Sintown Chronicles I: Behind Closed Doors (77 page)

“Do you really think so, Mack? I mean, do you think it would be okay? If you think it is the right thing to do I can quit worrying about it."

He lost control. He grasped her buttocks savagely and pulled them apart. He stared at the tiny opening of the anus he longed to caress. He bent his head to her right buttock and sucked with all his might. He raised his head and looked at the oval patch of red skin he created. He made a matching blotch on her left cheek. He quickly made one pass over her anus with his quivering tongue.

“Mack. Oh, Mack,” she groaned. “Are you going to fuck me?"

He yanked up her panties and jeans and jumped off the sofa. “What am I doing,” he cried in anguish. “Penny. Dear, sweet Penny. I am so sorry—so very, very sorry. Please, please forgive me."

He moved to the window and stared blankly through the glass. “I'm so sorry, Penny. I didn't mean to do that. Oh, God, Penny, I am so sorry."

He listened to sounds of clothing rearranged. He heard her approaching. He felt her breasts press against his back—her pubic bone against his buttocks. Her arms encircled him and her hands caressed his chest.

“I love my wife,” he said, still looking out the window. “I really do. And she fulfills me in every way, if you know what I mean. It's just that she's been so busy at the clinic the last few months that there hasn't been time for ... for me."

“Mack, there's nothing to be sorry about. I'm not as naive as you think. I know you have been very horny the last few weeks. It's natural. You help me when I need it. Why shouldn't I help you?” She kissed him on the back of his neck, then nibbled the lobe of his ear.

“This is wrong, all wrong,” he said as he turned at last to face her. His mouth dropped open as his eyes fell on the most beautiful naked woman he had ever seen. His hands automatically cupped her breasts. “We can't do this. We must not..."

She stopped his speech by drawing his head to her lips and filling his mouth with her experienced, probing tongue.

The roar of the rented truck's engine and the bumpy ride over pavement desperately in need of repair kept Jo on edge. “What time do you think we'll get back to Dot?"

“It'll be well after midnight,” Randy replied. “Why don't you take a nap?"

“Yeah, right. The noise and rough ride are bad enough, but this truck literally stinks."

“That's the fragrant aroma of burnt motor oil,” Randy joked. “The heater's pulling in air over the engine. There's not much I can do about it."

“I wasn't blaming you."

“I know. Why don't you crack your window a little."

Jo rolled down the window a couple of inches and deeply inhaled the fresh frigid air blowing against her face. “That does help,” she commented. “Your mother has some nice things, Randy, but it's far too much for our little house."

“I know. There's a storage building behind the house. I've been in it only once, but I thought we could unload everything there and leave what we don't need in the house."

“I was thinking the same thing, but from the looks of it I'll bet the roof leaks. I wouldn't want your mother's furniture damaged. I can't blame her for insisting that we take it all. There's no point in continuing to pay storage fees."

“I hate to leave the oak dining room table in the barn, but we just don't have anyplace to put it."

“I was thinking we could put it in the living room and use it as a conference table, or maybe put it in your study or mine."

“It might fit in the living room, but we'd have a devil of a time getting it up the pull-down steps to our studies."

“I'm sure you're right. I wouldn't want to tear the table apart like Office Depot did in order to get our desks upstairs."

“You're very disappointed, aren't you Jo?"

“Yeah, I am. I was looking forward to having your mother with us."

“Maybe later."

“I doubt it. I know she said she'd continue to think about it, but she was just trying to be nice when she realized how disappointed I was."

“I'm not so sure. I think she was genuinely surprised when she finally recognized how badly you want her to move in with us. My guess is that she thought you didn't really want her, but were just being polite. Now she knows, and I think she may change her mind."

“I wouldn't feel so bad, Randy, if they would move her back to an apartment. She is so miserable in the health care unit."

“I'm afraid mother may have more problems that she is admitting."

“If that were true, don't you think the nurses would tell you? You're the woman's only living relative, for goodness sake."

“They were closed-lipped about her condition, weren't they? I think the next time we go I need to clean house—go all the way to the top if necessary to find out what is actually going on."

“We should have done that on this trip,” Jo agreed. “Why do you suppose she is so obsessed with that doctor of hers?"

“I don't know, but that's the ticket. She's the one we should talk with. Do you remember her name?"

“I think it was Angela Wood."

“That's it. Hell, I'll give her a call tomorrow and see what I can find out."

For thirty minutes or more, they did not speak, lost in the world of their inner thoughts. Randy broke the silence. “Hungry?"

“What time is it?"

“Not quite four."

“Let's wait until six or so to eat."

“Suits me."

Silence returned and again it was Randy who broke it. “Jo, I'm sorry about the baby."

“It's my own damn fault. I was so sure I would never want to have children."

“You never did tell me exactly what the specialist said."

“Yes I did. He agreed with Mary Lou. Because I am near the end of my childbearing years and my tubes were tied ten years ago, he felt the reversal procedure had little chance of success."

“What does the time of your tubal ligation have to do with it?"

“He said the procedure was different back then—more difficult to reverse, and he said there was undoubtedly a large amount of scar tissue which would further complicate the procedure."

“Do you think we should get a second opinion?"

“Maybe."

“We could always adopt."

“Maybe, maybe not. My past would not look all that good to an adoption agency."

“Hey, we've always got Lucky."

She put her hand on his thigh and squeezed, but she did not join him in laughter. “My batting record isn't very good, Randy. I didn't get your mother to move in with us and I can't have the reversal procedure."

“Hey,” he replied only half joking, “you got me to sleep with you. That was a hell of an accomplishment."

“Thanks for the compliment,” she said dryly.

The truck's motor continued its monotonous roar, the engine fumes continued to fill the cab and the aging springs continued to fail to cushion adequately the pothole-caused jostling.

“I had a nightmare last night,” Randy said, again breaking the silence.

Jo did not respond.

“I dreamed you left me. It was horrible. I can't begin to describe the sense of desperate despair I felt."

“Is that why you were so amorous during the night?"

“Yes, you old grouch."

“Look, Randy. I don't mind you waking me in the middle of the night if you want to screw me, but all you did was stroke me until I was wide awake. The next thing I knew, you were snoring."

“I don't snore."

“The hell you don't."

The engine droned on. A light rain began to fall. Randy searched for the windshield wiper control, found it and switched it on. The glass immediately streaked so badly he could hardly see the road in front of him.

“Atta-boy, Rocket Scientist,” she laughed. “Better pull over."

“It's raining harder now,” he said. “That'll clear the windshield."

The engine droned and the wipers swished.

“Your mother did say she would visit us sometimes,” Jo commented absently.

Randy smiled. “I was just thinking about that. If we can get her to spend a little time and make damn sure she enjoys herself, maybe she'll change her mind and move in with us permanently."

“I want to set up her bedroom just like she used to have it. Do you remember the details?” Jo asked.

“Afraid not. I imagine there are some photos in all that junk we loaded on the truck. Making the room look like home would be a classy touch."

“Everybody on the road is passing you, Randy."

“I'm in a hurry to get home too, Jo, but I'm not going to exceed the speed limit. It's not that I am such a law-abiding citizen. I just think this old truck will blow up if I go any faster. Would you like to drive for a while?"

She laughed. “Hell, no. Backing up to the storage building this morning was enough driving for me."

“Hey,” he joked. “You just knocked over one trashcan."

“And almost smashed your foot,” she added.

Dirty water sloshed against the windshield as a late model black Nissan flew past, closely followed by a gray and black North Carolina State Highway Patrol cruiser, blue lights flashing and siren screaming.

“Damn,” Jo exclaimed. “That jerk must have been doing ninety. When the trooper catches him I hope they put him underneath the jail."

Fifteen minutes later traffic congestion slowed their pace to a crawl. “Wonder what's going on?” Randy said as he braked the truck to a stop.

“Could be a license check,” she said. “You do have your driver's license with you, don't you?"

“In my wallet.”

Randy eased the truck forward and stopped again. “Flashing lights all over the place,” he said as he pulled his head back inside the driver's side window. “Looks like they're stopping every vehicle."

Jo rolled down her window and stuck her head out into the drizzle that was still falling. “Shit,” she said. “That Nissan that passed us is on its top out in a field."

When they edged closer to the troopers, who indeed were stopping every car, they could see attendants loading someone into an ambulance. “Sucker must have been hurt badly,” Jo commented. “Serves him right, but I hope he's not dead."

All they could tell the grim-faced trooper who questioned them was that the Nissan, with the trooper not far behind, passed them at a high rate of speed. They did not even get a glimpse of the driver.

Shortly after resuming highway speed Jo said, “Randy, there's a diner up ahead. It's close to six. Maybe we'd better stop. The sign we just passed said Interstate 40 is just fifteen miles ahead and I'd rather eat before we get on the Interstate."

“I was hungry two hours ago,” he said, easing off the accelerator and pulling into the parking lot. “Let's just get a burger or hotdog and get back on the road. The longer we stay here the later we'll be getting home."

Fifteen minutes later, they were ready to resume the trip. Randy opened the truck's passenger door for Jo, but before she could get in, an oily-skinned, greasy black-haired man wearing jeans and a black jacket stuck the business end of an AK-47 rifle in Randy's side.

“I've just killed a cop. Killing two more bastards won't faze me a bit. Bitch, get on the floorboard and you, Fucker, when you've finished pissing in your pants, get in the driver's seat. You now have a passenger and if you don't want the bitch's brains blown out you'll be very obedient."

After they complied with his instructions, the stranger asked, “Where are you headed?

“A little town called Dot,” Tim replied through clenched teeth.

“Where the hell is that?"

“About thirty miles north-east of Charlotte."

“That'll do,” the man said, pointing the assault rifle at Randy. “Get moving."

Randy cranked the engine, turned on the headlights, put the truck in gear and pulled out onto the highway, desperately hoping to find one of the State Patrol cruisers that were so plentiful just minutes earlier.

The man stared at Jo, crouched at his feet. “What's your name, bitch?"

“Jo,” she replied.

“You married to this fucker?” he asked as he forced the toe of his brogan between her legs.

She nodded.

“He any good in bed?"

Randy jerked to attention. It was difficult to tell in the darkness of the overcast sky, but it looked as if the car approaching from the rear had bubble lights on the top. It could be a wrecker or some good ol’ boy in a pick-up, but he prayed for a trooper. He glanced at the passenger whose left hand was now groping inside Jo's jacket.

“Nice tits,” the man said. “Ain't felt up a woman in a long time. I asked you a question, bitch. Is your man any good in bed?"

Jo caught Randy's glance. She spread the front of her jacket and ripped open her shirt, letting the man have an unobstructed view of her full breasts. “He's the best,” she replied.

Randy took advantage of the distraction. He tapped the brake pedal three times quickly, three times slowly and three more times quickly again. He hoped the driver behind him, whoever it was, knew Morse code. The trailing vehicle continued to close quickly.

“No he ain't baby. I'm the best."

“Sure you are,” she mocked. “I'll bet your dick is so small you have to jerk off with tweezers."

He pinched her nipple savagely. “Take it out, baby, and slide it in your fuckin’ throat."

Jo raised up slightly. He held on to her breast. She unbuckled his belt, unsnapped his jeans, and slowly pulled down the zipper. He lifted his buttocks as she pulled his jeans and boxer shorts to his ankles. He did not notice Randy's foot again tapping the brake pedal.

The trailing vehicle slowed, dropped back about four car lengths and then matched Randy's speed.

“Man, was I ever wrong about you,” Jo gushed. “That's the finest looking cock I ever saw. How long is that thing, eighteen inches?"

“Never mind, bitch. Just suck it. If at first you don't suck cum, keep on sucking ’til you do suck some,” he said and laughed at his attempt at poetry.

“I want that bad boy in my pussy,” she moaned, making sure that he could see her clutching the crotch of her jeans. “I'm all juicy just looking at it,” she said as she fondled his testicles with her left hand and ran her right hand up and down the shaft of his penis. “We can pull over long enough for us to get in the back. Man, I want you to fuck me."