A Small Town Surprise (Part 3)
Billy followed Lara out of their rumpled bed at the Salmon Creek Lodge and turned on the bathroom shower. The bathroom was tiny but the shower was smaller still, but he didn’t want to be away from her long enough for her to shower alone. He still wanted her, after all the fun they already had that morning.
He held the curtain open for her to step inside. “After you,” he said.
She laughed as he slipped in beside her. It was almost an act of contortion, but somehow, they fit inside the tight pink-tiled stall in the bathroom. They soaped each other while the hot water sent little bursts of steam rising up around their bodies, although he wasn’t entirely sure it was rising from the water or just off their skin.
“Glad we’re going exploring today,” Billy said. “There’s things I’m looking forward to showing you. A real pretty lake near the fairgrounds. This diner I know with I’m telling you, the best pancakes around.”
“What else?” she asked, her voice breathy as she soaped his cock between her palms.
He forced himself to concentrate, just a little. “There’s a spot by the highway where you can see the whole valley – and – well there’s lots of things I can show you,” he said, leaving it at that. She pulled him gently, her fingers on the very tip of his cock. He reached for her breasts.
“Are you showing me now?” Lara asked, laughing.
She looked as loose and good as he felt; and he carefully soaped each nipple, then below and above her breasts and all around them, until she gave a soft little moan. He soaped her pubic hair, her thighs, her buttocks, reaching around behind her to pull her closer, against his cock. Man, what she did to him, he thought.
“Just think,” she said, as she ran her soapy fingers over his cock and felt him grow bigger still, just like that. “I might be able to show you a few things, too, maybe. There has to be lots of roads and lots of possibilities.”
She ran her hands over the hard muscles of his buttocks, the leanness of his thighs. She slipped her fingers through his curly wet hair, laughing out loud, and then he was laughing too, hoisting her soapy hips up around him. He pushed easily inside her, like they were meant to fit together.
The shower drummed down on her back as he took her, sliding her up and down against the slippery tiles. They were improbably balanced, her soapy hands clutched around his back. They were both laughing and silly with it, but even at that, she was so excited she thought her heart would burst out of her chest.
The steam rose in foggy clouds around them and spilled out of the shower, their skin hot and rosy from the hot water, from fucking, and was loving it so much. At last their precarious balance got to be too much, and he shut off the shower and they fell all wet back in the bed again, leaving little puddles across the floor as they went.
She climbed on him this time, and moved up and down on him, her wet hair dripping down her chest and onto his chest, and both of them laughing right up until that last couple of moments when they came.
It was far past noon by the time they left the steamy bathroom a second time. The day was hot and still. Bouncing along the two-lane highway in his truck, she was glad she was only wearing sandals and a thin dress, a gauzy thing she’d stuffed in her suitcase even though she’d thought she’d have no use for it at her friend’s ranch. She’d called when she knew her car wouldn’t be ready this weekend and said she would still make the drive the rest of the way up, but now she wasn’t so sure. Well, she wasn’t going to think about it today, anyway.
She’d put on lipstick and earrings. He’d shaved, and threw on a crisp white tee shirt and tight Levi’s that made her want to see him without them on all over again.
He’d already lifted the hem of her gauzy dress and his finger were brushing against her thighs. She was excited and getting damp with anticipation for when he moved his fingers higher. And she knew he would. Her breath quickened and the sun poured in through the open window.
They swung north still straddling the edge of the Salmon River, and then Billy slowed the truck by a diner that was shaped like a railroad car.
Not shaped exactly, she realized, it was an old railroad car with a backroom added on to it. It was painted a sunshine-y yellow and had a sign that read “The Dining Car: Breakfast 24 Hours.”
She was starving but also a little sorry they’d arrived so fast; she’d have to wait for his hand to move higher up her legs, and to melt all over when it did.
He grinned at her like he knew what she was thinking. And he must’ve, because he said. “We need a little different kind of sustenance, don’t you think?”
“I guess,” she said.
He walked around to her side of the truck and held the door for her with a little flourish. “From my truck to the Dining Car,” he said, taking her hand, and leading her up the old metal steps inside.
There were a number of dining car booths along a narrow aisle with a lunch counter at the far end and a pass-through window behind it. The place was empty except for a cook and a waitress sitting at the counter having a cup of coffee, both looking slightly bored.
“Sit anywhere,” the waitress said, reaching for a couple of menus.
They picked a booth in the back by the door, and sat side by side. He rubbed his knee against hers, and he lifted the hem of her dress again, and ran his fingers along the inside of her thigh. She gave a little shiver.
The waitress sighed as she walked down that long narrow aisle but couldn’t quite suppress a smile when she saw Billy.
“Haven’t seen you around in a long time,” she said.
“Riding the circuit,” he smiled, easily. “Wintering up at my place.”
“Just passing through then?”
“Just passing through.”
Lara wondered if they’d been together, and if maybe they were still when he came to town, but she didn’t wonder long.
“How’d your husband like that job for the park service?”
“He likes it okay. He’s made enough we paid this place off,” she said.
“Congratulations,” both Lara and Billy said, Lara even maybe a little more enthusiastic than the occasion warranted.
Billy asked for the pancakes, bacon, scrambled eggs, hashed browns and coffee for them both. The waitress came back with the coffee, and told them “Cook’ll be bringing out the food. I have to pick up my kids. If I’m not back, here’s the check in advance, you can just leave it with him.”
And now they were alone in the dining room, hearing the sound of sizzling bacon from the kitchen, feeling a kind of current between them, knees touching in the old dining car booth. Billy’s fingers inching up her thigh.
She gave a little gasp, hardly holding it together when his fingers reached the edge of her panties and pulled them to the side. He teased her, curling a finger around her pubic hair, then lightly brushing back and forth across the outside of her pussy; barely, barely touching her.
“You have a place of your own in the winter?” she asked Billy, like this was perfectly normal, having a conversation while he was doing – that.
“Well, I have it all year, but when I’m riding, I’m riding,” he said simply. “It’s in a pretty place. Not far from Bear Lake, if you know it.”
“I don’t,” she said, and his one finger worked its way inside her, even as he picked up his mug of coffee with his other hand and took a sip.
“Maybe I’ll take you there,” he said, off-hand. “Too far for today, though.”
“I don’t mind going far,” she said.
Their eyes met, his amused, hers she was sure just brimming with ‘I want you.’
He leaned close and kissed her.
Her breath was rapid as she kissed him back.
Then the cook slapped open the kitchen door, and thudded down the aisle with their plates and some syrup and butter on a tray.
They broke apart, Billy taking the coffee cup up in both hands, like that was all he’d been doing with them.
They thanked the cook, who muttered something like “Sure,” and they started eating as he lumbered oh so slowly down the aisle, back into the kitchen, and the door swung back and forth, back and forth, until at last it squeaked shut. From inside the kitchen, they could hear the distant sounds of a radio and a baseball game.
She speared a bite of her pancakes, and a little syrup dripped down her chin. She lifted her napkin to wipe it away, but before she could get to it, Billy had, and kissed it from her chin.
“That’s delicious,” she said, moving his lips to hers again.
He set his own fork down and dipped his finger in the syrup, drew a line of it across her lips and licked that off, too.
“Wish I could lick it off all over you.”
“Why don’t you?” she suggested.
“Well, then,” he said.
He dipped his finger in the syrup again and ran it down the side of her neck, following with his tongue. She shivered.
A cheer rose from the radio in the kitchen, and the cook shouted. “Go for it!”
That seemed to be all the encouragement they needed.
He dipped his finger in the syrup a second time, and let a thin line of the stuff drip off his finger, and run down the front of her throat to her cleavage.
He licked it as it ran, sliding down like a sticky amber tear drop between her breasts.
“That’s the best syrup this side of Vermont.” He nibbled his way back up to her neck, and she was awash in delighted goosebumps. “And I’ve never been to Vermont,” he added.
“More,” she murmured. She dropped her hand lightly onto his jeans, rested her hand lightly over his cock. She could feel him stir under her touch, so she touched some more, feeling him stiffen through the fabric.
“You’ve worked up an appetite,” he said.
“So have you.”
She watched him press his fingers into a pat of butter. She gasped as he spread her legs, and pushed her panties aside altogether, and rubbed it in her pubic hair, making it slick and shiny.
She couldn’t breathe for a moment, watching the heat of her body melting it, watching the butter trail, just a little, down her thighs.
He went for the syrup again, dipping his fingers in and then swirling them, all sticky inside her. The suction made her come fast and hard against his hand, he had to put his other hand over her mouth to stifle the cry she made.
“Shh,” he said. “Cook could hear you over that game.”
She nodded, and he lifted his hand away, and for a few minutes they stopped.
Her body was still quivering, but they both turned to their food, quickly finishing off the eggs, and the bacon, and the potatoes. They didn’t touch the pancakes. They were waiting for them, a kind of dessert, she thought.
She took a long swallow of her coffee.
He drained his cup.
“You still want more?” he whispered, grinning mischeviously.
“That’s it!” the cook shouted in the kitchen. “Third base!”
She managed to nod. “Lots more.”
He took her at her word. He painted her arms with syrup, and between her fingers; he stroked it down her breasts inside the front of her dress.
He couldn’t seem to stop himself now, he slid the straps of her dress low and rubbed at her nipples with butter and more syrup, popped her gooey breasts all the way out and buried his face against them, all the time licking and kissing her.
Emboldened, she unzipped his fly, and rubbed a pat of butter between her own hands, sliding them up and down on his cock.
She wriggled out of her panties and climbed on his lap, pushing his cock up inside her. The butter and syrup on her legs rubbed off on his jeans and her syrupy breasts left smears on his tee shirt. He ran his sticky, buttery hands through her hair.
She wanted to roll with him in a whole vat of syrup and butter and jam.
They came together, arms wrapped tight around each other. They couldn’t move at all for a moment. Then she climbed off his lap and tucked her breasts inside her dress and pulled down her skirt. He zipped up his jeans. They looked at each other and they just laughed. They were kind of a mess.
He licked off her fingers, and she licked his.
He could reach for his wallet now. “I’ll just uh, pay the check,” he said.
Billy left a big tip, and they cleaned up in the cold water restrooms behind the restaurant, both of them emerging with wet hair, clean hands, and somewhat improved stains on their clothes.
“I like this exploring,” Lara laughed. They both could hardly stop laughing as he opened the passenger door to the truck.
They had to hurry now to make the time he’d promised to take the county fair stage for rope tricks, so he swung onto the Interstate. Even so, they stopped at a Walmart for some clean, cheap clothes.
He left Lara to walk around the fair while he took his place at a small table between the cattle and horse barns and signed glossies of himself; took his turn on stage and did a few rope tricks, shook hands and passed around a few flyers for the rodeo.
Lara was waiting for him. “You’re pretty amazing with that rope.”
“Wait’ll you see me ride.”
“Haven’t I?” she teased him.
She’d pulled her hair into a pony tail, the way she’d had it when she first met him, and her make-up was perfect again. Her new sun dress was pink, and straight off the rack, still crisp in spite of the heat, and he wanted to grab the fabric in his hands and crumple it up around her hips and take her again.
“It sure is hot,” she said.
He bought them each a soda, and they sat down on a rough wooden bench in the shade. People were walking past them laughing and talking. It was nice just sitting here with her, but she was right, it was hot, and not the faintest sign of a breeze. The ice in his cup started melting right away,
“Let’s go have some fun,” he said.
“I’m ready,” she said.
She took his hand and placed it on her leg, and moved it up, up, so he could feel she wasn’t wearing any underwear at all.
“You’re crazy,” he said.
“For you,” she replied.
“I second that emotion,” he said.