Sunset at the Pink Water Cafe Ch. 01

He chuckled at that. "Yeah. I guess maybe she was, when all was said and done."

"So. CIA?"

"You weren't really supposed to see that stuff."

"So why put it out on the walls?"

He shrugged. "Memories."

"I hate to ask, but why did you really move up here?"

"Too many memories. Where I used to live."

"Do you get lonely?"

He turned away again, then looked down. "There's a big difference between being alone and being lonely," he said. "I think at a certain age you kind of expect to be alone, at least if..."

"I know what you mean, but that wasn't what I was asking. Do you get lonely?"

"I guess I'm not sure what you're getting at."

"Sex," she said, nervously.

"What about it?"

"I get lonely. Do you?"

"Like I said..."

"I heard what you said. Look, please don't make this hard for me, any harder than it already is, but what I'm asking is, well, would you like to sometime?"

"What? Have sex? With you?"

She nodded her head slowly, grinned just a little. "I can't get you out of my mind," she whispered. "I haven't been able to, all night..."

"It's Jimmy, you know. He has that effect on all the girls I've met."

"Oh? You meet a lot of girls?"

"Well, you're the first, but yeah."

"So?"

"Uh, look, maybe if we knew one another better..."

"Okay, Jim, so get to know me better. I'm not going anywhere, but, well, just know I want to get to know you better. Okay?"

She stood and he stood too, then she walked over to him, put her arms around his waist, leaned in and kissed him on the lips, then slipped away silently -- walked right out of the house.

"Well, well," he said, but Jimmy was sniffing the air, listening to her footsteps receding in the distance. He went over to a window and watched her walk down the street, and he wondered who she was then. What her story was, then he turned and faced a pile of boxes that needed to be unpacked and groaned, but he turned back to the window again, looked at the house next door and nodded to someone watching from a dark window.

+++++

He looked at his watch, then at Jimmy.

"It's almost two, so what do you say? Walk down for lunch?"

Jimmy stood and walked to the door, leapt once and made a sneezing noise. He came over, grabbed the leash and hooked him up, then they took off for the waterfront -- but when they got to the diner he saw a line out the door and he sighed. "Better luck next time," he sighed, so they turned, walked back to the house and got in the Rover, drove out to the West Quoddy Head beach. He grabbed a few towels from the back and they took off down the trail.

Jimmy could smell the sea, hear the surf, and he knew this could only mean one thing. The pup pulled at his leash before they got to the bottom of the trail and he laughed a little, then they stopped and turned into the wind, smelled the sea with it's arms all around them and he was awash, adrift in memory. The wind, lifting Jimmy's ears, the fur on his neck feathered by the passage, nose up, scenting, trying to place instinct and memory in the moment, then they walked out onto the stones and down to the water's edge.

He unsnapped the leash and Jimmy waded out until he had to start swimming, and he kept talking, kept giving the pup a sense of direction, but the water was still icy cold and after a few minutes Jimmy walked out of the water and shook off. He bent and toweled him off, hooked up the leash and they walked a while, letting the wind and the sun dry his fur, then they walked back up the trail to the Rover and he drove home -- with Jimmy hanging his face out the window in the slipstream, his nose going a mile a minute.

Once they were back in the house he got Jimmy a fresh bowl of water and fixed himself a glass of iced tea, and a few minutes later he heard someone walking up the steps and onto the porch, then coming in the front door. He saw her walk right for him, and without saying a word she grabbed him by the belt and pulled him to the bedroom. She pulled his pants down and pushed him on to the bed and took him in her mouth, and she worked him over until he was boiling over, and when he came she took him down, every inch of him, every drop, then she stood -- breathlessly, on fire -- and walked out of the house -- having never said one word.

He propped himself up on his elbows and watched her leave, then sat up, pulled his shorts up and stomped out of the house after her. She was still about ten paces ahead by the time she went in her house and he threw the screen door open after it slammed in front of him. He followed her up the stairs to her bedroom, and there she turned, stared at him defiantly as he walked into her room. He pulled off her clothes, pushed her gently to the bed, knelt between her legs and ate her out, hammered her clit until she came somewhere north of a half dozen times, then he stood and walked back down the stairs -- never saying as much as one fucking word.

Jimmy was waiting by the door when he came home; the pup came over and sniffed his groin once, then looked up at him, grinning.

+++++

He was in the kitchen early the next morning, Monday morning, fixing coffee and toasting an English muffin when he saw her walking down the street, shopping bags in hand. Jimmy heard her tromping up the steps to the front porch and went for the door, and once again she didn't knock. She came straight in, came right for him in the kitchen, grabbed him by the belt again and pulled him to the bedroom, damn near tore his shorts to shreds trying to get them down and she pushed him down on the bed again, started playing him like a violin with her mouth again, then straddled him, held him firmly then sat down, forcefully, in effect impaling herself on his cock. She leaned forward, put her hands on his shoulders and stared into his eyes while she rode him...

"I couldn't sleep last night because of you," she said after her first orgasm, "because of this. Goddamn it to hell...what have you done to me?"

"Done to you?"

"Yeah...did you cast some kind of spell? I'm serious, Jim," she said as her legs began to tremble again, her back to arch.

"Don't stop," he grimaced, and they both started grinding away, faster now, deeper, and his back spasmed as it arched and he launched her about two feet in the air, cum spraying out his penis and running out her vagina, and when she landed she ground her external lips along the length of his shaft, causing him to slam the mattress with clinched fists.

He reached up, pulled her down and held her close, breathing in her hair, kissing her neck -- then he felt her reaching down, slipping him inside again. They started kissing, deep wet tongue kisses, a rolling cascading tympani of beating hearts...and he felt her hands cradling his head, then she was lost again, trembling, clawing, pulling his hair and he didn't give a damn anymore about anything all he wanted was to feel this way forever and oh my God she's cumming again and...oh shit I am too...!

They lay panting after, lost in some kind of bliss, some kind of understanding still miles away, then he rolled on his side, rolled her on her back and he looked into her eyes again and he knew whatever was going on between them was getting some kind of serious.

"All night long?" he said, grinning.

"Kiss me, goddamnit."

They kissed, for a long time.

"I have never," she said, coming up for air, "and I mean never ever been as horny in my life as I was last night, and all night long. I started playing with myself around two but couldn't cum. It's like that part of my body refused to cooperate. Refused -- without you. You're like heroin, you know? And I'm completely addicted."

And with that she climbed on top of his face again, held him close but she paused, poised over his mouth. "Well? Don't you have anything to say?"

"I was wondering...if you were a natural redhead," he said -- as he pulled her down.

+++++

Four hours later they were headed back from shopping; she'd taken him to a dairy farm for milk and butter, to a poulterers for eggs and fresh chicken, then to the wharf for fresh cod and bugs, which was, he learned, the local's term for lobster.

"I'm not sure my 'fridge is big enough," he said as they pulled in his drive.

"I'm not sure I can wait long enough to get all this stuff in the 'fridge."

Jimmy scented the air, smelled grass, and the pup hopped out of the car as soon as she opened his door, and he reluctantly went inside when he heard the humans opening the door. He went to the bedroom and sniffed the bed, then went back to the kitchen and sniffed her legs and he understood. He had been puzzled for a while, but he was pretty sure he knew the score now.

He heard them struggling by the food, heard them rolling on the floor, and he perked up when he heard the heavy breathing again, then her little screaming noises, and he put his head down on the soft thing and let slip a long sigh.

+++++

He looked at the bug and scrunched his nose.

It was huge. Like four pounds huge, and the girl behind the counter smiled when he said "I'll take it."

"Comes with cobbed," the girl said.

"Huh?"

"That's corn on the cob," Tracy translated. "With lots of butter," she added.

"I've never seen anything that big in my life," he said.

"Lots of people like to get the big ones, but some think they're tough. There's an old trick to cookin' 'em, and Debbie knows it."

"What's the trick?"

"Add wine to the water before it steams. Gets 'em drunk, they relax. Meat stays tender."

"Right."

She grinned. "You try it at home a few times and you'll believe me."

"Thanks for all your help today."

"Right," she grinned. "Maybe I should thank you."

"Felt pretty mutual to me."

"It did, didn't it? Felt good. So long since..."

"Yup."

"Any regrets?"

"No," he said, smiling at the memories they'd made today. "Not a one. You?"

She nodded her head. "Wasted a day. Shouldn't have waited. I knew as soon as I looked into your eyes."

"You did, huh?"

"Yup. So, you going to tell me why you moved up here?"

He leaned back, sighed. "When I was in graduate school I came up here to walk around Campobello, around FDR's place over on the island. Kinda decided back then I'd like to move up here someday."

"What did you study?"

"At that time, history. Naval history, in the war. Mainly FDR's strategic planning, how that translated into tactical operations."

She shrugged.

"Doesn't mean anything now, I suppose."

"School was never my thing."

"What was your thing?"

"I just wanted to get away from here."

"Did you?"

"For a while. Sometimes, I think...not long enough."

"Bad memories?"

"I don't know. Not bad, more like none at all. Nothing much happened, I guess. I can remember a few Christmases, when my folks had money, anyway. Graduating high school was kind of a big deal, but not much else."

"Ever married?"

"Nope."

"No one special?"

She looked away, thought of her, working in her office, the time they spent together -- away from the office. "Nothing ever really took, I guess."

"So, you came back?"

"Yeah, my dad got sick, my mom died a few days later. The restaurant had just opened and I've been here ever since."

"No wild summer romances?"

She shook her head, looked at him again -- then the girl at the counter called his name and he went up, picked-up their plates and carried them to the picnic table. His bug was about the same size as his forearm and he sighed, looked at the vat of melted butter on the side and cringed.

"My cholesterol is going to go through the roof," he chuckled.

"This ain't low-calorie grub. Here, let me show you how to get at that thing." He watched her move, her hands swift and strong, her demeanor precise yet almost bored, then she tore apart her bug and they ate quickly.

"So, no romances?" he asked again. "That means you've been..."

"Alone. Lonely. Waiting. For someone like you."

"Like me?"

"When I looked at you it was like my thighs started to, no, they caught fire. No one's ever done that to me, I've never reacted like that to no one before."

He wanted to correct her English, but then again, he didn't. She was what she was, and what she was was cute. Not too young, not too old. Just cute. Not fat, not skinny, not educated but not stupid. She was just cute and that was just alright with him. He watched her fingers as she ate...long, thin fingers, red nail polish in need of some work but overall very...cute. Her copper colored hair was out of it's tightly coiled bun now and it hung to the middle of her back, parted down the middle, framing her impossibly white skin. And those freckles...a fine spray of them -- so cute. Cute enough to get his attention and hold it long enough to get his mind back to her eyes. Huge, luminous eyes, almost wet looking but clear, free of guilt, not quite free of pain. He'd not paid much attention to her lips before, yet now they struck him as perfect. Perfect, and cute. Neither full nor thin, and they seemed to have settled into a light smile a long time ago, and when she wasn't talking it looked like she was smiling a little, at him.

The girl behind the counter came over and gave Jimmy a few treats and asked about him, fell totally in love with him after a minute or so, then told them they had some fresh blueberry pie coming out of the oven in a few minutes.

"You don't want to miss that," Tracy said. "Debbie's pies are the stuff of legend."

"I will die if I eat a ten thousand calorie dinner...you do know that...don't you?" he moaned. "How 'bout a small slice?"

"You want one Tracy?"

"I'll have a bite of his."

The girl raised an eyebrow. "Okay."

"Small town," Tracy whispered as the girl walked off. "News'll be around town in five minutes."

"I would think," he whispered back, "after your yodeling this morning that would be old news."

"Shit...I forgot."

He winced inside on hearing the word and tried to smile it off. "That was a big critter. I will say he did not give his life in vain."

She smiled at his awkwardness, finished her Coke. "How's your beer?"

"Cold. Not bad. What did she say this is?"

"PBR. Pabst Blue Ribbon."

"Never had it. American?"

"Yup," she sighed, "think so."

The door opened and a yellow lab walked in, took one look at Jimmy and growled. Jimmy stood and wheeled around, growled about 400 decibels louder, started foaming at the mouth while the hair on the back of his head stood on end -- and the lab darted behind it's owner's legs.

"It's okay, easy boy," he cooed, and Jimmy shuffled around, sniffed his hand then sat -- but still 'looking' in the general direction of the counter.

"I wouldn't want to piss him off," she said -- and he winced at her language again, inside, anyway, but he smiled.

"He's very protective."

"I'll say...hope he never gets mad at me."

"Are you kidding? I think he's in love with you." They looked down, saw his chin resting on her foot and he shook his head. "I've always suspected he had a foot fetish."

She grinned at that, but turned serious. "Your wife passed before you got Jimmy?"

"Yup, almost two years before. A friend of mine took me out to a breeder, outside of D.C. Jimmy chose me."

"That's the way it goes sometimes. My father had newfies, took them out with him on the boat."

"Newfoundlands? Big dogs."

"Big hearts. Lot of love, big love."

"Your father was a...?"

"A lobsterman, yeah. His boat is still here, he passed on his buoys to a friend."

"You grew up in that house?"

"A-yup."

"And you left, right after high school? Nothing here to keep you, I take it?"

"Not much here but the sea. Still some farms, some dairy, but those families are moving on now. Used to be three, almost four thousand people here. Down to about a thousand now. Wal*Mart's the biggest employer around here, but their customers come over from Canada."

The pie came; the 'slice' was not quite the size of a football and weighed, he guessed, about fourteen pounds -- without the three scoops of ice cream that came as standard equipment -- and he groaned, again.

"I'm not sure I can do this."

"Sure you can. I'll help ya out."

"Nope. Can we get a box, perhaps?"

"Nope. This won't keep. Be a solid pile of goo in five minutes."

"I'll be a solid pile of goo, in two minutes, if I eat that thing."

He settled up and they drove back to his place and she followed Jimmy in like it was the most natural thing in the world now. He fixed tea and put a fire on in the wood stove, then they settled in for a talk.

"What was her name?"

"Claire."

"How long were you...?"

"Not quite forty years."

"How'd she..."

"Cancer."

"My father, too. What did she do?"

"Government work, like me."

"You don't like to talk about it much, do you?"

"That was then, this is now. One time ended when Claire passed, another began."

"Just move on? Simple as that?"

"Nothing about our life was simple, Claire."

She paused, wondered if she should correct him but decided to let it go.

"If she was a ghost and you could talk to her, what would you say to her now?"

He looked at her for the longest time, not quite sure what to do, what to say, but the first thing that popped into his mind was 'that's none of your business,' -- but he stopped himself, thought about the past 24 hours -- and all she might bring to his life -- and he leaned back, tried to think.

"I wish we'd spent more time together," he said softly. "Just the simple things, really. Holding each other, more than anything. I loved holding her hands. Just the feel of her skin on mine. I would tell her that, I guess."

When he looked at her now she was crying. Softly. And nodding her head.

"I never had that, but..." she whispered, but a loud buzzing cut her off and he got up out of his chair, went to the study and shut the door behind him -- and as she watched this she was stunned by the change in him. When he heard the alarm, or whatever it was, he had changed in an instant. The alertness, the physical agility of his response. From relaxed to hard and sharp, like he was walking a knife edge between...

She heard other sounds: beeps and more alarms, maybe on a computer, then his voice, subdued, calm, and she went to the door, tried to listen.

"Yessir," she heard him say, then "I understand." More beeping, his chair scraping back, his footsteps and she turned --

And Jimmie was standing there, staring at her with crystal clear eyes, snarling, foaming at the mouth, then she heard the door opening, felt him standing behind her.

"You like listening through doors, I assume?"

She jumped back, almost into his arms, then stammered "I need...where's the bathroom?" she said while she tried to gather her wits about her.

"Right where you left it, earlier today -- I seem to recall."

The look in his eyes was dangerous now, vaguely predatory -- and now, suddenly, she felt deep fear when she looked at him. Like she was in real danger, and like he was a very dangerous man used to doing very dangerous things.

She walked to the bathroom and sat for a minute, then washed her hands and walked back to the living room -- yet all was as it was before. He was kneeling by the fire, putting a little log on the embers, then shutting the iron door and taking his seat again. And Jimmie, too, was sitting quietly by his feet again -- as if nothing had happened.

"Would you like me to leave?" she asked.

"Not at all," he said, but then he looked at his watch. "Unless you need to go home now."

"I think I should let you get some rest."

"Alright."

"I'll let myself out," she said, walking rapidly to the front door. "You don't need to see me out."

He watched her leave, and Jimmie never took his eyes off her.

She felt it as she walked up the street. She was being watched, and she turned her head slightly, saw two men kneeling in the shadows. Dressed in black, carrying guns, talking on a radio.