LatinosUSA

He was on the road driving his load of sand down a numbered highway, dropping it off, switching trailers, picking up another one, rinse and repeat. Ample time to daydream and when he got tired of the radio he turned it down. He had his girl on his mind and liked placing her in all kinds of imaginary setups with different kinds of men of various races and personalities. The only constant was the size of the cock, I mean, the better half of hen. He put her in chateaus in Paris, red light districts like Amsterdam, haunted houses in New Orleans with vampires, tombs of pharaohs in Egypt where the pharaoh came back to life by her presence. He put her in heels and lingerie with fuck me fire engine lipstick and thick as monarch wing mascara. Thigh highs and lace ups and silks of all colors and coverage. He tied her in jute with black leather like a study in forms for kinbaku.

His bluetooth alerted in his ear. He had to yell answer three times to be heard over the creaking joints and jangling chains, the gears and pistons and momentum of wind, sauntering heavy down the road. It was her. Checking in on him. Worried he might fall asleep at the wheel driving all night long. The cat woke her up crying for milk. She liked to help him stay awake or make him laugh or whatnot while she sat on her balcony in her pjs drinking coffee watching the light come into the sky. He tried to gauge her mood to see if he might slip it in or not. She seemed pretty open so he gave it a try. Have you seen the neighbor? He asked. Which one? You know, the black guy downstairs with the dog. Oh. Not in a while. Why? Well… he started, I was just thinking you had, you know… No, she said, I don’t know. Well… he said, you know you can if you want. I would love that for you.

If he got it wrong she would get upset when he turned the conversation on a dime like that. Then he was guilty and got slugged with it. Like that’s all you men think about. Like I’m not just some object of desire. Like why would you fuckin go there when I’m telling you how troubled I am by the current administration and how they don’t give a fuck about our civil rights? She was right but he was not wrong when he dared to reply, but you are my object of desire, too. Often she was gentle with him and didn’t care. She liked to see where his mind went and how far, and he dreamed out loud and showed her all seven of the seas and presented her to opium dens in China and pimps in New York City and the forests of Ukraine where hungry soldiers had not seen a woman for months. She knew this made him happy.

This kind morning he was lucky. She was in a playful mood. Wait. You mean the black guy downstairs? Actually I did see him. Last night as I was taking out the recycling I saw him walking the dog. The sun was about to set and he invited me to watch. What the heck, why not? The dog was sniffing around for bunny rabbits in the tall grass on the back side of the levee where nobody could see. He started flirting real strong like he had no fear of offending me. I laughed it off but when the sky turned pink he touched me and I said I better go. He said okay. If you change your mind, I’ll leave the door unlocked. The sky changed colors and so did I. I waited a little while expecting I would forget. The way he said it kind of piqued my curiosity, like, was that for real? You know that outfit you bought me at Goldie’s over the weekend? I hope you don’t mind. I threw a big sweater over it in case anyone spied me through their Ring cameras and I went downstairs. I wrapped my silver nails around the handle and counted to two and pressed the silver tongue with my thumb and — surprise, surprise — it gave way. I found him in the living room leaning back on the couch watching porn on a big screen with his shirt off. He was very muscular and I could see the outline in his pants.

He was fully transported. Work had become effortless. The truck felt like a bar of soap floating on a cloud. Ohhh — he cried. Baby girl! I love you so much. You know you made me hard right now? I love it. You tell a story like it’s real. She was pleased that he was pleased and they went back to talking about the usual suspects: the day ahead and her challenges and his and their hopes for it. All that junk. Nothing was hard anymore other than his cock, I mean, the better half of hen. It was all pretty harmless, she thought. When it comes to fantasy, the truth can be such a hindrance. She dropped that number he got her from Goldie’s into the washer with her linens and measured out the liquid laundry soap, which happened to be the exact same color blue the sky was, the night before, when she pressed down on the silver tongue. 

END