Motel Summer Ch. 04: Fluid Dynamics

Life is fluid, ever evolving. The more dynamic you are, the more happens in your life, all the time.

Lidia and I had just sat down in her apartment, waiting for our clothes to finish at the nearby laundromat, when the front door buzzer went off. Lidia sprang up to answer it. I was mildly disappointed when she let whoever was on the outside in, since it probably meant that I'd have to behave instead of flirting shamelessly with her.

It turned out to be Caryn, the housekeeper from the motel where I was spending the summer.

"I thought you'd be working today," I greeted her.

"I got done early and Elena was happy to have me go. Besides, it's my birthday--that makes me princess for a day," she added, waggling her shoulders like a fashion model and arching her neck in some kind of wild princess pose, cracking Lidia and I up.

Lidia had already served the two of us a pitcher of homemade lemonade, so she busied herself getting Caryn a glass with some ice.

"So, what brings you here?"

"Lids and I are still study buddies, you doofus. She wants me to check her Econ homework--I took that course last semester. But maybe it's just because I'm jealous that she's getting attention from a 'stud muffin'." She air-quoted those last two words to make clear that I was more "bran muffin" in her opinion than any kind of "stud". "Maybe Auntie Krista sent me to make sure you didn't get into any more trouble before she can get her claws into you."

This was dangerous territory. I didn't think it would be good to admit that I'd slept with Caryn--taken her virginity, in fact--to Lidia or to let on that I'd been "in trouble" with someone else. Lidia and I had been cultivating a crush on one-another and it was pretty clear that the two of us were at the stage where we're both thinking about whether to act on our attraction.

Although, to be honest, part of me was thinking maybe I should avoid taking that step. Somewhere out in the world my older lover Selena was pregnant with my child. And Sara, whom I'd hooked up with over a month ago, was in that Schoedinger's Cat state--she might be pregnant; she might not be. My subconscious mind was having a field day inserting her into my dreams in every possible state. I might feel like I was still a single guy looking for a steady girlfriend. But I was probably "damaged goods" and should be looking to rein in further complications.

Instead of embarrassing me, though, Caryn turned to other topics and had the three of us chit-chatting, until it was time to move the loads of clothes to the dryer. Lidia and I did rock-paper-scissors and she lost, so she went off to manage the task.

That left me with Caryn.

"So, are you dating anyone new?" I asked.

"No, but you've been busy. I'm sure you're sorry Imaginary Dog Lady left." She meant Selena.

"Her friend passed and that's the only reason she was here. It was fun while it lasted," I said, trying to put a brave face on it. My heart still ached from her suddenly going. I didn't know how I felt about potential fatherhood with her. It was, quite honestly, weird.

We both sipped our lemonades for a minute.

"You ever think about me?" she asked.

I laughed. "I think about you all the time, but you've made it clear you're not interested, and, well I've been busy--uh, with school and stuff." I had this rueful look, I'm sure.

"Oh, I'm always interested, at least on a physical level. But I have got to be careful. It's just too risky." She paused.

"The other thing is, well... Auntie Krista has been kind of a mom to me, since my folks are kind of flakes. And, well, I kind of confessed everything to her and it really bummed her out. Not that she said that. She was happy for me, especially since I threw that useless turd Jimmy over afterwards. But she kind of has the hots for you and there I am in the way."

"Wow. I don't know what to say? She's a lot older and not my typical type, I guess. But, well, I'm not sure what you're saying. Do you want to give dating a try? Or are you trying to set me up with her?" I laughed while she bounced her head side-to-side. She opened her mouth to respond and that's the precise moment Lidia barged back into the apartment. I let them talk Economics while I tried to take in a chapter of Nostromo. Then it was time to go fold laundry.

Lidia had, as usual, hogged all four dryers in the laundromat: three for her roommates and one that she and I shared. While she folded for the roomies, I folded and separated our two loads. Caryn watched but didn't help either of us.

She did, however, dish out abuse.

"Lids, I can see I can't trust you with him. He's got his hands in your panties." I guiltily held up a shockingly tiny black lacy pair that I was adding to Lidia's pile, blushing furiously.

... the computer models are very good a solving equations of fluid dynamics but very bad at describing the real world. The real world is full of things like clouds and vegetation and soil and dust which the models describe very poorly. ~ Freeman Dyson

July makes for hot days and hotter nights. Even with air conditioning, my room was no refuge and the undercounter refrigerator was not up to keeping my beverages truly cold. Wanting to keep my refreshments cool, I went to get a bucket of ice from the machine, only to be disappointed: water poured down into the back of the bin, leaving a frothy lake in the bottom where there should be ice. Being a good Samaritan, I went to report it to Krista, the night manager.

Krista was somewhat older than her cousin Caryn and a very different animal indeed. She was tanned brown as a nutmeg all over and tonight she was wearing trailer park chic--a beadazzled tank top that shows lots of sideboob and underboob (save for her robust black bra) and multi-colored eye makeup. The eyes were super-distracting. The effect was more dragonfly than butterfly wings, almost reptilian in nature, especially under the heavily managed and redrawn eyebrows.

"What's up, Cal? Something a gal can help you with?" Her eyes examined me like a prize steer. I'd been avoiding her even harder since Caryn's confession. In part this was due to my fooling around with Caryn, but in part it was because she made clear that she would not mind getting to know me better.

The motel office was tiny with faux wood grain Formica, green industrial carpet, and a two-thirds empty brochure stand offering local attractions. The air conditioner was blasting full tilt, like stepping into a meat locker. There was a fake stuffed bass (non-singing variety) and a cuckoo clock, in nod to a half-hearted "chalet" theme. The back of the office opened into her residence. At that moment this was a dark smoky room dominated by a big table and chairs set up for poker. A number of mature women from the Big and Tall section of the catalog were milling about, although I briefly glimpsed Caryn with a glass tumbler in her hand. I shivered in the frosty A/C.

"I think the ice machine is busted," I offered, feeling slightly lame.

"Show me," she said, coming out from behind the desk and brushing against me on the way to the door.

"Yep. Busted." She pulled the plug out of the wall. "Have to get it looked at in the morning. You want to come in for a while? Me and the girls are sitting down to poker."

"I'd love to, but I need to take a pass. I have a paper due."

"We can shoot for next Monday then. You could make your donation in person. I have a wicked idea for how."

"That sounds..." I wanted to say 'horrifying', but instead managed 'tantalizing'. She shrugged and headed back to the office. Watching her go, tight buns in too-tight shorts, with her hair swept up by a blue plastic claw clip, I thought she was attractive in exactly the same way a Doberman is attractive. She was perfectly proportioned, with sleek curves, but somehow menacing even when trying her best to be a fluffy puppy.

Everything flows and nothing abides; everything gives way and nothing stays fixed.

Tuesday afternoon I was working hard at my computer, unspooling an essay on Joseph Conrad that was due Thursday, when the tapping came at my door. I didn't really want to be interrupted. It's hard to get going sometimes and when the words finally come, well, I didn't want to stop.

But the tapping didn't want to be ignored either. I sprang up and popped the door open somewhat more vehemently than I probably intended. Caryn jumped about foot back, startled.

"Hey," she said. Her face said what she was seeing: I had the worst case of bedhead, with my hair standing straight up, and I was wearing a baggy pair of shorts--and not much more. I was working!

"Hey, oh... hey!" It was silly to have startled her. "I wasn't expecting you. What's up?"

"Hey, can I come in?" She was in her housekeeping uniform but didn't have her cart with her. It did seem as if I'd heard the vacuum going next door earlier and I did have the "Do Not Disturb" sign out.

"Sure," I said, stepping back. As soon as the door was shut, she stepped up and wrapped her arms around me, resting her head on my shoulder with a sob. It was a surprise, but Caryn was now more than a friend. I held embraced her back and just held her for a minute.

"Shh... shh... what's wrong? Who do I need to murder for you?" I felt the tremor of a laugh in her body. She pulled back to look me in the eye.

"I wish it were so simple!"

"Want to tell me about it?" I gestured to the bed, as the only available place for her to really sit. I went back to my study chair. It took some coaxing, but soon she was unspooling the story.

"I went to my first real poker night last night..."

"That's right! I saw you when I told Krista about the ice machine. How was it?"

"Well... at first it was awesome. They're all experienced players and it was a lot of fun to get my own cards and join in. In the past I've only been allowed to serve drinks. During the warm-up, they play for quarters. They don't get to the dares and stuff until later."

"As you know, I'm an econ major and econ is about nothing if not statistics. So, I felt pretty good about my chances." I reflected that this was like saying Secretariat had a chance in the Belmont Stakes or maybe that water was wet.

"I won a few and folded about average. Then the game got serious. That's when we went to Truth or Dare."

"You've mentioned this before, but how does it work?"

"Someone makes a list of embarrassing questions. You make five slips of paper. You can choose from that list and write down truths. Or, if you don't want to answer, you write "dare". Finally, you write a specific dare for the last pot of the night--that's the one with your donation in it--for what should happen with the donation. The last set go in a hat. The others you hold onto as chips."

"With each hand you can bet a truth or a dare. If you fold, there's no consequence. You can raise by a truth (or dare). If you win the pot, you get to read all of the truths you won out loud or make the loser explain it in detail. If you win any dares you get to make the loser do something. Because it's not mixed company, a lot of the dares end up being homework for the next week. But sometimes it's kissing or fingering your neighbor or flashing or something."

"So, at most, you'd get five hands and the jackpot."

"Exactly. With the truth telling and daring, there are longs gaps between hands. And, well, a lot of boozing. I slept on Krista's lumpy-ass couch."

"Finally, in the jackpot hand, only people who still have truths or dares can play. The winner of the hand reaches into the hat of final dares and awards it to the loser of their choice. If there is only one loser left at the end, it goes to them by default. The loser does the dare and then there's drinking and general mayhem waiting for taxis to collect folks."

"Wow! So that's how it works. What happened last night to upset you?"

"I won the jackpot."

"Congratulations!"

"Yeah. So, the loser was Samantha Janson. The dare was... well, she had to take the condom and shove it up inside herself, then do ten squats and ten leg lifts. Then leave it in the rest of the night during cleanup."

"Wow!"

"Yeah, wow. Did you know Samantha is trying for a baby with her ne'er do well boyfriend? And here she was with your sperm right up inside her."

"Okay, that's somewhat distressing. I'll point out that sperm that's been sitting in a condom all afternoon probably isn't very viable. And it's definitely not viable after I dribble a little hydrogen peroxide in it."

"What?!?"

"You think I'm handing out sperm-filled condoms to a gang of drunken women and not taking some precautions? I've had a difficult summer in the 'rational behavior' category, but I'm not crazy. But I don't see why you're upset? You won, after all."

Caryn's face looked mildly relieved.

"The thing is... it kind of struck me hard. I was kind of thinking about, what if she got pregnant? She had your sperm up inside her, just like I did." Her voice was picking up a bit of a quaver. "What if she let it happen? I kind of felt, um, weirdly proprietary about your dingus juice, like it should be mine."

I cracked up, and, a moment later, so did she. But her lip quivered a bit when she got back control.

"Anyway, I felt weirded out and funny and there was nobody on this Earth I could talk to about it except you. Also, I kind of realized that I wanted to do that dare, especially if the condom broke. And, well... the really scary part was that it was my dare that got drawn out of the hat. Like I wanted to lose."

"I'm glad we're having this chat. Seems like you need to rein in the creative writing, at least." She chortled mirthlessly.

"Ten squats and ten leg lifts on a condom that I know for certain had more than a little loving ahead of time did mean that Sam J was littering the carpet with your greasy wet spots before she got her panties back on. Did you really take precautions, or are you trying to make me feel better?"

"No, it's real."

"Good. I'm... I dunno, relieved isn't the right word."

"What do you want to do about these, um, jealous sperm-proprietary feelings?" I asked. I was holding Caryn in my arms and, from the way I felt her body twist in response, for both of us the feeling was starting to swing from "comfort bro" back towards the "intimate partner" of a few weeks ago. I was looking right into her amazing gray eyes, her eyelids crinkled with mirth.

"Hey, I think I need to go back to doing manual extraction. Just to be sure there are no mishaps."

"What if Krista invites me to donate in person? Which, I'll mention, she did do yesterday evening."

Caryn frowned. This was an unanticipated setback.

"Tell you what," I added, "you should definitely do manual extraction. That will reduce overall sperm count, reducing the risk of mishaps should the donation come in a, er, more direct manner."

"Dude, do I look stupid?"

"Uh, you're maybe the smartest person I know?"

"I'm not getting you off just on the off chance that a couple hundred million sperm less in the bank will reduce my anxiety."

"Most of the dares probably won't be that risky? Look, what do you think would make the anxiety less?"

"Alright. Alright. Manual extraction for sure, plus, whatever you end up doing to the loser, you promise you'll do for me on Tuesday, consequences be damned."

"What happened to the conception-averse Caryn I know and love? What have you done with the real Caryn, you pod person you?"

"I got on the pill. Well, more accurately, I got the pill. I'll be safe on it after my next cycle." We laughed. Eventually, she was ready to go.

...we shall often model fluids as ideal in order to approximate the behavior of real fluids. When we do so, one must be extremely cautious in applying results associated with ideal fluids to non-ideal fluids. Principles of Fluid Dynamics

The following Monday was bustling with activity. For starters, Krista stopped by for the first time ever around 9 a.m. I was already plugging away on my laptop, but was still in shorts and t-shirt.

"You're looking fit, as usual, Cal. Wanted to let you know the ice machine is back on its feet. And, well, to make sure you're coming over tonight."

"Thanks, Krista. I guess I'd like to give poker night a try."

"I'm pretty sure the gals will show you a good time. I put some effort into the jackpot round. I think you'll like what I have in mind." She smiled.

After that, Caryn and I had to fit the manual extraction between her job and my finishing a school paper. By the time she knocked on my door it was nearly 3 p.m. She entered, no nonsense as usual, handing me a fresh box of unlubricated condoms.

"Good to see you too, Caryn. We getting down the business? How do you see 'manual extraction' working?" I inquired.

"I was thinking," she said, "that we could try something new--new to me at least. Everyone gets pervy and weird talking about 69. I thought we might try it out."

"To be honest, I've never tried it either. I always find that I'd rather concentrate on giving or receiving at any moment in any case. But sure, we could give it a go. You want to be on top or underneath?"

Caryn was already beyond me. She'd thrown the bedcovers on the floor and was bouncing into the bed. Once there, she laid back with her head on one of the motel's wimpy pillows. First, she pulled the housedress up around her waist before proceeding to pull it off over her head. Seeing her in her emerald-green panties made my pulse shoot upwards. I moved to the side of the bed, pushed off my pants and underwear, and commenced moving into position for this adventure. Resting my weight on my arms, I leaned in over her damp little mound, letting my body and my own legs pivot around.

My cock dangled there just beyond the grasp of her mouth as I bent my head down. Her thigh was warm and firm as I kissed it. Her thighs and pelvis were an undulating landscape of taut skin that centered on her fuzzy cleft. Faint vapors of musk wafted from the peak, where her dark curls were damp with slick nectar. The outer lips were barely parted, but the inner ones were just a hint of wrinkly pink playing peekaboo in the confined dark space. I let my breath, warm and insistent, gust over the hills.

Caryn reached down and used her thumb and forefinger to spread herself open, a process I didn't see so much as I intuited from the terrain that greeted my probing tongue. Instead of meandering through a slot canyon, my tongue flowed across a smooth wet delta to the point where it drained into her inner depths. My lingual invader plunged over these rapids to spin crazily in the whirlpool of lubricating slime, jostled by the potent fizzy blobs of girl cream and stray logjams of pubic hair. I paddled frantically to try to regain control of my bobbing craft and part the waters with the blade of my paddle.

It was all in vain, as, just as I hoped, her body shook with growing delight. Minute by minute her flow increased, thighs beginning to quiver, body shaking, until the dam holding everything back burst. She cried out, thrusting her mons up skyward as a hard jet of hot squirt geysered into my mouth.

It felt incredible. Ducking my head, I looked back up Caryn's tight abs, where their foothills climbed into the sheer cliffs of her jutting promontories, and, in the narrow pass between them, to where my manhood dangled near her lips. Her nostrils flared with amazement at being overcome as she panted out the last trickle of her climax. Already she was reaching for my cock, her breath warming it. The currents of warm air turbulent around the swaying heaviness of my scrotum. I was firming, thickening, as she tore open the prophylactic and gently brought it up to shroud my appendage. Where weeks earlier she'd been clumsy, now there was an elegant grace to her motion, stimulating and squeezing to coax my erection while adjusting the equipment downwards into place.