tagIncest/TabooMandy and Me Ch. 08

Mandy and Me Ch. 08

bySSW_1050©

Writer's Note: If you are new to this story, I suggest you begin at Chapter 1, since each chapter builds on the previous. This chapter starts immediately at the end of Chapter 7 and covers 4 days of elapsed time. I continue to owe so much to you loyal readers, since your comments are what keep me working on this story. My friend, Ciguardian, gets a special thanks for his off-site comments and suggestions. Enjoy, and please vote.

Legal – All persons engaging in sexual activity are 18 or older.

Standard Advisory – This is NOT a one-page stroke story. If that's what you want, look elsewhere.

Standard Caution – There is tobacco use (smoking) in this story. The setting is 1966, and I am writing to reflect those times. If this bothers you, go elsewhere.


***

Chapter 8 – A Marriage Ends

3 Dec

As the morning dawned, I awoke, which was a good sign. Mandy's and my round of making love, the night before, had wound up being a marathon session in which we each pulled out all the stops in our efforts to please the other.

I yawned and stretched as much as I could, since there was a naked woman draped partially across my body. Taking that first deep breath told me we definitely needed to air the room and change the sheets before our company arrived. I could tell we also needed a shower. I had tried to give as good as I got, a few hours earlier, and – when my lovely bedmate awoke – I would know how well I did.

Reaching down between two delectable thighs, I started rubbing a clit. I didn't have to rub it for very long before a gentle hand reached down to push my fingers away.

"Don't; I'm kinda sore, this morning," the words came from her, slightly slurred due to her half-asleep state, at the moment.

I waited until her hand retreated, and then ventured to rub her again.

"Quit it! I'm too sensitive!"

"Sugar, we need to get up, change the bed, wash the sheets, and air out the room, this morning," I said. "Let's get up and get busy."

"Why do we have to do it now?" my beautiful brunette asked, sleepily. "I'm still so tired."

"Come on, Baby," I said, lightly swatting her well-rounded ass. "We've got company comin', an' we need to get movin'."

Trying desperately to hide my own tiredness, I got out of bed and headed for the bathroom. My sleepyhead bride stumbled in, a few moments later.

The shower did wonders for both of us, and we were in much better spirits by the time we were dressed and turned to stripping the soiled sheets and remaking the bed. Mandy tossed them into a laundry basket and headed directly to the laundry area to get them started in the washing machine.

Fortunately, we were having an unseasonably warm spell for late fall (the first day of winter was still about two weeks away) and the overnight temperature had only dropped to the upper fifties, so I opened the bedroom windows and the door that led from our room directly onto the porch, to try and vent the stale sex smell from the room. My sense of propriety kept me from wanting our visitors to experience Mandy's and my bedroom smelling like Saturday night at Tillie's.

I knew both Larry and Karen had seen our bedroom (on the day our furniture had been delivered), but his parents hadn't, and I was sure someone, either Mandy or Mom, would take our guests on the nickel tour of the house after they arrived. Since Larry was working for me, and Karen was here, each day, as a companion for Grandma, the last thing I wanted was to leave an impression we might not want his parents to have.

Since Mandy's and my marriage, Larry and I each kidded the other about being 'pussy whipped', during our workdays, when we were out on installations. Both of us had always shared jokes, and following the natural progression, we'd started sharing veiled references to our nights with our brides. I was sure Karen and Mandy shared things as well, since they had been friends, prior to our marriage, but I wasn't as sure about how open his and Karen's relationship was with his parents, Lawrence and Connie, since it had never come up in our conversation.

Once my preparations were complete, I headed for the kitchen, in search of my first caffeine fix of the day.

Despite the fact she seemed to be heading off to bed earlier at night, in recent days, Grandma was still an early riser. She was already up, had the coffee made, and was sitting at the table, sipping from a steaming mug by the time I got to the kitchen. She gave me a knowing smile, and giggled, as she watched me stumble through the doorway, still yawning and stretching and rubbing the sleep out of my eyes. I walked across the kitchen, stopping next to her on my way to the coffee pot, and bent to give her a quick hug and kiss.

"Mornin', Grandma," I managed to chuckle. "And, if you think I look funny, wait 'til you see the other one!"

Grandma laughed at that, and was still chuckling quietly when Mandy meandered into the kitchen, a couple minutes later.

"Look at what the cat dragged in!" she said, laughing louder. "You look a little rough around the edges, this morning, granddaughter."

"Good morning to you, too, Grandma," Mandy replied, stifling another yawn. "I hope there's enough coffee left, for me."

"Better be enough for both of us, girl," Mom echoed the sentiment, arriving right on Mandy's heels.

"Feels like there's plenty enough, to go around," I offered, hefting the pot. "Y'all be patient, and it'll be right up."

I'd just finished pouring my own cup as Mandy showed up, with Mom right behind her, so I grabbed two more mugs out of the cabinet, poured their cups, and then spent a moment adding the right amounts of sugar and cream for the ladies, since I always took mine black. I served the ladies, first, and then grabbed my mug and took a seat at the table next to my wife.

Grandma looked across the table at us, studying each of us with a jaundiced eye.

"I was wonderin' if there was gonna be any survivors, this mornin', after what I heard, last night," she commented dryly. "Sounded almost like someone was stranglin' a cat, there, a couple o' times. What time did the two of you finally get to sleep? Y'all look like it was only about fifteen minutes ago!"

Mom chuckled, almost snorting a mouthful of coffee out through her nose, at Grandma's dig, and Mandy looked around the table with bleary eyes.

"I don't think I'll ever try doin' that, again," she groaned. "I feel like I was drug through a knot hole, backwards!"

"Sugar, I think we wore each other out, last night," I said, leaning over to give her a kiss, " 'cause my butt's draggin', too."

Mom and Grandma both burst out in peals of laughter, at my comment, and then Grandma turned and looked at Mom.

"Looks like you're in as bad a shape as them two are, Patsy," she tossed a barb, "so you got no room t' be laughin'! Did you go 'n' join 'em, last night, or what?"

"No, Mama," Mom sighed wearily. "You know the three of us agreed there wasn't gonna be any sharin' goin on. Apparently, though, you're forgettin' I have the bedroom next to theirs, and them walls ain't very thick. Their moanin' and groanin' an' carryin' on kept me awake 'til about three in the mornin', when they mercifully agreed to call it quits for the night!"

"You're a builder, Mike," Grandma mused. "Ain't they got stuff you can put in the walls, for soundproofin'?"

"Probably," I shrugged. "It's not somethin' I've worked with, but maybe I can ask Raymond about it. Trouble is, if I ask, he'll figger out WHY I'm askin', an' I'll never hear the end of it!"

"Got nobody to blame, for that, 'cept you an' that wife o' yours, boy!" Grandma chuckled.

"Gee, thanks, Grandma," I groaned.

"Relax, boy," she laughed. "I can't speak for your mama, but I'm just pokin' fun 'cause I ain't getting' any, any more, an' I'm jealous."

Mercifully, Grandma decided to call a halt to her teasing, and the chatter turned to other topics. By the time Mandy and I had our first cup of coffee down, we were finally beginning to perk up and show signs of life. Mid-way through out second cup, Mandy managed to get up from the table and help Mom fix breakfast. Both she and I piled our plates high with the scrambled eggs, bacon, and biscuits. We'd burned off a lot of energy in our bedroom romp, and needed to refuel.

After breakfast, I stepped out onto the back porch to check the day. I was actually kind of comfortable, even in shirt-sleeves, and the clear blue morning sky – there wasn't a cloud, anywhere, I could see – suggested we'd have really good weather, all things considered, for the first weekend in December. Still, it'd start to cool off, soon enough. I glanced over at the woodshed, and saw I'd have to start cutting firewood soon.

"You always cut your firewood the winter 'fore you'll need to burn it," Granddad had taught me, years ago. "That gives it time to season, so it'll burn well without cloggin' up the chimney. Always remember that heatin' with wood is a real bargain, 'cause you'll get hot three times – once when you're cuttin' it, again when you're splittin' it, and a third time, when you burn it."

I was still standing there, hands in my pockets, just thinking, when Mandy came out onto the porch. She lit a cigarette, handed it to me, and lit another for herself, then came and stood next to me and I draped an arm over her shoulders.

"Whatcha doin'?" she asked me.

"Just thinkin'," I said, "just thinkin'."

"Whatcha thinkin' about? Anything special?" she asked.

"Thinkin' about havin' to start cuttin' firewood," I said. "It's 'bout time to start cuttin' again."

"How much wood's there, already?" she asked, surveying the woodshed.

"About four cords, I reckon," I told her. "I'll need to cut about that much more for next year."

Thinking about cutting the firewood – and where I'd likely have to go, on our land, to get some – brought another issue to my mind.

"Babe, do you think we can afford to buy a new truck?" I asked her.

"What do you need a new truck for?"

"Well, I'd like to have a four wheel drive, for gettin' around on the farm. Also, there's been a couple o' times, on construction sites, I've almost got stuck, when it'd be muddy. I'm not wantin' nothin' fancy, mind you; I need a work truck. Besides, if the business takes off, I'm gonna need another truck anyway, because we'll be runnin' two installation crews, sometimes. After all, we have your car if we need a nicer ride."

"How much would one cost?" she asked.

"I'm not sure, exactly, but I'd like another crew cab, like the one I've got now. I need to go to town this mornin', to get the mail, and think I'll stop by the Ford dealer to see what they've got."

"Were you thinkin' about buyin' it for the business, or for personal use?" she asked.

"It makes a difference?" I asked her in return.

"Buyin' for the business, we can write most of the cost off, come tax time," she explained. "Part of the write-off comes when you buy it, and the rest comes through depreciation – loss in value due to age – each year after the purchase."

"What if I buy it for personal use?"

"Well, then you'd have to record all the miles you drive it, for purposes of your job, and there's a value per mile that we can deduct, on our personal income taxes, but no write-off for the business, unless the business pays you for your mileage. The other difference is, buyin' it for the business, there's some limits on how you use it, to stay legal as far as the tax folks are concerned."

"What do you mean, 'limits'," I asked.

"Well, let's take that trailer that we bought for the business, as an example," she suggested, slipping out from under my arm and leaning her butt against the porch rail so she could face me. "You bought it so that you'd be able to carry your cabinets from the shop, where they're made, to the job site, where they're installed. Now, pretend you'd already bought the trailer, back before you and Mama Patsy moved out here to the farm. You'd likely be able to get away with usin' that trailer once, to pack up all your belongings from the house in town, and move 'em out here, and that'd be okay. But you can't make a habit of usin' the trailer for things other than its original intended purpose. If the tax folks, up in Washington, ever found out, they could give us a pretty hefty fine, come tax time."

"I see," I mused, rubbing my chin. "I guess, for the way I'll be usin' it, we oughta buy it as a personal expense, and just take the mileage write-off."

"Then I'll have to remember to get you a little spiral notebook, to keep in the truck, so you can log your mileage before you leave for a job site, and when you get back to the shop," she told me. "You just have to be real regular, about keepin' track of those miles. We can maybe get away with estimatin', once or twice, but they can ask to see a mileage log as proof."

"Don't worry about that," I told her. "I'll keep the log up to date."

We finished our smokes, and headed back into the house to get ready for our drive into town.

"Is there anything you two ladies need, while we're in town gettin' the mail?" I asked Mom and Grandma, who were already busy getting things ready for having Larry's family over for lunch.

"No, Baby," Mom shook her head. "Will you be long, in town? You do need to remember, we've got company comin'."

"I shouldn't be too long," I shrugged. "I'm just goin' to pick up the mail, and stop over at the Ford dealer and take a look at their trucks."

"Oh – are you lookin' at buyin' one?" Mom asked.

"Maybe," I nodded. "Kinda depends on what they have, and what kind of deal they can make me, on a price and financin'."

"All right, then," Mom said. "I guess we'll see you when you get back."

"Don't worry," I told her. "I'll be back before company gets here."

I turned and headed for the door, and saw Mandy standing there, stuffing my checkbook into her purse.

"I'm comin' with you, Honey," she smiled.

"Fine with me, Babe," I grinned. "Gives me a chance to show off my lovely new bride!"

"Flattery will get you everywhere, Honey," she giggled, blushing.

We stepped out onto the porch, and headed for the area we'd set aside for parking our vehicles. It was beginning to look like a miniature parking lot, with my old truck, Mom's car, Grandma's car, and Mandy's, all sitting there, side by side.

"Let's take my car," Mandy suggested. "We're not lookin' at tradin' your old truck in, so there's no need for the dealer to look at it. Besides, that truck really could use a good bath!"

"Well, you can always give it one, anytime you want," I chuckled, which earned a glare in return. "Like my Granddad always used to say, if you see somethin' needs doin', have at it. Since we're goin' in your car are you drivin'?"

"Yeah; why?'

"I gotta know what door to open, for you."

I got to the driver's door of her car a second or so ahead of her, and had it open so she could slip inside, and she made sure her skirt lifted enough to flash her panties at me, as she slid behind the steering wheel.

"Don't get me started, Sugar," I cautioned her. "We ain't got time for that 'til nightfall!"

"I'm just keepin' you interested, mister!" she laughed.

"Well, at least you do have panties on today," I remarked.

"You want me to take 'em off?" she asked.

"I guess you'd better keep 'em on, least for a while. There's no need o' you givin' somebody besides me a thrill, now is there?"

"I guess not, when you put it that way," she giggled.

I closed the door and walked around to the passenger side, and got in. As I got myself comfortable, she started the engine. Then, before anything else, she reached into her purse for her sunglasses, cigarettes, and lipstick. She checked her face in the rear-view mirror, made a quick adjustment to her lipstick, and then lit a cigarette and put the car into gear. I chuckled.

"What's so funny?" she asked. "I only checked my lipstick because you'll be showin' me off – or so you promised – an' I wanna look pretty, for you."

"It wasn't that, Baby," I told her. "I was just chucklin' because this car can't seem to get outta parkin' gear lest there's a lit cigarette twixt your fingers."

She paused, thinking for a moment, then smiled over at me.

"I guess you're right, about that," she laughed. "Well, it's easier to light one before puttin' the car into gear, than while I'm drivin', so why not do it then?"

We set off up the lane, her driving while I fished for a good station on the radio. We'd been on the road a few minutes, when she cast a quick glance over at me.

"We oughta ask about payin' cash, for the truck, while we're there, Honey,"

she suggested. "With what you just deposited, from your share of the sale of your old house, there oughta be enough money to cover it, with plenty left over. Business debt is a lot better than personal debt."

"You know lots more, about that kind of thing, than I do," I told her after thinking about her idea for a minute. "But I was thinkin' about puttin' about half down, and then financin' the rest for two years. I think we should hold on to most o' that money, leastwise 'til I have a better idea of what it'll cost to do that add-on to the house.

"Another thing – I haven't borrowed money before, other'n when I bought that trailer, and in talks with Mom, a year or so back, I realize I don't have a credit ratin', so will likely pay a higher interest. She told me that makin' a larger down payment on somethin', might help reduce the interest rate."

"The bigger down payment is workable idea, too," she agreed. "You'd get it paid off sooner than with a standard three-year car loan, so you'd pay a lot less in finance charges. Your mama's right about the interest rates, so with a smaller loan balance, we're reducin' some of it. Another thing, Honey, the interest that we do pay, on the loan, works as a deduction on our personal taxes. We can see what sort of options they offer, and then maybe take a few minutes and play with the money-math while we're at the dealer.

"When I suggested payin' cash, I wasn't thinkin' about a credit ratin', and you're right. It's somethin' we'll need in the future, and the sooner we start buildin' one, the better off we'll be."

We stopped at the post office, first, and then drove to the Ford dealer, where we wandered around the sales lot, browsing, until I came across almost exactly what I was looking for. It was a new 1967 model ¾ ton crew cab truck, with four-wheel drive. I wanted more of a base model, but the one they had was equipped with the Ranger trim package.

One of the salesmen walked out and greeted us, asking the usual questions.

"You folks lookin' to buy, or trade?" he asked us.

"We'll be buyin' outright," I told him.

He gave us a brief description of the truck, highlighting the major features, and then we got in and took it for a short test drive. I was satisfied with the way it handled, and so was Mandy, when she took her turn behind the wheel for our return trip to the dealer.

He led us into his office, poured us each a cup of coffee and made sure we were comfortable, and then we started talking price and other things. The salesman ran the numbers on his adding machine, and gave us the total price, and that's where my 'negotiator' took over and got really serious.

"How soon might you expect delivery on an identical truck, the same color, but without that Ranger trim package?" she asked him, turning to glance at me. "After all, this is gonna be a work truck, so we really don't need that trim pack, especially if it adds an additional cost, do we, Honey?"

Personally, I thought that trim package added a nice touch to the truck, but I had a suspicion that Mandy was working at bargaining with the salesman, so I held my peace.

"Let me go have a quick chat with my sales manager, and see what kind of a deal we can work out," he suggested, and left the little room.

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