“Thank you, Mr. Green,” Shelly said as she lifted Annie and headed for the door.
“I can't tell you how much I appreciate your advice, Mr. Green,” Sam said as he also stood and reached across the desk to shake hands.
Green clasped his hand and did not immediately release it. “There's one more thing, Sam.” He moved around the desk, placed his hand on Sam's shoulder and walked him to the door. “If it's the little girl's welfare you are concerned about, you need long-term disability insurance more than life insurance. It's not pleasant to think about, but, statistically speaking, it is more likely you will suffer a long-term disability than death during Annie's formative years. Life insurance won't help a bit if you're permanently disabled."
“Do you offer such a policy?"
Green patted Sam's back. “Of course, but so does your employer."
* * * *
“I don't like your preacher, Sam,” Shelly said as they drove to Charlotte.
“Mack? He's a great guy."
“He's a damn pervert. He couldn't take his eyes off my tits."
Sam chuckled. “I thought you liked showing off your magnificent body."
“He's a damn preacher, for crying out loud."
“He's a man, too. Hell, Delilah, with that extra low scooped blouse you are wearing, even a blind man would be attracted to your cleavage."
“You don't like the way I'm dressed?"
“I love the way you are dressed. So did Mack."
“Still..."
“Let's don't argue, honey."
“I'm not arguing. I just feel like we've wasted the morning."
“Wasted? We've had a great morning! We have the prenuptial agreement exactly the way you wanted it. We saved a ton of money on life insurance, thanks to Creasy Green's honesty. Our blood test is complete. Mack has agreed to perform our ceremony in the backyard Monday morning. The Borders agreed to be witnesses, and now we are on the way to Charlotte to buy rings, get our marriage license and purchase the insurance you want. How much better could it be?"
“I didn't sleep well last night."
“Thighs?"
“Maybe—I don't know. Are you sure you want to go through with this?"
“I've never been more sure of anything in my life, Delilah."
“Why do you insist on calling me Delilah? You know I don't like it."
“It's a beautiful name. I just can't help myself. You have everything else your way. Give me this much."
“You got your way with the preacher,” she reminded him.
“Uh oh,” he said as he applied the brakes. Looks like a wreck.” He eased to the shoulder of the road and craned his neck for a better view. “A car rammed a telephone pole,” he reported. “Maybe I better see if I can help,” he continued, opening the door without waiting for a response.
Shelly waited impatiently for a few minutes, unable to see what was going on. She pulled Annie from the child safety seat, balanced the little girl on her hip and walked along the shoulder of the road until she found a spot between waiting cars where she could see the rescue activity.
I wonder if that gadget is what they call ‘the Jaws of Life?’ she thought as men worked on the driver-side door. Finally they managed to wedge the door open, but Shelly could see little of the occupant as men crammed their heads and half their bodies inside the car.
The curious were surrounding the wrecked vehicle as an ambulance arrived. Shelly scanned the crowd, and, as they parted for the paramedics, she saw Sam, standing beside the car, naked to the waist, handing his shirt to someone closer to the accident victim.
She walked back to Sam's car, strapped Annie in the kiddy seat and continued to wait.
“You're going to a jewelry store dressed like that?” she complained when Sam returned.
“Wal-Mart is just around the corner. I'll buy a new shirt."
“What happened?"
“The lady said a kid ran out in front of her. She swerved to miss him and ran into the pole."
“I mean to your shirt."
He smiled. “The airbag didn't automatically deflate like it's supposed to. The rescue squad punched a little hole in the bottom of it, but then the bag split apart like an explosion. Her blouse snagged on the bag somehow and ripped off her body. She wasn't wearing a bra and was terribly embarrassed."
“So you gave her your shirt,” she said, laughing.
“You think it's funny?"
“You're a mess, Samson Pond. I've heard of good Samaritans giving the needy the shirt off their backs, but this is the first time I've actually seen it happen."
* * * *
“Why did you bring the twins again, damn it?” Shelly asked as she stretched out on the chaise lounge. “You know I don't like babysitting other people's brats."
Sam continued watching the children playing in the kiddy pool. “Annie was so disappointed that we spent all day Saturday moving your junk to my house. I thought this would partially make up for it. She really likes the twins, Delilah."
Shelly sighed. What the hell. Let him call me Delilah if it pleases him.
“How are your thighs this afternoon?"
“Right now they feel pretty good. Being in the water seems to help."
“I wouldn't complain if you quit that job, you know."
“Sam, don't start."
“I'm not very imaginative, but you are, Delilah. Can't you come up with a hot way to end your performance that isn't so hard on your thighs?"
She rolled her head towards him and saw the serious expression on his face. “Do lesbians turn you on?"
“Where did that come from?"
“Just answer the question."
“I don't have a problem with the idea that some ladies prefer sex with women instead of men, if that's what you're asking."
“That's not what I'm asking. Does watching lesbians in action turn you on?"
“I don't know, Shelly. I've never seen lesbians in action."
“Well, think about it. Picture two naked gals fondling and kissing each other all over their luscious bodies."
Sam closed his eyes and Shelly watched the crotch of his bathing trunks begin to swell. She laughed. “You don't need to answer. I've been thinking of doing something with another woman. I know how far the law will allow me to go with a man, but I'm not sure about the limits with a woman."
“Want to know what I was visualizing?"
“Yeah."
“You and that red-haired stripper."
“Carmen?"
“I don't remember her name. Anyway, you both come on the stage fully clothed."
“The customers would never go for that."
“You want to hear me or not?"
“Go on."
“You're both wearing mini skirts, high heels, hose, panties—not g-strings or thongs—silk blouses with plunging necklines and bras."
“Something like the customers might encounter at the office or in a store?"
“That's it. You hug and kiss—slowly at first, then with increasing passion. Your hands explore each other's completely clothed bodies. Occasionally a hand slips under a skirt or inside a blouse. While the kissing and fondling continues, you slowly undress each other. Eventually, you're both completely nude. One lowers the other to the stage floor and you assume the traditional sixty-nine position. The lights go out. Perhaps blinding lights pointed at the audience come on. The two of you moan and groan loudly. Perhaps you call out each other's names. Then silence. The lights come on and the stage is empty."
She grinned. “I thought you said you have no imagination. I'll be damned if you didn't turn me on. The finish won't work, though. The guys like an interactive conclusion."
“Okay. Suppose the lights come on and the two of you are standing in a tight, passionate embrace. You slowly pick up your clothes, making sure the customers see all the good parts, but you don't put the clothes back on. You wipe your crotches with the panties, toss them into the audience and exit the stage, arm in arm."
&
nbsp; “Hi guys!"
Startled, they looked up into the smiling faces of Tim and Sandra Dollar.
“Mind if we join you for just a second?” Sandra asked as Tim dragged two deck chairs towards them.
“Tomorrow's the big day, is it?” Sandra asked as she sat down, pleased that Sam's gaze locked on the crotch of her one-piece black bathing suit.
“Yes,” Shelly replied, “but how did you know? We haven't sent out any announcements. We want it to be a quiet little ceremony."
Tim laughed and threw up his hands. “We're not trying to wrangle an invitation, Shelly. The preacher announced it in church this morning."
Shelly glared at Sam.
“You can't keep something like that a secret in Dot, Shelly,” Sandra said, patting and then squeezing Shelly's thigh. “My,” she continued, “you're beginning to get a nice tan."
“And the skin cancer that goes along with it,” Shelly replied, again glaring at Sam.
Tim coughed. “Shelly, Dudette and I have an idea we want to run by you."
“Shelly,” Sandra interrupted, continuing to massage the inside of the stripper's thigh, “we're thinking of opening an exotic club right here in Dot, perhaps on some land we already own halfway between the traffic light and the Charlotte City limits."
“It won't be purely a strip club, like the Crazy Cat,” Tim explained. “We're thinking of a swanky supper club with a large cover charge and one super hot performance each night."
“As hot as the law allows,” Sandra emphasized. “Tim thinks we should have one or two nights reserved for lesbian acts and another night or two for male homosexual stage performances."
“What do you think?” Tim asked, leaning towards Shelly.
Shelly sat up, brushing Sandy's hand from her thigh. “I'd forget the lesbian and homosexual thing. I just don't think that would fly. Customers would become confused. I'd keep the evening performance focused on traditional male heterosexually oriented performances. Maybe you could end the supper hour with risqué stand-up comics. Then charge extra for the strip show. That way you could attract couples to the dinner and first show and encourage the perverts to show up for the final show."
“I like it,” Tim said.
“Hush, Dude,” Sandra admonished. “You interrupted."
“I was just going to add that you might consider a lunchtime promotion geared towards heterosexual women with a male stripper show following the meal."
“Hot damn!” Tim said, clapping his hands together. “That's the ticket, Dudette."
Sandra again put her hand on the inside of Shelly's thigh. “One more question, dear. If we decide to go ahead with this project, will you work with us?"
Shelly wrapped her arms around her knees, giving Tim a better view of her breasts but again dislodging Sandra's hand. “I don't think so,” she replied slowly. “I'm not ashamed of my profession, but Sam is. I don't believe it would be wise to display my body nightly in Sam's home town."
“Oh,” Tim said, leaning forward to get a better angle for the mammary view Shelly offered. “We're not thinking in terms of you being a performer. Sandy and I know nothing about strip clubs. We need you as a business advisor."
“Maybe a hostess or business manager as well,” Sandra added.
Laughing, Shelly tossed her hair and said, “I know how to work up a crowd of men by shaking my tits and ass, but I know nothing about the business side."
“You know a whole lot more than Tim and I do,” Sandra said, standing.
Tim, taking his cue from Sandra, also stood. “Will you think about it, Shelly?"
“I have a question,” Sam said before Shelly could answer.
“Fire away,” Tim replied.
“What kind of money are we talking about?"
Tim looked inside the top of Shelly's bathing suit. “What do you make now, Shelly?"
Again, before she could answer, Sam said, “Ten thousand a week."
Tim whistled. “Five hundred and twenty grand a year. Vacation and benefits too, I suppose?"
“Of course."
“That's a lot of money."
“It's a lucrative business."
“We'll have to do some hard thinking of our own,” Tim said.
“Don't pay him any attention,” Sandra joked. “That's a drop in the bucket compared to the bottom line potential."
Shelly watched the Dollars, arm in arm, walk towards the deep end of the pool. “Why did you lie about my income?"
“If you are going to stay in this business, you need a manager. I just appointed myself. I want fifteen percent."
She looked at Sam. He wasn't joking.
“The salary thing is a starting point in the bargaining process. It's easier to come down than to talk our way up."
“You approve of this project?"
“No, but it's better than being a stripper at the Crazy Cat Club."
“There's just one problem."
“And that is?"
“Sandy already knows what I make. I told her during one of my interviews."
“You received a raise last week. Did you forget?” he joked.
Shelly smiled. “I believe I already said it, but it bears repeating. You're a mess, Samson Pond."
“And you're a sexpot, Delilah Delight. By the way, your mystery man stared holes in you the whole time the Dollars were here."
She followed the focus of his eyes and saw Ron, perched on the balls of his feet at the edge of the high dive. He seemed to glide into the air, arms straight out at right angles to his body. His glistening, bronze torso followed his head toward the water, straightening out as his arms stretched forward with hands crossed. He entered the water, causing a tiny splash, completing a perfect swan dive.
“I need to see him one more time,” Shelly said quietly.
“I know,” Sam replied. He stood and stretched. “I think I'll play with the kids for a while."
* * * *
Ron traced circles around Shelly's nipple. “I've never seem them so long."
“The air conditioner in your van is very cold this afternoon,” she joked.
“The hell it is! You're turned on. I can't believe you're doing this."
“Get used to it,” she said, sliding her hand to his scrotum.
“Why, Shelly? Is he better in the sack than I am?"
She shook her head. “No way, big man."
“Then why?"
“He's good for Annie."
“We could still get together, like now or in the Dollar's barn."
“Nope. Sandy would discover us sooner or later and Dot's a small town. Word would soon get back to Sam."
“Fuck Sandra Dollar."
“I think you probably already do that on a regular basis,” Shelly joked.
“We could meet in a motel in Charlotte."
She slipped her fingers to his flaccid penis and used a fingernail to toy with its little eye. “I'm getting married tomorrow, Ron. Accept it."
“You've knocked the wind out of my sails,” he said. “I was going to surprise you today with a marriage proposal of my own. I can be a good father too, you know."
“Bullshit. It's time for old ‘love ’em and leave em’ Ron’ to leave ’em."
“One for the road?"
She kissed his testicles. “I'm afraid our friend doesn't want to cooperate."
He wrapped his fist in her hair and jammed her face to his crotch. “Make it cooperate, slut. Use you damn tongue, you fucking bitch."
* * * *
“What does it feel like to be Mrs. Samson Pond?” Sam asked as he entered the bedroom.
“I don't know yet,” she replied, smiling up at him from the bed. “Is Annie okay?"
“Sound asleep,” he said. “It was nice of the Nickels to have a surprise reception for us."
“Yeah. Right. I wanted a quiet little ceremony."
“And that's what you got. There was just you, me, the preacher and the Borders present."
“And five minutes later, half the
town was in our neighbor's backyard."
He sat on the edge of the bed, rubbed her leg and smiled. “You liked all the presents they gave you. Admit it."
The corners of her lips edged upwards. “It's hard to stay mad at you."
“I like the red nightgown,” he said as he stood.
“I thought you deserved something special on our wedding night."
He pulled off the robe and tossed it at a chair. “I have something special for you too,” he said, opening the bedside table drawer. He removed the vibrator from its box, turned it on and listened to its hum. “You're going to have an orgasm if it takes my accomplice and me all night."
Chapter Eight
Congratulations! How's married life? I'd like to see your new home, Annie and, of course, you! I confess I'm beginning to wonder if we made the right decision. I made you a promise and I intend to keep it. Will it be convenient for me to visit you tomorrow afternoon?
Love,
Boyd
What's with this “love, Boyd” stuff. You've never used that word before! I'll bet you want to see Annie—just about as much as she wants to see you. I don't think it would be wise for you to visit me in Dot—nosy neighbors, you know. I'll see if I can arrange a babysitter and come to your place tomorrow.
Shell
I want to see your new home! I will be there tomorrow around two. Maybe I haven't used the word, but you know I have loved you since the day we met! I suppose, since you are married now, you are on the pill and I no longer need condoms. I can hardly wait.
Horny Boyd
Boyd,
If you must, come on, but don't make a scene. Remember that this whole thing was your idea! It's not working out very well. I haven't had a decent night's sleep since I moved in with Sam. He snores and he can't seem to keep his hands off me. We've been married only three days and I already find myself avoiding him. What have we gotten ourselves into? No, I'm not on the pill, but for two and a half years—since Annie was born—I've been using the three-month shot. You will continue to wear a rubber, however! I want you, but not your damn diseases!
Shell
Shell,
I don't have any diseases but, come to think of it, you sleep around as much as I do. I don't want your diseases either! I'll see you tomorrow.
Boyd
* * * *
Sintown Chronicles II: Through Bedroom Windows Page 60