Silver City Blues

Disclaimer: All fuckers in this vapid pre-COVID fiction are over 18. Tags: fuckfest, multiracial, migras, New Mexico, hot tub. Views expressed may not be the author's. Details may be incorrect. Enjoy this 2020 Winter Holidays Contest entry and VOTE!

Silver City Blues

Saving their Xmas from disaster

*****

===== 21 December: Winter Solstice =====

"You sure this is the right way?" Lyra asked Juanita. The road had deteriorated to rotten rocky ruts.

"GPS said to take this shortcut. Didn't show a bad road." Juanita kept the wheel and her eyes aimed straight ahead.

"You sure the damn GPS can be trusted?" Katya asked. Her love-hate relationship with technology flared.

"It got me around L.A. okay, usually." Juanita was defensive. Katya frowned.

"Maybe you should have set it for the fastest paved road, not just the shortest drive," Lyra said. "Especially at night." She peered at the dark, overcast sky but saw no stars.

"We're trying to save gas money, not time," Juanita insisted. "Going this way from Lordsburg to Truth Or Consequences cuts out many miles wasted going through Las Cruces. That's gas we don't have to buy." Her old wheezing Corolla sloppily drank too much fuel.

"So where are we now?" Lyra persisted. "Out in the hills somewhere southeast of Silver City. Better hope nothing goes wrong."

Of course, things went wrong right about then. CLANK went something. CLATTER went something nearby. CRUNCH went the car. Juanita steered off the road, beside a barbed wire fence, in front of a ranch gate. They stopped.

"¡Carajo! This sucks! What happened?" Katya asked.

Juanita groaned, unbelted, reached for a flashlight, and eased out her door. She aimed the light behind the car and saw a trail of broken parts. She grimaced and crawled back inside.

"I don't think we're driving on tonight," she told her friends. "Good thing I have my AAA road service card. I hope we can get towed into town."

She powered the Android phone she plucked from her shoulder tote. It revealed zero bars of signal. "Shit. No phone. We are really fucked."

Distant headlights approached on the rough track. "Maybe we can flag down help." Juanita was ever hopeful.

=====

Ken was grouchy, as usual. He was mostly grouchy these days. Damn clients needed his help again after fucking up their database updates, but at least working on that paid the bills. Grump! Damn distributor had not yet delivered to the depot the vital supplies he had ordered so his trip into town was mostly in vain. More grump! Damn grocer was out of his preferred Guatemalan coffee so he had to make-do with damn Bolivian beans. Grumpity-grump! Damn blizzard was blowing in. Grump-ola!

But he was mainly grouchy because it was better than being lost in loneliness, in the vacuum that sucked his soul dry since Kerri died. Damn her! Damn her bad heart!

So he converted his pain to annoyance. That was the best he could do.

And now his headlights reflected off something ahead... shit! A damn car blocking his gate! And silly-ass damn girls out beside it, waving at him. Damn them! He did NOT need this! Not tonight!

He stopped his restored vintage FJ65 Land Cruiser wagon in front of a rusty Corolla, rolled down the window, poked his head out, and yelled, "What the hell are you doing here? Get that thing away from my gate! I need to get home!" He was fuming. That was better than pain, too.

He saw three LatinX-looking girls caught in his headlights like damn deer on a highway. He noted a tall thin one, a somewhat shorter and rounder one, and one in between the others in size. All wore tight jeans and bright plastic jackets that looked inadequate for the incoming weather. Christmas here on the mile-high desert would be damn cold.

"Please mister," the middling girl said, nearing his window, "we just broke down here and we can't get a cell signal to call for help. Can you help us, please, please? We don't want to bother you, we just need to get moving again."

"Yeah, no cell service here," he said grouchily, "the towers in Silver City are on the other side of that ridge" — he gestured — "so they're blocked real good. And with the blizzard coming in, ain't no way anybody's gonna come out here to tow you anywhere anyway."

"So we're screwed then?" the tall, slender girl asked. "We're sorry the car quit here — I don't know what happened. I guess we can push it back out of your way. But how long will we have to scrunch-up in the car before we can get away?"

"What happened? You run out of gas?" Ken's mood had not improved. Dumb-ass bitches!

"No, we heard all sorts of crunchy noises, and the car just stopped," the shorter girl said. "Then Juanita looked and saw broken parts behind us. The engine turns over but we don't move. It's something bad."

Ken sighed, reached for his big bear-beater flashlight, opened his door, and stepped out. The girls backed away nervously. They saw a lanky, dark-haired man with wire-frame glasses highlighting his craggy, unsmiling face. A heavy sheepskin coat cloaked him.

The middling girl pointed a smaller flashlight down the road. "I think the shiny edges are the metal parts that broke," she said forlornly.

Ken saw the reflections. He paced a dozen yards, following the debris trail, and sighed again. He returned to their car, dropped to his belly, and aimed his light at the undercarriage. Damn. He stood, brushed himself off, and faced the girls.

"Nope, you're going nowhere anytime soon. Looks like the differential self-destructed. Did you drive over any big rocks recently?"

The middling girl with the flashlight — Juanita? — made a face. "There were some deep ruts a ways back. I don't think we bottomed-out too hard but I guess maybe..." Her voice trailed off guiltily.

Ken watched their anxious faces. Shit. He sighed again.

"Damn blizzard is due tonight and it'll be a humper. Shit. I can't just leave you out here to freeze to death. Come on, let's push your back car out of the way — one of you has to steer — and I'll tow you in to my place. I have rooms. Damn," he groaned. Merry fucking Christmas, he thought.

Juanita took the steering wheel. The taller and shorter girls joined Ken at bending shoulders to the car to push it backward and across the rough roadway.

"Inside, all of you," Ken growled. "I'll take it from here. You" — he pointed at Juanita — "turn just enough to go through my gate, wait for me to close it, then stay lined up straight on the way in. I'll go slow but watch my brake lights"

The girls took their seats. Ken keyed the big padlock, opened his gate, fetched a towing cable from the FJ65, hooked up the little sedan, and hauled it onto his property. He went back to close and lock the gate. He tapped on the car's window and told Juanita, "Remember, straight now."

His gravel access track was in better repair than the rough county roadway. He towed the Corolla into the open-ended steel barn beside his Spanish-style hacienda, stopping when the sedan was midway on the barn's left side. They all left the vehicles; the girls watched Ken unhitch and roll-up the cable which he returned to his Land Cruiser.

"Wait here. I'll park on the other side." He slid into the FJ65, rolled it forward, then backed into a spot beside the Corolla. "Okay, let's get inside. I have to haul in some supplies. You ladies have much luggage?"

"We only have a tote and a duffel each," the shorter girl said. "We can help carry your stuff if you want."

Ken wrestled to his shoulder a good-sized carton from the FJ65 and said, "Follow me." He walked around their disabled car, opened a door on the barn's side, and trudged out. The girls followed with their easy loads on a short enclosed breezeway lit by a soft light overhead.

"Here's my cargo door," Ken said, and keyed it open. "Inside please, ladies." They trooped into an entry room lined with shelves and cabinets. Ken set his carton on a utility table under the shelving.

"Drop your things inside," Ken ordered, "and let's go back for the rest of my load." The four offloaded the Land Cruiser in mere minutes. "Just leave my crap on this table. Your rooms are down that hall." He pointed to a doorway across the great room, then peeled off his heavy coat and hung it on a coat tree beside the outside door. Their lighter, brighter coats followed.

"Shoes off here, ladies. Easier to keep the rugs clean." They added their footwear to a shoe tree lightly laden with boots, sneakers, loafers, moccasins, and river sandals.

The room was warm. A big cast iron stove stood before the great room's rocky fireplace. Ken opened its windowed front hatch and set in a few short logs from an adjacent firewood stack onto the glowing coals. Flames rose before he closed the door. Light flickered behind its quartz glass panel.

"Oh, in case you're wondering, I'm Ken Weaver — and you are...?"

The tall, slim girl said, "I'm Katya Rascón and I'm really happy you're helping us." The shorter, rounder girl said, "I'm Lyra Mártes and you're a lifesaver!" The middling, lighter girl who drove the Corolla said, "I'm Juanita Huerta and you're our hero! Even in a bad mood. But what is this place?"

"My humble abode," Ken grunted. "I'll give you the tour in a bit — but first, anyone want hot chocolate?" The girls all nodded. "And I need to put my supplies away. So hang tight."

The girls left the entry, passed the open kitchen area, and wandered around the high-ceilinged great room, whispering together and staring at nicely-lit Southwestern ethnic paintings, weavings, carvings, and shelved pottery lining the walls.

White streaks flashed past unshuttered windows. The blizzard was arriving.

Ken filled and fired-up an electric kettle, then unloaded boxes and bags in the pantry beside the kitchen. Finished there, he spooned cocoa powder and raw sugar into four tall stoneware cups, added boiling water, stirred, and carried them to the long dining table beyond the kitchen. He fetched a bottle of cheap bottom-shelf tequila from the pantry.

"Grab a seat," he said, "get comfortable, and spike your cocoa as you wish. Nobody's driving tonight." He poured a good splash and settled back.

The girls did likewise, hanging thin sweaters over the tall backs of their chosen oak chairs. His eyes moved across their faces; he pointed with one hand and swirled his cup with the other.

"Okay, so you're Juanita, and Katya, and Lyra, and you're here for now." He watched their breasts, comparing them with his memories of Kerri. He looked up.

"I'm Ken, and I'm not a real generous guy, but I can't let you freeze, or starve, or otherwise be miserable on my account. So you're my burden and that's that." He splashed more tequila into his hot cocoa. "I sure hope you don't have bad habits, at least none worse than mine." He sipped his drink. "Anybody got a story? Like, what the hell were you doing out there?"

The girls looked at each other and nodded. Long, lean Katya rolled up her long sleeves, opened her shirt's top two buttons, and sipped her spiked cocoa.

"We're all from Albuquerque. We survived grade school together, got scholarships, and now we're in graphics programs at UCLA. We share a small flat near Westwood. Juanita was driving us home to see our families for Christmas. She followed the GPS route and that brought us to your lousy road. Better get a new GPS, girl. Or change the setting for No Dirt Roads."

She took another sip. "But I guess we won't get home now. You have no wireless here? Is there any way for us to tell them we're not coming?"

"Yeah, I have a satellite link," Ken rumbled from across the table. "Your phones can connect to your cell accounts via Wifi, right?" They all nodded yes. "You can use my WiFi hotspot to call. It's KerriNet and the password is ForEver505." He wrote that on a notepad and passed it to Katya.

"Okay, so now the tour. You saw the side entry and storage, the kitchen, and the dining area in this wing of the hacienda. And you didn't trip over the furniture when you went looking around the great room."

Lyra interrupted. "You have some great stuff here. I recognized a lot of the artists, and they're first-rate. This is all so Santa Fe. Are you rich or something?"

"I do okay, nothing big. Anyway, the stove throws off a lot of heat, so it's pretty comfy in here, the way I like. Out behind the fireplace" — he pointed to the double paned glass doors flanking it — "is the hot tub room. A fan pumps heat around the house and to the tub, too. Down the hall in that wing" — he gestured at the great room's far side — "there's my room at the end, bedrooms and a bath on the left, and my office and exercise room on the right. I'll head that way in a minute."

Everyone took a refill. Everyone warmed up. More long sleeves were rolled up, and top buttons opened. Ken finished his second cup and stood.

"Might as well grab your duffels and pick your beds," he said. "Call your families, too. If anyone's hungry and knows how to cook, you're free to look through the kitchen and whip something together. I'm headed for a quick workout now. Excuse me."

He headed for the far hallway, stripping off his pullover shirt along the way. The girls watched his well-muscled bare back.

"I'm definitely overheated," Lyra said. "Let's check the accommodations and maybe dress cooler." She went for her duffel; her friends followed suit.

They found two bedrooms with carved mesquite twin beds and empty oak wardrobes in each. Cute watercolors adorned the walls.

Juanita was pensive. "These look like kids' rooms. Ken doesn't seem to have family here. What's up?"

Lyra nodded. "He had such a sad look in his eyes. I think there's a tragic story. I don't know if he'll volunteer it. Let's be real careful with him."

=====

Katya and Juanita dropped their duffels and totes in the first bedroom; Lyra took the other. Just beyond was a washroom with a linen closet, toilet, shower, and double sinks under a wide mirror. They peered in there but were distracted by sounds escaping from the half-open door opposite.

That room was occupied by exercise mats and paraphernalia, a weight machine, and a treadmill. Ken wore only a jockstrap as he trotted on the rolling belt. The stunned girls admired his vigorously flexing tight, bare buns.

He must have heard the intake of breaths. He looked over his shoulder, unsmiling.

"My house. My workout. I won't be much longer. Next stop is a shower, then the hot tub. I need soothing and hot water does the trick. You can soak too — it's big enough without crowding. I won't wear anything. What you wear is up to you. If you come, how about somebody dig around in the kitchen and mix a strong pitcher of Margaritas or something? Bring glasses."

He turned back and stepped up his pace.

Lyra pulled her friends away... after admiring his near-naked athleticism a while longer. The girls shuffled nervously to Lyra's room. "You think he's dangerous?" Juanita asked.

"I think he's damaged," Katya said, "but I don't think he would hurt us, and I hope we won't hurt him. A big empty house and unused kids' rooms? This is just so sad. But he invited us to get drunk in the hot tub. I don't think I need a bikini. Who wants to make drinks while I shower?" She started undressing.

Lyra smiled. "I'll find a pitcher and the makings. You gals go get naked and clean. I bet there's extra towels in the bath. I'll mix our drinks and maybe find some quick snacks. I'll pile the refreshments on a tray and be out with you soon."

Juanita and Katya took turns in the shower. They dried themselves and indeed found large extra towels. They wrapped their naked bodies for at least a hint of modesty. Lyra had finished her mixology and snackology and soon joined them, clean and wrapped.

"Well, what are we waiting for?" Katya asked. "We're doing this, right?"

Lyra picked up the snack-and-drink tray. "Somebody hold a door for me."

The nearest glass door by the rocky fireplace opened onto a glassed-in geodesic paradise maybe five yards across with a rocked-in hot tub large enough for at least eight friendly adults. Lyra set the tray on an attached table top. The girls gazed at swirling snowflakes outside.

"Good thing we aren't huddled in the car out on the road," Katya said.

"No shit," Juanita agreed. "Looks like icy death out there. This hombre really saved us."

Ken walked in naked with a rolled towel slung over his shoulder. "This hombre needs to dump some stress. I'm going to get wet. Somebody get me a drink."

The hot tub quickly contained four naked humans, submerging and bubbling before surfacing and passing drinks and the cheesy, spicy snacks Lyra had assembled. Underwater seating put everyone just over navel deep. Ken watched the varied succulent breasts but then concentrated on his drink.

Katya slid next to Ken and put her hand on his arm. "What's wrong, guy? Why so triste, so bummed? Is it something we said or did?"

Ken sighed, emptied his tumbler, and handed it across the tub to Lyra. "Can I get a refill?" He looked at Katya and gently lifted her hand off him. "Please don't," he said. Lyra returned his drink; he took another deep swallow. He looked into the girls' faces. "Sorry, I just can't handle closeness now."

Katya put a little space back between her and Ken. "You're alone here in this big house. You don't look happy. Can you talk about it?"

He sighed and drank again. He waited, then spoke. "My girlfriend died suddenly a year ago. We were going to marry and have kids. This place was for them. Now it's nothing."

Lyra's eyes were wet. "What happened?"

Another sigh. "We were at the university in Silver City. We'd gone back to see their great hoard of Mimbres pottery again. You know Mimbres?"

"Sure," Juanita said. "That's New Mexico heritage. We learn about it in third grade."

"Western New Mexico U. in town has the world's best collection. We loved it. It was a fairly warm winter day between storms. We were just walking back to the Land Cruiser. She stopped, said "Oh!", and fell over. I tried CPR but she was gone already. Turns out she had a congenital heart defect. No symptoms till then. Shit."

He emptied his tumbler again. Lyra silently returned it refilled.

"So I work from home and try to piece my soul back together. I can fix other people's problems but not my own. Shit."

His tumbler empty once more, he stood, dripped, and reached for his towel. "Excuse me, ladies. I'm going to bed now." His gray eyes drooped dully. His cock was deflated.

Lyra held up her hand. "Are you hungry? I explored your kitchen and I can fix something for you, anything you want."

Ken dried himself and wrapped the towel around his waist. "No thanks. No appetite. You want anything, have at it. TV is on the wall inside but keep the sound down. Throw more wood on the fire before you crash. I'm tired now. G'night." He left through the near door.

"Well Carajo, this sucks," Katya said. She let that curse speak volumes.

Juanita hesitated. "Maybe I should go to him, comfort him..."

Lyra shook her head. "Not a good idea. We're stuck with him for a few days. We can give him human contact and moral support in small doses. See if he shrugs off anything more.'

"Okay," Juanita said, "but we might as well finish the drinks and snacks." She drained the nearly empty pitcher and snatched her share of the remaining munchies. "And check the Weather Channel, see how bad the storm situation is."

Katya grimaced. "As Brecht said, 'the man who laughs has not been told the terrible news'. I don't even feel like calling home tonight. It can wait till morning. Things might be clearer then."