walkin' dusty roads part 3  

sparkee58 58M
606 posts
6/25/2006 4:50 am

Last Read:
8/23/2006 8:24 am

walkin' dusty roads part 3

Dusty ate lunch during the week at Honey's gangbox. They were usually alone, sitting in the shade of the concrete overhang. There was a designated eating area for the crew over to the side. Dusty walked up to the brown metal box Tuesday morning and noticed Honey was agitated and paler than normal. She trembled. He took off his hardhat and set it on the desk. It was crowded with grimy blueprints and handtools. Removing a red bandana from his back pocket, he wiped the sweat from his forehead.
He bent, opened the cooler they shared and got out a Coke. He held it up and she snatched it from his hand. He looked up.
"What's the matter with you?" he asked.
He got himself a Coke and then the thick roast beef sandwiches. He put one on the desktop and sat down on the cooler and looked at her. Her eyes were on fire. She picked up the sandwich, took it out of the baggie and took a small bite. Then she wrapped it back up and sat it to the side.
"They hired that bastard," she finally said, spitting out the words.
Honey's cool gaze went past him and he followed it to the crew's area where several men sat around eating out of small coolers. Some lay flat on their backs using their hardhats for pillows. Others read the paper. And then Dusty saw him. Sitting alone to the side, no lunch, a cupfull of water in his hand. His mouth was frowning, almost scowling out of a long, thin ashen face. There was no expression in his cold eyes.
Dusty's face became grim. He recognized him from the crumpled picture in the paper.
"They gave me a new hire today," she said.
Dusty nodded.
"It's a girl."
"Yea, well. They got quotas to fill, don't they?"
Honey shoved him as he drank his coke and some ran down his denim shirt. He wiped it off with the bandana and snorted.
"I'll quota you," she said.
"Yea, promise."
"So, where's she at?"
"Went to eat with her dad, Hal Berton."
Dusty whistled. Berton was the job superintendant. All the paperwork flowed through him.
"How old is she?"
"Where is she from?"
"Clean across the country. California. She don't know anybody. Her name is Angel."
"Dan will look after her."
Honey looked at him like she wanted to believe that.
"You think so?"
"Yea. Sure."
"Wait until you see her. She's tall and skinny as a pole. And I don't want to hear one word about her boobs. Do you hear?"
"Jesus, woman. I ain't seen them yet."
"You just don't be staring like these fools at the gangbox this morning. I felt sorry for the poor girl. I remember when I was that age."
"How big are they?"
"You don't worry about that."
Dusty finished his sandwich and crushed the thin aluminum can. He got up and put the used baggie and the can in a trash can. He walked back over and picked up the newspaper and started reading. Honey looked at the blueprints and did some calculations on a yellow legal pad.
"I'll look after her, baby. Me and Spike won't let anything happen."
They looked at each other and Honey was silent.
"I know," she whispered.

A week later Dusty was at the hydraulic bender putting offset bends in four inch diameter steel conduit. The pipe weighed eighty pounds and he and Spike wrestled it under the heavy shoe and clamped it down. They both wore heavy leather gloves. A control box was attached by a cable and Dusty lined up the pencil marks he had made with the permanent marks on the bender shoe. Spike pushed the button and it locked into place.
"How many?" Spike asked.
"Forty five degrees."
Spike pushed the button and the bender came to life. It hummed as the fluid was pumped through the lines. He eased off on the button at forty five.
"You know your friend we talked about?"
Dusty eyed Spike over the table as he unclamped the conduit. He turned it over and lined up the new marks and locked it down.
"Yea. What about him?"
"Guess who I saw him playing pool with in Jethro's yesterday after work?"
A chill ran down Dusty's back.
"Not Angel?"
Spike nodded his head. The goiter wobbled like a dangling earring.

That night, at the dinner table Dusty was quieter than usual as Honey rambled on from one topic to another. None of her men were making production, which was pitifully low anyway. She could only stretch the books so far before they ripped open. It was starting to feel like a conspiracy to her, like they wanted her to fail.
"You're not listening to me," she said. Her dark hair lay over her shoulders. She smiled but her eyes flashed with irritation.
"Yes, I am," he said. His big hands lay on the tabletop on each side of the plate. A tall glass of ice tea, sweet as a honeycomb, sweated before him. He took a big swallow.
"What did I just say?"
"Uhmmm...something about a blowjob after dinner?"
"No. And no again."
"I don't know, baby. My mind's a little distracted. I'm sorry."
"I said Clare is coming for dinner this weekend."
"That'll be nice. Why don't you invite Angel, too?"
Honey gave him a skeptical look.
"Angel? I suppose I could. She's got to be bored, not really knowing anybody."
Dusty cut a piece of the venison and held it to his mouth.
"Now, about that blowjob?" he asked.
Honey smiled again and the agitation was gone, like the sun coming from under a cloud.
"Maybe after dessert."

Honey had a dream that night. She was locked out of the house. A cold rain fell, her hair was like hanging limp seaweed, the thin nightgown clung to her shivering body. She rattled the doorknob. The cold wind blew water into her eyes. She pushed and pushed. A noise came from the woods, a low growling, and suddenly she trembled with fear. Something was out there.
"Dusty!" she screamed.
"Dusty! Let me in!"
The growling got closer, it was behind her, she could feel the hot breath on her neck.
Then the door swung open and she was inside. She closed the door and sat on the floor with her back to it. Water puddled at her feet. The house was dark except for a soft light from a candle in the bedroom. She heard soft voices. Standing, she found she was no longer wet. The thin lacy material billowed around her as she walked down the hall. It seemed to take forever. The light got brighter as she went.
Clare sat before the small table Honey used to put on her makeup. Honey saw her reflection in the mirror. Then suddenly it was Angel. She was naked, her slim shoulders from the back making her look like a child. Her breasts, illuminated by the soft flickering light, would have looked big on a normal sized woman, but Angel's dominated her physique. They were round and full with large pale areoles with thumb sized nipples that pointed outward. Angel brushed her long blond hair and continued talking.
Honey stood there looking and then she heard a noise in the bathroom.
"Dusty?" she asked.
"No," the apparition answered and then Clarissa's old boyfriend, Stan, stepped into the light. His eyes never left Angel as he walked toward her. Honey felt helpless to move. He took the brush from her hand and brushed her golden hair. Angel lay her head back in the chair and Honey could see her closed eyes, a look of rapture softening her thin face.
"Do you like it?" Stan asked.
His voice was husky. He was naked, too and a long, thin penis lay limp along his skinny leg. One hand was behind his back and Honey saw a glint of steel in the candlelight. As Stan brushed her hair, his other hand fondled the steel. Soon he put the brush down and cupped her breast from behind. Honey saw his erection now; it was hard and standing straight up.
Angel moaned as he messaged the breast. The razor went to her sweet face as Honey screamed and screamed and screamed.
"Baby, you had a nightmare," Dusty said. "Come here.'
Honey trembled in his arms as she recalled the dream. She tried to tell him about it.
"I've been meaning to talk to you about that," Dusty said.
"I know they're going out. It's pretty obvious. They eat together everyday."
They lay there in silence for awhile. Honey reached down and her hand slipped through the waistband of his briefs. He became hard immediately.
"I want you now," she said. There was urgency in her voice. She pulled off his underwear and then her own thin panties and pulled him on top of her.
Dusty felt her shiver as he entered her. He gently pushed in until he felt a dryness and then he eased it back out and back in again. Honey pushed her hips up and soon he had it all inside her.
"Just stop. Don't move," said Honey. Dusty was as deep in her as he could get. She moved her hips under him, working her clitoris against him, moving, moving , moving until she gasped with pleasure and, for her, time stood still. Dusty started moving again after she came, slowly, slowly. Soon he came and she lay in his arms. He heard a soft sobbing and when he turned to kiss her, he tasted the salt of bitter tears.

Dusty and Spike had filled out myriad paperwork so they could drill four holes in the concrete wall to mount a steel bracket that would hold the heavy conduit. The process took about two weeks. First they had to get measurements for each half-inch penetration in three dimensions to the sixteenth of an inch. Then they submitted this to engineering to check for embedded conduits. After this was approved they got a ticket for the drill bit.
After they drilled the holes and engineering had checked it out, they were given four anchor bolts, no more no less. They drove the anchors in, mounted the bracket and tightened the nuts to the proper torque with a scaled wrench. Now they stood in line again. Several people waited in front of them.
Dusty walked to a wooden barrier where their two helpers played grab-ass. Standing apart he looked out over the wide sprawl of the mammoth construction project. It was almost biblical in scope. Cheopsian. The pyramids pointing straight into space. That is the future it tells us; that is the message, if we could find its Rosseta Stone. A twentieth century Sphinx.
Men walked under him in every direction, logical as an ant colony, pulling the blocks up the slope, so to speak. One familiar man looked up and waved. Dusty smiled and waved back. The man hefted the two foot section of steel conduit on his shoulder. Probably weighs ten pounds, he thought. Another man walked by in the clean jeans and crisp shirt of engineering. His hardhat gleamed white. He talked into a recorder as he passed.
"What did he say?" Dusty yelled down.
"Said I was travelling."
"You've been travelling with that same pipe since yesterday."
"What's your point?"
The man walked away under him. The two helpers had stopped playing and were looking intently as the far entrance. Dusty followed their gaze to the three Wackyhut guards holding the leash of a large German Shepherd. His heart missed a beat but he recovered.
"Drug dog! Drug dog," one of the helpers was yelling excitedly.
"Spike, can we go fuck with them? Can we? Can we?."
Spike stood in the long line with the now grimy paperwork in his clutches and looked at Dusty, who nodded his head.
"Come on, Stoney!"
They flew to the stairs. Spike walked over and they both looked out. The female guard followed the sniffing dog holding tight with both hands the taunt leash.
Soon they saw the helpers, both tall and gangly creep around the stairwell and position themselves just in front of the dog. They peeked around the corner where they were hiding so the guard got just a fleeting glimpse. She looked at her partner excitedly and the chase was on.
Spike laughed and shook his head as the boys led them all over the plant. The boys knew every shortcut, every nook and cranny, every one of the thousand rooms. The guards left disgustedly an hour later, the dog's big, pink tongue hanging out. The helpers soon returned and resumed their grab-ass and Dusty and Spike still waited to turn in the paperwork. They stood to the side, smoking.
"I might need to borrow the boat, Spike."
"You taking Honey to the beach again?"
Spike took out a long, thin, pearl handled Old Timer knife and whittled on a big pencil with the concentration of Michelangelo.
"Nope. Matter of fact, I need you to captain for me. A special trip."
Angel walked by underneath them and they both watched her until she opened the swinging plywood door and disappeared behind it.
"Special trip, huh?"
Dusty nodded.
Spike eyed him closely.
"I'll pass on that. But, I tell you what. The key is under the seat. And that's all I'm gonna say."
Dusty nodded again. Spike pulled out a heavy pocket watch on a steel chain and opened it up.
"Why don't you get with the program and get a wristwatch, there Casey Jones."
"It was my grandaddy's watch. Screw this. It's almost three. We'll try again tomorrow."
"Sounds good to me," said Dusty. He told the helpers to get up the scattered tools and ladders and then they walked to the gangbox. Honey sat at her own doing paperwork and she smiled and touched his arm as he walked by, last night's phantoms forgotten as a child's skinned knee.

catseyes23 61F

6/26/2006 9:40 am

As usual - perfect, Spark.

You should be writing for a living!


sparkee58 replies on 6/26/2006 1:26 pm:
that would be ideal.
but i do enjoy my contracting business.

rm_1SweetBitch 55F
8575 posts
6/26/2006 10:30 pm

I am in awe...are you as talented in the bedroom as you are at writing?

No Day Is So Bad It Can't Be Fixed With Great Sex!

1 SweetBitch

sparkee58 replies on 6/27/2006 1:50 am:
i think i used to be.


6/28/2006 9:11 pm

Very, very good {=}

just a squirrel trying to get a nut

sparkee58 replies on 6/29/2006 1:23 am:
thanks, Mo

HBowt2 59F

6/29/2006 2:03 pm

just love your style.....the interaction between your characters building the story ...perfect...

sparkee58 replies on 6/30/2006 1:44 am:
i think there're trying to figure this out, too

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