"Oh?"
Julie grinned sheepishly. “It was as if you had the same conversation with him that you had with me. He was so different last night—so gentle. Every time he touched me he asked if I liked it."
"Were you honest with him?"
"That was the hard part. He was trying so hard to please me. I didn't want to hurt his feelings."
"Julie!"
"I'm not finished. Early on, he stuck his tongue in my ear. I hate that! He said something about me tasting good and did I like that. I told him I liked his tongue on my arm much better."
"What happened?"
Julie smiled. “He moved to my arm."
"Atta-girl!"
"Ally, something happened later. It's so embarrassing."
Ally slid burgers onto the open buns as Julie sliced a tomato.
"He eventually worked his way down to my feet,” Julie continued.
"And?"
"He played with my toes. How erotic is that? I'll tell you how erotic it is. It nearly drove me up the wall. I've never experienced anything like it. He stroked my feet and worked a finger between my toes."
"What's the embarrassing part?” Ally asked as she closed the buns and placed them on wax paper squares.
Julie hung her head and softly said, “I wet the bed."
Ally guffawed.
"It's not funny, Ally."
Ally wiped tears from her eyes with the back of her hand. “Honey, you didn't pee in the bed. You ejaculated."
"Women don't ejaculate."
"Some women do. It scared Cliff half to death the first time he witnessed me doing it."
"I ... I don't think so."
"Were you pleasuring yourself at the time?"
Julie blushed. “Spunky asked me to."
"Have your finger on the G spot?"
"I don't know. Maybe."
"What's holding up the parade?” Cliff asked as he approached. “Spunky and I are hungry."
"We're about ready,” Ally responded. “Carry these burgers over to a booth. “What'll it be, guys, draft or Pepsi-Colas?"
Roger scooped up half the hamburgers and said, “I want a soft drink."
"Four coming up,” Ally announced.
As the men walked away, Ally whispered, “I'm glad it finally happened for you."
"Three times,” Julie whispered. “Ally, once I cried out almost as loudly as you do!"
Ally winked. “A dozen or more times is more like it. The motel walls are thin, Julie."
As they completed their meal, Cliff asked, “What next, boss lady?"
Julie wiped her lips with a paper napkin. “I was thinking that Spunky and I should go back to the cabin and begin putting things away. If you lovebirds can keep your hands off each other, why don't you go ahead and move into the apartment. When the guys finish installing the oven, I know Ally will want to play with it."
"Holy cow!” Roger exclaimed, glancing out the window.
"What?” Ally asked as she craned her neck to find to object of Roger's interest.
"What's a Fire Marshall doing here?” Cliff wondered aloud.
The quartet moved to the front door and welcomed the uniformed visitor.
"Oscar Thomas,” the man explained as he shook hands. “I'm the county Fire Marshall. I noticed the signs in Dot that say you're opening Monday."
Julie glanced sheepishly at her friends. “I called Rita Holder this morning and told her to go ahead and post the notices she printed up."
"Well, come on in, uh, Captain Thomas."
The Marshall flipped open a notebook and carefully inspected the store, restaurant, workroom, game room and each motel unit. “Folks,” he said as he tore out a carbon copy of the notebook form, “I'm sorry, but I can't let you open."
"You're kidding,” Cliff said.
"Afraid not. This place is a fire trap."
"What do we need to do?” Roger asked.
The officer studied his form. “You need an approved fire extinguisher in each motel unit, two in the store area, two in the restaurant with one behind the counter, one in the workroom and one in the game room."
"We didn't know,” Ally said.
"Your electrical connections are all up to code, but your most flagrant violation is the single exit from the restaurant. If a fire broke out while the place was crowded, many lives would be lost."
"What do you suggest?” Julie asked.
"If you cut a double exit door from the game room, add lighted exit signs and install the fire extinguishers, I'll lift the ban."
"Damn,” Cliff groused. “What else can go wrong?"
"Hold on, Cliff,” Julie said. “The man's right. Captain Thomas, is there some place in Charlotte we can buy these approved extinguishers?"
Thomas pulled a small notebook from his shirt pocket and scribbled on it. “I'm not supposed to make recommendations, ma'am, but either of these outfits can handle your needs.” He tipped his cap, then shook his head. “I almost forgot. It should go without saying that the exit doors must be unlocked whenever the store and/or restaurant are open. You'd be surprised at how many businesses keep their exit doors locked."
"Captain,” Ally said as the Marshall started for his car. “When we meet your requirements is it okay for us to open?"
He shook his head. “Not until I have done another inspection."
"When can you come back?” Julie asked.
"It's going to take a while to install that door. Would next Friday be okay?"
"I can have it done by tomorrow afternoon,” Julie replied. “A certain contractor owes me a favor."
The man shook his head. “It's my first weekend off in over a month, ma'am. How about early Monday morning?” He saw the sad countenances and weakened. “Oh, what the heck. I'll run by here late tomorrow afternoon."
The aroma of brewing coffee pried open Cliff's eyes. He grinned. Just like old times, he thought. He sat up and rubbed his sleepy eyelids. What the heck? It's still dark outside. He threw back the coverlet and padded to the kitchen.
"Why in the world are you up at four thirty in the morning?"
"Good morning to you too, you old grouch,” Ally said, pouring him a mug of coffee. “I'm excited. I couldn't sleep. I want to make sure we're ready."
Cliff scratched the whiskers on his chin, sat at the kitchen table and sipped the steaming black liquid. “Ally, we're ready. You have enough of Mom's Barbecue in the refrigerator to feed ten armies—twice."
"I don't have any buns. I want them to be fresh, but it's time to start baking."
"Baby, come here."
She sat on his lap. “You kiss me with morning breath and I'll slap those whiskers off your face."
"Honey, you have the dough made. We don't open the restaurant until ten thirty. There's plenty of time."
"You want breakfast?"
"Cereal."
"Your wish is my command."
Ally put bowls and spoons on the table and pulled a jug of milk from the refrigerator while Cliff located the cereal box and sugar bowl.
"Thanks for going to church with me yesterday,” he said.
She nodded. “I enjoyed it. It's been a long time—too long."
"Me too.” He chuckled. “I can't believe the preacher announced the opening of Dad's Place from the pulpit."
Ally grinned. “They say Preacher McGee marches to a different drummer."
"I think the two minutes Julie spent with him before the service may prove to be more valuable than all the advertising she bought from the Holder Agency."
"You may be right. You want something else?"
"No,” he said as he took his bowl to the sink. “Since I'm up, I think I'll mosey on over to the store."
Ally hugged him around the waist. “You're excited too. Admit it."
He turned and folded her in his arms. “Well, maybe just a little."
Cliff shaved so rapidly that he nicked his chin. He applied a tiny piece of tissue and forgot about it. When dressed, they walked hand in hand to the s
tore as the sun peeked over the eastern horizon. Ally went directly to the workroom and Cliff snapped on lights. He found the long extension pole in the office and returned to the parking lot.
As he stood in front of the covered Riteway sign, extending the pole to it's maximum length, he saw Roger approaching. He grinned. “What are you doing up so early? You're on the late shift."
Roger smiled. “Couldn't sleep."
"Where's your car?"
"I walked. I didn't want to risk waking Julie with the noise of the engine."
It required several attempts for Cliff to hook the end of the pole into the ring suspended from the sign cover. He pulled. Nothing happened. He pulled again. The cover remained in place. Together the two men tugged on the pole but the cover refused to budge.
Cliff sighed. “Everything that can go wrong has gone wrong. What do we do now?"
Roger removed his shoes and socks. “FBI to the rescue,” he said.
Cliff watched in amazement as Roger shimmied up the support tower and tugged at the rebellious cloth until it fell to the ground.
"Did the FBI teach you to do that?” Cliff asked as Roger put his shoes and socks back on.
Roger nodded. “I owe the instructor an apology. I argued that I'd never need that particular skill."
It was shortly after six when the first customer pulled up to the gas pumps. Cliff rushed to the restaurant entrance and used a stage whisper. “Ally, we have our first customer."
Together the three partners watched the gray-haired man fill his tank. “How long you folks been open?” he asked when he entered the store, pulling a credit card from his wallet.
"Today's our first day,” Cliff replied as he rang up the sale.
"Something smells mighty good. Is that fresh bread?"
"Yes,” Roger replied, “but the restaurant doesn't open until ten thirty."
"Don't guess I'd want barbecue for breakfast anyway,” the man said, “but I'd give a dollar bill for a slice of that bread."
"Come on, mister. Our first customer deserves a little special consideration."
"Name's Brad Hagaman,” the man said as he sat at the counter enjoying a buttered bun and a cup of coffee. “I'm a drug salesman. What are your motel rates?"
"Twenty dollars a night,” Cliff replied as another customer crossed the pneumatic line across the driveway, setting off the alert.
"I'll catch it,” Roger said.
"Twenty dollars is mighty cheap. I don't suppose you have special rates for longer stays?"
Ally smiled. “Afraid not."
"I'm going to be in the area all week—through Thursday night. I may as well save a few bucks and become your first motel customer.” He frowned. “With the restaurant not opening until the middle of the morning, I'll have to go somewhere else for breakfast."
Ally glanced at Cliff. “How do you like your bacon and eggs, Mr. Hagaman?"
Business was steady. At nine thirty Carl Elliott demanded to be the first customer to buy a Mom's Barbecue sandwich. The lunch crowd began to trickle in an hour later. The sound of electronic games and pinball machines from both the store and game room added to the excitement and Julie was pleased that the customers choice of music on the jukebox was a nice mixture of country, rock and easy listening. She was especially happy that Shelly Brooks stopped in to sample Mom's Barbecue.
By three o'clock, the partners were exhausted and grateful for the lull in business. Ally refilled sugar bowls, salt and pepper shakers and napkin dispensers. Roger cleaned tables and the floor. Cliff picked up paper cups, beer bottles and other litter and hauled the overflowing trashcans outside. Julie sat behind the cash register, ringing up sales for the few customers in the store. Cliff joined her after emptying the last trash container.
"It's going good, partner,” he grinned.
"I'm worn slap out, as Daddy used to say,” she joked.
"We have a long way to go before this day's over."
"You sure you want to wait two weeks before hiring help?"
He chuckled. “I was wrong, as usual."
Julie searched his eyes. “You're usually right, Mr. Baker. I'll never forget what you did for me one night in a motel room."
Cliff simply smiled. “You and old Spunky seem to be hitting it off well."
"Cliff, I ... I didn't treat you very well. You, uh, didn't mean it when you said you love me, did you?"
"I'm afraid I did, Pretty Lady. I still do."
"Cliff, I..."
"It's okay, Julie. I love Ally, also.” He smiled. “The important thing is, she loves me, too. The other night I asked her to marry me and she said yes."
"Hey, you two,” Ally bellowed from the restaurant doorway. “Bawdy Talk is on."
Cliff hurried into the restaurant, but Julie lingered in the doorway so she could keep an eye on the cash register.
This is Delilah Delight with another four hours of Bawdy Talk. Thanks for turning me on. Now all you guys stuck in Charlotte traffic, honk your horns if you want the delicious babe in the car next to you to flash her breasts.
Speaking of delicious, all you horny toads out there who are standing up better sit down. If you're driving, pull over. Delilah has found something better than sex!
This afternoon I sunk my teeth into the most scrumptious sandwich I've ever tasted. Heaven could not possible provide anything that is more delicious than Mom's Barbecue. All you Charlotte dudes and dudettes, head on out to Dot. Turn east on Highway 13. Dad's Place is about ten miles away and that's where you'll find Mom's Barbecue along with your favorite beverages.
Plan to stay a while. They have fascinating electronic games, pinball, a loud jukebox with all your favorites and a nice dance floor for your enjoyment. They're open seven days a week, but don't put it off. Meet your friends tonight at Dad's Place. Heck, you may even find Delilah there.
The partners and a handful of customer broke into applause. Someone put a quarter in the jukebox and Bawdy Talk could no longer be heard.
Business picked up at four-thirty and by five-thirty, the restaurant was again crowded. Many customers ordered their sandwiches to go, but others preferred to relax and enjoy conversation, games and music.
By eight-thirty, a different group replaced the supper crowd. It was party time! Ally was exhausted. She felt as if she were a robot, making sandwiches, drawing draft beers, serving coffee and pulling bottled beverages from the large cooler behind the counter. She envied Roger, sitting on a stool behind the cash register and hoped he was keeping up with all the sales.
Cliff pushed through the crowd and emerged into the store. Julie was behind the cash register, making change for a customer. Cliff moved to her side. “You okay, Julie?"
"I'll make it."
"Do you have any idea how much money we've taken in today?"
"Thousands,” she said. “It may take us all night to count it.” She sighed. “We only have two vacancies in the motel. Seems that Mr. Hagaman passed the word on to other salesmen."
"You don't look very happy."
She sighed. “I suppose I'm a little tired."
"Let me spell you for thirty minutes. Go to the apartment and put your feet up."
"I'll be okay, Cliff. You'd better get back to bussing tables."
"You sure?"
Julie nodded.
A tall, black-haired woman pushed her way behind the restaurant counter. Ally spun around. “Lady, you can't come back here."
"You need help."
"Back off, sister! I'm worn to a frazzle. I'm trying to hold my temper but I'm about ready to snap."
The lady smiled. “I worked in the cafeteria the four years I was in college. I know how to sling hash. I've been watching you and honey, you need help badly. Now point me to an apron."
The women locked eyes. Ally flinched. “Back there,” she said, indicating the workroom with a jerk of her head.
Julie stood and stretched. Every muscle of her body ached. She wandered to the doorway and surveyed the scene. A smile crossed
her lips as she saw the black-haired woman working with Ally, but the smile disappeared when she realized Cliff was manning the restaurant cash register. She searched the crowded room and spotted Roger, clearing a rear booth.
She glanced at a teenager playing an electronic game in the store area. “Fella,” she said, “will you watch the cash register for me a minute. It's worth two free games."
"Sure,” he agreed.
She edged her way through the dancers and tugged at Roger's shirt. “Spunky, there's a strange woman behind the counter with Ally. I don't know what's going on. Check it out for me, please."
Roger handed her the trash bag and pushed through the crowd. She followed. When he reached the counter, he stared in confusion as the woman finished filling a cup with draft beer and handed it to a customer.
"Pay at the register,” she said. She smiled at Roger. “Hi, Partner."
"Kim!"
She cocked her head to one side. “You look surprised.” She glanced at Julie. “Oh, my God. Julie didn't tell you."
"Tell me what?"
"Julie has called me on the telephone every day since your last visit. She talked Dr. Seifret into discharging me. She invited me to live with you. She said you need help with Dad's Place."
Roger turned to Julie, now at his side.
She smiled. “There's nothing I won't do to please my man."
He wrapped his arms around her as tears unashamedly rolled down his cheeks.
BOOK 8
The Nutcase Chase
(A novel of Dot)
By
David O. Dyer, Sr.
Chapter One
Stan parked next to the rusty gasoline pumps, switched off the ignition, eased out of his car and grinned as he stretched and heard the sounds of a heated argument emanating from the bay area. He selected the regular pump, inserted the nozzle into his filler pipe and concentrated on the out-of-sight verbal battle.
"What the hell do you mean? I can't wait a damn week!” a feminine voice screamed.
"Lady, I ain't the one that ran the car without no oil in the crankcase."
"There was oil in the damn thing when I filled up this morning. What kind of scam are you trying to pull?"
Sintown Chronicles III: In Dark Corners Page 20
