life's a beach  

sparkee58 58M
606 posts
8/15/2006 3:48 am

Last Read:
8/23/2006 8:35 am

life's a beach

That spring we left Johnson County and moved into a trailer park outside of the beach. We were only a couple of steps ahead of disaster. Fred, Luki and myself lived in fear of the knock on the door for a time, but it never came and we slipped into the rhythm of the beach crowd that Jimmy Buffett aptly called, "life in three-quarter time." After the dark woods and tobaccco barns of home, it was like another planet. We entrenched.

All three of us had our reasons for leaving the dark woods and the law was not our only concern, though it was chiefly mine. Fred had been fronted a few pounds of pot that was not only impotent but was infested with bugs of some sort. His supplier was not sympethetic. he did not want to hear anything about any bugs; all he was concerned with was his five thousand dollars. If there was anything in it besides buds, seeds or stems, it had got there through Fred. No, he didn't want the reefer back, he wanted his money. And he wanted it immediately. He set about to prove his point.

Fred and Luki had an apartment in Johnson County where they lived after they first got married, and I stayed with them about every weekend. One Saturday morning I was there alone when a knock sounded on the front door. it was a heavy handed, persistent pounding such as a landlord makes when trying to collect overdue rent. The stereo was on at a volume I knew could be heard through the door's thin wood, so whoever was energetically beating would not be satisfied if no one answered.
Besides, if it were the owner, who I suspected, he might simply pull out a key, unlock the door and enter. A fast retreat was out of the question since it was a second floor apartment with only one entrance. Nothing to do but open up and see what was the matter.

It was Dave, fred's supplier. he was a big, oafishfellow with a scraggly beard, long, unruly hair and wild, alert brown eyes that seemed as if they were in the midst of a battlefield with war waging all around. They never rested. he gave the front room a once over through the open door and asked where Fred was.

"They went out of town for the weekend," I told him. To show him I had nothing to hide, I walked back to the couch and sat down. This left him holding the door. It also left him the option of either leaving and coming back later or coming inside to see if I was telling the truth. he walked in and after scanning the room, askedif he could use the bathroom. He had on a jacket and his right hand was thrust into a pocket. There was a noticeable bulge and the light material of the jacket pulled down heavily.

To get to the only bathroom he would have to go through the bedroom, the only room you couldn't see from the front room where I sat. I smirked at his thoroughness and waved a hand at the closed door. When he returned, he was all business. he took the gun from his pocket and lay it on the coffee table in front of me. it was a 38 revolver, shiny as reflected water. If he wanted to scare me with this action, he succeeded. But that wasn't his plan; he merely wanted to convey the message to Fred that he was serious about his money. He left the gun where it was so it would become impressed upon my mind. I understood his game immediately. When I saw he meant me no harm, I regaind my composure. After the first quick glance, I refused to even acknowledge the pistol. Let him think guns are as common here as dirty dishes, I thought.

"You tell Fred when he gets back that I want my fuckin' money," he said angrily.

He glared at me with those wild battlefield eyes. The pupils were big as black marbles. Suddenly, it struck me as funny and I smirked again to suppress a grin. here we were in Johnson County, North carolina, home of dirt farmers and tobacco fields, buck teeth and quilting parties, Farmall tractors and pig pickins'; and here in front of me with his worn brogan boots and flannel shirt was dave menacing me like Brando in the Godfather. The shirt as too big for his extended stomach. His navel, nested in thick black hair, peeked out. I thought of James Cagney; "You dirty rat. You dirty rat." It was ridiculous. Almost.

Johnson County was sophisticated enough to have a thriving and sometimes ingenious drug business, though. One enterprising young man who worked at the first drive through convenience store started selling pot and coke through the window. For a while he had a successful business going. I went there with Fred one night to pick up a bag and there he was staring out at us like somebody out of a Faulkner novel. I looked in his hair for traces of haystraw. He never glanced at me in the passenger seat. That was his downfall; he was too trusting. A few months later he was busted.

Dave picked the gun up and put it back in his pocket. "Tell him I want my fuckin' money," he repeated. His hand still clutched the gun.

"I'm leaving today," I told him. "I won't see him for awhile."

He stared at me, letting this information digest. The hand in his pocket caressed the 38.

"I don't know if you know the deal between me and him, but he's trying to fuck me out of a lot of money."

He was trying to appeal now to my sympathy. Seeing it had no noticeable effect on me, he turned to leave. Pausing at the door, he said, "You tell him." He closed the door and was gone.

Luki, on the other hand, had her own problems in the deep woods. Because she was so beautiful, so fashion model elegant, she had many enemies who were bitter at her grace and natural good looks. Compared to the majority of county women she was a glittering gem.

Tall, blond, willowy Luki, if she had been ambitious could have gone to the far reaches of the earth on her looks alone. But that was not to be. She had watched her father, a former mayor of a small town here for twenty years, a much loved and respected man, waste away with cancer. Nikki, who I was to love manby years later, had also watched her father, a Navy pilot, die drom cancer. The disease had been traced to Agent Orange, the defoliant used in Viet Nam. Both of these women who I had loved so much were filled with a suffering from an early age. With both, the man that they had cherished above all others had deserted them. They had been abandoned. And if Nikki, beautiful and free as the ocean, chose to guard her sanity by never giving her soul to another man, then Luki took the opposite path. She gave herself fully to her few men with a melancholy love that tried to span the chasms that separated her broken heart.

Luki had an addictive personality that could probably be traced to her father's death. If Nikki found had found her solace in corporate success and unlimited ambition, Luki had found the answer in drugs. I had never known her when she didn't have two or three prescription vials of painkillers or tranquilizers. It was sad to watch this self-destruction, to know there was a place inside her I could never touch. She was a great, trusting, honest friend though, and I was always there to steady her when she stumbled.

A few years later, after we became lovers and I had bitten that lucious fruit that had so consumed Fred, I began to see a new Luki. In sex, she was insatiable, the only woman I've met before or since that could equal me with passion. many times she left me on the bed flat on my back, exhausted, while she writhed on top of me rubbing her slick pussy on my thigh, moaning and sticking her tongue down my throat. "Eat me," she would huskily moan. "Eat me, baby." Her orgasms always seemed to be around the next curve. I would turn her on her back and with soft, persistant pressure she would push my head down to that wet, steaming cunt that seemed to have a life of its own. I would probe and lick and suck as she moaned and ran her fingers through my hair always on the edge of coming but never quite there. Then suddenly, she would erupt, pulling me up into her arms as I slipped inside to the hilt and remain motionless as she rubbed hrself into a Mt. St. helens of an eruption. When she calmed down and the birds outside had quieted, i would make love to her gentle as stroking a child's head. She would wrap her arms and legs around me as if claiming me as a part of her own body. She smiled and looked at me with those intoxicating green eyes as I came. She smiled, knowing, as my seed entered her body and her arms and legs locked around me, that she possessed me totally, body, heart and soul.

As I said earlier, we each had our own reason for fleeing Johnson County that early spring. Luki certainly had her reasons. One night, drunk and full of coke and nerve pills she had been goaded into a fight with a girl a few years younger than herself. Cindy was eighteen, tough as dried concrete and had a heart to match. She was short, dark and had a neck thick as a wrestler's. That night Cindy was hanging all over Fred, drinking out of his glass, climbing into his lap, following him to the bathroom. As the evening progressed, I watched her behavior go from flirtatious to bazarre and brazen. Fred, with one week of batchelorhood left, (though he didn't know it) humored her. Luki, her mind clouded, stayed aloof and ignored the threat.

Fred got up from the table at one point to go to the bathroom and Cindy tagged along. Luki, Jerry, an old friend, and me stayed where we were. Luki had been rolling a joint and now she lit it up. We passed it around. By the time Fred and Cindy returned it was burning our fingers.

Fred sat down, looked at me and smiled, but wouldn't look at Luki. There was a grin on his face like a child who had been in the Christmas presents early. Cindy came into the room seconds behind him with a strange look in her eyes and her lips were compressed together tightly. At the table she picked up the half full bourban and Mountain Dew that sat in front of Luki. She put it to her lips to drink, but instead spat something into it and sat it back down. Luki looked at her drink. A gob of white floated on top. I looked at Cindy. Semen dribbled down from the corner of her mouth. As Luki, enraged, stood up, Cindy licked if off with her tongue.

Then they were on the floor, a tangle of hair and screams before anyone could interfere. When it was over Luki stood over Cindy, victorious, daring her to get up. Cindy lay where she was, bleeding from the thumb Luki had almost severed with her teeth, Blood was everywhere, drinks were spilled, ashtrays overturned; the stereo leaned precariously from its stand. A silence came over the two combatants like the predawn woods. We got them to opposite sides of the room and tried to tend to Cindy's bleeding thumb. She would have none of that but instead sat by herself in the corner licking her wounds like a battle scarred cat.

The party broke up after that and I was left alone in the living room with Cindy. I stretched out on the couch and went to sleep. I awoke early in the morning while it was still dark when Cindy curled up beside me looking for comfort. I knew she would probably bleed all over me and at first I hesitated. But she was shaking and scared, cold and alone and I knew she was in immense pain. I had never seen her so vulnerable. As she lay in my arms that night, crying softly, I hugged her and kissed her gently on her wet neck. My mind wondered at the kind of life she must have. Not having the looks that Luki was blessed with she had to find other ways to attract men. And the men she attracted lived lives full of Buck knives snapped open and thrown beer bottles in spit on the floor local beer joints. A plain woman is a plain woman, no amount of grace can change that fact in a man's mind.

The revelation of her suffering hit me suddenly. It was like picking up a tough girl in a bar. She has everyone convinced she has a heart of stone and will play chicken on her bare arm with a lit cigarette or chug a beer and smash the can on her forehead. And then one night you get her home with you and she's bashful and unassuming and she purrs like a cat when you make love to her and she strokes your back and you see it's all an act. The toughness is the armor that she wears through the grueling monotony of her life. I stroked her hair until she finally slept.

Within a week Cindy's mother was promising a lawsuit.

catseyes23 61F

8/15/2006 3:59 am

Life certinly is a beach-splendid, Spark-absolutely splendid. Loved it.

sparkee58 replies on 8/15/2006 4:20 am:
I'm glad you liked it, cats
i knew quite a few cindys

marnison 79F

8/15/2006 10:48 am

down the road...there's a shack. on it's walls are the photos of

the beginnings..and the ends

sparkee58 replies on 8/16/2006 1:40 am:
and in the middle?

ShyWhisper2006 53F
15175 posts
8/15/2006 4:36 pm

wow...awesome story...very vivd, stark and tender...thank you

sparkee58 replies on 8/16/2006 1:39 am:
i'm glad you enjoyed it

marnison 79F

8/16/2006 8:24 am

    Quoting marnison:
    down the road...there's a shack. on it's walls are the photos of

    the beginnings..and the ends
"and in the middle"

......a road that's always that way. one never took the right...way.

sparkee58 replies on 8/16/2006 8:45 am:
always the path less traveled

MoutnainGirl 37F

8/21/2006 8:54 am

What a great post. Thanks for sharing this with us.

Moutnain Girl

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sparkee58 replies on 8/21/2006 10:03 am:
lots more where that came from
i'm glad you liked it

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