The Trouble Way Page 14

  Jake’s hand moved to rub his cheek, hopefully masking the jaw imperceptibly dropping a fraction.

  Fuck me. Fuck me again. Fuck me with a rusty spoon … crap-o. Did not see that comin’.

  Ol’ Mr. Dick Head, with his stooped shoulders and prick snout did not inform him of that particular canon during his interview at the Oregon State University Placement Office. Not that it would have made any difference. Jake was in a bite, no denying it, still, it would have been nice to have had a bit of forewarning, not just clamp the virtual chastity belt on every female in his peripheral vision. It had been the one perk he was counting on. His general preconception of working retail was quickly becoming overwhelmingly negative.

  What the fuck.

  “I can’t imagine someone in management even putting himself in such an obvious compromising position.” Jake hoped his sober expression and slight headshake of indignation convinced Mr. Hedd of his sincerity. “Can’t be a smart career move, I would imagine.”

  Living in the brewery and not able to scrape off the suds from the liter size mug of brew. Come on, man, give a guy a break, surely there’s got to be some jiggle room here.

  “Well, Mr. Forest, not all of our junior managers have the obvious high moral integrity you seem to possess, to their peril. I had a feeling about you, Mr. Forest, during our interview at Oregon State. I had a sense of your character reading your resume about being in the Air Force and pulling yourself up by your bootstraps the way you have. It’s not often a person of your obvious socio-economic background is able to work their way through college successfully. Welcome to the team.” Mr. Hedd put his pink hand forward and gripped Jake’s in a damp, fingertip shake. “I’m going to turn you over to Mrs. Rebecca Brinks, our Director of Personnel.”

  Mr. Hedd led Jake to the outer hallway and to the open door where he introduced Jake to Mrs. Brinks who rose from behind her desk and extended her hand.

  Mr. Hedd made an about-face and left the personnel office, leaving Jake alone with Mrs. Brinks. She turned to Jake and stood for several seconds, her eyes giving Jake a quick once over. “I’ve been expecting you, Mr. Forest. Please do have a seat and we’ll slog through some boring paperwork.”

  “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Brinks,” Jake said holding her hand in a bit of extended shake.

  “Oh, no, no, no … please call me Ms. Becky,” she said. “Mrs. Brinks is so formal. Sometimes Mr. Hedd is a bit of a fuddy-duddy, if you know what I mean.” She glanced at the open door where Mr. Hedd had been standing. “At any rate, please call me Ms. Becky, or, if you like, Becky.” She shuffled through his file on her desk. “Hmmm, isn’t this a coincidence.” A smile formed on her lips and she glanced up and looked directly into his eyes.

  “How’s that Ms. Becky?”

  “I pass by your apartment on my way home.” She held his gaze, then looked back at his file; the smile still on her lips.

  To Jake’s relief, Mr. Hedd did come through with the bucks, damn few, and a muted reminder that that would be the first and last instance of an advance. Jake put a deposit and the first month’s rent of seventy-nine dollars on a converted motel room-turned-apartment thirty miles from the store in the neighboring city of Renton, just south and east of West Seattle.

  It had been late the rainy night after his indoctrination with Old Peter Hedd. Mr. Hedd had given him the remainder of the day off to get settled into an apartment. After looking through the endless classifieds, Jake took possession of the first apartment he looked at. It was in Renton.

  Nine years ago, he had lived in a garage with his ex-wife for ten months. His new apartment was a step up from that, albeit a baby step.

  Ah, fine memories. I’d rather have spent those ten months in Vietnam … in North Vietnam, if you want to know the truth.

  He could always relocate, but, for the moment, all he needed was a bed and a hot plate.

  Hell, I’m livin’ life in the Big Tent now. Life’s good as puddin’. Flyin’ down life’s highway in my brand new Chevrolet. More like, in my shit-ass Bug with a rebuilt engine cruising in third gear at thirty-five on every hill … but who’s complainin’. Anywho … movin’ is movin’ is movin’.

  High on Jake’s priority list, after getting settled, was to sell the old VW he’d purchased for two-hundred fifty bucks just before leaving the military and buying a new one. As bad as the ol’ beater was, it got him through four and a half years of college and to Seattle to his first real job after the Air Force.

  Jake-O, as the ol’ lady always called me, one thing at a time. On deeper reflection it was actually, Bastard, that she called me most often. Anywho, a new Bug is going to have to wait for a month or two. Better settle my ass comfortably in the saddle before opening the gates and setting the calf loose.

  “Ann, I’d like to introduce you to our newest Assistant Manager Trainee.”

  Whoa! Well, slap my ass and call me a Judy, what have we here?

  “This is Mr. Jake Forest.” Ms. Becky said. In her role as the personnel manager, she had a duty to introduce all new employees to other appropriate fellow employees. In his capacity of the new assistant manager, Jake was to be introduced to all of the employees at Big Richards.

  Ms. Becky, Jake heard on the grapevine, had recently celebrated her fortieth birthday. She still prided herself on her distinctive appearance. She stacked her thick bleached hair big on her head, tendril falling from her temples. Her scrumptious lips were red, and she appeared to require a Carhartt’s industrial-strength bra to contain equally sumptuous breasts. Even though she could no longer spy thirty even with a pair of Bushnell 12 X 25 binoculars, she was, in Jakes opinion, certainly someone he wouldn’t “boot out of bed,” as he and his college buddy Roy used to say when commenting on a viable female. Ms. Becky’s cheeks seem to turn a sickly pale pink as her gaze seemed unable to keep its self from bouncing between Ann to Jake and back as Ann fluttered her long lashes in Jake’s direction.

  Ann quickly averted her eyes when Jake put his hand out. “I’m very happy to meet you, Mr. Forest.” Ann voice was an easygoing whisper.

  “Call me Jake. Glad to meet you too, Ann.” Jake found it difficult to pry his eyes from the silver locket nestled in the canyon between Ann’s breasts.

  When Jake met her eyes again, he noticed Ann’s eyes were locked on his. He felt his face flush, realizing her eyes must have followed his as they took a time-out on her cleavage. He got the impression from her charming smile she was not displeased.

  “I’m afraid that is not possible, Mr. Forest,” Ms. Becky said. “All management personnel must be referred to as Mister or Ms. So and So. Company protocol … you are well aware of that Ann.” She talked as much to Jake as to Ann but her eyes remained locked on Jake. “Ann sells sandwiches,” Becky said and then bent and whispered to Ann. “… top button …,” was all Jake was able to glean and watched as Ann, still facing him, leisurely button her sweater. When she dropped her hands, Jake could see that the button was not up to the task and put an untenable strain on the buttonhole. “Let’s scoot Hon,” Ms. Becky said, ignoring her just stated protocol, “we have much to cover.” Ms. Becky edged her way between Jake and Ann and gripped his elbow, nudging him toward the Jewelry department.

  Jake glanced over his shoulder. “Nice locket.”

  Ann’s head was bowed and she was looking at him with fantastic, huge, lemur eyes.

  That was a wink.

  She gave the slimmest of smiles and took a deep breath; the buttonhole surrendered to the unrelenting stress.

  Was that a twinge of green in your cheeks, Ms. Becky? Plainly, Ol’ Peter Hedd is oblivious of the intrigue brewing beneath the surface in his little meat market. Wonder what ol’ Roy would have to say about her, “Scoot in next to me, let’s test those cushions for comfort.”

  I think I’m beginning to crave a submarine sandwich. “Oh Ann, throw in a jumbo side of fraternize, please.” And here I was beginning to doubt whether there is a Lutheran/Atheist God in Seattle. I will
never doubt You again … except, of course, until I do.

  Jake put down the book, leaned over and switched off the bedside lamp, plumped his pillow and settled on his side. He caught a shadow passing his window and, an instant later, heard several nearly imperceptible taps at the door. He slept in his birthday suit, so he grabbed the knitted afghan -- an old flame from college knitted for him -- from the armchair beside the bed and wrapped it around his shoulders. “Just a second,” he said as he clicked the light on and went to open the door.

  “Hi Hon,” she said. “Care for a bit of company?” She waggled a bottle of Merlot to him. “My treat.”

  “Sure, I guess so,” Jake said. “You are probably the last person I was expecting to be knocking on my door. What a surprise.”

  “Are you disappointed, Hon?”

  “No, I’m not. Let me throw on some clothes. Make yourself comfortable.”

  “Don’t bother on my account, Hon, stay the way you are. I’ll just make myself happy; be a good boy and grab a couple glasses.” She handed the bottle to Jake.

  He took the bottle and held the afghan with his free hand, went into the kitchen alcove and grabbed a couple of wine glasses from the cupboard, found the cork screw and pulled the cork from the Merlot. He returned to the bedroom so see she had tossed her jacket and blouse on the chair. Her skirt lay crumpled on her shoes on the floor. She was perched sideways on the edge of the bed wearing purple silk panties and matching bra. She reached for the wine glasses.

  “Let me help you.” She held the glasses while Jake poured. She handed one glass to Jake and took a sip. “Thank you, Hon. Sit here.” She replaced the book he had been reading on the nightstand and patted the bed beside her. “You like history, eh, Mr. Forest?”

  “Yeah, I like reading about the Civil War. Actually, wars in general. That’s about a poor guy, Nathan Bedford Forest. Went from private to general and was a war hero to those of the South. Never lost a battle. Just the war.”

  “Is he an ancestor of yours?” She said.

  “Nah, wish he were. Maybe I could have inherited the hero thing. The name is just a coincidence.”

  “This’s probably pretty boring to you.” He sat where she had patted and let the afghan drop from his shoulder and drank from his glass and set the glass on the bed table. “Well aren’t you just a fashion statement with your matching bra and panties.”

  “Thank you, Hon, but I could use a little help. She pointed over her shoulder. Do you mind giving a helpless girl a hand?”

  The bra was definitely not Carhartt brand but a shiny purple silk . He could feel the weight of her confined breasts fall free as the last of the hooks popped free. “To be honest, I’ve been fantasizing about these.”

  “I hope you are not disappointed?”

  “Nope, not at all.” Jake said and reached around from behind and put his hands under her breasts and lifted them, pulling her back to his chest. He felt her nipples roughen as he snuggled her neck. “I was wondering how they might feel.”

  “And?”

  “They feel better than I had imagined.”

  “My goodness, Hon, you make me quiver but please don’t you dare stop.”

  “Don’t worry, but there is something that you should know.”

  “And what might that be, Hon?”

  “I don’t think that we should screw.”

  Her breathing stopped and her body became motionless. “Why ever not, Hon?” She said when she could breathe again.

  Jake nuzzled his lips through her thick hair and kissed her ear. Her head arched back and her breath quivered. In a voice she could not have heard if she were even an inch further away, he said, “You’re married.”

  “My goodness, I am, aren’t I. Did you happen to notice that I am in your bed, naked and my breasts are at this very moment resting in your hands?”

  “You got me there … I do have my weaknesses. I have been curious about your breasts since first laid eyes on them. You sort of put me in a position where the temptation is just too overpowering.” He held both breasts and worked his fingers back to her nipples. “I can resist just about anything but temptation.”

  She pressed her head against his, positioning her ear to his lips. “Maybe you could kiss my ear while we see how we might proceed. What can we do about this?”

  Jake held her breasts as he nuzzled and kissed her ear. “I think we should try to take this a little slower,” Jake whispered, continuing the gentle massage.

  Her breathing quickened. “Well, we are certainly in an awkward position now.” Her breathing stopped when he tuned her nipples. “Do you have any suggestions? Mr. Forest?” she said when she found her breath again.

  “I know this is hard. Maybe we could be friends and see where that leads.”

  She reached one hand behind her and fumbled under the afghan still wrapped around his waist. “If you think that is what you want, we’ll just have to see where this goes,” she said as she found what she was seeking and squeezed him. “I think the situation is not the only thing that is hard.”

  “Shhhhh, maybe we shouldn’t talk right now and just think a bit,” he said and moved himself from her grip and positioned himself onto the bed and pulled her down beside him. “Roll on to your tummy.” Placing his hand on her buttocks, he raised himself enough so he could kiss her neck and began to work his way down her spine to the small of back, feeling the fuzz of the tiny hairs tickle his lips. “You have a sexy back. Strong.”

  “That’s the results of toting the twins, I’m sure,” she said, arching her back and raising her buttocks against his hand. “Oh my god, Jake, that feels wonderful.”

  He slid his hand beneath the elastic of her waistband and pulled her panties down enough to see a hint of the rounds of her cheeks. “What a nice smooth, fuzzy butt,” he said as he kissed softly and bit his way across from one side to the other. “Let me see what you have on this side?”

  “Um huh,” she said. “You can do as you like, Hon.”

  Grasping one hip he turned her slowly to her back and slipped his fingers under the elastic of her purple panties and made them hip-huggers to even them with the backside, kissing the silky skin above the low line of the elastic waistband. “You have such silky skin.” He pressed his lips at her hairline, lingering to suck on the velvet skin.

  She gave a relaxing moan and reached her hand and placed it on his head.

  He moved leisurely toward her tummy, stopping to nurse the soft satin skin as he advanced.

  “Oh my, my, my, Jake that is delightful.”

  Her stomach muscles flinched as his lips tickled their way over her sensitive places. He put his hand on her leg and felt the goose bumps as they sprung a garden on her thighs. “Are you cold?”

  “Not hardly, Hon, quite far from it.”

  Her tummy began an uncontrollable shudder. Jake rested his head below her breasts and let his fingers lightly caress her as his hand stole its way over the exposed hair and to the elastic of her purple undies.

  Her fingers clenched fists full of his hair and she pulled his head between her breasts. Her hips rose and tried to push against his hand. He listened to her pounding heart as her chest rose and fell with her frantic gasps of panic, her breasts, a soft mushy mask, smothered his face.

  “I can’t stand it, Hon, I am not going to last.” she freed a hand from his hair and found his teasing fingers and forced his hand under the elastic and made him cup her. She raised her hips and gave him free admission. He slid his other hand under her thigh and separated her trembling legs. Goose bumps covered the back of her long leg. She guided his fingers to her nest. “Do me … right here, Hon.”

  He could feel the moisture on his hand as he gently wiggled her to a peak until she started to catch her breath.

  “You’re getting there, Sweetie,” he said and gave her a rest. “That’s long enough, Dear,” he said when she stopped her breathing and he could sense her concentration. “Here we go.” Again, he timed her excitement and raised
her to an ever higher peak until she relaxed and tried to rest. “Take your time and concentrate … you can do it this time,” he said and began his wiggling again. She began to shake and her breathing intensified to where she could breathe no faster. This time, he did not allow her further rest and would not stop. “This time, Sweetie,” he urged her on until she finally ascended, bound over her peak and exploded into the inevitable, unbridled ecstasy she was aching for. “That’s the way … you did it, sweetie. I knew you could.”

  With her chest heaving, he moved his head from her breast and raised himself up to where he could kiss her lips. He gripped a hand-full of her thick hair and pulled her mouth to his.

  “That was the best ever,” she said between gasps of trying to breath and kiss and talk all at once. Finally, she just parted her lips and let him breathe her breath as she inhaled the oxygen from his lungs. They kissed long kisses until her breathing slowed.

  “I loved the way you came and the way you held my head to your breasts,” he whispered into her ear. “We did really good?”

  “Yes, Jake, that was just the greatest,” she said. “We did really good.”

  “If you think you are up to it, sweetie, I think we should try that one more time” he said. You seem to have caught your breath.” He put his head between her breasts. “Your heart seems have calmed. I think you’ll be okay “Do you think you can do that again?”

  “I a mmmm am not shu—

  He didn’t let her finish and lowered himself and rested his head on her tummy, wrapped one arm under her leg and pulled it close to him and secured it place with his calf. With the other hand began again on her, letting her rest when her body melted but refused to give her a rest on the final climb and her head raised from the pillow and her abs tightened and she curled upward, hugging his head tightly to her breasts. She gave a continuous, delightful moan as she plunged through the love barrier in a repetitious bucking, orgasmic spasm of pleasure. When her rearing finally subsided, she collapsed, gasping as if she had been saved at the last moment before she were about to drown.