I've always loved the first warm days in spring. When I was a kid, it meant the end of the school year was just around the corner and then I'd have three whole months to play baseball, fish, and camp out in the back yard. When I got to high school, it meant three whole months to play baseball, fish, and camp out on her porch with a willing girlfriend for an hour or two.
Since we've been married, those first warm days of spring mean Jackie, my wife, starts her annual flower planting frenzy. Now, planting flowers may not seem as fun as fishing, but planting days are when Jackie trades her jeans and sweaters for little shorts and tank tops. Watching Jackie bent over and putting flower plants in the ground is a lot more fun than fishing.
That's what she was doing that day when I went home for lunch. I fixed myself a ham sandwich and walked out in the back yard and got half-mooned by the sexy ass cheeks peeking out from the legs of her short-shorts. That was enough to make me think about taking an extra half-hour for lunch. What made me think about calling Bill Abrams, my second shift deputy and asking him to work overtime was Jackie's underwear.
See, Jackie has "good" underwear for dressing up in, which means she's worn it a few times before at the most. Those are the panties and bras she wears when we go to a party or she wants to feel really sexy for some reason. Then she has "everyday" underwear, which is where the dressing up underwear ends up after the third or fourth washing. She puts it on to go shopping or to Sadie's beauty shop to get her hair done.
After the everyday underwear goes through the wash a few dozen times, the elastic in the panties starts to go slack and they get pretty baggy, and the bra cups get pretty floppy. Then they become her "house" underwear, the underwear she puts on when she's working at home. That day, she was wearing house underwear, and the panties were loose enough they'd sort of twisted around and she had one cute pink lip peeking out of the leg of her shorts.
I walked out to her flowerbed and squatted down. Now, anybody who's ever squatted down knows you have to have something to put your hand on while you're squatting. Jackie's ass was handy, so I put my hand there. After I got all squatted down, my hand just naturally slipped down over her ass and up the leg of her shorts. My index finger was just getting a nice feel inside of those house panties when Jackie sighed and sat back on her heels.
"Tom, don't you have to back to work?"
I grinned and slipped my finger up and down.
"Yeah, but I still got a half-hour of lunch time left, and I got my finger on what I feel like having for dessert."
"No ... I'm not done yet and besides, I'm all dirty and sweaty."
"My dessert doesn't look dirty and it sure doesn't feel sweaty."
"Well, after I get these last plants in the ground, your dessert is going in to take a shower and then go buy groceries unless you wanna to eat chips and canned peaches for dinner tonight."
"I like my peach fresh from the shower, so how about if you go wash it for me. We'd still have fifteen minutes or so."
Jackie picked up the nozzle on the garden hose, pointed it at me, and grinned.
"Don't make me use this. Now get your butt back in your squad car and back to protecting the citizens of Buck Lick. If you be a good little sheriff, we can play tonight."
I was walking into the town hall when I heard the sweet, syrupy sound of a west Tennessee girl's voice.
"'Mornin', Sheriff McCabe."
The voice belonged to Linda Lou Lawrence. Well, she used to be Linda Lou Maberly, but that was before she and Alfred got married.
"Hi, Linda Lou. Haven't seen you for a while. How you been doin'?"
She blushed and looked at the sidewalk.
"Well, you kin see some of what I been doin'."
I could. Judging from how I remembered Jackie when she was pregnant, Linda Lou was about seven months along. I figured that was wrong, though, because Linda Lou is about five feet nothing and normally weighs in at about ninety pounds soaking wet.
"Yep ... I can. 'Bout six, maybe seven months?"
"Doc Wilson says six and a half, but I think he's off by a couple weeks. Mama says a woman feels when it happens, and I'm purty sure I did."
"Alfred doin' OK too?"
"Oh yeah. He's happy as a cow in a corn crib that he's gonna be a daddy. He's home plowing up more garden space. He says with another mouth to feed, we're gonna need it. I come in town to see Doc Wilson and buy more seeds."
"Well, you tell Alfred I said 'Hey', OK?"
As I watched Linda Lou waddle off toward the hardware store, I smiled. She and Alfred were probably the unlikeliest match I'd ever seen.
Linda Lou was the youngest of the five Maberly kids and the other four were all boys. I suppose all the ruckus of four brothers in the house and her being the only girl and all was a little wild for her, so she stayed pretty much with her mama. Her mama was a quiet sort of woman, and Linda Lou was just like her.
Once she grew up, she grew up real nice. She had a nice little round ass and her breasts, though not nearly as big as Jackie's, looked just as big on her tiny little body. Her legs were pretty great too.
She was cute as a bug, well, except for her ears. All the Maberly's have ears that kind of stick out. Linda Lou kept them covered up with her long brown hair most of the time, but her porch swing didn't see many boyfriends because of them. It had to be those ears, because Linda Lou worked at the hardware store and saw most of the men in the county at least once a week when they came in for nails, binder twine, and such.
Fred was an only child. His mama said after giving birth to a baby that weighed ten and a half pounds, she wasn't going through that again, or at least that's what Jackie told me. I could see her point. Anyway, she named him Alfred Winston.
Now, I suppose Alfred Winston Lawrence would be a good name for a boy raised up in New York City or Memphis or someplace like that where he'd go to a private school and learn to play the violin and how to play tennis and golf or something like that. It wasn't a very good name for a boy raised up in Buck Lick, Tennessee where he went to the same school as everybody else's kids. It didn't help that Alfred was always kind of chunky either. He got tormented by the boys and girls alike. He took it pretty good, though, because his mama kept telling him that one day he'd outgrow all that.
Well, sometime when he was in the sixth grade, Alfred did outgrow all that and then some. When he started to grow, that boy didn't stop until he was a hair over six feet six and tipped the scales down at Maynard's Feed Store at just under two-fifteen. He wasn't chunky any more. Alfred was all muscle. He was also soft-hearted as could be because his mama had raised him to be that way.
The other boys left Alfred alone then, but all that tormenting had taken it's toll. Once he graduated from high school, Alfred kind of kept to himself most of the time out there with his mama and daddy on their farm out south of town on Memphis Road.
Crooked Leg Creek runs through Alfred's daddy's farm and crosses Memphis Road a couple hundred feet past the house. If you drive across the bridge and keep going for another couple of miles, you'll drive by the Maberly place where Linda Lou lived. That's not real important except for what Crooked Leg Creek usually does when we get a big April rain. All the rainwater in most of the county drains into Crooked Leg Creek and starts off for the Squaw Hatchet River and then on to the Mississippi. In the process, Crooked Leg Creek usually floods out the bridge over Memphis Road. That happened two springs after Alfred graduated.
Linda Lou was coming home from the hardware store after that cold, April rain, and her car drowned out going through the water on the bridge. Well, the water kept coming up and by the time I got Alfred's phone call and got out there, Linda Lou was sitting on top of her car and the creek was up to the top of the tires. Alfred was there too.
"I called ya, Sheriff, 'cause I cain't git 'er out by myself. Water's too deep and too fast."
I said I'd call Harry down at the fire station to bring out the ladder truck so we could use it to get out there.
"No time fer that, Sheriff. She's got herself wet getting' up there and is prolly 'bout to freeze. If'n she falls in, we'll never git 'er in time. I got me a rope here. If'n you'll hold one end so's I got something to pull against, I'll go git 'er."
.... There is more of this story ...