To the each of readers following along, thank you.
Trigger warning: threats of violence
***
I was sitting in a booth in Mel's diner, sipping coffee and reading an honest-to-god small-town newspaper. It's a bi-weekly production with a focus on goings on in the county. The apple harvest was shaping up to be particularly good this year. The county Sheriff was celebrating ten years in office. Some fellow was arrested for the third time this year for trying to steal some of his neighbor's paving stones? That can't be right.
Alice, my waitress this morning, sat another mug of coffee on the table in front of me. I was confused why she didn't just top off the mug I already have from the carafe.
Alice pointed to a woman at the counter who was looking over at me, and said, "I think you have an admirer."
Alice left. I smiled politely and nodded at the woman, then returned to my paper. The monthly pot-luck at the church is this coming Sunday. Wait, no, it must have been last Sunday. Oh well. I wasn't sure how Elanna would feel about listening to a hellfire and brimstone sermon for an hour just to get a free meal anyway. Particularly since she's back at the cabin filming erotica for her fans.
I sensed someone take a seat across from me in the booth. "You know, it's customary for a man to at least say hi to a woman who just bought him a drink."
"Is that so?" I considered the woman sitting across from me for a moment. She's attractive, to be sure, but I was quite confused by our interaction so far. Uncomfortable, even.
"I'm Stacy, by the way."
"Hello, Stacy, by the way. Do you need something?"
"Cute." She was starting to get annoyed. "Do you always act so stand-offish when you meet someone for the first time?"
"Most of the time I prefer to establish a sense of professional distance."
"What's that supposed to mean? How about a friendly greeting or maybe even a compliment."
"I wasn't aware barflies operated the same way in diners at mid-morning as they do in bars near closing time."
"Ouch! Watch the claws. I'm just trying to make polite conversation."
"I'm afraid it's time for me to leave." I didn't know why my gut was telling me to run, but I wasn't about to stick around to find out.
She was getting agitated by then. "I can see I've misread the situation. I can tell you used to wear a wedding band, but you don't anymore. I just thought you could use some company too."
"No, thank you." I exited the booth and handed Alice money for my coffee on the way out.
Standing in the laundromat, I wished I had grabbed the paper as I left. I hadn't even read the story about "Record Breaking Fish Caught" yet. Thankfully it was only about ten minutes before the laundry came out of the drier so there was some folding to keep me busy.
I wondered what Stacy was trying for. She was an attractive redhead, with long hair, average build, and decent-sized breasts. Probably a few years younger than me, but not many. And she bought me bottomless coffee... to go with the bottomless coffee I already had?
Thinking back, I didn't notice if she wore a wedding ring, even though she brought up my current lack of a wedding band.
No matter. The whole thing was weird, and I was glad it was over.
***
After laundry, I picked up sandwich stuff and headed back to eat with Elanna at the cabin.
Elanna was wearing a simple yellow sundress. A light and airy affair. Barefoot and beautiful. I could see some burgundy-colored lingerie in a pile off to the side, but I didn't recognize it. As she glided around the cabin, I was soon certain she wasn't wearing anything under the dress.
She had done some painting by the fireplace that morning. First wearing and then not wearing her lingerie, most likely. It was another abstract, this time using colors of the forest. Dark browns and greens suggested trees and shadow. Yellow-green suggested sunlight filtering through treetops. The splatters of red and blue suggested... maybe flowers or berries?
We ate our sandwiches and talked about nothing for half an hour. It was wonderful!
Seemingly out of the blue, Elanna offered herself as dessert. In no time, she was on the couch, her sundress hiked up, and I was on my knees on a thick cushioned rug in front of her hairless pussy. I kissed and caressed, licked and teased. Then settled in to get her off with two fingers inside of her and my tongue massaging her clit.
She started squirming and her moans were mixed with an occasional, "yes," or, "don't stop." When I felt her orgasm start and her vagina clamped down on my fingers, I went completely still. Watching her. Feeling her body as it jerked and released uncontrollably. Fingers still inside of her, feeling where it all started.
Once she regained control of herself, she reached down and slipped my fingers out of her. She sat up, pulled me close, and kissed me. Her juices were still on my face. Hottest kisses ever!
A few minutes later she decided it was time to shoo me away so she could finish filming for the fans. I was disappointed to leave, but she assured me that she would soon have enough material to last the rest of the trip. She wouldn't need to film again until after we got back home.
She got up and smoothed out her dress, and it didn't have a single wrinkle that betrayed what we had just done. I love sundresses.
Before I left, we put the freshly washed linens on the bed and straightened up the bedroom so she could film in there for the afternoon.
***
We decided that I could use the afternoon to scout out a couple of roadside stands for us to visit together. Unless there was something else I wanted to do, of course, but nothing came to mind.
I found myself at a little shop called Georgia's Boiled Peanuts. It was too elaborate to be called a roadside stand, but it definitely had fruit-stand roots.
All manner of local fruits and vegetables were available in bins on the porch out front.
Inside, the boiled peanuts were kept warm in the kettle. There were shelves of home-canned jams and jellies, local honey, bags of nuts, and even a 'display' of Uncle Wilbur's Jerky. The counter had some fresh baked goods. A cooler had a very impressive selection of local cider.
The kind shopkeeper said to let her know if I had any questions. Her southern accent was something special.
I was soaking it all in when something struck me after a few minutes. Nothing sold here was a big name brand. It was all more or less homemade and homegrown stuff. Most of it was probably local too, though I knew mangoes didn't grow in the area.
"This is quite a shop you've got here. I'll take a bag of boiled peanuts. Say, are all of the fruits and veggies local?"
"She-it. Ain't no need to haul produce halfway across the country when you live in God's garden."
"What about that mango jam?"
"It's canned locally. Bernice gets her mangoes from an orchard over near the coast. She's kin to the farmer, so she gets the best of the crop."
I love the charm of this place. Elanna probably will too when I bring her along.
***
