Starting From Scratch

Chapter 1- First Meeting

Margaret drove into Livingston for her monthly supply run. She drove her old 85' GMC with the windows down. The air conditioning wasn't working again and she didn't have time to leave her truck at a repair shop for it to be fixed. She had things to do and a farm to run. It didn't matter overly much, it was an abnormally cool summer so far with the high only reaching the mid-eighties.

Cool air from the windows being rolled down flipped the strays of her platinum blonde hair that had escaped the long braid that was pulled over her left shoulder. Two-sixty air conditioning was all she needed, Montana never really did get too hot during the summer.

'Yikes,' She chastised herself with a chagrined smile, 'Don't jinx it!'

Two summers ago it was abnormally hot. She had thought she was going to melt before fall finally came that year. She had barely been able to stay out of the river and get any work done, it had been so hot.

The thought made her sad. She would have loved to have gone to the river and skinny-dipped with George. She missed him dearly. Her best friend and husband for twenty-four years.

'How dare he up and die on her like that!'

The loss and her subsequent loneliness pained her. Running the farm had to be done. She couldn't just let it go. It had been George's life. It had been their life. A legacy to leave their children, except, they never had any. She didn't know why. If it was her fault, or his, either way, they were just never able to conceive. It wasn't something to go to the doctors about. It was what it was. God had just not seen fit to bless them with children.

Pulling into the local Seed and Supply Store, Margaret hopped out of her truck and walked in.

"Good morning Val," She called out with a wave to the portly greying man behind the counter as she walked with a purpose toward the back of the store.

"Good morning Marg," He replied with a big smile and a wave, "Beautiful day we're having isn't it?"

"Sure is," She purred as she looked through the saddle straps hanging from a peg.

She looked over and smiled and for not the first time in their long retail relationship, she caught Val staring at her ass. He saw her turn her head in his direction and immediately looked up to meet her eyes, but she knew what he was really gazing at. Her ass. Her wonderfully wide, heart-shaped, capital-C, thick as a bookshelf ass! It was her one defining feature. Some women had tits. She had an ass. Thick and round and perfect. Or, so her husband had always said, and of course, she knew men had always leered at her so she supposed it was true. She had to admit, she knew her thighs were thick along with her calves. She had thick ankles and small feet, and she knew she absolutely slew a pair of Wrangler jeans.

Looking away, she smirked as a smidgen of ego warmed her belly. She really did like wearing her tightest fitting jeans on these monthly excursions to town. It felt good to know she still had the goods to turn men's heads even if she never intended to take advantage of it. She just simply didn't have time for a man now.

Grabbing a new girth strap and saddle blanket she walked back to Val and laid them on the counter. Val met her golden brown eyes, after all, her ass wasn't facing him at the moment as she said, "I will take these along with the rest of my regular order."

"Yes ma'am," Val answered, "I will have Darrel and Lance load your truck. I'll be here when you return."

"Thanks, Val," She said with a warm smile. Leaving the store she put a little more sway in her hips as she walked out and up the street.

Her next stop was Gina's Diner. She would get breakfast before continuing her shopping at the grocery store. As she walked up she saw a young man. Any man younger than her was a young man to her now, but this one was at least half her age. He sat on a bench outside of Gina's Diner with a sign in his hands announcing, "Will work for food, fuel, and lodging."

Marg could tell he was no vagabond. He sat there in an olive tweed suit with a motorcycle helmet on the seat beside him. Directly across from him, parked in a parking space, she assumed the Triumph cafe' racer was his.

'This is no homeless guy.'

'This is just a guy down on his luck.'

"Where are you from, kid," Marg asked as she stopped and stood in front of him with her hand on her shapely hips.

"Florida," He answered as he slowly looked her up and down, from her boots and Wrangler jeans to her tank-top, her blonde braids to her golden brown eyes.

When his eyes met hers she was fairly taken aback. They were a stormy grey-green, and they seemed tired and aged beyond his years. There was a story behind those eyes, and she wanted to hear it. Otherwise, the boy was handsome. Very handsome. Not Sean Connery or Clint Eastwood handsome. This kid was more Harrison Ford back in his Indiana Jones days handsome. Ruggedly so, not pretty.

'George had been ruggedly handsome.'

"Florida!" She laughed, "Well, I tell you what, this is my monthly supply run. I have a lot of shopping to do today and I need some help bringing it all back to my truck just over there."

She pointed to her truck parked in front of Val's Seed and Supply before continuing, "I will be here almost all day. If you help me out with the carrying and loading I will buy you breakfast and lunch."

"Yes ma'am," He answered immediately as he stood up and grabbed his helmet. He put the helmet on the seat of his motorcycle, and then he stretched his hand out toward her offering to shake on the deal.

Marg looked at him, and then took his hand and gave him a firm shake as she asked, "What's your name?"

"Thomas," He said with a tired smile, "Thomas Goodseed... I... I mean... Hello, I'm Thomas Goodspeed."

"Goodseed huh," She replied, "It seems that you're a very confident young man. I think I like it. Well, my name is Margaret Gardener, but you can call me Marg if you want."

"Nice to meet you, Marg," Thomas said.

"Nice to meet you, Thomas," She reciprocated.

Leading Thomas inside Gina's Diner, she sat in her usual booth. Thankfully it was unoccupied. She preferred it because it gave her an excellent view of Darrel and Lance loading her supplies into the bed of her truck. People could read into that what they wanted. Those boys were young and virile while she was a lonely old woman. She had to take her joys where she could find them.

Marg looked out to make sure that Darrel and Lance were doing their job correctly and then she turned back to Thomas who sat directly across from her. Leslie Fairway approached with two menus and a warm smile as she purred, "Well, how are you doing today, Marg? It's been a while, and who is this gentleman with you today?"

"Good morning Leslie," Marg answered with an amused smirk, "Today is a beautiful day. I could do with the whole summer being as nice and cool as this one. Just picking up supplies, as usual, you know how the farm is. As for Thomas, well, I don't know who he is, yet. I found him outside looking like a little lost puppy. Says he's willing to work for food, fuel, and lodging. I don't know about that yet, but I might just have to take this little lost puppy home if he is willing to work."

Thomas's eyes flashed with something Marg could only think might be annoyance. He didn't like being talked about, especially right in front of him like he wasn't even there. Well, George had never liked that either.

"Well, make sure you do your due diligence Marg," Leslie warned as she passed the menus to them, "We've had a rash of vagabonds lately. I'd hate to hear you took this guy home and got yourself hurt, or worse because of it. You're too good a person for that."

"Thanks, Leslie," Marg said as she opened her menu, then added, "I think I'll have my usual, Leslie, but why don't you give us a minute so Thomas can see what he would like."

Leslie nodded and gave Thomas a warning glare before she turned and left.

"Sorry about that Thomas," Marg said with a proud smirk, "Leslie is a little bit overprotective. It doesn't help that she lost her mom when she was young. Her father raised her all on his own, and I guess through the years I just kinda started thinking of her as the daughter I never had."

"It's fine," Thomas said with a dismissive wave, "It's nice to see that there is loyalty like that somewhere in this world."

Marg nodded, but Thomas's statement made her think. Obviously, something had happened to him to make him so cynical, or was he bitter?

"Tell me about yourself Thomas. What brought you to Livingston Montana?" She asked.

Thomas looked at her for a long time. For being forty-eight she was not reduced to handsome. She was not shriveled or haggard looking. Remarkably, despite never really using makeup, and only washing her face with regular soap and water and then applying moisturizing lotion after every bath, she was very youthful looking. Yes, she had defined lines at the edges of her eyes, and her smile dimples had deepened over the years, but that was it. She had big golden brown eyes and eyelids that were tilted upward giving her what George had always called her bedroom eyes. She had a slim, noble nose with the tip and columella turned up, and she had a slightly thinner top lip with a bottom lip that seemed to be overly full. However, her looks, her beauty, were not what Thomas was looking at. He was staring at her as if he was searching her soul. Looking for something that would tell him she was trustworthy.

"I just arrived yesterday," He finally said after apparently finding what he was looking for in her eyes, "As I said before, I am from Florida. I came home a few days ago and found my wife and my best friend fucking in the swimming pool. I... I just turned around and left. I'm such a coward. I should have confronted them. Said something. Instead, I just hopped on my bike, went to the bank, emptied my accounts, and rode away. I left my wife, my life, and my job. This is where I finally ran out of gas and money."

"It is probably for the best that you didn't confront your wife and best friend," Marg said after a long pause and ensuing silence, "Most likely one or both would be dead and you would be in jail. And besides, if your wife was willing to betray you with your best friend, then she is not worth you ruining the rest of your life for her. You did the right thing. If your best friend was willing to betray you with your wife, well then, there aren't two people in the world that deserve each other more. Don't worry, they will never be happy. As for you Thomas, I've decided, if you're willing, you can come home with me. I will pay to fuel up your motorcycle. George and I always wanted kids, so my house has four spare rooms you can pick from. I will pay you for your work around my farm. Lodging and meals will of course be deducted. I will pay you at the end of each month, or before your leave. If you decide to leave. Does that sound fair?"

Thomas seemed to search my eyes and expression again for something deeper, and then he held out his hand again. Marg took it and they shook on it.

Leslie walked up just at that moment. She eyed Thomas then cut her eyes to Marg and said, "So he made the grade."

"Yep," Marg answered with a pretty grin.

"Good!" Leslie chirped then turned back to Thomas and asked, "So, what will it be handsome?"

"Whatever Marg is having," Thomas answered with a solemn smile for Leslie.

Leslie's eyes opened wider in surprise. Thomas was a handsome young man, Marg knew it, and now Leslie saw it as well. Leslie recovered quickly, burying her shock and the flush of her cheeks behind a smile before turning and leaving.

"Did I offend her?" Thomas asked as he watched Leslie leave, "She doesn't seem to like me."

Marg chuckled as she shook her head, "I don't think it's "not liking you" that is the problem."

Thomas frowned at that and stared after Leslie once more. Leslie was a very beautiful woman. She was of an average height for women, about five feet five inches tall. She had long glossy black hair that fell straight down her back to the bottom of her ass-cheeks, and she had coppery skin bespeaking a native-American heritage. However, her eyes were such a pale blue, almost like turquoise, that it was plain to see that she was not one hundred percent native-American.

Margaret looked back over her should at Leslie as she walked away. Leslie was buxom. Very. Very buxom. So much so that if she hadn't been wearing an apron tied tightly beneath her breasts accenting just how small her waist was in comparison to her breasts, one would have thought she was fat. Not the case though, Marg may think of Leslie as the daughter she never had, but the reality was Leslie was only ten years Marg's junior. Leslie was thirty-eight, and yes, she was plump, but almost any woman would be after four kids. Despite that, Leslie had a very small waist in comparison to her breasts with only minimal plumpness. However, her hips were broad and her ass was thick. Broader and thicker than Marg's with thick thighs and shapely calves. Overall, depending on the clothing she wore, Leslie looked like she had a porn model body or she could look not unlike the 'Michelin Man'. It was all an illusion of her clothing though. Marg knew all too well that Leslie had a porn model body, and it was all natural.

"The problem is," Marg said as Thomas turned from watching Leslie to look at her, "Leslie is married, and she has a bad picker."

"What do you mean?" Thomas asked.

"Leslie's been married for twenty years now, or soon will be in a couple of months," Marg began, "Married Larry right out of high school. It was good for them for a while, then Leslie got pregnant with Cheyenne. Ever since then when Larry gets angry or has a little too much to drink, which is anytime he drinks, then he takes it out on Leslie. Well, I should say he takes it out on the kids, but then Leslie intervenes, and well, you get the idea."

Thomas shook his head and looked down at the table. He was silent for a long time before he finally responded in a low cold growl, "I hate men like that."

Another long pause before he continued, "I'm not saying I'm perfect. Heather and I had our fair share of fights, but the one time it came to physical blows..."

He paused again as he remembered the fight, and then continued, "I told her that it would never happen again. I was not that kind of man and I would never let her drive me to act that way again, and it never did."

"We all have that moment when the one we love most drives us to insanity," Marg whispered, "The trick is learning from our mistakes and not repeating them. Larry Fairway doesn't do that. Never has."

Thomas nodded, "I know my fair share of people like that."

Marg nodded.

Leslie returned with two plates with eggs, hash browns, and bacon with a piece of sliced sourdough bread on the side. She left again, then returned with two orange juices, two coffees, and a small basket with an assortment of jellies and jams.

"Just give me a call if you need me for anything Marg," Leslie said, again in a honeyed purr.

"Thank you, Leslie," Marg replied.

Once Leslie retreated again Marg and Thomas set about their plates of food with a single-minded purpose. The plates were cleaned, the orange juice drunk, and Thomas and Marg relaxed as they sipped at their cups of coffee.

"Why hasn't anything been done about this Larry guy?" Thomas finally asked.

"Hmm," Marg hummed, then swallowed her coffee, "Well, I reckon it's because Leslie hasn't ever pressed charges against him. Those of us that know about it have our opinions of the son-of-a-bitch, but there's nothing we can really do until Leslie is ready to stand up for herself too."

Thomas found himself nodding in agreement with Margaret.

----(!)----

Marg and Thomas's conversation stuck with him for the rest of the day. It wasn't their only conversation, they actually talked a lot as he followed her around town grocery shopping, clothes shopping, and the like. He hadn't smiled much the weeks since catching Heather with Richard, but he had found himself doing so on several occasions as he accompanied Margaret.

'Margaret.'

'Yes.' He decided. He didn't mind calling her Marg if she insisted. However, to him, Margaret was a much better name. More beautiful, and more feminine.

It was a pleasure spending time with her and following her around town. It had been a while since he felt anything but hostile and suspicious toward any woman. That long, thick, platinum braid whisked behind her like a comical cat's tail. He found himself noticing things like, she was of an average height. Two or three inches taller than Heather. Maybe an inch taller than Leslie. However, where Leslie and Heather were very buxom Margaret wasn't. She had a slim fox-shaped face with a sharp jawline and a squared-off chin. She had big golden-brown eyes he found himself drawn to staring at. A pretty nose, and a mouth that, if she wasn't twice his age, he would have considered to be very lush, and very kissable.

Another thing about her was that although he was technically her employee now, she didn't treat him like one. Also, she wasn't matronly at all despite being older than his mother. If anything, she treated him like a younger brother. Actually, he kind of liked it.

He continued his physical assessment at her shoulders. Margaret was slim in her shoulders though her arms were taut and well muscled from years of working on her farm. She was also a definite pear in shape with a small chest and small breasts probably no larger than very full B-cups. Her waist was slim and feminine. Her belly was flat, relatively, as far as he could tell with her fully clothed, and her waist swept out to the most ridiculously broad hips and thick round ass he had ever seen.

'Her ass!'

'My God!'

It didn't matter what age she was, she absolutely killed those jeans she was wearing! She was the perfect amalgamation of a vase-like figure, a heart-shaped ass, and deliriously large bubbles for ass-cheeks. Then there were her legs. Wonderfully thick, tone, and shapely. If the woman were just, at the least, his age!

'If she were my age; I would do... what?'

'I'm already married to a narcissistic cheating whore. I don't need anymore betrayal, drama, and pain in my life.'

Upon returning to Margaret's truck, Thomas loaded all of her purchases, which were in a buggy they had borrowed, into the bed while she went to pay Val in the Seed and Stock Store. When she returned she smiled up at Thomas and purred, "It's been some time since I was on a bike. Why don't you give me a ride to the fuel station and I'll gas you up?"

Thomas found himself stupidly opening and closing his mouth like a fish until finally, he gave a single cough of a laugh and then shrugged. Margaret followed closely. Taking his helmet from the seat of his bike, he put it on and threw his leg over the Triumph. He turned it on and he revved as Margaret mounted the bike and scooted her body up very close behind him until he could feel the movement of her belly on his back as she breathed and the press of her breasts against his shoulder blades when she reached around his waist and hugged him.

It felt weird having a new and unknown woman pressing her body against his. Heather was the only woman that had ever ridden with him, and now there was Margaret. Strangely, she felt really good pressed up against him the way she was. If he didn't know better, he never would have thought he had an older woman twice his age riding with him with her body pressed up against him like a lover.

The trip to the fuel station was short. The time it took to fill the gas tank was even shorter. Margaret paid for the fuel, and then in no time at all, they were back at Margaret's truck. Then they were on their way north out of Livingston. To Thomas's surprise, he found that for the next hour he missed Margaret's company and her warmth on his back.