Memorial Day Weeend Ride

It's Friday. Memorial Day Weekend is at hand. Jerry and I haven't been in touch for awhile. Mary and Danny are headed to The Rathskeller for the long weekend. I'm invited but not looking to spend the first weekend after the kids departure for the summer as a third- wheel. I'm not currently seeing anyone and am desperate not to spend the weekend alone. The kids are with their dad, my x, skiing on Lake Texoma. Dave went to great lengths to be sure I didn't make an issue of the boat in the divorce. Must say it has dramatically increased the time the kids spend with him.

I've hatched a plan to reignite the Harpo flame. (Harpo is Jerry's Handle) To be clear, in my mind it is just for the holiday. A totally self serving mission. It is highly unrealistic to think that if a flame does reignite I can keep it to "just for the holiday." I'm up early to prep my grand entrance. I've chosen a strapless summer dress with a flowered flounce that bounces a bit as I walk in persimmon Marilyn Monroe spike heals. They pick up a color in the floral flounce. My coif is a bit beyond shoulder length, full and curly. My bare legs, arms & shoulders are already nicely tanned. I've been blessed with skin that just sort of turns with the seasons. I'm pleased with what I see in the mirror as I take a last look before heading to Summerfield. My plan is to arrive at the construction site first thing.

My silver Celica is a bit notorious with Harpo and the work crew. Mary is the manager at Summerfield. She and I see quite a bit of each other. Her bright yellow classic Corvette and my silver arrow bodied Celica are regulars in the leasing office parking lot. I breath deep, swallow hard, check myself in the rearview mirror and toss my hair a bit.

The early morning sun is just trickling through the trees surrounding Summerfield. The roads are crusted with muddy tracks from the trucks and equipment that have been on the job for over an hour. I spy Jack, Jerry's old Ford pick-up. I pull up along side it. Because of the muddy conditions closer to the curb, I leave my Celica running and sticking partially out in the street.

My shimmering tortoiseshell gold hair is hanging in long curls that bounce on my bronze shoulders as I step around the puddles. The wolf whistles and shouts of approval fill the air as I make my way through the mud high wire act style to the sidewalk. I see George, Harpo's foreman, and ask about Harpo's whereabouts.

Amidst more cat calls, hoots and hollers George asks, "What do you want with that Hippie?"

I smile, ignore all the noise and ask again, "Is Harpo here?"

As I step up on the curb, still looking down at the ground trying to find spaces for my feet the "THUD, THUD" of heavy, mud laden, size 13, steel toed, clod hoppers hits the concrete. My world is filled with Harpo. He has dropped out of the sky from atop a light pole he's been wiring, landing right in front of me.

My eyes move from his work boots, partially hidden by the wide bell bottoms on his long skinny denim covered shanks. They provide no hint as to how they support his low ridin' filled to capacity socket man leather tool belt. My gaze moves up past his broad Harley logo'd chest. I have to raise my hand to shield my eyes from the glare of the morning sun, filtered only by the edges of his hair and beard, to see his face.

As my heart adjusts to its own pounding, my eyes adjust to the glare. I catch the twinkle in his eyes. My surprise visit to the job-site is being greeted with the little boy enthusiasm I find so intoxicating. Harpo plumped up in reaction to my appearance and/or the crews responses to my arrival. His responsiveness is more than I'd hoped for and certainly more than I have any right to expect. I'm sure as far as he is concerned, I gave him a total fuckin' brush-off last time we met. His face fills seemingly uncontrollably with a large smile. I'm thinking this is an indication that my chances of eliciting the response I'm after are good. He motions to George that he is taking a short break. George waves him off approvingly with a hand gesture that in some circles would be considered lewd.

Harpo takes my hand. Guiding me around in front of him and puts his hand on my back nudging me towards my car. "Watch your step, those "catch me fuck me" shoes aren't meant for a construction site. What's Up?" Harpo asks firmly, giving the impression I should get straight to the point since I'm interrupting him at work.

At my car, I turn and lean against the driver's side door. He puts his right hand on the roof's edge for support. He leans his body against mine. Pinning me in place and asks again, "What's up?"

My insecurities well up and I begin to hem and haw until he chuckles and says,"Spit it out, you've got my attention, just like you planned."

"If you don't have plans... The kids are in Dallas. I'm wanting to blow some wind through my brains over the long weekend. I was... hoping if Monster is up...running...we could spend the long weekend on him. Everyone I know seems to have plans. Mary and Danny are going to The Rathskeller and I... He bends down and interrupts my lengthy, rambling invite with a kiss. The wolf whistles magnify. He waves them off while he pulls me in closer. It becomes an intimate, passionate moment not meant to be on display.

He fumbles a bit saying something about some friends possibly visiting from Kansas. He moves away back toward his work mode and says,"I'll come over after work and we'll make plans. I really didn't expect to ever see you again."

I was confident that my visit brought "thumbs up" reactions from the crew, when they found out I'd come to ask him to take me away for the three day weekend. Like Charlie, none of the redneck construction types understood what I saw in the long, lanky "Hippie." At work, all I could concentrate on were lists of what to take, what I needed to buy and what to wear... Let's face it I was primed. I had a strong feeling Harpo was experiencing much the same.

At lunch I picked up lipgloss and a couple of bandannas. I looked at clothes. The shops near work didn't carry appropriate attire for this weekend. I was broke and pretty sure the weekend wouldn't call for much attire anyway. After work, I dashed home to be ready when Harpo arrived. Harpo and Jack arrived shortly after and we packed my gear into Jack and headed for his place on Frances Street.

We began with chit chat that had a bit of a snarky edge alluding to our previous times together. Catapulting off the anticipation that had filled both our days we relaxed into being together. He cleaned up and packed up. I played with Sugar (Harpo's Bull Mastiff pup) and tried my hand at rolling some joints for the road. I'm less than gifted at rolling joints.

Sometime after dark set in, we moved the quilt under the overhang of an old tree at the corner of the house in his front yard. We felt shielded in the shadows. The stars were twinkling bright overhead. The moon was assimilating a black light. It seemed that everything was glowing in the dark even our skin. Harpo moved in close, took me to that warm, wonderful place surrounded by his broad shoulders. We made love not caring about the neighbors or possible passers-by. In the midst of our love making I threw his BVD's up into the air with my toes. They caught on a tree limb marking our location like an iridescent bright white flag in the black light night. I started nibble and tongue games between his legs. In the time we had spent together in the last few months I had formed a truly special relationship with his dick. It had a character all its own. It seemed to be able to respond as though it were detached from Harpo. Not that the loving attention I was giving Harpo's dick wasn't bringing him phenomenal pleasure. He was lying back on the blanket, supporting his head with his hand and forearm, watching me. Periodically he'd reach for me to try and reciprocate. He had a hard time holding active thoughts much less acting on them.

After exploring the secrets of our natures in this surrealistic, au natural environment we got a trifle chilled and moved inside. Harpo made coffee to warm us. He ground coffee beans and used his special one cup at a time drip coffee maker. He'd brought it back with him from Italy. He was proud and a bit over enthusiastic about his coffee making prowess. My experience with coffee was living with my mother. She was a several pot a day drinker of Folgers from the big red can. I didn't really enjoy coffee. To me it is disappointing, never tastes as good as it smells. I held on to the cup for warmth.

We were wrapped in the quilt from outside use as Harpo began to unravel his enormous album collection. Stereo equipment, like coffee and his Italian method, exacted special care. Taking care of inanimate objects was his shtick. Large and significant inanimate objects like his truck (Jack) and ShovelHead (Monster) got names. The care he took of the things in his life was one of the most vehement ways that Harpo defined his own value. Though it was far from obvious to me at this early juncture, objects are Harpo's comfort zone. It is people that Harpo doesn't easily find his place with. We talked, cuddled and stroked one another there on his living room floor. We talked about our sexual preferences and prowess creating possibilities for ourselves as we chatted.

Harpo took the bathroom first as we decided to freshen up and go to bed. I shook out and folded the quilt, washed the coffee cups and chose what I'd be wearing when I emerged fresh from my turn in the bathroom. Harpo straightened up his bedroom. I think he changed the sheets. He prepared tall glasses of water, tea and rolled additional joints to get us through the night while I prepared to share his bed. I douched strawberry after a sponge bath in his footed ceramic tub. I steamed my face and boobs, then splashed cold water on them and roughly towel dried both. Brushing my hair with my head hanging between my legs produced the shiniest mass possible. I fingered Arpege` into every warm or pulse spot. The tank style T-shirt I'd found in Harpo's clean clothes basket, known in some circles as a "wife beater," clung to my full breast. My properly primed nipples almost poked through the threadbare cloth. The length of the T-shirt was just enough to let the ice-blue French cut silk panties I'd chosen peek from under as I walked or moved. I felt an inner power surge. I was in knock him dead form. I've had known that without the little mirror on the face of the medicine cabinet or the "My T-shirt never looked so good" reaction from Harpo.

It was somewhere around midnight when we actually hit the sheets. The bed became merely a support, an amazingly versatile tool we used to free our bodies from the need to support themselves. We used it to enhance our positioning or add leverage as needed. Sleep never came. Every time a calm would pass through us, a touch, caress, word or kiss would send us into a new sensual encounter. The touchable surfaces of our bodies were expanded for all eternity by the exploration and adoration we showered ourselves in. As nature called periodically throughout the night, one of us would pause to take a drink of tea or water, add a little lotion to some drying area, or excuse ourselves to relieve or cleanse some fleshy part. These short separations were met by blissful reunions. With no fatigue or weariness experienced, the dawn followed the dusk with little notice given to the night in between. We greeted the morning light with renewed passion fueled by the changes light brought to the subject. Even the decision to get up, dress and go riding was a natural suggestion of a way to extend the creativity of this on going lovemaking.

We shared the bathroom this time. Harpo's footed tub barely held him and water. His appearance in the tub affected me like a magnet. Harpo was a bit skittish about my splashy assault but soon settled into a very relaxed position. Putting out only enough effort to hold my hair out of the water he played intermittently with the nipple closest to him while I hung over the side of the tub giving him head.

For our ride, I wore my most daringly skimpy cut-offs, a halter-top, nothing under either. I massaged lotion all over my body to be sure all parts were soft and touchable. Harpo had shown interest in toes and feet so I paid extra special attention to grooming them. My make up was natural. The earrings were feather dangles. I braided two pieces of hair from either side of my forehead and looped them around the bandanna I used as a headband. Harpo expressed significant pleasure in the final product. I kept the strokes flying by assuming sexually enticing positions to show off the look as if I were modeling lingerie. I posed with my legs spread eagle. Bent over with butt high, I looked up at him from between my legs. My hair dangling around my ankles, my fingers were strategically placed teasingly under the fringe in the crotch of my cut offs. Harpo joined me. He fingered me and then began removing my cut-offs. We both quickly agreed that if we got started again we'd never go for a ride. Harpo insisted that I not put my cut offs back on. He said as great as they looked they weren't safe for a long ride. He insisted I wear jeans. He was making an exception for my halter top. If he was honest, he'd want me to wear a leather jacket, at least long sleeves. He drew the line at the cut-offs.

We hit the road on Monster. We were headed to Kerry Kamp's house to pick up the weed for the trip and were waiting to hear from Snake and Linda. We needed to know where and when we'd hook up with them on their ride down from Kansas. Kerry was a gorgeous hunk of humanity with a long blonde ponytail. I took an instant liking to him. I borrowed a pony tail holder from him that day that I kept as a memento for years. After initial introductions, Kerry and Harpo began some heavy visiting, business and mutual family stuff. Avoiding third wheel status, I excused myself to the backyard to catch some rays. I did place the towel and my body parts strategically to gain both the most sun and attract the most ogling from the guys. The main objective however was to slyly catch some shut eye. The sleepless and active state I had been in for so many hours was beginning to show itself.

Snake and Linda had some truck issues. They were still headed to meet us but they wouldn't arrive until mid day tomorrow. Frances Street again became our destination. Harpo and I shared the same space calmly. He prepared a bite to eat and did some inanimate object care, and fed sugar, while we chatted about his history with Snake and Linda. I was aware by the way he spoke about her he had strong feelings for Linda. He'd never admit just how strong to me, if he even knew himself. I was trying to tamp down a small rise in jealousy as I probed to better understand their relationship. It was obvious, wife of a long time buddy didn't tell the whole story. She was Snake's ole lady but Harpo had lived with them for a while when he got out of the Air Force just back from Italy. I was quite sure that the admiration was mutual. The more he talked, I realized I'd be face to face with an unannounced rival in a few hours.

Harpo and I were both tugging at each other's strings a little now. A process that we perfected with a very negative emphasis over the next eight years. It was obvious our lack of sleep had us both edgy. Rather than continue on the attack we hit the sheets again. This time we were determined to get some shut eye. We turned our backs to one another, being careful not to touch. We even used separate covers. We talked a little about the activities of the night before and noted we'd have to maintain no contact to ever get any sleep. We also giggled a little as we were again amazed by our sexual prowess. Harpo admitted counting but had lost count early on.

If you jumped ahead, you're right. A good time was again had by all but we did manage to get some sleep. I awoke patting the bed and pillow beside me finding no Harpo and hearing sounds in the kitchen. He was up cleaning up after our one meal and very intently preparing for the arrival of company. Snake and Linda had called and would arrive shortly. I hadn't even heard the phone but I supposed that is what had gotten him up. He was in his pattern of the caretaking of inanimate objects. I couldn't find a space to offer help. I freshened up a bit, tidying the bathroom as I went. I dressed and made the bed and cleaned up the trappings of our passion filled hours. Harpo seemed pleased with my choices in clothes and tidiness. Harpo went out back to give Sugar some attention. Linda had gotten Sugar for him. She had even kept her as a puppy until Harpo could get a fence up. Sugar was to be an enormous, one man dog with an aggressive boot trained attitude. He was huge though still a pup. That alone was intimidating. The way she took to my kids riding her like a pony on their first encounter and the fact that when I'm around, her favorite place is standing or sitting between my legs. I'm pretty sure being a Big Bad Watch Dog is not her future.

Snake, Linda and David, (Linda's son) arrived early in the evening. Snake came in flaunting a pair of BVDs' he'd retrieved from the tree limb out front. "Harpo, you growing these now?"

My embarrassment was a bit cloaked in my curious surprise. David, I had not been expecting. David was 11 years old, hanging on to his baby fat but seemed like a nice enough kid. I searched through the conversations that had preceded their arrival for some clue that I had missed. I wondered if Harpo had calculatedly left him out to keep from reminding me of the departure of my own kids. They were in Dallas with their dad for the summer. They left the day before I went out to Summerfield to make my offer.

We sat around, smoked refer, drank tequila, talked and ate for several hours. Linda and I were guarded with each other. She had obviously lived a pretty hard life and her edges were rough. I was pretty refined in manner and in background in comparison. She was intelligent, though not educated. She had a sharp wit. Her strength was evident. I liked her but she still required a standoff distance from me. They drove a panel truck that they could sleep in and where Snake's Sportster road. David got bored and excused himself to the van to crash. The conversation was mostly between the three of them. I eventually found a comfortable lull and excused myself to Harpo's bed. He took my departure very well, even bragged a little to Snake about our lack of sleep over the last many hours.

I did doze off. I remember waking a little at Harpo in the room gathering some bedding for Snake and Linda. I don't know if Harpo came immediately to bed after they went to the van but he did join me. He got in bed and climbed up to my backside just as close as humanly possible and we snuggled. He whispered words of affection, pleasure, pride and lust in my ear. My whole being filled to capacity. I turned to face him. We embraced. He relaxed back on his pillow, leaving me propped up on my arm looking over him. I looked into his sparkling, steel blue eyes, stroked his hair away from his face. I was feeling an overwhelming desire to say just what I was feeling.

Despite being deeply aware that it was way too soon, I carefully explained. "I do not have a corner on how these things are supposed to work. I have no idea what the future, even immediate, holds and I definitely don't want to say anything that will scare either of us off, nor jump us ahead too far but at this moment in time, I love you."

Harpo instantly responded, "I love you too."

He acknowledged all the same fear, doubt & cautiousness I expressed to preface saying those three little words. We caressed and held each other tightly for a long while. We sort of rode out the shivers of fear in a long commiserating body hug, then made love.