a work in progress, part 1

 

At the risk of confusing my readers (all 6 of you), I am posting another story, a work in progress that I hope to submit soon. I understand that with my posting of in flight  it may be confusing to jump between stories but that’s what it is for now. Story time it is, and essay and memoir must take a back seat during submission season. Enjoy.

 

CRASHING

 

 

crash 1

 

CAR no. 1

 

They weren’t even fighting when the crash happened. They were just driving along quietly, and boom, right onto the Jersey wall. Maggie couldn’t tell you what happened, but eyewitness accounts said they were switching lanes and hit the eighteen wheeler on their right, spun several times, ping-ponged off a few cars and landed on the wall.

“Are you okay in there? Are you okay? Help is coming.”

There was something on the radio, people talking, shouting, all of it just a jumble of sounds, background noise to the shaken but continuous hum of Maggie’s seemingly intact insides. The air bags had deflated, she turned her head for the first time.

“Jeffrey. Jeffrey, are you okay?”

“I’m here, Maggie. You okay?”

“I think so. Can you move?”

“Yes. Can you?”

She wiggled her finger and toes, she felt the stab in her chest for the first time.

“Yes, but my chest, my chest hurts, my ribs…”

Strangers, perfect strangers, helped them get out of the car and they sat on the highway. Who does that, thought Maggie, who helps people from wrecks, how do they do that, find the courage, I could never do that. Damnit, that hurts. Fuck. The truck driver was talking to Jeff, a woman was holding her hand and asking her questions, dark was creeping over the Route 50 bridge and bright, white headlights blinded her, making it impossible to look at the damage. Maggie never liked to look at the damage, even as she sat in the middle of it. I’m sitting on the highway, right in the middle of the highway. How crazy is that? She hurt, she wanted to cry but couldn’t. How long have I been sitting here? A minute, a month, an eternity, I don’t know, an eternity of not looking at the damage, an eternity of just sitting and hurting and wondering what happened. And then sirens, and red lights and blue lights and more people asking questions and Maggie looked at Jeff with an ache in her chest that she knew she required attention.

 

CAR no. 2

 

“Your brother is an asshole.”

“Yeah. Tell me something I don’t know.”

Charla lifted her head from her phone.

“How long have we been sitting here? Can you see anything?”

“We’ve only been here about five minutes, Charla, and no, I can’t see anything.”

“I wonder what happened. People are getting out of their cars. You want to get out, walk around?”

“No.”

Charla returned to her texting. “Your stupid ass brother dumped Lisa. Do you believe that? Do you know what he said to her? He said she wasn’t a turn on, that she was a crappy lover, that she never got him hot. Do you believe that? Who the hell would say that to a woman? What is his problem? He is not that hot. He’ll never do better than Lisa. Jesus. What an ass.”

Michael watched her fingers moving furiously over the tiny keypad. His brother was an ass, but he was right, Lisa was a crappy lover. Michael knew this because he had a thing with Lisa one time, just once, one time after some football party when Charla was visiting her mother. Everybody was drunk, Lisa grabbed his crotch in the kitchen and that was that. She challenged him, he delivered, but yeah, she wasn’t a turn on, just horny. But he had to be careful about talking about Lisa. If Charla found out it would be the end of them, and Charla was a good lover, a great lover, and just thinking about Charla’s love making got him hot. He put the truck in park, pushed the seat back and unzipped his pants.

“Oh no, Michael. I’m not blowing you here, no way, uh-uh, not gonna happen.”

“Come on, baby. You’ve sucked me off in the truck before. While I was driving. We’re parked, look how high we’re siting. It’s okay, no one can see us. Come on, baby, you know you like it.”

“Not as much as you, baby. No way.”

And his long arm reached between her legs and he felt her spread just a little. He rubbed her mound through her jeans and reached for her zipper. She dropped the phone and spread a little more as his fingers searched for the lips of her pussy.

“You bastard,” she said and moved closer to him, letting him find his way to her entrance, moaning as he pushed a finger into her, pulling her closer.

He took his cock from his pants and watched it bob and tap the steering wheel. Charla pulled her jeans down to her ankles and turned her body so that she was half kneeling on wide, sofa seat of the truck, her bare ass slightly lifted as her head moved over his cock and she took him into her mouth. He sucked his finger, wetting it before pushing it straight into her ass, pushing her head further down his shaft with his other hand and holding it there as she struggled. He let her lift her head and breathe, but only for a moment. The sensation of his cock stroking the roof of her mouth ignited him, her compliance made him bigger and badder, the audience of unawares in neighboring cars added an extra kick and he knew he would release too soon. He grabbed a handful of her thick hair and pushed her head down on him again and held it there as his finger continued to probe inside her, and still holding her hair, began moving her head up and down his cock as she sucked him and wrapped her tongue around his sex. His cock reached for her throat and emptied into her belly. Oh, baby, he whispered over and over as he opened his eyes and looked for a hole in the steamy windshield to scan the parked cars on the bridge. Charla wiped her mouth on his pant leg, turned over and laid on her back, her head on his thigh, her knees up and panties down.

“How much longer do you think we’ll be stuck here,” she asked.

“I don’t know, baby.”

“Long enough for you to get me off?”

“Yes, baby, long enough,” and he moved his hand between her legs and watched her hips rise and fall.

 

 

photo credit: vwmin.org

 

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