Republic

The summer heat that had boiled central Washington State dry continued into September. Working in the restaurant had become almost unbearable for Teresa. She wished the restaurant had air conditioning, but there just wasn't the money. However, what she desired even more was word from John. She had not heard from him since he had left the Monday morning of the holiday weekend.

It was now into the second week of September and he still had not contacted her. Teresa realized that she could phone or even email him. However, that would confirm to both of them that this meant more to her than just a casual affair. Nevertheless, thoughts of John were always on her mind, especially when she was alone in bed. She longed for his touch.

It was nearly 4:30 on Friday. Another lonely weekend was about to begin. Teresa had finished cleaning the grill and tidying the kitchen. The Saturday's soup was simmering on the stove. She turned off the gas just as the antique bell announced Mildred's arrival. "There's no mail, Hun...Jesus, it's hot... Can I leave the door open?" Teresa could hear the weariness in Mildred's voice.

"Sure, how about a beer? There's some in the milk cooler. I think we both deserve one. I've just got to finish putting the potato salad and the sandwich fixings in the frig and I will be right out." Through the kitchen-serving window, Teresa saw Mildred get the beers and take them to a table near the open front door. Mildred had propped it open with a chair to take advantage of any breeze. Finished in the kitchen, Teresa walked out into the dining area. She was drying her hands on a tea towel when the familiar brown delivery truck stopped in front of the restaurant. The deliveryman left a brown package on the table in front of the women in exchange for a simple signature.

They both examined the package. Mildred was the first to speak. "Have you been ordering from Victoria Secret?" he asked with a laugh.

"No. Whom would I wear it for?" They both chuckled. "This is probably from Bob. Maybe it's materials for the hunting camp," Teresa continued in a hollow voice.

"Oh please tell me your not going to work for that son of a bitch again," Mildred chided. "I know he's your brother-in-law, or should I say ex-brother-in-law, but he screwed you last year. You wait and see, if you work for him, he'll try to do it again this year too!"

"I suppose you are right," conceded Teresa. "However, I need the money. I can't get through the winter on what this restaurant makes," She paused and stared across the table at the package. "Is there a return address on the box?"

Mildred gave it a cursory look. "None that I can see."

"Let me get a knife and we'll open it. Do you want another beer?" Teresa didn't wait for a reply as she headed off towards the kitchen. When she returned, Teresa saw Mildred staring at a photo album. An open pocketknife lay on the table beside the box. "Sorry, I just couldn't wait. This is not from Bob. This is from someone who really cares about you. You had better look at this."

Teresa placed the bottles on the table and sat down. Together they sipped their beers, looked at the photos, and talked. The album was from John. Teresa told Mildred about how they met and revealed for the first time to anyone how she felt about him. After nearly an hour of intense conversation, a husband waiting at home, and the necessity to prepare dinner, forced Mildred to leave. As she rose from her chair, she said in a quiet, longing voice, "I've known my old man for nearly thirty years. Never has he looked at me with the passion that his man has put into these pictures of you. He's worth keeping, Teresa. Don't let him slip through your fingers." Mildred left Teresa deep in thought. For several minutes, she just stared at the emptiness of the open door while Mildred's words resounded in her ears. Then slowly her gaze returned to the album.

Embossed in gold letters on the brown leather cover were the words "Tea and apple pie at the Everett Bar & Grill." The inside fly indicated that the book was produced that very month at Kirkwood Design & Litho, Co. All the pictures were in sepia tones. The first picture showed the front of the restaurant with the open sign significantly displayed. Printed over the picture were the words:

Cold, Wet, Hungry I came seeking shelter from the storm. I entered and ordered from the menu I tasted Tee's apple pie I savored, experienced, and wished for more...

Teresa re-examined the rest of the album. There were several pictures of the interior of the restaurant and her busy in the kitchen. Then came two pictures that totally surprised her. At first, she had not recognized herself in the soft, artistic portraits. One was of her sleeping on the couch and the other, a nude photo of her curling her hair in the bathroom. They were captivating and mesmerizing. They were beautiful. She had never thought of herself in that way. The women had given the final three photographs only a cursory viewing. Now Teresa examined them carefully. Their stark, eerie reality shocked her. One picture showed the back porch of the restaurant with John's motorcycle and her old Camry side by side, while the next showed the Camry parked alone. The last picture was of the front of the restaurant. The closed signed, hung at an angle in the window. On the photo was printed the remainder of the poem which had been started on the first picture.

...But while the diner was empty All the stools were taken. I had to leave too soon With only the memory of Tea and apple pie.

Teresa slumped in her chair and began to sob. Two hours later, she sat before her computer writing and re-writing a cryptic email message. Finally, in frustration, she bit her lip, prayed, and hit the send key.

An email that read only, "Please call, love Teresa," had rekindled their relationship. It had also resulted in a radical change in John's life. After 33 years of loyal service to Kirkwood Design & Litho, John had requested that he use all seven weeks of his banked holidays as a paid leave of absence. The company had finished its Christmas production run and John had overseen the design planning for the computer game packages scheduled for spring release. Management had tried to dissuade him from leaving; sighting rumors of a possible company take over. Nevertheless, the second week of October found John in his diesel pick-up, trailing of a small group of trucks, heading down a dusty, gravel fire road north of Republic. Teresa was in the passenger seat. He had committed to helping her cook at her brother-in-law's remote hunting camp at the north end of the Roosevelt Reservoir.

The spartan camp was to be their home for the next four weeks. Nestled in a clearing adjacent to a sandy beach, it consisted of six large tents for the guests, Bob, and his assistants. There was also a cooking and dining tent, a rustic bathroom, and wash-up area. Off to the edge of the camp was a small separate tent for Teresa and John.

Together they unloaded the truck and set up the kitchen. While Teresa organized their tent, John helped Bob and his assistants. They unloaded and set-up the bulky generator that would provide power. It was hot, hard work. The unloading of the kitchen refrigerator and game freezer was no easier.

Bob was a retired stockbroker who had made it big in the market on technology stocks. A large framed man with a ruddy complexion and full beard, he exuded dominance and power. His opinions were a big as his body and he was used to getting his own way. He gave instructions well but was overweight and lacked stamina. He relied on his young assistants, Jake and Jeremy to do all the heavy work. It was clear that Bob resented John's presence. He soon nicknamed him, Tilley. It was a direct reference to John's hat, shirt, shorts, and hiking boots.

By late in the afternoon everyone, except for Bob was sweat stained and tired, but the camp was ready for guests. They all celebrated with a beer. Then Bob announced that he and his assistants would be leaving and returning Saturday morning with the hunting guests. John and Teresa stood silently, arm in arm, as they watched the trucks disappear down the fire road in a cloud of dust. John wondered what would have happened if he had not been there. Would Teresa have been left alone? What kind of man would leave a woman alone in the wilderness for a day and a half? His thoughts were interrupted by a gentle prod.

"I don't know about you but I could use a swim to cool off," suggested Teresa.

"That sounds like a great idea, but I didn't bring a bathing suit."

"You could just wear your shorts or just wear..." her voice trailed off as she headed towards their tent. John smiled and walked towards the beach. There he stripped down to his shorts, removed his boots, and waded out into the resevoir. There he stood allowing the coolness of the water and the peacefulness of his surroundings rejuvenate him.

Behind him, he soon heard a series of splashes and yelps. Teresa was joining him. "I brought some soap," she giggled. They hugged, kissed, and lathered each other. Later they dried off and sat on beach towels. Teresa lay back, closed her eyes, and enjoyed the warmth of the late afternoon sun. It was after 4 o'clock but the temperature was still above 80 degrees. John leaned on his elbows and devoured her with his eyes. She wore an old black Speedo style bathing suit. It clung delicately to her body. Her nipples protruded against the material. The outline of her mound and pussy lips could clearly be seen. One or two stray pubic hairs escaped the elastic edge of the suit. John was aroused. He reached over and his hand began to trace slow patterns on Teresa's stomach. She just smiled and sighed. When his hand reached her breasts, she let out an audible moan. That was all the encouragement John needed. He changed his position and knelt beside her. He began to softly kiss her cheeks and forehead.

Teresa lay back washed in the sensuality of the warm sun and John's touch. The feel of his hot breath against her neck sent tingles throughout her body. She felt his fingers curl under the straps of the bathing suit and they slowly pulled it down. The receding material exposed her breasts to his gaze. Teresa arched her back slightly. John rewarded her movements. He began to suck first on one nipple and then the other. They hardened between his lips. An erotic glow spread throughout Teresa's body and she could feel her wetness grow. John's lips followed the top edge of the suit, as he gently lowered it to reveal her pussy. His tongue teased across her hood as he tossed the suit aside.

Teresa kept he eyes tightly closed. It was a virgin moment. She was naked before her lover and the entire world. Butterflies began to build in her stomach. The sound of a belt buckle and a zipper indicated that John was removing his shorts. Teresa simply opened her legs and threw away all caution.

The feel of his cock as it brushed against her pussy lips was delicious. It pushed up into her wetness. Her breath now came in short pants. His slow thrusting filled her mind with warmth and color. She squeezed down hard against him. She arched her pelvis and matched each of his thrusts. Teresa felt him shudder and his cum squirt inside her. Then she began to quiver uncontrollably and Teresa heard her own detached scream of ecstasy.

Saturday morning after breakfast, Teresa and John stood on the edge of camp and watched the vehicles approach. "Christ, it's a bloody convoy, " hissed John.

"Oh this is going to be fun," muttered Teresa as she watched sixteen men huddle about the trucks and vans. She had been expecting only twelve guests.

"They brought some extra friends," laughed Bob as he lead the jovial group passed the couple and towards the tents.

Teresa and John watched Bob's assistants cart the boxes of food, liquor, and beer into the kitchen tent. It was obvious to Teresa, that liquor and beer took priority, in Bob's mind, over dietary staples. "Where are the extra provisions?" queried Teresa. "How can I be expected to...?"

"Didn't have room," countered Bob. "I know you can make do. Besides Tilley can fish, he has nothing else to do!"

"Bob you are asking the impossible..." her voiced trailed off when she realized that she was only talking to Bob's disappearing back. John gave her a reassuring hug and they walked into the kitchen tent to start preparing lunch. The week had begun.

John did fish. However, he always was on the alert for the ranger. He didn't have a license and regularly exceeded the limit to supplement breakfast and dinner meals. Their days were long, beginning at 4:30, and not finishing until after 9:00. However, sleep did not come easily. Bob and his assistants played and sang bluegrass into the early hours of the morning. The guest hunters sang along with them, drank beer, and told jokes until they were all too tired to stand. Then at sunrise, it would start all over again. Friday at 10 o'clock, a peace fell over the camp. The convoy of happy hunters departed leaving John and Teresa alone. Tired they headed to their tent to catch some much needed rest before the heat of the day built up.

Naked, they curled as spoons on the top of their sleeping bag. John's fingers found her nipples and they hardened under his touch. She sighed and manipulated her pelvis so his stiffening penis, lubricated by his precum, slid down the crack of her ass. Her own wetness found his and he slipped into her. Oh, how she enjoyed the feel of his cock penetrating past her pussy lips and rubbing against the front of her vagina. Teresa felt her passion slowly building to a gentle explosion as John shuddered and spurted into her. They did not move, but fell asleep in each other's arms.

Teresa awoke to find herself alone and sweating in the hot tent. John was gone. She grabbed a towel and clad only in her sandals she walked towards the beach. The feel of the sticky remnants of their love making aroused her as she walked towards John. He was leaning against a rock. His head shaded by the Tilley hat. He was writing. The idea of disturbing his musings intrigued her. She stood beside him. "A penny for your thoughts," she said.

John turned. Her matted pubic hair was at eye level. Teresa intentionally parted her legs just a little and thrust her pelvis forward. Her red engorged clit peeked out past her swollen pussy lips. John took an audible breath and slowly looked up. He saw her hard erect nipples and wanton smile. "Oh, Jesus," was all he could say.

"Have you got something other than that pencil that might make a girl happy?" challenged Teresa in a sultry tone.

John knew what she wanted but all he could say was "Yaaa... sure...I think...this is..." as he quickly whipped off he shorts. Teresa moved and stood over him. Then she slowly lowered herself down over her rapidly hardening cock. Teresa's hand guided his dick into her eager wetness and they rocked together.

Mid Saturday morning brought the return of Bob, his assistants, and the new hunting guests. They disrupted the stillness of the campsite. It was a repeat of the previous week. There were more guests than expected and Bob as before had not purchased any extra food. The only difference between the two groups was that the evening parties were even more boisterous. Bob had brought his banjo to complement his mandolin. The picking, strumming, and blue grass songs continued well past midnight each night. It was "Deliverance" in Washington.

A Wednesday night thunderstorm brought welcome relief from the partying for Teresa and John. The storm struck just after dinner and raged until after eleven. While the others played cards and drank in their tents, Teresa and John took solace in a mickey of Jack and each other's arms. Sleep during the storm was impossible. Lightning flashes lit the tent, booms of thunder shook the earth, and the constant rain pelted against the canvas. The noise of the storm drowned out even Bob's incessant banjo picking. It created an aura of privacy for the lovers.

The Jack made Teresa slightly tipsy and adventuresome. She massaged John's body, rubbed his cock, sucked him off, and then sat on his face. She allowed his tongue and fingers to bring her to several mind-blowing orgasms. Then when Teresa thought she could stand no more and her clit was super-sensitive, John brought her to even greater heights of erotic enjoyment. She was lying on her side. John's head was between her thighs. Somehow, while the fingers of his one hand rimmed her asshole and his tongue lapped at the hood of her clit, the forefinger of his other hand rubbed against the thickness at the front of her vagina. Bliss flooded her body. The screams of her gushing release coincided with a blinding flash of lightning and deafening clap of thunder.

While they were eating breakfast, everyone noticed the faint plum of smoke that was rising from behind the far ridge. It was obvious that the lightning from the previous night's storm had started a small forest fire. John suggested that they should contact the Forest Service. Bob indicated that he could drive out and report it, but Bob was not sending his man. They had hunting to do. John did not relish the thought of leaving Teresa alone. He remained in camp, hoping against hope, that someone else would see the plume and report it.

That Thursday brought the best hunting yet. The fire seemed to drive the animals towards the hunters. They bagged six deer. Their carcasses were hung in the trees surrounding the camp ready for butchering the following day. After dinner, copious amounts of beer flowed to celebrate the success of the day. When Teresa and John headed off to bed, the strumming, picking, and singing had begun. However, while the irritating bluegrass music might keep them awake the eerie red glow which silhouetted the hills to the west of the camp was the sight that disturbed the couple most.

At four o'clock, the next morning panicked shouts woke the camp. One of the hunters had left this tent to answer the call of nature. He had been startled to discover that the fire had now crossed over the ridge and he was warning everyone of the danger. In the cool, still morning air, the fire was almost stationary. They were not in immediate danger. Nevertheless, when the sun rose in the sky it would create the winds that would drive the fire down into the camp. They had several hours to pack-up and leave, if they started now.

To Bob's credit, he took charge. By 9 o'clock, the hunters had packed their belongings in the back of the van and in the bed of one of the pick-ups. The back of Bob's pick-up held the deer carcasses, the trophy heads, and the frozen deer meat. Teresa had prepared sandwiches and coffee for everyone. The hunters climbed into the van or crawled onto the loaded bed of the pick-up, and headed away from camp and down the fire road.

Bob remained to help John load the generator into the back of his pick-up. There would be no room for the refrigerator, freezer, tents, and camping equipment. Once the generator was loaded, John packed up Teresa's cooking equipment and their belongings. While loading his pick-up, John saw Teresa engaged in animated conversation with her brother-in-law. In a few moments, she returned to the truck red faced and crying. "The bastard refuses to pay me anything. He says he is going to loose money because of this fire. This is so damn unfair!"

"Well let me..." His statement was interrupted by Bob's roar.

"Hey, Tilley! Bring me my mandolin, banjo, and bag, and hurry up! Let's get the hell out of here!

John walked towards Bob's tent. He collected only the banjo and the mandolin. As he walked passed Teresa, he handed her the mandolin case and whispered, "Hang onto this. Get in the truck and start the engine."

As John walked purposefully towards Bob, he slipped the latches on the banjo case. It flipped open. He grabbed the banjo by the neck and let the case fall to the ground. Bob didn't notice. The big man had his back to John. He was rummaging through his briefcase, which was on the driver's seat. John approached, the banjo dangled precariously from his left hand. "Bob, Teresa tells me you're refusing to pay her." John spoke in a clear, sharp, tone.