Getting to Know You
Did I mention it rained during our drive back to the Days Inn? I was wrong. It dumped. It deluged across the highway in sheets so thick and furious at one point I lost sight of the roadway but was afraid to pull the Crown Vic onto the shoulder because I couldn't see it either and couldn't remember how deep the ditches were along that stretch. We slowed to a crawl, not worried some maniac might ram us because anyone stupid enough to drive over 5 m.p.h. in that stuff would soon have been boogying off road to nowhere fun. Nonetheless at the first flash glimpse through the wall of rain I eased the Vic off the roadway and put it in park. I kept the engine running so I could leave the flashers on just in case our theoretical maniac managed to make it that far in one piece.
With the rain doing a Gene Krupa solo on the car and sealing us from view or viewing, our closeted intimacy spoke urgently to my already anxious libido in a voice I hadn't heard since my salad days. I turned toward Joan with what I'm sure she saw as a wolfish grin on my face. Her expression was ambiguous, offering just enough warmth that I started to lean in with obvious intent.
“Al,” she said in a voice that sounded more professional than I was expecting, “Liz and Pink may well be dead.”
As I scrambled to come up with something to say that wouldn't sound stupid, she continued, “That would have been the place to do it. He could have buried them and booked before we got there.”
“Should we go back?” I knew this was stupid the instant I said it. Oh, well, I figured, it could be the first test of our nascent mutual affection.
“No point now, Al.” She gave me a gentle smile, letting me know she was withholding the deserved duh, but carrying a sadness as well. There was personal loss for her in this grim prospect. I had found Dr. Knoe attractive, but, then, fresh out of prison as I was I'd been finding myself taken with almost every nubile female who caught my eye. I half-expected these musings to dash a bit of cool water on my enthusiasm of the moment. Oddly this didn't happen. It seemed our shared concern over the fate of these two associates, albeit in the privacy of our individual thoughts, made us all the hornier.
Joan leaned toward me, too, as our eyes locked on each others. Hers captured the little light available in the car and set it to dancing as if tiny Tinkerbells had emerged from her pupils flicking fairy dust from under her lashes. Despite the magical hold of her gaze I couldn't help but catch a glimpse of her small but distinctly female breasts as she gave her T-shirt a furtive tug, freeing the sweat-damp cloth from pulsing nipples that peeked out like sandy brown buttons. We lurched forward at the same time, closing the extra inch or so that brought our lips and noses together to play their own game of getting to know you, brushing and stroking, lips nipping then grabbing lips, and tongues teasing and tasting.
A new aroma soon engulfed us with its entwined hormonal musk, and our hands got involved, fingers probing and stroking, sliding and then my left hand was under the T-shirt loving those small distinct dear breasts and poking and pinching their naughty nipples. Her moaning stopped for a moment as she gasped, trying to speak. She pulled an arm free and gestured toward the back seat, nodding up and down and smiling dreamily, then shifted in her seat and lifted a leg. I repositioned myself and helped her climb over the soft upholstered seat back onto the wide, unobstructed back seat. I couldn't see out the steamed-up window, but, from the thundering of water on the car roof knew I could be washed away if I tried to join my lover by jumping out my door and entering by the back. Not as limber as she, I nonetheless kicked off my shoes, tore off my jeans and climbed over the back seat as she had. She was already completely out of her clothes by then. I'd heard her pistol clunk as her jeans dropped to the floor. We were both cooing and moaning and sharing little chuckles as I lowered my stinking sweaty self onto her amazingly beautiful musky, sweet, slick, squirmy body.
Wrapped tightly in each others arms afterward, we slept long enough that the rain had dropped off to a steady sprinkle when we awoke. I was almost afraid to poke my head up, for fear we'd be sitting half out in the roadway or so near a steep dropoff our rocking could have tipped us down an incline into a stump-filled hollow or stony creek bed. But somebody had to check out the terrain, so poke it up I did. We were fine. A couple of feet off the asphalt on a gravel shoulder that feathered into a shallow ditch we might not even have noticed had we parked half in it. I'd already kissed Joan awake and now I helped her with her clothes. She broke into a wide smile every time our faces met, reached up once with a hand and patted my cheek, then pulled herself into a sitting position and kissed me full on the lips. I was erect again and mumbled something silly about the danger of trying to climb back into the front seat. Quick as a pit viper her hand shot out and she snapped the end of my penis with her middle finger. It took three sharp snaps before it was “safe” for me to make the climb.
“That wasn't very loving, Joan,” I said, trying to sound hurt. Well, it did hurt.
“I was an LPN before I joined the Service. That's how they taught us to tame randy patients. Sorry, Al, darling, I was only looking out for our interests.”
The banter continued in this fashion during the remainder of the drive to the Days Inn. Joan tried several times to contact Newgate for an update...on anything, but we were especially interested in what Jim might have learned following Roger Ashmore and his partner. But Newgate wasn't answering his phone, and it didn't have Voicemail.
So, exhausted and hungry, we picked up some burgers at a drive-thru Wendy's, took them back to the room, ate, showered, made love and slept undisturbed until we were startled awake by Joan's cellphone playing Hail to the Chief.
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