Fall of '69 Ch. 10

We lay on our backs under the cloudless sky, the sun's rays keeping our skin glossy with perspiration. A gentle breeze tickled. No words had yet been spoken, but I felt like our souls were forever entwined.

"I should get back to work."

"You probably should." Becky got up and headed behind the tree where she'd left her clothes. "I should find out if Lisa and Jack need anything."

"You'll keep your clothes on... right?"

She laughed.

I was serious.

Quickly, I got dressed and waited for her. Strange that she felt the need for privacy after we'd made love out in the open. Women -- they're weird.

My fingers were under my nose, enjoying the scent of Becky residue. When she stepped out fully clothed, I sniffed loudly, and said, "I'll be getting high on this while I plow."

She kissed my cheek. "I'll be thinking of you as your seed leaks into my panties."

'Seed' made me smile. I plowed and I planted. Now all I had to do was nurture.

After she left, the field plowing returned to its repetitive, mundane nature, which gave me time to think. Usually, I filled my days with distractions to thwart any self-examination or reflection. But the last few days opened my eyes to a future where catastrophic events can happen against my will. The realization that most of life was beyond my control was unsettling and, in a way, liberating.

After that small epiphany I felt restless. I wanted to put my future in fast forward and get things accomplished before fate screwed it up. Two hours later, the plowing was done and I parked the tractor behind the barn. A sigh of relief escaped, when I noticed Jack's truck was gone -- one less jackass to deal with. That left only me.

Entering the house was like entering a vacuum -- dead quiet. Did everyone leave with Jack? A moment of dread stilled my heart.

"Anyone home!"

A faint, "Upstairs," came back.

The temperature rose dramatically, as I ran up to the second floor. My heart leapt into my throat when I entered the master bedroom.

Clad only in pink panties, Becky leaned over and smoothed the clean bed sheet -- her flawless skin glazed with perspiration, the crotch of her panties dark from leaking seed.

"The Mets won," she announced, tucking the last corner, "in ten innings -- 2 to 1."

"Far out," I answered, mostly in response her nonchalant nudity. Baseball had retreated into the locker room of my mind.

I forced my lecherous eyes away and noticed the room had changed. "You've redecorated."

Placing her hands on her hips, she straightened up and smiled. "Yeah. I've decided this is my room now. I'm going to strip the wallpaper and paint this winter."

The photographs had changed some. A high school graduation picture of her brother, Jeremy, now hung on the wall alongside her parents and grandparents wedding pictures. Jealously, I wanted one of me to be front and center.

Her collection of Teddy bears lined the dresser, facing the bed, like a crowd of cuddly voyeurs. I had the impression she was clinging to childhood memories -- focusing on happier days.

"Where's Lisa?"

Becky picked up a pillow and stuffed it into a pillowcase. "On her way to San Francisco... with Jack."

"What!"

"Jack wanted to get away from home, and Lisa offered him chauffer services... among other things, I'm sure. She wants to see Crosby, Stills, Nash, and Young at Winterland -- in November. Jack wants to see Led Zeppelin."

A weight lifted from my shoulders. "Sounds like a match made in Haight-Ashbury."

"He said you could probably get a job with his father... That is, if you want to hang around."

I hesitated with my answer. Not because I thought of leaving, but because farming was not my life's ambition.

Becky apparently misunderstood my hesitation, and declared, "I'm fine now. There's no reason for you to stay. Go back to school."

Picking up the naked pillow on my side of the bed, I slipped it inside a clean pillowcase, and asked, "Are you trying to get rid of me?"

Now she hesitated. The damp spot between her legs made me think this was possibly an authentic pregnant pause.

Through the open windows, the sound of tires crunching on the gravel driveway interrupted our conversation. A black, Buick Electra parked next to the front porch.

Hurriedly, Becky began to dress.

"I'll go see who's here," I said, heading out the bedroom door.

Exiting the house through the back and walking around front, I tried to give the impression I'd come from the barn. Three motherly types, and Sandy Roberts from the hardware store, stood on the front porch.

"Hi, Ladies. Beautiful day."

Sandy smiled warmly, as the other women eyed me with suspicion. "Hello again... I never got your name."

"Don Carter."

"How's the painting going, Don?"

"I just got started. So far, so good."

A lady in a sunflower print house dress, holding a casserole dish, asked, "Is Becky available?"

With perfect timing, the front door opened and Becky stepped onto the porch.

I pointed, and asked, "Is that her?"

Sandy was the only one who laughed.

Amid hugs, kisses, and heartfelt greetings, the women disappeared inside. Uninvited, I wandered back to the barn and returned to the hired-hand bunk. The fermented odor of freshly turned earth wafted in through the open window, as I lay dozing on the bare mattress. Plowing the field and Becky had tired me out more than I'd realized. But it was a satisfied weariness, leading to pleasant dreams.

After a blurry amount of time, a soft knock on the open door brought me back to reality. The earthy smell was replaced with the satisfying fragrance of hot food, and my stomach rejoiced.

"I thought you might be hungry," said Sandy Roberts, smiling brightly, and holding a steaming bowl in her oven-mitted hands. "The ladies are busy chatting with Becky -- very boring. I thought you might like some dinner and some company."

"Thanks, Sandy. I would."

I set up a folding tray next to the bed and began to eat. Sandy sat beside me.

"Mmm, fantastic. Did you make this?"

"No, Mrs. Graham did. She's in charge of the Methodist Women's Auxiliary, which means she does most of the work. Nice lady. Her son's in Vietnam, too."

I nodded understanding and continued to eat.

"Sorry to hear about your girlfriend."

"Girlfriend?"

Sandy sympathetically rubbed my back, and said, "Becky told us how she ran off with Jack to San Francisco."

A lump of stew beef almost got sucked into my lungs, but I recovered quickly and choked out, "Oh, that girlfriend. We weren't very close, hadn't know each other long. I wish them the best and hope they have a blast. No hard feelings."

I knew Becky was just protecting her moral integrity with the neighbors, but I still felt a twinge of rejection.

Sandy's hand slipped down my back and snaked around to rest on my thigh. "Does that mean you'll be leaving soon?"

Ignoring the intimate touch, I said, "I'm not sure... to be honest with you, Sandy. I'm in love with Becky. I'm hoping she'll fall in love with me, and we'll live happily ever after. But I think she's afraid to love anyone right now. I'd like to hang around for a while and be here for support."

Thankfully, Sandy removed her hand, and answered, "I understand. You seem like a nice guy. I hope it works out for you two." She got up and headed for the door. "If you need a job, I can offer you part-time work at the hardware store. Business slows down in the fall and I'd like to take some evenings off. The job wouldn't pay much, but..." She glanced around the Spartan room, "if you're living here you won't need much."

I smiled gratefully. "You're a sweetheart, Sandy. I just might take you up on that. I did some plowing today, and decided farming is just not in my blood."

"Then don't stay around here too long. You might put down roots."

Maybe it was already too late to leave. I pictured Becky naked, and her stomach bulging with our child. For the first time in my life, the idea of being a father made me happy.

After I finished dinner, I fell sound asleep on the mattress. It had been a long day.

The room was in shadows when I awoke. This late in the year, I guessed the time to be around 8:00pm. The folding tray still sat beside the bed, but the empty bowl was gone. After a good stretch, I got up, feeling refreshed. The barn interior was almost black. The open door at the end of the barn marked a gray exit. My steps pounded hollow on the concrete, as I quickened my pace to find the mother of my child.

Entering the farmhouse back door, I yelled, "Becky!"

"On the porch!"

The crisp evening air felt like a refreshing drink in my chest, as I jogged around front.

Becky sat covered by a zigzag pattern afghan, rocking back and forth on the vinyl cushioned glider. "Have a nice nap?"

"I did." I couldn't help but smile.

"What?"

"You're beautiful."

She lifted the edge of the afghan, "Care to join me?"

Clearing the steps two at a time, I plopped down beside her -- the metal mechanism squeaked in protest. I put my arm around her shoulders and pulled her close. "Cold?"

"Yes, warm me up."

We sat snuggled together, silently enjoying the growing darkness. Stars twinkled on, and crickets sang to us in a twenty part harmony.

Becky rested her head on my shoulder, and whispered, "Star light, star bright, first star I see tonight, I wish I may, I wish I might, have the wish I wish tonight."

There was no need to ask what she wished for. The safe return of her brother had to be her greatest desire. "I wish too."

Her hand came up to cradle my left cheek, as her lips softly kissed the right. Then we returned to our comfortable cuddle, and slow rocking.

A few minutes later, she asked, "What're you thinking?"

"I was thinking how nice it is to sit here and not think, just enjoy the moment."

"You enjoy doing nothing?"

"I love sitting here with you. That's not nothing, that's something."

"What did you and Sandy talk about?"

"Why? What did she say?"

"Nothing. It's just that she seemed very happy when she left with your dinner, and then seemed a little sad when she came back."

"Oh that. She's an Orioles fan. I told her I was a Mets fan, and they were going to win the World Series tomorrow. She didn't like hearing the truth."

Becky laughed. "I don't believe you."

"Even though I'm a Mets fan, Sandy offered me a part-time job. I like her. She's very friendly."

"How friendly?"

"Why? Are you jealous?"

She pinched my arm. "No. Why would I be?"

"I don't know." But I wanted her to be. "Maybe you didn't want her messing with your man."

Her silence was disconcerting.

Moving on, I said, "Let's bet on the game tomorrow. I will bet you the Mets win again and end the Series."

"No way! They barely squeaked by today. I think they've run out of luck. The Orioles are going to sweep the rest."

"What's the bet?"

Becky sat up and faced me. "If the Orioles win tomorrow, you have to cook all the meals and do the dishes until you leave."

"That's not fair. What if I never leave?"

"You can't stay. Living out here in the sticks would kill a city boy, like you."

"That's a discussion for later. I'll cook and clean until Monday."

"Fair enough. Now what would I have to do... in the remote chance the Mets get lucky?"

"You have to stop telling everyone I'm Lisa's boyfriend, or ex-boyfriend. You have to tell them I'm your friend from college. You can leave out the boy part, if you want."

The fact she had to think about it added to my growing unease. "Okay, it's a deal. But you'd better buy some Playtex gloves, or you'll get dishpan hands."

We shook on it, and then I pulled her into my lap to seal the deal with a kiss.

Giggling, she struggled against my encroaching lips, but soon resigned herself to the inevitable, and kissed back with equal intensity. I don't know who initiated the descent, but soon I lay on top of her, while the old metal glider squeaked angrily, strained by the erratic motions of our enthusiasm.

My lips slid to the side of her neck, and she whispered hotly, "Oh god, I love how you kiss."

The fact she admitted to love anything about me only increased my need to hear more. I became obsessed with making her say she loved me, and I must've thought the way to a woman's heart was through her vagina.

Becky said something, but hearing was not one of the senses I was paying attention too.

"Ow!"

Becky got my full attention by grabbing my hair and yanking my head away from her nipple. "Stop," she hissed, "Someone might drive by and see us."

It was too dark by then, but I wasn't going to argue. Pulling her shirt back down over her breasts, I apologized. "Sorry, Beckster. It's just... you drive me crazy."

"Me and every other woman you've ever kissed."

That hurt more than pulling my hair. "Not true. I'm in love with you."

After the words drifted away on the black breeze, I knew how empty they sounded. All the evidence pointed in the opposite direction. Everything she'd experienced reinforced my lack of self-control.

"Don't say that." Becky pushed me off and sat up. "We're having fun. That's all." She grabbed my hand and led me inside. Once the front door was closed, she lowered the window shades, pulled off her shirt, threw it over the doily on the back of the threadbare couch, and headed for the kitchen. "I'm thirsty. You?"

"Sure," I said, taking a seat on the couch and turning on the table lamp, although my mood remained dark.

When Becky returned and handed me a bottle of beer, I said, "Thanks," without looking at her.

She sat down beside me, and then reclined with her head in my lap. After a long pull on the bottle, she said, "Now where were we?"

"If I remember right, you called me a liar."

"Don't be like that!" She grabbed my empty hand and placed it over her breast. "You were on first and ready to load the bases."

"I just want to cuddle."

Becky laughed. I smiled and took a hit of beer.

"Then let's cuddle naked," she said, rolling over and working open my jeans.

Half-heartedly, I said, "I'm tired."

"You weren't a few minutes ago. Or do you just like doing it outside in public?"

"You're being mean, Beckster."

"You're being selfish. I need a therapy fuck. Give me an injection," she said, as she pulled out my cock and began stroking it back to life.

Boy, had she changed.

Kneeling on the floor, between my legs, she leaned in close. "I love your cock, Don. It looks so strong and virile." Her finger traced the vein down to my balls and gently cupped them. "And these things are so delicate -- just the opposite of the shaft."

Her intense study only made me harder.

"You're a little crusty around the edges. Must be leftovers from this afternoon, huh? That was fun."

"It was amazing."

She got up and straddled my lap. Positioning my cock with her hand, she slowly lowered. Her eyes closed, as she sighed, "I love that feeling."

"Me too," I said, pulling my tee shirt off, and hugging her bare chest against mine.

"Mmm, skin," she cooed.

Becky seduced me. There was no fighting my desire for her, not that I wanted too. But at least she said she loved my cock and she loved how I kissed. It was a start -- a good one. As she bounced up and down on my lap, and my hands cupped her ass, I was trying to think of ways to make her love me as a man, and a potential husband. I thought I'd achieved that status when I saved her from the druggies, but I made the mistake of bringing Lisa to our bed, and now I was afraid I'd ruined my chances with Becky forever.