This is a story written by Hcstuds for Ken Richards.
I landed in White Sands and was quickly escorted to the Whispering Pines Mobile Home Park. The park was owned by one of the contractors and rented exclusively to people who worked on the White Sands Missile Testing Range. The park contained mostly higher scale trailers but rented at more than reasonable prices. I don't think they were even trying to make a profit. I moved into a double-wide model that had as much room as a good-sized two bedroom apartment. It was well furnished. The only thing that I brought with me was my bed. While most of the trailers were fairly close together, mine was kind of out by itself.
The town of White Sands had a population of a little more than a thousand people of which almost twenty percent were engineers. There were a higher percentage of engineers in the trailer park because of the employment situation. I was not one of the square jawed, steely eyed missile men who worked long hours trying to fathom the intricacies of missile technology. They spent many long-hour days trying and eventually succeeding in getting missiles to do what they wanted them to do only to be rewarded with another missile system or a newer model of an old project. My days were more or less eight hours in duration and consisted of trying to get the company paid for the work that the engineers and techs performed.
Even though some of the people had been at White Sands for three or four years, we all thought of this assignment as temporary. It was OK to live like this for awhile in order to build a nest egg for some future life. I'm sure some did just that and others found other uses for the money.
As the name of the town and the missile range implies, the sand was white, blindingly white. Unlike the sands of Florida which was composed of silica, this sand was soft, chalky gypsum. In fact, this was the largest deposit of gypsum on the surface of the earth. During the rare storms that moved up from the southwest, the desert sands joined the dance of the clouds and produced a hard-to-reproduce show.
I quickly settled in to the routine. While the engineers worked until nine or ten in the evening or later, I was home by four or five in the afternoon. I was off on the weekends while the engineers and techs almost always worked on Saturdays. Unless an active test was occurring, almost everyone was off on Sundays and many spent a part of Sunday afternoon in the recreation room relaxing and having a few beers.
The couple that ran the park told me about the gatherings and wanting to be a part of the community, I went. I took a twelve-pac and started to introduce myself around. Everyone seemed friendly enough but after awhile the engineers and techs gravitated to an area by themselves leaving the wives to talk with each other. If, like me, you did not understand or was not interested in the technical jargon, you could join the woman and talk about women things or you were on your own.
I was sitting alone looking out a sliding glass door at the desert. The winds were active and you could see the desert changing shape. The gypsum sand was light and you could see dunes forming and being seemingly moved from one place to another. I was thinking that I might as well be in my trailer. At least there I could amuse myself with TV or a video. My thoughts were invaded, "At first, you are fascinated by the desert and later, you want to get away from it."
I looked in the direction of the voice and saw one of the most strikingly beautiful women that I have ever seen. She was about five feet eight inches tall and had black shoulder length hair which hung around her face. Her body matched her height. Her breasts were not huge but large enough to fit her frame. She had a narrow waste and shapely hips. She was wearing a soft maybe cashmere blouse which draped her torso perfectly and a pair of fitted slacks that left nothing about her figure to the imagination. Her face was beautiful but had a hue of sadness. Her eyes were uncharacteristically piercing blue.
"So, where are you at the moment, fascinated or evading?" I asked.
"I guess you could say that I'm fascinated and evading," she replied cryptically and then added as if in explanation, "I'm not necessarily talking about the desert."
Her beauty was overwhelming and as I was trying to reply with a clever retort, a man approached and said, "Nancy, quit bothering this nice gentleman," He then spoke to me, "This is my wife and she has a tendency to talk to everyone in the room whether they want to talk or not."
I'm sure his purpose was not to protect my privacy but to stake out his property. I couldn't help but think that the way he could really stake out his property was to be at home giving her what she was desperately seeking.
A few moments later an attractive housewife type came by, "I see you've met Nancy. She's as horny as she is tall."
This woman's name was Joan but she explained that everyone called her Wendy. When I called her the housewife type, it was by no sense of the imagination negative. As I stated earlier, she was attractive but emoted a sensitive, nurturing atmosphere.
"Why do you call her horny?" I asked.
"I probably shouldn't I suppose," she replied. "She's probably no hornier than any of the rest of us. It's just that when a new man arrives, especially if he is single, she tries to work her magic. I was on my way to rescue you but her husband beat me to it."
"Did I look like I needed rescuing?" I asked with a smile not that she had implied that all the women were horny.
"Oh, were you doing your deer in the headlights impression?" she mocked then changed the subject. "I made a cheesecake this morning. If you would like, I'll save you a piece."
"I would like very much," I said as Wendy excused herself and went back to join the wives.
I excused myself shortly thereafter and went back to my trailer. The two brief conversations and the reaction of Nancy's husband were interesting. I especially wanted to pursue Wendy's statement that Nancy was probably no hornier than the rest of them. As it turned out, I didn't have to wait very long. About seven-thirty that Sunday evening, Wendy knocked on my door carrying a piece of cheesecake.
"Come in," I said surprised. "I didn't expect cheesecake this soon."
"My husband's asleep in bed and I didn't have anything else to do so here I am," she said. If you're busy, I don't have to stay."
