Sunset at the Pin Water Cafe

She woke up late the next morning, slipped out of bed and tip-toed to the window -- halfway expecting to see that dog down there, waiting for her, but she saw grass and trees -- and no dog -- so she showered and dressed quickly for work. She fixed coffee and toast in the kitchen, looking out the window at his house, then walked out the door and down the street, passing his house with her head down, as quickly and as quietly as she could -- but the Land Rover was gone, a black Suburban in it's place now. She saw US Government plates on the back bumper and shook her head, saw a young man inside the house looking at her as she passed and she quickened her pace, made it to the café in record time.

She wrote out the specials on the chalkboard, took the chairs from the tabletops and arranged them just so, swept the floor -- again -- and went to the kitchen. Darren was working away on today's soup -- a cream of celery with shaved gruyere and scallion garnish -- and she heard a commotion out back, just outside the kitchen entry.

"What's goin' on out there?" she asked Darren, and he looked up from the cooktop and smiled.

"Permits approved yesterday. Starting the new patio soon. Check it out..."

She went to the door and opened it, looked outside to the land between the back of the building and the water's edge. A big yellow bulldozer was clearing the site, surveyors were placing stakes and a construction shack was already in place and she nodded her head before going back inside, wondered what this would mean to the future.

"It's going to double our seating," Darren said. "Almost all glass, like a greenhouse. In fact, it's going to be full of plants!"

"What about the kitchen?" she asked. "Aren't you going to need to expand that too?"

"Yes, we're going to put a bigger walk-in downstairs, and that'll free up enough room to add two tops and a huge prep station."

"So, going from 12 tables to what? Twenty five?"

"Thirty. And we'll have room to put a little bar up here too."

"Geez. How many...?"

"Bruce figures we'll need three girls waiting tables, maybe a barkeep full time if business picks up. He'll work prep and the bar while I work the kitchen, but we'll probably need another cook, too."

"Oh."

"We were thinking, maybe you'd like to move to hostess and being a manager, that type of thing."

"Yeah, why not," she said, crestfallen.

"Hey, Tracy...it would be a promotion..."

"I know. I get it. Too old to work tables, I guess."

"No...that's not it at all...we just thought you'd like a change, that's all. Maybe make some more money, ya know?"

"Yeah. Sure, if that's what you want."

"Oh, Tracy," he sighed. "What are we going to do with you?"

She shrugged. "Told you a long time ago, I have zero ambition. I do what I do because I like it."

"So, how was Prince Charming?" She looked away and he did too. "Well, so it didn't work out?"

"I have no idea," she said. "He's kind of a busy man."

"I thought you said he was retired?"

"I don't think he is. Not really. Anyway, I think he's out of town."

"You think?"

"I don't know where he is, okay?"

"Ah. Well it's time, honey. Better open the door and let the starving masses in."

She nodded her head, went to the door. "Starving masses. Right."

+++++

She walked home after the café closed for the evening, walked up the hill and by his house, and the black Suburban was still parked out front, the blue Land Rover still gone. She relaxed after that, walked to her house and locked her doors before going upstairs for the night.

She never locked her door anymore, she thought. So why now? She gotten over all that other stuff a long time ago, hadn't she?

But the Land Rover was back the next morning, and all those feelings seemed close again.

She saw it from her living room, saw Jimmie out in the front yard. Sitting. Looking up the hill, at her. She looked at the dog for a long time, and he never once looked away from her. What was he thinking, she wondered? Or was he thinking about him, and how she might be a threat? Or was he even thinking?

She walked down the hill a few minutes later, saw Jim on the ground, on his back under the Land Rover -- swearing at something up under there -- and she laughed.

He heard her laughter and turned, looked at her -- and she stood as if transfixed. Like a deer in the headlights, tail up and motionless. Waiting to see what would happen next.

"Howya doin'?" he asked.

"Fine. You?"

"Not bad."

"Jimmie?"

"Oh, he's fine," he said standing up, wiping greasy hands on a coarse, red shop towel. "He doesn't like it when I leave him like that, but c'est la vie, I guess."

"Oh? Where'd you go?"

"Down south. Washington."

"Fancy house-sitters you have. The machine guns are a nice touch, too."

He looked down, shook his head. "I was gonna fix some coffee. Want some?"

She shook her head, said "I don't know," and he looked at her for a moment, at her indecision.

"Well, suit yourself," he said, turning away.

"Just who the fuck are you, anyway?"

He spun around, his eyes narrow and hard again -- but he relaxed again, as quickly. "You want to talk, we can talk inside," he said, turning and walking inside.

And she followed him. Right up the steps and into the living room. Right through the living room and into the bedroom. He was standing there when she walked in, unbuckling his belt, smiling, then he turned to her. "I took a blue pill this morning. One hundred milligrams. I could drive a nail with this fucker," he said, grinning -- and she walked over and felt it.

"Damn...does that hurt?"

He nodded his head a little. "Pressure seems to be building a little."

"I take it you could use a hand with that?" she said, slipping her skirt down to the floor.

"A hand?"

"My mouth's dry. Think you have something that could lube it up a little?"

"I'm willing to try, if you are..."

She got on her knees, flicked it with her finger a few times. "Goddamn, Jim, I ain't never seen anything this hard in my life. It's not natural," she said, taking it in her mouth. She went up and down the length of it a few times and withdrew. "Nope, this ain't right," she sighed, biting the tip once, watching him flinch and smiling --

And he held her head after that, basically raped her mouth, going at it like a jackhammer...and he felt her fingers encircling his thighs, then creeping up, closing on his ass. She felt his cheeks clinch and she forced her fingers through the cleft...

"And just what the devil do you think you're doing?"

"I'm going to stick my fingers up your ass."

"No, you're not."

"Yes, I am."

"Let me repeat. No. As in N-O -- you are not."

She took the head of his cock in her teeth and applied pressure. "Excuse me?" she said, sweetly, once she released him.

"No, thank you."

"Do you mean to tell me that no one has ever played with your ass?"

"That's affirmative."

"Your prostate?"

"Aside from my internists bi-annual explorations, ditto."

"Oh, you poor man. I-am-going-to-have-so-much-fun-with-you-tonight..." -- and with that she took him all the way down again, then hammered him until she felt him rising on his toes, breathing hard, then she felt it pulsing and slowed, swirled her tongue over the head as it erupted. She felt it filling her mouth and she worked to swallow him as fast as she could -- but the poor thing didn't get in the least soft after that. In fact, it seemed harder and she pulled back, looked at it and bit the head once -- causing him to convulse a few times. Liking that response, she bit him a few more times, felt him writhing somewhere between controlled and uncontrollable ecstasy, then she pushed him onto the bed and crawled up on his lap and slipped him inside.

She moved slowly now, all the way up, all the way down, drawing out each motion into a minutes long journey, until she looked down and saw him sweating profusely, trembling uncontrollably. Then she slid all the way up and off him, watched as sudden anxiety filled his eyes, then she positioned him over her anus and slid down again, taking him all the way down in one easy slide.

She clinched down hard as she rode him now, milking him with pressure until he was trembling again, then she went into overdrive until he was lost in searching spasm. They came down together, and she let his breathing ease before she spoke.

"Did you like that?" she asked.

"Yes, but it felt different. What'd you do?"

"You ever fuck a woman up the ass, Jim," she asked, her voice teasing, almost mocking him now.

"No...uh, you don't mean..."

She nodded her head slowly, smiled gently, and as slowly. "Uh-huh, you sure did, you horny devil. Now tell me, was it as bad for you, Jimmie-boy, as it was for me?" And she slid off him, put her clothes back on and walked from the house, smiling triumphantly as she skipped down the street.

+++++

He skipped lunch, thought he'd let her stew for a while, then he went down a little before five only to find contractors all over the property, and men in suits gesturing pointedly at one another. He walked up, listened and got the gist of things in a moment, then walked inside. She saw him and he pointed at his table in the corner and she nodded her head; Darren stormed through a moment later and disappeared in his kitchen and she brought him a glass of iced tea.

"Blueberry tonight," she said. "Pretty good, too."

"Thanks. Could you ask your employer to come here, please?"

"Darren? Sure, but why?"

He shrugged, she walked off and Darren came to his table a moment later and looked at him.

"Yessir? Tracy said you wanted to speak with me?"

"Have a seat, would you?"

The boy sat.

"You want to tell me what's going on out there?"

"Sir?"

"Bankers and lawyers, upset contractors. What's going on, what went wrong?"

"Oh, the short version is the bank wants more collateral before they'll release funds to the GC, that's the..."

"I know what a GC is, son. How much are they sticking you up for?"

"Twenty large."

"Twenty?" he said, smiling. "Could I see the plans, please?"

Darren excused himself and went back to the office, returned with plans and renderings of the new addition and Taylor looked them over for a minute and asked a few questions about their latest earnings statement, the he leaned back and steepled his fingers. "Sounds like you boys need a silent partner."

"Oh?" Darren asked. "Know anyone interested?"

"What's your position right now, today? You down with any suppliers?"

"Yessir. We had a slow winter."

"So...why expand now? Increase cash flow? Tax write-offs?"

"Yessir."

He shook his head, knew they were making a classic blunder but with enough financing to get them over the hump they might make it. "I'll take a 25% stake in all future earnings for a one hundred K investment right now, tonight."

Darren ran back to the office; he and his boyfriend returned a minute later and Taylor went over his proposition once again. The boys smiled and, after Taylor stood to shake hands, they leapt into his arms and hugged him.

Tracy watched all this in silence, wondering just what the fuck she'd gotten her boys mixed up in now.

+++++

She walked up the hill after the café closed -- and walked right up the steps onto the porch -- right through the front door -- right past a snarling Jimmie and into his bedroom. He was laying on his bed, naked, with a huge grin on his face -- waiting.

"What did you do to those boys!" she said, almost screaming.

"Not much. I just saved their collective asses, and yours too, I'd say."

"What?"

"I made an investment, and I expect it to pay off handsomely over the years, too."

"An investment?"

"Yes."

"They were pretty glum this afternoon," she said, "but now, I've never seen them so happy."

"Good. Now, if you'll focus your attention on the hard thing between my legs, you'll find it's cold and lonely, and in need of some close, personal attention."

She looked at it and smiled, then tossed a small brown paper sack on the bad and watched him pick it up, look inside. "What's this?" he said, taking the small bottle out of the sack. "Personal lubricant? Whatever for? I thought I slipped inside easily, didn't you?"

"It ain't for my asshole, you asshole," she said, grinning.

"I thought we cleared that up earlier."

"No, we didn't."

"Did you just call me an...?"

"I did, yes," she said, taking the bottle from him. She got down on the bed, slipped between his legs and popped the top, squeezed a glob all over his penis and began stroking it. Long, slow strokes again. He put his head back and sighed. "Spread your legs a little wider," she said -- and he shook his head. "I said, spread them a little wider," she repeated, holding the tip of his cock in a fingernail pincer.

"I have an idea. Let's not, and say we did."

"Now, Dickweed." She poured a large glob of lube on him and let it ooze down, then she slipped a finger over his bud and massaged him for a few minutes.

"That's not so..."

"Shut up," she said, positioning it over the opening, "and take a little breath in." She slipped inside and he fought it, clinching for all he was worth, but in the end it didn't matter. "Let it out now, and relax." She moved it in and out several times, then felt his prostate. "I'm going to touch it now," she said, and she took his cock and put it in her mouth -- then massaged the gland...

He erupted on her second stroke, catching them both by surprise, and she swallowed all of it, then swirled her tongue over the tip for a few minutes -- and he was wracked by spasms when she nibbled the tip again -- then she pulled out.

"Was that so bad?" she whispered.

"You're a devil," he said quietly, then he rolled on his side and shut his eyes; a minute later he was snoring gently.

"Well, damn," she said. She got up, slipped out of her clothes and under the sheets, curled up along the contour of his back. A minute later Jimmie jumped up on the bed and she looked at him when she leaned over and to turn off the lamp on the bedside table. He was staring at her, panting gently, but he wasn't grinning now. He seemed to be measuring her intentions, wondering if she was some kind of threat, perhaps.

She turned off the light and shut her eyes, and she felt the pup circling on then end of the bed, then he curled up behind Jim's knees, like he was placing himself between his master and an intruder. Perhaps she would have been surprised to know the pup never once slept during the night, never took his eyes off her, never relaxed.

Or perhaps not.

+++++

She heard someone in the kitchen, looked up and saw a clock on an unfamiliar dresser across an equally unfamiliar room -- a little after seven, she saw, and she sat up, looked around the room and remembered where she was. He walked in a moment later carrying coffee and croissants, some Nutella and orange marmalade, all on a little tray.

"Been to the head yet?" he asked.

She shook her head. "No. And I feel like elephants are dancing around inside my skull," she added, rubbing her eyes with the backs of her knuckles.

"Well, go do your business and I'll dig up a few naproxen. That ought to get you going."

She padded off to the bathroom, washed her face -- and he ducked in, handed her a new toothbrush, still in the box, and gently closed the door behind. She scrubbed her teeth, smelled her fingers and scrunched up her nose, turned the water to hot and washed her hands a few times, then went back and crawled up on the bed. He sat on the edge and handed her a coffee and she took a sip, then took the pills he handed her. He asked for her cup then, and for her to turn over on her stomach. He started on the backs of her calves and worked his way up her thighs, massaging her muscles with his elbow, he told her, digging in deeper than fingers or thumbs ever could. He worked his way up her pelvis, then through the deep muscles astride the spine. He sat on the backs of her thighs then, leaned into her upper back and shoulders and, a half hour later, up her neck.

"Why don't you roll over now," he said, and she did -- if a little groggily -- then he looked at her. "About last night. About what you did. Never again, okay. That was not enjoyable, in the least. Clear?"

She nodded her head. "Okay."

"And I'd just as soon not go there with you. I'm a meat and potatoes kind of guy, I guess, but that's always been good enough for me."

"Alright."

"You always cover up your legs, you know? The way you dress. You shouldn't. They're spectacular."

"Spectacular?"

"Uh-huh. I could nibble on those thighs for a week and never get tired."

"Okay," she said, opening her legs to him. "Be my guest."

He grinned, looked her in the eye. "Got chores to do this morning. You?"

"Nope. I was just planning on screwing your brains out for an hour or so."

He seemed to grow annoyed at that, took his coffee and went to the study -- the door closing behind as he stepped inside his little sanctuary -- and she looked at him as he walked away, wondering about all his irregularities and inconsistencies. He acted like a man in conflict, undergoing some inner turmoil, and she thought about Monday night and his secrets, his armed guards in the house next door.

Who the hell was he? What was this all about?

She slipped on her clothes and walked out the door, up to the house, and she showered and changed clothes, then walked back down the hill -- to the library.

+++++

She walked into the café a few minutes early, walked into the kitchen and found Darren in the back office, talking with Bruce -- about their latest good fortune. About Jim Taylor's investment, and what a godsend he was. Then she handed them the pages she'd just printed up at the library, and they read through the pages and pages slowly, page by bloody page, and Darren looked up at her at one point and sighed.

"That's him?" he asked.

"That's him," she said, her voice stonily cool.

"Holy Mother of God," Bruce whispered. "He got Gorbachev out? And Yeltsin? Stopped assassination attempts on them both?"

She shrugged, then handed them one last print out, a simple Google search. "The Russians have tried to kill him a half dozen times, twice in Washington, DC, in the last 18 months."

"So, basically," Darren sighed, "he's hiding out up here."

"Yeah, well, if Putin declared me an enemy of the state," Bruce added, "I couldn't think of a better place to hide than here."

"I could," she said. "Canada, right across the border. A deserted beach a few hundred yards away. I'd feel exposed as hell here, and he would know that he is, too." She looked at her friends, perhaps the only friends she had in the world, and she smiled. "So, he's your partner now? That sinking in now?"

"Yes, I suppose." Darren said. "Anyway, I deposited his check first thing this morning, and the bank released our funds to the contractor."

"So, they're back on track?"

"A-yup, still on schedule. The new addition will open early August."

"I wish we had a piano," Bruce said. "Space for a piano bar, ya know?"

"Jim's got one," she said, and they both looked at her.

"Does he play?" they asked in unison.

"He hasn't so far, but I haven't asked him, either."

"Think you could?" Bruce pleaded.

She smiled. "Might be able to, but I got to get ready now..."

She marked up their specials, swept the floor and put the chairs on the floor, then unlocked the door and flipped over the 'OPEN' sign; a few minutes later she saw Jimmie prancing down the hill -- but they passed the café, walked on down the street and into the pharmacy. She shook her head, seated an older couple and was explaining the days specials when Jimmie reappeared, and they both walked in a moment later, went to their corner table and sat.

"Is that a crab-cake Benedict I see on the Specials today?" he asked when she came to the corner.