Jon emerged from the bathroom to find the house silent.
“Billie?” He called, still rubbing his long hair with a towel as he headed along to the living room. “Hello?”
In the living room, on the back of the couch, he found a t shirt, a sheet of notepaper lying on top. Frowning in confusion, Jon picked up the note.
‘Jon - I won’t be long - just had to run (okay, ride!) to my neighbor if we’re going picnicking. Make yourself…….oh, you know the drill! Billie. PS: If you’re still feeling helpful, you could throw together some sandwiches or something.’
Jon grinned, flicking the note with a fingernail. More than he’d have believed possible, he was relishing being treated just like any other guy. Strange as it seemed, the whole rockstar, someone-to-do-every-damned-thing-for-you, no need to get your hands dirty lifestyle palled pretty quickly. Or maybe his sour attitude was to blame for that, too.
He unfolded the shirt, relieved to find it was plain, and pulled it on. It fit as well as could be expected, but he tugged at the collar, feeling it tight. Probably best, though, to wait for Billie’s permission before he did his usual and cut away the edge to loosen it for a more comfortable fit. Mindful of her half-joking suggestion, he went through to the kitchen to see what food he could find.
Ransacking the cupboards, he piled a few bags of chips and some apples onto the kitchen table, then started to make sandwiches with cooked ham he found in the fridge. Knowing how hot the day was likely to be, he forsook butter in favor of a thin layer of the ubiquitous French’s mustard. One thing he’d learned from his mom was that butter quickly turned rancid in the heat of summer - whether New Jersey or whichever state he was in right now - but mustard never failed. He just had to hope Billie liked it as much as he did. As soon as he thought that, though, he chuckled at his own stupidity. She lived here alone, so it was hardly likely she’d have the stuff if she didn’t like it. In a typically male - and very unhygienic - way, he sucked the knife blade clean, suddenly imagining anyone who knew him seeing this unlikely domestic scene.
“Oh, Dot would love this.” He muttered, the words settling for a moment before leaping back at him, hitting with the power of a sledgehammer. Dot.
“What the fuck did I do?” He mumbled painfully.
But, of course, he knew exactly what he’d done. He’d cheated on the woman he loved. Again. And this time it felt even more of a betrayal, because he hadn’t been able to…..to consummate his love for her, yet he’d fucked a near stranger into screaming orgasm at least twice this morning.
“You shit, Jonny.” He muttered darkly. “You utter fucking bastard.”
Now he had another headache to add to his list. Billie. Maybe the best thing would be to just get on his bike and ride. Preferably off the nearest cliff.
“How could you fucking do it?” He asked aloud, then spun around in surprise at the voice behind him.
“Stop beating yourself up.” Billie said gently, choosing her words with care. “Just a guess, but I assume the guilties just hit you? Over what happened this morning?”
“Yeah.” Jon flushed. “I mean, I don’t regret, well I do, but………ah, fuck!”
He didn’t even know what he was trying to say any more. No, he didn’t regret the delicious sex of the early morning, but still he felt like a total heel for cheating on Dorothea. It felt great to know he really wasn’t impotent but, on the flip side, shouldn’t that discovery have been made with the woman he loved? And……
“Stop.” Billie told him, the single word halting his rushing thoughts. She still stood at the doorway, watching him as she continued. “I think - I hope - what you’re trying to say is that this morning was….fun……but you’re deeply in love with Dorothea. And it’s okay, Jon. Truly. I won’t say let’s forget it happened.” She shifted slightly. “Be a few days before I can, anyway, but I’m not looking for anything from you.”
Jon stared at her. Okay, his honest first reaction was along the lines of ‘what the fuck?’. Hell, he’d performed pretty damned well, he thought, yet she was coolly saying she didn’t want him again? The second reaction, closely following, was one of relief, then a third hit, and it surprised him. He didn’t want to leave yet - minor awkwardness be damned. He wanted to go for that picnic. He wanted to spend time with Billie, spend time here. And how fucked up was that? Sighing, he gave her a sheepish half-grin.
“How come women are so damned smart?”
“Because we have to think for you lot, too.” She told him with a smirk. “D’you still want to go for that picnic?”
“Actually - yeah, I do.” He was slightly shame-faced, ducking his head and peering at her through tangled hair.
“Good, because I brought you your own horse.”
“You what?”
“Well, if we’re packing a picnic, that means saddlebags which, surprisingly enough, means a saddle. So we can’t both ride Drummer. I rode over next door - next ranch anyway - and borrowed a horse for you.” Billie grinned at the minor worry on his face. “Don’t worry - she’ll look after you.”
“She? You got me a girl horse, huh?”
“Girl horse.” Billie muttered, shaking her head at the layman’s term. “Yes, I borrowed my friend’s old mare. She’s utterly shockproof, frightproof, everything-proof. Plus she doesn’t mind novice riders. She’ll look after you.” She repeated.
“Okay.” Jon nodded, then gestured toward the table, pretending not to notice Billie blushing as she looked at the solid surface and remembered earlier. “I threw some stuff together, as instructed.”
Billie looked at the stack of sandwiches and the other stuff, nodding.
“Looks good to me. I’ll bring in the saddlebags - I just have to grab them and put on Drummer’s saddle. Copper’s ready to go.”
“Copper? Oh, my horse, right?”
“Yep. Put your boots on and I’ll introduce you.”
Jon did as he was told and Billie led him outside where a rich chestnut colored mare stood tied to the fence beside Drummer. The mare literally looked Jon up and down as Billie spoke, then she tossed her head with a snort, Jon laughing helplessly.
“Why do I get the feeling she’s not impressed?”
“Takes a lot to impress Copper.” Billie laughed. “Don’t take it personally. But she’s a good old girl, aren’t ya?”
The mare nuzzled at Billie’s jeans until she relented and produced a packet of mints, feeding the mare a few.
“Typical woman.” Jon grunted. “Bribery works every time.”
“Absolutely. Here - you give her a few and she’ll love you……at least until they’re gone.”
Once Jon had gotten onto Copper’s good side through bribery, he and Billie went to the barn to grab saddlebags and a saddle for Billie’s horse. Jon was despatched back into the house to fill the saddlebags while Billie saddled up, then she took the filled bags from him and fastened them to her saddle before looking at Jon critically.
“Do you have a hat?”
“You mean like a cowboy hat? Nope.”
“Damn. Keeps the sun off. Come with me.”
Back in the house she opened a closet and found a few battered hats, explaining they’d belonged to her dad. They were all the same size, unsurprisingly, and Jon picked out a beat-up looking straw one, putting it on to Billie’s approving smile.
“Let’s go.” She said, picking her own trusty, dusty black hat off the rack by the door.
Saturday, November 29, 2008
Chapter Sixteen
Jon let himself slump down onto Billie, feeling her wrapped all around him, then he slowly rolled to the side, not withdrawing himself from her but just pulling her with him until they lay on their sides. Billie was still tangled around him, and her eyes were closed as she rested her head down onto the pillow with a whimpering sigh.
They remained like that, Jon just moving to lay his forehead on hers, then as he slowly softened inside her, a tiny shift let him slip free of her with a soft, slightly obscene sound. Both of them had their eyes closed, and Jon’s opened with a start as they felt the edge of the mattress dip.
Deke was staring at them, front paws on the edge of the bed, and there was a comically surprised expression on his face, making Jon chuckle.
“We have company.” He mumbled.
“Huh?” Billie’s thoughts were still slightly scrambled, but she forced herself to lift her head, peering back over her own shoulder then giggling. “Hey Deke. Get outta here - go chase bunnies.”
With a soft woof the dog obeyed, dropping back to the floor and heading out, claws clicking on the wood floor. Billie gave a soft groan, looking back at Jon.
“I should go fix breakfast. You hungry?”
“Yeah.” He gave a wide, boyish grin. “But what about Drummer? He was looking like he wanted feeding.”
“He was?” As she spoke, they were untangling themselves, Billie moving to sit up. “I fed him already - I did that before I showered.”
“Oh. When I was getting coffee I saw him looking toward the barn, and I thought you were in there.” He flushed a tiny bit. “That’s why I bust in on you in the shower I guess. Well, that and the door wasn’t locked.”
“There isn’t a lock on the bathroom door.” Billie explained, shrugging. “I live here alone - usually - so there’s no need.”
“I hadn’t noticed.” Jon said, then leaned to kiss her again before smirking. “Feed me!”
“I guess you’ve earned breakfast.” Billie eased to the edge of the bed, trying not to wince at the tender feeling between her thighs, and deeper inside. “For helping me out in the hayloft yesterday.”
She opened her closet, reaching for a robe, then stopped. The only robe that was clean was a heavy winter one, so she changed her mind, just grabbing an oversized tshirt and pulling that on, the dark cotton falling to mid-thigh. By the time she turned around, Jon was out of her bed, and he grabbed his jeans from the floor, pausing before pulling them on.
“I’m just gonna…..” Billie colored slightly. “…..clean up………then I’ll be in the kitchen.”
“Okay.” Jon sat back on the edge of the bed as she headed to the bathroom, then a few minutes later heard her yell to ask if he wanted coffee.
“Yeah, thanks, Billie. I’ll be right there.”
Knowing she was heading to the kitchen, he carried his jeans to the bathroom, cleaning himself up before pulling on the faded denim. Still shirtless, he headed to the kitchen, where Billie had poured him a mug of coffee and was standing at the stove, laying bacon into a pan. She cooked bacon and just piled it onto a single plate, bringing it to the table with a plate of bread and some butter, and they each made themselves a hearty sandwich.
“Did you want anything else?” Billie asked as they finished, and Jon shook his head.
“Nah. I’m good, darlin’.”
She couldn’t resist, winking as she replied. “I know you are - but are you still hungry?”
Jon burst into laughter. God, this woman made him feel like a kid again. Made him feel like life was there to be lived and enjoyed, every second of it, and not just a constant fight to be the best, the most popular, the richest. Maybe that was what losing people did for you - made you live every moment like it was your last.
“No, I’m not still hungry.” He grinned, looking into his mug. “More coffee would be good, though.”
“You’d like more coffee?”
“Yeah.”
“Pot’s over there.” She said, raising her own mug toward him. “I’ll take a refill, too.”
He laughed again as he obeyed, filling both mugs and bringing them back to the table.
“So, what’s on the agenda for today?” He asked, slurping coffee. “Moving another barn full of hay? Painting a couple hundred miles of fence?”
Billie laughed at him.
“You’re so not used to the country pace of life, are you?” She giggled. “I’m fortunate that I don’t desperately need to work. The biggest chore I had for the month was shifting that hay - which I’ve been avoiding for a month - so there’s really nothing I need to do today. So, unless you need to leave…..?”
Jon shook his head with a grin, and she grinned back as she continued.
“Well, how about a picnic?” She grinned even more broadly. “In fact, I have an even better idea. How about a picnic, with fishing thrown in?”
“How about a picnic with skinny dipping thrown in?” Jon countered, and Billie blushed.
“Skinny dipping? In the river?”
“Sure.”
“You may live to regret that suggestion, but you’re on.”
Jon wasn’t too sure why she thought he’d regret it, but he grinned anyway as Billie stood, gathering their plates and stacking them into the sink. She filled water into the sink and washed the few things they’d used, wringing water from the cloth and turning to wipe up grease splashes from the stove top. Jon was just sitting watching her - she could feel his eyes - and the knowledge made her clumsy so that she dropped the damp cloth to the floor. Unthinking, forgetting all she wore was a t shirt, Billie bent to pick it up, and she heard Jon’s guttural exhalation as the shirt rode up to expose her ass.
“Jesus.” He mumbled, feeling his dick already knocking at his zipper, demanding to be let out. Or let in, depending how you looked at it.
Billie straightened slowly, almost afraid to turn around, but as she nervously dropped the cloth back into the water she heard his chair scrape back, then the muted sound of bare feet on the floor. Even knowing he’d moved, she still jumped as his hands closed on her hips.
“Shhhhh.” Jon purred in her ear, his lips seeking her neck. “Is this okay?”
His soft question was answered with a whimper, and he kept nuzzling against her, as far as he could reach before being stopped by the shirt. Billie leaned both hands on the edge of the sink, feeling the cool porcelain against her lower body as Jon lifted her t shirt to her waist. His hands eased underneath, up to her breasts, squeezing the soft flesh, his fingertips pinching gently at her nipples until they were diamond hard and aching for more.
Still he didn’t turn her around, but kept one hand playing with her breasts as the other dropped between her legs, touching and testing, finding her already open to him, almost ready for him to enter her. Soft strokes of his fingers as he nibbled her neck had her gasping, and got her dripping wet.
“Where?” He whispered, slipping the tip of his tongue into her ear to punctuate the word, kissing the rim of her ear and licking the curves between each word. “Bed - or table - or couch - or right here?”
“Here.” Billie whimpered, twisting her head to look at him. “Right here.”
Jon kissed her then, hard and fast, his mouth distracting her as his hands left her body, unzipping his jeans and shoving them to his knees. He moved behind her, stepping between her legs as Billie spread her feet apart, then he grasped her hips, angling and holding her as he drove slowly home.
Billie gave a groan of pleasure, the tenderness still there but only serving to heighten the sensations right now. She leaned further onto the sink, letting her head fall forward, Jon’s hands still on her hips to steady her against his slow, powerful thrusts. As he pushed her excitement higher, Billie moaned suddenly, straightening slightly as her legs trembled with it.
“Jon………table…..”
He didn’t want to stop, but he knew what she was trying to say. He could feel her shaking and realised her legs weren’t going to hold her there, so with swift movements he withdrew from her and swung around, pushing her backward until she landed on the tabletop. Her back had barely hit the wood when Jon was inside her again, better able to thrust inside now that she was pinned securely beneath him. Of course, it also meant he could kiss her again, and as he did that, Billie grabbing onto his shoulders, Jon yanked her t shirt up so he could get his hands back on her breasts.
Getting closer to climax himself, Jon opened his eyes suddenly, needing - wanting - more, and confident that the table was sturdy enough. He pushed at her hips, pushing Billie further onto the table and laying himself fully on top of her, Billie’s legs around him as they both lay on the kitchen table, Jon grunting and Billie moaning as they - well, made love was hardly accurate, but they fucked like a pair of animals in heat, forcing each other over the brink brutally fast until her scream and his roar blended into a feral sound of pleasure.
“Jesus……I’m sorry…..” Jon groaned against her ear as his forehead rested exhaustedly on the table. “I didn’t mean to…….”
He was trying to say that he hadn’t meant to fuck her like a whore, but Billie moaned a laugh, stroking his back soothingly.
“Didn’t mean to make me scream so loud?” She asked. “You didn’t do anything wrong - didn’t do anything I didn’t want, Jon.”
With a tender kiss, he eased out of her again, sliding off the table and pulling her to the edge where she sat for a moment looking at him, then she pushed herself to her feet, the t shirt falling to cover her again.
“If you give me a minute to get - cleaned up - you can have the shower.” She offered.
“Okay, Billie.”
So Jon tugged his jeans high enough that he could walk to the living room, and just a few minutes later Billie appeared, fully dressed and with her hair in twin braids over her shoulders.
“All yours.” She said with a smile.
“Thanks. Oh - hey - I don’t suppose you have a spare shirt or anything, do you?” Jon asked suddenly. “I have nothing clean left, and if we’re going to be out all day…..”
“Sure. I’ll find something and leave it on the couch for you.”
“Cool. Thanks.”
Jon headed to the bathroom while Billie went to the kitchen, gazing out through the window at Drummer, chewing the inside of her cheek thoughtfully then grabbing a notepad. She scrawled a quick note to Jon, then went to her bedroom, finding him a plain black tshirt and dumping it, with the note, on the couch. Grabbing her boots, she headed outside where she bridled Drummer and got up on his back, riding away from the ranch at a slow canter.
They remained like that, Jon just moving to lay his forehead on hers, then as he slowly softened inside her, a tiny shift let him slip free of her with a soft, slightly obscene sound. Both of them had their eyes closed, and Jon’s opened with a start as they felt the edge of the mattress dip.
Deke was staring at them, front paws on the edge of the bed, and there was a comically surprised expression on his face, making Jon chuckle.
“We have company.” He mumbled.
“Huh?” Billie’s thoughts were still slightly scrambled, but she forced herself to lift her head, peering back over her own shoulder then giggling. “Hey Deke. Get outta here - go chase bunnies.”
With a soft woof the dog obeyed, dropping back to the floor and heading out, claws clicking on the wood floor. Billie gave a soft groan, looking back at Jon.
“I should go fix breakfast. You hungry?”
“Yeah.” He gave a wide, boyish grin. “But what about Drummer? He was looking like he wanted feeding.”
“He was?” As she spoke, they were untangling themselves, Billie moving to sit up. “I fed him already - I did that before I showered.”
“Oh. When I was getting coffee I saw him looking toward the barn, and I thought you were in there.” He flushed a tiny bit. “That’s why I bust in on you in the shower I guess. Well, that and the door wasn’t locked.”
“There isn’t a lock on the bathroom door.” Billie explained, shrugging. “I live here alone - usually - so there’s no need.”
“I hadn’t noticed.” Jon said, then leaned to kiss her again before smirking. “Feed me!”
“I guess you’ve earned breakfast.” Billie eased to the edge of the bed, trying not to wince at the tender feeling between her thighs, and deeper inside. “For helping me out in the hayloft yesterday.”
She opened her closet, reaching for a robe, then stopped. The only robe that was clean was a heavy winter one, so she changed her mind, just grabbing an oversized tshirt and pulling that on, the dark cotton falling to mid-thigh. By the time she turned around, Jon was out of her bed, and he grabbed his jeans from the floor, pausing before pulling them on.
“I’m just gonna…..” Billie colored slightly. “…..clean up………then I’ll be in the kitchen.”
“Okay.” Jon sat back on the edge of the bed as she headed to the bathroom, then a few minutes later heard her yell to ask if he wanted coffee.
“Yeah, thanks, Billie. I’ll be right there.”
Knowing she was heading to the kitchen, he carried his jeans to the bathroom, cleaning himself up before pulling on the faded denim. Still shirtless, he headed to the kitchen, where Billie had poured him a mug of coffee and was standing at the stove, laying bacon into a pan. She cooked bacon and just piled it onto a single plate, bringing it to the table with a plate of bread and some butter, and they each made themselves a hearty sandwich.
“Did you want anything else?” Billie asked as they finished, and Jon shook his head.
“Nah. I’m good, darlin’.”
She couldn’t resist, winking as she replied. “I know you are - but are you still hungry?”
Jon burst into laughter. God, this woman made him feel like a kid again. Made him feel like life was there to be lived and enjoyed, every second of it, and not just a constant fight to be the best, the most popular, the richest. Maybe that was what losing people did for you - made you live every moment like it was your last.
“No, I’m not still hungry.” He grinned, looking into his mug. “More coffee would be good, though.”
“You’d like more coffee?”
“Yeah.”
“Pot’s over there.” She said, raising her own mug toward him. “I’ll take a refill, too.”
He laughed again as he obeyed, filling both mugs and bringing them back to the table.
“So, what’s on the agenda for today?” He asked, slurping coffee. “Moving another barn full of hay? Painting a couple hundred miles of fence?”
Billie laughed at him.
“You’re so not used to the country pace of life, are you?” She giggled. “I’m fortunate that I don’t desperately need to work. The biggest chore I had for the month was shifting that hay - which I’ve been avoiding for a month - so there’s really nothing I need to do today. So, unless you need to leave…..?”
Jon shook his head with a grin, and she grinned back as she continued.
“Well, how about a picnic?” She grinned even more broadly. “In fact, I have an even better idea. How about a picnic, with fishing thrown in?”
“How about a picnic with skinny dipping thrown in?” Jon countered, and Billie blushed.
“Skinny dipping? In the river?”
“Sure.”
“You may live to regret that suggestion, but you’re on.”
Jon wasn’t too sure why she thought he’d regret it, but he grinned anyway as Billie stood, gathering their plates and stacking them into the sink. She filled water into the sink and washed the few things they’d used, wringing water from the cloth and turning to wipe up grease splashes from the stove top. Jon was just sitting watching her - she could feel his eyes - and the knowledge made her clumsy so that she dropped the damp cloth to the floor. Unthinking, forgetting all she wore was a t shirt, Billie bent to pick it up, and she heard Jon’s guttural exhalation as the shirt rode up to expose her ass.
“Jesus.” He mumbled, feeling his dick already knocking at his zipper, demanding to be let out. Or let in, depending how you looked at it.
Billie straightened slowly, almost afraid to turn around, but as she nervously dropped the cloth back into the water she heard his chair scrape back, then the muted sound of bare feet on the floor. Even knowing he’d moved, she still jumped as his hands closed on her hips.
“Shhhhh.” Jon purred in her ear, his lips seeking her neck. “Is this okay?”
His soft question was answered with a whimper, and he kept nuzzling against her, as far as he could reach before being stopped by the shirt. Billie leaned both hands on the edge of the sink, feeling the cool porcelain against her lower body as Jon lifted her t shirt to her waist. His hands eased underneath, up to her breasts, squeezing the soft flesh, his fingertips pinching gently at her nipples until they were diamond hard and aching for more.
Still he didn’t turn her around, but kept one hand playing with her breasts as the other dropped between her legs, touching and testing, finding her already open to him, almost ready for him to enter her. Soft strokes of his fingers as he nibbled her neck had her gasping, and got her dripping wet.
“Where?” He whispered, slipping the tip of his tongue into her ear to punctuate the word, kissing the rim of her ear and licking the curves between each word. “Bed - or table - or couch - or right here?”
“Here.” Billie whimpered, twisting her head to look at him. “Right here.”
Jon kissed her then, hard and fast, his mouth distracting her as his hands left her body, unzipping his jeans and shoving them to his knees. He moved behind her, stepping between her legs as Billie spread her feet apart, then he grasped her hips, angling and holding her as he drove slowly home.
Billie gave a groan of pleasure, the tenderness still there but only serving to heighten the sensations right now. She leaned further onto the sink, letting her head fall forward, Jon’s hands still on her hips to steady her against his slow, powerful thrusts. As he pushed her excitement higher, Billie moaned suddenly, straightening slightly as her legs trembled with it.
“Jon………table…..”
He didn’t want to stop, but he knew what she was trying to say. He could feel her shaking and realised her legs weren’t going to hold her there, so with swift movements he withdrew from her and swung around, pushing her backward until she landed on the tabletop. Her back had barely hit the wood when Jon was inside her again, better able to thrust inside now that she was pinned securely beneath him. Of course, it also meant he could kiss her again, and as he did that, Billie grabbing onto his shoulders, Jon yanked her t shirt up so he could get his hands back on her breasts.
Getting closer to climax himself, Jon opened his eyes suddenly, needing - wanting - more, and confident that the table was sturdy enough. He pushed at her hips, pushing Billie further onto the table and laying himself fully on top of her, Billie’s legs around him as they both lay on the kitchen table, Jon grunting and Billie moaning as they - well, made love was hardly accurate, but they fucked like a pair of animals in heat, forcing each other over the brink brutally fast until her scream and his roar blended into a feral sound of pleasure.
“Jesus……I’m sorry…..” Jon groaned against her ear as his forehead rested exhaustedly on the table. “I didn’t mean to…….”
He was trying to say that he hadn’t meant to fuck her like a whore, but Billie moaned a laugh, stroking his back soothingly.
“Didn’t mean to make me scream so loud?” She asked. “You didn’t do anything wrong - didn’t do anything I didn’t want, Jon.”
With a tender kiss, he eased out of her again, sliding off the table and pulling her to the edge where she sat for a moment looking at him, then she pushed herself to her feet, the t shirt falling to cover her again.
“If you give me a minute to get - cleaned up - you can have the shower.” She offered.
“Okay, Billie.”
So Jon tugged his jeans high enough that he could walk to the living room, and just a few minutes later Billie appeared, fully dressed and with her hair in twin braids over her shoulders.
“All yours.” She said with a smile.
“Thanks. Oh - hey - I don’t suppose you have a spare shirt or anything, do you?” Jon asked suddenly. “I have nothing clean left, and if we’re going to be out all day…..”
“Sure. I’ll find something and leave it on the couch for you.”
“Cool. Thanks.”
Jon headed to the bathroom while Billie went to the kitchen, gazing out through the window at Drummer, chewing the inside of her cheek thoughtfully then grabbing a notepad. She scrawled a quick note to Jon, then went to her bedroom, finding him a plain black tshirt and dumping it, with the note, on the couch. Grabbing her boots, she headed outside where she bridled Drummer and got up on his back, riding away from the ranch at a slow canter.
Chapter Fifteen
Billie moaned softly as she opened her mouth at the insistent pressure of Jon’s tongue. His kiss was every bit as delicious - and devastating - as she remembered from up in the hayloft, and she lifted onto the balls of her feet, fitting herself more perfectly against his body.
Jon felt her arms snake around his neck, and at her very obvious acceptance of this he brought his left hand up to cup the back of her head, his right arm around her waist, crushing her against him. Her breasts were pressed hard against his furry chest, and Billie’s nipples hardened even more as the hair abraded her sensitive flesh.
She could feel him against her, from chest to thighs, and most particularly the solid lump in his jeans. Finally finding the one brain cell his lust hadn’t fried, Jon pulled himself back from her mouth.
“Billie…” He was shocked by the hoarse, hungry sound of his own voice, but he needed to ask. “Are you sure?”
In reply, she just smiled and moved back, catching hold of his right hand as it slipped from her waist. She turned toward the bathroom door, her fingers twined with his.
“Come with me.” She said, her own voice as husky as his.
She led him to her bedroom, the one room he’d never entered before. The room was large, decorated with an intriguing mix of tomboy and frills, the style somehow summing Billie up perfectly. Even the bed seemed to be suffering an identity crisis, but still the blend of the heavy, dark wood and the intricately embroidered bedspread worked somehow. Billie reached out and threw the bedspread back, then she turned to Jon again, the dark eyes serious. And seriously hungry.
As Billie got into the bed, Jon took his cue from her, slowly stripping off his jeans, seeing her eyes flick to his groin before she looked at his face again, extending one hand to invite him into her bed. Jon was more than happy to accept the invitation, joining her on the soft, cool sheets, reaching to pull her into his arms again, resuming their interrupted kiss.
They kissed like a pair of teenagers, each vying for supremacy, moaning and gasping for breath but unwilling to stop kissing. Jon had one hand on Billie’s waist, and he slid it slowly upward, finally closing his fingers on her breast, feeling the hard nipple against his palm, just like in his dream. But this was infinitely better than his dream, because every gentle squeeze of his hand was punctuated by a moan of pleasure from Billie.
In the back of his mind, Jon wondered suddenly if she’d been with anybody since losing Craig. Something told him no, but he at least had enough sense not to ask, figuring that the ghost of her lost love would kill the mood between them right now. He’d just have to play it by ear and judge her reactions.
Billie gave a pathetic whimper when Jon’s hand left her breast, but all he wanted to do was roll them over, pulling Billie on top of him then laying her down on the mattress again. Now that she was on his other side, Jon slipped his dominant - and therefore more dexterous - right hand between her thighs, once again resuming the kiss. Billie gave a whole new kind of moan as his fingertips found her, touching her in a place - in a way - that only Craig had touched before.
Jon’s touch was gentle but still determined, and the tip of his middle finger started a maddeningly slow massage of her clit, circling and teasing until a brief exploration deeper between her thighs found her flesh wet and hot with anticipation. When his fingertip entered her, Billie pulled back from his mouth with a gasp of surprise, immediately blushing in embarrassment.
“I’m sorry.” She whispered, feeling Jon’s hand frozen in place, still exactly where it had been moments before, the tip of his middle finger still just inside her. “It’s just….”
“I know.” He murmured back to her with a reassuring smile. And he did know. The tightness of her entrance, and her reaction, confirmed she’d been without a man for quite some time. “D’you want me to stop?”
Jon waited for her response, hoping his silent, fervent prayers didn’t show in his face, but fortunately he didn’t have to wait long.
“Oh, Jesus, no.” Billie blurted, amazed by the question - and touched that he even asked it.
She saw a flash of teeth as he grinned, then he was kissing her again, slowly beginning to move his hand against her again, patiently easing her body into readiness. After a few more minutes of gentle stroking and touching, Jon’s patience was rewarded as he slipped his middle finger all the way into Billie, groaning at the feeling of her pussy clenching around the intrusion. Even though his dick was almost agonisingly hard, Jon kept himself in check, bringing her higher and opening the tight canal wider, until he had two fingers stroking slowly and easily into her, Billie’s flesh so wet that there wasn’t even a hint of resistance.
Billie was moaning as she thrust her hips up into his touch, then she pushed him slightly upright, easing his mouth off hers so she could speak.
“Jon…..please……..oh, Jesus……” When she’d forced him to relinquish her mouth, Jon had just dropped his head down, and Billie lost her train of thought - and the power of coherent speech - when he suckled strongly on one painfully sensitive nipple.
“Jesus….” She mumbled again, reaching down his body with both hands, closing then around the granite-hard shaft of his cock. “Please, Jon….”
Her intimate touch was enough to make him move over her, hoping like hell he’d gotten her ready enough, because his own need couldn’t be ignored a moment longer. Billie spread her legs wide, and as Jon’s hand slipped away from her, she instead pressed the distended head of him into her body, bringing her palms onto his waist as Jon thrust slowly inside.
He went all the way in with that one stroke, then paused, relishing the sensation of her flesh tightening, nature trying to expel the invasion, before her body relaxed and accepted him. Drawing back, he thrust again, Billie gasping at the pleasure of it, at the pleasure of being stretched and filled. Another thrust, harder this time, then Jon was forced to speak, to blurt an apology, or at the very least an explanation.
“Billie…..I can’t………I can’t wait, Billie……I gotta…….”
“Me too.” She muttered, jabbing her short fingernails into his back, demanding. She shifted beneath him, lifting her feet to slide them over his legs and down between his thighs, the movement opening her wider and also locking their bodies together. She groaned as the change of position increased the pressure on her swollen clit, her senses close to overload already. “More.”
With a growl, Jon let go, pounding her unmercifully, hearing her scream his name as she came under him, his hands under her shoulders now, holding her tightly against his driving thrusts. She screamed in pleasure again as Jon’s own orgasm swamped him, and it felt like every ounce of frustration and pent-up lust exploded from him as his cum surged into Billie in the most devastating orgasm he’d ever experienced. He just roared incoherently as his brain flipped onto pure instinct, his hips pumping hard against her until he collapsed, exhausted, onto her panting, shuddering body.
After quite a few minutes, Jon had to grunt a laugh as Billie whimpered softly in his ear, amazed to find himself laughing at something he’d have never expected to find funny.
“Ummmm……..about that impotence thing?” She mumbled shakily, still fighting for breath. “I think you’re cured.”
Jon felt her arms snake around his neck, and at her very obvious acceptance of this he brought his left hand up to cup the back of her head, his right arm around her waist, crushing her against him. Her breasts were pressed hard against his furry chest, and Billie’s nipples hardened even more as the hair abraded her sensitive flesh.
She could feel him against her, from chest to thighs, and most particularly the solid lump in his jeans. Finally finding the one brain cell his lust hadn’t fried, Jon pulled himself back from her mouth.
“Billie…” He was shocked by the hoarse, hungry sound of his own voice, but he needed to ask. “Are you sure?”
In reply, she just smiled and moved back, catching hold of his right hand as it slipped from her waist. She turned toward the bathroom door, her fingers twined with his.
“Come with me.” She said, her own voice as husky as his.
She led him to her bedroom, the one room he’d never entered before. The room was large, decorated with an intriguing mix of tomboy and frills, the style somehow summing Billie up perfectly. Even the bed seemed to be suffering an identity crisis, but still the blend of the heavy, dark wood and the intricately embroidered bedspread worked somehow. Billie reached out and threw the bedspread back, then she turned to Jon again, the dark eyes serious. And seriously hungry.
As Billie got into the bed, Jon took his cue from her, slowly stripping off his jeans, seeing her eyes flick to his groin before she looked at his face again, extending one hand to invite him into her bed. Jon was more than happy to accept the invitation, joining her on the soft, cool sheets, reaching to pull her into his arms again, resuming their interrupted kiss.
They kissed like a pair of teenagers, each vying for supremacy, moaning and gasping for breath but unwilling to stop kissing. Jon had one hand on Billie’s waist, and he slid it slowly upward, finally closing his fingers on her breast, feeling the hard nipple against his palm, just like in his dream. But this was infinitely better than his dream, because every gentle squeeze of his hand was punctuated by a moan of pleasure from Billie.
In the back of his mind, Jon wondered suddenly if she’d been with anybody since losing Craig. Something told him no, but he at least had enough sense not to ask, figuring that the ghost of her lost love would kill the mood between them right now. He’d just have to play it by ear and judge her reactions.
Billie gave a pathetic whimper when Jon’s hand left her breast, but all he wanted to do was roll them over, pulling Billie on top of him then laying her down on the mattress again. Now that she was on his other side, Jon slipped his dominant - and therefore more dexterous - right hand between her thighs, once again resuming the kiss. Billie gave a whole new kind of moan as his fingertips found her, touching her in a place - in a way - that only Craig had touched before.
Jon’s touch was gentle but still determined, and the tip of his middle finger started a maddeningly slow massage of her clit, circling and teasing until a brief exploration deeper between her thighs found her flesh wet and hot with anticipation. When his fingertip entered her, Billie pulled back from his mouth with a gasp of surprise, immediately blushing in embarrassment.
“I’m sorry.” She whispered, feeling Jon’s hand frozen in place, still exactly where it had been moments before, the tip of his middle finger still just inside her. “It’s just….”
“I know.” He murmured back to her with a reassuring smile. And he did know. The tightness of her entrance, and her reaction, confirmed she’d been without a man for quite some time. “D’you want me to stop?”
Jon waited for her response, hoping his silent, fervent prayers didn’t show in his face, but fortunately he didn’t have to wait long.
“Oh, Jesus, no.” Billie blurted, amazed by the question - and touched that he even asked it.
She saw a flash of teeth as he grinned, then he was kissing her again, slowly beginning to move his hand against her again, patiently easing her body into readiness. After a few more minutes of gentle stroking and touching, Jon’s patience was rewarded as he slipped his middle finger all the way into Billie, groaning at the feeling of her pussy clenching around the intrusion. Even though his dick was almost agonisingly hard, Jon kept himself in check, bringing her higher and opening the tight canal wider, until he had two fingers stroking slowly and easily into her, Billie’s flesh so wet that there wasn’t even a hint of resistance.
Billie was moaning as she thrust her hips up into his touch, then she pushed him slightly upright, easing his mouth off hers so she could speak.
“Jon…..please……..oh, Jesus……” When she’d forced him to relinquish her mouth, Jon had just dropped his head down, and Billie lost her train of thought - and the power of coherent speech - when he suckled strongly on one painfully sensitive nipple.
“Jesus….” She mumbled again, reaching down his body with both hands, closing then around the granite-hard shaft of his cock. “Please, Jon….”
Her intimate touch was enough to make him move over her, hoping like hell he’d gotten her ready enough, because his own need couldn’t be ignored a moment longer. Billie spread her legs wide, and as Jon’s hand slipped away from her, she instead pressed the distended head of him into her body, bringing her palms onto his waist as Jon thrust slowly inside.
He went all the way in with that one stroke, then paused, relishing the sensation of her flesh tightening, nature trying to expel the invasion, before her body relaxed and accepted him. Drawing back, he thrust again, Billie gasping at the pleasure of it, at the pleasure of being stretched and filled. Another thrust, harder this time, then Jon was forced to speak, to blurt an apology, or at the very least an explanation.
“Billie…..I can’t………I can’t wait, Billie……I gotta…….”
“Me too.” She muttered, jabbing her short fingernails into his back, demanding. She shifted beneath him, lifting her feet to slide them over his legs and down between his thighs, the movement opening her wider and also locking their bodies together. She groaned as the change of position increased the pressure on her swollen clit, her senses close to overload already. “More.”
With a growl, Jon let go, pounding her unmercifully, hearing her scream his name as she came under him, his hands under her shoulders now, holding her tightly against his driving thrusts. She screamed in pleasure again as Jon’s own orgasm swamped him, and it felt like every ounce of frustration and pent-up lust exploded from him as his cum surged into Billie in the most devastating orgasm he’d ever experienced. He just roared incoherently as his brain flipped onto pure instinct, his hips pumping hard against her until he collapsed, exhausted, onto her panting, shuddering body.
After quite a few minutes, Jon had to grunt a laugh as Billie whimpered softly in his ear, amazed to find himself laughing at something he’d have never expected to find funny.
“Ummmm……..about that impotence thing?” She mumbled shakily, still fighting for breath. “I think you’re cured.”
Monday, November 24, 2008
Chapter Fourteen
After Billie’s soft parting words, Jon sank down onto the mattress, staring after her. For a long, temptation-laced minute, he wondered how she’d react if he followed her down that dim hallway to her bedroom. He actually got to his feet, taking a hesitant half-step in that direction, stopping the instant he heard a low warning growl.
Deke stood watching him balefully, and Jon raised his hands pacifically.
“Okay, buddy.” He muttered. “You’re prob’ly right. I should just go to bed right here.”
The dog looked at him a moment longer, then turned and followed Billie. Jon shook his head, smiling just a little drunkenly as he stripped off his clothes and fell into the bed, pulling the soft, brightly patterned blanket over his naked body, shivering slightly until the bed warmed.
Tonight, though, even the combination of the day’s strenuous exercise and a decent amount of whisky wasn’t enough to drag him quickly into sleep, and he tossed and turned restlessly for what seemed like hours. It wasn’t worry and self-recrimination keeping him awake this time, though, but random, lust-filled thoughts and memories. Memories of Billie pulled tight against his crotch as they rode across that meadow. Memories of how hard and tight her nipples had risen under the sweat-soaked top. Memories of her taste when they’d kissed so deliciously up in the hayloft.
Finally, blessedly, sleep did come, but with it came amazingly detailed dreams. Amazingly and arousingly detailed, really, so that Jon could almost feel the hard nub of her nipple against his palm. His sleep that night was anything but restful, and when he finally woke it was to find sunlight streaming into the room.
This time, Billie wasn’t sitting in the armchair, for which Jon was glad, since he’d woken with a rock-hard erection and it was taking him some serious mental discipline not to just jack off here in the fold-out bed. He managed to relax himself - distract himself - enough that he could at least chance getting out from under the blankets, fairly sure his jeans were tight enough to hide the still-evident arousal. With a quick glance around, he got out of bed and into his jeans, tucking his dick behind the zipper as best he could.
Now he was on his feet, Jon could smell coffee, and he looked toward the kitchen, following his nose.
“Billie?” He called softly, but there was no reply.
Jon helped himself to coffee, taking the mug to the sink to splash in a little cold water just so he could gulp it down faster, speeding the caffeine boost. At the sink, he looked out through the window, seeing Drummer looking expectantly toward the barn. Looked like Billie was already up and outside, taking care of her animals before she’d look after herself, as usual. Still, it did explain why Deke wasn’t still on guard duty, Jon figured.
Tossing back the last of the coffee, Jon hesitated a moment, but he could almost hear the shower calling his name, so he decided to quickly jump in there before heading outside to find Billie. Rooting through the black saddlebag, he found he hadn’t a clean shirt, so he just had to hope Billie wouldn’t mind him wandering around shirtless for the day. If he was very lucky - or very persuasive - maybe he could talk her into doing some laundry for him. Somehow, though, Jon reckoned she’d just point him at the machine and leave him to it.
Carrying his toothbrush, Jon headed to the bathroom, just pushing open the door, humming a soft tune to himself.
Next minute, though, he slammed to a halt so fast he nearly landed on his ass, the toothbrush falling to the floor. There, standing in the tub naked and wet, was Billie.
“Shit!” Jon blurted as she looked over in surprise. “I’m so sorry! I…….”
His voice trailed off as he finally registered the fact she wasn’t yelling at him to get out. In fact, she wasn’t doing anything. She’d obviously just finished showering, because her hair hung around her in wet ropes, and she held a large towel in both hands, covering her lower body but leaving her bare from the waist up.
“I……..ummmm……..” Jon tried again to speak, to apologise, but the blood seemed to be rushing from his brain. Rushing just a couple of feet south, he guessed, straight to his crotch as his dick tried to stand up inside his jeans.
Billie wasn’t sure what to do. Part of her brain was telling her to shoo him from the room, or to at least pull the towel higher, to cover herself. The other half, though, the devil half that had been way too quiet for far too long, was asking if there was any point. He’d seen her now - seen her bare breasts at least - so why panic over covering something he’d doubtless seen dozens of times before.
Whilst the voices in Billie’s brain kept arguing with each other, Jon was only hearing one voice, and it certainly wasn’t coming from his brain. His dick had leapt to attention like a marine on parade, and every other muscle seemed paralysed so he just stood gazing at her.
She was slim and toned, that much he’d already known, but now he saw her breasts were smaller than he’d imagined. And he realised now that he had imagined them quite frequently over the last day or so. Small, but perfectly formed, he thought, for the first time fully appreciating that description, and his fingers flexed instinctively in anticipation of filling his palms with that soft flesh. The idea of filling his mouth with one of those tempting nipples was the other thought hammering at his brain.
Her nipples were rosy-pink, and at his continued silent scrutiny they slowly puckered and rose, the phenomenon encouraging his dick to react similarly until Jon was convinced it would burst right through the brass zipper.
“I’m sorry.” He murmured again, taking a step back.
At least, he meant to step back, but his body was having none of it, and he found himself stepping toward Billie instead.
She still didn’t say a word, but she stepped out of the bath, the towel still held to her waist. Jon finished crossing the room and grasped the towel, looking into her eyes as he tugged gently, and Billie released it, letting Jon toss it away as his mouth descended onto hers.
Deke stood watching him balefully, and Jon raised his hands pacifically.
“Okay, buddy.” He muttered. “You’re prob’ly right. I should just go to bed right here.”
The dog looked at him a moment longer, then turned and followed Billie. Jon shook his head, smiling just a little drunkenly as he stripped off his clothes and fell into the bed, pulling the soft, brightly patterned blanket over his naked body, shivering slightly until the bed warmed.
Tonight, though, even the combination of the day’s strenuous exercise and a decent amount of whisky wasn’t enough to drag him quickly into sleep, and he tossed and turned restlessly for what seemed like hours. It wasn’t worry and self-recrimination keeping him awake this time, though, but random, lust-filled thoughts and memories. Memories of Billie pulled tight against his crotch as they rode across that meadow. Memories of how hard and tight her nipples had risen under the sweat-soaked top. Memories of her taste when they’d kissed so deliciously up in the hayloft.
Finally, blessedly, sleep did come, but with it came amazingly detailed dreams. Amazingly and arousingly detailed, really, so that Jon could almost feel the hard nub of her nipple against his palm. His sleep that night was anything but restful, and when he finally woke it was to find sunlight streaming into the room.
This time, Billie wasn’t sitting in the armchair, for which Jon was glad, since he’d woken with a rock-hard erection and it was taking him some serious mental discipline not to just jack off here in the fold-out bed. He managed to relax himself - distract himself - enough that he could at least chance getting out from under the blankets, fairly sure his jeans were tight enough to hide the still-evident arousal. With a quick glance around, he got out of bed and into his jeans, tucking his dick behind the zipper as best he could.
Now he was on his feet, Jon could smell coffee, and he looked toward the kitchen, following his nose.
“Billie?” He called softly, but there was no reply.
Jon helped himself to coffee, taking the mug to the sink to splash in a little cold water just so he could gulp it down faster, speeding the caffeine boost. At the sink, he looked out through the window, seeing Drummer looking expectantly toward the barn. Looked like Billie was already up and outside, taking care of her animals before she’d look after herself, as usual. Still, it did explain why Deke wasn’t still on guard duty, Jon figured.
Tossing back the last of the coffee, Jon hesitated a moment, but he could almost hear the shower calling his name, so he decided to quickly jump in there before heading outside to find Billie. Rooting through the black saddlebag, he found he hadn’t a clean shirt, so he just had to hope Billie wouldn’t mind him wandering around shirtless for the day. If he was very lucky - or very persuasive - maybe he could talk her into doing some laundry for him. Somehow, though, Jon reckoned she’d just point him at the machine and leave him to it.
Carrying his toothbrush, Jon headed to the bathroom, just pushing open the door, humming a soft tune to himself.
Next minute, though, he slammed to a halt so fast he nearly landed on his ass, the toothbrush falling to the floor. There, standing in the tub naked and wet, was Billie.
“Shit!” Jon blurted as she looked over in surprise. “I’m so sorry! I…….”
His voice trailed off as he finally registered the fact she wasn’t yelling at him to get out. In fact, she wasn’t doing anything. She’d obviously just finished showering, because her hair hung around her in wet ropes, and she held a large towel in both hands, covering her lower body but leaving her bare from the waist up.
“I……..ummmm……..” Jon tried again to speak, to apologise, but the blood seemed to be rushing from his brain. Rushing just a couple of feet south, he guessed, straight to his crotch as his dick tried to stand up inside his jeans.
Billie wasn’t sure what to do. Part of her brain was telling her to shoo him from the room, or to at least pull the towel higher, to cover herself. The other half, though, the devil half that had been way too quiet for far too long, was asking if there was any point. He’d seen her now - seen her bare breasts at least - so why panic over covering something he’d doubtless seen dozens of times before.
Whilst the voices in Billie’s brain kept arguing with each other, Jon was only hearing one voice, and it certainly wasn’t coming from his brain. His dick had leapt to attention like a marine on parade, and every other muscle seemed paralysed so he just stood gazing at her.
She was slim and toned, that much he’d already known, but now he saw her breasts were smaller than he’d imagined. And he realised now that he had imagined them quite frequently over the last day or so. Small, but perfectly formed, he thought, for the first time fully appreciating that description, and his fingers flexed instinctively in anticipation of filling his palms with that soft flesh. The idea of filling his mouth with one of those tempting nipples was the other thought hammering at his brain.
Her nipples were rosy-pink, and at his continued silent scrutiny they slowly puckered and rose, the phenomenon encouraging his dick to react similarly until Jon was convinced it would burst right through the brass zipper.
“I’m sorry.” He murmured again, taking a step back.
At least, he meant to step back, but his body was having none of it, and he found himself stepping toward Billie instead.
She still didn’t say a word, but she stepped out of the bath, the towel still held to her waist. Jon finished crossing the room and grasped the towel, looking into her eyes as he tugged gently, and Billie released it, letting Jon toss it away as his mouth descended onto hers.
Saturday, November 22, 2008
Chapter Thirteen
Jon grunted, sweating heavily and wondering what in hell had possessed him to agree to help Billie. He’d envisaged maybe a little light lifting and carrying, perhaps some painting or carpentry. What he’d never imagined was helping her to shift what seemed like an entire meadow of hay into the upper half of the barn. At first, it had felt like a decent workout, picking up bales of hay and carrying them up the wide stairs to the hayloft. That had been for the first couple of dozen. Now, though, his arms and back were aching, his thighs burning with the exertion of constantly climbing stairs with the added weight of a bale of hay in his hands. The only thing that kept him from bitching like a spoiled rockstar was the fact that Billie was matching him, bale for bale. Well, that and the fact that she was at least sweating as profusely as he was, the tank top she wore soaked through.
It was a good thing, Jon thought, that her top was black, otherwise it could’ve turned into a wet t-shirt look. Not that he thought that was necessarily a bad thing, but right now all he cared about was putting one foot in front of the other. Finally, as they each grabbed a bale, Jon realised they had the last two, and he laughed with relief.
“That’s it?”
“That’s it.” Billie confirmed with a happy, sweaty grin, turning toward the stairs one last time.
Climbing behind her, Jon was closer than he realised, and when Billie paused, adjusting her grip on the bale, the one he carried bumped her back, lifting her top partway and exposing her lower back. Before the wet fabric fell to cover her again, Jon saw a pale, twisted line on her back, an old scar, and he frowned, wondering if it was from the car wreck.
At the top of the stairs, Billie stacked her bale onto the pile, arms straining as she tried to push it onto the top, well above her head. Arriving on the planked floor, Jon saw her struggling - the first time he’d seen her have any difficulty, and he laid down his own bale, stepping up close behind her and reaching over her.
“Lemme help.” He said in her ear, and between them they pushed the bale all the way on.
Billie collapsed onto a lower bale, leaning back tiredly, idly watching Jon as he lifted the final bale again, stacking it on a lower pile before dropping to sit beside her. They were both sweating, and Billie could feel the heat of him, could even feel his bicep flex against her own arm as he opened and closed his hands, trying to regain feeling after the repeated abuse of the rough twine.
“Thank you.” She said on a whisper. “That’s a job I’ve been avoiding for weeks.”
“You’re welcome, Billie.” Jon turned his head to face her, at exactly the same moment as she turned to face him, and they found themselves almost nose to nose. “You’re welcome.” He said again softly, leaning closer.
She knew they shouldn’t. She wasn’t too sure whether he was married to Dorothea or just ‘with’ her, but she did know they shouldn’t do this. Unfortunately, ‘should’ wasn’t coming into it right now. All that was in her head was what she wanted, not what she should or shouldn’t do, and she just tilted her head as Jon’s lips brushed over hers. The second contact was firmer, their tongues meeting for a moment before Jon drew back a little. He looked at her, seeing her patient gaze, but it was when his gaze dropped from her face that his willpower failed, as he saw her nipples hardened under the wet fabric of her top, her body’s reaction to their light kiss. Lifting his hand to cup her face, Jon kissed her properly, hard and thoroughly, probing deep into her mouth with his tongue as she turned to him, kissing him back just as hard.
He dropped his hand onto her waist, turning her further, but holding himself back from the impulse to lay her on her back on the bales. If he were honest, he just wasn’t sure she’d be anything like as understanding as Dot if he was still unable to ‘perform’. Though his dick was rising against his zipper, trying to convince him otherwise.
They drew apart slowly, looking at each other silently, then Billie just smiled and eased away from him, getting to her feet.
“I need a drink.” She said. “You?”
“Yeah.” Jon grinned. “Beer.”
“Sounds good.” She paused at the top of the stair, then winked at him. “Race you to the fridge.”
As soon as she finished speaking, she was off, down the stairs, leaving Jon to bolt off the bales and follow her. He was fast, but he discovered Billie was faster, as she was already in the kitchen, opening the fridge as he hit the door, panting and laughing.
“You cheated!” He pouted.
“I’m a woman.” She shrugged. “Sneaky’s in our nature.”
The rest of the day, they just relaxed, sipping beer until Billie announced it was dinnertime. After feeding Drummer and Deke, she cooked chicken and a mountain of mashed potato, rich with butter and pepper. The night darkened around them as they sat talking at the kitchen table, then when the coffee was ready they moved through to the living room again, Jon taking a seat on ‘his’ couch while Billie settled into the armchair.
“Whisky?” She asked as she sat, but he shook his head.
“Nah. Coffee’s fine, Billie.”
“You sure?” She got off the chair anyway. “I’m having one.”
“Oh, okay, you twisted my arm.” Jon laughed. “Whoever said I had willpower?”
She brought out a fresh bottle of Macallan, reminding herself she’d need to buy another as this was the last one. They more-or-less repeated the previous night, drinking just enough to allay any natural reticence they felt, but never actually getting to the stage of drunk. In a lull in their convoluted conversation, Jon grinned boyishly across at her.
“Tell me a secret.”
“What?”
“Tell me a secret.” He repeated with that silly grin. “C’mon. Tell me something nobody else knows about Billie.” He chuckled. “You show me yours, I’ll show ya mine.”
“Well, now, you’re in a band. You probably have way more interesting secrets than a little ol’ cowgirl.”
“Tell me yours and let’s find out.” He encouraged.
Billie swallowed whisky in a lump. The only true secret she had - something only she and Craig had known - wasn’t really the kind of thing he was asking for, but it was something that burned inside her sometimes, and something - if she were honest - that she’d regretted since losing Craig. Her eyes were serious as she looked at Jon.
“Okay. But it’s not a nice secret.”
“If things are nice, they don’t stay a secret.” Jon said, his own expression growing more serious.
“I guess. Well, it’s nothing major, really. I told you Craig was in school in LA. He was training to be a doctor, and he was only halfway through the course when we got engaged. That was okay, ‘cause we weren’t going to get married until we could afford it, once he was qualified and working.” She drank the last of her whisky, her voice dropping. “Then I found out I was pregnant. And we couldn’t afford a baby. Not then. So I had an abortion.” She looked over at him sadly. “My parents never knew. Only Craig knew. We both agreed it was the best thing, and I still think it was, most of the time. But…….”
“But if you’d had the baby, you’d have still had a piece of Craig?” Jon suggested, and Billie looked at him in surprise.
“Yes. How did you……….?”
“I’m a songwriter, Billie. I guess that means I have to be able to put myself in someone else’s shoes.” He shrugged. “But, if you want my opinion, you did the right thing. And you can’t change it, so you just have to accept it.”
Billie blew out a sigh of…….of what? Relief? She wondered at herself. Why should she feel relieved that he didn’t censure her for what had been done in the past? She looked over at Jon.
“Your turn.”
“My turn. Yeah.” Jon threw back a half glass of whisky. Shit. He was the one who’d started this, and her total honesty meant he felt obliged to do likewise. There was only one huge secret he held right now. But could he actually say it aloud? While he hesitated, Billie spoke again, and he knew she’d be angry if he chickened out on this.
“I showed you mine………”
“That you did.” He smiled at her, embarrassed. “This is a tough one to say. It’s not a particularly nice…..well, okay, it’s not that bad, but it’s as embarrassing as all hell.”
“Spill.”
Jon sighed, then nodded. Hell, he didn’t really know her anyway, how bad could it be?
“I told you how I’ve been, well, I guess depressed is the word.”
“Uh-huh.”
“I’ve been with Dorothea since high school, and we’ve always been good together. But since she came out to Malibu and found me sinking in shit - or Jack Daniels anyway - we haven’t…….I haven’t been able to……..” He flushed with embarrassment, unable to make himself say the word, then roughly telling himself to just suck it up - he’d started this. “She’s been really great about it, telling me it’s a symptom of the depression, but can you even imagine how it feels, having the woman you fell in love with there, wanting you, needing you, and you can’t…..can’t get it up?”
Billie looked shocked. “You’re………you’re impotent?”
Jon’s face flushed scarlet. “Easy for you to say.” He mumbled.
“But…….” Billie frowned. “Well, when we were on Drummer……..you…….you didn’t feel impotent, Jon. You were……..”
“I know. I wanted you today, Billie. I still do. But I don’t know if……..”
“You know what I think?”
“What?”
“I think we’ve had too much to drink.” She rescued him from the confessional. “And that’s what happens when you’re drunk and sleepy. Well, it’s what happens to me anyway. I get waaay too honest! I think it’s time I flipped that couch out for you and we got some sleep.”
Jon gratefully took the escape route, and while Billie took their glasses and coffee mugs to the kitchen he managed the couch-bed mechanism, even remembering where the pillows were stored. They said goodnight, then Billie paused before walking away to her bedroom.
“Jon?”
“Yeah?”
“Just for the record.” Her voice fell to a whisper. “I want you, too.”
It was a good thing, Jon thought, that her top was black, otherwise it could’ve turned into a wet t-shirt look. Not that he thought that was necessarily a bad thing, but right now all he cared about was putting one foot in front of the other. Finally, as they each grabbed a bale, Jon realised they had the last two, and he laughed with relief.
“That’s it?”
“That’s it.” Billie confirmed with a happy, sweaty grin, turning toward the stairs one last time.
Climbing behind her, Jon was closer than he realised, and when Billie paused, adjusting her grip on the bale, the one he carried bumped her back, lifting her top partway and exposing her lower back. Before the wet fabric fell to cover her again, Jon saw a pale, twisted line on her back, an old scar, and he frowned, wondering if it was from the car wreck.
At the top of the stairs, Billie stacked her bale onto the pile, arms straining as she tried to push it onto the top, well above her head. Arriving on the planked floor, Jon saw her struggling - the first time he’d seen her have any difficulty, and he laid down his own bale, stepping up close behind her and reaching over her.
“Lemme help.” He said in her ear, and between them they pushed the bale all the way on.
Billie collapsed onto a lower bale, leaning back tiredly, idly watching Jon as he lifted the final bale again, stacking it on a lower pile before dropping to sit beside her. They were both sweating, and Billie could feel the heat of him, could even feel his bicep flex against her own arm as he opened and closed his hands, trying to regain feeling after the repeated abuse of the rough twine.
“Thank you.” She said on a whisper. “That’s a job I’ve been avoiding for weeks.”
“You’re welcome, Billie.” Jon turned his head to face her, at exactly the same moment as she turned to face him, and they found themselves almost nose to nose. “You’re welcome.” He said again softly, leaning closer.
She knew they shouldn’t. She wasn’t too sure whether he was married to Dorothea or just ‘with’ her, but she did know they shouldn’t do this. Unfortunately, ‘should’ wasn’t coming into it right now. All that was in her head was what she wanted, not what she should or shouldn’t do, and she just tilted her head as Jon’s lips brushed over hers. The second contact was firmer, their tongues meeting for a moment before Jon drew back a little. He looked at her, seeing her patient gaze, but it was when his gaze dropped from her face that his willpower failed, as he saw her nipples hardened under the wet fabric of her top, her body’s reaction to their light kiss. Lifting his hand to cup her face, Jon kissed her properly, hard and thoroughly, probing deep into her mouth with his tongue as she turned to him, kissing him back just as hard.
He dropped his hand onto her waist, turning her further, but holding himself back from the impulse to lay her on her back on the bales. If he were honest, he just wasn’t sure she’d be anything like as understanding as Dot if he was still unable to ‘perform’. Though his dick was rising against his zipper, trying to convince him otherwise.
They drew apart slowly, looking at each other silently, then Billie just smiled and eased away from him, getting to her feet.
“I need a drink.” She said. “You?”
“Yeah.” Jon grinned. “Beer.”
“Sounds good.” She paused at the top of the stair, then winked at him. “Race you to the fridge.”
As soon as she finished speaking, she was off, down the stairs, leaving Jon to bolt off the bales and follow her. He was fast, but he discovered Billie was faster, as she was already in the kitchen, opening the fridge as he hit the door, panting and laughing.
“You cheated!” He pouted.
“I’m a woman.” She shrugged. “Sneaky’s in our nature.”
The rest of the day, they just relaxed, sipping beer until Billie announced it was dinnertime. After feeding Drummer and Deke, she cooked chicken and a mountain of mashed potato, rich with butter and pepper. The night darkened around them as they sat talking at the kitchen table, then when the coffee was ready they moved through to the living room again, Jon taking a seat on ‘his’ couch while Billie settled into the armchair.
“Whisky?” She asked as she sat, but he shook his head.
“Nah. Coffee’s fine, Billie.”
“You sure?” She got off the chair anyway. “I’m having one.”
“Oh, okay, you twisted my arm.” Jon laughed. “Whoever said I had willpower?”
She brought out a fresh bottle of Macallan, reminding herself she’d need to buy another as this was the last one. They more-or-less repeated the previous night, drinking just enough to allay any natural reticence they felt, but never actually getting to the stage of drunk. In a lull in their convoluted conversation, Jon grinned boyishly across at her.
“Tell me a secret.”
“What?”
“Tell me a secret.” He repeated with that silly grin. “C’mon. Tell me something nobody else knows about Billie.” He chuckled. “You show me yours, I’ll show ya mine.”
“Well, now, you’re in a band. You probably have way more interesting secrets than a little ol’ cowgirl.”
“Tell me yours and let’s find out.” He encouraged.
Billie swallowed whisky in a lump. The only true secret she had - something only she and Craig had known - wasn’t really the kind of thing he was asking for, but it was something that burned inside her sometimes, and something - if she were honest - that she’d regretted since losing Craig. Her eyes were serious as she looked at Jon.
“Okay. But it’s not a nice secret.”
“If things are nice, they don’t stay a secret.” Jon said, his own expression growing more serious.
“I guess. Well, it’s nothing major, really. I told you Craig was in school in LA. He was training to be a doctor, and he was only halfway through the course when we got engaged. That was okay, ‘cause we weren’t going to get married until we could afford it, once he was qualified and working.” She drank the last of her whisky, her voice dropping. “Then I found out I was pregnant. And we couldn’t afford a baby. Not then. So I had an abortion.” She looked over at him sadly. “My parents never knew. Only Craig knew. We both agreed it was the best thing, and I still think it was, most of the time. But…….”
“But if you’d had the baby, you’d have still had a piece of Craig?” Jon suggested, and Billie looked at him in surprise.
“Yes. How did you……….?”
“I’m a songwriter, Billie. I guess that means I have to be able to put myself in someone else’s shoes.” He shrugged. “But, if you want my opinion, you did the right thing. And you can’t change it, so you just have to accept it.”
Billie blew out a sigh of…….of what? Relief? She wondered at herself. Why should she feel relieved that he didn’t censure her for what had been done in the past? She looked over at Jon.
“Your turn.”
“My turn. Yeah.” Jon threw back a half glass of whisky. Shit. He was the one who’d started this, and her total honesty meant he felt obliged to do likewise. There was only one huge secret he held right now. But could he actually say it aloud? While he hesitated, Billie spoke again, and he knew she’d be angry if he chickened out on this.
“I showed you mine………”
“That you did.” He smiled at her, embarrassed. “This is a tough one to say. It’s not a particularly nice…..well, okay, it’s not that bad, but it’s as embarrassing as all hell.”
“Spill.”
Jon sighed, then nodded. Hell, he didn’t really know her anyway, how bad could it be?
“I told you how I’ve been, well, I guess depressed is the word.”
“Uh-huh.”
“I’ve been with Dorothea since high school, and we’ve always been good together. But since she came out to Malibu and found me sinking in shit - or Jack Daniels anyway - we haven’t…….I haven’t been able to……..” He flushed with embarrassment, unable to make himself say the word, then roughly telling himself to just suck it up - he’d started this. “She’s been really great about it, telling me it’s a symptom of the depression, but can you even imagine how it feels, having the woman you fell in love with there, wanting you, needing you, and you can’t…..can’t get it up?”
Billie looked shocked. “You’re………you’re impotent?”
Jon’s face flushed scarlet. “Easy for you to say.” He mumbled.
“But…….” Billie frowned. “Well, when we were on Drummer……..you…….you didn’t feel impotent, Jon. You were……..”
“I know. I wanted you today, Billie. I still do. But I don’t know if……..”
“You know what I think?”
“What?”
“I think we’ve had too much to drink.” She rescued him from the confessional. “And that’s what happens when you’re drunk and sleepy. Well, it’s what happens to me anyway. I get waaay too honest! I think it’s time I flipped that couch out for you and we got some sleep.”
Jon gratefully took the escape route, and while Billie took their glasses and coffee mugs to the kitchen he managed the couch-bed mechanism, even remembering where the pillows were stored. They said goodnight, then Billie paused before walking away to her bedroom.
“Jon?”
“Yeah?”
“Just for the record.” Her voice fell to a whisper. “I want you, too.”
Wednesday, November 19, 2008
Chapter Twelve
The morning was cool and bright, perfect for riding, and Jon slowly relaxed on Drummer’s back, no longer so conscious of the fact he was pressed hard against the back of a virtual stranger. A stranger whose voice and spirit touched something inside him, somehow, making him feel like the guy he used to be, back before the whirlwind took him. Billie seemed perfectly happy at his arms around her waist, and they rode in companionable silence, only occasionally broken as Billie would point out something of interest.
Jon was amazed by her attention to their surroundings, as she’d point out a bird or small animal that he hadn’t even seen, but as they rode on, his own senses became more attuned to the area around them, and he began to notice tiny things he’d have never seen before. Silly little things like the occasional patch of brightly colored flowers brightening a cactus. Things that he’d usually have ignored but that now seemed rare and precious.
Finally, Billie guided Drum along a track through a dense stand of trees, emerging into a wide meadow, and she took him across to a stream before halting.
“We’ll give him a break here.” She turned to speak to Jon. “Harder than usual for him, with two up.”
“Okay.” Jon replied instantly, waiting to see just how dismounting would work out.
Billie let go of Drummer’s reins, and his head dropped to the grass, leaving her space to swing her right leg over his neck, sliding to the ground. Once she was out of the way, Jon just leaned forward and dismounted the traditional way, landing briefly on his feet before hitting his butt in the long grass.
“Shit!” He yelped.
Even though he’d been riding a bike for weeks now, the far wider body of the horse had left his legs shaky and weak, and he looked up at Billie, seeing her laughing. As he started to laugh too, it flashed through his mind that, a few weeks ago, if this had happened and she had laughed, he’d have thrown a tantrum, but now all he could see was the funny side, and he was still laughing as he reached up a hand, asking for help. Another thing he’d not have done a few weeks ago.
Still laughing, Billie took his hand, but instead of letting her pull him up, Jon pulled suddenly and toppled her onto the ground, too. Billie lay on her back, laughter fading to giggles, then fading totally as Jon leaned over her, his own laughter dying away as he looked down into the dark eyes. They gazed at each other for a moment, then Jon licked his lips and Billie blinked rapidly before sitting up, looking at him a little uncertainly.
He felt it, too. There was attraction there, but also an awkwardness, and Billie gave him a hesitant smile before moving a fraction further away. The tense moment was broken by the intrusion of a wagging Deke, who’d followed them from the ranch.
“Hey, buddy.” Jon said, focusing on the dog, then Billie got to her feet, smiling brightly again.
“There’s a spring over here, if you want a drink. It’s upstream of Drummer.”
Looking across, Jon saw the horse standing ankle-deep - or whatever a horse’s ankles were called - in the stream, looking as though he was trying to drink the whole thing. Billie headed past him, and Jon gave Deke a final pat before getting to his feet and following, finding her bending to catch handfuls of water from where it poured out of a narrow crevice. After she’d drunk, Billie stepped back and Jon grinned at her as he moved in, catching himself a few handfuls of the icy water.
“Why does water taste better like that?” He asked, and Billie shrugged.
“Because there’s no crap in it?” She waited mischievously until he was taking another drink. “Well, other than bird crap, cow crap, deer…….”
“Okay, enough already!” Jon spluttered. “You’re just trying to mess with the city boy, aren’t you, cowgirl?”
“Uh-huh.” She did that damned head-tilt thing again. “Is it working?”
“Nah. Joisey boy, darlin’. Take more than deer crap to scare me.” He grinned at her, relieved that their little ‘moment’ hadn’t spoiled the way they were together. “But you might wanna clue me in on how we get back on that horse. I don’t see a fence around.”
“You vault.”
“Vault?” Jon repeated flatly, looking at the height of Drummer’s back.
“Yes. Vault.” Billie laughed at his expression. “It’s not that hard.”
Jon was still unconvinced, and she laughed again, walking over to Drummer. With that same little bounce and leap he’d seen before, she was up on the horse, and Jon was standing looking up at her, shaking his head.
“Easy for you, Billie. I confess - I’m no cowboy. Bikes are way lower. And they don’t move away!”
She shook her head at him, then leaned forward to grab the reins.
“I’ll swing you up. You just gotta…….bounce a little. S’easy.”
“Swing me up?”
“Uh-huh. You’ve seen cowboy movies, right?”
“Yeah…..”
But even so, it wasn’t until Billie wheeled Drummer around and rode away, turning to head back to him that Jon understood what she meant. Hoping like hell he could do it - without landing himself, or them both, on the ground again - he raised his arm as she cantered slowly toward him, and the momentum of the horse helped Billie as she pulled him upward, Jon landing inelegantly - but safely - on Drummer’s back. Billie halted the horse immediately she felt Jon land behind her.
“Okay?” She asked.
“Yep.” Jon laughed. “That was a first!”
“What?” Billie turned to flutter her lashes at him coquettishly. “You mean you’ve never been picked up by a cowgirl before?”
Jon snorted as the laugh exploded out of him, laughing so hard that he had to grab onto her again to stay on Drummer’s back.
“No.” He finally spluttered. “I’ve never been picked up by a lady in quite that way!”
“A lady?” Billie muttered as she urged Drummer into a walk. “You must’ve hit your head when you fell.”
The meadow stretched out in front of them, and Drummer tossed his head impatiently. Jon was - again - pressed firmly against Billie’s back, his arms around her slim waist once more. She hesitated, but it was easier to let Drummer have his way when there was an inexperienced rider behind her, and she twisted again to look at Jon.
“I usually let him run along here, and if I don’t he’ll just be an asshole about it. You okay with going a li’l bit faster?”
“I think so.” His voice was a little doubtful, but trusting, and Billie smiled reassuringly.
“You’ll be fine. Just hold on to me. If you feel like you’re going to fall, just yell and I’ll stop him, ‘kay?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Billie rolled her eyes as she turned forward again, running a hand along Drummer’s mane.
“Okay, baby.” She said gently. “Just behave for once.”
With that mild warning, praying he’d remember he had a novice on his back and not let loose with one of his infrequent - but impressive - bucking displays, she closed her legs on the horse, and Drummer moved smoothly from walk into trot, then up into a loping canter, the gait actually far easier for Jon to sit to than the trotting had been. The movement of the horse rocked him against Billie in a far too comfortable motion, bringing all kinds of naughty thoughts into Jon’s mind, and he didn’t even realise that he was pushing himself tighter against her, rocking his hips as the horse moved, grinding forward against Billie.
Billie could feel it, and it was anything but unpleasant, feeling the hard, warm body against her, feeling his pelvis butting against her ass with each long stride Drummer took. She felt Jon’s arms tighten on her, and his hips thrusting harder against her, and there was the beginning of a hard lump in his jeans pushing against her with each thrust. Billie tried hard to remind herself of the Dorothea he’d mentioned, but she found she really didn’t care too much. She liked Jon. She wasn’t looking for anything from him, but she liked him, and he seemed to like her.
Jon felt himself getting hard, from the motion of the horse and the friction against Billie, but he couldn’t bring himself to feel bad about it, and he just kept his tight grip on her waist as they cantered through the meadow and up into the forest.
When Billie finally slowed Drummer to a walk, deep in the forest where the trail twisted like a dying snake, Jon eased back a fraction, relaxing his grip on her. Neither of them said a word about his reaction to her, Jon just chuckling and speaking softly.
“Thanks, Billie.” He raised his voice slightly, confident enough to take one hand off her for a moment, reaching back to pat Drummer’s flank. “Thanks, Drummer.”
The horse snorted softly, and Jon laughed again. “Did he just answer me?”
“Are you nuts?” Billie turned to look at him. “Horses can’t talk!”
They started to laugh again, then Jon was surprised when they emerged from the forest, finding themselves just behind the barn.
“Hey - we’re back!”
“Yep. Shortcut through the forest.” She confided, riding up to the corral.
They repeated the dismounting procedure, shutting Drummer safely back into the corral and heading indoors in search of a cold drink. A few minutes later, they were sitting on the porch sipping from icy beers and grinning at each other for no reason. Jon hesitated for about a millisecond before asking what was on his mind.
“Billie……….is it okay if I stay here again tonight?” He pursed his lips in thought. “Or maybe a couple nights? I like it here. It’s……..peaceful.”
“Sure.” She’d been hoping he wouldn’t leave. “Just make yourself……….aw, you know the drill!”
“Yes, ma’am. Make myself at home.” He winked.
“Maybe you could make yourself useful, too.” She suggested. “I have a couple of jobs I should really do, but they’re easier with help.”
“Whatever you need. Consider me your designated helper.” Jon grinned at her, no clue what kind of jobs she meant but not caring. Doing something useful would make a nice change, he thought.
Jon was amazed by her attention to their surroundings, as she’d point out a bird or small animal that he hadn’t even seen, but as they rode on, his own senses became more attuned to the area around them, and he began to notice tiny things he’d have never seen before. Silly little things like the occasional patch of brightly colored flowers brightening a cactus. Things that he’d usually have ignored but that now seemed rare and precious.
Finally, Billie guided Drum along a track through a dense stand of trees, emerging into a wide meadow, and she took him across to a stream before halting.
“We’ll give him a break here.” She turned to speak to Jon. “Harder than usual for him, with two up.”
“Okay.” Jon replied instantly, waiting to see just how dismounting would work out.
Billie let go of Drummer’s reins, and his head dropped to the grass, leaving her space to swing her right leg over his neck, sliding to the ground. Once she was out of the way, Jon just leaned forward and dismounted the traditional way, landing briefly on his feet before hitting his butt in the long grass.
“Shit!” He yelped.
Even though he’d been riding a bike for weeks now, the far wider body of the horse had left his legs shaky and weak, and he looked up at Billie, seeing her laughing. As he started to laugh too, it flashed through his mind that, a few weeks ago, if this had happened and she had laughed, he’d have thrown a tantrum, but now all he could see was the funny side, and he was still laughing as he reached up a hand, asking for help. Another thing he’d not have done a few weeks ago.
Still laughing, Billie took his hand, but instead of letting her pull him up, Jon pulled suddenly and toppled her onto the ground, too. Billie lay on her back, laughter fading to giggles, then fading totally as Jon leaned over her, his own laughter dying away as he looked down into the dark eyes. They gazed at each other for a moment, then Jon licked his lips and Billie blinked rapidly before sitting up, looking at him a little uncertainly.
He felt it, too. There was attraction there, but also an awkwardness, and Billie gave him a hesitant smile before moving a fraction further away. The tense moment was broken by the intrusion of a wagging Deke, who’d followed them from the ranch.
“Hey, buddy.” Jon said, focusing on the dog, then Billie got to her feet, smiling brightly again.
“There’s a spring over here, if you want a drink. It’s upstream of Drummer.”
Looking across, Jon saw the horse standing ankle-deep - or whatever a horse’s ankles were called - in the stream, looking as though he was trying to drink the whole thing. Billie headed past him, and Jon gave Deke a final pat before getting to his feet and following, finding her bending to catch handfuls of water from where it poured out of a narrow crevice. After she’d drunk, Billie stepped back and Jon grinned at her as he moved in, catching himself a few handfuls of the icy water.
“Why does water taste better like that?” He asked, and Billie shrugged.
“Because there’s no crap in it?” She waited mischievously until he was taking another drink. “Well, other than bird crap, cow crap, deer…….”
“Okay, enough already!” Jon spluttered. “You’re just trying to mess with the city boy, aren’t you, cowgirl?”
“Uh-huh.” She did that damned head-tilt thing again. “Is it working?”
“Nah. Joisey boy, darlin’. Take more than deer crap to scare me.” He grinned at her, relieved that their little ‘moment’ hadn’t spoiled the way they were together. “But you might wanna clue me in on how we get back on that horse. I don’t see a fence around.”
“You vault.”
“Vault?” Jon repeated flatly, looking at the height of Drummer’s back.
“Yes. Vault.” Billie laughed at his expression. “It’s not that hard.”
Jon was still unconvinced, and she laughed again, walking over to Drummer. With that same little bounce and leap he’d seen before, she was up on the horse, and Jon was standing looking up at her, shaking his head.
“Easy for you, Billie. I confess - I’m no cowboy. Bikes are way lower. And they don’t move away!”
She shook her head at him, then leaned forward to grab the reins.
“I’ll swing you up. You just gotta…….bounce a little. S’easy.”
“Swing me up?”
“Uh-huh. You’ve seen cowboy movies, right?”
“Yeah…..”
But even so, it wasn’t until Billie wheeled Drummer around and rode away, turning to head back to him that Jon understood what she meant. Hoping like hell he could do it - without landing himself, or them both, on the ground again - he raised his arm as she cantered slowly toward him, and the momentum of the horse helped Billie as she pulled him upward, Jon landing inelegantly - but safely - on Drummer’s back. Billie halted the horse immediately she felt Jon land behind her.
“Okay?” She asked.
“Yep.” Jon laughed. “That was a first!”
“What?” Billie turned to flutter her lashes at him coquettishly. “You mean you’ve never been picked up by a cowgirl before?”
Jon snorted as the laugh exploded out of him, laughing so hard that he had to grab onto her again to stay on Drummer’s back.
“No.” He finally spluttered. “I’ve never been picked up by a lady in quite that way!”
“A lady?” Billie muttered as she urged Drummer into a walk. “You must’ve hit your head when you fell.”
The meadow stretched out in front of them, and Drummer tossed his head impatiently. Jon was - again - pressed firmly against Billie’s back, his arms around her slim waist once more. She hesitated, but it was easier to let Drummer have his way when there was an inexperienced rider behind her, and she twisted again to look at Jon.
“I usually let him run along here, and if I don’t he’ll just be an asshole about it. You okay with going a li’l bit faster?”
“I think so.” His voice was a little doubtful, but trusting, and Billie smiled reassuringly.
“You’ll be fine. Just hold on to me. If you feel like you’re going to fall, just yell and I’ll stop him, ‘kay?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Billie rolled her eyes as she turned forward again, running a hand along Drummer’s mane.
“Okay, baby.” She said gently. “Just behave for once.”
With that mild warning, praying he’d remember he had a novice on his back and not let loose with one of his infrequent - but impressive - bucking displays, she closed her legs on the horse, and Drummer moved smoothly from walk into trot, then up into a loping canter, the gait actually far easier for Jon to sit to than the trotting had been. The movement of the horse rocked him against Billie in a far too comfortable motion, bringing all kinds of naughty thoughts into Jon’s mind, and he didn’t even realise that he was pushing himself tighter against her, rocking his hips as the horse moved, grinding forward against Billie.
Billie could feel it, and it was anything but unpleasant, feeling the hard, warm body against her, feeling his pelvis butting against her ass with each long stride Drummer took. She felt Jon’s arms tighten on her, and his hips thrusting harder against her, and there was the beginning of a hard lump in his jeans pushing against her with each thrust. Billie tried hard to remind herself of the Dorothea he’d mentioned, but she found she really didn’t care too much. She liked Jon. She wasn’t looking for anything from him, but she liked him, and he seemed to like her.
Jon felt himself getting hard, from the motion of the horse and the friction against Billie, but he couldn’t bring himself to feel bad about it, and he just kept his tight grip on her waist as they cantered through the meadow and up into the forest.
When Billie finally slowed Drummer to a walk, deep in the forest where the trail twisted like a dying snake, Jon eased back a fraction, relaxing his grip on her. Neither of them said a word about his reaction to her, Jon just chuckling and speaking softly.
“Thanks, Billie.” He raised his voice slightly, confident enough to take one hand off her for a moment, reaching back to pat Drummer’s flank. “Thanks, Drummer.”
The horse snorted softly, and Jon laughed again. “Did he just answer me?”
“Are you nuts?” Billie turned to look at him. “Horses can’t talk!”
They started to laugh again, then Jon was surprised when they emerged from the forest, finding themselves just behind the barn.
“Hey - we’re back!”
“Yep. Shortcut through the forest.” She confided, riding up to the corral.
They repeated the dismounting procedure, shutting Drummer safely back into the corral and heading indoors in search of a cold drink. A few minutes later, they were sitting on the porch sipping from icy beers and grinning at each other for no reason. Jon hesitated for about a millisecond before asking what was on his mind.
“Billie……….is it okay if I stay here again tonight?” He pursed his lips in thought. “Or maybe a couple nights? I like it here. It’s……..peaceful.”
“Sure.” She’d been hoping he wouldn’t leave. “Just make yourself……….aw, you know the drill!”
“Yes, ma’am. Make myself at home.” He winked.
“Maybe you could make yourself useful, too.” She suggested. “I have a couple of jobs I should really do, but they’re easier with help.”
“Whatever you need. Consider me your designated helper.” Jon grinned at her, no clue what kind of jobs she meant but not caring. Doing something useful would make a nice change, he thought.
Saturday, November 15, 2008
Chapter Eleven
Jon stretched luxuriously. It was months since he’d felt this kind of utter relaxation. The red and yellow Navajo patterned blanket lay over his chest, only his shoulders and arms bared, then as he pushed himself a little higher against the pillow he saw Billie’s gaze drop to the floor, saw her cheeks flush slightly.
“I made coffee.” She said. “You want some?”
“That’d be great. Thanks.” Jon stayed under the blanket as she smiled and got to her feet, heading to the kitchen.
Wondering how long she’d been awake, and if she too had a mild hangover, Jon rolled to the edge of the mattress, reaching to the floor to snag his jeans. After a quick glance to make sure she hadn’t come back yet, Jon threw back the blanket and quickly pulled his jeans on, getting to his feet to haul the tight denim over his butt. He’d zipped and buttoned by the time Billie brought the coffee, and Jon guessed she’d lingered in the kitchen to give him time to make himself decent before she returned to the living room. In fact, she took so long that when she did come back, carrying two steaming mugs, Jon was fiddling with the fold-out bed where he’d spent the night, trying to figure out how to fold it away again. He looked up with a sheepish smile when he heard Billie approach.
“Okay - you’ll have to help me out here.” He admitted. “I can’t remember how you said this thing works!”
Billie giggled. “I may not have been very coherent.” She shrugged. “Malt whisky and technical explanations aren’t a good combination. I’ll get it.”
She laid down both mugs and, with a practised motion flipped the end of the bed up, then pushed against it so the mattress concertinaed neatly back where it belonged. Jon scooped the brightly colored blanket from where he’d dropped it on the floor, spreading it over the re-assembled couch before throwing himself down, pretending to mop sweat from his brow.
“That’s the most work I’ve done in years.” He joked.
“Spoiled brat, huh?” Billie asked, but the question was nothing more than a joke.
The previous night, as whisky and tiredness broke down their reserve, she remembered Jon telling her of his childhood in New Jersey, of growing up the oldest of three brothers, and of the unspoken expectation that he’d either enlist in the Army - or the Marines, like both of his parents - or he’d find work in one of the many factories around Sayreville. Of course, he hadn’t followed any of those expectations, but instead had found - or made - his own path, starting a band and clawing his way up from his blue-collar upbringing, finding some measure of success. He hadn’t detailed the exact level of that success, and he suspected Billie wouldn’t care, even if he gave her chapter and verse. Something about losing everybody you loved in a single tragic night tended to change a person’s perspective of what was truly important in life.
In return for his life-story, Billie had opened up some old wounds, pleasantly surprised to discover she could talk about her parents - and Craig - without the memories tearing her heart into tiny shreds. It felt good to talk about them, and Jon proved the perfect listener, just nodding or making the right sympathetic noises, looking away diplomatically when a particular recollection hurt too deeply.
After talking for hours, until Deke was standing by Billie’s chair, whining pathetically, they each finished the last of their whisky - the last of the bottle - and got to their feet, no awkwardness between them now.
When Billie showed Jon how the fold-out mechanism of the couch worked, he grinned with relief. The couch was comfortable enough to sit on for hours, but he’d been having doubts about how good a bed it would be. With quick, efficient movements, though, Billie transformed it into a full-sized bed, fetching pillows from a chest beside the fireplace.
Feeling a little unsure again, Billie hesitated as she turned toward her bedroom, then turned back to Jon.
“G’night.” She murmured.
“G’night, Billie.” Jon smiled tiredly. “And - y’know - thanks. For letting me crash.”
“No problem.” She turned again, snapping her fingers at a suspicious, protective Deke. “C’mon Deke.”
At her soft command, the dog gave Jon a final warning glance, then followed Billie off to bed. Jon sank onto the mattress, hesitated, then stood to shuck his jeans and shirt, crawling naked under the blanket. Sleep took him almost instantly, and for the first night in too many his sleep was deep and dreamless, refreshing him totally. Refreshing him to the extent that, even when his glance at the clock told him it was only just after eight in the morning, his mood didn’t darken.
“How did you sleep?” Billie asked from her seat, snuggled in the armchair as she’d been when Jon woke.
“Great.” He grinned. “Best sleep I’ve had in months, to be honest. Not sure whether it was the bed or the whisky, though!”
“Bit of both, probably.” Billie grinned, then caught sight of the clock and winced. “I gotta go feed Drum. Make yourself……”
“At home.” Jon finished for her, smirking. “I know.”
“Smart-ass.” Billie muttered as she got to her feet, heading to the door.
“I heard that.”
“You were meant to.” She shot back as she pulled on her boots.
Jon took another sip of coffee then grabbed his t shirt. “I’ll come with you.”
So Billie waited for the moment it took him to pull on his boots, then she led the way out into the still-cool morning. Jon followed her toward the barn, obediently holding a bucket while she scooped feed into it. Figuring to do at least something to say thanks for the hospitality, he carried the bucket out to the corral, following Billie’s instruction and dumping the contents into a long trough. While Drummer started to eat, Billie filled his water bucket then turned back to the house.
“Now that he’s fed, I can feed us.” She grinned.
“The animals come first, huh?”
“Always.” Billie nodded seriously, and Jon had to smile at her conscientious attitude.
They went back indoors, quickly taking turns at the bathroom to wash up, then Jon was put onto pouring more coffee and making toast - two things he said he could just about manage - while Billie fried eggs and bacon. Jon had to assume that the amount of exercise she took helped keep her trim, because the girl certainly enjoyed her food!
After breakfast, the meal punctuated with bursts of laughter as one of the other would make some comment that tickled them both, they grabbed more coffee and Jon reminded Billie of her offer to show him around outside.
“You sure?” She tilted her head in that endearing gesture he was coming to know. “Don’t you need to go?”
“Nope. I have nowhere I need to be, and I think that’s what I need right now.” Jon looked at her in some concern. “Or was that a polite way of telling me to get on my bike and leave?”
“Shit. No.” Billie blushed furiously. “I didn’t mean it that way. I just didn’t want you to feel like you had to be polite and hang around, make the poor lonely cowgirl feel like she was interesting.”
“You’re kidding, right?” Jon was incredulous. “I’ve been hoping you wouldn’t kick the…..poor little roc…….uh, singer…….out on his ass.”
“Really? You want to see the ranch?”
“Absolutely, darlin’.” Jon drawled. “I’ve always fancied myself as a cowboy. Even if my horse isn’t the hairy variety. Steel horse for me.”
Billie assumed he meant his bike, and she shrugged, pleased that he didn’t want to rush away. It was nice to have someone to talk to. Someone with less than four legs, who could actually talk back.
“Can you ride a horse?” She asked as they headed outside.
“Ummm……….kinda?” Jon said, careful not to commit himself to anything he couldn’t cope with. “I’ve ridden a bit, but I wouldn’t call myself an expert.”
“But you can stay on, right?”
“Yeah. I can stay on.”
“Cool. I hate walking - that’s why we have horses.”
She showed him around the corral and barn, then as they left the barn she grabbed Drum’s bridle and a blanket. At the corral, Jon watched as she called the horse over, shaking his head at the whole girls-and-horses thing as Drum trotted to her, halting to huff a warm breath over Billie’s face in greeting. She rubbed the velvety muzzle, then bridled him quickly and threw the blanket on his back.
“Jump on.” She turned to Jon, who blanched slightly.
“What about you?”
“Trust me - I’m a cowgirl.” Billie quipped, and Jon looked dubiously at the horse until Billie laughed. “Oh, for God’s sake - climb up on the fence then get on the damn horse will you?!”
“Yes, ma’am.” Jon muttered, but he was grinning as he did as she instructed, sitting on the broad back, a handful of mane gripped tightly.
Billie slid open the bar-gate and led Drummer through, a sideways glance watching Jon, seeing he didn’t look totally uncomfortable there. She halted Drummer close to the fence again, then climbed up the rails and, with a glance at Jon, slid her right leg over the horse, sitting right up by his withers, Jon behind her.
Jon had lost his handhold when Billie mounted in front of him, and when she nudged Drummer forward the horse grunted softly.
“Can you move forward?” She asked immediately, knowing her horse. “You’re sitting too far back on him.”
Looking down, Jon realised he’d be pressed hard against Billie if he moved forward, but just then Drummer kicked a hindleg, protesting the weight on the weak part of his back, and Jon shuffled forward, Billie making no protest as his chest pressed against her back.
“Better, Drum?” She asked, and the horse snorted.
“He talks?” Jon laughed, and Billie nodded, twisting around to look at him from close range.
“They all do. You just have to listen.” She nudged the horse with her heels again, and he started forward, then she chuckled. “You might wanna hold on to something.”
Before Jon could ask why, Billie nudged Drummer again and he moved into a slow trot, and Jon instinctively grabbed the only thing he could. Billie. He gave half a thought to taking his hands off her, wondering if he was overstepping a boundary, then he felt her lean back into him, and he let his arms wrap around her waist as they rode away from the house.
“I made coffee.” She said. “You want some?”
“That’d be great. Thanks.” Jon stayed under the blanket as she smiled and got to her feet, heading to the kitchen.
Wondering how long she’d been awake, and if she too had a mild hangover, Jon rolled to the edge of the mattress, reaching to the floor to snag his jeans. After a quick glance to make sure she hadn’t come back yet, Jon threw back the blanket and quickly pulled his jeans on, getting to his feet to haul the tight denim over his butt. He’d zipped and buttoned by the time Billie brought the coffee, and Jon guessed she’d lingered in the kitchen to give him time to make himself decent before she returned to the living room. In fact, she took so long that when she did come back, carrying two steaming mugs, Jon was fiddling with the fold-out bed where he’d spent the night, trying to figure out how to fold it away again. He looked up with a sheepish smile when he heard Billie approach.
“Okay - you’ll have to help me out here.” He admitted. “I can’t remember how you said this thing works!”
Billie giggled. “I may not have been very coherent.” She shrugged. “Malt whisky and technical explanations aren’t a good combination. I’ll get it.”
She laid down both mugs and, with a practised motion flipped the end of the bed up, then pushed against it so the mattress concertinaed neatly back where it belonged. Jon scooped the brightly colored blanket from where he’d dropped it on the floor, spreading it over the re-assembled couch before throwing himself down, pretending to mop sweat from his brow.
“That’s the most work I’ve done in years.” He joked.
“Spoiled brat, huh?” Billie asked, but the question was nothing more than a joke.
The previous night, as whisky and tiredness broke down their reserve, she remembered Jon telling her of his childhood in New Jersey, of growing up the oldest of three brothers, and of the unspoken expectation that he’d either enlist in the Army - or the Marines, like both of his parents - or he’d find work in one of the many factories around Sayreville. Of course, he hadn’t followed any of those expectations, but instead had found - or made - his own path, starting a band and clawing his way up from his blue-collar upbringing, finding some measure of success. He hadn’t detailed the exact level of that success, and he suspected Billie wouldn’t care, even if he gave her chapter and verse. Something about losing everybody you loved in a single tragic night tended to change a person’s perspective of what was truly important in life.
In return for his life-story, Billie had opened up some old wounds, pleasantly surprised to discover she could talk about her parents - and Craig - without the memories tearing her heart into tiny shreds. It felt good to talk about them, and Jon proved the perfect listener, just nodding or making the right sympathetic noises, looking away diplomatically when a particular recollection hurt too deeply.
After talking for hours, until Deke was standing by Billie’s chair, whining pathetically, they each finished the last of their whisky - the last of the bottle - and got to their feet, no awkwardness between them now.
When Billie showed Jon how the fold-out mechanism of the couch worked, he grinned with relief. The couch was comfortable enough to sit on for hours, but he’d been having doubts about how good a bed it would be. With quick, efficient movements, though, Billie transformed it into a full-sized bed, fetching pillows from a chest beside the fireplace.
Feeling a little unsure again, Billie hesitated as she turned toward her bedroom, then turned back to Jon.
“G’night.” She murmured.
“G’night, Billie.” Jon smiled tiredly. “And - y’know - thanks. For letting me crash.”
“No problem.” She turned again, snapping her fingers at a suspicious, protective Deke. “C’mon Deke.”
At her soft command, the dog gave Jon a final warning glance, then followed Billie off to bed. Jon sank onto the mattress, hesitated, then stood to shuck his jeans and shirt, crawling naked under the blanket. Sleep took him almost instantly, and for the first night in too many his sleep was deep and dreamless, refreshing him totally. Refreshing him to the extent that, even when his glance at the clock told him it was only just after eight in the morning, his mood didn’t darken.
“How did you sleep?” Billie asked from her seat, snuggled in the armchair as she’d been when Jon woke.
“Great.” He grinned. “Best sleep I’ve had in months, to be honest. Not sure whether it was the bed or the whisky, though!”
“Bit of both, probably.” Billie grinned, then caught sight of the clock and winced. “I gotta go feed Drum. Make yourself……”
“At home.” Jon finished for her, smirking. “I know.”
“Smart-ass.” Billie muttered as she got to her feet, heading to the door.
“I heard that.”
“You were meant to.” She shot back as she pulled on her boots.
Jon took another sip of coffee then grabbed his t shirt. “I’ll come with you.”
So Billie waited for the moment it took him to pull on his boots, then she led the way out into the still-cool morning. Jon followed her toward the barn, obediently holding a bucket while she scooped feed into it. Figuring to do at least something to say thanks for the hospitality, he carried the bucket out to the corral, following Billie’s instruction and dumping the contents into a long trough. While Drummer started to eat, Billie filled his water bucket then turned back to the house.
“Now that he’s fed, I can feed us.” She grinned.
“The animals come first, huh?”
“Always.” Billie nodded seriously, and Jon had to smile at her conscientious attitude.
They went back indoors, quickly taking turns at the bathroom to wash up, then Jon was put onto pouring more coffee and making toast - two things he said he could just about manage - while Billie fried eggs and bacon. Jon had to assume that the amount of exercise she took helped keep her trim, because the girl certainly enjoyed her food!
After breakfast, the meal punctuated with bursts of laughter as one of the other would make some comment that tickled them both, they grabbed more coffee and Jon reminded Billie of her offer to show him around outside.
“You sure?” She tilted her head in that endearing gesture he was coming to know. “Don’t you need to go?”
“Nope. I have nowhere I need to be, and I think that’s what I need right now.” Jon looked at her in some concern. “Or was that a polite way of telling me to get on my bike and leave?”
“Shit. No.” Billie blushed furiously. “I didn’t mean it that way. I just didn’t want you to feel like you had to be polite and hang around, make the poor lonely cowgirl feel like she was interesting.”
“You’re kidding, right?” Jon was incredulous. “I’ve been hoping you wouldn’t kick the…..poor little roc…….uh, singer…….out on his ass.”
“Really? You want to see the ranch?”
“Absolutely, darlin’.” Jon drawled. “I’ve always fancied myself as a cowboy. Even if my horse isn’t the hairy variety. Steel horse for me.”
Billie assumed he meant his bike, and she shrugged, pleased that he didn’t want to rush away. It was nice to have someone to talk to. Someone with less than four legs, who could actually talk back.
“Can you ride a horse?” She asked as they headed outside.
“Ummm……….kinda?” Jon said, careful not to commit himself to anything he couldn’t cope with. “I’ve ridden a bit, but I wouldn’t call myself an expert.”
“But you can stay on, right?”
“Yeah. I can stay on.”
“Cool. I hate walking - that’s why we have horses.”
She showed him around the corral and barn, then as they left the barn she grabbed Drum’s bridle and a blanket. At the corral, Jon watched as she called the horse over, shaking his head at the whole girls-and-horses thing as Drum trotted to her, halting to huff a warm breath over Billie’s face in greeting. She rubbed the velvety muzzle, then bridled him quickly and threw the blanket on his back.
“Jump on.” She turned to Jon, who blanched slightly.
“What about you?”
“Trust me - I’m a cowgirl.” Billie quipped, and Jon looked dubiously at the horse until Billie laughed. “Oh, for God’s sake - climb up on the fence then get on the damn horse will you?!”
“Yes, ma’am.” Jon muttered, but he was grinning as he did as she instructed, sitting on the broad back, a handful of mane gripped tightly.
Billie slid open the bar-gate and led Drummer through, a sideways glance watching Jon, seeing he didn’t look totally uncomfortable there. She halted Drummer close to the fence again, then climbed up the rails and, with a glance at Jon, slid her right leg over the horse, sitting right up by his withers, Jon behind her.
Jon had lost his handhold when Billie mounted in front of him, and when she nudged Drummer forward the horse grunted softly.
“Can you move forward?” She asked immediately, knowing her horse. “You’re sitting too far back on him.”
Looking down, Jon realised he’d be pressed hard against Billie if he moved forward, but just then Drummer kicked a hindleg, protesting the weight on the weak part of his back, and Jon shuffled forward, Billie making no protest as his chest pressed against her back.
“Better, Drum?” She asked, and the horse snorted.
“He talks?” Jon laughed, and Billie nodded, twisting around to look at him from close range.
“They all do. You just have to listen.” She nudged the horse with her heels again, and he started forward, then she chuckled. “You might wanna hold on to something.”
Before Jon could ask why, Billie nudged Drummer again and he moved into a slow trot, and Jon instinctively grabbed the only thing he could. Billie. He gave half a thought to taking his hands off her, wondering if he was overstepping a boundary, then he felt her lean back into him, and he let his arms wrap around her waist as they rode away from the house.
Wednesday, November 12, 2008
Chapter Ten
Billie flipped on the coffee maker, which she always emptied and left ready to go again whenever she finished her morning coffee, then she cleared their plates away into the deep ceramic sink. By the time she’d filled it with hot water, there was enough coffee for a couple of oversized mugs, and she dumped Jon’s on the table in front of him.
“Milk in the fridge, sugar in that cupboard.” She pointed. “Help yourself.”
“Fine like this.”
She wrinkled her nose, pouring some milk into hers, then she tilted her head toward the living room.
“The whisky’s through here. Plus it’s more comfortable.”
So they relocated to the living room, Jon taking a seat on the long couch while Billie laid down her coffee and opened a dark wood cabinet, bringing out a bottle of whisky and two glasses. She brought the booze across to the coffee table, perching herself on a battered armchair and unscrewing the cap of the bottle. Jon watched her pour two healthy measures of the pale golden liquid, then she offered him one of the glasses.
“Thanks.” Jon took the glass and Billie settled back, moving her coffee and whisky to a table beside her chair.
As she shifted, bringing her feet up underneath her on the seat, snuggling into the chair, Jon sipped the whisky, raising his eyebrows at the unfamiliarly smoky taste.
“That’s nice……..what is it?”
“It’s called Macallan - Scottish single malt.”
“Hmm. I’m usually a Jack an’ coke kinda guy, but this….” He took another long sip, holding it in his mouth to savor the taste before swallowing. “This is pretty good stuff.”
“It is.” Billie sipped at her own glass. “It was my dad’s favorite.”
“Was?” Jon queried as she laid down the glass and switched to coffee again. “Is this part of your long, sad story?”
Billie stared down into her coffee, wondering what impulse had made her even mention it. Wondering more what was causing the impulse to tell him. Maybe it was the fact that she really hadn’t talked about it in so long. Maybe it was his attitude - the way he made her feel that he’d just listen and let her talk. Or maybe it was because he’d be riding back out of her life tomorrow, so she wouldn’t have to endure his pity. Or compassion. The two were one and the same, as far as she was concerned.
She laid the coffee aside and picked up the whisky, taking a longer sip. Even when you were searching for courage, it still seemed sacrilegious to toss back the delicious malt like some inferior booze.
“Was.” She confirmed, finally raising her eyes from the glass to look back at Jon.
He was sitting comfortably back on the couch, his right ankle resting on his left knee, and he held the coffee mug in one hand. She could only guess where his glass was resting. The blue eyes gazing back at her were steady and clear as he waited patiently for her to speak. Billie sighed softly and took one more sip of the Macallan.
“My parents were killed in a car wreck, just over three years ago now.”
“Aw, shit. I’m sorry, Billie.” Jon blurted, but she shook her head with a smile.
“S’okay. Really. I’m………well, I won’t say I’m over it - some things you never get over, I think - but I’m okay with it now.” She knew the next part would be harder to say, but reminded herself that he’d be gone tomorrow. “They - we - were driving back from the train station. My……my fiancé was in school out in LA, and we’d just picked him up for the holidays. We…..we were out on the highway when a truck….” Her voice faded for a moment, and her gaze dropped to the floor, staring at something Jon couldn’t see. Staring into the past. “The police said the driver fell asleep.”
“Shit.” Jon muttered, but Billie didn’t hear him.
Trapped in her memories, she could only hear - again - the rending screech of metal on metal, her mother’s scream blending with her father’s roar of anger and her fiancé’s voice yelling her name as he lunged toward her, even then trying to protect her. She could almost feel the pain again, the pain of being crushed against the door of the car, then the agonising feeling as a piece of jagged steel ripped into her back. It was the first time in a long while she’d let herself remember that night, then she was brought back to the present by a gentle voice.
“Billie?” Jon said softly, seeing her blank expression. “You okay there, sweetheart?”
“Hmmm?” She raised her head, blushing slightly at his concerned expression. “Sorry. I guess I haven’t thought about this in a while.” She drank the last of her whisky, forcing herself to finish the story. “The truck driver fell asleep, they reckon, and he hit us. Killed my dad and Craig - my fiancé - outright. Mom died just after the paramedics arrived.” She shrugged. “I survived. Battered, bruised, and the odd interesting scar to show for it, but I’m alive.”
“Jesus.” Jon murmured. Hearing a tale like that - losing your whole family in one fell swoop - certainly put life into a different perspective. “It must’ve been hard. Losing so many people at one time, I mean.”
“It was. It is. But, y’know what? Every single one of them would’ve wanted me to keep on living.” She gave a twisted smile. “I won’t say I’m doing good at it just yet, but I’m trying. I was raised tough, and I won’t give in without a damned good fight.”
“Good for you.” Jon said seriously, then snuffed a laugh, quickly explaining himself before Billie thought he was laughing at her. “Sorry. I was just thinking how I need some of your fighting spirit these days. I seem to have lost the will to…….”
“The will to live? Or just the will to believe life’s worth fighting for?” Billie asked. Anything to get the conversation off her for a bit.
“Honestly? A bit of both.” It was Jon’s turn to take a bracing drink of whisky.
Billie watched and waited - it was his turn to spill something personal, private and - possibly - embarrassing. His next words, though, were nothing that she expected.
“What kind of music do you listen to?”
“I…….huh?” She frowned, but Jon gestured for her to answer. “Not much, really. Bit of country, maybe, but not much. The radio in my truck’s busted, so I sing when I drive. Okay, I sing when I ride, too. And when I cook. Or……..okay, I sing more than I listen to music. Why?”
“Just wondered.” Jon decided to keep his mouth shut on the exact details of who - what - he was. “I’m in a band.”
“Oh. Okay.”
“Yeah. We’ve been playing a lot of shows the last few years, and we really haven’t taken any time out in the last two. I guess we’re burned out. I know I am at least.” He looked across at her, sadness in his gaze. “To the point that, after our last show, we all went our separate ways. I mean, we’ve made it to a pretty good place with our music and all that, but my best friend - he plays lead guitar, and we write together - knocked me on my ass twice in the last month we were on the road. None of the guys are really talking to me any more, and I can understand why. So I went home, tail between my legs, and I guess I tried to drink myself out of it. That didn’t work, so eventually when Dorothea found me, she straightened me out a bit. At least, she got my head straight enough that I decided we’d take off for a while on the bike.”
Now Billie was confused. “So where is…umm…..Dorothea?”
“Back home by now.” Jon grinned as he explained. “Couple of weeks ago, she told me that it wasn’t working. Not us - it’s not like we’ve split up or anything - but that the whole roadtrip thing just wasn’t allowing me to let go, because she was there, and so was my manager. I guess she was right - every time we stopped to eat, we’d end up talking business. So she sent me on my way alone, to try to find whatever it is I’m searching for.”
“What are you searching for?”
“I haven’t a fucking clue.” Jon said honestly. “A reason? A meaning? Me?” He finished his whisky and leaned forward to lay the glass down. “I just couldn’t see any reason to carry on with any of it, Billie. Everything I’d worked for, fought for, kicked in doors and damned well demanded they give me - I got it. I got it all, and it turned out to be worth shit. What it’s cost me - if it’s cost me my friendship with Richie, which I think it has - it’s not fucking worth it. I’ve finally realised that all the money, all the success in the world means nothin’, if you’re not happy.”
“So you have found something.” Billie smiled. “You’ve learned something important. You’ve learned that family - and I include close friends in that - are the biggest treasure you’ll ever have.”
Jon looked at her in surprise. He’d never actually thought of it that way, but she was right. He had come to understand that in the last couple of weeks. There was a sadness in Billie’s face, though, and he understood that, too. She’d lost the three most precious people in her life with no hope of ever getting them back, so she knew exactly what she was talking about.
“You’re right, Billie.” He said, then tilted his head slightly as he continued. “And I’m truly sorry about what happened with your parents and….Craig. You’re a hell of a lot stronger than me, obviously.”
“Pfffft!” She blew a raspberry, reaching for the still-open bottle of Macallan. “You want another?”
“Sure.”
She poured him another whisky, and poured one for herself, then they settled back in their seats again, each lost to their own thoughts for a few long minutes. Sipping the smoky whisky again, Jon looked at her with a tiny, encouraging smile.
“Tell me about Craig.” He said softly, and Billie looked at him in surprise. His expression was open and guileless, looking like he genuinely wanted to hear her story, and with a slight smile of her own she let herself open the door to her memories, beginning to speak.
Next morning, Jon woke naked in a rumpled bed, a baby hangover making the edges of his brain tremble, but nothing that could over-ride the feeling of contentment he felt. He rolled his head to one side, then smiled sleepily at Billie.
“Good morning.” He murmured.
“Good morning yourself.” She replied with a smile of her own.
“Milk in the fridge, sugar in that cupboard.” She pointed. “Help yourself.”
“Fine like this.”
She wrinkled her nose, pouring some milk into hers, then she tilted her head toward the living room.
“The whisky’s through here. Plus it’s more comfortable.”
So they relocated to the living room, Jon taking a seat on the long couch while Billie laid down her coffee and opened a dark wood cabinet, bringing out a bottle of whisky and two glasses. She brought the booze across to the coffee table, perching herself on a battered armchair and unscrewing the cap of the bottle. Jon watched her pour two healthy measures of the pale golden liquid, then she offered him one of the glasses.
“Thanks.” Jon took the glass and Billie settled back, moving her coffee and whisky to a table beside her chair.
As she shifted, bringing her feet up underneath her on the seat, snuggling into the chair, Jon sipped the whisky, raising his eyebrows at the unfamiliarly smoky taste.
“That’s nice……..what is it?”
“It’s called Macallan - Scottish single malt.”
“Hmm. I’m usually a Jack an’ coke kinda guy, but this….” He took another long sip, holding it in his mouth to savor the taste before swallowing. “This is pretty good stuff.”
“It is.” Billie sipped at her own glass. “It was my dad’s favorite.”
“Was?” Jon queried as she laid down the glass and switched to coffee again. “Is this part of your long, sad story?”
Billie stared down into her coffee, wondering what impulse had made her even mention it. Wondering more what was causing the impulse to tell him. Maybe it was the fact that she really hadn’t talked about it in so long. Maybe it was his attitude - the way he made her feel that he’d just listen and let her talk. Or maybe it was because he’d be riding back out of her life tomorrow, so she wouldn’t have to endure his pity. Or compassion. The two were one and the same, as far as she was concerned.
She laid the coffee aside and picked up the whisky, taking a longer sip. Even when you were searching for courage, it still seemed sacrilegious to toss back the delicious malt like some inferior booze.
“Was.” She confirmed, finally raising her eyes from the glass to look back at Jon.
He was sitting comfortably back on the couch, his right ankle resting on his left knee, and he held the coffee mug in one hand. She could only guess where his glass was resting. The blue eyes gazing back at her were steady and clear as he waited patiently for her to speak. Billie sighed softly and took one more sip of the Macallan.
“My parents were killed in a car wreck, just over three years ago now.”
“Aw, shit. I’m sorry, Billie.” Jon blurted, but she shook her head with a smile.
“S’okay. Really. I’m………well, I won’t say I’m over it - some things you never get over, I think - but I’m okay with it now.” She knew the next part would be harder to say, but reminded herself that he’d be gone tomorrow. “They - we - were driving back from the train station. My……my fiancé was in school out in LA, and we’d just picked him up for the holidays. We…..we were out on the highway when a truck….” Her voice faded for a moment, and her gaze dropped to the floor, staring at something Jon couldn’t see. Staring into the past. “The police said the driver fell asleep.”
“Shit.” Jon muttered, but Billie didn’t hear him.
Trapped in her memories, she could only hear - again - the rending screech of metal on metal, her mother’s scream blending with her father’s roar of anger and her fiancé’s voice yelling her name as he lunged toward her, even then trying to protect her. She could almost feel the pain again, the pain of being crushed against the door of the car, then the agonising feeling as a piece of jagged steel ripped into her back. It was the first time in a long while she’d let herself remember that night, then she was brought back to the present by a gentle voice.
“Billie?” Jon said softly, seeing her blank expression. “You okay there, sweetheart?”
“Hmmm?” She raised her head, blushing slightly at his concerned expression. “Sorry. I guess I haven’t thought about this in a while.” She drank the last of her whisky, forcing herself to finish the story. “The truck driver fell asleep, they reckon, and he hit us. Killed my dad and Craig - my fiancé - outright. Mom died just after the paramedics arrived.” She shrugged. “I survived. Battered, bruised, and the odd interesting scar to show for it, but I’m alive.”
“Jesus.” Jon murmured. Hearing a tale like that - losing your whole family in one fell swoop - certainly put life into a different perspective. “It must’ve been hard. Losing so many people at one time, I mean.”
“It was. It is. But, y’know what? Every single one of them would’ve wanted me to keep on living.” She gave a twisted smile. “I won’t say I’m doing good at it just yet, but I’m trying. I was raised tough, and I won’t give in without a damned good fight.”
“Good for you.” Jon said seriously, then snuffed a laugh, quickly explaining himself before Billie thought he was laughing at her. “Sorry. I was just thinking how I need some of your fighting spirit these days. I seem to have lost the will to…….”
“The will to live? Or just the will to believe life’s worth fighting for?” Billie asked. Anything to get the conversation off her for a bit.
“Honestly? A bit of both.” It was Jon’s turn to take a bracing drink of whisky.
Billie watched and waited - it was his turn to spill something personal, private and - possibly - embarrassing. His next words, though, were nothing that she expected.
“What kind of music do you listen to?”
“I…….huh?” She frowned, but Jon gestured for her to answer. “Not much, really. Bit of country, maybe, but not much. The radio in my truck’s busted, so I sing when I drive. Okay, I sing when I ride, too. And when I cook. Or……..okay, I sing more than I listen to music. Why?”
“Just wondered.” Jon decided to keep his mouth shut on the exact details of who - what - he was. “I’m in a band.”
“Oh. Okay.”
“Yeah. We’ve been playing a lot of shows the last few years, and we really haven’t taken any time out in the last two. I guess we’re burned out. I know I am at least.” He looked across at her, sadness in his gaze. “To the point that, after our last show, we all went our separate ways. I mean, we’ve made it to a pretty good place with our music and all that, but my best friend - he plays lead guitar, and we write together - knocked me on my ass twice in the last month we were on the road. None of the guys are really talking to me any more, and I can understand why. So I went home, tail between my legs, and I guess I tried to drink myself out of it. That didn’t work, so eventually when Dorothea found me, she straightened me out a bit. At least, she got my head straight enough that I decided we’d take off for a while on the bike.”
Now Billie was confused. “So where is…umm…..Dorothea?”
“Back home by now.” Jon grinned as he explained. “Couple of weeks ago, she told me that it wasn’t working. Not us - it’s not like we’ve split up or anything - but that the whole roadtrip thing just wasn’t allowing me to let go, because she was there, and so was my manager. I guess she was right - every time we stopped to eat, we’d end up talking business. So she sent me on my way alone, to try to find whatever it is I’m searching for.”
“What are you searching for?”
“I haven’t a fucking clue.” Jon said honestly. “A reason? A meaning? Me?” He finished his whisky and leaned forward to lay the glass down. “I just couldn’t see any reason to carry on with any of it, Billie. Everything I’d worked for, fought for, kicked in doors and damned well demanded they give me - I got it. I got it all, and it turned out to be worth shit. What it’s cost me - if it’s cost me my friendship with Richie, which I think it has - it’s not fucking worth it. I’ve finally realised that all the money, all the success in the world means nothin’, if you’re not happy.”
“So you have found something.” Billie smiled. “You’ve learned something important. You’ve learned that family - and I include close friends in that - are the biggest treasure you’ll ever have.”
Jon looked at her in surprise. He’d never actually thought of it that way, but she was right. He had come to understand that in the last couple of weeks. There was a sadness in Billie’s face, though, and he understood that, too. She’d lost the three most precious people in her life with no hope of ever getting them back, so she knew exactly what she was talking about.
“You’re right, Billie.” He said, then tilted his head slightly as he continued. “And I’m truly sorry about what happened with your parents and….Craig. You’re a hell of a lot stronger than me, obviously.”
“Pfffft!” She blew a raspberry, reaching for the still-open bottle of Macallan. “You want another?”
“Sure.”
She poured him another whisky, and poured one for herself, then they settled back in their seats again, each lost to their own thoughts for a few long minutes. Sipping the smoky whisky again, Jon looked at her with a tiny, encouraging smile.
“Tell me about Craig.” He said softly, and Billie looked at him in surprise. His expression was open and guileless, looking like he genuinely wanted to hear her story, and with a slight smile of her own she let herself open the door to her memories, beginning to speak.
Next morning, Jon woke naked in a rumpled bed, a baby hangover making the edges of his brain tremble, but nothing that could over-ride the feeling of contentment he felt. He rolled his head to one side, then smiled sleepily at Billie.
“Good morning.” He murmured.
“Good morning yourself.” She replied with a smile of her own.
Monday, November 10, 2008
Chapter Nine
Jon soon found himself alone, as Deke followed his mistress when she led Drummer away toward the corral. Taking him inside, she pulled off the simple bridle then slid home the pole that served as a gate before taking the bridle to the barn. Rousing himself as he realised he was gazing in the direction she’d gone, Jon glanced around, seeing what looked like a garage. He flipped up the kickstand and wheeled the Harley across, finding the door wide open and plenty of space for his bike next to a battered but somehow well-loved-looking pickup.
He set the kickstand again then unhooked his saddlebag, heading back out into the evening. It was almost dark now, and he only dimly saw Billie walking toward him.
“I thought you’d run off.” She joked, and he shrugged, raising the saddlebag.
“I put my bike in your garage. Is that okay?”
“Sure.” Billie eyed the black saddlebag. “Traveling light, huh?”
“Yep. Anyway, I have spare jeans and a credit card or two - what more does a man need?”
“Oh, I don’t know…..” The twinkle in her eyes made Jon wonder what was coming next. “How ‘bout a steak and a beer?”
“That sounds like heaven.” Jon grinned. “A guy can get awfully tired of diner food.”
“I’ll bet. Come on in, then. I’ll show you where everything is then fix some dinner.” She gestured around. “If you want, I can show you out here tomorrow, when it’s light.”
“That’d be cool.”
Smiling, Billie led him up the couple of steps onto the porch, then opened the door and stepped inside. As she heard him step over the threshold, it suddenly struck her that he was the first person to enter her home in a long time. And certainly the first man since……. She stopped the thought right there. Some memories were best left to the past.
“Just dump your stuff wherever.” She said, stopping to pull off her dusty boots, touched by Jon’s manners as she saw him do the same.
Both now barefoot, she continued the tour deeper into the house.
“Living room - in case you hadn’t guessed.” She grinned, still moving. “Kitchen here, and back there, on the left, is the bathroom.”
“Nice place.” Jon said, meaning it. The house wasn’t enormous, but there was plenty of space for a good-sized family, let alone one slender girl and her dog.
All on one level, it was typically ranch-house, with an abundance of wooden furniture and brightly colored cushions and throws, mismatched in a gloriously perfect whole. Billie went into the kitchen, opening the fridge and pulling out a pair of steaks. She grabbed a couple of beers with the other hand, opening them and handing one to Jon, who took it with a grateful smile.
“Thanks, Billie.” He took a long, refreshing drink. “Would it be okay if……..could I use your shower?”
“Of course! Here….” She led the way to where she’d indicated the bathroom.
Pushing open the door, she flipped on the light. The bathroom was huge, even in comparison to the rest of the house, and it betrayed a much more girly side to Billie than Jon had seen so far. The room was dominated by a massive bathtub, old-fashioned claw feet resting on the wooden floor. Over the bath there was a copper shower head that was easily the size of the average hubcap, and each of the walls had a long shelf lined with candles. In the time it took Jon to see all of that, Billie had crossed to a closet, opening the door and just waving a hand at the contents.
“Towels and stuff in there.” She headed for the door. “Make yourself at home.” A slight hesitation. “I do mean that. I’m not used to company, so my hostess skills may be rusty, but please do make yourself at home.”
“Thank you.” Jon said sincerely, smiling at her. As she began to close the door, he stopped her with a soft voice. “For the record, Billie - there’s not a damned thing wrong with your - uh - hostess skills - and I really appreciate you letting me crash here.”
“You’re welcome.” She giggled as she finally did close the door. “But don’t speak too soon - you ain’t tried my cooking yet!”
Laughing with her, Jon watched her close the door, then after a moment he turned his attention to the shower. Part of him would have loved to just fill that huge, deep tub with scalding water and lie there until the dust and grime finally soaked from his pores, but it wasn’t exactly polite. Besides which, his stomach was telling him to hurry the hell up and get to that steak. He grabbed a towel from the closet, then went back to the side of the tub, pulling off his dusty jeans and barely-there tank, dropping them to the floor and climbing into the tub.
The shower gushed a wonderfully powerful spray of hot water over his body, the temperature already set just how he liked his shower - somewhere between scalding and lobster-cooking. Something he and Billie had in common, then. He ran a fine line between showering as long as he wanted to and how long a polite guest should, stepping out feeling like a new man.
He pulled on his clean jeans and the one fresh t-shirt he had left, reveling in the feel of clean denim and cotton against his now-clean skin. Rubbing his hair until it stopped dripping, he padded barefoot through to the kitchen, the aroma of frying steak and potatoes assaulting his nostrils and bringing a grin to his face.
“You’ve no idea how much I needed that!” He said, and Billie smiled back at him, sucking grease from her fingers.
“I can imagine. I know how I feel if I’ve been out on Drum all day. More beer?”
“You’re an angel.” He raised a hand as she moved. “I can get it. You want one?”
“Uh-huh.”
It was a surreally domestic scene, she thought. Two complete strangers acting like friends - or room-mates - or…….. Again, she threw the brake on her wayward thoughts, concentrating on her cooking instead.
A few minutes later, she loaded two plates with steak, potatoes and fried onions. Jon took the one she handed to him, and they sat at the kitchen table to eat. The next ten minutes or so passed in silence, as they applied themselves diligently to the meal - Billie hungry from being out on horseback all afternoon, Jon starved for home cooked food - then as they both finished at almost the same time, Jon gave a soft, satiated groan.
“Damn, but that was good, Billie.”
“Thanks.” She forked up a final shred of steak.
“Must be something wrong with the men around here.” Jon opined suddenly, not even sure why he was saying it. “Cute, funny, and you can cook like an angel……why hasn’t anyone snapped you up?”
Billie looked at him sharply, and for a fleeting moment Jon wondered if his mouth had just cost him his bed - couch - for the night, but when she spoke Billie’s voice was just sad.
“There was a man…….” She shrugged off the melancholy before it could overwhelm her again. “But it’s a long, sad story. D’you want more beer? Or coffee?” She paused. “Or whisky?”
“Coffee. And whisky.” Jon said, then gave her that charming, disarming, devastating grin he was famed for. “Coffee and whisky, and you can tell me your long, sad story. Then I’ll tell you mine. Deal?”
Billie stared, but a smile dimpled her cheeks at his cocky attitude.
“Deal.”
He set the kickstand again then unhooked his saddlebag, heading back out into the evening. It was almost dark now, and he only dimly saw Billie walking toward him.
“I thought you’d run off.” She joked, and he shrugged, raising the saddlebag.
“I put my bike in your garage. Is that okay?”
“Sure.” Billie eyed the black saddlebag. “Traveling light, huh?”
“Yep. Anyway, I have spare jeans and a credit card or two - what more does a man need?”
“Oh, I don’t know…..” The twinkle in her eyes made Jon wonder what was coming next. “How ‘bout a steak and a beer?”
“That sounds like heaven.” Jon grinned. “A guy can get awfully tired of diner food.”
“I’ll bet. Come on in, then. I’ll show you where everything is then fix some dinner.” She gestured around. “If you want, I can show you out here tomorrow, when it’s light.”
“That’d be cool.”
Smiling, Billie led him up the couple of steps onto the porch, then opened the door and stepped inside. As she heard him step over the threshold, it suddenly struck her that he was the first person to enter her home in a long time. And certainly the first man since……. She stopped the thought right there. Some memories were best left to the past.
“Just dump your stuff wherever.” She said, stopping to pull off her dusty boots, touched by Jon’s manners as she saw him do the same.
Both now barefoot, she continued the tour deeper into the house.
“Living room - in case you hadn’t guessed.” She grinned, still moving. “Kitchen here, and back there, on the left, is the bathroom.”
“Nice place.” Jon said, meaning it. The house wasn’t enormous, but there was plenty of space for a good-sized family, let alone one slender girl and her dog.
All on one level, it was typically ranch-house, with an abundance of wooden furniture and brightly colored cushions and throws, mismatched in a gloriously perfect whole. Billie went into the kitchen, opening the fridge and pulling out a pair of steaks. She grabbed a couple of beers with the other hand, opening them and handing one to Jon, who took it with a grateful smile.
“Thanks, Billie.” He took a long, refreshing drink. “Would it be okay if……..could I use your shower?”
“Of course! Here….” She led the way to where she’d indicated the bathroom.
Pushing open the door, she flipped on the light. The bathroom was huge, even in comparison to the rest of the house, and it betrayed a much more girly side to Billie than Jon had seen so far. The room was dominated by a massive bathtub, old-fashioned claw feet resting on the wooden floor. Over the bath there was a copper shower head that was easily the size of the average hubcap, and each of the walls had a long shelf lined with candles. In the time it took Jon to see all of that, Billie had crossed to a closet, opening the door and just waving a hand at the contents.
“Towels and stuff in there.” She headed for the door. “Make yourself at home.” A slight hesitation. “I do mean that. I’m not used to company, so my hostess skills may be rusty, but please do make yourself at home.”
“Thank you.” Jon said sincerely, smiling at her. As she began to close the door, he stopped her with a soft voice. “For the record, Billie - there’s not a damned thing wrong with your - uh - hostess skills - and I really appreciate you letting me crash here.”
“You’re welcome.” She giggled as she finally did close the door. “But don’t speak too soon - you ain’t tried my cooking yet!”
Laughing with her, Jon watched her close the door, then after a moment he turned his attention to the shower. Part of him would have loved to just fill that huge, deep tub with scalding water and lie there until the dust and grime finally soaked from his pores, but it wasn’t exactly polite. Besides which, his stomach was telling him to hurry the hell up and get to that steak. He grabbed a towel from the closet, then went back to the side of the tub, pulling off his dusty jeans and barely-there tank, dropping them to the floor and climbing into the tub.
The shower gushed a wonderfully powerful spray of hot water over his body, the temperature already set just how he liked his shower - somewhere between scalding and lobster-cooking. Something he and Billie had in common, then. He ran a fine line between showering as long as he wanted to and how long a polite guest should, stepping out feeling like a new man.
He pulled on his clean jeans and the one fresh t-shirt he had left, reveling in the feel of clean denim and cotton against his now-clean skin. Rubbing his hair until it stopped dripping, he padded barefoot through to the kitchen, the aroma of frying steak and potatoes assaulting his nostrils and bringing a grin to his face.
“You’ve no idea how much I needed that!” He said, and Billie smiled back at him, sucking grease from her fingers.
“I can imagine. I know how I feel if I’ve been out on Drum all day. More beer?”
“You’re an angel.” He raised a hand as she moved. “I can get it. You want one?”
“Uh-huh.”
It was a surreally domestic scene, she thought. Two complete strangers acting like friends - or room-mates - or…….. Again, she threw the brake on her wayward thoughts, concentrating on her cooking instead.
A few minutes later, she loaded two plates with steak, potatoes and fried onions. Jon took the one she handed to him, and they sat at the kitchen table to eat. The next ten minutes or so passed in silence, as they applied themselves diligently to the meal - Billie hungry from being out on horseback all afternoon, Jon starved for home cooked food - then as they both finished at almost the same time, Jon gave a soft, satiated groan.
“Damn, but that was good, Billie.”
“Thanks.” She forked up a final shred of steak.
“Must be something wrong with the men around here.” Jon opined suddenly, not even sure why he was saying it. “Cute, funny, and you can cook like an angel……why hasn’t anyone snapped you up?”
Billie looked at him sharply, and for a fleeting moment Jon wondered if his mouth had just cost him his bed - couch - for the night, but when she spoke Billie’s voice was just sad.
“There was a man…….” She shrugged off the melancholy before it could overwhelm her again. “But it’s a long, sad story. D’you want more beer? Or coffee?” She paused. “Or whisky?”
“Coffee. And whisky.” Jon said, then gave her that charming, disarming, devastating grin he was famed for. “Coffee and whisky, and you can tell me your long, sad story. Then I’ll tell you mine. Deal?”
Billie stared, but a smile dimpled her cheeks at his cocky attitude.
“Deal.”
Friday, November 7, 2008
Chapter Eight
Jon lay back on the seat of the Harley, his back against the backrest and his legs stretched out, feet crossed up by the headlamp. He had his arms folded behind his head as he lazily gazed out across the landscape before him. He had no clue what the place was called - hell, it was so far out in the ass-end of nowhere, maybe it didn’t even have a name - but he’d followed the short dirt track that led from a battered sign which said ‘scenic outlook’. At the end of the track, he’d found a small turnaround area, just big enough for a careful driver to turn a car and trailer, and he’d ridden the bike toward the edge, stopping as the vista opened up in front of him.
There was nothing as far as he could see. Nothing but a winding canyon, sandy soil lining the base and deep, intriguing shadows from the lowering sun. Something about the place was calming, though, or maybe he was just - finally - allowing himself to feel, to react spontaneously and naturally to whatever he saw. Either way, the view couldn’t be ignored, and he’d killed the bike’s burbling engine, flipping down the kickstand and stretching himself out on the bike to just enjoy the approaching evening.
As the dusk deepened, he gave half a thought to moving on, to finding a motel for the night, but he did have a bedroll strapped to the back of the bike, and surely even a rockstar could survive one summer’s night alone under the stars. Then, with surprise, he realised he didn’t care. He’d happily stay there, and to hell with everything. A soft snort of laughter escaped as his next thought was that it was okay, he’d called his mom the previous night, so she wouldn’t worry.
“What am I?” He asked aloud as he eased himself off the bike and began to unstrap the bedroll. “Twelve?”
“No.” Came a soft voice from behind him. “Most twelve year olds would have more sense than to stay out here at night.”
“What the….?!” Jon swung around. He hadn’t heard a vehicle approach, then he discovered why - the voice came from a figure sitting on a horse, just at the edge of the clearing. “Jesus! You scared the shit outta me, buddy!”
Sitting on the horse, Billie laughed. Maybe it was darker than she’d thought. She gave her horse a gentle nudge with her heels, moving closer.
Looking up, Jon felt a flash of - not quite fear, but certainly concern - as the horse approached, then the rider laughed again and he realised it was a woman.
“Oops.” He apologised with a disarming grin. “Sorry, ma’am.”
“S’okay.” She smiled.
From her position on horseback, Billie looked at the guy. Initially, she’d thought him the usual biker-type she’d found up here in the past, and the long hair and three-day beard on his face had strengthened that impression. Then he spoke, and his voice was soft and sultry, a hint of humor there even in the few words he’d spoken, but also a whole lot of pain lurking close under the surface. It was the pain that had drawn her closer. Pain, she understood. After a hesitation, she slid down off the broad brown back of Drummer, her horse, landing on her booted feet beside the horse and dropping the rein to the floor.
“I assume you were thinking of spending the night here?” She asked the guy, who nodded slowly, one hand still on the bedroll.
“Yeah. Is that a problem? I mean, is this private land or something?”
“No. Not that. Just……well, there have been problems around here with coyotes lately.” She smiled at him, close enough now that Jon could see the twin dimples on her cheeks. “You don’t want to wake up to find a coyote chewing on your shoulder, do you?”
“Uhh…..no!” Jon grinned, then realised he’d forgotten the manners that his mother had drilled into him. “Sorry. We haven’t even been introduced. I’m Jon.” He held out his hand.
Billie hesitated, then took his hand, shaking it firmly, the wiry strength in her surprising Jon.
“I’m Billie.”
“Billy?”
“Billie. With an ‘ie’, not a ‘y’.”
“Oh, okay. Billie.” Jon let go of her hand and motioned to the horse. “And who’s this?”
“That’s Drummer.” At his name, the horse looked toward his owner, then looked away again.
“I know a drummer.” Jon said softly, and there was something in his voice that told Billie to just let the comment pass. “So, you’re saying it’s not a good idea to sleep out here, then?”
“Not really. If you had a fire, maybe, but even so - not alone.”
“Okay.” Jon sighed. “I guess I’m riding on a little further, then, find me a motel.”
“A motel?” Billie laughed. “Out here? You’re kidding, right?”
“No………but I s’pose you’re telling me I’ll be riding more than a little?”
“There’s probably not a motel within an hour’s drive of here.” She explained, and as she hesitated, Jon silently cursed himself for letting the scenery pull him in, leaving him with a long, lonely night ride to find a bed that didn’t come with optional mauling.
Billie looked at him. Under the scruff of beard and the long hair, there was a gentleness about this Jon. Something that told her he was no threat to anyone. Well, anyone but himself, if her instincts were right. And they usually were.
“I live not far from here.” She said quietly. “You’re welcome to the couch for the night. I do have a dog, but I promise the worst he’ll do is drool on you - no biting.”
“You don’t even know me.” Jon protested. “How do you know I’m not - I dunno - an ax murderer or something?”
“How do you know I’m not?” Billie chuckled, and Jon laughed with her, nodding.
“Okay. If you’re sure it’ll be okay with your………husband?”
“No husband. Just me, Drummer and Deke.”
Jon misheard her, or maybe his mind was just playing tricks with the similar-sounding name.
“Teek?!”
“Not Teek. Deke. My dog.”
“Aw, shit, sorry. I thought you said Teek.” He smiled, embarrassed. “I have a friend called Teek.”
“Well, unless he’s short, with thick black hair and a wet nose, it’s not the same person!”
Jon laughed again. “Short with thick black hair, yeah. I dunno about the wet nose, though.”
Billie laughed with him, turning to walk over to her horse.
“So - the offer still stands. Do you want a bed - or a couch anyway - for the night?”
“Yeah. Why not.” Jon tied the bedroll again. “Thanks, Billie. Do you……..?”
He was about to ask if she wanted any help getting back onto her horse, but with some kind of agile bounce and leap she was up onto the bare back.
“Never mind.” Jon muttered. “Will the bike bother him?”
“Nah. He’s used to all kinds of tractors and stuff. I’m sure he can cope with a Softail.”
The words came out before Jon could think to use his internal censor switch. “Can he, now? Why? Do you have a soft tail?” He flushed. Great. For no reason other than being friendly the girl offers him a safe place to sleep and he comes out with something like that. “I meant, do you have a Softail - a bike?”
“Nope.” Billie smiled at his embarrassment. “I used to date a guy who was into bikes.”
“Ah, right. Sorry - I seem to be a bit ‘open mouth, insert foot’ these days.” Jon apologised. “Out of practice at talking to people.”
“I know how that is.” Billie whispered, leaning forward to gather up Drummer’s reins from where they still dangled to the ground. “Come on then.”
Starting the bike, Jon hooked up the kickstand with his heel and followed her back down the trail, the bike’s headlamp lighting their way, though Drummer didn’t exactly need the help as he obviously knew precisely where he was going.
Jon just let the bike coast along at walking pace, not too close behind Drummer since he didn’t fancy getting a hoof in his face if the horse did object to him being there. They rode along the trail, cutting off to one side before they reached the road, and following this new trail until they reached a well-kept ranch house, a barn and fenced corral to the rear. As they approached, a stocky black dog ran out to greet them - Deke, Jon assumed - and the dog bypassed Billie and Drummer, coming up toward the bike, lip raised in a snarl as Deke looked back at his owner.
“S’okay, Deke.” Billie said. “He’s with me.”
Instantly, the dog dropped his watchdog act and turned instead into a slobbering, wagging dynamo, begging to be patted. Laughing, Jon scratched behind the floppy ears, hoping that the dog would be one of those that didn’t set off his allergies.
“Home sweet home.” Billie said, jumping off Drummer’s back. “Welcome.”
“Thanks.” Jon said faintly, looking around.
“Just let me sort Drum out and I’ll give you the guided tour.” Billie said, then laughed, a pretty sound that Jon was starting to enjoy more every time he heard it. “It doesn’t take long!”
There was nothing as far as he could see. Nothing but a winding canyon, sandy soil lining the base and deep, intriguing shadows from the lowering sun. Something about the place was calming, though, or maybe he was just - finally - allowing himself to feel, to react spontaneously and naturally to whatever he saw. Either way, the view couldn’t be ignored, and he’d killed the bike’s burbling engine, flipping down the kickstand and stretching himself out on the bike to just enjoy the approaching evening.
As the dusk deepened, he gave half a thought to moving on, to finding a motel for the night, but he did have a bedroll strapped to the back of the bike, and surely even a rockstar could survive one summer’s night alone under the stars. Then, with surprise, he realised he didn’t care. He’d happily stay there, and to hell with everything. A soft snort of laughter escaped as his next thought was that it was okay, he’d called his mom the previous night, so she wouldn’t worry.
“What am I?” He asked aloud as he eased himself off the bike and began to unstrap the bedroll. “Twelve?”
“No.” Came a soft voice from behind him. “Most twelve year olds would have more sense than to stay out here at night.”
“What the….?!” Jon swung around. He hadn’t heard a vehicle approach, then he discovered why - the voice came from a figure sitting on a horse, just at the edge of the clearing. “Jesus! You scared the shit outta me, buddy!”
Sitting on the horse, Billie laughed. Maybe it was darker than she’d thought. She gave her horse a gentle nudge with her heels, moving closer.
Looking up, Jon felt a flash of - not quite fear, but certainly concern - as the horse approached, then the rider laughed again and he realised it was a woman.
“Oops.” He apologised with a disarming grin. “Sorry, ma’am.”
“S’okay.” She smiled.
From her position on horseback, Billie looked at the guy. Initially, she’d thought him the usual biker-type she’d found up here in the past, and the long hair and three-day beard on his face had strengthened that impression. Then he spoke, and his voice was soft and sultry, a hint of humor there even in the few words he’d spoken, but also a whole lot of pain lurking close under the surface. It was the pain that had drawn her closer. Pain, she understood. After a hesitation, she slid down off the broad brown back of Drummer, her horse, landing on her booted feet beside the horse and dropping the rein to the floor.
“I assume you were thinking of spending the night here?” She asked the guy, who nodded slowly, one hand still on the bedroll.
“Yeah. Is that a problem? I mean, is this private land or something?”
“No. Not that. Just……well, there have been problems around here with coyotes lately.” She smiled at him, close enough now that Jon could see the twin dimples on her cheeks. “You don’t want to wake up to find a coyote chewing on your shoulder, do you?”
“Uhh…..no!” Jon grinned, then realised he’d forgotten the manners that his mother had drilled into him. “Sorry. We haven’t even been introduced. I’m Jon.” He held out his hand.
Billie hesitated, then took his hand, shaking it firmly, the wiry strength in her surprising Jon.
“I’m Billie.”
“Billy?”
“Billie. With an ‘ie’, not a ‘y’.”
“Oh, okay. Billie.” Jon let go of her hand and motioned to the horse. “And who’s this?”
“That’s Drummer.” At his name, the horse looked toward his owner, then looked away again.
“I know a drummer.” Jon said softly, and there was something in his voice that told Billie to just let the comment pass. “So, you’re saying it’s not a good idea to sleep out here, then?”
“Not really. If you had a fire, maybe, but even so - not alone.”
“Okay.” Jon sighed. “I guess I’m riding on a little further, then, find me a motel.”
“A motel?” Billie laughed. “Out here? You’re kidding, right?”
“No………but I s’pose you’re telling me I’ll be riding more than a little?”
“There’s probably not a motel within an hour’s drive of here.” She explained, and as she hesitated, Jon silently cursed himself for letting the scenery pull him in, leaving him with a long, lonely night ride to find a bed that didn’t come with optional mauling.
Billie looked at him. Under the scruff of beard and the long hair, there was a gentleness about this Jon. Something that told her he was no threat to anyone. Well, anyone but himself, if her instincts were right. And they usually were.
“I live not far from here.” She said quietly. “You’re welcome to the couch for the night. I do have a dog, but I promise the worst he’ll do is drool on you - no biting.”
“You don’t even know me.” Jon protested. “How do you know I’m not - I dunno - an ax murderer or something?”
“How do you know I’m not?” Billie chuckled, and Jon laughed with her, nodding.
“Okay. If you’re sure it’ll be okay with your………husband?”
“No husband. Just me, Drummer and Deke.”
Jon misheard her, or maybe his mind was just playing tricks with the similar-sounding name.
“Teek?!”
“Not Teek. Deke. My dog.”
“Aw, shit, sorry. I thought you said Teek.” He smiled, embarrassed. “I have a friend called Teek.”
“Well, unless he’s short, with thick black hair and a wet nose, it’s not the same person!”
Jon laughed again. “Short with thick black hair, yeah. I dunno about the wet nose, though.”
Billie laughed with him, turning to walk over to her horse.
“So - the offer still stands. Do you want a bed - or a couch anyway - for the night?”
“Yeah. Why not.” Jon tied the bedroll again. “Thanks, Billie. Do you……..?”
He was about to ask if she wanted any help getting back onto her horse, but with some kind of agile bounce and leap she was up onto the bare back.
“Never mind.” Jon muttered. “Will the bike bother him?”
“Nah. He’s used to all kinds of tractors and stuff. I’m sure he can cope with a Softail.”
The words came out before Jon could think to use his internal censor switch. “Can he, now? Why? Do you have a soft tail?” He flushed. Great. For no reason other than being friendly the girl offers him a safe place to sleep and he comes out with something like that. “I meant, do you have a Softail - a bike?”
“Nope.” Billie smiled at his embarrassment. “I used to date a guy who was into bikes.”
“Ah, right. Sorry - I seem to be a bit ‘open mouth, insert foot’ these days.” Jon apologised. “Out of practice at talking to people.”
“I know how that is.” Billie whispered, leaning forward to gather up Drummer’s reins from where they still dangled to the ground. “Come on then.”
Starting the bike, Jon hooked up the kickstand with his heel and followed her back down the trail, the bike’s headlamp lighting their way, though Drummer didn’t exactly need the help as he obviously knew precisely where he was going.
Jon just let the bike coast along at walking pace, not too close behind Drummer since he didn’t fancy getting a hoof in his face if the horse did object to him being there. They rode along the trail, cutting off to one side before they reached the road, and following this new trail until they reached a well-kept ranch house, a barn and fenced corral to the rear. As they approached, a stocky black dog ran out to greet them - Deke, Jon assumed - and the dog bypassed Billie and Drummer, coming up toward the bike, lip raised in a snarl as Deke looked back at his owner.
“S’okay, Deke.” Billie said. “He’s with me.”
Instantly, the dog dropped his watchdog act and turned instead into a slobbering, wagging dynamo, begging to be patted. Laughing, Jon scratched behind the floppy ears, hoping that the dog would be one of those that didn’t set off his allergies.
“Home sweet home.” Billie said, jumping off Drummer’s back. “Welcome.”
“Thanks.” Jon said faintly, looking around.
“Just let me sort Drum out and I’ll give you the guided tour.” Billie said, then laughed, a pretty sound that Jon was starting to enjoy more every time he heard it. “It doesn’t take long!”
Thursday, November 6, 2008
Chapter Seven
They’d ridden all of that day. Not exactly breaking the land-speed record, in fact barely reaching the speed limit much of the time, but just tooling along and enjoying every second of the ride. Because of that, and their extended lunch stop, they hadn’t really made much distance, but then that wasn’t the point of this trip. It was meant to be relaxing and healing, not a breakneck dash across country.
As the sun began to fade, dipping toward the horizon, throwing a wash of dusky light onto the Santa Monica mountains, they pulled the bikes in to a roadside motel, Doc dealing with checking them in, to avoid recognition of his famous buddy. There was a diner-cum-bar next door, and they agreed to quickly clean up and meet over there for dinner in an hour.
Dot sweetly asked Jon to bring her saddlebag into the room, and while he lagged behind doing that, she snuck into the bathroom, grabbing the shower before he even got inside. Over the sound of the water, she heard his joking curses at her little trick, but she just laughed, soaping and shampooing away the grime.
Emerging from the steamy bathroom, wrapped in a towel, Dot found Jon sprawled on the bed watching TV, but he snapped his head up when he heard her, grinning slowly at her pink, glowing skin.
“Good shower?” He asked, getting off the bed.
“Uh-huh.”
“So you’re all clean, huh?”
“Yes.” She said suspiciously as he moved closer. “Why?”
“Nothin’.” He muttered with an evil smirk, then grabbed her, pulling her clean body against his still-dusty one.
“Dammit, Jonny!”
Any further protests were stifled as he kissed her and, for the first time since she’d found him in Malibu, there was hunger in his kiss. Dot moaned softly as his tongue probed deeper into her mouth, feeling his hands unknotting the towel wrapped around her, easing back to let it fall. Jon turned them around, dropping her onto the bed, laying himself gently on top of her as they kissed, one hand on her breast, and Dot whimpered with need. She’d needed him so badly for days now, hell, for weeks and months while he’d been gone, and he was finally taking the step forward to making love to her.
He dropped his head lower, sucking on her nipple, then suddenly, shockingly, he got off her, leaving Dot lying naked on the bed, looking up at him in astonishment.
“Jon…..?”
“I’m sorry, baby.” He whispered painfully, backing toward the bathroom. “I…….I’m sorry……..I need to shower.”
Jon vanished into the bathroom, closing and - for the first time since Dot had known him - locking the door.
“What the hell?” She muttered in confusion, moving off the bed to pick up her towel. This wasn’t good.
In the bathroom, Jon slumped down on the edge of the bath, head in hands. He couldn’t believe this. He knew himself - his own body’s reactions - well enough to know that, with Dot’s taste in his mouth, and the prolonged period of abstinence he’d endured - other than the odd groupie here and there - his dick should have been ripping through his jeans to get into her. But there was nothing. Not the slightest response to having the woman he loved under him. She was right there, naked and hungry, giving herself freely and gladly. And he couldn’t even get it up.
“What the fuck is wrong with me?” He mumbled.
“Jonny?” A soft knocking on the door, and he swallowed hard, swallowing back the hurt and confusion.
“Yeah, Dot?”
“You okay?”
“Yeah. I’m just……..I’m tired I guess, and I need to get clean. I’ll be out in a few.”
He showered quickly, turning the water as hot as it would go, wondering if he could scald some feeling into himself, then giving up. Wrapping a towel around his waist, he went back to the bedroom.
Dot was already dressed in clean jeans and top - she’d decided to keep one pair of jeans for riding, that way the other pair could stay at least partly clean - and she was sitting on the edge of the bed waiting for him. Jon smiled at her, but never made eye contact, digging into his own saddlebag for clean jeans.
“Jon?”
“Uh-huh?” He still didn’t look at her, and Dot sighed, getting off the bed and walking over.
She grabbed a handful of hair in each hand, turning him to face her, looking right into his eyes.
“Jon, it’s okay.”
“But I…..” He couldn’t even say it, but Dot shook his head by the hair she held.
“I said it’s okay.” She sighed. “Baby, you’re depressed. I’m no psychologist, but it’s kinda obvious, and I know this can be a, a symptom I guess. More you worry about it……… Just kiss me and we’ll go to dinner.”
Jon obeyed. Mainly because kissing her stopped her penetrating gaze on his face. He was scared to look in her eyes, because he was afraid he’d see pity there, and that was the last thing he could handle. Compassion, maybe, but pity would kill him.
“God, I love you, Dorothea.” He whispered against her ear as they hugged before parting.
“I love you, too, Jon.”
They pulled on their dusty boots - neither of them had thought to bring spare shoes - and headed out to the bar to meet Doc for dinner.
The next few days passed in much the same way, with late starts and lazy, relaxed riding up the PCH and beyond. Whenever Dot would yell in Jon’s ear, he’d signal to Doc and they’d pull off the road so she could photograph whatever it was had taken her fancy. She’d taken what she hoped would be some great shots of the Golden Gate Bridge as they approached, even snapping a few as they rode across, but mostly just enjoying the ride over the landmark structure.
Just after the Bridge, south of Fort Bragg, they’d hung a right onto State Route Twenty, heading out toward Nevada City, passing through the mountains and into the Sacramento Valley. They’d followed the road until they met the I-80, travelling along that now into Utah, passing through the so-called Forty Mile Desert on their way.
The days were good. The weather held kind for them, with only the occasionally windy day to dry their skin even more. They were all - even Doc - using the moisturising sunscreen Dot had picked up at one stop, to avoid the worst of sunburn and to keep their skin from turning to leather. So far, and in fact until they would eventually hit Missouri, they were in states which didn’t require helmets on over-eighteens, and with the heat of the sun they were glad of it. Doc wore a bandana to cover his balding head, Dot wore one to try to alleviate the worst tangling of her hair, while Jon wore one just because it looked cool. Unlike the other two, though, his was worn headband style most of the time, not covering his head but just keeping his hair out of his face.
At nights, though, Jon’s demons would return to haunt him. Dot had been as understanding as any woman could be, probably more than most, but Jon couldn’t help wondering what the hell was wrong with him. It wasn’t as though he didn’t want Dot, God knows he wanted her to the point of physical pain, but he just couldn’t…….perform. At least, he thought, she wasn’t being totally denied, as he loved her as much as he could, loving her with mouth and hands, and her moans and muffled screams told him he was satisfying her that way, but still………
One chilly morning somewhere in Colorado, Dot woke early, looking down at the man sleeping next to her. She loved him to distraction, but she knew what she had to do right now. The travelling and roaming free was helping him to a certain extent, but he needed more. He needed freedom from everything and everyone he knew, and that included her. Knowing that, she woke him gently, waking him with a kiss.
“Hey baby.” He mumbled, opening his eyes then frowning. “It’s still dark.”
“I know it is.” She smiled, stroking his hair back. “I need you to do something for me, Jon. For you, too, I think.”
“What, Dot?” Jon pushed himself into a sitting position, hearing the serious tone of her voice.
“I need you to leave.”
“What?!”
“You need to carry on this trip alone, baby.” She explained. “I don’t know what it is exactly, but having me here, having Doc here, you’re not being allowed to let go of everything you need to. Hell, when we stop for meals, you two still end up talking about work. You just can’t help it - you can’t switch it off.”
“I didn’t realise………we do, huh?” He nodded, knowing it was true.
“Yeah, you do. You need to go alone, Jon.”
“Is this because……..?”
“No! Nothing to do with it. I told you already, baby, it’s a symptom, that’s all. I want you to get up, shower, get dressed, and go, Jon.”
“What about you? And Doc?”
“I’ll ride with Doc to the next airport, then I’ll fly home to Jersey. You can come find me when you’re ready.” She spoke carefully, because she wasn’t really sure if it would be ‘when’ he was ready or ‘if’ he was ready. “I’ll explain it to Doc. Please, Jonny. Trust me on this. Go.”
He gazed at her for long moments, then sighed. She was right - with Doc there, he was still Jon Bon Jovi, rockstar. He needed to be himself, son of his parents, and nothing else for a while.
“I love you, Dorothea Rose.” He murmured, kissing her soundly.
“I love you, too, John Francis.”
Without another word, Jon slipped into the bathroom, showering and dressing, packing his stuff into the saddlebags and leaving Dot’s clothes on the dresser. He stopped at the door, looking back at her as he shrugged into his leather jacket. She sat watching him, still in the bed, naked but for the blankets. Jon gave her a half-strength grin.
“I’ll see ya soon, baby.” He winked, though he could feel his heart twisting in pain.
“That you will. Take care, and don’t forget to call your mom!” Dot told him, keeping her hands under the blankets so he couldn’t see her white-knuckled, clenched fists as she fought the urge to tell him to stay.
He left the room, closing the door quietly, and she heard the faint crunch of gravel as he wheeled the Harley a polite distance from the building before starting the engine, trying to keep the throaty roar as muted as possible as he drove away into the darkness.
As the sun began to fade, dipping toward the horizon, throwing a wash of dusky light onto the Santa Monica mountains, they pulled the bikes in to a roadside motel, Doc dealing with checking them in, to avoid recognition of his famous buddy. There was a diner-cum-bar next door, and they agreed to quickly clean up and meet over there for dinner in an hour.
Dot sweetly asked Jon to bring her saddlebag into the room, and while he lagged behind doing that, she snuck into the bathroom, grabbing the shower before he even got inside. Over the sound of the water, she heard his joking curses at her little trick, but she just laughed, soaping and shampooing away the grime.
Emerging from the steamy bathroom, wrapped in a towel, Dot found Jon sprawled on the bed watching TV, but he snapped his head up when he heard her, grinning slowly at her pink, glowing skin.
“Good shower?” He asked, getting off the bed.
“Uh-huh.”
“So you’re all clean, huh?”
“Yes.” She said suspiciously as he moved closer. “Why?”
“Nothin’.” He muttered with an evil smirk, then grabbed her, pulling her clean body against his still-dusty one.
“Dammit, Jonny!”
Any further protests were stifled as he kissed her and, for the first time since she’d found him in Malibu, there was hunger in his kiss. Dot moaned softly as his tongue probed deeper into her mouth, feeling his hands unknotting the towel wrapped around her, easing back to let it fall. Jon turned them around, dropping her onto the bed, laying himself gently on top of her as they kissed, one hand on her breast, and Dot whimpered with need. She’d needed him so badly for days now, hell, for weeks and months while he’d been gone, and he was finally taking the step forward to making love to her.
He dropped his head lower, sucking on her nipple, then suddenly, shockingly, he got off her, leaving Dot lying naked on the bed, looking up at him in astonishment.
“Jon…..?”
“I’m sorry, baby.” He whispered painfully, backing toward the bathroom. “I…….I’m sorry……..I need to shower.”
Jon vanished into the bathroom, closing and - for the first time since Dot had known him - locking the door.
“What the hell?” She muttered in confusion, moving off the bed to pick up her towel. This wasn’t good.
In the bathroom, Jon slumped down on the edge of the bath, head in hands. He couldn’t believe this. He knew himself - his own body’s reactions - well enough to know that, with Dot’s taste in his mouth, and the prolonged period of abstinence he’d endured - other than the odd groupie here and there - his dick should have been ripping through his jeans to get into her. But there was nothing. Not the slightest response to having the woman he loved under him. She was right there, naked and hungry, giving herself freely and gladly. And he couldn’t even get it up.
“What the fuck is wrong with me?” He mumbled.
“Jonny?” A soft knocking on the door, and he swallowed hard, swallowing back the hurt and confusion.
“Yeah, Dot?”
“You okay?”
“Yeah. I’m just……..I’m tired I guess, and I need to get clean. I’ll be out in a few.”
He showered quickly, turning the water as hot as it would go, wondering if he could scald some feeling into himself, then giving up. Wrapping a towel around his waist, he went back to the bedroom.
Dot was already dressed in clean jeans and top - she’d decided to keep one pair of jeans for riding, that way the other pair could stay at least partly clean - and she was sitting on the edge of the bed waiting for him. Jon smiled at her, but never made eye contact, digging into his own saddlebag for clean jeans.
“Jon?”
“Uh-huh?” He still didn’t look at her, and Dot sighed, getting off the bed and walking over.
She grabbed a handful of hair in each hand, turning him to face her, looking right into his eyes.
“Jon, it’s okay.”
“But I…..” He couldn’t even say it, but Dot shook his head by the hair she held.
“I said it’s okay.” She sighed. “Baby, you’re depressed. I’m no psychologist, but it’s kinda obvious, and I know this can be a, a symptom I guess. More you worry about it……… Just kiss me and we’ll go to dinner.”
Jon obeyed. Mainly because kissing her stopped her penetrating gaze on his face. He was scared to look in her eyes, because he was afraid he’d see pity there, and that was the last thing he could handle. Compassion, maybe, but pity would kill him.
“God, I love you, Dorothea.” He whispered against her ear as they hugged before parting.
“I love you, too, Jon.”
They pulled on their dusty boots - neither of them had thought to bring spare shoes - and headed out to the bar to meet Doc for dinner.
The next few days passed in much the same way, with late starts and lazy, relaxed riding up the PCH and beyond. Whenever Dot would yell in Jon’s ear, he’d signal to Doc and they’d pull off the road so she could photograph whatever it was had taken her fancy. She’d taken what she hoped would be some great shots of the Golden Gate Bridge as they approached, even snapping a few as they rode across, but mostly just enjoying the ride over the landmark structure.
Just after the Bridge, south of Fort Bragg, they’d hung a right onto State Route Twenty, heading out toward Nevada City, passing through the mountains and into the Sacramento Valley. They’d followed the road until they met the I-80, travelling along that now into Utah, passing through the so-called Forty Mile Desert on their way.
The days were good. The weather held kind for them, with only the occasionally windy day to dry their skin even more. They were all - even Doc - using the moisturising sunscreen Dot had picked up at one stop, to avoid the worst of sunburn and to keep their skin from turning to leather. So far, and in fact until they would eventually hit Missouri, they were in states which didn’t require helmets on over-eighteens, and with the heat of the sun they were glad of it. Doc wore a bandana to cover his balding head, Dot wore one to try to alleviate the worst tangling of her hair, while Jon wore one just because it looked cool. Unlike the other two, though, his was worn headband style most of the time, not covering his head but just keeping his hair out of his face.
At nights, though, Jon’s demons would return to haunt him. Dot had been as understanding as any woman could be, probably more than most, but Jon couldn’t help wondering what the hell was wrong with him. It wasn’t as though he didn’t want Dot, God knows he wanted her to the point of physical pain, but he just couldn’t…….perform. At least, he thought, she wasn’t being totally denied, as he loved her as much as he could, loving her with mouth and hands, and her moans and muffled screams told him he was satisfying her that way, but still………
One chilly morning somewhere in Colorado, Dot woke early, looking down at the man sleeping next to her. She loved him to distraction, but she knew what she had to do right now. The travelling and roaming free was helping him to a certain extent, but he needed more. He needed freedom from everything and everyone he knew, and that included her. Knowing that, she woke him gently, waking him with a kiss.
“Hey baby.” He mumbled, opening his eyes then frowning. “It’s still dark.”
“I know it is.” She smiled, stroking his hair back. “I need you to do something for me, Jon. For you, too, I think.”
“What, Dot?” Jon pushed himself into a sitting position, hearing the serious tone of her voice.
“I need you to leave.”
“What?!”
“You need to carry on this trip alone, baby.” She explained. “I don’t know what it is exactly, but having me here, having Doc here, you’re not being allowed to let go of everything you need to. Hell, when we stop for meals, you two still end up talking about work. You just can’t help it - you can’t switch it off.”
“I didn’t realise………we do, huh?” He nodded, knowing it was true.
“Yeah, you do. You need to go alone, Jon.”
“Is this because……..?”
“No! Nothing to do with it. I told you already, baby, it’s a symptom, that’s all. I want you to get up, shower, get dressed, and go, Jon.”
“What about you? And Doc?”
“I’ll ride with Doc to the next airport, then I’ll fly home to Jersey. You can come find me when you’re ready.” She spoke carefully, because she wasn’t really sure if it would be ‘when’ he was ready or ‘if’ he was ready. “I’ll explain it to Doc. Please, Jonny. Trust me on this. Go.”
He gazed at her for long moments, then sighed. She was right - with Doc there, he was still Jon Bon Jovi, rockstar. He needed to be himself, son of his parents, and nothing else for a while.
“I love you, Dorothea Rose.” He murmured, kissing her soundly.
“I love you, too, John Francis.”
Without another word, Jon slipped into the bathroom, showering and dressing, packing his stuff into the saddlebags and leaving Dot’s clothes on the dresser. He stopped at the door, looking back at her as he shrugged into his leather jacket. She sat watching him, still in the bed, naked but for the blankets. Jon gave her a half-strength grin.
“I’ll see ya soon, baby.” He winked, though he could feel his heart twisting in pain.
“That you will. Take care, and don’t forget to call your mom!” Dot told him, keeping her hands under the blankets so he couldn’t see her white-knuckled, clenched fists as she fought the urge to tell him to stay.
He left the room, closing the door quietly, and she heard the faint crunch of gravel as he wheeled the Harley a polite distance from the building before starting the engine, trying to keep the throaty roar as muted as possible as he drove away into the darkness.
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