Thank you to my two talented editors who make my stories a much better read, LadyCibelle and Techsan.
I'm Herman Howell and I'm a stalker. Well, not exactly a stalker, I don't want to hurt anyone; I'm just in love with a woman I've never met. I'm totally obsessed with a certain writer.
I'm a man in my forties and have never been married. I've never even come close. I guess I'm what a lot of people call a loser, but it's not true. I've always paid my way, never took money from the government.
I'm always reading stories about these good looking guys who screw all these women. They seem to have multiple orgasms and for a guy that doesn't seem overly possible, at least not for me.
During the day I work cutting lawns, and in the winter shoveling snow. I've always had mediocre jobs because I'm not the smartest egg in a carton, or is it donut in a dozen? Whatever it is, it isn't me. What people who write these stories don't realize is that there are a lot of guys like me out there reading them. I stand around 5' 7" and weigh a hundred and fifty pounds. My hair, what I have left, is brown; I'm mostly bald except for the horseshoe look.
I live with my mom who is on Social Security and I have no siblings. My dad left us many, many moons ago. Between my work and mom's Social Security, we do okay. We eat well and have a nice television. We even have cable. Our trailer has three bedrooms so mom let me have the largest one. I picked up a second hand computer for a few hundred bucks, but it allows me to play games and go online to read my stories. I get some e-mail but it's mostly from authors telling me, "Thank you for reading my stories."
It's where my obsession began. I spend all my evenings on the computer reading erotic stories. I have to close my door while I read them, if you know what I mean. The trailer walls aren't the thickest and my mom is usually a room away watching the television. I read the stories and then give comments or feedback like they ask. I'm not afraid to use my e-mail address 'cause I got a Yahoo one online and nobody knows where I really live. I always sign them H.H. for Henry Howell.
I started reading stories by Sharon, The Seductress. She writes the hottest stories on the net. I masturbate to almost all of her stories. I mean they are really sexy; sometimes she does more than one man at a time. She has also written stories about her with other women. She always uses Beth as her main character. I don't know if her stories are true or not, but they sure make me hot. I always write to her and let her know how much I like them. She almost always answers my e-mail. Lately I've been sending her jokes and other things I receive in the e-mail. Believe it or not, other authors send me jokes and stuff. I guess it's because I always write to them. It's like they are my online friends.
I had a few writers tell me not to send them stuff. I guess they must get loads of e-mail from readers. Sharon is still my favorite writer. I looked up her bio and it didn't tell me much. She's over eighteen, married to what sounds like a Greek God, and has two grown children in college. It makes her over forty like me if she has two kids in college. They sure must be smart; I wasn't able to go to college. My C- average just didn't hack it.
I set out to find everything I could about Sharon. I kind of wish I knew more about computers 'cause they say you can find anything on them. I wrote her and asked her where she lived. All she told me was in Canada. Damn, we didn't even live in the same country.
It's funny that when people keep writing to you, you learn a little more about them. One time by accident she signed her e-mail Beth, instead of Sharon. Now, I think her real name is Beth and Sharon is just her writer's name. Another time she mentioned the weather in a place called Alberta. I got my road atlas out and found out that there is an Alberta, Canada.
One time she wrote me and asked me about myself. I told her I was self-employed and forty-five years old. It was the truth. I told her I was divorced after finding my wife with another man. I told Beth I did a Rambo number on him. He was hospitalized for a month and I kicked my wife's ass out and kept everything. It was the kind of stuff I read in stories. I think she was impressed with me. I told her I was 6'1" 210 pounds of mostly muscle. I mentioned that I worked out three times a week. Actually, I haven't been inside a gym since high school, but I wanted to sound cool.
I asked her what she looked like and she told me to check in her bio on the author's page. So I signed up as an author so I could check her out. Damn, she was a knockout. By the picture, she looked kind of tall and looked to be in her mid-thirties. I figured it was an old picture since her kids were in college. She was blond and beautiful. The next time I wrote her I told her so. In fact I told her if she didn't live a thousand miles away I would come and see her. I remember her saying if I showed up we could have a threesome with her husband, or if I preferred he could watch me make love to her. God, that made me hot!
I decided right then and there that I was going to go see her. I still needed her last name. I had to figure a way to get it. I kept watching the author comments and Beth/Sharon got on a lot. To some of the other female authors she called herself Beth. I knew it was her because I followed all her stories and waited for the other writers to mention them. It was like listening to someone's phone conversation but reading it instead. A lot of what she talked to these other authors about didn't jive with the real her. She talked about taking the kids to school and things like that. It was kind of confusing to me.
I decided to trick one of the other authors. I wrote them a feedback and asked if they were Beth Hendley, who wrote, "One Nice Night"? They told me that was written by Beth Wilson, and that she wasn't her. I apologized but got my information. In other conversations the town of Gayley, Canada came up. I think that is probably where she lives.
Now I had all the information I needed. Beth and Roy Wilson, in all her stories the husband's name was Roy and since she is really Beth, I put two and two together. They lived in Alberta, Canada, in a town called Gayley. Now I just had to save up enough money to drive there. I knew it would be a big surprise but she was the woman in all my dreams.
We kept corresponding after reading each of her stories. I told her I was in love with her just from reading her stories. She told me to remember that her stories were mostly fantasies and I should remember that, but that she was honored that she could bring happiness into my life.
In all her stories the sexual action always took place at her house. It must be one beautiful place, cause she wrote about being in the pool, doing it in a hot tub, and all over the house. She talked about going upstairs and finding her different lovers waiting for her.
I do have to admit that the more I fell in love with her, the more jealous I had become. I wanted to be all these men in her stories. I wanted to be her lover. My sex life didn't have much love in it. I did have sex with a couple of women in our trailer court. They weren't very good looking but they let me fuck them. My mom always told me to stay away from them, because she was afraid their husbands would hurt me.
According to these women the only sex they got was with me. One of them flashed me one day as I walked by her trailer. She was standing in her door with no clothes on. I looked up at the door and there she was smiling at me. She invited me in and she reached down and unzipped my pants and gave me a blowjob. I couldn't believe this was happening to me. She was probably in her fifties and really was pretty ugly, but she gave me a blowjob. I remember in the stories how the guys get hard again right away; I didn't. She was pissed since she did give me the blowjob and told me I should eat her pussy. It was only fair since I didn't get hard again.
Her pussy looked kind of nasty but she sat on the sofa and I got on my knees and closed my eyes and ate her out. With my eyes closed, I thought of Beth and her stories and I pretended it was her and got really hot and into it. This old gal spewed cream all over my face. I had to wash it off before I went home. Anyway, this woman invited me back anytime I wanted when her husband wasn't home. She told another of her neighbors about me so I had two women I could service if I wanted to.
They were really old looking and probably wouldn't get picked up in a bar if they went to one. For me it was okay because I could get my rocks off in a real pussy, even if it looked kind of worn out. They didn't look like the ones in the stories that Beth wrote. Nice trimmed bushes and when you spread the lips it was suppose to be pretty, wet and pink inside. These ladies had the wet part; that was about it.
It took me a long time to save up enough money to make a trip to Canada. I got my maps and road atlas and told my mom I'd be back in a week. I was going on a vacation. This was the first time I ever did anything like this. I figured if I drove a lot, it would take me two days to get there and two days back. I'd sleep in the car going and coming but would need a room while I was there. I'd probably spend two nights.
It was a nice trip going there. The country was really beautiful, looking out over all the different bodies of water. I stopped a few times just to enjoy the scenery. Too bad Beth wasn't with me; it would have been perfect with her by my side.
I finally made it to Alberta, Canada. I arrived at a little town of Gayley. It was just outside of Calgary. I went to the telephone booth and got Beth's address, 401 Mystic Circle. Wow, sounded kind of ritzy. I headed to the post office and asked for directions to the street. The postman was nice enough to explain to me how to get there. I asked him where there was a local florist. He told me how to get there and I thanked him and was on my way.
I went into the florist and ask for some roses. After hearing the price, I asked if they had anything cheaper. They had carnations for $1.25 each. I had him wrap me up a dozen and I filled out the card. "To Beth, the best writer on the planet. Love, H.H."
I looked up and saw they had ball caps with the name, Clary Florist, written on them. I asked how much they were and the man smiled at me and said I could have one for free. It was how he advertised. I put on my ball cap and took my flowers and headed off to see Beth.
I have to tell you I was a nervous wreck. I ate a whole tube of antacids; my stomach was doing somersaults.
I followed the directions the post office gave me and Mystic Circle was a trailer court. This couldn't be right but I went down and found the address 401. It was a dumpy little trailer, not even as nice as mine. I was perplexed on what to do. Was my information wrong? Did Beth maybe lie about her lifestyle like I did? I had to find out; I just drove over a thousand miles to find the woman of my dreams. I couldn't quit now.
I took the flowers and walked up to the door. There was a name plate on the house that said, "Roy and Beth Wilson." This had to be it so I knocked on the door, waiting with total anticipation when a big burly ugly man came to the door.
"What the hell do you want?" He barked at me.
"I'm from Clary Florist and I have a delivery for a Beth Wilson. Does she live here?" I asked.
"Yea, she lives her. Give me the damn things and I'll give them to her," he replied.
"I'm sorry, she needs to sign for them," I said. I really wanted to see what she looked like.
"She's on the toilet; I'll sign for the damn things." He scribbled Roy on my paper and grabbed the box.
"You ain't getting no tip so get your ass out of here," growled Roy.
I quickly left the porch but I could hear him yelling.
"Who the fuck is H.H. and why would he send you flowers? Are you fucking someone behind my back?" I heard Roy yell.
"No, Roy, I don't know who that is, honest." For the first time I heard Beth's voice. She didn't sound like my vision of her. She sounded scared and afraid.
I heard Roy tell her, "If I ever find out you're fucking someone, I'll kill him and kick your fat ass out. Do you understand me?"
"Yes, Roy. It must be someone who reads my stories, that's all. I don't know how they got our address. I'm sorry, Roy. I have to get to the library; I'll see you tonight." I heard Beth tell Roy.
They lived in a corner trailer and I had just pulled around the corner. It's why I was able to hear their conversation. Actually it was Roy's yelling. I wondered why she was going to the library. Did she work there, I wondered?
I didn't get a good look at her when she got in her car. I was too far around the corner. I could see that she wasn't blond and she wore glasses. I pulled out behind her as she left the trailer court. I tried to keep my distance like they do in the movies. I didn't want to be detected.
I saw the library up ahead and passed Beth and pulled into the lot ahead of her and walked inside. I watched as she came in. She sure wasn't what I expected. She was short, maybe 5'1" or so. She was heavy — well, she was fat; probably sixty or seventy pounds overweight. She wasn't very pretty but she wasn't ugly either. I guessed her to be maybe thirty-five. She was not at all like I pictured or like the picture she had posted in her bio. I was somewhat stunned. After all, I just drove a thousand miles to see the love of my life and she didn't look at all like I had pictured.
I was almost ready to cry when she came up to me standing there and said, "May I help you? I saw you just standing there looking kind of lost. My name is Beth and I work here, just so you know I wasn't coming on to you," she smiled.
She had a sweet voice.
"My name is um... I was... um... shit, damn. I don't,..."
"Sir, are you alright? Do you need me to call someone? Here, sit down please," she said.
I looked down at the table. I couldn't look her in the eyes. "Beth, I came here to see you," I said.
"What? Who are you? Do I know you?" she asked rather nervously.
"I'm Herman Howell - you know H.H. I read your stories."
She backed up, looking scared. "Oh, my God, you've been stalking me. I should call the police."
"Please, don't call the police. I'm not really a stalker. I just had to see you," I said.
""You got my address from somewhere; I never gave it to you. In fact, I never told you my name was Beth. You show up at my door with flowers and cause a big riff in my marriage and you say that's not stalking," she responded.
"Please listen; I'm not a bad person. I just had to see you. In fact you told me I could come and see you."
"What? I never told you to come and see me. You're some kind of nut case; I'm going to call the police."
"Wait! Look, I have the e-mails; I save all your letters. Here, read it for yourself. "Well, H.H., if you're ever in my neck of the woods, stop by and we can have a threesome with my husband, or he can watch you fuck me." See, I told you that I might come and see you and that's what you wrote me. I would never hurt you; I'm in love with you. I don't even care that you lied about your appearance, 'cause I did too. It's your stories and the inner you that I crave. I might be a nut job, but only for you. Please don't call the police." I had tears in my eyes, I could feel them.
"God! What have I done? Herman, that was all fantasy. I write fantasy stories. You saw my trailer and that fat vile old man that's my husband. He's a horrible man and I write stories to get away from it all. I live my life through my writing. I'm just a librarian and I write stories. If I would have ever thought you would come this far to see me, I would have told you the truth."
I had tears running down my cheek. "Beth, you're my fantasy; you're my reason for getting up. I have nothing. I'm forty-five years old and live with my mother. I'm short, nothing to look at and half bald. I have no talent but I do work hard cutting grass or shoveling snow. The way I get away from it all is reading your stories and writing to you. I used my savings to come a thousand miles to see you, not to hurt you. I'm staying just one night at that little motel on the corner. I'm sorry if I scared you."
She touched my hand. "Herman, I'm so sorry. I didn't know something like this would happen. No one has ever bought me flowers, not even Roy. I made a big mistake writing lies to you. I don't have a nice home or a great husband. We married about eight years ago. He has two sons from a previous marriage. I guess he wanted a mother for them and asked me to marry him. At first it was nice but then he started coming home drunk and using me and sometimes even beating me. My life is a hell hole. My only release is my job here and writing my stories."
"Why don't you leave him? Move away and divorce him?"
"I tried that once and he looked for me until he found me and dragged me back to his home. I'm afraid of him. I'm terribly afraid. His sons are now sixteen and seventeen but he still won't let me leave. There is nowhere for me to go anyway. In fact if he found out I was talking to you he would beat me and try to kill you. I can't see you again. Please don't write to me anymore."
"If you can, I would like to see you one more time. I'll be at my motel room. I guess life really does suck. You really are the best writer I've ever read."
"Herman, look at me. I'm a plain fat woman in her thirties. I might have big breasts but they are flabby. No man would want to caress them. You can see I have a big tummy and gun boats for legs. Roy calls me thunder thighs because they are so large. I faced the facts when I married Roy that I am no man's dream. I guess that's why I started writing. Letters and comments from people like you are the highlight of my day. I guess that's why I answered your feedback. I'm so terribly sorry."
I told her that I felt I still loved the inner Beth, the writer with the real feeling trying to get out. She knew where to find me if she wanted to talk some more.
I got up and headed to get a sandwich from a take out place and drove to my motel room. It was getting late when there was a knock on my door. I was afraid it might be Roy. "Who is it?" I asked?"
"Herman, it's me, Beth; please let me in." she asked.
I opened the door and there stood Beth. "I needed to see you and apologize for the whole fiasco. Honest, I never meant to lead you on or hurt you. I thought about it all day and you seem to be a kind man."
"Where's Roy? Will he come looking for you?" I asked.
"No, he's dead to the world. He won't wake up till morning. Herman, will you make love to me?"
"What! You want to make love with an old ugly fellow like me?"
"I owe you big time. In the letter I promised you this and I want to give it to you. It must only be this one time and we can't ever see each other again. If you find my body revolting, I can dim the lights."
"Beth, I'm in love with your mind and soul and would love to make love to your entire body. I do have a favor to ask."
"What is it, Herman? What do you want?"
"I want to record our lovemaking and we can maybe put it in one of your stories," I said.
"You can tape it but no video equipment. Herman, if you never understand anything else about this night, I want you to know it's for you; your devotion to my writings, and for my deceiving you. Also, I have not been with another man since I've been with Roy. You can't just fuck me, you must and I do mean must make love to me. How do you want to begin?"
"I want you to tell me one of your beautiful stories and as you're telling it, I will be doing it to you. You say it and I'll do my best to follow up," I responded.
I'll try Herman: I met this stranger in my library. He wasn't a hulk of a man, but a kind gentle person. He invited me to his room after I finished work. I didn't know whether to go or not. There was something about him, something special that I didn't see in other men. I gently knocked on his door and when he answered I asked him to make love me. I didn't want to just be fucked or ravished but to be held, kissed and caressed.
He took me in his arms and held me gently. He kissed me ever so gently on the lips. He kissed me again and again as though he couldn't get enough of me. He began unbuttoning by blouse taking time on each button. I felt myself breathing harder as he unfastened each one till my bra was totally exposed. He slipped my blouse down over my shoulders and let it drop to the floor. He put his hands on the sides of my bra-covered breasts and kissed the valley between them over and over.
I could feel the heat rising; was it the room or my body that was so hot? H.H. reached behind me and undid my bra clasp. He lightly pulled the bra off my twin mounds and let it drop to the floor beside my blouse. I was getting slightly unsteady on my feet from being nervous. He guided me back slowly till I felt the bed on the back of my thighs. I sat down and he laid me back onto his bed. He began caressing my twin mounds knowing not to grab or squeeze them too hard. He treated them like two gentle creatures, rubbing, massaging and then began kissing them. His touch was so soft and his lips on my nipples were tantalizing. He slowly built up pressure on my sensitive breasts. He was now sucking hard on my nipples making them harder and harder. My breasts have never had love made to them like this before. Only a master lover could arouse this type of feelings in me.
He stopped and got off the bed. I yearned for more of his touch. He began unfastening the belt on my jeans. Why couldn't I have worn a skirt that could have given him quicker access? I wanted his touch so bad. He was now undoing the zipper freeing my tummy from the pressure of my jeans. He began to pull my jeans off, over my thighs and down my legs. Dropping my jeans on the floor, he went back after my pink panties. I wonder what he thought when he saw the wet dampness that he had created in me.
I knew he could smell my sex as he put his fingers at the top of my panties and they followed the direction of the jeans. I was now naked to his eyes. He could see my valley which was already moist from his previous foreplay. He got on his knees and spread my legs as far apart as possible, pushing his face deep into my valley. I reached down and spread my lips for him as he tried to devour my pussy. He was licking and sucking while I kept pumping against his face. I could feel my juices flowing as he was eating me out. I felt my orgasm building as he jammed his tongue deep into me. I know I screamed out; I couldn't help it. He didn't move his tongue or his face while I was climaxing.
I have to say he was the best oral lover I have ever had. I told him I needed to stop for a moment and get my breathing back to normal before we continued. He got up and wiped my juices off his face. He smiled at me and got us both something cold to drink. He removed his clothes and after a few minutes he had me moving to the middle of the bed. It's when I realized I had the biggest orgasm of my life and he hadn't even put his member in me yet.
After putting a pillow under my butt, he spread my legs and started kissing up my thighs. He was teasing me with his tongue and lips. I wanted him in me and started to plead with him. "Please don't tease me. I want to feel you in me," I pleaded. I had a pillow under my head so I could watch his cock go in and out of me. He might have been a small man in stature but he had a huge cock. Maybe it was because he was thin that made it look so big. All I know is that I wanted it in me.
He pushed just the head in as I moaned. "Tell me what you want," he said.
I responded, "Please put that big cock into me, please."
He slowly pushed it in, inch by inch, smiling at me while I watched it disappear deep within me. When he pulled it most of the way back out, I could see the glistening coating of my juices. He started to speed up, in, out, in, out, his cock looked like a piston doing its job. I felt another climax coming and told him to shoot his load deep into me. "Yes, yes, God, so good, shoot it baby, shoot that load deep in me; I feel it, honey, I feel your hot load splashing on my insides. I'm coming, oh Lord, I'm coming," she said.
"Honey, don't take it out. Just leave it in and lay on me for a few minutes. I want to feel your closeness till my pussy stops throbbing.
After we were done making love, Beth asked if she could take a shower and clean up a little. I sat back and relaxed. She was wonderful and we weren't even done yet. When she came out of the bathroom, I took a quick shower myself. I wanted to be fresh for the next round.
After we were both cleaned off we laid together on the bed. I told her that she was my dream come true and that I would never forget her, only miss her. After we both felt refreshed, I told her I wanted to take her from behind. She didn't have to tell me what she wanted this time; I had a plan of my own.
She was on her hands and knees as I got behind her. I reached underneath her and grabbed her hairy mound and then slid a couple of fingers into her pussy. She was already getting wet from the thought of being fucked from behind. As soon as her juices were flowing, I grabbed her hips and pushed my cock into her waiting hole. She was already making noises and pumping hard against me. She told me earlier that she didn't like anal sex. I decided to just push a finger into her anal opening while fucking her pussy. She screamed out how different but good it felt so I added a second finger. She did have a big butt but I loved it. I pulled my fingers out of her ass and just started squeezing her butt. She was moaning for more so I gave her a few light taps against her ass; just enough to make it red. Then I heard her familiar sound of getting ready to come. I jammed my cock as deep as I could into her and shoved two fingers back into her anus and waited for her orgasm which was only a few seconds away. I shot my second load of the evening into her pussy from behind. After coming she fell forward onto her tits and belly and fell asleep. I got up and turned off the light and joined her in a very sound sleep.
When I woke up in the morning, she was gone. I cleaned up again and packed my things for my two day trip back home. She left me a letter.
I'm so sorry for deceiving you in the beginning. I do have to say that I was so very glad to meet you. The love you made to me is the greatest of my lifetime. I never knew sex or making love could be so enjoyable. I have been writing about it for years but that was the only time I really experienced it. I'll always have you to thank for it. I will never forget you or the wonderful person you are. I'm sorry I wasn't the pretty woman I told you I was. It might have saved you a trip, but then again, I would have never met you. Please try and not forget me. I know I told you not to write to me anymore, but I want you to. We have something special and I would miss not hearing from you once in awhile. Other than my writing and job, you are the only bright spot in my life.
With love I say these things
Beth/Sharon The Seductress
After reading her letter, I was both happy and sad. I knew when I left Ohio that it was just going to be a visit to see and maybe talk to the woman I was obsessed with. It ended up being so much more. She might not have been Sharon, The Seductress, but she was so much more. She was a woman who cared for me, yes me, Herman Howell. I know that she wasn't the prettiest girl on earth, or have the body of a fashion model. What she did have was a loving heart. She was a caring, feeling, human being, just like me. We have the same feelings as the so-called, pretty people. We have all the same emotions and want the same things. Someone to love us, want us for who we are, and even someone who we can share a life together. Yes, I was happy, but at the same time sad; being so far away from a woman who brought me so much happiness.
I headed for home, a much happier person. I drove by the library hoping to catch a glimpse of Beth, but they weren't open yet, so I headed up the road looking out at the beautiful scenery. I was in a different country but you wouldn't know it just looking out the window. I drove through the check points when I reentered the United State and had to laugh when the guard asked me if I had anything to declare. I wanted to declare my love for one special woman but just smiled and told him, "No, nothing to declare."
After a few days everything was back to normal. My clients, the people whose grass I cut, said I looked much happier, that the vacation had done me good. I thought to myself, 'You'll never know how good it was.'
I was smiling and even singing while I was working. Most everyone noticed and said they liked the new Herman. I picked up more and more clients. They all told me that I could do the shoveling of their snow when the time came. Everything to me was wonderful. It was like a kid going to Disney World and seeing all the stuff they had to offer. You would be sad when you got home, but you would always have the memories. It's the way I felt about Beth. I still read her stories and wrote my notes back and forth.
Her lead character wasn't Roy anymore but it was Champ. I asked her about it and she told me she used Champ for me; I was Champ. She apologized for not using Herman, but said in stories, it didn't sound sexy, even though I was sexy to her, so she came up with Champ; she said it was short for Champion. It really made me feel good.
Life went on and was good. One day Beth asked me about meeting her once a year for a couple of days. She told me that she couldn't forget about me and how I made her feel. Roy and his two sons would go hunting one week out of the year and she could maybe meet me about halfway or so; that way I wouldn't have as far to drive.
I couldn't believe it. I could live out my fantasy with the woman I loved and obsessed over. It might only be once a year but I was already planning it. I had about six months to start saving for my trip.
I was reading one of her stories and read a comment that her writing was shit and she was nothing but a damn slut. The person who commented even listed his e-mail address. I wrote him telling him that Sharon, The Seductress, was my woman and I was going to hunt him down and beat the shit out of him if I ever read a comment like that again. I remember saying I was a computer hacker and knew I could find his true identity. It must have scared him away cause he never sent any more comments to Beth. I wrote to more than one negative comment. I felt that I was Beth's protector. I don't know why people knock the writer. They are giving us something to read, usually their own fantasy.
I had three more months left when tragedy struck. My mom had a heart attack and passed away. I was really depressed and had no idea what to do. I wasn't the smartest person around. The pastor from our church stopped by to see me; he could tell that I was lost on what to do. He sat down and said he would help me through it. He asked about insurance and I showed him mom's policy. It was for seven thousand dollars. He told me that it would be enough to give mom a decent burial. His wife Mary would help make arrangements with the funeral home and see to it that mom looked good.
Pastor Ron told me I should pick up a dark suit to wear to the funeral, and probably a dark tie. The service was nice. All mom's friends were there grieving for her. They would all come up to me and tell me how sorry they were. After the service the women of the church had some food set up in the church basement for the mourners. I mentioned to Pastor Ron that it was nice of him and his wife to help me like this. I helped the ladies of the church clean up the mess and Pastor Ron asked me into his office.
"Herman, we need a church custodian and since all the people seem to like you, we were wondering if you would like the job? All you have to do is after any service like the one we had for your mother and of course every Sunday, you clean up the church. You also get the grass cutting and shoveling jobs as well. We thought this might help your financial situations since you won't have your mom's check anymore. It pays twenty-five dollars after each clean up. You could pick up around seventy-five dollars extra a week. Sometimes more, are you interested?"
I smiled. I was wondering about making ends meet. I took the job and thanked Pastor Ron. I turned around and went into the church and started cleaning. Pastor Ron, told me I didn't have to do it that day but I told him I needed to keep busy; he understood. I could clean the church any time day or night so it didn't interfere with my grass cutting/snow shoveling business.
I wrote to Beth and told her about my mother dying. She said she cried for me and hoped for the best for me. We were to meet in two months and at least I had that to look forward to. Beth and I made the arrangements where we would meet. It would be about a ten hour drive for me one way, and approximately the same for Beth. I made the arrangements for two nights in a little motel. We now had one month to go. I was working hard and putting some money aside for my trip. I told Pastor Ron that I would be gone for about four days so he wouldn't get worried. I had to get all my work caught up before I left.
With a month to go, I kept writing Beth, but never received any replies. I was beginning to worry. I wrote her every day, but no replies. She hadn't posted any new stories either. I even checked the Authors' Hangout where she talked to other authors but I didn't see her name anywhere. What happened to her? Maybe her computer broke down and she was getting it fixed. I was becoming a mess. It was now time for me to leave for our rendezvous and I wasn't sure she would be there.
There was nothing else I could do. As a last resort I looked up her phone number from last year and called it. There was no answer, not even an answering machine, but I wouldn't have left a message anyway.
I headed out to our rendezvous spot hoping for the best. Everything possible went through my mind. God, I wish I was smarter; maybe there was something I could do. I just didn't know. I was more worried than excited. I was just hoping she was having computer problems. Now I wish I would've given her more information as to my town or phone number. All she knew was I lived in Ohio, a foreign country to her. It took me the best part of ten hours to get to the motel. We had it for two days; hopefully for two wonderful glorious days. I checked in and Beth hadn't been there yet. I tried calling her old phone number again but no one answered, not even asshole Roy. The afternoon became evening, and then became dark outside. No sign of Beth anywhere. I was in a panic but couldn't do anything. I lay down on the bed and tried to get some rest. I was going to drive another ten hours if I had to. I needed to know what happened to Beth. About four in the morning I got up and left for Gayley where I was the year before. I was tired but my will kept me going.
I arrived in Gayley around noon. I drove faster than I should have, but I had to get there as soon as possible. My nerves couldn't take much of this. I went straight to the library. I looked around but there was no sign of Beth. The lady at the counter asked if she could help me.
I told her I was looking for Beth. She looked nervous as she stared at me.
"Where is she? Is she alright? I'm a friend of hers from the United States. Please, where is she?" I cried.
"How do I know you're telling me the truth? Show me your driver's license," she said.
I quickly pulled out my license and the woman went to the telephone. I think she was talking to Beth. She came back and wrote an address on a piece of paper. She told me it was a battered women's shelter and Beth was there waiting for me. I asked her what happened but she told me Beth would have to explain it to me. She gave me directions to the shelter and I hurried off to see my Beth.
I pulled up in front of the shelter and Beth was waiting for me. She had her arm in a sling. I went up to her and she was crying. I held her as best I could with her arm in the sling. "Beth, what happened? I haven't heard from you in over a month. I waited for you but you didn't show up. I had to find out so I drove the rest of the way to find you."
"Let's go inside where we can have some privacy. I have a room here for now. I'll try to tell you everything," she said.
She sat on the edge of the bed and I sat on a chair. She began to tell me what had happened.
"Roy walked in on me one day when I was writing to you. He read the message and back handed me and called me a fucking whore. He hit me time and time again. When I woke up I was in the hospital, in intensive care. I had internal injuries and a broken arm. He also cracked a couple of my ribs. I never told you this before but Roy always brought women to our house and had sex in front of me. He even let his sons use these women. It wasn't one time, but over and over again. He would say how he liked real women, not a big fucking pig like me. I was only there to clean up the place and cook for him."
"So, what's happening now?" I asked.
"The neighbors heard the disturbance and called the police. They arrested Roy and he's now in lockup. He doesn't have the money to post bail so he will have to stay in jail till his trial next month. I have already applied for a divorce from the monster. I'm no longer afraid of him or his sons," she replied.
"Where are his sons now?" I asked.
"Last I knew they were still at the trailer. One is eighteen now and the other seventeen. They are bad boys, just like their father. They took all my things and threw them in the front yard and some neighbors gathered them up for me and contacted the women's shelter. I was released from the hospital and moved here for now. I'm so sorry you had to drive all this way for nothing. I couldn't contact you because they busted up my computer and besides, I don't know if I can type with one hand."
"God, I feel so sorry for you; I wish there was something I could do," I said.
"It's not your problem Herman, it's mine. I should have left him years ago. Too bad I didn't meet a nice man like you back then. Life might have been so much better."
"Beth, you know I love you, I know you do. Not just the writer but the whole person that is Beth Wilson. Will you come back to the States with me and become my wife?"
"My God, Herman, that is quite an offer but I can't do that to you. You have your own life to lead. Besides, I have to be here for the trial next month. I don't want that bastard getting off because I wasn't there to testify."