My secrete was not so secrete
- 3 years ago
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He Planned A Secret Ch. 01 free porn video
[Not a normal Romance story. This one could have been in the Group area as easily as here. The sex in this story begins almost vanilla except it includes three people. The story is fiction.]
After the ceremony I walked back to my room. I’d been on the base for two weeks and had a room to myself all that time. As soon as I got inside the room my dress uniform came off and the shower came on. Twenty minutes later I was showered, shaved (again) and dressed in a new short sleeved Hawaiian shirt and khaki cargo pants. I left the dress uniform on the floor. The B4 bag full of other uniforms was in the corner of the room and I saluted it on my way out. I carried a half full civilian pack with a change of clothes, a folder of paperwork I’d need, a dop kit, and the case my Silver Star came in.
At the end of the hall I entered the Wing office and walked to the first Sergeant’s desk. He stood, shook my offered hand and said, ‘Leaving so soon?’
‘Not soon enough for my tastes.’
‘Where are you headed?’
‘Somewhere far away. Don’t figure to have a plan, just go.’
‘They’d give me a toaster oven if I talked you into re-upping.’ He smiled as he said it. We both knew he didn’t like toast and that any chance of me staying was long past.
‘I’ve more than had enough, Sarge. Don’t waste your breath. Oh, someone will need to clean up my room. I left a little trash on the floor.’
‘Already on it. I’ll miss you.’ He let go of my hand and I turned and walked out.
Outside the building there were spaces for eight vehicles. Three spots were filled with blue sedans with USAF painted on the doors. One spot held the First Sergeant’s 1955 Ford F-100. It was red. The wind wing on the driver’s side had a broken lock/latch. Other than that the truck was incredible, new paint, leather upholstery, great tires and rims, a 289 c.i. engine that purred and all the other signs that he loved and cared for his truck.
Next to his F-100 sat my 1969 Chevy El Camino. The day I returned from overseas I had it hauled out of storage and detailed. It had been purchased new by my Dad and when he passed on, it passed to me. It had the L-46 engine and a 3-speed Vette transmission when it came to me. I added cosmetic touches like a great paint job, rims, tires and a tuned exhaust system. Two days before the ceremony I picked it up and had to fight my urge to just leave at that moment. The moment I fired up the 349 horse V8 something pulled at me to push the truck down the road.
I opened the door and put my bag on the seat. I opened the bag and took the Silver Star in it’s case out of the bag. I walked it over to Sgt. Garcia’s F-100 and opened the wind wing window. I reached in and put the star on his seat. I knew he’d understand that I didn’t want it, wouldn’t keep it and would probably never come for it.
I closed the wind wing window and got in my El Camino. She fired with barely a touch of the ignition and then purred at me. I backed into the street and headed for the main gate. When I made the turn for the gate my spotter was standing next to the gate waving me to the side. He was in cammo’s, unusual for on-base attire. I pulled over and he went to the front bumper of the truck, bent over and twenty seconds later stood up with the base access sticker in his hand. He stepped to the side and saluted.
I returned the salute as I left the base.
Thirty seconds later I had to make a decision. I came to a traffic signal at an intersection. Turn left and drive south, turn right and go north or, when the light changed, go west. The light turned green and I went west.
By the time I’d been on the road for three days I’d made a few discoveries.
I discovered that sleeping in motels was expensive. I discovered that eating in restaurants was expensive and I’d discovered that paying someone to open a beer for me cost more than the beer.
On day four of being a civilian I stopped at a huge store and went shopping. I bought four new outfits of traveling clothes, jeans, t-shirts, socks, underwear and a new pair of hiking boots, two sleeping bags, a lantern, a backpacker’s stove, six magnets, a tarp, some bungee cords, a book locating campgrounds, an ice chest, ice, a six pack of beer, a six-pack of sodas and when I got to the checkout I bought six condoms. Walking to the truck gave me time to wonder why I bought condoms. It had been a year, a week and three days since I’d been with a woman.
Dad had installed a locking bed cover over the bed of the truck the year before he died. I unlocked it and lifted the cover. The boards between the metal runners were oak treated with polyurethane for the look and waterproofing. Dad and I had worked on them together. I missed him.
After a minute of memories I loaded everything except the ice chest, ice and sodas in the bed. I put the sodas in the ice chest, covered them with ice and had lots left. I put the ice chest in the foot well in the cab and went back inside the store and bought another ice chest. It got filled with the beer and the rest of the ice. I stowed it in the bed and locked it inside.
Three hours later I stopped in a small farming community and had a meal in a small café. The waitress looked to be about twenty-five and already getting old. She took my order and called it out to the cook. Five minutes later the cook, who looked to be the waitress’ mother delivered the best meatloaf dinner I’d ever had.
The café was almost empty. All the people inside were already eating when she delivered my dinner. She pulled a chair out and sat across from me.
‘You’re new.’ She said.
I smiled and said, ‘Thank you. Actually I’m near thirty-eight, but new would be good.’
‘I meant new in town.’ We both knew I knew that, but my response kept the conversation alive.
‘That, I am. This meatloaf is great! I’m impressed.’
‘I grind the meat myself and it’s a mixture. This time of year I can get venison and mix it with beef. Glad you like it.’
‘I do. Do you do a great breakfast too?’
She smiled and asked, ‘Will you still be around for breakfast? Your truck has Virginia plates on it. I sorta figured you were headed somewhere.’
‘The somewhere I was headed was away. I’d say this qualifies as away. Away from Washington D. C.. Away from the Air Force, uniforms, officers, orders and the chain of command.’
‘Retired?’
‘It was offered and I took it.’
‘Looking for a soft place to land?’ Her eye were focused on mine. My answer mattered. I had no idea why.
‘Looking, but without urgency. I could wander around for months or settle somewhere.’
‘When you settle, then what?’ She sipped her coffee and seemed genuinely interested. I noticed that she was fit, clean at two o’clock in the afternoon, and seemed interested in me. For a cook to be clean at two seemed to be beyond belief, but then, I wasn’t more than a survival cook.
‘I’ve thought about that question for the last ten years, last three pretty heavily. I want to be useful somehow, but at the moment I don’t feel useful at all.’
‘Are you strong?’
‘I guess. Why?’
‘Know anything about farming?’
‘Grew up in Idaho on twelve hundred acres of corn and potatoes.’
‘Excuse me a minute.’ She went to the phone and called someone. She said, ‘Come to the café. I think he’s here.’ She hung up and came back to the table. ‘Pie?’ She asked.
‘Did you make it?’ I asked.
‘Apple, cherry or peach?’ She asked as she nodded.
‘Peach, ala mode if possible.’
I watched as she cut a generous slice and slipped it in a small oven. A minute later it came out and she put a generous scoop of ice cream on it.
One bite and I said, ‘Is there something you cook that isn’t very good?’
‘Yeah, Escargot.’
‘Good! I hated them last time I ate them!’
‘You really ate snails?’ Her face screwed up like she’d just bit into a lemon.<
br>
‘Once! I was in France and they were offered as a gift.’
‘Wow!’ The door opened and two men came in. Both were dressed in the universal garb of farmers, one in worn bib overalls and a flannel shirt the other in jeans and a well-worn flannel shirt. They filled the other two seats at my table. The woman introduced them and herself. ‘I’m Diane, this is Mark and this is Solomon. They own the Feed and Grain you passed on your way into town.’
I put my hand out as I stood. ‘I’m Ben. Glad to meet all three of you.’ We all sat back down.
Solomon said, ‘We’re looking for someone who can manage the Feed and Grain. Diane thinks you’re the man for the job.’
‘Tell me more about the business, please.’
Two hours later I was the manager of the Feed and Grain. I had rented a small cottage from Diane and I had taken a tour of the F&G. The cottage was across the street from the F&G. Solomon and Mark talked money with me and we agreed on a starting compensation and a schedule of raises based on performance. In the beginning they said they wanted me to manage the F&G. It wasn’t quite accurate. They wanted me as the manager, the labor force and the clean up crew.
I moved into the cottage before dark. I went back to the F&G and studied the books until hunger told me to leave it until the next day. I ate dinner with a café full of neighbors and got introduced to every one of them.
When most of the people had gone home I asked Diane, ‘What happened to the last manager of the Feed and Grain?’
‘No one knows. He closed up one Friday evening, ate dinner here and no one has seen him or his car since. He left everything, didn’t pack a suitcase or anything. I found the house keys on his kitchen table.’
‘Same house I’m living in?’
She nodded her head and said, ‘Yup. No one’s lived in it since he left. I thought for a while he’d be back. He left in February. I don’t believe he’s coming back.’ I thanked her for the conversation, the job and a great meal and walked to my new home.
By midnight I was asleep. Somewhere in the night I woke up covered in sweat and visions of being hidden outside a small village watching through a scope for a certain man to step into my sights. The sound of a twig snapping woke me up. Maybe the twig was just in my dream, my memory or somewhere within a hundred yards of the cottage. I’ll never know. I listened and calmed myself until I went back to sleep.
The first month I was in town I felt like a one-man fire department. I studied the books, swept, took inventory, met lots of farmers and was grateful Bob had kept such good books before he was taken by aliens. Most of the time I felt like I was a month behind and rushing to catch up. It didn’t help that I missed some sleep from snapping twigs about three times a week. It also didn’t help that my muscles were sore every night from bags of seeds, grain, barrels of various chemicals familiar to farmers and pushing a broom.
Near the end of that first month I was pushing a broom at about 1700 (five o’clock to civilians) when a kid about fifteen with half a million freckles climbed up un the loading dock and asked, ‘Can I talk to you Mister Peterson?’
That conversation was how boys in farm country looked for work. When he, Ken, left that afternoon he had a two hour a day job, sweeping. Depending on how he worked out I left the door open for more hours and more work.
I don’t think the business got ripped off the first months. A couple of the farmers gave me the impression they were looking for ways to rip me off, and Ken warned me about their reputation for being ‘shady. The books showed I stayed in balance.
I ate in the café twice a week. I bought things at the grocery and learned to cook some things. My cooking never compared to Diane’s. I got to know most of the people in town, all the farmers for miles around and some from outside the county. For the first six months a common topic in the F&G was the question of ‘Who was I before I got to town?’
I lied. What I had done for the eighteen years attached to the U.S. Air Force was not something I wanted known, talked about or spread about. The military had a name, even a job title for what I did, but those who knew guys like me shortened it to, ‘Sniper’.
Officially the Air Force didn’t have snipers. The Army did, the Corps did, as well, but officially, the Air Force didn’t. I learned Inventory Management as my cover. Started actually using that education when I took over the F&G. I told the people who asked I had managed an inventory of supplies on various bases in different places, until I got hurt and medically retired.
The injury was from a knife, given to me late at night in a desert somewhere in the Middle East. I still got my target and got my spotter and I out alive. The same spotter who had removed the sticker from my El Camino as I left the base. The story I told was that a falling piece of storage rack had caught me and ripped into me deep enough to get me retired. I didn’t show anyone the scar and no one asked to see it.
In that small town the opportunities for socializing were a little scarce. I attended Little League games, basketball games, and high school football games. I was invited to every church picnic, pot luck and bingo game in town. I met the four single women in my age group before I’d been in town very long. I didn’t make a move on any one of them.
The week after I’d been in town six months I became fair game. I could tell because that week the four single women within fifteen years of my age invited me for dinner. I knew or had met all four of them, knew they were single and attractive. I had decided not to pursue any one of them since I was not being totally honest about who I was or had been. I believed starting a relationship with secrets isn’t good in the short term or in the long run.
Diane invited first. She wanted Friday evening. Grace, the high school English teacher, invited me for Tuesday evening. Margaret, the principal of the elementary school, asked me to dinner for Saturday. Ann asked for Sunday evening. Ann ran the office for the local utility, natural gas, electricity, water and sewer. The only other single woman in town anywhere close to my age was Diane’s daughter and she wasn’t twenty-five. She was twenty-one and her name was Barbara. She didn’t ask me out.
Diane asked me on Tuesday afternoon. The phone rang and I answered, ‘Feed and Grain, how may I serve you?’
Diane’s voice said, ‘You can shower, shave, dress nice and come to my house Friday evening for dinner.’
I smiled and answered, ‘I was just thinking about you. I’d love to accept your invitation as long as you promise dinner isn’t escargot.’ We both laughed.
Diane said, ‘I was thinking I might test a couple new recipes and if you like them I’ll put them on the menu.’
‘An adventure! I’m ready for that. What time Friday evening?’
‘I close the café at eight. Is nine too late?’
‘I’ll have a late lunch and nine will be perfect. Is there anything I can bring or help you with?’
‘Are you going to The City in the next three days?’
‘I could. What would you like?’
‘A good bottle of red wine would be nice, I think.’
‘Is there one you like?’
‘Balletto Vineyards makes a wonderful pinot noir. If you can find that, it would be great. It’s from California.’
‘Ok. I’ll find it. Friday at eight! I’m excited. Maybe while I’m in The City I’ll buy a nice shirt to wear Friday night.’
‘Please, no jeans.’
‘Ok, I’ll get slacks and a shirt, maybe even some nice shoes so I’m not clomping into your house in my hiking boots.’
‘Forget the shoes. No one wears shoes in the house. We leave shoes on the porch. It makes it easier to keep the house clean.’
Less than an hour later my phone rang again. I answered, ‘Feed and Grain, how may I serve you?’
A soft voice almost whispered in my ear, ‘Ben? This is Margaret. I am
inviting you to dinner.’
‘Margaret, this is Ben. I accept. When?’
‘Saturday night at seven. Is that Ok?’
‘I almost always eat on Saturday evening around seven. That works great for me. You sure it’s Ok for us to have dinner? Won’t the other men in your life be jealous?’
‘Last man I had dinner alone with was three months before I moved to town. I was in Madison, Wisconsin. I doubt he will be upset.’
‘Last woman I had dinner with, in her home, was almost two years ago near Andrews Air Force Base. Sad memories. Dinner with you I can look forward to. You aren’t shipping out to the Middle East next week, are you?’
‘No, I’m supervising the state proficiency exams for fifth graders next week.’
‘Wonderful!’ As we chatted about things going on at school and around town I made a note to get flowers and another bottle of wine on my trip to The City.
In the end I bought flowers for Margaret, wine for Diane, wine for Grace and at Ann’s request I got four halibut steaks from a place in The City that had fresh fish flown in daily. I also bought some nicer clothes and a pair of non-hiking boots as well. It was called The City because it was the city anyone went to when our little town didn’t have what we needed. The town and countryside around our town had maybe four thousand people in it. The City had almost a hundred thousand.
The four dinners were wonderful. Each served a delicious meal and treated me to conversations about something other than the weather or crops. Each made sure I could identify their best bait. With Diane it was her cooking. Grace wore a large sweater and leggings. She believed her legs were her best bait, for attracting a man. Ann wore a long sleeved poets shirt of white silk, her hair pulled up on top of her head, showing off her long, slender neck and skin down to the gentle swell of her breasts. Margaret opened her door wearing a flower print sundress, no shoes and she had a yellow flower in her hair. Her long, wavy, chocolate colored hair looked freshly washed. By the end of each evening I agreed with their beliefs about their best bait.
But, I hadn’t seen everything each of them had to offer.
Over the next weeks I cooked (using a microwave oven) at home on Monday, Wednesday and Thursday nights. Dinner with the four single women became a ritual for the five of us. At each dinner with each of the four I had thoughts about telling them about my past and how that past was effecting our ‘right now’ and our futures. I didn’t say anything, I did think about it.
Three months after my first dinner with Diane I was loading bags of seed into Mr. Thompson’s stake side truck and he asked, ‘You saving any energy for Diane?’
I hesitated between fifty-pound sacks and asked, ‘What are you talking about?’
He smiled and said, ‘Everyone in the county knows you have dinner every Friday night over at Diane’s. Earlier I was wondering if you were focused on Diane on Friday evenings or focused on her daughter, then I remembered Barbara isn’t home until late on Friday evenings.’
‘You know everything that goes on in town?’ I asked.
‘Nope, but the wife keeps tabs on damn near everything… and she talks.’
‘I’ll save a little energy for Diane. Enough to eat whatever new thing she wants me to taste.’
‘Best be careful. I think all four of them are looking for a husband and you’re the prime target.’ He climbed into his truck, waved and drove away. I stood on the dock and watched him go. I knew all four wanted more than a once a week dinner companion. In that moment I was aware the whole town, the whole county, was watching. I was also aware I didn’t quite know how to solve the problem I had going any farther down the road to relationship.
At nine that night I knocked and Diane opened the door. She wore shorts that hit her just above the knees and a big t-shirt that extended down over her shorts to just cover her butt. She had on a short apron, too. As I stepped inside she put her arms around my neck and we kissed.
After the conversation I had with Mr. Thompson I was really paying attention and I noted to myself that the kiss wasn’t hot, exactly. It smoldered. The fire was there and I was pretty sure it would be pretty easy to blow on it and watch it catch and really burn.
Rowan
- 01.04.2021
- 9
- 0
