The Donut Man

My mother spoke up, "Well, maybe. A copy of the draft Environmental Impact Statement, you know the EIS, was delivered to the library yesterday. It might pay to take a look at it."

Tim scowled, "Those things aren't worth the paper they're printed on. I've been told they make a whole lot of assumptions, run some numbers they pull out of the air, and then do what they want. No need for me to read it."

We walked out to Tim's truck and left for his small rental house about three miles away. I could tell he had already had a beer, maybe two, as his breath inside the cab of the pickup wasn't hard to detect. I reached over and touched his arm.

"Bad day?" I asked.

He didn't look at me, just drove. Then a minute later, "It was a bad day I guess. The guys all think this new way of managing the forests for everyone is going to reduce the timber harvest a lot. If that happens there may not be enough work for all of us. It will mean tough times and I just purchased the new truck. Hell, it will take me five years to pay it off even if things stay the way they are now."

I could hear the worry in his voice. But I also knew there had been a public hearing last year in town to gather input from the community. Tim had decided not to go to any of them, instead, relying upon second-hand knowledge from his friends—who in all likelihood hadn't gone either. Even I had gone to one of them for my own edification.

"I'm sure things will work out Tim," giving his arm a few squeezes while trying to convince myself that it was really the case.

We arrived at his house and settled in to watch some TV. He immediately got himself another beer and put his arm around my shoulder, his hand dangling down to gently touch my breast. This was his usual open gambit and soon we were in the throes of kissing and caressing one another. After fifteen minutes I knew the best thing to do to ward off another argument about having sex was to give him a hand job. I got up, saying I had to use the bathroom and when I came out I had a towel and damp washcloth with me, placing them on the table at the end of the sofa.

He was pretty well along after having downed a second beer and when I reached down to unzip his pants he had a smile on his face. I pulled his cock out and stroked it gently, his smile grew larger as I continued, his eyes closed.

"Robyn, I know why you're doing this. I really want to take you to bed and go all the way. Come on babe, I know you're a virgin. We'll go slowly and easy, I promise. Once we do it, you won't ever want to stop."

"Can't you just enjoy this?" I asked hopefully, wanting to avoid another argument.

He opened his eyes and looked at me. "Robyn, is that pussy of yours golden or something? If you love me like you say you do, you would do it. Come on girl, we're going to do it some time, why wait?"

I watched as his eyes closed again. I was still holding onto his cock, it felt warm, and firm, my fingers moving just enough to move the skin over the harder inner core. I felt exasperated—this was never going to end until I gave in. I let out a slow breath. Damn it! It was time to give up as it was making me miserable, maybe I would enjoy it.

"Tim, do you have any condoms here?" I asked, as I looked at his face, his eyes still closed.

"Tim?"

There was no response. I let go of him and sat silently for a few minutes. He was sound asleep—obviously, alcohol-induced. I was beside myself—angry that I had decided to give in and at the same time mad he wasn't even able to remain sober enough to stay awake after arguing about it.

"Tim, I'm going home. Do you hear me?"

No response. I got up, his erection fading back into his pants. I looked out the window, it was dusk and I had a three-mile walk home. Disgusted, I got up, walked to the door, and left locking it behind me. The walk home took me about forty-five minutes and when I walked into the house my parents looked at me in surprise.

"Robyn, we didn't hear Tim's truck pull in," my father said with a look of surprise on his face.

"Tim fell asleep. I walked home. I'm going to bed, my feet hurt."

I took a shower, afterward adding a moisturizer to my feet, then crawled into bed to read for a while. I was thoroughly disgusted again after I put the book down. Especially when I started thinking I had given up—I would have had intercourse with Tim even though I really didn't want to. He had obviously been drinking for a while before picking me up—it just hadn't hit him fully yet. The decision to walk home wasn't all that difficult to make—I needed to cool down and it gave me a chance to think. I was glad my parents hadn't asked me to explain, but then I was sure they knew something had gone wrong. I was feeling emotionally drained wondering what it was I really wanted from life, from Tim. I fell asleep thinking how different the evening would have gone if Tim had not fallen asleep—I wouldn't have been a virgin any longer.

The next morning was routine as I cleaned the countertop near the coffee urns, and then the tables. The early morning rush had faded and our lone customer had just walked out with two boxes full of donuts. I had just stepped back behind the counter when I heard the bell ring. I watched as Wade walked in with Phil behind him to stand directly in front of me. Phil looked at me with a smile.

"Good morning Robyn. I'll take two dozen assorted donuts for the office."

"Great," I replied with a smile, trying hard not to look at Wade as he stood looking into the glass-fronted showcase I was about to take the donuts from. I glanced at him as he looked over the selection of donuts from the other side. I saw his wonderful eyes again and appreciated his handsome face as I had the last time I had seen him days ago. I filled the box and walked over to Phil where he stood at the cash register waiting to pay. I handed Phil his change and when I looked up found Wade looking at me with a smile.

I felt my heart rate pick up as I looked at him, thinking he was quite attractive. I quickly glanced away, not wanting to stare at him this time.

"Wade, I'll wait in the truck for you," Phil said, as he headed for the door.

"Okay. I'll be right there," he replied.

When I looked up again I saw Wade was looking at me with a broad smile. I felt myself start to move just a little as if I were squirming, I stood up with nervous energy waiting.

"So, your name is Robyn. I assume spelled R-O-B-Y-N, not R-O-B-I-N."

"Yes, that's right," I smiled, trying not to stare a hole through him, though it was hard. I dropped my eyes from him and looked at the floor, then couldn't resist looking into his eyes again.

"It's a beautiful name. It fits you," he smiled. It was almost enough to make me wilt. I struggled to pull myself together, not quite believing the effect he was having on me.

"Thank you. So, is there something I can get for you?" I tried hard to look as if he wasn't having a devastating effect on my heart rate.

"Yes, of course. Are the Long Johns cream or custard-filled?"

"This morning they are all cream filled. Custard filled on Wednesday and Thursday."

"Great. I'd like three please."

I took three out of the case, placing them into individual waxed papers, before placing them into a white bag. I rang up the sale and waited as he took out his wallet, surveying him again from head to foot for at least the third time—getting the same warm feeling I had gotten the first two times. He handed me the money.

"Please put the extra into the tip jar. Oh, by the way. One of these is for you," he replied with a smile.

I was taken completely by surprise. I looked at him, not ready with a reply. He was smiling broadly, his eyes sparkling like lustrous blue ice. I finally managed a response.

"For me? I don't understand. You just purchased them."

"Yes. One is for me, one is for you, and the other is for my love."

"I watched as he pulled out one of the Long Johns in its waxed paper tissue and handed it to me with a smile. I took it automatically not knowing what else to do."

"Robyn, have a wonderful day."

I watched as he walked out the door. I was still holding the Long John in my hand when I heard a rustle behind me, then Betsey's voice.

"Well, that was interesting," she chuckled.

I looked at her, still puzzled.

"Betsey, has anyone ever done that to you?"

I felt Betsey's hand come to my shoulder. "Nope, not ever. I wonder who his 'love' is. You know he's not wearing a wedding ring."

I hadn't noticed any rings, not that I had looked. I placed the change into the tip jar and looked at Betsey with a smile. "Guess I'll have this with my lunch."

I ate my lunch, saving the Long John for dessert. I seldom ever ate any of our goods. It tasted good and I saw an image of his wonderful smile and blue eyes in my mind as I took the first bite. Why would he buy three donuts and give one to me? Anyone else would think I got all of the pastries I wanted for free. It was strange, but it was nice too. Men can sometimes be so odd I thought.

Wade came in over the next two weeks, each time buying three donuts, each time I received one of them. I found I couldn't refuse his generosity, each time Betsey would kid me—I was making sales and benefiting by getting a kick-back. We both continued to wonder where the third donut went. Did he keep it to give to his girlfriend? He never stayed long enough to engage in much conversation, so neither Betsey nor I had been in a position to try to find out during a conversation.

Tim had called me two times during the week and had apologized for falling asleep. He obviously didn't know I had asked about the condoms or that I had finally given in to his desire to have sex. Now, I was determined I wasn't going to do it until I was ready. He had had his chance and blew it. He had never offered to stimulate me to orgasm during all the months we had been more intimate, now almost nine months.

I decided to go to the library to read the EIS dealing with the Forest Service management plan update. I was amazed when the librarian handed me two large bound documents—one was the draft EIS impact analysis, the other the supporting documentation it was based upon. I spent almost three hours going over the documents and was pretty impressed with what it contained. It was detailed and various options, or alternatives, had been evaluated and support for the selected alternative was included.

I was also surprised to find the name Wade S. Simmons, Senior Forest Ecologist, as one of the major authors along with Philip J. Saunders, Chief Forester. I wasn't sure it was Wade, but he was an ecologist, and he was often with Phil. Seemed to me it had to be him. I handed the documents back to the librarian with a smile. She looked at me, with a frown.

"Not such a good read is it?"

I laughed. "No, not really. But I guess it's not supposed to be. If it was meant to be a best seller they better not quit their day jobs."

"Well, Robyn, you're one of about a dozen people to actually take the time to look at it. Are you planning on attending the public meeting?"

"I wasn't going to, but after talking with Tim I think I'm going to. It just seems to be a good idea to know what may happen as so many livelihoods depend on it."

"I agree," she smiled as I turned to leave.

I arrived home and had supper with my parents. I told them what I had learned from reading the EIS. Telling them my first impressions were that it was well-written and the conclusions supporting the preferred alternative looked sound.

"How is Tim going to take that?" my father asked as if he didn't already know.

"Probably not well," I muttered, knowing I wasn't going to broach the subject to Tim unless he brought it up. Why get into a conversation with him that was likely to go south.

"You know this has been on the radar for well over a year. I would think he would know more about it than he seems to," my mother offered.

"I know. But Tim doesn't read the newspaper and isn't interested in watching the news on TV. He talks with his friends and that's about it, well, them and his father."

Tim's father was a logger, having started right out of high school. He told us stories of how large the trees were when he first started and how they had gotten progressively smaller over time as the trees on the National Forest plantations became the only source of new trees. They were ready to harvest on a thirty-year cycle and individual tracts were put up for bid every year. He always complained that the small tracts of larger, virgin timber left should be opened for logging, rather than being put off-limits. As if removing the timber in these tracts that would make a difference—it would all be gone in two, or maybe three years.

"Damn shame the Feds don't know what they're do'in," he would frequently exclaim as he started on a tirade against too much government interference. This was pretty much the same attitude Tim and most of his friends had. I had pointed out to Tim a few times that one of my favorite places to hike was in such a tract where the large trees and closed canopy invoked awe and grandeur due to the green expanse they presented. Tim always replied that the only green he wanted from the forest was the green dollar bills it would put into his hands. It was another topic I learned to avoid when with him and his family.

After supper, I called Tim to see if we were going to get together for a while before I went to sleep. We agreed he would pick me up and we would go to his parent's home to play cards. Then he would bring me back—half an hour later we were sitting with his parents getting ready to deal the cards.

I loved his mother. She seemed the perfect wife and mother. Moreover, she liked to cook and she always doted on Tim and his older brother Larry—who lived and worked more than an hour away as a mechanic at a car dealership. They were a blue-collar family, living pretty much paycheck to paycheck, as like Tim, off-season work varied and their income was sometimes strained during the winter months, not that they seemed to work off of a budget.

We had fun playing cards, Tim and I managed to win one game out of three, though I was never as fast as the rest of them playing euchre—they played their hands so fast I sometimes found I was holding cards while they threw all of theirs on the table knowing who had taken the hand. They kidded me, but it was all in good fun as the evening began to wind down. I was always in bed by eight, making me the party pooper every time.

We bid them a good night and Tim dropped me off at home. I walked in after we shared a few long kisses and promised to make plans for the weekend—I didn't have to work Sunday this week so we would have the whole day together.

I was standing behind the counter when Wade walked in and I smiled as Betsey made sure I waited on him—I think she got more enjoyment out of watching me try to remain calm and in control—she knew I still found him...well...interesting. I smiled as Wade looked at me, grinning broadly.

"Robyn, what shall we have today?"

"Wade, you're the customer, but I can give you a recommendation," batting my eyelids a few times, I wasn't sure why.

Wade chuckled. "Okay, what would you suggest is good today?"

I pointed out the chocolate-covered fried cakes with a broad smile.

He laughed. "I'm beginning to think you're a chocoholic. If it has chocolate, it's good."

"Guilty as charged," I replied with a laugh.

As always, I picked out three donuts, placed them into a white bag, and cashed him out, then he took one out and hand it back to me. It had become a ritual of sorts—I always knew, one for him, one for me, and one for his love.

"Wade, I have a question for you. Do you have a minute?"

"Sure, I guess so. What's on your mind?"

"I read over the draft EIS at the library yesterday and have some questions about non-consumptive use of the forests."

He looked surprised. "Robyn, you actually read the document? It must have taken you hours."

"It did. So do you have time to explain a few things for me?"

"Tell you what, I'm off this afternoon. I don't think this is a good time or place as it would take a while to explain. I can come back later if you want me to as I can leave for home after I've answered your questions."

"Sure. I'm off at one, will that work?"

"Yep. I'll meet you here. See ya later. Enjoy that donut."

I watched as he walked out the door.

"That was pretty smooth," I heard Betsey say from behind me.

I turned to her with a surprised expression on my face. "What was smooth?

Honey that was one smooth pickup line. I think I could learn a few things from you," she giggled.

I kept a straight face. I hadn't realized it, but she was right. It would have been a good pickup line if I had intended it that way. Or had I? I kept the straight face.

"I have questions and he can answer them. You don't need to read something into it that isn't there."

"You little flirt! I saw you batting your eyelashes at him," she laughed.

"Oh, that," I replied feeling a little defensive, "it just kind of happened."

"Must be the donuts, huh."

"What must be the donuts?" Aunt Sarah asked as she came out of the backroom.

"Robyn's making eyes at the customers," Betsey replied with a chuckle.

"Oh really! Now I wonder what customer that would be?" Aunt Sarah replied with a mischievous grin.

"Oh come on! It was nothing. I just have some questions for Wade about the Environmental Impact Statement. That's it. I mean it, that's all it is."

They both chuckled as they walked into the back room together. Since there were no customers to tend to I went to clean the tables and around the coffee urns. But I was feeling upbeat knowing I was going to see Wade and engage in an extended conversation with him for the first time. Now, should we meet here, or go down the street for a coffee? After the reaction I had just gotten from Betsey and Aunt Sarah it wasn't hard to decide the Wooden Spoon restaurant would be better—it was close and usually not busy after the lunch crowd left.

I finished up with my last customer before it was time to quit for the day and was taking off my apron when Wade walked in. He was still in uniform and was carrying two large loose-leaf binders under one arm. Betsey greeted him and they exchanged a few words as I stepped out from behind the counter.

Betsey couldn't seem to resist, a big smile on her face. "Have a good time you two," as if it were something other than an opportunity to discuss the EIS. I simply waved my hand over my shoulder, not giving her any satisfaction in thinking I was going to enjoy Wade's company.

We walked into the restaurant, found only one other table occupied, and followed the directions on the sign indicating we could seat ourselves. I led us to a table at the window looking onto Main Street and sat down. I looked up as Helen, a middle-aged woman who knew Betsey walked up to wait on us.

"I'll have a large Coke please, Helen."

"Same for me," said Wade.

Helen gave me a look, as to ask why I was there with Wade, where was Tim? I hadn't thought of that. But why should it matter—after all, we were there to discuss the EIS, surely she would see that. Our Cokes came as I asked the first question—Wade thumbed to the appropriate section of the EIS and we reviewed a graph and table together after he slid the binder between us into the center of the table. I asked another question and we finished with a smile. He answered my questions easily and then I thought to add an observation of my own.

"You know, when I work Saturdays and Sundays, most of the people who come in are here to hike the trail through the old-growth forest to Sandy Bottom Lake or to Lookout Point. Do you take into consideration the economic impact of those people on the local community?"