Nox County

My apologies for the incredible delay in getting this written and posted. In any event, this is the penultimate chapter in the story of love lives in a small Wisconsin town. I have already half-finished the final chapter, so it should not take that long.

Please, please, please remember to vote on this, and I very much appreciate any comments you can take the time to leave, also. Good or bad, just try to be specific with what (and which characters) you like, dislike, and the reasons for your opinion.

Thanks Again!

* * *

Tim and Jenny were sitting in a booth, she nibbling on french fries and he wolfing down a burger.

"Dad knows about us," she said.

Her mood was fidgety. His chewing slowed to a halt, his eyes narrowing.

"He told me to dump your ass. Said I had 'til tonight."

He nodded. "And?"

She smiled at him. "Fuck him."

Tim smiled.

He wasn't smiling three hours later, though, when he got to his apartment after shift. It was almost twelve-thirty in the morning, the streets quiet and the sky dark with clouds. He stepped from his car and, over the sound of the wind, heard whimpering from the entryway of the small apartment building.

Tim strode to the entryway, trying to make out the shape huddled on the cold cement, shivering and weeping softly.

"Jenny?" he said.

"It ain't Jenny, you fuckin' dickhead," he heard from behind. Tim turned and something solid caught him across the cheekbone, driving him in a heap to his knees. His vision went blurry, his balance gone. He felt himself tottering over when something caught him again across the face. He heard the sickening crunch as his nose was smashed, and he was knocked back into the frozen grass at the edge of the parking lot.

"You stay the fuck away from her, ya hear?" the voice said. He felt the hardened steel toes of construction boots connect with his ribs just before he blacked out.

* * *

Aimee hovered over the hospital bed, looking down at him. His face was swollen, the stitches on his cheek oozing puss, both eyes blackened, and a metal splint taped over his nose.

She saw his eyes flicker, then open and stare straight ahead.

"Don't move," she said, placing her hand on his arm.

Tim's eyes turned to her, but his head remained locked in place by the neck brace.

"How you feeling?"

"Like shit." His voice was barely audible, his speech slow.

She nodded. "You know who did this?"

"Yes."

"Who?"

"George Silverman."

Aimee's chest tightened. She'd never told him anything. She'd quit exposing the trysts after telling David.

"I'm dating Jenny now."

She nodded.

"Don't tell the others," he said. His eyes were looking at her, and she saw them harden. "The police. Don't tell them." She nodded. "Promise me."

"What're you going to do?"

"Just promise me."

"I promise."

She saw his lips try to smile, then grimace with the movement. His hand went to his face, fingertips tracing the damage. He winced as he brushed over the stitches.

"How bad is it?"

She tried to smile. "It'll be awhile before you can keep all them women happy again."

His eyes looked back at her. "There's no other women now. Just Jenny. I told you I'd learned my lesson."

"So what're you going to do?"

Aimee was afraid of the answer, but it never came. Instead, he fell back asleep.

* * *

Sean was flipping through a magazine in the waiting room when Aimee walked from the room. He and two uniformed officers stood at the same time.

The officers started asking her questions. Did he see who it was? Does he know who could've done this?

She ignored them, walking straight to Sean and hugging him tight.

"You okay?" he whispered in her ear.

Her head nodded into his chest.

"Is he going to be okay?"

"A few scars," she murmured through his shirt.

The officers over her shoulder were fidgeting. He knew they wanted to question her, and they were also raising eyebrows at her hug with him.

"You'll need to help these fellas," he said to the top of her smooth hair.

She nodded into his chest again, sighed, and broke the hug.

"Did he tell you anything?" the tall one asked.

She shook her head. "It was dark. He didn't see who it was, and they clocked him before he could get a look at them."

Sean watched her answer their questions. She told them she and Tim had been separated for months. She was with Sean now--his heart swelled at her confirmation, and he tried hard to suppress a flash of pride--and she had no idea whether Tim was seeing anyone. If they wanted to know why she and Tim were separated, they'd have to ask Tim. Sean noticed some of their resentment at him disappear at this one, and a knowing look was passed between them. He had a feeling asking Tim wouldn't be necessary.

After five minutes, their questions answered, the officers went to Tim's room. Sean and Aimee, hand in hand, walked from the hospital. On the drive back, Sean watched Aimee, who was concentrating on the road.

"You lied to them," he said. She didn't answer. "He knows who did this." She bit her lip and nodded. "Then why didn't you tell them?"

She shot a quick glance at him before looking back at the road. "I think he wants to take care of this himself. If the police--his fellow officers--try that, it may ruin something he's got going."

"Jealous husband?" Sean ventured.

"Father. He's dating someone now, and her dad isn't real happy about it. If he had the dad arrested, I guess he figures she'll leave him."

"How do you feel about that?"

"About what?"

"About him doing this for someone else. I mean, you're married to him still."

She said nothing.

"Are you going to divorce him?"

"I'm saving for it."

"I'll pay for it."

She shook her head. "I can't ask you to do that, Sean. This is my problem."

They pulled into the driveway in silence. When they entered the house, Aimee sat on a stool at the breakfast bar. "You got anything stiff?"

He smiled. "Whisky okay?"

"Maybe just a beer?"

He reached into the refrigerator and grabbed two bottles of Leinenkugels, popped the tops, and handed one to her. She took a long gulp, downing nearly a third of the beer on the first pull.

"I want you to let me pay for it," Sean said, resuming their conversation. "God knows I've got the money."

"No, Sean. It's my problem. I'll have enough in a couple of months."

"How much is it?"

"Twenty-five hundred down. But that should cover it all. It's all worked out."

He laughed. "How long have you been saving?"

"It's not funny, Sean. I've got other bills. My house, student loans, auto, insurance. Pretty tough to save that kind of money and pay all those bills on a teacher's salary."

Sean picked up the phone and dialed a number. "Elizabeth?" he said when she answered.

"Hey Sean," Elizabeth replied, her voice bright.

"That fella you're seeing. The lawyer. What's his name?"

"Will Sherman. Why?"

"You got his office number?"

She gave it to him and they rang off.

Aimee was staring at him, her eyes telling him not to make the next call. He turned his back on her and dialed anyway.

"Will Sherman, please," he said when the receptionist answered.

He was patched through. "Will Sherman," the voice said.

"Will, this is Sean. Sean McMahon."

There was a pause, then he spoke. "The artist? The one Elizabeth models for?"

"Yeah. Listen Will, I need a lawyer. You do divorce?"

"Sure, we do those."

"Good. You got time today to get one started?"

Sean heard a rustling of papers through the line before Will answered. "Four-thirty work for you?"

"We'll see you then."

When he turned back to Aimee, she was glaring at him. He tried to supress a smile but failed, and her anger increased. "I won't go," she said, crossing her arms.

He pulled her arms apart and put them around him. "Yes you will. And you'll let me pay for it."

"Sean, don't you see? It's not your problem. I can't ask you to-- "

"You didn't. I want to do it. For you." He looked into her eyes, watching them soften with the contact and his soothing voice. "I love you, Aimee Rogers. And I want you to marry me someday." Her eyes widened, and he continued. "Unfortunately, I'm Catholic, not Mormon. And polygamy is illegal in America. So let me do this, okay?"

Aimee threw her legs around his waist and squeezed him tight. Sean squeezed back, relieved at her reaction. "You really love me?" she said.

"I really do," he replied.

She leaned back and fixed him with her sparkling green eyes. "When's the appointment."

"Four thirty."

A smile widened her face, and she started pulling his sweater up.

"What're you doing?" he said, knowing damned well what she was doing, but wanting to hear her say it.

"That gives me two hours to screw you senseless Sean McMahon." She leaned in and kissed him, her tongue seeking his. Their movements became frantic as they each tried to tear the other's clothes off and get to bare skin.

He felt her hands caressing his belly, her legs back around his waist pulling him closer to her. She was warm, and her center was radiating heat. He reached under her, cupping her ass and lifting her from the chair.

Then he felt it, the tip of his cock brushing against her moistened lips. Her hips were grinding, trying to spear him, her actions frustrated by his simultaneous efforts to guide her onto him. Then he felt one of her arms reach back and under her, guiding him to her, and his head entered her slick folds.

Aimee groaned long and low into his ear as he lowered her onto him. "You're so big," she said, her hot breath blowing into his ear just before she sucked his lobe into her mouth. She was tight, and the descent to his base took nearly a minute. When he felt her pelvic bones against his, himself firmly seated, he held her there, enjoying the warm, wet, squeezing pressure around his shaft.

"You're wonderful," Sean murmured, and he felt her hips start to roll back and forth in response. His hands were cupping her by the ass, trying to hold onto her tiny little frame. His grip became tenuous, though, and he tried to readjust his hands. Her moisture had poured out, though, and made her backside slick. His hands couldn't get a hold.

Feeling his fingertips, Aimee's breath turned to light mewing. Her hips started rolling more, and his hands searched for a better grip as he looked over her shoulder at the couch behind her. He started walking there, his vision blocked when her hands went to the side of his head and her lips went to his, kissing him deeply and frantically.

"Yes," she panted, "keep going."

He felt his fingertips brush over the clenching pucker of her rosebud. She yelped, and he tried to reposition his hands.

She broke the kiss. "No," she gasped. "Touch me there. Please, touch me everywhere."

His eyes went wide. He'd only been with Holly. In his whole life, he'd only had one woman before Aimee, and that woman--his wife for years--would never permit anything like this. But here was Aimee, this delightfully energetic little vixen, bouncing on him and begging him to do whatever he wanted.

Who am I to object? he thought. His fingers moved back to her asshole and started rubbing circles around the rim. Her juices were flowing, and his finger was lubricated and traveled easily. Her excitement was evident by her hands nearly pulling his hair out, her frenzied kisses and gyrating hips picking up pace on him just as he got her to the sofa.

"Lay back," he said, lowering her a few inches to the arm of the leather sofa, but keeping her ass hung over the edge. She broke their kiss and gazed into his eyes, biting her lip and swaying her body. Then Sean felt her legs squeeze around him tighter, and she leaned back until her shoulders were on the sofa. As she did so, he felt her hips lower against him, and his finger popped through the seal of her anus, sinking in just past the first knuckle.

"Oh God," she groaned long and low. He began pulling his finger back out, but he felt her clench. "Please don't stop this," she said. "I feel so full of you. Please."

Aimee wasn't looking at him, though. Her head was craned back, her voice pleading. His eyes gazed the length of her body, from her arms thrown over her head to her arched neck to her taut breasts thrust high with her pulsating movements. He watched her rippling abdominal musculature, twitching at his invasion and the sensations it was causing, and his eyes traveled lower to her tiny, whispy patch of light red hair on her mound. And he saw his cock sliding easily back and forth into her swollen, glistening lips. Her clit was cherry red, engorged with excited raw nerve endings. He watched her clit push further from the hood with each stroke, running the length of the top of his cock as he slid back and forth.

Sean was surprised when her asshole loosened completely with a loud sigh from Aimee. His finger sank in deeper, sucked in by her smooth, warm, loosened canal. He felt Aimee push down against his finger as her feet behind him tightened and pulled him into her.

"Yes yes yes," she repeated over and over again, her head tilting to the side, then thrashing back and forth. He felt her begin quivering, from her thighs tight on his hips to her asscheeks clenching and unclenching in the palms of his hands.

With his fingertip buried in her, Sean felt his finger pushed against the thin membrane separating her ass from her pussy. He felt the throbbing underside of his cock moving back and forth, his ridged veins coursing with his building excitement.

"I'm getting close," he whispered through panting breath. In response, her hips bucked into him more insistently, her clit grinding and circling against his pelvis with each invasion.

"Come on," she gasped, "fill me."

Sean watched Aimee reach for her own breasts, mashing them against herself before pulling and pinching on her nipples. Her head arched back again, and he felt another orgasm exploding through her.

Then he felt it from the base of his brain through the tips of his toes. He went dizzy with the sensations, his nerve endings firing more rapidly as they approached the core area somewhere just behind his balls. Then he felt the building of his release begin to shoot from his throbbing head. Through her walls his fingertips felt each spurt travel past and deep into her, her legs locking him in tight and holding him as he exploded in ecstasy.

Aimee's pelvis bucked into him and upwards with each spurt, and he watched her head arc backward with her orgasm. Her breath came in short pants, nearly silent, in time with her fingertips pulling on her nipples. Sean held her there long after his own release, feeling his fluids drain out around his shaft and gather around his finger deep in her ass.

After a minute, he felt Aimee's body go from tight ecstasy to completely relaxed release. Her hips dropped into his hands, his finger still inside, all tautness gone.

"I can't get enough of this," she said through closed eyes, her head turned to the side as she caught her breath.

He pulled his finger from her, but her tightening legs told him the rest could stay put for awhile longer.

"I've never, and I mean not even once, had such an . . . intense? . . . yes, intense experience," he said when his breath was back. She turned her head, her eyes only half-open and a sly grin on her lips. "You saying it was good?" He felt her walls squeeze and release on him a few times. "Or too much for you?"

His hand reached out from under her and went forward to her chest, rubbing over her still-hard nipples before squeezing her breasts.

"Oh no," he said, watching his hand play with her. "No, there's definitely no complaints here. I've just never . . . well, I suppose I'm not that experienced is all. And you . . . well, you're definitely more experienced than I am."

She giggled. "Don't be silly," she said. "My husband--soon to be ex-husband, that is--didn't do any of these things. Not with me, at least. Oh no, it's just been straight ahead missionary in the past."

His eyebrows raised. "So then, uh, my finger, where I put it. That's a first?"

She nodded, closing her eyes and licking her lips. She seemed to be re-living the sensations he'd given her. "This whole thing was a first," she said. "Your finger, standing while we did it. Being slung over the couch." Her head turned, her eyes opening and looking at him. "And you," she said, "such a big . . . well . . . you know." Her hips started moving back and forth slowly along his softened length.

"Really?" he said. Holly had certainly never mentioned this. He wasn't sure if he was big, small, just right, or if it even made a difference.

Aimee was nodding, though. "Oh yeah," she said. "Every time with you is like the first time. Ever. Like I'm still a virgin. You're . . . well, let's just say really big, okay?"

He smiled. "Okay."

"And I've never cum like this," she said, gazing into his eyes.

"Like what?"

"With just, you know, from just sex. From just a dick inside me." He didn't understand, so she continued. "I usually have to use my fingers on myself to cum while doing it. Like this." He looked down and watched her fingers move to her hood and begin rubbing over her clit.

"Do you like this?" she asked, still sliding slowly back and forth, her other arm now at her side and helping her swaying. "Do you like to watch me as you make love to me?"

He nodded. "It's beautiful. You're beautiful. So . . . ."

"Does he like it?" she said. He felt her walls squeezing around him again, then felt himself getting hard again. "I think he does," Sean said, looking down between her legs. He'd never done it twice in one day. With Holly it was strictly as Aimee had said: Once a day, two or three days a week, in the dark, missionary position. He'd loved her, and he'd never complained. Sean didn't know there was anything to complain about, actually; he'd never realized it could be anything but soft lovemaking in the dark and a quick, almost perfunctory release of built up sexual tension.

"That's good," Aimee said, interrupting his thoughts. "Because I like it, too." Her breath was coming in tiny gasps again. "And I think we may have enough time for one more before we need to get to the lawyer's office. What d'ya say?"

He could only nod. Her hips picked up their pace in response. "Then why don't you see if you can get your finger back in there and we'll see what happens?"

He nodded, reaching under her and pressing. His entry was easier this time, and he was hoping Will Sherman wouldn't be mad if they were a little late.

* * *

Will was changing when he heard his doorbell ring. He was down to underwear and socks so he quickly tore off the socks before pulling on his bathrobe and tying the sash tightly around his waist. When he opened the door, Elizabeth pushed in past him.

"Sorry," she said, her arms folded around herself. She was shivering. "Should've called first."

He smiled, shutting the door behind her. "No, that's okay. What up?"

"I got Cynthia to take Brandon for the night. Thought we could spend a quiet night alone." Her teeth were chattering, but he could see the hope in her eyes. Did she really think he'd say no?

"Sure," he said. "I don't have anything to eat, though. Pizza okay? I can call for delivery."

She shrugged. "Sure." She walked over to the sofa and sat, cuddling in on herself trying to warm up. "I'm not interrupting anything, am I?"

He shook his head. "No. Really, I'm glad to see you." And he was. She'd started her final semester this week. They'd spoken on the phone a few times, but they hadn't seen each other since the preceding Sunday.

He looked at her. She was watching him, her mind evidently stuck on something.

"What?" he prompted.

She smiled, then started giggling.

"What?" he repeated, sitting next to her on the sofa. "Nothing." Yet she couldn't quit giggling.