Distribution

Chapter 9: Another surprise-filled week

I delivered Paige to the bus station, saw her off, and was on the way back to the house when the enormity of what we'd just talked about struck me. She'd first wanted to talk about the sex between us, and when I characterized what we had together as a short-term fling, she took exception.

She talked about the short time we would have if we finished the bulk of the distribution by Thanksgiving. I asked her to call me that evening and we would discuss it then.

"I don't want to discuss it tonight. I want you to say you'll come back," she said in a pleading voice that I could not refuse. I didn't take a second to think about my answer. I told her that I would come back after Thanksgiving.

What was this coming to? Was she falling in love with me? Didn't she know that we were in an impossible situation? I had responsibilities at home. There was also the money I owed Georgia. She had me tied to the small town for the next eighteen years. Should I have been more forthcoming regarding my situation? Would it have made any difference to Paige?

It wasn't just us either. We both had kids and she was committed to care for her parents. There was nothing simple about it. What if we stopped right now, before either of us admitted that we were in love? How would I go about suggesting that we stop? This was bad, very, very, bad.

I would have preferred to stroll through the house, pick up her scent, recall how she tried to hide in the shadows, close my eyes and feel her touch, hear her laugh, and relive our weekend.

But my stroll from room to room was impossible because Nadine was at the kitchen table, uploading our new offerings to be auctioned.

"I hope you found the bed satisfactory?" she asked, grinning smugly.

"Paige seemed to enjoy the bed, but I've gotten used to the floor."

"I hope you humored her and moved to the bed last night."

"Yes, but we didn't get very much sleep. I hope she catches up tonight," I said and watched Nadine blush.

"Janice called while you were gone. She's inviting us to her house next Saturday night," she said, changing the subject. I told her that I would inform Paige.

Before Nadine left, I used my credit card to order the mailing list from the antique automobile magazine. They said they would ship the labels overnight and Nadine agreed to come back on Wednesday to help with the mailing.

I never did get a chance to see if I could pick up Paige's scent. I spent the morning on the telephone, lining up the contractors for the various jobs.

I was munching on fruit that Paige had placed in a conspicuous spot on the kitchen counter when the phone rang. It was Harold Whitney.

"I hate to ask you, Brian, but I could use some help with the scaffolding. It works a lot better with two people. My guys are tied up on another job and..."

"Say no more. I know where you are and I'll be there in a few minutes."

I don't know why I changed into an old pair of jeans and put boots on. Unfortunately, I didn't think to take gloves with me.

Harold was on the east side of the house and had ripped the old shingles off the house as far up as he could reach from the ground. We cranked the scaffolding to about three feet and when he climbed onto the walkway, I did too.

He used a tool that looked like a flat shovel to pry the shingles loose. I watched him with interest until he got halfway down the walkway, and then I motioned for him to let me try it.

It was harder than Harold had made it look. While I struggled to remove the shingles, he used a hammer to clean up the bits and pieces that had clung to the wall, and to knock the old staples home. He got his side done and continued to clean my side until the last shingle dropped to the tarpaulin below.

We raised the scaffolding and traded tools. Now, I had to work in a bent over position to finish cleaning my side. This time, Harold didn't stop at the halfway point. He continued to remove the shingles and I didn't argue with him. Instead, I went to the spot where he had started and used the hammer to clean up his work.

"Let's take a break," he said when we'd gotten to the end of the row.

By taking a break, he didn't mean that we would have a cold drink and wipe the sweat from our brows. His idea of a break was for us to drag the tarpaulin to the front of the house and dispose of the old shingles in a dumpster.

The owner came out of the house and told Harold that he was glad to see that his partner had finally shown up. Harold explained that two of our helpers would join him the next day.

"Brian has another job underway. He's restoring a house that dates back to the eighteenth century."

This changed the owner's look of disapproval to one of admiration. He went back into his house. Harold and I grinned at each other.

We went back to work and raised the scaffolding twice more before Harold called it a day. As we emptied the tarpaulin into the dumpster, he thanked me for my help.

"I wanted to show that old man that I wasn't going to take a month to finish this job. He's been out here every hour to check my progress."

"Are you sure your help is going to be here tomorrow?" I asked, and he assured me that they were good boys and they would be there.

I took a long shower, but as I told Paige when she called, "I used muscles today that I haven't used in a long time."

"That was sweet of you to help him. I hope you didn't hurt yourself."

"Janice is hosting the dinner party this Saturday night."

If she heard me, Paige didn't feel it was necessary to comment. I told her how busy I'd been, giving her a thumbnail sketch of the contractors' schedule:

Tuesday: The power washer would ready the exterior for painting.

Wednesday: Nadine and I were going to do the antique auto mailing.

Thursday: I was to meet with Mrs. Sarah Avery regarding the replacement windows and the pattern for the roof shingles.

Friday: I would make shipments of auction items to the winning bidders.

"Friday will be the best day of the week," I said.

"Because I'll be there?"

"Yes, I'll pick you up at the bus station and that's the day Miss Adams' article will appear in the local paper."

"Brian, didn't you hear me say I'm coming on Thursday? It will be late but I'll be there three days this weekend."

"I heard you but I didn't take you seriously. That's great!"

"Dream of me?" she asked as she ended the call.

This was becoming serious. It wasn't that I didn't look forward to spending the long weekend with her. I did. Could I stop what was happening if I wanted to? The answer was no. Did I want to stop it? Same answer. I was awake when the power washer showed up, but I didn't attempt to move. Every muscle in my body ached from the work I'd done the day before. I struggled with my pants and shirt, but gave up trying to bend over to tie my sneakers.

Charlie came over to inspect the work the power washers were doing. They moved fast and it only took them a couple of hours to finish the house before they moved to the barn.

I invited Charlie inside for a cup of coffee and showed him the schedule. The painters would be there the following Monday and this was to be followed by the window replacement. The roofers I'd chosen would start around the fist of November.

"What about the barn?" Charlie asked.

"Matthew Dawkins refuses to give me a date until the cars are gone. We're doing a mailing tomorrow. I'll set the final bid date for the end of October and give the winner another week to remove the cars. If Mr. Dawkins starts the job the middle of November he should be finished by the end of the year."

"Are you going to be here that long?"

"It looks that way," I said, not wanting to go into detail about how painful it was for me to tell Amanda and Phillip that I didn't know when I would be coming home. I was even reluctant to tell them that I'd be home for Thanksgiving.

A letter I received that day from my mother gave me reason to believe that my efforts were appreciated. It also infuriated me. I read the letter to Paige that night when she called.

October 6, 2007

Dear Son,

You can't imagine how much the check you sent boosted your father's spirits.

Up until now we've been reluctant to share our troubles with you. But now, I feel that you've earned the right to hear about your father's condition. He suffers from dementia and his condition is worsening rapidly.

I know that we told you that we were very fortunate to be able to retire early; however, that was not the case. He was asked by his employer to accept early retirement. For the past year, we've struggled to make ends meet. The check you sent will make our life much easier.

You came to our aid without pressing me for the reason your father couldn't represent himself. We know that you're making a sacrifice, being away from your family and working hard to make sure we get our share of the estate. We want to compensate you for your devotion to a job well done. Please find a check in the amount on ten thousand dollars enclosed. You can expect a like amount for each future distribution of forty-four thousand dollars. We hope you will set some of what we pay you aside for the education of our grandson.

Our Love,

Mom and Dad

"My God!" Paige exclaimed. "There's no mention of Amanda."

"It's always that way. They must think she'll go away if they ignore her. I've written a scathing letter to tell them I'll finish this job, but they can keep their money."

"No, Honey, you mustn't send the letter. After all, they're your parents."

I don't know if she realized that she'd called me Honey, but it made me agree not to return the check to my parents.

Paige laughed at the similarities between our parents' financial situations. "If only my parents would give me ten grand for each check they receive," she laughed.

We made tentative plans for the weekend, but she shied away from talking about the sex that we would enjoy and she did not bring up my promise to return after spending Thanksgiving at home. She did, however, let her voice trail off, reminding me of the way she sounded after strenuous sex, when we were facing each other. The picture of her naked body came to mind. I wondered if she was doing it on purpose. Before we hung up, I told her of my plan to inform my sister how displeased I was with our mother's attitude toward Amanda. Paige congratulated me, saying that asking Ginny to intercede was an excellent idea.

I wrote a quick e-mail to Ginny and then I wrote a note to the bank, instructing them to deposit half of the check in each of my children's education accounts.

The rest of the week went as planned. Nadine helped with the mailing, and I offered to take her to lunch. I wanted to celebrate having seen two favorable comments from customers. They stated that their shipment arrived in a timely manner and the contents matched the description we'd advertised.

"There's a clam shack near my house. Let's see if they're still open," she suggested. She drove her car and I followed her. We ordered fried clams and ate them sitting at a table overlooking the water. Aside from a guy with a couple of dogs, the beach was deserted. It was quite pleasant.

"I'm going to find out how much longer they're going to be open," I said, referring to the clam shack. "I'd like to bring Paige here for lunch."

Nadine cocked her head, appraisingly. "I've never seen two people connect as quickly as the way you and Paige have. It's like you're meant for each another."

"It's not that simple, Nadine. We're worlds apart."

"You could have fooled me. Everyone says you're the couple for the ages."

I didn't ask who everyone was. She thanked me for the lunch and we went our separate ways. I stopped by Harold's job to see how he was doing. He and his two helpers were beginning to shingle both ends of the house. The shingles they were using were pre-painted and were already improving the appearance of the house.

"Janice tells me we're entertaining this weekend," he said and I told him we were looking forward to Saturday night.

Back at the house, I re-read Amanda's e-mail from the day before. She wrote that she was enjoying her correspondence with Mona.

There was also an e-mail from my sister. Ginny was furious about the way our mother was ignoring Amanda. She described the campaign she had launched to turn the tide. I wrote back to thank her, saying that I was sure she would be effective. I wasn't sure at all.

The meeting with Mrs. Sara Avery could not have gone better. I took a sample of the replacement windows and of a roof shingle I wanted to use. She was especially happy to hear that Mr. Dawkins had received the contract to do the work on the barn.

Paige phoned at seven-thirty, saying she would see me in thirty minutes.

"Would you like to stop for something to eat?" I asked.

"Let's not waste time eating in a restaurant," she said, and I didn't argue with her. I hoped I was interpreting her correctly. As it turned out, I was. She came off the bus with purpose. After a warm greeting that rocked me off my feet, she said, "Take me to you den, Tiger."

It was eight-fifteen when we arrived at the house. Ten minutes later, we were totally naked and in the bed with just a sheet covering us. I was sucking on her nipples, preparing to move down to her tummy when I felt her hands on my head, tugging, making it clear that she wanted to cut the foreplay short. I moved between her legs and discovered that she was indeed, ready.

Paige was in a talkative mood.

"This is all I've been thinking about for the last hour," she said as she grabbed my cock and aimed it at her opening. "I would never use the bathroom on the bus, but I did today."

"You did?" I asked, beginning to move and finding that she was very receptive.

"I went back there and put my diaphragm in so I would be ready for you."

"I'm glad you did that."

"Me too. If feels good. I love having you inside me."

"It does feel good and I love being inside you."

"Brian, do you think you could fuck me a little harder?"

I pushed hard and laughed when I heard the bedsprings complain. "Is that better?"

"You do me so good. Do you like it that I'm hot for you?"

"Paige, you're a dream come true."

That seemed to please her. She made cooing sounds until her climax hit her, and then she used the heel of her right foot to urge me to spill my seed.

She was happy and that made me happy. She held me, and ran her hands over my back, obviously wanting me to remain on top of her. I felt her pussy work my cock, clenching, releasing, and making me want to stay like this all night. Eventually though, my weenie wilted and it was time to clean up. She rushed into the bathroom and closed the door behind her. I picked up my shorts and went downstairs to use the bathroom there.

It was chilly in the house. I found a flannel shirt and a pair of sneakers to go along with my shorts. Paige appeared in a short robe that I hadn't seen before.

"Will a scrambled egg sandwich suit you?" she asked, like she'd forgotten what just took place in the bed.

"I'll make the toast and pour the milk," I offered and watched her nod her agreement.

She was thoughtful as she worked at the stove. I set the table and waited for her to tell me what was on her mind. We took our seats at the table before she began.

"I've never been like this before," she said, looking deep into my eyes.

I nodded to show that I knew exactly what she was talking about. She was returning to the question she'd asked last weekend, "Do you think I'm oversexed?"

I'd told her that I didn't think she was oversexed, but I'd made the mistake of calling our affair a short-termed fling. She'd said that it didn't need to be short-termed.

"Brian, I squeezed five days of work into four so I could be here with you tonight. I've never been inside one of those bathrooms at the back of the bus before, but I was getting wet and I wanted to save time."

"Was it worth it?"

"The bathroom was disgusting and I'll never do it again, but yes, it was worth it."

"I'm glad you made the sacrifice."

We took our first bites from our sandwiches. Paige smiled to herself. "I'm glad too."

~

We got up early and went for a walk to the nearest market where I picked up a copy of the local newspaper. Miss Adams' article about Uncle Mackey began on the first page, and quickly moved to page four where there were pictures of him and Aunt Elsie.

We were on our way back to the house when Gordon McMahan pulled up and stopped. He addressed Paige, ignoring me.

"May I offer you a ride, Mrs. Kindle?"

"Thank you Gordon, but I need the exercise," Paige said, glancing at me, grinning in an 'as-if-we-didn't-get-enough-exercise-last-night' way.

"I need to speak with you, privately," he said. "I'd like to explain."

"You can talk freely, Mr. McMahan. I have no secrets from Brian, absolutely no secrets at all," she said, leaning into me in a trusting way that would have told most people that we were sleeping together, but not Mr. McMahan. He was persistent.

"If I could have five minutes of your time, Mrs. Kindle," he said in a pleading way that made me feel sorry for him. Paige was less charitable.

"Mr. McMahan, we're very busy today. I need to change the bed and this is Brian's day to make shipments. Please spill whatever you want to explain."

"You have a bed?" he asked, completely dumbfounded.

"We have one on loan," she answered, dismissively, like the conversation was coming to a close. I put my arm around her waist and we began to walk.

Gordon McMahan was still recovering from the shock that we had a bed in the house, but he managed to tell us what was on his mind.

"I didn't mean to get you in trouble, Mrs. Kindle. It was Ms. Dickens' idea. Are you sure you won't accept a ride with me? I'd like to assure you that it was not my doing."

Paige jumped on my back, surprising me. My reaction was automatic. I placed my hands under her legs and took off running.

"Thank you, Mr. McMahan, but I have a ride," Paige shouted in the direction of his car. I ran up the road until I heard his car roar by. If he had looked into his rearview mirror he would have seen me drop her to the ground, and turn to pull her to me. We laughed, kissed, and laughed some more.

"I ride you and you ride me. Would you like to give me a ride before I change the bed?"

"I'd like nothing better than to let you ride me," I said. We hurried back to the house and did just that. Paige outdid herself and by the time she was finished with me the bed really did need to be changed.

I followed her into the bathroom and watched her take a seat on the john. She didn't seem to mind my being there. I washed my cock and was about to leave when she spoke.

"I wonder what he was talking about."

She was talking about Gordon McMahan's comment. "I have a feeling that we'll find out," I said, and as it turned out, I was right.

I busied myself getting the auction items ready for shipment while Paige changed the bed. I hoped she would want to go with me and was not disappointed. I looked up from Miss Adams' article when Paige came down the stairs dressed in jeans, a sweat shirt and sneakers.

My delight in seeing her must have shown on my face. Even after the short time since we'd been naked together, it was like we had been apart for days. Her smile was captivating. I dropped the newspaper and took her hand. "Want to go for a ride with me?"

She silently touched my cheek and looked into my eyes. I was almost certain that the same three words were on the tip of her tongue that were on mine, but neither one of us uttered them. I took her hand and led her to my truck, still silently looking into each other's eyes.

She came inside the pack and ship place and watched as the six items were being weighed and measured. This was my third visit and the owner was especially accommodating. I told him about the positive remarks that we'd received about previous shipments, and he assured us that he would do his part to keep future remarks positive.