tagLoving WivesHandyman Hank Ch. 03

Handyman Hank Ch. 03

bythecarolinadreamer©

Authors notes:

#1 Except for the dog Bruno, this story is a work of fiction. Bruno lived a life that would have dovetailed perfectly with this story. I have attempted to create a different LW's tale by adding a story I hope would be interesting without the sex. Just don't opt out too soon; if sex is what you are looking for, sex is what you'll find about halfway into the story.

#2 All comments are welcome, those who love it, and those who hate it, especially if you can point out the problem. Unlike some writers, I never remove a comment. Just as the story is an example of my talent, the comment is an example of the commenter's abilities. They deserve for the world to see them at their best.

#3 Handyman Hank fans should keep an eye on the TABOO and MATURE categories. I seem to remember a young woman from his first story that might have to go in Taboo and I know many widows and divorcees who wouldn't quite qualify as a wife anymore.

#4 Rev. 1 is a correction of several errors pointed out by readers. Thanks.


HANDYMAN HANK Ch03

(Hank protects Bessie from murderous Hubby)

I woke up late that day. The digital clock on my nightstand glared "9:10" in large red numerals. It seemed to say, "Hey! Stupid, you forgot to set the alarm." I rolled out, grabbed up my pants and slipped my legs in them before I even sat up. "Damn!" I muttered under my breath, while I finished dressing. It was the first of April—April fool's Day and I was due to start a workshop on color TV service this afternoon in Charlotte. I'd have to shake my ass if I was going to finish everything I needed to do and make the three hour drive before 2 O'clock.

Fifteen minutes later I had completed the three s's, wolfed down a Little Debbie treat for breakfast, and was on my way to the shop. As I headed down Main Street, I wondered what the heck had happened; the town was crawling with cops of every stripe. Barney Fife, as our town cop was affectionately known, seemed lost among all the "County Mounties" and the SC Highway Patrol, who seemed to have a blue light flashing just about any place they could park a car.

I had to park around back and enter my shop by the back door. Thank God that Hal, my assistant, had a pot of hot coffee waiting. He started to say something, but I shushed him with a wave of the hand. Time enough for talk after I had my first cup of coffee. He never did get to tell me what was on his mind. I was still stirring in the sugar and cream, when Old Joe stumbled into my work area and grabbed my arm.

"Hank, I'se gots to see ya." I had never seen the old fella this upset. "Out here," he was pulling me toward the back door. "In ya truck," he said, "Dis is serious." He kept looking all around, like he expected the devil to jump out at him any minute.

"Ya remember dat fella my Bessie is married ta, doan ya?"

"Bubba Halftree? Damn right I remember him. That's one bad mutha." Bubba was the definitive badass from Jones Corner. Back before I enlisted in the Marines, he'd tried to kill his wife, Joe's second daughter, Bessie, and had succeeded in killing their young daughter. He'd managed to elude capture by disappearing into the Francis Marion Forest for three month, despite a full scale effort by South Carolina's finest. They finally decided he'd left the area and stopped looking.

That's where I got involved. A bunch of us guys, who hunted deer in the Forest, started picking up sign of someone camping in an area where we knew no one was supposed to camping. Just like a bunch of stupid ass seventeen year old boys, when someone said, "Lets us catch that fucker," we were all for it. We just knew we could show the dump cops how it's done, and so we planned our campaign. Damn if we didn't pick up his tracks and me and my buddy Larry were unlucky enough to spot him slipping through the woods late one afternoon.

We got within shotgun range before we yelled. "Hands up!" You should have seen the look on his face. With a curse, he turned tail and took off. Larry raised his gun to shoot him.

"No! He ain't armed." Stupid ass me always believed in giving a guy an even break, just like in the cowboy movies. I'm telling you, I've learned a lot since then, mostly in the jungles of Viet Nam. Anyway I took off after him and was right on his ass within about two hundred yards. He must have heard my footsteps, because he turned to face me and I barreled right into him, knocking him "ass over appetite."

He tried to put up a fight, but living in the woods, without proper nourishment, had taken a lot of his strength, and by the time Larry got there with our guns, I'd beat all the fight out of him. We enjoyed our fifteen minutes of fame, when we dumped him at the town's police station.

The trial was quick, once it finally started. He was found guilty as charged; the sentence—death in the electric chair. In today's world, that means he'd die of old age long before the bleeding hearts ran out of appeals. Still, I don't think I'll ever forget his words.

"I'll get out! They can't keep me in a pen, and when I do, I'm coming after every one of you sum bitches. I'll get you," he shouted, when they led him out after sentencing

He was talking to everybody, but he seemed to be looking directly at me. Shortly thereafter I joined the Marines. After a bunch of training, I found myself in Nam, part of the elite "Recon forces." For those who don't know, back then Recon was the Marine's answer to the Army's Green Beret, but I'm pretty sure we had it first. Anyway, they taught us how to kill a man just about any way you could think of, but my special skills seemed to be with a pistol and a knife.

When I came back, I hoped to never have to use one again, but given the state of our country, one never knows, so at least once a month, a bunch of us gather at an abandoned dirt pit outside of town and try to out lie and out shoot each other. I'm the only one that can throw a knife, so the guys keep begging me to show them how to do it.

"Well," Old Joe continued, "That son a bitch done broke out and he done kill de jury Fo'man, an now he headed dis way. Hank, ya gotta keep my Bessie outa 'is way til dey catch 'im. He done kill ma gran-youngin and now he coming fo ma Bessie." Old Joe was pitiful, the way he was begging, while tears flowed down his cheeks.

"Joe, the law will protect Bessie. They can do a lot better job than I can."

"Dat's shit an ya knows it, Hank. Ain't I done seen ya hit coke bottle stoppers at tirty yard with dat 45 of yourn and ain't I seen you whip dat pig sticker frum behine ya back an bury it in a watter melon frum near bout that fur." He was pulling at my arm as if that would make me decide. "Hell,man, I barley saw yah han move an dere dat knife wuz, just a quivering in dat melon. Hank, der ain't a man on dat force dat won't shit their britches if dat Buddy bas'tad looks at 'im crossways. Doan let 'im get ma little gal."

Joe was crying so hard he was shaking. There was no way I could have said no to him. Especially since I knew Bubba would be heading for me; I was the one who actually out run and out fought him. I was under no illusion. I knew Buddy had been spending his time in prison training for a rematch, and while I wasn't scared, I was damn careful.

"Okay, Joe. Okay, I'll take care of it, but you have to do exactly as I say." Joe would have agreed to anything. He could hardly stop thanking me when I sent him off to collect Bessie. I instructed him to have her bring what she'd need to stay two weeks, along with any non-perishable food he could pack. He was to meet me behind the old civil war era church about six miles out of town. I warned him to tell nobody, including the other girls, where Bessie was going; he was to have her lie down in the front seat, so anyone meeting them would think he was alone.

This couldn't have happened at a better time. I always wanted my own private fishing cabin, a place I could get away for the weekend, and I had just finished remodeling one over in the next county. It was perfect, it sat right on the riverbank where an alligator infested slough emptied into the Edisto River. My realtor had arranged for the improvements to be made to my specifications, the contractor had no idea who owned the place, only the county land office knew that, so we could stay there in relative comfort and to anyone else it should look like we'd stepped of the world.

I pulled all the magnetic signs off my truck and rubbed dirt where they had been, removing any indication they ever existed. Then I stopped at a place on the outskirts of town. I'd never shopped there before and I hoped my dark glasses and baseball cap would keep me anonymous. I had to take the chance because we would need a lot of food and goodies, if they didn't catch that scumbag very quickly.

When I had completed my "to do" list, "Handyman Hank" was on his way to a RCA seminar in Charlotte NC, while I sat behind the old church waiting for Joe and Bessie. While I waited, I tried to remember what Bessie looked like. All Joe's girls were lookers, like their mom, but as I remember, none would have won any beauty contest. Try as I might, I just couldn't bring a picture of Bessie to my mind.

Finally Joe's old truck pulled beside mine, the passenger door opened, and I looked out my window at a very fine set of legs. They were attached to a body that I thought could have used about twenty extra pounds, but I'm sure she would disagree. Her longish angular face was framed by jet black, shoulder length hair, while her large smiling mouth was perfect except for the gap between her middle front teeth. When she opened her mouth to greet me, all I could think of was how my cock would fit perfectly between her lips.

I jumped out to help transfer her things so we could get on our way. Everything was fine until I tried to embrace Bessie in greeting. That's when all hell broke loose; the biggest Rottweiler/ Black Lab mix I'd ever seen acted like he was going to eat me. Apparently, he'd gotten out of the truck on Joes side.

"Doan eber tetch Bessie, less she tell Bruno it be okay."

"Thanks, Joe. Good time to tell me." Joe just grinned. He enjoyed seeing me get the shit scared out of me. I didn't consider the time we lost getting Bruno to accept me—you know the drill—smelling back of hand, rubbing head, finally scratching belly, a waste of time, but an absolute necessity, since Bruno would be riding the between me and Bessie.

My truck was just a bit high, since I'd modified it for hunting the back woods, and I expected to have to help both dog and girl into the cab. I was wrong on one count; the dog leaped on the seat from a standing start just as easily as he would have jumped the small branch that had fallen out of the oak we were parked under. He turned to Bessie and barked as if to say, "Well, what are you waiting on?"

Bessie had a bit more trouble, thank Heavens. I had to give her a boost, and since Old Joe was already pulling on the road, and couldn't see us, I managed to slip my hand between her legs and lift. Of course, my hand slipped all the way to her crouch, and I got my first feel of her camel's toe, enough to tell me she wasn't one of those women who shaved it. Her shorts weren't all that thick when new and they had seen many washings, so I got a good feel of her thatch, enough to know she was really bushy, just like I liked it.

I really expected more of a reaction than the shy little smile she bestowed on me when I helped her settle in her seat and shut her door. I guess I should have been ashamed; I had the little lady at a hell of a disadvantage, what with a crazy husband looking to kill us both. She knew he would kill her; she knew nothing about my problems. I used the long ride to my fishing cabin to enlighten her.

"Wha—what will we do if he finds us?" She could hardly get her words out, she was so terrified.

I tried to reassure her. I explained that it was very unlikely he'd ever find out where we were hiding, since the only people who knew I owned this place, were those in the Orangeburg County Court House.

"But suppose he does find us. He's killed our daughter and tried to kill me. Hank, I'm scared."

"I know, Bessie. I'm here—I won't let him hurt you, I promise."

"Bu..bu..but he'll come armed. What can you do against a man with a gun?"

She was terrified. I tried to console her by patting her on the leg; a low growl stopped that idea. Apparently Bruno considered Bessie's legs his personal property. I decided to break a taboo held sacred since I walked out of Camp Lejune's main gate for the last time; I talked about what we had done in Asia. I had to do something to set her at ease, or I'd be in for a long nervous stay until they caught Bubba.

"Bessie," I began, keeping my eyes glued to the road, but my mind's eye was focused on that night when I surprised two Cong operatives inside our compound. I never did find out what they had in mind but when you're on your way to the head to take a leak and suddenly two gooks are coming at you with knives, you don't think, you act.

"I've actually killed two enemy soldiers who attacked me while I was unarmed. I won't say they didn't put a scratch on me, but they were dead and I was out of the hospital in ten days. "Besides, I wouldn't exactly say we are unarmed just now." Her eyes bugged when I slipped my Smith & Wesson 45 automatic from its nesting place in my special made seat covers. I'd had them made with a neat little pocket just beneath my leg and in easy reach of my right hand.

"Eight rounds, and if that won't do the job, maybe this will." I pulled my knife from its sheath hanging between my shoulders, with a motion very similar to reaching to scratch the back of my neck.

Bessie seemed to loosen up a bit once she saw we weren't helpless. She even started to crack a joke or two. That was right up my alley and I matched her joke for joke, but mine kept getting more risqué. That's when I found out Bessie liked to gossip, even more than her Dad. Before we pulled up to my cabin, she had brought me up to date on who was doing who in Jones Corner.

"How about you, Bessie? Buddy has been away a long time, who keeps your edge knocked off?" I figured she'd brought the subject up, so I'd see just how far she'd take it.

"Huh! You won't believe this, but Mother Theresa has had more sex than I have, since Bubba was locked up."

"You must be joking! A pretty woman like you, and you don't have men hanging around like dogs around a bitch in heat? Why?"

"Bubba. Somehow the word got around that he swore he'd kill any man he heard about messing with me."

"Wow! I'd never heard a word about that." I took another look at Bessie. Was she putting me on? It was hard to believe the men of Jones Corner would let a locked up husband scare them away from pussy like that. I must have made my thoughts obvious; Bessie quickly turned her head and looked steadfastly out her window.

We rode the rest of the way in silence. Once at the cabin, we unpacked the truck and with our supplies properly stored, our beds made and everything shipshape, we still had a hour or two before sunset.

"Ready for the grand tour?" I reached for Bessie's hand; she seemed just a little hesitant at first, then smiled and stepped closer to me.

"Why not? We can pretend we're Adam and Eve, since it looks to me like we're the only people for miles around."

"You got that right. It's a good mile out to the main road and from there it's at least six miles to the nearest house."

With Bruno leading the way, we began our walk in the woods. It was almost like a woodland paradise and one could easily imagine Adam and Eve enjoying this very same scene at the close of their day. Sparrows fluttered about, while deeper in the woods a songbird, I didn't recognize which one, added its voice to the woodland choir, and high above our heads, a Blue Jay scolded a squirrel, which apparently had gotten to close to its nest.

The beauty of our surroundings was affecting me and certainly wasn't lost on Bessie. She pressed closer and with her arm around my waist and mine pulling her ever closer, we continued our tour. Bruno must have decided I was okay, for he ignored me and chased after the birds as they hopped from bush to bush.

Bessie didn't pull away when I let my hand slip down on her butt, instead she turned to face me. "Are you sure?" her voice was low, almost hesitant.

"I'm sure." I lowered my mouth to hers and her arms slipped around my neck, clinging like she was afraid I would get away. My tongue flicked across her lips and they parted, welcoming me inside. I continued to probe her mouth while she willingly responded. My cock felt like it was about to burst, pressing against her belly and I could feel her hard little nipples against my chest.

I knew, or at least thought I knew, I could have taken her then and there, right on the leaf strewn ground; but I had bigger game in mind. Every woman wants to be wooed, to be treated like a lady, like their first time with a man is their first time. A man, much wiser than me, had given me this advice and I had found it to be true so far, so I backed off, and we continued our woodland walk, only now she was pressing much closer against me.

I had been guiding us in a big circle, so we ended up back at the cabin as the setting sun was just dropping below the tree tops. It was a picture postcard scene. My cabin was built on a high bluff, bordered on the west by the Edisto River, on the North by an alligator infested slough and otherwise surrounded by woods. Now at the end of our first day of trying to keep away from her husband, until the cops could corral him, we shared a bench on the cabin's porch, We looked out upon a golden sunset, quietly absorbed in God's beautiful gift. Even Bruno seemed to be affected, as he lay, head on paws, staring to the west.

"Grooonk!" The god awful call of a bull alligator jerked us out of our reverie, and scared the crap out of Bessie. Her reaction brought Bruno instantly to his feet, and he crouched, growling, ready to spring at he didn't know what, but he would die before whatever that was would get to Bessie. I had to suppress a laugh, while I explained it was just our reptile neighbors from the slough, reminding us they were still around.

After a meal of frozen pizza, Bessie noticed my chess set and challenged me to a game. While she cleared the table, I found some country music on the radio and readied the board. I know you'll think I'm crazy, but my first evening alone with this sexy woman was spent getting my ass kicked in three games of chess. I just thought I was good—this girl was something else. If she could fuck like she played chess, I was in for a treat once I finally got in her pants. Until then, I was content to let her set the pace.

After her third victory, she kissed me goodnight, a sisterly kind of kiss—I wonder what happened to the passion from earlier—and retreated to her bedroom. I made sure everything was locked and with the assurance Bruno would sleep with one eye and both ears open, I crawled into my bed, dressed in my birthday suit as usual. Of course my pistol and knife was within easy reach, just in case Bruno heard something he didn't like.

I don't know which woke me up, the howling thunder storm, or Bessie slipping in bed beside me.

"I'm scared of thunder and lightning. Can I stay with you till it's over?" Here was a grown woman, trembling like a child at the sound of a nearby peal of thunder. I guess it just proved the old saying about fear not having to be rational. Some people were scared of mice, others scared of cockroaches; Bessie was scared of thunder and it was working out great for me. I lifted the cover and moved over to give her room. A flash of lightning illuminated her scantily clad body, wearing two piece shorty pajamas, crawling into my bed.

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