Today by PBJ
Adult situation. Do not read if this topic is offensive to you.
Today.
It'll be today. I gotta make sure of it. Pa and Mama took the little ones to town with 'em. Eli and Brady and Boo are ridin' round-up with Slim Sherman. Cookie, Shep and Lefty started out this morning to get the chuck wagon and supplies sorted before the herd catches up with 'em tomorrow afternoon at Sweetwater Crossing.
I don't know why I never noticed Slim and his hired man before last Tuesday. Course, I've known Slim my whole life. He's comfortable as an old pair of boots. But his hired man. . . that's another matter completely. No comfort there. His eyes are changeable as the wind; one minute blue and sunny as Slim's but then they transform, become dark, almost midnight blue with sparks flying from 'em in an instant.
Surely to goodness ain't no comfort in his eyes. Yes, Mama, I know ladies don't say ain't. But sometimes that's the only word will fit.
He's not like Slim. He's more like Sunday-go-to-meeting high-topped slippers that pinch your toes and it's a struggle to get 'em on, but oh, how pretty they look all buttoned up and shiny. That's what Slim Sherman's hired hand is like. All buttoned up and shiny, even when he's covered with trail dirt from head to toe.
I never noticed Slim other than as a good neighbor 'til last Tuesday. Pa had me drive him in the buggy out to where he and his hired man were workin' on the line fence between us and the Rolling R. Since Pa cut his leg on the big axe, and it got all festered up in spite of the mustard poultices and kerosene Mama kept on it around the clock, the neighbors been takin' turns helpin' out. The Dixon boys one day, Bill Bates and his troop of sons another, and then Slim showed up last Tuesday. With his hired hand.
Slim had his shirt off. Sweat was trickling down the sides of his face. And his neck. And chest. Yes, Mama, I know ladies aren't supposed to notice a man's bare chest. But Slim grabbed his shirt and slipped it on real fast, right after he used it to rub under his arms and across his uummm, chest. Slim's hired man had his shirt on, but it was unbuttoned. And there was a long streak of darker blue homespun down the middle of his back; big rings of darker, wetter blue under his arms.
We brought fresh-made lemonade and Mama's biscuits, wrapped in white tea towels to stay warm, with sweet churned butter to smear on them. I poured the lemonade and those two cowboys made short work of it. They each gulped a glass down in three big swallows. And Slim's help held out his glass for a refill. I almost dropped the whole jar 'cause I was so busy watchin' that sticky lemonade chase down his chin to his chest and wiggle its way to the top of his britches where it melted into his jeans like that sweet butter on the biscuits.
XXxxXX
Today.
I laid awake half the night thinkin' what all I had to do this mornin'. . . 'bout time to go. I've been ready since the clock struck ten, but that was too early to start out.
I've got Ruby saddled; lemonade's cold in the spring house, two sandwiches and apple pie are wrapped up in my saddle bags. Pa's old squirrel gun is in the saddle boot, just in case I see a rattler or rabbits or a coyote. He's supposed to still be workin' on the fence between us and the Rollin' R. . . .
Why are Mama and Pa makin' me go back East? I've cried, and that usually works on Pa, he can't stand to see me cry. I've pouted; that didn't work on Pa or Mama either one. And only made the boys mad at me. I've tried being the best daughter anybody could want, but I can't keep that up long, 'sides they all see through me.
Today.
I've gotta have somethin' to treasure while I'm pining away by myself, all alone in Providence, Rhode Island.
XXxxXX
The sun was almost directly overhead when I topped the slope leadin' down to the fence line. I pulled Ruby up and took in the scenery. He had straightened the snake-crooked fence and replaced more'n half the posts and was diggin' a new hole with that auger I had seen him and Slim usin' last Tuesday. Looked like it would be a whole bunch easier if two was, er, were, twistin' it around. He saw me and reached first for his gun, and then his hat. When he realized it was only me, he dropped his iron back in the holster and took a seat on the end of the wagon.
Now that I'm here, my mouth is dry as dust and my hands are sweatin'. I've gotta keep wipin' 'em on my skirt. This might not be such a good idea, but . . . .
Today.
I cleared my throat, "I brought you some lunch. And lemonade."
"Thank you, ma'am. I appreciate it." Oh, his voice is so deep and his eyes so blue; his shirt's unbuttoned again. Sweat's makin' dark streaks on that blue shirt, almost matches his eyes. Ahh, I can see his navel and a dark line of hair disappearin' underneath his belt buckle. 'Ladies don't stare.' I know, Mama.
Is he laughin' at me? Does he see right through me? I'm havin' a hard time breathin'…
"Don't call me ma'am. That's my Mama." Dang, why did I mention Mama. That was stu-pid.
I untied the blanket from the back of my saddle and put it in the shade of the big sycamores along with the saddle bags, pulled a cup out of the bag and walked back to Ruby.
The jug of lemonade was cold and wet when I lifted it out of the sack and poured out a cup before handing it over. As our hands met, I felt a jolt clear down to my toes. Like lightning runnin' into the ground beneath me. I jumped and he grinned at me. That little gap between his front teeth; teeth so white and even. Perfect.
When he's sittin' on the tail gate, we're about the same height. I looked over to the left, "That fence is right straight again. It's been slippin' for a couple years, but Pa and the boys hadn't got to it."
"Takes a lot to keep up a ranch. Me 'n Slim stay busy checkin' fences all the time."
My eyes strayed back to him, while he looked into the distance gauging that fence he's been workin' on so hard. I was concentratin' on the little white lines at the corners of his eyes, 'laugh lines' Mama calls 'em, but I think his are from squintin' in the bright sunlight all day. I've noticed them on Slim and my brothers too. But his are prettier than any of theirs. I had just started to gaze at the bow of his mouth when he turned back around to face me.
I was embarrassed to get caught staring, but all he said was, "I'd be much obliged for another glass of that lemonade."
This time, he held the cup as I poured. He drank it down, his Adam's apple workin' as he swallowed, while I watched a trickle of liquid work its way down the outside of his throat and chest. Why should that have such an effect on my insides? My belly and even down lower is quiverin' as I watch that little runnel of water make its way to his belt.
He caught the jar and put the lid back on before I dropped it. I was standin' close by his legs as he swung them back and forth over the end of the tail gate. He reached and caught my hands, both of them, and squeezed just a little. "Slim tells me you're goin' back East when the new school year starts," he said.
"Yeah," I said bitterly, "Mama and Pa think I need to go to finishing school—don't that make it sound like I'm half-baked?"
He chuckled, but didn't let go of my hands, only started rubbing them with his thumbs. It was so easy to spill out to him all the pent up hurt I've been feeling. I ended with, "I can rope better than Boo, shoot better 'n Eli or Brady, and Lefty taught me to ride almost before I could walk."
"Yeah," he said softly, "But your Mama needs you to do lady-like chores too. You won't always be 'one of the boys' out ridin' the range with the men."
"You been talkin' to Pa or Mama about me?" I demanded suspiciously. That would be the absolute last straw if they've been jabberin' behind my back. "I can keep house and sew and mend and cook a pretty good meal even if I do say so myself. Mama's made sure a that."
"No, I ain't heard a word from your Ma or Pa either one," he dipped his head, with another of those heart melting smiles. "I know that's what most parents want for their young'uns, somethin' better 'n they had."
"Well, Mama graduated from Mrs. Fannie Pruitt's Young Ladies Academy before she ever met Pa. But she came west with him and I don't see as how me learnin' to embroider and curtsey with both hands holdin' my skirt or which knife or fork to use is gonna help me run this ranch with Pa and my brothers."
Raising his head, those unpredictable eyes stared right through me. My words came out in a rush as I tried to make him understand.
"Eli is the one oughtta be sent back east. Pa and him fuss cause Eli's wantin' to 'modernize' the ranch. He could go learn all the new ways to improve our herds and get better yields on wheat and corn and barley and how to keep the pastures producin' like it says in them books and journals he reads."
Looking at that fence standin' tall and straight again I told him, "But Mama's got her heart set on me learnin' all the stuff she thinks a proper young lady should know. And since Pa knows how much it means to her, he won't tell Mama 'No'."
Close to tears, I told him the rest, my heart heavy knowin' the truth of what I said, "I've known for weeks nothin' I say is gonna change their minds." I pulled my hands loose and half turned so he wouldn't see the tears spill over onto my cheeks.
"So I've been goin' around to all my favorite spots, memorizin' the creeks and trees and hills and all the horses. Even the barn, and the kittens and the way the rooms look in the house."
He started gently rubbing my back. "What if they all forget me?" I sniffled. "What if that finishing school changes me to where I don't know myself anymore?"
"From what I've seen, there's no danger of that happenin'. You're tough and smart and pretty as a picture. Want to know what I think?"
I nodded and turned to look at him again. "I think you're gonna hold on to all those good, strong ideas that growin' up in this country gives you. And you're gonna come home with all the re-fined manners your Mama is hopin' for. Any man. . . rancher, cowboy, lawyer or banker, will be proud to have you on his arm. Me included."
Brushing my cheeks with his hand, he leaned forward until our foreheads met.
I took a deep trembling breath and swallowed the rest of my tears.
Today.
Boldly, I ran my fingertips across his lips, then slipped my hands beneath his shirt and pulled him closer. Our lips touched and if I thought our hands sent a jolt through me, it was nothing compared to his mouth. He held my face between his hands and tilted his head to kiss me again.
His tongue probed gently at my closed lips and I opened breathlessly to let him in. This near, I could feel the heat of his body and my own was burning to dissolve into him; I couldn't get close enough.
He moved his hands to grip my shoulders and I thought he would pull me into a hug. My insides were churning so anxious was I to have all of him. I could feel his belt buckle through my skirt and the bulge below it had grown larger and harder as we kissed. But, instead of drawing me closer, he pushed me back a step. Then, he stood up and shook me just a little.
Those marvelous eyes were serious as he asked, "Are you sure?"
I nodded, lifting my arms to encircle his neck, "I'm sure. I've gotta have somethin' from home, all my own, to keep me through the long winters in Rhode Island."
A flash of white teeth before he swung me into his arms and carried me to the blanket beneath the sycamores.
XXxxXX
He laid me down on my back and I drank him in while he toed off his boots and tugged mine off, too. Grinning, he slipped my divided skirt down over my bare feet, jerking it a little and then waiting before yanking at it some more. Holding my eyes with his, he unbuckled his belt and dropped his denims before tossing them to join my skirt and our footwear. Now wearing only faded, once red, cut-off long johns, he knelt beside me and I came to my senses enough to start fumbling with the buttons on my blouse.
Gently, he covered my hands with his, "Let me," he said quietly, "We have all afternoon, if you're still sure." I nodded mutely and he lifted my hands over my head with one of his while the other expertly undid my blouse.
Never taking my eyes off his face, I memorized the cleft in his chin and his long eyelashes and the little smirk at the corner of his mouth, as though there was a kiss lurking there waiting for me to steal it.
His eyes left my face and traveled along my body, both his hands trailing down my face and neck and sides, until he cupped my breasts and raked across them with his thumbs. I gasped as my nipples hardened and came to attention with his touch. He kissed my eyes closed and I sighed as he bent over first one breast and then the other, sucking and biting at my nipples through the thin fabric of my chemise.
His hands moved to my hips and he lifted me to him as he lay full length beside me. One hand slipped smoothly across my lower belly, leaving a trail of fire everywhere he touched. He brushed down my inner thigh. I had noticed before how big his hands were and now he used one hand to cover all of me before pushing his middle finger further down and touching where no one had ever gone. I arched my back and moaned, as he began rubbing back and forth, back and forth, exerting a little more pressure with each pass of his talented fingers. I began to squirm , moving my hips sideways and then in a circle, trying to keep his touch centered on the spot that was making me mewl and thrash like one of the mares we breed.
Good heavens, he's kissing and sucking on my stomach and now his mouth has gone where his fingers were before. I toss my head from side to side and clutch at the blanket with my hands, opening and closing them mindlessly. He has lifted my hips again, and put two long fingers inside me. I can feel him inside and outside, caressing and fondling parts of my body I never knew could have such feelings, such reactions down to the very center of me. I'm gasping and crying now, and I reach for him with both hands, "I need you inside me," I begged, "Please. . . ."
"This may hurt a little," he answered, lifting his head.
"It won't matter," I breathed.
He guided my hand to the pulsing bulge imprisoned in his long johns. As I touched him, his shaft reared and bucked in my hand, as anxious to get inside me as I was to have him there. I pushed down his underwear, freeing his penis and allowing me my first look at all of him. I wrapped my leg around his thigh and pulled him closer. The wonder of it!
I lifted my hips and guided him inside, shifting around to let him enter as far as he could. He must have seen the alarm on my face, and laughing a little, said, "Patience, sweetheart, I'll be closer in a minute."
He deliberately drove into me once, twice, three, four times, withdrawing slowly, but not leaving me entirely as I clung to his shoulders, digging my nails into his back. His mouth found mine and as he increased his speed and pressure below, so too did our mouths, until with his groan, I could feel our bodies touching. Joined, entwined, he had entered and now held me, impaled within by his body.
He moved his hands beside my face, and supporting himself on elbows and knees, drove into me faster and deeper, faster and deeper until a cry was wrung from the depths of his chest and he pumped still wilder as I willed myself to keep up with him. My wordless cries and his deep groans mingled as I burned in every fiber of my being, the heat of our passion threatening to catch us and everything around us afire.
Sometime later, he stirred. "Did I hurt you?" he whispered, his mouth close to my ear.
"No, never. To feel all that again, I would walk across hot coals." I answered just as softly.
"Don't think that's ever been mentioned before," he chuckled. "Want to sleep for a bit?"
"Uh-huh, just don't let go of me."
So we dozed, spoon fashion. My backside against his front. He provided a pillow for me on one arm. The other arm was thrown across me, his hand holding my breast, idly rolling my nipple between his thumb and index finger.
I slept for a while, then lay still in his arms, savoring the smell of him. Leather, horse and his unique scent, made up of equal parts new mown hay, sweat and shaving soap. I try to lock that aroma in my memory, make certain I can call it to mind when I need to.
XXxxXX
His breathing has changed, and he's moving his legs. I turn over to face him, brushing a wayward curl off his forehead while my other hand slips between us.
"Jess?" I murmur.
"Hmmm," is his drowsy comeback.
"Again?"
April, 2016