CHAPTER 1
Although only thirty, Charlie Landers felt he was becoming old before his time. Nothing was going right. His latest girlfriend had dropped him and he was unhappy at work. Three months earlier his parents and sister had died in a car crash.
Charlie thought it could only get worse unless he acted to turn his life around. Attempting to get a new life by standing steady meant nothing much was likely to happen. Acting impulsively he sold up and headed east, thinking that was big change although aware he had nothing planned. Well perhaps that was the way to find a new beginning?
It was almost midnight three days later when Charlie pulled into a motel in Flavell, a prosperous and reasonable sized city that looked fine for a couple of days' stopover before he moved on. Actually he was about 1000 miles from his former home city so perhaps this could be the spot, although he thought even a dump could look attractive at night.
He entered the office, stretched and yawned and looked at the woman behind the counter. She was asleep. He looked again and wondered where were her tits?
He hit the bell.
She jumped, almost falling off her chair.
"Christ," she said, yawning.
He thought he liked her.
"A room without fleas please."
She rubbed and eye and said, "You'll be lucky" and grinned.
Charlie thought he really liked her and signed the registered.
"Want something to eat?"
"What?"
"Some people call it food."
He pulled his thumb and forefinger down his nose and she said he looked tired.
He retorted, "You can't be; you've been sleeping."
The woman who looked a little past forty sighed, "Do you want to eat with me or bad-mouth me?"
"Why?"
"Jesus," she snapped and took the keys to unit 12 from the board and tossed them to him. He caught them easily and said pizza would be fine or a big burger.
"I wasn't offering a banquet. Come behind the counter and sit over there. Don't answer the phone and don't allocate rooms. If anyone comes in tell them to wait because if I don't like the look of them I say we are full."
Charlie liked to tease. "So you liked the look of me and have offered to feed me. What else are you thinking of offering?"
"Don't push your luck buster. My husband is asleep through that door. If I yell he comes running with a shotgun."
"With clothes on I would hope?"
"Oh funny man."
He grinned and asked where was his sandwich and coffee.
She sighed and went into side alcove scratching her butt. Minutes later she returned with a coffee pot and two mugs and invited him to help himself.
He asked indignantly where was his sandwich.
She stared and asked would he like the coffee pot rammed down his throat.
He grinned.
She shook her head and said he had too much tease and too much humor to be married and went off. She reappeared with a chicken sandwich for her and a bigger plate with a big piece of bacon and egg pie and two pieces of butter bread for him.
"Thanks," he said, licking his lips.
"That's my husband's 4:00 am snack. He takes over at 1:00. He's becoming fat so that pie is better down you."
"Thanks, my name's Charlie Landers. I'm not from around here."
"That figures. You don't quite talk like us."
As they ate she said, "Thinking of staying here long?"
"If everyone is as friendly as you I may be unable to leave."
She grinned and said her name was Cheryl Pike.
He looked at her. "I bet you nickname at school was Cherry Pie?"
He spotted the scowl and said sorry and she said thanks.
Eventually she broke the silence. "Would you like a date tomorrow?"
"I thought you said you were married?"
She laughed and said she was thinking of her niece Della, who'd returned to the city recently and was looking for a decent guy to date.
"How can you tell I'm a good guy?"
"You sound almost polite, have humor and have a great name."
"I see."
"You see nothing. I have a good instinct about people. Just don't be in too much of a hurry to get into Linda's pants."
"Will they fit me?"
"Jesus," she said, shaking her head.
Banging on the door awoke Charlie. His watch told him it was 8:30.
"Fuck off and make-up some other room," he yelled.
"You cur," she yelled. "Aunt Cheryl said you were polite and nice."
Charlie groaned, thinking he really couldn't afford to turn away a prospective date. He hauled on his pants and opened the door. She was about twenty feet away heading towards the office. Her ass looked great and blonde hair reached midway down her back.
"Hey miss, I'm sorry. How the hell could that guy be dumb enough to dump you?"
She swung round ready to murder him vocally it would appear but toppled over; the high heel of her right shoe she'd pivoted on had snapped into two.
He rushed over and hauled her to her feet, dusted her ass and kissed her. "I'm really sorry. God I really don't know how to handle women," he said bending and picking up the long length of heel.
"Well two apologies within a minute leaves me a little impressed but I don't like men I don't know kissing me and as for touching my ass..."
"I can understand that. I was only dusting. You have a great figure."
The blue eyes studied him carefully. "Are you always this personal to someone you've just met?"
"I was panicking, attempting to get back onside. Cheryl fed me when I arrived at midnight and offered to have you look me over."
"For what purpose do you know?"
"F-for a date. Um an arm's length date I think."
Della continued to eye him. "And what were your thoughts?"
"I must be a gentleman and not disclose them."
She smiled and said her aunt's impression was the guy in Unit 12 was a bit of a character and might interest her.
"For what purpose?"
She grinned. "I'm here early because I leave later to visit my parents. I thought I ought to take you to breakfast. You must understand I'm not this friendly with strangers. It's just Aunt Cheryl is rarely wrong about people. She thinks you are the guy to shake me out of my blues."
Della was wearing cream shorts and a red shirt.
"Are you wearing blue underwear?"
Giggling she said, "Oh I should have expected that. My aunt said you had something that almost passes for humor. Get ready while I change shoes. You mildly interest me but your car really does. That '69 Camaro well represents the all-American car before this country became polluted with foreign imports and our vehicle designers became copyists."
