Texas Summer

by Hachtel, Leslie

  Slowly he floated back to earth. Wylie lowered his head to blow air on her sweat-dampened skin. She closed her eyes, and he felt her inhale what seemed like his essence as he continued to cling to her.

  “I fixed your jacket,” she said after a while.

  “You fixed more than that.” He grinned at her. “I must say I never had a seamstress who could do what you do.”

  “I couldn’t resist. I can’t believe I was so…brazen.”

  “I am so glad.”

  “You must think I’m a slut.”

  “I think you are the sexiest woman I have ever met.”

  She laughed. “Then you probably need to get out more.”

  “I don’t think so.” With that, he kissed her, and the passion built again.

  Afterward the two dozed together in a sleepy embrace, something else building besides passion.

  * * *

  The afternoon had sneaked up on them as they lay together alternately touching and kissing, caressing and napping. Drowsy and unwilling for this time to end, Kennedy rose and made her way into the bathroom. She ran her fingers through her tangled hair and put on her clothes. She sneaked the occasional glance at the beautiful man on the bed, a sheet barely covering his sleek, muscular body. She couldn’t stop a sigh from escaping her lips. She had a sudden rush of fear. The attraction overwhelmed her from the first moment she had seen him. She found him utterly irresistible. Kennedy had schooled herself to feel nothing, but he was shredding every vestige of that façade. She wanted him.

  It was so unexpected: thrilling and terrifying. She knew she would never be able to let him go and not feel her heart torn from her chest as he went. It was such an odd emotion for her. Oh, she cared about her mama, but she’d never been able to feel anything for a man. She had tried to love her father, but he was gone so much. She was certainly not going to get attached to a man who would leave her, for whatever reason. Freddie had convinced her that men were horrible opportunists who would prey on little girls to satisfy their own twisted needs. To her, men were dangerous. Her first boyfriend was a perfect example of that. It took a long time until that memory didn’t reach in to twist her stomach, and she didn’t even love Paul. But he was the first. He took what he wanted and moved on. She had vowed never to allow anyone to get so close ever again.

  Kennedy tamped down the negative thoughts—she would try and live in this moment with Wylie. Maybe…maybe, it would go on. He was even possibly different from the other men in her life.

  Wylie seemed so much more than Paul could ever have hoped to be. Wylie was comfortable with himself. And he was so hot. Hotter than a firecracker. The sex was unbelievable. So different from her first time. When she thought of his body and how he touched her in all the right places…

  What had possessed her to be so brazen this morning? The door had been unlocked, so she walked in. She heard him in the shower, and she abandoned all other thoughts but having him make love to her. She desired him more than she had ever wanted anything in her life. Now, after this morning, he was like a drug, and she couldn’t get enough.

  She looked at him again, and he patted the bed next to him. She smiled, giving no evidence of the wayward path of her thoughts or the fears gnawing at her.

  “Work,” she stated.

  “I didn’t think there was any work in this town.”

  She laughed. “Not for you. I have work though.”

  “Good thing I don’t need a job.”

  She nodded.

  “Don’t go. I’ll support you. You’ll never have to work again.”

  “Spoken like a man basking in the afterglow.”

  “How did you become such a cynic?”

  She shrugged, looked into the mirror to put on some lipstick, and then walked back into the bedroom.

  “Well, can I at least walk you to work?”

  “I suppose.” Kennedy would have been devastated if he hadn’t offered. She wasn’t a one-night-stand kind of girl. Sex was vulnerability, risky at best. Casual sex would never be casual to her. Especially not with this man. Her warring emotions were unwelcome. Her brain told her to say good-bye and go back to her life. Better safe than sorry. So why wasn’t she leaving?

  He jumped up from the bed and put on his clothes as she watched, then moved to her. He kissed her.

  “Call in sick?”

  “You are a bad man.”

  “No. No, I’m not.” No levity sounded in his tone. He spoke volumes in those few words. He was making an argument on his behalf. It was clear he wanted her to understand that.

  Kennedy was a little taken aback by this. She didn’t quite know how to react. It was as if he responded after reading her mind. She caught her lower lip between her teeth and took a breath.

  Then she met his eyes. She believed him. If it was true, and in her heart she knew it was, what more could she ask?

  “OK". It was all she could manage.

  When the genie appeared and made all her dreams come true all at once, what could she say? What words would suffice? Sometimes a stupid little word like “OK” felt no more inadequate than anything else and would have to do.

  * * *

  Wylie had just left Kennedy at work. She hadn’t let him kiss her good-bye—it was a very small town and no one else’s business. He had acquiesced once she agreed to come to his room after her shift.

  He couldn’t get the smile off his face though. This morning had been something out of an erotic romance novel. He had never dreamed that kind of thing actually happened. He felt passion on such a deep level it almost ached. It was so much more than sex, although that part had been—literally—mind-blowing. He had never truly appreciated that term until now. Her body was so incredibly beautiful. Her responsiveness had made him lose himself in her so completely it was frightening. After this morning, he understood why people became adrenaline junkies. They wanted that feeling over and over again. That’s how he felt about Kennedy. All he wanted was more.

  He thought about going to the small grocery since he couldn’t remember when he’d last eaten. He was starving. Wylie was quite sure he remembered it was two blocks down and headed in that direction. She was coming back, and he would need his strength. Hallelujah!

  After only a block, running footsteps sounded behind him. He stopped to see Delie hurrying toward him.

  She stopped alongside. “Hey.”

  “Oh, hey, Delie. How are you today?”

  She sidestepped in front of him, and he was forced to stop. He looked at her, puzzled, but waited for her to speak.

  “You lied to me,” she snapped.

  “I’m sorry. What?” He was confused by this unexpected outburst.

  “You said you had to work!”

  “Work? Oh, you mean last night?

  “Yes, last night. You stood me up. I saw you with her. Don’t you lie to me.”

  Wylie had suspected that this girl-woman was strange, but he hadn’t expected this. He was unsure how to handle her, but he opted for diplomacy. “Delie, I think there’s been some sort of misunderstanding.”

  “You bet there’s been a misunderstanding.”

  Just then two men walked by and stared at them. She noticed and aimed her rage in their direction. “Ain’t you got any of your own business to tend to?” They kept going, one shaking his head, the other shrugging his shoulders. She faced Wylie. “Well?”

  “I really did work last night. When you passed by the motel, I was alone. Writing. Or at least trying to. Um, didn’t you have a date? Weren’t you with Boyd?”

  Delie narrowed her eyes, seemingly ignoring what he had just said. “What I do is none of your business. I have enough people trying to boss me around and make me do what I don’t want.” Wylie had no idea where all this was coming from. “I saw you with her,” she repeated, and this time it held obvious venom.

  “Her? Oh, you mean Kennedy? This morning she brought me back my jacket. It had a tear in it, and she was nice enough to sew it for me. I walked her to work to sa
y thanks.”

  “Is that true? That’s all there was to it?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “Oh, well why didn’t you just ask me to sew your ol’ jacket?” Delie was flirting, but it came off as pathetic.

  Wylie took pity on her. “Why, I didn’t know you could sew too.” He emphasized the last word to make it more flattering. Delie blushed with obvious pleasure and slipped her arm through his.

  “Of course. I can do anything you need me to. And I can certainly do anything better than her. Hey, I’m hungry. Will you take me to lunch?”

  “There is nothing I would rather do.” He smiled at her. “But I have to pick up a few things and then check on my car. Another time?”

  “You’re not going to see her, are you?”

  He sensed her anger coiling, ready to strike again. “No, I’m not going to see anyone in particular now, except the mechanic who’s working on my car. I have things to get done. I wouldn’t lie to you, Delie.”

  “Everyone else does.”

  She impressed him as so pitiable that when she stood on her tiptoes to place a kiss on his cheek, he let her. She seemed very pleased with herself.

  “So I’ll see you tonight?” she asked as if they had already made plans. This time, though, he was more ready.

  “No, not tonight. But maybe soon, OK?”

  She tilted her head, toyed with her hair, then rocked her body from side to side like a child. She smiled. “OK, then. Real soon.”

  She walked away, and Wylie wondered at the depth of her fantasy life. He could only hope it was harmless. Maybe, he wondered again, she just liked to mess with strangers.

  Deep down, though, he knew better. Maybe he should cultivate her. She’d make a great character study.

  * * *

  It seemed that ten o’clock took about forty hours to arrive. Finally there was a tap on his door. Wylie jumped up from the chair facing his laptop to answer it. He was barefoot and dug his toes into the threadbare carpet in anticipation as he swung open the door.

  Kennedy stood in front of him, and he broke into a grin. She had changed out of her uniform and into the same sleeveless white blouse and short, dark skirt she had been wearing when they first met. She looked him up and down. “So is that a banana in your pocket, or are you just happy to see me?”

  “Sassy little thing, aren’t you?”

  “I can be. So are you going to let me in, or do I have to stand here and try to convince you?” She leaned against the door frame and tilted her head.

  “Mmmm, that might be interesting. What do you think would sway me in your favor?” He was really grinning now.

  Without hesitation she pulled her blouse up from her skirt and unfastened the buttons one at a time, starting with the top. He took hold of her wrist and pulled her inside, then slammed the door. He pinned her against the door and finished what she had started.

  She responded in kind, yanking off his shirt, unfastening his belt, and opening the top button of his pants. She unzipped his fly. Then she slipped her hand down into his pants. She took hold of the hard shaft, moving, stroking, and making him ache with desire. His jeans fell down around his ankles. He stepped out of them, kicking them aside. He had forgone underwear as unnecessary, so his manhood stood out proudly once freed from the restriction of the jeans. He lifted her and pushed up her skirt. She wrapped her legs around his hips. Once again, no panties presented an obstacle to his goal, so he thrust himself into her. Kennedy cried out her need for him. It was hot and sweaty and fast and erotically satisfying.

  Wylie held her suspended for a few moments until their breathing grew more normal, then he carried her to the bed, still wrapped around him. He lay down with her, unwilling, or perhaps unable, to break the connection.

  They didn’t speak for a while; they just inhaled each other and held together. Finally he spoke. “I think you’re a hired assassin, and you’re trying to kill me,” he teased.

  “You watch too much TV.”

  “Or maybe you just couldn’t help but succumb to my charms.”

  “Yeah, maybe.” Her tone dripped with sarcasm. “But then I heard I’m not the only girl in town who finds you appealing.”

  “You mean Delie? God, this is a small town.”

  “And Delie does love a good scene.”

  “I’m not quite sure what that was all about.”

  “She has always wanted what she thinks I have,” Kennedy said, almost with resignation.

  “Why?”

  “Don’t know. Somehow she got it into her head that I was the one to beat.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be. At least she doesn’t have to compete with a president.”

  Wylie was confused. “The name,” Kennedy clarified.

  “I like your name. And your mother’s reason for giving it to you.”

  “I never can quite figure out what Delie thinks of me. Someone to compete with is all, I suppose. I tried to be her friend, but to her I seemed to be the enemy. Some people need that. To have competition to beat. I don’t know. Or maybe I was just always the odd one who never quite fit the mold.”

  “Is that why people give you such a bad time?”

  “Oh, you noticed that. I never have been one of the crowd. I can’t act all nice and do whatever people want me to. Square peg in a round hole, I guess.”

  “I know that isn’t easy,” he said with sympathy. “I never was exactly a conformist myself.”

  “It doesn’t really bother me to be different. Folks aren’t happy unless they have someone to blame, someone to hate. So the one who stands out is the one they target. Human nature.”

  “I like you,” he said.

  “I know. I can tell.” She smiled wickedly at this. “But you better be careful. I might be more trouble than I’m worth.”

  “I doubt that. Besides, I’m a big boy. I can handle trouble. Keeps life interesting.”

  She laughed. “Be careful what you wish for.”

  “Honey, truth be told, you had me at uh-huh.”

  Another thought must have intruded on what she had been saying because she smiled, looking like the cat that had just swallowed the canary, knowing the dog would catch hell for it. “So…what are you doing tomorrow night, very late?” She asked this with pure seduction oozing from her tone.

  He grinned back at her. “I don’t know exactly. What am I doing tomorrow night…very late?”

  Kennedy giggled. “I’ll draw you a map.”

  “Really. I thought I navigated the territory adequately.” He leered at her.

  She just shook her head.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Delie opened the bag and pulled out the lingerie. Even the cheap stuff had cost a fortune. But it would be worth it. She had given this a lot of thought, and it was the perfect solution. She had to do something. She’d been in third place long enough.

  Arthur was the only choice. He was always up for a deal, a scheme. And always up for sex if that constant leer on his face was any indication. Besides, men were so easy. She could stand it. She had been through worse.

  Delie approached the old shack, which stood isolated in a group of trees just outside of town. To say it was run-down would have been a compliment. The porch sagged dangerously, the paint had peeled down to bare wood, and the roof was actually crooked. In front, what was once a yard was simply bits of grass rising in fits and starts among the broken bits of gravel.

  As was to be expected in a palace of this magnitude, two old junkers, the remains of a car and a truck, stood sentinel to the left, as beaten down as the place they guarded. But directly in front catching the last rays of the afternoon sun was a bright-white Cadillac. That summed up Sweet. Nice outfit but dirty underwear.

  Delie sauntered down the gravel road, having trouble negotiating the irregular ground in her too-high heels. She was wrapped in an old raincoat, sweating in the steamy heat of the late afternoon. She smiled broadly when she saw the new car parked out in front of Sweet’s pathetic
dwelling. He was home. She knew how this worked. She was ready. She’d learned from a master what men responded to and how to make them do what she wanted.

  She tottered up the two steps to the porch, making her way to the door. She knocked, and the door swung open, revealing Arthur Sweet himself. He was shirtless. His ribs stood out in a testament to poor nutrition and bad breeding. He hadn’t shaved in a day or two, neither had his hair been disturbed with a comb in a good long time.

  “Why, if it isn’t little Miss Delie gracing me with her presence.” He acted shocked to see who stood at his door. She knew he had always wanted to do her, but he figured he’d never have the chance. Today she would give him reason to hope.

  “Are you going to invite me in?”

  “Depends.”

  “On what?”

  “What you come here for.”

  “Why, Arthur, I came here to see you. You know, I have always found you attractive.” She tried to sound sincere. Men like this weren’t often gullible—unless they chose to be.

  Arthur raised his eyebrows, letting her know she wasn’t fooling anyone.

  “OK, OK. I need some help, and I’m willing to pay.” She licked her lips in an attempt to appear seductive. It obviously worked. Arthur stepped aside, and she went into the house. His leer at her made clear what he wanted to be paid with, whatever the favor she wanted.

  It was no nicer inside than out. An old swaybacked recliner sat in front of a huge, brand-new flat-screen TV. Next to the chair stood a wooden end table covered in beer cans, some of which teetered on the edge, ready to join some companions on the floor underneath.

  Delie looked around and wrinkled her nose, then moved to the chair. She opened the raincoat to reveal a matching black bra and garter belt, which held up black fishnet stockings. No panties. She plopped down on the recliner and spread her legs wide enough to dangle on the arms of the chair, leaving nothing to the imagination. She licked an index finger and stroked herself between her legs, then brought it to her mouth and sucked for a moment. Delie reached inside her abbreviated bra and brought a dark, taut nipple into view. She squeezed it until it rose proudly and then tucked it back inside the lacy confinement. Then she batted her eyes at him as if she didn’t have any idea the effect all this would have.