Road Trip

Five minutes later, I had wirelessly downloaded the data from the GPS device attached to the underside of Darren's motorcycle and transferred the data to my laptop. I logged onto the diner's Wi-Fi and emailed the downloaded file to Detective Roux. I'd have to wait to hear from him to see whether the file told him anything significant.

My cell phone rang an hour later; it was Roux. "Nice work, Mellon. Just so you know, our boy there – Darren Parker – was at the scene of all three robberies this weekend at exactly the same time that a couple of security cameras recorded images of him doing the act. I just hung up with Frank Withers. If you watch across the street in the very near future, you'll probably see some justice being served." I thanked him and told him we'd stay in touch.

I started to make myself more evident towards the front of the diner so I could keep a lookout across the street. Pat gave me a questioning gaze several times; I whispered to her that I'd explain later.

About four-thirty, I saw a police car cruise by and turn into a driveway a few doors down so it could survey the alley running behind the Cycle Shop. The back door was covered.

Two minutes later, two patrol cars approached the Cycle Shop from opposite directions. Both turned into the small parking area at the front of the Shop and three uniformed officers jumped out with weapons drawn. Frank Withers was the fourth man into the shop's front door. I could imagine the chaos inside about now – hands up, against the wall, feet back, and so on. I walked out the front of the diner to see whether I could hear anything, but all was quiet. Pat came out and stood slightly behind me; she rubbed my back in an affectionate manner as we watched the police activity across Main Street.

Pat said in a low voice, "You had something to do with that, didn't you?"

I nodded.

She said, "Are they arresting him?"

I nodded again, and said, "Felony robbery – multiple counts."

She put both arms around me from the back and gave me her mightiest hug. She said, "My hero."

Two minutes later, we watched Withers come out of the Cycle Shop pushing Darren Parker ahead of him. Darren was in handcuffs and leg irons, so he had to shuffle along in an unnatural way to get to the police car. Withers put him in the backseat and shut the door; so that Darren couldn't see, he then looked across the street at me and gave me a thumbs up. I gave a small wave of acknowledgement back.

Detective Lieutenant Frank Withers came by the diner about seven-thirty that night. The place had only one couple in the far booth so we had time to talk; Withers sat at the counter.

I raised an eyebrow, posing the unspoken question about what had happened.

Withers said in a low voice, "Your boy confessed to ten robberies in Louisiana and Arkansas, including the two that you got arrested for in Alexandria. None of them were closer than fifty miles from El Dorado, so he traveled some distance to do his nasty work. Thanks to you, we got him cold on the three felonies he pulled on Saturday night. He's singing now, and says he'll plead guilty; he's hoping for a little leniency from the sentencing judge for cooperating with us. It won't matter much; he'll disappear for at least a decade since he was armed when he did the dirty."

"What happened to the motorcycle ... and to the GPS device I planted?" Pat had come up beside me as we talked.

Withers said, "We impounded the bike and took many pictures of it, including where you hid the GPS tracking device. Tomorrow, if you can spare an hour, I'd like you come in and do a short deposition about why you thought he was a suspect, and where and how you planted the tracker. We may not need it unless he changes his plea; he'll be arraigned tomorrow, and then Alexandria wants to arraign him for several crimes down there including the two you were detained on, but we haven't sorted out the jurisdiction stuff yet."

I agreed to come in, and passed along to him the small interrogation device that had downloaded the data from Darren's motorcycle earlier in the day. Withers said he'd make sure it got back to Alexandria. I also praised him for the fast action once they had the information. At that, Withers left following out the last of our customers for the day.

Pat closed up early that night, and then made me tell her all about what had been going on. She kept clapping her hands together, and saying things like "Go on, tell me more, keep going, and details please." I saw no reason not to hold back.

We made mad, passionate love that night. After the weekend practicing, we'd actually become quite adept at pleasuring each other with orgasms and other erotic stimulation. Moreover, as my wounds from the gunshot had healed, I had greater flexibility in moving around so I could better please my partner. We shortchanged our sleep that night getting only six hours in order to have a third round of lovemaking back in the diner to cement in Pat's fantasies of fucking all over the place.

The next day two things happened that changed the rest of my stay in Arkansas. First, Pat's father, Otis Peyton – the mayor of El Dorado, came into the diner in the morning with a group of town fathers, and made a small presentation of a ribboned medal to me for helping to catch an armed felon that needed to be taken off the streets. I accepted and deflected much of the praise to Frank Withers and the other members of the police that had done the harder and more dangerous work. Otis assured me they too would get recognition. In his presentation before a few of our regular patrons, Otis reminded Pat and those standing around that I was a transient, just passing through and helping out at the diner – but that I'd done my civic duty far beyond the call of duty. His words jarred my thinking, and led to the second action that changed the length of my stay.

I talked to Pat that afternoon about getting a permanent person to replace me. We talked about where and how to advertise. I helped her draft an ad, and we phoned it into the local paper. I also put a posting up on Craigslist for her, although I wasn't sure whether the applicants we needed logged into the site often.

The next morning, I heard Pat on the telephone explaining the job to someone and talking about the diner, our menu, and the type of patrons we had. When she hung up, she gave me a forlorn look, and I saw a tear roll down her cheek. She ran out the back door of the diner holding her apron up to her face wiping away her tears. She didn't come back for an hour, and when she did, her eyes were red.

Dennis Radcliffe came in that afternoon to interview for the job as counter man. Pat interviewed him, and so did I. He was clean cut, a little nervous, but claimed to have good references doing identical work as a cook and counterman for a couple of places in Kansas City. I wrote down the names he gave me, plus some of the personal information about him and how to contact him. He moved back to El Dorado to be near his parents and sister, and now needed a job.

I called the two places in Kansas City he'd given as references. I talked to both managers, and each said he was an honest worker who knew his stuff around the kitchen and customers; he had also been a nice guy to work with. At Pat's request, I called Dennis that night and told him he had the job. He was happy. Pat was unhappy.

Pat just wanted to cuddle that night when we got home from work. She didn't sob wildly or carry on, but I knew why she moped: I'd be leaving soon. We sat for a long time, and I just held her as she burrowed into my chest and held me. That night she slept tightly against me in her nakedness after we'd made very tender love.

Dennis started the next day, working the lunch and evening segments that were the busiest. I worked too so I could help Pat get him started. He did know his stuff and looked as though he would be a steady and enthusiastic employee. Pat cheered up a little, or at least hid her feelings.

Thursday night, after work, we went back to the little house. We took a long shower together, and then I proceeded to make love to her in every room of the house, and on most pieces of furniture and major appliances. We also went out to the carport, and I pleasured her for a while as she sat astride the motorcycle. Neither of us cared if anyone saw us.

We ended our lovemaking with our simultaneous orgasms when we were back in the bed we'd been sleeping in together for the past week.

As we hugged in our afterglow, Pat said in a tiny voice, "Jim, I really love you."

I told her, "And I care about you too ... but I can't stay – you know that. My life right now involves traveling and getting past some hard stuff in my life. I'm a 'nothing permanent' kind of guy right now."

"Might you ever come back?"

"Maybe, but as I told you last week, I can't make promises. I don't know what the future will bring for me ... or for you, for that matter." We were quiet and didn't talk for a spell, and then I spoke, "What I can tell you with certainty – absolute positive certainty – is that you are an adorable, lovable, and talented woman, that I am honored to know and to have made love to. You invite fun, intimacy, and love into your life and the lives of those around you; I have no doubt that after I'm gone you will find a man that's not on his own mission, but instead he's willing to make you his life mission."

Pat sniffled a little. I toyed with one of her nipples; something she had told me she really liked.

I went on, "We created and released a lot of sexual energy to the Universe this week. We learned from each other. I had fun, and I know you did."

Pat nodded against my chest, but her cheeks were wet.

"It doesn't have to stop for you because I leave. Have you heard of the Law of Attraction?"

Pat shook her head negatively.

"Simply stated, the Law emphasizes that 'like attracts like.' You get what you want. So clear you mind and visualize your happy life with the lover of your dreams – whatever you choose; but there's a big 'but' – you can't wish for what you don't have, because the Universe will give you plenty of that too – it doesn't understand negatives. You can't imply you have a lack of something, because you get more lack! You can't think 'I lack a lover' and expect one to appear; you'll just get more of 'no one being around.'"

Pat said in a hushed tone, "That makes sense."

We were quiet again, and then Pat asked, "Are you going to leave tomorrow?"

"I've been thinking that's the right thing to do ... particularly, so you can get on with your 'new' life."

Pat pulled away and smiled at me. She said, "Then according to my Law of Attraction I'd better get busy right now loving you, so we'll always have fond memories of each other." She had a devilish look in her eyes, and I could tell that Playful Pat had returned.

She slithered down my body, using her tongue in interesting places until she inhaled my tumescent cock. In only a few seconds, I rose to the occasion, but Pat continued with increasing eagerness. I tried to push her off, but she hummed something like "No way" to me as her mouth was stuffed with my meat.

Much to my surprise she kept trying to get me deeper and deeper into her mouth and throat. Of course, the more she tried, the harder I became, and the closer to my inevitable orgasm. I came hard. She pulled away on my third ejaculation, allowing my remaining cum to splatter over her neck and tits. She grinned up at me, and rubbed the fluid over her chest. Wet sex is good sex.

I wanted to repay her in kind, so after a few minutes of kissing I slithered down her body, until my tongue found her trim triangle of pubic hair, and below that, the opening to her pussy and her clit. I showed no mercy; I attacked the area with a lust unparalleled to anything we'd tried earlier. Pat started her little orgasms – one right after the other, and those became medium size climaxes, and then I built her up to the really big one. I was using all the tricks Kim had shown me; I wanted this to be the most memorable night in Pat's life.

Just before I thought she'd come, I rose over her prone form and slammed my now new erection into her socket. Pat climaxed ... really climaxed hard. I could feel her muscles flexing and spasming around my shaft, and she moaned in the pleasure that coursed through her body. I pumped harder and more rapidly into her, and she kept cumming ... and cumming. This was not a time I wanted to extend what we were doing for hours; no, I wanted to cum in her as rapidly as I could to satisfy my own desires ... and to satisfy her most of all.

I exploded into her only seconds later, my cum again pulsing from my body into hers as I arched above her with my arms locked in the paroxysm of my own orgasm. I was pleased that I had managed such a rapid cum so quickly after my earlier explosion. Mind control works.

Still connected with my shaft in her cunt, I rapidly rolled us over so Pat lay upon my chest, her breasts pushing against my pecs. She could barely breathe; she gasped for air as the nearly continuous orgasm space she'd lived in for a few minutes started to fade into a glorious afterglow. We kissed and panted and pawed at each other.

After we'd recovered, Pat announced, "Diner, again, please." We threw on a few pieces of clothing and went back to the diner. This time we went for over an hour. There was barely a nook or cranny in the place where we hadn't fucked: everywhere in the kitchen, every stool, every inch of counter space – even with lying prone the length of it as we mated, and every doorway and bench seat. Pat was the most orgasmic I'd ever seen her, a few times nearly passing out from excessive pleasure. I had been pretty close to that state too. After I'd filled her tight pussy again, we ran back to the house with Pat dripping my cum from her bare cleft the entire way as she laughed gaily. We showered, cuddled together in the bed, and then drifted to sleep amid the various wet spots we'd made earlier on the sheets.

Friday morning when the alarm went off, Pat pushed me back in bed with a gentle hand. She said, "Please. You stay here until I'm gone, then you can leave." She proved playful as she paraded around the bedroom nude for as long as she could before she had to get dressed and leave to open the diner. After she'd dressed, she flashed me to show she intended to head to work without any underwear on.

Just before she went out the door, she came back to the bedroom for a minute. I'd sat up in bed awaiting our final chance to bid adieu to each other.

Pat came and kissed me very tenderly one last time. She said with a smile, "I will remember you forever. I will never forget. Thank you for being you and for sharing yourself with me this week. You are so special, and you made me feel the most special I have ever felt in my life."

I started to say something, but she put her finger on my lips to stop me. She took her finger away, kissed me one more time, and then was gone.

Tears rolled down my cheeks for a few minutes. Why was I the one now leaving people like Pat behind? I met all these wonderful women, and I could create a life with any of them – or with all of them, yet I felt that I had to do this road trip ... a trip I had to complete to get to the other side of so many barriers and burdens and blockages I'd lived with for so long.

A half-hour later, I rode out of El Dorado heading northeast.

To be continued