I almost dropped the phone as I sat down hard on the edge of my bed, a long drawn out emotional, "No!" filled the small dorm room.
My startled roommate dropped his comic book and looked at me hard. "Dude, what the fuck is your problem?"
"My dad died yesterday and my mom wants me home as soon as possible."
"Man, that sucks, what with the frat initiations in a couple of days. You've got the best shot of anyone I know in this dorm."
I stared at Mark as if he had two heads. "Fuck the initiations, my dad died you moron."
"Hey, that's never a good thing either," Mark replied as he tried to find his place again in the comic book.
I just sat there shaking my head slowly. Mark was a good guy, even if he was a moron of the lowest order. This was his third year as a sophomore and next year already looked like his fourth. He missed more classes than he made and passed almost none of the tests. Between smoking dope and reading comic books, he never had time for studying. At least he was quiet and peaceful most of the time.
With a deep sigh, I stood up. "I guess I need to pack my shit. I have a feeling I won't be back anytime soon."
"Hey, I'm sorry to hear that. You've been a cool roomy, bro, even if you don't smoke weed with me."
I had to chuckle about that. Mark had moved four times before he ended up rooming with me. That he smoke weed did not bother me in the least as long as he wasn't caught and got me in trouble. Anyway, I kind of like the contact high I got ever so often when he was at it hot and heavy.
"I'm going to miss you also," I said as I turned toward the closet and my bags.
As I tossed a suitcase, a backpack, and a couple of boxes on the bed, I said, "If I'm not back in a month, you can have what I leave behind."
Not looking up from his comic, Mark said, "That's cool of you. I can always sell it for some smoking money."
I grinned as I turned to my dresser to start packing my clothes. "That's the Mark I know and love. Well, know anyway," I whispered under my breath.
*****
Baxter, Texas is a small town in the very northeastern part of Texas. Oklahoma is only twenty miles north but you have to drive eighty miles west to cross the Red River to get there without swimming. Louisiana is about forty five miles east but there is not much more there than there is around Baxter.
Texarkana, Arkansas is about sixty miles northeast but you have to go somewhere else before you can get there. Again, the Red River is in the way. So to say Baxter is isolated is a good statement to say the least.
My dad was born and raised in Baxter. In fact, our last name is Baxter. My mom was a Brooks from the littler town of Moody about fifteen miles to the west. So, at the ripe old age of twenty one, I find myself exiled to the armpit of the world, living with my mother and my grandmother. I guess it could be worse, I could have a couple of younger sisters.
My Grandmother lived in an old two story farmhouse on the edge of town. Four bedrooms and one bathroom upstairs, a kitchen, living room, dinning room, and bathroom, downstairs. A wide porch ran completely around the lower floor. There was no air conditioning, only ceiling fans during the day and a big window fan to draw in cool air at night. With the sixteen foot ceilings, the house stayed surprisingly cool.
The large trees all around the house helped with the heat, as did the large pond on the west side of the house. An old barn with a hayloft sat off in the woods behind the main house.
My grandmother was the same as she had been since the first time I ever met her. I am twenty one, my mom Kay is forty and my dad was forty two. So, my grandmother had to be in her late sixties. Mom was the youngest of nine girls in her family and dad was the youngest and only boy out of six kids in his family. Families in this area have always run large. Even now, that farming has mostly died out.
To say that I have a very large number of aunts, uncles, and cousins in this area is an understatement. I think every third person at the very least is related to me. This fact helped me and mom both get jobs rather quickly. Mom works at a law office as a secretary and I landed a job as a bartender at the one and only watering hole for fifty miles.
This brings me to the downside of having so many relatives in one area and the point of this story. For any that might be interested, my name is Tom, Tom Baxter.
*****
My first week at BB's Place was as a trainee on days. Terry was the regular day bartender and to her fell the daunting task of teaching me the tricks of the trade. She was a tall strawberry blonde with long legs and an athletic build. She could have been a dancer or a gymnast anywhere in the big city. Don't get me wrong, she made good money at BB's but she could have done a whole lot better somewhere else.
"How are you coming with learning the basic drinks?" Terry asked as we got the place ready to open.
I was putting the chairs and barstools down as she counted the money into the register. "I have over half of them down pat and at least some idea of the rest. Anyway, most people around here seem to prefer beer."
"The older crowd we have during the day, yeah, but the weekend night crowd is another story, and that is where BB want's you to work," Terry said from somewhere behind the bar. She was not in sight as I finished placing the last chair.
I came around the end of the bar to find her squatting next to the longest beer box. She had her head and shoulders in the narrow space between the end of the box and the liquor storage cabinet.
"What the heck are you doing," I asked, my eyes on the front of her blouse where her full breasts were pressed tightly against the edge of the beer box.
It was even more obvious than normal that she was not wearing a bra. The thin material of the cotton blouse was pulled very tight across her breasts; tight enough that I figured a button or two would pop at any moment. Her hard nipples were clearly outlined.
Terry wiggled around and ended up sitting on her hip as she tried to reach even farther behind the case. "The damned drain line is out of the pipe again. The cleanup crew must have pulled the box out last night and didn't stuff the line back in far enough."
She lifted her right leg and angled it toward me as she pushed against the back counter with her left foot. The leg opening of her loose shorts gapped open to give me a great view of her smoothly shaven pussy. No bra and no panties, my kind of girl, I thought with a big grin.
"Not stuffing things far enough is never a good idea," I said and then licked my lips as I thought of how nice it would be to stuff her things.
With a grunt, she pushed harder with her left foot. About the time she said, "I've got it," two buttons on her blouse popped open giving me an excellent view of her left breast.
Again, I found myself licking my lips. She had nice upturned nipples on top of dark puffy circles. Very, very nice, I thought as I licked my lips again.
"Hey, can ya give a girl a hand. I think I'm stuck."
With a grin, I replied under my breath, "If only."
Terry waved her free arm in my direction and said, "What did you say, I didn't catch that."
I stepped across her hip and gently pulled on her extended arm. She rolled her hips to my left as she came out of the hole exposing more of her left breast. I moved my left leg over more to give her room. Her head was turned away from me as she came free and sat up suddenly.
As she turned her head forward, her nose ended up inches from my crouch. Needless to say, the view of her sweet looking pussy and ripe breast had my manhood rather ridged in my left pants leg. She blinked several times and then I guess her eyes focused on the trees instead of the forest.
"Oh my," she said and then grinned. "You should be a fireman if rescuing trapped women turns you on that much."
"Uh, it's more like the trapped woman who was flashing her goodies at me."
When Terry gave me a confused look, I added, "Loose legged shorts, no panties, and a couple of buttons on your blouse that popped loose under the strain."
She looked down quickly and then hurriedly re-buttoned the top of the blouse. "Uh, yeah, but I hadn't planned on going spelunking under the beer box when I dressed for work this morning."
"I'm not complaining, believe me," I said with a big grin.