The Crossroads

Robert Johnson could have been here, playing guitar as cars slowed to an almost stop, then accelerated onward leaving the stop sign wracking slightly in the breeze. Perhaps if a window was rolled down and hip-hop rap symphonies weren't blaring too loudly some of the drivers might have heard the notes before their tires burned pavement and they spun away. It was a pity they never stopped, never listened to the sound of the dying guitar and warping stop signs as it was all swallowed in the crossroad blues.

Mac Stenson knew the history there, understood what Johnson had lost and gained and now he knows the sound of almost and the occasional whine at the end of one road and the beginning of another. He built a small, restaurant/bar/hotel just back from the crossroad. It was a nice place to stay after a long, long ride, a better place to get ready for a whole new direction in a life.

Mac had a friend running the bar with only one rule, when the jukebox wasn't burning the customer's cash then all they listened to was Mississippi Delta Blues. Nobody danced, they just sat at the bar, or alone at the table slowly sipping a drink they hoped might last the night. Mac waited at the hotel, renting out rooms to sleepy travelers and, more often than he ever thought, a woman who slammed her husband's truck door for the last time, just before he sped off, squealing tires into the night.

Each night after checking them in, Mac would order a bottle of wine or champagne from the bar and take a try up to the women. Sometimes they turned it down, sometimes they thanked him and then drank alone and sometimes, they would invite him in. Tonight it was Sally McAll..., no she drew a line through that name and then wrote down Hodges, tonight it was Sally Hodges who invited Mac in.

Mac was patient and understanding with Sally as they sipped the wine, listening when she wanted to talk, sitting quietly when she didn't. She smiled when he leaned over to kiss her and didn't stop him as his hand slipped down to her breast. Pressing against her, he showed her she could still excite a man.

Mac then carefully unbuttoned her blouse and deftly reached behind her and unfastened her bra. Kissing her first on the neck, he worked downward running his tongue down her breasts and over her nipple, first on the right breast, then sliding over to the left. He sucked her nipple into his mouth, circling it with his tongue.

Moving her back onto the bed, he removed her pants and panties as he kissed down her stomach and through her patch of curly light hair. Breathing in her fragrance, he moved down, slipping his tongue in between her lips, pressing it into her pussy. Tasting her tartness, he moved upward to her clit, licking and sucking it until she moaned loudly and came like she never did with her husband.

Mac then quickly undressed as she moved into the middle of the bed. He crawled up between her legs and eased himself inside her. Moving slowly, he'd whisper to her, encouraging her as she'd lift herself to him, feeling him push deep inside her, filling her so gently.

He held himself off until she wrapped her legs around him, cried out and came, her pussy convulsing over his cock. Only then did he let himself go, let himself savor the pleasure of her warm, wet pussy. Sliding in and out of her until he finally moaned loudly, arched his back and came inside her, spurting his cum deep into her body.

Mac remained on top of her until his cock shrank enough to slide out of her. He then rolled over onto her side, kissing her and telling her how good it felt. Then, before she could think too much about what happened, Mac got up and got dressed, thanking her for the wonderful evening.

The next morning Mac watched her, like he did so many others, as they climbed into a friend's car, or into a cab, or stepped onto the bus that stopped across the street. Without looking back, each one would ride up to the stop sign, make a turn at the crossroad and ride away. Looking forward, always forward.

Mac would smile and walk back to the front desk and wait, wait for another life to change at the four way stop, at the crossroad, a long time ago, in a place far away.