Short Story

As I write short stories I often wonder what others think when they write. Do they take themselves to a far away distant land? Or do they think of home? I guess a person can do either or both as they write, all depending on where they want the story to go!!

It was a damp fall morning, I had just gotten out of bed when I heard a faint knock at the door. Who could that be this early in the morning? I peered out my side window and didn't see a car in the drive so I was a bit skeptical on who it was. I traipsed to the door, unlocked it, then opened the door to see who it was. There standing on the porch was a young lady that was finely dressed and had a very distraught look on her face. She told me her car had broken down about half of a mile down the road. I said "Hello, my name is Ken, let's go take a look" and she told me "My name is Mindy" then she smiled and seemed a bit at ease. I grabbed my keys and we headed for my truck.

As we drove the only thing I was thinking about was the fact I wasn't going to get much writing done today. Although helping a lovely lady in distress out didn't seem like a bad deal either! I wanted to get my story finished so that I could get it sent off.

As we rounded the corner I saw a little white car sitting along the road. It was a Honda Civic and looked like it had a million miles on it. We pulled up in front of it parking against traffic, got out of my truck and I asked her to pop the hood. Looking around I didn't see any signs of terminal departure of any internal parts. I checked the norms, does it crank, have spark etc. and came to the conclusion that it was something that I couldn't fix along the road. I offered to give her a ride into town if she wished or I could call and have a tow truck pick her and the car up together. She opted for the latter so we headed back to my place. At which I would make the call for her.

My house sits on an acre lot a few miles out of town, has a couple barns from the years past, not used anymore. House is a quaint country home, two stories, typical of what you'd see in a country farm town. We walked in and she admired the country feel of it, she commented on "It feels like home" and I said "Thank you" as I smiled. It's been awhile since I've had a lady in my home, let alone someone as spectacular as her.

Mindy is a beautiful lady, blue eyes, long golden blonde hair, straight as can be. A smile that would light the night. She wore a blouse that hugged her nicely shaped breasts. She had on a pair of dress pants that wrapped her ass perfectly and tapered fit to show off her legs. Watching her move was like watching a swan float on the water. She had elegance and grace.

As we were waiting for the tow truck, which was going to be a about an hour before getting there, she asked if she could take a tour of the house. I obliged and started with the living room in which we were standing. As we walked through I told her of the history I knew of the old country house, from the Victorian accents on the doorways to the planked flooring. I mentioned of past people that have lived there before me. She was fascinated by it all. As we walked I forgot about wanting to write today and felt at ease about it. Being with Mindy all I was thinking about was her and how beautiful she was.

We went back downstairs after showing her the upper level, she stopped me in the middle of the room and said "Thank you" for both helping with the car troubles and for showing the house to her. She reached up and put her arms around my neck and gave me a long hard kiss, I felt her tongue on mine. We kissed for a few minutes, she felt good in my arms and oh how she smelled great. Then we heard the faint rumbling of a truck out front, we walked to the door and the tow truck was sitting there with a little Honda Civic already loaded. Mindy held out her hand, in it was a business card with her cell number written on the back. She gave me a quick kiss and in a whisper she told me, "Next time I'll dress more casual" then she smiled and walked to the truck...