Sintown Chronicles III: In Dark Corners

by David O. Dyer, Sr.

  She dined alone at the cafeteria Nate loved and ate only half of the chocolate pie, wishing desperately Nate was there to eat the other half. She wandered to the pavilion and watched young lovers, strolling hand in hand along the boardwalk. She propped on a wooden bench, stared at the whitecaps, illuminated by the pavilion's gaudy lights, and remembered making love to Nate in the sand—something she swore she'd never do. Tears slipped from her eyes as she retraced her steps, climbed into her ... Nate's .... convertible and drove home.

  Jodi sat on the sofa and watched a sexy movie on Nate's big screen television, wishing Nate were beside her, holding her, fondling her. When the eleven o'clock news came on she snapped off the TV and went through her nighttime routine.

  She crawled into bed, but could not sleep. She padded across the hall and slipped into his bed, but her eyes seemed riveted open. She went to his dirty clothes hamper, pulled out a tee shirt, returned to his bed, clutched the shirt to her breasts and her eyes closed at last.

  The first rays of sunlight woke her and the tee shirt was still in her hand. She buried her face in it, inhaled deeply and used it to wipe away the tears. Baby, she thought, if you were here now I'd make you one happy guy. I don't think I've ever been so horny. But no—your damn computer program is more important to you than I am. You've dipped your wick in my pot of oil for the last time. She tossed the tee shirt back into the clothes hamper, went to the bathroom and relieved herself in more ways than one, thinking of the handsome stranger's fingers probing under the leg-band of her panties. As she washed her hands, she regretted not giving Don her telephone number.

  Jodi pulled on Nate's long sleeved shirt, padded to the kitchen, downed a cup of coffee, refilled her cup and slowly walked to her study. She stared at the blank computer screen for ten minutes before she began to type.

  Dear Nate,

  I'm sorry it didn't work out. I really am. I suppose it's my fault. I warned you that I am a genius at screwing things up. I wish you well, Buckshot.

  By the time you get back from Atlanta, I'll be out of your hair for good. I owe you. I know that. You saved my life. I can never repay you for that, but I will repay you for the clothes and jewelry you bought me. Remember, I have a grubstake of $10,000. I will attach a check for $2,000 and, as soon as I have found a piece of junk to drive, I'll return the convertible.

  Regards,

  Jodi

  Jodi studied her note carefully, changed “regards” to “cordially,” changed “cordially” to “sincerely,” changed “sincerely,” to “love,” and finally deleted “love” and simply ended the note with her name. She clicked the printer icon and, when the note was on paper, signed it, made out the promised check and paper clipped it to the note. She propped the note against Nate's computer monitor and went to the kitchen to fix breakfast.

  As bacon sizzled in the iron skillet a strange racket from outside drew her to the kitchen window. She watched a faded blue pickup truck back up to the garage and a young Adonis emerge, wearing a skin tight blue tee shirt and snug fitting cutoffs. Even at this distance, she could see his sparkling deep blue eyes and she smiled appreciatively as a gentle breeze rearranged his long blond hair.

  He pulled an extension ladder from the truck and propped it against the garage. With ease he slid long rectangles of formed metal slabs from the pickup bed and propped them against the garage. He picked up several of the slabs and started up the ladder. Jodi felt her panties moisten as his buttocks strained against the blue cloth of his shorts. You're not the only handsome hunk in the world Nathan Watson. I don't need you.

  Remembering the bacon just in time, she rescued it and finished preparing her breakfast, but instead of eating at the table, Jodi placed her meal beside the kitchen sink and watched Bob Renegar take the last of the slabs to the roof of the garage. He came back down the ladder as gracefully as a trapeze artist, moved to the toolbox behind the cab of his truck and tied on a carpenter's apron.

  Jodi smiled wickedly as she watched him subconsciously scratch the bulge between his legs. He filled the apron with nails, slid a claw hammer into the loop on his jeans and again climbed the ladder. As she washed the few dirty dishes, Jodi watched the muscular man maneuver slabs of metal and tack them into place.

  When the last dish was dried and put away, she hurried to the bedroom to change clothes, but instead, changed her mind. He's probably married with a dozen kids, she warned herself. She went back to her study and started to shut down her computer. Again she changed her mind, sat down and brought up the game manual file. Hell, she told herself, if Nate's satisfied with a pamphlet, I can knock this thing out in a day or so. He won't be back for a couple of days anyway. What's the rush?

  Chapter two, of necessity, was much longer than chapter one but, because she no longer cared much about style, she knocked it out in less than an hour and by eleven o'clock Jodi completed chapters three, four and five. She took a potty break and wandered back to the kitchen for a soft drink. The kitchen window drew her like a magnet.

  Bob was still on the roof of the garage. It looked like he had completed the back side of the roof and now, stripped to the waist in the blistering sun and glistening with perspiration on his muscular bronze skin, was attacking the near side of the roof.

  The least I can do, Jodi thought, is offer the poor guy a drink of water. Quickly she filled a pitcher with ice cubes and dumped four bottles of spring water into it. She placed the pitcher and a glass on a tray and hesitated. Damn, I don't believe I even combed my hair this morning. She finger-combed her short blond hair. What will he think of me, coming out in Nate's old shirt and yesterday's panties? She chuckled as she again recalled Don's fingers prying under the elastic, and picked up the tray. It's not like I'm trying to seduce the guy, she assured herself.

  Jodi let the screen door bang shut behind her. It produced the desired effect. Bob glanced at her, grinned, holstered his hammer and descended the ladder as she approached.

  "Hi,” Jodi said, holding out the tray as if it were an offering for a god. “I thought you might be thirsty.” The big smile was still on his face and her knees suddenly felt weak. There was no wedding band on his finger.

  With both hands, he reached for the glass and pitcher. The back of his right hand touched her left breast and he held the contact a moment longer than necessary. He filled the glass and drained it. As he refilled it he said, “I'm Bob Renegar."

  "I know. Nate told me you were coming."

  "I haven't seen Nate today."

  "He's in Atlanta on business."

  Bob drained the second glass and little dribbles of the cold liquid escaped from the corners of his mouth, slipped down his chin and dropped onto his massive chest. He reached for the tray, momentarily letting the back of his hands push into her breasts. He set the tray on the ground and poured a third glassful of water.

  "Sorry I brushed your breasts,” he said, looking deeply into her eyes. “It was an accident."

  "You don't hear me complaining, do you?” I don't believe I said that!

  He smiled, cocked his head to one side and said, “I lied. I did mean to do it and I'm not at all sorry.” With his eyes still locked on hers, he drew close and slowly soaked first her right breast and then the left with cold water.

  Jodi shivered, not only from the cold cloth pasted to her swelling breasts but also from the tingling sensation of her engorged nipples that seemed to reach all the way down to her swelling center of sexual delight.

  "Now look what I've done,” he said as he slowly began to unbutton her shirt. “We've got to get you out of this wet shirt."

  Jodi stood transfixed. She seemed powerless to move or speak. She felt the shirt slip from her shoulders and fall to the ground. She felt his lips on first one nipple and then the other. She tilted her head back to receive his lips on hers. His probing tongue set her on fire and she shuddered as she felt his hand, first on the inside of her thigh and then at the apex of her shapely legs.

  He held her tightly against
his chest with his left hand as his right hand pressed against the thin fabric of her panties. Jodi moaned as he broke the kiss.

  "Your shirt is not the only thing that is soaking wet,” he said as he knelt before her and tugged the panties to her ankles.

  She ran her fingers through his long hair and stepped out of the flimsy, soiled garment as his tongue probed her lower lips. Suddenly he stood, swept her up in his arms and headed for the house. “You Nate's girlfriend?"

  "Who?"

  Bob laughed and sucked her tongue deep inside his mouth as he turned so she could open the front door. He acted as if he was familiar with the floor plan of the house, carried her to the master bedroom and dumped her playfully on the bed.

  Jodi stared in awe as he stepped out of his cutoffs and jockey shorts. “You'll ... you'll tear me apart with that thing,” she gasped.

  "Not as juicy as you are, honey. Open the door and let me in."

  "No,” she managed to say, clamping her thighs together. “Not here. Not in Nate's bed.” She rolled to the opposite side of the mattress, opened the table drawer, extracted a slim foil package, and tossed it to him. “Across the hall,” she explained.

  Bob frowned. “I don't like wearing a glove. Aren't you on the pill?"

  Jodi circled the bed, pressed her breasts against his back and licked salty perspiration from his shoulder. “We don't know each other,” she said softly. “I don't want your diseases and you don't want mine."

  "I'm clean and I'll bet my life you are too."

  Jodi jumped on his back, wrapping her legs around his waist and her arms around his neck. “No rubber, no sex."

  He laughed. “Since you put it that way..."

  It was over in less than a minute. Bob rolled off Jodi's disappointed body, flipped her over on her stomach and slapped her hard on her left buttock cheek, leaving the red imprint of his hand on the pale white flesh. “You're a great piece of ass, bitch,” he said as he stood and stretched, “but I have work to do."

  "Get out,” she hissed.

  He left and went to the master bedroom for his clothes. Jodi buried her head in the pillow and sobbed. On his way out, Bob stuck his head in the guestroom door. “What's your name, slut? You never told me."

  "Get out, you bastard,” Jodi shouted.

  Bob laughed and clutched his crotch. “Keep your love box juicy, honey. I'll pleasure you one more time before I leave."

  Jodi never felt so dirty in all her life. A thirty-minute, skin wrinkling hot shower left her feeling waterlogged but not clean. She dressed in shorts and a loose fitting cotton shirt, went to the kitchen and sipped a beer as she made a sandwich. She flopped in Nate's recliner in the great room, picked up the control and flipped on the big screen television. She took a huge bite of the sandwich and froze as her eyes and ears focused on the TV.

  When the screen came alive, a banner appeared stating “Late breaking news” and a voice boomed, “We interrupt this program for an update on the missing Blue Sky flight number 1296."

  Jodi screamed and spit out the wad of sandwich in her mouth. A bespectacled woman sitting behind a circular news desk said, “Blue Sky Airline just announced that flight number 1296, missing since shortly after takeoff yesterday, has been located. Details are sketchy, but apparently the airliner was skyjacked and has been located in Cuba. Some reports indicate a crash landing. We now take you to Washington where Deputy Secretary Brian Southerland is holding a press conference."

  The screen went blank for a moment and sprang back to life with the image of a somber-faced man standing behind a bank of microphones. “Surveillance satellite reconnaissance photos indicate that Blue Sky Airliner, flight number 1296 from Myrtle Beach, South Carolina to Atlanta, Georgia has crash landed just short of the runway at a small airport near Havana. Unofficial reports indicate there was no fire, but we have no word on the safety of those on board. Unofficial negotiations are underway with the Cuban government as I speak."

  "Unofficial negotiations?” Jodi exclaimed.

  "The United States severed diplomatic ties with the Cuban government when Castro came into power."

  Jodi jerked her head towards the front door. She didn't know how long Bob had stood there. She didn't care.

  "We will share information with the press as we receive it,” the man on TV said, “and Blue Sky Airlines has established a toll free information line for relatives and friends of flight 1296 passengers. Rest assured, your government is doing everything possible to learn the details of this situation and to safely return the surviving passengers."

  "Surviving passengers! That means some of them are dead,” Jodi screamed.

  Bob was now kneeling beside her. “Nate was on that flight, wasn't he?"

  She nodded as she sobbed.

  "You love him, don't you lady?"

  "God yes, I love him. Nate, I'm so sorry. God, please, give me another chance."

  "What can I do to help?"

  "I ... I don't know. I don't know what to do."

  "Maybe we should go to the airport. They might be able to give you more information and I'll bet that telephone service they set up is jammed. I'll drive you, but I must be back by six o'clock. I promised to take my wife out to dinner tonight."

  "You're married? But ... but you're not wearing a ring."

  Bob hung his head. “I'm sorry, lady. I don't wear the ring when I'm working. It's too easy to get snagged on something."

  "Get out,” Jodi hissed. “Finish your work and go away. You're just another in a long string of bad choices I've made all my life."

  Bob hung his head, slowly walked to the door and turned to face her once more. “Lady, I really am sorry—about everything."

  Reaching for a tissue on the coffee table, Jodi lowered her voice and said, “My name is Jodi and I deserved to be called a slut. I acted like one, but never again."

  Bob nodded and went through the door. Ten minutes later, Jodi was on her way to the airport. On arrival, she rushed to a security guard, but before she could finish explaining herself he wrapped her in his arms and steered her to a large room filled with somber-faced people.

  "I'm Jimmy Gold,” hoarsely whispered a skinny youth wearing a blue blazer with the initials BSA on the pocket.

  Jodi looked to her right into the sleep-starved eyes of the airline employee and explained, as best she could, her plight.

  "We know the airliner crash-landed near Havana,” the young man said wearily, but kindly. “That's all the official information we have at this point. We heard from a ham radio operator that there were many survivors, but he also reported body bags being removed from the scene. We hope his report is inaccurate."

  Jodi fell into his tired arms. He staggered backward, but managed to hold her. “Ma'am,” he said, “Let me take your name and telephone number. There's nothing you can do here. Go home and try to get some rest. I promise I'll personally call you as soon as there is any further information."

  Jodi sat up all night, frantically switching from TV station to station. There were many references to flight 1296, but no additional facts. The telephone did not ring.

  Chapter Eleven

  "A dime for your thoughts,” Mariah cooed.

  "A dime?"

  "Inflation, you know."

  "Hmm. I'm thinking about your fantastic body."

  She nestled closer, shared his pillow, pulled his arm around her neck and forced his hand to her exposed breast. “What else?"

  "I'm thinking it's three o'clock in the morning and I'm trying to decide if I need most to sleep or enjoy one more romp between your fabulous legs,” Nate replied.

  She let her hand trail over his thigh and lightly fingered his scrotum. “Better get what you can while you can."

  He rolled over and sucked her nipple into his mouth, teasing it with his tongue. He lifted his head and let his hand slowly slide down her slightly rounded tummy. “We have a couple of days. I really shouldn't be so greedy."

  "We have tonight, Big Guy. Enjoy."


  "What do you mean, tonight?"

  "While I was at the conference this evening, I checked on the availability of a room and lucked out. It'll be so much more convenient, bunking in the same hotel where the meetings are being held. In a day or two you and your Taurus will be gone and commuting by taxi is expensive."

  Nate sat up and looked at her face, illuminated only by a flashing neon sign outside. “I called the Gilmore Hotel as soon as we got here. They told me they were booked solid."

  "They had a no-show."

  He jumped out of the bed and snapped on the table lamp. “You lying nymphomaniac. You found some guy who was looking for a gullible female roommate willing to put out."

  Mariah pulled the sheet to her neck and laughed. “A nymphomaniac I am, but not gullible. You are close, though, Nate. I found two guys looking for a roommate and a lot of white-hot action."

  Nate went to the bathroom and, as he relieved himself, called out, “I'm not man enough for you. Is that it?"

  She eased behind him, pressed her naked body to his back, slipped her right hand to his penis and shook it for him. “It's not that, Big Guy. I'm tired of hearing about your damn software program and that baby-faced whore you think you're in love with. Hell, all three times you came, you called out her name, not mine. You're a fool, Nathan Watson. Right about now, your darling has her lovebox fastened around Don Overly's skinny pecker—probably right in your own bed."

  Nate whirled around and shoved her against the tile wall, his right hand gripping her neck.

  "Nate, you're hurting me."

  "Look who's calling who a whore,” he said through clenched teeth.

  "I don't know what you see in that bitch, Nate. All she wanted from you is your money. Now that she has it, she's moving out.” Mariah groped for, found and stroked his penis sensuously. “At least with me, you know what I want."

  "Pack your things, Mariah,” he said coldly. “You have two new friends. There's no point in keeping them waiting."

  Nate pulled to the curb in front of the hotel, unloaded her bags on the sidewalk and drove off without saying a word. Glancing in the rearview mirror, he saw Mariah, standing by her bags, shooting him a bird. He drove around the surprisingly busy streets of Atlanta for two hours, returned to the motel and parked, but did not go inside. Instead he walked across the street to an all night diner, ordered breakfast, and thought about Jodi. Mariah had painted an image he could not shake from his mind's eye and tears dampened his cheeks as he pictured another man locked between Jodi's shapely legs.