DarklyEverAfter

by Allistar Parker

  Slowly, I made my way onto the street, a fresh, new pink slip in my hand and an old girl with millions of stories to tell while we cruised along the roads. With the gas gauge broken, I thought is best to spend the last few bucks on some gasoline and maybe a pack of cigarettes.

  The promise not to smoke while my son was alive had been kept faithfully for those dozen years. He died without ever knowing I smoked, but the day had come when smoking and living made more sense than enduring the world without some crutch to lean on.

  With my new life came a renewed venture, a new first girl. When I was with her, it felt like I was killing my son all over again. The cancer that ravaged his body was replaced with all the things I didn’t do, the missed camping trips, the lost time chasing a career, and the hours I could have been playing football in the back yard. I needed to run until I was tired. I needed to know that there was some meaning to his short life other than holding the strings that bound my wife to me.

  The months turned to seasons, summer heat to winter cold. I found little to satisfy my desire to love or be loved, but the endless running kept the wolves of pain away from my door. The fleeting moments in the arms of some barfly helped me to maintain.

  Finally, the day came when I searched for numbness, the absolute nothingness of the mind. The pain slipped away, slowly. The simple joys of life were gone in a turmoil stirred up by the absolute disregard for life. I became bored with the trinkets of love.

  Just so numb, I had a thought that I could go home without pain. The search for nothingness had consumed me to the point I was sure if I couldn’t care about me anymore, neither could anyone else. In the past, I had wondered whether I could go home, but thoughts of rejection flooded my soul with hurt. Now, I felt nothing except the constant desire to again walk the paths my son once traveled. So I went home.

  Turning off at the exit, I passed the office where I used to work. The store where I bought my first bottle of beer still looked the same. There was a comfort in the sight of my Dad’s house as I motored into the old neighborhood. A dog chased along the road barking at the spinning hubcaps.

  I pulled past the drive where I used to live. She was in the swing with someone new, a fellow who looked just like every other factory worker in town, blue eyes, sandy hair and dirty fingernails, I suppose. The dogwood I planted the spring before I left looked beautiful in a withered sort of way. I was glad she had survived the turmoil. She looked happy.

  The two watched as I motored slowly down the street. A glimpse of recognition crossed his face like I was his long, lost enemy coming back to do battle. He gestured to her like he wanted her to react violently to the sight of me. She didn’t move.

  I parked in the cul-de-sac down the way just to watch the neighbors moving about, all trying to glimpse her reaction to my car. She knew Old Bessie, even if it was a sore sight. My ponytail and beard didn’t disguise my innocence or the fact I wanted to come home. The orange and blue bug, even with the hard miles and fading colors, stood tall as we became the spectacle and object of gossip for the white picket fences and green colored grasses. Like watching a train wreck, they all wanted the morbid details and the blow-by-blow comments for their own personal revelry.

  Smoke from my last cigarette drifted out the window. I crushed the butt in the ashtray before starting the car. The old girl fired up as she always had. It was a sad sound I had often dreaded hearing. She had made her last trip, and even with those sharply tapping valves and stout power from her heart, I knew it was the end. I slipped the clutch and felt her rolling forward again, this time to a place where she would suffer no more pain.

  I slipped the beautiful woman a soft smile as I rode out of the neighborhood. The Old Gal and I passed in triumph, having saved the woman all those years of pain and remorse. We had allowed her the dignity to move on. She waved her arms in a gentle, loving goodbye. She looked sad.

  Other girls awaited me in bars and dives all over the world. Too much of our lives are spent in saddened worship of the mistakes we made. With the sun setting in the west, I followed the yellow ball into the horizon.

  Over the last rise, I found the small bar along the side of the road where it had all started. It was time to begin anew, to find love in the depths of despair and search no more for the life I lost.

  I got a friendly smile and a cold beer from the bartender. The cool froth quenched my thirst, leaving me open to another cigarette before heading out.

  I couldn’t light it. Even with the cigarette dangling from my lips and the lighter burning, I couldn’t find the will to put flame to tobacco. Tossing the pack on the bar, I finished the beer. The door swung wide as I exited the place, filled with fresh air.

  It was a strange smell, fresh and leafy. I tasted the smell of fall, a sensation I hadn’t enjoyed in many years. Before I made my way to the motel down the road, I stopped one last time to say goodbye to my old travel companion. I left a note on her windshield asking whatever tow truck got her to be gentle.

  I awoke this morning to the bright sunshine, a new outlook on life and a brand-new Corvette sitting in the parking lot. I will miss the old gal, but the new gal might just mend that hurt.

  As luck would have it, a young girl of half my age sat in the car awaiting her father to come back from the bank. With a pocketbook full of credit cards and a willingness to irritate her father, we cruised down the road looking for our next first adventure. What the hell, you live once.

  Chapter Three Slow Tequila Drunk

  I was working up to a slow tequila drunk, one that started with two fingers of gold liquid in a highball glass soothing my weary heart and ended with all the ice gone and a glass of warm tequila. The hours of ice and refills colored the afternoon sun until all that was visible were shadows on the back wall of the motel room and the sounds of fuzz and snow from the television on the dresser. I sat in the chair, wondering if she would show.

  Ann had never missed a meeting in the past. If she called me out, she showed up whether that rich husband of hers wanted her to or not. Frankly, I couldn’t care what he thought, but I didn’t have to live with him. She did. I respected her for the sacrifice, but there were some days when I would have opted for fewer facial beating marks on her face.

  Roger was a man who had everything, a fancy car, a nice home in the suburbs, and a trophy wife to replace his high school sweetheart. Once his sweetheart aged too much, the old man threw her out like used furniture. I think an old friend picked her up on the street and uses her for a cash machine and sex.

  Ann was never shy in her role as the new show-piece for her husband. Low-cut dresses and high fashion clothes kept the image Roger wanted, if only she had kept her mouth and her desires in check. He hated it when she flaunted her relationships in front of him. The mention of the fact that she couldn’t deep throat me to her husband always followed with the fact that she barely even noticed Roger in her ass. The two comparisons, I was told, always raised a disturbance at the dinner table. Servants can talk too much.

  I poured the first glass from the second pint over the last of the watery ice from the bucket. I didn’t have a dime to spare for more ice, but given the choice of no ice or no hooch, I think I made the right decision. After all, eight bit pints of tequila don’t grow on trees. Glancing at the clock only made the time go slower. I took to looking out the window at the guests checking in their rooms to pass the time.

  Charlie, the gas station owner, would have been horrified if I were to tell his wife he was trading tires from the store for afternoon rotations in the sack at a sleazy motel on the edge of town. The telephone booth across the street stayed busy with ladies arranging dates with their clients. A dog took a crap on the concrete in front of the bank, a fitting statement on the treatment of men and dogs by the mongrels who repossessed my car. The barber shop was doing a good business in adult magazines with each trim or shave. I, myself, thought about using some of the money I would get from Ann for a shave and a look at the new Playboy.

  She
always left a few dollars on the night stand before she left. That coupled with the money I took from her purse made a goodly little sum for my luxuries like titty mags and good whiskey. She knew, but she never said anything. I guess the things I gave her added up to more than the things I took.

  Nestled in the chair, I watched the sun set below the building across the street. The glare in the window highlighted the dirt on the panes. She was late, very late. Ann never left me waiting this long. I called the desk to see if a message had been left for me, but the desk clerk had more on her mind than my petty problems. Even if there was a message, I am not sure she would know what to do with it.

  The television had one channel you could see. I thought it appropriate that the channel was running a marathon of preachers begging for money and praying for all those lost souls living in sin. The whole action seemed contrived and trite. Souls were one thing, but what made them think anyone living in sin, especially in this motel, would be able to afford to send them money. It helped to pass the time, so I continued until the tequila ran out.

  With little else to do, I left the key with the motel chick and headed for the liquor store around the corner for smokes and another bottle. With a quarter for a pack of cigarettes and a buck for a pint, there was just enough left over for a hot dog at the diner in case Ann didn’t show.

  The stroll down the dirty sidewalk taught me a lesson—never ever depend on women. Ann might be an easy buck and an easy lay, but she was independent and hard to keep on time. If I wanted to make a living off the generosity of women, I had better find some reserves for days like these.

  Arriving at the store, I picked a reasonable bottle and a pack of Lucky Strikes, matches, and a nickel bottle of cola. The cute little number behind the counter smelled of Bazooka gum and cigarettes. They start so young today. At sixteen, she probably knew as much about sex and smoking as her mother. The only thing that stopped me from asking her to stop by the motel was the fact that I would have needed two of them to make my age.

  The motel clerk shouted something to me about the noise in my room when I asked for the key. Not wanting to miss anything, the young lady reminded me that I had only paid for two people and that the couple waiting for me in my room was over the limit. I didn’t see the value to paying for another guy for our particular business. I offered to send him back to pay, a proposition she accepted. If he paid, that was fine with me, but I had no intention on letting him return to the room. I may have sunk to the level of a gigolo, but I stop at man-whore.

  The sidewalk in front of the room vibrated from the music blaring through the open window. I had heard of the Beatles, but from what I could hear, they were just another flash in the pan, soon to be set aside with the next truly beautiful Elvis song. He was the real thing, a hero and a star. He sang so well they let him do movies. When the Beatles are gone, Elvis will still thrill the ladies.

  I stood at the window trying to get a look into the room. I figured someday Ann’s husband would put a stop to this and I didn’t want to meet the man he chose to end my part of the arrangement. Nor was I interested in being part of the arrangements he most assuredly used to insure that I never came back to trifle with his trophy wife. He was no stranger to hired killers, nor for using them to keep what he wanted. I didn’t wish to walk into a trap.

  Ann was a looker, dressed in the latest styles and shaped like Twiggy. The best part of her was those hips, narrow and limber. I often wondered why a middle-aged man like me shook her sexy bone. Maybe she just liked making her old man jealous. Maybe she wanted something dirty and white with a trash-like attitude. Either way, I just loved it when she wrapped those long legs around my waist so tight I could hardly breathe.

  The shades blocked most of the view, but I could make out the brunette in the chair. The tight sequin dress and high heels gave her buxom frame more definition and curves. She was a beauty, but not Ann. The guy looked a lot like Ann’s brother. Tall and dark, he worked for the old man as an enforcer from time to time, collecting rent and helping to remind people of the consequences when they failed to pay. He was scary, but I knew he would never harm me. Ann wouldn’t let him.

  I opened the door. The wall of music hit my stomach like yesterday’s tuna. Seeing the two dancing to the song, giggling and gyrating in time with the music, made me a little seasick. Perhaps it wasn’t just the music. I probably should have eaten something. It was too late to go for a hotdog, not that I think they wanted to leave the room anyway.

  “Where’s Ann?”

  The two stopped the music. Staring at me as if they hadn’t expected me left me feeling like a second wheel, a bit out of place and a long way from home. Tommy walked over and hugged me like we were long, lost friends. The smile from Rikki let me know there was nothing to fear.

  “She will be late. She sent us here to entertain you until she arrives.” Tommy returned to the radio and dialed a quieter song. “Is that better?”

  “Yeah,” I said. “The motel clerk is complaining.”

  The slow melodic song rolled over Rikki’s body like she was being possessed. Her hips swayed in time with Benny Goodman and before long, she was throwing her body at Tommy. I grabbed a cigarette from the pack and lit it. The smoke gave the room a bar-like effect, reminding me of the pint of rock gut hanging out alone in the bag. Rolling my hands around in the cold water of the ice bucket in search of the last few cubes, my fingers became numb.

  “I bought another bucket of ice, if you want some,” Tommy said over his shoulder as he danced with Rikki.

  “Thanks. This stuff is better cold.”

  Turning to me, Tommy left Rikki dancing by herself and grabbed a bottle of tequila from the small Styrofoam cooler hidden in the shadows of the corner. Pouring a full glass over my ice, he motioned to Rikki as if to ask her permission before drinking a glass himself.

  “Me, too.” she said. “If I’m gonna do this, I’m gonna need more than one or two.”

  “Do what?” I asked.

  “Entertain you,” Tommy replied.

  I understood they were going to keep me company until Ann arrived, but that wouldn’t necessitate a buzzed state. I am good company, easy to talk to, and pleasing to the eyes. What she needed fortification for was beyond my understanding. I shrugged the comment off as an excuse to get drunk, but Tommy seemed to know exactly what she was talking about.

  The radio moved from Goodman to The Lennon Sisters, a trio of lovely harmony and grace, but hardly a good match to the dirty ambience of the motel. Tommy found another station blasting out a Beach Boys song, better than the Beatles, but surely not better than the King. The one good thing that came from the song was that Rikki was now squirming in that tight dress so fast she resembled a worm on a hot sidewalk. I just knew any minute she would burst those seams and her ample bosom would come rolling out. The thought of such a sight started a boner developing in my crotch. I didn’t think it was noticeable, but the way she began to stare at me, she must have known.

  “Do you know how long it might be before Ann shows up?”

  “Are you bored with us already?”

  I thought about how to handle the question. I loved the way Rikki looked in that dress and the way her tits bounced around trying to free themselves. I couldn’t mention that, but anyone else would have wanted the third party situation to end. Over the next few minutes, I watched as the two began to get closer. Their squirming didn’t slow, neither did the music, but that didn’t stop them from grabbing and groping one another.

  Rikki looked like she wanted him to grab her butt. Each time he stoked her smooth backside, she pulled his neck closer, kissing his lips. Tommy didn’t waste any time making his advances sordid and obvious. I knew if I had returned a few minutes later, they would be knocking uglies on the shag rug.

  “You guys get a room.”

  The two stopped long enough to look in my direction. “Don’t you like the entertainment?” she asked.

  Now, this is entertainment! Ann must have known
she was going to be a while. I loved the fact that she thought enough of me to give me a reason to wait. “Sure, let me get another drink and a smoke and I can get comfortable.”

  Pouring his tequila over the ice in my glass, I watched from the corner of my eye as the two of them stripped, Tommy to nothing and Rikki to her panties. The sight of the two of them nestled on the orange and umber rug made it all feel like I was watching a blue movie in the privacy of my own room, not like the nickel rooms at the dirty bookstore.

  Rikki’s huge dark nipples stood in contrast to the alabaster skin of her tits. The ruby red sheen was a kinky bit of wonderful visual stimulus. Tommy lost no time making his lips surround the dark circles. Sucking and licking her in time with the next soft tune, he looked content to spend the evening moving from one to the other.

  He worked down her body long before I would have, but as a spectator, I was glad to see him move in the direction of her furry bush. Stopping at her belly button, he stuck his tongue in her small hole, finding the soft tender spot that made Rikki giggle. Still, his having a hold on her breast made the whole scene more intriguing. I wondered which place was more sensitive, the breast in his hand or the orifice on her belly. The smell of her body drifting through the air assured me she was getting into the process. She wouldn’t be stopping the show, a fear I had.

  Rikki pulled Tommy’s hand from her breast and placed it on her panties. Rubbing his fingers through the tiny patch of cloth between her thighs, a smile spread across his lips. “Already wet. I love that.”

  Tommy couldn’t have found a better time to trace his tongue up and down her panty-covered pussy lips. The arch in Rikki’s back stretched from her hips to her shoulders, giving her an elongated look she lacked while standing. A huge wet spot appeared in the crotch of her panties, exposing a rare view of her pussy through the veiled see-through material of her underwear. I took a sip to calm my nerves.