Belle: Steamy Georgia Days & Nights

Bad boy Billy knows what he wants, but is willing to use what it takes to make an older woman Belle his- even romance. And once she's his, as far as he is concerned, she will be his forever. But southern bell Belle, thinks this is just a summer fling and on top of that has reservations because her biker is younger!

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BELLE: Steamy Georgia Days & Nights

I leaned on the counter in the window of my food truck. I didn't have to look down to know I'd busted through my plaid western shirt. The plight of a thirty-six D in a medium-size world. If it fit my waist, it was tight on my bust and vice versa.

A head popped around the corner of my window. "Darlin' you look good enough to eat today." The workers at the factory I fed on Tuesday were now on the loose and hungry. He got a quick look at my breasts squashed together between my arms before I stood up. 'Whoa," he said waggling his eyebrows.

"Knock it off Woody," I said grinning and moving behind the grill. "You having a burger?" I said while tossing a few balls of my hand-ground meat on the flat top.

"Yeah yeah, the usual...." He looked at the day's menu propped against the truck. "Oh, you got that durn hummingbird cake today! Dagnabit I almost missed it! Good thing I got here early... I'll have me a piece o'that for sure."

Burger done perfectly medium rare. First came the peanut butter, crisscrossed with bacon and topped it with homemade sweet relish. I handed it out the window along with a plastic-wrapped piece of the ever popular hummingbird.

And so it went, for the remainder of their lunch hours. I've been scheduled here once a week for the last year. It was a huge textile mill and lucky for me the lunchtimes were staggered so I could easily keep up.

Summer in the south meant boob sweat and a river trickled between the girls nearly constantly. A cotton sports bra helped some but my shirt was still plastered to me. Georgia summer heat wasn't for sissies and it was hotter than a two-dollar pistol today.

"Belle, when you and me gonna run away together?"

"When you're old enough to shave," I quipped back.

Knowing his usual, I tossed his burger on the grill and gave him the last piece of cake, glad that I made three this time.

"Aw c'mon Belle. Who cares about age? So you're older than me, big freakin' deal." I rolled my eyes having had this conversation many times before. Billy was a big tease and we tormented each other since we met. He was dark-haired, fair skin with a build of a man that put in a lot of gym time, but I knew for a fact it was his job that created that body.

He looked inside the truck to see my fans still weren't working. It wasn't as though I couldn't fix them. It was just by the time I got home, cleaned the truck, and prepared for the next day I ran out of time. "How about I come by and finally get those fans fixed for you?"

"I reckon that'd be just about perfect, Billy." He flashed me a grin, grabbed his burger with hot pepper cheese and my special spicy relish.

Lawdy but that boy sure can get my britches steamed, but he was thirty to my fifty-two. Never too old to fantasize though, I thought.

I closed up the truck and headed home. My late husband bought this acreage and intended to farm, but he only got as far as a few pigs and goats before he was taken. I had the pigs butchered into country sausage for the truck, sold the goat, and bought chickens for eggs. I got enough daily from the girls to use in the truck and extra to trade for produce that I would include on the next day's menu.

I was scheduled six days a week, and it could have been seven if I didn't put my cowboy-booted foot down for a day off. I could afford to cut back another day, but all my stops were longstanding and I wouldn't know who to cut. Besides that, I'd feel downright terrible doing it. All of them were hardworking guys and gals, but one day that I sold at the local shopping plaza. I enjoyed that because I saw so many neighbors and townspeople.

I locked the door behind me and immediately had my plaid snap cowboy shirt and bra off and stood under the ceiling fan letting the air wash over my damp skin. I pulled my cowboy boots off and parked them by the door, dropped my frayed jean shorts and stepped into the cool shower.

I usually toted everything into the house from the truck first but with Billy coming by, I thought it best to get cleaned up a bit. And none too soon because I no more than fluffed my wet dishwater blonde hair and his motorcycle roared in. I quickly pulled on a tank top and shorts.

I swear those baby blues and long black eyelashes were going to be my undoing, I thought to myself. "Hey, Billy," I said, playing it cool.

"Not as good as your food, but thought you might be tired of cooking." He held out a bag from the best Italian place around.

"How'd you know that place is a favorite of mine! I'll get us a beer." I came back out and he had two meatball sandwiches nicely arranged on the picnic table. "You're a mind reader, Billy."

"Nah, if I was that I'd know how to get you to go out with me. How many years it been now Belle? When you going to give me a break?" He had stopped eating, waiting for an answer.

I picked at the bun trying to think of a reason other than I was too old for him. That was a tired argument that wasn't going to fly anymore. He took my hand and rubbed his thumb over my fingers. A little spark always went through me at his touch.

"You know why Billy. I've told you. I'm too old for you."

"Bullshit." I pulled my hand back and began to nibble at my sandwich, not as hungry anymore. "I'm not giving up darlin'. Just throwin' that on the table right now. So be prepared. I get what I want, Belle."

Knowing I'd give in if I looked into his eyes, I got up, tossed the empty containers out, and followed him into the food truck. I had three fans for air circulation and none worked. They really just blew the sweltering Georgia summer air anyhow, but it was something.

The truck was small and not meant for two. In the same place anyhow. "Don't run away Belle, I'm going to need some help."

Being right in front of me I couldn't help but notice how the tight white t-shirt clung to his muscles. As he worked overhead, I was mesmerized by how they flexed. His t-shirt had pulled out of his jeans and I got a glimpse of his flat stomach, a teaser of black hair that arrowed into his jeans.

"Earth to Belle, wake up," he said, annoyed. "I need you to hold this." He was looking at me and I flustered at getting caught ogling him.

I reached up and held the fan while he worked. Face to face and he was crowding me. On purpose. The edge of the counter was against my lower back, his chest pushed into my tits and when he turned to reach for a screwdriver his knee pushed between my legs. The action of him tightening the screws kept rubbing his chest on mine until my nipples hardened, poked through my tank and rubbed on his chest.

He lowered his arms while I was still holding the fan and put his hands on my waist.

"When you gonna gimme some sugar, Belle," his lips so close they brushed my lips when he talked.

"Can I quit holding this now?" I asked, finally on to his game. He ran his hands up my sides from my waist to my hands and lowered them to his shoulders. My fingers automatically flexed into the hard muscles.

"Now isn't this better?" he whispered in my ear pressing into me. I shuddered and got wetter.

I felt the hardness of his cock through his jeans. He kissed from my ear down my neck and I sighed. His lips pressed against mine, his tongue teased, wanting in. He wove his fingers through my hair to hold my head while he tipped his head and took the kiss deeper. His tongue dipped in, circling my lips and I sucked it back in. He moaned. His hand was splayed on my side, his thumb on the outer curve of my breast. He pulled back and gazed into my eyes and sighed.

"I knew your mouth would taste as sweet as your shoo-fly pie," he whispered and I smiled. I had enough of a participant that he now knew my objections were pretty lame.

"We uh-," I cleared my throat. "We should get to the other fans." He nodded and after a hesitation moved back.

I was busy as a cat on a hot tin roof that week and tomorrow I'd be back to see Billy again. When I was set up at the shopping center this week, I accepted a date with a fellow down the road I'd known for a long time. Mostly as a distraction, I suppose.

I met him at a local restaurant wearing a modest pink sundress and strappy white sandals. For some reason I felt like another person and that wasn't a good thing.

Nearabouts I can tell is I wasted almost four hours of my life that evening. His talk centered around how women his age, same as mine mind you, just did not take care of themselves. How they let themselves go. What a sexy figure I had and someday he'd like to get around to discover what was under my dress. The last straw was when he pinned me against my car in the parking lot and swooped in for a kiss. He found out then how fast I could move, and he missed ogling my ass because the only thing he saw was my taillights when I drove off.

I spent the rest of the evening fuming and comparing him to Billy. Even he was more of a gentleman than a guy my age. I was madder than a wet hen and slammed things around the kitchen which always made me feel better.

It was late by the time I completed all the preparation for tomorrow and I know I'd not get my sleep so I'd be cranky the next day.

I backed the truck into the shade of the big trees on the perimeter of the parking lot of the mill. I jumped out, opened the window, and put the menu board out. I had more new things and was curious as to what the guys would have to say.

"Howdy Woody, how's it going?"

He stood there reading the menu board and blew me a kiss. "Sure lots better now'n I seen you, Miss Belle." He made a show of looking at my tits and saying, "Yeah sure is nice to see your girls too."

"Knock it off, Woody!" My usual retort to Woody who usually made my day, but I had to muster up a laugh even for him.

He chuckled and said, "Hey, think I'll try one of them new meatball sandwiches. And you got peanut butter pie huh. You know I'd let you get in my pants for that."

I laughed. "You're incorrigible, Woody!"

He was the first to sit at the new picnic tables that were set up in the shade. They filled up quickly as the line came and went. Most everyone tried something new and the comments hollered from the picnic table were all good, so that made me happy..

I had a short break until the next group was released for lunch. I needed to replenish the buns and was yanking on the door where they were stored.

"Dammit, c'mon you bitch," I grumbled, putting my all into it. It was hotter than hell even though the fans were now moving some air and sweat pooled and ran down my body.

"Is anybody home?" I was squatted down in the narrow aisle and it took me a moment to stand up. I smoothed my damp shorts and looked out.

"Hey Billy, how're you doing?" I said trying not to show how annoyed and cranky I was.

"Were you just swearing at someone or something in there?"

Oh god, he heard me. "Yeah, can't get the cabinet door open that holds my buns."

"Darlin' you should know I'm the man to hold your buns," he grinned. I was so aggravated it took me a minute to get it and I rolled my eyes. "Want I should come in and see what I can do?"

"I'd appreciate it. I need those buns and the guys will be out any second."

Sure enough, they began to filter out of the mill. I had a few buns to get started with so I began to take orders. In the meantime, Bill was in and had to crawl between my legs to get to the cabinet and was squatted down against my right leg. He was bumping me as he worked on the door, then suddenly held up packages of buns that I tossed on the other end of the counter.

I couldn't afford any hold-ups from a food truck. The guys only had so much time and depended on me. Billy crawled between my legs again and I was not only thankful for the buns but more thankful the crowd in front of my window couldn't see that It looked like we were in the intro of a bad porn movie.

"Want I should stop by later and fix that door?"

"I can probably do it, Billy, thanks," I said smiling.

"Aw, c'mon."

"Yeah, okay, fine, now skedaddle," I grumbled and smiled as he left out the back door.

He rolled in on his motorcycle and came over to the glider. I had my legs crossed holding the notepad for menu ideas.

"Never thought I'd get as close to those beautiful legs like I did today," he said wistfully looking up at the sky.

"Yeah, you liked that today didn't you." He flashed that disarming grin with a blink of baby blues. "Least you didn't see my tattoos. Now, if'n you ever got that close...."

He perked up."Tattoos? Let me see." I shook my head. "Aw, c'mon Belle baby. I'd show you mine!"

I laughed. "I'm sure you would."

"You said tattoos, so more than one... Okay, just show me one."

I shook my head.

"Why are you so cruel to me? And after I brought you something from your favorite place."

"Muffuletta!" I stood up and tweaked his cheek. "I'll get us a couple of beers."

Billy took his last bite and tossed his napkin on the wrapper. "Hey, I wanted to tell you, I heard a lot of comments about your new food. The guys really loved the new stuff."

"Thanks, Billy. It always helps to hear what my customers like, and don't. Actually, I got the idea from the meatball sandwich you brought. That but on a smaller scale."

He sauntered to the quonset hut that housed the food truck. I watched that sexy ass in tight jeans and a white t-shirt that hugged his muscles just stroll on away. I shook my head, feeling sorry for myself and wondering how long I could resist that. He has really been pourin' on the coal lately.

I sat in the open back door while he worked on the door.

"I had an idea if you'd like to hear."

"Of course, Billy. I miss the debates and brainstorming I did with my husband."

"Sorry Belle. It must be rough without him."

"He's been gone a while now and I get by, but it does get lonely at times." I felt a wave of melancholy. "So what's your idea?"

He went on the show me how I could change some of my storage so I could reach it all whenever I needed it. It was simple but so much more efficient. We found some metal to make it with in my husband's shop and Billy said he had the rest.

"Since you're free on Sunday, I can come by and work on it. I think it'll be too rushed trying to work on it after work."

"No no, Sunday is better. It's too much for you to do after work." He nodded.

"Where?"

"I'm not telling you, Billy!"

"Can I guess where they are?"

"NO!"

"Shoot. Shot down again," he said, looking down and scuffing his boots in the dry red clay.

I laughed. His eyes twinkled with humor, then he shrugged and laughed.

Walking out to his bike, we talked about the farm. He hooked his fingers behind my head and stroked my cheek with his calloused thumb. He leaned in for a kiss, and we pressed our lips, tentatively, then harder, possessively. He dipped his tongue in and I teased it with mine. He moaned and relaxed the tension in his hand.

He looked at me for a moment before sliding his helmet on. "Goodbye Belle, see-ya Sunday." I nodded and smiled, but I felt a little empty when he left.

The next day was an industrial park and workers came from a variety of businesses. One of my customers was an accomplished home chef and I asked if he would show me how to roll an egg roll correctly. I also wanted him to be my guinea pig and taste the smoked pulled pork and South Carolina yellow sauce filling I had in mind. New foods kept me busy between times seeing Billy.

Sunday morning finally came and I stood in front of the mirror trying to do something with my hair. I kept it somewhat short, but between curls and summer humidity, my dishwater blonde raged in spikes against the weather.

It was hotter than the hubs of hell out and the humidity was stifling so I opted for my standby cotton sport type bra and cotton tank. Because I knew I'd likely be crawling around in the truck, I chose longer shorts than my normal.

I checked everything in the mirror. I was proud of my body. I chose not to have children so my body didn't go through the ravages of pregnancy and childbirth. My thirty-six D's sat high on my chest but that was solely due to genetics. My sixty-eight-year-old Mom still had perky girls that some swore had help from a boob doc. I ate well, never exercised but working a food truck and a farm was enough to keep me in shape.

A battered up old blue pickup truck bumped up my long lane to the house. I was surprised to see Billy jump out.

"I needed to bring tools and some other stuff so no bike today." He pulled a big toolbox out of the bed of the truck. "Next time I bring the bike, we're going for a ride." I nodded quick enough to not let myself think on it. He grinned.

He pulled the truck out of the big metal quonset hut I kept her in overnight.

"She deserves some sprucing up," I said, patting the hood. "She's done me good."

"How'd you know she's a she?"

"Because she never gives me any shit." He laughed loudly.

I helped fetch tools and we worked well together all morning. My stomach was starting to grumble and he must have heard it.

"I'm about ready for lunch," he tossed a wrench in his toolbox. "And I happened to bring it."

"You brought lunch?"

"I figured you could stand a break." I smiled and watched him slide a big cooler off the tailgate of his truck.

After spreading the cloth on the picnic table, I grabbed us a couple of beers. I saw by the name on the bag he has stopped at one of the best deli's in town and raided their case. There were containers of almost everything they offered and I stifled a laugh seeing it all.

He looked at me and grinned. "I couldn't make up my mind!"

"I see that!" I giggled.

He looked at me and his blues got stormy. "You giggle like that again darlin' and the only thing I'll be eating is you," he growled. I didn't blush easy but I felt my face flame.

"Sit down and behave yourself!"

"I'll sit down, but behave myself around you?" He shook his head and started to dish out a spoonful of everything on my plate.

I looked down at my heaping plate and groaned inwardly. "I don't know where to start!"

He held a fork of sweet potatoes in front of my lips and I opened and sucked it off the fork. His eyes went stormy again as he watched. I flicked my tongue across my lips to catch a drip.

"Mmmm," I mewed. His eyes flared. "That's good too."

He looked at me like he wanted to clear the table and have me right on my picnic table. And I'm sure with any inclination, he would.

My eyes were downcast, I concentrated on the variety of food on my plate. I got up, ran into the house, and came back with my tablet.

"I'm getting some good ideas with this. I can see I'll be piddlin' with new recipes all week." His eyebrows raised and he grinned. "But you knew that was going to happen, didn't you."

.

"I figured you get a taste of a thing or two and run with your own take, sure. I liked what you did with the meatball sandwich I brought, so I thought this," he waved his hand over the table, "would give you enough busy work."

I laughed. "Lawdy, you are so freakin' bad." He laughed loudly.

"Next Sunday, creeks don't rise, we're going on the bike." I nodded, already looking forward to it.

I was able to try some new ideas on my stops that week. I chopped up southern barbecue pork for my southern-style egg roll concoction. I wasn't sure at all how they would do, but I had to try it.