Stanley Steamer Ch. 02: Lorna & Babs

"You're not camping here?" Anny asked. She seemed disappointed. Maybe her cousin was not quite enough for her?

"Sorry, but no," Stan said, "us chickens got to get back down to the roost. 'Tomorrow is a busy day; we've got things to do, we've got eggs to lay,' oomph," he sang. I groaned. Anathea sulked, then brightened.

"Do you guys live around here? Do you come here often?" she asked. "We're up from San Diego. We have a few days..." She tapered off. "We won't see you guys again, will we?"

"Yes, we don't live too far but no, we don't get here often," I said. "It's the first time for Mari and me, and we just ran into Stan a couple of days back." We exchanged names and phone numbers, just in case.

Stan looked at lengthening shadows across the desert far below.

"The sun is going down, and I do not want to drive downhill in the dark. And sorry, I'm gone a lot and I'll be traveling soon - an assignment will take me to Boston. But we'll always have Golliwog Pond, kids." His Bogart voice was horrible.

We reloaded our stuff in Waltzing Matilda, kissed and groped the redheaded cousins goodbye, dressed, kissed and groped them again, wished them many good fucks, and climbed into Tilly for a slightly scarier wheeled spider-walk downslope. We were out of the conifer zone, safely in the more open yucca and Joshua-tree zone with better visibility, just as mountain shadows grew too deep. We reached Rancho Relaxo in twilight.

We planned the immediate future as we rolled quietly down the mountain to Flamingo Heights. We would return to Keri's brother Larry's place in Palm Springs for a bit longer because swim pool.

"All I have here is a horse watering tank," Stan said. "Lousy for swimming but few horses get here so it's good for soaking."

And we would return to Palm Springs because boredom. "I don't want to go back to the rez and the casino yet," Mari said, "I like being elsewhere, near or far. With no cow-orkers around."

And because... well, because I was having lots of fun and I wanted to see where it was going. Could I have anything special with Stan? We both dealt with information seriously but no, not really. And he travels a lot. He is not around much, he says. So now is not the time. But we can be friends, right? With many benefits?

We loaded what we wanted into Heidi and drove the silent pearly stealth racer to Jeri's brother's Palm Springs place. Heidi cohabited with that mothballed Jaguar XK-120 in the garage again, poor gal.

We scratched up a dinner to supplement the earlier snacks. We drank wine and smoked hash, and crawled into our hosts' large bed to watch stupid comedy shows and bizarre fetish porn, and to slurp and fuck some more. Then we slept. I slept pretty well.

=====

We stirred a bit during the night. A few pee breaks. A few breaks to slurp our bedmates. Some snores, stopped with tactical pillows. Some sleep whispers, but no sleepwalking, I think. I semi-awoke a few times and found myself hugging some part of someone or vice-versa. Stan and Mari both have nice butts. If anyone farted on me or me on them, ventilation whipped it away.

The sun was well up when I dared open my eyes to what daylight filtered past the closed wooden blinds. I was hunched up with my face in Mari's ass. Mari was hunched with her face in Stan's ass. Stan's face was in my ass. If we did not have full bladders, the next stop would be a three-way daisychain. Wow.

But my bladder was indeed fully loaded. I rolled to the edge of the bed and crawled out. I saw Mari's eyes barely open. She wore an I-gotta-pee face too. Stan rolled on his back and twitched, his sturdy hard-on seeking the ceiling. Wait, that is a piss-on. I had better reach a bathroom first!

We slugged out of bed, and peed and cleaned, and crawled back into bed, and licked people, and stuff. Somehow I found myself riding Stan's great cock while Mari rode his tongue and we kissed and hugged. Then we switched and rode further and hugged and kissed. I could take more of this! I bet they could, too. I would have gone for more - but time was wasting and Stan's semen volume was dropping.

Breakfast was easy. Bacon, eggs, thick parmesan-garlic toast, Mexican coffee with cocoa and tequila and hot chilis, bananas, slices of Oaxacan queso fresco hard white cheese. A slug of hashish for our smoky dessert, and then back in the pool. More fucking and staying stoned and fucking some more and oh yes, more swimming. We had much sweat to wash off.

Games between swims. Simple sex games. Mari and I laid side-by-side, legs spread, near hands stroking each other and Stan as he fucked one of us for a couple dozen strokes, then the other, them back again, and again, to see who came first and best and most. I came first. Mari came most. Stan was the big winner, of course, and he came inside ME! But then Mari pulled him off me and sucked my and his juices off his drooling cock. Then we swam again, and played again, and swam, and played, till Stan was all used up, poor baby.

Lunch was easy. Grilled cheese sandwiches, V8 vegetable juice with top-shelf vodka, fresh mandarins and Asian pears for dessert. Another slug of hashish. Some more fucking and slurping, then more slurping and fucking, and then time for a good long nap. Zzzzzz...

I was almost refreshed when I woke before sundown. Rude thoughts entered my head. The end of our fun was near. Mari and I had to be back at work in Cabazon after tomorrow. Fuck tomorrow! But I had to retrieve my car from the Countess Cruise parking lot, way down in Long Beach. How to do that?

My friends crawled out after me. We refreshed on Cuba Libres, you know, rum and cola and limes - cola for caffeine energy, rum for inspiration, limes to fight off pellagra. With beer nuts for vegetarian nutrition.

"Sweetie" - yes, I was possessing him -"Stan sweetie, if you can get us down to Yucca Valley in the morning, we can take transit, the Inland Empire shuttle to Cabazon so Mari can go home, and I'll continue to the MetroLink and reach the Countess parking lot for my car and our refunds."

"Fuck that," Stan said. "I'm free tomorrow. I can take you both down in Heidi. But it'll be easier if we start early from my place. Pack your bags, let's clean up here, and we'll head for my bed, err I mean my parlor of delights."

We rolled our pretty eyes, but smiled.

"That'll be great! You'll be rewarded! We'll double-blow you, won't we, Mari? Umm, Stanley sweetie, do you know where everything goes?" I only led him a little.

We packed, and sanitized the house and pool area, hid any incriminating evidence, restored the linen and porn discs, showered and dressed just enough, and hauled duffels to Heidi's adequate front trunk.

Evening air was still warm. Stan took back roads with Heidi's ragtop down. We all sucked wind. A full moon rose over the Mohave Desert. It was great.

We arrived at Rancho Relaxo in the dark, carried our stuff into the fieldstone house, and plopped into big comfortable Mission-style chairs. Stan hummed.

"Ladies, we should get up early. That means more sleep already. Ladies, I just happen to have a stash of superweed that will knock us flat. It's almost the kind where you smoke a bowl and next thing you know, it's morning. I suggest we get blotto now so we can be go-to in the morning. Comments?"

"Sounds good," Mari said. I nodded. "I suppose that means we'll all be in your big bed for more sex to put us down, like the kept animals we are." Mari nodded. We both stood and stripped. That did not take long.

"I like how you both think," Stan said, quickly getting naked himself. "Pipe and stash are in there. Let us prepare ourselves." He strode to the bedroom. His scrotum swung invitingly.

We puffed. We huffed. We slurped. We fucked. We slept. What a day!

=====

I woke with Stan's cock brushing my cheek and Mari's head resting on my breasts. How did we manage to tangle like this? I stirred and gave that cock a big slurp. Mari stirred and gave my tit a good slurp. Nice way to start a day!

Bladder-emptying time. Stretching time. No time for more bedtime, only breakfast time. Stan's customized breakfast burritos and strong Guatemalan coffee perked us up. Cleanup was easy.

Stan fuelled Heidi from a vertical tank next to the 'barn'. "Farm kerosene," he said. "Refilled quarterly or as needed. Only regular sales tax applies. No state or federal highway surcharge, heh heh."

He hauled my and Mari's duffels to Heidi's trunk. We dressed as usual, shorts and tees and my mini-skirt, commando this time, just in case. Back in the house, I stopped Stan, held his elbow, and looked into his steely eyes. Mari stood near us.

"We promised payment, didn't we, girl?" Mari nodded. "Sure as shooting." She pulled off her tee and bikini top. I went topless too. We knelt by Stan's crotch and unzipped him. I pulled out his cock, thickening already.

"A double blowjob to cap-off our days of exquisite fun, and to pay for your driving us - and don't get noble and generous, we want this."

I licked one side of his cock. Mari licked opposite. We slurped up and down, kissed at the end, traded off on head and shaft and balls, kissed again, slurped again. He came in Mari's mouth but I stole him after the first spurt and drank him myself - until Mari grabbed him for his last jizm. I put my mouth to hers with his dickhead between us, sharing tongues and semen and friendship. Yay for friendship!

We stayed in that communion for countless time - until we heard the motorbike noisily climbing the rocky drive to Rancho Relaxo.

We made ourselves decent. Stan walked outside; we followed. The noisy bike's dust cloud dropped as the bike stopped. A very lean but busty and potbellied woman in dusty tight denims and engineer boots kickstanded the stinkpot, shrugged a daypack from her back, and doffed her helmet. That Asian face - she looked familiar. And her voice.

"Stanley," she called as she walked to us, "I need help."

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*********

BABS

*********

I love riding my dirt bike in dirt and gravel but I have to go slow now, not too many bumps, because my condition. I was fine taking the sandy track under the power-line from above Joshua Tree village. I made this early trip safely useful, just in case Stanley could not help, by checking the little environment monitors on poles every half-mile or so. All still functioned. Good.

I hoped Stanley could help me. I tried calling but the cell service was down.

I love the dirt but I was glad to hit pavement for the last miles, almost to Rancho Relaxo. I raised more dust riding up his drive but that was the usual.

I rolled around the last monster boulder into his compound. I stopped, dismounted, dumped my pack and helmet, and dusted myself as I walked to him and the girls behind him. "Stanley," I called, "I need help."

One of the girls looked familiar. She studied me. I studied her. Then I knew.

"I know you," I said. "You're Lorna Downs, from the Cahuilla museum press."

"I know you," she said. "You're Barbara Kim. We've published you. I edited."

"Well, fuck a duck," I said, brushing more dirt off me. She closed to hug me. "This is great! We have to talk. But I really need to see Stanley." I turned to him for another hug, nice and firm. Then he held my shoulders.

"I help when and how I can. But first, this is Mariana." Stanley gestured at the svelte girl of obvious Mexican heritage. "She takes suckers' cash at the casino. She's everyone's favorite croupier. Doesn't need to cheat. Mari, this is Babs, the best botany instructor at the community college out past Joshua Tree village. She brews Korean barbecue pretty damn good, too."

He turned. "So what help?" he asked me.

"There are private databases we can't access from the school system, with non-proprietary data but it's still locked off from us. And you've worked on those Big Pharma and Agri-Biz guys. I really need to see some genotopic analyses of the multivariate hybrid platyopuntia clusters across the Mohave."

"Well sure, but can it wait till tomorrow or something? I'm about to transport these ladies to Long Beach. There's not really time now."

"Long Beach!" I cried. "You're going to Long Beach right now? I need to see a guy in Long Beach. Can I go along, please, please?"

I hugged him again, making sure I rubbed my prominent boobs and belly against him. "Please?" I made sad-puppy eyes at him. Eyes a little slanted, sure, but I did my best.

Stanley grinned. "There's room. But you're still kind of dusty."

"Yeah, I can't go to town like this. That's okay, I'm prepared."

I kicked off my boots and stripped away my dirty denims and almost-fresh undies as I walked bare-ass to his stock tank and climbed in. I bravely suffered the chilly water, soaked thoroughly but quickly, and climbed out again. I shook myself like a coyote. My hair was not too long so I did not splatter too much.

I know what they saw. A naked, wiry Korean-American woman a few months pregnant with bloated belly and breasts and strange hormonal moods. Maybe the moods did not show. I hope I did not look too ugly.

"Oh holy fuck, you're so beautiful," the girl Mariana whispered. Who, me?

I fetched and opened my daypack. Out came appropriate clothes for the day: sneakers, loose shorts tied below my bulging belly, and a large soft rebozo, a strong abstract scarf to hold my big boobs up and in. I like the bare-midriff look when I'm in public. People never stare at my face. And it feels sexy.

"Holy fuck, you're gorgeous," my gorgeous sometimes editor Lorna said. Who, me?

"Not bad for a botanist," Stanley said. "You should have a cactus blossom tattooed around your navel. Then, when you bloom, wow!"

He scooped me up and kissed just below my neck, just above my cleavage. He lowered me carefully.

"But tempus fucking fugit and we should get gone." He trotted to his barn and rolled out Heidi. "Grab your pack, Babs, and hop in back."

I ran first to retrieve my denims, dunk them in the stock tank for a little dust and crust removal, spread them on a rock to dry, and invert my boots on nearby wooden posts. No scorpions inside, nope. I ran next for my pack, and then for the car. I stretched in the comfy back seat of his wonderful magic steam car. "All ready. You may proceed."

Stanley and the girls crowded in front. I noticed the Latina squeezed close to him with plenty of leg and boob contact. That was fine; from behind Stanley, I could easily talk with Lorna on the right.

The twisty byway to Yucca Valley was somewhat slow. Heidi's top was down. Our voices were easy.

"Babs, I don't know if you know, but your field guide to hallucinogenic plants of the Mohave and surrounding mountains is our best-seller except for phony gaming 'system' books," Lorna said. "Will you have more for us soon?"

"The royalty checks sure don't hurt," I said. "And I'm sketching out a field guide to the greater Mohave's places of ritual sexual power, traditional sites of fertility rites and festivals, places where people and animals have long worshiped fecundity."

"Holy fuck!" Lorna said. "That should be a blockbuster here!"

Mariana rubbed Stanley and grinned. "Sounds hot," she agreed.

Lorna reached back and gently rubbed my exposed belly. "Can you tell us about the father?"

I hesitated. Stanley, the bastard, laughed.

"Well," the bastard blabbed, "she said something about a wild party weekend and there could be several suspects, known or unknown. Hey, that was a great party, huh?" You bastard!

"You bastard," I cried, "spilling my secrets." The memory made me horny.

"How about your other secret? The rest of your body?"

"What are you talking about?"

"Some here may have noted," he wryly said, "your absolutely perfect form and your almost zero body fat. You are the most wiry and muscular babe around. Incredible muscle definition. You're a world class athlete - gone preggers."

"I saw those muscles," Mari said. "Those are hard-work muscles, not gym junk. Do you do botany with a sledge hammer?" Stanley answered for me.

"By day she teaches except Fridays when she writes and does useless faculty committees. On Saturdays she runs field trip workshops to botany sites. The rest of the time, whenever she's awake, she's a serious rock climber. She's done it all around here - Indian Cove, the Wonderland of Rocks, the Walls - and beyond. She's pretty good; hardly ever falls."

I stuck out my tongue at the bastard. "I do not fall. I descend hastily."

"Only thing is," Stanley continued, "the pregnancy ruined her six-pack abs and puffed-out her already perfect boobs. And of course the baby will stretch her pussy terribly. But a bit of post-partum rock climbing and kegel exercises should tighten her again. Hey Babs, will you climb with the tyke in a papoose pack?"

I stuck out my tongue again. "No, you'll be there to change diapers, you bastard."

We survived Greater Yucca Valley's traffic. Stanley stopped at the top of the downhill grade into Whitewater Pass and the interstate freeway. He punched Heidi's top up.

"We're high-speed from here to Long Beach, ladies," Stanley said. "Too much road noise for the convertible life. And I want to hear music." We steamed away silently.

Ah, the music. Heidi possessed a surprising surround-sound system that splendidly filled our enclosed space. "Road music," Stanley said, and played Wagner, magic bombastic sounds that pulverized us like full-body foreplay. Wagner was a nasty little anti-Semite but such a musical genius that famous men offered their homes and wives to him. He did not refuse. 'Wagnerian' is almost a genetic strain.

Lorna looked closely at Heidi's dashboard, at the music module.

"I didn't know Bang & Olufsen made car stereos," she said during a lull. "How did... wait, I bet you know a guy in København, right?" Stanley grinned at her.

Stanley - Heidi, rather - whizzed us along the interstates and the Inland Empire freeways and tollways, managing to stay somewhat above speed limits most of the way. Somewhere past some minor cloverleaf congestion, the music changed. I recognized Pablo Casals playing J.S. Bach's suite of solo cello sonatas. The rich sound hypnotized me. Stanley hit PAUSE after the first two hypnotic sonatas.

"I'm working on these pieces on mandola but they're a little tricky. Violin sonatas and partitas and stuff are no hassle because mandolins and mandolas are tuned like the violin family, not like guitars and basses. Most violin et cetera concert repertoire has fingerings worked out in great detail, widely published. The keys may transpose but I can play them pretty much as written. And my 'big' mandola, a little longer than violins and most violas, gives my fat fingers more room to maneuver in.

"Cello music is trickier. It's almost easier to transcribe for guitar because the cello is rather longer than any mandola so fingerings get squeezed together for me. Some of those passages are real tight. I'd tell you about guitars versus mandos, fourths versus fifths, but it would get tedious."

"So that's not about quarts of beer and fifths of gin?" Mariana asked.

What, this girl never took a music class? Or maybe she was leading him.

"Don't get me started. Anyway, it's time for more music."

Bach's cellos drowned us in a sea of joy.

=====

Commute traffic only delayed us an hour or so. We escaped the highways and suffered only a few city blocks for Heidi to show off her superb stop-and-go efficiency. Stanley had given me that lecture.

Lorna directed Stanley to her sensible Camry in the Countess Cruises parking lot. The girls' bags went into its trunk. The girls went to Stanley.

Mariana got him first. She squeezed him tightly and tried to extract his tonsils with her tongue. "You know just where to find me," she said, luring him.