Georgia's: Boiled Peanuts

"How was today?" I asked when she came in the door.

She began mumbling under her breath, and besides a lot of swearing, I got, ".... madder than a wet hen...." More cursing. "...Little dick's have big trucks..." Lots of cursing. "....who does that varmint think he is..." Even more cursing.

"Georgia had a bad day, I think," I said. Her head swung around like a scene from The Exorcist and she stared at me. "Honey...?"

She stalked out to the kitchen and began unloading the bag of fresh veggies for dinner. I chose the better part of valor and went back into the room to finish going through the pile of books... And hid.

After a while, all kinds of delectable curry spice smells drifted in from the kitchen and I had to go see what was on the menu. Georgia used her own vegetables and fresh meat from the local butcher.

"Yum, smells good," I said, treading lightly.

She smiled, looking only slightly annoyed instead of rabid as before.

"Do you want to sleep downstairs tonight," she said out of the blue.

Taking my time to answer in case this was some kind of a test, I said, "I don't know. What do you want to do?"

"Whatever you want to do."

Well crap, this was not going well. "I guess we could?" I put it in form of a question so as not to commit myself.

"Y'all men just think you can say whatever the hell you want to say," she gritted out, making me go over the last thing I said to her, which seemed pretty innocuous. So I just kept my mouth shut because I knew the other boot was going to drop at any moment.

She was doing a stir fry and chopping vegetables at a record pace. I gently took the sharp knife out of her hands and finished chopping.

"Those little dicks that drive those big ol' pickups," she grumbled. "All the girls round these parts know that the bigger the pickup the bigger the ego."

She was no shrinking flower and I knew she could be a badass and could kick some serious ass if necessary. I didn't need to fear for her life. She would whoop and live to tell about it.

"What did he say?"

"He asked me out!" I blinked. "He just pulled in out of nowhere, got all up with that snarky leer y'all macho whatevers get. Said he'd like to take me for a ride like it was a big deal to me." She scowled.

"On a date?" Thinking there had to be more to it than that.

"YES."

"And you said?"

She turned around and frowned at me and I swear on my mother's grave fire shot out of her eyes.

"NO." And she started slamming things around again.

I got dinner plates out and set the table and pretty much tried to stay out her way. I was in the dark and didn't know if I would be seeing the light any time soon. On one hand, I was relieved she turned him down, on the other, she needs to live her own life but it would have killed me to see her with anyone. At least while I was still here. Once I was back in Charlotte, I could live in my own fantasy world that she never was with anyone else and I could live happily ever after with that.

She slammed a couple of beers on the table we began to eat.

"What did you want me to say to him?" she asked.

"Ummm, whatever you want, Georgia, it's your life. I have no say."

She nodded and I watched her eyes rim and she blinked tears back, then take a long pull of beer. The rest of the dinner conversation centered around the crops, what was coming up for picking, and that she wanted to add some new things to the roadside stand. I was impressed with how she handled the stand as a real business and was very successful at it.

"You know Birdie has those hives out back. I have someone caring for them now, but you might consider taking them over and adding local honey to the stand."

She looked at me and said, "What happens when you sell the property and go back to Charlotte? Where am I supposed to put the hives?"

She had a point. I couldn't stay here forever and did plan to sell the place.

"I guess I don't really know what your living situation is. We never talked about it. I mean I know you stayed with Aunt Birdie sometimes, but I don't know where you actually live."

She got up and began clearing the plates and running water in the sink, effectively ending the conversation. She was always uncomfortable talking about her life so I assumed it wasn't good and I did not push.

She washed and I dried and we were soon done. "Did I see a television in Birdie's room?"

"Yup, she has cable here."

"Really? I've been television-less and didn't need to be." She laughed.

"I thought you knew. It's only down here, not up there," she said, looking up. "I wouldn't want a television up there."

"Me either." The attic was a special place. It was magical for Georgia because of the trunks of memories, it was special to me because that is where she sleeps in my arms.

She went into the room and turned on the television. It was an older newer style so the picture was pretty damn good. Certainly better than I had in the motel. She piled and plumped pillows and stretched out. I grabbed a couple more beers and lay down next to her. She rolled on her side, head my shoulder and leg across mine. Her hand was on my chest and slipped under my shirt while she toyed with the curls. We found a good movie that we were making out to before it even ended.

"Are we staying here, or going up?"

"Up," she said and sprinted up the steps.

I made sure lights were off and everything was shut down before going up.

She sat with her legs folded under her in a sheer kitten baby-doll nightie like a centerfold from the sixties. The sheer white clung to her nipple before dropping in soft folds to her thighs. White satin ribbon tied at her shoulders. Her hair was up in a vintage French twist.

"Oh, baby." I dropped pieces of clothing as I walked to the bed. She rose up on her knees and I saw the matching sheer panties, that gave a peek of her red bush.

She kissed me and I held her, the silky fabric sliding her over her skin. I ran my hands over her firm ass, encased in the slippery silk panties. She kissed down my chest until her lips grazed the tip of my cock. Her cherry red lips wrapped around the head of my cock. Traces of red lipstick smeared my cock and she sucked the head, grazing her teeth over the sensitive surface then scrubbing it with her tongue. She already had me a trembling mess.

Two fingers wrapped around the base of my cock while she sucked a ball into her hot wet mouth and toyed with it with her tongue. My legs were jelly as she kneaded and squeezed my ass while pulling my cock into her throat. My hips spontaneously rocked into her sucking mouth. She took me right to the edge, but before I flew, she stopped and pushed me on my my back.

She wiggled out of the sheer panties but kept the short babydoll on. She loved wearing it and was all but nude since it was transparent so it was win win.

She straddled me and held my cock. While she watched me she slowly slid down my cock until we were locked tight. She ground down to make sure.

She used her knees to stroke her tight cunt up and down the length of my cock. Her back was arched and tits thrust out. I could see the silky gown sliding over her hard nipples and I slid my hands under her babydoll and cupped her tits.

She got this body rocking undulation going that gripped my cock in long strokes. I toyed with her nipples and her lips parted and the tempo increased. I thrust meeting her movements but she was in total control. I saw her jerk at the same time her cunt clenched hard on my shaft and pulled as she began rocking faster, intent on draining the seed from my balls.

I palmed her nipples and she tightened her inner muscles and kept milking my shaft with those long strokes. My balls tightened and I was over the edge. She stopped and ground down taking my cock deep as it erupted in her.

After awhile she took the babydoll off and snuggled next to my side. I fell asleep thinking it was the most beautiful sex I had ever had.

"I think you're a closet nudist," I said the next morning when she came to breakfast totally naked. "Either that or you forgot where you put your clothes."

"Oh you think so do you," she said, wrapping her arms around my neck and pressing her body into my semi-clothed one. I smoothed my hands up and down her back and over her ass while she pressed into my bulge. "Feels pretty good to you, hmm." She wiggled her ass and ground into me.

I moaned. "I give, go ahead and run around naked all day so I stay hard all day and get nothing done then I'll never get out of here." I laughed but her face fell and I realized what I said.

She pushed away and said, "I need to go get picking." She turned and ran up the stairs.

This was the first she indicated my leaving bothered her. I thought she looked on us a thing and did not allow myself to think much past the current moments. Would someone her age be happy with an older guy, I wondered. She will end up taking care of me as she would a father or grandfather. I don't think she has thought it through.

I pulled boxes of books out of a closet and stacked them in the middle of the room. The last box out was back in the corner and had much more dust on it than the others. The tag had my Uncle's name on it, Aunt Birdie's husband that died before I could remember.

I took a rag and wiped the box off. It had been sealed, but the clear cellophane tape had yellowed and curled, the glue having long since let go. I spread the flaps and picked up a stack of old photographs and postcards. They were all images of erotica. These from the early nineteen hundreds would be my guess. One would be titillatingly suggestive, the next would be stunningly pornographic.

Anyone thinking pornography of the early days would be tame, would be shocked to see these images, I thought. I would hazard to guess that many of these women were prostitutes in France because brothels were legal at that time. I sorted through the mostly postcard size images into piles. Many were not surprisingly girl-girl, several were both males, some of it was fetish, most of the women would be overweight by today's standards, men had bellies, and in all the pornographic images they looked like they were enjoying themselves, smiling even. Not the fake tits and bored smiles of today.

They were sepia to black and white. Up through the nineteen fifties, by clothing of the era. There was thick untrimmed pubic hair, heavy hanging breasts and, innocent pinups to lewdly spread bawdy women. The later images of women were most titillating I thought. The women carried ten, twenty, or more pounds. Many had pretty good size breasts, especially considering they were all-natural. Faces were not all beautiful, nipples were huge which made me wonder if they began airbrushing nipples smaller after the centerfold days.

The box was packed with hundreds of images like that. The bottom of the box had books and smaller leather-bound novels, all erotica and pornographic.

Georgia would love these because many had vintage clothing and lingerie.

I was filthy from digging through the closet and ran up to shower. When I came back Georgia was on her stomach, studying each image and spreading them on the floor. I squatted down next to her.

"I thought you might like those," I said, smiling.

"Oh yesss," she said looking up at me wide-eyed. "Am I supposed to be this turned on by them?"

"Sure, why not honey, I was with some of them too," I admitted. "That was really the point of it back then... And now I suppose."

She was still dressed from working the stand in shorts and a cropped t-shirt. I slipped my hand under her shirt and unhooked her bra. Her tits tumbled out and she moaned.

"Oh, that feels so good." I pushed her shirt and bra up and off. "This feels better." She rolled to her side and propped her head on her hand. "And why are you still dressed?"

"What? I only have shorts on! I'm almost naked." She laughed at me.

"I'm going to make a nudist of you yet! Not much longer and y'all will come home and strip at the door," she said smirking.

I caught the ya'll-will-come-home part and liked the sound of it.

Chapter Three

I shoved the box of my Uncle's vintage erotica and pornography back in the closet. I would have to find an appropriate dealer to take all that, so I needed research time.

I was sitting in the middle of the floor surrounded by stacks of books when Georgia got home from her stand. The door closed behind her and she had her top and bra off before she took another step. I leaned back on my hands and thought about what a lucky fucker I was.

"Bradley Brad Bradley, I want to ask you something." She climbed over the books and plunked down in front of me, cross-legged, and handed me a bag. I was still smiling like a goof from thinking what a lucky fucker I was and she hesitated.

"What, honey?"

"Okay, so well you know how busy my stand gets?" I nodded. "I am running out of things earlier and earlier, because I don't have enough to sell and I thought to add some new stuff." I was having a difficult time hearing her and trying to keep my eyes off her bare breasts, much less my hands. "And I thought now without Birdie's jams and stuff I was really in trouble."

"You need more stock and you want to keep it to homemade products that will go along with your fresh produce. That's a great idea, Georgia. Not only will it benefit you obviously, but you will help the local folks." She nodded vigorously seemingly glad I got it.

"Yes! But the only problem is, I don't have anywhere to meet with the vendors and taste their products. If they see any activity at the stand, customers pull in to buy, so I can't do it after hours." She glanced down. "Don't you want to see what I brought you?"

"Oh right!" I opened the bag and knew when the earthy steam puffed out. "Boiled peanuts!" She grinned.

"So have them come here to meet with you. That's no problem. We can straighten up the front room and set things up however you want them."

"Yay!" she cried, jumping up on her knees and throwing her arms around my neck. I fell back with her on top. "Mmmm," she said, rubbing her tits on my chest.

"Oh honey, now look what you've gone and done," I said, pushing my hardness against her. I heard a couple of my nicely stacked books slide away as my clothes disappeared.

She left me gasping, empty and sprawled among the books. Life is pretty fucking good, I thought.

I got Georgia's room ready. I had found another desk and drug it in her room as a surprise. I wanted to make sure she had enough seating and called her into the room.

"Did you do all this for me?" she asked, shocked. "It looks like an office!"

"Of course I did."

She wrapped her arms around my neck and sprinkled kisses all over my face. "Thank you thank you thank you!"

I hugged her, happy at how happy that made her.

Her room was near the front door so she was able to escort them in there right from the front door. Very businesslike. I heard the low hum of their excitement even from the other room.

She peered around the corner of the door, "Brad Bradley Brad can you come in and help me taste test? I need another opinion."

"Sure," I said following her.

After quick introductions, I went to the tasting table. It was loaded with all sorts of jams, jellies relishes, pickles and any other kind of home-canned good you could think of. Georgia handed me a glass of water, to cleanse my palette she said grinning.

I began mentally keeping track of the best ones, but that quickly failed because so many were excellent enough to be on commercial store shelves.

"Can they leave them?" I whispered to Georgia and she nodded. She told them it would take some time to decide and she did not want to rush and wanted to be fair. They were all very agreeable and some brought in more jars. We filled a shelf up of the small refrigerator with the rows of jelly jars.

"She-it, this is going to be tougher than I thought," Georgia said. "There, I believe I can add some extra shelves doing it this way," she said, pushing her sketch of the stand across the table.

"Sure, sure, I said, thinking that was not going to be near enough space for the number of products she would need. I had to put some thought into it before I approached her with any ideas.

That night she was not feeling well and just wanted to cuddle and I was more than happy to do just that with her. Anytime.

"Georgia honey, I never asked, but do you own the property the stand is on?"

"She-it, no. I couldn't afford that. Gilbert lets me use it because some of the vegetables I sell are his."

"Oh, okay. Nice deal then." I was thinking that possibly rebuilding the whole stand would be better than trying to use what's there. She had her head on my shoulder and my arms were around her holding her against me. "You never did tell me where you lived. I mean before you started staying with me."

"No. I don't tell anyone."

"Okay. But I don't even know anything about you, you know. About your parents." I could feel her tense. "Sisters or brothers. Nothing. Do I at least get a hint?"

"Not brother or sister and no mother. Mama died a ways back."

"Sorry honey... So your Dad is still around then." She nodded.

"Yes, he's still in these parts. He's a drunk."

I kissed the top of her head. "I"m sorry honey, that's tough to live with. I know."

She let out a big sigh and snuggled even closer. I knew that there was more to it and it wasn't going to be good.

"That's why I don't like to go home."

The next morning after she left to pick, I made a few phone calls. By noon everything was arranged and I couldn't wait to tell Georgia. I began to draw some preliminary sketches of her new stand. Actually, it would be more of a building. She would have room for a lot of new products as well as her daily produce. It was arranged that she could grow into it as her business enlarged.

By the time she got back, I had several variations spread on the table.

She placed a bag of dinner's produce on the counter and tossed me a bag. I caught it but promptly tossed it back into the air. "Ow! Hot, boiled peanuts today!" I said, tossing the bag from hand to hand to cool them down.

"What's this?" she asked, moving the drawings around on the table.

"Your new stand!"

"You're nuttier than a Junebug in July! That won't fit there!"

"You're right. It's not meant for there. It's meant for the end of the road right out front," I said, smiling and proud of myself.

"What? So you're staying here?" she said, her face lighting up.

"Not exactly. I'm giving you a piece of property for your stand with enough room behind to build a cabin if you want."

She shuffled through the drawings and tapped her fingers on the table. She was quiet for a few moments. I could tell she was trying to compose her thoughts. This was not going the way I envisioned.

"I mean you don't have to build it like one of these. I just sketched these as ideas. Do whatever you want, Georgia."

"No no, these are fine. Dandy.. I'll be making enough money that I can repay you."

"I don't want you to do that. It's a gift, I want you to have it. Think of it as being a gift from Birdie too. You've been so successful with your stand, this little store is just the next step." She hadn't met my eyes since I told her and I was getting worried.

"Yes, I like these," she said turning away. "I need to get started chopping the vegetables for dinner."

I gathered up the drawings and took them into the other room, but not before I heard her crying. I didn't know what I did so I didn't know how to make it better. I just wanted to allow her to continue her success but on a bigger level.

I lost myself in books because I honestly did not know what to do. I was bleary-eyed and had to go to bed, but as I walked by Aunt Birdie's room, I saw Georgia had fallen asleep in there while watching television. She had normal nightclothes on, obviously intending to spend the night there. By herself. With a heavy tread, I went up to the attic to sleep alone.