One For the Road Ch. 01

My self-reflection was interrupted by the sound of Myra driving up and shutting her mini-van's door. She came in, tossing her pocketbook onto the counter and closing the door behind her. "Hey, babes," I said quietly.

She whirled around, very surprised to see me. "James! Hey!" she came over and gave me a short hug and even shorter kiss on the lips. As she pulled away I could tell she was tasting her own lips as if trying to scent something. "How was your night with the boys?"

"It was good. Real good. Your mom came over for a half hour or so and played with them."

She slipped out of her sneakers and rubbed the ball of her left foot. "That's great, honey." She looked around the kitchen as if searching for something. "And, how was your night? Did you do anything?"

I shifted my head down the hall. "Started work on the boys' bedroom door. Got the busted hinge out but couldn't get the new one in there. Need to router it."

"You don't own a router."

"I called Jerry. He said I can borrow his."

"So did you get it?"

"Nah," I said dismissively, "I'll get it tomorrow on the way home."

"Mmm, hmm," she replied, humming her answer. "What else?"

"Um, I gave the boys a bath and did some thinking."

She pulled out a kitchen chair and sat down, patting the table next to her. I sat as well, leaning back in my chair as I stared at my wife's big brown eyes. "So what did you think about, Jimmy?"

"I...," Jesus, was I not able to talk now? "I, I am not happy either with the way our life is going and I want to change it."

She seemed to deflate slightly as if whatever worry had stiffened her spine suddenly fell away. "That's good, Jimmy. I'm so happy to hear that," she reached out to me, gripping my hand with tears forming in her eyes. "So what are your plans? What should we do? I want to hear your ideas."

"I, er, I really didn't have any. I was just thinking that we needed to change and fix stuff around here. And it wasn't going to happen because I wanted it to. It was going to take some more work and effort on my part."

"That's good. I wanted to say again thanks for starting on John and Joel's bedroom door. It's a good start."

I beamed with pride at her words, wanting to make my wife happy. "Anything for you, babes."

"James," she asked, her voice growing softer, "I have to know. Did you have anything to drink tonight?"

I could feel my face flushing and a momentary stab of anger as I wanted to fire back and let her know to give me a break , but her rigid form and ready stance as if she was going to launch herself from the table had me calm myself down. "No. Not really. A little, but nothing to worry about." I pointed to the fridge with my chin, "There's still 8 beers in the 12-pack in there."

She searched my face and then relaxed slightly. "Four beers over the almost five hours you were home is a pretty good accounting for you as of late," she leaned in and gave me a deeper kiss. "Thanks for making the effort, honey."

I returned the kiss, a feeling like rotting dog shit creeping into my throat. Crap, did I just lie to my wife about how much I drank? What the hell, Jimmy?

She pulled away and stood up, her hand still holding mine. "I am kind of grungy right now so I'm going to step into the shower. Why don't you lock everything up and join me?"

Grabbing my evolving guilt I strangled it into a box and buried it in my gut. Leering up at her, I answered, "You better get up there fast then or I'm going to beat you to the shower."

She laughed in reply and pulled her yellow shirt over her head in a single fluid motion. The sight of her trim back and gorgeous chest stunned me into inaction. "Get a move on, honey. Don't keep a girl waiting!" She whirled away and danced to the bathroom.

I bolted the door, flipped the windows closed and locked the sashes, and made sure all the lights were off. I heard the water start in the bathroom and then the sound changed as the shower was turned on. I stripped off my pants and boxers, almost tripping over them in my haste to get them off. My shirt followed and I took the entire mess and tossed them into the bedroom near my hamper. I then padded naked and swinging to the bathroom and pushed the door open, the vanity mirror already developing a faint sheen on it.

With slow care I pulled the shower curtain aside and stepped into the tub, my eyes feasting on Myra's glistening form. She had a bar of Dial in her hand and was working it up into a lather as she rubbed it over her thighs.

She had managed to get her figure back after Joel's birth a few years ago and it looked good on her. Her breasts were larger than they were in high school; her nipples a darker brown and a bit elongated from nursing the boys. I reached out and grabbed her left tit, my big hand just able to palm the entire thing. I lifted slightly, hefting it as I rubbed my thumb gently across her nipple. Between the water and my touch, it crinkled slightly and she smiled at me.

I lifted my other hand and grabbed her other breast, treating it the same way as the first. I would alternate massaging the areola as well as the pendulous sides at different speeds and times. My eyes remained glued to her torso, fascinated with the feel and weight of my wife's chest. I could feel Little Jimmy was stretching away from my crotch, engorged and anxious in mounting need.

She ran the soap across her midsection and between her legs, her skin growing flush as I manipulated her. While her hands were thick with white lather she palmed the soap in one hand and grabbed my cock with her other; jacking it back and forth a few times. The warm water and her own soapy hand made my leg shake and forced a contented groan from my throat. "Have to get you clean," she said with a wink.

I pulled her closer to me until her chin was almost flush against my chest. I reached lower and ran my right hand down the slope of her back and over the rise of her ass. I gripped her cheek with a firm hand as I continued to finger her nipple back and forth. I dug my forefinger into the cleft of her butt and kept it there until she relaxed enough to worm it lower. "Ji-immy," she said, her manipulation of my cock interrupted as she processed the new feelings running through her. "I can't concentrate when you are touching me."

I smiled, moving my face to hers. "I don't need you to do our taxes; just keep getting me clean." I leaned in and pressed my lips on hers and we kissed like we hadn't for months. Her mouth yielded to mine as I worked my lips and tongue across hers, prying it ever more open until I could slip inside and try to wrap her tongue up with mine. She continued the maddeningly slow pistoning of her grip on my prick, her breath whistling through her nose in tiny squeaks.

We fell back a step until we were under the shower's spray, sluicing all the suds from our body in a gentle cascading rivulet. I had switched my caressing thumb on her chest instead to a continuously pulsing squeezing of her nipple. She replied in kind by pulling me towards her using Little Jimmy as a handle until I could feel his crown bunch up against her wiry pubic hairs.

I broke contact with her lips and looked down at her. "Let's get to bed, babes."

She reached back and turned off the shower, never breaking contact with my dick. In kind I didn't let her one breast free either, rolling her sweet nipple without pause. I hunched her closer and lifted her up; she wrapped her free arm around my neck and pulled her legs around me. "Take me to bed, James," she hissed in my ear, holding me across my shoulders and by the cock.

I carefully stepped out of the shower, my wife held in my arms, and pulled the towel off the rack. I wrapped her shoulders in it and held it in place as I took wet footsteps down the hall and into our bedroom. I kneed the door closed behind me and gave a short walk to the bed. I lay her down, her damp hair collecting under her shoulders. She lifted up and pulled it free, scooting backwards to make room for my taller frame.

We went back to devouring each other's lips, our tongues dancing against one another without pause, rest, or respite. My cock hadn't been this excited in weeks and I know that Myra had to be feeling the same need as I.

I could feel her grab my shaft and hunched up to rub my head over her cleft. She hissed as I made contact and then flinched away, her kiss faltering. "You ok, babes?"

"Yeah. Just hurts a bit. Hang on." She licked her fingers and I could feel her bringing then down to her pussy. She rubbed it in, the corner of her eyes crinkling, and then took a fresh hold of my dick. She dragged it closed and tried once more to insert myself into her hot core. Her head was tilted back as she moved and pressed and felt around, spreading her lips open with the back of one hand, trying to find a way to get Little Jimmy to crawl inside of her. I know she had me seated at least twice but was whimpering so much and squirming that I was shunted away before I could press myself home.

"Damn it," she gasped in frustration, lowering her hips to the bed and letting me go. "I can't, James."

"Why? Why not?"

She had her gaze turned aside, eyes welling up. "Because I'm too sore still from yesterday."

I could not have felt like more of a piece of shit. Little Jimmy wilted rapidly and I pulled my wife closer to me, running my hands down her back. "Shit, Myra. I'm so sorry. I had no idea."

"I tried to tell you last night, James. I did, but you didn't listen."

"I really thought you were into it."

"No, James. I was hurting and in pain. But you were too buzzed to realize it." She looked over at me, her features so soft and fragile looking. "James, you have to really watch your drinking. I'm not just saying it, I mean it."

"I know, babes."

"James, I'm serious. I've been asking you for a long time, seriously for almost a year. You have to watch it."

I couldn't meet her gaze as I thought of the empty beer cans I had hidden in the garage.

"You...hurt me last night. You hurt me when you were trying to make love to me." She turned her head until it was pressed against my shoulder. "What if you hurt the boys without realizing it? It's getting scary, James. I...I don't want to lose you."

"You won't, babes," I replied, running my hand across her shoulders, tracing the muscles of her back as I did so. "I'm with you through everything." I lifted her chin with my finger, tilting her head back until she was staring at me. "I love you, Myra Skelly."

"I love you too, James Skelly." We kissed again, this time a slow warming kiss, not a burning ember. In time she curled her body on top of mine and fell asleep while I stared at the darkness above and thought long and hard about today.

"You've got it, James," I thought. "You've got, don't fuck it up." Deep inside I could feel the part of me that rebelled against control uncoil but I metaphorically gave it a rap with a piece of rebar to quiet it down. "Listen for once in your life you stupid Irish fuck, get your drinking under control."

I fell asleep lying to myself that my self control would be effective this time around.

Friday morning had me out the door and on my way to work with a fresh outlook on life and strong desire to do right by Myra and the boys. Even the Inferno Red of my Charger was behaving muted and mature as we drove our way north towards Huntington. The sky was dark and heavy with the promise of rain so I popped my trunk and took my heavy yellow poncho out before going inside to sign in.

"Hey Doug," I called out, getting a halfhearted wave in response. "Doug, you have a minute?"

He blinked up at me, refocusing his gaze from the day's pick lists he was scrutinizing. "What's up, Jimmy?"

"Doug, I was looking for a raise."

He stared at me long enough that a lesser man would have glanced away; but I refused to. "Take a walk with me, Jimmy," he said at last, folding his papers up and heading to his office. I followed him in and shut the door behind me, glancing about. His desk was an ancient greenish-grey metal monstrosity from another era, faded chips and chunks had been slowly knocked into its dimpled surface over time. A couple of small awards from Anderson and Georgia Pacific sat on one corner while a heavily penciled blotter and a six year old computer took up much of the free surface. Folders and reports and rolls of plans were stacks alongside his desk, threatening to spill off should anyone knock into it.

He pointed to one of the vinyl backed metal chairs in front of the desk and told me to sit. Once I was down he lowered himself into his own chair and pulled open the bottom drawer of his desk. He was still quiet as he pulled out a file folder with my name on it and flipped it open, scanning the front page and the then next two.

Finally he lifted his gaze and locked onto mine. "You're making $15.50 an hour. That's pretty good money."

"I've been making that for almost two years now. I was hoping to make more."

"How much more? Give me a number Jimmy."

"$18."

"$18?" His expression didn't change. "That's not going to happen, Jimmy. I can get another forklift operator for $13 tomorrow if I had to."

"Doug. I've been here four years and I've gotten two raises. I could use some more money, things are tight at home."

"Jimmy, don't take it the wrong way, but things are tight at everyone's home." He looked at me deeply, really trying to see past the earnestness in my eyes. "Ok, let's look at this honestly, ok?" He ticked off one finger, "Jimmy, you're a good guy and you know your stuff, but you have a high school education at best and no trade school knowledge. If you had some trade school background I could get you out of the yard and onto the floor either in purchasing or sales. Working inside would get you $18 to start with lots of room for advancement."

"Two, like I said, I can get another operator if I had to in less than a week and for less than I'm paying you now."

He folded a third finger and narrowed his lids. "Three, I know for a fact I've smelled beer on your breath some days. And I'm not the only one. Wilkes, Steffling, Johnson, they all have come to me over your employment here to tell me that you had either come in drunk or got buzzed during lunch." He lowered his hand to the desk's surface and tapped his forefinger upon it, making the metal toll. "I've cut you some slack and let it go but Jimmy, you're operating a fucking forklift and if you ever hit something while you were buzzed I'd have you tossed out of here so fast your head would spin. And that's before I would have Nassau's finest drag you off to jail."

"I'm sorry, Jimmy. I like you enough, but until you get some schooling under your belt and lay off the brews, it's not going to happen."

Doug's words were like a kick in my gut. What the fuck? A beer or two at lunch doesn't make me incapable of doing my damned job. It's never once affected me or my ability and I think he just brought it up to get under my skin and piss me off. Whatever his bullshit excuse was though, the crux of his talk was that I wasn't going to get a raise.

Fucking shit.

I am not sure how well I kept my cool even though part of me wanted to give that prick a piece of my mind. I stood up and held my gaze steady, "Alright, Doug. That sucks, but I am hearing you."

"I hope so, Jimmy. If you want, there's a blueprinting course at the BOCES this December. It's five weeks long and $300 but it's a start. You sign up for it and get a passing and I'll count that towards half of what I need from you." He closed my folder and slid it back into the drawer. "The other half, well, that's entirely up to you. No drinking while on the job and you can stop being a yard monkey." He walked me to the door and opened it. "That's it, Jimmy. Private between you and I. Get to work."

Even though I felt that Doug was a douchebag for his speech, I also knew that he was a trustworthy guy and if you told him something in confidence or he did to you, it never left his lips. I went out to the dock and made sure the Yale's tank was full up, giving Andy Steffling a sidelong glance. "Fucking dick," I mused, "Mind your own fucking business or I'll stomp your nuts into paste."

Today sucked. That was it, just the truth, it sucked. It was wet and cooler all day and the poncho failed to keep me dry after a while but it did keep my chest and back constantly damp and swampy from the trapped moisture and sweat soaking through my clothes. I was unloading a shipment of Doug Fir precuts from a trailer so I missed the coffee truck and by the time lunch rolled around, I was short of temper and running on fumes.

I drove up the block to McD's and grabbed two McDoubles and a large fries, sucking them down as fast as I could chew. From there I went to 7-11 and picked up a 6-pack of Miller Genuine and a tube of Mentos. I drank in my car, one in the 7-11 parking lot and a second one on the shoulder right outside of the lumberyard. After I parked my baby I popped three of the Mentos and chewed them to get the smell of beer off my breath.

The MGD's helped me get through the rest of the day, but I was more than shot when I punched out after 4:30. I gave the few guys still there a wave goodbye as I took my check from Doug and left work. I took a look: $690 before taxes, $531 after. Fuck, even with a couple hours overtime it was a damned pittance.

I drove to the bank and deposited the check, taking out $100 and folding it into my wallet. I drank a third beer before starting the Charger, sliding the empty into the plastic bag on the passenger's seat floor. From here I fought the crappy road and crappy weather and crappy day back south making my way towards Jerry's house.

Jerry and Grace lived in Seaford on a real nice residential block. The property wasn't that big and I heard he had a hell of a mortgage, but he had gotten a degree in engineering or something like that so had landed a decent job two years ago with a start-up manufacturing concern in Bethpage. I climbed out of the car and ran through the misting rain to the Zavers' front door and knocked on it twice.

I heard the sound of high heels walking on wood and then Grace Zavers was there all smiles and shortness. "Jimmy!" she squealed, reaching up to give me a hug and friendly kiss on the cheek, of which I returned the same, lifting her feet off the ground a few inches as I did so. "So good to see you! Come on in!"

"Thanks Grace. You look great." I looked around, "Wow, the fucking house looks real great!" It had been a bit of a fixer upper when they bought it but now the spackling work and painting was long finished. They had painted the walls a variety of staggered colors running across the palette from greyish green to mahogany red. It looked like they had spent some money on lighting too as there were now high hats in the ceiling and a few tasteful lamps placed on small tables.

My gaze shifted to Grace and I noticed how put together she was looking too. She was always short, barely 5' tall, and had a pixie look about her since she couldn't have weighed more than 90 lbs soaking wet. But her blond hair was shorter than I remembered and cut stylistically so that it swept up one side of her face. Her nails were rounded and long and painted a faint pink color that just seemed to suit her fine. Even her clothes didn't have that Marshall's look to them; they matched and seemed to fit her better than I normally would have expected. "Wow, Grace. Everything looks great."

"Thanks, Jimmy." She grabbed my hand and pulled me towards the kitchen. The stove was new, stainless looking and had a flat top cooking area. She opened the fridge and took out two Sam Adam's Harvest Fall brews, handing one to me and opening the other for herself. "Jerry said you were coming by for a router."