Mels Phone Call

Copyright PennameWombat October 2018

The author asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.

This is a work of fiction. The events described here are imaginary; the settings and characters are fictitious and are not intended to represent specific places or living persons.

*****

"What? Oh, yeah, he's here. Chris, for you. Something about corrupting an innocent blonde girl..."

It was a Monday early evening in late June and Chris Bajevic had taken refuge from the day's heat on the east-facing front porch of the old house he shared with three other University students. Two housemates were away and the only remaining one had just answered the phone as Chris was entering through the front door after hearing the rings. Tim's summons froze him.

The last blonde, almost the only blonde, he'd been with had been during his University soccer team's trip to Guadalajara back in March and indeed corruption had taken place. Apparently she had been innocent. But he didn't remember giving her nor the dark-haired Melanie who'd originally caught his eye his phone number. Tim passed over the handset and said "Outta here, later!" and the dumbstruck Chris waved him out the door.

"Yeah? Hullo?" Chris said with plenty of confusion.

"You remember a formerly innocent, wholesome blonde? At least she was before you rammed your cock into every hole!"

It was a female voice, but deeper than many, with the slightest of rasps.

"You're not blonde. I don't know any such blondes and if I did do that you have no pictures."

"No one else was there?" A lawyer would object it was a leading question.

"Hi Mel. You still a beautiful dark-haired scholar-athlete-demon?"

"Ha. Don't try that now. What're you doing at 10:30 tonight your time?"

"Masturbating?"

"Cool. Just do it at the bus station."

"No one would notice, happens there all the time. But, um, why? My porn's here."

"That's when my bus is supposed to arrive."

Chris found it hard to reply with his jaw hanging down to the middle of his breastbone.

Chimes on the phone line, "I gotta hang up, time's up. Be there?" Chris had not heard that tone of uncertainty from her before.

"Yeah, don't worry. I'll be there. I'll also hope my car doesn't get stolen."

"Like a bus station then, ok, see ya!" The line went dead.

Chris hadn't made any plans for the evening. Soccer season was over and it was a few weeks before formal training began again. Off work until Wednesday so a late night wasn't an issue. No summer classes so no course work at the moment.

But Mel? Here? Chris mechanically put the handset back in its cradle but otherwise stood still. He recalled being told Mel and Shelly were seniors and their Mexico trip was their reward for the top upcoming graduates in their district. They'd wanted something 'extra' since both had had their 18

th

birthdays earlier in the school year and Mel had told him 'your super cute soccer playing ass just won the lottery'. That had been a massive understatement.

He was curious to discover what was going on. Why only a last-minute phone call. It had been the best night of his life but, really, all they'd had was that one night. While Mel was the one he'd wanted and they'd had a glorious hour on their own she'd made clear it was all just as much for Shelly's benefit as theirs. He hadn't minded at all when the blonde showed up and joined in. But that didn't answer what was happening right now.

Is every long-distance bus station sited in the crappiest possible location in every city they operate? This one was, Chris thought, as he parked the car about a half-block from the station at 10:25 pm. He'd removed the portable tape player-radio to discourage anyone taking more notice than necessary. It was a 15 year old car but he kept it humming with skills gained from a farm youth and high school auto mechanics, the one vocational course mixed into a math and science focused curriculum.

The station wasn't empty owing to a few buses expected in the hour between 10 and 11. There were a decent number of people about and even a couple of uniformed private security guys hanging around. Too much bad press lately.

In the lobby the status board said the only scheduled 10:30 arrival was running 15 minutes late. No surprise. A few people from the previous arrivals were still waiting at the entrance for their rides, as were a couple or three likely runaways just waiting and a knot of people waiting to load up and leave. Nothing unusual then. The pervasive smell of diesel fuel was probably good so long as it was winning the battle against the competing aromas of piss and desperation.

A crackling PA announced the next arrival and he wandered out of his hiding space in a corner to look through the doors to the unloading area. A couple of porters had the luggage area doors open beneath the bus windows and were lining up bags and a few boxes. Slightly haggard people of all ages were stepping off the entrance stairs but no one resembling Mel as yet. A couple of young rough looking guys, cowboys or roustabouts from one of the oil towns along the bus route descended, coming to party in the big city. If that was indeed the case then they'd picked the wrong city.

Then a young glasses-wearing woman was coming down the bus stairs. Wavy and tangled black hair pulled back in a ponytail hanging to just between her shoulder blades with some loose strands hanging around her sharp cheeked face. A few more dark strands stuck to her neck and nape with sweat. Oversized flannel check pattern shirt buttoned almost to the very top, mid-calf peasant skirt, grey tights, black low-top Converse shoes. She was carrying a decent-sized backpack and her dark eyes were heavy lidded and her expression gave off an "if you're tired of living approach me and die" vibe as she watched the two toughs saunter toward the restroom.

She scanned around until she saw the brown-haired young man, wearing denim shorts and a University logo t-shirt. Her face softened by a degree and he saw her mouth "you came", and she was suddenly smiling. She lit off the last stair and quickly closed the distance and pushed him back half a step with the collision, her arms around his waist, his arms clasping each side of her pack. Her hair smelled of sweat and some perfume or shampoo.

"You can tell time?" she said when she leaned her head back.

"No, had to ask my neighbour to tell me when." was his reply. Then Chris leaned in and kissed her, his five-ten height meant he just needed to lean his head forward, she pushed her tongue into his mouth and put her hands on his super cute soccer playing ass cheeks.

He opened an eye and noticed people were dragging their bags off, greetings were happening around them, although not quite with the same fervency. He broke the kiss off.

"Get your bloody stuff and let's get out of here. To what do I owe this pleasure?"

"C'mon, I'll tell you in the car," she turned and took his hand and led them to the porter. She handed over a claim stub and he pulled the matching tag off of her bag. It was large but rolled on two wheels.

"Staying a while?" It was rather more than might be needed for an overnight stay.

"Depends. Let's go."

Chris pulled the bag with one hand while Mel held the other and they rolled the bag to the car amongst the other passengers doing similarly. A sixth-sense told Chris to be wary and he took furtive glances around but saw nothing but other people doing the same as them.

"I didn't know you wore glasses," he offered.

"I don't. See. Just glass." She took them off and waved them in front of him then slipped them folded into her shirt pocket.

"So this is the Blue Beast?" she asked as Chris hefted her bag into the trunk and she slipped off her backpack for it to follow. She quickly unzipped a compartment and pulled out a small white cloth ball and a rolled up piece of beige cloth.

"Yup, you remember? It wasn't like a main topic of conversation down there."

"I remember many things. Such as what rude things you do with this," she leaned into him and cupped his crotch with the empty hand, giving a quick kiss, "Does it remember?"

"Oh yeah."

He led her to the passenger side and unlocked it and opened the door.

"Mi-lady, if you please."

"Oh, you want my ass again, don't you?"

"Only reason I'm here sweet demon," as he pushed the door shut, went around and hopped in.

"This is handy," she said as she patted the front bench seat with both hands, "easy to get close. I'm hungry, haven't eaten in hours, anywhere in this crap town to eat this late?"

"Crap town? You're from North Dakota. You might want to be careful insulting anywhere else."

"Just drive." She put her hand on his bare thigh, then worked her pinkie and ring finger under the hem of the denim shorts as the car pulled onto the street. Chris had half a thought he saw the two roustabouts eyeing them but if so they were gone now.

"As you might guess, Monday night at 11 pm does not offer bountiful dining choices but I know a place," he offered her as she moved slightly away on the seat and started unbuttoning her shirt.

"Whatever. I need to get this stuff off. Can I wear more, oh, interesting clothes there?"

Stopped at a red light Chris turned his head to watch her unbutton the shirt and lift her butt up to get it out from under her, then she dropped it down her arms. She was wearing a white, form-fitting low cut tank top. No bra. She was tall and slender but had a bit of a bubble butt that had captured his attention in Mexico. Her chest was shapely, the round and full tits masterfully displayed by the top.

She turned toward him and leaned forward to offer up the best cleavage view Chris could remember. He was thinking C-cup but her height and build meant they didn't appear huge, just definitely firm, the shapes of her nipples just visible.

"Like?" she asked as she reached to massage an already-hardening cock.

"Oh yeah," then he finally noticed the light had changed and went back to driving.

She took her hand back and started working on her peasant skirt.

"Protective camouflage, I take it? With fake glasses even, any hassles?" He enjoyed what he could see as she changed her clothes in the car. Hardly any other traffic and dark so not much worry.

"Nothing I couldn't handle. Bus rides. Eewww," she worked the skirt down to the floor and lifted her legs out of it leaving her with just the tights on. She unrolled the cloth into a pleated beige miniskirt and pulled it over her legs, hanging no more than mid-thigh if that far. She tossed the camouflage shirt and skirt onto the back seat. She undid her ponytail and shook and fingered her hair back into the black tangle she'd had in Mexico, he wasn't sure she even knew what a comb was and she wasn't using one now.

"Some of the other passengers were, oh, kinda scuzzy," she was unlacing her sneakers, then she reached up under the mini and pulled down the grey tights, "not to mention I didn't want any bare flesh touching the bus seats. Ugh."

She stopped, "Hmm, knowing you like I do are

these

seats any, um, cleaner?"

"Hah! Das Auto is pristine, young lady, and I'll not have it besmirched!"

"It smells better than me," she said and he didn't fail to notice that her panties were wadded in with the tights. He saw her undo the little bundle she'd brought and she lifted her right foot onto the seat to slip on an ankle sock then retie her Converse and in the angle under the lifted skirt it was obvious she'd closely trimmed her dark pubic hair.

"So your experience in Mexico has convinced you no underwear is the best underwear? Or did the bus company lose them like the airline did?"

"They're sweaty, if you must pry. Pervert. Can't let a girl undress in your car in peace!"

Her camouflage gone she was displaying those long athlete's legs of hers and beyond that no shortage of that smooth and lovely olive toned skin. She noticed him looking her over.

"Still like me? And keep your eyes on the road. If we die, your loss." She lifted her other leg then put her other sock and shoe on.

"On that note, here we are, Bill 'n Ada's. Death is probably preferable to their food."

It was an unimposing aged building on a block of low-rise and unimpressive businesses and parking lots. Only a few cars were around the place. It was a rare place in that it never closed, 24 hours a day, 7 days a week, every day of every year. If the apocalypse happened, Chris thought, they'd stay open serving food to the horrors taking breaks from harvesting souls.

Chris felt his arm entwined with Mel's, showing her ownership. She was quite the popular sight for the few men in the place, but scowls showed a couple of female diners did not seem so taken with this tall and curvy dark haired demon who'd just entered. Chris led her to a booth and the mini-skirted young lady picked a side that allowed her to use that short skirt to provide a quick view to one of the scowling women as she sat down, but it didn't offer any of the guys a clear view unless the woman's partner turned around. This got her another tight-lipped look of disapproval. It also meant the woman

was

watching closely.

The waitress was somewhere a bit past forty, dark blonde hair pulled into a ponytail, a figure that in past years may have rivalled that of the just arrived young woman's but now quite stouter in the middle. She always had a cheery smile though and Chris knew her well enough to banter comfortably. His odd schedules for work, study and soccer meant that he'd eaten here a fair number of times.

"Hi, hon," she said handing Chris a menu, "and your new friend?" She handed a menu to Mel.

"Rose, meet Mel. She's new in town."

"Hi, Rose. Thank you. You admit to knowing this guy?"

"He's one of my favourite boys!"

"Ooh. Ok if I borrow him for a while?"

"Don't do anything I wouldn't do," Rose smiled at her, "but hey, I used to do almost anything."

The young couple ordered cokes and a couple of burgers and split some fries.

"Ok, you distracted me in the car putting your shoe on. What's up? How are you here?"

"I've lived my life in North Dakota. I didn't mention it in Mexico but I applied to your University and hadn't received my acceptance yet. I want to see mountains. North Dakota has mountains like Shelly has tits."

"Doesn't have mountains then," he said and his mind was buzzing. That night in Guadalajara really had happened. Every so often he wondered if he'd been slipped some peyote and hallucinated it.

"You remember her. My mom brought the letter to the airport when we got back, she hadn't opened it, said 'it's for you, honey,' so we kind of quivered and I opened it right in the car. Got accepted and a scholarship. There was much whooping. And now I'm here this week for a three day orientation on Wednesday. Only rule my mom's making me stay in the dorms when classes start."

"They're not so bad. I'd never live in them, but I have higher standards," and the toe of a Converse caught him in the shins.

"It'll be the nuts next time," with a wicked smile, "I want to see mountains, I've done cross-country, try real downhill skiing."

"Right place for it. Ok, why the last minute call?"

"The University isn't very protected. I called the student office a while back and they gave me your phone number," she said in a conspiratorial whisper, "then I decided to make it exciting. They gave me your address too. Figured I'd just show up and stake the place out tomorrow if no answer. Beat up your girlfriend and chase her away. Mom gave me money for a hotel, so food's on me."

"Not much for privacy! Ok, fortunately two of my housemates are gone now and the other leaves on Sunday. No girlfriend in residence."

"Too bad. Maybe she'd have liked the company and if not her loss. I'm supposed to leave on Sunday, but, if I could by chance get a job here I could stay until school starts."

"What can you do?" he asked too quickly to allow his brain the option to analyse not asking. The barely functional air conditioning of the diner was still enough to ensure the swell of her nipples pressing through the tank's thin fabric kept the analytical faculties of his brain disabled. The phone call had knocked them offline and her nipples ensured they stayed that way.

"Typing, steno, filing, office work, worked summers in the office where my mom works. That and castrating cattle..."

"Hmm, nothing on the cattle part," his legs unconsciously pressed together, he'd grown up on a cattle farm and filed that factoid away for later, "Ok. I might have a lead on the office part but I'll have to make a phone call tomorrow and you'd have to stay until Monday at least. I'm not working until Wednesday so we can sight see tomorrow."

"Can do. Call mom tomorrow and let her know."

"If that doesn't work out I know where there's a strip club."

"Probably better money," she said with a crooked smile. He stuck that response away in a new file.

Over Mel's shoulder he saw Rose bringing the food, she set the plates down and faced Mel, had a big smile.

"Don't look, but bitch face behind me really isn't happy about your, um, choices of clothing. She doesn't approve."

"Well," said Mel, "too bad for her."

"Right, you got it, don't be afraid. Had plenty of good times in my day. Good memories, at least what I can remember from the 60s! Now I'm just an old waitress with a boring husband!"

They all chuckled, Rose put a friendly hand on Mel's shoulder and Mel touched her fingertips to it.

Bitch face and her husband or whatever left not long after that conversation and Mel had been a bit more demure with her legs when a group of guys had entered a few minutes before they finished eating and sat in the same area bitch face had recently vacated.

"Like I said, it's on me," Mel said as she pulled some bills from a little pocket in her skirt. She left a tip which was almost the same amount as the bill. She mouthed "watch this" as Chris turned and watched a couple of sets of eyes in the group of guys pop a bit as Mel worked her way out of the booth with a couple of shifts, one pause maybe just a

bit

longer than absolutely necessary.

The bill paid they noticed a few glances and some quiet discussion.

"Well, they have something to talk about," he said between light chuckles as the couple walked out the door.

"You'd think they'd never seen one before..." she said mirthfully.

"C'mon, I bet I can show you something you haven't seen," he offered, holding the car door for her again.

"I've seen you naked, that's scarred me for life, so hopefully won't be that bad."

"As you say, we have mountains."

From the diner he drove uphill and pulled into a parking lot for a small park on a flat section well up the mountainside near downtown. This was part of a brand new housing development as they pushed ever higher up the mountainsides.

"These flat spots we call 'benches,' they were beaches when this whole area," he waved his arm in an arc, "was a huge lake. Few thousand years ago. Just a puddle left now. We're about 500 feet above the valley floor out there. Higher than anything you have back home I'm sure."

"Wow..." she said, looking at the lights stretching in a U-shape for the 30 mile wide by 50 mile long valley. The mountains on all sides stood as shadowy guards.

"Want to get out? Nice path around."

"Sure, need to get in my pack. Need jacket."

They got out and Chris opened the trunk. Her nipples were clearly affected by the air that was finally cooling after the hot day, the thin fabric struggling to contain the twin erections. She unzipped her pack and pulled out a button-down shirt, much nicer and more fitting than her camouflage. She pulled it on as her companion bent over and took a nipple in his mouth through the cloth. She wrapped the shirt around his back to hold him.