Rainstorm in Fargo: Part 2

Rainstorm in Fargo: Part 2

RAINSTORM IN FARGO: PART 2 PETE AND TRACEY BOTH HEAD WEST. Based on a post by ron de [https://www.literotica.com/authors/ronde/works], in 2 parts. Listen to the ► Podcast [https://archive.org/download/it-happened-one-night_202404/RainstormInFargo2.mp3] at Connected [https://feeds.feedburner.com/connected-podcast]. [https://archive.org/download/it-happened-one-night_202404/Fargo2.jpg] The campground where we were camped was next to a state park, and after that lunch, I really needed to either walk around or take a nap. I figured Tracey wouldn't like me taking a nap so I asked her if she'd like to walk one of the trails in the state park. She laughed. "My Joe would have taken a nap while I walked by myself, so this will be new to me. Let's go." It was during our walk I learned who Joe was and why Tracey was tent camping. That was after I explained why I was driving around in a big RV by myself. Tracey listened to my story and then smiled. "That's why Joe and I bought a tent and the Jeep. He'd worked for almost fifty years before he retired at sixty-eight and was going crazy with nothing to do. He liked history, and after six months of doing nothing, decided we'd tour the country looking at historic places. He thought we'd understand the older places better if we lived in a tent like they did in the early days, so he went out and bought one. I wasn't too sure about a tent. I mean, a tent doesn't really have walls or anything to protect you, and if it's cold out side it's cold inside too. At least he bought cots so we didn't have to sleep on the ground. "Our daughter and her husband moved from their apartment into our house so there'd be somebody there to take care of it when we were gone. We started from Milwaukee in April of last year and drove South. We got as far as Shiloh in Tennessee. We'd walked around the battlefield most of the day. When we were walking back to our Jeep, Joe said his chest hurt. Half an hour later, he was having trouble breathing, so I drove him to the hospital in Savannah. He passed away while they were trying to get him stablized. The doctors told me he'd had a pretty bad heart attack at Shiloh and had another one while they were working on him. "After I got Joe back to Milwaukee and had the funeral I had to decide what I was going to do. I couldn't very well move back into the house because I remembered the years when my mother lived with us and I wouldn't wish that on anybody else. What I decided is to do what Joe wanted to do. I'd travel around with my tent and visit the places he wanted to see. It sounds weird, I know, but I thought maybe he'd see those places through me. "Anyway, I did spend a couple of months with my daughter until the weather got cold, and then headed back South where it was warmer. I spent the winter camping in Georgia and Florida, and then started following the warmer weather north. I was doing fine by myself until yesterday. If I'd known it was going to rain so hard, I'd have gotten a motel room." I said I didn't think any woman would like living in a tent. Tracey just chuckled. "You mean because I don't have all the comforts of a house like a kitchen and a bathroom? Well, I like to cook, but I can cook just fine on my little stove, and all the campsites I stop at have a central bathroom with showers. I like sleeping outdoors in the fresh air and listening to the crickets instead of in my house in Milwaukee in the stale air and listening to the traffic go by. I would trade that for my tent any day, now that I'm used to it." We talked about a lot of things as we walked along that trail, and I was surprised at how easy it was to talk to Tracey. She seemed to like listening, but she wasn't backward about giving me her opinions about what I said. She thought retiring early like I did was a good thing. She was five years younger than Joe and had been after him to retire for years because he'd been diagnosed as a prime candidate for a heart attack. She wanted him to relax and enjoy life and hopefully avoid the heart attack that killed him. He thought he should keep working to build up his 401K so they wouldn't have to worry about money. She thought it was perfectly normal for a woman to be camping by herself, but she wasn't a big fan of the women's liberation movement. When I asked her why, she shrugged. "I suppose it's fine if a woman wants a career before anything else, but they're missing out on a lot by not having a husband and a family. I was never sorry I was a stay at home mom. I liked being there when the kids came home from school, and I liked fixing dinner for us every night. Now, mind you, I didn't object when Joe wanted to go out for dinner on my birthday and our anniversary, but I was happy doing all the cooking the rest of the time." The more we talked, the more I liked Tracey. She was a very intelligent woman with her own ideas about life, but she was about as down-to-earth as a woman could get. By the time we got back to my RV, I was getting really comfortable with her. I got a lot more comfortable when she started making dinner. I hadn't actually smelled food cooking in a long time because I just used my microwave for everything. The aroma of spaghetti sauce filled the RV and it smelled like it was going to be fantastic. By the time Tracey said everything was ready, I was starving. When she sat a plate of spaghetti smothered in sauce in front of me, I'd have gorged myself even if I hadn't been hungry. Tracey's spaghetti was better than any I'd had in a restaurant. We talked a little after dinner, but Tracey said she wanted to get an early start the next morning, so we turned in about nine. Well, Tracey turned in. I spent the time trying to first read a book and then trying to watch a movie. I wasn't successful at either because I kept thinking about how nice it was having Tracey there and how that would change when she left. I thought about asking her where she was going next, and then decided she'd just think I was trying to follow her to convince her to do something she didn't want to do. Truth be told, I would have been following her, though just for the company and not anything else. That's what I told my self, but I knew she'd never believe me. I was still thinking about some way to end up camped in the same campground the next night when I finally fell asleep. TRACEY’S BREAKFAST ARTS. I woke up the next morning to the smell of bacon frying and hot coffee. Tracey smiled when I walked out of my bedroom. "Just thought I'd send you off with a good breakfast again. You really should eat better breakfasts so you'll have energy until lunch." While we ate, I wanted so bad to ask where she was headed, but I didn't. After we ate, Tracey washed everything and then took her skillet and what was left of her bacon and eggs and bread to her Jeep. I helped her take down her tent, roll it up, and stick it in the back of the Jeep. When we were done, Tracey smiled. "This has been a change for me. Maybe we'll meet up again some time. Where are you headed next?" What I'd planned was to visit Theodore Roosevelt National Park in Medora. When I told Tracey that, she shook her head. "I'm going there too, but first I'm going to The Knife River Indian Village. They have a collection of Hidatsu and Mandan Indian relics that Joe wanted to see and it sounds interesting. You ought to go there too. It's not quite as far from here as Medora, and there's a campground for RV's and tent campers in Stanton, and you can walk from the campground to the village." It was a surprise that Tracey asked me the same question I'd debated with myself about asking her. As a result, it took me a while to answer, and Tracey grinned. "You're not saying if you will or won't. Does that mean you don't like my company?" I shook my head. "No, I like your company. I just didn't figure you'd want me going where you went. It does sound interesting though, so I'll detour to Stanton and stop there too. I'm in no hurry to get to Medora. What's the name of the campground?" Tracey said she was going to the Downstream Campground in Hazen instead of the one in Stanton. "It's a Corps of Engineers campground, so it's a little better than the one in Stanton and there are some other things to see there too. You should probably make a reservation though. This time of year, it might fill up pretty fast." Tracey drove off while I made a reservation with my cell phone Having her there for two days had used up a lot of my fresh water, so I stopped by the dump station, emptied my black water tanks, and then filled the fresh water tank. That done, I programmed the campground address into my GPS and started driving. I stopped to fill up at about lunch time, and while I was eating the fast food burger, I realized how much better Tracey's chicken salad had tasted. I also missed her sitting there and talking while we ate. It was strange in a way. For so many years I'd live by myself and didn't think I really missed not having people around. Now, I did, or at least I missed having Tracey around. When I got to the campground I stopped at the office, paid my site fee, and got a map to my campsite. All the sites were back-in sites, but with the rear facing cam on the Thor, that wasn't a problem. Within fifteen minutes of shutting off the engine, I had the Thor leveled, the extensions out, and the electricity plugged in. My plan was to find out where Tracey was camped and ask her if she'd like to go into town for dinner. I'd just locked up the Thor when Tracey came walking across the road. "I see you found the campground." "Yes, but how did you find me so fast? I just got here." Tracy grinned. "I cheated. I made my reservation after you did and I told them we were traveling together and asked for a space close to you. I guess I drive faster than you do because I stopped at a grocery store on the way and I've had my tent set up and have been watching for you for half an hour." I chuckled. "I can drive as fast as you drive, but it takes me a while to get up to speed. Why did you ask for a spot close to me?" Tracey looked at the ground. "Well, I kinda liked when we took that walk and I thought maybe you'd want to take another one after dinner. I got the stuff for dinner when I stopped at the grocery store, that is, if you'll let me cook for you again." There was no way I could refuse her, nor did I want to. It was, I hoped, an indication that Tracey liked me. I wouldn't let myself think any further than that though. I couldn't. Thinking there might be more and then finding out there wasn't would have crushed me. Dinner was pork chops, broccoli, and a pasta salad with a chocolate cake for desert. Tracey hummed to herself the whole time she was cooking. I sat on the couch and watched her. She seemed to be having the time of her life. I know I was. She looked like she belonged in my tiny little kitchen in her shorts, tank top, and running shoes. That was a feeling I'd never had about a woman before. Oh, I'd had the same fantasties most men have about this woman and how she'd be in bed or that one and how I wished I could see her naked, but not once before Tracey did I ever imagine how any woman would look in my kitchen. Dinner was great. Eating with Tracey was even better. She seemed to be really happy and that made me happy too. After dinner we walked along the shore of the lake and talked until the mosquitoes came out in force. Then, we went back to my RV for a movie on Netflix. That seemed really natural too, both of us sitting there on the couch and watching a movie together. After the movie ended, Tracey yawned. "I think it's time I go tuck myself into bed in my tent. Are you coming with me to see the "Knife River Indian Village" tomorrow?" If you are, I'll come over tomorrow morning and fix breakfast." I couldn't bring myself to say what I wanted to say; that she was welcome to spend the night again. She'd have thought I was asking something I wasn't asking, and I didn't want to risk losing her as a friend. "Sure. I'll be up and have the door unlocked at about seven if that's not too early. I'll have the coffee made too." As I fell asleep that night, I was wondering if there could be more with Tracey. She seemed to like me. I knew I liked her. She was just plain fun to be with, but I thought maybe she more than liked me. I hadn't been around a woman socially in so long it was hard to tell, but she seemed to walk closer to me than on our first walk, and when she talked, she kept touching me on the arm. THE BREAKFAST TRADITION CONTINUES. Breakfast was sausage patties and pancakes, and they were great. So was sitting there and eating with Tracey. I'd thought we'd just go to the Indian Village and then pack up and go our separate ways, but Tracey was full of things we could do. After she rattled off her list, I figured it was going to take us a couple of days. Tracey wanted to see Fort Mandan, the site where the Lewis and Clark Expedition spent a winter. She said there was a replica of the orginal fort there. She also wanted to see the McLean County Museum, the Sioux Ferry, and the Garisson Dam Fish Hatchery. When I said she was cramming a lot into one day, Tracey frowned. "It sounds like you want to be rid of me." I shook my head. "No, I don't want that at all. I like seeing things with you. I just didn't think you wanted to stay more than a day." Tracey smiled then. "I made my reservation for three nights. Maybe you should do the same or you might end up sharing my tent with me." On our way out of the campsite in Tracey's Jeep, I did just that. When I came out of the office, Tracey grinned. "Did you get the same spot?" "Yes I did. I reserved three more nights, just in case." "Just in case of what?" "I don't know. Just in case it takes us longer to see everything than two more days I guess." Tracey put the Jeep in drive and grinned. "So maybe you do like me a little." BECOMING TRAVELLING BUDDIES. The Indian village was interesting and so was Fort Mandan, though I thought there was more to see at Fort Mandan. As we toured the different buildings, Tracey kept pointing out things to me. Sometimes, she didn't know what those things were and asked me if I did. It was that way at the carpenter's shop and at the blacksmith's shop. It was fun telling her what this tool was used for or how the carpenter or blacksmith would have used them. She was surprised that all the logs were vertical instead of horizontal and asked me why. I didn't know, but one of the rangers explained it to us both. It was because they could build long walls that way without needing really long logs and the fort needed to be pretty big to hold all the men in the expedition. While we were close, we also went to the Lewis and Clark Interpretive center. That was interesting too. It was almost one by the time we got through all of that, so we drove back to the campground. Tracey fixed lunch for us both in my RV and then suggested we take another walk. We were down on the river bank when Tracey looked out over the water and then sighed. "You know, I had a lot of reservations about camping when Joe said he wanted to start. I mean, I'd be giving up everything I'd lived with for all those years and starting out living in a way I didn't know anything about. "Now, when I come to a place like this and just watch the river go by or see the birds singing in the trees, I don't know if I could ever go back to that old life again. I see something different every day and I keep learning about things I never knew before. It gets lonely sometimes, but it's still worth it." I said I didn't think she could possibly be lonely, and Tracey frowned. "Why would you say that? Aren't you lonely sometimes too?" "Well, yes, but that's different. You had your husband before while I haven't lived with anybody in years. Besides, I would think you have a lot of men trying to meet you." Tracey grinned. "You think men are just dying to make it with a woman as old as I am? Let me let you in on a little secret. If a woman hasn't found a man by the time she turns forty, she's probably not going to, at least not a man worth having around. Most of those are already married, and a few of the ones who aren't usually aren't all that interested in women, if you know what I mean. The rest are going through their mid-life crisis. I call it the 'I'm still the man I was at twenty thing', and they're looking for girls, not women. They may talk to women as old as I am, but the first blonde with little boobs and a tight little butt who walks by; well, you can see them looking for a way to end the conversation." I didn't think like that, and that's what I told Tracey. She just laughed. "You mean to tell me that those young girls we saw today didn't do anything for you? I saw you looking at them." "Well, yes, I looked, but no, I didn't want any of them. They were pretty, but they weren't women, not yet." Tracey frowned. "You mean you'd only want an older women; a woman like me." I nodded. "Well, yes." Tracey grinned then. "I've heard this line before. What you're really saying is you'd like to spend a night with me and then you'd be gone." That upset me. "No, that's not what I'm saying. You're putting words in my mouth, and it makes me a little mad that you think that. All I'm saying is you're a nice looking woman and I thought men would want to meet you. I guess you don't. I think we need to go back to the campground now." SILENT TRAVELS. Tracey didn't say anything on the way back and I didn't either because I felt bad about what I'd said to Tracey. She probably did have men telling her that. I'd jumped to conclusions and accused her of thinking that about me when I didn't really have any reason to. What I should have done was left out the part about her putting words in my mouth, because she really wasn't. I was acting pretty immature and I was mad at myself for being that way. I liked Tracey and didn't want to lose her as a friend. It wasn't until we got to my RV that Tracey finally said something. "Pete, I'd planned on making dinner for us. Are you mad enough that I should just go back to my tent or could you stand having me around long enough to cook some burgers? I got some potato salad and other stuff to go with the burgers and I'll never eat it all myself." The look on her face told me she really wanted to do this, so there was no way I could say no. "Tracey, I need to apologize for what I said back there. What you said just struck me wrong and I overreacted. I'd like it if you cooked for us again." I thought Tracey would probably cook our hamburgers on my stove, but when I helped her bring everything from her Jeep to my RV, she handed me a small, portable propane grill. "Joe never liked burgers fixed on a stove, so we bought this little grill to take with us. I'll set it up on the picnic table beside your RV and we'll have real, grilled burgers." The hamburgers were great and so was everything else, but I think that was mostly because Tracey was sitting there at the picnic table across from me. It just seemed right, you know? I mean, not since I was first married had I sat across the table from a woman, but it felt like it did back then. When we finished eating, Tracey and I took all her stuff back to her Jeep. She was putting the potato salad and other things that needed to be kept cold in her little cooler, but when she opened it, she said, "Oh darn it. I forgot to get ice. I'll have to go up to the office and get some." I knew that wasn't going to work because when I'd checked both times I'd payed for my space. "Tracey, they don't have ice up there. I checked." Tracey sighed. "Well, I'll have to drive somewhere and get some unless; you don't have much in your refrigerator. Could I put my stuff in there until morning?" I put the portable grill in her Jeep and then carried her cooler back to the Thor. Tracey put all her stuff in my refrigerator and then smiled. "Now it looks like a refrigerator should look; milk, eggs, bacon, lettuce, meat, and leftovers. It's what my refrigerator always looked like at home. You should keep it that way. You'd be healthier."

Rainstorm in Fargo: Part 1

RAINSTORM IN FARGO: PART 1 PETE WAS RETIRED AND SEEING THE US. THEN TRACEY CAME ALONG. Based on a post by ronde [https://www.literotica.com/authors/ronde/works], in 2 parts. Listen to the ► Podcast [https://archive.org/download/it-happened-one-night_202404/RainstormInFargo1.mp3] at Connected [https://feeds.feedburner.com/connected-podcast]. [https://archive.org/download/it-happened-one-night_202404/Fargo1.jpg] THE ‘WORKAHOLIC’ RETIRES. It's amazing how much time you have once you retire. You have nowhere to be at any certain time and no people you just have to be there to meet. You have no deadlines and no tasks that absolutely have to be done before the corporate visit on Tuesday. It's like a curtain between you and your life has been lifted and you can see yourself doing what you always wanted to do. That's what I thought I was going to see when I cleaned out my desk and went to the retirement party at my office. It was exciting to know that no longer would my life be dictated by some corporate edict or some problem that had to be solved right now if the entire business wasn't going to immediately collapse. It was just that way for about a month. I could stay up late or go to bed early depending upon how I felt. I could watch movies on cable any time I wanted instead of falling asleep in the middle when watching at night. I could do anything I wanted to do; except after a month I didn't know what that was because I'd already done everything I could think of doing. There was a reason for that, and the reason started bothering me because of George Mills. I was one of those guys who worked twelve hours a day at my office and then worked another couple hours at home. George was one of those guys too. George lasted six months after he retired before keeling over in his neighbor's back yard and croaking. It was at his funeral I realized George had never said anything about any hobbies or anything except work. He even had a complete set of work files in his home office that he kept updated to the current information so he could work at home. His wife said George had a heart attack, but I figured George had just given up because without his job, he had no reason to keep living. I didn't want to go down that same road, but it looked like that was where I was headed. After a month, it was hard to get out of bed, shower and shave, and then get dressed. Other than a weekly trip to the grocery store for some frozen dinners and some beer, I just sat in my house. It was still winter, and when spring finally made the grass grow, I'd have to mow about once a week, but that was all I had to look forward to. When I got home from George's funeral, I sat down and took stock of where I was in life. My list was both encouraging and a little dissappointing. YOUTHFUL INFATUATION GOES BAD. The worst mistake I'd made was marrying Marsha when I was twenty and still in college. It was a time we were both studying hard during the week and playing hard on the weekends. When we graduated, me with a degree in engineering and Marsha with a degree in finance, it was still good for the first couple of years. After that, the marriage went downhill pretty fast. It wasn't a money problem because we were both making good salaries. The problem was me. I know that. I couldn't stop working, even on the weekends, but Marsha wanted to go out and have fun on those weekends. She finally started going out by herself and in the process, met a guy who didn't work all day, every day, and then come home and work at night too. After the second year, we had a serious talk and decided to split and go our separate ways. Marsha didn't want anything from me, so other than spending about two months salary on a lawyer in case she changed her mind, it didn't cost me anything except my time and a lot of soul searching. That soul searching led me to realize I probably wasn't going to change relative to my work habits, so another woman probably was going to work out the same way. I dated a little at first, but it never worked out because there was always some important project I had to finish. After I canceled a date or two, she'd tell me she had already made other plans. I finally stopped trying. THE BACHELOR LIFE. All that work did get me a rapid rise in my company, then a higher paying job at another, and then another until by the age of sixty, I wasn't a millionaire, but I had enough in the bank I didn't have to work to live comfortably. I'd bought and paid for a pretty nice house, drove a new car every couple of years, and in general was pretty happy with my life. I retired that year thinking I was young enough I'd still have time to catch up with everything I'd missed. What I ended up being was lost with nowhere to go and nothing to do. I needed some way to occupy my time or I was going to end up like George. One afternoon, I was sitting on my couch and watching a travel show about national parks when I thought maybe I had an answer to my problem. After a lot of thought, I'd figured out that work had given me three things I needed to be happy - something to plan for, something to do to follow that plan, and a way to keep learning. I'd looked at a bunch of hobbies other people enjoy, but none of them really interested me. They either required a lot of equipment and space or took a long time to learn. Watching about national parks was a different story. All I needed to go to a national park was me and I didn't need to learn anything first. I'd learn just by going there. How to travel was the next question. Though my job had required flying a lot, I never liked it. I always felt like I was trapped in an aluminum tube and couldn't do anything to help myself is something happened. Driving wasn't that way. If I wanted to stop to look at something, I could stop. If I was hungry, I could get something to eat. If I was tired, no matter what time of day, I could just pull into a hotel and get a room. HITTING THE ROAD. After a little figuring of costs, it looked like traveling around to parks might be fun, but it would be pretty expensive what with the cost of hotel rooms and eating out all the time. There was also the problem of my house. I couldn't just leave it empty for a month at a time, and a month is about what it would take to get to and back from some of the parks I found that interested me. I was driving back from grocery shopping one afternoon when the answer pulled up beside me. The motorhome looked huge, but the driver wasn't having any trouble negotiating the traffic. It just took longer to change lanes and a lot longer to accelerate. All I knew about motorhomes was that you could live in them, so I started doing some investigating on the internet. What I found convinced me this was the answer to most of my problems. I looked at several types, and decided the type they call "Class A" was what I wanted. I didn't need to be able to sleep six people, but they were big enough they wouldn't feel like living in a closet and they were really nice inside. They all had heaters for winter and air conditioning for summer, and even though most campsites had receptacles for electricity, the big motorhomes had on-board generators for power. I could park it anywhere and still have all the comforts of home. There were a lot of them for sale within a hundred miles of me, so I took several trips to look at different makes and models. I knew I wanted one less than forty feet long, because my research found out that some states and some campsites have a length limit of forty feet. After looking at a lot and driving a few, I decided a Thor Challenger was what I wanted. It had everything I could ever want plus some. The driver's seat and passenger's seat were more like living room chairs than car seats. It had a little kitchen with a microwave, a two burner propane stove, and a sink. I only needed one bathroom, but it came with two and they weren't really much smaller than the bathroom in most apartments. One had a shower, and one had a tub with shower. It was roomy on the inside too, thanks to three sections that extended a few feet once it was parked and leveled. Those extensions made it possible to have a king-size bed in the main bedroom and a double bed in the living area that folded up into a couch for the wide-screen television set on the opposite wall. It had a surprising amount of closet space too, and the kitchen had room to store pots and pans and a small pantry. One thing I really liked was the full size refrigerator. A lot of the smaller RV's had tiny little refrigerators. I didn't want to be grocery shopping every day. The damned thing also had three television sets all cable ready - one in the master bedroom, one across from the couch, and one on the outside under the electrically extended patio awning. It had power everything, including a system that self-leveled it when parked. I didn't realize I needed that until the salesman explained that most campsites aren't level, so without it, I'd be jacking it up level by hand. The price he quoted me was just shy of two-hundred thousand, but I'd expected that and I had a plan. If I was driving all over the US, I wouldn't need my house, and my house would more than pay for the Thor and still leave quite a bit to add to my travel cash. A month later, I sold my house and everything the Thor already had that I didn't need two of. After I picked up the Thor and temporarily parked it at a local campsite, I was ready to start except for my car. I'd seen a lot of cars towed behind motorhomes, but I really didn't see the need. Most grocery stores have huge parking lots, so I could just drive the Thor to a Walmart and get my groceries before I parked for the night. It took another week to sell my car. The day after the check for my car cleared, I emptied the black water tanks, filled the clean water tank, and then drove to a gas station. Seeing the dollars add up when I filled the eighty gallon fuel tank was a bit of a shock, but I'd figured the fuel cost into my travel budget. The Thor was supposed to average about seven miles to the gallon, so fuel would still be cheaper than driving my car, eating every meal in a restaurant, and paying for hotel rooms. It was June by then and the days were warming up in the northern states, so my plan was to head North from Nashville and drive across Wisconsin, Minnesota, North Dakota, Montana, Idaho, and Washington and then turn South. Depending upon how long that took, I'd go South for the winter through California, then turn East and drive to Florida. That plan was pretty flexible. I wasn't in a hurry to get anywhere. I'd already seen as much of Chicago as I wanted, so I bypassed it and headed into Wisconsin. I didn't push my schedule. Driving time was from about nine in the morning until three in the afternoon. Then I'd start looking for an RV campsite on the GPS unit. The point was to enjoy the drive and I did. Sitting up so high, I could see for miles ahead of me, and I could also look down into the cars that passed me. SIGHTSEEING IN THE OTHER LANE. Just watching the country change was worth the drive. It was relaxing just driving along and watching the fields and forests go by and watching the other people in their cars. Sometimes, those people weren't really relaxing. The first day, I realized what I'd read about what truckers saw was true. The rear facing camera on the Thor had picked up the black SUV when it passed the semi behind me except it didn't just pass. It pulled up to go around the semi, but slowed to the truck's speed for about thirty seconds before driving on toward me. When it got closer, in my side mirror I could see a man driving and a woman in the passenger seat. When it passed me, it did the same thing as when it passed the truck. When the SUV was even with my side window, it started pacing me When I looked down into the passenger window, there was a woman sitting there, only she wasn't just sitting. She was slumped down and her top was unbuttoned and pulled away from her naked breasts, and those breasts were pretty impressive. She looked up a me, grinned, and then lifted her breasts and sort of wobbled them up and down. Then she licked her lips, took a nipple in the fingers of each hand and pulled her big breasts into long cones. As the SUV accelerated, she smiled and waved. Well, that was pretty weird, I thought, but it was just the start. I never realized there were so many women who apparently like showing themselves to complete strangers. There weren't hundreds, but over the next few weeks if I was driving past a large city on a weekend, I'd see at least one. I saw more bare breasts than I'd ever seen outside of movies on cable. There were also a couple who were covered on top but naked from the waist down and obviously masturbating. One was even completely naked. As that sedan drove along beside me for almost a minute and the woman worked her fingers in and out, she looked up at me and pursed her lips in a kiss. Right before the sedan drove on, the driver reached over and pinched her left nipple, the woman's mouth opened in a little "O" shape and she arched up as far as the seat belt would let her and her thighs started to quiver. Well, I might have been sixty, but I wasn't immune to what a naked woman can do to a man. Some of those women were young, but most seemed to be more mature, mature enough I'd have loved meeting them and wouldn't have felt like I was screwing some college girl. Most were with a man so I figured he was into showing off his wife or girlfriend and might not mind sharing her. There were a couple where the driver was a woman too, and I wondered if they were both into the exhibitionist thing and if they both might like a little sack time with an agreeable guy. NIGHTS IN THE RV. I would have been more than agreeable to both those little fantasies. It had been a long time since I'd slept with a woman, but I hadn't lost the urge. It was my damned job that stopped me from trying. I never met any women except the women at work and they were all married or too young. Oh, there were the checkout girls at the grocery store. Most of them weren't married, but they were even younger than the women at my job. Most looked young enough they were probably still in high school. The first night I pulled into a camping spot was also interesting and made me think I'd chosen the right way to spend my time. I'd leveled the Thor and was hooking up my electric, black water and clean water connections when a guy walked up with two beers, handed me one, and said "Hi. Haven't seen you before. Where you from?" That night, I found out a lot of the people at RV campgrounds know each other. I thought my idea of living in an RV all the time was probably unique, but a lot of people were doing the same thing. They'd hook up at an RV camp from time to time and share stories of what they'd seen and done. It was almost like there was an extended family of RV campers out there. By the time we all went back to our RV's for bed, it was almost midnight and I'd made a bunch of new friends. Well, truth be told, they were the first actual friends I'd had in a long time. I'd worked with a lot of people but was too busy to make friends with any of them. Most were about my age and were making the best of their retirement by seeing the US. While some still had permanent homes somewhere, for many their motor home was the only home they had. They'd plan their trip to be at a daughter or son's home for the holidays, but other than that, they lived, as one woman told me, "Free as when we were twenty and just married with no kids." As I motored through Wisconsin and then into North Dakota, I kept seeing a few of the same people, and I met a lot more when I parked for the night. It was always the same. I'd pull into my spot and hook up. While I was doing that, somebody would walk over to say hello and invite me to spend some time with them. Most of the RV parks also had tent camping sites, but those were usually used by younger couples, often with kids along once the schools let out. I like kids, but I also like quiet, so I usually asked for a site some distance away from the tent spots. WEATHER HITS WITHOUT WARNING. One afternoon when I was rolling through Fargo, North Dakota it was raining like hell, and I mean raining so hard my windshield wipers were barely keeping up. I'd seen the weather forecast and knew that was probably going to happen, so I'd called ahead for a reservation and booked it with my credit card. It was a good thing I had, because when I pulled into the campground, there was only one spot left and that spot was next to the tent sites. After pulling onto the pad, I leveled the Thor and ran out the extensions but didn't go out to hook anything up. My holding tanks were far from full and I had most of the 150 gallons of fresh water left in the water tank. The generator came to life when I started it so I had electricity for everything. The rain let up about half an hour later while I was deciding what I was going to have for dinner. It was then, a Jeep Wrangler drove into the tent site beside me. A woman got out, opened the back, and pulled out a bag. In the bag was a tent, and she started setting it up. It wasn't a big tent like the families I'd seen using, but it was big enough it was taking her a while. She had the back poles in place and was working on the poles at the entrance when it started raining again. In less than a minute, I figured she was soaked through to the skin and she still didn't have the tent so it would stand up by itself. She wasn't going to get it to stand up either. The wind that blew in the rain wasn't especially strong, but the tent was acting like the sail on a sailboat and it was obvious she wasn't strong enough to control it. I opened the side door on the Thor and yelled, "Hey, there. You're not getting anywhere. Come inside until this rain blows over". She looked up, gave me a funny look, but then ran over to the door and stepped inside. She said, "Thanks. I thought I could get my tent up before it started raining again, but I was getting drenched out there", then chuckled. "I think I better just stand here until it quits or I'll drip all over your floor." I didn't quite know what to say because she was the first woman I'd met in anything resembling a social environment in years. All I could do for a few seconds was look at her. She wasn't the young girl I'd expected to see. She looked about my age or maybe a little younger but I could see a few strands of sliver in her wet brunette hair. She was wearing jeans and a T-shirt that were both soaked through, and that wet T-shirt was sort of stuck to the bra holding her big breasts. When she smiled at me, I snapped out of my trance. "No, the floor is vinyl and it'll mop up just fine. Come on inside and dry off". She frowned at me. "No, thank you, unless your wife has a robe or something I can wear." I figured when I said I wasn't married, she'd think the worst and leave. I didn't want her to do that. "Ma'am, I'm not married, but I might be able to find something you could wear. I think you have a bigger problem than that though. You didn't get your tent set up so it'll be as wet on the inside as on the outside. You don't have anyplace to sleep even if it does stop raining." She frowned at me again. "I can sleep in my Jeep, thank you. I've done it before and it didn't kill me." "What about eating? I don't think you're going to be able to start a fire or light a stove in the rain." She cocked her head. "Are you asking me to spend the night with you?" "No, I'm just offering you a dry place to sleep, right here on my couch by yourself, and something hot to eat. Oh; and something to wear until your clothes dry out or you can get some dry ones." She was still looking at me with her head cocked to one side, so I tried to explain myself. "Ma'am, I've only been doing this for a few weeks, but one thing I've learned is most of the campers are friendly people who help each other out. That's all I'm trying to do. I'm not trying to suggest anything else." She looked at me for what had to be a minute, but then she smiled. "I guess it would be a lot nicer here than outside in my Jeep. Thank you for making the offer. I don't know what you'd have that I could wear though. Maybe a shirt would work, but you're a lot taller than me and my; well, I'm bigger in other places than you are, so your clothes aren't gonna fit me at all." I smiled, both because I'd evidently convinced her I wasn't a serial killer and because for some reason I was happy she was going to stay. "I think I might have

A Writer's Cabin: Part 2.

A WRITER'S CABIN: PART 2. A PERMANENT CHANGE OF LOCATION, AND STATE OF MIND. Based on a post by PickFiction [https://www.literotica.com/authors/PickFiction/works]. Listen to the Podcast [https://archive.org/download/it-happened-one-night_202404/AWritersCabin2.mp3] at Steamy Stories [https://feeds.feedburner.com/steamy-stories]. [https://archive.org/download/it-happened-one-night_202404/AWritersCabin2.jpg] I opened the door and stepped inside, announced by a jingling bell. "Dale, good morning," Brooke said, standing and extending her hand. Clad in tight black slacks, a red blouse, her dark hair held in place by a large gold clasp, and shoes with moderate heels, I was reminded that she was an attractive lady. And that didn't include the unforgettable pale blue eyes. "Good to see you, Brooke. I'm ready to sign whatever." "I have the papers ready." She spread some papers across her desk. "And I'm ready to pay, also." "You won't have to do that until the closing." I handed her the check. "Dale, this is for $225,000." "That should cover everything, shouldn't it?" "I'm sure, but you should pay at closing." "I'd rather just give it to you, and it will be here when it's needed." "Dale, I can't take it. I mean." "Brooke," I interrupted, "if I can trust you to drive my Porsche, I can trust you with my $225,000." For five seconds, she just looked at me, then the laughter began, and she had to sit down. At last, she took a deep breath and looked at me again. "Where did you come from?" she asked. 'And don't you dare say, New York." "All I can say is that visiting here and meeting the people, particularly you, is so much different than New York; that it's changing my behavior." "It's probably illegal or unethical, but drive me to the bank so I can deposit it. We'll sign when we get back." We did exactly that: the teller at the bank calling for her manager. I suggested they contact the bank in New York for verification. While the manager took care of that, Brooke and the teller chatted. I watched the teller lean forward and whisper to Brooke, who then looked at me. I stepped toward them. "Autographed copies if you don't tell anyone." "Really? Okay, I won't." Her nameplate told me she was Sally, and I'd try to remember that. "All confirmed," the manager said, "Go ahead and process it, Sally." "Largest check I've ever processed," Sally said, and we headed back to the office. "Maybe you can drive this thing after we do the signing." "I think I have things to do, Dale," she answered with a chuckle. "I've got some book signing to take care of." "Listen, I nearly forgot. The man who's selling the cabin has moved to Oregon and told me that if I felt sure of the sale, the buyer could move right in." "Oh my gosh, I'm ready." I began to plan as she drove. I'd leave the car here, fly to New York, rent a truck, and drive back to the cabin. I'd need some help. I wondered. "You're quiet." "Thinking, and I need help." "Go on." "Are there Ubers out here?" "Not unless they come from the city. Where do you need to go?" "The airport; so I can fly to New York, rent a truck, and drive my things back here." "And take the truck to the city to return it." I nodded. "Dale, you know I'd be more than happy to take care of that." What a beautiful smile accompanied her offer. "Eyes on the road, please, and you're way too kind." I assured her. "Well, you're a very interesting man, and I'm enjoying being around you." "Wow, and very honestly, I'm enjoying being around you as well. I'm learning things that are very foreign to me and will become a part of my writing; and my life." We'd pulled into the small lot, and there was that smile again with the sparkling pale blue eyes. Brooke was a very attractive lady. "Before I sign anything, let's go for a drive." "Dale, that frightens me. I don't know." If you ruin the car, I'll buy a new one and we'll try again." That certainly widened her eyes. "I'm not sure I totally understand you, Dale." "No problem. Perhaps I enjoy being a little mysterious." "Well, you certainly have surprised me a few times." She admitted. "Come on. You can just drive the car a couple of blocks as a starter." Obviously reluctant, she followed me to the Porsche and climbed into the driver s seat. "I m so close to the ground," she said with a giggle. I showed her how to adjust the seat and the mirrors. "I'm only going a couple of blocks. We don't need to change everything." I discovered she had driven a standard shift when she'd first learned to drive at sixteen. It was a pickup truck with a column shift lever, but at least she'd used a clutch before. As we pulled away from the parking spot and she pressed on the accelerator, we shot forward, then slammed to a stop. "Dale," she pleaded. "I'm not going to learn to play the piano after one lesson, rebutted her implied argument. and you'll need to learn about the Porsche as well. Just keep going." We completed the two-block circuit, and I don't think I've ever seen such a relieved look on a face. "I'd say that was a good job. Now, let s go sign some papers." She smiled, and I could tell that, in her own way, she had enjoyed driving the Porsche, possibly just from the sense of accomplishment. I signed everything, thanked Brooke again for all her help, and then returned to the motel to make lots of arrangements. When they were taken care of, I made another call. "Well, it's about time you called." Katherine s New York rudeness now was even more obvious when I was in rural Ohio. "You could have called me." I matched her pushiness. "I was being polite and not disturbing what you're doing wherever you are." She congratulated her own virtue. "You're a saint, Katherine, an absolute saint. Did you get the two chapters taken care of?" "I did. Your editor loved them and only changed a couple of words. How have you beguiled her to go along with whatever you write?" I used Marie Laveau, the voodoo queen from Louisiana." "I thought she was long dead. Katherine bantered back at me. "Obviously not, if she's working for me." "So, why did you call?" "Just to let you know that I will be in town tomorrow to rent a truck and use it the following day as a receptacle for my New York life, which will be transported to Ohio to my new residence." "So, you're really doing that?" "It's done. I've purchased a place, and will send you the new address." "How can you stand that, after living in New York?" "How could I have stood New York, knowing what I know now." "Maybe Marie Laveau has cast a spell on you." The witty agent didn t miss a beat. I almost said, not Marie, but Brooke, but held my tongue. "Of course, I wish you good luck and hope this doesn't disrupt your writing." "On the contrary, I think it will help my writing." "Send me the address." We signed off, and I called Brooke. "What's the latest?" "My plane leaves at ten, so I'd like to be there by eight-thirty. What time should I be ready?" "I'll pick you up at seven-forty-five." "You're a jewel, Brooke." "You're very sweet. See you in the morning." She said, then hung up. As expected, Brooke was there right on time, and the trip to the airport was straightforward and uneventful. She cautioned me several times to drive carefully on the way back since my Porsche and the truck I'd be renting had absolutely nothing in common. I assured her that I would. At the airport, she got out of the car and walked around to where I was standing. She extended her arms, and I stepped into them and received a warm and very enjoyable squeeze. "Hurry back, Mister," she said. "I checked, and the driving time from New York to here is about eight and a half hours. With stops, probably over nine hours. I plan to have everything ready when I pick up the truck, so hopefully, I'll get started home by ten in the morning. That should get me home at seven or eight." "Here's the key to the cabin. Give me a call when you want to turn in the truck, and I'll follow you there." "Brooke, you don't have to do all that." I was beginning to feel guilty about all that she was doing. "Brooke Rowe Real Estate provides full service," she said with a chuckle. "Now, one more hug, and get on your way." We hugged again, and I thanked her for everything. I was traveling light, no bag; and checking in and boarding was simple. The flight was an hour long, and I called an Uber to take me to my apartment. The boxes I'd ordered had been delivered to the lobby of the building, and I carried them upstairs, put them together, and packed them. I wasn't a clothing hog, so that part was simple. The pictures and knick-knacks were easy as well, and soon, everything was ready. I checked with the truck rental, and they were ready for me. I decided to head to Zǐh o's for dinner and a farewell. "Mr. Dale. Have not seen you for a while." "I know, Zǐh o. I've been in Ohio." "Oh, far out west." "It's a ways, but I'm moving there." "Moving? No more eating at Zǐh o's?" He said with a sober face. "I'm afraid not. And I'll miss it for sure." "Tonight, my treat. Order what you want." He said with resolute duty. "Shrimp fried rice will be perfect. I love it." The fried rice was perfect, and I knew I'd miss it in Ohio. The food at the diner in Caraway was very different but equally good. I wondered if I'd miss the variety that I was used to in New York. Time would tell. We bid each other farewell, and I promised Zǐh o that I'd be sure to come to see him when I was in New York in the future. Picking up the truck went much as I'd learned to expect things in New York to go. "What do you mean you can't find my reservation? I called yesterday to check, and they said everything was in order." "Ain't my problem, Mister. There ain't a reservation here for Dale Scholtz." "You've got to have it. Check again." He checked with the same result.     "I checked yesterday. D a l e S c h u l t z:" "Wait. I thought you said your name was S-c-h-o-l-t-z." "I think that may have been what you thought you heard, but that's incorrect." He glared at me but checked again. "Yeah, here it is." He slapped a paper down on the counter. "Sign here, here, and here." The pen was slapped down equally hard. "Take this out to the booth. They'll show you the truck." He stomped back to his desk. I received a few instructions at the booth, drove to the apartment, and loaded the truck. It was a small truck, like an SUV, so it wasn't quite like driving a forty-foot truck. I maneuvered my way out of New York fairly quickly, letting the built-in GPS guide me. Soon, I was on the road and headed to Ohio. I'd been driving for nearly an hour when I realized I was wishing that Brooke was sitting next to me and talking with me as I drove. That was certainly something new. She seemed really nice and willing to help me get established. I'd even commented on it before I left, and she indicated she was perfectly happy doing it. How happy was she? And then there'd been the hugs yesterday. Two of them. I smiled as I realized how much I'd enjoyed those hugs. Was something about me changing? I'd gone twenty-seven years without women cluttering my life, but this one seemed different. Was it just the Caraway difference I'd been experiencing, or was there more? She was enjoyable to look at with those fascinating blue eyes contrasting with her very dark hair and slightly dark complexion. She'd never really said anything that indicated that she liked me or wanted to be with me, except that she was often with me. Uh. What would I do when I was back in Ohio? Maybe just wait for her to be more definite? If I was writing this as a story, how would I do it? I wrote about romance, so why didn't I know more about real life? Maybe it was because I controlled the writing, and I wasn't sure I was in control now. I arrived at the cabin at about eight, as expected, and was inside the after unloading the first box when I received a text. Are you at the cabin yet? Just got here and beginning to unload. Would you like some help? What did that mean? Did she really want to help? Was it just Brooke Rowe Real Estate completing their full service? I stopped and took a deep breath. Dale, I asked myself. Are you overanalyzing? Would you like to have Brooke here? Answer, "Yes, I would. If it's not an inconvenience for you, I'd love to have some help. Good. I'll be there in fifteen minutes. More analysis. She'd said, "Good." That seemed to mean that she was happy that I needed some help. A subtle hint, perhaps, but I was going to take it at face value and see what developed. In fact, I stopped unloading, leaving more for us to do together when she arrived. Brooke swept through the front door with a big smile. "That's not a very big truck, not at all what I was picturing." "I didn't move any furniture, just clothing, books, and miscellaneous stuff. But it all needs to be unloaded." "Let's get going then." It wasn't difficult with me taking the heavier boxes and Brooke the lighter ones. By nine-thirty, we were finished. Thank you so much, Brooke. I appreciate the help, and I appreciate you." Her eyes jerked to mine. "Well, I enjoy being with you too. Are you planning to sleep here tonight? We need to make a bed if you are." "Well, I don't want to sleep here until I'm completely moved, and as long as I have the truck, it isn't complete. Tomorrow, I'll have the grand moving in, even though, officially, I don't own it yet." "That will be nice." There was a definite questioning look on her face. "Lots of things need to be done, and I could use more help deciding where to hang things, what things to add, and what furniture to replace." "The lady that owns the furniture store in town is a pretty good decorator, too. She could probably help you." I smiled. "I think I'd rather have Brooke Rowe Real Estate complete their full service by helping me." A wonderful smile shone on Brooke's face. "Good. She'd love to do it." Brooke confirmed in 3rd person. "What's open where we can get something to eat?" I was hungry. "Not much, except Brooke Rowe Real Estate's full-service kitchen." I shook my head. "Brooke, that's too much." She looked sad. "Are you rejecting Brooke's offer to feed you?" I realized I couldn't reject any offer from Brooke. "Never," I replied, "but I owe you big time." "I'll have to come up with a way for you to pay this off, then." That comment came with a different kind of smile to her face. I followed the Cadillac to a pleasant one-story house on the very edge of town. She pulled into the garage, and I parked on the driveway. "I hope you like cheese," Brooke said as she prepared the grilled cheese sandwiches. "Are you putting three kinds of cheese on each sandwich?" "Sure. Isn't that the way you're supposed to do it," she added with a giggle. "You're the expert," I said, anticipating what this might be like. "And I'm using cinnamon butter on the bread, too." "Brooke, where'd you learn this stuff?" "I like to experiment." I enjoy good food, and I wanted to know what other experiments she might have on hand. "Here ya go. Lemme know." I waited a few seconds to let it cool, having burned my mouth more than once on hot cheese. I loved her anticipatory look. I took the first bite. "Oh my gosh, what a surprise. I've never had a grilled cheese like this before, and anytime you're serving, I'll be here to eat them." "Really?" "If you let me know, I promise to come and praise your culinary expertise." "Aw, you're sweet. I have other recipes you might like." "Could you prepare them at the cabin? I can picture us sitting on the screened-in porch eating a delicious and unique dinner." "Me, too, Dale. I'd love to do that." Her flirting was as overt as my own. "Just send me a list of what you need, and I'll have it ready for you." She nodded. "Okay." We finished the sandwiches and set nine in the morning for her to meet me at the motel and follow me to where I'd be turning in the truck. I locked up and we headed off, me to the motel and Brooke to her house. I climbed into bed smiling. The sandwich had been excellent, and Brooke inviting me to her house even better. I'd found it difficult to leave her, and I sensed she was feeling the same. I was a sensitive writer, or so I'd been called by the critics, and I should be able to understand people. When I looked myself straight in the eye, I realized that I had been fully understanding Brooke but refusing to accept it. Tomorrow, maybe I could straighten things out. I was sitting in the truck, waved to her when she arrived and headed to the address I'd been given. It was accurate, and the turning-in process was much more straightforward than the picking-up process had been. Just the difference between New York and Caraway I guessed. I climbed into the Cadillac. "Thanks again for being so helpful." "You don't need to keep saying that, Dale. I know you're thankful, and by now, we're good friends and do things for each other." "I don't know. It'll be difficult, but I'll try. I m not use to kindness, living in New York. I just want to let you know how much it means to me. "Do you have lots of ideas for decorating the cottage?" "Not really. I'm going to have you decorate it just the way you'd like to have it." "But you might not like some of the things I'd do." "I doubt it." "Dale, are you sure? I don't want to spend money on something you won't like." "Well, if you decorate it just the way you like, then you won't have to change anything when it's yours and my cabin." She hit the brakes hard and pulled onto the berm. "What did you just say?" "What did you just hear?" "What I've been wanting to hear for several days." "I think you heard correctly, then." "Are you saying ...?" "I'm saying that I missed you more than I'd imagined I could while I was away for only two days. I wanted you in the seat beside me while I drove. I pictured that over and over." "I missed you so much and prayed over and over that you'd be safe." I took hold of her hand and pulled her toward me. "I missed those blue eyes looking at me." "Kiss me." I did, and she kissed me back. I was amazed at the feelings that were racing through my body. "I've been so afraid." "Of what? Surely not of me?" I asked, surprised at what she'd said. "Of myself and the way I was feeling about you." "But we've gotten along so well." "I know, but you're a famous author from New York, and I'm just a small-town real estate agent.

A Writer's Cabin: Part 1

A WRITER'S CABIN: PART 1. RETREATING TO AN ISOLATED CABIN, A FAMOUS AUTHOR FINDS LOVE. Based on a post by PickFiction [https://www.literotica.com/authors/PickFiction/works]. Listen to the Podcast [https://archive.org/download/it-happened-one-night_202404/AWritersCabin1.mp3] at Steamy Stories [https://feeds.feedburner.com/steamy-stories]. [https://archive.org/download/it-happened-one-night_202404/AWritersCabin1.jpg] "Dale, nice of you to drop in." Katherine's sardonic smile told me how she really felt. "I have an appointment." "That hasn't always mattered in the past." I'd missed one appointment in nearly a year, but Katherine loved to jab me with the nits she picked. "I suppose. You make bundles off me, though", I retorted. "So, that gives you the right to ignore appointments and not even have the common courtesy to let me know." I'd left my cell phone at a restaurant. "Listen, if you want to drop me from your list of clients, we can work that out. You're getting to be a pain in the ass to deal with, Katherine. Plus, this office of yours on the forty-fourth floor is a pain. I get an upset stomach riding the elevator." Being from New York and hating elevators did not meld well, but somehow, I'd survived. "My poor delicate author. Perhaps you should try the stairs." "Perhaps we should try some Zoom appointments." I wondered why Katherine and I could never have a friction-free meeting. Maybe it was our signs. I'm a Libra and I'd learned earlier that she was an Aries. Silly, perhaps, but there was definitely something. I think we rather enjoyed skirmishing with each other. "Bars are kind of noisy for Zoom calls." She objected. "You don't know me at all, Katherine. I don't drink in public -- oh, maybe a glass of wine at those idiotic things you schedule for me." "Those idiotic things sell your books." I hated to admit that I needed to sell books. I wrote because I loved it and seemed to have a certain talent for it. But I also needed a roof over my head and food in my stomach. Therefore, I needed to sell books, and Katherine was here to help me do just that. And, I had to admit that she'd done a decent job. My bank account assured me of that. "I suppose you're right." I relented. "Let me mark this on my calendar. Dale Schultz agreed with something I said." She scribbled something on her desk calendar. "So why exactly did I have to ride the supersonic elevator to see you today." "I thought I told you that." "You sent me an email that basically said, be there or be square." "I'm surprised you'd let a clich like that escape your lips." She teased. "Talking isn't writing. And some people like clich s." "On another subject, four chapters of the new book are due today." "They're only due because you arbitrarily decide they're due. Sometimes fictional writing isn't done on a schedule." "I thought a brilliant author like yourself could just snap your fingers and magnificently amazing stories appeared on the computer screen." "Having never done it, I would expect you to think that." "What, that you're a brilliant author?" "You have three of the chapters on the flash drive, and the fourth is nearly complete. What's the rush?" We want to get it published before the Christmas buying season. People still like to purchase hard copies of books by famous authors." I was a moderately famous author, even though I didn't often admit it to myself. It made selling books relatively simple, which I enjoyed. But it made the public appearances and book signings that Katherine arranged; the bane of my existence. I was not a public person, and traveling all over the country was not enjoyable, and something needed to be done about it. I wasn't sure what, just yet. "I suppose you're right. Put another note on your calendar there, for the mental slip of mine." "What?" She perked up. "I said, bane of my existence, another horrible clich . Katherine shrugged, but didn't make a note on her desk calendar. "Also, I have a check for you since you won't simplify things by allowing direct deposits to your bank account." "I'm old-fashioned, I guess. I hear about bad things happening from that." "Well, here's your preliminary check for the new book." I glanced at it long enough to see $100,000 on the amount line. That would hold me for a while. This would be my fifth book, and the first four had been nicely successful, so my bank account was well-stocked at the present time, far beyond anything I'd imagined when I began writing. I folded the check and stuck it in my pocket. "And we need to review the schedule of personal appearances and book signings I've set up for you." It was only March, and we were shooting for a September publish date. I couldn't sign books until they were published. Maybe I could get COVID 19, or something and avoid all of that. Katherine had twelve events lined up, some of which would get national attention and some that were small, local events. I had insisted on the latter. I grew up in rural Pennsylvania before we moved to New York, and we Pennsylvanians had always seemed to be bypassed by everything big or important that happened. I wanted people in those types of places to have access to signed copies of my books if they wanted them. "Those don't begin until October, so please don't forget about them. I'll send emails to remind you." "I think your emails go directly to my spam folder. I'll have to check." I said in a deadpan delivery. "You're impossible. If I didn't make gobs of money from you, I'd dump you in a nanosecond." "Same here, you know." We bid each other goodbye, and I left her office. Walking down the hall toward the elevator, I wondered what it might be like to descend forty-four flights of stairs. I was getting hungry and decided I needed plenty of nourishment before I attempted that, so I stopped at the elevator, as always. We made several stops on the way down, which seemed to decrease our peak velocity, and my stomach survived. I wondered if I could find an agent whose office was on the ground floor. Probably not. ZǏH O W NG'S CHINESE RESTAURANT. It was an unusually warm March day, so I walked to Zǐh o W ng's Chinese Restaurant rather than using a taxi or an Uber. Since I ate there often, Mr. W ng wasn't surprised to see me. "Some shrimp chow mein for famous author?" were his words of greeting. That was my favorite of the restaurant's offerings, although their menu covered three pages. "That sounds good, Zǐh o, but keep the shrimp and change the other to fried rice." "Hot tea and wonton soup?" He offered. It was lunchtime, but I could make it my dinner. "Of course," I answered, nodding to him and receiving his nod in return. I checked my phone and had several text messages. I'd changed my number several times, but somehow, people discovered what it was and would send me unwanted texts. They weren't spam or scams, just people talking about my writing. I read several of them since I had nothing else to do, but I stashed the phone when the wonton soup arrived. Mr. W ng served me personally and sat down as he usually did. "How is wonton soup today? Breaking in new cook and would like opinion." "Zǐh o, your wonton is always excellent, and this is no different. Some wonton is more water than anything else, but yours is solid and nourishing." "Will inform new cook. Will Mr. Dale be wanting take home today?" "Your food and my microwave seem to get along well, so perhaps the shrimp chow mein would be good." "Will have, when finish. You good customer, Mr. Dale." "That's because you're a good cook. I didn't have much Chinese until I came to New York, but I'm glad my parents found your restaurant. And," I said, winking at him, "I've included it in my new book. Characters in the book will be eating here." "Mr. Dale, many thanks. For kindness, today is on me." I bowed my head to him. "The many thanks is for you, Zǐh o. But I insist on paying." I knew from experience that when people saw the name of the restaurant in the book, they'd come here to eat, and Zǐh o would be very busy. It made me happy to be able to do that for him, as he always took very good care of me. I saw someone from the kitchen headed for my table. Zǐh o took the sack and handed it to me. "Chow mein for dinner," he said with a smile. "Tell me something, Zǐh o. Do you like New York, the big city?" "I born in Foshan in China and live there till I come here. I think population there is nine million. So, I used to big city. Is important to me as I feel strange when not in big city. You from big city too, Mr. Dale?" "No, no, I'm not. I come from a small town, and I feel out of place somehow." "But you famous author. Is important to be in big city for you, isn't it." I chuckled. "It's easier sometimes, and I suppose important for some things, but it's also annoying most of the time." "Have friends in China who say same thing about Foshan." "It's what you get used to, I guess." I grumbled. "New York big, but not Foshan." "I think I know what you mean, Zǐh o. I paid him for both meals and included a nice tip, which I knew he'd divide among his servers. I left Zǐh o's and walked back to my apartment, which was on the fourth floor and not the forty-forth. I let my mind wander, trying to concentrate on creating a new chapter for the book. But it was difficult with loud diesel buses, emergency sirens, and just the noise and bustle of a big city. I rode the slow-motion elevator to the fourth floor. Although I could certainly have afforded a nicer place, I was content with the one-bedroom cubby which I inhabited. As I was approaching my door, I heard someone calling to me. "Hey, Dale. How's it going, neighbor?" "Hey, Zach. Not too bad for a March day, and after a trip to the forty-fourth floor." "Uh-oh, that again. How's your stomach?" he asked with a little laugh. "We made lots of stops, so it wasn't too bad. I stopped at Zǐh o's and had some fried rice and brought some chow mein home." I held up the bag with the familiar emblem on the side. "We need to go there. It's been a while, and Talia loves Cashew Chicken."     "That's good stuff. I have it every once in a while." "Got the book finished?" "Nearly. A couple more chapters." "I'm sure you'll be relieved, and the money will be rolling in." "I suppose. I'm just anxious to get started on the next book." "Dale, you need to slow down and enjoy the fruits of your labor, whatever they might be. I know that money isn't the big motivation for you, but still, savor all that adulation you receive." I laughed. "All of that adulation is a pain in the ass, and I could do without it. Book signings and being on The Morning Mirror. And all of that other good stuff, i.e. crap." I always sensed that it was good stuff, in its own way, but not particularly for me. It was awkward, and the questions they asked were always frivolous and not something that I particularly cared about. I enjoyed sometimes talking about the process of creating and then writing a story, but I'd been told that most listeners found that boring after about thirty seconds of it. They wanted sensational things, like who I was currently sleeping with or what woman I was chasing, things like that. Most of my time on the show seemed to be spent denying rumors as no one seemed to believe that I was a boring guy, content to eat, sleep, and write my books. 'I feel very awkward on that show and others that have had me. People think that if you're famous, you should fit into a particular mold, and I don't." "I can see that about you for sure." "But, what the heck are you doing home, Zach? Shouldn't you be working?" "Yeah, but Talia was sick this morning, and she needed help getting to the doctor, so I took a day of vacation." "Aw, I'm sorry about that. How's she doing?" "Much better. The doc said it was probably something she ate, so It's not contagious, thank goodness." "May I stick my head in to wish her well." "Let me make sure she's decent." He disappeared for a moment. "Come on in, Dale." "Hey, Talia, how are you feeling?" "Better, but that doesn't mean good." "Aw, sorry." "I should be okay tomorrow." I thought she looked pale enough that tomorrow might not do it." "So, are you still thinking about what we talked about the other day?" Zack gestured for me to have a seat. I plopped into a lounger. It had been in and out of my mind all day, from my time with Katherine through my lunch with Zǐh o, to now. "I have, but it's a tough decision." "Talia and I would hate to lose a good neighbor, but don't let that influence you." Zack looked at the ceiling as he spoke, unsuccessfully stifling a smile. "I'd hate that too, but that's only one issue. I could go back to Pennsylvania, but for some reason, I'm hesitant to do that." "Lots of big hills in P A, but I'm from Ohio, and the climate is similar, but more variation in the topography." "I like hills, but big hills and snow don't always mix well." "Take a look at Ohio. And take a look at Caraway Hills in the south-central area. Kind of an older area with rolling hills and lots of nice cabins and cottages." "Listen, thanks for the information. I've got some work to do, so I'll leave you two alone. Talia, get well, please." "Thanks, Dale. I hope so," Talia said, rather weakly, I thought. In my room, I sat at my writing desk, opened my laptop, and searched for Caraway Hills, Ohio. I found two real estate companies that had listings there and saw some very nice cottages, cabins, and luxury homes. I chuckled at the luxury homes. What I had in mind was something like my New York apartment, something simple but adequate. I didn't want a fixer-upper since I wasn't very handy. I could paint and probably drive a nail, but hanging things on the wall might be a challenge. I was certain there would be videos on the internet to help if I needed them. As I paged through the cabins, carefully checking details, I knew that I had made my decision without realizing it. I was going to move to Ohio, much to Katherine's chagrin, I was sure. I needed to finish the last two chapters and get the process started. "You made quick work of those last two chapters," Katherine said, peering at me over the top of her glasses. "I hope they measure up to the rest of the book." "I'm sure you can touch them up if they don't." "I'm your agent, not your editor." "I must have forgotten. Sorry." "Yeah, right. Do you have an outline for your next book yet?" "This one isn't even published yet." "And speaking of that, I'll email your appearance schedule so you can finalize your plans. " "Speaking of plans, I've already finalized one." That got her attention. "Oh?" "Yes. I'm moving to Ohio." I said it as matter-of-factly as I could. "Like that's going to happen," she replied with a laugh. I didn't respond. Katherine looked up from her computer. "You are teasing me, aren't you?" "Nope, I made the decision two days ago. We'll soon be Zooming." "Dale, why would you do a silly thing like that? It makes no sense." "To you, perhaps." "To anyone with common sense." "That leaves me out then, I guess." "Dale, I'm sensing that you're serious about this. Is there no way to talk you out of it?" "Don't even try. I'll be off to Ohio next week to find a place to live. And it won't be on the forty-fourth floor, or even the fourth floor." I ended my time with Katherine and made what I hoped would be my final descent on that miserable elevator. I'd never gotten a chance to try the stairs.  THE OHIO VALLEY. The drive to Ohio was smooth and uneventful but was over five hundred miles and took nine-plus hours. I'd booked a motel room near Caraway Hills, actually on the edge of Caraway, a small town near the Hills. I checked in and then went out and grabbed some dinner at a quaint mom-and-pop diner. The food was delicious, and I think I had a smile on my face the entire time I was there. Back at the motel, I made some notes regarding a possible new story and then went to sleep. The following morning, I was ready to go and anxious as well. I'd called ahead to the realty company and talked with Brooke Row, the owner, who said she'd be ready to show me several possibilities. I stopped at the diner for breakfast, and was taken in again by the good home cooking. I made it to the Realty company at nine and was greeted by Brooke. I'd never spent much time around women as they tended to distract me from my writing. When I came through the door, a quick glance told me that she was attractive. When she looked at me, I nearly froze. Her dark hair contrasted sharply with her very pale blue eyes. She was the living personification of one of the favorite characters I had created. Not a very pleasant character, unfortunately, but one I enjoyed writing about. I decided not to mention it, as I wasn't anxious for people to know I was a writer. "Mr. Schultz, it's so good to meet you after our messaging. And please call me Brooke." "I'm just Dale, and I'm anxious to see what you've picked out for me." "Tell me again exactly what you're looking for." "I'm really looking for something simple, maybe one bedroom, a decent living area, and some space between me and the neighbors." "Actually, there aren't many one-bedroom places available. I'm not sure what your occupation is, but a second bedroom could be transformed into a very nice office." "Good point. I probably could use an office." I didn't volunteer what it would be used for, and she didn't ask. "Okay, why don't I go with a two-bedroom, then? It would cost a little more, but there are plenty of those available." "Yeah, that's good. I'm not worried about a few more dollars." "How about amenities? Would you like a pool?" "No, I don't need a pool for sure." "Hot tub?" That one made me think. I'd been in a few hot tubs, and they were nice. "It wouldn't be inside the house, would it?" Brooke chuckled. "Oh no, it would be on the porch or beside the cabin." My turn to chuckle. Yeah, I guess all that steam inside the cabin wouldn't be good." She nodded but didn't reply. "It sounds like you're looking for a fairly basic cabin. Is that a fair description of what you're after?" "I think so. I mean, I don't want peeling paint, or floorboards that you can fall through." "I get the picture, Mr., uh, Dale. What about land?" "I'd like for it to be on land." I kept as straight a face as possible. Her head snapped up from looking at her notebook. I had that innocent look on my face. "I'll make a note of that. Mr. Schultz does not want a cabin-boat." I enjoyed that she was smiling. Her easy manner told me we were going to get along fine searching for a cabin. "I don't want any close neighbors, so if that takes a little more land, that's fine. I'm from New York City, and Central Park was the only view of land that I had." "Ah, that helps. Are you good at math and visualization?" "No, and

A Kept Woman's Lust: Part 2

A KEPT WOMAN'S LUST: PART 2. LEAVING ROME FOR OSCAR AND DENMARK.. BASED ON A POST BY AINU2 [https://www.literotica.com/authors/ainu2/works/stories]. LISTEN TO THE ►PODCAST [https://archive.org/download/spring-erotic-stories/AKeptWomansLust2.mp3] AT STEAMY STORIES [https://feeds.feedburner.com/steamy-stories]. [https://archive.org/download/spring-erotic-stories/AKeptWomansLust2.jpg] Ever since my teens, when I first saw the cock of Alex, my neighbor, as we learned about sex from each other, I've been obsessed with them. It's like erect cocks are something magical or something. I love looking at them, taking them in my mouth and sucking on them, pulling cum out of them, just feeling them, jerking them off, and, of course, feeling them moving inside me. I think that down deep somewhere I want one for myself, I envy guys having those terrific cocks. And, just as every cock is unique to some extent, guys use them differently. I'm always horny. I can be wet enough to let a cock push into me in seconds after the idea of fucking enters my mind. I'm usually sort of in a hurry. I don't want to fool around, I want to grab that cock and swallow it, or get it in my vagina. I'm not really into slowly building up to anything, I'm ready now. Most guys are like me. They just want to fuck and the sooner the better. Most guys also are intent on doing what they want, not what the female wants. Some guys, the smarter ones, have learned that the sex comes out better overall if they make the female happy, make the female desire them and not just be a cum receptacle. I've even learned that, too, and purposely try and make the guy feel good by telling him how sexy he is or what a great cock he has. But I've never learned to tease and slowly build to a climax. I'm always ready now. I've had guys who purposely tease and slowly work towards climaxing. It isn't natural. I think some woman has taught them to do that. I have to admit that when the climax finally comes with them, it's a good one. But I've laid there with a guy licking my clit, after I've already cum twice, almost yelling, "fuck me, damn it, fuck me." Oscar's a terrific lover. He truly wants to satisfy me, wants to do whatever it is that I want him to do. He's gentle. It's almost as if he thinks I'm some goddess and my body is something sacred that he hopes I'll let him use. It's nice. But he can also really bang into me full force when we get to it and I'm telling him, "harder, faster." He's also very healthy, in good shape, can get it up again fairly quickly. All in all, a terrific guy to be with. So, we never leave his room until lunch time. A late lunch at that. We have paninis, which I discover is basically a sandwich, this one ham and cheese that's been heated in an oven, in a dinky little shop. It's delicious. I have a bottle of water, Oscar has a beer. I'll drink a little on occasion but not often. I prefer to remain sharp, feel what I feel and not dull my senses. Then to the coliseum. We take a guided tour and afterwards Oscar and I go into some of the areas that were beneath the floor originally. Rooms where the gladiators lived, where wild animals were stored. Then down the train another couple stops to the Circus Maximus which today is disappointing, it's basically a big field. Oscar told me about the wild chariot races they used to have. He's a terrific guide, I like being with him. Later, in almost twilight, we wander through the old forum, now all ruins, and Oscar tells me all of the things that used to happen there. Then dinner in another small restaurant. Spaghetti carbonara, which I've never had before and certainly will again, and a salad of tomatoes and cheese, Caprese, I think it's called, that I'll also have again. I even have a glass of red wine. Then back to the room for some sex. I'm more turned on to Oscar than ever now. I can only hope he stays as horny as he is now after he's fucked me forty or fifty times. Nest morning, more sex. Then the Spanish steps, at least a half dozen churches that are all marvelous and I remain amazed how much Oscar knows. He says he's just red a lot about Italy. After lunch back to the room for some more sex. Dinner out and then the Opera. Outdoors in a huge old place, used to be public baths. I've never been to an opera before. Rigoletto this one is called. I have to admit that most of it went over my head but I like it and the total experience is unbelievable. It's sort of late when we get back so just a little sex but then a little more in the morning. I'll have to talk Oscar into getting rooms with their own bathrooms from now on. That bath down the hall is a problem, particularly with all the sex we're having and my having to clean myself out so often. It does let us shower together but a lot of the time there are other people in the bathroom and that isn't conducive to having sex, at least for me. I never thought of it before but I guess I'm a little more private than I might have thought. I do know that I've had opportunities before for group sex, several people involved, and I've always steered clear of that. I love sex enough that I often have more than one guy on the string but I experience them one at a time. We have a couple more places to see the next day and we get to the bank so I can get my ATM card and be able to access money all over Italy. I let Oscar know that I'm willing to share the costs of some things, like rooms with a bath, I don't need to free load off him all the time. We'll see but from the way he acts, I don't think I'll be spending much, he seems to want to be my benefactor. So I'm back to being a kept woman again. Except I don't get left in the room while he's out, we go out together. Lots and lots of time together and for me, at least, I like him more the more I'm with him. Then by train to Naples. Old city, lots of small streets bending around, easy to get lost. Visit Pompeii, Oscar knows a lot about it all. Must have been horrible when it happened and the whole town got buried in volcanic ash and lava. On to Positano. Beautiful little town located where mountains meet the sea so it's tiered way up the steep hill. Oscar is great to be with. We have sex a lot. The more often I experience his cock the more I love it. I think he'd almost prefer eating me to fucking me, which is great. He then tells me that he'd like to change our itinerary a little, spend some time at a romantic spot up in Tuscany. I know nothing about all this so I agree. We go back to Rome on the train and he surprises me and rents a car. A tiny little Fiat with a gear shift. Apparently we're going some place that is hard to get to on public transportation. We drive most of the day. We end up exactly where he planned. He learned about this place from someone he knows and I guess he called from Positano and made arrangements. It's a small complex of buildings, all stone. The owner must have spent a lot of money converting old farm buildings and a home into this. We have a room with bath. I would guess that there must be five or six other rooms plus a separate house. Lots of land. A beautiful swimming pool. Oscar suggested that we relax by taking a swim, even though it's what I would consider to be dinner time. But, it's still light and warm, so why not. I actually have a swim suit with me. A red, minimal bikini. As we start across the lawn to the pool, Oscar tells me, "Diane, that bathing suit is so sexy. I want to stop right here and attack you. I don't think you can imagine how sexy you are." "Oscar, if you want to attack me, it's fine with me. Seeing you makes me feel like attacking you, too. You're a very handsome guy. And I love your cock." He pulls me to him and holds me tight and we kiss. "Fuck," he says as he breaks the kiss. He then turns and runs and dives into the pool so I run after him and also dive in. I glide through the water and surface and look around and don't see him. I feel something and look down and he's got his face against my pussy, well actually against my bathing suit, and he's trying to bite me a little, just with his lips, not his teeth. I spread my legs to give him room and he continues for a minute or so and then has to pop up to catch his breath. We're against the side in the deep end of the pool. There are three kids, maybe six or seven years old, in the shallow end. There are four or five adults sitting on folding chairs around the side of the pool. Everyone is looking at us. I smile at the closest people and say, "Hi." Both smile back, one just nods but the man says "Hi," in return. Oscar's smiling at them, too. He's facing me, his hands on the pool coping on either side of me. "We're going to need to go back to our room soon, I want you very, very much." he almost whispers to me. "I want you, too," I quietly answer, "Why don't we swim a couple laps and then go back, just to let all these people know we meant to come to the pool." We stay there five days. It's like a honeymoon probably should be. I love sex, can't get enough. Well, I come as close to getting enough as I ever have. Maybe actually more than enough. We come out to eat meals (although the place supplies a breakfast, croissant and coffee, so we can stay in all morning when we want) and to make quick day trips to Sienna and a couple small hill towns. In the morning, I wake up and suck off his gorgeous cock and then he eats me and then we fuck. As always, he eats me like he's hungry for me, giving me two orgasms and we fuck in several positions because he lasts and lasts. It's glorious. We take a shower which gets us both horny and we fuck again. Then we go out and get a meal and a visit to some place and come back and get naked on the bed and start over. We learn that the other guests are sight seeing so the pool is all ours during the day. The first time we're alone in the pool and Oscar starts trying to much on my pussy, I pull my bottom off so he can get at me. When he comes up for air, I push his trunks down so his cock is free and we fuck in the pool, both of us vertical. When I go to reach for my bikini bottoms on the side of the pool, he helps boost me up and I sit there, bare bottomed, my legs in the water while he eats me. I jump back in the pool after cumming and pull him to the shallow end where I sit him on a step and 3/4 of his cock sticks up out of the water and I get my mouth and hands on it and suck him until he's almost ready to cum and then I get up against him and sit down on it and we fuck until he cums. We go back to the room to get dressed but take the time to fuck again, then dress and go out and eat something and come back to the room. Each day we do this. I must have a dozen orgasms a day, often more, and he cums five or six times. I doubt if it's possible for two people to have sex any more often. Because if we could, we would. In between he sucks on my nipples and feels me all over and I do the same to him. It's as good a time as I've ever had in my life. Then up to Florence where I see the greatest art in the world, then on to Venice. There's no way to describe Venice, it has to be experienced. We have sex all the time. And then four weeks is up. Oscar has to go back to Denmark. I learn he isn't Oscar. That's how I would spell it. He's Oskar. Last name Sorensen. He wants me to come with him to his home in Denmark. His apartment, actually. I want to go because I want the sex to continue. I also realize, I like being with him, want to continue being with him. So I agree to go with him but let him know that I have to go back to the US. soon. I'll need to see if I can get my old job back or else find a new job. Since times are sort of tough, putting all that off for a little while makes some sense. But I realize that all that thinking of mine is a fake, I really just want us to continue the great sex. His apartment in Copenhagen is great! Two bedrooms, living room, kitchen, bath. Very modern. Wood floors, white walls, modern metal and black leather furniture, photos with black frames on the walls. Roomy, lots of windows, lots of light. Located on the top floor, which is the fifth floor, of a fairly new building right down town. He walks to his job at the museum. Our first day there we spend the entire time naked, continuing our habit of feeling and holding each other and having sex as often as possible. I love the feel and taste of his cock so I usually suck him for as long as I think I can before switching and having him fuck me until he cums. After the first couple times, he lasts a long time before cumming so we manage to have him in me, in one position or another, for literally hours. I don't think I've ever really loved anything more. Oskar has to go to work in the morning so I set the alarm early enough for us to have sex before he leaves. The clock is right next to me so when it goes off, I stop it quickly and turn over to reach down and get at Oskar's lovely cock. It's already up and ready. That must be the norm, for guys to wake up erect because I've experienced it often before. I slide my hand up and down, feeling it, as I move around to get my naked body down where I can get my mouth to him. I kiss the head, lick it, then get my lips over it and start sucking and licking. Oskar finally wakes as I take most of him into my mouth. I can't imagine anything sexier than a delicious big cock first thing in the morning. I finally get him to cum and swallow it all. He almost picks me up to move around and get his face to my pussy. He's so good at eating me. He knows what I like and it's obvious that he loves doing it. I'm fairly sure he'd just as soon have his tongue in me as his cock. Although, technically, his tongue isn't in me much, it's just up from my vagina, working my clit back and forth. It's his fingers in my vagina. He never stops when I orgasm but just keeps sucking and licking me to at least one more. Then his cock slides into me, filling me so nicely and he bangs into me hard and fast. I get another orgasm before he does. We both need a shower. Washing each other's naked bodies gets us aroused until he lifts my leg and starts pushing back into me. I lift my other leg, hang onto him with my arms around his neck and my legs on his hips as he fucks me, standing up in the shower. There couldn't be a better way to prepare for the day. He tells me how to get to the museum and we plan to meet there. After he leaves I lay around a little and then dress and go out. I have a map and walk around and find the American embassy. I also find the Scandinavian Airline Ticket office where I can buy a return ticket to California. I stop at an ATM and take out another 500 Euros. It's interesting that I put the money in a bank in Italy but can get at it just about anywhere in the world. I've only spent a few hundred up to now, Oskar pays for everything. From the size and look of his apartment I'm beginning to realize he earns good money or else has some money of his own. Up to now, he was just a very sexy back packer that I've been sleeping with. Here in Copenhagen, he's back to his real life and that's apparently much different. It's close to lunch time so I go to the museum and ask at the reception desk for Oskar. So far, everyone I've talked to in Denmark seems to automatically understand and speak English, so language has been no problem. We go to a restaurant for lunch. I let him know that if we ate at his apartment, maybe we could eat each other, too, but we never get there. Back at the museum, he takes me on a tour and introduces me to several people. I'm sure I'll never remember their names. He also tells me that this weekend he'd like us to go out and meet a number of his friends. I let him know that I'm thinking of returning to California and he tries to talk me into staying a little longer. When he comes home from the museum, I'm naked and ready for sex. Soon we're both naked and have a very good round of sex. As he's over me in the missionary position, pounding into me, he says, "I could do this for the rest of my life." I let him know that he can sure do it as often as he wants because I love it. We talk a while, work together getting dinner ready, still both naked. After, we fool around a while and eat each other and then fuck. He lasts forever. It's what I've liked about him from the beginning, lots of sex. He has the stamina to last and last. Although I actually like him any way. He was a great guide through Italy, very helpful, very kind and nice. We take a shower, getting ready for bed, which invigorates us enough for some more sex. The next morning is a repeat of the previous morning, wake up sex, a shower and more sex. He's gone to work and I'm just siting there, naked, thinking about how good the sex is and starting to plan on getting back to California, and the door bell rings. Crap, who could it be? Do I let anyone in? I don't know anything much about Denmark and this apartment and what to do. I run into the bedroom and pull a light pair of shorts out of my Duffle bag and a t-shirt, pull them on and go to the door. I look through the little spy hole and see this woman standing there. Looks what I would think is middle age, maybe late forties, early fifties. Dressed nicely, as if she's off to business. Actually a nice looking lady. Crap, what is she? Is this her building and I'm not supposed to be here? What? So I open the door. She says something to me in Danish. At least I guess it's Danish, I don't understand her at all. "I'm sorry," I say, "I only speak English. Can you speak English?" "Yes, of course," she says, "I should have known better. I'm Oskar's mother." What do I do? "Come in," I say to her, "Oskar is at work." "I know," she says, "I just thought I should come and meet the girl he plans on marrying." "Marrying?" I manage to squeak out. "I don't think so. I'm planning on returning to California in a few days." "Oh? From what Oskar has said the last several weeks over the telephone, I thought you were getting married." "Not me," is all I could think to say. "I've never even thought of marriage. I mean, he's never asked me." "Well, what will you do when he does, because he plans to." "My first thought is, I'll run. But as I think about it, I guess I would have to answer him, discuss it. Would he be expecting me to move here, where I know no one and don't even speak the language? Or, maybe, he would give up his job and move to America? Would he expect me to be with him only, for the rest of my life? And he would never have another woman but me until he dies? That's what I can think of right now but this is such a surprise that I'm not sure what might happen." "I think I made a mistake in bringing this up," she says to me. "From the way Oskar talked, I thought you were both madly in love and ready to marry and I wanted to meet anyone who could make Oskar feel that way. It could take him forever to get around to introducing us." "I think he's confusing sex with love. I'm not. I mean, the sex is terrific, I like being with him a lot. Love being wi