Talk Messy When You Write
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Dead Write Ch. 03 free porn video
A repost of an old romance story with a fresh edit.
Chapter 3
While Chris floated on his dinosaur pool toy, Sam drowned in self-incrimination. ‘Why did I do that?’
When they’d left Sharon’s house to pick up the repair parts, he had every intention of returning to replace the ball cock and be done. However, he couldn’t face her after that… assault?
‘What-the-hell was that? Oh yeah, my Respectful Employee training called it SEXUAL HARASSMENT, so much for my high moral standards. The first woman that flirts with me, I verbally rape! She must think I’m crazy, or a pervert, a crazy pervert! But she started it, didn’t she?
Damn it, so what. She didn’t ask to get pushed against the wall and humiliated. I stepped so far over the line I was in another state — an altered state. That’s it! That’s my plea. Judge, I need counseling. My toilet fetish drove me mad. May God have mercy on my sewer soul.’
‘… DAD!’ Chris’s splash finally rained through his clouded thoughts.
‘Yeah, Chris, what’s up?’
‘You know those dinosaurs that use their heads to ram into other dinosaurs?’
Dads know everything when you’re seven, and Sam cherished this brief time of infallibility. ‘Well, I don’t know them personally but I’ve heard of ’em.’
‘What are they called?’
‘Bumpasauruses.’
‘No they’re not.’
‘Boneheadasauruses.’
‘Come on. Stop kidding.’
‘The ones in Israel were called Oymyheadisaurs.’
Chris sat there, arms crossed, wearing his ‘get real’ face.
‘To tell you the truth, Chris, I don’t know. We’ll look it up later.’
‘Are you coming in?’
Sam stood and stretched, and then placed his hand to his ear, as if to listen closely. In the foreboding rhythm from Jaws, he chanted, ‘BUMM, bumm… BUMM, bumm… BUMM, bumm… What’s that?’ He pointed into the water next to Chris. ‘Shark!’ and cannonballed into a game of shark tag, thereby officially postponing his pretrial potty-defense preparations.
***
After sundown, it was time to settle in for the night. Chris soaked in the tub to be ready for Church in the morning. Sam brooded in the den, composing his apology to Sharon.
The doorbell chimed.
Tim Clayton, his closest neighbor from a mile down the road, stood squinting in the porch light with a large manila envelope tucked under his arm.
‘Hi Tim, c’mon in. How ya been? I haven’t seen you in a while.’
‘Hiya Sam, I can’t stay. Just wanted to drop off this package. I found it on my garage floor with the rest of the mail when I got home. I hope it isn’t important, because I’ve been away on business and the postmark is over a month old. It was sent certified! Frank must have forged your signature. He’s gotta be drinking again.’
Frank, the town Postmaster, had a problem keeping the deliveries straight when life’s potholes bounced him off the sobriety wagon. Neither rain, nor sleet, nor fog of brain stayed this boozer from his appointed rounds — and when he was drinking, he never missed a round at ‘O’Brian’s Pub’.
‘Thanks for dropping it off, Tim.’
‘Seeya later.’
‘Have a good night.’
Sam didn’t feel the door when he closed it. He didn’t see the porch light go out when he turned off the switch, or hear Tim’s BMW roar away. His physical senses were numbed by the handwriting on the package. It was Jan’s.
‘DAD, I’M READY!’
The shout from upstairs startled him back from the shock. ‘I’ll be right there,” he said, setting down the parcel and stumbling up the stairs.
While Chris lay half-asleep, another chapter of the Hadley Boys ‘Mystery of Sunset Mountain’ was absently read aloud. After prayers and kisses, Sam went back to the den, where his own mystery waited.
In a rare moment of weakness, Sam unlocked his desk drawer and extracted the bottle of Scotch — a present from a client. Pouring three fingers, he downed it like a shot and enjoyed the burn. Waiting to be under the influence, he snapped in an Allman Brothers CD and played the comforting music from his youth. The bluesy strains fit the occasion.
His left-hand lay on the envelope, as he tried to guess the contents purpose, deathly afraid whatever it was would break his heart. A letter bomb for the soul.
In a burst of liquefied strength, he ripped open the end and emptied it onto the desk. Graffiti adorned the cover of yet another notebook. The white subject box contained a single word, ‘Sharon’. His hand trembled, as he grazed his fingertips over the textured doodles. Opening it, he picked up a folded letter and read:
Dearest Sam,
BOO! Did I scare you? (lol) Then why are you crying? If you are reading this, it means I have left the pain of this world and I am rejoicing in heaven. Don’t feel sad. The times we shared were the happiest of my life. The care and tenderness you’ve given me these last painful years are a testament to your devotion. It was an honor to know you and to feel your love.
I have one regret. I cannot be with you to watch Chris grow up to be a man like his father.
My only worry is that you will live a lonely life, or an unhappy one.
Eleven months have passed since I’ve taken the road that goes on forever, and its time for you to mosey on, my handsome cowboy. Your friendly ghost is not trying to rule from the grave, only to guide. The biography I’ve written in this notebook is to get you thinking about your future happiness. I love Sharon Walker. She is a wonderful person and, like you, has been hurt. You might find comfort in one another.
Sam, you were never much of a schmoozer. We’ve argued about this for years, and now I get the last word — I had to make the first move.
I’m afraid you might be in so much pain, the first aggressive ‘Honey’ who shows you some affection will win your heart by default. That wouldn’t be fair to you or Chris. You have a lot in common with Sharon. A friendship would help heal the wounds that life has given you both. Use this twelfth month (remember, I said wait a year. You better not have gotten over me already! lol) and get to know Sharon through me.
I’ve been naughty. Sharon has your biography along with the same instructions.
God is good. He will open and close doors to guide you. I pray that someone worthy will catch my Midnight Rider.
Stay forever hopeful.
With Eternal Love, Jan
***
Sam’s held breath burst out in a sob. Memories filled him, warm and painful like sunburn.
As the emotion ebbed, a curtain lifted. He understood why Sharon acted so uninhibited. She knew him through Jan, and believed that he knew her as well.
The next day, he felt heartsick and stayed home from Church to study the ‘Sharon Chronicles’. Jan’s glowing appraisal of her friend proved to be a double-edged sword. It built a bridge from the past to the present and lessened his sense of betrayal. Yet, Jan’s kind words renewed his grief. He missed her.
Monday morning, Sam was a poured out, hollow shell and glad when the first client forgot his appointment. School was out for the summer, and Chris spent workdays on Grandma’s farm. Eager to reread Sharon’s biography uninterrupted before he called to apologize, he sped home to ponder his next move. Maybe she hadn’t been totally freaked out by his behavior on Saturday, and they could start over.
The intriguing Ms. Walker’s green Lumina sat in his driveway.
‘What the heck is going on now?’
Entering the garage, movement in the backyard caught his attention. Sam stood in the shadows and watched through the window as Sharon weeded the neglected garden. Judging from the pile on the ground behind her, she’d been hard at work for a while. The sweat of exertion made her skin glisten. The sun, nearly overhead, beat down on her back as she worked on hands and knees, returning Jan’s flowerbeds to their former glory.
He thought, ‘I shouldn’t be staring,’ but continued.
Her profile was lovely, the round curve of her bottom and the sway of her back. Muscles flexed as the trowel broke soil. A hand absently brushed away the errant strands of hair that blocked her vision. The thoughtfulness of her actions touched his heart.
‘She wanted to surprise me! I guess I haven’t completely turned her off.’
As he continued to appreciate her form and function, doubts began to work their black magic. ‘Maybe this is just payback for fixing her faucet. Maybe she thinks if she weeds the garden that’ll make us even, and she can have a clear conscious to stay away.’ He frowned. ‘I should leave and let her finish.’
Sharon sat upright, and began a feminine magic trick that he’d watched Jan perform countless times on long, hot rides in the car. Her hands reached under the back of her baggy tee-shirt and unhooked the support system. Then her right arm disappeared inside her sleeve, reappearing just the same. ‘Nothing up my sleeve!’ Her right hand reached into her left sleeve and pulled out a brazier. ‘Abracadabra!’ A much better trick than pulling a rabbit out of a hat. It was always sexy when Jan did it, knowing there was one less obstacle between him and her ‘playground’.
Throwing the lacy garment aside, Sharon fluttered her shirt rapidly in and out, fanning cool air along her sweaty flesh. She stood, and moved to another weed patch, this one in a shady spot, farther away.
As she knelt down to work, Sam turned away. He’d reached the truck when Sharon’s terrified screams sent him running into the backyard.
A swarm of hornets formed a cloud around her as she thrashed in self-defense.
‘Sharon! Come here!’ he yelled.
‘Sam! Sam, help!’ Sharon screamed.
Grabbing her arm, he pulled her to the pool and jumped into the shallow end, splashing violently to drive off the airborne and wash off the landed.
‘Owww! They’re in my clothes. Get ’em off me! Get ’em off!’
He pulled off her shirt, and swiped away the bees clinging to her back. She did the same in front.
‘Owww!’ she pulled down her shorts, and slapped more from her legs.
He continued to splash the floaters and fliers, until the squadron leader sounded the retreat.
Sharon, bent and crying, hugged her bare chest.
Sam put his hand on her back. ‘Shhh, it’s over now. It’s all right.’
She turned to him, and he wrapped his arms around her protectively, as she sobbed into his chest.
‘They’re gone.’
She cried a little less as he stroked her hair. The tears were followed by aftershock shudders.
‘Thank you, Sam.’
‘I’m glad I was here.’ Her cheek felt warm against his wet shirt. He rubbed her back as she relaxed, and said, ‘I’m going to have to bill you for the damage to my hornet’s nest.’
She laughed a little.
‘What’s so funny? Those bees you killed were an expensive import from China. They pollinate twice the flowers with half the pollen. But the queen can only lay one egg. So we just wiped out most of my investment.’ Sam released her and fished the tee shirt from the bottom. After checking it for hidden assassins, he wrung it out, turned his back and extended his arm behind him. ‘Make yourself decent before I call the police and report you for breaking and entering.’
While his back was turned, she inspected her welts. ‘Do those little monsters have twice the sting too? I count eight that I can see.’
‘I counted seven on your back.’
‘Four more on my legs. How many do you have?’
Sam made a quick damage assessment. ‘Hmm, I only have three. But then, you look a lot more like a flower than I do.’
She laughed. ‘Did they tell you that, or is it just a guess?’
Her cheerfulness made him smile. ‘No ma’am. Just the facts.’
‘They were just angrier at me.’ Sharon climbed out of the pool. ‘Okay, Detective Friday, I’m decent.’
Sam glanced up, and had to disagree. Sharon wasn’t decent. She was spectacular. The thin cotton shirt clung like a second skin, leaving very little to the imagination. ‘Who am I to argue with a beautiful woman.’ He looked at her face and caught her peeking at his chest. ‘I got the better part of that show-me-yours exchange.’
Sharon dripped a trail over to the pool gate. ‘I’d better go home and put some calamine lotion on these stings before they really start itching.’
Inspired by this extraordinary turn of events, Sam thought of a better idea. ‘No, don’t go yet. I’d like to talk to you about last Saturday.’
The sudden flush of her skin hinted embarrassment.
‘I want to apologize for my crude behavior. It was totally inappropriate.’
A long pause and a puzzled expression on her face left Sam uneasy.
‘No, Sam, I owe you an apology. Your behavior was only in reaction to my sleazy comment. You showed great restraint. While I was…’ She searched for the correct term, ‘lost in the moment?’
‘Lost in the moment!’ This new development required analysis. ‘I think we both got a little carried away. My toilet analogy was pretty rough, and I’m sorry.’
Her silence was again unsettling.
‘The sooner you treat those stings the better.’ He climbed out and put his arm around her shoulder, leading her to the house. ‘Since my hornets did the damage, let me try to make amends. I have a whirlpool tub and some of Jan’s Aveeno bath oil. If you soak in the tub for a while, it will prevent most of the itching and burning — or whatever stings do. And while you’re in the tub I can dry your clothes.’
She thought it over as they walked. ‘Thanks, Sam. That sounds great. It seems the more I try to show my appreciation for what you’ve done for me the more indebted I become.’
‘Sharon, you don’t owe me anything. That’s what friends are for.’
‘Friends. We are friends aren’t we, Sam.’
‘After reading your biography, how could we be anything less?’
Her smile warmed his heart, so he hugged her from the side.
***
Sharon finished with the relaxing soak. The tub controls were a mystery, so she left the motor running. The whooshing hum drowned out any other noise. She put on the robe Sam had provided, and wandered into the bedroom. There was no sign of her dried clothes.
Out of curiosity, she stepped into the huge walk-in closet. Jan’s wardrobe still hung on one side. Feeling uncomfortably naked, she walked to the dresser, hoping to find Jan’s underwear. Opening the second drawer, she discovered an emerald-green silk teddy.
‘Ooo, this is beautiful!’
***
Sam heard the whirlpool tub through the bedroom door and assumed Sharon was still soaking. He entered to leave her dry clothes on the bed.
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