trying to keep it running until after the first of the year, when
trade-ins are at their highest, but if I spent any more money on it,
I'd be better off fixing it right, and keeping it for another
year. So, off I went to my usual garage mechanic to get it tuned up,
and checked out for the oncoming cold months.
When I got to Jerry's, it was closed! No note on the door, no
nothing. I decided to take it to the auto department at King Klub,
instead. I'd never thought about them before, only buying what I
needed there, usually in the way of household supplies, since, like
most "buying clubs," they sold most things only in case lots.
I walked into the service bay, and was delightfully surprised to see
this gorgeous SilverFox behind the desk. His name patch said "Pete"
over the pocket. Thinning silver hair, nice bushy walrus mustache, and
piercing amber eyes, too light to be called hazel looked down at me
from his vantage point behind an elevated pulpit holding almost 6 feet
of parts catalogs and a big phone with dozens of buttons. I couldn't
tell his height, but noted wide shoulders and more than generous steel
grey chest hair threatening to billow out of his open collar.
"What can we do for you, sir?" His voice had that southern twang,
almost a rasp, from maybe too many years of smoking, but captivating
none the less. His smile showed whitely, displaying an almost too-even
set of what might be dentures, I decided.
"Need a tune-up, and maybe an oil change, and the tires rotated - got
a special going?" I'm well over six feet tall, but still had to look
up into those fascinating eyes.
"Yep, our winter tune-up package is $79.95, including a safety
inspection and topping off your antifreeze, if needed." "Sounds
good. Here's the keys." I handed them over, and filled out the work
order, as indicated, and signed by the "X" to authorize the work. He
promised to page me when the work was done, and invited me to enter
the store through the door behind him. I noticed the time, and asked
how late they worked, since it was getting close to four PM. I had no
ride home, and told him so.
"We're here 'til 6:30. You'll be done by then - guaranteed." I nodded
my thanks and started for the door, turning to catch a glimpse of his
backside. I saw he was on the short side, and the tall stool he sat on
held a generous pair of meaty buns, heavy thighs, and chunky calves
going into what must have been at least size twelve work shoes! I was
HOOKED, and bad! As I opened the door, I mouthed a silent prayer for
major car trouble, all my former plans and hopes for the car's
continued good health to be destroyed by the need to return again and
again for service. Whatever he was selling, I was buying....
I fumbled merchandise for over two and a half hours, no doubt giving
the store security people fits, wondering just when I was going to
actually steal something, so they could arrest me. I sat in the coffee
shop, sipping a diet soda for over an hour, daydreaming over my
SilverFox fantasy man, my cock getting hard, then soft, and hard again
by degrees as I wandering in my mind - in and out of bed, up and down
his hard, chunky body, over, around through his matted body hair,
around and under his generous nutsack, licking his big heavy balls,
suckling one, then the other in my mouth because I couldn't hope to
get both in at the same time. His groin smelled wonderfully of
man-musk, his silken scrotum shining darkly, the color and texture of
a wrinkled brown paper bag, each ball the size and shape of an old
fashioned oval brass door knob, like the kind my grandmother had all
throughout her house, when I was just a tiny toddler.
When my mind's eye followed my dream-tongue back up to his thick,
meaty cock shaft, I lazily traced the veins underneath, up the side
and over on top, imagining his deep, throaty moans of pleasure as I
laid down a smooth coating of spit everywhere I could go, ever closer
to the deep, purple bullet head, until I was forced to hurry that last
two inches to avoid losing the first of many drops of pre-cum starting
to leak from the slit. The sweet-salty tang caressed my taste buds,
and I gave in at last by quickly wetting my lips before engulfing the
whole head and starting the long trip down to the root, if I could
manage to take the whole length.
"Paging Mr. Prescott. Please return to automotive
service. Mr. Prescott to automotive service, please...." It was just
6:25, so I assumed the old bomb was good to go. I got up, filled my
cup one last time, to the coffee shop manager's obvious disapproval,
and walked slowly to the door I'd entered, stopping at the rest
room. Like all food vendors, they don't sell drinks, they only rent
them, and it was time to return what I'd drunk, or at least, most of
I entered the service bay, to find all the bustling mechanics gone,
and my car still up on the rack. Most of the lights were off, and
"Pete" was off his throne-stool, a very apologetic look on his
face. "I'm sorry, but we cracked your drain plug at the last minute,
and don't have that size in stock at the moment. Can you come back
first thing on the morning? All our parts suppliers closed at five,
but it'll be ready as soon as the first run arrives tomorrow."
"Er, I don't have a ride home; I live alone out in the country. Guess
I'll have to call a cab, or something...." I was stuck for real -
public transportation was nonexistent out where I lived. My neighbors
kept to themselves, since they seemed to resent my presence after I
bought the adjoining foreclosed farm, somehow blaming me for forcing
the foreclosure instead of blaming the bank, or the former owners for
failing to keep up the payments. What's worse, fixing up the place
only made it worse, rubbing my relative affluence in their faces. I
was hopelessly the city slicker trying to be something I wasn't, in
their eyes, at least. A new car would have almost been unforgivable,
I'd decided early on.
"No problem. I'll give you a ride, since it's our fault for the
delay. Where abouts in Pinkerton do you live?" He was looking at my
address on the work order. "I don't live too far from there, I
believe, maybe ten miles or so."
"Oh, about a mile this side, off Route 69. Know where that is?" I
smiled in spite of myself, at the unexpected play on words. "Sure do,"
he popped back, a little too quickly to be entirely innocent, I
"OK, let's go. I need to lock up the rest of the way. Meet you at the
front door. Gray Bronco." He started to click light switches at the
panel by his desk. "Gotcha. Hope this doesn't make you too late for
dinner," I tossed over my shoulder as I headed out the door back into
the store. I didn't hear his reply, as I blended into the still noisy
hubbub of a busy store. I walked dreamily to the front door, my mind
taking off again, floating over a furry, stocky shape laying there on
my bed, glowing amber eyes boring holes in me, begging me to start all
over with my fantasy tongue bath, promising even more than before,
with his hot, drooling plum of a cockhead radiating heat furiously,
threatening to make me turn down the heat on this chilly,
I got to the door, a shameless boner trapped inside my already tightly
stretched levis. Fortunately, my coat was long enough to cover most of
my crotch, hiding most of my woody from at least casual glances, I
hoped. He appeared promptly, pulling right up to the door, and leaned
way over to open the passenger door for me. I got in, doing my best to
appeal nonchalant, and belted myself up, as we rolled toward the exit.
He appeared to keep his eyes on the road, driving carefully, but
blending smoothly into traffic, heading out towards the country. We
didn't speak, but listened to his tape player - it was some older
country singer, maybe Willie Nelson, I thought. Minutes later, he
turned off the main highway toward Pinkerton, and I broke the silence.
"Look for a wrecked corn crib on the left. I'm the next left after
that. It's about, maybe three quarters of a mile after that.
"The old Blodgett place, huh?" was the reply. I agreed, telling him I
bought it at auction after the foreclosure, almost three years
ago. "Can't seem to get next to the neighbors," I offered. "They seem
to think I'm the cause of the Blodgetts losing their farm."
"Long time folks're like that. Makes no never mind, what you do. May
just never sink in, either." We'd turned off and were started up the
road toward the farmhouse. I'd recently tarred the road, and there was
little dust to cloud a bright, full moon night just beginning. I
reviewed the groceries in the house, and planned what I hoped would be
a feast for two.
"Thanks for the lift. I guess I'll have to make my own way in the
morning, but at least I didn't have to come home alone in the
dark. Can I offer you a cup of coffee, at least, for your troubles?
I'm sure your wife has dinner waiting on the table...."
"Uh, well, actually, I'm by myself at the moment, too. I'd like that
coffee just fine."
Now we're really getting somewhere, I thought. "I've got more than
enough for two, if you can see your way clear to stay for dinner. Got
some great single malt scotch for dessert, or a six-pack of Heineken's
if you're not a scotch man...."
We pulled up at the side door, with the automatic light coming on as
we approached. Tiny, as usual, charged the vehicle, barking furiously,
threatening to tear a tire off. Since he was a Welsh Corgi and stood,
oh, maybe eleven inches at the shoulder, there was no danger to the
car, anyway. Just to him. I opened the door and called him off. He
quieted considerably and came around to my side, greeting me joyously,
wagging his nonexistent tail. He was a Pembroke, as opposed to the
Cardigan variety. He looked like a German Shepherd turned into a
canine version of a bon sai, rather than the "setter-like" longhair
Cardigan configuration, with silky plumed tail.
I opened my arms and he easily leapt into them. Corgis can jump
amazingly with their stumpy little legs, and literally run rings
around the sheep they love to herd. I had no sheep, but did have
several geese, which he ran ragged at least once a day, nimbly
avoiding the old gander, who scrupulously protected his "harem" of
ladies and offspring. They were long asleep in their coop. I took a
moment to secure their door on them, and then welcomed Pete to my
house, switching on the inside lights in the kitchen.
First official thing I did was pop us a couple of cold beers, offering
him a stein from my collection in the dining room. He thanked me
kindly, pouring expertly down the tilted side. I started dinner by
pulling steaks from the freezer, unwrapping them and popping them into
the microwave to thaw, before starting on the salad. The stereo's in
the living room, find something that suits you. Sorry, but I'm not a
Willie Nelson fan, though, more like classical and jazz."
"Oh, I'm easy to please," he replied. "I can listen to just about
anything...." Less than a minute later, I heard Rhapsody in Blue
starting to wail softly. Damn, he was really starting to push some of
the right buttons. I decided to pull out all the stops with
dinner. Opening a good Beaujolais to breathe, I next turned the oven
on, and started chopping veggies for the salad. Next came the
broccoli, washed and dried, and set to steam briefly. The steaks came
out of the zapper, and two potatoes went in. The broiler was ready,
and I seasoned the steaks generously.
"How do you like your steak?" "Medium rare," was the reply, as he came
back into the kitchen, empty beer in hand. He looked at the wine
breathing on the counter.
"Say, er,..." "Joe. My name is Joe. Sorry if I'm getting too fancy,
but it seemed like a good thing to do, since I don't often get the
chance to show off too often."
"Yeah, this wine is a bit too fancy for these parts, that's for
sure. Most folks just don't go in for that kind of stuff. Mostly it's
iced tea and coffee always on the back burner, you know...." I agreed
with him, of course. Early retirement, and "putting on airs" didn't
sit too well out here in the country, so I had tried to soft peddle
the outside appearances, anyway. Nothing fancy in the way of repairs,
just solid local craftsmanship and fresh paint was all I intended to
offer to public view. However, even that minimal offering appeared to
be too pushy for the area, it seemed. Well, too bad; I drew the line
at a wrecked car in the yard and a refrigerator on the back porch.
"Another beer? Steaks'll be ready in a few minutes." He declined, with
thanks. I finished tossing the salad, and started to set the table. He
took the plates and silver from me, saying he'd like to help at least
a little. I let him, and divided the salad onto two small plates,
topping with a few croutons and red onion rings. The broccoli went
into a bowl, with a light Italian dressing instead of butter. The rest
of the bottle went onto the table, along with a bottle of blue cheese
as an alternative.
The potatoes dinged in the microwave, being done, and were picked up
with tongs and placed on the meat platter. Steaks went along side. I
retrieved a pair of wine glasses from the breakfront, and poured the
wine. I decided to offer him the cork, and the honor of tasting, and
was not disappointed; he knew just what to do, as I suspected.
We sat down to eat, not saying a thing until nearly done. I excused
myself, going outside to feed the dog and refill his water
bowl. Almost time to bring him in for the winter, I thought. He licked
my hand in gratitude, and started chowing down.
I came back into the kitchen, to see Pete carefully scraping the
plates into the garbage pail under the sink. "Whoa, none of that!
You're not authorized for that duty, soldier," I barked. He stopped
dead, and quietly put the plate he was holding on the drain board.
"Sorry, SIR! I was only trying to repay your kindness, SIR!" He
snapped to attention, and remained facing away from me. He'd obviously
been in the military, maybe a career noncom. Maybe Motor Pool
sergeant? My heart leaped, then skipped a beat. This was gonna be a
wild night, I was now sure.
"Easy there, didn't mean to startle you. Just joking....sorry if I
took you by surprise." He spun around to face me, a new, pleading look
in his eyes. I found myself hopelessly drawn to him, my feet moving by
themselves until My belly was pressing his bubble butt snugly against
the sink. I stared down into those magnetic amber eyes, drowning in
them, falling deeply into twin amber wells, forgetting even to
breathe. One hand cupped the back of his head, and our lips met in a
thunderous crash, our tongues bursting forth in chivalrous combat,
jousting, thrusting, stabbing, twisting, vying for position and
ultimate conquest of the other man's soul.
Seconds, maybe, but more like hours passed, and we finally came up for
air. "The bathroom is at the top of the stairs directly ahead. WE are
going to take a shower." The new tone of confident authority in my
voice totally surprised me.
"Yessir," and with that, he literally marched out of the kitchen and
up the stairs, with me nipping at his heels, frantically ripping my
clothes off on the way, tripping over untied shoelaces and peeling
socks off just as he entered the small room.
"Freeze, soldier! I want to see you strip bareass naked...NOW!" I'd
slipped around him, sitting on the commode lid, not bothering to
conceal my raging boner, not daring to stroke it for fear of cutting
loose before even touching him. He started slowly by working the
buttons on his grey uniform "Pete" shirt, unrolling the sleeves so he
could slip his massive forearms out without tearing the fabric, then
working the front buttons open, one by one, gradually exposing a
magnificent chest pelt of silvery brown fur that seemed to taper down
to a pointed vee just above his generous navel. He slowly ripped the
shirttails out from under his tight, wide leather belt, exposing the
whole expanse of his incredibly solid gut. His mat of chest hair
seemed to form a kind of hourglass, tapering to a point just above his
navel, and then slowly widening again to disappear below his still
unfastened belt line.
Next came a quick tug on his left shoelace, and a pull, and his shoe
was off. His sock followed seconds later. Then, the same for the right
shoelace, shoe, sock, and they were neatly stowed under the sink.
His hand reached suggestively for his belt buckle, stopping in
invitation for me to allow him to go on. I nodded briefly, not wanting
to break the spell. I could see a gigantic, undefined bulge in his
crotch, growing larger by the second, as his hand popped open the
buckle and fumbled momentarily with the button. I grabbed his hands,
and pulled them away, unable to keep my hands off him any longer. The
zipper hissed metalically, as I pulled it down to the bottom. My hands
hungrily slid around to grip his meaty buns in a death grip, my face
mashed flat against the front of his crotch, rubbing my cheeks, lips,
eyes, forehead, everything, all over his groin, to slip my hands
finally inside the elastic of his briefs and yank everything down to
his ankles, my tongue greedily slobbering his thick, rubbery shaft,
tracing each bulging vein back and forth, up and down its length,
seizing mouthfuls of his wiry pubic hair and tugging gently on it,
lapping at the sides of his scrotum, trying to wedge it between his
balls and the groin behind them. I breathed deeply of his manly
sweat-musk, driving my nose deep into his crotch, before pulling back
and rising to clasp him again in my arms.
Our lips met again, and my heart even faster, if that were possible,
than the first time we kissed. This time there was no battle, no
competition, just a long, slow savoring of the other's sweet lips and
slippery tongue as we explored each other's mouth. We broke away at
the exact same instant, I thought, and looked past each other's eyes,
deeper, all the way into each other's soul, and came home.
"Let's get wet, Pete," I said huskily, as I reached out to turn on the
shower. The water took a minute to heat up, coming from the
basement. We stepped in, and I pulled the curtain around us. I took
the soap to his back, turning him around in a slow circle, lathering
as I went. He wound up facing the faucet, leaning forward to rinse the
suds from his broad back. I watched with fascination as the last of
the bubbles scuttled down his spine, to squeeze themselves into his
ass crack before spilling onto the bottom of the tub. I couldn't help
myself as I followed their progress with my tongue, my eager hands
prying apart the meaty globes of ass meat, to allow my tongue access
to the end of the trail, right at his tight pink pucker, glistening
wetly in the shady light of the tub. I planted a wet kiss on that
rubbery ring, then gave further rein to my lust and wedged the tip of
my tongue between its central crinkles. He gasped in pleasure, and
pushed back his hips, widening his stance. The water sluiced down his
crack, adding more slip to the area, as my tongue slowly crowbarred
its way into the deep recess.
Moaning loudly now, he slowly ground his massive cheeks back into my
face, fucking himself on my rigid, probing tongue. Both his hands were
on the tiled wall ahead of us, so I know for certain he wasn't playing
with himself when he came. It was a gut-wrenching orgasm, dragged from
way down deep in his balls, to splatter in heavy, white jets of lumpy
jism. His tormented butt hole spasmed clutchingly at my tongue,
threatening to pinch it in two. I thought instantly of how that ring
of powerful muscle would feel stretched around my cockshaft, squeezing
it a vice-like grip until all that moaning and thrashing finally
That was all I needed to set me off! I came off like a rocket, totally
unexpectedly, and also without touching myself. I hadn't done anything
that sudden in years, and I hoped Pete's climax was just as unexpected
and wonderful for him.
After rescuing my tongue from its momentary prison, I slowly stood up,
with Pete's powerful hand helping to lift me from my knees to stand
again, looking down into his soaking wet, wonderfully handsome face.
"Whew, that was some ride, Joe. You caught me by surprise, you
did. Sorry I spilled so soon. It's been a while since things have been
"You only think you've seen intense. I need to get clean myself, and
then we can discuss 'intense' all night long." I hugged him close to
me in a loving embrace as I slowly sidled sideways in the tub, him
turning with me. The water now poured down my back, splashing a little
over my shoulders. I released him, and turned around again to wet my
chest and belly before soaping up. I looked at the wall in front of
me, and chuckled softly at the twin splashes of whitewash on the
tile. It'd been a while for both of us, and I was fascinated by the
lumps in our loads sliding down the wall, his picking up speed when
they hit the slime trails left by mine. They slowly caught up and
intermingled, in a most prophetic way.
"Looks like I win the ketchup race," I said. "Huh?" came the
question. "You know, that old TV commercial for ketchup, that
emphasized how thick the product is." I maneuvered to one side, giving
him room to see. He chuckled and agreed with me.
We washed me up, without losing control of ourselves again, well,
mostly, anyway. Drying off was another wonderful learning experience,
as we gently caressed each other's bodies with fluffy towels. I'd have
rather used my tongue to lap up his body moisture, but knew we'd never
really get dry, that way.
We got to the bedroom without too much more trouble, except for my
boner poking him in the ass with each step we took. That took a while,
since he kept pushing back, trying to trap my cockhead between his
incredibly muscular buns, and I kept holding him close against me by
working his nipples like there was no tomorrow. We did finally reach
the bed, however, and tore off the bedclothes in the process of
becoming a tangled heap of writhing, twisting, flesh and boners,
jockeying for position and maximum physical contact.
Although I was by far the taller and heavier of us two, and supposedly
had the physical advantage, I soon found myself spread-eagled in the
center of the bed, my arms pinned above my head, looking again into
those intense, hypnotic eyes, just inches from my own. This lasted for
a split second, before his lips met mine again, and our tongues
started their battle royal in earnest.
All too soon, I felt him withdraw his tongue, and felt it slither it
all over my face, tracing a wet path of fire as he turned to one side,
and gave me a "Wet Willie," probing deeply into my ear before
nibbling, then actually chewing on my earlobe and driving me further
insane, if that was possible. His tongue then slowly swept down my
neck and across my chest, his lips gently pulling the fur on my pecs,
then nipping at it, on his way toward my nipple. Seizing his prize
with a throaty growl, he began to worry it like a dog, applying
tremendous suction and tiny, tantalizing nips that sent shivers up and
down my spine and set me to writhing like a snake to get away from
this delicious tit torture, while arching my back to mash it harder
against his mouth, by turns.
He slowly traced another ribbon of fire across to the other nipple,
again sending me off into spasms of pleasure/pain. I could stand it no
longer, and finally got the strength together to pull my arms free,
and shove his head down to my frantically drooling cock. He teased me
there, continually twisting from one side to the other, resisting my
efforts to make him take me and give me the relief I so desperately
"Dammit, Pete, stop teasing and finish me off before I go crazy!" I
demanded, but he knew I was begging, and took his sweet, sweet time in
going all the way. His tongue lapped at the pool of precum gathering
at the base of my aching stiffy, rising in a circular motion,
spreading it evenly around the shaft, every so often dropping back
down to get a fresh supply, before going back to his workmanlike
plastering job. One last dip into the pool, and his incredible lips
closed over my burning cockhead, his tongue swirling around, nearly
driving me over the edge. It was all I could do to hang on.
Suddenly, he was kneeling up over me, spreading his ass cheeks and
forcing himself down on me. Slowly, slowly his tight ring widened to
accommodate the swollen mushroom head, and I heard him gasp as it
slipped all the way in, past the sphincter. Moaning deliriously, he
leaned back, squatting down further and further, until his beautiful
butt was totally pierced and possessed by me. His rectum grabbed me
like a fist, it was so tight and virginal, I was sure. That was the
end! I shot load after load of myself deep into him, his tight ass
flesh being the final straw. I reached up and grabbed both nipples,
pinching them hard. The result on him was electrifying! His cock had
sagged quite a bit as he gingerly impaled himself on me, most of the
pleasure now coming from his ass, rather than his cock. My tit work
changed all that, and brought a good part of his attention back to me.
"AH! Jeez-US, Joe, easy....Oh! Ah! Ow-w-w-woo...." And his load
started answering mine, blast for blast, mostly hitting me full force
in the face. I opened my mouth as wide as I could, getting a good
helping of his salty-sweet cum all over my tongue. I swallowed
hungrily, frantically licking my lips for more, but the well was dry
now. His cock still pumped frantically as I slowly lightened up on his
nipples, finally gently releasing my hold on them. We both held our
positions, gasping for breath....
I extended both arms, grasping him firmly under the armpits, as he
grimaced and pulled himself reluctantly up and off my still swollen
pecker. His tight ass had given it no chance to deflate while he was
around still around it. His hand probed back there, exhaling sharply
as he realized just exactly what size of man I really was, and that
he'd taken all of me.
"I guess that settles it!" he said in a low tone, more to himself than
to me. "I wanted to find out if I was a man or a fag, and the fag
wins, hands down." I reached for his hands, taking them in mine, and
pulled him down on my chest.
"Listen to me, Pete! You are NOT a fag! There's nothing swishy or limp
wristed about you, no lispy whine, or anything like that. You're 101%
man, and always have been, and always will be! Don't you dare think
anything otherwise, you hear me?" My arms circled around his broad
shoulders, hugging him tightly. "You're just one of those men who
prefer sex with other men, that's all. You've just found your correct
sexual preference. There's no need for a major life-style change,
"Hell, I'd like to believe you, Joe. I really would, except...." I cut
him off-- "...except bullshit! It's that simple. Don't go making
mountains out of molehills. That's an order." I finished with a gentle
kiss on the forehead.
"You sound just like my father. He always said that every time I tried
to make things harder than they were, mainly because I thought it was
wrong for it to be too easy. Took me a long time to figure out he was
right, mostly, but I guess I still don't really believe it in my
heart," came the reply.
"Believe it! I'm not letting go of you until you do....believe that,
too!" and with that, I got up, retrieve the covers, and flung them
over him, before turning out the lights and crawling into bed next to
him. He was already asleep, I found, as our bodies touched. He pulled
away slightly, until I reached around him and pulled him into me. He
snuggled closer, and sighed a happy little sigh as I held him close,
feeling his soft breath on my chest.
I awoke to the smell of wonderful coffee, bacon and toast filling the
room. I came downstairs to find him shoveling piles of fluffy
scrambled eggs onto two plates, along with wonderfully crisp bacon
strips and buttered toast. Steam rose lazily from two mugs laid out on
a carefully arranged kitchen table.
"I think I found everything. Hope you don't mind too much for me
messing up your kitchen." There was no mess; everything had been
carefully cleaned as it was dirtied, and a sink of sudsy water was
waiting for the frying pan as soon as it was empty.
"I should be so messy. You've obviously been well trained in the
kitchen arts. I'm impressed," I replied. We sat down together and dug
in, and it didn't take long before everything was nothing but a
memory. "What time do you have to be at work? I'll need to arrange
transportation, if it's going to take a while for my drain plug to be
delivered." His face reddened, and he looked at me slyly.
"Er, I have a small confession to make....There's no cracked drain
plug. I lied, on the outside chance this sort of thing might
happen. When you walked through the door yesterday afternoon, I
couldn't believe my eyes. It was as if you were my old high school
football coach, and you found me again, after all these years. I had
such a crush on him, and didn't know what to make of it all at the
time, except I'd have done anything he wanted, but he never noticed,
never noticed at all, and so...." Pete ran out of breath, finally, and
ground to a halt. "I'm sorry I lied, but I had to take the chance. I
wouldn't have dared to start anything, but when you invited me in, I
thought I'd died and gone to heaven. And then when you started to come
on to me, I knew it for sure."
"Well! I have to say I need to confess you took me by surprise, too. I
don't know why, but you really pressed just about every button I had,
when I walked in yesterday. You don't remind me of anyone that I
recall, but that didn't stop you from hitting me like a ton of
bricks. I couldn't believe my good fortune to get you here for even
just a minute, much less the night. Might I be so bold as to inquire
if you're interested in dinner again tonight?" I held my breath after
this, and waited for a sign. His eyes suddenly narrowed in thought,
and my heart sank....
"I'm not sure what to say....I need some time to work out things,
considering what happened last night. My mind says it need time to
think thing through, but my heart says, dammit, hell yes! Can we have
dinner somewhere else, instead....sorta like a date?" His look said it
all. I knew I still had the inside track, but needed to play it cool
for the moment.
"Sure....How about the House of Hunan in Jefferies? They do a great
Mongolian Barbecue. What time would you like to meet?"
He thought a moment, and agreed to meet me there at 7:30, giving him
an hour to get cleaned up and changed. We said little more, except
small talk as we finished washing and drying the breakfast dishes
together. I fed the dog his morning chow, filled the water bowl, and
climbed into his truck for the trip back to pick up my car. He turned
the news on, just in time for the weather report. We both listened,
and by the time it was over, we were pulling into the parking lot. He
paused for a moment, leaning towards me for a quick kiss, before he
dropped me at the front door, saying it'd take him a few minutes to
open up and get the computer running. I walked in, and went to the
snack bar, which was all that was open this early. I had a second cup
of coffee, and took my time, since I had a lot to consider. Would he
show up? Worse, would we call it quits and go our separate ways after
dinner? I suddenly felt so lost and alone, more than ever before. No
one had ever hit me this hard, ever.
I slowly finished the coffee, and absentmindedly refilled it, put a
lid on it, and walked out into the now open store. I don't remember
anything between then and opening the door to the service bays. Pete
was perched on his lofty throne, holding forth and assigning work to
his mechanics, all business.
"Good morning, Mr. Goodbody, your car is ready," came his brisk
greeting. "There's no charge, since we should have had the parts in
stock." He winked at me, and handed over the keys and work papers,
over my protest. "I'll see you later," came as an aside between just
the two of us. I winked back, and replied, "You'd better believe you
will - all of me. I plan on bringing all my business to you." And with
that, all the weight of the world lifted from my shoulders.