The Circuit Rider

"Hard scarcely describes it. In fact I've been thinking of leaving the ministry."

"What would you like to do?"

"I think I'd like to write. I enjoy the process, I write all of my sermons."

"I'd like to read some of them," she said.

"I have some of them with me, actually they're in my saddle bag which is now at the blacksmith's," I said.

"If you don't mind we could walk over there, it's on the way to the newspaper office," she said.

"Well, let's go."

We walked to the blacksmith's and talked and told each other a bit about our lives.

"By the way," she said, "my name is Laura Parker. What's yours?"

"Jeremiah Jones but my friends call me Jerry."

"Jeremiah. That's a fine biblical name," she said.

I laughed and said, "My mother loved to read the Bible and she loved alliterative names. My brothers are Joshua, Josiah and Joseph. I'm the baby of the family."

"I'm an only child."

When we got to the blacksmith's he was working on my horse and said he'd be done shortly. I took some sermons from my saddlebag and handed them to Laura.

"If you have a few minutes why don't you walk with me to my office and I'll read some of your sermons, that is if you have the time."

"I have all the time in the world for a charming lady like you," I said.

She laughed and said, "Well I can see that you have a way with words, Reverend Jones."

"Time will tell. And call me Jerry."

We walked to the newspaper office and while she read my sermons I browsed around, occasionally glancing at her to try and gauge her reactions. When she had finished reading she looked at me and said, "You wrote all of this?"

"Except for the passages from scripture and who knows who wrote most of them," I said with a chuckle.

She said, "You obviously have a gift for writing. Writing a sermon isn't the same thing as the things we write here at the newspaper but good writing is good writing. You can also spell and punctuate tolerably well and that's a plus."

"Thank you," I said, "I've always suspected that I was a decent writer but whether someone would pay me to write is something else."

She paused for a moment and then said, "I would pay you to write."

"Are you offering me a job?"

"Yes," she said, "except for the pressman who only works part-time and a bookkeeper, also part-time, this is pretty much a one-man, make that a one-woman band and it's getting to be a bit much. I work pretty much dawn to dusk every day. My reading sojourn today in the park was not an everyday occurrence."

"What exactly would be my duties?"

""Reporting some of the news, obviously and maybe an occasional editorial. We'll see how your writing progresses before we decide about that. I would also like you to sell some advertising. Have you ever sold anything?"

I laughed and said, "Laura all ministers are essentially salesmen. Instead of selling a product we're selling an idea."

"I get your point," she said, "and you would also lay out some of the ads you sold."

"I'm not an artist."

"Not necessary, You can obviously structure a sermon and laying out an ad is much the same process only sometimes with illustrations."

"How much money are we talking about."

"You'd be paid a weekly wage for your writing and a commission on all the ads you sell. You won't get rich but you'll make a living wage and you'll learn a new trade."

We discussed the details and sealed the bargain with a handshake. It was the first time I had touched her and she felt fine.

"How soon can you start?"

"As soon as I send a telegram to the synod and tell them that I won't be in Lebo this Sunday."

"Good," she said, "the telegraph office is at the railroad depot. It's not far from here. I'll show you the way and then we can see about getting you a place to live."

We walked to the railroad station and as we walked she told me more about herself and about the town. It had been settled by German immigrants who had named it after the famous German explorer Count von Humboldt, hence the name Humboldt. It was one of many Humboldts across the country, she explained, all settled about the same time in the mid 1850s. The principal industry was a huge rock quarry just south of town. Aside from the quarry the main occupation was farming.

As we walked we passed the Presbyterian Church and she said, "You might earn extra money by preaching occasionally here or at the Methodist Church just down the street. I know both ministers very well and I'd be more than happy to put in a good word for you."

"Thanks for the offer," I said, "but I've decided to close the door on that chapter of my life completely. I am now a full-time newspaper man."

"That's the spirit," she said.

"And I'm pleased to be walking through my new home with a very charming full-time newspaper woman."

She laughed but said nothing.

After I wired the synod we walked back toward the main part of town.

"There's one hotel here," she said "and it's pretty good but I might suggest Mrs. Jensen's Boarding House. She provides breakfast and dinner along with a room and she's a pretty good cook. She makes heavenly swedish meat balls and noodles, or so I've been told. For a little bit more she'll pack you a lunch. Some of her boarders work at the quarry where they have to take a lunch. Most days I just eat lunch at my desk and some company would be nice."

I told her that sounded delightful and we stopped at the boarding house. She introduced me to Mrs. Jensen and told me she'd walk back to her office by herself while I conducted my business with Mrs. Jensen and got settled in.

Mrs. Jensen was a handsome older woman with a pleasant face and an ample figure attributable no doubt to her good cooking. She had two vacant rooms for me to choose from. She recommended a corner room on the second floor explaining that a corner room would give me some cross ventilation which would be desirable if I were still living there when the hot days of a Kansas summer arrived. It was small but cozy and very neat with a single twin bed, night stand, wardrobe and dresser.

"We have very few rules here, Mr. Jones," she said. "No guests of the opposite sex are allowed in the bedrooms although you can entertain guests in the sitting room downstairs. No smoking inside the house. You can smoke if you want to on the porch. I do allow moderate use of alcohol although I won't abide drunkenness. I, myself, enjoy a glass of schnapps now and then. Breakfast is at seven a.m. and dinner is at six p.m. and if you're late I can't guarantee that there'll be any food. If you snooze you lose," she said with a laugh, "although not many are late for my meals."

I walked to the blacksmiths, collected my horse and brought my things back to the boarding house. It had a small barn in the back for the horses and there was a small additional fee for boarding animals. It didn't take long to unpack and put away my meager possessions. There was a place for everything and after everything was in it's place I stretched out on the small but comfortable bed and thought about my future. I was embarking on a new phase of my life with a new home and a new career and, I hoped, a delightful instructor.

After a few moments of quiet revery I got up and walked to the newspaper office. I walked in the door and Laura looked up from her typewriter and smiled at me. "Jeremiah Jones, boy reporter, reporting for duty," I said.

She laughed and said, "I know the boy part isn't true and we'll see about the reporting."

"You'll find me to be an avid learner," I said.

"I certainly hope so."

I quickly adapted to my new routine. Most of the reporting was pretty mundane. Church news, local gossip, wedding announcements and wedding stories, an occasional obituary, very little crime. I discovered that I enjoyed the sales aspect of the job and soon got the knack of laying out the simple advertisements that I sold. The office had two of the new Remington typewriters and I soon mastered the art of typing. The actual type for printing was set by hand, letter by letter but Laura was considering the purchase of one of the new linotype typecasting machines which had recently been invented by Ottmar Mergenthaler. For a small newspaper we were well equipped as was our delightful editor.

Laura, herself, was a treasure and still somewhat of a mystery to me. I certainly found her attractive and she seemed to feel the same about me but she was, after all, my boss and I was so pleased with my new occupation that I hesitated to do anything to jeopardize our relationship.

The highlight of my days were the lunches we shared in the newpaper office. I soon learned that she was a very intelligent woman, extremely well-read with an inquisitive, inquiring mind. We had long animated discussions about politics, current affairs and religion. We shared a common interest in history and the arts although small-town Kansas offered little in the latter. The occasional traveling show on the Chautauqua circuit would come to town and admission to these was always free for the members of the press. One of the highlights was a lecture by Mr. Ingersoll which sparked many hours of animated conversation.

Soon enough winter came to the prairie with the inevitable snow and blustery wind. One frosty night I walked her to her house. We slipped and slid along the icy road and as soon as we were inside she buillt a large fire in her fireplace. I had been inside her house a few times, strictly on business and except for an occasional glance and lingering touch of hands our relationship had been strictly business.

She told me that she had been engaged to marry a young man she had gone to high school with but he had been killed in a farming accident before they could marry. I didn't know if she had had any experience with men and I discretely failed to mention my previous liaisons. For all I knew she was a virgin and I felt like one whenever I was in her presence. I decided not to force the issue but rather to let things take their natural course, all the while hoping that we would eventually become lovers if not more.

We sat side by side on a settee in front of the fireplace, enjoying the welcome warmth.

"The fire feels good," I said.

"That is so," she said, "and a little brandy would also be warming, don't you think?"

I agreed and she went to the kitchen and quickly returned with a snifter of brandy and two glasses. She poured us each a glass and before we drank I proposed a toast. "Let's drink to my new life, my new job and my lovely teacher and employer," I said.

She smiled, touched her glass to mine and said, "I'll drink to that but not too much. I don't want to get tipsy."

I smiled and said, "And what might happen if you got too tipsy?"

She laughed and stared deeply into my eyes but didn't comment. We sipped our brandy and stretched our toes toward the fire. "Perhaps we should take off our shoes," she said. "I don't want the melting snow to make a mess on my carpet."

We took off our shoes and she took them and put them by the door. She was wearing silk stockings and a looked at her sweet, petite and perfectly formed feet. "You have lovely feet," I said.

"Thank you," she said, "I've never had a gentleman comment on my feet before. Most men are more interested in other parts of a woman's anatomy."

"Don't suppose for a moment that I have any kind of a foot fetish," I said "but the fact is that you do have lovely feet and the rest of you is not bad either."

She chuckled and I held one of her hands in mine and gently stroked it. "You also have lovely hands, " I said, "I love to watch you type."

"I've noticed you looking at me when I write," she said, "which probably accounts for my occasional typographical error."

"I love to look at you, Laura. I am, frankly, in awe of you."

"Oh my," she said, "you do have a way with words."

"Probably my Irish heritage," I said.

"Have you ever kissed the Blarney Stone?"

"No. Unfortunately I've never been to the old sod although I've longed to go there."

"Someday, perhaps, we could go together," she said.

"That sounds delightful and beyond my wildest dreams."

She smiled and then she said, "And you've never kissed me."

"Not for lack of wanting to," I said with a catch in my throat.

She turned to me and said, "I'm glad to hear you say that. I've wanted to kiss you almost from the moment that we met."

"Well," I said, "how about this moment. We're both grown-ups , well past the age of consent."

She smiled and brought her face to mine. Our first kiss was light and chaste and delicious. I put my hand behind her head and brought my mouth more forcefully on hers, running my tongue lightly upon her lips. She took it into her mouth and then pulled back and said, "Oh, Jeremiah, where in the world did you learn to kiss like that?"

"Pure instinct," I said, "compelled no doubt by a wonderful kissee, if there is such a word."

"If there isn't such a word there should be," she replied.

I kissed her again even more deeply and our tongues tangoed together. I pulled back from her and said, "Laura if we do much more of this I fear that we'll go past kissing. At least I know that I'll want to."

"What if I said that I want you to."

"Your wish would be my command."

"Then that's what I wish," she said with a slight blush on her small lovely face.

I looked deeply into her blue eyes and said, "May I touch your breasts?"

She replied by taking on my hands in hers and putting it on her left breast. I touched it lightly and then more firmly and she sighed and said, "It's been so long, so very long since I've felt a man's hand upon my breast."

"I'm honored to be so entitled and delighted to hear you say that," I said.

She sighed and kissed me and then she said, "You're lips feel so good on my mouth. I long to feel them on my breasts."

I pulled back from her and touched the buttons on the front of her dress and said, "If I may be so bold."

"You may."

Never taking my eyes off of her and working by feel alone I slowly unbuttoned her dress until I had it unbuttoned to her waistline. It fell open, revealing a white silk chemise and underneath that the points of two firm nipples. I took my hands away from her buttons and started to move them toward her nipples but she took my hands and put them back on her buttons.

"Your job is only halfway done," she said.

I sighed and smiled and unbuttoned the rest of her buttons. She stood up, removed the dress and folded it carefully on a nearby chair. She moved to me and said, "Let's get you out of some of those clothes while we're at it. "

I removed my coat, vest, shirt and trousers and stood before her in my long underwear. It wasn't stylish but it was the middle of winter in the middle of America. I smiled and said, "My undergarments are not nearly as fancy as yours."

She laughed and said, "Let's see what's under these undergarments and than we'll discuss fancy."

She quickly pulled he chemise over her head while I fumbled with the buttons on my long johns. I took it off with fumbling fingers and sat down to pull it off my legs. She sat down beside me and removed her silk stockings and than stood up to remove her pantaloons. I reached out my hands and said, "Please let me help you."

She smiled and nodded and I took my hands and pulled down her pantaloons. She stepped out of them and stood before me gloriously naked. Her body was bathed in the glow of the firelight. Her breasts were small but firm without a hint of sag. Her mound was covered with a thick thatch of dark brown hair. There was the look of love in her piercing blue eyes.

"Awesome," I said, "simply awesome."

She smiled and looked me up and down. "You are handsome to behold Jeremiah. It's been quite some time since I've gazed at a naked man."

"Than I am not your first?"

"No, but the first in a long, long time. I am not a virgin but neither am I very experienced. Are you a virgin?"

"No."

"I thought not. You seem so comfortable around women that I sensed you had done some navigating of the territory."

I laughed and said, "I may seem comfortable but right now I'm as nervous and skittish as a hog on ice."

"How sweet," she said. She moved her gaze to my erect cock and said, "My, my, I think I'm going to have a good time with that."

"Miss Parker, whatever in the world are you proposing?"

She knelt on her knees in front of me and said "I think we need to get to know each other a bit better before we start proposing. And speaking of knowing each other better," she reached out a hand and touched my cock. "Play with me, Jeremiah. Do you feel like playing?"

"Certainly,' I said, "what are the rules?"

"We'll make them up as we go along."

She began to slowly stroke my shaft and I reached down with both hands and began to tweak and knead her nipples. I leaned forward and gave her a kiss, burrowing my tongue deep into her mouth.

"Pinch my nipples," she said, "but not too hard."

"Play with my balls," I said, "but not too hard."

"Speaking of hard," she said, "little Jeremiah feels very hard and very good."

"You have certainly got his attention," I said.

"I love him," she said. "Why don't you touch little Laura."

I moved one hand from a breast down to her pussy and started to explore. My finger worked through her bush down to a deliciously warm and wet channel and I began to stroke her lovingly while she fondled and cuddled my balls.

"This is good," she said.

"This is great," I replied.

"Fantastic," she said.

"Stupendous," said I.

She laughed and said, "we may run out of adjectives."

"Don't forget awesome, earth-shattering and cataclysmic," i said.

"Ever the word smith aren't you, Jeremiah."

"Well you certainly inspire me," I said.

"I'm ever so glad," she said, "Now I want you to make love to me. Let's go to my bed."

She stood up and led me into her bedroom. She stopped just along enough to light a candle, pull back the coverlet and stretch out on her bed. In the glow of the candlelight she was beautiful.

"Awesome," I said.

She laughed and said, "Don't forget earth-shattering and cataclysmic."

I laughed and said "That will come soon enough but not too soon, I hope."

"Don't worry about that," she said. "We'll save that for another time. I trust there will be another time."

"Oh yes, another and another and another and another."

"You're getting repetitious," she said, "but I like the thought and the prospect. Now come over here and make love to me."

She spread her legs and I got on my knees between them. I stroked her pussy and said, "Laura you are so sweet and wet."

"Thanks to you," she said.

"it's not necessary," I said, "but I'd like to get you even wetter."

"Why Mr. Jones," she said, "whatever are you proposing?"

"This," I replied, "with your permission," and I leaned forward and put my mouth on her pussy.

"Oh God, permission granted," she said with a husky voice.

I nuzzled my face through her pubic hair, inhaling her wonderful womanly smell and than lapped my tongue up her tunnel of love. I parted her labia and moved my face to and fro, coating my nose, mouth and mustache with her essence. I stopped long enough to say, "For what it's worth I'm doing this as much for my pleasure as for yours."

She sighed deeply and said, "I love a man who enjoys his work."

"Consider it a labor of love."

"Aptly put."

I put a finger deep inside her and moved my lips and tongue to her clitoris.

"That feels awesome," she said.

I laughed and said, "You left out earth-shattering and cataclysmic."

"Well it's certainly orgasmic which is what I'm going to do right away if you don't stop."

"Do you want me to stop?"

"Not on your life," she said.

"Good," I said and returned to my oral ministrations. Soon she began to buck and quiver, gasp and moan and, finally, squeezing my face between her legs she came. I stopped and looked up at her. "Was that good?"