Loading...Terry Pellegrin had been well liked at Latham Construction Supplies, and the proof of that was the boss had approved a farewell lunch in his honor. Bertie Latham would have had to come down from Dallas to process his exit anyway, but if he had left on anything less than good terms, Bertie would not have fed him.
They ate at a Teppanyaki restaurant near the warehouse. Present at the gathering besides himself, Bertie Latham, and the outside salesman, Sidonie Taulbe, was a woman named Jolene Bascom, who was going to be doing his job on Monday, Sidonie’s husband, Gavin, and some suppliers’ reps. Sidonie had put the word out and they had come bearing gifts. Terry now had more Pavecrete and Patchcrete caps, a Master Builders polo shirt, a Sonneborn T-shirt in its signature eye-riveting orange that guaranteed visibility in even the thickest fog, and more little push-out utility knives which Terry would have had a problem carrying home if he were going to fly instead of drive.
“So, Jolene, you looking forward to taking over on Monday?” Sidonie asked the new inside salesperson.
Jolene reached up and tightened her ponytail. “Of course I am,” she said. “Except for having to sit in your crummy chair, Terry. How did you stand it? It squeaks. And it tilts—not in a good way. I feel like I’m going to be dumped on the floor. Sidonie, is there any way I could get another?”
“For once, the person to ask is sitting right there in front of you,” Sidonie said, tilting her head toward Latham. “How about it, Bertie?”
Bertie tended to look like a Basset hound, and his expression was one to accentuate the resemblance. “I suppose something could be done,” he said
Sidonie said something sotto voce to Jolene, and the two women laughed uproariously.
“What did you say?” Latham asked suspiciously.
The Master Builders rep, who had deaf people in his family and knew how to read lips, said, “I think she was saying that you looked like you were going to have to give birth to that new chair,” he said. Latham managed a chuckle at the joke made at his expense.
They had finished their meal several minutes before. They hung around finishing another little bottle of warm sake. They could tell the restaurant staff wished them gone so they could fill up the table again, so the party broke up and went out into the parking lot.
“If I take off now and drive like hell,” Latham said, “Maybe I’ll make it back home at a decent hour. Terry, it was great working with you. If I ever expand into your home state, I’m definitely going to get in touch with you. Jolene, again welcome aboard. You and Sid call me next week if you need to.” The boss got into his car and left. The suppliers’ reps did, too. Gavin, who worked for one of the local cable companies and had met up with the group driving a company truck, told his wife he’d see her later. She gave him a quick kiss and pressed something into his hand in a conspiratorial manner before he, too, left. She also drove a company truck—for Latham, of course. Terry had come with her, for convenience. It was a small truck, or Jolene would have come too.
Sidonie was wearing a wrap dress and expensive-looking high-heeled sandals that consisted mostly of straps and chains. Every time she worked the pedals of the truck her dress parted in front enough to reveal her long legs to halfway up her thighs. He watched through his lashes as she drove, hoping it would ride up some more.
He’d been watching her all day.
He had worked with her for almost four years and in all that time, he’d never seen her wearing anything except jeans and khakis and shirts. Always polo shirts, t-shirts, or man-tailored ones, and either athletic shoes or work boots. He supposed she hadn’t wanted to come across as girly when she was first hired, and he couldn’t blame her, considering he’d had his doubts, himself, about a woman in her position at the beginning. Latham had suffered a run of bad luck with its outside salesmen. The one before Sidonie had diverted $5,000 in revenues into his own pocket, and the one before that had been a drunk. Sidonie could have been merely honest and competent and she’d have been golden. She was all that and more, and she got along fine with the suppliers’ reps and all the building contractors and their subs that she had to do business with.
She was tall and athletically built, with a mane of chestnut hair, a strong-featured face that was handsome rather than pretty, and eyes the color of dirty ice—or the color of a wolf’s eyes. Terry had never asked her directly, but thought she must be around his mother’s age—more because of the things she remembered and knew about, than the way she looked. She was one of the few women her age that he knew who had not gotten her hair chopped off shorter than a guy’s.
One of the reps came up in the same small bedroom-to-Houston town she was from and had told Terry that while you might not believe it to look at her now, back in the day, she’d been some hot—and had told him a bunch of stories about her when she was younger that Terry, having been raised in a small town himself, had automatically assumed were exaggerations. How she’d been with a rock band during the late 60s and early 70s and carried on with two of the guys in it—identical twins—concurrently. The series of cops she’d sucked off to get out of traffic tickets, until the chief of police had put a stop to it, coercing her to put on some kind of live sex show for the whole station—one of the few things, it was said, that anybody had coerced her into. And there was supposed to be a short art film circulating around, even after all this time, that she’d been in while she was in college and which featured her doing nothing except eat an ice cream cone—but it had demonstrated abundantly why in some cultures women were forbidden to eat ice cream in public.
Terry was inclined to blow the accounts off. After all, small towns. The woman had grandkids—he’d met them. True, she didn’t look like anybody’s grandmother, but whose grandmother did? She did not have a bumper sticker on her car saying “Ask me about my grandchildren.” She never wore pastel sweatshirts with appliqués on them or noisy nylon warm-up suits. And there was just something about her—a smile that had to have been the difference more than once between making a sale and not making one. That lopsided, unaffected, almost doggy grin with her wide, full-lipped, sensual mouth could get a man to thinking—and it had, but she had always been completely correct with Terry and had never done anything to make him think she viewed him as anything more than a colleague. Well, there was her habit of sometimes ghosting into the building, as if she were trying to sneak up on him. He wondered if she knew about the collection of porn mags he used to keep in the bottom of one of his desk drawers. He had to have something to divert himself. In this job, when he didn’t have people coming in and out and trucks backing up to the loading dock, he could be as solitary as a lighthouse keeper. It sometimes worked on his nerves.
When they got back and reopened the building, there was not a lot for him to do; he had been in the process of helping to train Jolene, and she was growing into the job satisfactorily. A little while later, Jolene caught up with them, and they spent a quiet afternoon catching up on paperwork and answering the occasional query on the telephone. Someone dropped in and bought a case of silicon sealant and a gun. Sidonie stayed in the warehouse; she had arranged it so that she did not have to go out this afternoon. She said there was no way she was going to traipse around building sites in a dress and risk getting concrete on her Blahniks. Terry had been thinking of cutting out early. What could they do—fire him? But he decided that it would be more fun hanging around and looking at Sidonie and her amazing metamorphosis until it was time for him to go.
At 5:00, Jolene said, “Well, it’s that time. Terry, I enjoyed working with you. Hope you have a safe journey back to Louisiana.”
“Thanks, Jo. Hope you continue to like working here,” Terry said.
“I’m sure I will.” Jolene gave Terry a brief hug, picked up her purse and keys, and exited the building. Soon, her little Honda Civic could be heard driving off.
“It’s about time we did the same thing,” Terry said.
“Ah, there’s no rush,” Sidonie said. “I thought we’d hang here for a few more minutes before we got out into all the traffic. However, we can lock up.” She clicked across the cement floor and hauled down the big rolling door to the loading dock. Then she hung the closed sign on the outer door that led to the offices and locked it from the inside. She had never done this before, and Terry’s gut rumbled with both undigested Japanese food and a sense of shallow-breathing anticipation. She turned off the warehouse lights. The big interior of the building, lumpy with stacked pallets of concrete mix and barrels of sealants and solvents and a forklift, took on a mysterious, eerie appearance. A dim light from the high windows in back of the building silhouetted the big industrial fans set high up in the wall. It reminded Terry of one of these thriller type movies in which there was always a backlit, creaking industrial fan. The small offices, with their fluorescent lighting, seemed extraordinarily cheerful by contrast.
Sidonie turned off the light in her office and came into Terry’s. Terry had the office in the front of the building, and it was bigger than hers, probably because the outside salesman didn’t need a big office when he was going to be spending most of the time outside. It was furnished with a desk—and the squeaky chair that Jolene had complained of—a small credenza, two filing cabinets, a couple of straight-backed chairs with stuff on them and a dorm fridge under one of them. It had just room for two or three people to turn around in, if they were on very good terms with each other.
She sat down on Terry’s desk, with her long legs hanging in front of her. “Get me one of those little Cokes out of the fridge, won’t you?” she said. “I need a little something cold and wet. I still feel dry after that sake.” Terry leaned back and snagged one and handed it to her. She popped it open and sucked it down in one long pull. “Ah, that’s good.” She rummaged around in her handbag and took something out. Terry was surprised to see that it was a slender joint.
“Sid, I didn’t know you smoked that stuff now.” During her wild youth, of course, she would have—being in a rock band in the 60s and smoking dope went hand-in-hand. Still did, actually.
“I haven’t in years,” she said. “Gavin doesn’t, so I don’t. I don’t even have any connections now. I got this off my little brother.”
“He doesn’t mind if you smoke? Won’t he smell it on you?”
“It’s all right if I do it once in a blue moon. I just can’t expect him to join me. Damn, I can’t find a light—you got one?”
“Shit, Sid. I’m sorry. I quit smoking again, remember?”
“What a shame—not that you quit smoking; that’s great. However, what are we going to do about a light?” She got down off Terry’s desk and they looked through it until they came up with a half-used Dave & Buster matchbook. She lit up, took a deep drag, and passed it to Terry. They passed it back and forth a few times, and when it was halfway down, she reversed it in her mouth and leaned down to give him a supercharge. He inhaled the thick stream of gray smoke that flowed from between her lips. He thought that if she didn’t have that joint in her mouth, she was close enough to kiss…
She sat up, taking the doobie out of her mouth and pinching it in a pair of pliers for a clip. By this time, the rush had hit them both—Terry knew for sure that it had hit him, when he got that elastic, echoey sensation in his head. And his train of thought was continuing to chug down its predetermined track—those legs of hers were close enough for him to touch, and he’d never had occasion to notice what beautiful feet she had. They were long, slender, high-arched and well-kept, with perfectly proportioned toes with silver rings on some of them, and the pricey-looking shoes set them off admirably. He wondered what she’d do if he reached out and put his hand on her thigh. He hesitated to run the experiment—she had a reputation as a fighter as well as a lover, and the stiletto heels were uncomfortably close to his groin.
“Looks like weed does the same thing to you that it’s always done to me,” she said. The smoke had slightly roughened her voice.
“What’s that?”
Sidonie looked directly at Terry’s crotch and grinned. “Makes you horny,” she said. Terry looked down. Damn, he knew he’d been feeling that way, but he’d had no idea how much it was showing. Sure enough, he was making a tent in his pants and there was nothing he could do about it.
“God, Sid, sorry about that—it’s just that it always does that, and I’ve never seen you look so—“ He looked at her helplessly, feeling his face burn.
“Hey, don’t worry about it.” He started to reposition his dick so its condition wouldn’t be so obvious. “Don’t worry about that, either,” she said. “Stand up.”
He got to his feet. It seemed natural then to lean toward her, and she reached up, put her hand on the back of his neck, and pulled his head down to hers. Her parted lips met his; she slid a warm tongue into his mouth. She tasted of weed-smoke, slightly sweet with Coca-cola, and a hint of sake. Their kiss widened and deepened. He didn’t know why she was doing this, but he was going to take what he could get. He put an arm around her, pulling her off the desk, and fitted her to the front of his body, pushing his hard cock against her belly; he thrust his other hand into the opening of her dress, trying to get at her breasts. They were smallish and soft, but the nipples were hard, and when his fingers touched them, she made a noise in her throat and sucked his tongue deeper into her mouth. She wrapped her hand around his cock through his pants, molding the fabric around the shape of it. He broke the kiss. They looked at each other, panting. She turned the full power of her smile on him and went for his belt buckle.
“I’m not getting naked by myself,” he told her. She worked a fastening here and there on her dress, and it fell apart, sliding off her shoulders and onto his desk.
If he’d been wondering what sort of underwear she liked, it was no use speculating about it today.
He thought it didn’t even matter if she had some miles on her; there was nothing that looked as good as a long-legged naked woman in high heels. Her pussy hair was trimmed in three-quarters style. He had been aware of her scent all afternoon, and now realized that the bittersweet, sophisticated perfume she wore was only a part of it; the scent also included the steamy promise wafting from between her legs. He didn’t care if it was fifty years old; it smelled perfectly fresh to him…
He stripped quickly, piling his clothes on the credenza along with her dress, but as soon as he had his socks off he stepped back into his sneakers. With the pallets of concrete mix moving in and out of the warehouse all the time, keeping the place free of dust was like trying to sweep back the sea. It was no place to be barefoot in. In heels, Sidonie was almost as tall as he. She was soon all over him with hands and mouth, rubbing against him with the friendly, sensuous abandon of a cat, making approving noises and comments–mmm and yesyesyes and absolutely fucking prime…
“You don’t know how long I’ve wanted to see you like this,” she said, licking at the hollow of his throat. She nibbled at his pecs, trailing her tongue down to his left nipple. Her hot tongue flashed over it and when it sprang up, she sucked it in between her lips. Something like a jolt of electricity passed from his nipple to his cock.
“What’s the deal, Sid?” he said, putting the words together with a little difficulty. “I wouldn’t have thought I was your type.” He didn’t think he was an unattractive guy. He was about 6’3” and lanky, with red-brown hair and red-brown eyes and features just masculine enough to save him from prettiness. He looked no more like Sidonie’s short, chunky husband than a Saluki looks like a bull terrier.
“That’s all you know,” said Sidonie, and she switched to his other nipple. The resulting surge of feeling almost took his breath away. Her hands slid down his back and caressed his ass. “Me and Gavin—we go back a long way. If I’d had him as soon as I wanted, we’d have probably gotten married really young like a pair of hillbillies. But things get in the way—long story. He went out of my life for a while. You remind me a lot of the first guys I did have…”
She bent to tongue-bathe his belly, stirring up the sparse trail that ran southward of his navel. Her wavy chestnut hair swung forward, tickling his thighs. His cock jerked and twitched, getting tangled in her hair. She squatted in front of him, one hand gripping his ass for balance, and the other on his balls and the base of his dick. She put out her tongue and caught a drop of precum on the end of it; then she enveloped it softly and firmly in her mouth, her eyes half closed in pleasure. She hummed a low note, and he could feel it from the tip of his cock all the way down into his balls. He slid his hands into her hair and considered firming up his comfortable standing position, and letting that first, most intense load of cum fire down her throat…
“I can’t believe you’ve been commando the whole damn day,” he said. “If I’d known, I’d have wanted to be under the table. I’ll bet you taste as good as you smell.”
“Only one way to find out,” she said. She perched on the edge of his desk, leaning back comfortably, and he sat down before her, pushing her long, firm thighs apart. She draped her stiletto-clad feet over his back and he dove hungrily into the warm, salty welter of her cunt, licking the fresh juice from between her labia, running his tongue over and around her bullet-hard clitoris. “Ohhhh. Oh, Terry. That feels—oh! oh oh oh ohhhhhhhhhh–“ Sooner than he had anticipated, almost sooner than he wanted, she was gripping his head between her legs, rubbing her twitching, contracting vulva against his mouth. A gout of fresh juice hit his tongue. He could feel his cock throbbing and lurching in response. She opened her legs and he freed his head.
“Now.” Her voice was raw, elemental, still breathless. “Stick that pretty fuck-wand of yours in me. Fuck me now.”
Standing up so hastily he felt light-headed for a second, he pulled her hips a little further forward, and did as she told him to, positioning his cockhead at her opening and entering her with an almighty, ecstatic shove. “Unh!” she grunted as he bottomed. She was still contracting from the orgasm she had just had, and he willed himself to stillness inside her, not wanting to follow her too quickly. She grinned at him. “Whoa. Been a while since I had this much length to deal with.” She lay back on the desk, pushing aside a spike full of notes but deciding that the adding machine made an acceptable headrest. It was on and began to chatter and print a meaningless column of figures. Terry felt through her hair for the switch and turned it off. He widened his stance, his sneakers squeaking slightly on the linoleum, and leaned slightly over her. Her legs were strained over his upper arms.
“Damn, you feel good,” Sidonie said. She rocked her hips and gave him a squeeze. “Knock yourself out, honey.”
He gave himself to thrusting into her tight, slippery cylinder of flesh, experimenting with angles to see what new sensation he could experience himself and what reaction he could produce in her. He found an angle from which he could lunge into her uninhibitedly, putting his back into it. The little office became humid with the scent of her sex juices and their sweat; loud with the smack of their bodies meeting, their heavy breathing and grunts of effort and pleasure. She was bracing herself from being pushed into the wall behind the desk by gripping his forearms with a strength that he would have found uncomfortable had he not been caught up in scratching the delicious, dizzy itch in the core of his dick. Her face bore an absorbed, unseeing expression, and she tensed and tightened around him pneumatically.
“Oh, yeah, just like that, Terry, just like you’re doing…” she gasped. Her face flushed and she began to tremble like an overloaded engine. He strove to maintain the angle and rhythm he had been using. She let go his left forearm and slid her fingers over her clit. Her voice rose in a crescendo of orgiastic shouts as she went over the edge. “Ah—hhhaa—ahh—oh, God,Terry!” she screamed. “Oh, that’s—oh, fuck! Yeah! Do it! Give it to me—aaaah! OHHHH!” She squeezed him strongly and rhythmically. He took off running, banging it into her as hard and as fast as he could. The sensation he was chasing turned on him and caught him up; with a shout he pinned Sidonie to the blotter and came so hard he saw stars.
She looked up at him. Her eyes were dreamy, sated. Her pulse beat rapidly just below her breasts. Her heart had been going as quickly as his had been. He leaned forward to kiss her. As he straightened up he saw her eyes slide to her right, and turned his head to see what she was looking at.
Gavin was standing in the door of his office.
He’d heard the cliché all his life about your blood running cold, but hadn’t believed it until now. He pulled out of Sidonie, feeling his dick shrink to the size of a mouse, and backed up. He was stopped by the credenza and a filing cabinet, of course. There was no other way out of the office.
So disconcerted and discombobulated was he by the sudden appearance of Sidonie’s husband that it took a few seconds for him to observe that Gavin was dressed exactly like he was: sneakers and nothing else. When the hell had he gotten there? Had there been the squeak of hinges, the sound of a zipper, the chink of a belt buckle—anything? Maybe; but a few minutes ago, “The Stripper” could have been playing full-blast in the background and he wouldn’t have noticed.
Gavin Taulbe was stockily built, compensating with muscular bulk for what he lacked in height, and still in good condition for his age. The sparseness of hair on his torso and his sharp, angular cheekbones spoke of possible Native American blood somewhere in his family. He had brown hair fading to gray in a military cut, and light brown eyes like a tiger’s or a hawk’s. He had the rugged, hard-bitten look of the comic-book soldier, and was no more handsome than his wife was beautiful, but he had a very engaging smile, which made you forget this. He was wearing it now.
“Hey, can I time things or what?” he said. Sidonie was reclining still on Terry’s desk, with her feet resting, slender ankles crossed, in the seat of his chair. “I caught most of the second act, anyway.” He gave Terry a merry, complicit look, not quite a wink, as he entered the office and perched on a corner of the desk, laying a proprietary hand on his wife’s belly. “That’s my sweetheart,” he added. “She can come quietly if she absolutely has to—otherwise we could never go camping with anybody. But when she doesn’t have to…” Sidonie had her hand atop her husband’s and was tracing its bones with her fingers. “Looks like you were having a good time. Your long tall boy here has some good moves. Just as well he’s going back to—what’s that town in Louisiana? Lac du Miel?” Terry nodded. “I wouldn’t want him to become a habit with you.”
The interior window behind Terry’s desk was obscured a quarter of the way up with papers of one kind or another taped to the glass. He gave them a dirty look. Obviously there hadn’t been enough of them.
“I got what you wanted,” Sidonie said.
“Yeah, I know.”
Terry needed to pee badly; in fact, everything seemed to be ready to come out after the tension he’d just gone through. He took care of his business in the warehouse’s small hellhole of a bathroom, considering, as he did so, just letting himself out quietly and leaving the office to Sidonie and Gavin. But that was impossible. His clothes were on the credenza—and his car keys in his trouser pocket.
He returned to his office. She was half sitting up and Gavin was standing between her legs, kissing her. He was sporting a ferocious erection, which he’d had since he’d arrived. He was no more than ordinary length, but he had one of the thickest cocks Terry had ever seen, with a broad, sharply flanged head and a shaft gnarly with veins. It was almost scary-looking, like a weapon conceived by a fantasy illustrator. Below it his large balls hung encased in a pouch sheathed in hair a similar color to the hair on his head, only with a little more gray. Terry thought the guy must have enormous self-assurance, married to someone like Sidonie, who came close to being bigger than either of them, and did not even bother with the usual tall woman’s concession of not wearing tall shoes around her man. Not to mention his apparent comfort in being naked but for sneakers in front of a man who’d just finished fucking his wife…
Gavin had her breasts in his hands, flicking the nipples so that they stood up. She whimpered in pleasure. He nibbled softly at her left one. He released her right breast, raising an eyebrow at Terry in a classic want-some? gesture.
“C’mon, she likes it like that, with you and me both, you’ll see,” he said. Sidonie pushed her chest out and gave Terry a languorous look. There was more room on this end of the desk, where he already was, and he bent forward and took hold of her right tit. Obeying a decades-buried impulse, he drew her nipple between his lips, rolling it between his tongue and the roof of his mouth. It crinkled and grew hard. She lay back again, stroking each of their heads. Next to him, Terry could feel the heat coming from Gavin’s body; from time to time they found themselves jostled together. He’d never been close to a man in any kind of sexual context and it made him nervous, but he tried to concentrate on the body of the woman. He could smell the sweat and soap-scents and perfume coming from both of them. His cock began to twitch to life again, and she reached under him and found it. Her hand, with its strong and expert grip, lined with a layer of sweat and precum, seemed to be as good a place to thrust into as any. She began breathing hard, rubbing her thighs against Gavin and moving her hips trying to align her pussy with his cock. Gavin quit nuzzling her breast and moved southward, hooking Terry’s chair into place with a foot and settling down in it.
He lovingly tormented her for a few minutes by licking and putting little brands on the insides of her thighs, but soon he settled down to business. Terry played with the breast Gavin had abandoned. Out the corner of his eye, he could see the movement of Gavin’s head as he enthusiastically licked and sucked at the mixture of fluids coming out of Sidonie, uttering little murmurs and growls of delight. At one point he wiped his mouth quickly on her inner thigh and looked up at Terry with a smile.
“You must lead a clean life, kid,” he said. “You taste great.”
It just went to show you, Terry thought, you couldn’t judge a book by looking at its cover. He wouldn’t have taken Gavin for a man with a taste for cream pie in a million years. Sidonie nudged Gavin’s head back down and he continued to eat her out.
She tensed and shivered. “Oh, Gavin, that feels so goddamned good…” Her grip on Terry’s cock became firmer. “Oh, yeah, Gav, that’s it. Right…there…right…there…oh, right…oh, yeah, right…th—UHHHHHHHHHHHH…!” She came hard, roaring like a big cat, scissoring her husband’s head without mercy or consideration. Terry sucked her tit deep into his mouth, and pinched the other mindlessly, not caring if he was hurting her; then when he felt the white-hot wave of ecstasy uncoil in his balls and the center of his cock, he just had to see…he let go and looked down just in time to see his cock shoot forward in her hand like a launched missile, and then ropes of cum spurt onto her forearm, flank, and the blotter.
She relaxed her legs, lying limply and exhaustedly on the desk. Gavin raised his head, slightly out of breath. She had released Terry’s cock, so he unbent, cautiously. Gavin sank back in the chair. Terry reached over him and grabbed a packet of fresh shop rags off the top of the filing cabinet, broke it open, and handed one to her.
“Thanks,” she said, and sitting up, used it to clean herself and the blotter, which was now illegible in many places, at least two months down. Gavin gave him a wry look. Terry gave it right back at him. He was pretty sure Gavin had counted on cleaning Sidonie up himself. With his tongue. Tough, Terry thought.
“Be right back,” she said, and she hopped off the desk and strode, clicking in her high shoes, across the warehouse to the bathroom. Terry sat on the corner of the desk. He noticed that of the three of them, Gavin alone was left standing, as it were. He sat in a relaxed mode, wide-legged, holding his thick, formidable-looking cock in a light, affectionate grip.
“She’s paranoid about UTIs,” he remarked.
“And she’s going there? Christ, that bathroom is a pit. I don’t think anybody’s cleaned it since they put up the building.”
“You’d be wrong about that,” Gavin said. “Graciela—that’s the daughter-in-law—came in here once to change Corbin. Marched right out and took him to the Diamond Shamrock across the street. The next day she came here with a couple of Mexican women that work for her, and they tried. Man, did they try. But they couldn’t make much of an impression on it.”
As Gavin was talking, his light-brown eyes wandered over Terry’s body with open interest and appreciation. It made him nervous. Other men had checked him out before, but not when they were sitting naked and erect less than five feet away. He knew Gavin was an artist, and hoped that it was mostly with an artist’s eye Gavin was seeing him. It would help, Terry thought, if he wouldn’t keep playing with it while he was looking at him.
“Relax, son,” Gavin said. “I never raped anybody in my life.”
“I could relax better if you wouldn’t call me ‘son,’” Terry snapped at him.
“The older you get, the younger everybody looks,” Gavin said. “You’ll see.” There didn’t seem to be anything to say to that. In fact, Terry wasn’t sure what to say to anything. He and Gavin had spoken before, and they had conversed during the lunch, but that had all been before…before all this had gone down. Somehow, So how about those Texans? didn’t seem suitable anymore.
Sidonie came back, looking fresh and rested. She leaned over her husband and gave him a kiss before sitting down on the credenza. Terry could see through the curtain of her hair, the dance of their tongues. Gavin’s cock twitched. Terry got three more Cokes out of the mini-fridge and handed them around, thinking that he would need to get some more before Monday…except that he wouldn’t be there Monday; he’d be on his way to Lac du Miel. The three of them gulped down Coke and seemed to pause simultaneously. They all looked at each other. The silence in the room seemed to lengthen unbearably.
“So, how about those Texans?” Terry said.
Sidonie and Gavin looked at him incredulously for a beat, and then all three of them were laughing.
“A lot you care,” Sidonie said. “You’re going to have the ‘Aints to root for.”
“You got any paper in here?” Sidonie’s husband asked suddenly. Terry looked around the office elaborately. The room was full of paper; a regular firetrap, it was. Then he understood–paper. There were some paper pads around, but they all had lines on them. Terry dashed next door to Sidonie’s office where the copier was and got some copier paper, which he handed to Gavin.
“It’s the best we can do,” he told him.
“That’s fine,” Gavin said. “That’ll work.” He had found a No. 2 pencil somewhere and a clipboard to back his paper up with and soon was busily sketching away. Terry noticed that his condition had in no way abated. Sidonie was looking over his shoulder as he drew. What she saw made her smile. Gavin handed the sketch to Terry.
Gavin had a gift for caricature, and had very quickly produced a rough image of Terry from the waist up, straining forward, every muscle in his body defined. His mouth was twisted up in a strange way, his eyes squinted half-shut, not seeing much…This had to be a view of him as Gavin had seen him from outside his office window—coming in Sidonie.
“Um, thanks. Jesus, do I really look that stupid? I look like I don’t have a brain in my head.”
“You came ‘em all out!” Sidonie said. Terry folded the paper up and gave it to her.
“Could you stick this in my pants pocket? I don’t want to leave it behind. They’re on top the fax…How does he look?”
“Oh, like he’s being tortured,” she replied with a grin.
“He hasn’t gotten off yet,” Terry pointed out. “Isn’t that uncomfortable?”
“Nice of you to be concerned, dude. Want to help me out?” He put his hand on his cock again and tilted it in Terry’s direction rather as if he’d gotten himself a beer out of a cooler and were asking Terry as if he wanted one too. His eyes crinkled at the corners. Terry thought he might be kidding, but after the cream pie scenario, and the way Gavin had been eyeing him earlier, he wasn’t sure anymore.
“I don’t think so.” He felt his face burn for the second time that afternoon. He was annoyed at himself. He’d turned down guys before. Gavin smiled, and shrugged. If Terry wasn’t interested, Sidonie was. She got down from the credenza and knelt between her husband’s parted legs, having first dropped a couple of shop rags on the floor to keep the ever-present concrete dust off her knees. Terry wished he could see just how she was able to stretch her mouth around that thick fuck-weapon. Amazingly, Gavin was able to sketch while she luxuriously slurped and toyed with his cock, although he had to hold his improvised sketchpad at what looked like an uncomfortable angle.
In a few minutes he handed Terry another drawing, the most sluttish-looking representation he could imagine any man making of his wife: Sidonie sitting on the desk with her long legs akimbo, that come-fuck-me-again smile on her face; you could see the juice glistening on her engorged pussy. Terry, like most people who could not draw a straight line without a straightedge, wondered how in the hell he did it.
“Is this for me?”
“It can be. You want it?”
Terry looked at Sidonie, who had looked up from working on her husband’s cock and seemed to be about to say something, but changed her mind.
“I’ll take good care of it,” he said. He folded it up loosely, went around the pair and put it with the other in his trouser pocket, casting about in his mind for a good place to store it once he got to the family home in Lac du Miel. His mother would take it on herself to tidy his room sometimes…He’d deal with it, he thought, if it meant buying a safe of some kind. Gavin’s reputation was still pretty much local. It remained to be seen if Terry had merely a reminder of a unique afternoon or something that could be worth a bit of money someday.
Gavin tossed the clipboard onto the credenza and leaned back in the chair, obviously enjoying his wife’s attention. Terry was starting to get hot looking at them. He watched his cock fatten, feeling vulnerable. Gavin raised her head, and leaning down, whispered something in her ear.
Sidonie looked around. “Hey, Terry, we’re not leaving you out,” she said.
“That’s OK. You look like you’re having fun.”
“Oh, we are.” Sidonie got up and mounted Gavin reverse-cowgirl fashion, sighing in pleasure as her reddened labia stretched around her husband’s thick shaft, and Terry wondered just where they proposed to fit him in. “Move over a little on the desk, you need to be more in the center.” Terry moved over. “Come forward a little.” He was now sitting on the edge of the desk; more leaning up against it than sitting on it. The couple occupying the chair was very close to Terry, and they nudged themselves into a position that was closer yet.
Sidonie leaned forward, resting one hand on Terry’s thigh; she took his rearing cock in the other hand. In a second she had it in her hot, mobile mouth. He’d known quite a few girls who would go down to please a guy, but not many who appeared to like sucking cock so much for its own sake. He liked the way her luscious, generous lips wrapped around it, and the illegal-looking smile she gave him when she took it out, and paused for a moment with the end of it resting on her tongue; he liked to see the way it looked emerging from her mouth and disappearing again. Gavin had his head at an angle, trying to see as much as he could; this Terry tried to ignore. He’d forgotten doing the same thing when she’d been sucking Gavin minutes before.
“Feels good, doesn’t it?”
“Yeah…” Sidonie was slowly and sensually grinding herself on her husband’s cock, up and down and around. He reached around to caress her nipples, down to stroke her clit. She moaned around Terry’s cock. He could feel the vibration in her throat.
“Like it, don’t you?”
“Yeah.”
“Ever have it sucked this good before?”
“Not that I can think…” Sidonie’s nose was nestled in his pubic hair. Terry had been endowed with length proportionate to his height. What else could he possibly answer while she had her throat muscles constricting his cockhead? She raised her head and once again he saw his shaft emerge, glistening with saliva, from between her lips.
“She ever done this to you before?”
“No! Honest to Christ—it’s the first—I mean, except earlier, when she—before I—“
“Relax, man.” (How?) Gavin sat back and flexed his hips under Sidonie. She moaned again. “I believe you. You’ve got a fine-looking instrument there, by the way.”
“Uh, thanks.”
Sidonie released his cock from her mouth, but kept her hand on it. “We would like to run an experiment,” she said.
“What are you going to do?”
“Hey, just flow with it. Stand up.” Terry lifted his ass off the desk. “Close your eyes.”
Terry did as he was told, and his lower body was embraced gently but firmly in what felt like a group hug and Sidonie’s warm mouth closed on his cock again. He stood with his legs a little apart, feeling both Sidonie’s and her husband’s legs pressed against his, and rested his hands on Sidonie’s shoulders; it helped him to keep his balance, since balance depends so much on visual reference. Her warm, heavy hair brushed over his hands and wrists.
He felt the couple shift their weight in the chair, which creaked in response, and Sidonie backed her mouth off his cock. The cold air hit it. Then he felt the sensation of lips and tongue on it once more, in an impossible way, in light of what he assumed he was experiencing—it was as if his shaft was being licked from both sides.
His eyelids flew up, and he saw that this was, in fact, happening; the two of them seemed to be kissing each other with his cock in the middle. Their mouths, meeting over his shaft, slid in concert from base toward the tip, tongues lashing over and under it in a sort of carwash effect. It was the oddest and most incongruous thing he’d ever seen, and it felt so insanely good that he did not have the heart to tell them to quit.
“Is this the—experiment?”
She and Gavin worked their way further down. When they got to the end of Terry’s cock, she gave him a devilish little half-smile and angled her face away from it, looking up at him.
“Part of it,” she said.
And her husband took up where she had left off.
He looked as if he were partaking of a pleasure that had been long denied him; and although he seemed a little rusty at first, (only at first!) it was obvious he knew what he was doing. Part of Terry’s mind was screaming, No, this is a mistake, this is not me, this is not what I do; the rest of it was growling, Mmmmmm, yeahhhhhhhhh… and he quit thinking and let himself enjoy Gavin enjoying his cock. He closed his eyes again. Presently Gavin took his mouth away. It had felt so good; he opened his eyes, about to protest. Gavin leaned back in the chair and Sidonie took over. The two of them took turns, passing him back and forth between them; a couple of times they varied this by giving him the carwash treatment again. When he closed his eyes, he lost track of who was doing it to him. He felt his nerves burn and his breath began to come short. He groped in front of him and came in contact with the muscular shoulders of both of them; Sidonie’s narrower and only slightly less firm than her husband’s; he felt the bristly surface of Gavin’s military haircut and her thick, wavy mane. As the charge of pleasure built again, he obeyed the ancient directions from back and ass muscles and thrust his hips forward enthusiastically, grabbing the head of whomever was sucking him and unmercifully fucking them in the mouth—they could handle it! They were both working on him when he said, “One or the other of you—I’m—I need to—“
Sidonie backed off. It was Gavin who took his load, blissfully gulping every creamy jet that shot into his mouth. A trickle of fluid escaped out one corner of his mouth and Sidonie twisted around to lick it up. As soon as Terry was mostly spent, Gavin released him and kissed her, sharing what he had just tasted.
He looked up at Terry, licking his lips and swallowing. “I don’t want this all the time,” he said with deep feeling. “And I don’t want it as often as she”–he shot an oblique look at Sidonie—“worries that I do. But when I do—damn! There’s just no substitute for it.” He smiled in a way that could only be described as sweet, and added gravely, “Thank you, Terry.”
“You’re welcome,” Terry mumbled.
“Who did you like best?” Sidonie asked, with a mischievous smile.
“Oh, hell, don’t do this to me,” Terry said. “I don’t know. What’s next? Five different samples of orange juice?”
Sidonie laughed and hugged him, laying a kiss on his upper thigh. “It’s all right, don’t worry about it.”
What does this make me? Terry thought to himself. He wondered if at some time in the past, Gavin had had the same question.
Right then, Gavin didn’t appear to be asking himself a thing. He pulled Sidonie back against him. “That really got me going!” he said. “Come on, gimme some movement.” He slumped down in the chair, knees jutting forward. She arched back, trying to lean against him while remaining connected. He played with her breasts with one hand and fingered her clit with the other.
“You have the look of a man who’s thinking too much,” Sidonie said, looking up at Terry. “That’s dangerous.” She humped and gyrated on Gavin’s cock. “Fucking and mindfucking don’t mix. You know what I wish you’d do for me?”
“What?”
“Lick my clit.”
“Now? Um, while you’re…where you are now?”
“Yes, while I’m where I am now. Oh, I do like having a cock inside me and a tongue on my clit simultaneously. And it’s so hard to arrange. It’s been ages. Please, sweet Terry. It just blows me away.”
“Haven’t you come enough for one afternoon?” he asked her teasingly. He was trying to disguise that he was nervous as hell. The act would put him much closer to Gavin’s cock and balls than he was comfortable with.
“Enough’s when I’m too tired to do it anymore,” she said. “I’m not there yet.”
Terry gathered the shop rags in a bunch, and knelt between the stacked, spread thighs of the couple, embracing the two of them. His mother had taught him the virtue of reciprocity, and Gavin had been all over his cock a few minutes before. It probably would not poison him. He spread his tongue over Sidonie’s clit and began to strum and lap it. Occasionally he felt the underside of the man’s cock, sliding in and out and he was aware of the musky scent coming from his groin, but it was all just wet sliding flesh, strongly flavored with Sidonie’s juices. She continued to grind herself on Gavin’s cock, and he tried to keep his mouth in one place. He heard her breathing pick up and she began to heave enthusiastically up and down, getting her spot hit.
Then it happened—her hips canted upward too steeply and Gavin’s cock flipped out of her vagina. Its bulbous head, warmed to blood-heat from her interior, bumped against Terry’s face. And without giving himself time to think about what he was doing, he took the end of the older man’s cock into his mouth.
It tasted of Sidonie; it was warm, pleasantly yielding to the pressure of his tongue, and as large as a Kelsey plum. He sucked on it and twirled his tongue around its beveled edge. He could feel the twin stalks of the erectile bodies behind the large tube containing the urethra; they seemed somehow more pronounced than he had noticed when handling his own erection. Gavin’s felt different—hard at the core but with a yielding outer layer, like a pen with a gel grip. He figured it must be because of the difference in their ages; but when the cock’s owner realized what (who) was going down, it got discernibly harder. The couple suddenly went very still and quiet, except for the jump and quiver of the dick in Terry’s mouth.
“Oh, wow. Oh, man.” Gavin spoke in a husky half-whisper. “Yes. Oh that’s nice.” Terry continued to work on Gavin’s cock, surprised at just how good it felt, and tried to do things that he would have liked himself, remembering the techniques Sidonie (no, both of them) had employed. “Oh, I like that. Like that tongue action.” Terry attempted a little more depth. “That’s ok, you don’t have to…watch the wisdom teeth, babe! Yeah, you’ve got it…” One of his hands reached down and settled on the top of Terry’s head, the fingers twining in his hair. Terry went down a little further on it, tasting Sidonie’s musky juice and Gavin’s fresh, tear-like precum, mingled together. He closed his hand around the thick base of the other man’s cock and his tensed, bunched scrotum. Gavin gasped and suddenly bucked upward. Terry backed up enough to avoid gagging. His saliva ran down Gavin’s shaft, and he tried to let his hand do more of the work. Over his head, he heard accelerated breathing coming from both Gavin and Sidonie, and he smelled a fresh wave of excitement from her pussy, which was still close enough to him that his face brushed against it occasionally. Gavin’s thighs tensed and he braced his feet against the floor; Terry could feel his cock harden and twitch. He’s going to do it, Terry thought. He’s going to shoot and I’m going to have to decide whether to—
“Enough,” Sidonie said, and she sounded the way she had when she’d ordered Terry to fuck her. “I need it back. Now.”
“Aw, Sid,” Gavin said. Terry released his cock angled it so that Sidonie could once more impale herself on it, and went back to licking her clit and labia, all worries about what part of whom he was touching blown out of his mind; just as happy flicking either her clitoris or applying long swipes to the underside of the man’s cock. Sidonie exploded into a series of feral, breathless cries. Terry could feel her leg muscles flexing under his hands, and her flesh contracting in his mouth. She was now gasping and making the kind of noises that ordinarily would have had him stopping to ask if she were Ok, but someone still had a hand tangled up in his hair. “Don’t quit,” Gavin said.
Terry had no desire to. He had become excited again, and he was curious. He had been cupping Gavin’s balls in one hand, and now moved a thumb down to massage his taint, which was hard, like his cock was. He felt as if the couple piled on his chair had formed a fantastic living engine that he was tending, applying lube and fuel to keep it revved up. He wished he had a hand free to tend to himself. Maybe in a little while he could get one or the other of them to…
His fingers, sliding further down, skidded, accidentally or maybe not, into the deep, fur-lined cleft of the other man’s ass. In the midst of the close-packed hair, a tender rosette of flesh startled and quivered under the end of his finger. With an inarticulate sound, Gavin slid further forward, straining the chair back. A wrenching, metallic groan came from underneath it.
Hell, I’ve gone this far, Terry thought. He stopped licking Sidonie’s pussy long enough to lubricate a couple of his fingers with his mouth. Gavin, feeling Terry’s fingers at his backdoor again, bore down a little to admit them. Despite the strength Terry could feel in the man’s thick, muscular ass-ring, it was surprisingly easy to get his fingers in. He had a sudden electrifying vision of Sidonie fitted with a big strap-on.
Inside, Gavin was clean and smooth, and he gripped Terry’s fingers strongly, almost painfully. “Oh yes,” he murmured. “Oh yes. More.”
Terry had been holding onto Sidonie’s thigh for support with his other hand. Suddenly, after picking up his hand and dropping a light kiss on it, she let it drop and stood up. Her long leg flashed over the men’s heads, and then she was standing beside them.
“All yours, man,” she murmured.
All whose? Terry thought. Again, he did not take any time to think about what he was doing, which was as well, because Gavin wasn’t disposed to give it to him. He tilted Terry’s head up and fed his cock into Terry’s mouth with two swift and simultaneous movements. As before, he was blood-hot and tasted of Sidonie. Terry was prepared to enjoy sucking him, but with no mediation from his wife, Gavin went wild. Caught between the grip of Gavin’s hands on his head and his cock thrusting heedlessly upward into his mouth, Terry felt as if he were caught up in some natural phenomenon: something strong beyond his controlling, that did not care and might even end up hurting him, like a bucking horse or a rip current.
“Hey, cut the man some slack, won’t you?” He could hear, over his head, Sidonie’s voice protesting, laughing. “You’re gonna hurt him!”
“I don’t think so.” Gavin’s words were punched through the effort of thrusting and his excited breathing. “He wasn’t worried about us a little while ago.” Terry stiffened his neck against the downward pressure of Gavin’s hands and gripped the base of Gavin’s cock with his right hand, trying to keep it from pushing so deeply into his mouth. His eyes were watering profusely. “No—substitute for it—“ Gavin continued. “Not even—“
“Just let him do some of the work, that’s all,” Sidonie said.
Gavin relaxed his grip on Terry’s head. “You’re right,” he said to Sidonie. “Sorry, man.” He gently thumbed the tears from below Terry’s eyes and stroked his temples and cheekbones. He ran his fingers through Terry’s hair. “Go on,” he said. “Please.”
With the pressure off his head, Terry began to enjoy it again. The taste and texture of the other man’s cock with its great plum-sized, sharp-edged head, and the way it twitched and hardened under his tongue was fascinating and intriguing and alarming. Gavin shivered and gasped with every stroke of the two fingers Terry had in him, his muscular legs tensed and feet braced against the dusty linoleum floor. A honey-like scent filled the air and Terry realized that a lubricated hand was sliding up and down his cock. Sidonie was sitting next to him, and doing this for him because there was not room for her to get down between him and the chair. He tried to coordinate the movement of his mouth with that of her hand.
Gavin was approaching the edge; he could feel it. Terry found the firm, chestnut-sized lump of his prostate and stroked it. The other man’s compact body stiffened as if he were being electrocuted; he made a few urgent noises–rhh rhh rhh–and then “AH…!” The full-throated, profound basso cry ripped through the air of the tiny office. His anal ring clamped so tightly on Terry’s fingers that they tingled. His big balls twitched upward. Terry felt and tasted the first salty splash hit his throat. Gavin’s pent-up cum filled his mouth in squirts that he could actually feel. He swallowed frantically. Gavin’s hands flexed in his hair in time to the giant contractions going through his cock. A mist of perspiration broke out on his skin.
Little by little Gavin’s loud, ragged breathing eased. He released Terry’s fingers, unceremoniously squeezing them out, and gently raised Terry’s head out of his lap. Terry looked up at him, still swallowing cum and trying to read the expression on his face. He had a worn, used look beneath the eyes that had not been there before. Still holding Terry’s head between his hands, he sat up, bent forward and kissed him like a lover, parting his lips and swirling his tongue into Terry’s mouth. It was a novel experience, even after all he had done and experienced in the last hour or so, feeling—and hearing—the end-of-day stubble on Gavin’s face rasping against his own. He let the other man invade and explore his mouth at his will and leisure and gave the kiss back to him. For nearly a minute they mashed wildly, sucking at each other’s lips and tongues. When Gavin released him, he was half out of breath and surprised to find that his cock was rigid and jerking in Sidonie’s grip, dangerously close to going off.
“Stand up, Terry,” Gavin said. Sidonie let go of him and he stood up. “Which?” Terry gaped at him. “Which one of us?” Gavin clarified.
“I don’t care—“
“Good—“ and it was Gavin: strong arms wrapped around his body, hard but gentle hands squeezing his ass and caressing his back and thighs, and mouth engulfing his cock, all steel and velvet jaws and a tongue that was all over the place. Out the corner of his eye, he saw Sidonie leaning back on one hand, her body tensed like a bow, the fingers of her other hand thrusting up into her vagina, thumb on her clit. He felt his climax approaching. He grabbed at Gavin’s head as it started to take him. A shuddering, formless cry burst from him as his last deposit jolted out of his cock and down the older man’s throat. A glittery dark fog passed in front of his eyes. He heard a “Whoa—“ from Sidonie and Gavin let go his cock and nudged a shoulder into his hip, holding him up. For a moment Terry hung there, leaning over Gavin’s back.
His head and his vision cleared and he straightened up. Sidonie drew her hand from between her legs. “Enjoy that low blood pressure while you’ve got it,” she said. “It won’t last forever.”
Gavin extended his hand. “How about giving this old man a hand up?” he said. Terry reached out, they clasped forearms, and Terry hauled back. The vinyl chair stuck to Gavin’s ass and thighs, and tried to come up with him. There was an ominous grinding metallic sound, and the chair came unstuck from his skin and dropped back on its platform. Except it didn’t; it teetered drunkenly for a second on its post. Sidonie scrambled to her feet and moved away just in time. The chair fell over heavily on its side, in the place where she had just been.
The three of them looked at each other in astonishment, and then began to laugh.
“Well, that does it,” said Sidonie. “Jolene gets her chair. I’ll send her out on Monday morning to pick one out. Bertie will just have to deal.”
They crowded into the tiny, noisome bathroom and got as clean as Fast Orange and cold water (there had never been any hot) could make them, and pulled on their clothes. Terry opened the outside office door, amazed to see a dramatic pink mackerel sky; the sun was still out. He had somehow expected that it would be dark already.
He and Gavin ceremoniously carried the two pieces of the chair outside to the dumpster and heaved them in. When they went back into Terry’s office, Sidonie was gathering up all the shop rags and stuffing them into a plastic bag. Terry looked at his blotter-calendar, which had become so blurred and spotted with various bodily fluids. It wasn’t, any longer.
“I switched them out,” Sidonie said. “She’s got mine, now.”
Terry made a round of the warehouse to make sure that everything was secured and all the lights were out before they left. He couldn’t remember if he’d done it before. When he got back to his office, he found Sidonie and Gavin in there, standing close together, arms around each other in such a tender and intimate pose that he hung back from entering, despite all he had just experienced with the couple.
“That was really something,” Gavin was saying. “I couldn’t have thought up a better 30th anniversary present.”
“I’m glad you liked it,” said Sidonie. Terry’s head reeled. So many people would have marked the occasion by going out to Ruth’s Chris or Brennan’s. And wasn’t the traditional gift pearls? Of course he had seen it was a setup quite soon after Gavin walked into the building. Suppose Sidonie had just come out and asked him, would he have agreed? He didn’t know.
“I love you,” Gavin said, “And if you don’t know that now, you’ll know it by the end of the night. I’ve got a shot or two left, and I’m gonna make ‘em count.” Sidonie drew a shivering breath and softly bit his lower lip. “Hold that thought,” he added. “You did this for me—and I know you’ve always…worried…Sid, Sid—the only team I’ve ever wanted to be on is yours.”
Terry stood in the shadows outside his former office, looking at the entwined pair, still feeling Gavin’s kiss in his mouth.
They separated; Sidonie turned to Terry with a smile. “There you are,” she said. “Everything all secure?”
“Yeah,” he said.
“Well, let’s get out of here,” Gavin said.
They took one last look around the office to make sure they had cleaned it up, turned off the lights, and exited the warehouse. Sidonie locked her car. “I’m leaving it here,” she said. “We’ll come back and get it some time tomorrow. Terry, honey, this afternoon has been more fun than I can say. Thanks for playing along with us.”
“It was an adventure.”
“Let us hear from you.”
“OK.” Terry felt his pocket to see if the folded pieces of paper with Gavin’s drawings on them were still there. They were.
“No, really,” said Sidonie. “Let us hear from you, I’m not just saying that. And Bertie probably means it about expanding eastward. Are you going to be all right?”
“I’ll be fine,” Terry said.
“Group hug, then!” she said, and the three of them embraced, there in the parking lot in the slanting, late-afternoon sun. He could smell the undertones of sweat and sex on all their bodies, beneath the aggressive citrus of the cleaning solution. Each of them kissed him for the last time. Terry got in his car. He needed to get back to his home that by Monday would be his home no longer, so he could eat something, have something to drink, and think over what had gone on that afternoon. He needed to sleep. He wondered what he would dream of.
He had always traveled light. Most of the stuff in his apartment he had packed over the last few days. He’d planned to rent the trailer to move it all on Monday morning, but he thought if he could find a place that rented them on Saturdays, he would do it as soon as he got up tomorrow, and maybe he would be in Lac du Miel by Saturday evening.