The Purveyor of Love

He kept silent.

"I mean, of course, that my sister is with child, Mr. Hartmann. She started showing, perhaps a couple of months ago. But I really worry about that idiot husband of hers - that he's going to put both her and her baby at risk." She took another sip of her mug, then pulled her legs to and leaned forward to him. "Now, Cole... may I call you that?"

He nodded, and she went on.

"I don't believe you had any ill intentions. In fact, from how Maddie describes your visit, you may have had the best intentions of all."

"She said they really wanted children," he ventured cautiously.

"She's deliriously happy about it. He wants children to further his sorry line, not out of any love for her nor any real love of children. I'm worried for her and for her child," she repeated. "I've convinced her to come live with me. But he won't have it. He needs to be the one making the decision to leave. Or let her go. And, Cole, I do believe you have given me an idea of just how to go about doing that..."

"I have?" he frowned.

"But before we discuss that matter further, Mr. Hartmann--Cole--I think I rudely interrupted you." She rose, and walked to a glass-fronted cabinet that held bottles of liquor. She returned with two generously filled glasses, and gave him one.

"If I recall, you like whiskey? " She took her seat again in the armchair and stretched out her legs. "Cole, please do continue where you left off."

She tipped her head at him and raised her glass, inviting him to do the same.

"Do you live here alone, Miss Lindy?"

"Why so formal?" She asked, eyes dancing. "Call me Lindy. Yes, I do. I never found a man to overlook my multitude of flaws, nor one who pleased me both in looks and demeanor as well as quality of heart. I learned long ago that I preferred my own company to that of a man whom I displeased, and who displeased me."

"You seem to be quite particular, Lindy." He found her unusually, even peculiarly, forward. In his experience, women tended to be shy and roundabout in their answers to questions such as these. He was curious what she would answer next, and drank some of the whiskey to hide his curiosity.

"That I am, Mr. Hartmann. That I am. I find no reason to compromise my standards, dear sir, only to come to regret it later."

"Do you not get lonely? Do you not find yourself wishing for a man's company, or requiring his help?" He'd not moved from his spot on the rug in front of her chair, but had not touched her again, despite her invitation.

"Absolutely I do. Both. The solution to the second is quite simple--if I find I need a man's help for chores or his physical strength, I hire the right man for the job, and in that way get the perfectly suited helper for whatever need I may have."

"And are you such a strong woman, Lindy, that nights alone don't never haunt you?"

"It is the more difficult of the two. I am a red-blooded woman, as they say, and do find myself wishing for a man's company. I can take care of my physical needs easily enough. The company of a kind soul with whom to share either sadness or joy, why... I do miss that. And you? I gather you don't spend much time in one place. Do you have a home you return to? A woman you return to?"

He shrugged. "I have no home to return to, nor any woman waiting for me. Travelin' has been too deep-rooted a habit in me to keep still, stay in place. Though I'm beginning to feel my bones getting too old for all the wanderin' I been doing."

"Well then, Mr. Hartmann," she said, leaning forward, "why don't you lean your head on my lap for a bit, and we shall provide each other company tonight? Chase away each other's loneliness."

He did as she asked, raising himself on his knees and putting his head on her lap, wrapping his arms around her legs swathed in her petticoat and dress. She in turn wove her fingers in the silky curls of his hair. Distractedly, she twirled a lock of hair over and over around her forefinger, then another and another, a motion that felt so soothing it threatened to put him to sleep. Instead, he slid his hands underneath the material of her dress and wrapped them around her bare ankles. Her skin had turned quite cool after her walking around in the kitchen, away from the fire. He smoothed his hands up and down, back and forth along the tops of her feet and her calves, trying to warm them.

After a few moments he brought his hands to the front and pushed the fabric of the dress and petticoat up over her knees. As he did so, he leaned his cheek against her shin and brushed upwards until his nose was against the hair curls between her legs. He breathed in her scent. The musk betrayed her arousal and filled his nostrils. He explored her with deliberate movements, the folds of her skin moist against his lips, and she arched her back and raised her hips, pushing her mound harder into his mouth. His tongue tasted the flesh she offered him, probing inside and reveling in her texture and the rich fluids of her quim. He sucked and slurped, feasting on her with all his senses, then slid two fingers into her, looking for the rough patch he'd found in some women. Hers was easy to discover. As soon as he rubbed against it, she tightened her muscles around his digits and arched her back higher off her seat. He read that as a sign, moving his fingers in and out of her in unison with the flicking of his tongue and the sucking of his mouth, until he heard her breath rasping and catching with her inadequate effort to control it. Her thighs tightened like a vise around his head and shivered uncontrollably. He kept his rhythm, listening to her soft wail, until he felt her sink slowly into the cushion of her armchair. Only then did he fill his lungs with air - he felt somewhat lightheaded and like his muscles had gotten heavier.

"Oh, Mr. Hartmann... Cole..." She took a deep breath and let it out, slowly, as if trying to keep it smooth. "My sister never told me how good you were with your mouth and tongue. You are a rarity, sir." She hugged his shoulders tightly, with the same openness he was getting accustomed to.

She sure was a little eccentric, but he liked her expressing herself so honestly. She was one of the most attractive women he'd met, and one that would normally have set his blood aboil, especially after having ministered to her as he'd had. But he simply did not feel inclined to strip off his trousers and release his shaft. It bothered and confused him, his body's seeming indifference to her. In fact, come to think of it, he still seemed a little lightheaded and confused.

"Are you OK, Cole?" She was looking at him with concern, her eyes wide and intent. "I seem to be feeling a bit out of sorts. I must be more tired than I thought, or coming down with something... I just... I was hoping..."

"Yes?"

He was embarrassed, but he wanted to let her know. "I've never been around a woman as attractive as yourself and needed to go to sleep. But I'm afraid I seem to be no good tonight."

"Don't you be worried. I know you must be exhausted, and this weather ain't helpin'. Why, everyone I know I been visiting this past week has come down with something or other, and been taken to bed. I am not surprised at all. Let me show you to your bed. It's nothing fancy, mind you."

She leaned forward and placed a kiss on his lips, and he felt the familiar tickle in his groin, though subdued, as if someone had thrown, if not a bucket of cold water, at least a wet towel on him.

"If you don't have a place to be bright and early in the mornin', Cole, I'd like to talk to you about some of your lotions and salves. My sister sure touted them up and down, every chance she got, like they were some kind of miracle cure."

He started to say something, meaning to demure, but decided his tongue was too heavy in his mouth and his brain felt fuzzy enough that he yearned for sleep.

*****

He'd fallen asleep splayed out on the bed in her small guest room like a log rolled into a ravine. He'd had a dreamless sleep but he felt awake and refreshed. He was somewhat troubled and mystified by the unusual coyness of his body the previous night. He looked around him, and found his leather satchel by the door. He didn't remember bringing it up; she must have done it. Perhaps she also had been the one who'd pulled off his britches and belt, though not his shirt, before pulling the rough woolen blanket over him. He gave himself another minute or two of enjoying the sunlight sneaking through the open space left where the curtains didn't quite meet.

After he'd pulled his trousers on and buckled his belt, he ran his fingers through his hair quickly to tame it down, He stepped out of his room into the corridor and looked to make his way to the kitchen. The staircase was to his left. As he walked, his bare feet felt the woolly nap of the runner. A door stood half opened, and he nearly passed by it to maintain her privacy, but he couldn't help glancing in.

She was standing at a small basin set on a waist-high dresser in a white cotton shift so thin the sunlight lit her body underneath. She was looking in a mirror, arms up and busy with putting up her hair. The swell of her breast, tipped with a prominent nipple, was clearly visible despite the shift. Her back and hip curved like a Venus on a sepia 1-cent postcard at the dry goods' store. He held his breath, meaning to back out silently, but she'd turned in such a way that their eyes met in the mirror.

She held his gaze for a second or two, then lowered her arms and slid her shift off one shoulder, revealing a creamy white skin that made his gut ache.

"Good mornin', Cole. Come in. Feelin' better?"

He nodded, hardly able to form the words. "Yes, ma'am. You sure are beautiful."

"How kind of you to say so. I do believe you and I may have unfinished business," she answered and turned to him while pushing the shift off the second shoulder, letting it slide off. It got stuck on her nipples, revealing the tops of her areolae and giving him a view of the curves of her full breasts and a cleavage that made him swallow. Where her sister had been more than adequate, Lindy was generously built.

"Shall we finish what we started last night? It looks to me like you might be more than interested." Her eyes traveled down to his fly, and he noticed the bulge his cock was making in his pants.

He stepped to her, stopping in front of her, less than the width of a palm away. He was a few inches taller than she, but as he approached she held his eyes, unafraid and unabashed. Simply waiting. His hands started up toward her shoulders, but he didn't touch. He cast glimpses at the cleavage between the full breasts, barely holding up the shift.

"Lindy. May I?"

"Please, do," she nodded.

His hands curved around her shoulders and he leaned his mouth into that soft concave curve below her jawline, putting his lips on her neck. He started with light kisses on her neck that changed from light to flirting with impropriety as they moved down towards her clavicle, and finally became increasingly more ardent as the traveled farther to her chest. She did not stop him - quite the contrary, she pulled him into an embrace and, hands on his neck and jaw, helped lead him down.

Her shift had lost its battle with gravity--her nipples, though hard and erect, couldn't compete with the friction between them. She tugged his shirt off his shoulders, digging into his muscles impatiently until he took her nipples between his lips and chewing and sucking on their rubbery texture. It was as if he'd opened a valve, turned a switch. She backed up, pulling him with her. He didn't care where to, he didn't want to let go. His fingers outlined the undercurves of her breasts, that sensitive area which he loved so much on a woman, while his mouth traveled down her chest, between her breasts, and to her stomach, lips and tongue hungry for the contact with her skin. He kneeled in front of her and continuing down below the swell of her stomach, leaving a hundred licks and kisses in his wake, until he reached her seeping junction, sloppy wet, glistening, and musky.

She didn't let him continue - she sat on her bed and impatiently pushed down his trousers to his ankles, then lay back on the bed, pulling him on top of her roughly enough he worried he would hurt her with his bulk. She reached his shaft with an experienced hand, not the hand of a timid woman but one who demanded his attention and knew how to pleasure him.

"I want you inside me, Mr. Hartmann," she said, her voice low and husky. I want you to fill me and stretch me; you may be rough, Mr. Hartmann. I'm no delicate flower you could crush."

He took her at her word, pounded into her, their flesh slick with sweat, making little farting noises where the suction between them broke. His arm, shoulder and neck muscles corded, he forgot cares and hardship and melancholy with every thrust into her, and felt his need erupt into her cunt. She pulsed and squeezed him even more tightly as she screamed her climax. And when it seemed that she had squeezed every bit of semen out of his cock, he collapsed askew on top of her, pushing himself partly off so he would not interfere with her breathing.

"Thank you, Mr. Hartmann," she said. "I owe my sister an apology. She was right in every way about you. No wonder she has pined for you lo these many months. I look forward to her giving birth, so I can take a break from hearing about your kindness and gentleness and all your various attributes."

"Thank you, but I believe I am the one who owes you, for your hospitality. I am happy I rested well enough to please us both."

"No, Mr. Hartmann. Cole. You paid your debt last night, and I'm afraid I had more to do with your inability to... ah... rise to the occasion yesterday evening than you did."

He propped himself up on one hand, elbow denting her mattress, and raised his eyebrow at her.

"I must confess," she continued, " to a small experiment. You see, when my sister told me about your trade and your lotions, I began to think on it. I got an idea of how to convince her no-good husband to let her go."

She squeezed out from under him and turned on her own side, propping herself up facing him. "You see, Jake Spelling is the most prideful man I've ever met, though he has no cause for it. He is also vain, and proud of his sexual prowess," she rolled her eyes. "I can imagine no worse thing to befall him than losing his ability perform with a woman."

She paused long enough to let Cole ask questions, but he waited for her to continue, and she did. "I've been doing a bit of experimentation on some of the rats so plentiful around here. I have a little experience myself compounding herbs into lotions, taught by my grandmother. But I've had time, while waiting for you to return to these parts, to try a little of this and a little of that."

"How did you know I would return?"

"I told you, I asked around. Not enough that anyone would notice. I kept my ear out for when anyone spoke highly of a lotion or salve or medication they might have bought from an itinerant tradesman. You come well-recommended, sir, I assure you. And so I have the perfect solution to my sister's predicament. I have found that a certain mixture of hemp seed crushed together with the berries of the yellow nightshade groundcherry have quite interesting properties, though not ones that would be welcomed by any man in his prime. Interestingly, in the right proportions there's little or no effect on women at all. I've experimented on it myself. At worst, if taken too liberally, it makes one light-headed and sleepy, and strangely enough, hungry. "

He wrinkled his forehead. "My mother told me about the yellow night shade groundcherry. I think she also called it thick-leaf groundcherry. It grows wild around these parts."

"So it does. And now comes the favor you could do me, sir."

*****

At midday, Cole walked into the town tavern again and sat himself at the bar to order a bowl of thick stew and a pint of ale. As Lindy had predicted, Jake Spelling was sitting at the bar, hunched over his own pint glass, already nearly drained. He looked as if he had barely slept but he was grinning from ear to ear, looking happy and satisfied.

"Good mornin' to you," Cole greeted him and the barkeep. "You look like the day has been favorin' you."

"Not bad, not bad at all. That Kit, she's always a treat. I do miss her, but a mornin' spent with her is as good as month spent with my own wife. Especially now that she's with child."

"Kit? Or your wife?" Cole feigned ignorance.

"My wife, of course," Jake Spelling barked out a laugh.

"Ah, well. You must be very happy about the coming child."b

"Oh, I am. I am. Me an' the wife been tryin' since we got married a coupla years ago. Well, I do hope it's a boy. I need me an heir and a helpmate. Only thing is, ever since she got with child, she's been ever so tetchy and standoffish. A man can hardly git any pleasure 'round my house these days."

Cole spooned some stew into his mouth and gave himself a minute to chew before commenting. "I may be able to offer something to enhance your experience, an' hers. It's a rare medicine, something I picked up from my grandma, who picked it up in the old country from an old gypsy. Luckily, she taught me how to make it with local ingredients. But they're hard to find. Pretty expensive, especially as you have to take it ev'ry time. I can rarely afford to take any myself, I save it for customers."

"Yeah?"

"I carry it 'round with me. I don't let it get out of my sight for nothin'--it's too precious." He rummaged around in the leather satchel he'd put at his feet. "Ah, here we are," and he pushed a small bottle of dark blue-green fluid along the bar toward Jake, who took it cautiously and turned it in his hands, looking at it from all angles.

"May I open it and smell it?"

"Well, are you truly interested? I mean, it's powerful stuff, that is. You even have to build up to the full dose."

"Well, I'm not buyin' nothin' I can't smell or taste."

Cole scratched his ear, looking at the bottle doubtfully. "How many you goin' to buy?"

"Well, I'd like to try it first. Then if it works, I'll buy some more."

"I'm leavin' these parts after lunch," Cole said, with an apologetic shrug.

"Well.... You say it work, huh?"

Tommy was drying glasses behind the bar. "I heard about that stuff," he nodded toward the little bottle. "I got a friend who took some of it. Said it didn't do much at the beginning, but after a week or two, he felt twenty years younger!"

"OK, I'll take whatever you got," said Jake.

"Make sure to start slow, now. In fact, start with this bottle first," he said, pointing to the small amber bottle. "Take one tablespoon with a glass of whiskey about dinner time. Once you're used to it, you can move on to this other bottle. That's the same stuff, but super concentrated, for extra virility. The whole lot of them, that's a hundert dollars' worth." He looked at Jake's face, saw it fall. "But for a friend, since you buyin' the whole lot at once, how about...ummm... forty. That's less than half price. That's as low as I can go without losing money on the deal."

Jake lit up, digging in his pocket for cash, pulling crumpled bills out of his jeans and onto the bar. Sitting with four bottles in front of him, he kept arranging and rearranging them, humming to himself and grinning from ear to ear."

"Thank you, sir. I hope you're happy with the outcome. Perhaps I'll see you on my next trip to these parts. I like to check on my customers if I can. But it might be a while," Cole warned. He turned to Tommy. "And please give my thanks to Lindy again for her hospitality. She was right kind."

*****

It was late the next Fall before Cole returned to those same parts. He stopped by Tommy's tavern, and was greeted with a broad smile by the bartender.