An average country boy in less than average circumstances
A thick coat of dust roiled out the rear end of my truck as I flew down the dirt road toward the old farmhouse. I knew she was back there somewhere choking on the blinding cloud trying to feel her way to the same destination. The bartender back at the bar knew I was pissed. She saw it in my eyes when I threw the cash on the table and glared at the bitch sitting across from me.
The old white house sat up on the hill among a cluster of giant oak trees. My grandfather left me this place several years ago when I was just 16 years old. There wasn't anybody else to leave it to that he felt would ever take care of it properly. It was built in 1840 and survived the War Between the States without any lasting damage after the Granger family sent several sons off to war and only a couple ever returned. One of them was my great-great-grandfather and eventually I learned the legacy of the Granger place after my father died when I was a little boy. For now it was home to me, Tom Granger and my wife Ellen.
I pulled into the shaded yard and parked the truck next to my workshop. Reaching into the glovebox I found what I wanted and shoved the magazine into place before tucking the Glock 17 into my waistband. It was 40 paces to the front porch. I know because as a kid I'd walked it countless times when my mom called me to dinner. This time it was 30 paces in heat.
Standing on the porch I looked back over my shoulder and I could see the bitch's car pulling in behind my truck. With sweat beading on my brow and dust clinging to my cap I stepped into my home. It was just a glimpse but I saw her out the corner of my eye trying to cover up and salvage a modicum of modesty. What I didn't see was the man I came to deal with. He was obscured by the dark greyness that enveloped me and knocked me onto my back. Somewhere behind me I heard a retort and as if in slow motion watched the man behind the grey assault crumple to the floor beside me.
I couldn't raise my hand to find out what that warm wetness was on my chest and face and off to my left I could hear someone, a woman crying, screaming at me not to die. Laying there it was as if a whole world was slowly fading to darkness. First the vision was gone and unhurriedly the voices drifted to nothing.
------------------------
Ellen was working as a waitress at the Mousetrap in Charlottesville when I first met her almost ten years earlier. She was a student at UVA working her way through a Marketing program and waiting tables at night while running back and forth to Nelson County tending to her ailing mother who was dying of pancreatic cancer. It was a hell of a load for a 20 year old girl and at the time she certainly didn't have time for a horny 25 year old state surveyor and land assessor name Tom Granger.
She shut me down like a disease the first time I hit on her. I had only told her she was the hottest looking waitress in Charlottesville and she told me to broaden my horizons a bit with a slow boat to China. Well, I didn't take no for an answer and the next thing I knew I had a very pissed off 110 lb. dynamo biting my nose off in front of a table of drinking associates. I cooled it with her at that point after quickly apologizing and tucked my tail between my legs. The next round of beer was brought to the table by a different waitress. Even still, I couldn't keep my mind off the fiery blond hellcat named Ellen Carver for the rest of the evening.
A few months later found me rushing my mother to the hospital at UVA with a ruptured appendix and tearing through the emergency room looking for her doctor who we had called earlier. Mom was doubled over in pain and I was just a panicked waste of flesh at that point. The ER staff finally got me out of the way and they rolled Mom into surgery to take care of the problem. That was when I ran into the hellcat again, literally.
I pushed through the double doors out into the waiting room and knocked her right on her ass.
"Jesus H. Christ, you fucking moron! Do you ever watch what the hell you are doing?" She fired at me.
I was all apologetic helping her to her feet telling her how sorry I was and making sure she was OK.
"I'm in a god damn hospital! If I need help I'm already here!" She snapped again.
At that point I just raised my hands, told her I was sorry one last time and took a seat over against the windows as far from her as I could get. There were about a dozen other people in there at the time which helped me blend in with the wall and avoid being in the same universe as Ellen Carver.
I sat in the waiting room for 4 hours before Mom's doctor came out and sat down next to me to explain everything they did and to let me know I could go up to the post-op floor to see her as soon as the nursing staff gave the OK. I shook his hand and I felt like a ton of bricks had been lifted off me. I know I must have looked like it too and I think I smiled for the first time since Mom called me up to her room to let me know something was wrong.
The hellcat was still there too and I caught her sneaking a look at me on occasion although I had to sneak a look at her to do it. Shortly after, the ER nurse called me over and told me I could go on upstairs. By the time I came back downstairs Ellen Carver was gone or at least not in sight.
A couple weeks later, Mom was home and I was nursing a Sam Adams at the 'Trap trying to watch an afternoon Cavs' game over the din of half a dozen middle aged hens trying their best to out tale the other with their outrageous bridge moves and social antics. A couple of them kept eying me and I did my best to ignore them. MILF? maybe, GILF?, not that day.
She slid in across from me in the booth.
"Listen, before you say anything, I'd like to apologize for how I acted a couple weeks ago at the hospital." The hellcat said. I just nodded and said "OK".
"Well, I was really out of line and I heard what the doctor was telling you about your Mom? Anyways, I was there for my own Mom that night and, I mean, there is no excuse for my rudeness and language. I'm really sorry. Hi. My name is Ellen." She said and extended her hand with a sheepish smile.
I shook her hand, smiled in return and introduced myself. The next several minutes we chatted about each other's circumstances and I discovered her mom was terminally ill and she discovered mine was terminally interfering. By the time she had to break off to start her shift I had her number and a promise to call if I didn't see her in the 'Trap beforehand.
Two days later I called her up and asked her out on a date. She agreed and we had a blast and we did it again a few more times over the next couple of weeks. On the fourth date, we made love together and from that point on we were an item. That was when I met Jennifer.
Ellen is a petite 5'2" 110 lb. blued eyed curly haired very fair blond with small but proportional breasts. If there is an antithesis to Ellen, Jennifer is it. She is about 5'10", long straight dark hair, almost black with deep brown eyes, muscular and strong with the holy grail of tits if you are so predisposed.
