It was another one of those damn fucking hot days. I packed my tools away and slid behind the wheel of my pick up. I can't say I was looking forward to the three hour drive hour, but I was definitely looking forward to depositing the check in my pocket.
Too damn hot, I saw roadhouse up ahead and pulled into the nearly empty parking lot. As long as the beer was cold and the A/C worked, I was fine. I eased myself onto the barstool and ordered a cold one. I nodded when the bartender asked if I wanted to watch the game. I was in mid-sip when the TV came on. Damn thing was set for the County Music Video Channel; the announcer introduced the new number one video - I should have known. The opening chorus wrenched my eyes to the screen and I watched as the singers face, showing the lines and cares of a life on the road slowly dissolved into a flash back scene of twenty years ago - I groaned.
The bartender mistook my discomfort for disapproval. He shook his head and opined that the singer was one of the hottest women in music; and how he "sure as hell" wouldn't kick her out of bed. I told him he didn't know what the hell he was talking about. He said he knew what he liked and he liked "too fucking bad for you" Jolene.
God, I loved fucking Jolene in the morning. The sun streaming in would set her hair on fire -a golden glow surrounding auburn tresses. Her hair would be flat here, full there, a riot of individuality... you knew Jolene by her hair; wild, free, exciting - take your breath away sexy, pulled back intense... prowling. (She pulled it back into a tight bun once, like a librarian... that memory alone makes me tremble.)
The palest green eyes - scary, with flames dancing through them when her blood was up. Intoxicatingly alluring when her lust was on - God she could get me to do any damn thing she wanted - anything... damn that woman.
I liked her eyes best in the morning when they were heavy lidded and soft... when she was soft... and warm... and yielding. She was drier in the morning, hotter too - internally I mean. At night she'd get real wet and wild, fucking Jolene after the sun went down seemed to be as much a contest, or a battle, as a coupling. At night she was demanding, insistent - she knew what she wanted (hell she knew what I wanted too) and she got it... more often then not.
But damn, in the morning, pretty much any morning... man, for me that was the best. Sometimes she'd just throw a leg over me all casual-like, reach down between her legs take hold of old Howard (Ok, let me explain - I met Jolene at a bar across the street from a Howard Johnson's. I was pretty drunk at the time and kept slurring her name from Jay -lynne to Joel - ine, finally she said "Jo like Ho Jo, ya know, across the street." I told her I did know and escorted right across the street to the front desk, and got us a room. We just about broke the bed by check-out the next day. So she named my johnson "Howard", sometimes "Howie" when she was all friskie and everything, and once, when I drank way too much, just "How" as in "How is that supposed to help me?" I never got that drunk again.) After taking hold of old Howard she promptly slid down upon him.
I was foolish enough, our first-time together, to think that it was just a one-night stand. I had a piss filled hard on the next morning and she used it with relish to get herself off twice. I can't come like that in the morning (gotta pee first), which didn't seem to concern her one bit. She just laughed and said that every time I took a piss that day I'd be smelling her. Then she kind of laser-beamed me with those eyes of hers and said that if I were to drop by her place after work and her smell was still on me, she'd be inclined to freshen it up - as long as it was always her smell. Which was how this old tomcat became famously monogamous for the first time in his life - damn that woman.
Sometimes though, in the morning, I'd get my wake-up piss taken care of and then slide back into bed beside her. I'd either spoon her or take her from the rear. This was fraught with a certain amount of danger in that, old Howard tended to rub a spot in Jolene that turned her on tremendously, only her arousal would be delayed for about an hour or so until she was fully awake. I'd be getting settled in at work and get a call from some lust-driven cum crazed banshee screaming at me. She'd be telling me just what was going to happen to me that night. The more calls I got during the day, the greater my service was required that night - I always felt it was for the greater good.
Or sometimes I'd crawl between her thighs and plow her good and proper - nuthin' wrong with that.
We were made for each other. We were exclusive to each other. Except once, I guess. I had done the spoon thing to her in the morning, for a long time, and I must have gotten close to a dozen banshee calls throughout the day. I was walking around with a steel pipe in my jeans all fucking day. I usually got home between 5:30 and 6:15. She kept reminding me not to be late, as she had some old college roommates coming by around 7 and she wanted to get a good fuck in before they arrived. I purposely didn't get home until 7:20 that evening. I'm telling you, if her eyes were fire, my goose would have been cooked.
She made some quick introductions and then dragged me into the kitchen. She had my belt unbuckled and my jeans around my knees before I knew what was happening. She hitched her dress up over her hips and leaned across the counter. She looked back over her shoulder and hissed,
"heart attack fast, you bastard"
.... There is more of this story ...