Goldie couldn’t believe it. There she was, scuffing down a back road on South Goddamn Georgia with her disabled car half a mile back. It was getting dark, it was colder than the South had any right to be, her cell phone was broken, and there wasn’t a soul in sight. Damn him anyway, him and all the shit he’d put her through over the past five years.
Getting out of Wisconsin was something she’d had to do. The whole divorce process was ugly and nasty, but getting rid of that asshole was a big relief. Of course, wading through the sewer of his life was horrible, but you had to do what you had to do. No fairy tale marriage here. Not even close.
Being married to a lawyer had had its perks. His practice was profitable, and they had nice things and were able to take care of their son properly, but to get Biblical, what profiteth a woman to gain the whole world and be married to a lost soul? Finding out about the string of bimbettes was more than she could take.
They weren’t even classy enough to be bimbos. Bimbettes. Skinny blondes with open legs. Gah! He didn’t quite cover his tracks, and she and her bulldog lawyer were able to dig things out. It didn’t hurt that the lawyer was her cousin on the Italian side of her family, and that Frank had never liked him.
Frank did a lot of digging, and she had done a lot herself, and it proved to be enough to get her a good deal in the divorce — eventually. He fought it tooth and nail for a year and a half before he was ordered to pay up. It wasn’t nearly enough, she thought, considering what he had done, but sometimes you just need to take the money and run.
And run was something she had to do. Every time she drove around town she spotted something that reminded her of him, or of his ho-bags. So, in the dead of winter, feeling suffocated by everything around her, she headed south as quickly as she could. She didn’t have a destination other than “somewhere in Florida.” Florida had a nice ring to it, and it was as far away from him and his sleaze as she could get.
Who could have figured that the interstate would be backed up for miles? She figured it had to be a huge wreck. I-75 looked like a parking lot and creeped along at a snail’s pace. She put up with it for nearly an hour when she decided that she needed to pee, and she needed to get moving, if only for her own sanity. Sitting in traffic gave her WAY too much time to brood about things.
Jumping off the highway proved to be a nightmare. She should have figured more people would have done it if it was a better way through that area. Turns out US 41 was torn up, too. It sure didn’t look like the 41 she was used to. That one actually had stuff on it. This stretch was depressing. Who the hell calls a town Barneyville? She always hated that damned dinosaur.
And when she got near Sparks — another name for the ages — she was forced to take a detour through even more deserted country. Farms, yes. Abandoned trailers, check. Yeck. She started thinking about what Frank had told her when the whole divorce process started.
“I told you this guy was bad news. Stronzo.”
“Frank, I admit you told me he was an asshole way back before we got married. I’m sorry I didn’t listen to you then.”
Frank shrugged. “You should listen to your Italian cousins, Goldie. You let the Irish in you run the show.”
“Shut up, Frank.” She smiled. “How about I get to say va fangu to that stronzo while he’s writing me a big ol’ check. That could make up for what he did!”
Well, it didn’t. It couldn’t. He humiliated her. He’d told her that she sucked in bed. She so wanted to tell him that his little bitty dick couldn’t have done her much good anyway. What would have made it better was that it was true, but she decided to take the high road. Now she was taking the long road and wishing she had used her chance to tell off the selfish asshole.
Problem was, while she was busy brooding, she must have missed the detour turnoff sign. By the time she figured that out, she was literally in the middle of nowhere. The sound of the tires on the crappy pavement is what got her attention. And then where the fuck did that pothole come from? It took out both left side tires, and when she got out of the car, she dropped her cell phone and it smashed into half a dozen pieces. She was screwed.
With night beginning to fall, she knew she couldn’t stay with the car. She had to go for help, somehow. So she locked up her car and headed down the road, kicking pebbles and cussing to herself.
Steve was dog tired. He was dead tired. He just wanted to get back to his house. Not that it felt like his house yet, even after living there for five months. Houses don’t feel like home when you’re living in them all by yourself. Thanks, bitch, he thought bitterly.
He certainly hated driving back from that podunk airport in Valdosta. He’d hated Hartsfield, but at least it was a real airport. He knew he should be grateful that his bosses found him a spot in another city within the company. Being valuable as a troubleshooter was a life saver, and they knew he had to go somewhere else after that two-year chinese water torture session of a divorce proceeding.
Staying in the house in Alpharetta was just not an option. Everywhere he moved, he saw her in that house, mocking his very existence. He wondered why he even married her all those years ago. She was a tall thin blonde, not even his type. Everyone else thought she was hot, but the longer he knew her, the uglier she got. It felt like she was using him for his money, doing just enough to keep him on the string, but not willing to really put herself into the relationship. It was all about her, but in subtle ways. He came to see that more clearly as time went on.
He was out of town a lot, putting out corporate fires and making some serious change. The traveling got old, but the work was challenging and rewarding, and knew damned well that he had saved the company millions with his work.
The problem was what she was doing when he was out of town. He stumbled across an e-mail when he’d gotten back from L.A. and turned white as a sheet when he read it. He knew exactly what it meant. He did some more digging on the QT and found out that the guy wasn’t the first, not by a long shot.
And he was trying to figure out why any guy would stick with her. Yeah, she might me some people’s idea of arm candy, but quite frankly, she was terrible in the sack. She was all into herself, and not into anything going into her. Her idea of a good time was for him to finger her clit until she came, then she’d roll over. He admitted to himself that she gave a good blowjob, and the fact that she swallowed was a turn-on, but only for a while. It felt so damned impersonal.
She always bitched that his dick was too big, and that it hurt her. He shook his head — his dick wasn’t that big, maybe seven inches, but it sure wasn’t anything outrageous. She just probably felt like it was too much work to fuck. He was still amazed that she’d managed to get pregnant, since he hardly ever got between her legs. That had sealed the deal, so he just told himself to be happy with what he had, enjoy the time with his son, and keep moving on.
Well, SHE moved on all right. Moved around all over the place, while he got the leavings. And then she took him to the cleaners. Emotional cruelty my ass, he thought — I should have had a better lawyer.
Luckily he had enough in the bank to buy a place in south Georgia, away from all the crap, and out in the boonies where he didn’t have to deal with people. It was just about the only house on the road, and you had to work at it to even realize it was there. Being a hermit for another year or so was what he needed.
And getting things wrapped up in Milwaukee a couple of days early was beautiful. Getting back Wednesday meant he had the rest of the week off. Four days away from the office seemed like heaven. Or as close as he got to it these days, at any rate. Four days with only one chore — go grocery shopping. He’d take care of that tomorrow. Tonight, time to maybe have one beer and crash.
He looked across the temporary concrete median in what he’d come to think of as the Permanent Construction Zone. There was a huge wreck on the other side of I-75. Huge. Looked like two semis and a Prius and — holy crap a motorcycle! — had tangled. The semis were on their sides, the Prius was upside down, and the motorcycle was totally squished. He looked down the road. It was backed up as far as the eye could see. After all, it was a Wednesday afternoon, and people were heading home, or heading to Florida on vacation. He shook his head as the flatbeds and tow trucks and highway patrol and ambulances tried to clean up the chaos. It looked like it was going to take a while. He was grateful that it was all on the other side of the median. Not his problem.
He drove on toward his exit.
The sun was sinking rapidly in the west, and the pine trees along the side of the road hid what little light was left. It was getting colder and she knew she had to find something and soon. And there it was — a driveway heading back into the trees. She never would have seen it while driving, but walking down the side of the road, the entry way was obvious. She turned down the drive and began walking.
Damned thing has to be a quarter-mile long, she thought. Her feet were starting to hurt. She turned another curve, and there was the house. It was a beauty, a log cabin home and it looked like it had all the amenities. She walked up to the front door, and froze. There was a sign with a name on it.
Oh sweet Jesus, say it ain’t so, she thought. It can’t be. Goldie was wishing she had stopped long enough before blowing town to change back to her maiden name, Marano. This was just too much.
She’d picked up the nickname Goldie when she was in grade school after insisting her mother put blond streaks in her auburn colored hair. It looked good, but she caught grief from a couple of the boys in her fourth grade class. But when they started calling her Goldie, she started insisting people call her that. It was better than her real name.
When she had watched “Four Christmases” she had had to stop the DVD and pop it out when they got to the brothers. Her parents had gone on their honeymoon in Savannah, and they stuck her with that name since Mom had gotten pregnant first night. And why in hell did they have to make her middle name the same as her grandma? Savannah Anna — what the hell? Sounded like a stripper or something. Goldie worked just fine, thank you.
One of the biggest draws to the divorce was to be able to get rid of her husband’s name. Locke. That was another sign I should have paid attention to, she thought. I’m a dimwit. If there was a married couple in there with a small boy she was going to go stark raving nuts.
The house was totally dark and there were no cars in the driveway. There were a few lights on in the house, but it appeared that not only wasn’t there anyone home, no one had been there in at least a week. Houses give off that abandoned air after a while, and this had all the signs.
It was getting really dark and cold, so Goldie decided what the hell and began checking doors and windows. No go in the front, or on the side of the house. Then, bingo. The door in the back turned out not to be locked, so she took a deep breath, gathered her courage, and walked in.
The house was gorgeous. But there was something subtly wrong about it. She walked around, turning on just enough lights to get a look at the way it was furnished and decorated. There were some pictures of two boys growing up, but what was missing was any pictures of women. No sign of the mom. And the house itself had no feminine touch at all. In fact, other than the pictures, it looked somewhat sterile. Not that it was totally clean. It looked cluttered, in the way a bachelor pad looks cluttered — some clothes around but not actually in the hamper, things like that. And there was no land-line phone, not in the kitchen, not in the living room. No phone at all. Shit.
She retreated to the kitchen, looking for something she could eat. The fridge didn’t have much in it. There was some milk, some beer, some cheese, no lunchmeat at all, and that was about it. The cupboards were fairly bare, with some canned green beans, mushrooms, and instant oatmeal. Oatmeal?
Oh, hell. Porridge. She started laughing. It was just too weird. But when faced with a situation, sometimes the best you can do is to go with the flow. Fine. Oatmeal is filling, and she figured what the hell, and started boiling the water. She would play along with the weirdness.
Since there was no phone in the house and her cell phone was in pieces in her purse, she figured she could wait until daybreak, then set out on foot and go for help. That meant spending the night in the house, which made her awfully nervous. It didn’t look like it had a burglar alarm setup, but it wasn’t like she had any choices anyway. She was stuck here for the night, like it or not.
And it could be worse. This was a nice house. In fact, she’d always wanted a log cabin-type house. Her husband always made a joke out of that fact — he was a lawyer but he wasn’t Abe Lincoln. He’d liked to go hunting, and it wasn’t until later that she realized what he was really hunting. Bleah. Time to get off that line of thinking.
Goldie looked for a place to sit down and eat her improvised dinner. The kitchen table had three chairs, so she picked one and sat down it in. One of the legs was shorter than the others and it rocked to one side, so she got down on her knees to see what she could do. Ah, one of the crosspieces that supported the chair had come out of its hole. She slipped it back in, and figured it was good enough for now. At least it wouldn’t break and dump her on her ass.
She finished her oatmeal, and left the dishes soaking in the sink. She was tired, and figured she’d clean up before she went on her way in the morning. She headed back to the master bedroom.
Seeing what was in there made her smile. Mister Behr had a waterbed. She’d always liked waterbeds, even had one for a while before she got married. Of course, HE didn’t like them, said it hurt his back and she reluctantly got rid of her bed. She’d always missed having it, but figured it was just one of those little sacrifices you made when getting married. Maybe if they’d had the waterbed, the lousy sex would have been better. Enough — another topic!
She thought about sleeping on top of the covers. I mean, getting in someone else’s bed was a little bit on the forward side. But it was fairly chilly in the house, and that bed looked warm and inviting. She didn’t have a change of clothes or anything, and she was damned if she was going to make a mile-long hike back to her car to get a heavy suitcase and lug it back here. Roughing it was her only option. Roughing it in a waterbed? She laughed. That’s a great way to rough it.
Goldie suppressed a yawn. Enough of this, she thought. She went back out into the living room, then the kitchen and began to douse the lights. She returned to the bedroom, and began getting undressed. She stripped off her clothes and put them into a neat pile next to the bed. No sense in letting them get too wrinkled.
Goldie looked at the full length mirror opposite the bed and walked over. She began examining her body. For a woman in her late 40’s, not all that bad. Yeah, she could stand to lose some weight. Okay, a lot of weight, but there was almost no gray in the hair and her tits were pretty nice, even if they sagged a little bit. What she needed was someone who appreciated the fact that good things come in small packages. And it would be even better if his package was big. Stronzo seemed to prefer the young blondes, but they all seemed to be flat-chested….. Enough — stop it!
As she slid into the warm bed, her mind wandered in a different direction. The feel of the sheets as they touched her nipples was almost erotic. It had been a long time — almost 18 months — since anyone had touched them, and she really missed the item she’d packed in her suitcase. Well, no relief for her tonight, badly as she needed it. Time to forget that ache and just go to sleep. She was tired enough that it only took a few minutes to fall into a deep, deep slumber.
Steve was tired of all the traveling. Tired of all the flying around the country. Tired of dealing with idiots and fixing the messes they made. He was certainly tired of the 30 mile drive back and forth from Valdosta. He looked over again at the southbound traffic — if you could call that parking lot traffic. He shrugged. Their problem.
It was hard to believe, considering all the bullshit that he’d been putting up with for so long, that the ink was actually barely dry on the decree — just two weeks. Being glad it was over was one thing. But the scars from the battle were something that wouldn’t go away quickly.
It was pitch-dark by the time he reached his exit and made the turn for home. It was still a good 15 minutes of back-road driving away, but that was a comfort to him. That much distance between himself and the outside world for the next five or so days was a welcome tonic. He was going to spend a lot of time reading, a lot of time thinking, but not a lot of time brooding. It was time to start planning for the future, now that he was officially on his own. He was going to turn this mini-vacation into a positive thing and concentrate on his next move.
He left the lights of Sparks — such as they were — in the distance and drove down the country roads. He made the turnoff onto his road. He wanted to get home, but considering the time of year and his desire to keep his car in one piece thanks to deer and such, he kept the speeds down. Near that nasty-ass pothole that the county refused to fix, he saw a car with Wisconsin tags on the side of the road with two flat tires. Welcome to Georgia, he thought. He drove on and turned into his driveway, and snaked through the trees back to the pitch-dark house.
Getting out of the car, Steve popped the trunk and got his suitcase. He walked carefully in the dark, got his keys out and opened the front door. As always when walking into the house, he felt the oppressive loneliness of the place. Bad as things were, at least there was someone in the house when he would get back from those long trips, some sort of presence that could be felt when he passed through the front door.
This place felt different, because he was the only one to ever enter the house, at least since he’d bought it five months earlier. Steve shook his head, as if to shake out the concepts that had been hammering away in his brain. He knew that getting that bitch out of his life was the best thing that could have happened to him, but there was still an unnaturalness to living all alone out in the boonies. Bad as he was at dealing with people, he knew he still needed the human touch.
Maybe being all alone for five days wasn’t a good idea after all. But emotions were transitory. He’d learned that the hard way. He knew he’d likely feel entirely differently tomorrow. He turned on one of the lamps in the living room. It gave off a glow that really didn’t cut through the gloom of the otherwise darkened living room, lit only by that lamp and a nightlight in the kitchen. He figured he could empty out the suitcase tomorrow morning and left it on the floor next to the recliner.
Steve thought about getting a beer. Ah, first things first. He stripped down to his underwear and tossed his clothes onto his bedroom floor without turning on the light. He didn’t bother hanging up his suit, since he’d have to take it to the cleaners tomorrow anyway. Why bother? And sitting in the living room in his underwear appealed to him. His ex-wife used to bitch about that all the time. Small victories are the satisfying ones sometime.
Steve sat on the couch, taking slugs out of the beer bottle. Tomorrow he’d sleep in, then run to the Pig and get some groceries and drop off the dry cleaning. After that, what? He had no idea. He did know that he was tired and it was time to sleep. He also knew that he hated sleeping all alone in that big bed.
He thought about how long it was since he’d shared a bed with a woman. Worse yet, how long it had been since he’d actually gotten laid. Two years was way too long. His forearm was getting that Popeye look by now, but he wasn’t sure he was ready to trust anyone yet. If the right woman came along, sure, but it wasn’t going to happen in Bumfuck, Georgia unless he went out and made it happen. It wasn’t like some hottie was just going to magically appear in his bed. After all, life is no fairy tale, and the last two years were proof.
He sighed and got up to toss the beer bottle into the trash, switched off the lamp and headed to his bedroom.
Tired as Goldie was, she finally fell into a dream state. And the dream was so vivid. She was laying on her back on a warm bed, naked, with her knees pulled up and her thighs spread wide. She looked down and saw a the top of a man’s head, gray hair moving in a circular motion, and felt the sensation of his tongue buried deep in her pussy, swirling ever deeper and driving her wild. She felt her breath quicken as the sensations began to build.
She couldn’t remember his face, and she knew it was a dream of some sort because as much as she wanted him to, her ex-husband refused to go down on her, saying real men didn’t do that. He did insist on blowjobs, which at first she enjoyed doing, but grew to dislike since he wouldn’t return the favor. She couldn’t see his face — she wanted to see his face — but not at the price of having him stop what he was doing. OH it felt so good. She dreamed on, a smile on her face.
Steve turned into the bedroom and stripped off his underwear and tossed them onto the floor. Something didn’t seem quite right, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on what it was. He walked through the pitch-dark room to the side of the bed and switched on the light. He wasn’t prepared for what he saw.
Goldie started to gasp. Then, suddenly incredible brilliance shattered the night and brought her out of the painfully pleasurable dream with a REAL gasp. She awoke to find a naked man with gray hair standing next to the bed, staring at her. Her first confused thought was “That’s what his face looks like!”
Then reality hit her. The dream ended, and a nightmare began. The owner of the house was home, and he’d caught her in his bed sleeping. Breaking and entering was a felony and she was in really deep shit unless she did some fast talking and proved she was harmless and a victim of circumstance.
She felt the covers fly off of her body as he peeled them off the bed. “Who the hell are you and what are you doing in my house!” he exploded. She was frightened as she lay there naked, with her left hand still touching her pussy, as the final remnants of her dream began to fade.
Her mind churning, Goldie took stock of the situation in a split second. In a montage of split-second impressions, she saw the frightened and shocked look in his eyes, saw his eyes examining her own nakedness, glanced at his dick just inches from her face and saw the beginnings of the male response to her nudity and noted the size of his member with approval, and began calculating what she should say to defuse the situation.
Steve couldn’t believe it. Turning on the light to find a naked woman sound asleep in his bed was not exactly what he expected. She wasn’t quite sound asleep. She obviously had been dreaming, and enjoying the dream immensely, considering what her fingers were doing and how much they glistened with her juices. He also noted to himself “nice rack.”
Still he yelled out, wanting to know what in hell was going on. They both froze, both holding their breath. She finally broke the tension, holding her arms in front of her as if to protect herself from a blow. “Please don’t call the cops,” she pleaded. “Please! I didn’t take anything. I’ll do whatever you want, just don’t call the cops!”
He stared at her open-mouthed, and took a step back in confusion. His reaction to her body was involuntary and obvious. After all, it had been a very long time since he’d been this close to a naked woman, and even longer since he’d been this close to a naked woman that looked this good.
Goldie was frightened when he took a step back. She thought he was about to go to the pile of clothes near the bedroom door to get a cell phone or something. Then she surprised herself, scrambling out of the bed and dropping to her knees in front of him
“I’ll do anything,” she repeated, and took his rapidly stiffening dick into her mouth and went to work.
Steve let out a gasp. But he sure didn’t take any more steps backwards. It had been a very, VERY long time since anyone other than himself had taken matters in hand, as it were. The sensation of her mouth wrapped around his dick stunned him, and she began to stroke and lick, taking him into her mouth a little deeper each time, punctuated with her tongue swirling on the underside and licking the glans. She stopped and bent further and began to lick and suck on his balls.
He couldn’t help himself and let out a groan and said “Oh my god, oh oh oh” and gasped, taking in more air. He watched her head bobbing up and down as she once again began to suck him in deeper and deeper. He felt his balls begin to contract and knew the moment was close at hand.
Then he remembered his bitch of an ex-wife and grasped the sides of her head and pulled back. His dick came free with a pop, and he turned her head upwards to look him in the eye.
“Not that way,” he said, and helped her to her feet. He backed her up and guided her onto the center of the waterbed. She didn’t resist, and when he slid down and grasped her legs and pushed them apart. Then it was her turn to gasp as he slid further down and began to eat her pussy.
She couldn’t believe it. Expecting him to drive his dick into her wet snatch, all of a sudden he did what she had been wanting all these years — he buried his face between her legs. “Yesssss,” she hissed, and felt his tongue trace around her labia, tickling her clit, then alternating between the two. It felt so good, but he seemed to sense that this wasn’t the promised land for her. He gazed into her eyes, lifted his face from between her thighs and smiled. And then it was like an electric shock. He bent back to the task and thrust his tongue between her pussy lips into her tunnel.
Goldie let out a cry, “Ahhhh…” and it he seemed to take it as his signal. This was the place, and this was time, and this was her need. He began pistoning in and out, with an occasional foray to the top and near enough her g-spot to make her gasp again, withdrawing, toying with the lips for a split second before diving back inside her, nudging her clit with the tip of his nose for another intense sensation.
Her pussy juices began to flow and she became worried that he might drown. He seemed to relish the moisture, redoubling his efforts as she writhed beneath him, grabbing his head to press him in even tighter to her pussy as she pressed his head with the inside of her trembling thighs. She felt herself getting closer and closer to coming.
Then he stopped. She stared at him, openmouthed and breathing heavily. He raised up on his knees and smiled at her.
Steve was beyond ready. But he had to ask a few questions for his own sanity. He caressed the inside of her thighs with his fingertips. “It’s been about two years since I did this. I have to know your name.”
“Goldie,” she said, “and it’s been 18 months for me.” She paused, and added a question.”I have to ask. Do you have any kids?”
“Yes. He’s grown and out on his own. So is his rotten bitch of a mother.”
“And that makes you Papa Behr, doesn’t it?”
“Only if your last name is Locke.”
“It is until I can get the paperwork done to change it back.”
Steve started to laugh. “This is almost a fairy tale, isn’t it?” he said. “Except this is the Anne Rice version.”
“Papa Behr comes home and finds Goldilocks sleeping in his bed. This Goldilocks has awesome tits and a wet tight pussy, just what Papa Behr needs.”
She realized he saw things exactly the way she did — and she wasn’t used to having a man on her wavelength. “And Goldie Locke finds the bed just right and Papa Behr too hard. And Papa Behr eats pussy like a champ and has a nice big dick to fill Goldie with.” Goldie gave an evil smile.
“And Goldie Locke isn’t going to run away. She needs Papa Behr to fuck her deep right now. I like this version of the fairy tale a whole lot better.”
He moved forward, grabbed her by the hips and slowly slid his rigid cock into her wet pussy. She let out a gasp and rocked her hips forward. She looked up, and saw his eyes go wide as he repeated the motion, sliding a little deeper into her each time. Finally he looked her in the eye and asked “Ready?”
She nodded, and then suddenly he slammed into her and went as deep as he could, striking bottom and she cried out wordlessly. His thrusts picked up in speed and intensity and she heard a growl emanating from deep within his throat. She matched his motions, rocking forward to accept as much of him as she could into her hungry pussy.
She felt her pussy walls begin to pulse and she realized she was about to have a mind-blowing orgasm. As her muscles gripped and squeezed his cock, she yelled out again and began coming. At the same time, his back arched, me matched her yell and began to fill her pussy with cum, so much that it oozed out and down her legs even as they continued to fuck wildly. She felt each of his spasms pour more and more sperm into her, and she reveled in the feeling.
He finally finished, and looked down at her with a look that she could only describe as joyful. She suspected her facial expression mirrored his.
Steve felt like he’d run a marathon. His heart was racing, but he had also forgotten the feeling of bliss that went with a monstrously powerful orgasm. Her face had a look of rapture, while her tits heaved with the heavy panting brought on by their mutual exertions. He found the sight amazingly erotic, and had no desire to withdraw from inside her. She also made no move except to wrap her legs even tighter around his back, in case he had any ideas about pulling out. All he could say was “Wow.” It sounded lame to him, but what the hell else could he say? There weren’t words sufficient to describe what had just happened.
But all good things must come to an end. He deflated and slid out of her but he wasn’t about to let go of her. He rolled to one side but continued to hug her tight, kissing her gently. “That was amazing,” he said. “It’s time to talk. Who are you, and how the hell did I luck out and find you in my house and in my bed?” He paused. “I’ll bet you’re from Wisconsin.”
She laughed. “Saw my car by the side of the road, did you?” He nodded. “Yes, that’s where I’m from, and where I’m not going back to anytime soon if I can help it.”
They began sharing their tales of divorce and flight and recovering their lives. He marveled at the absolute idiocy of her ex-husband, and wasn’t shy about telling her why. “Some guys just don’t get it,” he said. “They don’t understand what they have, and appreciate it. He didn’t see you for you. He saw you as a possession, maybe even as a stepping stone to something that he thought would be better.” He shook his head. “What a dumbass. Seems to me he was all about himself and couldn’t give two shits about anyone else.”
Goldie nodded her head. “Sums him up pretty well. You’ve got him sized up without even having to meet him.”
“I’d just as soon not. I’ve already had to work around his type for years. Had enough of those short-sighted sociopathic assholes, thank you very much.”
She smiled. “And how much of that was from your ex-wife?”
Steve grimaced. “That obvious, hunh? Yeah, she’s a real piece of work. Piece of something.” He laughed without mirth, and launched into his own tale of woe and betrayal and divorce. It just felt right talking to her. He could tell she knew exactly what he was saying, feeling, experiencing. There was empathy there, a look of understanding in her eyes that he wasn’t used to seeing in a woman.
He told her things he had never told anyone else, trusting her completely. When he realized it, he stopped in mid-sentence. She even understood what caused him to break off his thought. “Been there. Done that. Have the t-shirt.” She chuckled. “I’m not wearing it right now, that’s all. Hope you don’t mind.”
“Oh, hell no. I like the view.” He bent to kiss her nipples, which went rigid on contact. “Like it a lot.”
“I like the view from here too.” She lifted the sheet. “Nice. Very nice. Been a while.” They both laughed again and snuggled closer.
He gave her a long look. “You just headed down to Florida on a whim, with no real plan, right?” When she nodded, he smiled. “You’re looking for a safe haven, a place to get away from the madness. You have it right here. I’m off for the next five days. Forget going further south. Stay here with me.”
“I have to know your name first. You never told me, Papa Behr. You just jumped my bones. That’s only half the formal introduction, even in Georgia.”
“Call this Steve’s Bed and Breakfast then.”
“Okay, Steve. I have a question then. What’s the nightly rate to stay in your Bed and Breakfast?”
“I would say a hundred a night. Of course I’m willing to let you work off the bill. You already covered the first night. Of course, there are a few rules for staying here.”
“What might those be?”
“The first is the dress code. You’re currently meeting it. This is also the dress code for breakfast in the morning.”
“I have a feeling that I know where this set of rules is going. But I don’t think I have any objections to them so far. In fact, I need to know something. Can I work on getting ahead on the bill? Like maybe start working toward covering my second night’s stay right now?” She gave him a little shit-eating grin and he sensed her hand moving under the covers. He felt her grasp him softly and began stroking. His response was immediate and obvious.
“I think now would be a fine time to work on payment on your lodging bill.” He slid his hand behind her head and began to kiss her deeply, their tongues dancing and they both moaned and picked up the pace of the kiss. Their hands began to roam, rubbing and caressing each other flanks and backs, then he rolled over on top of her and they were joined deeply.
If the first session could be described as frenzied, this time it was slow and sensual. It was if the first hot fires had cooled from flames climbing high to red-hot coals that gave off an even more intense heat. He felt in many ways that this was the more satisfying way to enjoy the embrace of a woman — unhurried yet fully involved with all nerve ends drinking in the sensations of their contact.
Slow and steady wins the race, but this wasn’t a race to the finish line. This race was its own reason for existence, the enjoyment of each and every sound and feeling, of the sensuousness of the moment, and of the raw naked motion involved in the joining of their naked bodies. The first was an incredible fuck, one for the ages. This was gentler, more intense, making love, a joining of souls rather than just a joining of body parts — and more gratifying for that fact.
He felt the slickness of her pussy, the warm exhalation of her breath on his face, the vibrations of her sighs throughout his entire body. The feeling of reaching the bottom and of her answering thrusts, slow but intense along with her small cry of desire for more gave him a joy that had no words. He began to pick up the pace, and she began to match his movements as he felt the waves begin to crest and rise higher and higher until the dam burst. He cried out as did she, a long slow “Ahhhh” as each reached the peak, simultaneously and more strongly than the first time.
The sheer joy of it all left him completely limp. He couldn’t remember the last time he felt like this. This complete sating of not just his physical needs but the feeling of connection with his partner was completely missing from his marriage, and he wondered how he managed to carry on without it all these years.
He refocused his eyes and looked the expression on Goldie’s face. It seemed like he was looking in a mirror. Somehow, even though he only had known this woman for an hour, he felt like he knew her more than biblically. The look in her eyes was completely stripped bare of pretense, and it seemed she was going through the same range of emotions he was — and considering the amazing parallels in their stories he felt confident in his assessment.
Goldie’s eyes seemed to refocus a few seconds later, and she said one word to him that made his heart stop.
He smiled. It was a confirmation of everything that had been running through his head. It was like she could read his mind. His answer was equally quiet, but intense. “Oh, yes indeed.” He was looking forward to the next five days. And maybe, just maybe, many more days after that.
He kissed her, rolled off of her and onto his side of the bed, laying on his side. “Listen,” he said, “you’ve been through the wringer the past couple of years. Hell, I’ve been through the same one myself. What you’re looking for is a place of safety. You have one here. Think about it.” He paused, then added, “I’d really like for you to stay. I don’t have to be back to work until Monday.”
Goldie smiled. “I’m not going anywhere for a while. I like it here. You can show me around tomorrow.” She snuggled closer. “Time for talk is over. Let’s just call it a night. We have plenty of time to talk.”
He reached over and turned out the light, a smile on his face. “We sure do.”