A Most Unusual Girl Pt. 02

Story Info
Romance blossoms, abused girl rescued, Jo works with Luke.
12.3k words
4.74
32.7k
43

Part 2 of the 6 part series

Updated 06/09/2023
Created 12/13/2019
Share this Story

Font Size

Default Font Size

Font Spacing

Default Font Spacing

Font Face

Default Font Face

Reading Theme

Default Theme (White)
You need to Log In or Sign Up to have your customization saved in your Literotica profile.
PUBLIC BETA

Note: You can change font size, font face, and turn on dark mode by clicking the "A" icon tab in the Story Info Box.

You can temporarily switch back to a Classic Literotica® experience during our ongoing public Beta testing. Please consider leaving feedback on issues you experience or suggest improvements.

Click here
R410a
R410a
2,952 Followers

The holiday cookies are baked and frosted, the candies are made and the Christmas decorations are up. It's time to submit part two. I wish you all a pleasant and joyous holiday season.

All parties portrayed as having sex are 18 or older.

*****

It was time to pick up Joann for our first date. I went to the garage where I kept my pride and joy housed, a 1965 Ford Galaxie 500, it had been mothers, I inherited it when she died. When I lived with her I drove a 1998 Honda Accord which got me there and back comfortably, however the ravishes of winter weather and salted roads had taken a serious toll on the car I referred to as Bernadette. On the other hand, mom's car had less than seventy thousand miles on it and had been kept in a heated garage all its life. Mom and dad heated mainly with wood so one more heat run into the garage was no big deal.

Her driving activities consisted of going to the grocery store and beauty parlor every other week until I moved back home, from there on I would take her and the car seldom left the heated garage. It was rust free, the only drawback was that mice had gotten into the backseat upholstery one winter and the paint was in serious need of a wax job. I'd hauled it on a trailer behind my late model pickup when I moved south, I had the back seat reupholstered and the entire car detailed right away, it hadn't been out of the garage in over six weeks. This one I named Henrietta, other than new upholstery it was all original, oh wait, that's not true, I got rid of the original hubcaps and put on baby moons. Those under fifty will probably have no idea what baby moons are, so do what those under fifty do with everything else they don't know, Google it.

When I rolled up in the bright red 500 she stood and did a double take, the girls ran to the car wanting a ride. I opened the back door ushering them in then opened the door for Joann, the federal seat belt law hadn't gone into effect until 1968 which meant I didn't need to have them. As I drove around the block and back home they each took a side and stuck their heads out the window laughing, having fun, being little girls. They piled out and ran to Gramma as we drove away, our conversation was light and airy.

She was the first to speak, "How old is this car?" I told her 1965. "Damn, compared to the new cars you could have a small party in this thing, maybe that's why y'all learned about sex in cars instead of bedrooms or motels."

I wasn't old enough to be one of those y'all, but she was right. Why look for a room somewhere when you could sneak into the haymow or get it on in a backseat as big as a modern couch. Not that I hadn't made out in that very car more than once, I was just never lucky enough to get past second base, much less make it into the backseat for a homerun. Nope, it was later in life that I learned what little I knew before marriage, I say what little because we all have room to learn and expand our horizons so speak.

Dinner was fun until ten minutes before we left, a heavy set guy and gal stopped at our table, staring first at Joann then at me before the woman spoke.

"Wat you doin wit dis white boy? I thought you was goin black. Dis is fucked up sistah."

As those words left the woman's mouth, she grabbed the guy and ushered him out the door. Jo was embarrassed and pissed at the same time. I began to say something when she put her hand up in a *stop* gesture.

"I'm sorry for that Luke, she and I were cellmates the first two months I was in jail. She's the main reason I told everyone I was done with white guys, well not her directly, but her constant diatribe about white guys and what pricks they were. After a while I bought into that train of thought. Her vocabulary is horrible, but in her defense, she's never known any other lifestyle. She doesn't live in the ghetto anymore, but she still acts like it sometimes."

After reassuring her it didn't bother or matter to me, I asked if there was anything else she'd like to do. After thirty or forty seconds she looked me in the eye.

"Would it bother you if we went to a bar I know in Pensacola where they have a band on Saturday nights? There'll be a lot of people there, all races and sizes, they have some great bands though and I haven't danced in over a year. Could we do that?"

I knew what my answer would be without any thought, "Sure, I'd love to go, how you answer this question will determine IF we go. Am I escorting you there and back home so you can dance with every guy who asks, or are you going as my date?"

She glared as she spoke, "Damn, white boy wanna own me already, I aint nobody's property."

Shaking my head I commented, "I don't want to own you, at the same time I don't want to have to stand in line to dance with my date. If you want to go to party, then I'll drop you off and leave money with you to call an Uber when you're done. I'd prefer you go as my date and spend time with me but that's your choice."

She looked away then back at me, through a grin she began, "Okay white boy." At that point I put up a finger signaling her to stop.

"Stop the white boy bullshit, I don't refer to you as black girl. I have a name just like you do, please use it just as I use yours."

"You're serious about this aren't you Luke. Are you sure you want to get tangled up in the whole black/white crap sandwich that society expects every mixed race couple to eat? I like you Luke, you're polite, considerate, treat my mama and the girls great, just be sure you know what you want."

I felt bold as I reached across the table taking the little finger of her right hand in mine, "I know what I want Jo, I haven't felt this attracted to a woman since Betty left. I think we have chemistry between us, I hope you see it that way as well, if not we'll be friends, if so, I want it to be more."

She smiled and reached for the rest of my hand, "Luke, will you take me dancing? I'll only dance with you unless you say otherwise."

As I helped her up, I carried her hand upward to kiss it. She made a quiet squeaky kind of noise when I did then she whispered into my ear, "No one has ever kissed my hand before, sorry for the squeal, it caught me by surprise. Oh, and don't stop doing that stuff, I love it."

Her assessment of the place was correct, it was packed with people of every color and ethnicity to coincide with the local population. We were early and fortunate enough to find a small booth at the back, we'd had two beers each when the music started, in a heartbeat the dance floor was full. We avoided most of the hard driving rave kind of stuff, they weren't dancing, they were basically grinding against as many as possible and called it dancing. We enjoyed the slow numbers and did fast dance to a few of the oldies they played. It wasn't that we were so old, we simply couldn't get in tune with the new stuff.

Guys had been asking her to dance all through the night, each time she would decline until a large black guy stood at our booth looking down. He nodded to me and then smiled at Joann.

"Hey Jo, wasn't expecting you to be here. You think I might have a dance?"

She looked at me. "This is Jerome, we went to tech school at the same time, do you mind?"

I stood and gestured for her to go ahead. She was back in less than two minutes, grabbed my arm and told me to get her out of there. Seems good old Jerome wanted to know if she was up for some blow and group sex, there were several guys who wanted to fuck her, black and white. When we were at the car she stood next to me as I unlocked the driver side door, once open she pushed ahead of me and slid to the center of the bench seat. As I got in, she scooted tight to my side.

"What's going on Jo? Are you frightened by that guy?"

"Damn straight I'm frightened, it's not just Jerome. I didn't know he was mixed up with that bunch, all those worthless motherfuckers are never up to anything good. Black, White, Mexican, Asian, it don't matter, they been running together so long not one of them thinks right anymore. Get me out of here, please."

I drove slow and took the back streets where I could, there's only one bridge over the bay into Pace so there was no choice, once we were across though I meandered around delaying the arrival at her place. She never left my side, didn't put a hand on my thigh or any other gesture of intimacy, just stayed tight to my side. I helped her from the car and walked her to the door, as I was turning to leave, she grabbed my arm.

"What's the matter, have you had to much of me already, or am I too ugly to try and kiss?"

It was time to put this little game to bed, I wrapped my arms around her damned near pulling her off her feet and planted the best kiss I had in my arsenal on her lips. She in turn put her arms around my neck pushing herself into me and was moaning softly through the kiss. I pushed her back and said in a smartass tone.

"Did that feel like an *ugly girl* kiss to you?"

Her answer was to kiss me again, say good night, turn and walk through the door. By the time I reached the car my dick was hard, no girl had had that effect on me for an awfully long time. I didn't give two shits what color her skin was, dammit she turned me on in ways I had nearly forgotten, that was attributed to her being all woman, not a skin color. I went to sleep with a hand wrapped around my very hard cock wishing it was hers instead of mine, the next morning while in the shower I jerked off for the first time in months, all the time imagining her making love with me.

They stopped on their way home from church Sunday, all dolled up and looking radiant. I found Joann to be especially attractive, and not just because my dick said so, because she looked astonishing in her mid-thigh length summer dress, stockings and cute three inch heels. Her hair was pulled back on the sides and blended into the waterfall of ringlets that cascaded down her back. The most striking part was the lavender lipstick with little flakes of gold glitter, I'd seen it before, however it never looked as good as it did on her.

With two little girls in dresses on my lap I kept my mind where it belonged and my body in check. I haven't talked much about gramma but she's no slouch either. She was adorned in a bright red knee length dress, a sassy white hat and makeup that fit her perfectly, if Joann wasn't interested in me, I'd certainly bed her mom, she was that attractive and desirous in my opinion. I'd baked brownies that morning and the aroma was still in the air, I noticed the girls sniffing and told them to go see what that might be. Laughter followed by "Mama can we have a brownie" quickly filled the air. As they departed I sent a plate of the treat home with them.

My mind had been working overtime all morning as I imagined how I was going to finish writing about making love with the older Scottish lady in my latest novel called The Aristocrat. It had happened in the spring while delivering books in the city, the chapter is told from her point of view. The creative juices were flowing so I plunked my butt in front of the monitor and began the dance of fingers on keys for the next four hours. Sitting on the porch enjoying a beer with a sense of great satisfaction my reverie was broken by my name being called.

At the edge of the lawn stood Joann, and may I say she looked appetizing. A cute red and grey outfit, a pencil skirt that showed off her figure but wasn't skin tight, the red blouse looked to silk. She had on stockings and a pair of flats, I wondered where she was going or where she'd been.

"You look good Jo, where are you off to?"

"Actually, I got home about ten minutes ago and needed to walk while I thought. Got another cold beer?"

I waved her to the house as I went for a beer, by the time I'd come back on the porch she was in the chair next to mine looking oh so inviting. The sun was at the perfect angle for a beam to shine across her right cheek bringing out the soft glow of her light brown skin, it looked smooth enough to polish. I made the decision I was going to remain quiet and not ask questions, when she was ready to tell me what was going on, she would. We nursed our beer in silence for at least five minutes when she finally let out a deep breath and turned toward me.

"I met a man in church this morning, he owns a sign and graphic arts business, I went to see him this afternoon at his request. He would like to hire me part time for a few weeks to see if I fit in with the others and if I do, he'll hire me full time."

"That is fantastic Jo, when do you start?"

"Tomorrow if I want, there's something that bothers me though. He stared at my body the entire interview, not my face, my body. I felt dirty, like he was undressing me with his eyes. Do you think that's a good reason to refuse his offer?"

I needed to be careful how I worded my answer, "If you felt uncomfortable in just the interview how do you think it's going to pan out once you're in his presence for eight to nine hours? Listening to what you've told me makes the red flags in my mind go up instantly. You need to be extra careful."

She pondered it a half minute or more and then asked what I'd done with my afternoon.

"I finished the next chapter in my latest novel. It's a love scene I had with an older Scottish lady about eight years ago in Chicago, I'm using her character as the focus in the latest book. I named it The Aristocrat. I have to say I'm pleased with the draft, parts will change as I edit, but the thought line is established and I'll build from there."

"Mom told me you wrote romance novels, is that the truth? I mean, you don't look like a sissy in pink underwear."

I stood, unsnapped and unzipped my jeans pulling a portion of the side down to reveal my grey with black waistband common everyday Hanes underwear.

"Aint no pink anything going on this man's body babe. I hate boxers, so it's plain old briefs for this guy. They get the job done and that's all that counts in my book. Speaking of book, would you like to read the draft of this afternoon's efforts? I'll forewarn you it's gets steamy in places."

She laughed, stood, handed me the empty bottle and moved toward the steps. "I'm gonna go home and change, after I help mom get the girls down, I'll come back and read your quote, unquote *steamy* chapter, I have a feeling it's not as steamy as you think. See you about eight, make sure there's another cold beer for me."

Just before eight she knocked as she entered, she was in sweat pants and a loose blouse, I thought she was braless by the way they jiggled around until she bent forward and I could see it was one of those lacy halter type bras. I went to the office and grabbed the printed copy of my latest chapter, got her a beer and watched as she settled into the easy chair. I was reading a book about the Civil War when she arrived, I went back to that and settled in as she began to read.

Chapter Six, The Aristocrat:

I was nursing my G and T when I noticed him walk through the entryway into the lounge. It had been years since anyone had stirred the desires of flesh so thoroughly within me that my undies were dampened, that is, until tonight. He was tall and muscular, the way his hair waved sent me into a conversation with myself as to how I was going to be able to entice him back to my room. His jeans fit well but not overly tight, the dress shirt and sport coat topped off the look. I smiled as he looked my way, held his gaze a moment and then strolled to the bar, standing there he turned to look at me again, making me smile all the more.

What was I thinking, I'm a sixty four year old widow, this young stud was not interested in any way whatsoever. I was pleased that I'd chosen what I considered sexy underclothes, I was no longer *fit* and *toned* as they say now, but I wasn't flabby or droopy either. My shapely 36C breasts still stood proud, they had a small ski slope look but they were firm and a central part of my arousal system, I'd chosen a bright white lace push-up bra along with some dark blue silk garter panties I'd picked up in Paris, they were a full brief and would hold my stockings in place nicely. The stockings were a sheer seamed number and made my legs look as they had twenty years prior.

My skirt flared ending an inch or so above the knee, the white silk blouse was snug but not tight, the top open just enough to show cleavage. Now, how was I going to entice this young stud to at least buy me a drink or invite me to dance before he had his way with me. He was walking across the floor when I realized he was headed to my table, a beer in one hand and another G/T for me. I gestured for him to sit as he handed me the drink.

"How did you know I was drinking G and T's?"

"I asked the bartender, hopefully I'm not being too forward in buying you a drink."

"No, no, not at all. Hi, I'm Ava, you can probably tell from my accent I'm Scottish and I have to say, *I din'nae ken I was go'n to meet a handsome lad like ye here*."

He was taken aback by my attempt at humor, or so I thought until he said, *Aye, me neither. Me Mither were from Sco'land, and me Faither were from Texas*. Well, how badly did I just butcher your dialogue? Ma would fall back into her native brogue whenever she was upset so I picked up a little here and there."

I was pleased with this young man, maybe getting him into my bed wouldn't be as difficult as I thought. We laughed over his attempt to sound Scottish and my attempt to sound American, reaching the conclusion we'd simply talk as we normally do. We conversed and had a few more drinks. I was about to see if I could lure him to my room when the band started. Rats, foiled, now what would my plan be?

He came to my rescue without knowing it, "Ava, would you like to dance? I love dancing."

As I slid into his grasp I made sure my body was against him but not in a full body press, I felt him respond by holding me a bit tighter. My breasts were tight against his chest, I wanted to look up and feel his lips caressing mine, to have him slip his tongue between my lips and search my mouth. I imagined it invading my mouth just as I imagined his manhood invading the most intimate part of my body, slowly, methodically, in perfect rhythm until the sky rockets within blasted off.

His hand slowly dropped from my waist to the top portion of my bottom, when he turned me so my back was to the wall he traced his hand across my bottom then up my side stopping at the hip, when he turned me toward the crowd he moved his hand back to my waist. During the next slow dance he repeated the maneuver with more enthusiasm, his hand went across my bottom dropping to where he could feel the straps clasped to my stockings. Turning he pulled his hand up to the proper dance position as we moved across the floor.

On the next go round his hand traced across the top of my panties, along my waist and instantly up to my breast, I gasp and pushed my pelvis into him as he quickly kneaded my lonely wanting breast, dropping his hand as we turned. They played two slow in a row and I made the choice I was not going to waste another moment, drawing him close I pushed tightly enough that I could feel his bulge rub against my tummy, in a move of boldness I moved into him further. The apex of my thighs was pressed tightly to his leg, I ground back and forth ever so slightly.

He looked down, pulled me upward and kissed me, that was all it took. I stopped dancing, pulled his head down so my mouth was at his ear and stated, "I need you inside me, take me to my suite and make love to me. Please."

As we entered my room, I turned putting my arms around his neck, my lips dancing on his, the softness, the tenderness, the soft dance of our tongues imitating what his love tool would be doing inside my steaming caldron soon. I was wet, my panties hadn't been wet with arousal for years, yet here I was with this young stud and I was turned on like an eighteen year old. I put his hands on my breasts over my blouse, as he unbuttoned it, I thought I was going to climax.

R410a
R410a
2,952 Followers