Stanley Steamer Ch. 07: Lorna & Kaylee

Stan turned north on the backroad shortcut to Barstow. Long straight asphalt stretches let him speed up again. Nikki and I did not pass out when the speed display hit ONE HUNDRED AND THIRTY FUCKING MILES PER HOUR but we felt better when he slowed.

"Last time we went faster, we had to play games with a cop. Jeri, Mari, and Lorna were on that ride. That's when Jeri introduced me to her friends. Their shorts and bikini tops distracted the deputy. But I can't go back to Imperial County anytime soon."

I knew there was more to that story but I did not dare ask. Stan put Wagner on the sound system, real loud, so we were enveloped in sublime wonder.

We drove to a grubby side of town and parked by a big steel industrial barn with a sign, MILES AHEAD MECHANICALS. Stan waved at the bleakness across the road.

"Over there are the Barstow rail yards. A huge amount of transcontinental train traffic runs through here. I had to sleep here in the back of Tilly one night. Switching operations run 24/7 Sounds of steel wheels riding slowly through steel switches is like odd environmental music with fixed pitches, a vast mechanical sonata. I love it. But I didn't sleep much."

Stan unrolled diagrams from Heidi's trunk and argued with Miles for almost an hour. Nikki and I walked around looking pretty and listening to railyard squeals. They ARE musical. But I do not want to try to sing those notes. Human vocal cords cannot produce such overtones.

Stan and Miles reached an agreement. They shook hands. Miles barely leered at us.

The flow of traffic on the interstate freeway over Cajon Pass to San Bernardino was around eighty-five miles per hour and that is where Stan stayed.

"Too much enforcement here," Stan said, "and you two are overdressed for distracting cops." Just how naked WERE those girls in Imperial County?

Nikki told Stan our address. He was amused.

"Funny, that's just down the block from cousin Jeri's place. She's working today. Maybe you'll run into her another time."

"Another time?" Nikki asked. "Will we have another time? Other times?"

She was in the middle of the seat next to Stan. She rubbed his leg.

Stan sighed.

"It's a couple hours from San Berdoo to Rancho Relaxo. I travel on business a lot. I hardly get down here to see Jeri much, and we're close, always have been. You guys have your class schedules. Yes, I would very much like more time with you Kaylee, with you Nikki."

He reached to rub our bare knees.

"I would very much like to make music, make burritos, make love with you both."

His reaching hand fondled our just-covered boobs. Was that perilous at our high speed?

"All I can promise is, you're welcome any time. You have my numbers; call, or don't. If I'm not there and the air is warm, get naked and jump in the galvanized water tank around the house's side. It's there for dunking. I'll be around eventually or I'll have left a note. Go in the house if the door's unlocked. Help yourselves to my cheap wine. Just don't let javelinas inside. I hate cleaning up after wild pigs."

I think that last was supposed to be ironic or something.

We peeled off the freeway, traveled city streets, and stopped at our apartment building. Bobby's car was out front. Oh shit.

"Oh shit," I said. "Now we have to sneak past his door."

"I have a better idea," Stan said. "We'll knock on his door and have a chat."

Stan did not seem armed. He held a thin paper binder. What sort of chat, then?

"Which door?" he asked. I pointed.

"Do you want to dress more first?" Nikki shook NO.

Stan knocked. We waited. He knocked again. The door opened. Bobby looked bleary.

"Oh, it's you guys-"

"Roberto Dranga, let's talk. Out here, or inside, or someplace unpleasant. Your choice."

Dranga? I thought his name was Bobby Dean. He sputtered.

"Hey, you can't-"

"I will do nothing but talk. Your life will be affected. Choose. Now."

Bobby snarled but opened the door. He did not invite us to sit.

"Roberto Dranga, I did a little research on you. Does any of this look familiar?"

Stan held the binder under Bobby's face and slowly turned pages. Bobby went white.

"What the fuck? Where did you get this? What's the-"

"Roberto Dranga, certain agencies are interested in you and would like very much to know your location. You can easily prevent such disclosure. Transfer to a school in another state. And move out of here now. Like, in the next two hours. That's how long it will take me to handle some matters and return. If your apartment is not empty then, you will be found very quickly. I am sure you would rather avoid that. Look at your clock. That is all I have to say. Ladies, let's go."

We went two doors down to the apartment I shared with Nikki.

I stared at Stan. "What sort of work do you do?" Did I really want to know?

"When the rez doesn't hire me for expeditions, I massage data for some corporate and agency types and independent players. It's a pretty clean living."

"I'm glad you're our friend," Nikki said. "You ARE a friend, right?"

He gathered us in his arms. He did not try to undress us.

"We are friends. I only invite friends to Rancho Relaxo."

I held him close. "So what now?" I asked.

"We've already bitten into Bobby's two hours. You both have a choice. I'm going to Cabazon to check on Lorna and Mari. I called from Miles' and they seem okay, but I want to be sure.

"So, option one. You can dress, or not, and ride with me to the rez. We won't be long. I'll drive you back here. That's two hours. I'll check Bobby. Then I have a two-hour drive home.

"Or, option two. You can stay here, I'll drive on, and I'll call you in two hours. If you don't answer, or if you say Bobby hasn't left, his information will be released.

"Or last, option three. Heidi is hiding a tenor mandola I can fetch. We stay here and make music or whatever for two hours. I check on Bobby, stop at the rez on my way home, and crawl in before sunset. Any preference?"

Nikki and I did not need to confer. We hugged him tighter.

"Door number three," Nikki said. "And forget the mandola." She pulled his mouth to hers. I took him away from her. Then we shared.

We vaguely heard Bobby clear out an hour later. Stan stayed another hour. We were busy.

He had a trick where he had us wear only microskirts - where did he have those? - that he pushed up after he bent us over the sofa back, us jammed together side by side. He stood naked behind our bare bodies and fucked into my pussy a dozen times, then Nikki, then me, then more than a dozen times, and more, and again. Nikki kissed me during the fucking.

And he came! The first spurt into me, then into Nikki, then me again, until he was drained.

"Clean me. With your mouths. No towel or anything."

Ws slurped every last drop from his worn, warm groin.

"Don't clean yourselves. Let it ooze and drip. I want you to smell of sex. I might be back in an hour. I'll want to smell sex."

"Can we shower after sunset?" I asked.

Stan laughed and held us close. Our three mouths kissed.

"Any time," he said. "You know where to find me."

Both of us visited when we could. Mariana, his Latina friend, was there a few weeks after that tumultuous night. She admitted that she missed both Stan and her period. She had a weird theory of "fighting sperm" or something. The biology did not sound right. Whatever.

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Next: Whatever Stanley does with a steamer minivan, clusterfucking incest will occur.

Author's note: This story by Hypoxia Smurf is copyright (c) 2018. I tried to get details right, even what I invented. I hope my wrecked eyes caught most typos. No shootings occurred at this San Bernardino apartment block. Your constructive comments and suggestions are welcome. If you like this tale, join the 1% and VOTE!