Wild Sunflowers

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Dan picks up an alley cat & discovers a wild pussy.
5.1k words
4.69
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Part 1 of the 2 part series

Updated 09/22/2022
Created 10/26/2005
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After wife number three left, at the age of 49 with the kids grown and gone, I made a firm commitment to myself to never make a commitment. To a woman at least. Figured I wasn't good at it, or good at picking them or whatever. I decided not to spend a lot of time analyzing it. I just wasn't gonna do it again. The first one drank, played pool really well and abandoned the kids. I ended up raising them, and I'm proud of the job I did. The second was chronically depressed. It was like living in a morgue half the time. She'd done years of therapy, a good part of it I paid for. Even her therapist was frustrated after five years of working with her. I asked myself one day if I was ever going to get what I needed out of the relationship. My answer was no, and I started the untangling process the same day. The third? Well it just got to the point where I was working day and night trying to make her happy. I guess I'm a slow learner. I never gave up easy. Number two was eight years of trying, number three, we were together for ten. I kept looking in the mirror at an older and older face. Part of that was just plain being tired from working seven days a week, both for money to support us and to get a house built. I knew that another reason for that increasingly aged visage was the reality of approaching fifty.

When wife number three decided to move to Phoenix to pursue her career, try to get what she wanted out of life, and suck a little dough off of her mother, I hooked up our fifth wheel. We split the cash, she took the new car. I dropped off the RV along with her menagerie of pets. I had already decided that this trial separation was going to be permanent and I worked 'round the clock to get her out of my life. This time, I kept the house, situated in the Rocky Mountain foothills of Southern Colorado, just outside of a tiny Victorian Western town. I had reached the magic age where I had decided it was now or never for good old Dan.

I had thought about moving to Southern California, so that I could sail, hang on the beach and watch the thong-butted roller babes skate by. I was also determined to work no more than 45 hours a week and spend my free time getting back in shape, writing and playing music. Anyway, when I dropped the RV off the back of the truck and took off up the freeway, it was like the truck and I had lost ten thousand pounds of responsibility. I felt lighter than I had in five years and oh, it was good. I hit the gas, the truck lurched forward and I was on my way.

On the way back from Phoenix, I stopped in Santa Fe to do something that I had never done before. I decided I was going to stop at a topless dance joint I had heard of. At 49, I had never been to a topless bar. Hard to believe, but true. I thought these places were generally trashy and a bit scary. But I did it. I went inside, paid the cover and looked around. It was actually pretty classy inside. A live band was playing a mixture of R&B and techno music and they were hot. There were eight or ten couples on the dance floor, two great-looking topless girls in thongs on separate stages and a handful of single guys scattered around. Half the women on the dance floor were doing a sexy bump and grind with their partners either as a reflection of the two professionals or else to compete for the eyeballs of their boyfriends and the rest of the folks in the place. One dancer was a petite blond with medium natural breasts, luscious legs and a perky little ass. The other was Hispanic, dark skinned, brown eyed and very hot.

Well, I had two problems with the place, really. The whiskey was pricey and weak and there were absolutely no single women. With my next drink order, I complained to the bartender about the lack of single females. The bartender was about my age, maybe a few years younger, fit, wearing a black T-shirt with the bar logo on it. I figured him for a Harley guy.

"Yeah, not tonight, but usually there are a few. It's just quiet tonight. A couple of our waitresses are single, though. Maybe you ought to talk to them. That one, for example, over there has been single and I think kinda lonely for years. A lot of guys don't want to go out with a topless dancer maybe." I looked at the woman serving drinks across the way. She was tall, really tall, like 6'1." Long bodied, long legged, breasts that I would have given a nine on a ten scale. She had short blonde hair. She was obviously doing her job, talking to the two single guys she was serving. A subtle combination of leading them on and keeping her distance.

"Ok, I said to the bartender, wanna send her over with my next drink?" I'd already tipped him pretty good and was obviously not a trouble maker.

"Sure," he said. I had no idea what I was driving at, but I was here, I was free and so what the heck, I'll talk to her, I thought.

The girl showed up a few minutes later. She looked to be about mid-30's and had wonderful green eyes.

"Hi, I'm Dan," I said. "You probably hear this all the time, but you have fantastic breasts. I could worship them. They are like two bright beautiful doves."

"Birds, huh?" she said. "I've been told they look like grapefruits, peaches, tomatoes, pears; Fruits and vegetables mostly. Never been told they look like birds. Thanks, I guess. What can I do for you?"

"I thought you and I could spend some time together after you get off work," I told her.

"It's three hundred an hour," she replied. "I get off at two."

"OK," I thought, "I'm coming on to a topless waitress who does tricks on the side. Not really my style and possibly a bit hazardous."

"You know," I said, "I've never paid for sex and it's a tradition I think I'll stick with. I was thinking about taking you out to an early breakfast and just talking. You know, conversation. There's a little breakfast place down toward the plaza. They make a fantastic crab and camembert omelet."

"Conversation, eh? Well if you change your mind about the three bills, I'll be around 'till two."

"Won't happen, but if you change your mind about breakfast, I'm leaving in about ten," I

replied.

I hung out for about ten more minutes, finished my watered whiskey and headed for the exit. "Oh well," I thought. "No harm done."

I felt a tap on my shoulder just as I reached the door and found myself looking into those gorgeous green eyes once again. I'll admit I had to struggle to keep my eyes off her tits. They gave me chills.

"Pick me up at two for breakfast, back door, Mr. Birdman."

"I'll be here," I told her and walked through the door.

I was glad to be out of the place. Not exactly my comfort zone. My mind started making lists and I drove around town and fulfilled them. First a trip to the liquor store for a couple of bottles of white wine I liked, just in case. The wine was called Obsession from Ironstone Vineyards. It is a Muscat with a touch of sparkle, an initial bouquet of wild roses and a citrusy finish. I didn't know if I would need any of these things, but I had been a Boy Scout once and their motto is "Be Prepared." Then off to the groovy food store for a bottle of almond and arnica oil. I like to mix these for massage. The almond oil is really slippery and the arnica adds a great aroma, like being in a birch forest in Sweden when the sap's running. Finally, a trip to the drugstore for condoms. "That's a huge stretch," I thought. Then I splurged and checked into La Fonda Hotel on the plaza. If you've ever been to Santa Fe, you will know La Fonda. It's about three hundred years old. A great little boutique hotel. I showered, shaved and set the alarm for an hour, as it was right at midnight. Then I evaporated into dreamland, fell apart really. I had driven eleven hours down to Phoenix and six hours back. Straight through.

When the alarm went off I got up, washed my face and made a cup of coffee with the little in-room coffee maker. Then I went down to the truck and headed out of town. It was fall, the wild sunflowers had gone nuts along Cerillos Boulevard and I picked a big double bouquet of them and placed them in the back seat next to my cello. I carry the cello everywhere I go. I'd been playing since I was big enough to hold on to one. I play mostly chamber music for a local string quartet and my less expensive cello goes with me everywhere. Having a huge pickup with a full backseat helps. Then I washed and vacuumed the truck. Living where I live mud is a constant companion and even though my truck is old and beat up, I thought it should at least be clean.

I pulled into the parking lot near the back door a few minutes before two and popped in a CD. After a bit, the door swung open and there was my tall blonde beauty. I opened the truck door, which turned on the dome light and she recognized me. She was dressed in a white blouse, obviously wore a bra plus a charcoal pinstriped skirt that just about reached her knees. "Half naked on the dance floor and dressed like an accountant when she leaves the place," I thought. I went around and opened her door as she said, "Classy truck," in a tongue-in-cheek tone of voice.

She climbed, literally, into the front seat. The truck is a late nineties four by four, three quarter ton, super duty F250 and the seat's about four feet off the ground.

"What kind of music is that?"

"Oldies, I replied, "from about 1720. It's Baroque music. This particular track is Bach's Suite Number One if G Major." I reached in the back and handed her the flowers. "You're doing me a big favor going to breakfast with me," I said.

"Wow, beautiful," she said. "Wild sunflowers are my favorite. They're so wild, and bright and happy, I think." She was truly delighted with them and this was the first statement I'd heard her make so far that wasn't laced with a certain level of cynicism. "Ok, so you're a mountain man with a big truck that looks like it's been through a war, you like wildflowers, think my breasts are birds and listen to music that is four hundred years old. What else?"

"I don't know your name," I said.

"Oh well, my friends call me Chuck," she said.

"Chuck?"

"Well, my parents named me Cherisse and I was Cherry 'till I lost mine and so then it became Charlie and someone started calling me Chuck and Chuck stuck."

"OK, Chuck. Let's roll." We went to breakfast. The omelets were fabulous. Crab flown in fresh with Camembert and herbs. We had a glass of Chardonnay apiece and we talked, we had conversation. I learned that she had been working at the bar for eighteen months and lived in a single wide on the road to Ocate. I learned that she had a daughter that her first husband had disappeared with over ten years ago. She learned that I lived in Colorado, did business consulting online, wrote magazine articles and stories and played the cello in a string quartet.

"That's that big violin looking thing in the back, right?" She was chipper and cheerful and not cynical at all. Ultimately I invited her to come up to La Fonda and listen to me play.

"Oh, I don't know, Dan. I'm really tired," she said.

"At least she wasn't calling me bird man anymore," I thought.

"I would like to hear you play and I think I trust you."

"One piece and I'll take you to your car. No funny business." I said.

She agreed without too much more arm-twisting. We drove down to the plaza, parked and walked toward the hotel. I took her hand.

"Being a bit fresh aren't you?" She asked.

"You're a beautiful woman and I like who you seem to be so far." I replied.

"I'm too tall and skinny, and my hair's funky." She said.

"I think you are a gorgeous statuesque blonde and I love your eyes and I like how your hair is cut. It looks good on you."

"Thanks," she said and meant it.

Once in the hotel room, I told her to sit in one of the comfortable chairs while I tuned and adjusted the bow.

I had been thinking about what to play for her and had decided on Pachelbel's Cannon in D major. This was an arrangement I had constructed especially for my playing style and for the cello. The Cannon is played a little too frequently especially at weddings, but knowing Chuck, she probably hadn't had much exposure to classical music and this was a piece that I loved despite its over popularity. I had perfected this piece over many years of playing. I could play it in my sleep. It was easy for me to get lost in the subtle qualities of each note, filling them with emotion and completely losing myself in the music.

I asked her to close her eyes, take a few deep breaths, and to let nothing else exist but the sound. Then I played. At the end of the piece, I looked over at her to see if she had liked it. Her eyes were still closed, but huge tears were running down her cheeks. She had been touched. I said nothing to break the silence and waited.

Finally she spoke wiping the tears from her face with her fingers. "Oh Dan, I've never heard a piece of music like that in my life. That was so sweet and sad somehow. I'm sorry. And she started sobbing again." I laid the cello against the bed, kneeled by her chair and took her hand.

"Sweet little Chuck," I said. "It's good to cry. It's a good thing."

"Why do you like me?" she sobbed. "I know you think I'm pretty but you're not even trying to get me in bed."

"I don't know Chuck. I like who you are. Maybe you haven't been around the world, but there's something about you. I think you have a good heart and maybe it just hasn't had a chance to grow enough."

She was having some kind of release, as my friends in the psych trade would say, a catharsis at 3:30 in the morning.

"Could you play me another song?" She asked. "Just one more, 'cause I'm really tired. Then I have to go home."

I pulled the comforter from the bed and told her to hop in. She did as she was told. I covered her up with the comforter, tucking her in like a little child. I sat with my back to her on the bed and picked up the bow. I played a piece that I had written a few months earlier that I was proud of and as I didn't hear anything from her, I played another.

"Chuck?" I turned around. She was asleep. I turned out the lights, stood the cello in the corner and prepared to get into the other queen bed.

"C'mere. She said and she peeled the comforter back. She slipped out of her clothes without getting up and wormed her way between the sheets. "Let's sleep for a while. That was beautiful."

I caught no more than a glimpse of her naked. I stripped off my clothes and climbed in with her spooned her from the back and laced my arm between her breasts. I was instantly hard. She pushed her butt up against me and promptly fell asleep. I worked with my breathing until my ponderous rod subsided and then I was out.

It was past ten when I awoke. She was perched on an elbow looking at my face. What a delightful way to wake up and what a sweet smile she gave me when I opened my eyes.

"Where did you come from?" she asked me. "You played so beautiful last night. I've never in my life met anyone like you. Men generally want to fuck me, not give me flowers and music."

"Yeah, well, I can't say I don't want to fuck you once we get to know each other a little better." I thought honesty was the best policy in this instance.

"You had me after the first tune, Dan." She said very sweetly I thought.

"I could rent the room for another night and we could spend the day playing in town?" I said. It was Sunday and I didn't really have to go back to work if I didn't want to.

"Nah," she said. "Why don't we go get my car and you can follow me home? I'd like to take you to my place."

I checked out, drove her to her car and we hit the freeway out of Santa Fe. We ended up down a dirt road driving through juniper and rocks. We finally stopped at a piece of dirt that looked just like the surrounding hills. It was covered in yucca and chollo with a few scrubby wind-blown junipers. The only difference between this place and the surrounding miles of red dirt was that there was a singlewide trailer and a few pots of flowers out front. It looked downright lonesome. I parked the truck behind her old Saturn and met her at the door as she was turning the key. I'd grabbed the cello out of the back and my sack of purchases from last night.

"It's not much, but I own it." She said. "Not the land, though. An old vaquero owns it and he let me put in the septic and electricity and phone in exchange for lifetime rental. He says it's been in his family since the Spanish land grant days. He's a neat old Hispanic man in his late eighties. He's harmless, but he's been flirting with me ever since I met him ten years ago. We're really just good buds. You might meet him. He comes over for coffee usually on Sunday mornings, but he hasn't been well lately, so I don't know."

"You know, it's what's inside that makes a house a home." I told her and we entered.

"I need a shower, she said.

"We both need a shower," I replied, "and I haven't had enough sleep by a long shot."

"I'll feed the cat, we can take a shower and we'll go to bed!," she said gleefully. "Bed's my favorite place."

An orange and brown tabby showed up to curl around her calves. He soon got the attention and the food he wanted and we headed for what served as the master bedroom.

"Me first," she said, grabbing some clean towels, "but maybe you want to watch?"

"I'd like nothing better than to see you naked," I replied.

She started slowly unbuttoning her blouse never taking her eyes off mine. "I want to do this for you." She said. "Maybe you should play a strip song on the cello."

"Don't know any, but please don't stop." I told her.

"What do you like, Dan? Do you like what you see? Do you like me?" as she removed her blouse exposing a lacy bra that reached just above her nipples and highlighted her cleavage.

"I like you, Chuck. I love your long, lanky body and those legs that go all the way up to..."

"To what, Dan? To where? What do you think is at the end of my legs?" she asked unzipping the skirt and letting it drop to the floor. She was wearing a blue thong that was practically transparent and small enough to fit in a matchbox. "Is this where my legs end?" she said running her fingers down inside the front of the thong. Come on, speak up or this is all you'll see, Dan. Cat got your tongue?" She was still looking directly into my eyes as she reached behind her back to undo the bra. "Wanna see my tits, Dan? You said you could worship them. I have a good memory. Come on baby."

I walked across to where she was standing and kissed her like I had longed to kiss her since I saw her tears last night, or this morning or whenever it was. She embraced me. I put my hands on her waist and slid them up to her shoulders pulling the bra straps down her arms. I didn't let go of her wrists, just held them and continued the long kiss. I had to reach up a bit, which was a new experience for me as she was a full inch taller than I. She raised her head and sighed giving me perfect access to her throat and I kissed her long neck all the way down to her collarbone. I moved her hands behind her back and held them with one of mine. I placed the other hand behind her shoulder blades and pulled her to me, exploring her shoulders, and then down her breasts with my lips and tongue. I stayed away from her nipples preferring to work the curves above them, inside them and finally below them circling my way slowly toward her aureoles. She mewed like a kitten thrusting her breasts forward and I pulled a nipple into my mouth and sucked it like a child. Now she moaned and started breathing more rapidly.

"Let me take a shower and then you may continue." she finally said, pushing me away. "But first let me remove my thong" Again, she looked me in the eyes saying, "This is yours if you want it." She slipped the little thing down her long, long legs and stood up waiting for me to comment.

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