.  All
there was between me and what may very well be nirvana on earth.

   Kissssss.  "How much of me do you want?"

   I looked at those blue eyes.  "All of you."

   "Be careful what you wish for," she said.  We kept on kissing, my hands
roaming, holding her in place, her hands cupping the back of my head, just
to let me know that she wasn't trying to escape my kisses because she was
landing some of her own.

   Down below?  Enough movement to make me hard enough to cut diamonds. 
She HAD to feel it.  My hands moved down her back, landed just below the
waist of her jeans.  She looked at me with a very mischievous grin, kissed
me on the nose and jumped off.

   "We need to pack up," she smirked.

   "You DO know how to play this game."

   "I know lots of things, Jay.  I know that YOU are a dangerous man to be
around."

   "You're kidding me, little blonde-haired girl.  That 'you can't see
anything' move, and I'm the dangerous one?'

   "Yes, YOU.  You think I'd do that if I wasn't badly tempted?"

   "But then --"

   "Oh, it just feels GOOD to feel good with you, Jay.  You.  Me.  I'm
perfectly safe and I'm playing with things I never played with before."

   "Like my heart --"

   "You're healthy as a horse, remember?" she asked.  "You're just barely
middle aged.  You'll survive a little elevated heart rate."

   "The other heart."

   Her face turned serious.  "Jay, I am decidedly NOT playing with that. 
You're my best friend.  I want it to always be that way --" She was packing
her bags.

   I straightened up.  "Death knell.  'We'll ALWAYS be friends --' Just
what a guy needs to hear."

   She looked at me funny.  Stopped stuffing things, stepped up to me,
grabbed my hips, pulling me against her in what she has to know is past a
friendly hug.  "Jay.  More, okay?  Oh, so much more.  But the kissy-kissy
smoochie-smoochie -- Right now, okay?  I, uh --"

   I touched her face.  "You have me."

   "Good.  I want to have you across the breakfast table.  Then on the road
to Chattanooga."

   "See?!?  You just did it again."

   "What'd I do?" she squeaked.

   "Tender moment.  Then totally clinical."

   She smirked.  "Okay, I'll admit to this one.  It's not the time to get
so serious.  I know what you are to me.  You need to understand what I am
to you.  Think about it."

   I thought.  Finished packing.  She and I did a double check to make sure
we had everything, then we hit the parking lot, breakfast being the
immediate goal.  She's looking at Chattanooga on my iPad while we drive.

   Out of the clear blue - "So what am I to you, Jay?  Be honest."

   "I've always been honest with you."

   "Okay.  You see us in bed?"

   "Honest?"

   "Yes.  I wanna know."

   "Says the girl who's been in my bed two nights in a row."

   "You know what I mean."

   "Okay.  I'm male.  Being this close to you, of course I think about
going --"

   "Quick fuck?"

   She'd NEVER used that word before.  It sounded alien coming from her
lips.

   "Anything that you and I did together, for me it would be closer to
'worship' than 'quick fuck.'"

   "Worship?"

   "Yes."

   "You do know that I'm a virgin, don't you?"

   "We never actually talked about it," I said.

   "I am.  That's why we aren't going any further."

   "Good to know --"

   "It's not like that, Jay.  You and me -- I -- You get me going.  I
almost lost it twice this morning.  The first time when you grabbed me when
I got back in bed with you.  That one was YOUR fault.  The second time,
when you and me -- On the chair --" She looked at me hard.  "You're my man,
Jay."

   "Just like that."

   "Yep.  D'ya know that Mom's only been with ONE guy her whole life?"

   "Uh, no.  Not exactly a topic of conversation."

   "She and I had a conversation before I left, Jay.  She admitted that to
me.  Said that what she had with Dad, they built together and it's had to
withstand some storms, and that I'd better have my head on straight because
the sexual revolution - her phrase - leaves a lot of casualties."

   "Mom's advice to her daughter.  She loves you, little darlin'.  She gave
you the best she had."

   She sighed.  "Yeah, I know.  That last week, though, she and I, we were
up and down -- about me leaving.  She wanted me out and independent, but I
really think she has a picture of me being out and independent there in
town where I was on a kind of short leash."

   "Fledgling leaving the nest," I said.  "Stressful time for a mom, I'd
imagine.  She has a good daughter.  Lots of thoughts she was thinking --"

   "Jay, I know a lot of girls in high school that had a lot of guys.  I
wasn't one of 'em.  I don't want to be the girl who has a lot of guys.  I
wanna be like Mom.  At least that part.  I want -- I think I want a career
outside the home, maybe.  But I want ONE husband.  Right now, you and me,
the kissy -- the tease, that's, like, dating.  But that one thing --"

   "You're saving for your husband.  Whoever he is, I wonder if he even
realizes what a rare gem he's going to get."

   "Oh, now you sound sad, Jay.  Don't --"

   "Well, Lena --"

   "What's wrong, Jay?  Did I say something wrong?  Give me an honest
answer --"

   "Lena, I know there's a lot of years between us --"

   "Not that many," she said.

   "What if I wanted to be that guy?" I expected horror.  I expected
derisive laughter.  I got -- her face lit up

   I expected horror.  I expected derisive laughter.  I got -- her face lit
up.  "I knew you'd finally admit it, Jay."

   "I didn't start this trip like this, Lena."

   "Oh, I know, Jay.  Honorable, very conventional Jay.  Moral Jay.  Decent
Jay.  None of those are compatible with bedding some random teen."

   "None of them is compatible with bedding his best friend," I countered.

   "Mom's Dad's best friend," she said.  Her expression - open, honest --
hopeful.

   "What're you saying, Lena?"

   "Gosh, Jay.  Make ME say it.  We said we LOVED each other.  You meant
it, right?"

   "I will mean it until I die, Lena."

   "I said it, too, Jay.  I expected --"

   "What DID you expect, sweetness?  Two days, you KNOW that sparks fly
between us in more ways than you teasing me to the point of distraction. 
Yeah, you're FUN - to talk with, to travel with, to just hang around with.
And you KNOW about the rest."

   "I don't know what I expected."

   "Well, Lena --"

   "Okay.  Ulterior motive.  I sort of fantasized that you'd fall
irretrievably in love with me and sweep me off my feet --"

   "I am irretrievably in love.  I can't do much sweeping while I'm
driving."

   "Don't mock me, Jay.  I'm vulnerable."

   "I know you're vulnerable.  I'm trying to be honorable here, Lena --"

   "Be honorable, then."

   We drove some miles while she paid attention to the iPad.

   "Still honorable, Jay?"

   "It's who I am."

   "Even when you grabbed me this morning and pulled me against you?  I
felt --"

   "I'm honorable.  Not dead.  You're cute, you're fun.  You kiss good. 
And you make me feel good."

   "I got an idea.  I mean, if you want to stay honorable --"

   "What's that?"

   "We'll be in Tennessee this afternoon.  I have my driver's license and
birth certificate and my social security card.  I brought them so I could
start work.  In Tennessee, I can use them to prove my age.  I'm eighteen,
and I can get married in Tennessee without my parents' permission."

   Okay, I'm not dumb.  I believed her when she said 'love'.  I believed ME
when I said 'love'.  Certainly, somewhere in my head I thought this
relationship would move along and at some undetermined day in the future,
marriage might be a result.  This soon, though, this was a cold, wet slap
of reality.

   "Married?  Don't I, like, get to propose first?"

   "You would've sooner or later.  You're too damned honorable NOT to."

   "Lena, I love you," I blurted.  "You're right.  Marry me.  But we don't
have to rush --"

   "Yes we do, Jay.  You don't understand.  You made me sort of come alive,
and I've been right on the edge of just grabbing you and getting your thing
in me --"

   "Lena, I know how good you feel to me, but --"

   "But that's not it at ALL, Jay." She was almost tearful.  "Don't you
see? I love you and I can't STAND it.  I want you to look at me and say
'That's my Lena.' And you can be 'my Jay'."

   "I am your Jay, then.  I can't imagine a better thing to be."

   "And I'm your Lena?"

   "My friend.  My partner.  And my wife." I reached for her hand,
enveloped it in mine.  "You're certainly unconventional, Lena.  More
surprising every day."

   "Jay, I'm nuts.  I thought I could do this with you, this vacation, this
travel, and maintain my sanity and let YOU get desperate for me and get YOU
to initiate things, then let you think you charmed me into it all."

   "That would've worked if I wasn't so -- You kissed me.  You --"

   "I know," she said.  I looked.  The sadness, resignation, apprehension
she had earlier was gone.  She smiled.  "I couldn't help it, Jay.  Too many
night-time phone calls, you and me laughing, talking.  I'd go to sleep with
YOU on my mind."

   "I know the feeling, baby," I said.  "But you're the impossible dream."

   "But you offered me -- If I was impossible -- Why?"

   "A man ought to pursue a dream or two."

   "I'm glad that you chose this dream to chase."

   I smiled.  "You will still be a dream, baby."

   "You're completely serious about this, right?  You don't need more time
to consider --"

   "Nope."

   "You'd marry me today?"

   "Yep."

   "How about tomorrow?"

   "Then, too."

   "Then hang on."

   She picked up her iPhone, looked at the numbers, punched, held it to her
ear.

   "Hamilton County Clerk of Court's office," she said to me, then,
"Hello?" Pause.  "Who do I speak with about a marriage license?" Pause. 
"Yes, we both have all that.  How much?" Pause.  "You take credit cards?"
Pause.  "Perfect.  Now, another question." Pause.  "I read the law.  Is it
possible for the county clerk or somebody there close by to perform the
marriage?" Pause.  "Yes, ma'am.  Simple civil ceremony.  Me.  Him." Pause.
"Before lunch tomorrow would be nice." Pause, then squeal.  A neat little
subdued squeal, but a squeal nonetheless.  "We'll be there.  Thank you
sooooo much."

   She turned to me.  "See?!?  It's just THAT simple.  And then, 'until
death us do part.' And I don't expect you to die any time soon."

   "I may not live through tomorrow night --"

   "You may not live through TONIGHT," she grinned.  "You can deal with the
niceties of legal marriage, but I have a promise and a plan and as far as
I'm concerned --"

   "You know we can wait until after the wedding --"

   She smirked.  "You might think YOU can, but I can't.  You're going to
take me to the first jewelry store we can find, we're gonna buy us each a
ring, and then we're going to find that motel with the room we have
reserved."

   "Wow!"

   "Look, bub," she said.  "You can act all cool 'n' stuff, but I have been
affected.  YOU are my medication.  I fear it's a chronic condition and I'll
need frequent inoculation."

   If you want to change the direction of a conversation, simply have one
participant announce that marriage and sex are in the immediate future, not
necessarily in that order.

   Giggle.  "You stopped talking.  Changing your mind?"

   "You wouldn't be giggling if you thought that," I replied.

   "You're right.  So what ARE you thinking?"

   "How I've fallen --"

   "Fallen?  Like Lucifer from heaven?"

   "Hardly.  And if I worked in that realm, I'd be falling INTO heaven, not
out of it."

   "Mom says marriage isn't all fun and games.  Dad said the same thing."

   "I know.  Divorced, okay?"

   "I remember how hurt you looked, Jay.  I will never do that to you."

   "I would never do that to you, Lena.  But people change."

   "Commitment." She sighed.  "Mom and Dad both said that.  I talked to
them when I talked about the trip.  I don't think Dad thought our trip
would end up here.  Mom sort of did.  Dad said that marriage was not a
goal, it was a commitment, that you had to open every day by looking at
your partner as the very best thing in your life.  My DAD!  And he was
talking about Mom."

   I knew Lena's folks in only a slightly more than passing way.  I never
saw them as anything special, but now I was listening to Lena talk about
them.  I started thinking - these people raised a mentally challenged child
with health issues, kept him, took care of him all his life.  They'd done
the best they could with Lena and her other siblings.  Dad's narrative told
me that they struggled from time to time over finances, but they hung in
there together.

   It was the product of THAT marriage that I was getting.  Or that was
getting me.  I put it down as a plus.

   "My parents were the same way, Lena.  Not as common today."

   "So we'll show 'em."

   "Yes, we will --"

   "So, you thinking about other things?" she asked with a lilt.

   "What kind of other things?"

   "I felt deliciously naughty this morning when I got dressed in front of
you.  Those kids of things."

   "You're cute and you're sexy.  You mean that?"

   "Yeah.  You mean it behind closed doors --" She regarded me closely.

   "Have you BEEN with me in public?"

   "Uh-huh."

   "Whose hand did I hold?  In public.  Where everybody could see?"

   "Mine."

   "I'll be the guy with that tall blonde lady.  Not a bad thing to be,
speaking strictly in the realm of arm candy."

   "You really think that, don't you?"

   "I do," I nodded.  "You look good.  Even when you were little.  You were
a cutie then.  Hasn't changed.  Now I can use the word 'delectable'."

   "You are, too, you know."

   "I'm just a guy."

   "You're MY guy.  I get to say.  Last night, when I was playing with your
chest -- Gosh.  And I woke up in the middle of the night.  I sort of
touched you -- Your --"

   "You did?"

   "Mmm-hmmm.  Just a squeeze.  Thought that since you were sleeping, you
wouldn't notice --"

   "I thought I was dreaming --"

   Giggle.  "Just a little touch.  And it started growing."

   "It does that, baby."

   "I learned that.  Anyway, I rolled over on my back and I was soooo -- I
did it to myself, laying right there next to you."

   "I've done it in the shower.  Last night.  The night before."

   "Really?!?  Because of ME?"

   "Yes, because of you."

   "Twice?"

   "Yeah, and you know what?"

   "What?"

   "It didn't help.  I came out of the shower and there you were in that
nightshirt, all sweet-smelling and tasty-looking and it was off to the
races again.  I've spent the last two evenings trying to hide my arousal."

   Giggle.  "And doing a poor job.  I told you that LAST night."

   "It's embarrassing," I said.

   Giggle.  "Jay, I sort of CAUSED it." Giggle.  "After I saw that I could
-- I did it on purpose --"

   "It gets painful sometimes."

   "You should see what you do to me, Jay."

   "I didn't do that on purpose.  That's YOUR reaction."

   "So was YOURS," she argued.

   "Yes, but you were trying to get a rise out of me." I glanced at her.

   She was grinning.  "So that's where that phrase comes from."

   "I dunno, but it fits what you were doing."

   "I was teasing, Jay.  I really WAS.  It's all so new to me, and I know
all the stories about teasers and stuff, but with you and me, I think it
just feels so right.  I hope you forgive me."

   "I knew you were teasing.  It felt too good to make you stop."

   "You're good to me, Jay.  You always have been."

   "Even when you were Smurfette.  You were special then.  Now, I adore
you."

   We crossed into Alabama, stopped for lunch.  New conversations.

   "Is it going to be a problem with my new job if we're married?"

   "That's a good question, but we weren't married when I presented you,
and I know of several husband and wife teams on those jobsites."

   "I worry."

   "Don't worry.  We got this." The miles disappeared behind us.  We
crossed into Tennessee and Lena directed us to a jewelry store.  Two rings.
Big smile.  I'd've turned over my life savings for that smile.  The thought
crossed my mind.  Tomorrow - the knot would be officially tied.  As far as
reality was concerned, though, it was already tied.

   The hotel was next.  It was too early to have dinner, so we pulled into
the parking lot of a mid-scale hotel, each with bags in hand.  I handled
the front desk arrangements as she stood back, silent, a little smile on
her lips.

   We got into the elevator, just the two of us.  She looked at me
expectantly.

   "Baby," I said, "I love you to pieces, but you don't have to do this to
prove you love me - to keep me."

   She smirked.  "You got that soooo wrong.  You have to do this to keep
ME. Once it's done, you hold what no other man will ever have --"

   "Huh?"

   "You heard me," she tittered.  "You got to prove it."

   "Ooooo-kay then --"

   We got to our floor, walked to the room.  I opened the door, letting her
in.

   "At least I didn't have to drag you by the ankle."

   "Tomorrow you may carry me, as is proper after the wedding."

   "I will do that." I put my bag down.  Hers hit the floor.

   She stepped up to me, wrapped me in her arms.  Kissed me.  I cradled her
head in my hands, showering kisses on her face.

   "Lovely Lena --"

   "Honorable Jay," she returned.  "You know what we're here for --"





   Chapter 9

   Jay's turn:

   Lena opened the door to our hotel room and practically shoved me inside.
I moved the bags inside and when I turned, she was flipping the door locks.

   "Oh, no," I squealed in falsetto.  "I'm trapped."

   "Love me, Jay."

   "Forever," I answered, scooping her into my arms for a kiss.  A
different kiss, because I knew that the kiss wasn't the end of this.

   When the kiss broke, she was smiling.

   "You love me."

   "I love you," she smiled.  "Not some silly schoolgirl crap, either,
buddy.  We're in this for the duration."

   "Duration, plus," I replied, kissing her again, holding her closer,
feeling her forming herself against me.  'She wants this, too, ' I told
myself.

   I found myself being slowly waltzed back to the bed, then pushed down
with her atop me.

   "Lena's a brave girl," she said.  "Trying things that are sooooo new."

   "Lena's a beautiful girl," I said, "and one more time, sweetness, are
you sure..."

   "James Harris, I love you.  Tomorrow I will officially marry you.  Right
now I intend on marrying you in the way that couples married since time
immemorial." She smiled.  "And I get excited when we get close like this. I
know what the excitement's about." She wiggled.  "Or do you think I'm just
stupid and I have no idea what I'm doing?"

   "Never thought you were stupid, baby."

   Another wiggle.  She has to know.  Wiggle again, right on top of my
hardened dick.  Her eyes sparkle.  She draws her knees up, scoots,
straddling me.  Giggle.  "This is better..."

   "Gahhhh," I said, my hips involuntarily humped up, pushing into her
spread crotch seaking stimulation.

   Giggle.  "See?!?" and the grin changed as she reacted, pushing back. 
"If we keep doing this, we're just playing, Jay." A couple more
experimental thrusts and she rocked back, unbuckling my belt.

   Okay, I give up.  I start at the bottom of her blouse, unbuttoning.  She
looks happy at my actions.  I get three buttons undone before I have to
give in, letting my hands invade, savoring the feel of her skin under my
touch.  Up.  Bra's in the way, but I don't stop, I cover the cups with my
hands, gently squeezing, tracing the measure of the delights hiding there.

   Last button.  The blouse flows off shrugged shoulders.  She bends
forward to kiss - and to give me access to the fasteners for that bra. 
It's off, too, when she sits back, allowing me to see two small, perfect
mounds, pink areolas, perky nippled, beautiful.

   "Flat," she said.

   "Perfect," I replied.  I tugged her back down, lining my mouth up for my
first taste of her nipples.

   She gasped, grabbed the back of my head.  For a brief moment I thought
I'd gone too far, but then the hands on the back of my head were HOLDING me
there while she sucked a breath in.

   "Oh, damn, Jay!"

   "Lovely," I said, switching from one to its equally desirable twin on
the other side.

   She wrapped me in her arms, forcing my face to hers, kissing me.  Or it
was a matter of we were kissing each other.  One of my hands found its way
to cup her butt, holding her against my hardness.

   "Too many things.  Not enough words," she gasped between kisses.  She
rolled off me, tugged at the waist of my pants, sending me a message as she
lay on her back, legs in the air, working her own pants and panties down.

   I, on the other hand, stood up and dropped my pants.  Had to work the
waistband to get it past an erection the likes I cannot remember even in
the 'hard on all the time' days of my teen years.  When I stood after
working the pants free of my feet, stripping my socks off, she was lying
there on her side, a leg drawn up, smiling.

   And absolutely delectable.  And looking at me.  Giggle.  "Abhorrent?"

   "One does not use the term 'abhorrent' to describe one's mate.  She is
the most beautiful girl in the world."

   "C'mere."

   I dove into the bed next to her.  So much for measured self-restraint.
She giggled happily when we formed a knot of arms and legs.  Her time in
high school sports showed up as she twisted, fastened her mouth on MY
nipple.

   I shuddered, gasped.

   "Oh, so YOU get affected, too, then?"

   "Right now, darlin', I'm one big pile of 'affected'."

   "I can tell." Her fingers pushed in between us, a goal in mind.  I
gasped when she found it.

   "So neat," she said.  "You don't mind, do you?"

   I silenced her with a kiss, my own hand, fingers tracing through a soft
mat of hair on her pubis.  When I got there, I tried an inquisitive
fingertip.

   Our mouths were still welded.  She bucked under my exploration, the kiss
broke.  "Yessssss!" between clinched teeth.

   Wet.  Hot.  I explored further, seeking the opening of what I imagined
to be the gates to heaven.

   Her hand grasped my wrist.  I thought she was going to stop me.  She
didn't.  "Inside..."

   I slid that finger gently in.

   "Deeper." Then "Ahhhhh..." And she tugged me, trying to get me atop her,
her legs spreading, welcoming.

   I moved my hand away, holding her.  If we were going to rub things
together, then...

   "Yesssss.  Right there.  I wanna feel it.  Us together," she spoke
through a flurry of kisses.

   Sooner or later, things HAD to line up.  They did.

   "Jay..."

   "Lena..."

   "I love you Jay.  You know that."

   "I love you right back."

   She pushed upward, forcing virgin lips to spread around the head of my
dick.  I helped, pushing gently down and forward, trying to be slow, giving
things time to stretch.

   "You're..." and she put her lips to mine and pushed up onto me.

   Okay.  I pushed back.  Buried to the hilt.  All the way in.

   "Mated." One word from her.  "It's done." She hunched.

   I was worried about the pain associated with the loss of a girl's
virginity.  This was a first for me, so I had nothing to go on.

   Had my head set right when she pushed up against me again.  I tried a
tentative stroke, withdrawing, pushing back into exquisite warmth and
moisture.

   "Yessssss!  Like that!" she urged.

   So, okay ...  If I know I'm not causing pain, then there's the other
side of the equation.  It's literally been years since I've been inside a
woman, and even longer since I've been inside one without a condom and this
is Lena and I love her and this feels GOOD!

   I tried slowing down.

   "Don't you DARE stop," she hissed.

   "Baby ...  tooo good.  About to come..."

   "That's different." Her mouth met mine, breaking long enough for, "Do
it!"

   Her words pulled the trigger.  I hung onto her, offering a few thrusts
to urge an already volcanic orgasm along.  As it subsided, I said, "Hold
onto me," and I rolled onto my back, holding my angel for the ride atop me.

   "Oh, Jay..." she sighed.  "We did it.  We really DID it.  I felt you..."

   "You're too beautiful, Lena."

   "Am I?"

   "You are."

   "You're prejudiced.  You love me."

   "That's true, but you're still beautiful."

   "And we've made love.  The state might not think so, but we're married."

   "We are," I said.  "Uh ...  you're okay?  Down there?"

   "Oh, gosh, yes..."

   "I thought it was supposed to hurt the first time."

   "I've heard that, but I've been to the gynecologist and she says that
there wasn't much hymen left with the sports I play."

   "Gynecologist?  Why?"

   "Regular checkup for young ladies." She smiled demurely.  "And I was
having these horrible period cramps, so she gave a prescription for birth
control pills.  So nine months from now, we won't be parents."

   "I didn't even think about that."

   Giggle.  "Glad ONE of us did."

   "Yeah," I said.  Inwardly I slapped myself for being irresponsible with
this precious creature.

   "What if you didn't, Jay?  And I did get pregnant?"

   "Still my Lena.  Just that life changes with a baby in the picture."

   "You said you thought favorably about having kids," she retorted.

   I do remember that conversation.  "I do.  But it has to be a special
woman."

   "Uh, like your WIFE?"

   "The one I have now?"

   "Of course, silly.  That other one, that's ancient history." She sighed.
"So was I good?"

   "You're perfect."

   "No.  The sex.  Was I good?"

   "I refer to my previous answer.  Perfect."

   "I know that there's a lot more.  I read.  I listen to others talk about
it."

   "Whatever you want.  Whenever you want it," I told her.

   By now, she's lying beside me, her free hand idly toying with my chest
hair.  "Jay.  I'm not fragile.  I'm your wife.  You get to tell me what YOU
want, too.  Mom told me that.  She said that sometimes my husband might
want things that I didn't necessarily enjoy, or it might not be the time I
wanted to do things, but I would be wise to make allowances."

   "Your mom's wise, especially for this day and time."

   "Women's lib," Lena said.  "I know all about it.  You just liberated the
hell out of me, and you turned me loose into OUR world."

   "You get to say.  I would hope that I have enough sense to not demand
something that you really don't want to give."

   Her hand drifted down, finding me half erect.  "I get to play with this,
right?"

   "Any time you want.  Belongs to you now."

   "Serious, Jay.  Does it bother you?"

   "Nope.  Feels quite good.  Lena, I LOVED the sex."

   "I have no frame of reference, Jay," she said.  "I listened to a lot of
conversations at school, and I paid attention to what Mom said, but really,
today was the first.  Leaving home with you, that first night when we
kissed 'n' stuff, that was the first, too."

   "That's kind of rare these days," I stated.

   "Tell me about it.  I've been 'Lena the Lez' for years, except now bein'
lesbian is not the insult it used to be and the girls that really were lez,
none of them admitted to having me as a partner, so people just didn't know
what to make of me."

   "You liked what we did?"

   "I loved what we did.  It's ...  it's almost more than words, Jay, but
it was like I was pulling your life force and you were pulling mine, even
just the kissing and hugging and rubbing ourselves together.  It's like
when we held each other, life flowed between us."

   "I felt more alive in your arms than I have in years, maybe ever."

   She gazed into my eyes.  "You really mean that, don't you."

   "I do.  That's why today happened and that's why tomorrow will happen
and that's why I believe you and I will last forever together."

   "My Jay," she spoke softly.  "I always dreamed of having somebody love
me like this.  Since your dad passed away and you and I started getting to
know each other, every day that passed, I thought more and more it was
supposed to be you."

   "I'm glad it's me, Lena."

   Smile.  "This thing ...  is it always like this?"

   I was still half-hard, while we were talking.  Her hand though,
touching.

   Another smile.  "It's growing.  I'm touching it and it's growing in
front of my eyes."

   "It does that.  Apparently it likes you."

   "It's kinda cute."

   "Thank you."

   "I never really got a chance to pay attention to a full-grown one.  I
thought it had, like, this skin over the end."

   "Some do," I stated.  "My parents had me circumsized when I was a baby.
That skin - foreskin - was removed."

   "Why?"

   "Uhhh, well, there are reasons.  Some religious.  Some people think it's
healthier, because you have to clean a foreskin.  Never gave it much
thought, though."

   "Denny's wasn't circumsized," she said.  "That's the only one I've seen
besides baby boys that I babysat.  Didn't know the reason they were
different.  Now I do."

   It was fully hard now.  She gently grasped it, exploring the way that
the skin could slide on the shaft, the texture and firmness of various
parts.  "So soft," she sighed, her fingertips crossing the head.  "This has
gotta feel good."

   "Yes, it does."

   "Good.  I enjoy it." Her fingers curled to cup my sack, juggling gently
as if she were weighing it.  "This, too?"

   "Yes, but gently."

   "Oh, I know about that.  When I was little I kicked on of my cousins in
the balls.  He puked.  Mom explained to me about how tender ...  But you
LIKE this."

   "I do."

   "I'm gonna like this part of our life, Jay."

   "Me, too.  Because I get YOU."

   She squealed as I rolled her onto her back.  My turn.

   I already know how much she loves having her titties, those beautifully
shaped mounds, sucked.  Reprising that move, her hands fluttered, then
grasped my head, holding me there.

   "Your tongue," she gasped.  "Oh gosh, I know what those are FOR!"

   I wasn't going to argue the point.  For right now, she's correct,
anyway. I worked one first, then the other, then started lightly kissing my
way down the center of her belly.  Her navel was a cute little innie.  A
kiss.  Another kiss.  Then my tongue and she curled up around my head,
shaking.

   "Too much!  I can't breathe..."

   So I stopped messing with her navel.  I guess I should've asked
permission to go further, but I didn't.  however, as I kissed my way
through a sparse patch of very light brown pubic hair, I saw her legs
beginning to spread, not the movement I would have expected if she was
averse to what I was doing.

   "Don't I need to shower?  Wash there?"

   "Why?" I asked.

   "We just ...  you ...  squirted in me."

   "If the thought doesn't squick you out, I'm good with it just like it
is."

   "Gosh, Jay.  I feel myself getting wet..."

   "Much the better," I said.  I shifted my position, getting between those
long, shapely legs.  I planted a soft kiss at the beginning of her cleft.

   "Ah!" a sharp little cry timed with my kiss.

   I kissed a little longer, then, gave her little kisses down the length
of a pair of pink, partially opening lips.  Every kiss came with a shudder.
When I reached bottom, I extended my tongue, lightly licking my way back
up. I wasn't hurrying, just in case she might want me to stop.

   What I got was, "God, Jay!  Deeper.  I..." And when I obeyed. 
"Ohgodyesssss!"

   The girl is delicious.  Juicy and delicious.  And...

   "Right there.  Lick me right there!"

   'There' was a protruding pink pea of a clit, and when I directed my
attentions to it, she arched her hips, pushing herself against my face.

   "Just.  A.  Little.  Bit.  Harder!" she gasped.

   Okay, I can do that.  And my baby came.  Squealing, shaking.  She came.

   I eased up a little, let her quiet down, then returned to...

   "OHGOD!  Another one!  Pleeeeeeease!"

   And a third.

   And, "Come up here before you KILL me, you!"

   I held her.

   "You're laughing at me..."

   "No, baby," I said.  "After the way you made me feel, I wanted to know
that I could make you feel..."

   "Jay, I learned about masturbation when I was twelve.  I used to do it
pretty often.  Feels good, you know ...  but THAT!  All those years I
thought that having MY man do things with me, it might feel that good, I
was deluding myself.  I had no idea..."

   "You flatter me."

   "You ...  you just sent me on a trip through the stars, baby."

   "That's a happy thing to know.  One should be able to make his partner
happy."

   "You have exceeded the requirement, Jay."

   Her free hand touched my cheek, caressing me gently, like the touch of a
butterfly's wing, then moved down to find me semi-erect again.

   "I heard about oral sex.  Those people don't have enough vocabulary to
describe it.  I don't have enough vocabulary to describe it." She paused.
"I keep talking about me.  You enjoyed THAT?"

   "Yes.  Very much.  You're pretty there, too.  And very much tasty.  An
enjoyable experience for me."

   Shyly she asked, "Would you enjoy it if I did that to you?"

   "Yes, I would.  If you WANT to do that."

   "I might not be any good at it.  I never ...  Really.  I heard,
though..."

   "If you want to do that, I promise I will enjoy your efforts."

   "What do I do?"

   "What ever you can think of.  Have fun.  It's yours."

   "The tip is soooo soft," she said.  "I wanna feel it." She moved down,
gently rubbed the head of my dick against her cheek, smooth soft skin
there, too.

   Yes, it felt wonderful.  Her breath touched me randomly, causing my
erection to go into overdrive.  As she rubbed, I kept hoping.  I wasn't
going to TELL her that I wanted her to...

   Her head turned a little, her lips pursed, kissing the purple head
gently.  She looked at me, bright-eyed, smiling.  "What I'm supposed to do
with this is kinda obvious." Her lips parted, her tongue flicking over them
to moisten them, and her head descended to engulf me.  She sucked a little,
letting an "Mmmmmm" out.

   My turn to curl up.  Her head popped up.  She looked at me.  "Is that
because of pain?"

   "Nuh-uh.  Exquisite joy.  You liked?"

   "Godyessss!" she giggled.  "Interesting thing to have in my mouth.  At
first there wasn't any taste, kinda like sucking my thumb.  Then there was
this kinda salty..." Her eyes widened.  "You know?  It kinda tastes like me
when I'm, you know, doin' myself and I get juicy."

   "Same thing," I said.  "Body producing lubricant for happy coupling."

   "I LIKE it." She squeezed me, looked.  "Oh, it DOES work like that.  I
milked a cow once." Giggle.  "I just milked YOU.  There's a BIG drop." And
her head bobbed.  "Mmmmmm."

   I do like that.

   She played.  Experimented.  Her head bobbed down, she choked, pulled
off, gasping.  "That's as deep as I can go," she said.  "One of the school
sluts talked about being able to deep throat.  Take one ALL in.  I can't."

   "There's a trick," I said, "and I don't think it's particularly pleasant
for either party to the exercise."

   "She didn't say THAT," she said.

   "It's a power thing, I think.  Not the game I need to play with you
unless YOU want to say you've done it."

   "Nope.  Maybe when we get bored with each other." Head bobbed down
again. Wonderful feeling.  She turned her head sideways, her lips closing
on my shaft from the side, working up and down the length.  Then, "I kinda
want to bite, you know."

   "I think I'd like that.  Gently."

   "Oh, I'm not gonna break my new toys," she giggled.

   She did use her teeth, and happily, just the right amount, at least for
a first effort, both hers and mine.  She played around with her lips and
tongue around my balls, then, "But this is the best part." She milked a big
drop of lubricant from me, then enveloped the head again, just sucking,
bobbing, playing with her tongue.

   "Just seems to be the way to do it," she smiled.

   "Baby," I said, "I gotta tell you, I can't take much more of this.  I'm
gonna come."

   "Suppose I'm not ready to stop?"

   "I'll tell you right before it starts spewing."

   "Spewing sounds nasty.  Squirting.  That's better."

   "Okay, right before I start to squirt."

   "Okay," she smiled.  She went back to it, that sassy blonde hair
bouncing as she enthusiastically worked on me.

   "Stop, baby.  I'm almost there."

   She giggled with my dick in her mouth, kept sucking.  "Mmmmmmm." Which
changed to "Mmmph," when my dick jumped with the first spasm.  I harbored
the thought that she'd recoil in horror and disgust, but no, she sucked,
bobbed, swallowed.  Kept sucking.  Her hand encircled my shaft and tugged,
milking it into her mouth.

   When her actions ceased to produce output and I stopped shaking, she
came up beside me.  "Now THAT was an experience."

   "Your first and last?"

   "Sonny," she giggled, " you may never watch TV again with pants on. 
That THING is made for me to play with."

   "You thing," I said.  "You..."

   "Tell me you love me."

   "Love.  Adore.  Worship."

   "Good enough.  I only hope I can prove worthy of that.  Was that any
good?"

   "Never ever have I had that experience.  Wonderful."

   "Think how it will be when we've had some practice, then," she giggled.

   The giggle.  I was to learn that the giggle was part of making love with
this creature.  She was happy about it, enjoyed herself and enjoyed giving
pleasure as much as getting it.  But back to the present.

   "How about a shower, then dinner, baby?"

   "I think we need it.  We need to keep up our strength."

   That was our first shower together.  It wasn't optimum.  The hotel
shower was also a bathtub, but we just HAD to get in there together.  It
worked.  The two of us managed to wash one another, then get out and towel
off.

   She didn't take us far afield for a restaurant, either.  It was straight
out to the restaurant, then straight back to the hotel room.

   Back in the room, she sat cross-legged on the bed.  "One more thing I
need to do before tomorrow."

   "What's that, princess?"

   "Gotta call Mom and Dad.  They need to know."

   "Okay.  What do you think they'll say?"

   "Mom's pretty much a given.  Dad?  Well, when he thinks about it..."

   "Okay."

   "Baby," she said to me, "Whatever they might say tonight, tomorrow you
and I are going to get married.  I don't need permission."

   "You'd go against their wishes?"

   "Baby," she said, like she was talking to a child, "they don't even know
what to wish for.  I get you for a husband.  They get you for a son-in-law.
I don't think they have reason to hope for a better outcome."

   She called them.  Got her mom.  I watched her calmly tell our plans.  I
watched her face change from serious and apprehensive to smiling.  Finally,
"Love you too Mom.  Dad.  We'll see you when we get a chance."

   She put her phone down.  "Mom said she pretty much knew it all along. 
Dad said he thought I was going off to engage in a life of sin and
profligacy, but he trusted me to eventually choose the right path.  They
think you're suitable, if a little old."

   "Glad to know it."

   "Now, sir," she said, "I firmly expect that when we walk into that clerk
of the court's office tomorrow, your knees will be wobbly."





   Chapter 10

   Lena's turn:

   Wow!

   I went to sleep naked, wrapped up with my Jay, my little pussy just
glowing.  I never imagined.  NO, I guess I really DID imagine, but I kept
telling myself that maybe I had elevated expectations.  I was right the
first time.

   The very act of falling asleep was a new and wonderful adventure. 
Loved. I felt loved inside, and not just inside THERE.  The making out, the
teasing, the kissing, the caressing, all that was wonderful, okay?  But the
real thing...

   I was ready.  I'm not a conniving, manipulative person, but somewhere
along the line a couple of months ago, I visited my gynecologist and came
away with birth control pills.  I was sure it would be Jay.  I just didn't
know how.  There was no plan at that time, but I knew inside that if he was
the one, then the plan could come together.

   It came together.  Jay took my statement that I wanted to get away from
home and ran with it - had me lined up for a job and for sharing his
apartment.  Then when he announced that he was taking a couple of weeks to
run around the countryside visiting historical sites, I sort of inserted
myself into the idea.

   I really am interested in history and Jay's idea of touring battlefields
would have been great even if I didn't have secret hopes that the
relationship between him and me would take the turn it took.

   But now I'm his in the traditional sense.  The man has lain with the
maid.  The marriage has been consummated.

   I rolled over in the middle of the night, woke up with a start when I
realized I was nude, then waking, I realized that not only was I nude, but
there's a nude man in bed beside me - MY naked man.

   He's mine.  I get to play with him.  There's this neat thing.  Okay,
he's asleep.  I'm not.  I hope he understands.  I gently touch it.  I feel
myself moistening from that simple action.  Aaaghhhh!  A little more.  I
want a little more.  And I remember something that I tried for the first
time yesterday that I really enjoyed.

   I scooted down in the bed.  I wish the lights were on.  The only light
in the room seeped around the edges of the closed drapes.  I liked seeing
what I was doing, but oh, well, I can do this without much light.

   I licked my lips.  Jay's dick was soft, spongy, and it sucked into my
mouth past my wetted lips just soooo easily.  I sucked just a little bit,
mashing it around with my tongue, enjoying the texture, surprised that it
immediately starts growing in my mouth.  I keep as much in my mouth as I
can.  It's fun.  Some more sucking and tonguing and wow!  That salty juice
shows up.  When I involuntarily go "Mmmmm", a hand gently touches the back
of my head.

   "Angel?"

   "Yes, Jay?"

   "You're wonderful, angel."

   "You are too, Jay." I went back to my happy task.

   "I'd like to taste you, too," he said softly, like we were in some sort
of dream state and being loud would ruin it.  I was already halfway upside
down in bed so I could get to my goal.  He tugged gently on my leg.  "Throw
this over me.  Just get on top."

   "I don't wanna stop what I'm doing."

   "Don't.  Get up here, I'll be quite happy with what shows up."

   My pussy showed up, right there where his mouth was.  When he went
"Mmmmm" it was like my body was a guitar string that had just been
strummed. "You're delicious," he whispered.

   "I think I like being delicious, Jay, but..." I jumped up, turned
around. "This needs to be filled." I straddled him, guiding his hardness
into me, merging our bodies and souls.

   I'm a little sore, you know, yesterday being the first time this thing
of mine has been filled the way it's intended, still, filling it again,
that was almost an imperative to me.  I mean, we're in love, we're
essentially married, and we're naked.  A little sore, but still the best
physical feeling I've ever had, culminating in ...  I was rocking back and
forth, sort of sliding myself on and off him.  Jay was pushing up like he
needed to be as deep as possible.

   I felt the fire start.  My own fingers could never do this.  Building. I
got a little more aggressive in my movements, pushing my button against him
and he...

   "GodLena!" He pushed up hard, I felt him swell and pulse and hot fluid
and that's it.  Cogent thought ended.  Everything in the universe condensed
to that joining of me and him as I came.  He kept giving me little shoves,
each timed with a throb that I could feel, pushing my own climax higher and
higher and...

   I woke up in his arms.  Little kisses.  "Are you okay, princess?" he
asked.

   "Ohgod Jay."

   "I love you, you know..."

   "You gotta," I sighed.  "You made me yours."

   "Again," he smiled.

   "This could be a trend," I said, brushing his lips with mine.  All that
stuff I remember seeing on TV and in movies, all those things I thought
just couldn't be THAT much fun ...  They're that much fun.  And then some.

   One thing they don't tell you on TV and in movies, at least what I've
seen, is that when you and your partner have rip-roaring sex, after you're
lying there, all that stuff comes out, gets on the sheets and gets COLD.

   I know this now.  I put my leg right on top of that spot.

   "Eek!"

   "What?"

   "It's cold and it's wet..."

   "A hazard," he said.  "We need to put a towel beside the bed..."

   "Maybe," I said.  "Or..." and I dove under the covers.  God, I love it
when it's soft.  Doesn't stay that way long, but I do so much love it. 
"There.  You're clean.  NO drippies." I thought for a second.  His juice
tastes like MY juice.  Yeah, I know how I taste.  Tell me you never tried
it.  But he COMES.  That's different, and guys're funny.

   "You might not wanna do me, though.  You came in me..."

   "I did it yesterday," he answered.

   "But that might be the heat of the moment.  We're sane now."

   He pushed me onto my back.  I spread my legs.  Squealed when his tongue
invaded me.  Nope, he doesn't have a problem with it.  That was analytical,
but analysis stopped because he kept licking and sucking and nibbling me
waaaay past the requirements for getting rid of the previous mess.  I came
again.  Twice.

   Now we can go back to sleep, curled up away from the wet spot.

   We woke up at seven.  Ate breakfast.

   The clerk of court's office is open at nine.  We're there.  When we walk
out of the building at ten-thirty, I am Mrs.  Jay Harris.

   Mister and Mrs.  Harris went to Lookout Mountain and Missionary Ridge,
had a very nice dinner, then...

   I'm giddy.  I admit it.  It's new, it's wonderful, and I look at the guy
in the seat next to me, driving, and I want him for a dozen reasons, one of
which is that he doesn't treat me like I'm just sex.

   I can be sex, though.  I know him - intellect, humor, looks, that's all
wonderful and that's the reason I fell in love, but I was married this
morning and I want...

   I've been married seven hours now.  I know that it's as sterile a
marriage as is possible to have - pay for the license, let it be
solemnified by the clerk of court in an office, and there!  In the eyes of
the State of Tennessee, we're married.

   The truth is, we were married in heart and soul, last night.  Tonight's,
well, I guess it's a honeymoon night, too.  I'm holding Jay's hand.

   "You're awfully quiet for a newlywed.  Regrets?"

   "No.  Unless I forced you into something.  Did I, Jay?  I mean, I sort
of..."

   "Sort of what?"

   "Sort of premeditated..."

   "Seriously?"

   "Yeah.  I guess I did."

   "How?"

   "Jay, you're good to me.  You're my friend.  All those nights you'd call
me and we'd talk, I just sort of figured it out.  When you offered me that
job with you in Missouri, I sort of thought that it was your way of getting
us together, and that's what I wanted.  Us.  Together.  Then when you said
that about taking this trip, I just had to try to go with you."

   "Were you faking that 'I'm interested in history' thing?"

   "Well, no ...  I really am interested.  I don't know how I could've ever
done it by myself."

   Jay looked at me, then turned his eyes back to the road.

   "Angelina..." he said.

   I started dying inside.  I knew I'd messed up, telling him.  Now he was
getting ready to dump me.  Married seven hours.  Dumped.

   "Yes, Jay..."

   "Let me get this straight.  You fell in love with me, us talking on the
phone?"

   "Yes, Jay."

   "You tried to figure out a way to be with me, so I'd figure out that I
loved you, too?"

   "Yes, Jay."

   "And then you took off with me on this trip, fully expecting us to end
up as more than just friends?"

   "Yes, Jay.  I..." I could feel a hot tear on my cheek.

   "And I'm supposed to be upset that you LOVE ME?"

   "You are, aren't you?"

   "I just married you, Angelina.  I wouldn't change that for the world. 
You don't know how many nights I wished I could end up with you.  You're
too young, too pretty..."

   "You mean it, Jay?"

   "Of course I mean it, Lena."

   "It's legal now, Jay.  Not just two people havin' a little fun..."

   "Lena, I could never be 'two people havin' fun'.  Not with you.  You
aren't one of those and neither am I."

   "But Jay," I said, "I deceived you..."

   "And I'm okay with it, Lena.  I hoped you had at least some thought that
the result of this trip might be you and me as a couple, preferably
married, but at least exclusive and permanent."

   "So you sort of had a motive in mind when you started this, too?" I
asked.

   "Yeah.  So how can I judge you when I was sort of doing the same thing?"

   "We collided," I said.  "And I think we'll collide again."

   "Lena, you're precious to me, okay?  I'm astounded by your choice of ME.
And yes, last night and this morning?  You rock me.  Never gonna change
that."

   "Do I?"

   "Baby doll," he said, "you woke me in the middle of the night wanting to
play around.  I've never had anybody do that before..."

   "Your first wife?"

   "Never.  And let's just call her a 'practice wife'.  You're the real
wife."

   I giggled.  "You're crazy."

   "I'm not.  I am making none of the mistakes I made the first time."

   "What kind of mistakes?" I asked, curiosity piqued.

   "Well," he started, then he paused, letting me hang there, "for ONE,
marrying her instead of YOU."

   I squealed, "But I was a pre-schooler..."

   "Shoulda waited."

   "You know," I stated, "Bullcrap like that's gonna keep me loving you."

   "That is to be expected.  I'll love you right back."

   And we bumped into the parking lot of the hotel.

   "Are we okay, baby?" he asked.

   "I think we need to finish this discussion in our room.  After a
shower."

   "One shower?  Or two?"

   "I've never showered with anybody, Jay."

   "Don't you think we should try?"

   "Take me to our room.  I'm in a particularly exploratory mood," I said.

   He held my door open for me, then we walked into the hotel hand in hand.
I managed a smile again.  The thought occurred to me - what a time to be a
nervous bride.

   He gives my hand a squeeze, turns his head to glance at me.  He smiles.
I smile.  Elevator.

   "You grabbed my hand.  I'm glad.  I thought we were having an issue."

   "I was having an issue.  You were having an issue.  Me and you?  No." I
smiled.  "Our issues cancelled each other out."

   "Way it's supposed to be between husband and wife."

   "I am, you know."

   "What?"

   "Your wife.  Everything it entails, Jay."

   "Reminds me," he said.  "I need to make some phone calls.  You need to
be on my insurance." He looked at me.  "Medical.  Auto.  I already made you
beneficiary on every life insurance policy I have."

   "You what?"

   "I don't have dependents, darlin'.  I figured that if I kicked off,
you'd at least have reason to think kindly of me after my demise."

   "That's morbid.  And you didn't tell me."

   "It's in an addendum of information attached to my will.  My attorney
would've made sure you knew.  But you - you need to be on my other
insurance and stuff."

   We walked up to the door.  He opened it for me, let me in.  When it
closed behind him, I pushed him against the wall, kissing.  "You're serious
about this."

   "Aren't you?  I mean, if all we wanted to do was romp with each other,
we didn't have to get married."

   "There was to be no romp without marriage, Jay.  You know me."

   "I do.  That's why I sort of figured out where things were going when we
started making out."

   "We were just making out.  I understand that lots of people do that
without getting married."

   "You, darlin'.  You, I knew where you were going and I knew you couldn't
stop, so I knew we'd end up married.  In a week, tops."

   I giggled before I kissed him again.  "So you think you're all that,
huh?" Kiss.

   "Maybe not to anybody else, but to my Lena..."

   "Okay, I concede that point.  Next question, though..."

   "Yes?"

   "There's a big ol' bed over there.  Why aren't we in it?"

   Didn't take us long to rectify that.  On top of the covers.  Some
frantic kissing and touching, then a moment of lovely lucidity.  "You said
something about a shower?"

   "I did."

   "I dunno if I can wait for a shower, Jay." Another searing kiss,
initiated by neither of us.  We're close.  We're in love, and we're ... 
Mmmmm.

   His hands started pushing at the waistband of my jeans as my own hands
struggled with his belt.  Frustrated, we rolled away from each other, each
attending to his own disrobement.  In the process, the covers got kicked
off the bed.

   I gasped my happiness as Jay's fingers found me wet.  Receptive?  Oh,
god, was I receptive.

   My introduction to the quickie.  I've heard of girls and the quickies
they'd endured.  You will note that I didn't say 'enjoyed'.  "Mark's, like,
getcher pants down, an' 'e's in an' squirting an' out in forty seconds..."

   I'm thinking that Bradlee (yes, it's a GIRL named 'Bradlee'.  The double
'e' makes it feminine, right?) wasn't doing ol' Mark right, and ol' Mark
was clueless as to what Bradlee needed.

   Lena, that's ME!  on the other hand, I was starving for some of my Jay,
and Jay knew it.  'Quickie'?  There's gotta be a range within that
definition.  I was ready to go when I got my pants down.  I was aching when
I rolled over onto my back, tugging him to me.  I was the trigger of an
avalanche when his dick started into me.

   I need to figure out what to do when I come.  I squealed through
clenched teeth.  I wanted to scream with joy.

   He was lying on his side, gently caressing me afterward, touching my
face.  I smiled.  "So that's what a quickie is?"

   "Sounds inadequate," he whispered.

   "Nothing inadequate about it, Jay ...  Lovely.  I'm still glowing..."

   I got my introduction to two people in the shower.  There was just
enough room for us to do a credible job of hygiene IF we washed each other.
That's why I didn't say 'personal hygiene'.  It wasn't personal, It was
happily a community effort...

   Also learned that I can come standing up, but Jay needs to hold me
before I collapse.  He managed to hold me up until I could get my knees to
listen to my brain, then he rinsed me off and pushed me out of the shower.

   I haven't been bathed by somebody else since I had the flu when I was
four.  I like this.  I like Jay drying me off with a big fluffy towel.  I
like watching him shave while I dry my hair and I like the two of us
shoving against each other to get our teeth brushed.

   I'm thinking that a day into the 'marriage' thing, I like it.

   I like getting chased naked out of the bathroom and I KNOW about the wet
spot when we dive back onto the bed.

   I giggle.  "Can you hold a serious conversation in the nude?"

   "Uh, yeah, why?"

   "Just learning the parameters.  What about if I do this?" I kissed him,
kinda long, kinda hot.  "Hmmm?"

   He drew a breath.  "Uh ...  yeah."

   "If I do THIS?" I put my hand around MY new toy.  He shuddered.

   "Nope.  Too much."

   I released him.  Giggle.  "Okay.  Still heading off to Shiloh tomorrow?"

   "Unless you want to do something different."

   "Nope."

   "Wanna change the reservation to King-sized bed?"

   I looked at the unused queen bed next to us.  Shook my head.  Watched
his face change.

   What?  He LIKES me shaking my head?  I need an experiment.  I gently
close my hand around his erection, let it quiet down from the touch.  I
shake my head again.  The thing in my hand jumps.  Another shake and
another jump.  I do believe he has a thing about my hair.  Nice to know.

   Back to the bed thing.  "No," I said.  "One to mess up, the other to
sleep in."

   "Can we manage that?" he asked, kissing me.  "Awful lot of
self-discipline."

   "Try," I said, kissing back.  We cuddled for a bit.

   "Babe?"

   "Yes, my Jay."

   "Stand up."

   "Why?  Something wrong?"

   "No, I just want to see you standing."

   "Why?"

   "Because you're beautiful and I want to appreciate you."

   "Seriously?"

   "Yes.  Stand..."

   "You're crazy, you know." I kissed him, then stood.

   "Beautiful."

   I pirouetted.  Okay, I'm usually bashful.  I've spent much of my life
trying NOT to be the center of attention, actually, to have no attention
paid to me at all.  But this is my husband.  If I can't let HIM enjoy, then
what am I living for?

   Okay, I've seen the swimsuit issue of Sports Illustrated and I can fake
some of those poses, well, a subset, maybe.  I lack the silicone
enhancement or the natural D-cups and I'm happy and I can't make myself
fake one of those seductive pouts, but I can bend and twist and emphasize
whatever little I have to offer in the way of tits and ass and it must've
done SOMETHING because Jay jumps off the bed and grabs me.

   I'm giggling.  I hope he understands that I'm not laughing at his
efforts or his physique or his anything.  I'm giggling because I am happy.
I'm happy it's me, and I'm happy it's HIM and I reach down while our lips
are formed together and gosh, it's soooo hard.

   Hard hard.  And since there's no movie on or no magazine pictures,
that's got to be ME.  What a wonderful thing.  I did this.  Sex.  Loving
sex with my Jay.  I am so much going to love this.

   "You're happy." He notices my giggle.

   "I am.  I'm like I was for my seventh birthday party.  I saw the
presents and I knew they were mine and I knew I was gonna have so much fun
when I opened 'em."

   "At least I'm not the clown..."

   I pushed myself fully against him, touched his face with one hand. 
Freshly shaved.  Smells delicious.  "Never.  My fantasy.  My hero.  My
Jay." And kisses, each one ratcheting up the heat inside me.

   Three times before midnight.  Lovely.

   "It's my honeymoon, baby."

   "OUR honeymoon," he corrected.

   We moved to the unsullied bed to go to sleep.  Sullied the daylights out
of it at two AM and again at seven-thirty when we woke up.  A quick shower,
pack up.  Leave.  Catch a breakfast at a nearby family restaurant, then on
the road.  Four hour drive, according to the GPS.  The GPS doesn't account
for stopping so a Louisiana girl can savor terrain that is NOT flat from
home all the way to the Gulf of Mexico.

   Lunch at a diner that gave us too much food for a sane human being, but
hey, when we rolled into the visitor's center at the national military
park, we got a map and we walked.  Lots of walking.  Worked off that plate
lunch.  Remembered to save some strength, though.

   Dinner, then check into another hotel.  Oh, so boring, right?

   Wrong.

   "You're crazy, you know," I said.

   "What's crazy this time?"

   "We did Chattanooga, then Shiloh.  And we're going BACK to Chattanooga
so we can do Chickamauga?"

   "We have another day for Shiloh," he said.

   "Yeah, but ...  Backtracking."

   "Baby doll," he said lovingly, "You misunderstand how much I enjoy
driving with you."

   So okay.  Yesterday's nervous bride?  Pretty much gone.  Today?  Very
happy.  And we still have ten days to tour the country before we go to
work. Together.





   Chapter 11

   Jay's turn:

   I don't know if it was cold feet or what, but we had an episode.  Seven
hours into our marriage, I think Lena's conscience got to her and she
confessed to premeditated nuptials.  I guess, from her tone, that she was
afraid that if I happened upon the truth on my own, I'd change my mind.

   Truth?  When she acted like she bought into the idea of living in MY
apartment while she got set up on my job in Missouri, I did my own
premeditation.

   Like her, a couple of months of nightly communications and I found
myself wrapped up in the girl.  When she got excited about a historical
tour for a vacation, I began to harbor the thought that just maybe there
was a possibility that the two of us might connect, and by 'connect', I
hoped for a permanent relationship.

   The other kind weren't that hard to find.  That's not what I wanted.

   A tear started tracking down her cheek as she confessed.

   I countered with a confession of my own.

   We've both been horribly deceptive in our attempts to acquire one
another.  I guess it was our first 'fight' and the makeup sex was
wonderful. The sex was great, but honestly, it was icing on a wonderful
cake with Lena.  This is my buddy.  She's bright and genuinely interested
in the purpose I'd set forth for this trip.  We visited the battlefields
and walked the grounds and toured the museums and she observed with me and
we talked.

   With every day that passes, I find her more and more fascinating.  And
since we're married, she's even more friendly.  I sat down to fix a problem
with my shoe, found myself sitting in the shade with a happy Lena hugging
me from behind.

   "That's wonderful," I said.

   "I hope you don't mind, Jay.  I just want to hold onto you."

   "I like that, Lena.  I always wanted to be somebody's desire..."

   "Oh, come on, Jay.  You were married."

   "I found out that she wasn't a very huggy person.  This right here..." I
touched her arm that was around my chest from behind, "is something I
craved and never got."

   She kissed my neck.  "You got it now.  It's like when I hold you, I get
strength."

   "And I get love.  Fair trade."

   "I get love, too."

   There was still a case of 'am I okay?' to her, too, though.  After a day
of touring Chickamauga, we went to dinner.  I noticed her looking at
another couple.  The guy was around my age, the girl a bit older than Lena,
from what I could tell.

   After the meal, back to the hotel.  Shower.  One.  Both of us.  It was a
little cramped, this hotel's shower being a combination bathtub and shower,
but we managed amid a bit of jostling and giggling.

   "That is such luxury, Jay," she purred as I shampooed her hair.  Out of
the shower, I attended to my shaving.  Lena started drying her hair.  I
couldn't help but take over, brushing it to golden perfection.

   She wheeled around to face me.  "Question.  Be honest."

   "Always, angel," I said.

   "Do I need to do something to my hair?"

   "Like what?"

   "That couple at dinner.  She had blonde hair.  Curly.  I look so
plain..."

   "You look so natural.  Your hair, baby, it's always been attractive to
me just like it is.  You've had it longer.  Shorter.  Bangs.  No bangs.  I
love it."

   "You don't think you'd like it better with some curls?"

   "I could stand some curls, if that's what you did, but I prefer this..."
and I buried my face into it.

   She squealed in delight.  "Okayyyyyy!  That's an answer." She twisted
free.

   I followed her out of the bathroom.  "My Lena is physical perfection."

   "I will be if we keep walking like we're doing," she said.  "I got
THIS!" she said, grasping a little bit of softness over her hips.

   "Baby, you go ahead and be that way.  I never looked at you and told
myself I'd love you MORE if you'd get curly hair and lose a few pounds.  I
have perfection in my life, and its name is Lena."

   "You silver-tongued devil," she said, pushing me backward onto the bed,
giggling.  "I have to have an agile tongue in self-defense." She popped the
head of my erect dick into her mouth.

   The surprise caused me to curl up.  She pushed me back down with one
hand.  "Don't you DARE!  I got this thing..."

   Oh, the things I must suffer.  She sucked for a bit then crawled right
up me to give me a kiss.

   "Gosh, baby.  I'm the one that supposed to be doing foreplay on YOU."

   Giggle.  "That IS foreplay for me.  Feel!"

   My fingertips found her wet, slippery.  I couldn't say anything, what
with our mouths welded together, her tongue fighting mine in happy combat.

   We broke apart.  "See!" she said, shaking her head.  Her shortish blonde
hair bounced.  "It's in your face.  If it was curly..."

   "You wouldn't be perfection," I said.  "I love when you're just right
here.  It brushes my face.  Smells delicious.  Feels tantalizing.  You
wanna change eye colors, too?"

   "Don't be silly..."

   "Then don't get silly about your hair.  Now, what do I need to change?"

   She had me nose to nose, her blue eyes piercing my soul.  "Nothing at
all."

   "So that works for you but not for me?"

   "Oh, you know what I mean.  I just want to look good for you."

   "You're my little bit of perfection, baby."

   "You treat me like that in public, Jay.  Don't think I don't notice."

   "Then why do you carry on about wanting to change?"

   "I don't want to change, but I would, for you."

   "I don't want you to change a thing."

   "Well, in public you don't seem to be trying to distance yourself from
the ugly girl."

   "Horrible, horrible thought, Lena.  Nobody would think you're ugly.  And
I'm proud to be seen with you at my side."

   Giggle.  "I hold your hand now."

   "You do.  I like that part."

   She rolled sideways off me.  I rolled to face her, letting my free hand
run down her side over silky skin.  "Beautiful."

   She kissed me.  "I'll trade you..."

   "Trade me what?"

   "I've been thinking about how it feels when you use your mouth on my
kitty."

   I smiled.  "Baby, you're delicious.  I could do that all night."

   "I could let you.  But if you do me, then I get to do you." Her lips met
mine.  The girl can kiss.  Her body formed against mine, my hardness
trapped between us.  She forced a hand down between us, pushed, letting me
poke my dick into the little furnace of her pubic mound and the tops of her
thighs.

   "Oh, that's good, too, you know ...  That's for our second round, 'kay?"

   I smiled.  Lena's taking charge of this.  "I'd love that." I scooted
down, trapped the tip of a sweetly rounded small breast in my mouth,
flicking my tongue around the nipple.

   "OHGODJAY!  That's what I've been thinking about all day.  Your tongue."

   "There's another one," I said, switching to the other perfect breast,
then I moved down.  My goal was tangy, salty, juicy, redolent of musk and
pleasure.  Delicious.  I lapped gently, my tongue just barely teasing her
hot slit open on the first pass, then a little deeper, then deeper.  Her
hands clapped the back of my head.

   "Don't.  Tease.  Me.  LICK!"

   So I licked, savored, hoping that she was getting pleasure like I was.
She started shaking, her hips thrusting up against my tongue.

   "Yessssss," she hissed.  "Right THERE!"

   'Right there' got me rewarded with more of the juice I craved, then her
hands grasped the back of my head, holding me in place as she shook, breath
ragged, hissing, then "Rrrrgghhhh!  Yesssss!  Unggghhhh!" and she spasmed,
then fell back, relaxed.

   "Come up here, you."

   I'm not THAT obedient.  My tongue craved more of Lena's nectar.  I
flicked once, twice, then circled the shaft of her distended clit.  She
started shaking again.

   "Nooooo.  I can'ttttttt." Then "Yessssss.  Gah ...  Yesssss!  Hard!" and
she came again.  I kissed her pussy gently, letting her float down from
wherever she went.  Her breathing became regular.

   "Now come up here, Jay..." I complied this time, one hand gently
caressing her precious pussy.

   "Mmmmmm.  That's a happy kitty now." She kissed me.  "Promise me you'll
always love me THAT way, too..."

   "You're not the only one that gets thoughts all day," I said.

   "Did you think about me doing this?" She smiled, sliding down in bed,
one of her hands circling a diamond-cutter of an erection.  Her tongue
flicked out.

   Giggle.  "So neat.  First time I saw it, I was tempted to put my mouth
around it." She demonstrated.  My turn for my breathing to stop.

   Lena's happy having sex.  Better yet, she's happy sucking on me, purrs,
little moans, giggles the whole time her lips, teeth and tongue are
playing. That's it - she's PLAYING, enjoying HERself, and I'm getting the
happy result.

   "Let me scoot up in bed a little bit, princess," I said.  "I'm having
too much fun watching..."

   "You think I look stupid doing this, don't you?"

   "If I thought you looked stupid, it wouldn't be that hard.  I love
watching you.  You sound so happy."

   "I love this.  Scoot up, then."

   I can watch.  Her blonde head bounces up and down, her hair swaying in
time with the motion, then she syncopates and it splays out in a precious
disarray.

   "I'm gonna eat your balls," she announced.  "It's all mine.  I get to
play."

   "Be careful."

   Giggle.  "I'm NOT gonna break my new toys." Her mouth opened wide to
suck one of my balls in.  her 'Mmmmm' echoed to the top of my head.  She
released it with an audible smack, took the other one.

   Giggle.  "You like that.  Look at all the juice you're leaking." Then
heat and wet and 'Mmmmmm'.

   I was loaded.  Really loaded.  "Lena ...  too much.  I'm..."

   "Mmmmmmm" and her head nodded.  She said something, muffled because her
lips stayed closed around my shaft.

   "NNnnghghhh!" and I exploded.  Her tongue kept time with my spurts,
pulling me along with her gentle suction until I - my entire existence -
was contained in a stream of fire.

   I thought she'd quit.  She didn't quit.  Kept sucking.  Part of me
wanted her to stop, to let me just enjoy.  The other part wanted to keep
the feelings going as long as she kept up.  The second part won, her mouth
pulling me through orgasm and right back to arousal.  Her head popped up
with a big grin.

   Giggle.  "It's MINE.  I get to play with it when I want." And she
straddled me, her fingers flipping me into line with ...  She sat on me. 
Hot.  Wet.  Her arms tugged me to sitting.  There we were, mated,
long-legged Lena wrapping me, holding me.

   "Never letting you go, Jay," she smiled.  "Perfect right here.  And
anywhere you and I can go.  We're perfect."

   "We are.  I love you."

   She looked down, saw where our bodies were joined together.  That giggle
again.  I'd saw a leg off to keep that giggle to myself.  "You'd better. 
You have deflowered me, truly and well.  You have lain with a maiden.  You
must take her to wife." Our lips met.

   When they parted, she giggled, "Don't get soft on me now.  I..." Her
hips moved, stroking me in and out of her.

   Whatever softness that might have started went away.

   "You're perfect there," she said.

   "So are you.  So hot."

   Can't have sex all night.  We tried.  That was number two.  I found
myself lapping her out, keeping us from the horrors of a wet spot, when she
giggled, licking and sucking me clean.

   We put something on TV.  I can't remember what it was.  She was lying
diagonally across the bed.  I could roll over and put my face in her
crotch. I did that.  Breathed deep, savoring what lovemaking had produced
from us.

   "If you start again, you'd better be able to finish."

   I planted a quick kiss on her pubis, then turned away.

   "I need to recharge so I can do a decent job," I said.

   One more time before slumber came to us.  Our first full day of
marriage. Perfection.  In the middle of the night, I awoke, looked at the
angel lying next to me, her cheek resting on a hand, her blonde hair in
disarray.  Perfect.

   Somebody woke in the middle of the night, too.  A hand gently tugged me
onto my back, then a pair of lips closed over my soft pecker.  Fingers
caressed my balls.

   I briefly thought that I might be slow to be aroused after the previous
evening.  I failed to factor in how Lena looked in the dim light, her head
moving slowly, her tongue pushing me around inside her mouth, sucking me to
hardness.

   I touched her head, tracing my fingers in her hair.  "Lena..."

   "I'll stop if you want me to, baby."

   "Never."

   "Then..." and she turned around, straddled me.  "Just let me get ONE
more..."

   Sleep?  Vastly overrated.

   Clear our bags out of the hotel.  Late breakfast.  Another day exploring
the battlefield, leaving in early afternoon, catching a fast food burger
for lunch, promising a good dinner.

   Smirk on Lena's face.  "I don't care.  We can have another burger for
dinner.  I'm still on MY honeymoon."

   "We need a nice 'sit at a table' dinner so I can look at your face."

   "In that case..."

   We're planning on stopping halfway to Charleston, South Carolina -
Athens, Georgia is where we have a hotel reservation.  We roll along pretty
good, staying away from Atlanta, seeing more of the countryside.  We do
horribly in terms of the time my GPS gives for the trip, but that's a gas
stop and a leisurely drive with a couple of stops to assuage curiosity.

   And another hotel room.

   Giggle.  "You know, Jay, when this is all over with, any time I see a
Holiday Inn sign I'm gonna juice up."

   "I'll keep that in mind," I laughed, "in case your libido starts to
flag."

   She kept her demeanor chaste and her language G-rated while we checked
in.  I know, we're married, but it makes little sense to be offensive in
one's actions.

   In the room, she's on me as soon as the door closes behind us, wrapping
me up in her arms.  "Buddy, you don't have to EVER worry about my libido
fading.  Last night..."

   "God, yes," I said.

   Giggle.  "Think you're up for it tonight?  We gotta do it tonight. 
Tomorrow my period's gonna start."

   "You know this how?"

   "I know me, and I know that I took my last birth control pill this
morning."

   "I suppose we can do something besides sex for entertainment," I said.

   "I suppose.  But just because I'm bleeding doesn't mean that YOU have to
do without."

   "Wouldn't be fair."

   "To who?" she said, her hand rubbing the growing lump in my pants.  "You
labor under a misconception."

   "Do tell."

   "You think that we can't have fun unless we both do each other." Her
eyes twinkled.  "I know that there's something that I really like doing. 
It doesn't involve my kitty and you seem to like it, too."

   Dinner was different this night.  The activities after dinner...

   Shower, then romp.

   Blue eyes looked at me after the first one.  "Baby," she asked.  "I've
heard about doggy style."

   "And you want to try it?"

   "I wanna do you every imaginable way," she said.  "Seriously.  Every. 
Way.  Imaginable."

   Got me hard immediately.  She saw it.  Smiled.  "Hands and knees,
right?" Those blue eyes sparkled with eagerness.

   The view presented was not one I could resist at all.  Rounded, shapely
ass in the air.  I had to kiss it, worshiping the whole time.  Buns.  Buns
are made to be bitten.

   "Eek!  You bit me."

   "Couldn't resist at least one.  Won't do it again."

   "Do it again.  Take a BIG bite."

   This is fun!

   She dropped her head to rest on the bed, leaving her beautiful ass in
the air.  I bit.  Listened to the breath hiss between her teeth.  "Yessss!"

   Kissed.  Her cheeks spread.  There's a tightly closed little rosebud. 
Can't resist that either.  It'll never be cleaner than right now, an hour
after a shower.  I probe with my tongue.

   Another "Eek!" Now this might be past a limit.  I know some women that
just DON'T...

   "No?"

   "Surprised.  Feels ...  Try it again.  But nothing goes inside."

   "Yes, ma'am." My tongue produces giggles.

   "Yes or no?"

   "Yes.  Feels good.  But only when I've just showered."

   "I'll second that," I said.

   But below the rosebud is a bun, glistening, pink, and that too calls for
a tongue.  And it gets an "Ahhhh..."

   "Beautiful."

   "Never seen that side.  Take a picture."

   "Seriously?"

   "Yeah.  So I can see if I'm disgusting."

   "Reach back here," I said.  I put my erect dick in her hand.  She
giggled.  "Does that feel like I'm disgusted?"

   "No, but you're in love.  You're blind.  Take a picture."

   I took several with my iPhone.  She flipped over.  "Show me." I sit
beside her and flip through the pictures, taking time to enlarge the shot
of her kitty's lips between those shapely thighs.

   Giggle.  "Your turn."

   "My turn for what?"

   "Hands and knees, buster."

   "Yes, ma'am."

   I KNOW the teeth are coming.  I still jump.

   Giggle.  "Yes or no."

   "Definitely yes." She works me over.  "Jay, you've got a nice ass."

   "Thank you.  I hope you enjoy it."

   "I enjoy THIS," she said.  Her hand cupped my dangling balls. 
"Beautiful."

   "Hairy ol' balls," I said.

   "Love my Jay's balls." She weighed them with her hand.  "And..."

   I felt the bed shift under her weight, breath on my butt-crack and
"Gahhh!"

   Giggle.  "Turnabout's fair play.  Yes or no?"

   "Same terms and conditions."

   Giggle.  Her tongue played around, then left that area.  Her face
pressed into me from behind, her lips sucking my balls into her mouth, one
at a time.  She reached around, stroking my hardness.

   Giggle.  "I saw 'em milk a cow on TV.  I'm milking a bull.  Yes or no?"

   "Anything you do with that thing is a yes."

   Giggle.  "Thought so.  My turn again."

   I went up on my knees.  She was crawling into position, stopped to give
me a suck.  "Ain't gonna let that big ol' drop get away," she giggled. 
"Now do me.  Doggy style."

   I got behind her, pushed the head of my dick in between glistening lips
and sank all the way in.

   "Ohgod!  I LIKE this..."

   A couple of strokes.

   "I can feel your balls slapping against me.  You're in so deep..."

   "You okay?"

   "Godyessss!  Do it!  Hard!"

   I didn't need much encouragement for that to happen.  She tossed her
blonde head back and squealed.  "Hard, Jay!"

   I pounded because I had a need to come.  I could feel...

   "Ohgod!  It's growing in me.  I feel it!  I..." she squeaked.

   I shoved hard two more times, sank as deep as I could get.  "Push back,
baby," I managed to utter.

   "Coming!!!" she hissed.  "Nnnngghhhh!" She would've collapsed off me,
but I had a firm grasp of her hips.

   "Oh, babyyyyy," she sighed.  "I've been DONE.  Again."

   I let her go, flopped down alongside her.  She managed to get her face
to mine for a kiss.  I'm still hungry for her kisses.

   "If you leave me, Jay, I will hunt you down and kill us both..."

   "That almost did it, just now."

   "Yeahhhhhhh..." she sighed.  "Now I've got THAT one to think about. 
Gosh ...  I could feel it when you started to come."

   "You, too.  That little kitty of yours gets quite agile and that
position exaggerates it."

   The next morning we were on the road early, headed to Charleston.  Fort
Sumter.  Drive-thru breakfast.  Fast food lunch.  Afternoon tour of the
fort in the middle of the harbor.  Stand atop the walls and imagine the
hell that descended on the place a hundred and fifty-odd years ago.

   Those are common excursions of thought to me.  Every battlefield, I know
the history.  I know the war.  I know the numbers of dead and wounded.  Yet
here I am, one bright day, walking on grounds that were scenes of horror
and inhumanity and bravery beyond ken.  Having Lena there with me, I can
voice these things with somebody who is interested and tries, like me, to
understand.

   It's not something we dwell on, though, just a series of thoughts that
are the undercurrent to the explorations.  For us it kind of keeps a lid on
the gleeful oohing and ahhhhing over the sites.

   And at the end of the day, we're together, and that's another set of
thoughts I can't comprehend - how fortunate I am.

   "I got us a good line on a seafood restaurant for dinner, Jay," Lena
said, sitting beside me in the front seat of the SUV.

   "Sounds good," I said.  "We keep getting exercise like all this walking,
we can eat a great meal."

   "And then more exercise," she giggled.

   "You're still on your period."

   "I know," she said, "but..." and she stuck her tongue out.  "I can think
of things to do with this.  You may like some of them."

   I smiled.  A week together now.  I enjoyed rebreathing the same air that
Lena breathed.  She had a mouth that played and teased and tormented me to
explosions, true enough.  Her pussy, excuse me, her 'kitty', though...

   "I don't like to call it a pussy," she said.  "I've just heard that word
said too nasty for too many years.  And yours is a dickie."

   "I'm good with that," I'd said.

   "Good.  I just can't see myself living my life in a porno.  You can
treat my kitty any way we desire, but it's a kitty, okay?  And I promise
that dickie will be as happy as I can make him."

   So dinner was behind us, we didn't spend as much time showering as we
normally did because she refused my fingers touching her kitty while she
was menstruating.

   We retired to the bed, each of us with something to read.  Quiet time.
We could do that.  Occasionally I'd reach over to touch her as if I was
checking to make sure this wasn't a dream.  After a bit, though, I reached
over, her hand took mine, placed it on one breast.

   "Squeeze," she sighed.

   I put my iPad down, rolled towards her.  That breast was entirely too
pretty for idle squeezing.

   "I was hoping you could take a hint," she said softly.

   "I can't ignore you."

   Our lips met.  Broke.  "You weren't ignoring me, we were reading right
here in the same bed together."

   "As long as you know you're never gonna be ignored."

   "I know the difference, silly," she said, putting her fingers under my
chin, lifting my face for another kiss.  "And you may play," she added,
lowering the bedsheet to expose those lovely breasts.

   I was nude.  She had panties on, concession to her period.  I
expected...

   She slid away from my mouth, her head nuzzling the sheet down over my
torso, seeking her goal.  It was waiting, hard.

   "DIckie!" she squeaked, and attacked her toy with enthusiasm and glee.

   I was stroking her hair as she was stroking ol' dickie in and out and
then she jumped.

   "Lena?"

   "Dammit you, Jay." She grabbed the bath towel that I'd left on the
nightstand.  "Raise up."

   I looked at her, questioning.

   "Your butt, Jay!"

   I raised up.  She slid the towel under me, then her head bobbed, sucking
me in again.  She let me leave her mouth, then surprised me by casting her
panties and pad aside, then straddling me.  She impaled herself on me, rode
me HARD through her orgasm and mine, non-verbal, her entire communication
being sharp breaths, snorts and sighs, then her orgasmic squeal.

   She fell forward into my arms.  "I'm sorry, baby."

   "Sorry?  I just came my brains out, Lena."

   "Me, too.  I enjoyed ...  Oh gosh, Jay, why do I NEED you like that?  I
hope I didn't gross you out." A long sigh.  "But you came."

   "A good one."

   "We got a mess."

   "There's a shower," I reminded her.  "Plenty of hot water..."

   "We're gonna need it..." She sat back, looked down.  "Omigod what a
mess. Don't look..." she rose a bit, dabbed her kitty with the end of the
towel, then abused me with a dry corner.  "Shower."

   I followed her out of bed.  I looked down, saw smears of reddish brown.

   "Don't look, dammit."

   In the shower.  "I can't believe I DID that.  And you LET me."

   "I was enjoying a wonderful episode of you sucking me inside out.  I'm
innocent."

   "God, Jay ...  You ...  You just GET me." She wouldn't let me wash
myself or her either.

   Out of the shower.  "Have you ever done that before?"

   "Never.  Ex wasn't that openminded or adventurous or whatever it was
that made you..."

   Giggle.  "Horny.  Pure animal lust." She looked at me.  "So?  Gross?"

   "Nah ...  Shower works."

   Her somewhat apprehensive expression changed to a shy smile.  "So?  Last
time we ever do that?"

   I pressed her naked butt against the door.  "Little Lena, any time you
want, whatever you want.  You've got me."





   Chapter 12

   Lena's turn:

   Loving my new life as wife of Jay.  Thing one - we can hold hands in
public.  Little kisses, that kind of thing, because you know ...  husband
and wife.  Thing two - no more tip-toeing around the hotel room, trying to
be chaste.

   Honestly though, I sort of started out in the hotel room that first
night, knowing that chastity was on limited lifespan.

   Besides, two of us naked in the same room is just plain fun.  I don't
get that 'he's gropin' me, him with his one-track mind' vibe at all.  When
he does touch me, I feel loved.  He acts like a blind man meeting the Venus
de Milo.  I'm good with that.  I'd say my side of that story would be
Michelangelo's David but poor ol' David's sadly lacking and unresponsive.

   Manassas.  Antietam.  And the Mother of All Battles, Civil War version -
Gettysburg.  And we angle off afterward towards Missouri.  We'll get there
a few days before I'm expected to start work with Jay.  That's a few days
where we get used to LIVING together, like who does what around the house.

   "There goes that idea about you sleeping in the spare bedroom," he
laughed.  "I don't have to move my stuff."

   "Just make room for MY stuff," I told him.

   "You didn't bring much stuff."

   He's right.  I loaded up the back end of the SUV with my belongings.  I
brought clothes, a few keepsakes, that sort of thing.  I thought that
sooner or later we'd get back there and I might bring more stuff, but when
I left, I wasn't absolutely sure what my future accommodations might be. 
After all, what if Jay pushed me out to make room for some floozy?

   Nope.  I'm sleeping in the bed with MY husband.  We'll figure out
domestic issues as we go.

   I'm pleasantly surprised at the apartment as we drive up.  Jay said
'temporary housing for the duration of the project' and my mind filled in
'run-down hovel'.  I need to realign my mind.  It was a nice-looking place.
Back home, those are kind of spendy.

   We parked in one of two spots with our apartment number on them and I
started to grab a bag.

   "Nope.  We'll lock it.  C'mon!"

   Okay, Jay's not given to insanity, so he's got something in mind.  He's
got me by the hand as we walk up the sidewalk.  He's got his keys out.  He
opens the door, scoops me up.  I squeal just a little as he maneuvers me
through the door, letting me stand up once inside, then he pushes me back
against the wall.

   "There," he smiles, kissing me.  "I have brought my wife properly into
her new home."

   I kissed him back.  "I am in my new home because you are here."

   "Know what's really sad, though?"

   Inside, I sort of fell.  Sadness?  I had to ask.  "What's sad, baby?"

   "We don't have bread, so you can't make me a sammich." And he broke into
a lopsided grin.

   "You BEAST!" I squealed.  I hauled him to me forcibly, covering his
mouth with mine.  Kiss.  "I can see that Mom was right.  I have training to
do!" Kiss again.

   "This is getting ready to be a crime scene," I said.

   "Crime scene?"

   "Yep!  I'm about to rape you.  Show me the bedroom."

   He grinned.  "Might not make it past the sofa."

   "Nope.  Bedroom.  I get to choose the scene of the rape."

   I had just enough time to admire his choice of bedding before we tossed
the covers off the bed.

   We had to get rid of a lot of clothes to conduct a proper rape and by
that time the lines got really obscured as to exactly who was supposed to
be raping whom but when it was all over, both participants pronounced it
quite satisfactory.

   I was lying beside him, both of us on our backs, holding hands, fingers
interlaced.

   "Perfect," I said.

   "Thank you.  I do try, you know..."

   "Jay, you just GET me."

   "Mutual, baby doll," he said.

   A little revitalization ensued.  Then, "How many sets of sheets do you
have?"

   "Two, why?"

   "Big puddle on these.  As the lady who's gotta do the laundry, it helps
to know things."

   He rolled over to trap me.  "It's real, then," he said.

   "What's real?"

   "My Lena's planning on being a proper mate and partner."

   "Of course.  What would make you think otherwise, what with YOU still
dripping out of ME?"

   "I still think I'm dreaming.  It's been a very good dream, too."

   "Yeahhhh," I sighed.

   "C'mon," he said, "Let me show you the place."

   I got the house tour while completely naked.  Stopped in the bathroom
long enough to note that the shower was big enough for two friendly
participants and that there was toilet paper.  I retrieved some, used it to
make sure I didn't mark the rest of my path through the place by a series
of sticky spots.

   End of tour.  Like I said, nice apartment.  I know a lot of people who
live in much worse conditions.  I was one of them.

   We got dressed (dammit!) and hauled in the bags from the trip, then
wrote up a list to go grocery shopping, needing to add perishables and
'things YOU like', per Jay.  On the trip outbound, we drove past the
jobsite.  Yes, there's a real, live, running facility there already.

   "That's Phase 1.  I built that, at least the electrical part of it. 
Those trailers are our offices.  They've already started the site prep for
Phase 2.  That's what you and I will be working on."

   "Interesting.  Looks like a mess."

   "It is.  It'll be a long time into the project before most of the new
unit is paved.  People will track mud into those trailers daily.  Even with
a janitorial service sweeping and mopping nightly, it's still not a home
for the meticulous."

   "You didn't tell me that, Jay."

   "You worked in Dad's garden.  I sort of thought that dirt wasn't going
to bother you.  And your cave will be one of the cleanest, anyway."

   "That's why you said jeans, safety shoes and a work shirt are what I
need, right?"

   "Yeah.  You'll spend most of your day in your cave, but if you have to
issue new drawings to the field, you might go out there yourself rather
than wait and trust somebody else to take them out there for you."

   "Me in a hard hat and safety glasses," I muttered.

   "You'll be the prettiest one out there.  And believe me, it WILL be
noticed."

   I touched his arm.  "And it will be appreciated, laughed at, and
rebuffed."

   "Just be careful.  Some of those guys don't rebuff easily."

   "First, I'm madly in love with YOU, so I will limit my interactions to
business.  Second, I will not allow myself to get into one-on-one
situations.  Third, no touchy.  You touchy, I touchy back.  Vigorously. 
Loudly." I paused.  "But Jay, my first REAL job..."

   "We'll go talk with them tomorrow, get your employment paperwork done,
and Monday you and I can start work."

   I giggled.  "You'll teach me.  I really LIKE it when YOU teach me
stuff."

   "You're a very good student," he said, playing along.

   "I'm motivated," I giggled.  "I love some of your subjects."

   Grocery shopping.  Yes, every day, millions of people go grocery
shopping.  I've done it myself, helping out Mom, or for Jay's dad.  Today,
though, is the first time that I've shopped for MY own house.  Milestone.
Direct connection to normality.  I said so.

   "I like normality with you, little girl," Jay said.

   "Well, we got it, babe," I countered.  "Both of us working..."

   "And we're quite comfortable, I think.  My salary will take care of us
and we sock a chunk of it away, and your salary..."

   "Save all of it.  When this job's over - you and I do something special.
Might go count kangaroos or something."

   "Polar bears," he countered.  "By the time summer's over, I'll be pretty
much sunshined out."

   "That's a thought," I said.

   "Could just play it by ear, huh?" he said.

   "Plan to be spontaneous at some future date," I laughed.

   "Yeah.  That."

   Jay's turn:

   I always enjoyed the bed I'd bought for this place.  I hit it dead on
with the mattress.  Now I find that adding a healthy, happy teenager to it
really enhances the experience.

   "Queen," she said, looking at it.  "We know how to do queens, don't we?"

   Indeed we do.  Wonderful night's sleep.  Bumped into each other for
breakfast and coffee, then a run out to the jobsite.

   I introduced Lena to Andy Cravens, our project manager.

   "Andy, this is Angelina Harris, my wife.  Your new documents analyst."

   "When you told me about hiring her, she was Angelina Crosby," he said.
"I guess this is a surprise, something new, something I need to offer
congratulations to YOU and condolences to Angelina."

   "Lena, if you please, and I'll accept congratulations as well, thank
you," Lena inserted.

   "How long have you KNOWN this guy, Lena?"

   "Since I was about five."

   "And you STILL married 'im?"

   This is where I see how Lena's going to fare on the job.

   She smirked, "He's the very epitome of stability and has shown amazingly
good taste by chasing me until I caught 'im."

   Score's Lena- 1, Andy - 0.

   "Wow!" Andy blurted, laughing.  "I walked into that one.  I should've
known ...  Lena, I ...  well, you two won't be the first husband and wife
team we've had on this job.  The lady who had your position before was
married to one of the process engineers."

   "That's what Jay told me when he first talked about the job."

   "Well, if Jay thought you're up for the job, then you already have some
ideas about what it is, right?"

   "Yessir."

   "Okay.  See Emily.  She's our on-site HR rep.  She'll get you the
paperwork.  I suppose you have a birth certificate and a social security
card and a driver's license?"

   "Yessir," she said.  "But my license is under my maiden name."

   "That's okay.  You 'n' Emily can work that out.  You'll want to get it
changed as soon as you can, anyway." He eyed me.  "You can show 'er where
Emily's office is.  While they're doing that, come back here and talk with
me."

   "Sure," I said.

   Lena's turn:

   Jay looked relaxed when we met his boss, so if Jay's relaxed, Lena's
gonna try and be relaxed, too.

   Mister Andy cracked a comment about condolences for me marrying Jay.  I
told him that Jay was the epitome (yeah, sometimes those straight As in
English come back to haunt me) of stability and decorum and he had the good
sense to chase me until I caught 'im.

   'Chased me until I caught 'im' is a decent descriptor of how we ended up
together, both of us with the same idea, both of us just a little bit
scared to admit it.  Maybe I was the aggressive one.  So what?  If I was
the predator, he was very willing prey.  We're happy.

   Jay took me through the temporary office trailers and presented me to
Mizz Emily Mahan.

   "My wife, Angelina," he told Mizz Emily.  "Be nice to 'er.  You know how
you get." And he left to go talk to Mister Andy.

   "Sit down, Angelina," she said.

   "Please, I go by 'Lena', Mizz Emily."

   "If you get to be Lena, I get to be Emily, okay?"

   "Yes, ma'am," I said.

   "You were raised right.  But it's okay to drop the 'ma'am' too. 
Really."

   "I'll try.  It's difficult."

   "Let me get this thing running," she said, retrieving an laptop computer
from a cabinet.  "I'll get the intranet app up and you can fill it out. 
Uh, you ARE computer-literate, right?"

   "Yes, ma'-- I am, Emily." It felt weird.  I had to force myself. 
"Windows.  OS-X.  Linux.  IOS.  Microsoft Office.  Photoshop..."

   "Dear, you're over-qualified."

   "I just enjoyed playing with computers every now and then.  That's one
obstacle I won't have."

   "Have you done this document clerk thing before?"

   "Oh, no.  I just graduated from high school a couple of weeks ago.  This
is my first real job."

   "And you're married to Jay?  You don't have to answer if I'm bein'
nosey."

   "Married to Jay for a whole week and two days."

   "Really?  I wondered what his deal was.  I know a couple of women who
eyeballed him, baited the hook, everything.  And he never bit."

   "That's my Jay.  He's different."

   "Figured that." She tapped at the keyboard of the laptop, pushed it over
to me.  "On-line job application.  Fill it out.  Hit 'send'.  And we'll go
from there.  Uh, do you have your driver's license and social security
card?"

   "Yes, but my license is in my maiden name.  I have a copy of the
marriage certificate, though."

   "Okay.  I'll make copies.  I'm surprised Jay didn't call me about the
marriage to get all the insurance and stuff."

   "He called the insurance company direct.  I was there."

   "Other things," she said.  "Life insurance...'"

   "He made me the beneficiary six months ago, he said."

   "Oh.  So he's been serious about you for six months?"

   "No, it was either me or his sister, and she's got a husband.  I used to
take care of his dad before..."

   "Yeah, I remember him going home for the funeral," Emily said.

   I was typing away, talking with Emily.

   "You type well," she said.

   "Thank you.  Like I said, played with computers, learned to keyboard. 
Almost a requisite these days to do anything."

   "Don't I know it," she said.

   I made a couple more entries.  "Work history," I said.  "None."

   "Did you do any extracurricular activities in school?"

   "Library club.  Math club.  Science club."

   "Put those down.  It's not like we're gonna screen you out of a pile of
applicants." She smiled.  "Jay's word carries a lot of weight around here,
especially with Andy.  If Jay says you're the one for the job, you get
first shot."

   "He's supposed to be my teacher."

   "One reason he's got the rep he has is that Jay Harris knows his stuff.
And a lot of everybody else's stuff as well."

   "That's my Jay," I said with more than a little pride.

   She shook her head.  "You landed Jay." She looked at me.  "Nah ... 
You're a whole lot different than those bitches that had their eyes on 'im.
They wanted everything BUT what you seem to have seen."

   "Sad," I said.  "Saw plenty of girls like that.  Wanted the wrong
things. He's smart and funny and good-looking and kind and caring..."

   "And you're in love," Emily smiled.

   "Yep."

   She typed a few more strokes.  "And now you're his co-worker.  I just
sent that off to the IT bunch.  In a few minutes you'll have a logon and
you can start setting up your own insurance and things."

   "Great," I said.  Inside I was doing handstands.  This was my very first
official job.

   She picked up the phone.  "I need to know how much we're paying you for
this." She dialed four digits.  "Hey, Andy!" Pause.  "Yeah, d'ya know she
can TYPE?  I mean REALLY." Pause.  "No, I didn't think Jay'd bring us some
ditz.  How much are we payin' 'er?" Pause.  "Okay.  I'll tell 'er.  It's
official.  I'm sending it to payroll right now." Pause.  "Yeah.  It's slow,
like normal." Pause.  "Okay.  Talk with you later." She turned to me. 
"Fifteen dollars an hour until the project officially starts.  Then if
you're up to anything reasonably close to speed, you go to twenty-four. 
With room to grow."

   "Wow!" I said.  "I thought this was gonna be ten bucks an hour to
start."

   She smiled.  "You can type.  Jay speaks highly of you..."

   "He'd better," I snickered.  "He married me."

   "He spoke highly of you BEFORE you two were married."

   "Truth?" I said, "I am NOT stupid.  I learn fast, I'm conscientious, and
I had absolutely NO plans after high school because Mom and Dad just
weren't up to it and I honestly didn't know a direction to go.  Didn't
wanna start college on student loans and not have a direction."

   "Hon," Emily said, "you put more thought into it than thousands of
others.  My daughter ...  mass communications major.  Four year degree when
and IF she graduates, and she hasn't got a clue about a job."

   "I'm sorry," I said.

   "Me too," Emily answered.  "Dunno what she's thinking.  Uh, your health
insurance - you should talk with Jay about that.  It's probably a lot
cheaper if you decline and he pays for both of you."

   "I've never done any of that before, so, yeah, I need guidance."

   "Lena, you can always ask me.  There ain't gonna be very many women on
this job and I'm the only one I trust right now.  You're working your way
onto the list.  But if you need anything, ANYTHING, you can come to me."

   "Oh, I think Jay'll take care of me..."

   "Yeah, Jay's a good guy, for sure.  But if you find yourself dying for
girl talk, I'll listen.  Talk.  Argue.  Sometimes us girls need that."

   "Yeah, I can see me tellin' Jay..."

   "You tell Jay that my Barney wants to hit the gun range and needs a
buddy.  They can go shoot off a few hundred dollars worth of ammo and me
an' you can go shop or drink coffee and talk."

   "Now that's a possibility.  But what if I wanna go shoot, too?"

   "Then all four of us can go.  Then dinner."

   I smiled.  I wondered how I was going to find friends.  Emily's got a
college-aged daughter, but she's friendly and she doesn't think Jay's a
child molester, so that's a plus.

   "We'll probably end up doing all of those," I said.

   "Good," she smiled.  "Us married couples need to stick together,
although being married is no guarantee, people being people an' all."

   "Oh, I know," I said.

   I saw Jay's head stick in the door to Emily's office.  "Well, punkin,"
he said, "you've met one of the impediments to this job.  You still wanna
work here?"

   "How dare you talk about this wonderful lady like that, Jay!" I
simpered.

   "Yeah, Jay!  How dare you?" Emily snarked.

   "I've worked with you too long, Emily.  HR is third on my list of people
who wreck my job, right below safety and environmental."

   "I don't hear you complain when your paycheck arrives on time now, do
I?"

   "Nor do you complain when the lights come on, either, huh?"

   "It's a tie, y'all.  Play nice," I squeaked.

   "Let's leave this evil woman in her lair and go look at YOUR new place."

   "Okay." I stood up.  "Emily, thanks a lot.  You know where to find me,"
I said.

   "Yeah.  Uh, you get breaks, you know.  Jay'll show you the kitchenette.
Coffee pot, all that.  I'll see you around."

   "Looking forward to it," I said.

   "You never tell me you'll see me for coffee," Jay said, sounding hurt.

   "'Cuz I don't wanna see YOU any more than I have to," she laughed. 
"Bye, y'all."

   I followed Jay through the offices until he opened a door.  BIG room. 
One wall had a desk with a computer and TWO monitors, there was this HUGE
apparatus against one wall.  I looked really quick.  It said 'H-P' and had
rolls of paper, so I deduced 'printer'.  There was another more normal
looking printer.  Cabinets.  Racks.

   "This is your domain," he said.

   "Big printer?"

   "Yep.  You can print full sized drawings with it.  The little printer
will do 11x17 inch drawings.  That works for a lot of stuff, but for some
things, you need full-sized."

   That was the start of my education.

   "You're going to work with the draftsman who has the office next door
and who happens to be a lady.  You and her, y'all collaborate on drawings.
Everything we build has a stack of drawings, civil, process,
instrumentation, electrical, various mixtures of all of those.  Let's look
at the ones that the civil bunch is using right now."

   "Civil?"

   "Civil is structural.  The site, the structures, the buildings, all
civil.  They work with the mechanical and the process people when we start
putting in process equipment.  All that stuff has already been engineered."
He looked around the stacks.

   "Okay, here," he said, opening a sheaf of drawings.  "See?  Says
'civil'. And these numbers, the first two digits are a code for the
discipline.  And the stamp says 'Issued for construction' so these are what
the guys out there are using to build with."

   I swiveled my head.  "Okay, that's what the list taped to the wall is -
the codes for the disciplines?" I pointed.

   "You got it, babe," he said.

   I heard Emily's voice, "Jay Harris, did I just hear you call a female
co-worker 'babe'?  That's a sexual harassment case waiting to happen."

   "Oh, hush, you.  You have ol' Glenn so deluded that he probably still
calls YOU 'babe'."

   "That's not delusion, that's training, sir!  Besides, I didn't come here
to joust with you.  I need to take Lena to security so they can get her a
badge made up."

   "Okay," Jay said.  "Lena baby, be careful.  She may tell you stories..."





   Chapter 13

   Jay's turn:

   And so it starts.  It's one thing to run the roads with somebody like
Lena and I have been doing, basically on a loose schedule, talking, nothing
more critical than not becoming a traffic statistic.

   It's entirely another when you have to treat your new wife as a green as
grass employee who needs to spin up pretty fast into handling the documents
for a good-sized construction project.

   I saw the first indication that things might be better than I thought
when she pulled out a notepad and started taking notes.  We rolled out
drawings and I showed her everything from plot plans to P&IDs, the
myriad...

   "Enough," she said.  "Four o'clock."

   "You're right.  Time flies when you're having fun."

   "This is FUN?!?  I had no IDEA..."

   "Most of the world doesn't, baby," I said.  "You drive past a factory or
walk into an office building, and never give a thought to the fact that
everything you see has been laid out on paper by some engineer or architect
or designer."

   She repeated herself.  "I had no idea ...  I'm beginning to see,
though."

   "You've had one day at this, baby," I said.  "Let's go home.  We can
figure out what to do for dinner while we're on the road."

   We ran into Emily on the way to the parking lot.

   "Still with us?" Emily asked Lena.  "I thought between learning all that
crap from scratch and having HIM for a teacher, you'd be long gone."

   Lena laughed.  "We're still newlyweds.  I'm still..."

   "Oh, yeah, I remember how it was," Emily chuckled.  "See you two
tomorrow."

   In the following days we established a bit of a routine.  I took a bit
more time training Lena than I might've done under different circumstances.
First, she was the greenest new employee I'd ever worked with.  Not only
had she never worked with the documents, she knew nothing of the goings-on
of a construction project.

   I made a point of taking her out into the field where the work was in
progress, taking HER drawings and showing her the relationship to real
world work.  The fact that this project was Phase Two, a second unit
identical to the one I'd put on line, meant I could point to it as a
desired end.

   Naturally she met a lot of people - engineers and foremen overseeing
work in progress.  Her mind reveals itself each day as quick and competent.
She met people, remembered names and faces.  By the end of the week, I
started hanging back, letting her go about her job by herself.

   "They're nice to me," she said.

   "Of course they are.  You're doing your job, things are pretty low
stress, you're young and pretty..."

   "I'm not pretty."

   "Look around you, sweetness.  You're on a construction site.  You're
like a single flower growing through the crack in a parking lot.  Pretty.
Besides, I adore you..."

   "I adore you right back, Jay.  And you're worried.  I can tell."

   "Of course I'm worried.  There are gonna be a few hundred men crawling
all over this site in the next few months and YOU are desirable..."

   "They can desire all they want, Jay.  I KNOW you.  I know what YOU want
and I know what I want.  You care about me for a lot more than most of
those guys would even think of."

   "Lena..."

   "I wasn't like that in high school.  I'm not about to start now. 
'Sides, did you notice that girl that started with the safety department?"

   "Hon," I said, "she didn't start.  She's back."

   "Oh," Lena said.  "Sounds like you know something..."

   "That's one of the OTHER kind, babe.  I ain't too sure that she doesn't
supplement her wages here with some negotiable comfort payments after
work."

   "'Negotiable Comfort?' You mean, like prostitution?"

   "Prostitution's a harsh term.  She goes through a guy every few days,
maybe a week or two.  He gets what HE wants, she gets what SHE wants.  Some
of these construction guys are pretty free with their money."

   She looked at me.  "I know girls can be as predatory as men, babe.  You
didn't get that with me.  I didn't get that with you.  So how about we stop
worrying, huh?"

   "Every time I see YOU in the vicinity of an unaccompanied male, I'll
worry."

   "Thank you," she said, looping her hand inside my arm.  "I'm flattered.
But you forget something, Jay."

   "What?"

   "I saw the hurt in your eyes when your wife left.  I saw the hurt in
your eyes when your dad passed away.  I'm your Lena and I will never put
that hurt in your eyes."

   "And I'll forever try to keep that smile on your face."

   "You didn't seem to have a problem making me frown today."

   "You need to learn this stuff.  It's just easier if you have a little
knowledge past 'the 89 series is process control'.  Sometimes the drawings
are needed by more than one discipline."

   Giggle.  "I'll learn.  I don't think crying's gonna keep me out of
trouble."

   "Speaking of trouble, what are we doing for dinner?"

   "I have some round steak, some onions, a skillet.  Steak and gravy?"

   "You smooth-talkin' little thing..."

   Another giggle.  "Speaking' of little things..."

   "Oh, now it's LITTLE?"

   Titter.  "Mine is.  Yours is abusive.  And I desire abuse."

   "I shall provide what you wish," I grinned.  Yes, I looked forward to
this part of our lives very much.

   We hit the apartment heading in two directions, her to the kitchen, me
to the laundry room, each bent on keeping our lives neat and clean.  I was
folding clothes.  I could back up, look into the kitchen see Lena's
jeans-clad form busy at the counter, preparing a meal.  Domestic bliss, it
was.

   I finished my task of putting away folded clothes, went into the
kitchen, grabbed my wife in a bear hug from behind.  Sometimes she squeals
and protests.  This time she sagged back into my arms.

   "I love the way you possess me, Jay."

   "You're just about the neatest possession imaginable, you know..."

   She twisted around for kisses.  Two.  Then, "Let me stir this thing and
turn the heat down and put a pot of rice on."

   "Yes, ma'am."

   I tried helping, that meant that we bumped into one another several
times.  Finally she put both her hands on my lower back, pushing me out of
the kitchen.

   "Hit the recliner, bud," she said.  "So I'll have a place to curl up."

   I like that.  Me in the recliner, kicked back, finally shed of my work
shoes, Lena a perfect fit, curled in my arms.

   "Lemme have the remote.  We need music," she said.  I delivered it to
her.  She punched up something light and soothing.  "Now hold me.  This
stuff has been tougher than school."

   "I told you, baby.  You don't have to ...  I make enough to take care of
us both.  Easily."

   "No, I think I LIKE this stuff.  It's just that it's real.  If I mess up
there are bigger consequences than a bad grade at the top of the
worksheet."

   "Real jobs are like that, baby," I said.  "And the deeper you get, the
more significant the consequences."

   "Could be stocking shelves at the grocery store," she said.

   "And the whole time you were doing it, your brain would be sitting
idle..."

   "Yeah ...  This makes me think.  I have responsibilities." She gave me a
peck on my lips, one of several kinds of kisses she used on me.  "And
another responsibility is NOT to burn dinner." She hopped up, I heard the
lid lift on the stove, some stirring, water running, then she was back.

   "Just like Momma showed me.  Caramelize those onions until they come
apart.  Brown the meat with 'em.  Then add water and let it simmer."

   "And that's how my mom did it, too.  It smells great."

   She plopped back into my waiting arms.  I nuzzled her hair back away
from a pink curlicue of an ear, nibbled it, a move good for squeals.  "You
smell good, too..."

   "I haven't had a shower and I've been at work all day, including two
trips to the welding yard.  I sweated."

   "So you have traces of that perfume I like, and you have the musk of
honest sweat.  Not rank, just alluring in a very natural, primal way."

   "You LIKE that?"

   "Yes."

   "I thought I was weird.  You ...  you kinda turn me on, you know, if we
mess around before we shower, I thought I was weird because it arouses me."

   "I don't know if it's common or not.  It's just me ...  I like you like
this..."

   She smiled.  "Something salty and tangy that I'd like to sample, you
know.  I might be too rank to reciprocate, though..."

   "Don't tease me, honey," I laughed.  "I'd reciprocate the daylights out
of you..."

   "Me first," she purred, standing.

   I wasn't sure what 'me first' meant.  It could go either way - me doing
HER first or ...  Okay, her tugging my belt loose kind of clarified the
intent.

   I cannot remember EVER having my balls and my dick so lovingly
tongue-bathed, all to the accompaniment of little moans and mmmmmms and
sighs and happy faces when I could force my eyes open to see what was going
on.

   "Ohgod, Lena ...  I'm gonna come."

   Giggle.  "One now.  More later..." and her head bobbed, that blonde hair
bouncing.  Another 'Mmmm' and that's it.  I dumped.  Hard.  Giggles urged
me on, as did her tongue and her suction.

   There wasn't a single errant drop.  She stood up, shucked her jeans, her
panties ...  crawled up my toro, kissed me.  "My turn.  Trade places.  I
get the chair."

   Oh, boy!  She's sitting there without panties, her legs spread wide,
that beautiful pink pussy open like a dew-dappled orchid, and it's MINE! 
And all the talk of sweat and musk and perfume ...  It's all true and it's
all so far past just GOOD ...  I operated on the premise that she did to me
what she thought would feel good to her, at least the activities external
to those sweet, moist lips.

   Yes, salty.  Yes, musky.  And ohgodyesssss, wonderful.  For me.  And
from the heels digging into my back and the hands holding my head in place,
I assume that Lena liked it, too.  Right up to where she passed out.  Limp.
I picked her up, cradled her carefully, and sat back down in the magical
chair with her in my arms.

   Her eyelids fluttered, then "Wow!  That was good!"

   "You're very lickable at the end of the day, lady," I said.  "A very
good reason to keep you working."

   Giggle.  "Put your pants back on, you!  We can't eat dinner with our
butts bare!"

   "Anything you say, ma'am," I returned.

   She pulled her own jeans back up, wiggled her ass while she snapped
them, then disappeared into the kitchen.  I heard the microwave attending
to heating a vegetable to go with the rice and gravy.

   We sat at the little table in the breakfast nook and took our meal
together.

   Three weeks into training, Lena's status changed from that of junior
documents analyst to documents specialist and her pay jumped twelve dollars
an hour.

   "I'm a success, Jay.  It's your fault."

   "Nope.  Yours.  You're smart.  You learned fast, you adapt, you don't
just go through the motions.  All I did was get your foot in the door."

   I didn't see her much during the day.  My lunches were variably timed,
often business-related, involving other players on the project. 
Occasionally I could hit Lena's place for a sandwich with her.

   In the offices, she became a fixture.  The table right inside the door
held a jar of free candy - what Dad used to call 'penny candies',
jawbreakers, mints, that sort of thing.  Some people made a point of
dropping by at odd moments to grab one.  She took it to the field, too,
dropping a jawbreaker or a couple of wrapped mints on a table when she
delivered or picked up drawings.  I saw her golf cart stopped several
times, waved down by somebody who wanted something from the candy lady.

   I harbored worry about the smiles and comments she gathered along with
revised and marked up drawings and notes.

   "They're GUYS, Jay," she said.  "I know what you're thinking.  More than
that, I know what THEY'RE thinking, at least some of 'em.  Lena ain't
buying what they're trying to sell."

   "Just be careful, baby.  Some of 'em have great track records as
salesmen."

   "I'm not some bimbo who rolled out of a trailer park this mornin',
babe," she retorted.  "I'm not being snotty, but I got myself a chief
engineer.  Why in the world would I wanna dump that for a guy who just got
hired on as a rod-buster's helper on the forming crew?"

   "Two day old beard.  Tight jeans, muscles, tattoos..."

   She picked up the line.  " ...  a three pack a day cigarette habit.  A
twelve-pack of Bud Lite every night.  Never read a book without a
centerfold.  Only word he knows with more than two syllables is
'motherfucker'.  Yeah, I want one of those..."

   "C'mere, you," I said.

   She complied with a smile.  "Safe," she said.  "I don't know if I'm any
good as a lover anywhere else.  I could be doin' all this stuff completely
wrong.  But with you ...  I think I'm right.  I know my Jay.  I know what
makes him tick and never ever has he said anything negative about my
efforts.  I like bein' safe."

   "If you were any better, I'd short-circuit my nervous system, baby
doll." Yes, it's like that.  It's fortunate and it's fitting that this
girl, as far as I'm concerned, the LAST female I'll ever mate with, would
be the very best.

   Weeks passed.  Lena's successes made us both happy.  Check that.  Her
successes made a LOT of people at work happy, too.  She handled the flows
well, pulled a few strings, got a couple of temp workers in when the
workload peaked, trained them herself.  Things like that get noticed.

   We had a social life, but as you might imagine for a herd of itinerant
construction workers, it mostly revolved around people from work.  We'd
have a couple over for dinner one time, fire up the grill the next, go to
somebody else's place, a group would meet at a restaurant, that sort of
thing.  Bars?  Nope.  Wife's not old enough.

   The plant was on line, operating, before we left.  Actually, they let me
go and kept Lena for another two weeks, her duties being to clean up and
organize the final sets of the documents that they'd keep for the future.

   It was mid-autumn when we closed the door to the apartment that had been
our home for the five months we'd been married.  The furniture was in a
storage pod pending a new apartment at a job I'd already lined up.

   We had a plan, kind of off-beat, but I'd inherited some land in central
Louisiana, hilly, piney country.  It was the site of an old homestead, and
somebody had leased the land to run some scrub cattle.

   We'd talked, the lessor and I, about the transition.  There was
electricity on the property, enough to run the pump for a deep well. 
Cattle need water.  As far as I knew, he still had the cattle there.

   "I don't mind us continuing the lease, Mister Fred," I said.  "But I
wanna be able to get to the old homesite there."

   "Why?  That old barn's down.  Fell in.  Over a hunnert years old, best
anybody can tell.  Same thing with a couple of old out buildings."

   "I sort of have thoughts about turning it into my permanent place.  Wife
and I, we're chasing construction, would be nice to have a little place to
go back to."

   "You could do that.  It's a nice site.  Got a well.  Got electricity."

   "How's the road in?"

   "Parish paved the road past that place.  There's a gate.  I keep it
locked.  Combination lock.  And there's a driveway, but if the weather's
real bad, it's a mess.  Red clay.  Slick as owl shit when it's wet."

   "But I could get in there with a little travel trailer?"

   "If it ain't been rainin'," he said.  "Takin' one in or out shouldn't be
bad."

   "I'll call you when we solidify our plans," I said.

   "I'd appreciate that."

   That's why there was a travel trailer hitched to my truck when we headed
away from Missouri.

   "I can't believe they're calling for us in late November," I said.

   She giggled.  "I can't believe they're calling ME.  Just like that. 
'Uh, Lena, we're gonna start this new project.  We need Jay on it.  And
we'd like you to run the documentation again'."

   "Told you, baby.  Once you get a reputation, you don't have to worry
about work."

   "That's the neatest thing ...  And the pay.  I talked with a couple of
friends who aren't going to college.  One of 'em's minimum wage, the
other's just broke ten bucks an hour ...  and they're gonna do me thirty
plus completion bonus."

   "I knew you'd do that."

   "You knew I'd do a lot of things, Jay.  You had confidence in me."

   "Your mom and dad are proud, too, baby." We'd talked with them several
times.  Lena dutifully called them every week, and made special calls when
something exciting happened.  The fact that her last pay raise put her
making more than her dad was a point of conversation.

   Now we were headed back in the direction of home.  We planned it in two
stages with an overnight stay at a hotel at the end of the first day.  We
wanted to hit the homestead in the late morning so we'd have time to spot
the trailer and still have time for any sort of hiccups.

   Hotels are nothing new to us.  Neither is towing the trailer.  We'd
bought it a month before, made a couple of trial overnighters.  She thinks
it's cozy.  I think she's nuts, but if there was ever somebody to be cozy
with, it's that satisfied blonde thing in the cab of the truck with me.

   The second day found us off the main highways, up a succession of
winding country roads to a spot I'd marked in Google Maps.

   "I'll get the gate," she said, opening the door of the truck.

   "Just tie it open," I said.  "That cattle guard will keep the cows in.
And we'll be on the property tonight.  We just need to lock it when we
leave." That's a common mode of operations in many of the cattle farms. 
The barred cattle guard lets vehicle traffic pass.  The cattle won't cross
it.  The swinging gate keeps people out, at least the honest ones.  A gate
on an isolated country road depends on honesty.  A pair of bolt cutters
will take care of the lock for a thief, that is, if he didn't just shove or
pull the gate apart with a truck and chain.

   She unlocked it, swung it aside, jumped back in the cab.  We gingerly
drove up the road.  It was as described, a bit rough, a bare clay track up
a gentle slope to the hilltop home site.  In addition to the old-growth
trees next to the road, second growth and underbrush was taking over what
was once tilled field and pasture.  On the hilltop, at least the cattle had
kept the grass cropped.

   We stopped the truck, got out, reconnoitered the area, then pulled the
trailer in a big looping U to the parking spot we selected.  I had the
tools and materials necessary to provide us with utility power from the
service pole that fed the 'estate' water pump.  Yes, the camper had a
battery for lighting,, and yes, I could have provided a generator, but I
really wanted the convenience of letting somebody else supply us with
enough power for appliances and air conditioning.

   And water.  Lena and I are talking about an outdoor shower.  Cold water.
Need some more materials.

   We unhitched and leveled the trailer, making this our new home, at least
for the next few weeks.

   Time to walk the fences.  Lena met the cattle.  She was more than a bit
wary.

   "Are they mean?"

   "Not generally," I said.  "But don't get between a momma and her calf."

   "Where's the bull?"

   "That's him over there," I pointed.  "Plumbing's different."

   She looked.  "So I see ...  He looks different.  Different color.  Size.
Everything."

   "The cows're just what they call 'scrub cattle'.  No particular breed.
That's a pure-bred bull.  Angus.  A meat breed.  Farmer spends money on a
bull, he gets a chunk of his investment back in every calf that's bred.  If
he paid for ONE good cow, he'd get a good calf every year or so.  Bull's a
better deal."

   Since she asked questions to follow up, I rapidly ran out of everything
I knew about raising cattle, things I'd learned from the ex-wife's family.
They raised cattle.  And the one bitch.

   After walking the perimeter, we had a feel for the lay of the place.  We
trooped back up the hill, looked at the debris pile of the old barn, a
fallen equipment shed, a couple of other buildings.  I noted from the
remains of the lumber that these had been around a lot longer than I'd
originally surmised.

   "What're we gonna do about all this?  Burn it?"

   "That's a thought," I said.  "Hate to do that, though.  No telling
what's in there.  Might get a tractor in here and move things around a bit
and see."

   "You can drive a tractor?"

   "Of course.  Dad and Mom moved to town when I was a young teen.  I was
raised in the country.  We'll drive into town tomorrow and see if I can
rent one.  If some of these big timbers are sound, I think I can sell 'em.
People go nuts for this old-growth timber.  You can't get anything like it
any more."

   "I'm picturing it, baby," she said.  "Our place.  I don't know how..."
She turned to see a line of cattle walking up the hill to their watering
trough.  "Maybe a fence for our yard.  I think I like having the cows
around.  Bucolic."

   "What in the world am I doing on a hill in the middle of Louisiana with
a girl who uses 'bucolic' in conversation?" I laughed.

   "Fixin' to build us a home."





   Chapter 14

   Jay's turn:

   The tractor's supposed to arrive this morning before nine.  Lena and I
are up at seven, allowing ourselves an extra hour past the 0600 wake-ups
we'd done on the project.  The little trailer kitchenette yielded a
breakfast of eggs, bacon, biscuits and gravy.

   "Lotta breakfast, baby," Lena warned me.

   "Hang on, toodles," I replied.  "Farmer's breakfast.  For a day's hard
work."

   We cleaned up the breakfast mess and were sipping coffee in the still
morning air outside the trailer when we saw the pickup truck nose into our
drive, towing the tractor behind it.  A signature on a form and a credit
card swipe and we had a tractor to unload.

   Lena and I watched the guy drive away.  I turned to her.  "Okay,
punkin," I said.  "It's time to learn to drive a tractor."

   "Me?!?"

   "You're the only Lena I know," I said.

   "Noooo, you drive..."

   "You need to learn.  We got some hot, messy work to do, tearing into
those old buildings.  I'll be the guy on the ground.  You be the operator."

   The first lesson was using the front end loader to smooth a few rough
spots in our driveway.  It's a good place for her to get used to the
transmission and the clutch and the throttle, learn a bit about the
hydraulics.

   Lena's a fast learner.  By late morning we'd dragged clear patches
around the collapsed buildings and I'd spotted several timbers from the
timber-framed construction that seemed to be good candidates for sale to
some people in the antique lumber industry.

   From my vantage beside her on the tractor, I had her back up to the
smallest pile of detritus.  "Okay, now this is entirely different.  You're
going to operate the backhoe.  First thing we want to do is just reach over
as far as we can and curl the bucket into the top layer, and drag it back
toward us."

   "I'm nervous."

   "Don't be.  It's a trashpile right now.  If you mess up, it'll STILL be
a trashpile.  Take your time.  Nobody's in a hurry."

   Her first attempts were very shaky and tentative and I purred
encouragement.  She got better.

   "Okay.  Now here's what's gonna happen next.  I'm getting over there on
the pile and I'm going to wrap a sling around that big timber.  When I get
clear, I'll give you a signal and you try to pull it loose."

   The removal of the first sellable timber was a good stopping point for
lunch.  We did a sandwich each and copious amounts of lemonade.  Autumn in
Louisiana is still hot.

   And back to work.  Lena's confidence in her novice skills increased as
the day passed.  We had several usable timbers piled up and had pushed the
remainder of the debris aside into a burn pile.  Actual burning wouldn't
take place until we'd conferred with local forestry, fire, and law
enforcement people.

   The sun's dropping below the surrounding treetops was the sign for us to
quit for the day.

   "Showers," I said.  We were both dusty and sweaty.

   "That trailer shower's soooo tiny," she replied.

   I looked around.  Privacy in abundance comes with this location.

   "If you don't mind cold water, we can stand right out here and use the
garden hose.  Nobody can see us."

   "Cold water will feel good."

   "Deep well.  Really cold water."

   "Let me get us some soap and shampoo and towels."

   Okay, this works, but we're standing in the grass, showering.  The cold
water is brisk, to say the least.  Lena naked in the daylight outdoors is
enticing.  Next trip to town I need to get a few things to make this idea a
little more convenient - something for a floor, a bit of pipe and a valve
for a regular showerhead.  So we wouldn't have to do what we did this time
- sit on the steps of the trailer hosing off muddy feet.

   "Uh, next time maybe we should bring clothes out there with us," she
said.  "I have NEVER been naked outdoors like this before."

   "Really?" I said.  Then I thought for a second.  This IS my Lena,
refreshingly unsullied by the shenanigans I suspect most teen girls
would've seen.  "You do it quite well.  You're beautiful in the daylight."

   We made an evening of watching a movie on one of the laptops, sending it
to the medium-screened TV the trailer sported.

   "Much more than that," she said, "we might want to think of a satellite
dish."

   "Good idea," I said.  "So we don't get bored, you know..."

   Her eyes flashed as she straddled me on the little sofa.  "I hope you
don't find THIS boring."

   "Never.  Unending magic," I said truthfully as I peeled her nightshirt
up over her head.

   She's right.  TV is vastly overrated as a cure for boredom.

   With sunset, the evening cooled off enough for us to benefit from opened
windows.  I don't know if I like it.  I'm kind of used to white noise from
various fans blowing, but little zephyrs kept the air stirring in and out
of the trailer.  I slept.

   When I woke the next morning - pain!  All the jumping and climbing and
twisting and tugging yesterday were making themselves felt today.

   A moan from my Lena told me she had similar issues.

   Amid mutual groans we managed to face each other, cuddling, for a good
morning kiss.

   "I should've known this would happen," she said.  "Just like the first
week of gym in high school."

   "Me too, little one," I said.  "'Cept it's been a long time since high
school."

   She twisted, grimaced.  "Neither of us is out of shape ...  darn!"

   "Just not used to this stuff," I said.

   "Endorphins.  I know how to get us some endorphins."

   She does.  Breakfast afterward, her chuckles as she hears my whimpers
and grunts.

   "Buck yourself up, baby," she smiled.  "You're the one that said we
needed a place in the country."

   We topped off the tractor's diesel tank with five-gallon cans.  That's
going to give us a little break later in the day, driving off to fill them
back up.

   Lena wasn't nearly as tentative at the tractor's controls today.  She
and I finished erasing the first building.  We had a big pile of debris to
burn, a few timbers that might make us a few dollars, and some interesting
artifacts of the place's past life as a farm - old bottles, cans, tools,
all of which are worth something to somebody.

   We went to work on the second pile, another outbuilding, using the same
tactics that worked previously.  This one was a little more complex,
though. The first one had an earthen floor, likely for animals.  This one
had solid walls and a wooden floor, perhaps a corn bin.  The results,
however, were identical - pile of debris destined for burning, several
saleable timbers, a few artifacts.

   Having no deadline to make, when we finished with that building, we
stopped, showered amid giggles and gropes, and then hopped in my truck to
go get a few things from town.

   A trip to a lumber yard got us a few landscaping timbers, some plywood,
and various plumbing things.  I'm liking the outdoor shower thing enough to
want to make it a little bit more of our new lifestyle.

   In town, we elected to eat at a little barbecue joint instead of doing
something at the trailer and on the way home we stopped and filled the
diesel containers.

   The next day we attacked the fallen barn.  This was the remains of a
real 'working farm' barn, not one of those cutesie things one sees so often
on the properties of people who wish to present an appearance.  It was
huge. We spent a day pulling bits away from it, getting down to the part
where the real timbers were.

   In waning light I threw a chain around what was probably a roof beam,
snaked it to the tractor's drawbar, and waved Lena onward.  The tractor's
exhaust took on a deep blatting note as it strained under the load.  The
timber twisted on the chain as she tugged it loose, a beautiful piece of
clear pine, rich, silky looking without the benefit of enhancement.  And as
it turned, I saw letters carved into it.

   I trudged along behind it as Lena hauled it to our laydown area where we
stacked it on other timbers to keep it clear of the moist ground.  As I
worked with Lena to put it on the sacrificial timbers we were using to
block it up, I could clearly make out the carving.

   "Factum Est.  November 12, 1854 HRS."

   Older than I thought, but then this area had been settled well before
that.  I can only begin to imagine what life would have been like then,
fields cleared, buildings built, crops worked, all by muscle power.

   I waved at Lena, drew a finger across my throat, indicating I wanted her
to shut the tractor down, and motioned her over.

   "Look," I said.

   "Wow!  You think that's real?"

   "Might be.  I guess they could've gotten it from an older building, but
looking at the joinery, I dunno."

   "Means this place is older than you thought."

   "It does."

   "That's history," she said.  "Before the Civil War."

   "Yep!  I wish it hadn't fallen down.  That had to be a magnificent
structure."

   Lena looked at me.  "It was a barn.  Built by people who built it to do
a job.  I'm sure they got their money's worth.  It wasn't meant to be a
museum piece, you know..."

   "I know, but we lose something about the way our predecessors used to
live, how they worked..."

   "And baby, don't you think that if they could've called up a steel
building contractor, we'd be hauling Z-beams around today?"

   "I wonder what steel buildings'll look like in a hundred and sixty
years," I replied.

   "I dunno."

   Today's shower was a little better.  I'd rigged us a showerhead and a
plywood floor and a privacy screen of pre-fab lattice.  It doesn't stop the
sunlight from hitting my wife and heaven help me, she's beautiful when
she's naked and glistening wet.  I commented.

   She smiled.  "I kinda like it myself - the open air." She pulled me to
her for a kiss.  "That's why I don't want to clear that treeline along the
road and I wanna keep that dogleg in the drive getting in here.  Our place.
That's privacy, okay.  If I wanna see you walking around naked and you
wanna see me walking around naked, there's privacy for that."

   "You know, I need to tell you again how perfect you are, Lena."

   "I'll accept that," she said as she used the chilled mist of the shower
to rinse herself.  I watched, then she moved aside to let me do the same. I
jerked when warm fingers cupped my balls.

   Giggle.  "I think it's so interesting how they change.  Cold water, they
just get all tight.  It's so neat."

   I'm very happy, first that she pays attention to my body that closely,
and second, that she finds it enjoyable.  When she steps in closely, we
kiss, just outside the chilling spray from that shower.  I reach over, kill
the water, and put my full participation into the kiss.  In the daylight.
Outdoors.  Completely naked.  The girl is into this, and therefore, so am
I.

   The next day our pile of sellable timbers increased substantially as
Lena and I continued the work.  Notably, my muscles didn't ache as sharply
this morning.  She noted that.

   Giggle.  "'Manual Labor' isn't the president of Mexico, babe." She
looked incongruously cute perched in the seat of that tractor.

   Late morning, the guy who leases the place drove in.  We stopped to talk
to him.  He eyed the work we'd done.

   "Y'all have been busy," he noted.

   "That's what my muscles say, Bill," I returned.

   We did the small talk for a bit, politely conforming to the norms of
personal interaction in the South.

   "I was gonna move the cattle onto this half of the property," he said,
"give 'em some fresh grass."

   "Do it," I said.

   "Uh, you know how curious they are, don't you?"

   "You averse to me installing an electric fence around this hilltop? 
I'll make sure they can get to the water trough."

   "Smart idea.  Might be some interesting events, though.  They ain't
never seen an electric fence."

   "Neither have I," Lena inserted.  "I've heard about 'em all my life. 
Are they dangerous?"

   "No," both Bill and I said almost simultaneously.

   He continued, "Little electric charge zaps 'em.  It hurts, kinda like a
slap on the butt.  They'll learn fast."

   "A fence goes up fast, too.  Just poles in the ground, insulators, a
strand of wire, and we connect a charger.  We could have one up this
afternoon if we make a run into town," I said.

   "Then I won't move 'em until you call me."

   "Won't be but a day or so.  Running to town gives us a break.  Lena's
driving me pretty hard."

   She smiled.  "Yeah ...  All this is HIS idea."

   Bill pushed his cap back on his head.  "Y'all end up with a nice place
to build on when you finish."

   "We think so," Lena said.  After all, it's HER land, too.  "Honey," she
said to me, "we can pick back up right here whenever.  Wanna follow Mister
Bill out?"

   "I'll follow you two out," he said, "and lock the gate behind me."

   "Lock the gate?"

   "Yeah.  Good idea when nobody's here..."

   "We haven't been doing that," I said.

   "Might wanna think about it.  Country living ain't what it used to be.
Riffraff runs the roads, they see something easy to snatch, they'll snatch
it.  If you lock the gate, that's more work than they wanna do, most of the
time."

   "Point taken," I said.  "Ain't much to steal, though."

   "They break into hunting camps, travel trailers like yours, all the
time, take what they can find."

   "Crap," I said.  "Had enough of that crap living in town."

   "Well, sorry to be the bearer of bad news, but it's out here now.  Just
want you to take care of your place.  I'd lock the gate when I leave if I
was you."

   "We'll do that," I said.

   "Y'all go ahead.  I'll lock up after you, then."

   "'Preciate it, Bill," I said.

   Another trip to town.

   "Bill serious?  People just come onto private property and steal
things?" Lena asked.

   "Apparently so.  We need to be more careful.  I mean, you saw the guy
bring the tractor in, right?  Couple of guys, a truck 'n' trailer, and they
could easily haul it right back out.  He's right.  We need to be careful."

   "Self-defense," she said.  "You took me to the range one time in
Missouri.  Can we shoot on our land?"

   "Yeah."

   "You need to let me shoot that pistol again.  And show me how to use the
shotgun."

   "Okay.  Won't hurt for either of us."

   The farm supply store provided us with all that we needed for an
electric fence.  The little T-posts are easy to drive, the insulators for
the wire just snap on, and Lena and I made short work of the whole project.
By late afternoon, we had a perimeter fenced in, complete with a couple of
gates, one we could easily take down to get our truck in close to the
trailer, another that took us out to the growing clearing on our hill top.

   "Don't try stepping over the fence, babe," I warned.  "If you're gonna
cross it, either turn it off or use the insulated handle on the gate.  You
try to step over, you'll learn why really quick."

   She gazed at me.

   "And if I video it, you'll be a viral video on Youtube."

   "Careful, buster," she countered.  "I know where you sleep."

   "Oh, you're talking about physical abuse now."

   "I do have ideas about abusing you physically, but you've made me sweat
again.  Shower time."

   Cold showers are getting easier to take.  So is that tiny sleeping area
in the trailer, although it IS a queen-sized mattress.  Six months into
marriage and six months into sex like I never dreamed, and she's still
exciting.  The fact that she initiates as often as I do tells me that she's
of the same opinion.

   The next day, we're back at work when Bill's pickup rolls up the
driveway with his four-wheeler in back, along with a dappled grey dog.

   "No horse?" I jape.

   "Lookit my hat.  It's got a tractor on it.  Ain't no cowboy.  That Honda
don't need to be fed every day, don't shit in a stall, an' it's never bit
me.  Neither has ol' Spot."

   "All valid points," I laughed.  "Heck of an original name for the dog."

   "He's a good dog."

   Lena watched us unload the little thing out of his truck.  He buzzed off
with Spot trotting alongside.  We went back to pulling apart the pile of
the old barn.

   Presently I saw the cattle heading back into this half of the property,
Bill hanging back a good distance, letting Spot nip and bark at a few cows
who seemed to miss the memo on relocation.  Once everybody was through the
gate, Bill closed it, then rode up to where we were working.

   He watched as Lena and I moved another timber to the 'sell' stack.

   "Mizz Lena, you're pretty good on that thing."

   "Apt pupil," I said.  "She started on it the day they brought it here."

   "You look comfortable," he told Lena.

   "I'm getting that way.  And it's good for marital relations." Her eyes
twinkled.

   "How's that?" Bill asked, taking the bait.

   "If he makes me mad, I whack 'im with the bucket.  I'm a novice
operator. Gotta be an accident, right?" Giggle.  "And he's waaaay
over-insured."

   "She's dangerous, Jay," Bill said.  "Whatever happened to all those dumb
blondes we used to hear about?"

   "She keeps me on a short leash," I laughed.  "Gotta be careful with
smart wimmen."

   Now Lena was off the tractor, squatting down to pet Spot.  Spot was
clearly loving the attention.

   "You abuse this poor dog," Lena told Bill.

   "Yeah, I do.  I feed 'im too much, he gets too fat to perform the only
task he's good for."

   "Moving cattle?" she asked.

   "Yeah.  He's a real cattle dog."

   "What breed?" she asked.

   "Mutt," Bill replied.  "Half Australian shepherd, half Catahoula Hog
Dog. Got herding in 'is blood.  Also a good watchdog.  And he does a great
job of turning dollars into dog crap."

   By now Lena was in full 'coo' mode, Spot reveling in the attention,
licking her face gratefully.

   "Dammit, Jay ...  If we stayed in one place, I'd have one of these."

   "I can get you puppies whenever you're ready," Bill said.

   I caught Lena's look.  "Not right now, baby," I said.  "In a month we're
gonna be in an apartment in Oklahoma.  Pets could be a problem, especially
with both of us gone all day."

   "He's right," Bill said.  "These dogs're too smart to do well without
companionship.  Great pets, but they want somebody they know around all the
time."

   "Your wife keeps 'im?"

   "Oh, yeah.  He's 'er buddy.  He likes her better'n me."

   "You make him work," Lena said.

   "Oh, he WANTS to do this."

   "The cattle don't get excited by him," she observed.

   "They know 'im.  He just sort of directs them to move someplace.  Where
they're at, they're not really too set in staying there, so when he sort of
pushes, they go.  He just helps them decide to be someplace else."

   "Cute," Lena said.  "I use a similar technique on Jay."

   "Hey..." I started.

   "Aw, Jay, you know that's the way it really is.  We marry women
smarter'n us just FOR that."

   We helped Bill load his four-wheeler back onto his truck.  Lena got
doggie kisses before Spot jumped into the cab with Bill.  They left.  We
strolled down and locked the roadside gate behind him.

   Lena turned to me.  "We need to invite them over for barbecue or
something."

   "Good idea," I said.  I noted that she was climbing back onto the
tractor, so we had a little more work to do.

   The next day we were down to the final stages of rendering the barn
location bare.  Like many old barns part of it was bare dirt.  Well, it
started out as bare dirt, but decades of trampling, manure, hay, straw,
sand, probably a good bit of lime, had rendered that 'bare' ground
something that even unused for the last few decades, was noticeably
different than the surrounding soil.  Other parts of the barn were floored
- storage, work areas, were floored, wide boards an inch and a half thick,
worn from years of use.  I thought those worth saving.

   We figured out a way to pull most of them up more or less intact,
revealing the soil underneath.

   Finally down to the soil level, Lena started using the scoop of the
front-end loader to scrape the soil level.

   That's when I saw it.

   One expects the soil to be of more or less homogenous consistency and
color.  There was an obvious patch that was different, about six feet
square, there where it would have been covered by the floored part of the
barn.

   I'm a curious guy.  I hopped onto the tractor beside Lena.

   "See if you can dig into that spot, baby."

   "Sure.  How deep?"

   "Until we get tired, I guess."

   About three feet down, the bucket went 'CLUNK'.  Not the scraping noise
of the hilltop clay.  Clunk.

   Something's there.





   Chapter 15

   Jay's turn:

   Dirt's not supposed to go 'clunk'.

   "What's that?" Lena asked.

   "I dunno.  Can you pick the bucket up just a little bit and sort of
scrape?"

   "I'll try."

   She'll try.  I'm thinking I've seen guys getting heavy equipment
operator pay who weren't as adept as Lena has become.  She played the
controls, the bucket curled out, down, then drew back, peeling an inch off
the surface.

   "Nope," I said.  "Another one."

   This time as the clay-laden soil pulled back, it revealed the deep
reddish brown of rusted iron.

   "That's something," I said.  "Lemme get the shovel."

   I jumped off, grabbed the shovel, scraped more dirt off the top of what
appeared to be an iron box, maybe a foot and a half wide and two and a half
feet long.  Raised bands reinforced and demarcated the edges.  I tapped the
center.  Although rusty and buried for who knows how long, there was still
enough integrity for it to resist my prodding.

   "Okay, let's see if we can dig it up, cutie," I said.  "Start out around
here," I told her as I marked a perimeter for the new excavation with the
point of my spade.

   Twenty minutes later we were looking at a box, like a rusty pedestal in
the middle of the conical excavation.

   "Looks like something from a museum.  Or one of those old westerns, you
know.  Strong box," Lena observed.

   I shoved on it.  "Heavy," I said.  "Can you get under it with the front
end loader?"

   "I can do that.  Stand back." She pulled up her outriggers and curled
the backhoe bucket up, then turned her seat around and made a little loop,
approaching the hole with her front-end loader bucket.  It took her a few
moves to clear a bucket-width space, then it was a simple matter of
scooping under the box.

   She had it up and out.  I positioned a couple of small timbers and
pointed.  She flipped the box out onto them, then with her bucket, pulled
it back upright.  She got off the tractor and came to stand beside me.

   I nudged it.  "Heavy," I said.

   "What's in it?" she asked, voicing the same question I had.

   "Dunno," I replied.  I took the tip of the shovel and peeled more clay
and rust off it.  Big lump on the side.  I worked that.  "Used to be a
lock."

   "People lock things worth protecting," she said as it chipped away under
my efforts.

   The lock was mostly exposed and very much rusted.  My tool box gave up a
hefty hammer.  "Stand back," I said.  I gave the lock an enthusiastic
whack. The shackle popped.  I removed it, hooked my fingers under the edge
of the lid.  Lifted.

   You didn't think it'd be that easy, did you?  I rapped all the way
around the periphery of the lid with the hammer, then added a prybar to my
efforts.  The hinges on the lid got extra whacking.  The prybar got tapped
into what was left of the gap between the lid and the body of the box.

   Lift.  Nothing.  Lift HARD.  Nothing.  One more try.  Did I feel
movement?  I repositioned for a fresh purchase.  Pulled.  We were rewarded
by a half-inch of movement.  I shoved it back down.

   "Why'd you do that?" Lena questioned.

   "Working the hinges," I said.  I whacked them with the hammer again,
then went back to the prybar.  Next try got us an inch.  I could get
fingers into the gap.  I lifted.  Nothing.  Another round with the hinges,
then this time I got the lid to forty-five degrees.  One more time, and we
had it open.  I could see the contents - rotted tops of what had to be
leathern bags, packed solidly inside the box.

   I grabbed the string-tied top of one bag, tugged.  The leather gave way,
leaving me holding the scrap.  And an unmistakable metallic glint.

   "Baby, let's go lock the gate."

   "Is that what I think it is?"

   I picked up a gold coin.  Unmistakable.  Dated 1851.  Twenty-dollar. 
"Yes, it is.  Let's lock the gate."

   We blatted down the lane on the tractor.  I hopped off, locked the chain
that held the gate closed.  I was shaking.

   "Back up.  Let's see what we found."

   Twenty-four bags.  Twenty-two bags each had two thousand dollars in gold
coins - double eagles, eagles, half-eagles.  Two bags were filled with
silver dollars.  As we unloaded bags, we scanned dates.  Nothing newer than
1861.  Hundreds of coins, most of it gold, and at bullion value alone, we
were looking at, well, each twenty-dollar coin was essentially an ounce of
gold and last time I looked, gold was twelve hundred dollars an ounce.  We
had forty-four thousand dollars in face value in gold.  Call it over two
thousand ounces of bullion.  That's a couple of million dollars.  And it's
NOT bullion.  Those are gold coins and in collector value, some of them
are, to my unschooled eye, prime condition, likely to fetch twice the
bullion value, and if there are any especially rare or pristine examples,
the value goes waaay up.

   "Well isn't THIS something?" Lena said.

   "I'm almost speechless," I answered.  "We just dug up a couple of
million dollars."

   "We need to move this inside," I said.

   "The bags are trashed," she observed.  "I'll drive into town and get
some containers."

   "I'll go with you."

   "No, you won't," she said.  "You stay right here and watch this stuff."

   She wouldn't even let me ride down the lane to get the gate for her.

   While she was gone, I started sorting by dates and mint marks.  When she
got back, the two of us would make short work of cataloging the find.

   I'm sitting here on top of a hill in central Louisiana looking at maybe
three or four million dollars.  Surreal.  Phone rings, lilting little tune
that means Lena.

   "Hey, baby, I'm coming up the road.  Unlock the gate."

   "Sure will, sweetness," I said.

   I mounted the tractor, drove it down the lane, opened the gate, then
closed it behind her, following her back up the hill.

   "I bought every pint container they had," she said as I unloaded bags
from the truck.

   She eyed the piles of coins I had made on a timber.

   "Grouped by year and mint mark," I said.

   "Mint mark?"

   "Yeah.  American coins have a mark, usually a letter, sometimes two,
showing which mint they were made in."

   "And that makes a difference?"

   "It can make a HUGE difference.  Baby, this is gold.  If it was melted
down, gold's around twelve hundred dollars an ounce, so that's a base value
for this.  That coin you're holding is a double eagle - twenty dollars face
value.  The US Mint made those things out of an ounce of ninety percent
gold.  But a lot of 'em I looked at are in great shape and they'll easily
double the value as collectibles.  A few of 'em will be worth way more."

   "You know how to do this?" she asked.

   "Oh, hell no," I said.  "I know a guy I can call, though.  There are
people who do this kind of stuff for a living.  Besides, there are legal
things.  We just found a treasure..."

   "On OUR land, baby..." she held.

   "Yes, we do have that, clear title, all the way back to - I dunno, I'd
have to look at the abstract of title.  But yes, our land."

   "Where'd this come from?"

   "Well," I said, " the newest coins are dated 1861 from the New Orleans
mint.  I'm thinking Civil War.  This whole area was part of the Red River
Campaign.  The Union army was all through here.  Big battle near Mansfield.
I'm thinking that banks were trying to get money out of the way of the
Yankees.  They buried it under the floor here, put the old boards back over
the hole, a little hay, a little horse manure..."

   "And they didn't come back for it?"

   "Might've gotten killed in a skirmish.  I dunno.  History.  A hundred
and fifty years of history.  A lot of details get lost."

   "We could be rich..." she said, wide-eyed.

   "Baby," I said, "I'm already rich.  Got my Lena..."

   "We have plenty money in savings and investments, Jay." She was right.
The two of us working, All of her salary and a big chunk of mine went into
some funds that have been paying us very well.  Tossing a couple of million
dollars on the pile, well, it wouldn't make us independently wealthy, but
we could be very picky about where we worked and when...

   "This house we wanna build..."

   "Yeah, we could build a really nice house."

   "I don't need a two million dollar house, baby.  But we won't sweat it."

   "Weren't gonna sweat it anyway," I said.  "Get your laptop.  I'll put
these things in the containers and you can catalog 'em as we go."

   "Mark each container," she said.  "We can put that on the inventory. 
I'll build a spreadsheet."

   We had everything packed up and stowed in a corner of the trailer in
time for dinner.  Afterward, I'm sitting there fingering that 1861 double
eagle from the New Orleans mint.  That's the last US coins that mint made
before the Civil War and this one is immaculate and a quick Internet search
says I'm holding almost ninety thousand dollars in my hand.

   "You're kidding."

   "There it is, honey-bunny," I told her.  "I didn't have any idea.  We
seriously need to get somebody who KNOWS this stuff.  We don't know what
we've got.  There's NOTHING we'll sell at bullion prices."

   "When can you call your friend?"

   "I guess it's not too late tonight." I scrolled through my contacts on
my phone, then punched it with a fingertip.

   "Jay Harris!" the voice on the other end answered.  He sounded happy to
see me on the caller ID.

   "Hey yourself, Mike Jansen.  Where're you at these days?" I asked.

   "Building a new midstream facility in South Dakota," he said.  "This
place is nuts."

   "That's what I heard.  I just finished a project in Missouri.  I'm
married now, and me 'n' the wife are clearing a home site in central
Louisiana.  I got a question."

   "Shoot," he said.

   "You still into coins?"

   "Both ways, buddy.  Collecting.  Bullion.  Why?"

   "If a guy was to need professional help for disposing of a sizable
collection, do you know a good guy?"

   "I know a bunch of dealers that'll treat you right."

   "BIG collection.  Several hundred antebellum coins."

   "Uh, I know the guy to talk to.  He's up on the tax laws and all that,
assuming you want to be legal."

   "That's what I need."

   "I'll text you his contact info.  So you're married?"

   "Yep," I bragged.  "Sweet thing.  She's perfect."

   "How long?"

   "Since June," I said.  "We worked that last project together.  She was
the documents clerk."

   "You married a job babe?"

   "No, no, no ...  We got married before the job started.  Now she's a
pretty good backhoe operator."

   "Where's your next job?" Mike asked.

   "New pumping station in Louisiana.  About a four hour drive from our
home site."

   "Well, keep in touch.  One of these days you and your wife need to make
a trip to Wyoming and visit."

   "We'll do that," I said.  "Thanks for the info."

   "Not a problem, buddy.  Take care of yourself.  See ya!"

   I disconnected, turned to Lena.  "We've got an invitation to his place
in Wyoming," I said.  My iPhone chimed - incoming text.  I looked.  It was
a contact entry for Rare Coin Brokers.  In Dallas, Texas.  Not terribly
inconvenient.

   "And a phone number to call tomorrow."

   "Baby," she said, "I'm nervous about all this stuff staying here.  I've
never been around anything this valuable."

   "Hah!" I laughed.  "I sleep with more value than that every night."

   She giggled as she came over and cuddled into my lap.  "You know what I
mean."

   "I do.  Maybe tomorrow we see what size safety deposit boxes the big
bank has in town." The bank in question was a fixture in the town that was
the government seat of the parish.  That's a county in every other state of
the Union.  This building was a real historical landmark from back in the
day when a bank, a courthouse and a church were the definition of a real
town.  I assumed from the building's size that they had REAL safety deposit
boxes.

   The next day I found I was correct.  Lena and I hauled in about ninety
percent of our holdings, carrying the translucent food tubs filled with
gold coins into the building in reusable canvas shopping bags.

   The last ten percent?  Lena's sitting beside me looking at her new toy.
A country girl, even a newly minted country girl, has to know about guns.
She has two - a little pistol for when she gets her concealed carry permit,
and a shorty M-4 clone, a handy little civilian version of a military
assault rifle.

   Why the artillery?  I'm driving.  On the floorboard behind us are eight
plastic tubs with maybe a half million dollars worth of gold coins.  We're
going to give the broker a trial run.  Also behind the seat is a pair of
overnight bags.  Lena and I are spending the night in Dallas.

   I trusted the GPS to bring us to the office of the broker.  It was a
suite in a mid-sized office building.  Mentally I chalked up a plus mark on
my decision matrix.  They got another when I walked into the place, a
well-appointed office with a small showcase highlighting some numismatic
antiquities.  There was a receptionist at her desk.

   When we gave her our names, she smiled.  "Mister Bowman is expecting
you. Excuse me." She punched at her desk phone, then, "Mister Bowman, the
Harrises are here." Pause.  "Yessir.  I will send them back." She turned
back to us.  "Through that door, if you would, please."

   His office had the expected desk, but it also had an impressive
five-foot tall safe and a bench covered in green baize, with a pair of
lamps for better illumination.

   He was standing when we entered, rapidly extending a hand.  "Mister
Harris, I'm Randall Bowman."

   "Pleased to meet you, Mister Bowman," I said.  "My wife, Lena."

   He shook Lena's hand as well.  "Pleased to meet you as well, Lena.  If
you wish, first names?  I'm a native of Texas and I find equality is
genetic."

   "Okay, then," I said.  "Randall."

   "Randy," he corrected.  "I got a call this morning from a client, Mister
Jansen..."

   "We worked together on a big project.  We talked about a lot of things.
He seemed knowledgeable about coins and collecting."

   "Yes, I've handled some of his transactions.  He is knowledgeable.  Part
of that is my fault, I'm afraid."

   "You're afraid of teaching people things?"

   "Oh, not teaching.  Having one learn that he's been led astray."

   "Astray?" Lena queried.

   "Oh, yes.  He thought an acquaintance had given him a great deal on a
collectible coin.  It turned out not to be that great a deal.  He paid
twice what he should have."

   "Ouch!" I blurted.  "Well, you made an impression on him.  He referred
me."

   "He said you have some gold coins."

   "A sizable number," I said.  "And I know little.  Date and mint mark I
can get, but condition?  My idea is vague.  I'm sure I'd be wrong often."

   "I'm nationally recognized.  Certified."

   "That's what Mike said," I answered.

   "My best advertisement is people I help."

   "The way it should be."

   "So what do you have?"

   "Lena?"

   She picked up two shopping bags that were obviously weighted down and
landed them on the green baize table.  I pulled the first of two containers
out, popped the lid.

   Randy's eyes widened.

   "Two hundred pre-Civil War double eagles," I said.  "Newest one is this
one." I lifted that 1861-dated coin off the top layer.

   "Wow!" was his comment.  He flipped the lights on over the bench.  The
glint of gold ...  He fingered the coin, flipping it over, examining it. 
"Damn!  I've never seen THIS one in THIS condition.  Hang on." He went back
to his desk, pulled up a webpage.  "Look at this."

   His finger pointed to a line on the screen.  "Yours is here.  I can give
an official grading, but it's here.  This is what it's worth."

   He was pointing at ninety thousand dollars.

   "Okay, folks, first thing we do is get 'em out of these containers. 
Every one of 'em goes into its own holder.  We don't want any more handling
marks than we've already got.  Those are a buck apiece."

   "A dollar to take care of ninety thousand?  Makes good sense to me,"
Lena said.

   "Hang on," he said.  He left us, went to a supply closet, returned with
a box filled with plastic holders.

   "What're your services gonna cost us?" I asked.

   "Ten percent plus expenses."

   "Taxes?"

   "The lady in the front office knows all the ins and outs, and she'll set
you up with a tax attorney who can help you.  This much, it's gonna be hard
to keep off the radar."

   "Anonymity?"

   "Oh, we'll keep your name out of this, but we're talking the Feds. 
First time you walk in to deposit a check..."

   "Yeah, I know about that."

   "So my advice is that we stay completely legal.  I mean, you could go
drop these two at a time all over the place, but a lot - most - of those
'cash for gold' places will treat this stuff like bullion to pay YOU and
then as collectibles when they sell.  You'd get a thousand bucks for this
one," he said, holding the plastic carrier with that first coin in it, "and
HE would make eighty-nine thousand dollars' profit.  I know.  I've bought
stuff from some of 'em."

   "Legal is what we want," Lena said.  "Don't want 'em hauling my hubby
off to jail."

   "Admirable," he smiled.

   "How do we do this?" I asked.  "We have this inventory for these
containers." I handed him a manila envelope.

   He extracted two printed pages from it.  "You got 'em by year, mint mark
and grade..."

   "Yeah, like I said, I read a whole article on the internet, so I'm an
expert.  That's how it works, right?"

   "Oh yeah," He laughed as he scanned the list.  "This 1861-O, you got it
at least a grade lower than I do on quick look."

   "I erred on the cheap side," I said.

   "Okay.  Let's check 'em off against this list.  We'll get you a
notarized transfer invoice, and we'll be off to the races, okay?"

   Three hours later we walked back to our truck with a piece of paper
attesting to our having left two hundred gold coins per the list in the
hands of Texas Precious Metals.  Our next destination was a hotel where
we'd stay the night.

   "After a good steak dinner," Lena said.  "This is Dallas, Texas. 
Y'think we can find us a good steak dinner?"

   I smiled.  "And tonight, price is no object."

   "Not every day you leave a quarter-million dollars behind you," she
smiled.  Her hand touched my arm.  "I just can't believe it, Jay.  This is
momentous."

   "Baby, we've got twenty more containers of gold.  And two silver."

   "If we make the assumption that those are pretty much in the same
ballpark as these, we're looking at eight or ten million dollars." She
paused.  "What do YOU think?"

   "Well, after taxes, we'll get half that.  But..." I paused.  "We almost
don't ever have to work again."

   "I guess," I said.  "Proper investment, we could be pretty comfortable.
Not rich, but comfortable." I glanced over at her.  I know she's thinking.
So am I, so let's see how it works out.  I say nothing more.

   "So, if we could, like, PICK a project every year or so, make a bit of
money, scurry back to our hilltop in the country..."

   That's what I was thinking myself.

   "I mean, I like the next job, you know, because it's close to home and
we can visit Mom and Dad, but we could sort of keep an eye open for some
other destinations, like maybe along the coasts or in the mountains.  LIVE
there, instead of just doing the tourist thing and visiting."

   "Try this, then, honey-bunny," I said.  "We keep the travel trailer. 
When we decide we want to see something else, we drive there, drop the
trailer, and we live out of it as long as we wanted."

   "I wanted to do that in Chattanooga," she said.  "That lady said that
the Smokies are spectacular in the fall."

   "We can do that, then.  Our schedule, so we won't have to try to hit the
date that the leaves change.  We can stay there for a few weeks,
whatever..."

   "You understand, then."

   "Definitely do," I said.  "Me 'n' you ...  little trailer.  I get to
bump into you a lot..."

   "Feed me a good steak, sir, and I will show you some very enthusiastic
bumping."

   Dallas does indeed have places to get a great steak.

   And the bumping was particularly enthusiastic.





   Chapter 16

   Lena's turn:

   I'm from Louisiana, you know.  We have this word - Lagniappe.  If you
say 'lawn-YOP' you'll be close enough for most people.  Roughly translated,
it means 'a little something extra', like 'baker's dozen'.

   So I married Jay.  We worked together, one major project, I learned a
little bit of the business having to do with documentation, tracking all
the bits of paper that go along with a facility from 'We'd like to have
this facility' to "Here're the keys.  Have fun!" And I did it well enough
to where the management wants me to show up for another project, along with
Jay, naturally.

   He'll engineer.  I'll stack paper.  Two pretty decent incomes, actually,
a lot of which went into the bank, where 'bank' is a loose term for one
financial institution that will take our money, 'X' and later return us
'X+something', thereby guaranteeing a comfortable future.

   So where's the lagniappe?  Good question.  With his dad's passing Jay
ended up with this piece of land up here in central Louisiana, a
nondescript few acres encompassing an old homestead on a hilltop.  The
place was run-down - collapsed outbuildings, house long gone.  The land's
leased to a guy who runs a few cattle, so it's got a little bit of
electricity for a well because cattle need water.

   We towed an almost new travel trailer onto the property with the intent
of cleaning the place up for a home site, the actual house to be built
sometime in the future.

   Jay rented us a tractor, one of those pretty good sized things like we
had around the construction site, with a front end loader bucket on one end
and a backhoe on the other.  I thought that he'd operate it while I did
things on the ground but that wasn't HIS plan.

   "The real work's on the ground.  Requires muscle.  You run this thing."

   I guess I could have played my 'scared little girl' card but I haven't
ever done that with Jay before, so he showed me and I learned.

   We were doing a fantastic job clearing the old buildings.  Jay had us
piling these big timbers from the original framing into neat piles.  He
says there's a market for this stuff.  The rest we pushed into a pile and
burned.

   Our days ended with an outdoor shower.  We have privacy.  You cannot see
our hilltop site from the nearby public road.  At first the cold water from
the site's deep well was a shock, but now we're used to it and frankly I
found that being naked outdoors with Jay is quite a treat in itself.

   We kept at our task, slowly reducing the rubble, clearing, cleaning up.

   We dragged the ridgepole out of the biggest pile of rubble.  Most likely
it was the original homestead's barn.  There was a date carved into it,
1854, dating that timber back to pre-Civil War.  There were some big, long
timbers.  Jay says those are valuable.  I take his word for it.  Jay knows
a lot of things.

   We were down to the dirt, as Jay puts it, cleaning up a raised floor. 
I've gotten pretty good with the bucket of that backhoe.  I had just
scraped back a bunch of rotted floorboards, shoving them aside, leveling
the dirt below them.  We both noticed a discoloration in the dirt we moved.
Then the bucket hit something with an audible clunk.

   Lagniappe.  Buried treasure.  All we lacked was a big 'X' to mark the
spot.  The strongbox was iron, encased in a thick coating of rust and dirt,
but we managed to get it open.  Gold.  A little something extra to go with
this little country hilltop.

   By the time I got back from town with a stack of plastic tubs, Jay had
the coins washed and stacked.  We spent the evening cataloging them.  Jay
knows a little bit about how these things are valued.  All I knew was that
gold was gold and it's twelve hundred dollars an ounce and we have a bunch
of it.

   A few days later we're sitting in this coin broker's office and he's
looking at ONE coin and telling us 'Ninety thousand dollars'.

   Jay and I treated ourselves to some REALLY good steaks that night.

   That night we were back in the hotel, a mid-range one we'd selected on
trips before, and we're naked and my head's on his chest, listening to his
heart and his breathing.

   "Jay, it was never about money, you know..."

   He stroked my hair.  It's a mess, okay, although I brushed after the
shower, we've had some wonderful and energetic love-making and my hair's a
mess.  Jay doesn't care.  His fingertips are gently re-arranging it.  "I
never thought it was, Lena.  You're priceless, anyway.  Couldn't afford you
if I had to pay for what you mean to me."

   "I feel the same way, you know..." Sometimes I just run out of words to
describe us.  "But now ...  Millions, Jay."

   "I know.  I'm not sure how much, or what we do, but..."

   "But if we invest..."

   "Yeah, if we invest, we can get a pretty nice chunk every month and not
touch the principal."

   "Enough to almost not work," I said.

   "Yeah, we could build our house there on the hill and never have to work
again.  I'm thinking, though..."

   "I know what you're thinking," I said.

   "What am I thinking?"

   "I've seen you at work.  I know it doesn't happen a hundred percent of
the time, but you LIKE what you do."

   "I do," he admitted.  "And I think that you did, too."

   "Was kinda fun.  People, responsibility, scenery..."

   "Soooo," he said, "we could pick a project every year or so, work, bank
the money, and when we're not working, we hitch up that travel trailer and
we go places and LIVE there on our schedule, not somebody' else's."

   "That lady in Chattanooga said we really needed to see autumn in the
Smokies.  We could find a little RV park, stay there for the leaves to
change.  They don't do that at home." I remember seeing bits of that.  In
Louisiana where I'm from, they just turn brown and fall down.  I saw things
I'd only seen in pictures when I went with Jay to Missouri.  He spoiled me.

   "We can do that, honey-bunny," he said.

   When he calls me pet names, I'm a goner.  I don't have MUCH
self-restraint when we're naked in bed anyway, and he knows it.  The only
saving grace is that it's very hard to take advantage of a girl who's
craving it.  It's so simple, too.  I just ease my head up from his chest
and plant my lips on his.  He reads kisses.  This one's a 'one more time'
kiss.

   "I've never made love to a millionaire," I said afterward.

   "Honey-bunny," he smiled, "You never made love with anybody but me.  I
remember the evidence."

   "True.  And I won't change that.  You 'n' me.  Partners."

   "Yes, we are." I touched his chest.  I do believe that the last couple
of weeks of physical labor had tautened him up a bit, no that there was
anything wrong before.  "You're a good-looking guy, Jay."

   "Thank you.  You're a doll yourself."

   "I didn't marry for the sex, either, baby, but just WOW!"

   "I know.  I'm almost paralyzed."

   Happily married.  That was before.  Now we're happily married and in
possession of a few million dollars.  Between that and sexual satisfaction,
one can go to sleep with a smile.

   I woke up in the middle of the night.  Jay and I had rolled in opposite
directions, so I was facing away from him and I'm half awake and I find
that empty arms are not to my liking.  Happily, my Jay is a snuggler, so I
don't think I'm putting him out when I roll back toward him and fit myself
behind his warm body.

   It works.  He wiggles back against me for a second, then rolls over,
wrapping me into his embrace.

   Sleep?  I have hands.  One of them is sort of drawn downward.  It's
soft, a comforting feeling to me that I share this most private of things
with him.  My fingers curl, feeling, then uncurl, and I push my hand lower,
cupping.  I'm eternally fascinated by his balls.  I know he likes that.  I
gently cup them, tug a little, snuggle into him.  I feel his breath on my
head.  He's half awake, breathing me into him.

   It's times like this that I wish I could be several places at once.  I
wish I could kiss him and suck him and get eaten and gosh ...  I've managed
to talk myself into a bit of arousal.

   When we were working on the project, we found that these little
interludes in the middle of a worknight were very nice, but both of us had
long, draggy days the next day.  I'm thinking right now, though, that
there's absolutely NO reason not to ...  slide right down and take
advantage of a rare event, Jay naked and soft.

   Soft, he almost fits into my mouth, warm, chewy, a little tasty from
that last bounce before we went to sleep.  It doesn't stay soft for long,
though, and I feel a hand touching my head, feel an "Mmmmm" resonate
through his body, his moan of pleasure and approval.  I add my own reprise.

   I know what I'd like right now.  Let's see if he's game.  I'm already
half sideways on the bed.  I could go either way, but I keep him in my
mouth, working my pussy towards his face.

   Oh yeah ...  He's good for it.  "Mmmmmm.  You're delicious."

   I had to learn that.  When we started, I was apprehensive about my
personal hygiene there, especially since Jay really does seem to like
eating me.  Now I just let him.  No sense in worrying about it at all.  The
only worry is that I have HIM in my mouth and if he gets me going good, I
lose control of everything, just barely able to keep from biting that
living, loving piece of meat in my mouth.

   I know I'm good for a couple more climaxes.  I wonder if Jay's had time
to recharge.  Doesn't matter to me.  I love doing this with him.  He loves
the way I do it, too, because I feel HIM lose control a time or two, and
ultimately, his hips take an insistent motion.  I know that if I don't put
my hand around this thing he might push it into my mouth too far and right
now is NOT the time to be coughing and gagging.

   So that's a trick I learned.  I also found this one little spot that I
can tease with a finger.  I do that, too.  I feel him get MORE rigid, feel
his balls draw up tight, taste the juices flowing, even though my mouth
doesn't need any lubrication, and I know he's close and I know that's what
I want.

   Maybe my head jerks back just a little with his first spurt, but I love
it.  I really do.  The taste of his semen is, well, not up there with a
chocolate malt, but I can certainly bear it, even enjoy it a bit, so I just
keep sucking, tonguing, sliding him in and out of my mouth until the very
last drop, the very last quiver and then I turn around.

   Kissed him on the tip of his nose.

   He growled.  "That's not enough and you know it..." and his mouth fitted
mine, invaded by his tongue.

   When we parted, I sighed.  "You are the single most sexy thing in the
universe," he said.

   "Thank you, sir," I giggled.  "You're just too much temptation
sometimes, you know ...  God, I love jumping you like this."

   "I never imagined you'd be like this, honey bunny.  I thought..."

   "That I'd be some scared virginal type who thought sex was something she
had to endure?  No way.  I started thinking of you entirely too much and
entirely in the wrong ways before I worked up the nerve to do anything
about it."

   He knows the story.  I like reminding him.

   "Just love me, punkin," he said.

   "I will.  Forever.  And every way we can imagine.  Now, snuggle me." And
we went back to sleep.

   We slept a bit later the next morning, but finally got out of bed,
loaded up the truck, and headed toward home, stopping for breakfast at a
diner.  Good coffee, and heaven knows, the work we've been doing around the
homestead allows us to splurge on a high calorie breakfast every now and
then.

   "That was a GOOD one last night, honey bunny," he smiled.

   "I rather enjoyed it."

   "I could tell."

   We got back in the truck, wound our way out of Dallas, took I-20 headed
east.  Miles went by.  Got tired of the Interstate.

   "Scenic route," I said.

   "Tell me where to go."

   "Take us off at Tyler," I said.  "We'll cross over into Louisiana on
US-84."

   "Sounds good.  GPS won't let us get too lost," he laughed.

   I squealed fake outrage.  After all, I've been Jay's navigator for
months now.  "I have NEVER gotten you lost."

   "Some interesting destinations, though," he laughed.

   "Did those on purpose," I fake a pout.  "You were supposed to be
impressed by my whimsy and spontaneity."

   "And indeed I am," he said.

   Historical markers.  Texas has a lot of 'em, well marked.  Jay has
finally succumbed to the idea that I want to read every one, so we just
automatically stop for each one.  It's a break.  We get out of the truck,
walk around, I take a picture of it, sometimes we talk about it while we're
there, sometimes we get back in the truck and talk about it as we drive.

   It's charming that he allows me my quirks.  "You KNEW I was a history
nut."

   "Yeah.  Silly me.  I thought that whole 'tour Civil War battlefields'
thing was a sign of that."

   I still giggle.  "It really was.  I did NOT intend on ending up married
to you.  Not that soon, anyway."

   "But you planned it."

   "I gave it a lot of thought.  I knew that the vacation trip was a trial
thing.  There was just too much I couldn't resist."

   "I'm glad you made the choice."

   That's where we are now.  Glad we made the choice.  Would've been quite
happy to work together like everybody does, earning the money for a home
and whatever.  The gold is lagniappe.  Very pleasant thing, it is. 
Freedom. Means that I'm thinking of all the extra time we'll get to be
together.  So many days where I'd be on one place and he'd be in another
because we needed to earn a living.  Now I'm thinking that we can do those
things just to spice up life, provide disruptions when things start getting
routine.

   "What're you thinking, punkin?" he asked.

   I told him.  Got my fingers squeezed.  "I like that idea.  I really like
it."

   "Do you really?"

   "Yeah.  I've got like this perfect mate and any way I can find to spend
time with her, I'm all for it."

   The sun was getting low in the sky when we drove in to our little
trailer.  Bill's truck was there.  We walked over to talk with him.

   "Couple of late calves," he said.  "I bought the cows from a guy who had
his own bull.  Two settled cows.  I got a real bargain."

   "Settled?" I asked.

   "Yeah.  Preggers," Bill said.  "And it's later in the year than I like.
Winter's tough..."

   "You were talking about building them a shed," Jay said.  "If you go
south on the hill, it'll catch the sun and be sheltered from the north
wind."

   "Yeah, I been meanin' to."

   "We'll help," I said.  "I can learn something."

   "You," he grinned, "You learn fast.  Lemme think about it.  Maybe
tomorrow we'll stake out a site and you can play with your tractor."

   "If you build a shed, Bill, we'll forget next year's lease," Jay said.

   "Sounds good," Bill said.  He pointed out the two cows for me.  I can
see it now.  They're definitely lumpier.  Learning something, I am.  I
never thought of myself as a city girl, but I know diddly about cattle and
trees and land and such.  I'm learning.

   Bill dumped a bag of feed into a trough, letting the cows get a little
boost to their diet of hay.  There's a huge round bale sitting over there
inside a circular thing made of steel pipe.  They can get hay any time they
want.  They've got as much water as they want.  And a brown cube about a
foot square.

   "Mineral supplement.  Salt, mostly," Bill said as he unloaded it from
his truck.  "Wet your finger and try it."

   "Bill, are you gonna make me puke my guts up?"

   "Yeah, right in front of YOUR husband who's also my landlord.  Right. 
That's what I'm gonna do."

   So I tasted.  He's right.  Salt.

   Before he left, he warned us.  "There's been a bit of thievery going on.
Stuff getting stolen from homesites and campsites.  You might wanna be
careful about securing things."

   "We lock the gate," Jay said.

   "Yeah, and that used to be enough, but seems like this bunch is a little
more ambitious.  If they think nobody's around and there might be something
worth the effort, that gate won't stop 'em."

   "We'll pay attention," I said.

   Bill's disappearance down the drive signaled that we were now free to
use our outdoor shower.  The cows think we're strange, I'm sure.  I think
they're strange right back.  I notice that the young ones are still
playful. The moms are staid, reserved.  The bull gets his way as long as he
doesn't ask much.

   We were working one day and I saw that bull mate with a cow.  I shut the
tractor down.  Jay came over.

   "Something wrong?"

   "No, I think that cow's getting ready to get bred."

   "Happens.  Where do you think calves come from?"

   "I never saw it before."

   "Ain't much," Jay said.  "Bulls aren't notoriously romantic."

   Jay's right.  Bull nosed the cow to see if she was ready, then stuck
about a yard of pink dong into her.  It was over in almost the blink of an
eye.

   "That's it?!?" I asked.

   "Yeah," Jay laughed.  "Now she'll be waiting for him to call 'er
back..."

   "Seems like with a thing like that, he'd take a bit more time." I looked
at Jay.

   "Now that you've seen that, I guess I'm all inadequate..."

   "Hardly, babe.  I like our version better." I felt wetness.  A little
fire was burning.  I stepped down off the tractor, unbuttoning my jeans,
sliding them down.  "I think we can show 'em a better effort than that."

   "You..." Poor guy looked kind of shocked.  I can't understand that. 
We've been showering outdoors, buck naked, for weeks now.

   "Get your pants down," I said.

   He's obedient, if nothing else.  And when his pants came down, what was
sticking out in the sunlight, erect, that's not even close to 'nothing
else'.  I got down on my knees in the grass, turned, gave Jay a sloppy,
juicy suck, then bent down on hands and knees, my butt in the air,
expectant.

   Spontaneous sex.  Love it.  He entered me, maybe somehow sensing that I
was unusually aroused, maybe not, but I love the feel when he first slides
inside.

   He lasted a LOT longer than the bull did, and when Jay comes, he's
almost paralyzed, grasping my hips, pulling me back against him, I'm
feeling him still pulsing, pumping into me and I know that inside me I'm
quivering, drawing each drop of life from him.

   Finally he fell loose.  "Gosh..." I sighed.  "A flood..."

   "Hold on," he said.  I felt his breath on me, then his mouth and tongue.
I squeal.  At least I won't have to worry about as much of our combined
juices leaking out of me.  He stands to pull up his pants.  I catch him
soft, soppy, oh so suckable.  Then we're both up, pulling our pants up
together.

   I smirk.  "If you go 'moo', I'm gonna beat you with a wrench."

   "Never ever ever, honey bunny." He pulled me in for a kiss.  "I'd ask
what brought THAT on, but..."

   "Can't let that bull have ALL the fun," I giggled.

   "You don't know what you do to me, Lena."

   "I think I do, you know..."

   "Maybe."

   "I promise I'll always use it for good, not evil."





   Chapter 17

   Jay's turn:

   I suppose as fetishes go, Lena's is rather mild, but I am certainly no
expert and we've only had this ONE episode.

   It's horrible.  Lena's mostly a city girl.  Well, small town, but IN
town.  Her knowledge of livestock and animal husbandry was limited to what
she saw on TV and through the window of the truck on our travels.

   Now we have our little rustic hilltop homestead and it's surrounded by
cattle.  With a bull.  An amorous bull who had a receptive cow and
consummated their relationship in full view of the two of us.

   Lena MADE me service her in like manner, her on all fours, her
delectable butt in the air, me behind her, hard as a rock.  In full
sunlight.

   It's not a very high level of exhibitionism, after all.  We have a long
crooked driveway from the road and there's a heavily brushed thicket
between our hilltop and the public road below.  But still, outside in the
sunlight.

   Okay, I admit, Lena's obvious excitement got to me, too.  My orgasm was
epic.  I know because I ate a lot of it out of her before we stood to pull
our jeans up.

   "If you moo," she said, "I will brain you with that wrench."

   "Never, honey bunny," I said.  I hauled her in for a kiss.  "I'd ask
what brought that on..."

   "Can't let that bull have all the fun," she said.  "And I probably feel
a LOT happier than that cow."

   "You've got much prettier eyes," I said.  My hand teased a pert breast.

   She caught that.  "I'm lacking in the 'udder' department."

   "Silly rabbit," I said.  "These things are perfect." I slid my hands
down, grasped her hips, pulled her against me.  "I couldn't ask for
better."

   "Really?" Sky-blue eyes.

   "Really really." Another kiss.

   The next day we had a note in our post office box that a registered
letter awaited us at the counter.

   I signed for a registered letter from Texas Precious Metals.

   Dear Mr.  HarrisAttached is a list of the coins you consigned to us for
evaluation.  As you can see, I have listed them by present retail market
value as well as the value you may expect to receive if you agree for my
firm to broker them on your behalf.

   As we previously discussed we will forward you 70% of the wholesale
value.  We will handle the tax paperwork for you and forward you the
appropriate documentation.  Upon sale of parts of this consignment, we
will, as numbers dictate, forward you payment for the expected difference.

   If you find these conditions acceptable, we will forward payment for
$538,000 upon receipt of confirmation.

   Thank you



   "Baby," I said, "We're rich.  Not 'Bill Gates' rich, but richer than I
ever hoped."

   She'd been reading along with me.  "I see that.  I never loved me a rich
man before..."

   "You're a rich woman, Lena."

   "Nuh-uh ...  Goes with YOUR property that you owned before we were
married."

   "Whatever," I said.  "We're rich.  Not stinkin' rich, but plenty rich.
I'm gonna call 'em."

   "You can do that," she said, "but I think we ought to get a couple more
tubs and drive over there and eat another one of those steaks and have us a
celebratory romp in the middle of a big, fine bed..."

   "You just want me for my body," I laughed.

   "Nope.  Good steaks.  You take me to eat good steaks."

   "Switch places," I said.  "You drive to the bank.  I'll make the phone
call."

   "And the reservation," she said.

   I thought for a second.  "Second thought," I said, "You drive home.  I
want to get a gun..."

   "A gun?  Don't you have your pistol?"

   "Yeah, but baby, we're gonna haul a half million dollars around.  I want
more than a pistol..."

   "You do have a point."

   We swapped places in the truck.  She headed towards the hill.  I got on
the phone.

   Ring.  "Texas Precious Metals, may I help you?" in a sweet Texas drawl.

   "James Harris.  Could I speak with Mister Bowman?"

   "Yessir.  I will connect you." I could almost see her smile.

   The phone clicked.  "Jayyyy.  You got my mail?"

   "Sure did, Randy.  You gonna be there tomorrow afternoon?"

   "Sure.  Why?"

   "We're coming for a visit."

   "I could just do a wire transfer, Jay."

   "We have a couple more tubs, Randy.  We want to turn them over to you."

   "Uh..." he sounded stunned.  "Uh, okay ...  early afternoon?"

   "Yeah.  Two-ish."

   "I'll be here."

   "We'll see you then.  Take care."

   "Alright, buddy.  You and Lena be careful."

   "Always."

   We got to the trailer.  I unlocked the gate, let Lena drive us up the
hill.

   "What gun?" she asked.

   "That shorty, the M4-gery." (Auth, note: "M4-gery" is gun-nut speak for
a civilian semi-automatic version of the US military's M-4 automatic rifle.
A 'forgery'.)

   "Mine, too?"

   "Sure.  Why not?" I said.

   Hers is in what's not quite as subtle as a violin case, but close. 
Mine's in a black nylon carry bag along with several magazines.  It's an
easy grab when we decide to go to the range.  Yeah, we could shoot on our
property.  After all, we're way out in the country and we have enough space
and it's entirely safe and legal, but it upsets the cattle, so we don't.

   Lena's been familiarized.  Bring a cute blonde chick to a firing range
on a Saturday afternoon and you get plenty of help.  We used a range made
available by the local sheriff's office, were there with a couple of
deputies while I showed her the functions of a couple of guns.

   She was familiar.  Familiar.  Knew how they worked.  Could hit what she
aimed at, within reason.  She wasn't Marine sniper or Navy SEAL competent,
but I bet you could pick any of a hundred random women off the street and
my Lena would be at the top in that particular skillset.

   Her case went in the front seat with her, its zipper open.

   Giggle.  "I'm riding shotgun, okay?"

   We drove back to the bank, went through the formalities of grabbing a
couple of heavy tubs of gold coins, taking them back to the truck.

   The next day we found ourselves in Randy's office.

   "Come in, come in..." he said.  "You said you had more..."

   "Another two tubs," Lena said as I sat the containers down.

   "You just drove through Dallas, Texas with a half-million dollars," he
stated.

   "And two M-4 carbines and a SIG-Sauer pistol," I said.

   He grinned.  "How very 'cowboy' of you..."

   I was peeling the top off a container, handing him a printed
spreadsheet.

   He scanned the list.  "Uh, Jay, some of these are gonna be quite a shock
to the system."

   "How so?"

   "There are forty or fifty known examples of this 1854-O coin.  If yours
is crap, it's worth a hundred thousand plus.  You list it as almost
uncirculated.  Four hundred thousand, maybe half a million."

   My knees weakened.  Lena just sat in the nearest chair.

   "Seriously?" she managed to squeak.

   "Seriously.  We'll have to put this one up for auction, but I can almost
guarantee that four hundred K number and if a few good buyers show up, that
half a mill is gonna be there.  Boy, I may retire off this bucket."

   "Me too," I said.

   We went through the rest of the cache.  Several times he stopped and
shook his head.

   "Shit!  Uh ...  excuse me.  I didn't mean to be profane.  1856-O.  If
you can read the DATE on it - quarter of a million.  You say 'fine'.  Half
mill." He gently handled the coin in question, having changed to white
cotton gloves.  "Maybe not quite half a mill.  But damn!"

   He paused and looked at me and Lena.  "This had GOT to be a Civil War
cache.  Gotta be.  Only way these things ...  the clock stopped.  Somebody
cleared out the banks and made a run for it and when things got hot, they
cached it."

   I remained tight-lipped.

   "It's okay.  If you own the land, it's found treasure.  It's yours," he
said.  "Just damn!"

   We went through the rest of the list, encasing each coin in a protective
holder.  He was referring to his laptop screen as he went.  Finally...

   "Okay, we agree on the inventory.  I'll print out this spreadsheet. 
Same agreement as last time?"

   "That'll work well," I said.

   "When I show up at the shows, people are going to want to shoot me," he
said.  "We're putting stuff on the market that's going to tilt the table."

   "There's a problem?"

   "Well, yes," he said.  "Some of these are rare.  Like I said, forty or
fifty known examples.  Those two we looked at, they're high end in those
categories.  I'm not worried about them.  I can get what the books value
them for, at least close.  You know, it behooves me to get the best price
because I get a cut.  The bigger the price, the bigger the cut.  Nothing
I've seen is scrap value.  That's where it's only worth the gold in the
coin.  But it we dump too many on the market, we could dump the prices."

   "Uh," I said, "if you can sell this bunch and that last bunch, we have
enough to keep us going..."

   "You're gonna get a million and a half, maybe two, out of these two
buckets," he said.  "I don't know what kind of lifestyle you want, but
that's rockstar money..."

   "And I'm just a poor ol' engineer with my wife and we just want us a
little house on a hill in Louisiana."

   "You can damned sure do that," He said.  "Lemme ask a question.  You
don't have to answer.  I'll understand.  But how many more of these..."

   I looked at Lena.  Her eyes gave me the go-ahead.  "We have eighteen
more buckets.  Four of 'em have half eagles and eagles.  And we've got a
bunch of silver.  The silver's pretty dark.  It's been in leather bags for
a hundred and fifty years."

   "Here's what I offer right now, Jay.  Lena." He took a breath.  "Let me
look though them, just like this, two buckets at a time.  I'll give 'em
back to you.  You pay me to evaluate them.  I give you a certified
evaluation.  We decide what to sell and when to sell it and what to just
sit on.  Folks, this is GOLD.  You'll always be able to get bullion value.
But I think it would be wise to play the market on the really collectible
coins."

   "You're the expert," I said.

   "You can leave these here.  I'll complete the evaluation, just like last
time.  In a week or so I will forward you a certified evaluation, just like
I did for the last bunch.  And you can do thumbs up or thumbs down.  Jay,
Lena, I'm being fair to you.  I'm making too damned much money here to
cheat."

   "I have to take you at your word.  My choice otherwise is to take this
to another broker and let him charge me HIS bit for the same info."

   "Lisa says you really need to think about getting a CPA involved, maybe
a tax guy."

   "Lisa?"

   "My admin.  The lady at the front desk.  I don't pay her to sit there
answering the phones and polishing her nails."

   "I heard that!" came a disembodied voice.

   ""That's okay, Lisa," Lena said.  "I got your back here, hon!"

   "Thank you," the voice said.

   "Are you folks staying in Dallas this evening?" Randy asked.

   "We are," Lena told him.

   "I'd like to treat you to dinner," He said.  "I know this steakhouse. 
You do eat steak, don't you?"

   Lena's smile is answer enough.  He gave us the name of the place, told
us to be there at six-thirty.

   We left.  I can barely navigate.  Head to the hotel.  Lug the bags past
the front desk to the room.  Fall onto the bed.  Lena lay down beside me.

   "I can't believe," she said.  "This is right up there with winning the
lottery."

   I tossed an arm across her.  "I won the lottery when you married me,
dear one.  This is way beyond that."

   "We could've been a happy husband and wife team on construction sites
all over the country..." she started.  "But now ...  Only if we WANT to."

   "I know.  I need to know, though, baby..."

   "Yes, baby?" my angel followed.

   "We don't have to do that particular hilltop in Louisiana ...  Just
about anywhere you want to be..."

   "No.  I like our hill.  I like looking at the cows.  I like scratching
the bull's head when he comes to drink.  I like our crooked little driveway
and our treelines and ...  I've been reading.  Goats.  Keep the underbrush
down."

   "I married a city girl," I said.  "Now she wants livestock."

   "I read somewhere that goats have lots and lots of sex.  You'll need to
keep up."

   "Thank god you didn't ask for rabbits."

   She was giggling while she unbuckled my belt.

   We had a lovely nap afterward, then a shower and a change of clothes and
then off to meet Randy for dinner.  I was surprised to find that he showed
up with Lisa beside him.

   He caught the expression.  "What?  Lisa and I, we're married.  She kept
her maiden name.  Makes the business look better."

   Was good steak.  Good company, too.  Lisa was interested in Lena's
youth. That's always a good story.

   "So!" Randy said.  "History buffs.  Just happened to find a Civil War
coin cache."

   "Pure luck," Lena said.  "Like me and Jay meeting up.  Perfectly normal
activities with unexpected outcomes."

   "Very best outcome," I said.  "Lena and I could do almost a quarter
million a year just working as a normal package on major project sites. 
This frees us up."

   "Those numbers are freeing us up quite a bit, too, you know," Lisa said.
"This is a big opportunity."

   "Glad we could bring it to you," Lena said.

   The next day we did the 'drive back to Louisiana' thing.  All of a
sudden I feel like I'm on a cloud.  All my life ...  Since I got out of
college, engineering degree in hand, I've NEVER worried about where my next
job was or whether or not I'd have a paycheck or money in the bank, but all
that time, it depended on me selling myself to one company or another for
some negotiable amount.  Today...

   I let Lena read my mind.

   "Amazing, Jay.  Amazing.  We hauled more money into that office today
than Dad's made in his whole life..."

   "I think that's an exaggeration," I said.

   "Maybe.  But not by much.  If we were frugal, starting today, we'd never
have to work again." She looked at my face, reading.  "But I like working
and YOU like working."

   "So we choose.  Or not."

   "I want to build us a house.  Just like we talked about."

   "Let's do it," I said.  "We have money in the bank.  We need to decide
on a plan."

   "We can buy those plan books.  Look on the Internet.  You know I don't
want one of those McMansions."

   I knew my Lena in regards to what a home would look like.  The little
houses like Dad had and like her family still lived in, she was very happy.
I wanted a bit bigger than that.  A shop, maybe.  A patio for balmy
evenings and fall and spring nights.  Screened in, of course, against the
mosquitoes that plague us.

   "I know what I want.  A kitchen.  A bath with a big tub and shower.  And
room for a little one or two."

   "That's what we shall have, dearest," I said.  "We'll start looking when
we get home."

   The way home was entirely different than the previous trip, courtesy of
a blonde with an iPad and Google Maps.  I didn't care.  All of a sudden,
there was no time table, no hurry, no worry.

   Two weeks later the second lump hit my bank account.  Said bank account
collapsed as we transferred a big lump of money to an investment manager, a
conservative guy.

   "Mister Harris, you might want to put some of this investment in gold,"
he said.  He couldn't understand why Lena collapsed into giggles.

   We took Bill's invitation to dinner at a local restaurant known for its
barbecue.  We'd eaten there before, and we like Bill and we'd met 'Mizz
Bill' as Lena called her, so dinner with them was a pleasant event.  Bill
doesn't seem to understand why we arbitrarily built a shelter for the
cattle and started conversations about changing the cow-proof fence to a
goat-proof fence, so that was the pleasant conversation we had on our minds
when we worked our way out of town and onto the country roads that
ultimately led us to our hilltop.

   It was nine at night.  Traffic on our road is sparse even during the
day, so the roads were deserted.  We rounded the last curve to our
driveway.

   The gate was ripped off its hinges.  I stopped.

   "Call the sheriff department," I said to Lena.  I reached behind the
seat and pulled up the canvas bag.

   In the south we have a term - 'truck gun'.  It's a broad term for the
rifle that many people in the south and the west carry in a pickup truck
because you just never know when a gun will come in handy.

   Usually the gun is a 'beater'--a cheap one that is up to the rough and
tumble of sitting behind the seat of the truck for months on end without a
lot of attention.  Dad told me that in his youth, people used to keep their
truck guns in plain view on rifle racks in the rear windows of pickup
trucks, but today that's an invitation to a smash and grab theft.

   Mine's not a beater.  It's that neat little M-4 carbine.  City folk
would get the vapors and those not knowledgeable would see it and say
'assault rifle' and run screaming for Sarah Brady.  Mine's a tool, just a
step above a toy.

   And right now it's coming out of its case because I don't know what's
happening next.

   "Uh-huh.  We're sitting on the road.  Somebody yanked the gate off its
hinges.  I hear a motor.  I see lights.  I think someone's coming..."

   She was right.  With my engine idling, we were sitting still.  I could
see headlights beginning to flash through the trees and brush.

   "Okay.  We'll be here." She put her phone down.  "They're on the way,
but they don't have anybody close."

   I killed the engine and the headlights of our truck.  Got out, standing
behind the door of our truck.  I heard the grinding as a truck in low gear
negotiated our drive.  By now the lights were obvious coming down the hill,
approaching the final curve before the road, then the truck itself
appeared.

   Towing OUR trailer.

   "That's our trailer, Jay!" Lena said excitedly.

   "I know.  Baby, stay back.  Out of sight, back."

   In retrospect, I didn't see her reach into the truck and drag a black
bag out with her.  I moved about five yards in front of our truck.  I knew
that when they came out, they'd be looking at the obstacle we presented,
not expecting otherwise.

   It was inevitable that the headlights would illuminate our truck.  I
tried to imagine what I'd do in a similar situation.  I came up dry.  The
driver of that truck, however, didn't.  He kept driving, stopping because
we blocked the exit.

   The passenger door opened and a man stood out of it, tall, standing on
the running board of the truck.

   "Y'all need to move thet thang," he hollered.

   "No!" I yelled back.  "That's MY land and MY trailer.  Just stop where
you are and get out of the truck.  The sheriff's on the way." Now he knows
I'm out here somewhere, outside the beams of his headlights, and his night
vision is nil.

   "Fuck you, man!" he yelled.

   I took that as a sign of non-compliance.  "One more time, turn the truck
off and get out..."

   I got another 'fuck you' and then the driver's door popped open, the
driver popped up with a shotgun.

   I didn't have the presence of mind to shit myself, not even when the
flash and bang of the shotgun happened.

   Blap!  Blap!  Blap!  Blap!

   "Oh shit, you shot Wayne!" the guy standing in the door said.

   "DO.  NOT.  FUCKING.  MOVE!" came an order in a feminine voice.  Then
"Baby?!?  Are you okay?"

   "Fine," I said.  "You?"

   "He shot at YOU," she said.

   "Keep your rifle on 'im," I said.  "He had a shotgun over there..."

   "Mister," the guy in the door yelled, almost sobbing, Wayne's ...  He's
bleedin'."

   "Sucks to be Wayne," Lena said.  "You don't move.  Anybody else with
you?"

   "Me 'n' Wayne ...  thet's all..."

   "Keep 'im covered, baby," I said.  "What's your name, asshole?"

   "Uh, Alec, mister."

   "Alec, you picked the wrong campsite to rob ...  Get your hands VERY
high."

   He complied.

   "Now, step down.  Very carefully.  There are two rifles pointed at you
and you know ONE of 'em can shoot."

   He started to step down, took a tumble.  I put a round in his vicinity.

   "Don't' shoot!  God, mister, don't shoot.  I fell."

   "Stand up.  Very slowly.  Hands where I can see 'em.  Babe, watch 'im."

   "Got 'im," Lena said.

   I got to about five yards of Alec.  "You.  Face down on the road."

   "Mister, that's gravel..."

   "And this is a rifle and YOU have my trailer hitched to YOUR truck.  You
wanna argue with me?  Get down."

   He was face down.

   "Do not move.  Lena, keep your muzzle on 'im.  If he moves, plug 'im."

   "Got it."

   I reached back into our truck, grabbed a flashlight that I keep just for
emergencies.  I turned it on, swung the beam to the driver's side of the
other truck.  There was the driver, halfway out of the cab, head down, a
dark puddle under him.  I didn't think he'd be a further problem.

   "Baby, call the sheriff again.  Tell 'em we have a little scene for
them."





   Chapter 18

   Lena's turn:

   Things can go south - Dad's term for disaster - so fast.  Here we were
coming back from a nice dinner with friends, expecting to take a brisk
shower under cold water, and then into our little nest of a travel trailer
for some time together.  That time might include reading, a head to head
card game, or a movie or a few sections of a TV series.  Our hilltop had an
excellent 4G signal and we had a platinum account for Internet access.

   It all went south when we rounded the curve and our gate was yanked
apart.

   Jay pulled the truck across the end of the drive and told me to call
9-1-1.

   "What's your emergency?" the almost bored-sounding voice said.

   "We just got home.  Somebody's yanked our gate down.  Broke into our
place.  We need the sheriff department."

   "Location please."

   I did my best to describe our country road location.

   "We'll have a unit respond.  It may be a while.  Our patrol units are
elsewhere at the moment."

   "Okay, we'll wait on the road until one gets here."

   "If you need to, feel free to call us back.  A deputy may call you
directly."

   "Thank you."

   By this time, Jay had a gun.  I wasn't raised around guns, you
understand.  I was raised in town, and I heard talk, and I watched TV and
movies and such, but it wasn't until I married Jay that I actually got to
handle a gun.  (No, not THAT gun!) He showed me how to handle them, how to
shoot.  We had a lot of fun with it.  He bought me a particularly
evil-looking carbine.  Looks like the military's M-4, short, handy, and I
can tear up a target at two hundred yards.  I also learned to shoot a
pistol and a shotgun.

   All that goes with being a country girl, I suppose, although the ONE
time that I was surprised by a snake, despite my immediate desire to
exercise all ballistic options, Jay reached down and picked the snake up,
then held it and showed me a corn snake.

   "Ninety-nine percent of snakes you'll find WON'T be poisonous," he said.
"And NONE of them will chase you.  This 'un's keeping rodents down.  If we
don't mess with 'im too much, he'll hang around."

   Darned Jay.  Now I'm friends with a snake.

   But now ...  Jay's pulled his rifle out of its carrying case and he's
getting out of the truck when we see headlights coming through the wooded
trail from our hilltop.

   "I know," he hissed.  "Stay back.  Out of sight.  Back."

   Okay, I can follow instructions, but this is some crap and Lena's NOT
gonna be unarmed.  I grabbed my own case, unzipping, making sure there's a
magazine in it, pulling back the charging handle, and oh yeah, sights ... I
turned on the red dot sight.

   The truck stopped.  It was something out of Redneck Monthly, seriously,
probably fifteen years old, the hood a different color than the fender I
could make out.  A guy opened the passenger door and hollered for us to get
our truck out of the way.

   Jay yelled back that they had our trailer and they were on our land and
that the law had been notified.

   The guy yelled something rude.  Jay told them again.  Got another rude
comment, then the driver's door popped open and the driver stood up with a
shotgun.  He fired once at Jay.

   At the sheriff department gun range they have these silhouette targets
that are exactly the same size as an average adult male.  When I raised my
carbine, that's what he looked like.

   We've shot at those targets.  At two hundred yards, I have to take a
little care to make the FIRST round hit, but I can hit.  At twenty-five
yards with this carbine, I could almost close my eyes and hit it.

   He was at twenty-five yards and he'd just shot at MY husband once and
appeared ready to do it again.

   The guy who gave us the training for our concealed carry permits said
that you shoot until you have neutralized the threat, either from him
running off or from him ceasing threatening actions.

   I put the dim red dot on his chest and squeezed the trigger.  And kept
squeezing until the guy fell straight down.  One of his feet must've gotten
caught in the truck because he was hanging upside down.

   "Oh, shit!  You shot Wayne!" the other guy yelled.

   I'm on adrenalin now.  "DO.  NOT.  FUCKING.  MOVE!" I yelled, then,
"JAY! Are you okay?"

   "I'm fine, babe.  You?"

   "He shot at you."

   "Keep your rifle on 'im.  He has a shotgun."

   I'm looking at the shotgun on the ground and its previous owner wasn't
moving.  In the dim glow of the cab interior light, I can see a puddle of
blood growing on the ground.

   "Mister," the guy standing in the other door said, almost sobbing. 
"Wayne's ...  he's bleedin'."

   I am seldom a rude person, but then again, I seldom have somebody use
deadly force against somebody I love.  "Sucks to be Wayne.  Don't you
fuckin' move.  Anybody else with you?"

   "Jes' me 'n' Wayne ...  thet's all."

   "Keep 'im covered," Jay told me.  "What's your name, asshole?" he hissed
at the talking guy.

   "Alec, mister..."

   "You and Wayne picked the wrong campsite to rob," Jay said.  "Get your
hands VERY high.  There's another rifle on you right now and she can shoot.
Step down VERY carefully."

   Jay soon had a very distraught gentleman on the gravel road, face down.

   "Baby," he said.  "Call 9-1-1 back and tell 'em we need an ambulance."

   I dialed.

   "9-1-1.  What's your emergency?"

   "I called you about half an hour ago.  Somebody broke into our place. 
You're gonna wanna send an ambulance.  ASAP.  There's been a bit of
shooting.  One guy's down."

   "Say that again?"

   "Shooting.  Shot at my husband.  I shot the guy.  Needs an ambulance."

   "Same location?"

   "Yes, ma'am.  We're not going anywhere."

   "Services are on the way," she said.

   "Lena," Jay said.  "Come over here and keep your gun on ol' Alec.  Lemme
see if we can help his buddy."

   "Be careful, sweetie," I said.  I hadn't seen the guy move, but you
never know.  Still, I walked over a bit closer to Alec.

   Jay was very cautious as he approached the guy hanging out of the truck.
With one hand holding his carbine, he reached the other out, checking for a
carotid pulse.

   "Whatcha got?" I asked.

   "He's not gonna need that ambulance."

   "You killt Wayne!" Alec sobbed.  "Over a fuckin' trailer!"

   "Oh, no," I said.  "We would've held Wayne and let the law figure out
what to do with 'im.  Wayne's dead because he got stupid enough to shoot at
my husband.  Now shut up.  You're too fuckin' stupid for me to listen to."

   "Language, baby," Jay said.

   I'm taken aback.  We're in the middle of a robbery, there's been gunfire
exchanged, a dude is dead, and Jay is chiding me about my language.  He's
right, though.  I never say 'fuck'.  I heard it plenty growing up, heard it
more on that project, usually followed by 'Oops, sorry, Lena'.

   I must be fried.

   We didn't talk much for a bit.  Finally, way off in the distance, I
heard a siren.  My cellphone rang.

   "Baby, watch ol' Alec.  Let me take this call."

   "Got 'im."

   I punched my phone.  "This is Lena Harris.  Can I help you?"

   "This is Deputy Yerky with the parish sheriff department.  You're on
Brady Loop road?"

   "Yessir.  Are you coming up the state highway?"

   "Yeah."

   "I can hear you now.  When you turn onto Brady Loop, we're a half-mile
in from either end."

   "Got it.  How do I find you?  Driveway?"

   "Oh, no sir.  We're parked on the shoulder of the road.  Lights are on.
There's a truck with our trailer hitched to it coming out of our driveway.
Me and my husband are armed.  There's a guy hurt bad and there's a guy
face-down in the road.  We're holding him until you get here."

   "What're you armed with?"

   "A couple of M-4 carbines."

   "No shit?"

   "That's us.  I see your headlights.  When you get here we'll put the
guns on the ground and step back.  Watch for the guy on the ground.  He's
one of the robbers."

   Now the sirens were a duet, maybe a trio.

   "I'm coming around the bend.  I see lights."

   He pulled up, the nose of his SUV almost touching our truck.  When he
got out of his vehicle, his gun was drawn.

   "Put the guns down slowly," he said.

   You can bet we moved very slowly.  Next he came up and saw Alec trying
to get up.

   "You just stay right there, hoss," he said.  He turned to me.  "This is
one?"

   "The survivor.  Yes," I said.

   He whipped a pair of cuffs off his belt and cuffed ol' Alec and was
standing the boy up when the second patrol unit showed up.  That deputy had
no more than gotten out of his SUV when the ambulance arrived.

   Two paramedics or whatever they call themselves got out.

   "Hey, Yerk!" one of them said.  "Scene secure?"

   "Yeah.  Your job's hanging out of the driver's side door."

   The two of them made their way over there, one carrying a big tackle
box. The first one repeated Jay's quick assessment.

   "DRT," he called out.

   "DRT?" I questioned.

   "Yes, ma'am," the other said.  "Dead Right There.  Bullet hole in the
forehead is kinda final."

   Third sheriff department SUV rolled in.  It's getting to be a party.

   I noted that nobody moved to cuff me or Jay.

   The last deputy to show up came over to us.  "Folks, I'm Alvin Frazier.
Shift supervisor.  I'm gonna need to see some ID."

   "In my back pocket.  You want me to get it?" Jay said.

   "I'd rather not stick my hand in your ass pocket," he said.

   "My purse's in the front seat of our truck," I said.

   "Steve," he told the second deputy, "retrieve the lady's purse."

   He looked over our driver's licenses and concealed carry permits.  "Not
that it applies to an M-4 behind your truck seat, you understand, but we
appreciate your sentiment."

   Then it was time to be read our rights - a first time for me.  I'm not
sure about Jay.  He's been around a long time.

   Then I gave my version of the story.  "He came out of the driver's side
with a shotgun and fired at my husband.  I had to shoot to protect my
husband."

   "I understand," Alvin said.  "Along with felony theft, trespassin', a
few other things, assault with a deadly weapon.  I'd say I was surprised
and I kinda am.  Alec and Wayne are frequent fliers.  Always in and out of
trouble.  Got caught stealin' a four-wheeler a year ago, red-handed, just
like this.  Both of 'em spent six months in jail.  Funny how when they got
out, we started seeing breakins and thefts at hunting camps and such."

   He looked over as the ambulance crew was strapping the former Wayne onto
a gurney.  "Bet that crap stops now."

   He went back to Jay.  "You have proof of ownership of that trailer?"

   "Copy's in the glovebox of the truck.  'Nother copy in a desk inside the
trailer.  License plate is in my name."

   "I heard somebody was thinking of building on this hill," Alvin said.

   "That was us, up until the gunplay."

   "I suspect you won't see any more of that, Mister Harris.  We don't have
a surplus of idiots.  Your wife reduced the known idiot population by a
good bunch."

   "Are you gonna impound my trailer?"

   "No.  I don't see us doin' that.  Wanna try and unhitch it?"

   "We could try."

   He straightened up.  "Uh, forgive my bein' nosey, but it's part of my
job.  We ain't gonna find anything illegal in there, are we?"

   "No, why?"

   "Just wonderin'.  Had a bunch that were resettlin' the old family place
a few miles from here.  Had 'em a bumper crop of weed..."

   "Ain't us."

   In the midst of me and a deputy trying to get our trailer unhitched from
ol' Wayne's hitch, a wrecker showed up.  Deputy Frazier had snapped a lot
of pictures before anything moved, including the single spent shotgun shell
lying in the road.

   The pickup was loaded onto the wrecker, one of those tilt-bed things,
and hauled away.

   "Can I get a closer look at my trailer?" Jay asked.

   "Sure, go right ahead," Frazier said.  He turned to me.  "You can go
with 'im.  Y'all ain't the ones I'm worried about."

   I followed Jay to the door.

   "It's still locked," he said.  "You got your keys?"

   "Yeah," I answered, reaching into my jeans pocket.  "Here."

   He unlocked the door and stuck his head inside.  "Doesn't look like
anyone's been in here." He said it loud enough for Deputy Frazier to hear.

   "Doesn't surprise me.  They prob'ly just cut it loose and hitched it up
to haul it off where they could go through it, then sell it to somebody who
was gonna stick it in the woods for a deer camp or sump'in.  If you don't
put it on the road, you don't have to deal with license and registration
and ownership."

   "Neat," I said.

   "Yeah, they'd've gotten a few hundred bucks for it, plus whatever you
had inside."

   "Do you mind if we back up and hitch up and put it back on top of the
hill?"

   "Lemme help you," he said.  I stood back.  Helping Jay line up the
bumper hitch with the trailer tongue was normally MY job, but I politely
played the inept female and let Frazier do it.

   It didn't take long.  Jay told us, "Look, rather than back this thing up
that driveway, I'm gonna pull around the loop and drive straight back in.
You can keep Lena as collateral until I get back."

   "You go right ahead," Deputy Frazier laughed.  "She looks like she's
worth more'n that trailer anyway."

   Jay pulled away gingerly, our truck doing its normal job of towing the
trailer.

   "What's gonna happen next?" I asked.

   "Gonna get you 'n' him down to the station tonight, fill out some
paperwork, then cut you loose.  Tomorrow the district attorney'll likely
call you in one more time.  I can't see him doing anything but thanking
you, really.  Wayne and Alec are not exactly model citizens.  My boss is
gonna ask why you didn't shoot both of 'em."

   "Can you say that?"

   He looked at me.  He's at least ten years older than Jay, but he has a
kind of sensibility to his face.  "People got a right to take care of their
own.  Those two violated that.  I don't know that they've been violent
before, mainly 'cuz they never got caught like y'all did to 'em.  And
neither of 'em's particularly bright.  You prob'ly raised the average IQ of
the parish a few points by removing that idiot." He sort of stared at me.
"You're okay?"

   "Yeah.  Why?"

   "You just killed a man."

   "I'm quivery.  Adrenaline rush, I guess.  But if I hadn't, that could've
been Jay they just hauled off.  I guess you're worried about my mental
well-being..."

   "Yeah, kinda.  I'd hope my wife would've done the same for me.  But I
hear some people really get stressed over this sort of thing."

   "Uh, Mister Frazier, this wasn't an accident.  He meant to shoot at Jay.
I meant for him to stop."

   "Well, uh ...  if you decide you need counseling my pastor's done some."

   I recognize sincerity when I see it.  "Thank you very much, sir.  It's
nice that you care..."

   "Part of the job," he said.  "Sometimes it's easy to forget that part."

   "I apprec ...  We appreciate it." I could hear our truck coming back,
the headlights flickering through the trees.

   Jay stopped next to us, rolling down the window.  "We're gonna just tow
the trailer back up the hill and hook up the electricity.  We'll spot it
and level it again tomorrow," he said.

   Deputy Frazier scratched his cheek.  "That'll be fine.  You do that and
meet me at the sheriff's department when you finish?"

   Jay nodded.  "We'll be right behind you."

   I bounced around and climbed into the cab beside Jay.  Ten minutes later
we were driving out of the broken gate, headed to town.  I sat back in the
seat, sagged ...  I guess the adrenaline ran out.  I was shaking.

   "OH god, babe, I KILLED a man..." I said, quivering.

   "I'm glad you did.  I couldn't see 'im and he had the drop on me.  You
saved my life.  He never knew what hit 'im."

   "Still..." I sighed.

   "Look, while we're driving, how about calling that motel in town and
getting us a room?  We can stay there tonight, get up in the morning, come
back and fix up our house."

   "Yeah, okay," I returned.  I started thumbing my iPhone, attending the
task.  The hotel answered.  "King, non-smoking," I said.  "Maybe a late
arrival." After she had my credit card information, that deed was
completed.

   "You saw the inside of the trailer.  They didn't get in there?"

   "Nope.  Lock was intact.  A few things on the floor because they moved
it, but it looks okay.  We'll set it back in place in the morning..."

   "And start looking at house plans," I said.

   "You betcha.  And we're going to have some interesting discussions about
construction techniques," Jay said.

   "Like what?"

   "Modern houses are flimsy.  The walls are a veneer."

   "Brick walls," I said.

   "The brick is a façade.  You take a sledgehammer and knock a hole in
the brick, the rest of the way in, you can do with a pocket knife.  We're
gonna build like they USED to build."

   "You know what you're doing, don't you?"

   "What am I doing," he asked.

   "You're talking about that house to take my mind off this evening."

   "Is that what I'm doing?"

   "You're not?  Deliberately?"

   "No, but if you want me to..."

   "You just go right on being my Jay, because I still HAVE my Jay."

   "Not what I had in mind for the evening," he stated.

   "Me neither."

   "You have to know I'm proud of you.  I sort of figured you were a lot
tougher than blonde hair and blue eyes would indicate."

   "I had to do it, babe.  Him or you.  Somebody was gonna get shot."

   "Can't understand the mindset of somebody who tries stupid stuff like
that," he said.

   "Me neither.  I mean, those guys were known for crap like that."

   We pulled into the parking area beside the Sheriff's office and went in
the front door.  "We're here to meet Deputy Frazier," Jay told the deputy
at the front desk.

   "Oh, yeah, that thing off of Highway 86," she said.  "He's waiting for
you.  Push on that door when it buzzes."

   We walked up the hall and ended up in an interview room with a desk and
two chairs.  Deputy Frazier pushed another into the room.

   We sat down.

   "Now you know that if you want a lawyer present, you can have one. 
We'll postpone this thing until tomorrow, okay?"

   Jay looked to me, then to the deputy.  "We'll go ahead right now, but
if, you know..."

   "Sure.  Look, folks, here's what I see.  It's just like Mizz Lena said,
Wayne popped off a round from his shotgun and she nailed 'im.  Had to be
that way.  Shotgun was on the ground, one round missing, the empty was
there in the bed of their truck.  D'ya know the dumbass shot at you with
number six shot?  Good for squirrels and quail..."

   "At the range he had me, he'd've torn me up pretty bad, too.  Probably
not fatal, but hurt, blinded..." Jay said.

   "Yeah, and Mizz Lena's four rounds ...  Four hits.  Stitched 'im right
up the middle.  One ricocheted into 'im after it hit the edge of the window
on the truck.  The other three ...  The last one was right between 'is
eyebrows." He looked at me.  "I hope I'm not being too graphic."

   I shook my head.

   "So what we got here are formal statements.  I'll record this, and you
get to see the transcripts for your signature.  If you don't like how it's
written, you can rewrite it."

   "Okay, then," I said.

   It was a little more structured than the questions he asked us in the
field, but he didn't sound like he was anywhere close to thinking this was
anything but a response to robbery and assault with a firearm.

   "Bill King told us all about you," he finally admitted.  "Says y'all are
gonna build there?"

   "We're just starting to look at house plans," I said.  "That's what we
planned to do tonight when we got home.  Had dinner with Bill and his wife,
and we went home and things got all wonky."

   "Yeah, they did.  Look, Bill thinks y'all are good people.  He's a
deacon at my church, and he's as stable as a rock, so I lend a lot of
weight to his opinion."

   "We think a lot of Bill and Hester, too," Jay inserted.  "He's helped
us..."

   "And you've helped him.  He was worried he'd lose the lease on that
land..."

   "Nah," I said.  "We like the cattle.  We're getting some goats to clear
the underbrush.  Gonna be a regular zoo there..."

   He smiled.  "Well, we're done here for the night.  They'll call you in a
day or two to come in and sign the paperwork."

   "Uh, what about my gun?"

   Frazier cocked an eyebrow.  "Oh, yeah, I don't see why not ...  Hang
on." He punched the desk phone, said "How about bringing those two M-4s to
the interview room.  Make sure you have the magazines with 'em."

   Another deputy showed up, one rifle slung on his shoulder, the other in
one hand.  The other hand held two magazines.  He laid them on the table.

   "How'd those red dot sights work at night for you?" he asked.

   "Just fine.  You have to turn the brightness way down or it glares out
the sight picture, but they make shooting easy, 'specially at twenty or
thirty yards."

   He looked at me.  "You?  You're the one..."

   "What's wrong?" I asked.  "Girls ain't s'posed to shoot?"

   "She got you, Andy," Frazier said.

   "Sorry," Andy backpedaled.  "Wasn't..."

   "It's okay," I told him.  "Jay underestimates me all the time."

   "And she's the reason I'm sitting here instead of the hospital right
now, so be nice to 'er."





   Chapter 19

   Lena's turn:

   I certainly hadn't expected to be walking out of the sheriff's office at
eleven at night.  I HAD expected to be curled up naked with Jay, reveling
in the little waves and surges of post-coital pleasure.

   That's an 'aside', you know.  None of those 'experienced' girls at
school ever said anything about lying next to a mate an hour after the last
orgasm, and still feeling the happy quivers coursing through one's body. 
Maybe it doesn't happen to everybody, but I am very glad to say it happens
to me.

   That's what was SUPPOSED to be happening just about now.  Instead, Jay
and I are walking out of the sheriff's office, each of us toting an M-4
carbine, headed to our truck.

   Inside, we keep a couple of SHTF bags.  SHTF is an only barely polite
way of saying "Shit Hits The Fan", a sudden onset disaster of indeterminate
origin.  Mine carries a set of outer clothes, a couple of changes of
underwear, socks, toiletries.  Short story - we had what we needed to go
straight to the hotel up the road.

   I let Jay handle the check-in, then we unloaded.

   Nope, the weapons didn't stay in the truck.  The carry bags for them,
though, are relatively unobtrusive.

   Inside the hotel room, Jay's looking at me.

   "Are you okay, princess?"

   "Yes, I'm okay.  Stop worrying about me.  I'm not on the edge of
meltdown or anything close." I knelt on the bed beside where he was
sitting, wrapped my arms around him.  "We survived.  We had a situation. 
We survived.  Okay?"

   "I worry," he told me.  "This is not the norm today.  Shooting
people..."

   "Ohhhh," I said.  "Let's reverse this.  Are YOU okay?"

   "Yeah, except I let us get in a dangerous situation..."

   "What were you supposed to do?  Sit there and let those turds roll out
of there with OUR home?  Honestly, I don't think that's my Jay.  You did
marvelously." I put my arms around him, nuzzled my face into his neck
gently.  I could detect traces of a particularly delicious aftershave along
with the funk of adrenaline and stress.

   He twisted to pull me down as he fell back onto the bed.  "You're my
angel and my rock, Lena.  Never a day goes by that I don't thank God for
you, and every day you bless me by being with me.  I had no idea of what I
got when I hauled you away from home."

   Okay, smooth talk gets me.  "You silver-tongued devil," I said.  "You're
tryin' to turn my head."

   "Actually I'm trying to get you into the shower, but the feelings're
always there."

   "I wouldn't trade you for the world, guy.  Let's try that shower."

   Two of us, all soapy, a spray of hot water, his hands over me, me
wishing that one day I'd actually grow, you know, TITS to match my butt.  I
know better than complain, though.  One time I inventoried my lack of
assets and ended up with a pair of raw nipples and teeth marks on my ass.

   Tonight while he's shaving with his emergency pack razor, I'm drying my
hair because I will gladly risk having a bit of hot air damage in return
for knowing that he likes his face buried in my hair when we're playing
around and wet hair slows that fun down.

   When we leave the bathroom area I make a show of grabbing a nightshirt.

   "You don't need that," he said.  "Not yet, anyway..."

   "What do you have in mind, sir?"

   "Celebration of life, Lena."

   I put my arms around his neck.  "I want you.  I want you because you're
cerebral and you're manly and you're my husband with everything that
means..."

   I stopped talking because my tongue was playing with his.  That's a good
sign.  The next good sign is pulling the covers down on the bed, leaving us
with a playing field of clean white cotton.

   Okay, what I did to Jay is probably a bit of compensation for the
previous stressful situation.  I know that his first one, he's kind of
short on control.  No, it's not a problem.  The guy's an attentive lover,
like I have something to compare it to, but he's never left me wanting, and
I know that if we keep playing, there's another one right there and when
he's hard the second time, this close after the first, Lena gets free play.
Bonus.  Get Out Of Jail Free.  The Golden Ticket.

   Poor Jay.  I got on top and I rode 'im hard.  My second one.  And third.
And fourth.  And I put 'im away wet ...  dripping from everything that came
out of me and everything that came out of him for the second time in an
hour.

   No, I really didn't put him away wet.  I love Jay's soft, sticky dick.
And he loves what I do, so I got Number Five for my attentions.  "Rock my
world" is such an over-used expression.  But...

   We slept in, escaped the room at 0730, were having breakfast at the
diner when Jay's phone went off.  He looked at it.  "Bill," he told me as
he put the phone to his ear.

   "Hey, Bill!" he said.  Pause.  "Yes, we know about it.  Somebody tried
to steal our trailer yesterday evening." Pause.  "We caught 'em coming out
the gate with it.  Stopped 'em." Pause.  "One of 'em shot at me, didn't
know Lena was watching." Pause.  "D'you know Alec and Wayne Something or
other?  Alec's the survivor." Pause.  "Yeah, we're eating breakfast at
Jimbo's right now.  We'll be out there in a bit." Pause.  "Yeah, she's
fine. I'll tell 'er." Pause.  "Okay.  See you in a bit." And he set his
phone down.

   "Bill wanted to know what happened to the gate," Jay said.

   "Oh, I guess he's checking on his cattle like he said last night."

   "It's what he said.  Got there and the gate was pulled down.  Called
us."

   "We need to get that gate fixed," I said.  "Let's see how badly it's
broken."

   The gate was going to live on, a quick investigation revealed.  The
turds had yanked off its hinges, probably with a rope tied to their truck's
hitch, and in doing so, simply yanked the hinges out of the gatepost. 
Simple fix, Jay says.

   We drove in to our trailer and met Bill.

   "I can see where they just kicked the blocks and raised the jacks," he
said.

   "Yeah," Jay answered.  "I'm glad they turned the water off and unscrewed
the hose connection, and unplugged the power cord."

   Bill shook his head.  "Those two ...  they had sense enough to know that
fixing those things takes too much effort and cut the value..."

   We let Bill go about caring for his cattle while Jay and I re-leveled
the trailer and put the few things back in place that had fallen when it
was towed.  Our home was back in order quite soon.

   Next conversation was about fences.  Ours were adequate for keeping
cattle in but obviously the gate wasn't up to keeping animals out.

   "That's what I said," Bill told us.  "Enough to keep honest people
honest.  My opinion?"

   "Sure," I said.

   "If they'd've had more trouble trying to get the gate out of the way,
they'd've gone on to something easier.  Those two weren't particularly
ambitious.  Low-hanging fruit was more their style."

   "Kinda what I figure," Jay offered.  "So we want a GOOD gate.  Maybe a
chain link fence along the road.  Won't be Fort Knox but it'll be more of a
deterrent."

   "Gonna be pricey," Bill said.

   "Who do we get to do that?" I asked.

   "Lemme do some looking.  I'll see what I can find.  Pricey, though."

   I don't have the heart to tell him that we're not worrying about money
right now.

   By that afternoon Jay and I had the gate re-hung.  It's not perfect, but
then we don't expect it to be permanent.  Bill came up with the names of a
couple of fence contractors and we're going to have them visit us tomorrow.

   The afternoon was punctuated by a trip back into the parish seat to sign
some papers at the sheriff's office.  We walked across the street
afterward, meeting with the district attorney.

   "I'm not coming up with any charges on this one, folks," he said. 
"Notorious criminals caught red-handed.  One of them pulled a gun.  Clear
self defense.  And the survivor copped to the whole scheme to steal your
trailer."

   He looked at me.  "Mizz Harris, you don't shoot skeet, do you?"

   "No, sir," I said.  "Never tried it."

   "Good!" he smirked.  "I heard about your rifle work.  I'd hate to think
you'd beat me at skeet."

   "Jayy?" I said, "can we try skeet sometime?"

   "See?!?" Jay laughed, "that's how things get started."

   He shook our hands when we left.

   "I think I'm gonna like calling this place 'home'," I told Jay.

   "It is nice."

   There are downsides, though.  Small-town America.  The best selection of
books to be found?  You have a choice - the parish library or Wal-Mart.  We
introduced ourselves at the library, received a couple of library cards,
hit the architecture section and walked out with a few books of home plans.

   When we got back home the gate was still open, meaning that Bill was
still there.  His new cattle shelter is mostly finished.  It's a frame and
a roof, walled in on three sides, sited on the south side of our hill where
it will take advantage of the low winter sunlight angles and also will be
sheltered by the hilltop from the worst of the winter winds.

   Bill is adding some internal features that allow one end to be used as a
stall in the event that one or two cattle need to be kept in restriction
for medication or observation.  Naturally his working in the shed is a
subject of curiosity.  I find it amusing.  The cattle are used to people,
but the only one of the bunch who gets close enough to touch is the bull.
He likes to come up to the fence and get his head scratched.  It's
hilarious having twelve hundred pounds of Black Angus bull following you
down the fenceline hoping you'll pay attention to him.

   Jay, on the other hand, knows I'll pay attention to him.  After we get
the trailer leveled, I meet him and Bill at the new shed, taking sandwich
orders for lunch, as in "if you want a sandwich, I'll fix lunch.  If you
want something else, you're on your own."

   We sat at our outdoor picnic table and had lunch, talking about house
plans with Bill, who had a bit of sense about the area.

   "When're you gonna take the tractor back?" he asked Jay.

   "I think we're gonna buy it.  Seems an awfully handy thing to have
around the place," Jay said.

   "Well, you can always park it in the shed and I'll watch it," Bill
returned.

   "Well, that's a great offer, but we're looking at house plans.  We
decided to get on with building here."

   "And still travel for work?"

   "We may alter those plans.  Maybe short jobs.  None of those multi-year
projects.  We feel a lot more secure with you coming out here to take care
of your cows," I said.

   "There is that," Bill opined.  "I'll take care of the place while you're
gone."

   "See!" I said to Jay.  "Problem solved." Actually, we're - Jay and I
-continuing to develop that whole life plan.  Money's not a problem.  Might
not work at all.  Might just travel.  I dunno.  An electronic fund transfer
hit our bank account from the second bucket of coins and we're waaaay past
flush now.

   Lounging back against Jay's chest that evening...

   "Gentleman farmers, baby," I said.

   "Huh?"

   "We could be gentleman farmers.  Like that guy Bill talked about, you
know, raise some kind of exotic livestock, just for a hobby.  Live here on
our little hilltop, maybe clear off some of that woodland on the back side
of the property ...  More pasture..."

   "Wouldn't want to evict Bill," Jay said.  "He's a good guy..."

   "Handy to have around," I said.  If we clear more pasture, we'll have
plenty of room for his cattle and ours..."

   "Assuming you want cattle."

   "And goats.  Those four we have now, they're interesting..." We'd bought
four goats from a livestock auction.  They joined the cattle on our
acreage. They're more active and curious.  I think they're more
intelligent.

   "You amaze me, little girl," Jay said.  "From city girl to country girl
in a year..."

   Two weeks later we're sitting in the office of a local architect,
talking about our new house.  Architect's fee for our set of plans?  Jay
wrote a check on the spot.  We already had a general contractor, a local
guy Bill recommended, in on our discussions.  We've relocated our trailer
off the hilltop to make room for the new house construction.

   It's getting into late afternoon.  Jay and I are outside the trailer,
sitting on lawn chairs, just enjoying the sounds of autumn.  I look over
our little homesite.  Bill's fat cattle are a distance away.  The goats,
though, they see we're here.

   They've learned the significance of the single strand of wire that is
our electric fence to keep the cattle away from the trailer.  It didn't
take long for that to happen.  Now they stand at a safe distance as
determined by goat mathematics, and they look at us, and they complain
piteously.

   "How do they know to do that?" I ask Jay.

   "They're smart and you spend too much time playing with them at feeding
time."

   "They're interesting," I said.  "Kinda like big vegetarian kittens..." I
stood up.

   "What're you doing?"

   "They want in here with us," I said.  "I'm letting 'em in.  Just this
once."

   "You're reinforcing a behavior," Jay said.  "They're gonna start
expecting that."

   "Just this once," I said.  Inwardly I'm thinking that I never HAD a pet
growing up.  Mom claimed allergies to cats and dogs.  I'm looking at four
female (they're called 'does', not 'nannies', by people who KNOW goats,
I've learned) goats of indeterminate variety and heaven help me, they're
looking right back.  I walk towards the 'gate' in the electric fence and
unhook it.

   Naturally they followed along outside the fence, and as soon as there
was a safe opening, they pranced inside.

   When I sat back down, two of them came up beside me, giving me goaty
kisses, then they both lay down.  The other two curled up beside Jay's
chair.

   "I feel like Noah in his ark," Jay said.

   "I just think it's pretty cool, that's all." I looked to Jay.  "What
about a male?  So we can have little goats?"

   "Bill says that the male, the buck, is the origin of all the bad stories
about goats.  Says they smell horrible because they pee on their beards to
attract females, that they can be aggressive, and they boss the females
around."

   "So If we want little goats..."

   "Bill says find somebody who's got a buck, leave our little darlin' with
'im for a bit while she comes into heat, then nature will take its course."

   I giggled.  "So basically we have to run a dating service for goats,
then..."

   "Yeah.  And we don't want the herd getting too big, and there's a
fifty-fifty chance any little goat will be a buck, so we either have to get
him fixed or sell him."

   With the setting of the sun, we started getting bothered by mosquitoes.
Preparatory to going inside, the goats needed to be on their side of the
electric fence.

   "Watch this," I said to Jay.  I unhooked the wire by the insulated
handle, then patted my thigh, made a kissy noise and walked a bit outside
the fence.  The four goats followed.  I paid a bit of attention to each,
patting, scratching ears, then went back inside and secured the electric
fence.

   Jay watched the whole exercise.  "You're gonna make the cows jealous,"
he laughed.

   "Maybe so," I said, "But that's kinda nice, the goats, I mean."

   It was shower time.  Still doing the outdoor thing, the water spray
driving off the mosquitoes while we were under the cold showerhead, then we
made a mad dash for the trailer, both of us buck naked.  Inside, we dried
off, pulled on shoes and clothes, then tended to dinner.  I can do
wonderful things in a tiny kitchen with omelets and steaming veggies and
neither of us has to get fat.  When we really want to dig in, we know a
couple of good restaurants.

   We'd talked about renting a place but the only places we found were in
town and apartments in small towns are often NOT the places you want to be.
Still, we both look forward to a full-sized kitchen.

   The bed in this trailer, though, works very well.

   Jay's turn:

   Seven months since the Battle of Brady Loop Road.  We did have a meeting
with the district attorney.  I don't know what I was expecting, but it was
somewhat congenial.  He works closely with his sheriff and those folks saw
my side of the story, so there weren't going to be any charges.

   I offered to buy lunch after the meeting.  He accepted the invitation,
then we had a big disagreement over who paid the tab.  I let the paid
public official win.

   "Ultimately you're paying for it anyway," he laughed.

   "Pleasant of you to recognize it."

   Also, we're now members of the little Baptist church in town.  That's a
'Lena' thing, a week after our defense of our homestead.  Her religion
wasn't the 'in your face' sort of thing.  Mine was vestigial.

   "If we're going to be a permanent part of this community," she said
during a discussion, "then a church family is a necessary part.  That's
just the secular side.  Recognizing your relationship with God is more
important, but less tangible."

   "I married a girl who says 'tangible'."

   "And in proper context," she retorted.  "So we show up Sunday
morning..."

   We showed up on Sunday morning.  Lena has this dress, a conservative,
business-like thing, that totally underlines the beauty in her without
being suggestive.  I do my 'domesticated engineer' look, shirt and tie. 
We're in the upper tier for the little country church and we're greeted
like long lost family.  A few know of our homestead.  Bill's name comes up.
Lots of people know Bill.  Apparently he's a good one to have for a
reference.

   After a few weeks of attending the church, we became official members.
It's a big family with the usual mix of givers and takers and winners and
losers, I suppose, but the pastor and his wife are good people who serve
the church part time and farm a few hundred acres the rest of the time.

   Lena and I talked about it one day.  Little country church.  Budget's
tight.  A lot of the upkeep is done by volunteers.  There are worse things
to write a check for.

   Pastor and wife out to dinner with me and Lena.  Neat thing about Lena -
she's comfortable in social venues, never inappropriate, just her
charmingly normal self.

   "So, Will, what's on the wish list for the physical plant?" I asked in
the midst of conversation.

   He ran down the list quickly.

   "Roof?" I said.  "If, say, a roofing contractor showed up one day and
did that..."

   "We were trying to get enough volunteers," Will said.

   "Admirable," I replied, "but sometimes that's hard to do.  Everybody's
got things going..."

   "I know that feeling," he said.  "We just finished cutting beans. 
Nothing stops.  You gotta keep an eye on the weather..."

   "Kinda late for beans, ain't it?" I said.

   "Yep.  But we had all that rain in the spring.  I had to wait until the
field dried out to get the seed in.  Everybody's in the same boat, though.
But roof?  We can't afford a contractor to do a turn-key job."

   "Yeah, you can," I said.  "I'll write you a check..."

   "Jay..." he started.

   "Look, my friend," I said, "Lena and I have made this church our family.
It's what family does.  We have the money, our family needs it.  Pretty
simple."

   "What was it you say you do for a living?"

   "He's an engineer," Lena inserted.  "I'm a documents analyst.  We work
together on jobs."

   "We could sure use the roof," Will's wife Aimee said.  "Another year, we
could have real problems."

   "Then why don't we just start by getting that roof fixed, then?" I said.
"Priority one.  Then we'll work down the list."

   "Very generous..." Will said.

   "Been blessed in ways I can't fathom since last year," I said.  Lena
nodded agreement.  Maybe she understands that she's the greatest of the
blessings.

   But back to now.  Here's this new house and we're watching furniture
being delivered.  All the windows in the place are open, still trying to
get rid of the smells of paint and other construction concoctions.

   I've been told that my first domestic task is to assemble our new bed,
preparatory to my SECOND domestic task.  Oh, yeah ...  you have to KNOW
that we've coupled in the place ever since we staked out the foundations.
Far be it from me to deny that blonde nutcase a chance to mate.  Like it's
such a burden to me, right?

   Winter was a trial in the little trailer.  Once the outside temps got a
bit too brisk for the outdoor showers, we had to make do with the tiny
indoor shower.  It's doable, really, but there are caveats: five gallon
water heater is one.  Another is that it is strictly a single occupancy
arrangement.

   We escaped regularly on various road trips, ending up in hotels with
better shower arrangements.

   Another thing.  Lena's Mom and Dad.  Yes, we visited once a month since
it wasn't too bad a drive from us.  The second visit after our coins
started selling, we brought a check.  I let Lena do the honors.

   "Mom.  Dad.  We've sorta been really blessed.  It's been a good year for
us.  We wanna give you this check to help you out." She passed a cashier's
check for fifty thousand dollars to her dad.

   His eyes widened and his jaw dropped.  Lena's mom looked over his
shoulder.  Her reaction was equally expressive.

   "Baby..." her dad blurted.  "This is a lot of money.  Are you sure?" His
eyes flicked back and forth between Lena and me.  "Jay..."

   "Like she says, we've been blessed.  We thought this might take the load
off you for a while."

   Lena got wrapped up in a tearful hug from her mom.  "This pays off the
mortgages - both of them.  And then some..."

   We knew that.  Lena pays attention to things in her family.

   I pay attention to mine, too.  Cathy and her husband Sam were in good
shape.  Cathy's a minor vice president at the bank and Sam's a supervisor
at a petrochemical plant and they've been pretty wise with their finances,
so they didn't need bailing out or being jerked up out of a hole or
anything.

   "Share some of it," Lena said.

   "How?  I mean, what do we say to justify dumping fifty K on 'em?"

   "Almost tell 'er the truth.  We sold the timbers from the site.  Tell
'er we sold some trees to a lumber company, whatever.  Her half of the
proceeds."

   "You lie pretty good for a sweet little Baptist girl," I said.

   "Me?!?" she squeaked.  "You, sir, are the silver-tongued devil
incarnate."

   "All I did was lead one gullible girl astray," I laughed.

   So that's what we did.  Cathy and Sam welcomed us.  Sam and I had an
agreeable discussion of the proper techniques for grilling steak.

   "It's BAD, though," Lena said.  "Every time I start slicing into a cut
of beef, I get a picture of those cows with their big brown eyes..."

   "You don't have to..." I started.

   "Didn't say it was gonna stop me," she retorted, forking a bite of
perfectly charred ribeye into her mouth.

   "So when are you gonna have your house finished?" Sam asked.

   "Late spring.  Y'all need to come up and visit.  The kids can run around
the place."

   "We'll do that," Cathy said.  "But I signed the land over to you ...  We
sold Dad's house, got a good chunk.  I don't think this is fair..."

   "Don't worry about it.  All those old outbuildings on the place - all
kinds of antique crap, and the timbers and siding was like gold.  They're
all gonna be part of some hipster fern bar somewhere, most likely."

   "Kinda sad," Sam said.  "Century and a half providing service and
shelter for a real home, now it's gonna decorate some place full of
neck-bearded, man-bunned freaks..."

   "I know," I said, "but the alternative ...  at least we saved one
timber. It's the ridgepole in our den's cathedral ceiling.  The carpenters
couldn't drive a nail in the stuff.  They don't get wood like that these
days."

   "We'll put the money to good use," Cathy said.

   "Hell," I countered.  "Blow it on a vacation.  Toss it in the kids'
college funds.  Your money, so do what you like.  Name the dog after me."

   The drive back home was without incident, eschewing the shortest path
for unfamiliar roads.  And a satisfied, smiling Lena.

   "I feel better, babe," she said.  "We need to bring Randall another
bucket.  Keep out a few nice examples for Christmas presents."





   Chapter 20

   Lena's turn:

   Another trip to Dallas.  Another bucket with almost a million dollars in
it.

   Randall ran down our list.  Several times he paused, looked at a coin
from the inventory.

   "Last bucket," he said, then he laughed.  "You don't realize what saying
'bucket' in relation to what you've laid out here means to me.  I mean,
people come in here with something like THIS," he said, holding up a
particular coin he'd said was a quarter million dollars, "and you'd think
they had the British crown jewels.  You come waltzing in here with a
Tupperware tub."

   "What do you mean, 'last bucket'?" Jay asked.

   "I sort of misspoke," Randal answered, "but we need to be more
circumspect in putting these on the market.  Like I said before, rarity
keeps the prices up ...  As long as we don't hit the market with several of
THESE," he said, pointing to that coin again, "we're okay.  Sell too many,
too fast, and we kill the goose that lays the golden egg.  By overfeeding
it."

   "I see," Jay said, glancing at me.

   "Don't get me wrong - gold is gold.  None of your coins are in such bad
shape that they're strictly bullion value, but this premium stuff, if we,
say, hit the market with several at once, like that 1854-O, we knock the
price down because they lose the rarity factor.  Doesn't mean that you
still won't get a bunch, but just not as much.  However, if we catalog them
and wait a year, we can expect to get that big price again."

   "I see," I said.  "So we really kind of need to catalog the rest and see
what we might want to sit on?"

   "That'd be my plan.  I'd like to offer a certified grading on certain
coins."

   "We'd like to do that.  If you know what our best offerings are, you're
in position to sell when it benefits us all," Jay posited.

   "You retain possession," Randall said.  "After I do the grading, you
take 'em back.  If you decide you need to liquidate some of them, you do
that.  I'll work with you."

   "How about we sort of fifty-fifty that?" Jay asked.  He went on to
explain, "some of the more common and lower-grade coins, we sell those off.
I don't want to have ALL our assets in gold."

   "Unless I miss my bet with you two," Randall said, "you're putting some
of your assets into that new house and you've got a diversified investment
portfolio."

   "True," Jay said.  "But I'd like just a little more liquidity."

   "Okay," Randall said.  "The coins that are just a bit above bullion
value, we can dump the daylights out of them with no problem.  How much do
you want?"

   "Half a million," Jay told him.

   I still marvel at us talking about finances in the range of millions.

   "That's our 'rainy day' money," I inserted.  "It's a crazy world out
there.  I read history books."

   "Then you know about money that doesn't physically exist..." Randall
started.

   "Yes," Jay said.  "We've talked about that.  I heard the horror stories
about right here in the USA when storms took down the communications and
people couldn't use their credit cards and the ATMs wouldn't work to give
'em cash.  We're sort of hedging our bets on all those."

   "Gotta keep a big lump in investments," I said.  "Live money makes
money."

   "I understand the thoughts behind your ideas," Randall said.  "We can
work with that."

   "Good," Jay said.  "Now, next trip, we're bringing the little gold coins
- the eagles and half-eagles, and the silver.  I think what we want to do
with the silver is exchange the collectible stuff for more pedestrian
values."

   "I've looked at your listing.  You're liable to do well on those, too,
you know..."

   "They're ugly," I said.

   "Hundred and fifty years of dampness in a rotten leather bag sort of
helped that," Jay added.

   "Nonetheless, we'll wipe them off and see what we've got.  Those
pictures you took, they have me intrigued as well.  Three, four thousand
apiece for common dates in any kind of condition at all."

   "For silver dollars..." I said.

   "Yeah.  It's crazy," Randall stated, "But so many of the lower end
silver coins were melted down in the big silver bubble in 1980, that they
turned the market on its ear.  Same thing with gold.  In 1935 when it
became illegal to own gold for most people, the government melted down huge
amounts of coins, so the ones left are rare outside the actual number
originally minted."

   "Crazy."

   "Yeah," Randall said.  "Skews the rarity factor something fierce because
nobody knows how many got melted down.  You folks'll profit."

   We left Randall's place with a promise to haul in the remainder of the
cache within a week or so.

   Took the back roads heading back home.  I had to hit a few flea markets
and 'antique' stores on that trip.  My kitchen lacks the cookware that I
grew up with - cast iron pots, mainly.  I'd looked at the new ones on the
market.  They don't hold a candle to Mom's, and Mom got hers from HER
mother.  I found similar ones at some of those markets, but that's another
'collectible' market that has gone nuts.

   "Don't even break a sweat, baby," Jay told me.  "The old stuff's best
and we can afford it."

   We want our kitchen done up right.  Both Jay's family and my family had
the smaller kitchens in the old homes that we grew up in.  Our kitchen's
big.  Room for appliances.  Good ones, too.  If we're gonna spend our lives
here, then we're going to do it right.

   Let's recap, then ...  According to a somewhat obscure historical
reference, I'm two out of three in the Kinder, Küche, Kirche of the
traditional wife's role.  I've got our kitchen, I've got our church...

   And at a church social, Jay and I are sitting there chatting with other
members and watching the kids play.  One of the families has a pair of four
year old twin girls who are absolute dolls, that cotton-topped blonde thing
that little girls do.  They're active and cute and just a little bit shy
when they come up while I'm talking with their mom about dragging some
Cajun recipes into the piney woods of central Louisiana.

   Little Trina got there first, scooted onto her mom's knee, leaving
little Tracy looking a bit disappointed.

   "Don't whine, Tracy," her mom said.

   "I have a knee," I offered.

   Tracy scooted up onto my lap.

   "You've got a friend for life, Lena," Sophie said.

   "I like 'em like this," I laughed.  "At the end of the day, she goes
home with YOU."

   "Yeah ...  You and Jay, have y'all thought about it?"

   "We've talked.  We were planning on waiting until we got our lives in
order..."

   "Some people do that," Sophie said.  "But there's always a reason NOT to
do it.  You're young and healthy and you'd probably be a great mom."

   "Jay'd be a great dad," I said.  "You 'n' Scott need to come over next
Saturday.  We'll do some food and let the kids play with the goats and I'll
get another view of Jay around kids."

   "You need to rethink that, Lena," Sophie said.  "Look over there..." She
pointed.  Jay was there with a couple of dads and some pre-teen boys,
pitching a softball.  "Guy needs a kid to teach..."

   Now I'm thinking.  When Jay and I had the 'children' talk, it was before
I found that box with the backhoe.  Since then, our lives have been this
whirlwind and honestly, I never thought to revisit the subject.  We darned
sure built the house with kids in mind, though.  Two empty bedrooms, one
made up as a guest room, the other a receptacle for odds and ends.  And a
sitting room (who still uses 'sitting rooms'?  the architect has asked us)
off the master bedroom that would certainly convert to a nursery for a
newborn.

   Jay and I had semi-consciously built our house with children in mind.

   After the social, we went home.

   "I had an interesting conversation today," I said.

   "Oh yeah?"

   "Yeah.  Sophie Hall."

   "Oh, yeah.  Scott's wife.  The twin girls.  Six year old boy."

   "That's the one."

   "What were you talking about?"

   "Started out going over recipes.  We need to hold 'gumbo' classes."

   "I'm sure you moved on past recipes, though."

   "Uh-huh.  Jay, remember us talking about kids?"

   "I do remember that," he said.  "I remember us talking about getting our
finances stabilized first."

   "How stable is one point eight million in an investment account and a
six-figure bank balance?"

   "Pretty darned stable.  I've been meaning to talk with you about the
next step."

   "Next step?"

   "Yeah.  Lena, having a child is a big deal, you know ...  all kinds of
things come into play."

   "Thoughts.  Yours."

   "You, my blonde-headed wife, are the one who's gonna swell up for
months, then squeeze a human being out of your cooch."

   "You make is sound so romantic," I giggled.

   "Then there's this helpless little entity what's going to require around
the clock attention from us."

   "I understand that.  I was a pro-grade babysitter, remember."

   "So I heard.  And you took care of Denny.  I attribute a lot of patience
to you for that."

   "Are you trying to talk me out of it, Jay?"

   "No.  Absolutely not.  I married Lena whom I saw as a fitting partner
with whom to procreate and rear children.  You and I talked about it BEFORE
we got married."

   "We did."

   "We haven't talked about it recently.  Are you still..."

   "When Tracy got into my lap today, something clicked, Jay ...  I love
you.  You love me.  We meant to be parents..."

   "I love you, too.  I was hoping you'd arrive at that conclusion without
me having to kind of prompt you."

   "You've been thinking about it?" I asked.

   "I have.  I thought about it when we planned out the house.  I saw you
choosing features that I knew would suit us for having children..."

   "Subconscious," I said.  "But since I started thinking about it ... 
Jay, my folks brought me into the world without nearly the resources we
have."

   "Mine, too.  We have opportunities..."

   "On an analytical level, we have everything going in our favor..."

   "Yes, we do.  We need to understand, though, that we're talking about a
whole new person..."

   "We got pretty good genes, Jay."

   "That takes care of the 'nature' side of the equation."

   "And 'nurture'?  I WANT to be a mom.  You say you want to be a dad. 
We're both intelligent and level-headed.  No bad habits..."

   "Except I'm crazy about YOU."

   "Parents NEED to love each other..."

   We pulled off the road and up to our entry gate.  Jay hit the remote
opener to open the gate.  Oh yeah ...  No more getting out, unlocking,
opening, waiting for him to drive through, then locking it behind him.  And
Bill's got a remote.  And we can issue a one-time code for others to come
in.  Or manually open it from the house after we check the video camera. 
Not quite 'Fort Knox' secure, but close.  And there's another one to get
into our fenced-in yard.  No more electric fence there.

   The goats know they can jump the cattle guard when that gate's open, but
they don't.  They will stand by one of the other gates and bleat piteously
for attention.  And yes, I do let them into the yard when we're outside.  I
spoil 'em, though.

   Jay and I went inside.

   "Now, back to the question of us having one or more kids..."

   "Want more than one," I said.  "Baby, we can afford it.  Two at least."

   "Well, we did plan the house for expansion if we needed it," Jay said.

   "So, when?" I asked.

   "Well," he grinned like a boy getting ready to tell a dirty joke, "we
need to practice ...  The conception, I mean."

   "I know ...  Extra practice," I giggled.  "Seriously, though, I wanna
make a doctor's appointment.  Get a checkup, that kind of thing."

   "Prudent," Jay said.  "I should do the same."

   "You'll certainly stand out at the gynecologist's office," I laughed.

   "I'll do our general practitioner, thank you..." He swung me into his
arms.  "Big step, princess."

   "It is.  But seriously, Jay.  Who better than us?"

   "You're right, Blondie.  Practice?"

   "Until we get it right." Nice thing about having a house to ourselves,
here back in the woods ...  Well not IN the woods, but there's woods
between us and the public road, is that if nakedity is desired, we won't
incense the neighbors and the cattle and goats are used to us.

   This time, though, in the house ...  I get my neck nuzzled until I'm a
giggling mess.  That's a wonderful start.  Step Two is that nakedity thing.

   "Not tired of me yet?" I ask coquettishly.

   "Sooooo bored," he replies, his erection telling me the truth.

   "I can tell," I giggle.  "Get to the bed.  I don't wanna get my knees
carpet-burnt."

   "Come on, then."

   I chased him into the bedroom.  We tore the covers off and were tied up
together naked before our clothes finished fluttering to the floor.

   "Pregnant?  You wanna be pregnant?"

   "I want YOU to make me pregnant.  This is just practice.  Funsies.  But
soon..."

   "Gosh, you're wet," he observed.

   "Ready.  Want you."

   And in the afterglow...

   "Life as we know it will change."

   "I know, baby," I said.  "You 'n' me, we've been used to going off at
the drop of a hat.  I know that adding an infant to that is gonna make the
logistics change..."

   "Yeah.  From 'mount up and go' to 'Hannibal crossing the Alps'.  Sort of
goes with the territory."

   Midnight feedings.  Teething.  Potty training.  Childhood diseases... 
"But baby," I said, "when little Tracy climbed into my lap, I guess it was
like 'Lena, this is the future for you and Jay.  The reason you're
together..."

   "I know, baby," he said.  "The ultimate step into adulthood.  We knew it
when we married..."

   "It's been fun ...  you and me, running all over ...  I enjoyed the
cruises, but that's fantasy.  Reality's gonna be sleeping in that room up
the hall.  A little bit of me and you..."

   "Are you sure, Lena?"

   I kissed him.  "I'm sure.  I wouldn't be YOUR wife if I didn't think YOU
were a suitable mate, in every sense of the word.  The object of mating is
procreation." I kissed him, felt his fingers brush the wetness between my
legs.

   Hmmm ...  I check.  Hard.  Giggle.  Round Two.

   Oh, yes ...  good good good.

   "You know that this might slow down..."

   "Mom says they installed locks on their bedroom door for a reason.  We
KNEW that when that door was closed, we didn't mess with it.  Off limits."

   "Oh, poor child," he smirked.  "Your parents abandoned you in the
interests of their sex lives..."

   "Part of a loving relationship.  We will do no less.  I learned
something valuable.  So will our kids.  I learned it's normal for adults to
love like this."

   "I do indeed like loving like this," he said.

   "Yeah ...  Come on.  Let's do a shower..."

   High efficiency, high capacity water heater.  BIG shower.  Sanitary,
hygienic AND recreational.

   Afterward, he was brushing my hair out, drying the back for me.

   "You want me to do something different?  My hair?"

   "Why would you even ask, baby?"

   "Sophie's cut was cute ...  Truth now..." I think I know the answer, but
I like him telling me.

   "If you have to change, Sophie's was neat, but this..." He buried his
face into the base of my neck, causing me to squeal, "Is purest Lena.  I
love it.  Adore it.  You shake your head, drives me wild..."

   "I desire to drive you to distraction."

   "You succeed."

   Part of being 'gentleman farmers' was filling our time with some
meaningful tasks.  Working with Bill's input, we built a smokehouse,
started experimenting with curing and smoking meats in the old manner. 
Quickly found out that our kitchen was more than adequate for preparing
foods for family and friends, but wholly inadequate if you want to do big
batches of sausage or bacon or hams.

   Soon enough, the hobby had us building another building, all set up for
the volumes we wanted.  Bill worked with us.

   "Got a guy who says that if you promise him that you'll buy, he'll raise
a few extra hogs.  By next fall, first frost, we'll be ready to really put
some meat up."

   "We got a freezer full, already," Jay said.

   "Yeah, and if you wanna sell it, you have a premium product.  You can
get a premium price."

   "That's a hoot," I said.

   "Well, we DID build the new kitchen to commercial specs," Jay said.

   Trouble is, we make GOOD stuff.  TASTY good stuff.  And if I forget what
I'm doing, I'm gonna put on weight.

   But I'm off the pill and it's a matter of time before Jay and I
conceive. And I'm anxious.  Three months of horrible, HORRIBLE trying and
nothing.  I went back to the gynecologist.

   "Nothing wrong with you, Lena," she said.  "I think you might want to
get your husband checked."

   Jay called our family doctor.

   "Sterile container with a fresh sample," were the instructions.

   "Oh, darn, baby," I giggled.  "However shall we collect that sample?"

   "Tomorrow morning," he said, "then we'll drop it by his office and go to
the feed store."

   "Do we need to abstain tonight?"

   "He didn't say THAT," Jay grinned.  "I do enjoy playing with my Lena,
you know..."

   "I do know.  But we could've left your little weenie alone while you ate
me senseless."

   He laughed.  "Some guys'd have a real problem with you referring to it
as a 'little weenie'."

   "We've had this talk, haven't we?"

   "Many times."

   "And talking about it makes me wanna play with it."

   "I have no problem with that," he said as I knelt in front of him to
pull his pants down, exposing the topic of conversation.  A quick suck - a
promise.

   I stood, let him peel my shirt over my head, unfasten my bra.  He
stepped back.  I remember that I once would almost immediately cover myself
up with my arms when he looked.  Now I don't.  I'm his.  My effect on him
is obvious, and I feel positively worshiped.

   "You have too much on, sir."

   "Yes, ma'am." He started undressing himself, dropping his pants from
around the erection protruding from his fly.

   "Bed," I said.  "Mate with me."

   Knowing that we're trying to get me pregnant makes me hotter, and I
think it spurs him on to higher effort.  And if we do doggy style I reach
way back and cup his balls in my hand while he thrusts and POW!  - he's a
fountain.

   "I don't know where you came up with that idea, but it works," he said.
"I think I just turned myself inside out."

   I giggled.  "I like what it does to you."

   Showers, then herbal tea on the back porch.  Yeah, we've got a nice one,
shaded against the summer sun, screened against the hordes of insects, and
a couple of comfy lounges with a view down the hill into the woods.

   The next morning came.  So did Jay.  Don't get me wrong, we have a lot
of fun, laughter, giggling, coos, purrs, when making love, but I can't
remember as much mirth as we generated over getting that sample for his
doctor.

   We had breakfast in town after dropping the sample off.  Late that
afternoon, Jay got a phone call.  Normal.  Good count, good motility.  And
"Just takes a few tries, sometimes, especially after she's been on the Pill
for a while."

   I question the validity of the 'Pill' comment, but "Darn, baby ... 
We're gonna have to up the pace..."





   Chapter 21

   Lena's turn:

   I consider it proof of God's sense of humor that I can remember a few
unfortunate girls in high school who swear that they got pregnant the first
week they started having sex.  Oh sure, some of that could be pure lying to
cover the fact that unprotected sex is stupid in so many ways both physical
and moral, but still - Jay and I have been banging away happily for three
months and - nothing.

   I've been checked out.  So has Jay.  We've done it in every conceivable
(HAH!) position, multiple times.  And here I am, buying feminine hygiene
products for my fourth period since I got off the Pill.

   I'm thinking that maybe a bottle of cheap wine and the sofa at a buddy's
apartment might be the key to enhanced fertility.

   That conversation happened two weeks ago.  Fact One: I'd never been
drunk before in my life.  Fact Two: Boone's Farm wine tastes like bad
Koolaid.  Fact Three: We giggle a lot more during sex.  Fact Four:
Hangovers are BAD.  My mouth tasted bad.  My head hurt.  My stomach was
queasy, and not the good kind of queasy, like 'morning sickness', no it was
the bad kind, like 'burrito from a scantsy food truck' queasy.

   And I didn't get pregnant.  And it's period time.

   "Baby, sometimes it takes a while," Jay says.  He's good at soothing and
comforting.  I'm not worried.  Doctors say we're good, we'll just keep
practicing.  But period ...  Shower.

   Oh, since we're gonna take a shower anyway, I tease the poor guy until
he's hard and rape him.  With my butt on a towel, because I know that we're
making a mess but he gets his and I get mine and the washing machine works
and so does the shower and I'm leaned back against him, letting the hot
water wash over the two of us...

   "You're something, baby girl," he says.  "Really something."

   His arms are still strong and they wrap around me and love me.

   Then it's sipping herbal tea on the screened patio in the dark,
listening to the sounds of nature.  It's a wonderful way to end that part
of the day that exists outside our bed.  That part, too ...  We already DID
it once, so going to sleep is just the matter of two bodies fitting
together, contact in a manner that affirms comfort and love.

   So the next few days are like much of our life together now.  We seldom
march to somebody else's orders, unless you count the orders put into place
long ago, the ones that have us up early on Sundays, getting dressed for
church.  Same thing Wednesday night, you know.  Being Baptists, that's the
mid-week service.  It's our life, our beliefs and our closer community. 
Life in one place, like we're doing, is a system of circles, you know.

   There's the little circle that encompasses our land.  That tiniest of
them, the epicenter, is me and Jay, with room for an undetermined third and
maybe a fourth.

   Slightly larger is the one that wraps up Bill and his family.  I like to
say that he came with the land.  It's almost true.  It's a very fortunate
thing for us.  Bill's good people, as they say.  His knowledge of farming
and of the local area, including a lot of the people, has been worth its
weight in gold.

   Outside that circle sometimes, inside it sometimes, are the families of
me and Jay.  Since we got the house finished, we've had everybody up here.

   Mom and Dad ...  I saw Dad's face when he and Jay walked the land.  Dad
started out life as a country boy, moved to town (yes, it's a SMALL town,
but it's still a town) when he was a young teen.  I think that seeing where
his daughter ended up brought back a wave of nostalgia.  Mom loved the
house.

   I know why.  I had a lot to say about how the house was to be built, and
right in the middle of my design process was a lifetime of helping Mom with
housekeeping.  I remembered all the little complaints and all our
work-arounds and when Jay and I built ours, we tried to eliminate all of
them.  Jay heard much of that.

   When Mom and Dad left, Jay and I curled up in the aftermath for what he
calls an 'after-action report'.

   "Your dad loved the place."

   "Mom did, too.  She said she'd love for Dad to have a place to putter
around.  His little garden at home, his time, just like your dad's..."

   "Why don't we build 'em a little place right down the hill?" Jay asked
me.  "Would they move here?"

   Inwardly I squealed.  Outwardly, "I dunno.  They've been there since I
was a baby."

   "It's an old neighborhood.  They didn't change.  The neighborhood
changed around them."

   "I know.  I worry.  Used to be full of people like your parents and
mine. Now..."

   "Yeah," he said.  "I'm afraid it's a matter of time before somebody
decides that those old people might have something worth stealing."

   "Then you think..."

   "Right over there, right before that big oak.  Extend the driveway ...
Two bedrooms - your sister can finish high school here."

   "You're serious, baby?"

   "Not like money's a problem."

   "How do we tell Mom and Dad that we paid for it?"

   "We don't.  We say we used some good investments to get started, down
payment, so to speak, then when they move in, we sell their old house, use
that money to help pay this one off..."

   "Uh, I think Dad's gonna see through that," I said.

   "Prob'ly so," Jay conceded.  "But he's gonna have something he can sort
of hide behind.  Plausible deniability, sort of..."

   "Yeah.  I'll call 'em, see what they think."

   He got an extra-enthusiastic bit of excitement that evening, I think. 
It's difficult to say, though.  I have never held back anything when making
love with Jay.  He seems to bring out the kitten in me.  Or the tiger.  Or
whatever.  But when I had him throbbing in my mouth, I was feeling
particularly partnerish.

   Jay's sister and her family came to visit, too.  There's something about
kids and farms.  Jay fired up the tractor, rode the two kids around, each
perched entirely too precariously alongside him, leaving me there with
Cathy in full combat-mode fret while her husband laughed.

   "Oh, yeah, Cat," he laughed.  "They have trucks going up and down the
road hauling off the bodies of kids who die on their uncle's tractor."

   "I don't care.  They're MY kids..."

   I understand some of her trepidation.

   Of course, our farm is also a petting zoo.  The bull stood at the fence
and got a week's worth of scratching attention.  The goats saw these two
little humans as their equals, and when, over Cathy's protests, we turned
the kids (goat and human) loose in the pasture, the goats followed them
around.

   "Paradise, Jay," Sam said.

   "Yeah," Cathy added.  "Dad's looking down at this, smiling.  And that
picture of Mom in the kitchen ...  Lena, she loved you when you were
little. I'm sure she sees you in your kitchen."

   "I like to think that.  We're lucky.  We both have parents worth
honoring.  This place is for Jay and me, and we're this way because of
them."

   They stayed overnight.  The kids did the old-fashioned sprawling on
living room furniture.  I can't help but think that Sammy wanted to sleep
on the patio.  We need a couple of folding cots for that.

   We did breakfast all the way.  Our charcuterie business is doing well
and we've worked up some good procedures for real bacon and sausage.  Our
hams are not going to be ready for another six months, minimum.  Good hams
take time to cure.

   "Mom, this egg's ORANGE!" Chloe exclaimed.

   "That egg comes from Aunt Lena's chickens, baby.  It's a lot fresher
than the ones from the store.  And the color is because she feeds hers a
lot better."

   I'm thinking that Cathy learned something somewhere, but later, Jay
explained that Mom and Dad, his, used to keep chickens before the city
'civilized' them out of it.

   I'm glad our pork comes from the guy up the road.  I have a feeling that
by the end of the week, Chloe would've given names to every farm animal on
the place, and roasting a chunk of a pig named Bert would've been
unacceptable for a little city girl.  I'm glad we got away with the eggs.

   When Jay's bunch left, they did so with promises that if the kids wanted
to come up for a week or two when school was out, they were going to be
welcome.  And I'm trying to figure out how to keep Sammy from regarding the
cattle's watering trough as a small swimming pool.

   So here I am, having a period when I don't WANT a period, and I can look
out the kitchen window and see Jay over there overseeing a bunch of
builders putting stakes in the ground for Mom and Dad's place.

   My sister Alyssa and I had several long talks about the idea of Mom and
Dad moving here.  She had the expected 'but I'll leave all my friends
behind' and 'that's soooo out in the sticks' moments.

   "Liss," I said, "you're gonna do this most of your life - move on from
one place to another.  It's the norm today.  Mom and Dad, being in the same
place for all those years, that's getting less and less common.  And the
neighborhood..."

   "I knowwww," she conceded.  "Used to be different.  There's stuff goin'
on up and down the street.  I get scared if I come home after dark."

   "This is beautiful..."

   "Yeah, but you're married.  Jay treats you like a princess..."

   "He does that.  But you ...  Guys are different around here.  The high
school ...  We know some of 'em from church.  Know their parents."

   "But..."

   "But I live here.  Right next door.  We have each other.  And you WILL
have friends."

   "How will I meet them?"

   "Oh, come on, Liss," I said.  "Same way you met the ones you have now.
School.  Or better yet, church..."

   "Uh, just because they show up at church, that doesn't mean..." she
started.

   "Yeah, yeah, but it's a piece of positive data.  Besides - new house. 
You get to choose what color your room is, the drapes..."

   "Same ol' beat-up bed, same ol' beat up dresser..."

   "Tell you what, little sister, you show me a 3.0 average on your final
report card, I will personally help you furnish your new room, up to a
thousand bucks."

   Squealllll!

   I knew it was pretty much a given that she'd make that goal.  My
sister's not stupid.  If she applies herself...  "And if you do a 3.5, make
that a grand and a half..."

   Squeallll!

   "I heard that from over here," Jay laughed.

   "I love my sister," I said.  "She needs a little bump in the right
direction every now and then, and she was a horrible pest, growing up, but
she's my sister..."

   I'd hoped that I'd have Mom and Liss here this summer in the mid to late
part of my pregnancy, but noooo ...  Here I am, STILL towing this HUGE
burden on my poor husband.

   Even the goats laugh at me.  In November of last year, I became the goat
pimp.  Well, the truth is that Jay and I both assumed the duties.  He
laughed when I told my 'ladies' - the goats - that I was going to take them
to meet a boyfriend.

   The guy who owns the male goat, that's a 'buck', not a 'billy', contrary
to a lifetime of kid stories, gave me a mason jar with a horrid-smelling
washcloth in it.  "Open this jar an' let your girls smell it.  If they're
receptive, they'll go nuts."

   I was thinking that here was another case of 'let's get the city girl to
do something funny', but it worked.  I took the jar home, had no more than
loosened the lid in the presence of the girls and two of them got excited,
wiggly, their short goaty tails a blur, shaking.

   "I know exactly how you feel," I told them.  Extra feed that night.  The
next morning, Jay and I loaded the two up into our little livestock
trailer, took 'em for a ride.

   Goat sex.

   I wore poor Jay out that evening.

   Two weeks later, another two.

   Pregnant goats ...  Five months, there are goatlings.  Okay, they'
really are 'kids', and I was thinking of playing midwife, but one day the
girls were looking particularly pregnant, the next morning there are these
two darling little sprites.  And two weeks later, two more.

   And so now I see mommy goats and THEIR kids and where's ol' Lena?

   "You need to get me a jar with a rag in it," I told Jay.

   "Hell, no.  That day we got the first two bred, you liked to have killed
me."

   So four days of period ...  Just means that sex is, well, different, if
I want him.  And mark my words: this is MY Jay and I always want him.  But,
period over, back to normal.  A few sessions where we frightened the
livestock.  And our lives are filled with work we want to do.  We have a
smokehouse for the meats here, but we're talking about a bigger, more
commercial facility.  Word's getting around, as it is wont to do when you
put out a good product.

   Mom and Dad's house is closed in, the windows in place, the drywall's
going up soon.  It'll be ready when school's out.  Summer's not the ideal
move-in time, I'm thinking.  It gets hot here - stifling hot.  Goes with
the territory, though.

   Another month.  I watch the tick marks on the calendar.  It's not like I
haven't been happily exposed, every day, sometime two or three times a day.
Finally the day comes up with the red circle.  I check the inventory of
pads and tampons.  I'm prepared.

   First day.  Nothing.  Okay, I'm not exactly the time standard at the
National Observatory, so...

   Second day.  Still nothing.  "Jay, I'm late..." Big smile from the guy
who is going to be the father of my children.

   Third day: Okay ...  I'm imagining things.  I feel a little crampy. 
Anticipation?

   Fourth day: I have missed a period.  I've never been this late since I
was twelve and the stupid things first started.  We stop by the pharmacy on
our trip into town.  I bought two of the home pregnancy tests.  Jay laughs.
It's a lot of HIS fault that I take the conservative approach.  Two.

   "You realize that if you get one positive and one negative, you're
REALLY going to be confused."

   I smiled at him.  "A positive, we go to the ob/gyn and get a
professional assessment.  Then you can relax.  I won't demand sex so
much..."

   "What makes you think that I might not find a pregnant woman exciting?"

   "You're a pervert," I giggled.  "MY pervert, but a pervert nonetheless."

   When we got home, I marched right into the bathroom with Jay close
behind me.

   "I gotta pee on this strip, baby.  Then wait five minutes."

   "You gonna try that sitting on the toilet?"

   "Actually," I said, dropping my jeans, "I thought that if I was in the
shower with my legs spread, standing..."

   He grinned.  "Kinky!"

   "Here." I handed him the plastic doohickey.  "I'm gonna ...  You hold it
in the stream."

   "Why don't we both get naked.  That way, I can set that thing on the
vanity and we can have us a little shower together..."

   "I always did love your ideas, baby."

   So we're both naked now.  I back into the big shower stall, spread my
legs...

   "I can't go like this..."

   "Performance anxiety," he laughed.  "You need a distraction."

   "Don't you DARE lick me, Jay!"

   "Not there," he said, sucking my right breast into his mouth, at least
as much as he could get, his tongue doing things to it that tend to drive
me crazy.  My breathing stopped.  When I finally took a breath...

   "Oh, yeah ...  Here it goes..."

   Got the strip dipped, then the shower came on, cold at first, causing me
to squeal, then I fell into his arms.  Okay, yeah, there's a bit of
sanitation going on, but plenty of other things.  We stepped out of the
shower.  It's been five minutes.

   I pick up the plastic tester.  There's a ...  SQUEALLLLL!!!!!  I'm
pregnant!

   Jay knows it.  Hustles me straight backward onto the bed where it MAY
have happened.  Of course it might've been the living room.  Or the patio.
Or under the shade tree by the goat barn.  Or that one time in the front
seat of the truck...

   And this one's good.  A quickie because for some reason I'm excited. 
Afterward, though...

   "I gotta call Mom."

   "And Cathy.  And Bill's wife.  And the pastor's wife..."

   "Proprieties must be met," I said.

   "You'd be a whole lot more proper if you had clothes on," he laughed. 
"You're the prettiest pregnant woman I've ever messed with."

   I popped him.  "I better be the ONLY pregnant woman you ever messed
with." I know, Jay's had other women.  One of those MIGHT have been
pregnant but none ever pinned it on Jay.

   "Come lay by me." I got him snuggled in, then picked up my phone.  "Hey
Siri.  Call Mom, mobile."

   Three rings.  "Hey, baby." Mom's voice.

   SQUEALLLL!

   And a return squeal.  "REALLY!"

   "The test's positive," I said.

   "I'm so happy for you, baby," Mom said.  "Your dad'll be happy.  We'll
ALL be happy."

   "Mom, y'all'll be here for it, too.  The house is coming along fine."

   "Good, baby.  Liss keeps showing me the papers.  She's gonna make you
pay for her room."

   "We planned on it, Mom.  That's my Jay.  We PLAN on everything."

   "Good.  Now, baby shower ...  You have friends there?"

   "Yeah, Mom.  I'm calling some of them after I get off the phone with
you."

   "Can I get them to include me in the planning for my daughter's baby
shower?"

   "You betcha, Mom.  I'll do an email.  Give 'em your number..."

   "I can die happy now," Mom said.  She can do melodramatic quite well.

   "Oh, no, Mom.  You have to hang around and be all grandmotherly.  Bake
cookies.  Spoil grandkids..."

   "I will, baby."

   "Good.  Tell Liss when she gets home from school.  She can call me."

   "Okay, Lena.  I love you.  Hug that husband of yours, okay?  Y'all did
good."

   "Bye, Mom."

   Subsequent calls got equally delighted reactions.  I like this.  I've
been party to more than a few announcements of pregnancy among my
contemporaries where the conversation was much different because the daddy
was unknown or just not going to be part of the picture, where 'I don't
care about how SHE is, it's not the baby's fault, so we'll love it no
matter what' and other permutations.

   I've got Jay.  No worries, unless there's a bolt from the blue or
something.  And we have eight and a half months or so to get this little
world of ours ready for our child.  Kid.  Baby.  One more phone call.  The
ob/gyn has me coming into the office in two days for confirmation, and I'm
sure, the standard presentation of how to comport myself during pregnancy.

   And before the sun gets too low in the skies, I walk out to talk with my
girls in the pasture.

   Jay laughs at this.  "You should've been named Heidi, the little
goatherd."

   "I keep telling you that they're like vegan kittens," I said.

   Today I think they sense a difference in me.

   I know that I do.





   Chapter 22

   Jay's turn:

   So Lena called her circle of friends from church and elsewhere.  That
meant that by nightfall, the appropriate husbands had been informed as
well, subjecting me, the next day, to Bill pumping my hand in
congratulations.

   I know some guys who would've received news of a pregnant spouse with
thoughts of their world ending.  I knew better.  Bill knew that I knew
better.  He and his wife were frequent visitors to our little place and
both of them knew we built the house with a family in mind.

   And family means children.  I know all sorts of cases, some of them are
a lot worse than others.  I've dated my share of moms, all sorts of stories
- divorcees with children, some who never got around to marrying, then the
guy wandered off, even one who swears she had no idea who the daddy is. 
THAT one I didn't dare take to bed.

   The other side of that is some of the male friends I've known, saddled
with eternal child support, some battling to be fathers to children, others
who couldn't frankly care less.

   With all those thoughts in mind, I look across the breakfast table and
see Lena, sun coming through the window hitting that blonde hair, blue eyes
with a twinkle.  Not showing, not by a long shot, but US is budding inside
her.  I've seen her with babies at church socials and when we have people
over, and she has a natural look with a little one in her arms.  Naturally
I'm happy.  This girl's made to be my wife, my mate, and mother to our
children.

   I'm feeling positively domesticated, which has been subject of
conversation.

   "It'll kill our plans, baby," Lena said.  "It's real now.  Before, it
was all theoretical." She put her hand over mine where I was touching the
lower part of her abdomen, just at her pubic line.  "We really did it, Jay.
Marriage.  Sex.  Owning a home.  And now we're having children. 
Storybook."

   "Textbook," I countered.

   "If it's a textbook, it's one of those old ones that's too tough to
teach in school any more." She surged up and over me to kiss me.  "I guess
if we're gonna work together, we have a little window before I get too
preggo ...  Of course, you could work and I could stay home, gestating."

   "Baby doll," I said.  "We got millions.  I have no need to go away for
work..."

   "You love your work.  I've seen you..."

   "You've also seen me while we built this house and that barn and your
folks' house, and we have this neat little business going, and our funny
little farm ...  And I'm gonna be here when you're trundling around in your
ninth month and the goats are laughing at you..."

   "Because I laughed at them..."

   "My wife, the goat lady."

   "I know ...  And when I sold those kids, they cried ...  I cried."

   "Circle of life, baby..."

   "I know ...  but I don't have to like it." She wiggled.  "This ...  I
like..."

   "I'm so very glad you do.  I was worried.  Some women don't..."

   "When you're old and grey I am going to still be expecting you to make
love with me."

   "I hope I'll be up for it..."

   Giggle.  "By then, they'll have all sorts of methods to keep us happy,"
she said.  "Right now you have to do it the old-fashioned way."

   "Which works just fine, at least from my vantage point."

   A little kiss.  "I concur with your assessment."

   "Pure bliss," I said nuzzling her hair aside to get to her neck.

   "Damn you.  That's what did it, you know..."

   "What did what?"

   "Put me over the edge with you.  First time you kissed my neck, I had to
have you."

   "We were just playing around, punkin.  I remember kissing your neck,
that first night we kissed in the hotel room."

   "I know.  And that's when I said 'He means it.  Not only does he mean
it, but he's who I want to mean it'."

   "You were so beautiful and so sweet and innocent." I looked at those
eyes.  "Still are."

   "I'm just your Lena, that's all."

   "My wife.  My best friend.  My buddy.  And now you're the mother of our
children."

   "Exactly according to my plan," she giggled.  "Lead you on, seduce you,
marry you, bag a few million dollars, have a house on a hill with a herd of
goats ...  all my grand plan."

   "I always knew you were smarter than people gave you credit for."

   With the end of the school year, things took a major change.  First,
true to promise, it was moving time for Lena's folks.  The house was
painted to their liking.  Mizz Crosby had the kitchen she'd dreamed of,
Liss, Lena's sister, had a brand new room and a fifteen hundred dollar
decorating budget.

   .

   Her dad wasn't close enough to retirement for things to be easy.  I
mean, he's a few years older than me, that's all.  I talked to a few people
at church and found a heavy equipment shop that could use a decent mechanic
for overflow work.  I introduced him to my friend at church, who in turn
introduced him to the manager of the shop.  Elton's been doing this stuff
for thirty years.  He talks the talk and walks the walk.  Hired on the
spot.

   "Jay," Elton said, "I don't know how to repay you for this."

   "Not a matter of repaying, Elton.  People take care of people. 
'Specially family."

   "Yeah, but a HOUSE?"

   "Yeah, but Wanda's gonna be right here next door when the baby comes. 
I'll save the cost of the house in the gasoline I don't burn driving back
and forth back down there for the required granny time."

   "Advice, son.  Don't call 'er 'granny'."

   "Noted," I said.  "Voice of experience?"

   "Oh, yeah..."

   "She'll love it," I opined.  "I listen to one side of the phone calls
all the time."

   "I wanted to give 'er stability, Jay.  Did the best I could."

   "Shows," I said.  "Lena's a good girl.  You're still married to 'er mom.
Sort of reeks 'stability'."

   "Wasn't always easy.  When Denny came, and then all those years ...  It
was a trial.  Took everything we had."

   "Lena's told me a lot."

   "It was hard on us all.  Poor kid ...  You know, there are people that
say retarded kids..." He paused.  "I know, they're 'mentally challenged'
now.  But that they're supposed to be the purest of angels.  We saw that.
Flashes here and there, along with some very horrible times.  We loved him,
Jay.  We really did."

   "Was easy to do, the few times I saw him with Lena when she was
younger." I remember those times, seeing her playing in the front yard with
him.  "One of those things that makes her who she is, Elton.  One reason I
married 'er.  She's good people and she's gonna be a great parent."

   He smiled.  "Well, son, she did a lot better grabbin' you than we had
reason to hope."

   "I'm flattered."

   "Don't be.  It's a low bar.  You see what's comin' out of high school or
college these days?  Which one of those turds would you want YOUR daughter
to marry?"

   "Uh, as opposed to taking off across the country with a guy ten years
older than her?"

   "I knew my daughter.  Didn't tell 'er, but I kind of figured out what
was going on.  You might not've figured it out, but I read the handwriting
on the wall.  Me 'n' Wanda, we prayed..."

   "I guess that's better'n sticking pins in a voodoo doll," I said.

   So I think we have good neighbors.  Elton and Wanda are closer in age to
Bill and Hester and they seem to hit it off okay.

   Liss is interesting in the crazy way only a high school girl can be. 
No, it's not that she's the 'city girl' who moved to the country.  That
dichotomy isn't nearly as sharp as it might have been before TV, movies and
24/7 media brings everything into homes regardless of geography.

   "It's not like they make their dresses out of feedsacks or something,"
I'd heard Lena tell her.  "Occasionally they'll hitch the mule to the
buckboard and go to the general store and trade eggs for store-boughten
duds."

   I could hear the protests coming from the phone.

   So Lissa - Alyssa, formally - shows up with her parents and we
immediately see that she accompanies us to church that Sunday.

   "Like you're showing a prize heifer," I accused Lena.

   "At least she's a heifer, not some worn out old cow..."

   "That's a horrible thought.  Anybody I know that you're referring to?"

   "No.  Just that my baby sister..."

   "Looks a lot like you.  Not exactly, but close enough."

   "Uh, do I need to worry about you lusting for my sister?"

   "One, she's too young.  Two, I'm in love with you..."

   "Three," she giggled, "I know where you sleep and I'll superglue your
dick to your leg."

   "You're all the female I ever desired, lady."

   "I'll be a lot more in a few months.  Big as a barrel..."

   "I can imagine myself lusting after your rounded pregnant ass."

   "And I can imagine you cuddling me when I need cuddling."

   "Always."

   "But my baby sister..."

   "You know how to kill a tender moment," I snickered.

   "Our life is full of tender moments, baby.  We can afford to kill one."

   So it's a little country church and there's about six kids within a year
or two of Lissa's age.  Being all possessive because after all, she's MY
sister-in-law, I grade her as the prettiest of the four girls in that
group. After all, she takes after Lena.

   The two guys seemed to think so, too.

   "I got phone numbers and invitations," Lissa told Lena.

   Lena's turn:

   "Church kids," I reassured mom and dad.

   "Your sister's a bit young to be dating," Mom said.

   "I know, Mom," I said, trying to be comforting.  "But this church does a
lot of social things for the youth."

   "I worry."

   "You're her mom.  You're supposed to worry.  I'm her sister.  I'm
supposed to love her and pray that she turns out all right."

   "And when she asks questions?"

   "Mom, you answered MY questions.  Right up to when I took off with Jay."

   "Your dad and I talked.  Baby, the world's different these days.  It was
changing when we got married, but even then there was a lot less stigma
attached to unmarried people being together.  When you talked about leaving
with Jay, we knew Jay, we knew you ...  I just didn't see you getting
exploited.  My daughter's not a slut..."

   "This one isn't.  I don't think that one is, either."

   "Your dad, he said that if you wanted to go off, you were eighteen and
perfectly capable of making your own decisions and your own mistakes."

   "Including shacking up with Jay..." I countered softly.

   "Jay's a good guy.  Not like you were dating that guy behind the counter
at Starbucks..."

   "Barista, Mom.  He's a barista..."

   "Yeah," Mom says.  "Impressive for a guy who serves coffee for a
living..."

   "The only one I know lives with two other guys," I smirked.  "Dresses
nice, though..."

   Mom raised an eyebrow knowingly.  "I suppose he would, if he meets the
stereotype."

   "I didn't say he was gay, Mom..."

   "Oh, okay..."

   Giggle.  "He was gay."

   "I thought so.  Myra just HAD to take me there one day.  I thought the
guy was rather flamboyant."

   "Mommm, you're not supposed to prejudge people."

   "Oh, come on, Lena.  He reveled in it."

   "He did.  I'd've been safer on the trip with him..."

   "I imagine so."

   "I wasn't falling in love with HIM."

   "I know, sweetie," Mom said.

   "Worked out, didn't it?" I asked.

   "Really did.  Never imagined you getting set up like this.  I always
hoped that I'd live near you when you had babies.  This is perfect."

   So Mom's happy.  I think Dad's happy.  Three or four days a week he
comes home with grease and dirt almost permanently under his nails and his
hands look like you'd expect for the hands of a mechanic.  Daddy likes
working.  He's one of those guys who was raised thinking that a man
provides.  Grandpa was like that, passed it down.  If this bundle in me is
a son, we'll pass it down to another generation.

   Working.  Jay's working.  Our smoked meat business is doing well. 
Started out as a hobby, then people found out what we did, and it just
grew.

   Now we're incorporating and hiring people and contracting local farmers
to grow the hogs we need, and the beef as well.  That got me into a spat
with Bill.

   "I can sell you the cattle you need."

   "No.  I know every one of your cows by name.  I know their daddy.  I
just can't..."

   He gets amused sometimes at my naivetÃ(C).  "Lena, that's what we raise
'em for.  We don't sell those things so they'll go off and be pets..."

   "I know, Bill, but that's a purely intellectual acceptance.  I feel
personal about them."

   "So if I trade my calves - you buy 'em - to somebody who has cattle you
haven't named yet, that's okay?"

   "Yes."

   "Does Jay know you're nuts?"

   "That's why we're not barbecuing cabrito.  He knows."

   Bill looks at me and smiles.  "He thinks you're worth it."

   Even so, the new business has the ability to handle a complete beef or
hog carcass, and I'm familiar with the work of boning one out.  The meat
gets converted from a sentient, loving animal into some very tasty sausages
and old-fashioned hams and other cured meats.

   I know.  We ate every one of 'em, including a few mistakes on the road
to recipes that we liked.

   But the business got to be a real business really quick, and that means
employees and payroll and retailing and shipping and some of that's not
nearly as much fun as it was grinding up a little batch of meat for a
sausage like we couldn't find anywhere.

   There's one really interesting development with the family moving into
their new house - Lissa seems to want to be my sister now.  I don't know
when I became interesting or cool or whatever, but she hangs out with me a
lot.

   Such a situation is just made for sisterly conversations about life, the
universe, and everything.  A lot of 'everything' is relationships.  I guess
that in order for her to understand the world of mature relationships, one
step is to analyze mine.

   "He's really a good guy, huh?"

   "Who?" I countered.

   "Jay.  Your husband.  My brother-in-law.  Who else?"

   "That guy at church, for one..."

   "Oh, Brad?"

   "Yeah."

   "He's nice, too ...  Not the sharpest knife in the drawer, though..."

   "Lissa!" I squeaked.

   "Uh, isn't that supposed to be an acceptable criterion?"

   "It is."

   "Well, he's nice, and he's pretty good looking, but don't you think that
I should be concerned about intellectual capacity?"

   "Now what makes you think he's not smart?"

   "Doesn't read.  I asked what literature they had in school last year. 
He doesn't read.  Got a D in English.  But your Jay..."

   "If Jay wasn't nice, I would still be living at home.  Or certainly not
married and carrying his baby."

   "I guess not.  We're talking about YOU."

   "Why do you say 'you' like that?"

   "You're smart and sane."

   "Compared to..." I goaded.

   "Compared to, well, lots of people ...  Even girls my age.  But girls
YOUR age ...  You got it together.  Husband.  House.  Baby.  Business.  How
do I do that?"

   "There's not a manual.  Nobody published a seven step method.  I admit
it.  I'm blessed.  Some people would say lucky, but I believe that my
prayers were answered."

   "I need to pray more, then," she sighed dramatically, flopping back on
the sofa.

   "Good ones are out there," I said.

   "You didn't hardly date in high school.  How would you know..."

   "Liss," I said, "Criteria.  Have some.  You're right about that
'intelligence' thing.  What are your others?"

   "Personality.  Looks." Her eyes rolled.  "You know..."

   "Uh-huh ...  And I looked at the guys I knew in high school and I never
saw one that dinged all my criteria.  There were a couple that came close,
but they always had something that was a deal-breaker."

   "Yeah, but what about guys, you know, just sort of friends, that wanna
go out an' whatever..."

   I smiled.  "I remember the 'whatever'.  Movie?  Okay.  Dinner?  Okay. 
Score some alcohol or some drugs ...  Not so okay.  Little recreational
boink?  Not so okay.  I left one in a convenience store parking lot over
that.  Last one-on-one date I went on."

   "I didn't know," Lissa replied.

   "Not exactly what you want to announce at the dinner table - I left my
date because he wanted me to jerk 'im off and I refused."

   "Ughhh!" Lissa spat.  "I've never even TOUCHED one.  Not somebody my
age. Babysitting, well..." she looked at me.  "Now?"

   "What two consenting adults do is a whole 'nother thing, baby sister..."

   "But, disgusting..."

   "Context, Sis."

   "So, NOT disgusting?" She watched my face.  "Never mind.  I can tell..."

   "Context," I reaffirmed.  "Right guy.  Right time.  All that stuff
changes."

   "I know girls who do it a lot," Lissa intimated.

   "And I dearly hope you're not one of them."

   "No.  Not me."

   "Good," I smiled.  "I have hopes for you yet.  Snotty little sister and
all." I watched her eyes.  She's not ready to end the conversation, so, "I
really suspect that a lot of those girls aren't getting as much out of it
as their boyfriends are..."

   "I knowwww," she said.  "A hand job..."

   "Context."

   "You've DONE that?  You're married."

   "And I have periods, at least until a couple of months ago.  And I
dearly love my Jay, soooo..."

   Giggle.  "Okay.  Right on the edge of too much information..."

   "You started it," I laughed.

   "Y'know," she smiled, "this is probably the best conversation we've ever
had - sister to sister."

   "I'm glad you think so.  I do too, Liss.  I really do want good things
for you."

   "Then find out if Jay has a younger brother..."

   "Uh, no, he has a sister.  They come up here all the time to visit. 
You'll meet 'em.  Two kids, younger than you..."

   "Oh.  Oh, well.  I tried."

   "Anyway, Miss Liss, Jay works for me.  You get to find one that works
for YOU.  That's the way it's supposed to work."

   "But until I find that guy?"

   "Be as social as you want.  You set your own limits.  Your own criteria.
Your own standards.  It's who YOU are.  Think about Mister Right, not
Mister Right Now."

   "That's cute," she snickered.  "Truth, Lena."

   "Always.  Or I can refuse to answer."

   "Fair enough.  So were you a virgin when you married Jay?"

   "I was." I had that tiny mental reservation that 'married' started
slightly before we had the official ceremony, but that's a mere
technicality.

   "So he's, like, IT?"

   "In ways I can't begin to explain.  Liss, that's why this," I emphasized
my point by putting my hand on my belly, "is a happy thing.  I'm not
proving anything to anyone.  I never had a negative thought about it.  I'm
not scared.  I don't worry about where the baby's gonna live or if the new
boyfriend's gonna be bad for him.  I know women who have ALL those
worries."

   "I know some and they're still in high school," Lissa admitted.  "I
guess your way, Mom's way, it has a better possibility for successful
outcome."

   "Very scholarly," I said.

   "That's another thing.  You have a high school diploma.  Do you ever
think of college?"

   "I do.  Might do some distance learning things.  I don't NEED college to
make a living.  I could stand some courses for my own benefit." I giggled.
"I don't think Jay relishes the idea of cutting his wife loose on a college
campus."

   She giggled back.  ""Specially when she's big and pregnant and has to
waddle between classes."

   "Well, that's awfully harsh."

   She gave me that annoying 'little sister' look that I've wanted to slap
off her face for ten years.  "Awfully true, you know..."

   "Uh-huh.  But no.  No college campus for Lena."

   I head the sound of the gate outside the house.  Jay's home.  Lissa
stood up.

   "I'll go..."

   "You don't have to."

   "But Jay's here.  Your private time."

   "Liss, we don't do it ALL the time.  Settle down."

   She sat back down as Jay came through the door.  He smiled, looked at
both of us.

   "One of you gets a good kiss," he said, sweeping down beside me, kissing
me.  then, "Hi, Lissa."'

   "Hi, Jay.  How was your day?"

   "Good.  If you want a summer job..."

   "Doing what?"

   "Scullery maid," he said.

   "Oh, yeah, sure, you expect me NOT to know what a scullery maid actually
is."

   "I forget.  You're Lena's sister.  Then maybe NOT scullery maid.  How
about summer help at the shop?"

   Lissa's face lit up.  I'm thankful.  She could've easily gone the other
way.

   "I assume that you'll pay your spectacular sister-in-law an equally
spectacular wage."

   "I know what they pay at McDonald's.  I'll beat that.  You can gloat
appropriately to your friends."

   She smirked.  "Nepotism is nice..."

   "Oh, you're not going to be the store figurehead.  You'll be the cutest
one there until Lena shows up, but it's a working position.  I hope you
don't mind dealing with raw meat."

   "I eat the result.  I can handle it," she said.

   "Lena," Jay told me, "I'm so glad your sister's not some vegan nutcase."

   Lissa smirked.  "As long as it's gluten-free."

   "Beast," I said





   Chapter 23

   Jay's turn:

   It's summer ...  unbearably hot, and this being Louisiana and us being
in the middle of a forest full of living, breathing, transpiring trees -
humid.  Yeah, I know - born in this state.  Should be acclimated.

   Nope.  Hot and miserable, but it's MY place, and work must get done. 
I'm looking at my wife puttering about the kitchen and I like how we live.
I'm not quite ready to kick back and pay other people to do my work, even
though we can certainly afford it.  We've taken the advice by our coin
broker and released a good bit of our stash of ante-bellum gold coins and
we stopped just shy of ten million dollars.  Most of that's in investment
accounts.  We're not touching principal.  The dividends and interest are
paying quite well.  And there's a bunch of coins in reserve, some of them
are low-grade, valued above bullion value due to their age, for sure, but
still useful.  Gold doesn't' ever sell for nothing.

   So I'm out in the mid-morning, hoeing a couple of rows in our garden. 
Garden?  Why not?  I know we can drive into town and hit the supermarket
and buy just about any imaginable vegetable under the sun, but I'm
following in Dad's footsteps - a home garden is something we should have.
My stuff's better.  Summer here is actually hot enough to STOP things from
growing - some things, but I know what I can grow, and I know how to space
out the plantings so we don't suffer under a suplus of, say, zucchini,
although we've hauled many a basket of our produce to church and now our
storefront is likely to see a few tubs of fresh tomatoes and cucumbers that
mere hours ago were still attached to vines.

   I'm becoming very domestic.  So's Lena.  I thought the goats would've
been enough.  Wrong.  We've got chickens.  Fresh eggs are nice.  I
suggested that we incorporate a spare rooster into our diet and I was
informed that his name was 'Little Charlie' because the flock's big rooster
is named Charlie.  Where's we get a second rooster?  Somebody in town
thought that raising chickens was a bright idea until the city fathers
pointed out a livestock ordinance.  We adopted the flock.

   I guess I'll give the spare rooster to Bill.  Lena doesn't ask questions
about livestock that Bill takes away.  It's her 'plausible deniability'
reaction to a city girl living in the country.

   Oh, and we're the aunt and uncle who live in the country, so it's summer
and that means that Lena comes to me and says "Cathy called..."

   My sister.  She'd rather tslk to Lena, most days.  It's that 'old,
experienced mommy to new mommy-to-be' thing, so I don't mind.  So, "What'd
y'all talk about?"

   "They're gonna come up next Friday evening, leave Saturday evening."

   "Okay.  Or they could leave Sunday morning..."

   "Maybe.  Not written in stone.  But we're keeping the kids for the week.
Cathy and Sam're running off to Vegas for a second honeymoon."

   "Oh, okay..." Not a particularly unpleasant thought, all in all. 
They're bright, relatively well-behaved kids.  I'm already running down a
list of tractor rides and a trip down to the creek.  There's a deep spot
that serves as a swimming hole.  Lena and I have not only cleaned out a bit
of debris, making it user-friendly, but we've used it.  The creek will
mostly dry up in a few weeks of summer, but until then, the deep spot stays
cleaned out with the fresh flow.  We don't go skinny-dipping there any more
since Lissa moved in next door and Lena told me that SHE goes there.

   So now it's G-rated.  Mostly.

   I finish my hoeing and head across the yard to the house.  Lena meets me
on the back porch with a pitcher of lemonade.

   "Cool off, muffin," she says, sitting on the lounge next to me.  "You
have that place looking like your dad's..."

   "It's genetic," I said.

   "You got the good genes," she said.  "We;'ll pass 'em on to little
Jimmy."

   Oh, yeah ...  miracles of modern technology aside, several of the ladies
at church have used various old wives' tales to determine the sex of our
child and decided it's a boy.

   "We don't know it's a 'Jimmy' yet.  Few more weeks, they'll do a
sonogram, then they'll be able to tell us what color to pain the nursery,"
I said.

   "It's a boy," she said confidently.  "I distinctly remember saying 'All
you girl sperm, hold off.  I need a boy.' So if it's a girl, it's YOUR
fault that your sperm are as hard-headed as the launcher."

   "When, princess, have I been hard-headed, ever since you and I started
hanging out together?"

   giggle.  "I see that look in your eye..." she smiled.

   There's an easy comfort in sex after conception is assured.  Lena and I,
we're there.  I see changes.  The 'young girl' conical titties that so
enthralled me, they're beginning to round out subtly, but they're the set
of titties I adore most on the planet, so I notice.  And it's a common
thing in the aftermath of happy and purely recreational sex for her to take
my hand and place it just above her pubis to see if I notice that change.
Two months.  Maybe.  Maybe not.

   Doesn't matter.  She's beautiful in that natural way I wanted to see a
woman - make-up-free, hair pulled into a short ponytail, chambray workshirt
and oversized shorts, sweaty and speckled with hay because she thinks I
shouldn't have to do the work all by myself, and...

   "The goats say you don't sit and talk with them," she told me.

   I raised an eyebrow.  "I know YOU talk to the goats.  They talk back?"

   "Sure they do."

   "And we're having a baby?  You're mental?"

   "I commune with nature, sir."

   Indeed she does.  Our homestead is a playground for Lena.  In the
garden, the tomato plants are hers.  She and I had looked over seed
catalogs.  A south-facing window in our house had played the part of
nursery for the varieties she chose, planting seeds in little peat blocks
to start them, then transplanting her block of tomatoes, big juicy ones for
salads, little meaty ones...

   "You don't know the first thing about canning," I said.

   "There's YouTube.  And books.  And I remember watching your mom..."

   "You couldn't've been ten..."

   "Still watched.  She showed me because I'd listen..."

   In Louisiana, we can put in the spring garden before Easter.  If diet
makes you live longer, I'll be freakin' Methuselah.  Overplanting greens
means that when you go back and thin them, you end up with a pile of leafy
things you'd pay fifteen bucks to eat at some foodie-glitzed eatery in a
big city with some light-loafered 'wait-person' lisping about 'an artisan
mesclun with a house vinaigrette'.  We saw it as a way to make use of the
produce from seeds we'd paid for.

   The chickens get what we don't eat.  Our eggs are so far above
store-bought eggs that the first ones Lissa saw, she thought something was
wrong.

   "Uh, Lena, this egg's, like, ORANGE!"

   "We have happy chickens," Lena patiently explained.  She launched into a
discussion of factory farms on one hand and how we did it on the other.

   Lissa's growing wiser.  That was a conversation one afternoon on the
patio with Elton.

   "You know what you're doin', don't you?"

   "Relaxing with my father-in-law, having a beer..."

   "You weren't happy just rearranging life for ONE of my daughters. 
You're doing it to the other one, too..."

   "Liss?  She's a good kid."

   "I know ...  We worried that she was gonna take off on a tangent like a
lot of kids do these days.  I think you 'n' Lena sort of gave her a
different outlook."

   "I always wanted to be a good example," I said.

   "Me too.  But it was hard, working like I was, and Wanda working on and
off.  And now, out here..."

   "I know.  I like her visiting.  I like seeing her bring friends over..."

   "Yeah, those girls she met at church..." Elton said.  "Actually a couple
of nice girls, looks like to me."

   "Seems like that to me, too.  And those two guys..." Yes, Liss had
brought boys home to visit.  And yes, they're as redneck as you'd expect,
pickup trucks, boots, jeans ...  No man-buns.  No neck-beards.  And when
she brought on over to visit me and Lena, the kid asked about how our
business was going and did we need extra help.

   The next evening we - us and Lena's family - were sitting on the patio
enjoying the twilight.

   "Is that guy for real?" Lena asked Lissa.

   "What guy?" Lissa answered, being obtuse for the fun of it.

   "Yesterday.  Todd."

   "You mean about him asking about a job?"

   "Yeah."

   "He's for real," Lissa said.  "He wants his own wheels.  His dad said
that he got a job, he'd get their old truck."

   "That truck he drove you and the gang here?"

   "yeah."

   I laughed.  "I ain't paying him enough to buy THAT truck."

   Lissa gave me that 'disturbed teen' look.  "His dad didn't say he had to
PAY for the truck all by himself.  He said he had to have a job.  No job -
no truck.  And there's a certain amount of money involved."

   "Kid's bein' raised right, sounds like to me," Elton said.

   "Don't say THAT, Dad," Lena squeaked.  "Last thing a kid wants to do is
like somebody her parents approve of."

   "yeah, Dad," Lissa reinforced.  "I need to fall in love with some
shitkicker with a worn-out spot in his back pocket from his Skoal can."

   A thought flashed through my mind.  'Like the guy Lena shot.' I didn't
say that out loud.  I did say "Working in the market's not exactly a career
path."

   "It's a high school job, Jay," Liss sighed.  "You 'n' Lena have a better
reputation than McDonalds or Sonic or the super market."

   "Oh, so I won't have to struggle with raising his salary so he can
support himself and his teenaged wife..."

   "You won't have to," Wanda inserted.  "If Princess Liss does something
that stupid, I'll shoot 'er.  Him too, prob'ly."

   "Mooo-ooommmm!"

   "College, darlin'.  Your dad and I wanna put at least ONE of our kids
through college."

   "Yeah.  Otherwise I'll have to spend all that money on something
foolish."

   I eyed Lissa.  She saw me.  So did Lena...

   "Jay..." Lena said.  She's MY Lena and she knows me.

   "Oh, I totally understand, Elton.  It'd uplift both our families if
Lissa went off and got herself a degree in Womyn's Studies."

   "Look, you," Lissa returned.  "Just because you short-circuited my
sister's academic ambitions doesn't mean you'll interrupt mine." She tossed
her head.  Blonde hair, longer than Lena's.  "Besides, I might take
engineering and show your tired butt up."

   "You go right a head, little sister," I laughed.  "Engineering's a bit
tougher than basket-weaving."

   She turned.  "Dad, I can DO that.  Just to show up this Neanderthal that
had deceived my sister."

   Her dad smiled.  "Jay, you just keep on, son.  And if Liss can be an
engineer, then I guess we'll suffer from getting family discounts at the
Dollar Store."

   "Y'all stoppit!" Lena said.  "It's all fun un til somebody loses an
eye."

   Liss pranced over, gave me an overt hug.  "I love my brother-in-law,
Sis. I figured you'd end up with some loser."

   "Thank you, Liss," I said.  "I've been waiting to have you give me a
positive evaluation of my life."

   "Don't get full of yourwself, buddy boy.  Marryin' Lena's the only thing
tipping the balance in your favor." She laughed.  "and you let her have her
animals.:"
"I'm happy with that," I laughed.  "We may name a kid after you." I

snickered.  "Goat.  Not people."

   "Those kids 're cute!" Liss retorted.

   "Yeah," Lena said.  "And they don't listen."

   "I listen.  I'm almost sixteen, Sis," Lissa said, "And I've caused Mom
and Dad very little heartache, right, Mom?"

   "You're a good daughter," Wanda said.

   "But not a GREAT daughter," I added helpfully, getting a squeal from
Lena.
":Jay!  Be nice!"
"I am nice.  Your mom and dad are my best friends.  And I totally

tolerate your annoying little sister."

   Lena's cellphone buzzed.  "Time to get the snacks out of the oven," she
said.  "Come help me, Liss." The two of the m got up and went into the
kitchen.

   "Jay," Wanda said, "Lis looks at you two every day.  You have no idea
what kind of lesson you're teaching."

   "I do have an idea," I said.  "You and Elton are teaching the same
lesson.  Lena told me..."

   "It whadn't intentional," Elton said.  "I fell in with a hard-headed
woman."

   "You mean, like her daughter?"

   "Lena's...  ???"

   "Honestly, I don't think we've ever had an argument bigger than where do
we eat for dinner.  But she has a firmness to her.  I owe her my life. 
Realsies," I stated.

   "Well, you two just keep on doin' that," Wanda said.  "It's gonna be fun
to watch."
   The End