Melancholy Jeannie

"How'd you lose your virginity," asked Simone. Simone was painting the purple tint into Jeannie's hair with a brush. She paid really careful attention to the strands being straightened by the brush.

"Well, I was in the field working," started Jeannie innocently. "Little Timmy, the son of Big Timmy was helping out with the harvest. All day, he was eyeing me. I could tell that when he bent down to shovel, he glanced at me. And his aim seemed to be, whenever I bent forward with my shovel. My daddy was really busy running all the hands. So, when we had our break, nobody realized us hiding in a patch of hip high wheat. Little Timmy asked me, if I had had my 18th birthday, because he didn't want to fall victim to statuary rape charges. I affirmed so. I was really curious to what would happen next."

"So, Little Timmy continued that he would show me his if I showed him mine. Naturally, I was perplexed. I had seen his shovel before. After all it belonged to the farm. I had probably shoveled with it before. And Little Timmy corrected me. He wanted me to pull down my panties."

"At the time, I had a bit of a crush on Little Timmy. He was a strong lad and played on the local football team. So, I pulled my knickers down, really unsexy white ones. I lifted it up my skirt, a pink thing with dots. And he leaned forward to gaze at it. I never realized how a thing so familiar to me could be such a foreign alien to someone else. So, I egged him on, 'Why don't you touch it?'"

"He got his hands covered in dirt. He wiped them on his pants. There was still dried dirt on his fingers. He gingerly put the tip of the index finger on my pussy. He looked like he was touching a dead cat. Then he poked the lips a little bit to feel how firm it was. I had to giggle. He kept working up the nerve to explore more and deeper. The most confounding things to him was that he couldn't find the hole. I had to guide his hand deeper beneath me, all the way at the end of the slit for him to find my hole."

"And then he couldn't let go until he figured out how deeply he could put his fingers into me. I was hurting a bit. Yet, he got really insistent, 'just a little deeper.' His finger was running red. And that's how I lost my virginity to a pair of soil baked fingers," finished Jeannie.

Simone moved on to lather Jeannie's public area and arm pits with shaving foam. Jeannie eased on her back. Both legs were spread wide against the ledge of the bathtub. Jeannie's arms were raised way over head to expose her arm pits. The reach up pulled her breasts higher and elongated them. The breast muscles showed their definition.

Simone's left hand finger pinned the labia. The right hand delicately guided the razor outward and up the thigh a bit. Jeannie was completely surrendered on her back. She let Simone have her body for the grooming. There was a transference to allow someone to take all the "grime" and "unwanted" parts away. We usually hide those areas. We usually don't want to get close to those areas with other people. To open that up and accept it is a deep connection.

Simone paused with the shaver full of white foam near her face. An errand curl hung over her face from the focused work. Simone paused to take a firm look into Jeannie's eyes, which were straining to look down at her own pussy. "I have a thing for you. You could be one of my lovers. How do you feel about me?" asked Simone.

"I feel so open and safe with you. I don't want this to stop, you taking me into your world. Everything feels like a dream. A week ago, I was working the fields. My daddy said all of these things and people were evil. I found everything wonderful, like something that I had been missing all my life," replied Jeannie.

"You are way too much of a bambi to make any decisions. We'll see once you process everything and can find your true North," Simone continued shaving Jeannie's pussy. The edges required careful care to get every hair. "You'll have one happy beaver to show off!"

The razor moved on to the arm pits. Jeannie strained so hard to see the action that even her nose turned sideways. With a long swipe, the razor groomed a path through the foam. The tender skin at triangle of the pecs, lats, and triceps emerged clean and hair less. Two more swipes and it was done.

Simone turned the water back on. Kneeling high above the tub, Simone shot the water jet onto Jeannie's armpits. Jeannie giggled hard, writhing in the white porcelain tub. Simone realized the fun and aimed the massage jet between Jeannie's legs. Tickled, Jeannie pulled her knees together and covered her coochie with her hand. In on the game, Simone changed the target to Jeannie's breasts. The water jet made a deep dimple on the fat of the mammary gland. Simone flipped around the nipple.

Jeannie swiped the water stream spraying water all over the bathroom. Simone pressed with her free hand down on Jeannie's belly to hold her in place. However Jeannie's body was too slippery from the water. The hand slipped around all over the naked body. Secretly, Jeannie enjoyed the touches all over her body. To make even more of a show, Jeannie through herself widely side to side in the bathtub. The water splashed everywhere on her body and into her face.

Simone stood up to have more of a wide aim on Jeannie. Jeannie turned into this stray animal that was being hosed down upon pound intake. And then she calmed down and let herself be cleaned properly. Simone toweled down her body. Simone dotted the soft cotton down Jeannie's body. Jeannie's face was calm like a lamb, letting her body be handled.

Standing side by side, Simone blotted the hair dry. Simone continued by spraying Bumble and Bumble thickening spray at the roots of the hair to create volume. She continued to partially blow dry the hair. Before it was completely dry, Simone used a curl iron to create something playful not entirely curly with the hair.

Their faces were inches from each other. Simone's gaze was one hundred percent focused on the hair. Jeannie had nothing to do but observe Simone's eyes looking back at her. Jeannie saw the focus in the eyes. She saw the care. Jeannie saw the long summers in the country reflected in Simone's radiance. There was an optimism and carefree spirit. Jeannie's heart felt like she wanted to follow Simone forever.

"Is this love? I feel all these warm feelings with you?" asked Jeannie.

Simone gave Jeannie a soft kiss on the lips. The lips were as loose as they could be. Jeannie felt her heart palpitate, like chains that she had kept around her heart to guard it were falling off. Jeannie's eyes closed dreamily.

Simone continued to tug on the hair. Simone swiped a good dollop of texturizing lotion out of a jar and massaged it into the hair. The hair started shining. The strands clumped together to no longer be mass, but an intricate play of strands. The highlights grew shiny. The shadows grew darker. "There you go my beauty princess. Welcome to the city!"

Simone left Jeannie behind to admire the glamorous hair in the mirror. When Jeannie returned to the living room, Simone was already changed into a skirt and colorful top. Simone wore knee high boots. She stuck a small pistol into the boot opening. She stuck a medium sized gun into the back of the waistband of the skirt. She pulled on a shoulder gun holster with another gun. Over it all, she pulled a thick bike racer jacket. In yellow paint, the back of the jacket said: "Always outnumbered. Never outgunned."

Denis was counting bullets into a clip. Ramon was loading and unloading a Walter PPK to make sure that it operated smoothly.

"Don't worry, sweetie. We are simply being careful. We have to go back out. There are a lot of addicts going crazy, because they have been cut off from their supply. We have to go back out there. It's like cows. The dairy farm sucks so hard on their tits, that they create a lot of milk. Their tits become so full and painful that they walk back to the farmer to be milked. We've gotta be the responsible and take care of our addicts. We are going to hit up three different spots tonight, each their own," explained Simone.

Then the trio walked out. There was an emptiness, a loneliness, a loss, a helplessness about what to do next, and finally there was only the quiet. Something stirred in the couch in front of Jeannie. It was Dirk, the fat, hairy, and short guy. He had been staring at Jeannie all along, like a creep. She hadn't noticed, because he had been absolutely still.

"Hi, Dirk!" said Jeannie.

"Ha, she talks to me. She talks to the ugly bastard," replied Dirk.

"I wouldn't say that you are an ugly bastard. I just don't know you yet," replied Jeannie with concern.

"She is a polite liar. Tell me one true thing," insisted Dirk.

"You, you have a bit of a stare. Everyone else here smiles and feels warm," tried Jeannie.

"Uh, you don't like my mood," stated Dirk.

Jeannie got up and walked to the kitchen counter to get away. She opened the refrigerator. A dead squirrel surprised her for a second. Then, she found an apple far away from the squirrel. She got a big chef's knife out of a drawer and started slicing the apple.

"You know that you ruined it for everybody," Dirk had sneaked up on her. He was right next to her side. She had tried to shield the thought of him from her consciousness. "This place has done well for a lot of people. You killed Smitty. Now, Simone and Denis are going to pack up shop and leave. I'll be back in rundown motels drinking whisky alone. You never said that you were sorry. But you sure don't like my mood."

"I'm sorry. I don't know what to do." Jeannie let go of the apple. She stepped away from the partially sliced green fruit. "They told me to stay inside. I've never been away from the farm. I don't know what you city people do. I don't know how to make a living here."

"There she goes with her excuses and feeling sorry for herself," said Dirk. He picked up an apple slice. The bite had a crisp crunch. "Oh, I like these organic apples. Good nutrition is really important. I wonder who bought them. And I wonder who will buy them, when everyone has left. Did you know that a quinoa dish is ten times healthier than Kentucky Fried Chicken? I sure didn't know until this community taught me."

Tears welled up in Jeannie's eyes. Pale facial skin from withdrawing blood and red blotches from blushing chased each other. She grasped her hands not knowing where else to put them. Standing in the far corner of the kitchen, she watched Dirk slice another piece of apple of, while chewing full mouthed.

"Do you know why they welcome me into this circle? There is a theory that in a pond of carp, you put a single trout. The trout is a predator fish. It makes all the carps move around and get good exercise. I'm the trout. I'm what is bad to keep the good from oversugaring. I could have lied to you. Though, you needed to hear this. Everyone else is thinking it and not daring to say it," lectured Dirk. "Here have an apple slice," he raised a slice in her direction.

She took the slice. She started chewing on it. Everything in her revolted at chewing on it, because she felt that eating that apple meant accepting everything that he had said. Out of politeness and fear, she chewed. The pieces were hard and scratched her throat, when she swallowed.

"I've shot men in the line of duty and out of the line of duty. When you shoot a men in the line of duty. They send you a shrink to make sure that your mind doesn't jam up. And that shrink asks you to tell the story over and over. It doesn't stop. It keeps going for days and weeks. What the shrink is looking for is the one random image that is stuck in your mind. That's the hot button that releases the drama."

"I still remember my first fatal shooting on a beautiful April day. The weather was just warming up, so that you could unzip your leather jacket. It looked real cool to let the jacket flap open. At a routine traffic stop, a young man reached into his back pocket, pulled out a gun, and aimed it at my partner. I popped the bullet straight into his shoulder blade. The bullet travelled through and hit the artery in the neck."

"While the body sunk to the ground, the blood spurted and pulsed out of him. An elder gentleman with gray hair walked up to the side of me. He was wearing a suit. He looked me straight in the eyes and said, 'that was my son.' I looked back at him. He had these coke bottle bottom glasses. That's my anchor image. Those coke bottle bottom glasses are burned into my mind. Every morning, when I wake up, I see them staring at me. Talking about that was my freedom. What is your anchor image?" asked Dirk.

"I don't know," stuttered Jeannie.

"You don't know? You do know. I have killed twenty-three people. I know my anchor image for every one of them. Sometimes, I was simply too shy to tell. It took weeks to work up the courage," lectured Dirk with the last apple slice done. He left her the apple slices on the kitchen island. He threw away the apple innards into the trash.

Feeling left of the hook, Jeannie came out of the corner and claimed the kitchen territory. She was slowly eating the apple that had been cut for her. Dirk was rummaging around on the floor. The light was bright in the kitchen. It had a way of chasing away the fears to have clear, white light. The modern, high-end Viking appliances were refreshing and trust-worthy.

Dirk sniffed on a green panty. He sniffed right on the part that touches the crotch. The fabric was stuff in his face. His face halted all movement to savor the female aroma. Then he tossed it on the ground. His eyes were searching like an eagle, until he found a red bra. He sniffed on the inside. It didn't have enough of that soft, velvety boob smell. He tossed it aside. He found a seriously rolled up blue panty.

"What are you doing?" asked Jeannie threateningly.

"I'm smelling Teresa's panties. It smells like here. There is a hint of Simone as well. They may have both worn it since the last laundry," replied Dirk factually.

"Do they know that you are doing that? Those are their panties. Put them down!" demanded Jeannie.

"My little bird, we share everything here. Haven't you felt that, when you picked out clothing from the ground? Where did that t-shirt come from that you are wearing? You picked it up. Someone wore it before. We are all one big family. They tell me you even want to become part of the demonic circle," said Dirk.

"You are violating them!" expressed Jeannie.

"You should think about sharing and why you have that guilt and superiority. Isn't that what your daddy and the church stand for? Didn't you come here to be free of that?" replied Dirk.

"This is different," insisted Jeannie.

"It always is," replied Dirk. He had found himself another bra with a padded full cup. The fabric was smooth. He stroked his arm with the fabric and let out an approving grunt. "Remember, I am the trout. I am that thing that you have to accept to become whole."

Jeannie sat down on the couch in protest. She flipped through a magazine. The pages snapped loudly to demonstrate her mood. Dirk had found a sheer pantyhose. The feet smelled cheesy. A smile sprung up on his face.

With all the loot, he walked to a free couch. He unzipped his jeans and pulled them down to his knees. A short, thick erection was standing up. He put the green pantie over his face. The cutouts for the thighs gave him big grasshopper sized eyes. The aroma wafted into his nostrils and rubbed on his face. He put the full size cup bra in his palm to wrap it around his pole. And he started rubbing his dick into the soft velvety, smooth fabric.

"Ugh, someone might wear that bra innocently after you toss it," exclaimed Jeannie.

"That's part of the fun. I might have jizzed into the t-shirt that you are wearing," replied Dirk. His voice was becoming breathy from the rubbing.

For a moment, Jeannie though about taking off the t-shirt and throwing it away. The thought that perhaps that was his plan to see her more undressed made her pause.

Dirk stopped to smell the foot part of the pantyhose. "Yes," he called out exuberantly. Then, he stuffed his dick into the pantyhose and continued rubbing. His breathing turned into a snorting, grunting, and grasping for air. The meat beating made floppy sounds.

"Jeannie, I'm a wet kind of guy. You wouldn't be able to borrow me some of your spit, would you?" asked Dirk in a way that Sherlock Holmes would ask if he wanted to be a gentleman.

Huffing in protest, Jeannie got up and walked over to the couch. She looked at the collection of intimates, the grasshopper eyed face mask, and the meat stick with much pubic hair around it.

"Where do you want it?" asked Jeannie.

"You can spit it on my dick or on my hand here. That would be fine," replied Dirk.

She spat in his hand. The white foam landed there. She cleared her throat and chocked down another wad. A string of white saliva stuck from her lips. She wiped it off.

"Much obliged," replied Dirk. He instantly wrapped his hand around the pole to distribute the spit to give his dick a nice shine. "You are helping a lot. I appreciate it." His eyes stared at her boobs hard. His mouth was parted open from a loss of self-control as he was riding his pleasure stick.

"I think I want more of you," hemmed Dirk. He got up. With the jeans at his knee, he walked wide legged to the bathroom. He returned swiftly with the black panties that Jeannie had worn earlier. Dirk couldn't waddle fast enough with his low jeans gait back to the couch. "Uh, that's what your crotch smells like. It throws shudders up and down my spine. There is some milky taste about it. Something sweet about it. Something acidic like sweat about it."

"You are sick!" exclaimed Jeannie staring at the masturbating Dirk.

"I love it when you talk dirty to me," replied Dirk turned on by her voice. His fisting got erratic. He quickly switched the green panties to his fisting hand. "I'm sorry sweetie. That green one had so much more aroma," stammered Dirk under pressed breathing. His dick pulsed. The white seed shot through the fabric. The semen formed a big drop. And then the semen receded back into the fabric to leave a dark black spot.

Dirk collapse back into the couch. His arms flopped open. Everything was slumped, except for the dick that was standing up. The panties were no wet and stuck to his dick. Jeannie had been watching him and was still watching him. It was over. What was she going to say or do now? Just like the whole story ever since she left the porch of her dad was like a movie passing by, where she had been the audience rather than the actor.

The snoozies came over Dirk. His dick flopped down. Every time she looked up from the magazine, the dick was pointing somewhere else. It had a life of its own, inflating a little, deflating a little. Dirk was still blessed with his collection of intimates and apparently completely unabashed about being caught that way. Even paradise has boredom, told Jeannie to herself. She flipped over the thirties photo-shoot of a villa in the Mediterranean that she would never visit in person.

Hours must have passed, when the door opened. Jeannie's heart beat faster anticipating Simone and Denis, or at least Ramon. Instead a young woman stood there that she had never seen before. The hair was powerfully styled. The clothes were tight spandex pants. The feet had skinny high heels. The lips were red and artificially full. There was a bronze tan on her cheeks.

"Hola, I really hope that I'm in the right place. Climbing up those stairs was weird enough. Ramon invited me to visit him. I'm Mia from Rio. I lost his phone number. Oh, I'm so sorry. You two had something very private. I can wait outside," introduced the tall, skinny woman herself.

"No, it's alright. Come on in, Mia. Ramon is out. He'll be back. Can I get you something to eat or drink?" offered Jeannie.