Cherry Tart

"Where's Mama?" He looked up at Emmett's stout, strong arms. They were crossed over the front of his green, worn-out t-shirt, and Travis reached up to squeeze at the knot in his bicep. Emmett obliged him, flexing like Popeye.

"She's workin'."

"Where's Wesley?"

"Probably smokin' cigarettes and kissin' girls over at Andy's house." Emmett said it just to make him smile.

"He's kissin' girls?" Travis's face lit up like a bulb.

"No doubt."

"Well, where's Coralee? Is she kissin' boys?" Travis followed Emmett into their small kitchen. It was papered over in gold, green and brown flowers. There were pictures of black witches and white ghosts taped onto the double hung windows at the side of the house and above the sink.

"She better not be. Or I'm gonna have to get out the shotgun." Emmett watched another toothy smile bloom up on his son's face and it brought him nothing but pleasure.

He almost never got to spend time alone with Travis. Mornings were always a rush of bleary eyes and spilled milk, and nights were spent in chaos, with everyone talking at the same time around the dinner table and running in different directions afterwards. Emmett's hazel eyes would grow heavy when he finally did get to sit down in front of the TV at nine or ten, and by that time, Lucy had already put Travis to bed.

"Really, Daddy...where's Cora?" Travis turned serious as a schoolmarm. He loved his big sister something fierce.

"She's up at the High School watchin' a football game. She's all right, little brother. I promise you." Emmett opened up their gold refrigerator and pulled out a cold bottle of Budweiser. He looked down to find a pair of brown, soulful eyes gazing up at him, all hopeful and hungry.

Cash, Cora's big old hound licked his chops and wagged his tail and Emmett dug through the meat drawer, pulling out their last slice of salami. He tossed it over and old Cash made a clean catch, sniffing around for more.

"So, it's just me and you, then?" Travis's little brows flew up like he was all full of piss and vinegar.

"Yeah, I reckon you stuck with me until the other clowns get home."

Travis took up a black Crayola marker from their Formica kitchen table and started drawing a jagged, toothy grin on the biggest of the three jack o'lanterns.

"It's all right. You let me do a lotta stuff Mama don't. I like it."

"Yeah, well that's part of my job as a daddy. I mow the lawn, and kill the spiders, and let you do all the stuff your mama tells you not to. And don't you dare tell her I said that, neither." Emmett took down a long swallow of beer, not even sure then if little Travis was still paying attention.

Emmett thought on Lucy and the knock-down-drag-out they'd had at the beginning of the week. He'd stopped at Barleycorn's to have a beer with Russell Scott after work, and had come home stumbling drunk. The next morning, after the kids had gone to school, Lucy had let him have it. She'd stood there looking at him with her arms folded up tight over her ample rack, the one he hadn't laid a hand on in four months. He'd just stood there silent, pleading the fifth as he'd stirred a heap of sugar into his mug of strong black coffee.

"I can't believe you went up to that strip joint when I asked you to have the truck back by six. I told you I needed to haul that shit up to Wesley's school before teacher conferences. I guess that just don't matter to you, huh? I guess you'd rather shove dollar bills into them dirty crotches up at Shooter's."

She'd been lit up to burning, her eyes like the bluest part of a flame, and even as she'd gotten right into his face with all that yelling, making his head throb like a grenade had gone off inside, he'd wanted to bend her over their kitchen table and give her the cock she'd always loved. He'd wanted to fuck her deep and hard, until she'd pushed him down onto the cool wood floor and slid onto his lap. He'd kept thinking of her supple body, the way she'd always loved riding him smooth and steady, with those bare, melon-full breasts of hers, still firm and high at thirty-eight, bouncing soft and beautiful above him in the morning light.

He'd always loved fucking in the kitchen after the kids had gone to school. There was something truly illicit about the possibility of getting caught with your pants down.

"I didn't go to no strip club. And if I did, what'd be your damage? You ain't touched me in four months, woman." He'd finally said it. He'd let the cat out of the bag.

Emmett had sat there rubbing at his glassy red eyes, trying to clear away some of the liquor.

"You shit. I told you I needed some time. That's all I asked...after all the bullshit you put me through the past five years. The drinkin' and the motorcycle, the quittin' jobs just 'cause you can't have someone tellin' you what to do...not even the smallest little thing, like bringin' home that fuckin' truck when I ask you to? And that job cuttin' trees? I ain't even gonna get into that."

"I ain't never cheated on you. Not once in twenty years..."

"I never said you did." Lucy had narrowed up her blue diamond eyes, and she'd given him a nasty scowl.

"I coulda..." Emmett's words had been like snake venom.

He'd wanted Lucy to know. He'd wanted to tell her that lanky Lila Ross, with those mile long legs starting at her neck, had come on to him strong up at Barleycorn's.

He and Russell had been sitting at the long wooden bar, drinking down shots of whisky chased with beer. They'd been listening to John Lee Hooker's deep, buttery voice spill out from an old jukebox in the corner when Lila had sauntered on up to Emmett with her green eyes all full of sex and mischief.

He'd wanted to tell his wife just how he'd danced with Lila, how he'd pressed his hot, aching body close against hers and they'd swayed together, their hips drawn up tight so she'd been able to feel the ample nudge of his erection. She must have had five inches on him in her tall, red high heels, and she'd leaned down close against his ear.

"Let me take you home, Emmett Cooper. I need me a rough-and-tumble man tonight. I wanna feel these big hands all over me."

She'd kissed softly at his grease-stained fingers, slipping one right into her warm, wet mouth, and like a fool, Emmett had pulled away from her.

"Really, now? You coulda, huh?" Lucy had narrowed up her big blue eyes and he'd watched the tawny points of her nipples. They'd been peeking out at him through thin white cotton, like two tiny sparrows' beaks singing out his name.

"Hell yeah, I coulda. You think Lila Ross ain't willin' to take all of me inside...every last bit? You think she ain't itchin' for what I got to give?"

Emmett had seen a wounded look come up in his wife's eyes, and he'd been pleased as punch. She'd been the one pushing him away those last few months, the one working out nights just to keep her distance. She'd been driving him crazy with her buttoned-up mouth and her cold shoulder, and he'd downright wanted answers. Were they through or not?

"You go on and fuck Lila Ross, Emmett. You see if I care a bit 'bout that red-headed floozy in her blue jean mini-skirt."

"I don't wanna fuck Lila Ross, Lucy. I wanna fuck my wife...and I want my wife...to wanna fuck me."

Emmett had turned sober all at once, and he'd scratched at his beard in frustration. Little Ginny Goodman had drifted into his head then. He'd thought on that little pink pussy of hers, the way she'd lay open and beautiful beneath him, like all he'd had to do was whisper how pretty she was just one more time and he could've made his way inside all that sweet, virgin warmth. Her small, young body had been nothing but willing and ready for his. It'd been so easy, so downright opposite of the struggle and torment that Lucy had been dragging him through.

"I wanna fuck my wife..." Emmett had reached over to Lucy then. His touch had been tender and coaxing as he'd run a gentle finger down her bare arm, and his cock had been a straight, hard line in his old blue jeans. He'd realized it'd been the image of his daughter's freckled-up teenage friend that had put him in such an eager state, but he'd done his best to try and push that notion aside and look down into Lucy's bright, suddenly welcome eyes.

The sweet, yellow haze of autumn sunlight had drifted lazily in through the clean windows as he'd pulled Lucy's white tank top over her head of thick, sandy colored hair. Emmett had leaned down and put her honey brown nipples into his hungry mouth, one at a time. He'd suckled them tenderly, and she'd pulled loose his old leather belt with quick, skilled hands.

Emmett had been panting like a hound when she'd finally laid her curves down on the shaggy kitchen rug. She'd opened her legs up wide for him, and Emmett had kneeled down between them. He'd used his thumb to circle around her firm, wet nub, and he'd dropped down to give it one hot, slow lick before easing his stiff shaft right up to the hilt. Her naughty smile had faded away and she'd tilted her head back at the familiar, almost too big feel of him inside of her again. Emmett had watched her face go to melted butter as he'd grabbed onto her legs and driven himself smooth and quick up into her throat. As he'd moved her, it'd felt like he was suddenly back home after a long stay in a foreign land.

"Come here, baby...come here." Lucy had pulled him down to her and he'd buried himself deep inside the body he loved, the one that had given him three children. Emmett had kissed her, all desperate and hungry like a teenage boy, and he'd dipped his head low so he could suck at those pinup-girl breasts of hers.

The tip of Lucy's tongue had darted into his mouth as she'd lay there taking all of him in. She'd risen up on one elbow, knowing like the back of her hand just how to guide him, so that his long, stiff shaft could rub steadily against her sweetest spot. After she'd worked her hips into his for a while longer, Lucy had given him a long, purring sound of pleasure, and her supple body had trembled gently with each lush wave of orgasm.

"Sooooo gooood...my God..." She'd let out a throaty little laugh, and her hands had slipped down to his firm, narrow behind. She'd given it a playful squeeze and a quick smack.

"Come on now, baby." Her smile had been familiar and content below him, and Emmett had sensed her satisfaction. It'd been a long while for both of them, and he'd kissed her full on the mouth.

"God damn, woman...you burnin' me up with all that."

"I got your pants on fire, Mr. Cooper?" She'd started to giggle near his mouth and he hadn't been able to keep from laughing along with her.

"You got no idea..."

Emmett had reached down and slid one hand under her curved-up behind. He'd grabbed hold and let his lean hips work like mad, and just when he'd been at the edge, before he'd emptied himself out inside of her, he'd closed his eyes and it damn sure hadn't been Lucy's face he'd seen. Instead, there'd been a splash of tiny freckles, a ripe, pink mouth with a full bottom lip, and a set of big brown eyes looking up at him, like he'd been a flutter of shooting stars across the night sky; something rare and beautiful to see.

While Emmett stood at their yellow kitchen sink rinsing the pumpkin guts off his big, rough hands, he thought on Lucy, and how despite all that passion, they were back to being strangers again.

Through the big picture window, Travis caught the slow trace of headlights moving up their little dirt drive. He jumped off his seat, quick as a fox, and his strong little legs pumped fast and hard as he headed for the front door.

"Cora's back!"

Emmett heard the rattle of keys against their metal screen door, and then the soft lilt of young girls giggling. He didn't turn around at first. He just stood there cleaning up a mess like it was any other night, an open bottle of beer sitting next to him on the kitchen counter. It wasn't until he heard Travis's small voice ask her name that Emmett was struck silent.

"Hey, who're you?"

"I'm Ginny. Who're you?"

"I'm Travis...Cora's baby brother."

"I think you was sleeping last time I stayed over."

"Probably so...I gotta be tucked in by nine."

Travis gave her a fetching little smile and Ginny's eyes wandered into the Coopers' small, flowered kitchen. She watched Emmett's bare feet on the worn pine floors. The last time she'd laid eyes on him, he'd been bathed in dim moonlight, his body and face shadowed above hers. Under the warm kitchen light, he was suddenly clear, and Ginny couldn't help but look at his narrow behind in those faded old Levi's or notice the brown leather belt done up loose on his hips. He was a daddy, but he was beautiful, and when she looked at him, at his hands and his mouth, she saw pleasure waiting there.

Emmett's heart pounded like a drum inside his chest. There she was, standing shy and quiet as he walked over to the archway leading into their small front room.

He looked at her cheeks, all freckled-up beautiful, and his eyes drifted down to her bee-stung mouth. It was painted red like a summer cherry. She wore a fitted little zip up sweatshirt that was nearly the same color as her lips and a pair of wide-bottomed Levi's that fit snug across her firm little behind.

"Ginny's gonna stay over, Daddy. I don't feel like drivin' her home, all right?"

His whip-smart daughter didn't have a clue. Before she'd even posed the question his answer had been nothing but, 'yes, indeed!'

"All right...long as someone knows where you are." Emmett snaked a big hand under the short sleeve of his green t-shirt and rubbed at the sturdy muscle there, his body all full of sparks. He reached up and ran a big, restless hand over the mess of thick scruff on his face, not knowing quite what to do with himself. He'd never felt so stirred up inside, so eager and so awkward all at the same time.

"My mama knows." Ginny dared to let her eyes touch his for a moment, and in that small fleck of time, the weight of their secret had become something sweet and delicious, something they could both taste but in very different ways.

"All right, then." Emmett looked down at his bare feet and then back up to her pretty face. He had the worst time keeping his eyes away.

"Daddy, we're eighteen...not twelve. By rights, we don't even gotta tell you where we are if we don't wanna. 'Cause we're adults now..." Coralee had to keep from laughing as he narrowed up his eyes at her and pulled his brows in close together.

"Oh yeah, well I say you still ain't too old for the belt. Ten licks for the sassy mouth, and ten more just 'cause I feel like it."

"He never hit us...not even once." Cora smiled over at Ginny. "He's a pacifist. He won't even go huntin'."

"Don't listen to that. I beat all their asses." Emmett reached over and put both of his big hands over Travis's ears.

"What's all these on your nose?" Travis pointed to his own cute-as-a-button snout, drawing little dots on his skin with the tip of his finger, and it took Ginny a moment to realize that he was mimicking her mess of brown freckles.

"Travis! Don't be a rude little wanker..." Cora gave Travis a quick tap on the head.

"Hey, what kinda talk is that Miss snot nose? And thank you...for teachin' him another word I gotta explain to the people down at the kindergarten."

Ginny felt her cheeks go hot and she scolded Coralee. "Cora...my God, don't be so mean. Are you talkin' 'bout my freckles, Travis?"

Ginny touched her own little nose. She didn't dare look over at Emmett's deep hazel eyes, though she felt his warm gaze all over her. She thought of the thing he'd whispered to her just before they'd started up kissing on that big plaid couch. "I love these freckles." His hands had smelled like cigarette smoke and pine trees when he'd touched her nose all soft and playful.

"You got a bunch of 'em. I like it." Travis smiled up at her like he was falling in love.

"Like father, like son..." The thought floated through Emmett's head like driftwood as he looked on at Ginny's tiny form.

Those cherry red lips of hers were calling out his name. They made him hungry for all the ripe, sweet things she had hidden under her plain, boyish clothes.

As Cora and Ginny made their way up the small flight of stairs with Travis and Cash in tow, Emmett took down another long swig of beer. He decided then that he would finish off the bottle, and after that was done, he would crack open another one and maybe take himself a much-needed cold shower.

~~~~~~~~~

Emmett sat outside on the screened-in porch, smoking his last cigarette. It was almost three in the morning and the house was filled with a dark, lazy quiet. It was unseasonably cold and still. A skiff of grey frost had fallen over his back lawn, and for the first time in months, he'd had to slip on a thick plaid flannel before heading out the door. When he'd carried the garbage cans out to the curb, his warm breath had slipped through the crisp air like a silk ribbon in the wind.

It was a clear night, with a sky full of dainty white stars, the air so clean and sharp it almost stung when he took in a breath. Emmett was surprised to hear that his small, leaf-riddled backyard still had the company of a few straggling crickets. It seemed the last hearty lot of them had braved the chill, and they sang out their high-pitched song, reminiscing about summer, not quite ready to raise the white flag.

He took in a long drag and looked around at his small, quiet haven. He'd built that little screened-in porch himself, almost ten years back, when Coralee and Wesley had been just about Travis's age. He'd told Lucy it was for the family, but really, it'd become his own sanctuary, a place that sheltered him from all the noise and strife. It stood just off their tiny kitchen, and Emmett often sat out there during the summer months, smoking Lucky Strikes and listening to Cora and Lucy gossip while they scrubbed pots and pans after dinner.

Emmett sat in an old wicker chair as he drank down the last few swallows of his third beer. The tip of his lit cigarette glowed like a red firefly in the darkness, and he let out a long sigh.

He didn't want to admit it, but he'd been waiting on her. Though she was nothing but a timid little fawn, he kept thinking she might make her way down those stairs. So far, he hadn't heard a peep, and he wouldn't dare wake her or poke his head into Coralee's bedroom. He had enough sense not to follow his cock's eager lead on that notion, but still, he knew that she was fascinated by him to no end. He'd felt the spark of it earlier when her big dark eyes had touched his.

He thought back on the past month, how he'd been filled to the brim with his own fascination over what had happened between them on that couch. While he'd worked all day replacing brake pads and changing oil, he'd pictured all the ways he would fuck her. He'd imagined laying her down on the bench in his truck, easing the whole, smooth length of his cock inside the sweet, close warmth between her girlish legs. He'd imagined pumping himself inside of her small body, watching the warm, soapy water run gently over her high little breasts as he held her up against the tiled wall in their shower.

He thought on little Ginny at night, as he lay awake, gazing up at the ceiling, his sleeping wife far away in dreams beside him. He thought on her during the day, as he drove his old pickup home from work, nursing a cigarette in the orange glow of late afternoon sun that hit him steady in the eyes.

He was a forty-two-year-old man all done up in knots over an eighteen-year-old girl. It was a shameful kind of predicament, and one he'd never pictured being caught up in.

When he finally stood up and stubbed out his cigarette, he had all intentions of letting the whole mess go, of climbing into his empty bed and falling into a good long sleep.