Standard disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. Any similarities with any persons living or dead are wholly coincidental...
A note from the author: I ask you to be kind. I write to entertain myself.
Feedback is good and welcome, bitchy flame mail is not.
-- Izzy
* * * *
Here I sit still in a police cruiser with my hands handcuffed behind my back. The Highway Patrolman is continuing to drone on. I am wondering how I got here, and remembering...
* * * *
I was still in shock when Mike drove me back to the site. I invited him to my house for lunch. Mike had helped with the plumbing rough ins during construction. He also designed and fabricated the metal work for the supplemental water tank under the bed. I used them as part of his certification.
Mike told me sure, he had to get something from his bunk first. He kissed my cheek and headed to the bunkhouse. When I got to my house there was a card taped to the door, with a Sheriff's Office watermark. It contained a birthday card, "Happy 18th from Deputy Pete and the rest of the good guys... Have fun!" There was a string of 18 novelty and one Magnum (I assume to grow on) condoms taped to the left side of the card.
I was 18, it was about time I started living, not just existing. I also knew if I wanted Mike to take me I'd have to clean myself out. My grandfather would have laughed, only 'I' would research losing my cherry on the internet.
As I did several anal douches, I thought back to when the house was under construction. I had to use the bunkhouse showers. I loved to dawdle, so I could see the shadows of the roughnecks through the shower curtains. Thanks to the shadow play on those showers, I had a lot of material to jerk off to.
The guy I spanked off to most was Mike. Mike was a gorgeous Italian hunk. He was about six foot one with dark brown hair and eyes. Eyes that could cut right through you. He was strong, with broad shoulders. He had a wicked sense of humor. A lot of his jokes were a little blue or racy. Everyone on the site laughed a lot, I blushed a lot.
I was no gourmet chef, but I could cook. Mike knocked at the door, I waved him in. He smiled as he entered, knocking the muck off his boots before crossing the threshold. He had a gym bag in his hand. "I come bearing gifts my friend." He pulled out a bottle of Moscato, and a bottle of Lambrusco. "I wasn't sure what you were making fish, pasta, or beef. I figured I'd cover all bases. I assume I'm your first house guest." I nodded yes.
"Maggie, would you mind if I borrowed your shower. The one in the bunkhouse is down again and I got a layer of grunge on me." I bristled when he used dad's name for me. I had noticed in recent days a few of the roughnecks started to use it.
Still, I had cotton mouth from the possibilities as I responded, "Sure you helped install it after all." I drew the blinds over the entry door. I closed the louvered aluminum pocket doors, hidden behind the bookcase and storage walls. They created a closed changing area. Private from both outside and inside the trailer. I left him to enjoy his shower and went back to the kitchen.
I was playing Josh Groban's 'You're Still You' and Mike was singing along with that incredible rich tenor voice of his. Oh God I was so tempted to climb in the shower with him. Mike hollered out from the shower "Hey Maggie, some of the family kept calling you Tre. What's the story there?"
With the roast in the oven, I figured I had time. I open the door a tiny bit to the dressing area and replied, "When I was eight, Dad came down in the rumpus room and caught me kissing a guy. That is when he started calling me Magna, and Maggie. He continued even knowing Granddad and I hated the female version of OUR name.
Grandpa would say, 'He should be Magnus or Mag like you and me. He ain't no fucking Magna, or Maggie.' Dad persisted, so Granddad came up with a special name for each of us. Granddad was Senior, Papa was Junior, I was Tredje, the third. Grandpa just shortened it down to Tre, three. Granddad and uncle Nels kept calling me Tre to spite my dad."
"Your old man's quite a piece of work. I'm sorry I shouldn't have said that."
"Mike you're just being honest. Sad truth is you don't know the half of it."
"I'm sorry for using Maggie, I heard a couple folks in town use it. I'll talk to the guys and get them to stop."
"Mike, you didn't know. Truth is dad has a lot of friends in this town. That's another reason I have to go. This trip isn't just about finding myself, I need to heal a bit."
I looked in the direction of the shower. Mike had left the shower's privacy pocket door open, and I saw more than his beautiful silhouette. He was not as muscular, Atlas like, as Charlie. He was perfectly formed, more like Michelangelo's statue of David. Suddenly I was very pleased that I bought the clear shower curtain.
My side of the conversation suddenly ended. I was staring at the long shaft of uncut meat that swung below his waistline. I stood there sucking my bottom lip. It took a long time for me to realize he wasn't talking anymore either.
My eyes shot up and saw him looking at me through the clear shower curtain. He had a big shit eating grin on his face. "I was kind of hoping that's why you brought me over... my timid little fox." He open the shower curtain so I could get an unfiltered view.