Car Show Part One
by
Diana Walker
This
work of adult fiction, loosely based on
characters portrayed by Russell Crowe, includes adult language and
experiences;
you have been warned. No
copyright
infringement on the original work is intended.
Copyright Diana Walker 2006.
DIANA
I find satisfaction in the small things in life – noticing clouds forming, laughing at the Martens darting in to grab the insects I’ve disturbed with my mowing, lying next to Terry before either one of us is fully awake, mowing the front paddock on my small tractor. Bouncing over the rough ground on the mower alerts me to possible horse risks; horses appear deceptively big and strong to have such delicate legs and digestive tracts. While I mow, I can smooth out divots in their primary paddock to keep their legs sound and find the thorny, unhealthy weeds Gillie would happily chomp. Mowing is a solitary task, and it gives me the solitude I crave.
I care for myself while mowing. It gives me a few hours of mindless work to just be. I visualize my riding posture without inflicting my shifting weight on some poor horse’s back. The long runs front to back help me redirect my vision so when I ride, I can focus a long distance beyond what is directly in front of me; it’s my mount’s job to pay attention to what’s coming up soon – like a jump. My job is the riding equivalent of long range planning.
The mower’s loud mechanical noises block out the rest of the world. It lulls me into a meditative state as nothing else can. My mind clears, and when I finish knocking down the weeds in the front four acres, my mind is open.
My blissful state has its downside as well. I don’t notice when the dogs start alerting me to activities outside the open field. They are particularly adept at spotting bunnies, the mailman, the trash guys, Terry. The horses can’t be bothered to interrupt their grazing unless it’s a new horse arriving in the neighborhood.
I turn the tractor back towards the house and see Terry walking towards me with his slightly bow-legged, rolling gait that announces to any female within viewing distance there‘s so much between his legs, this is as close as he can get to having his legs together; in short, this is his three-ball walk. He can hide it in looser cut dress pants; in Levis
I quickly check Yvette’s pool area; she’s not there. She’s been known to have binoculars available to check out Terry’s package when he’s working in the barn or paddock. Terry’s seen the glint of sunlight reflected off her binoculars.
The peaceful smile on my face had broadened into one of absolute delight when I first saw him climbing the fence with a tinnie in his hand. He wouldn’t open it until we are together; he never does. I gunned the tractor towards him; I couldn’t wait to say hello. I’ll have to remow the 300 feet between us; there’s no way the blade did anything but bend the stalks at this speed. I hope the mower’s bucking will bounce the girls up some in my tank style, work bathing suit; I may be a farmer, but I’ll be damned if I have a farmer tan and wear a shirt. I help the bouncing along; my forearm across my midriff pushes upwards so my aureoles are visible above the suit’s low neckline.
I slow as I approach him and stop beside him with the engine at idle. He steps onto the running board and reaches across me to raise the mowing deck and disengage the mower as my sweaty, dusty arms reach up around his neck. He flicks off the key though the engine roar still reverberates in my ears and will do so for a while. Terry has said he doesn’t notice it; I expect his history with gunfire has damaged his hearing at least a little.
“I’m glad to see you. I wasn’t expecting you until tomorrow. I missed you.” My three sentences took forever to be spoken between the frantic kisses we were sharing.
Terry pulls back to look at me with a shy smile; that’s not fair. I haven’t gotten caught up on the kisses I lost while he’s been in Connecticut, New York, and Chicago.
“It’s not the first time I’ve missed you. It may be the first time I’ve told you I missed you. I didn’t want you to think ….”
“Tell me later.” His hands slide under the thick bathing suit straps and under my breasts, bringing them up so only the barest of public, daylight decency is maintained. What the hell do I care? I’m no longer the sexually repressed woman I have been. Terry’s home from a long trip. The neighbors are over 400 yards away and ought to be used to us by now. We’re in the middle of a five-acre tract of land – our land.
He kisses each breast in turn from the swell to the bit of nipple my mad streak to him forced out. He hasn’t noticed or doesn’t care my chest is covered with grass snips and dirt.
He speaks to my chest. “I missed you,” his face rises to mine, “as well.” I brush the dirt and grass from his lips before his next kiss as his laughter joins mine.
TERRY
Diana had gone for comfort when she started mowing; she had put the girls in a defensive, strapped down position so they wouldn’t be sore from the pounding they take. I saw her readjust them as she drove to me, and the thoughts that simple action started had me ramped up by the time she arrived.
When I stepped onto the running board, it became abundantly clear what a risky manoeuver it was. Diana’s face started very close to the buttons on the jeans I had worn home; I want her welcome home kisses to start on my dick. No matter how much I want her right now it wouldn’t do to have a go in the paddock. It’s bad enough with my trying to inhale her breasts.
With Diana still hanging about my neck, I slide into the seat, arrange her on my legs, and call Irish. “I’m back, and your dinner at the farm tonight is cancelled.” I snap out my information to him; I don’t want to talk to that one of my partners when the partner I do want to talk to is waiting on my lap drinking our beer, tucking in the girls, and doing her unsuccessful best to rearrange my dick in my 501’s.
“Well, hello to you, too,” he laughs to me. “I gather you went straight home. Well, of course, you did; you’ve been gone over a week. Try to have some blood in your other head when you fill us in early tomorrow morning; I want my voice to be sounding like yours does now not later than 1300 tomorrow.”
“Can do.”
“Say hey to Beautiful.” He clicks off knowing I have better things on my mind than to listen to him.
Diana starts to scoot up my legs. “Dino says ‘hey’.”
“That’s nice.” She begins pulling my shirt out of my pants and unbuttoning it simultaneously. Her voice might be distracted, but she is single minded in getting me at least partially undressed. I have to adjust again, this time more blatantly. Next time I come home unexpectedly, I am wearing dress slacks. Diana’s watching my every move; I want her to know how willing I am to fuck her senseless right here.
“You need some sun. You were in the far frozen north too long. We have beer, we have a seat. Tell me about your trip.” She hands me the tinnie, and I take a drink thinking of the best way to make her laugh at my mundane travel day. Just the recounting of it will help my stiffie.
“Since I last talked to you? Let’s see, I got my wake up call; computer generated voices are not alluring first thing in the morning. I climbed in the cab.”
“OK, OK. I get it. Nothing exciting happened today.”
“Too right. At least not until I got to this paddock.” The sun does feel good on my chest; Diana would feel better, but she looks unbearably sexy leaning back against the steering wheel, her shorts’ legs gapping open, with her now bare feet braced on the back wheel fenders either side of me, her thighs draped across mine. What makes her even sexier is that she’s completely unaware of her eroticism, of the effect she has with her casual position. My cock, having a mind of his own, wants to be two inches longer and nestled in her. I want to look to my heart’s content and talk to her. A little foreplay now will pay off well later. Down boy. It’s a good thing one of us can stand a little delayed gratification.
“Why aren’t the horses in their stalls?” I start brushing the dirt and grass from her bare calf. If Diana hadn’t known it already, she does now; mowing is over for the day.
“I didn’t feel like riding today, and they needed some exercise. We played mower tag. They started over there grazing.” Diana twists and points to the north fence line. She has no notion how watching the swell of her breasts affects me right now; the effect of her gesture is almost daring me to take her right here, right now. “I’d get within 100 feet of the herd, and Rabbit would lead them there.” Diana points to the west fence line.
“Rabbit knows this little thing wouldn’t hurt him. He does have good reason to respect Bill’s big combine when he comes over to cut the hay in the back.”
“Careful, I may end up with tractor envy. Can’t have you thinking Bill has a bigger one.”
“I’d never think that. We’ll always need this lawn tractor for Rabbit’s games. He likes the fun of playing tag, and he’s taught the others the game. Today we played for a long time until they got bored.”
“Is that why there are the unmown patches over there? You had to mow around them?”
“One patch is where the sandpipers have their eggs, and I saw some small bunnies in the other place. You have to mow around the last area.” She grimaces and shudders. “I saw a snake hole.”
“Ah, it’s good to be needed. I’ll get to it over the weekend.”
Diana leans toward me, kissing me once more; her innate sensuality is running rampant. “I’ll always need you and not just for snake duty.” Diana has moved to needing me as well as wanting me. There is something to be said for long, boring trips; Diana’s had the time alone to think and figure out what she feels. Her point made, she resumes her open, languid pose, perhaps remembering I once demonstrated to her in one of our far ranging convos how much enjoyment I get out of looking at her.
We sit for a long while sharing news and the enjoyment of being together again whilst the sexual tension between us builds.
I lean towards her to brush away the non-existent debris under her shorts’ leg. Her self-described violin wire between her clit and navel must be quivering; I can see the ripple move up her belly. She can’t see it; her eyes are closed, but most certainly, she feels every tremour.
“I’ll give you twenty minutes to stop that.” Her tone tells me if I stop right now, I’ll lose a hand.
It won’t take me twenty minutes. Diana will be putty in under five.
“I finally got around to putting everything back in the safe while you were gone. What have you got in there?” It would never dawn on Diana to look at something I had put in her safe; she is curious but not nosey. Two well-satisfied people are stretched out on the bed, both drowsy after our shower and our proper hello.
“The deed to the five acres at the end of the road. Some cash. Some bank statements.” This is as good a time as any to have the ‘money’ talk. My net TEO earnings go directly into the joint account, but Diana has no idea and has never asked about investments or how lucrative my business is. She buys house brand canned goods; she shops at Sam’s Wholesale Club, for Christ’s sakes. The clothing she buys for herself always has a sale tag. I don’t see that mind set changing even when I ease her into this convo.
“You did buy the land down there? I figured you might. I was pretty sure someone had when I saw the new guy planting. When did you get it?”
“Before we went to DC.”
“You’ve had it all this time, and you never told me?” She rolls on top of me and settles in with her chin on my chest and one leg between mine. She is amused more than annoyed; she’s come to understand and accept I’ll pick my times and places to break important news to her.
“You never asked.”
“How much do you still owe on it?”
“Not a cent. I bought it outright. I didn’t want you to have a chance to buy the note and call it in when you threw me out.” We laugh now at our foolish fears.
“I wouldn’t have made you pay up. I’m enough of a masochist to want you close as a reminder of my stupidity at throwing you out or letting you walk away. Besides, on the days I was feeling mean, I could cut off the creek to your land; I’m upstream from it. You’d be amazed at how quickly I can build a dam. I may be part beaver.”
Diana drops her cheek, turning away from me. I feel the heat of her embarrassment. We share a dirty giggle before a newspaper headline of “Range War Breaks Out In North Texas” comes to mind.
“Have you heard the Bowens are moving?” I finally manage to ask her. Gene and Noel Bowen live just past Bill and Nancy. All our lands used to belong to the Bowen family farm.
“No.” Her voice is genuinely regretful. “You’ve been gone for a week, and I’ve been here. How the hell did you find out before me?”
“I ran into Gene at the barber shop before I left.”
“Well, I’ll miss them. I was hoping Gina would ride with Dolores since they’re about the same age. Where are they going?”
“Oregon.
Diana’s sigh tells me her disgust. She’s always feared more developments moving closer.
“I made him an offer.” She blinks more than a few times; I feel her lashes on my bare chest.
“Can we afford it? Of course, we can. I’ll go back to work full-time. We can’t have developers putting in a hundred houses down the road. They’d destroy the woods behind your five acres. I won’t let that happen.” More than Diana’s love for riding in those woods, the steel in her voice is the tone she reserves for when she thinks I’ve been wronged.
“Even without you going to work, money isn’t the stumbling block. Gene wanted something we can’t guarantee right now. He wants the lands held in perpetuity within a family – something he couldn’t do.”
“Oh.” Diana’s disappointment is extreme. She really does not want children. “Did you tell him about Henry … that we’ve talked about adopting? But I suppose we’d have to get married first.” She is still afraid of marriage, but she is bringing up the word more often, if once a year can be considered often.
“I wouldn’t put that burden on Henry – to have some solicitor track him down and give him a piece of land. He’s never seen Texas.
Diana may not be able to effect reconciliation between Henry and me, but she will try. I see her think through a solution about Henry and put her plan into a compartment for later action. “We ought to and can fix that.”
“I found a way for Gene to become more comfortable with our purchase of the land without children. I convinced him his own children weren’t guaranteed as overseers. I proposed a way for it to stay out of developers’ hands when we’re all dead and gone. I’ll set up an annuity, an escrow account to keep the taxes paid; if the account ever runs out of money, the land goes to the town as parkland. I’ve an appointment with the town council next week to discuss it. Most of them were at the barbershop that morning and overheard Gene and I discussing the sale; they seemed amenable.”
“How much of a mortgage will we have to carry on it? And how much will the annuity need?” Diana’s shoulders sag under the financial obligation she sees ahead.
“From your accounts, not a dime. I can liquidate an investment and fund everything.” From the look on her face, she believes I have lied to her for the first time.
I undrape her from me and pad out of the bedroom to the library safe. I return with the newly discovered but as yet unreviewed brokerage and bank statements still safely tucked in their manila envelope. In my absence, she has donned my shirt and her knickers, a sure sign she's preparing to chew on my arse. It could be worse; she could be in one of her shirts and knickers; those signify a long discussion. I pull on my shorts with a sigh and take my spot on the opposite side of the bed with the dreaded envelope between us. I unclasp the flanges and pull out the contents.
“Diana,” I hand her the Credit Suisse consolidated statement first. She scans the first page and slides it to the back. Christ, she’s trying to read the detail now, and she’s only on the second page. I direct her eyes upward to the combined figure at the top of the first page.
“I’m trading one investment for another.” I hand her the Cayman National Bank Ltd. statement. Good, she’s getting the hang of it; she’s looking at totals in each account. After two more, I can see she’s had enough. I tuck the other five she hasn’t seen back into the consolidated envelope. I leave the four strewn round her where she sits dumbstruck.
I’ve never stopped to think about the investments since leaving Luthan. Dino dragged me to Geneva
“I pay taxes on all of it or there would be more in the accounts. You’re the beneficiary on every one of them. Here’s the instruction sheet on what to do if something happens to me.” I kiss her gently to get her to focus. “The instruction sheet and contact list are in the big envelope.” She nods slowly.
“You can afford to buy the Bowen property outright.”
“We can afford to buy it. The deed will be in both our names.”
“I don’t have enough money.” I have to give her an option another working class kid can tolerate.
“You can pay into the Cayman account …every month.” I’m speaking slowly and gently. Her eyes are locked on mine as if the connection is the only thing keeping her sane.
“You, Max, and Dino. You each have this much?”
“More or less. Dino’s in riskier investments; his net worth is more of a roller coaster. Max’s is bound to be less; he’s two years behind us in the business, and his investments are very conservative even by my standards.”
“I thought we were wealthy with what went into the bank account.”
I gather her up in my arms and rock her gently. She’s taking the news of our net worth hard. “I know, Baby, I know. We have everything we need.”
I feel when her grit comes back, but she stays in my embrace longer.
“Diana, TEO only charges the going rate; we’re very competitive on our fees. Sooze makes sure our operating expenses stay low. Because we’re a limited liability partnership, the profits come to us. You’re included in ‘us.’ I couldn’t keep going if not for you. You renewed me.”
She finally pulls away from me and puts the statements she has seen back in their individual envelopes. She double-checks the return address on the envelope with the statement.
She holds up the Credit Suisse. “This is the biggest one?”
“It is.”
She carefully stacks them with her instruction sheet on top and stuffs them in the unified envelope.
“They’re only numbers. They don’t mean a damn thing.”
DINO
I am going to enjoy today’s staff meeting. Profits are up even though I spent $25k extra on the first negotiation after Max was nabbed, I leave for Palestine
“Next item is the lease on the Jag.” I love the pained look on Terry’s face. Even though we all, including him, rag on the fogy nature of a Jaguar sedan, he has come to love that car. I do not want to consider what memories of Diana are tied to it. It is a sweet ride from what I can tell in the few times he’s let me drive. It handles well, plenty of acceleration, comfortable to seeming like I’m in my favorite chair – the overstuffed recliner at Ellie’s.
“We have a guarantee from Brad Lahrs he will have either a Jag or Merc sedan available when we need a company car. He needs two hours notice. The lease on the Jag is an expense we don’t need.”
Sooze squeaked making fun of my penny-pinching ways; she’s a good one to talk. There are times I think she’d make me account for the paper clips I use for stress relief. Max looked on dispassionately; this was one negotiation where he would opt out. I don’t know why Terry and I negotiate everything between us. It is one way we stay sharp.
“It’s a standard perq for the CEO to be provided a car. I’ve had one since we opened the doors. Take away the company car, and I’ll need a car allowance; I’ll convert to personal transportation.”
“Why? A car allowance is a pittance for you.”
“You’re asking me to go car shopping; that takes time. Between cars, I’d be driving the Tahoe. It’s a compensation reduction however small; we can’t have that. Not with the profit increase you reported earlier.”
Crap. I fucking gave him the car allowance argument when I scheduled the financial report first. “All right. Car allowance it is. But it will be in the amount of the lease cost for a standard sized American car, say a Crown Vic.”
“Still would be a decrease. How about the amount we were paying for the Jag, but the allowance is frozen for the next three years at last year’s cost? I’m still taking a decrease, but I can get a car that you wouldn’t be ashamed to be seen in.”
Cost frozen at last year’s price when I had budgeted a four percent increase? “Done.”
“Now for my interim transportation. You’ll swap Baby/Bitch for the truck until I can find a suitable auto.”
“Oh no. Not happening, Old Man. You like the smell of Eau d’ Cheval; I don’t. Baby’s suspension can’t handle 200 pounds of feed in the trunk let alone having one of the nags kick in the quarter panel when you drive her into the barn to unload. I am willing to start your allowance the day you turn in the Jag rather than when you have selected suitable transportation.”
“Done.”
We both stand and shake hands across the table, both supremely confident we have gotten the better of the deal. I know I did. I’m off to Palestine
DIANA
I suppose our first venture in the new vehicle world would have to be considered the new John Deere tractor that now resides in our hastily expanded equipment shed. The same guys who added onto the barn and built the covered arena were delighted to come back and work for us again.
The last of the Bowen homestead no longer belongs to a Bowen. I miss the passing of tradition. With their move, none of the five original farming families – the ones who had fought off the Indian attacks in the 1800’s and had survived the Depression – live in the area. The Walker-Thorne household will be the steward for the land and a fading lifestyle. Terry and I are the second largest landowners in the community with 155 acres; Bill and Nancy have granted us an easement across their 300 acres to our Bowen holding. The easement is wide enough to drive the behemoth tractor over and cut the hay fields there. Our own original holding will now be my own personal eventing site.
Terry and I spent all of five minutes cleaning out the Jag; everything was in its own carrying case and stowed neatly. When the truck starts getting tired, it would be an all day affair and take multiple 55-gallon trash bags to get everything cleaned out. At least the trash bags were already in the back.
“It’s kinda melancholy thinking the Jag will be gone.” I am sad to see it go. It’s the only car I could see Terry driving even when I put together the technical specification spreadsheet for him. I could see him getting out of a Corvette in Levis
We are sitting in the Jag one last time; Terry has his arm draped over the steering wheel, his body turned towards me. I’m sunk into the leather passenger seat. Both the front doors stand open. “Just think of the adventure ahead trying out all the new cars.”
“Remember, this new one is your car. Get the one you will love. I won’t drive it all that often so my opinion doesn’t count. I’ll give you my opinion only if you ask for it …or when you get down to the final one or two.”
Terry starts the CD player and smiles at me. I’m surprised he still has this one CD in the player; he should be tired of it by now. He forwards the tracks to number seven. “Would you care to dance?” The Jag has become a seventy-five thousand dollar jukebox for our amusement. Could I see a Z standing still for that? Not on your life. The Jag loves us, and I love it. But I love the man I am dancing with even more. If he wants the adventure of car shopping, I’m in for the ride. Bye-bye, Jag.
He has a passable jellyroll falling over his forehead, as much as his short hair will allow. He definitely has the Elvis lip curl down. Either he’s been watching the recent Elvis movie marathon without my knowing or he’s been tormenting Okie to learn the snarl. He turns to show me his back; try as he might, the DA ain’t happening. I think I still have some super sticky gel from when I was wearing my hair short and spiky. With some of that industrial strength goo and some significant coaxing, I may be able to get his short hair to meet in the middle.
His 50’s dress is almost impeccable. How can you go wrong with Levis
“Hey, Cupie Doll. Get into your poodle skirt, and we’ll go drag Main."
“I have no idea. Remember, I didn’t spend my teenage years here.”
“Right. Well, get into your poodle skirt, and we’ll drive round until we find it. Looking as sharp as we do, it shouldn’t take long.”
“I hate to disappoint you, but I cut up my MOTHER’s poodle skirt when I was in Girl Scouts for a sewing project.” I think for a moment. “But I do have jean shorts or a pair of the most recent reincarnation of Capri pants. Will that do you?”
His left eyebrow flickers up and down – once, twice, and on the third time it stays up; yes, he remembers the shorts. “Those will work a treat as long as I walk behind you. I don’t fancy any other blokes seeing your cheeks. On second thought, wear the Capris.”
We do look like cool cats when we leave the house. We cruise Greenville Avenue
A couple in a Dodge Challenger pull up beside us at the Northwest and Preston light and start a car-to-car conversation as only those who drive antiques can. Brenda and Ken invite us to follow them to Keller’s for the antique car club show. It’s a weekly happening. The carhops delivering the burgers and beer wear shorts almost as short as the ones I didn’t wear. Terry, the quasi-gentleman, keeps his eyes off the carhops – a very good move on his part – as we walk up and down the parked cars inspecting them. Our ’57 convertible is one of eight. The newest car parked there is Brenda and Ken’s Challenger, but since it was his first car and he’s never sold it, he’s forgiven for having a ‘new’ car.
TERRY
The ’57 Chevy was never meant to be my new car. Brad mentioned it was a new acquisition, and I got it for a lark. Driving a convertible did shorten my list of cars to try significantly. I will not be getting a convertible – with or without a roll bar.
I next drove the Lexus two-seater with the convertible hard top; I kept it for a month. Good solid car. Nice handling. Much more acceleration than the Jag. Dino liked it. I wasn’t wild about the roll bars; they seemed a bit flimsy to me. Diana never voiced a viewpoint during its residence with us. Her notation on the spreadsheet had written her opinion early. She had seen the words ‘aluminium roof’ on their website whilst putting together the comparisons. “The damn roof can’t have any structural integrity; it folds into the fucking trunk.”
The Hummer was next. It’s almost wider than the drive. Even after I wiped out one of Diana’s beloved crepe myrtles, she was willing to try riding in it. We dressed formally, and when I tried to hand Diana into it, she had to hike her long dress to mid thigh to climb in. When she used the three-foot stepladder, she could be the perfect lady. The Hummer may be all terrain, but it’s not all occasion.
The Mini Cooper had a back up waiting in the wings; no one, but no one, expected it to work. Diana had put it on the list as a joke. The joke was on her when I called and roared, “Diana, get your arse to the office NOW.” That was a difficult feat to pull off with Sooze, Dino, and Maxie all standing across the desk from me stifling laughter.
We quickly put together a pool on how long it would take Diana to make it Downtown and how many speeding tickets she would get on the way as we waited for her in the parking garage. At the fifteen-minute mark after calling her, I began folding my body into the Mini. At the twenty-minute mark, Maxie was trying to compress my neck enough to get my head into the passenger compartment with the rest of my body; we gave it up, as we both feared a spinal fracture. He rolled down the window to close the door; my head had to hang out the window. Sooze suggested the convertible might suit us better. My right shoulder intruded 1/3 of the way into the passenger seat. My knees were folded somewhere near my nips, and I couldn’t move my arm enough to shift gears; when I shifted into second gear, my elbow hit the upright of the back seat. A convertible might solve the head problem, but the torso, knees, and shoulders would not fit.
Diana’s Tahoe squealed into the space next to the Mini twenty-seven minutes after I had hung up on her. She strolled over to my car-riding dog imitation sweet as a biscuit and kissed me hello with a ‘Pfuuuutgh!’ of laughter. She gently wiped her spit off my face with her bare hands and kissed me again. “You got more of you in than I expected.”
Dino grabbed one of her arms and Maxie the other. They carried her round the car whilst Sooze opened the passenger door. They tell me her feet never touched the ground; I couldn’t turn my head to see, stuck out the window as it was. The three of them put her into a loose tri-fold and settled her sideways into the seat. The Mini gained a few points; I rather liked the idea of having her tits smashed into my shoulder. There was the small problem of driving anywhere in it that detracted from its one attractive feature; perhaps we could make it into stationary paddock art.
The Mini’s back up was the Mercedes roadster.
MAXIMUS
Maintaining proper control of the reins when riding a horse is a delicate balance. If one holds them too tightly, the horse is forced to protect himself, which evokes a flight-or-fight response. If your grip is too loose, the horse is given permission to do as he wishes. If he is of a fractious or mischievous bent, one may quickly find oneself on the ground. I was beginning to have concern regarding Terry’s grip on the reins of TEO.
It has taken me some time to reach this point, but two incidents have occurred within the past few months that had given me pause. The first incident regards his apparent feelings for my wife – and which he had refused to acknowledge – that caused distress for Diana. The second was Alex Ross’ precipitous termination.
Now Terry is considering the actual purchase of a personal car. On the day Terry gave us his ‘short list’ of vehicles under consideration, I had deemed the Mercedes Roadster to be the most appropriate conveyance for a quiet discussion. I had been biding my time since the week before Cassandra’s and my marriage – when I learnt of Terry’s infatuation for her – to speak with him regarding the obvious distress his failure to acknowledge his feelings cause Diana.
As each new vehicle under consideration arrived, all of us at the office were given a ride in it, as well as the opportunity to drive it. When he takes me out for a ride in the Mercedes, I deem the time appropriate. The car is solidly built, well engineered, has all the necessary features, and is imminently suitable for his purposes; the only decision involved is whether or not Terry likes it as he would be the principal driver. I speak after Terry accelerates up the ramp on to the Interstate and merges with traffic.
“Your behaviour has caused Diana great distress, and I find that unacceptable.” His head snaps round; shock is plain on his face.
“What are you talking about, Max?”
“Diana has indicated that you have what she terms ‘a crush’ on my wife. I am not concerned with the potential for an inappropriate relationship between the two of you, as I know you both to be honourable people. What concerns Diana – and by extension me – is that you have apparently refused to acknowledge what is obvious to all who see you …Dino, Sooze, and my wife. It is clear that your feelings for Reagan are deeper than for other women of your acquaintance, and whilst Diana knows you would never act on them and she is comfortable and secure in your love for her, it troubles her that you will not acknowledge your feelings. In her position, I would have the same distress. The simple fact that Diana chose to mention it to me – even in rather obscure terms – is indication that it is an ongoing source of friction between you.”
“What’s between Diana and me is none of your business, Mate.” Ah …he is angry. I had anticipated as much. There was only one source for my having this information; that was from Diana’s lips. He is angry that she had confided in me. He also has not denied my statement, thus telling me my supposition was correct, and he had been less than frank with her.
“I understand your anger; however, if I learn you have caused Diana further distress as a result of our conversation this day, you will rue the day you spoke of it to her.” Terry suddenly becomes very intent on his driving, focusing his entire attention on the cars ahead and behind us, neither of which was closer than half a mile. I afford him time to exercise all due caution. It is several minutes before he spoke. I watch as his eyes flick back and forth quickly, blinking rapidly all the while.
“Terry, there is a small regional park at the next exit. I suggest you pull off and let us discuss it there. There is no need to endanger others on the roadway.” He swerves into the exit lane and pulls into the park, stopping the car under a tree and leaving it, pacing a few feet from the car. I get out of the car and lean against it, hands in my pockets as I watch him. He stops pacing and turns to face me.
“What did she say to you? And how pissed was she when she talked to you?”
“It was on Hucks’ night, and all of us had imbibed heavily. Were that not the case, I doubt the words would have ever left her mouth. She was not angry, though she was quite concerned. She finds this to be a circumstance of your life together at this point in time …unless the two of you have spoken of it – and resolved the matter – since Reagan’s and my marriage.”
“Well, at least she’s telling the same tale to you as she did me.” I take my hands from my pockets and cross my arms over my chest.
“It is not a tale, Terry. It is her reality. And do you think it wise to slur Diana a second time in my presence?” He returns to his pacing, a wise decision on his part. If he wants a physical confrontation, I shall accommodate him, but that is not my desire. It strikes me that he does not understand my sense of responsibility for Diana. “Terry, the night you and Diana met for the opera, I handed her into your care. In many ways, I consider her my own younger sister; she is certainly now my sister-in-law, de facto if not de jure. I did not believe a discussion of your intentions was required then. I have come to regret that decision. It is one that can be rectified.” He continues to pace, though more slowly now and pauses occasionally to look at me as I speak.
“Though she does not acknowledge it, I felt it my duty to protect her in every sense of the word. In remanding her into your care, I had certain expectations for your behaviour where she is concerned. Love, honour, cherish, and comfort, putting her welfare above your own come immediately to mind. I did not anticipate you to fall so quickly in love with her, though I am happy you did. I would prefer that you legitimatize your status in the eyes of the world.”
He smiles and nods. “I would, too, Max. I’d marry Diana tomorrow if she’d give me any indication she was ready; she hasn’t.” I nod my agreement with his own assessment.
“Then my long neglected discussion with her suitor can continue as that remains your status.” He shakes his head in resigned acceptance. “I expected you to honour her fully. Cherish is a part of love. Comfort entails taking her feelings and concerns as your own, not permitting them to be an ongoing source of distress and discomfort for her as may be the case with your feelings for my wife.” His pacing ceases, and he walks to stand in front of me.
“Max, I have. Her happiness means more to me than mine ever has or ever will. Without her, I have nothing. I offered to leave her if it would make her happier …obviously, she didn’t take me up on it.” He takes a deep breath and looks up at the tree above us before continuing. “And that’s when the conversation turned to Reags. Diana never accused me of anything; it would likely have been easier if she had. I could have denied it and moved on. The reality is that Reags has many of the traits I love about Diana. If I’d met Reags first, we’d likely have been an item until you came along. She’s certainly more to my taste than Miranda ever was, and I suspect I’m more to hers than the other men she’d dated in the recent past.” He shakes his head as he walks toward the nearby picnic table and sits. “I’ve also never allowed myself to recognize that until now.”
“Terry, I have always been aware of your admiration for my wife, and it is returned …and you are correct in your assessment of what might have been had you met her first. We have discussed it, and I have no difficulty in acknowledging the mutual attraction.” I remain by the car, allowing him time to collect himself. I smile when he speaks.
“Christ, I’ve even taken on her behaviours; I have to sit now to think clearly.” I smile, remembering the night Diana had come to our home on realising who Dino, Terry, and I are. She had to sit to sort through her thoughts. We do take on the behaviours of those closest to us. I give him the time he requires and will not interrupt him with further words until he indicated he was ready. I can see the moment when he has his epiphany. He raises his head and speaks, calm for the first time since I broached the subject.
“Diana didn’t give a toss about my ‘crush’ on Reags because she knows that I love her and her alone. I doubt she even cares what my thoughts are about your wife. What upset her was that I wouldn’t acknowledge that what she said might have merit, that I refused to even consider that possibility.” He shakes his head again and looks across the space between us and into my eyes.
“I suppose I’ve been a right bastard, haven’t I?” I return his rather sad smile.
“I do not think it was intentional, Terry. You love Diana …you are still finding your way in a relationship such as you – and I – have never experienced until we met Diana and Cassandra.” I walk through the intervening space between us and sit beside him. I smile to myself as I speak.
“Let me pose you a question, Terry.” He nods. “When you are in bed with Diana …whose face do you see when you close your eyes? Of whom do you fantasise?” He gives me a rather shocked look.
“Jesus, Max! I’ve not seen another woman’s face when I closed my eyes – nor even fantasised about another woman - since I met Diana last year.” I put my hand on his shoulder.
“Does that fact not tell you all you need to know? What you must do now is insure that Diana knows she is the embodiment of all your hopes and dreams, out of bed as well as in it.”
“Well, I will admit to a few random thoughts about both Diana and Reags in those corsets we ordered after your two got home from your wedding trip ….” We laugh heartily.
“As have I!” We laugh again before I continue. “Terry, in years past we have both dreamt of women other than those we were fucking at the moment.”
“Too right. Fortunately, those days are long gone. I don’t even mind my hand on long trips any more because Diana’s always in my ear and my head.”
“The same is true for me …with Cassandra, of course.”
“Diana has this vanilla hand balm, and she always makes sure there’s a full bottle of it in my go bag ….” The conversation is deteriorating rapidly but is enjoyable nonetheless. We shift our seating positions simultaneously.
“Hand balm may suffice for a time, but it will never approach the reality.”
“Too right!” I look at him, as he is lost in some pleasurable memory.
“Would you care to share that reverie?”
“Diana may have opened up our life to you once, but this glimpse may kill you. It might put your protective streak off a bit. Probably better for you not to hear it.” He looks at the ground for a moment and speaks again.
“How would you know that I moan during intercourse …assuming I do?”
“Oh, you do, Mate. Diana and I heard you that afternoon in DC …must have been a world class blow job!” I recalled the afternoon of which he spoke and smile.
“It was. And yes, she can be quite vocal, though I am not sure her utterances would qualify as talking.”
“So she’s a screamer?”
“In a word, yes. I have concerns once we have children, lest they fear I am harming their mother!”
“That’s what sound-proofed rooms are for, Mate!”
“That had not occurred to me …thank you!” We laugh again.
“Have you and Reags ever used that sex swing the lot of us gave you? Ever take it out of the box?” Ah …I believe this is what my wife refers to as male bonding, and it is not of the superficial variety. Clearly, we are expanding our relationship, and I must reciprocate. Whilst I am not naturally inclined to discuss intimate matters between my wife and myself with another, I do trust Terry in this matter.
“It now stands in the corner of our bedroom and has for some time past. It has proven a most provocative addition to our marital relationship.” He smiles, and I continue.
“Are you aware that if one fails to hold a woman’s buttocks when thrusting hard, she will fly back and hit the wall if you do not allow sufficient room for a hearty swing?”
“Yeah, Max …learnt that early on. I felt truly sorry for that little whore in Pat Pong!” We both laugh in our separate memories.
“We had a device somewhat akin to a sex swing in my time, though it lacked the refinements of padding on the straps. I fear more than one woman I used had raw chaffed spots on her body afterward.”
“So you two are getting our money’s worth?”
“I suspect we get more value from it than you would have imagined.”
He stands and looks at me. “I suppose we should get back …though I’m glad you brought up what’s likely been a sore topic with Diana for a good while.” I rise to meet him, and we walk back to the car.
“You will speak with Diana this night?” He nods as he holds out his hand, and I take it in my own.
“You can count on it, Mate. And you can cross the fatherly chat from your list.”
NOTES
Copyright Diana Walker 2006.
DIANA
I find satisfaction in the small things in life – noticing clouds forming, laughing at the Martens darting in to grab the insects I’ve disturbed with my mowing, lying next to Terry before either one of us is fully awake, mowing the front paddock on my small tractor. Bouncing over the rough ground on the mower alerts me to possible horse risks; horses appear deceptively big and strong to have such delicate legs and digestive tracts. While I mow, I can smooth out divots in their primary paddock to keep their legs sound and find the thorny, unhealthy weeds Gillie would happily chomp. Mowing is a solitary task, and it gives me the solitude I crave.
I care for myself while mowing. It gives me a few hours of mindless work to just be. I visualize my riding posture without inflicting my shifting weight on some poor horse’s back. The long runs front to back help me redirect my vision so when I ride, I can focus a long distance beyond what is directly in front of me; it’s my mount’s job to pay attention to what’s coming up soon – like a jump. My job is the riding equivalent of long range planning.
The mower’s loud mechanical noises block out the rest of the world. It lulls me into a meditative state as nothing else can. My mind clears, and when I finish knocking down the weeds in the front four acres, my mind is open.
My blissful state has its downside as well. I don’t notice when the dogs start alerting me to activities outside the open field. They are particularly adept at spotting bunnies, the mailman, the trash guys, Terry. The horses can’t be bothered to interrupt their grazing unless it’s a new horse arriving in the neighborhood.
I turn the tractor back towards the house and see Terry walking towards me with his slightly bow-legged, rolling gait that announces to any female within viewing distance there‘s so much between his legs, this is as close as he can get to having his legs together; in short, this is his three-ball walk. He can hide it in looser cut dress pants; in Levis
I quickly check Yvette’s pool area; she’s not there. She’s been known to have binoculars available to check out Terry’s package when he’s working in the barn or paddock. Terry’s seen the glint of sunlight reflected off her binoculars.
The peaceful smile on my face had broadened into one of absolute delight when I first saw him climbing the fence with a tinnie in his hand. He wouldn’t open it until we are together; he never does. I gunned the tractor towards him; I couldn’t wait to say hello. I’ll have to remow the 300 feet between us; there’s no way the blade did anything but bend the stalks at this speed. I hope the mower’s bucking will bounce the girls up some in my tank style, work bathing suit; I may be a farmer, but I’ll be damned if I have a farmer tan and wear a shirt. I help the bouncing along; my forearm across my midriff pushes upwards so my aureoles are visible above the suit’s low neckline.
I slow as I approach him and stop beside him with the engine at idle. He steps onto the running board and reaches across me to raise the mowing deck and disengage the mower as my sweaty, dusty arms reach up around his neck. He flicks off the key though the engine roar still reverberates in my ears and will do so for a while. Terry has said he doesn’t notice it; I expect his history with gunfire has damaged his hearing at least a little.
“I’m glad to see you. I wasn’t expecting you until tomorrow. I missed you.” My three sentences took forever to be spoken between the frantic kisses we were sharing.
Terry pulls back to look at me with a shy smile; that’s not fair. I haven’t gotten caught up on the kisses I lost while he’s been in Connecticut, New York, and Chicago.
“It’s not the first time I’ve missed you. It may be the first time I’ve told you I missed you. I didn’t want you to think ….”
“Tell me later.” His hands slide under the thick bathing suit straps and under my breasts, bringing them up so only the barest of public, daylight decency is maintained. What the hell do I care? I’m no longer the sexually repressed woman I have been. Terry’s home from a long trip. The neighbors are over 400 yards away and ought to be used to us by now. We’re in the middle of a five-acre tract of land – our land.
He kisses each breast in turn from the swell to the bit of nipple my mad streak to him forced out. He hasn’t noticed or doesn’t care my chest is covered with grass snips and dirt.
He speaks to my chest. “I missed you,” his face rises to mine, “as well.” I brush the dirt and grass from his lips before his next kiss as his laughter joins mine.
TERRY
Diana had gone for comfort when she started mowing; she had put the girls in a defensive, strapped down position so they wouldn’t be sore from the pounding they take. I saw her readjust them as she drove to me, and the thoughts that simple action started had me ramped up by the time she arrived.
When I stepped onto the running board, it became abundantly clear what a risky manoeuver it was. Diana’s face started very close to the buttons on the jeans I had worn home; I want her welcome home kisses to start on my dick. No matter how much I want her right now it wouldn’t do to have a go in the paddock. It’s bad enough with my trying to inhale her breasts.
With Diana still hanging about my neck, I slide into the seat, arrange her on my legs, and call Irish. “I’m back, and your dinner at the farm tonight is cancelled.” I snap out my information to him; I don’t want to talk to that one of my partners when the partner I do want to talk to is waiting on my lap drinking our beer, tucking in the girls, and doing her unsuccessful best to rearrange my dick in my 501’s.
“Well, hello to you, too,” he laughs to me. “I gather you went straight home. Well, of course, you did; you’ve been gone over a week. Try to have some blood in your other head when you fill us in early tomorrow morning; I want my voice to be sounding like yours does now not later than 1300 tomorrow.”
“Can do.”
“Say hey to Beautiful.” He clicks off knowing I have better things on my mind than to listen to him.
Diana starts to scoot up my legs. “Dino says ‘hey’.”
“That’s nice.” She begins pulling my shirt out of my pants and unbuttoning it simultaneously. Her voice might be distracted, but she is single minded in getting me at least partially undressed. I have to adjust again, this time more blatantly. Next time I come home unexpectedly, I am wearing dress slacks. Diana’s watching my every move; I want her to know how willing I am to fuck her senseless right here.
“You need some sun. You were in the far frozen north too long. We have beer, we have a seat. Tell me about your trip.” She hands me the tinnie, and I take a drink thinking of the best way to make her laugh at my mundane travel day. Just the recounting of it will help my stiffie.
“Since I last talked to you? Let’s see, I got my wake up call; computer generated voices are not alluring first thing in the morning. I climbed in the cab.”
“OK, OK. I get it. Nothing exciting happened today.”
“Too right. At least not until I got to this paddock.” The sun does feel good on my chest; Diana would feel better, but she looks unbearably sexy leaning back against the steering wheel, her shorts’ legs gapping open, with her now bare feet braced on the back wheel fenders either side of me, her thighs draped across mine. What makes her even sexier is that she’s completely unaware of her eroticism, of the effect she has with her casual position. My cock, having a mind of his own, wants to be two inches longer and nestled in her. I want to look to my heart’s content and talk to her. A little foreplay now will pay off well later. Down boy. It’s a good thing one of us can stand a little delayed gratification.
“Why aren’t the horses in their stalls?” I start brushing the dirt and grass from her bare calf. If Diana hadn’t known it already, she does now; mowing is over for the day.
“I didn’t feel like riding today, and they needed some exercise. We played mower tag. They started over there grazing.” Diana twists and points to the north fence line. She has no notion how watching the swell of her breasts affects me right now; the effect of her gesture is almost daring me to take her right here, right now. “I’d get within 100 feet of the herd, and Rabbit would lead them there.” Diana points to the west fence line.
“Rabbit knows this little thing wouldn’t hurt him. He does have good reason to respect Bill’s big combine when he comes over to cut the hay in the back.”
“Careful, I may end up with tractor envy. Can’t have you thinking Bill has a bigger one.”
“I’d never think that. We’ll always need this lawn tractor for Rabbit’s games. He likes the fun of playing tag, and he’s taught the others the game. Today we played for a long time until they got bored.”
“Is that why there are the unmown patches over there? You had to mow around them?”
“One patch is where the sandpipers have their eggs, and I saw some small bunnies in the other place. You have to mow around the last area.” She grimaces and shudders. “I saw a snake hole.”
“Ah, it’s good to be needed. I’ll get to it over the weekend.”
Diana leans toward me, kissing me once more; her innate sensuality is running rampant. “I’ll always need you and not just for snake duty.” Diana has moved to needing me as well as wanting me. There is something to be said for long, boring trips; Diana’s had the time alone to think and figure out what she feels. Her point made, she resumes her open, languid pose, perhaps remembering I once demonstrated to her in one of our far ranging convos how much enjoyment I get out of looking at her.
We sit for a long while sharing news and the enjoyment of being together again whilst the sexual tension between us builds.
I lean towards her to brush away the non-existent debris under her shorts’ leg. Her self-described violin wire between her clit and navel must be quivering; I can see the ripple move up her belly. She can’t see it; her eyes are closed, but most certainly, she feels every tremour.
“I’ll give you twenty minutes to stop that.” Her tone tells me if I stop right now, I’ll lose a hand.
It won’t take me twenty minutes. Diana will be putty in under five.
*
“I finally got around to putting everything back in the safe while you were gone. What have you got in there?” It would never dawn on Diana to look at something I had put in her safe; she is curious but not nosey. Two well-satisfied people are stretched out on the bed, both drowsy after our shower and our proper hello.
“The deed to the five acres at the end of the road. Some cash. Some bank statements.” This is as good a time as any to have the ‘money’ talk. My net TEO earnings go directly into the joint account, but Diana has no idea and has never asked about investments or how lucrative my business is. She buys house brand canned goods; she shops at Sam’s Wholesale Club, for Christ’s sakes. The clothing she buys for herself always has a sale tag. I don’t see that mind set changing even when I ease her into this convo.
“You did buy the land down there? I figured you might. I was pretty sure someone had when I saw the new guy planting. When did you get it?”
“Before we went to DC.”
“You’ve had it all this time, and you never told me?” She rolls on top of me and settles in with her chin on my chest and one leg between mine. She is amused more than annoyed; she’s come to understand and accept I’ll pick my times and places to break important news to her.
“You never asked.”
“How much do you still owe on it?”
“Not a cent. I bought it outright. I didn’t want you to have a chance to buy the note and call it in when you threw me out.” We laugh now at our foolish fears.
“I wouldn’t have made you pay up. I’m enough of a masochist to want you close as a reminder of my stupidity at throwing you out or letting you walk away. Besides, on the days I was feeling mean, I could cut off the creek to your land; I’m upstream from it. You’d be amazed at how quickly I can build a dam. I may be part beaver.”
Diana drops her cheek, turning away from me. I feel the heat of her embarrassment. We share a dirty giggle before a newspaper headline of “Range War Breaks Out In North Texas” comes to mind.
“Have you heard the Bowens are moving?” I finally manage to ask her. Gene and Noel Bowen live just past Bill and Nancy. All our lands used to belong to the Bowen family farm.
“No.” Her voice is genuinely regretful. “You’ve been gone for a week, and I’ve been here. How the hell did you find out before me?”
“I ran into Gene at the barber shop before I left.”
“Well, I’ll miss them. I was hoping Gina would ride with Dolores since they’re about the same age. Where are they going?”
“Oregon.
Diana’s sigh tells me her disgust. She’s always feared more developments moving closer.
“I made him an offer.” She blinks more than a few times; I feel her lashes on my bare chest.
“Can we afford it? Of course, we can. I’ll go back to work full-time. We can’t have developers putting in a hundred houses down the road. They’d destroy the woods behind your five acres. I won’t let that happen.” More than Diana’s love for riding in those woods, the steel in her voice is the tone she reserves for when she thinks I’ve been wronged.
“Even without you going to work, money isn’t the stumbling block. Gene wanted something we can’t guarantee right now. He wants the lands held in perpetuity within a family – something he couldn’t do.”
“Oh.” Diana’s disappointment is extreme. She really does not want children. “Did you tell him about Henry … that we’ve talked about adopting? But I suppose we’d have to get married first.” She is still afraid of marriage, but she is bringing up the word more often, if once a year can be considered often.
“I wouldn’t put that burden on Henry – to have some solicitor track him down and give him a piece of land. He’s never seen Texas.
Diana may not be able to effect reconciliation between Henry and me, but she will try. I see her think through a solution about Henry and put her plan into a compartment for later action. “We ought to and can fix that.”
“I found a way for Gene to become more comfortable with our purchase of the land without children. I convinced him his own children weren’t guaranteed as overseers. I proposed a way for it to stay out of developers’ hands when we’re all dead and gone. I’ll set up an annuity, an escrow account to keep the taxes paid; if the account ever runs out of money, the land goes to the town as parkland. I’ve an appointment with the town council next week to discuss it. Most of them were at the barbershop that morning and overheard Gene and I discussing the sale; they seemed amenable.”
“How much of a mortgage will we have to carry on it? And how much will the annuity need?” Diana’s shoulders sag under the financial obligation she sees ahead.
“From your accounts, not a dime. I can liquidate an investment and fund everything.” From the look on her face, she believes I have lied to her for the first time.
I undrape her from me and pad out of the bedroom to the library safe. I return with the newly discovered but as yet unreviewed brokerage and bank statements still safely tucked in their manila envelope. In my absence, she has donned my shirt and her knickers, a sure sign she's preparing to chew on my arse. It could be worse; she could be in one of her shirts and knickers; those signify a long discussion. I pull on my shorts with a sigh and take my spot on the opposite side of the bed with the dreaded envelope between us. I unclasp the flanges and pull out the contents.
“Diana,” I hand her the Credit Suisse consolidated statement first. She scans the first page and slides it to the back. Christ, she’s trying to read the detail now, and she’s only on the second page. I direct her eyes upward to the combined figure at the top of the first page.
“I’m trading one investment for another.” I hand her the Cayman National Bank Ltd. statement. Good, she’s getting the hang of it; she’s looking at totals in each account. After two more, I can see she’s had enough. I tuck the other five she hasn’t seen back into the consolidated envelope. I leave the four strewn round her where she sits dumbstruck.
I’ve never stopped to think about the investments since leaving Luthan. Dino dragged me to Geneva
“I pay taxes on all of it or there would be more in the accounts. You’re the beneficiary on every one of them. Here’s the instruction sheet on what to do if something happens to me.” I kiss her gently to get her to focus. “The instruction sheet and contact list are in the big envelope.” She nods slowly.
“You can afford to buy the Bowen property outright.”
“We can afford to buy it. The deed will be in both our names.”
“I don’t have enough money.” I have to give her an option another working class kid can tolerate.
“You can pay into the Cayman account …every month.” I’m speaking slowly and gently. Her eyes are locked on mine as if the connection is the only thing keeping her sane.
“You, Max, and Dino. You each have this much?”
“More or less. Dino’s in riskier investments; his net worth is more of a roller coaster. Max’s is bound to be less; he’s two years behind us in the business, and his investments are very conservative even by my standards.”
“I thought we were wealthy with what went into the bank account.”
I gather her up in my arms and rock her gently. She’s taking the news of our net worth hard. “I know, Baby, I know. We have everything we need.”
I feel when her grit comes back, but she stays in my embrace longer.
“Diana, TEO only charges the going rate; we’re very competitive on our fees. Sooze makes sure our operating expenses stay low. Because we’re a limited liability partnership, the profits come to us. You’re included in ‘us.’ I couldn’t keep going if not for you. You renewed me.”
She finally pulls away from me and puts the statements she has seen back in their individual envelopes. She double-checks the return address on the envelope with the statement.
She holds up the Credit Suisse. “This is the biggest one?”
“It is.”
She carefully stacks them with her instruction sheet on top and stuffs them in the unified envelope.
“They’re only numbers. They don’t mean a damn thing.”
DINO
I am going to enjoy today’s staff meeting. Profits are up even though I spent $25k extra on the first negotiation after Max was nabbed, I leave for Palestine
“Next item is the lease on the Jag.” I love the pained look on Terry’s face. Even though we all, including him, rag on the fogy nature of a Jaguar sedan, he has come to love that car. I do not want to consider what memories of Diana are tied to it. It is a sweet ride from what I can tell in the few times he’s let me drive. It handles well, plenty of acceleration, comfortable to seeming like I’m in my favorite chair – the overstuffed recliner at Ellie’s.
“We have a guarantee from Brad Lahrs he will have either a Jag or Merc sedan available when we need a company car. He needs two hours notice. The lease on the Jag is an expense we don’t need.”
Sooze squeaked making fun of my penny-pinching ways; she’s a good one to talk. There are times I think she’d make me account for the paper clips I use for stress relief. Max looked on dispassionately; this was one negotiation where he would opt out. I don’t know why Terry and I negotiate everything between us. It is one way we stay sharp.
“It’s a standard perq for the CEO to be provided a car. I’ve had one since we opened the doors. Take away the company car, and I’ll need a car allowance; I’ll convert to personal transportation.”
“Why? A car allowance is a pittance for you.”
“You’re asking me to go car shopping; that takes time. Between cars, I’d be driving the Tahoe. It’s a compensation reduction however small; we can’t have that. Not with the profit increase you reported earlier.”
Crap. I fucking gave him the car allowance argument when I scheduled the financial report first. “All right. Car allowance it is. But it will be in the amount of the lease cost for a standard sized American car, say a Crown Vic.”
“Still would be a decrease. How about the amount we were paying for the Jag, but the allowance is frozen for the next three years at last year’s cost? I’m still taking a decrease, but I can get a car that you wouldn’t be ashamed to be seen in.”
Cost frozen at last year’s price when I had budgeted a four percent increase? “Done.”
“Now for my interim transportation. You’ll swap Baby/Bitch for the truck until I can find a suitable auto.”
“Oh no. Not happening, Old Man. You like the smell of Eau d’ Cheval; I don’t. Baby’s suspension can’t handle 200 pounds of feed in the trunk let alone having one of the nags kick in the quarter panel when you drive her into the barn to unload. I am willing to start your allowance the day you turn in the Jag rather than when you have selected suitable transportation.”
“Done.”
We both stand and shake hands across the table, both supremely confident we have gotten the better of the deal. I know I did. I’m off to Palestine
DIANA
I suppose our first venture in the new vehicle world would have to be considered the new John Deere tractor that now resides in our hastily expanded equipment shed. The same guys who added onto the barn and built the covered arena were delighted to come back and work for us again.
The last of the Bowen homestead no longer belongs to a Bowen. I miss the passing of tradition. With their move, none of the five original farming families – the ones who had fought off the Indian attacks in the 1800’s and had survived the Depression – live in the area. The Walker-Thorne household will be the steward for the land and a fading lifestyle. Terry and I are the second largest landowners in the community with 155 acres; Bill and Nancy have granted us an easement across their 300 acres to our Bowen holding. The easement is wide enough to drive the behemoth tractor over and cut the hay fields there. Our own original holding will now be my own personal eventing site.
Terry and I spent all of five minutes cleaning out the Jag; everything was in its own carrying case and stowed neatly. When the truck starts getting tired, it would be an all day affair and take multiple 55-gallon trash bags to get everything cleaned out. At least the trash bags were already in the back.
“It’s kinda melancholy thinking the Jag will be gone.” I am sad to see it go. It’s the only car I could see Terry driving even when I put together the technical specification spreadsheet for him. I could see him getting out of a Corvette in Levis
We are sitting in the Jag one last time; Terry has his arm draped over the steering wheel, his body turned towards me. I’m sunk into the leather passenger seat. Both the front doors stand open. “Just think of the adventure ahead trying out all the new cars.”
“Remember, this new one is your car. Get the one you will love. I won’t drive it all that often so my opinion doesn’t count. I’ll give you my opinion only if you ask for it …or when you get down to the final one or two.”
Terry starts the CD player and smiles at me. I’m surprised he still has this one CD in the player; he should be tired of it by now. He forwards the tracks to number seven. “Would you care to dance?” The Jag has become a seventy-five thousand dollar jukebox for our amusement. Could I see a Z standing still for that? Not on your life. The Jag loves us, and I love it. But I love the man I am dancing with even more. If he wants the adventure of car shopping, I’m in for the ride. Bye-bye, Jag.
*
Terry returns home in
an immaculate, two toned, fully
restored 1957 Chevrolet Bel Air. I’m
astonished. It wasn’t even on his list.
He has a passable jellyroll falling over his forehead, as much as his short hair will allow. He definitely has the Elvis lip curl down. Either he’s been watching the recent Elvis movie marathon without my knowing or he’s been tormenting Okie to learn the snarl. He turns to show me his back; try as he might, the DA ain’t happening. I think I still have some super sticky gel from when I was wearing my hair short and spiky. With some of that industrial strength goo and some significant coaxing, I may be able to get his short hair to meet in the middle.
His 50’s dress is almost impeccable. How can you go wrong with Levis
“Hey, Cupie Doll. Get into your poodle skirt, and we’ll go drag Main."
“I have no idea. Remember, I didn’t spend my teenage years here.”
“Right. Well, get into your poodle skirt, and we’ll drive round until we find it. Looking as sharp as we do, it shouldn’t take long.”
“I hate to disappoint you, but I cut up my MOTHER’s poodle skirt when I was in Girl Scouts for a sewing project.” I think for a moment. “But I do have jean shorts or a pair of the most recent reincarnation of Capri pants. Will that do you?”
His left eyebrow flickers up and down – once, twice, and on the third time it stays up; yes, he remembers the shorts. “Those will work a treat as long as I walk behind you. I don’t fancy any other blokes seeing your cheeks. On second thought, wear the Capris.”
*
We do look like cool cats when we leave the house. We cruise Greenville Avenue
A couple in a Dodge Challenger pull up beside us at the Northwest and Preston light and start a car-to-car conversation as only those who drive antiques can. Brenda and Ken invite us to follow them to Keller’s for the antique car club show. It’s a weekly happening. The carhops delivering the burgers and beer wear shorts almost as short as the ones I didn’t wear. Terry, the quasi-gentleman, keeps his eyes off the carhops – a very good move on his part – as we walk up and down the parked cars inspecting them. Our ’57 convertible is one of eight. The newest car parked there is Brenda and Ken’s Challenger, but since it was his first car and he’s never sold it, he’s forgiven for having a ‘new’ car.
TERRY
The ’57 Chevy was never meant to be my new car. Brad mentioned it was a new acquisition, and I got it for a lark. Driving a convertible did shorten my list of cars to try significantly. I will not be getting a convertible – with or without a roll bar.
I next drove the Lexus two-seater with the convertible hard top; I kept it for a month. Good solid car. Nice handling. Much more acceleration than the Jag. Dino liked it. I wasn’t wild about the roll bars; they seemed a bit flimsy to me. Diana never voiced a viewpoint during its residence with us. Her notation on the spreadsheet had written her opinion early. She had seen the words ‘aluminium roof’ on their website whilst putting together the comparisons. “The damn roof can’t have any structural integrity; it folds into the fucking trunk.”
The Hummer was next. It’s almost wider than the drive. Even after I wiped out one of Diana’s beloved crepe myrtles, she was willing to try riding in it. We dressed formally, and when I tried to hand Diana into it, she had to hike her long dress to mid thigh to climb in. When she used the three-foot stepladder, she could be the perfect lady. The Hummer may be all terrain, but it’s not all occasion.
The Mini Cooper had a back up waiting in the wings; no one, but no one, expected it to work. Diana had put it on the list as a joke. The joke was on her when I called and roared, “Diana, get your arse to the office NOW.” That was a difficult feat to pull off with Sooze, Dino, and Maxie all standing across the desk from me stifling laughter.
We quickly put together a pool on how long it would take Diana to make it Downtown and how many speeding tickets she would get on the way as we waited for her in the parking garage. At the fifteen-minute mark after calling her, I began folding my body into the Mini. At the twenty-minute mark, Maxie was trying to compress my neck enough to get my head into the passenger compartment with the rest of my body; we gave it up, as we both feared a spinal fracture. He rolled down the window to close the door; my head had to hang out the window. Sooze suggested the convertible might suit us better. My right shoulder intruded 1/3 of the way into the passenger seat. My knees were folded somewhere near my nips, and I couldn’t move my arm enough to shift gears; when I shifted into second gear, my elbow hit the upright of the back seat. A convertible might solve the head problem, but the torso, knees, and shoulders would not fit.
Diana’s Tahoe squealed into the space next to the Mini twenty-seven minutes after I had hung up on her. She strolled over to my car-riding dog imitation sweet as a biscuit and kissed me hello with a ‘Pfuuuutgh!’ of laughter. She gently wiped her spit off my face with her bare hands and kissed me again. “You got more of you in than I expected.”
Dino grabbed one of her arms and Maxie the other. They carried her round the car whilst Sooze opened the passenger door. They tell me her feet never touched the ground; I couldn’t turn my head to see, stuck out the window as it was. The three of them put her into a loose tri-fold and settled her sideways into the seat. The Mini gained a few points; I rather liked the idea of having her tits smashed into my shoulder. There was the small problem of driving anywhere in it that detracted from its one attractive feature; perhaps we could make it into stationary paddock art.
The Mini’s back up was the Mercedes roadster.
MAXIMUS
Maintaining proper control of the reins when riding a horse is a delicate balance. If one holds them too tightly, the horse is forced to protect himself, which evokes a flight-or-fight response. If your grip is too loose, the horse is given permission to do as he wishes. If he is of a fractious or mischievous bent, one may quickly find oneself on the ground. I was beginning to have concern regarding Terry’s grip on the reins of TEO.
It has taken me some time to reach this point, but two incidents have occurred within the past few months that had given me pause. The first incident regards his apparent feelings for my wife – and which he had refused to acknowledge – that caused distress for Diana. The second was Alex Ross’ precipitous termination.
Now Terry is considering the actual purchase of a personal car. On the day Terry gave us his ‘short list’ of vehicles under consideration, I had deemed the Mercedes Roadster to be the most appropriate conveyance for a quiet discussion. I had been biding my time since the week before Cassandra’s and my marriage – when I learnt of Terry’s infatuation for her – to speak with him regarding the obvious distress his failure to acknowledge his feelings cause Diana.
As each new vehicle under consideration arrived, all of us at the office were given a ride in it, as well as the opportunity to drive it. When he takes me out for a ride in the Mercedes, I deem the time appropriate. The car is solidly built, well engineered, has all the necessary features, and is imminently suitable for his purposes; the only decision involved is whether or not Terry likes it as he would be the principal driver. I speak after Terry accelerates up the ramp on to the Interstate and merges with traffic.
“Your behaviour has caused Diana great distress, and I find that unacceptable.” His head snaps round; shock is plain on his face.
“What are you talking about, Max?”
“Diana has indicated that you have what she terms ‘a crush’ on my wife. I am not concerned with the potential for an inappropriate relationship between the two of you, as I know you both to be honourable people. What concerns Diana – and by extension me – is that you have apparently refused to acknowledge what is obvious to all who see you …Dino, Sooze, and my wife. It is clear that your feelings for Reagan are deeper than for other women of your acquaintance, and whilst Diana knows you would never act on them and she is comfortable and secure in your love for her, it troubles her that you will not acknowledge your feelings. In her position, I would have the same distress. The simple fact that Diana chose to mention it to me – even in rather obscure terms – is indication that it is an ongoing source of friction between you.”
“What’s between Diana and me is none of your business, Mate.” Ah …he is angry. I had anticipated as much. There was only one source for my having this information; that was from Diana’s lips. He is angry that she had confided in me. He also has not denied my statement, thus telling me my supposition was correct, and he had been less than frank with her.
“I understand your anger; however, if I learn you have caused Diana further distress as a result of our conversation this day, you will rue the day you spoke of it to her.” Terry suddenly becomes very intent on his driving, focusing his entire attention on the cars ahead and behind us, neither of which was closer than half a mile. I afford him time to exercise all due caution. It is several minutes before he spoke. I watch as his eyes flick back and forth quickly, blinking rapidly all the while.
“Terry, there is a small regional park at the next exit. I suggest you pull off and let us discuss it there. There is no need to endanger others on the roadway.” He swerves into the exit lane and pulls into the park, stopping the car under a tree and leaving it, pacing a few feet from the car. I get out of the car and lean against it, hands in my pockets as I watch him. He stops pacing and turns to face me.
“What did she say to you? And how pissed was she when she talked to you?”
“It was on Hucks’ night, and all of us had imbibed heavily. Were that not the case, I doubt the words would have ever left her mouth. She was not angry, though she was quite concerned. She finds this to be a circumstance of your life together at this point in time …unless the two of you have spoken of it – and resolved the matter – since Reagan’s and my marriage.”
“Well, at least she’s telling the same tale to you as she did me.” I take my hands from my pockets and cross my arms over my chest.
“It is not a tale, Terry. It is her reality. And do you think it wise to slur Diana a second time in my presence?” He returns to his pacing, a wise decision on his part. If he wants a physical confrontation, I shall accommodate him, but that is not my desire. It strikes me that he does not understand my sense of responsibility for Diana. “Terry, the night you and Diana met for the opera, I handed her into your care. In many ways, I consider her my own younger sister; she is certainly now my sister-in-law, de facto if not de jure. I did not believe a discussion of your intentions was required then. I have come to regret that decision. It is one that can be rectified.” He continues to pace, though more slowly now and pauses occasionally to look at me as I speak.
“Though she does not acknowledge it, I felt it my duty to protect her in every sense of the word. In remanding her into your care, I had certain expectations for your behaviour where she is concerned. Love, honour, cherish, and comfort, putting her welfare above your own come immediately to mind. I did not anticipate you to fall so quickly in love with her, though I am happy you did. I would prefer that you legitimatize your status in the eyes of the world.”
He smiles and nods. “I would, too, Max. I’d marry Diana tomorrow if she’d give me any indication she was ready; she hasn’t.” I nod my agreement with his own assessment.
“Then my long neglected discussion with her suitor can continue as that remains your status.” He shakes his head in resigned acceptance. “I expected you to honour her fully. Cherish is a part of love. Comfort entails taking her feelings and concerns as your own, not permitting them to be an ongoing source of distress and discomfort for her as may be the case with your feelings for my wife.” His pacing ceases, and he walks to stand in front of me.
“Max, I have. Her happiness means more to me than mine ever has or ever will. Without her, I have nothing. I offered to leave her if it would make her happier …obviously, she didn’t take me up on it.” He takes a deep breath and looks up at the tree above us before continuing. “And that’s when the conversation turned to Reags. Diana never accused me of anything; it would likely have been easier if she had. I could have denied it and moved on. The reality is that Reags has many of the traits I love about Diana. If I’d met Reags first, we’d likely have been an item until you came along. She’s certainly more to my taste than Miranda ever was, and I suspect I’m more to hers than the other men she’d dated in the recent past.” He shakes his head as he walks toward the nearby picnic table and sits. “I’ve also never allowed myself to recognize that until now.”
“Terry, I have always been aware of your admiration for my wife, and it is returned …and you are correct in your assessment of what might have been had you met her first. We have discussed it, and I have no difficulty in acknowledging the mutual attraction.” I remain by the car, allowing him time to collect himself. I smile when he speaks.
“Christ, I’ve even taken on her behaviours; I have to sit now to think clearly.” I smile, remembering the night Diana had come to our home on realising who Dino, Terry, and I are. She had to sit to sort through her thoughts. We do take on the behaviours of those closest to us. I give him the time he requires and will not interrupt him with further words until he indicated he was ready. I can see the moment when he has his epiphany. He raises his head and speaks, calm for the first time since I broached the subject.
“Diana didn’t give a toss about my ‘crush’ on Reags because she knows that I love her and her alone. I doubt she even cares what my thoughts are about your wife. What upset her was that I wouldn’t acknowledge that what she said might have merit, that I refused to even consider that possibility.” He shakes his head again and looks across the space between us and into my eyes.
“I suppose I’ve been a right bastard, haven’t I?” I return his rather sad smile.
“I do not think it was intentional, Terry. You love Diana …you are still finding your way in a relationship such as you – and I – have never experienced until we met Diana and Cassandra.” I walk through the intervening space between us and sit beside him. I smile to myself as I speak.
“Let me pose you a question, Terry.” He nods. “When you are in bed with Diana …whose face do you see when you close your eyes? Of whom do you fantasise?” He gives me a rather shocked look.
“Jesus, Max! I’ve not seen another woman’s face when I closed my eyes – nor even fantasised about another woman - since I met Diana last year.” I put my hand on his shoulder.
“Does that fact not tell you all you need to know? What you must do now is insure that Diana knows she is the embodiment of all your hopes and dreams, out of bed as well as in it.”
“Well, I will admit to a few random thoughts about both Diana and Reags in those corsets we ordered after your two got home from your wedding trip ….” We laugh heartily.
“As have I!” We laugh again before I continue. “Terry, in years past we have both dreamt of women other than those we were fucking at the moment.”
“Too right. Fortunately, those days are long gone. I don’t even mind my hand on long trips any more because Diana’s always in my ear and my head.”
“The same is true for me …with Cassandra, of course.”
“Diana has this vanilla hand balm, and she always makes sure there’s a full bottle of it in my go bag ….” The conversation is deteriorating rapidly but is enjoyable nonetheless. We shift our seating positions simultaneously.
“Hand balm may suffice for a time, but it will never approach the reality.”
“Too right!” I look at him, as he is lost in some pleasurable memory.
“Would you care to share that reverie?”
“Diana may have opened up our life to you once, but this glimpse may kill you. It might put your protective streak off a bit. Probably better for you not to hear it.” He looks at the ground for a moment and speaks again.
“How would you know that I moan during intercourse …assuming I do?”
“Oh, you do, Mate. Diana and I heard you that afternoon in DC …must have been a world class blow job!” I recalled the afternoon of which he spoke and smile.
“It was. And yes, she can be quite vocal, though I am not sure her utterances would qualify as talking.”
“So she’s a screamer?”
“In a word, yes. I have concerns once we have children, lest they fear I am harming their mother!”
“That’s what sound-proofed rooms are for, Mate!”
“That had not occurred to me …thank you!” We laugh again.
“Have you and Reags ever used that sex swing the lot of us gave you? Ever take it out of the box?” Ah …I believe this is what my wife refers to as male bonding, and it is not of the superficial variety. Clearly, we are expanding our relationship, and I must reciprocate. Whilst I am not naturally inclined to discuss intimate matters between my wife and myself with another, I do trust Terry in this matter.
“It now stands in the corner of our bedroom and has for some time past. It has proven a most provocative addition to our marital relationship.” He smiles, and I continue.
“Are you aware that if one fails to hold a woman’s buttocks when thrusting hard, she will fly back and hit the wall if you do not allow sufficient room for a hearty swing?”
“Yeah, Max …learnt that early on. I felt truly sorry for that little whore in Pat Pong!” We both laugh in our separate memories.
“We had a device somewhat akin to a sex swing in my time, though it lacked the refinements of padding on the straps. I fear more than one woman I used had raw chaffed spots on her body afterward.”
“So you two are getting our money’s worth?”
“I suspect we get more value from it than you would have imagined.”
He stands and looks at me. “I suppose we should get back …though I’m glad you brought up what’s likely been a sore topic with Diana for a good while.” I rise to meet him, and we walk back to the car.
“You will speak with Diana this night?” He nods as he holds out his hand, and I take it in my own.
“You can count on it, Mate. And you can cross the fatherly chat from your list.”
NOTES
|
Perqs |
Perquisites.
Additional fringe benefits given to high-ranking
corporate officers. Usually
included are car allowances, entertainment budgets, upgraded travel
arrangements, legal assistance, tax advice, financial planning, club
memberships, upgraded medical programs, and enhanced retirement plans. |
|
Jelly
roll |
A 1950’s male hairstyle
where the crown is combed up and forward on both sides, and brought
together in the middle of the forehead.
Think early Elvis, before the Army. |
|
DA |
Duck’s ass, AKA,
duck’s tail. The
hair is swept back at the sides to meet at the center in back. |
|
De facto |
In
fact. A
reality |
|
De Jure |
By law. By
statute |
