Home Sweet Home – The Aftermath, Part 1

Read Home Sweet Home – Verse I

Read Home Sweet Home – Verse II

It had been weeks since the storm.  The storm that had brought me a visitation, an erotic phenomenon that to this day I still wasn’t sure whether it was based in the occult or some weird weather pattern.  It might have even been a dream, though I couldn’t imagine that I would share the same predicament as 13 year old pubescent boys who suddenly wanted to learn how to do laundry to save the embarrassment of being found out by their mothers.   One thing was certain, it had turned the isolation I had previously craved and cherished into a prison of loneliness and frustration.

The passion that had been awakened that night was as hot as the noon day sun and even my own hands couldn’t quell the desire that had taken hold of my mind and body.  I was writing again, but it was full of eroticism that would never stand up to the mainstream market.  I knew any publisher worth their salt  would send me packing after reading one page, suggesting a career in porn.  I needed sex – hot, wild passionate sex – and though I had been watching the skies praying for another storm to roll through, hoping for the odd occurrence of a few weeks ago to repeat itself, my prayers continually went unanswered night after sweltering night.

This afternoon, with the thoughts of a man, any man to come along, I found myself gazing out my living room window.  A cloud of dust appeared on the otherwise deserted gravel road leading to the house I had first loved but now considered a prison of unrequited passion.  There was rarely any traffic on this road unless someone was coming to the house and I wasn’t expecting anyone.  The road broke off from the highway two miles east of the house and then rejoined it again about 5 miles west of it.  It ran parallel to the highway and mine was the only house along it.  At first I thought it must be a mirage, brought on by my thirst to be touched.  I squinted into the distance and saw it was indeed brought on by a car traveling fast before swerving slightly then pulling over to the dusty shoulder about a half a mile away.  I blinked and shook my head expecting it to disappear but when I opened my eyes again, the car was still there.  I went to my hall closet to retrieve my binoculars, wanting a closer look.

Initially, all I saw was the older model convertible with the trunk open.  I concluded the driver must be looking for something.  Then a hand appeared at the top of the trunk and slammed it shut.  I finally got a look at the driver.  He might be a little younger than me…it was hard to tell from this distance even with the aid of the binoculars.  He was slim, well built, and very good looking, even with the scowl on his face. I saw him reach into the topless car and pull something out… it was his cell phone.  He would be out of luck.  This area was cell phone hell and there were only a few sweet spots that you could get a decent signal.  He held it in the air, moving around the car as he gazed up at it, no doubt looking for the bars from his carrier to bounce up.

My presumptions were correct as I watched him toss the phone back into the car in frustration.  My binoculars moved slightly to the left, wondering if he had a traveling companion.  Nope….he was all alone.  Turning back to the driver I watched him as he searched  around at his surroundings.  His eyes suddenly fixed on my little house and it almost appeared that he was looking straight at me.  I felt embarrassed for spying even though I knew it would be impossible for him to see me from this distance.   As I lowered the binoculars I couldn’t stop the smile from lighting my face.  Perhaps my prayers had been answered.  Some higher power had sent me a man and he was in distress.  Time to show a little country hospitality.  Still smiling, I looked to Christine, my golden retriever, and asked her if she wanted to go for a walk.

Christine didn’t need further encouragement.  She started bouncing in circles, tail wagging and what seemed to be a her own smile spread on her face as she excitedly panted.  “Okay girl,” I said to her as I put the binoculars away, “let’s go.”

The sun was high and hot and we set off down the road to the car obviously broke down at the side of the road.  Christine did her usual thing, running back and forth from one side of the road to the other, sniffing for new smells and marking her territory as we went.  As we neared the car, it’s driver stood leaning against the driving door, a thin plume of smoke rising above his head as he watched our approach from behind his sunglasses.  I was starting to feel slightly anxious.  In the city, one would never approach a stranger, especially when all alone.  Christine suddenly stopped in front of me and I nearly walked right into her, my eyes on the man beside the car.  A low growl sounded in her throat as the hair on the back of her neck rose.  That was unusual.  Her breed was usually very friendly, even with strangers.  Perhaps she was just sensing my own anxiety.  “Hush, Christine,” I scolded her and continued to walk.  Christine started moving again, but this time sticking close to me, walking slowly behind me, whining softly.

“Having trouble?” I called from about 20 feet from away, still walking towards him.  I recognized the model of his car as a mid-sixties Chevy Impala.  I had dated a man with a ’64 model of this car in my mid twenties.  This one was a beauty, canary yellow.

“I’m afraid so,” he answered as he stood up straight and turned to face me.  He had a British accent that was charming and again a grin spread across my face.  He snubbed his smoke with the tips of his fingers as I approached.  Christine’s growl sounded once more.  When I was close enough, I realized he hadn’t been smoking a cigarette.  The pungent smell that surrounded him was a familiar one.  My ex and I had often enjoyed sharing a joint at the end of the day.  Christine had never liked the smell and always left us be whenever we had partaken in our relaxing activity.  It dawned on me now as to why she was acting so strangely.

“It seems that I’m stranded with a flat tire and nary a signal for my cellular,” he continued.

“I figured as much,” I said.  “There are only a few spots I can catch a signal….even at the house.  I do have a land line though and if you like I can call the mechanic in town.”

“Ah, an angel come to rescue me,” he smiled.  “And here I was, thinking I had been cursed with bad luck.  Perhaps not.”

We turned to walk back to the house when I noticed the dark angry clouds approaching on the horizon.  They hadn’t quite reached the sun to put a grey damper on the day, but I knew it wouldn’t be long.  “Uh, maybe you should put the top up on the car…there’s a storm coming and I speak from experience when I say that in these parts they can come on fast!”

He agreed and I helped him lift the top back up before he climbed back into the car to roll up the windows.  He lifted his sunglasses to his forehead and I got my first glimpse of his eyes.  They were a warm brown, though slightly bloodshot from the weed he had been smoking.  “Oh, and if you want to grab your stash, it’s been awhile since I’ve had a hoot,”  I mentioned casually, a wicked grin planted on my face.  He smiled and winked at me as he reached into the glove compartment to grab a baggie filled with fat green buds.

Read Home Sweet Home – The Aftermath – Part 2

Devine Defiance