The Irrelevant Woman

Come to think of it, she'd never really seen what a grown one looked like. She couldn't very well peek at her own! In half-disgusted curiosity, she bent to look more closely. After a moment, she concluded that God had run out of sugar and spice when He was putting coochies together.

Billy was really going to town. She looked over at the pile he hadn't opened. The 'Penthouses' seemed to be the nastier ones. She extracted one and flipped through it. Several different tramps, showing off their goods.

An unexpected thought occurred to her. She'd never considered doing anything like that. But then, it'd been more and more obvious lately that she'd never really looked for any attention. Maybe she'd never considered it because she'd never thought anybody would pay for naked pictures of her?

Billy's eyes were glued to the pages. Hobart might've looked at her that way a couple times. Maybe on their wedding night. Maybe.

The boy reached over and pulled out a couple tissues from the box on his desk. He got them in place and, almost silently, finished his business.

He tossed the stuff in the trash by his bed. There was a pretty good pile of tissues in the can already.

She took to walking around town, morning and evening, with a nice little siesta after lunch. If she'd known how to pick locks, she'd have owned the whole town. Even with just jiggling doorknobs to find the easy pickings, she could have been the queen of gossip in Cornelia. Lots of little sins all over the place, and a few big ones. There were more than two adulterers in town, that was for sure.

She found a crossdresser, a couple into spanking, and a woman using a vibrator on herself.

It wasn't all fun. She'd come across a teenage girl cutting herself. Innumerable people picking their nose or scratching themselves or eating food off the floor. People were disgusting when they thought no one could see.

One week after her 'exile', she was checking a small house off a dirt road. A girl, maybe eight, was trying on a ballerina costume. Her mother had sewn it herself, and was very proud. She had her Polaroid camera out, and was taking pictures as the girl posed.

On impulse, Mary jumped in and stood behind her for a shot. The white square slid out of the camera and the woman placed it on the dining room table with the other two. Mary waited while the photo developed, curious. Yes, she showed up on film. There she was. A little blurry 'cause she'd been moving, but her, fading in as the picture finished developing.

The girl was looking as her mother put the camera away. "Mama? Who's this?"

"Who's who, baby?" the woman asked, walking back.

"The lady in the picture," the girl said as she pointed.

The woman bent over and squinted. Mary saw the initial curiosity change into confusion, then fear. She cried out and jumped back, pulling the girl into her arms. "Kyle! Get in here!"

Kyle, coming from the living room, proved to be a big man with glasses. "What's wrong, cupcake?"

"I got a picture of a ghost!"

He stared at the woman for a second, like he was seeing if she were joking. "Cupcake, what -"

"Don't 'cupcake' me, look!" She waved at the table.

One last glance, then he did as she asked. His frown showed when he found the right picture. He looked up and around, then looked his wife in the eye.

"I never saw anything! She wasn't there!"

Mary grinned. Then she saw how frightened the little girl was getting - almost shivering, she was. All of a sudden she felt a lot worse about her experiment.

She slipped away quietly while 'Kyle' began to search the house.

When she got home, she found Hobart standing at the door of the spare bedroom, staring at the bed. She almost laughed as she wondered what he was making of all this. He never saw or heard her, yet her bed was made. Things were moved all over the house. Him she didn't mind spooking, not one bit.

She woke up early on Sunday, out of habit, but skipped church. Instead she took a long walk and checked out a stretch of mobile homes. The spaces, though cramped, were mostly well-kept. She had to peek in a lot of windows; only a few of the doors were unlocked. More people were out at church than she'd have thought.

But there were still some around. Only two types - up with kids or sleeping in.

Well, and one other type. She came across a trailer had two motorcycles parked in front, and the doorknob turned. She walked right on in and stopped. Tequila bottles and beer cans were lined up on the counter. Take-out boxes were piled in the trash can.

And a man and a woman were going at it 'doggie style' on the carpet in front of the TV.

He was big, beefy, and had a wild brown beard. A lot of hair on his chest and arms and legs. Some gut, but muscles too.

She had long black hair, and tattoos on her shoulder, back, and legs. Skinny, but with some curves, too. Mary wondered for a second how the little thing could have a figure like that on fast food and drink. She only wished she'd looked like that in her thirties.

Fascinated, she got closer. Then she noticed the tub of Vaseline on the floor by the ratty couch.

"Oh my gosh!" Mary cried, appalled. He wasn't just doing it from behind, he was doing it in her butt!

The girl had one elbow on the ground, and the other hand up between her legs. She was moaning and yelping and purely didn't seem to be suffering. And she didn't sound like it, either. "Oh, shit, yeah, do it, fuck me, uh, you like that ass, huh baby? Uuuhh, yeah, oh fuck yeah, God I love your cock..."

Mary finally got unfroze and jerked down her panties. No sense wasting time.

"Oh, fuck, yeah, get that cock, uhhh, right in my ass..." Mary was struck by how close a moan of pleasure sounded to a moan of pain. If it was hurting the girl, though, that purely wasn't all it was doing.

"Here it comes!" he suddenly said. Then he pushed even harder, and grunted. The girl actually shrieked, no words at all. She kept it up even after he slowed down.

Mary was a little surprised at how gently he pulled out. Then he flipped her over, got right down on his belly, and stuffed his mouth in her crotch. His snuffling reminded her of a hog at a trough. The woman groaned and hiked up her hips. "Oh shit yes, right fucking there! Harder!"

Mary came about the same time the girl did.

He slid up to her face and they kissed with gusto. Even though his face had to smell like coochie. The two got up and headed back toward the bathroom. Mary sat on the couch, way more wrung out than they were acting. She heard the shower start.

She'd stood up to leave when another groan floated down the short hall. "Ohhh, yeah baby, fuck meeee!"

Smiling, Mary sat back down and pushed her panties aside.

That afternoon, she took the car and got some groceries. She took real pleasure in grabbing peas and spinach and okra. All the things Hobart hated.

He ate out again that night.

Wednesday, on a whim, she went with Hobart to his job. Just hopped in the passenger seat and rode along. He didn't act much different than when he knew she'd been next to him. Maybe he swore at the other cars a bit more.

He parked, grabbed his lunch, and headed for the door. She came along more slowly, looking around. She'd only been there a couple times, picking him up or dropping him off.

Inside, it was dingy and noisy and about what she'd expected. Out on the docks, Hobart drove a forklift, moving pallets. Watching him, she'd have bet he only had that job from seniority. He sure bounced things around.

She wandered around the plant, exploring. Some of it was interesting, sort of. The big loud machines moving food and cans around, and putting the food into the cans.

She ended up spending most of the day up in the offices. It was all paperwork - looking up, typing, and filing forms. But they talked a lot. You could get a good idea who people were when they didn't know anyone was listening.

She'd already taken a disliking to the shipping manager. But she didn't get angry with him until the deal with the secretary. He called one of the girls at a desk into his office, and closed the door. Mary barged right in; they didn't notice.

But he'd gotten right down to business, too. "Reviews are coming up, Lissa," he said. A little smile turned up the corners of his mouth. "You were to... help me out, I bet your review would show it."

It was amazing how miserable someone could look while keeping their face blank. "I don't... do you have a project for me, sir?"

His smile was... 'smarmy' came to Mary's mind. "I was thinking you could work under me." It wasn't a smile now. I was a full-on leer. "If you know what I mean."

Mary was glaring. "How dare you take advantage of a girl like that!"

They didn't notice. Lissa didn't look happy. "Sir, I... I'm not sure I..."

"Pretty girl like you, could have a bright future if you play your cards right."

Mary marched around behind him as he kept making veiled threats. It took a little digging, but she got good hold of his undies, and yanked up. The boys had always called that a 'Melvin'.

The guy made a surprised, pained grunt.

Mary stepped off to the side, and had to giggle. He had the oddest expression on his face. His hands made a motion toward his rear, then stopped.

Lissa seemed awfully confused and scared now. "Um, sir? Is everything... okay?"

"You can go," he managed. "Think about it." Lissa hurried away. As soon as she was gone, he closed the door again and began digging at his ass.

While he was untangling himself, Mary grabbed a marker and wrote, "LEAVE HER ALONE!" in big letters all across the day planner on his desk.

It took him a while to notice the message, even after he sat down at his desk. He made a quick phone call - actually business-related - and when he hung up, grabbed a pen and a notepad. He was halfway done writing some reminder when he suddenly froze, and lifted the notepad up to stare at her words.

Like Hobart, the guy looked up and around, trying to find someone hiding. While he did that, she leaned in and added, "OR ELSE!!" in even larger strokes. When he looked back down, he screamed and jumped out of his chair.

After a few seconds, Lissa opened the door and looked in. She didn't look too happy to be checking on him. "Mr. Calloway? Are you okay?"

He looked down at his desk and up at her and back to the desk and back at the girl. Then he stammered, "I'm fine. Fine. Just, uh, slipped. I slipped."

"Well, okay," she said doubtfully. She backed out and closed the door.

Mary walked out not much later. He was still staring at his desk. It surely didn't look like she'd need to give him another Melvin.

She almost left, then. There wasn't much else going on. It was really tempting to just take Hobart's car and drive off. Leave him to find his own way home. But she was hungry, and got a late, vending-machine lunch. She wasn't in much of a hurry, and by the time she finished, it wasn't more than an hour to quitting time.

She wandered down to the locker room where the workers put their coats and lunches and stuff. Guys were slowly trickling in. They weren't taking showers or anything, but it kind of reminded her of the high school locker. Almost the same smell, actually.

She followed one particularly handsome young man as he went around a row of lockers. His hiney was just irresistible.

He came to a stop near another guy tying his shoes, who looked up and said, "Hey, Mike." His head dipped and he resumed knotting.

"You wanna come over to my place? Catch the game?"

The other man looked up again. "Yeah, sounds good."

Mary frowned. Something... the way they said it was somehow too casual. Being able to stare at people, really pay attention, had taught her a lot lately. And look, the way they both peered around a little, quick glances, furtive. Watching to see if anyone was watching.

Curious now, she wound up tailing them out to the parking lot. She got in one of their cars, "Mike's"; slipped in the back door. He seemed to notice the sound of the door closing - he turned to check out the back seat - but he couldn't see her and let it go.

It didn't smell all that great in the car; some fast-food wrappers lay on the floor. The ride was only a few miles, though. Mike followed the other one through a drive-thru for burgers on the way. More wrappers hit the floor. He was listening to country music on the radio.

Mike pulled in first, got out, and went in, carrying his dinner. Mary waited for the door to close, then followed. She'd gotten clipped a couple times by people closing doors in her face.

She figured the place had been a bachelor pad for a long time. Still cleaner than Hobart had managed in a couple weeks. She didn't get much time to snoop around. The other man got there directly, and came in without even knocking. Mike called, "Hey, Jeb!" when he heard the door. Jeb joined Mike in the kitchen as they ate dinner and shot the shit.

She got even more convinced there was something strange going on, watching them. They weren't saying anything too peculiar. But the way they looked, smiled at each other... there was some kind of secret here.

When they were done, they actually cleaned up - put the wrappers in the trash, even wiped off the table. She'd never seen a guy do that. Then, without saying anything, they walked out of the kitchen together.

Mary followed the pair. They went down the hall, turned into a bedroom... and closed the door in her face.

But they didn't lock it. Not that that would have stopped her now. She walked right in... and froze.

How could it be just like she'd pictured and still be a shock anyway?

They were pulling each other's clothes off. And kissing. It just didn't fit. She'd heard tell about faggots - Pastor Bob had once or twice railed about the 'sodomites' in the cities - but she'd never seen one. Especially not in action!

It surely didn't take them long to get naked and land on the bed, still kissing. Mike had hold of Jeb's dick and was rubbing it up and down. Reminded her of what Billy had been doing to himself.

Fascinated, Mary watched as Mike bent down and took Jeb in his mouth, with no more hesitation than Annabelle had. He was doing a lot of the same things as her, too. And Jeb was groaning like Jimmy had.

And God help her, it was turning Mary on just like Annabelle and Jimmy had.

Why? She couldn't puzzle that out. No denying it was, though. All the way on. She had her hand up her skirt, playing with herself, and she stared, amazed. Well, why should they be the only ones having a good time?

Jeb hissed and moaned. "Aw, fuck, yeah..." Mike's hand rubbed Jeb's balls, stroked his leg.

Mike swallowed the same, too.

The difference from Jimmy and Annabelle was, Jeb took a minute, then started sucking Mike off. Mary came then. She couldn't help it.

She watched until they were done, canoodling together like an old married couple. She just couldn't wrap her brain around it. She slipped away, more quietly than she needed to. As she was walking out the front door, she realized they hadn't done anything in the butt. She'd thought that was what homos did. Oh, well, live and learn.

She'd learned a lot in the last couple weeks. Did that mean she'd been living more, too? Something to think about on the walk home. Wouldn't be more than five miles. An hour and a half, tops. The fresh air would do her good. She needed to clear her head.

It actually wasn't until two and a half hours later that she got home. She'd stopped for a spell at a diner and stole dinner. A nice dinner, with a slice of pie and some ice cream at the end. She'd lost weight, all the walking she was doing now, not cooped up in the house anymore.

Hobart was there, drunk, watching TV. She dropped her keys putting them on the table, and he twitched. But he didn't look, he just stared harder at the screen.

Frankly she'd been wondering if he'd be home at all. He hadn't come home last night. One of the reasons she'd rode along this morning was to see where he'd go. She realized with some surprise that now she didn't really care anymore what Hobart did.

He had such a haunted look these days. She thought it suited him well.

Thursday, her afternoon walk took her by her church, and on a whim she went in to check on choir practice. She felt strange watching them drilling without her, without participating.

Just for the heck of it, she joined in when Jenny Curtis sang her solo. It was funny watching the director frown, sensing something off but not able to put his finger on what.

He called a break after that, shaking his head.

Maybe it was some subconscious thing, but Sheila Brown suddenly spoke up. "So I hear nobody's seen hide nor hair of Mary Watson for almost two weeks now."

"Hobart's been askin' about her. I think she finally got fed up and run off." That was Harvey Duesenberg.

"Good for her." Jenny piped up. "Never had any use for that man. Always felt sorry 'bout how he treated her."

Mary's brow furrowed. "You might have said something!" she barked, though no one paid any attention.

"My Ned says he probably killed her, finally. He's just tryin' to make it look like she left him."

Jenny laughed. "As if Hobart was that bright!"

"I think I saw her a week ago Friday. Yeah, Friday," Annabelle volunteered. For an instant, Mary was startled. She'd known Mary was watching her suck Jimmy off?

"Where?" Patty-Jo asked breathlessly.

"She was driving down Main. She waved at me, and I waved back."

"You did no such thing!" Mary exclaimed, though again no one responded. "You ignored me!"

"Somebody should call the police," Sheila said.

"I hear Pastor Bob is gonna stop by tonight, check up," Harvey put in.

"Is that so?" Mary and Jenny said at the same time. Mary frowned. That she had to see. She got up and left for home.

Mary was almost as surprised as Hobart when the doorbell rang. She wasn't sure Harvey knew what he was talking about. Hobart's eyes widened when he saw who was standing on the porch.

"Hey there, Bart. I was wondering if I could talk to Mary for a quick minute? She's missed choir practice two weeks straight."

Her husband's nervous squint made him look amazingly guilty. "She ain't here."

"That's her car over there, right?"

"Yeah," Hobart admitted, "but she's... out for a walk, or something."

Bob was openly frowning, now. "Mind if I come in and wait for her?"

"Well, uh... could be a while."

"I don't mind." He didn't say it in a friendly way.

Hobart finally shrugged. "What the hell. You'll be waitin' a fair spell." Bob followed him in. "You, uh, want a beer or anything?"

"No thanks." Bob was swinging his head around, taking in the mess and clutter. She hadn't seen him look quite that sour outside of a sermon about sin.

Hobart moved back a little, toward the kitchen. Bob went along, looking at the dishes in the sink. Nobody said anything for a spell.

Then, like a nervous, skittery cat, Hobart looked at the preacher. Suddenly he spoke up. "Uh, you, uh... you believe in, in spirits and stuff, right?"

"The Holy Spirit, for sure." A very brief smile. "And the devil has his servants."

"What if..." Hobart started to say, then clammed up.

"Spit it out, Bart." The preacher was looking more and more irritated. Mary felt very strange. Nobody else seemed to be much afraid of Hobart. Before, if he'd been badgered like this, he'd have gone after her later. She wondered what he'd do, now that he couldn't get at her.