Karen Sather had heard the stories about the man who lived down the road, and if half of them were true the burly old guy was a real pervert, but Karen took the stories that spread through the town of Forestport with a grain of salt.
After all, according to gossip it was common knowledge that Karen was a slut all through high school even though she was a virgin until she was almost 19. Also, nobody told tales about her husband Tom being a wife beater, a petty thief and a womanizer, yet Karen knew better and had the scars from three lousy years of marriage to prove it.
So when Karen noticed the old guy walking past her house daily, once on the way into town to pick up a newspaper and again on the way back home, when he would tip his cap and say good morning she would return the greeting.
Soon Karen found herself making sure that she was outside when her neighbor would head down the road, pretending to check the mailbox as an excuse, and the hellos soon became short conversations. Karen learned that the man who lived in the weather-beaten bungalow down the road with the mailbox that had BURKE scrawled on it had a first name. Rocky.
Karen also learned that Rocky Burke was 63 years old and recently retired from his job as a corrections officer in Marcy. He also confided in Karen during one of their daily chats that contrary to what she may have heard his wife Millie was not dead and buried back in the field behind his house but happy and remarried in Florida, although Rocky admitted that if they had stayed together anything would have been possible.
"She found out that while we were both pretty wild at first, as the years went on I kept getting kinkier and kinkier," Rocky admitted. "Sometimes I scare myself a little."
Each day the conversations had gotten longer and more personal, and Karen began to look forward to the daily interplay which was a pleasant diversion in her life.
"I'm not an easy man to live with," Rocky said during their chat yesterday with a wink. "Some women say that I have peculiar tastes. Lucky for me some women have them too. How about you Karen?"
"Oh I don't know about that or even know what's peculiar these days," Karen had said with a shrug. "Maybe I'm a masochist to stick around here."
"Nothing wrong with being a masochist," Hank had told her as his eyes went up and down Karen. "As long as you're with a sadist who cares about you."
Karen had given the old man a strange look when he said that, smiling when the gruff old timer winked at her, but then he added, "I've hurt a few women in my time but never if they didn't like it that way. Some gals like a little spanking. Now you for example. I bet you didn't ask for that black eye."
Karen had been startled at that and reflexively raised her hand to the side of her face where she thought she had camouflaged her most recent battle scar of a few weeks ago.
"I noticed that but didn't say anything," Rocky said when he saw her embarrassment. "Not one to butt in. Did that put him in jail?"
"No, he had a boatload of traffic violations he never took care of," Karen admitted regrading her husbands latest drama. "Giving a black eye to a woman in Oneida County doesn't matter much. I don't even call the sheriff any more."
"Too bad. Maybe you are a masochist," Rocky had answered. "Or maybe you should swing back. He ain't so tough. Ask him what I did to him when he wised off me down at Kratsy's a couple years back."
"You were the one that broke his nose?" Karen had asked as she recalled what Tom had claimed happened by flipping his snowmobile.
"Man shouldn't let his mouth write checks his ass can't cash," Rocky had said in a matter-of-fact, and a shiver went down Karen spine when she pictured her big-mouthed husband getting slugged by one of those meaty fists of the old man.
"Guess it says a lot when I think that's funny," Karen heard herself saying.
"Why don't you leave him?" Rocky had asked the girl. "It's never too late to start off fresh. What are you, about 30?"
"25," Karen corrected. "I know I look like crap. Seems like every year around here ages me 3."
"You look fine to me. How come you don't work at the Family Dollar no more?"
"Got laid off a couple months ago. Probably didn't help that Tom kept showing up and calling the store because he thought the manager wanted to get into my pants," Karen shrugged.
"Did he?"
"She," Karen corrected, but after seeing a wicked smile on the old man's face she quickly added, "No, she wasn't doing any such thing. She's a lesbian but has a girlfriend. I'm straight."
"Good to know," Rocky had said before parting.
"I can give you a ride into town Mr. Burke," Karen had offered when she thought of him walking all that way to the store.
"No thanks. I got a car but I like the walk and this here ain't a cane, it's a walking stick in case one of these wild dogs comes at me," Rocky had said. "Besides, walking gives me a chance to talk to all the pretty ladies along the way. Gets my juices flowing if you know what I mean."
"Oh gees," Karen said as she rolled her eyes, shivering when his gaze went up and down her again.
"But if you call me Mr. Burke tomorrow you aren't going to leave me any choice but to take you over my knee and spank that bottom of yours," he cackled.
"Ha!" Karen had retorted with a laugh. "You'd have to catch me first."
"Wouldn't be a problem," Rocky said before heading down the road. "I can move damn fast when I see something I want, so you - hell you wouldn't make it to your porch. I'd make that rear end of yours as red as your hair."
Karen chuckled at that, but as she watched the burly neighbor walk away she noticed her nipples were throbbing and her panties were a little moist.
Rocky Burke was at once repulsive and compelling to Karen. His language was coarse on occasion and the way he looked at her - well, it had been a long time since anybody had looked at her like that, and that spoke volumes about how lonely she had become, even when her husband wasn't in jail and was around.
***
Karen ran her brush through her hair and looked at her reflection in the bathroom mirror. The makeup covered the fading bruise and she had even put on a little lip gloss, just a touch though so Mr. Burke didn't think she was getting all dolled up for their mailbox chat.
Karen had kept her eye out up the road, so when the old-timer came down his driveway she timed her stroll to meet him at the edge of the road. She had been worried at the start that he would think she was timing these meetings but she no longer cared, but was more worried that one of the rare cars that went by would see her out here talking to Mr. Burke and tell Tom.
"Somebody is looking good today," Mr. Burke commented as he watched Karen pull the Pennysaver and an overdue light bill from the box. "I like that blouse. Shows a lot of your freckles."
"So hot and muggy. We're supposed to get a storm," Karen said of the light blue shirt with the sleeves ripped off that used to be Tom's. "This is kinda cool."
"Don't need the bra though," Rocky suggested of the harness visible through the cotton.
"I'm been told that all my life," Karen retorted and enjoyed the flash of surprise from the old man before he recovered.
"Not what I meant child. Hell, more than a handful is a waste," he offered as he stared brazenly at the modest swells in her blouse. "Besides, I'm more of an ass-man, and you didn't get cheated there. You measure up fine."
"Oh gees," Karen moaned, fully aware that her bottom didn't match her top.
"I've been looking at women all life, so let me see. I figure you're about 5'4" and maybe 120 pounds," Rocky mused as he leaned on his stick.
"Well, you're close enough to not get slapped," Karen retorted. "Maybe when the fair opens next week you can get a job at the booth guessing weights and stuff, but you aren't good at guessing ages as I recall."
"True. Let's see, I figure you to be maybe 33- 24-36. Am I close?"
"Omigod, I don't know," a flustered Karen replied. "Don't think I've even been measured like that anyway."
"Be glad to offer my services," Rocky said.
"That's okay. I have a hunch I would be happier with your guessing than what a tape measure would say," Karen admitted, knowing that the old fellow had been overly generous in evaluating her bust and probably kind with the other numbers as well.
"What will you do if it starts raining?" Karen asked as she looked at the grey skies.
"I was a boy scout back in the day. Always prepared," Rocky answered as he pulled a small pocket umbrella from his back pocket and showed it off by opening it. "Big enough to keep my cap dry at least."
"Can't imagine you as a boy scout," Karen mentioned.
"Neither could they," was Rocky's answer, and as they laughed Karen watched his Popeye like forearms bulge. "They asked me to leave when I started hitting on a Brownie."
"Oh gees," Karen answered as she shook her head. "Were you always so incorrigible?"
"So I've been told," Rocky admitted. "Guess I've always just come out and said what was on my mind. A lot of men think they're slick by thinking dirty and talking like a choir boy. Not me. What you hear is what I am with no sugar coating. If I think it I say it."
"I'm beginning to figure that out already," Karen told him as his eyes went down her body again. "What are you thinking now?"
"Well, for one thing I'm betting that you have a lot of hair between your legs."
"What?"
"Pussy hair. I'm guessing that you have quite a bush on you and you ain't the type to go waxing or shaving it either."
"What - how..."
"Just a guess, seeing how much hair you have under your arms," Rocky replied as he nodded towards where Karen was leaning on the mailbox, and when Karen quickly jerked her arm down from the box so banged her elbow on the edge. "Ouch. You okay?"
"Yeah," the red-faced woman said as she held her elbow. "Funny bone."
"Dumb move on my part," Rocky said. "That's one time I should have kept my mouth shut and just enjoyed the view. That your old man's idea - the natural look?"
