Food for thought...
Current mood: hungry
Category: Food and Restaurants

Food for thought...

A week of weak meals leaves one rather thin.

Beet soup couldn't be beat, for Monday's din.

Tuesday's fare was just as fair:

Solitary pear left me wanting a pair.

Chilly chili on Wednesday straight from the can.

Enjoyed a wish sandwich on Thursday; wished for some Spam.

Phished for fish on Friday, but they ignored my bait.

Growling stomach can't wait, but at least I've lost some weight.

Saturday's course brings tears to my eyes;

They leak chopping leeks-think I'll have a good cry.

On Sunday the neighbors are cooking out!

The smell of the food makes my hunger shout.

They're grilling their food outside over there.

I hear the sizzle, all the way over here.

Potato peel soup has lost its appeal.

My head starts to reel as I crave food that's real.

Peeks through the fence and my appetite peaks.

On the grill is some meat that I'd like to meet.

I sneak through the rear and take one so rare.

My fork stakes the steak, and I don't have a care.

Until the dog starts whining, I guess that I'll share.

2:14 PM - 25 Comments - 24 Kudos - Add Comment

Upstairs (Piehole part 11)
Current mood: overstimulated
Category: Writing and Poetry

Upstairs

They pulled into Traci's small apartment complex shortly after 8:00.  With no available parking places, she told him just to pull up to the end behind her car, even though his truck was blocking two cars. 

"They won't be leaving before us, don't worry about it" Traci said, eyes laughing and a smile that said she was glad to be home.  "Come on, and let me introduce you to some neighbors."

She led him down the sidewalk to a small group of people gathered around a hibachi, where some very appealing shish-ke-bobs were sizzling over the coals, the smell of lamb and shrimp mixing with onion and garlic, and being blown about by the breeze coming off the Bay.  Traci made the introductions quickly, and he didn't remember the names of the people he had just met.  It was real quick, sort of "this guy and this truck are with me, just in case you see him again."  They were all pleased to see Traci, and seemed genuinely disappointed that she wasn't going to join their little party, even for a short while, but she excused herself graciously, noting that she had just gotten home and needed to check on the cats and things.

With that, one of the young women invited her to stop back when she got things settled, and Traci turned smiling and said she just might do that.  She led him to her apartment and fished for her keys for a minute.  She stopped abruptly, and looked at him, obviously frustrated with herself.

"Window again?" he asked, almost smirking.  "Yes.  Give me a boost, would you?"  She wiggled the window and was able to get it open in a matter of seconds, and he grasped her waist and lifted her, as she swung her legs inside, then he gently lowered her until her feet were down, then held her hands as she gracefully righted herself on the inside.  "We are SO going dancing tonight!" Traci called out from the inside.  "You did that so well!"

He met her at the door, and she rushed him inside, barring the cats from any escape plans.  The two females cowered in the kitchen, but Tabby, the big yellow male came and rubbed against his legs, which eased the other's suspicions of him, but they were still leery.

She loved on the cats a bit, and asked him to bring in her bag and the groceries.  She threw the six packs in the fridge, poured herself a glass of wine, and fed the cats.  "I guess the Arizona Green Tea is for you?" she asked, as he handed him one of the two bottles.  "Sure you don't want a glass of wine?" 

"Think I'll stay with the tea, thanks."  He started to take a seat on her sofa, but she stopped him, saying "Let's go upstairs.  I want you to meet Brenda."  He followed her up the concrete flight of stairs to the apartment directly above hers.  She tapped briskly, and a husky female voice called out cheerfully, "Baby girl, I'm coming."   The door opened, and Brenda motioned them inside, peeking outside, then closing and locking the door behind them.  Brenda turned, and hugged Traci, saying "It's so good to see you.  Things just aren't the same when you're not here."  She gave him a hard look, narrowing her eyes as she scanned him, top to bottom, much like one might look at a used car before deciding whether or not to even take it for a test drive.

"This is the guy who helped me with Sue last weekend" Traci said, as if she was seeking Brenda's approval.  Brenda burst out in a belly laugh, and bellowed "Boobs?  You've met Boobs!  Oh my God, and you're back here with this flat-chested bitch?  I guess you're ok in my book then…" 

He felt relieved, somehow, that this Brenda woman who he had just met had given him her seal of approval.  Standing in a worn housecoat, slightly overweight as well as slightly overbearing, he had warmed up to her, just like that.  In her early forties, she seemed genuine, and was obviously fond of Traci.  "Well, did you bring me anything?", Brenda asked Traci, obviously making her a bit uncomfortable.  "I'm talking about a glass of wine, you idiot.  Where's mine?"

Traci almost breathed a sigh of relief, and asked him to run downstairs and get the wine.  "Randy's here," Brenda added, nodding to the back bedroom.  Traci's brow furrowed, and she added "bring some beer too, please.  We'll be in back when you come up, just come on in, but make sure you lock the door behind you.  And don't let the cats out!"

He came back upstairs, and heard muffled conversation coming from the bedroom.  He glanced around the Brenda's apartment: the only light was from a shadeless table lamp sitting on the floor, next to three plastic milk crates which held a small TV with knobs for the channels, a pair of rabbit ears extending up.  One of the antenna was broken two thirds of the way up, and had a piece of aluminum foil hanging like a small silver flag.  A few paperback books sat in the milk cartons, and a very worn plaid loveseat sat against the wall, with two more milk cartons serving as a coffee table.  The windows were covered by sheets tacked over them, and a few articles of dirty clothes littered the living room floor.  There were some interestingly dark abstract paintings on the wall, unframed, and one rather appealing waterscape of a jagged, rocky coast which appeared to be out west somewhere, maybe Washington or Oregon.  It appeared to have been framed nicely, but the frame and the painting itself looked like it had been damaged, perhaps dropped.  He called out that he was back, as he made his way into the kitchen.  "I'm putting the beer in the fridge.  How many beers and who needs wine?"  He heard Brenda call out "one beer, one glass of wine, and bring the bottle."  "Sure thing, be right there."

As he flipped the light in the small kitchen, nothing happened.  He opened the refrigerator door and slid the six-pack in, leaving the door open to use the light as he looked for a glass.  The sink was full of several mismatched plates and glasses, and when he couldn't find a clean glass in the cupboards, he rinsed out one from the sink, and used the last paper towel on the roll to dry it before pouring the wine.  The garbage can was full to overflowing, but he picked up the few pieces of garbage on the floor and was able to stuff everything down, leaving a little room.  He noticed one painting in the early stages, an abstract, but it seemed a little brighter than the ones on the wall in the living room.  Closing the door to the fridge, he carried the beer and wine, and announced himself as he entered the bedroom.

Traci was sitting on the floor, Brenda was at a makeshift desk, where her computer was softly playing a Pink Floyd CD, and a young man was lying naked, other than a pair of white briefs, with one hand down the front as he fondled himself, on the only other furnishing in the bedroom, a mattress laid upon the floor.  Perhaps 23 or 24, the guy was well built, rippled arms and abs, and a very well defined chest.  Though short, he filled his frame out nicely. He obviously had spent time working out, and his young body was hard as a rock.  The room was lit by candles, and the computer screen saver flashed different patterns of light and color as different geometric shapes morphed and danced onscreen.  He handed Brenda her wine, tossed the beer to the guy, and poured more wine into Traci's glass.  The look in her eyes let him know that she was not fond of the guy on the bed, and he would come to find out that she thought he was using Brenda, and even had concerns that he might be abusive.  For now, he just felt the tension.  He remained standing, and Traci said, "That's Randy."

His "nice to meet you" was only returned with a nod, as the four of them sipped their drinks in the quiet.  To him, it seemed that he had interrupted something; that his presence was the reason for the awkward silence.  He lit a cigarette from one of the candles, took a deep draw, and slowly blew out the smoke, as a smirk crossed his lips.  He tapped his cigarette in the ashtray next to Traci and looked at her, gleam in his eye, seeming silently seeking her permission.  Her look said, "go ahead", and he turned and just blurted out, "You look like you work out Randy…want a handjob?", trying his best to keep a straight face.  Traci dashed into the bathroom as she snorted wine out of her nose, and Brenda sat there, mouth agape, when Randy's surprise gave way to a smile.  "You're ok, asshole.  Where the fuck are you from?"

"All over.  Born and raised in South Florida, then moved…"

Randy cut him off.  "No shit?  I did some time down there for possession, with intent.  Came up here when I finished probation, figured I could make a fresh start.  You're cool, right?"  His question was rhetorical, because he had already pulled the small tray from the backside of the mattress.  A tubular glass pipe and a couple of small, soap-like cubes, as well as two small plastic envelopes were on the tray.

Traci had returned, and was not sure how he would react.  "If you're not comfortable, we can leave" she whispered to him.  "It's not a big deal."

"I'm ok with this" he said.  "I smoked rocks in South Florida a couple of times long ago, way before they ever started calling it crack.  Just not something I do today."

"It's not the same thing", Brenda said, as she leaned forward and loaded the pipe by pressing it down on one of the small rocks and forcing it into the end, tightly packed with balled up wire mesh to form a fine screen.  "Here, light this and just hold it steady" Brenda told him as she handed him a Bic lighter.  She had another lighter in her hand, and she exhaled deeply, then put the pipe in her mouth as she leaned forward, letting the cocaine filled end rest just above the flames of the two lighters.  She puffed, as she rolled the pipe around in her mouth.  A slight crackling sound came from the pipe as the substance melted, and a pungent odor which reminded him of nail polish remover filled the small bedroom.  Brenda sat upright, and used only her lighter as she inhaled deeply.  She held her breath, and as her eyes widened, she placed the pipe on a damp cloth, and smiled as she snorted twice.  Then she waved Randy to him.  He bolted up, and placed his mouth over hers.  As she exhaled quickly, he inhaled the remaining smoke, and lied back down on the mattress.  When Randy exhaled, there was only the faintest hit of smoke.  "I know that was a good one" Randy said, as Brenda fanned herself, and just shook her head.  Still in her housecoat, she used it to fan her whole body for a second, the lit a cigarette.  "Wow!  Not the same thing at all.  Want to try a hit?".

"Maybe" he said softly.  "You guys go ahead for right now."

Randy took the pipe, without reloading, and held a lighter up to the end as he leaned forward, and puffed.  When two clouds of smoke billowed out of the end of the pipe, he straightened up and inhaled deeply as well, holding his breath as stood and approached Traci.  She shook her head no, and motioned toward Brenda, and Randy blew the remnants of his hit into Brenda's mouth.  He slowly fell back onto the mattress, and his hand resumed it's position on his penis, as he closed his eyes.  "Christ, man, cover yourself at least" Traci said, as she turned her head toward Brenda, eyes imploring her to help.  Brenda pulled the covers up to his waist, picked up the tray, and loaded the pipe again, passing it to Traci.

Traci handed him a lighter and used one herself as she repeated the same ritual as Brenda, puffing and rolling and inhaling deeply.  She approached him and he pulled back, so she passed him by, Brenda again taking advantage of the smoke remaining in Traci's lungs.  When he shook his head no as he was offered the pipe, it was placed back on the tray, and the entire ensemble was placed back behind the mattress for now.  The room remained in silence for a bit, other than the music coming from the computer's speakers, as the three of them grappled with what seemed to be a very intense high.

After a smoke, Traci said she needed to walk a bit, and that she would be back shortly.  "Want me to come?" he asked.  "No, I've just got to get a little air.  I'll be right back." 

"Can you bring the other tea up when you come back?" 

"Of course."  As Traci walked to the door, Brenda followed her, to lock the door behind her.  Returning to the bedroom, she and Randy were slowly becoming more talkative, as the intensity wore off slightly, and their heightened state gave way to more of a pleasant, social high.

He asked a few a few questions about them, How they met, where they were from, what the did for a living, and was pleased how responsive they were, obviously enjoying talking about themselves.  He was laying tile, and doing other construction, and didn't live there, but stopped by often.  His possession charge had been reduced to a first degree misdemeanor as part of plea bargain, but he still had served close to a year and a year of probation after that.  She had moved from Washington State, trying to get as far away from an abusive husband as she could, and had met him through an internet dating site.  And so it went, as small talk was eased by their high, they were willing to open up intimately to this complete stranger, and they shared deeply about themselves.

"Your paintings?" he asked her, his head indicating the abstracts hanging in the living room.  "Very dark.  Do you have a lot?" 

She didn't answer, instead telling Randy to pull out the "shit".  He dumped the contents of one of the small plastic envelopes onto the tray, and the pipe was passed between them, when she loaded it again, and brought it over to him.  "Hit this.  Just once.  It's okay, it's just a little one."

He felt nervous as she told him what to do.  "Just puff it like you're lighting a cigar, and I'll tell you when to hit it hard."  Brenda held the pipe for him as he felt her ease it into his mouth.  Randy sat up and held one lighter, as she held the other, and said, "Puff it baby, puff, puff, puff.  Now hit it!"  He inhaled deeply, feeling the smoke fill his lungs, and resisted the urge to cough.  "Hold it in" she said, staring intently into his eyes.  "Hold it, hold it!"  He snorted, smoke escaping from his nose as he tried to hold it longer, and Brenda said, "OK, give it to me" as he emptied the contents of his chest into her.  She couldn't take it all, and some smoke escaped, hanging in the air in front of him.  Randy said "DAMN, that was the bomb!", and he felt a pleasant tingle, and felt them watching him intently as he began to speak.

"Not bad, really.  Not quite as intense as I expected, but nice, really nice.  I can see why you like this, it's really pleasant."  They were still watching him, waiting…

It hit him like a whoosh, as he felt an orgasmic-like tremor radiate throughout his body, all at once.  "Whoa!"  Suddenly he could FEEL his eyes dilate as his entire body opened up, each nerve tingling as if a thousand fingers were caressing and tickling him, a thousand lips kissing his body as each nerve radiated sensations of pleasure, warmth and cold, sweet and sour, bright and dark, smooth silky scarves gently sliding over every inch of him.  "Fuck.  Holy fuck.  Wow."  They were still watching him, almost jealously, but enjoying his enjoyment.  "Oh wow!"  His vocabulary had been reduced to single syllables, as he felt the fire radiating from him.  He stripped off his clothes because his skin was too sensitive to their touch, and Randy and Brenda just watched, silently enjoying his overwhelming first time.  He made eye contact with them and said "sorry, but woo.  My god." 

"It's okay", Brenda said, reassuringly.  As he stood there naked, he felt his body convulse with every heartbeat, as if the blood running through his veins was too intense, as if he had came and each time his partner touched him he felt it all over again.  Slowly, so slowly, the intensity passed, but when he would touch against anything, it would occur again, waves passing through him.  At last he was able to sit, and looked up at them, and said nothing, yet his expression said it all.

There was a tap at the door, and Brenda got up.  "Need a drink?" she asked as she opened the bedroom door.  Randy said he would take another beer.  "What about you?"  "Oh  yes  please.  Ice.  Water.  Would be great."

Brenda and Traci entered the bedroom and she laughed when she saw him sitting naked in the corner, knees drawn up against his chest with his head bowed between them.  "What have you guys done to my dance partner"?  He looked up, and said nothing.  "It's okay baby.  You'll be alright in a while."

8:48 AM - 14 Comments - 10 Kudos - Add Comment

Boobs always make it better (Piehole part 10)
Current mood: restless
Category: Writing and Poetry

Read part nine here: Blah, blah, blah

Boobs always make it better.

His wife called while Traci was inside.  "Just wanted to let you know I'm here.  I'll be dreaming of you if I ever get to go back to the hotel.  I swear, some of these men are so boorish; it's as if they've never talked to a woman with a Southern drawl before." 

"Trust me, it's not your accent that attracts them."

"Oh?  Really, now, what do you think it is then?"  She had a playfulness in her voice, sensing his jealousy.

"If I had to guess, it would be your charm, closely followed by your eyes, smile, and laugh.  Or, it could just be your boobs!"

She laughed.  "I love you baby, and miss you.  And thank you for making me laugh.  If you saw the gorgeous young women here, you would know you have nothing to be worried of.  My boobs and I are thinking of you, and you alone.  Good night."

"Good night.  Love you too."

Her laugh brought him back to reality.  Seldom did she laugh anymore, but when she did, it always awakened something within him, something that believed they would be able to survive all that Life brought their way.  He knew he would have to give that little laugh room to grow and breathe again.  And he thought of those men in Texas, laughing freely with his wife, entertaining her, flirting, enjoying her company and attentions which would flatter any man.  Perhaps one would be so emboldened as to make a pass at her.  As he sat waiting for one who had that effect on him, he envisioned his wife graciously declining their romantic invitations, flattered but certainly not willing to follow through.  She would enjoy their pursuit, to a point, but would not be willing either to mislead them, nor to allow the game to go too far.  She could deflect potential lovers in a way that left them feeling appreciated, and sometimes still hopeful, but clear where her comfortable boundaries were. 

As Traci returned to the truck, he felt like he needed to establish those boundaries with her, and quickly.  They pulled onto the highway in silence, when Traci spoke.

"In case you haven't noticed, I'm attracted to you.  And that is awkward for me.  I haven't met many men who do this to me.  And as much as I enjoy men, I really don't usually let myself get emotionally attached.  I felt you starting to put up a wall, and I got uncomfortable, and afraid of where you were going.  I don't care that you're married.  I'm not trying to ruin that.  You make me laugh.  You're nice.  You don't judge me.  I feel like I can open up to you, and be playful, and you're playful in return.  I like you…a lot!  Can I take back my 'blah, blah, blah' and make it up to you?"

Fuck.  He couldn't believe what he had just heard, coming out of her mouth.  His mind was reeling, having lost his speech as he was forming it in his mind, boundaries being replaced with her motivations.  Attracted to me?  Like me a lot?  Surely this was something she had just said, without really meaning it.  She had just beaten him to the punch, totally disarming him.  He was now on the defensive, her words sounded sincere, but he couldn't accept them as such.  Surely she was playing him for something, but what?  It certainly wasn't money, she usually paid her own way, and often his as well.  As far as rides, it was clear she had a number of people who would be more than willing to drive her.  What was it she wanted from him?

He looked at her, and softly said, "Sure you can.  But there is nothing to make up to me.  I like you a lot too.  And I WAS trying to establish some kind of boundaries."  He glanced at the road, then to her, eyes alternating between driving and eye contact.  "Perhaps I need some boundaries, for me.  How did you know where I was going with this conversation?"

"I minored in psychology at Old Dominion when I was studying dance.  I still feel like making it up to you though."

"Really, no harm done," he said, as he glanced her way to see her raising her shirt.  He tried to maintain the conversation, and act non-chalant as she jiggled, smiling at him every time he looked her way.  "In all seriousness, I'm certain that we can maintain a friendly, platonic relationship, and …, um…, and, uh…, well fuck it, blah, blah, blah" he said, laughing when he lost his composure.  "Damn it Traci, you win!"

Traci bounced for him once more, and lowered her shirt.  "All better now?"

"All better."  She had broken the tension and left him defenseless. 

Disarmed was a good way to describe Traci as well, as she opened up to him.  "I've got a boyfriend back home, a guy I used to live with.  Now we just sort of see each other from time to time.  He just got so overbearing and possessive.  When I first started doing this, he thought it was cool, bragged to his biker buddies about how hot it was to be with a call girl like me…then he got to where he was hating the freedom the money gave me, and tried to make me quit.  Big guy, and mean as hell, but I could stand right up to him.  We just started fighting and arguing all the time, and I finally decided to move out.  He's still real possessive."

"What's his name?"

"Tom.  He runs a salvage business, and is gone a lot.  Great house on the water in Virginia Beach."

"I think I remember his picture from your apartment.  Big beard, 'Popeye' forearms covered in tattoos?"

"Yea, that's him.  New York accent.  Gets me everytime."

"Really?  Like 'what da fuck you looking at'?"

"Oh yes.  'Fugetaboutit'.  I melt for it!"

"You're kidding!  How'd you two meet?"

"A bike rally.  He just walked up to me and asked if I wanted to ride.  I was like 22.  His voice just picked me up and plopped me down.  We went out in the country, and he stopped and bent me over the bike, ripping off my clothes, and then cutting off my panties with his knife".

"He raped you?"

"Not really rape.  It was so hot!  Well, maybe rape in a strict definition, I don't know.  I know he took me and I liked it.  If it was rape, I was a very willing victim, so no, not rape.  It was over fast, but I stood there, bent over his bike, just drenched with sweat and fear and cum and excitement.  Tears filled my eyes.  I had cum many times before with other guys, but never like that.  I went down on him, and we fucked again, but this time it lasted longer, and I was riding the back of his bike for three and a half years after that."

"And you started doing what you're doing now by accident…Why didn't you pursue the dance?"

"Everyone who dances thinks they'll make it, just like singers and artists and writers.  Follow your passion, right into the poor house.  Sometimes your passion will hold you hostage, almost like a prisioner.  I still love to dance, just hard to break into it big time.  Even lived in New York for a bit.  So now I enjoy life, do something that I enjoy, in a way, a few days a week, and then have the freedom to play, to party, to go to bike rallies, and music festies, and concerts.  I like being free and not having to answer to anyone but myself."

"I kind of understand that.  You are very free-spirited, yet I think you care more than you let people know."

"So, what's your weakness in women?  Anything that just causes you to fall, for no reason?"

"I would have to say any women that gives me so much as the time of day, I fall in love with.  Speaking of which, what time is it?"

Traci giggled.  "Seven-fifteen.  Seriously, is there any thing that just grabs you, for no reason?"

He thought for a moment, then said, "Attractive, long-haired blonds, who are free-spirited and caring, playful, independent, and smart.  It helps if they dance…"

"Blah, blah, blah."  Their new catch phrase let him know it was time to stop being deep and time to play.  "When we get home, I want you to meet my upstairs neighbor, OK?"

"Sure, need to stop and get anything?"

"Good thinking. Take the next exit, and there is a Kroger right there.  You can run in and get some wine and a couple of six packs, and I'll call Brenda to let her know you are coming.  Oh yeah, get some smokes and some cat food too, okay?"

"Want me to wait on you, just in case you need anything else?"

"No, I've got to make a few calls.  I'll be right here when you get back."

4:01 AM - 37 Comments - 16 Kudos - Add Comment

Blah, blah, blah (Piehole part nine)
Current mood: older and wiser
Category: older and wiser Writing and Poetry

Blah, Blah, Blah

Sue came out of the hotel wearing the same too tight bikini she had on the last time he saw her.  She was carrying a small ice bucket with several wine coolers in it.  Traci sat up and put her top on as Sue pulled up a lounge chair and handed her a drink.

"Remember this guy?" Traci asked.

"Of course, my hero".  Sue smiled politely as she sat.  "Good to see you again."

"Need any oil?" Traci asked as she reached for the bottle.

Sue took it, and began applying the oil to her body, as he and Traci both enjoyed watching her every movement.  Traci's phone rang again, and again she didn't answer, obviously waiting for a particular number.

A well dressed man in his late thirties escorted a twenty three year old woman to the pool to join them.

"Hello John", Traci said, flashing her trademark smile.

"Traci", John replied, nodding his head in acknowledgement.  "Been ducking me this week?"

"Just really busy.  Next week, I promise."

"I'll take you up on that.  You'll call when you get in town?"

"Of course", Traci responded.  "You'll be the first on my list."

John pulled a chair over for Amber and she sat.  He said "Thanks as always, love.  I especially enjoyed your surprise friend."  With that he kissed the back of Sue's hand.

Sue said, "The enjoyment was all mine", and John left, waving one more time as he got in his BMW and drove off.

There was an awkward silence, then Traci blurted out, "What an asshole!"  The other girls laughed.  "He's not so bad, I guess", Traci continued, "but damn, he thinks he's God's gift to women."

"Amber, this is my friend I told you about."  Amber forced a demure smile, eyes hidden behind mirrored sunglasses.  Sue passed her a wine cooler, and the sun warmed the awkwardness.  Traci told Amber that she wouldn't need to drive her to the coast; that she would catch a ride after her final appointment.

"Cool" Amber said softly.  "I should head back to Salem.  My Mom told me the kids are missing me.  Who's the last appointment?"

He felt a little awkward as they talked shop so casually, but would come to realize that it helped them, especially Amber.  She had a difficult time with what she did to support her three young children, lying to her Mother when she would head out of town, but Traci had a way of easing her mind with her frank, matter of fact, attitude.

"Wrinkle Man!" Traci blurted out laughing, and Amber laughed as well.

"EEEWWWW!"

"I know, I know.  But he's really a great guy, and fucking tips so good.  He told me he pays extra because he KNOWS, that he has to face up to it every time he sleeps with his wife."

They talked shop for the next hour as they got pleasantly drunk, and the cell phones continued incessant ringing, with the numbers reviewed and unanswered, with the exception of one call which Amber took, from her Mother.  "Yes Mom, I'm finishing up here, and should be heading home in an hour or two.  I'll see you then.  I may get called to go down to Charlotte this weekend though.  Can you watch the kids if they call?  Great.  I'll let you know when I know.  Bye."

As he listened in on their discussions about the Johns, as well as Toms, Dicks, and Harrys, (or Tom's dick is hairy, as Traci jokingly added), he could see that Sue was listening more intently, even asking questions about particular guys.  She had come over with the intent of making enough money to get home to Pittsburgh, and had not "signed up" with the service, rather riding Traci's and Amber's coattails if you will, working strictly off the books for gratuity.  The other two women were happy to help out.  It seemed they enjoyed Sue as much as the men.

When the clouds began to roll in, they decided to break it up.  Amber was the first to go, but made plans to go home with Traci the following Wednesday, just to party a day or two.  Sue was going to keep Amber's room, and had decided to go ahead and try plying the trade for a bit.  Amber waved goodbye as she loaded her bag into her Lexus, and Traci suggested they head to her room, while she waited for her call.  From her room, Traci put Sue in touch with the service, and finally took a call.  "Can you go down to Sue's room for a bit?  I'll call you when I'm done."

"Actually, I think I'll go grab a bite at Friday's.  Are you hungry Sue?"

"I really am", Sue answered.  "Do you mind?" she asked Traci.  Traci pursed her lip and made a fist, which she bumped against Sue's fist.  "Of course not.  I'll see you two over there in an hour or so."  With that, Sue escorted him to her room where she changed, and the two of them proceeded across the parking lot to the restaurant, where they ate while they waited for Traci.

She arrived, hair still wet from a shower and eyes covered by dark sunglasses.  He rose as she joined them and pulled out a chair, and she smiled as she sat.  "Hungry?" 

"No, thanks, I just need a drink."  Their waitress came by and took the drink orders; two shots of tequila and another sweet tea.  The girls clicked their glasses and tossed down the clear liquid, feeding each other a lemon wedge after.  He enjoyed seeing the attention of the men at the bar, enjoying their little show.  "One more?", Sue asked, as she waved the waitress over.  "Gonna join us?" Traci asked him.  "No thanks, I'm driving, remember?".  She scowled playfully as she ordered two more shots.  "One day I'm going to get you drunk and have my way with you" she whispered to him.

As they were walking back to the hotel, Traci seemed concerned about Sue, and they chatted privately for a bit.  Finally, Traci told him that they needed to take her to get a cell phone.  Traci was going to give her the money she needed.  He was happy to oblige, and after Sue was connected, He and Traci headed off toward the coast.

She was quiet and reserved, out of character for her, and the silence seemed awkward.  As night fell, and they drove in silence, other than the radio playing quietly, he felt his overwhelmed by his attraction to her, yet tentative and unsure.  Finally, he broke the silence.

"Can I say something?"  Traci turned to look at him, still wearing the sunglasses, even though it was dark now.

"I really don't know if I feel right about this…I'm married, I live a different lifestyle, and as much as I'm flattered by your attentions, I just don't know what to make of all this.  You are so fun to be around, but…"

She took off her sunglasses, and looked deeply into his eyes, and pressed her finger to his lips, silencing him.  "Know what I heard just now?", she asked intently.  The was a very quiet pause, as he hung on her every word.  "Blah, blah, blah.  When someone with a penis gets all serious, I hear blah, blah, blah."  She could tell that her attempt to lighten things had hurt him, and the truck grew silent again.  Traci put her sunglasses back on, and asked him if he could stop at the next exit.  As she got out of the truck, she took his hand, and said sincerely, "I'm sorry."

3:47 AM - 14 Comments - 14 Kudos - Add Comment

Irresistible (Piehole part eight)
Current mood: older and wiser
Category: older and wiser Writing and Poetry

Irresistible

He awoke at 5:25 just beating the alarm, always pleased when his day did not start with that atrocious noise.  He had slept soundly, and was refreshed, in much better spirits as he stopped off for his cup of coffee.  There was a smaller crowd this morning, but he still loved to watch as the others enjoyed this simple pleasure; a brief respite before tackling the day.  As he left the store, an elderly black man asked him for spare change, and he obliged, dropping seventy-five cents in his hand.  The man thanked him, and flashed a largely toothless smile, and his simple graciousness put Tuesday in a better light. 

He was the first one there this morning as well, and appreciated the opportunity to fall back into a bit of a routine, processing the paperwork from crews under his direct supervision and clearing the immediate requirements before employees began arriving, early today.  With a half-hour to go before the scheduled meeting, he was able to chat with several people, and was pleased that this morning was off to a better start.  Crews were prepared and conferred with their managers prior to the scheduled start time, and vehicles were ready to roll. 

He didn't take much of their time.  A short canned "tool-box" safety meeting was presented, and he briefly touched on punctuality, planning, and preparedness, citing the differences between yesterday and today as an example.  No one disagreed; they knew yesterday had been disappointing to him, and he was pleasantly surprised at the change in attitude.  There was no "dressing down" required, and to the man, everyone seemed genuinely anxious to put forth an honest effort.  The usual finger pointing and complaints normally present at these types of meetings was non-existent; it seemed as though everyone realized that they were responsible for themselves, and there was a genuine feeling of a team.  If one person fell short, the team as a whole would be affected, but could carry the slack.  When days occurred like yesterday, the whole team would fall.  In spite of the twenty minute meeting, all the crews were on their way to their respective jobs by 7:30, no small feat.  He was pleased that the foremen especially recognized the need to be ready the day before.  In order to start the day strong, they were beginning to understand his motto that you had to finish the day strong; that is, not to rush out at the end of the workday, but to ensure you are prepared for the next, before heading home.

As the last crew headed out, he called his wife to say good morning.  She was in better spirits today as well, and apologized for not calling back last night.  They promised to talk this evening.  He was able to fall into a groove, and yesterday's traded voice mails were today's connections.  Several large general contractors had some work they wanted pricing on, and he was able to assign subordinates to meet with them.  He made a lunch date with one long standing customer to pick up some plans for a job in Norfolk which bid the following week.  He was able to stop by two jobs in progress, and spend a bit of time with the crews, observing, helping, still able to show them a few tricks of the trade.  He still loved being in the field.  It was a busy day, but not stressful.  He was back in the office by 3:00, and wound up his day by 6:00, which was a comfortable twelve hours for him.  Tomorrow's plan was more than roughed in, and the balance of the week was falling into place.  Wednesday and Thursday morning would be spent in DC, and he would drive to Richmond for a progress meeting and spend the afternoon with the crew, then go to Norfolk to look at that job on Friday morning.  This would allow him the chance for another relatively early departure home.  He felt satisfied for a change, able to leave without feeling that there were a million things undone.  (He could live with the several dozen that always seemed present).

He was cooking dinner when his wife called, and was glad to chat without the distractions of the office.  They talked at length for a change.  He listened while she apologized for being short yesterday, and tried to be understanding about how thinly stretched she felt.  He genuinely complimented her ability to get so much done, and encouraged her ease up on herself.  "As much as I do, you still seem so much more effective than me.  You have great organization and planning skills, and you really perform well.  Perhaps you should consider how much you do, instead of what doesn't get done." 

"I know", she sighed, and he felt her pause.  Then came more frustration.  "Sometimes I just wish I didn't have so much to do.  Work, Momma, the house, the animals, the community.  I wish I could just leave like you do, with nothing but a job for five days a week."  He felt himself getting defensive, but let her vent.  "She's driving me crazy.  No matter what I do, it's not enough.  I try my best, but she always wants more.  Sometimes I just want to run away."  She was sobbing, now, and he tried to comfort her, and made the mistake of offering a suggestion, rather than just an understanding ear to cry to.  "Easy for you to say, she's not you're Mother."  He could feel her tone change, and tried to appease her.  "It looks like I'll get out early again this Friday.  Want to try a date, just the two of us?"

"I can't.  I just found out that I need to fly to Texas on Thursday, and I'm going to stay over the weekend, because I need to be there for at least a day or two the following week.  I'm sorry baby.  Maybe that's why I'm upset."

"It might be just what you need, a day or two away without all your responsibilities, you know?  I'll get away as soon as I can Friday to be with your Mom.  Do I need to take off a few days next week?"

"No, you don't even need to worry about getting home right away Friday, either.  I've got someone to stay at the house while I'm away."

Their conversation trailed off, he becoming preoccupied with his seeming lack of need at home, rather than his wife's resourcefulness, she because her schedule had been abruptly changed, with relatively short notice.  In spite of her ability to handle things so seamlessly, she always felt like she didn't.  And though they both had disappointments over not seeing each other this weekend, neither one shared them.  She needed to hear his disappointment but he didn't want to add any more burdens.

They traded e-mails on Wednesday, she including him on a string of work related contacts with her itinerary, he by responding with a personal note, wishing her a good trip.  As he left DC on Thursday morning, his call was too late to catch her before her flight, so he left a short message on her voice mail.  He talked to his Richmond crew on the way down.  They were having some equipment problems and were talking to the technician in the office, but had been unable to resolve the difficulty over the phone.  After conferring with the technician, and confirming that rain was in the forecast, he directed the crew to head back to DC, and use Friday as a maintenance day.  The single employee who lived in Richmond was happy to have Friday off.  He was making good time, and would have plenty of time before his meeting with the City, so he stopped off to check into the hotel.  He called the DC office, just to check in, and was informed that the City had cancelled the meeting for today, postponing until next Thursday.  He decided to go ahead to Norfolk to look at that job, and head home if time permitted.  If not, he could always get a room there.  Anything else that came up would be handled by phone or put off until next week.  He went inside anyway, to say hello to the manager, and confirm room reservations for the crew for the following week, and was fixing himself a cup of coffee in the lobby, when he felt her hands over his eyes.

"Guess who".  His heart stopped.  He had not thought of Traci all week, other than a passing worry when he first headed down this morning, but felt that he would avoid her, since she had told him that she usually was gone by Wednesday night.  There was the familiar playfulness in her voice, almost giggling.  He tried to react coldly, but could not distance himself, and played along, coyly saying, "I don't know, give me a hint."

He felt her press her body against his, as she drew against him, and could feel her erect nipples through his shirt as she softly nibbled his neck.  His arousal was immediate, and he self-consciously pulled away, trying not to smile when he turned and said "Bob?"

She laughed, smiling broadly, eyes sparkling.  She was wearing a bikini, towel in hand, and he could not help but take her in.  "I was just going out to the pool, before the rain moves in.  Why don't you join me?  I need someone to put oil on my back."  Traci smiled seductively yet playful.  "Sue's here, and she'll be coming down soon with another girlfriend I want you to meet."

"I've really got to head to the coast to look at a job out in your neck of the woods", he said, already knowing that he would be heading to the pool, at least for a bit.

"Surely you can come out for a bit", Traci said, taking his hand and leading him out the door.  "If you'll give me a few hours, I'll even ride back with you."

His avoidance defense had failed him miserably, and he found himself following her to the small pool, and pulling up a chair as she spread her towel on a chaise lounge, and handed him a bottle of lotion.  "Would you please do me?"  With that, she slipped off her top and then laid face down on the towel.  His hands shook slightly as he poured the oil onto them and then applied it to her bare back.  "Mmmm" she purred softly.  She lifted up slightly and turned to look at him when he stopped.  "Mind doing the legs?" she asked, raising them one at a time.  He was watching her buttocks and hamstrings tighten as her legs alternated, causing her bikini bottoms to wiggle and creep into her.  "Sure" he said, not sure if any sound came out of his mouth when he said it.  Her body was perfectly tanned, and there were no lines where her bikini top had been, nor where her ass peeked out from the bottoms, but when he had finished, she reached around with her hand and rubbed the bare portion of her butt, and said "put a little right here, if you don't mind".  He felt her tighten her buttocks as he did so, briefly pinning his fingertips between her cheeks.  She released and he eased himself free, and he could feel her smile without seeing her face.

Whether from the sun, or touching her taught body, he felt rather heated, and asked her if she would like a soda.  "No, thanks, Sue and Amber are going to bring me something when they come down."  He excused himself, and went into the lobby and returned with a Coke, taking his seat next to her.

Traci rolled her head to look at him and asked, "Where have you been all week?  I've been hoping to see you."

"DC.  I only get to Richmond occasionally".

"You should try to make it more often", Traci said, cutting herself short as her phone rang.  She checked the caller ID, and set it down without answering it.  "Why don't you take your shirt off and enjoy some sun?"

He took a sip of his Coke, and then replied, "I'm thinking I really should head east to look at this job…"

Traci sat up, bare-breasted, and began unbuttoning his work shirt.  "Nonsense.  Give me a ride, and I'll go with you tomorrow.  I know my way around better than you do."

As she untucked his shirt and undid the last button, he stood up and pulled it off.  "OK.  Should I get a room here, or get one there?" he asked, trying to feel her out regarding her schedule.

"I'll be ready to go in a few hours," she said, lying back down.  "And you can always stay with me."

He closed his eyes and tilted his head back in the chair, letting the sun's warmth quiet his racing mind.

3:41 AM - 12 Comments - 10 Kudos - Add Comment

Mondays have a reputation for a reason (Piehole part seven)
Current mood: bored
Category: Writing and Poetry

MONDAY'S HAVE A REPUTATION FOR A REASON

The drive to DC was uneventful, other than what had become the norm; a traffic snarl, even at this late hour.  As he came to an abrupt stop, he tapped the steering wheel with his hand, cursing.  Not quite 11:00 PM, his frustration was getting the better of him.  He had planned to be in the apartment by midnight, and had no idea what time he would arrive now.  As far as he could see, red tail lights were flashing, as too many cars fought for each inch of roadway; a slow procession of little battles fought between the vehicles and the road where small victories were gained inches at a time.

He mentally scolded himself for not taking an alternate route, though deep down he new it likely could have happened on any road he chose.  The traffic in Washington had become a nightmare that he still couldn't accept, always believing that the next trip would be different.  He would never allow an extra three hours in his planning for the traffic, and would disappoint himself almost every time.  He picked up his phone to call home, as he crept along.  Speaking to his wife's voice mail, he said "I'm about an hour out, and just wanted to let you know I'm as good as home, before it got too late.  Just caught a little traffic.  I love you, and thank you for a good weekend.  You are so good for me.  I hope Sally is ok.  Sleep well.  I'll talk to you tomorrow, unless you get this and want to call back.  I'll be in this for another hour or two.  Love you."  With that, he hung up and continued his drive, one miserable foot at a time.  He was determined to regain the happiness he had had at home not twenty-four hours before, regardless of the f'ing a'holes with the New York and New Jersey plates forcing their way along the shoulder and median.  It wasn't working, and he turned up the radio as loud as he could stand.

He crossed the Potomac on the new Woodrow Wilson span on 495 shortly after 2 AM, and felt insignificant.  The largest single Civil Engineering construction project in the country right now was being built, and he marveled at the number of cranes and barges and the complexity of the work.  He realized that a project of this size had a team of design engineers and construction managers and superintendents, but knew that someone was in charge of all of this.  Sadly, he knew that someone would never be him, again.

Crawling into bed at 3:00, he set his alarm for 6:00, somehow believing that the extra half-hour would be enough.  Sleep came slowly, perhaps due to too much coffee, perhaps due to his own restless mind.  He awoke to the Beep, Beep, Beep of the alarm, unsure if he had been asleep at all.  A quick shower had him ready to face the day, and he stopped at a 7-11 on the way in to get a coffee.

The stainless steel coffee island was more crowded than usual, as he was running behind schedule.  He enjoyed watching the others as he waited for an available space.  It seemed they too had their morning ritual, slowly choosing from one of a dozen varieties, and then adding their choice of ingredients, stirring, tasting, adding more, and repeating, until they had the perfect cup.  His ritual was much faster; 20 ounces of house coffee, three sugars and three creams.  He didn't understand the need to add six sugars and taste, and then add six more.  It seemed to him that if you liked twelve sugars, you would know it by now, but he envied the leisurely pace of those preceding him, even as he felt his own impatience growing.

He was now in "work mode", mind already focused on as yet unseen reports, crew schedules and assignments, bids, and job lettings, voice mails and e-mails.  Still, he smiled and replied "Buenos dias, mi amigo, gracias", when the clerk took his money and handed him his change.  "Como esta bien?"  "I'm good" the young man replied.  They saw each other each morning, but did not know the other's name.  Sometimes the greeting was in English, sometimes Spanish, but always polite and cheerful.  He did not have many interactions with others outside of work in DC, and appreciated the recognition, even casually.

Arriving at the yard, he saw two employees sitting in their car, and waved, then unlocked the office and the gates, surprised that he was the first one with keys to arrive, since he was later than usual.  Grabbing a stack of papers from his box, he glanced at the schedule on the erasable board, glad to see that Ramsurat was posting crew assignments, even though they both knew how subject to change they were.

He checked phone messages and e-mails as he thumbed through the papers, and was briefly interrupted as the shop foreman poked his head in the door to say good morning.  "Good morning as well", he said smiling.  "Where the hell is everyone?"

Al just shrugged his shoulders.  "Don't know.  Might be time for another one of your tirades".

"Yea, like it'll do any good."  He had developed a tolerance for tardiness, realizing that many employees relied on the trains and buses to get to work, and knowing how quickly traffic snarls could affect those who drove.  His thoughts were confirmed when his cell rang, and as he was talking to one of his foreman, who was notifying him that he was stuck in traffic, his call waiting beeped, and Ramsurat was letting him know the same story.  "Can't do anything about that, thanks for letting me know", he said.  At exactly 7:00, the two employees who had been in the lot, walked in, with several others.  He exchanged pleasantries, and abandoned his work to try to get crews moving this morning.  He usually avoided the details of specific projects, other than those under his direct supervision, choosing instead to assign various projects and personnel to his Project Managers, but this Monday forced him to become involved in the details as Ram's schedule was already being erased and re-written.  The week was not starting off well.

It was after 8:00 when the first trucks rolled out the gate.  When Ram arrived at 8:10, he let him know the personnel changes he had made, and instructed Ram to schedule everyone in this office to be in at 7:00AM tomorrow, unless they were working nights, for a short "safety" meeting.  He was happy to turn the people back over to Ram, and try to return to his work.  He had to meet with the owner at 10:00, a formal bi-weekly production meeting the two of them had, often attended by the Project Managers and Shop Foreman as well.  Returning to his office, the phone was flashing indicating new messages, and as he was checking the voice mail, his cell rang, a call from a client questioning when he could expect the crew.  The next hours were spent in much the same manner, fielding calls and juggling phones; touching base with the Baltimore Office and chasing down their summaries for the prior week, gathering needed information for his own report due to the owner in an hour.

He was glad Sam hadn't been early today.  The only word he could use to describe the confusion and lack of direction and planning was "clusterfuck".  He felt that everyone must have ducked out early last Friday, and was growing tired of feeling that he needed to be the driving force.  He would go over it in tomorrow's meeting, and would try to find a good example or two to use as encouragement, rather than just pointing out the negatives, but this Monday the good examples were hard to come by.

He met with Sam alone today, and struggled through Sam's questions, many times deferring to those not present, and promising to have the answers to Sam's questions by the end of the day.  He was always amazed at the level of detail Sam required, as well as how involved he could be in the ins and outs of this business, one of several interests Sam had.  Their meeting had been interrupted three times by calls which had to be taken, in spite of many others which were not answered, two for Sam, and one for him.  His wife's number showed up on the caller ID, and he welcomed the opportunity to hear a friendly voice this morning, as he excused himself from Sam's office to take the call.

"Thank you so much for the flowers, they are beautiful", her voice brightening his day. 

"It's good to hear your voice this morning.  How are you?"

"Tired.  But good.  Baby, you didn't have to send flowers just because we had a good weekend, in spite of all that happened around us…"

As she paused, he tried to break in, "Actually, I sent them on Frid…"

She cut him off, saying rather matter of factly "but don't send them to my office any