Adam's Journey Pt. 35

She looked at me. "Oh, so you're a fisherman. I had you pegged for a hiker, or maybe a climber. At least you're not an off-roader or a dirt biker, those guys are the worst!"

I laughed. "I'm not a fisherman either. I'm just meeting some friends, the couple that lives next door to me, for a houseboat vacation. You know, relax, drink, swim, maybe jet-ski a little bit."

"Actually I don't know. I've never done that." She looked puzzled. "Adam, we have a lot of houseboaters come through here since we're only about an hour from the marina, but it's always families or multiple couples, or groups of guys for fishing and watersports. You and one couple together seems a little offbeat."

"Well, you're right. We were supposed to be several couples, but everything fell apart and it boiled down to just me and my friends Ron and Kori. It's a long story."

"Do you want to tell me about it?"

I smiled at her. "Why, so you can pretend to be interested and earn your big two dollar tip?"

She laughed. "OK, I deserved that. But I thought you said you were only going to leave me a dollar! No, you just sounded so sad when you said it, it kind of made me curious."

When she said that I realized that sadness was what I'd been seeing in her too. What I had mistaken for anger, resentment, and defensiveness I now realized was a deep sadness, and maybe a touch of bitterness, which she kept masked by those other layers.

"How about this, Tiffany? You tell me yours and I'll tell you mine."

She smiled at me. "That sounds a little naughty. OK, where should I start?"

"Why don't you tell me why you're working here? I don't know whether you look like a Tiffany or not, but you definitely don't strike me as the waitress type." I paused, then plunged. "Not with your finely honed people skills."

She laughed out loud, and Pops glanced over at us, a big smile on his face. Just then a tall, rangy, gray haired guy strolled in, and Tiffany stood up and went over to greet him. She raised up to give him a kiss on the cheek, then took the large thermos he was carrying and filled it from the steaming coffee pot. They exchanged a few words before he slipped her a couple dollars, called out a good morning to Pops, and walked back out to his truck carrying his thermos while she quickly started a fresh pot brewing.

She returned to the table carrying a carafe of hot coffee and filled both our mugs.

"That was obviously not one of the low-life men you so despise."

She laughed again. "Hardly! That was my dad. He's actually the main reason I work here. It's close to home and Pops gives me time off to help out on the ranch when I'm needed, like calving season, or when we're branding and castrating the calves, or when we have to move the herd to new pasture." She shrugged. "It works for me, and the money I earn here goes toward my hobbies."

"Hobbies?"

"Yeah, sports, whatever. I'm a barrel racer, and I raise and train cutting horses and ride in competitions."

"Wow! That's pretty impressive." I actually was impressed, in part to find that my initial evaluation of her had been close to the mark, and in part because it takes a strong, tough person to compete in those sports.

Before I could pat myself on the back, she laughed again. "Adam, do you even know what barrel racing or cutting horses are?"

"Hey c'mon, I'm not a total greenhorn! I've been to rodeos and stuff, and I've seen cutting horses work. I've even ridden quite a bit. Not like you, but on pack trips and hunting trips, and for fun. Give me a little credit!"

"Sorry! I've won some ribbons and a little money at it, and I make money when I sell a horse. But OK, that's why I work here, and because Pops is so great to me, not because I love people. I like horses much better. They're honest, and they don't hurt you on purpose." She paused. "What else do you want to know?"

I filed away that last odd statement. There was clearly something there. "Do you have a boyfriend?"

She went dead serious, and I was afraid I'd overstepped the bounds and alienated her. When she spoke it was flat, without inflection. "I have a husband, Adam."

I glanced down at her hands, which were devoid of jewelry. She caught it and went on. "No, I don't wear a ring, and I haven't seen the son of a bitch in over three years. Almost four. But technically we're still married."

I didn't know what to say, and was almost afraid to say anything. This would obviously be a difficult topic for her. "I'm sorry. I didn't know. We don't have to talk about it."

She sighed. "No, it's OK."

"Can I ask why he left?"

She looked at me for a moment, then laughed bitterly. "He thought it was wise after he broke my nose for the second time. And beat me for the last time." She ran her finger down her nose, pausing at the slight deviation I had noticed when I first saw her. I don't think she even realized she was doing it, and I was deeply saddened to find out I had been right about that too.

My heart hurt for her. "Christ Tiffany, I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have pried, we don't have to go there if you don't want to."

She shrugged. "It happened, it's over. And that last beating was probably the only one he ever gave me that I actually earned. And then Pops broke his nose, and his cheekbone, and his arm, so he didn't escape unscathed either. When he got out of the clinic he got in his truck and drove away, and that's the last anyone around here has seen of him."

She seemed so sad it made me ache, and I stumbled with my question "How did you... I mean, why..."

"We were high school sweethearts Adam, and he was the nicest guy, and we loved each other so much. We got married, because that's what you do in a small town like this if you don't go away to college or something. Eventually he started drinking."

She paused, thinking back, then went on. "I should have seen it when he started calling me names and being mean, and accusing me of sleeping around - which I wasn't. And then he hit me."

"Tiffany..."

"No Adam, it's OK."

A couple came in and took a table and she started to rise, but Pops waved her back down and walked over to them, carrying the coffee pot. We sat silently as he greeted them, and I noticed an odd exchange as he shook the man's hand, then stopped behind the wife and put one huge hand on her shoulder, the other gently caressing her face and neck before coming to rest on her chest, his fingers splayed across the upper swell of her breasts as they chatted.

She smiled across at her husband and rubbed her cheek against Pops' thick arm, much as Tiffany had done. Her husband didn't act as though this was at all out of the ordinary.

Tiffany didn't even seem to notice, and she went on. "I should have left him, I know that, but he would always apologize when he sobered up, and he'd feel so bad about it. I guess I really wanted to believe him, and I loved him so much. I was so damn stupid."

"I'm not an expert Tiffany, but I think that's pretty common. Women love their men and want so much to believe they're better than they are. That's not stupid, it's just human, but some guys are just shit, and not worth it, and there's no way around that. At least you're out of it now."

She laughed softly, without humor. "Yeah. You know what did it? He accused me of fucking around, hit me and split my lip, then took my best cutting saddle and pawned it for about a fourth of what it was worth for booze money."

She shook her head. "I finally figured if I was going to be accused, and punished, I might as well do it! If you're going to do the time, you might as well do the crime, right? So I came here - we were closed then, we only stay open twenty four hours a day in the summer - I seduced Pops, got myself well and wonderfully laid, and went home to him with all that cum still leaking out of me. And I made damn sure he knew it, and knew that he didn't begin to measure up to a real man."

"Jesus Tiffany!"

"Yeah, he beat the shit out of me, but at least this time I deserved it. When he drank he always used to say I was just what he wanted, young, dumb, and full of cum. He forgot to specify that he only meant his own cum, and when I climbed on his lap and he realized what was happening, and why I was so sloppy wet, he went crazy. If Pops hadn't shown up he probably would have killed me. I thought at the time maybe that would have been better."

"God Almighty!" She seemed to actually think that him beating her for that was justified. Not in my world. I couldn't decide if I should take her into my arms or just sit there and cry. In the end I did neither, I just talked to her, told her she didn't deserve that, and tried to tell her that I understood.

I didn't of course, there was no way I could. I felt terrible for her, her story was so sad and full of pain, and I thought that by comparison my life looked like a bed of roses. "Tiffany, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean for you to dredge up all of that. I should know to keep my nose out of things."

"No Adam, it's OK. It kind of felt good to talk about it. Other than Pops, and my family, and now you, nobody else knows that whole story. And I don't know why I told you any of that, but you're a good listener." She paused. "You know, in retrospect, calling him a tiny limp-dicked little faggot was probably a mistake." She laughed again then, a real laugh, and I felt a little better.

"And you've never seen him again, since that night?"

"Nope. Last I heard he was cutting timber up in Washington or somewhere like that, no doubt busy disappointing the girls of the Great Northwest as well." She laughed again, as did I.

"OK, your turn Adam."

I thought my story would sound a little whiny after what she had been through, so I stalled. "OK, but first, tell me a little more about Pops." I nodded over to where he still stood, near the couple that had come in awhile ago. By now he had one of her breasts fully cupped in his enormous black hand and was gently squeezing it through her blouse as he chatted nonchalantly with the two of them. She had one hand behind her back, and I could just see it clutching and grasping at the bulge in the front of Pops' pants as they talked.

Tiffany looked over and smiled. "Oh yeah, that. Well, that's an interesting story."

The cafe was starting to get a little busier as the rising sun began to put a glow in the eastern sky. Tiffany was having to get up periodically to take an order or fill coffee cups, although it seemed Pops was delivering most of the meals as he filled the orders. He moved around the room and through the narrow aisles with a smooth grace that belied his considerable bulk, and he seemed to know everyone that came in and to enjoy the easy banter and comfortable conversation with all of them.

Tiffany also greeted everyone by name, and I realized these were all locals. There was one table occupied by five young guys, around her own age, but I didn't see any of the wariness or anger with them that she had evidenced with me when I had first arrived. These guys looked like maybe ranch hands or some such thing, all in jeans and work boots, and I figured she had probably grown up with them.

She joked around with them, teasing, and when one of them lunged after her she slapped his hands away and said, loud enough for the whole place to hear "Careful Toby! Are you sure you want to grab my ass? Remember, I might be the last one to touch your food before you eat it!"

A lot of people laughed, and his friends gave him some crap after she said that, but I didn't ask her about it when she returned. I figured I was better off not knowing, but she must have realized I'd overheard and said "Rumor has it that I once jerked Pops off on a guy's salad after the guy was especially obnoxious to me, then put Ranch dressing over it and served it to him."

"Ugh! Did you?"

"I don't really want to confirm or deny the rumor. It's working for me."

I laughed. "About Pops though, Tiffany, that whole deal with that couple that was in here a little while ago was pretty strange. From what you've said I guess he must have a reputation as quite the, uh, swordsman around here."

"You have no idea. He's probably the most sexual person I've ever met, that's one of his big appetites. Food, obviously, plus he reads everything in sight and loves old movies, his house is full of books and videos, and DVD's, he enjoys good Scotch and cigars, and music. And people, he just loves people, but more than anything he loves sex. He says God equipped him for it and put him on earth for a reason, and he figures that's it." She laughed. "I think he may be right."

"How does that work, in a town this size?"

"Well, it really started shortly after he bought the restaurant from Gus, who seemed about 150 years old and wanted to retire. Pops was just looking for a small restaurant to run, out of the big city, and he somehow got wind of this place, and bought it. There was a group of ladies, town women, usually about five or six of them, sometimes more, that would come in almost every day after the big breakfast rush was over and just sit and drink coffee, and visit. Mostly gossip, you know."

She got up to refill coffee cups and pick up some empty plates, and I looked over at Pops, watching him work as I waited. Even at his size he wasn't a bad looking man, and his gruff voice and jovial manner seemed to charm everyone. There was no doubt that he was an alpha male, and I could see the way some of the women responded to him, although there were more men in the place than women.

For me, watching Tiffany move around was much more enjoyable, and I watched her as she came back to my table and slid in. She cocked her head at me. "What?"

"Nothing, I just like watching the way you walk. Very strong, very confident."

"Well, I guess I am confident. Now, finally. I guarantee you one thing, no man will ever hit me again. At least not a second time, so he better make the first swing count."

I chuckled, liking her attitude. "Good for you! Why don't you just stay away from any men that would hit you?"

She shrugged. "I try, but I guess you never really know, do you?"

She had a point, and I've come to realize that a woman that's been abused once will never, ever completely let her guard down again, not a hundred percent. It's very sad, and sometimes makes me ashamed of my fellow man, of how we can damage a fine woman. I thought of Kristi, and wondered what damage I had caused. Small comfort, at least I'd never struck her.

She furrowed her brow. "Where was I? Oh yeah, Pops. Remember, this was fifteen years ago, he wasn't nearly as heavy as he is now. I was just a kid at the time, but I remember hearing some of the ladies talking about him, how masculine and manly he was, how strong, and making whispered comments about the 'rumors', or the 'black myth'. I had no clue what they were talking about." She laughed, shaking her head. "I don't think some of those women had ever actually seen a black person, except on TV. I guarantee some of them had never spoken to one."

She looked around to see if anyone needed her, and then went on. "He slowly worked his way into their little group, and pretty soon he would be sitting there, laughing and kidding with them, gossiping right along, teasing and flirting. The little group grew to ten women, then a dozen, and they came every single day, starting to dress more provocatively and actually compete with each other for his attention. You could say he was charming their moist little panties off."

She looked over at him and smiled. "He can be very charming. But most of these women were married, just one spinster and a couple of divorcees. That fact didn't seem to slow anyone down very much, and within a few weeks I'm pretty sure he was doing at least a couple of them. Talk started to go around about his abilities, and of course his size. I still can't decide if some of those ladies were made more horny, curious, or frightened by the rumors about it, but they all seemed to want to find out for themselves."

I realized I was sitting there with a hard-on, thinking about him cutting a swath through the town's women, and them lusting after him. "I thought you were just a kid. How did you ever learn so much about it?"

"I grew up on a ranch Adam. Around horses, cattle, goats, my two brothers, various other animals."

I laughed. "Oh yeah, of course. Brothers."

She laughed too. "Really, we had a stallion, and bulls. By the time I was ten I'd seen the stallion mount the mares, many times, and the bulls and heifers, and cows of course. My brothers seemed to delight in showing me their little penises, and trying to catch me naked. I knew early exactly what a penis was, and even had a pretty good idea what it was used for, where it went, and how to go about it. Farm kids get an early education, they really don't need sex-ed in school very much. Maybe about condoms and such, I suppose."

"I forget about that. I grew up in town. Chicago, actually."

She shook her head. "You just got a different kind of education is all. By the time I was twelve I'd helped castrate calves, so I knew exactly what a scrotum was, what testicles are, and how they all looked, worked, and felt. In a place like Chicago, you probably had to focus on keeping yours."

I didn't really remember the big city as being all that scary, it had just been home. Different experiences, different perspectives.

She went to the front counter and rung a couple of people out, and freshened some coffee cups. The place was starting to empty out, it seemed, but looking at my watch I saw it was a little before seven o'clock. I still had time, and still wanted to know more about this woman, and her town. I was pretty well hooked.