This is a piece I wrote many years ago and only uncovered it as I was going through some old files. It's a lot softer and more sentimental than what I tend to write these days. I'd love to know what you think...
*********
Andy was young- that is to say, he was naïve. Growing up sheltered in rural Nebraska, he had little exposure to anything more romantically risqué than the carefully orchestrated, closely monitored dances that followed church on Sundays in the summertime. He was raised with the intention of marrying Sally Joe Werther whose family farm was across the road from his. They would get hitched just as soon as Sally graduated bible college in Louisville.
Sally was as pretty as she was devout. She permitted Andy to hold her hand while they danced on Sundays under the condition that he placed his handkerchief in between their hands so as to prevent him from sweating on her. She only agreed to such intimacy being as how Pastor Bill had said it was ok. Otherwise, their courtship generally consisted of them sitting across from each other and reading scripture at the picnic table that straddled the line that separated their families' properties.
Andy was a well-fed boy that was rapidly growing into his own. Now 20 years old, dense muscles began to fill in his 6-foot frame as a dark mustache starting taking shape. He was the middle of three brothers and had never been regarded as being all that handsome growing up. Much to everyone's surprise, he was developing into a fetching young man.
With Sally now off to college, Andy was gaining the attention of many of the young ladies in town. He had a habit of dismissing their advances as simple kindness. But soon, the carnal urges that he had fought so desperately to suppress were clouding his judgment. He found himself making unnecessary trips into town for chance encounters with Emma at the feed store or Holly at the IH parts dealer, of Jennifer at the Co-Op.
At night, when the lights were out, he was roused by thoughts of them, their pretty round faces, their delicate curls, the sweet smell of their perfume, their overly friendly smiles. He couldn't stop the images of their soft, smooth bodies from entering his thoughts. The way Emma would lean over the counter, revealing just a hint of the plentiful cleavage she hid behind wispy blouses. The way Holly's breasts would bounce ever so slightly when she laughed too hard at his jokes. Or how Jennifer would take her time to pull down her dress to cover her smooth thighs when she sat down.
Andy had his way with each of them nightly, crafting elaborate stories of them luring him into the back room and ravaging him. As the climactic moments in his fantasies arrived, he took hold of himself and squeezed hoping to stop his lust from corrupting him. He cursed himself for having been unable to summon the faith Sally would have expected of him to resist such sinful thoughts.
Every night he told himself he would never do it again, he would stop going into town, he would stop thinking these thoughts, he would recite bible verses to drown them out. And every day he would renege on his promise and go to them, knowing it was wrong, still feeling the mess of last night's depravity caked on his abdomen.
And with each successive night, his fantasies grew more elaborate, the scenarios more detailed, his desires more extravagant. Soon, he was unable to shut out these fantasies as he performed his duties on the farm.
Finding himself alone in the barn one day, hoisting sacks of feed from the truck up to the loft, Holly came to him in a daydream. Dressed in a canary yellow sun dress and cowboy boots embroidered in bright stitching, she came bouncing in through the open barn doors. Blond curls cascaded over her shoulders, leaving bare the unblemished skin between her breasts.
Fighting the urge to indulge his fantasy, he tried singing hymns sunday school. He had sung these songs for as long as his memory went back, but for the life of him, he couldn't recall any of the words in this moment. Flustered, he tried to focus all of his effort on work.
In order to hoist the heavy sacks of feed off the truck, he had to lean in and hug them close to his body using his legs to support the weight. Feeling the sensation of the feed giving way through the sack as his jean pressed hard into it, he imagined Holly's rotund behind involuntarily. He fell to his knees, his trousers soggy now with his guilty satisfaction. He prayed in vain to be rid of these shameful desires.
*******
The crossroads at Highway 20 and Duvall Farm Rd was half way between town and the farm. Approaching this intersection in his truck as he made his way into town, Andy noticed a blue sedan off to the north side of the road. It was the blue sedan that belonged to Old Man Duvall. When he passed away a year ago, his young widow began driving it to town once a week to complete her errands.
Andy slowed as he approached. There was smoke rising from under the hood. There was a lone figure standing on the side of the road looking down at it. It was Jane, Old Man Duvall's widow.
She was wearing a green dress that would have been far too revealing for any of the other women in town. The sheer green material hugged her figure so as to accentuate her already overstated curves. The neckline plunged down far enough to give a glimpse of her well rounded breasts pushed up with a lacy pink bra. The slit up the side of the dress exposed plump thighs that were smooth and strong. Her heels were wholly out of place here out in the country, but she wore them with seductive aplomb.
