Willing Ch. 06

"Hey, I'm gonna take a shower," I said to Virginia.

I was headed toward the bathroom, when I heard her ask, "Uh, is there room for two?"

I looked back at her, sitting on the bed nearly naked, her long brown hair attractively resting on her shoulder, curled along her neck. She smiled coquettishly, batting her long eyelashes at me. I felt a shiver run through me. I felt my nipples getting stiff, and I could see hers already were.

"Yeah, I think I could get you in," I said, smiling back at her. "I know the owner." Virginia got to her feet, and walked over to me, taking my hand in hers, love in her eyes. I couldn't resist, and kissed her, loving the feel of her lips on mine, the urgent press of her body into me. We bumped hips as we walked to the bathroom, the warm feel of her against me always welcome.

When we got there, Virginia slipped her panties off her wide hips, her back to me, displaying her absolutely delicious butt. She looked back at me over her shoulder. "Hey, don't look at me undressing," she said.

"I was just thinking about breakfast," I joked.

I turned on the faucet, adjusting the temperature to warm, near hot, and pulled the curtain so water wouldn't splash out. " 'kay," I said, as I stepped in, holding the curtain for her. Virginia stepped in and immediately slipped into my arms and we kissed deeply, as water ran in rivulets down our bodies.

"I've never been so happy, my entire life," Virginia whispered, her voice just audible over the hiss of the water. Her eyes were shining.

I felt a strange pang in my heart. I wasn't sure where it came from, but it seemed to be something like a fear that I'd wake up from a dream of love, alone, in the sleeper of my truck cab, on the way from here to there by myself. It was incredible to me that I was standing in the embrace of a woman who wanted nothing more than to be with me, loving me.

"Oh yeah, me too," I said. "But, c'mon, time's a-wasting, let's get cleaned up!" I took a squirt of my herbal shampoo and began soaping up my hair. "Have you ever tried this?" I asked Virginia.

She looked at the bottle. "No, how is it?" she asked.

"It's wonderful," I said. "It's got a lovely fragrance, and my hair has a glossy sheen when I use it - see?" I shook my head from side to side like a model on TV, and Virginia burst out laughing.

"I almost expected to see your hair do something, like in the commercials," she said. "But it's only like two inches long..." I laughed along with her.

"It's the choice of butch dykes everywhere," I said, smiling. Virginia kissed me again, pressing her ultra-feminine body against me. Her pregnancy really agreed with her, at least so far. Her breasts seemed bigger, her hips more seductive - of course, I'd only known her less than a week, and she was only two months along, so there was a slight chance it might be my imagination.

"Well, why not try it?" I said. She shrugged, and turned her back to me, dipped her head under the shower, turning her tousled locks into a sheet of shiny wet hair, ready for shampooing. She looked over her shoulder, rather seductively, I thought, and looked at me.

"Okay," she said expectantly. Then it occurred to me that I was supposed to do her hair.

"Oops, sorry," I said, applying a dollop of the cream-colored goo to her scalp, then began massaging it in. "Mmm, that feels SO good," she moaned, pressing her round ass back into my crotch.

"Ohh, jeez, we're never gonna get out of the bedroom, are we?" I said, comically. "We're just gonna fuck ourselves to death, or starve to death when Sneezer the cat refuses to bring us dinner in bed anymore, or something..."

Virginia giggled. "Okay," she laughed. "But could you finish doing my hair, and then I'll do yours? It really DOES feel good, and I don't think anyone else has ever done my hair for me, except my mom, or the girl at Super Cuts."

"Okay," I agreed. "And I'd just like it noted for the record, that I really DO like fucking you, I'm not trying to get out of anything..." Virginia backed her ass into my crotch again, and looked around at me.

"Oh I KNOW you love to fuck, especially me."

"ONLY you," I corrected her. She shivered, maybe with happiness, the water was getting hot so it wasn't from cold. I finished up her hair. Even wet, her hair looks dynamite. "All done," I said.

She turned to face me, water droplets hanging from the end of each nipple, her whole body freckled with clear droplets. I smiled at her. "You look pretty, decorated with drops of water like that."

"Shut up, lesbian seductress," she said. "I wanna do your hair. I've got some ideas." She put some shampoo in her palm, then reached up and began doing my hair. Of course, it's not very long, I'm not that fem, so it didn't take long. Virginia giggled. "It sure doesn't take you long to do your hair, does it?"

Then we soaped each other up, and yes, it was quite enjoyable to run my hands over Virginia's slick, soapy, ultra-feminine body. What did you think I'd say? And you might be asking, did we make love again?

In a word.....no. We had both really lowered our energy levels for that kind of pursuit the night before. If you read Chapters four and five, you'll know that. But we both really enjoyed touching each other, and whispering fondly as we bathed. It was just a nice way to get closer to this woman who had stolen my heart. Soon enough, we got out and dried off, big, fluffy bath towels rubbed briskly over each other's body. The temptation was building to wrap Virginia in one of those towels, nearly bigger than she was, throw her back on the bed, and ravage her, but it was resisted - barely.

We both dressed for a day cleaning up around the house. We planned to go to Nouvelle Génération, the new lesbian and gay club Virginia had found in Fort Smith, later, after a quiet dinner at home, but for the meantime, it was jeans and a golf shirt for me, and a skirt with a cute cotton blouse for Virginia. We were both sitting at the kitchen table, and had finished our late breakfast.

"Okay, I'm gonna do your hair," Virginia announced. She pulled the table away from me, so I was just sitting in the straight-backed kitchen chair. "Sit up," she commanded me. I straightened up. "Don't fidget," she said.

"Fidget?" I asked.

"It's what my mother used to tell me when she was going to cut my hair, as a little girl," she explained. "I'm pretty sure it basically meant, 'if you get up, I will smack you SO hard...'" she said.

"Well, I won't get up then," I said. "But look, you're not going to doll me up are you? I like my look," I said.

"You mean, your butch look?" Virginia said, her hand on my shoulder. Then she turned and, straddling my legs and facing me, sat down in my lap, her face inches from mine, her pussy, covered only by her skirt, only inches from mine, which was, sadly, clothed in jeans.

"Baby, I LOVE your butch look," she said, her eyes on mine. "I ADORE it when you're on top of me, and in me...." Her eyes softened a little. I could see she wasn't kidding. She continued.

"I'm not gonna do anything to fem you up, sweetie. I don't want THIS to stop...." she took my hand, and brought it under her skirt, to her damp slit. She wasn't wearing any panties. She pressed my hand against her heat and wetness, and leaned forward to kiss me, her lips warm and soft on mine.

"And I want you inside me....fucking me. And speaking of fucking me, that thing you had up my butt last night? I'd like it in here, too," she said, pressing my hand against her hole again.

I gave an embarrassed cough. "Uh heh," I mumbled. "Um, you figured it out?"

"It's hard to stay asleep with a dick up your ass," she said, grinning.

"Why didn't you say anything?" I asked.

"Well....because I LIKED it, and because YOU liked it, and because you were having a REALLY good time." I began teasing her clit with my thumb and forefinger, but Virginia shooed me off, getting up off my lap, and grabbing the comb and scissors she'd placed on the kitchen counter, next to a large handheld mirror and a bottle of hair gel.

"No, no, no! First your hair. Then if you want to have your way..." she promised. I shrugged.

Virginia began combing my hair, this way and that, and snipping at it here and there.

"Do you happen to know what you're doing?" I asked, a little timidly.

"Uh huh," she said. "I got a hairstylist's license in Arizona, and I've done a lot of boys' hair. And obviously, your hair is more like that than anything else. Don't worry, you'll still look dykey and hot when I get done." I let her get to her business. I respect a professional. She did her thing, then whipped out a handful of hair gel, and massaged it through my hair.

"God, that feels GOOD," I sighed, as her greasy fingers ran through my hair, followed by the comb.

"Yeah, it does, doesn't it? Everybody likes their scalp played with," she said absently, concentrating on my hair. I was surprised at how serious she looked doing my hair, but, like I said, I respect a professional when they're at their work.

Virginia walked around me about three times when she was done, just staring at my head, and 'tsking' a couple of times with her tongue between her teeth, then finally smiled, and said, "Okay, you're done." Then she picked up the hand mirror and showed me her work.

"Damn!" I said. "That is HOT!" I said. She looked at me, not sure if I was kidding her, or mad, or really liked it. She'd made my hair into an elevated flat top, about an inch higher than a guy's would be, and just combed down and closer to the scalp along the sides and back. Picture the leader of a '50's gang in a movie from that era, complete with the greasy hair look. The only thing missing was a spit curl in the front. And of course, I'm a dirty blonde.

Seriously, it was a combination of dykey butch, girl sexy, and pretty darned classy looking all at the same time. I could see somebody like Angelina Jolie doing her hair that way, and walking around in a wife beater - as I say, sexy!

"So, you like it?" she asked, smiling, standing in front of me. I stood up and took her in my arms. We kissed passionately, then I spun her down my arm, did an Elvis sneer, and said, "Thank You Very Much," in my best impersonation of the King. She rolled her eyes.

Virginia gathered up the scissors and other paraphernalia, and took them to the main bathroom upstairs. I heard the doorbell ring, and went to answer it. I opened it, to see a good looking guy of about twenty-five standing there.

"Can I help you?" I asked.

"Uh, yeah, I'm looking for a woman, about twenty or so, brown hair, nice shape," he said.

"What?" I said. It was the oddest question I've ever gotten at my door - and I live in Arkansas.

"Yeah, her name's Virginia, Virginia Staples. I'm pretty sure you gave her a ride from Arizona, and I've been tracking her down, wanted to bring her home." He looked through me as though he expected me to lay down for him and let him come right on in.

Fuck! It was Mike the Ass Hole. I hadn't seen him at all when he literally dumped Virginia in a truck stop parking lot. Her meth head ex-boy friend had come a-calling for something he had no right to.

I had not considered this happening.

"Oh, yeah, the hitch hiker....I let her off in Flagstaff. I think she was catching a bus to New Hampshire or Vermont, or something. Sorry I can't tell you much more than that, she didn't talk much. Sorry." I just looked at him, leaving the ball in his court. I didn't think Virginia was too interested in talking to him, but as much as I loved the girl, it wasn't my place to tell the guy to go to hell. I'd do it if she asked me to, or for that matter, send him there, or whatever else she wanted to do, but we hadn't planned for this eventuality.

"Oh...yeah?" he said, plainly not believing me. "That's too bad, I have the money I owe her, a couple thousand bucks." I was getting angry, either because HE was an idiot with that stupid story, or he thought I was an idiot who'd fall for it. Either way, I was done with this dog turd.

"Yeah, well, I hope you find her," I said, and started closing the door on him. The next thing I knew, the door was being slammed in my face, knocking me off my feet. This guy outweighed me by about 75 pounds and a couple of inches, but he REALLY got my blood up. He started kicking me, and screaming, "Where IS that fucking cunt, you fucking dyke???"

I took one shot to the stomach that knocked the wind out of me, then grabbed his Doc Marten on his second swing, and simultaneously twisted his foot and pushed his leg up into his hip. That threw him backwards on the floor, and I leaped on top of him and started choking him. I've been in a few fights with chicks his size who were probably as vicious as he was, but none of them had the muscle mass a guy would. It would be a matter of time before he wore me down.

I also saw that he had what looked like a snub nose revolver of some type in his right front pocket. Not that I'd care, but I can tell the difference between a guy's dick there, and a gun, and I figured he'd use it if he got a chance.

With the difference in size between us, and his obvious state of rage, it wouldn't be long before he'd have me down for good. So, choking him or kicking him in the nuts seemed the best choices to incapacitate him. Gouging eyeballs is on the list, too, but honestly, I'm too squeamish for that. Then I heard Virginia rushing down the stairs, screaming, "OHMIGOD! Michael!! What the fuck are YOU doing here?? GET OFF LINDA, YOU ASS HOLE!!!"

Between the two of us, busy as we were, it didn't seem that we were going to be explaining things to her in much detail, so I yelled.

"Virginia, in the cookie jar, the Colt Python!" I hoped she'd understand. Other than my joke about crazy lesbos the night before, we hadn't talked about weapons, and I had no idea if she even knew how to use one. I always keep a loaded Colt Python (but only a 4" barrel, not a 6") in a cookie jar on the kitchen counter.

My immediate, half-assed plan, was to pray she'd get it, do NOTHING with it other than to bring it out to the great room. I'd break away from the Ass Hole, and then hold him under arms and call the cops. Of course, no battle plan, especially the half-assed ones, survives the first encounter with the enemy.

Ass Hole was punching my breasts as I continued to choke him. His face was turning redder, and his eyes were bulging out, so I knew I was getting somewhere, although the pain in my left breast where he kept hitting me, was making me see stars. We were both grunting like mad from the exertion.

All of a sudden, there was a loud 'BANG!!' from behind me, along with the crash of smashing glass from in front of me, the sound of one of the front windows being shot out. I immediately knew that Virginia had found the gun, but it had gone off. I was terrified that she'd shot herself accidentally. I whirled off Ass Hole to see.

Virginia was standing about ten feet away looking at the Python as though it were a snake (ha ha). She didn't look injured, but I jumped up and ran to her, taking the gun in my hand for safekeeping, and to use to keep the Ass Hole at bay.

"ARE YOU ALRIGHT??" I screamed at her. She just looked at me dumbly for a second, then nodded. I looked her over, and she did look okay, just a little stunned by the sound of the Colt. Then I turned to confront Ass Hole. The door was wide open, and he was high tailing it straight across the fallow farm field towards Miz Smith's house, about a mile away.

I could see his Isuzu out the front door, and I wondered why he hadn't just jumped in IT.

"Shit!" I said. I held onto Virginia, who by this point started shaking, from her reaction to Ass Hole unexpectedly showing up, and the discharge of a weapon.

I grabbed my cell phone from the kitchen counter and called Miz Smith, the sweet little retiree neighbor. She picked it up after a ring or two.

"Hey, Miz Smith, it's Linda from down the street. There's a-"

"Oh, hello, Linda dear. How are you and that sweet Virginia doing?"

"Uh, just fine ma'am. Look, there's-"

"And Sneezer? I just adore that little calico...."

"Uh, fine. Listen, there's a very violent man headed your way. Lock ALL your doors and windows, stay inside. I'm calling the cops right now, and then I'm coming over. I'll explain later!"

"Alright, dear, you have a nice-" I didn't listen for the rest, just ended the call, then dialed 911, getting the County Sheriff's office - my house is outside of the Fort Smith Police Department's jurisdiction. I reported an attack by a crazed assailant, the gun going off, and that he was last seen heading toward Miz Smith's, giving the operator the address of my house and Miz Smith's. She tried to keep me on the line, but she had all the information I had, and I had to go save Miz Smith. A woman in her 70's versus young meth head Ass Hole wouldn't turn out well.

"I'm going to Miz Smith's," I explained to Virginia, who had gotten over her momentary shock. "You stay here."

To my surprise, Virginia said, "No way in hell, I'm going with you. I want another shot at him!" Running out the door, I noticed a set of car keys lying on the floor - they must have fallen out of Ass Hole's pocket. To my disgust, they were on a swastika keychain. "Jesus!" I exclaimed, to no one in particular. And there was NO way I was gonna let Virginia take another shot at Ass Hole.

The two of us ran past Ass Hole's Isuzu, and jumped in the Jeep and peeled out for Miz Smith's place. I drove like a maniac - halfway there, we heard the sound of another gunshot.

"Shit!" I screamed. "Shit! Shit! Shit!" as I pounded the steering wheel on the short drive.

We pulled into the driveway right behind a sheriff's deputy. He'd heard the gunshot too, so we approached him cautiously, our hands up. I left my Colt in the Jeep. He had his service revolver out, taking no chances.

"We're the folks who called you," I explained, then filled him in on the story. I know some of the people in the Sheriff's Department, two of the female deputies would come into the Ace of Spades on occasion. I didn't know this guy, though. I said I'd heard a gunshot from this location, and the only occupant was an elderly lady. He called for backup.

As he was radioing in, the front door of Miz Smith's house opened, and out walked Miz Smith. We all three looked at her, then each other.

"Come out of the house, ma'am," the deputy directed her. "All the way out." She did, looking as relaxed as ever.

"Miz Smith, are you okay?" I yelled.

"Yes, dear. But I'm afraid that rude young man isn't."

"Ma'am, where's the assailant?" The deputy asked her.

"Oh, he's on the floor of my laundry room, in the rear of the house," she said, as calmly as if she were talking about a guest who had dropped in unexpectedly. "I'm afraid he's busy with stopping the bleeding from his leg," she explained. "I had to shoot him, the poor boy."

As it turned out, Miz Smith was fortunately armed, something most folks out in the country make a top priority these days. She'd nailed Ass Hole as soon as he forced open her rear door. I was relieved that she'd paid attention to my warning, but a little surprised at how deftly she'd handled the whole thing.

Well, the next few hours were a matter of police checking out both crime scenes, and taking our statements. Of course, both Miz Smith and I had permits for our weapons, and it was the belief of the sheriff's office that both shootings were justified. As he was leaving, the first deputy mentioned that they'd also found a 'distribution weight' of crack in one of Ass Hole's pockets.

"Besides going down for numerous assault, B & E, and unlicensed weapons charges for the revolver, this dude's gonna do a long stretch just for possession of crack cocaine with intent to sell. He MIGHT see daylight in thirty years or so. The jackass claims the old lady shoved it in his pocket - can you believe the nerve of that guy?" Virginia looked confused, but didn't say anything.