M…

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Blindfold

M

July 4th, 1992 found me on Interstate 10 about fifty miles west of Phoenix, Arizona headed home to Texas. I had spent the last four years at U.C.L.A playing baseball while getting my degree. Honestly, I was happy as hell to get out of Los Angeles and California altogether.

Having made some good friends while I was there, it still was not the place for me nor was it for most of my friends either. Bo Tyson was from Mobile, Alabama, and headed home. Bobby McCallister was from a small town in Nebraska and leaving L.A. tomorrow. Terrell Jackson was staying a little while to help his Aunt Shelia and Uncle Leon. They owned Jackson’s BBQ and Soul Kitchen, which had been what sustained us three throughout college.

Shelia, who decided we all should call her Aunt Shelia, was more of a mom to us most of the time. “You boys git in here and eat. Looking like skin and bones all the time.”

I could close my eyes in their little restaurant and my nose would make me believe I was in my Grams house in Texas. Aunt Shelia made the best chicken and dumplings I had ever tasted. I would be sure not to tell my Grams about that or the cornbread that melted in your mouth.

Leon, he smoked ribs and pulled pork that would make you walk there in the rain just to lick the plate. He always snuck us boys a beer and got popped on the back of the head by Aunt Shelia every time.

Our baseball coaches complained when training would start beginning of a season that we put on too much weight, but they were in there nearly every Saturday themselves. Friday night, Saturday, and Sunday there was a line to get in, sometimes around the block waiting to eat. We always snuck in the back door and Aunt Sheila would load us a plate up that would nearly make us pass out. She would also never take any payment from us, so we would go help out when we had time. Cleaning, unloading supplies that came in, splitting wood for Leon; but we were not allowed to do any work in the kitchen. I got popped on the butt more than once and told to “Git,” when I tried to help do dishes.

I was going to miss them, but hopefully one day I had come back to visit. I was currently headed home and outside Phoenix when the radio Emergency Alert System started blaring out of my radio speakers. I turned it up to hear what the message was going to be. I had been watching lightning in the eastern sky for about thirty or so miles. Thunderstorms in this area could cause a lot of problems, much rain could make a flash flood or worse yet a haboob.

Anyone that has not witnessed a haboob cannot fully comprehend what they are, and I was hoping I was not heading into one during the night. Being it was about an hour before dark, dark would make it worse.

A haboob is caused by violent winds pushing downward and outward from a thunderstorm. Those winds pick up dust and small debris like small pebbles and twigs. Visibility during the day could be almost zero with these walls of gusting winds and sand stretching thousands of feet up and miles across.

Sure enough, that is what the voice on the radio was telling me, a haboob was headed straight toward me. Minutes later cars were meeting me on the highway flashing their lights and honking their horns. I figured my old 1985 Chevy C/K 10 would survive well enough. I turned the lights on the roll bar and in the push guard in the front and began looking for a place to pull the old 4×4 truck off the road. The sand around here, was a big worry so even with a four-wheel-drive I wanted to be careful. Sand could get waist deep in this area.

I was running out of what I thought was acceptable looking terrain when I felt the first winds with a little bit of grit in it started hitting the windshield. I slowed the truck down and headed off the side hitting the power windows up as I did. I eased along off the road as the fading light instantly became night and a lighted wall of sand blanketed the truck.

Figuring I was well off the highway I put the truck in neutral, set the parking brake, turned off all the lights, and remember to take my foot off the brake. I had read a news article probably two years ago about a man who pulled over and turned his lights off but left his foot on the brake. Another car not smart enough to stop kept driving. The driver saw the taillights and assumed he was following another car and slammed into the parked car. Luckily, only minor injuries but it still was a risk I was not fond of taking.

I sat in the truck sweating, the radio fading in and out due to all the disturbance. The storm sandblasted my truck along with small pebbles and even rocks in sounded like now and then. Luckily, I always carried two one-gallon jugs of water when I was on these trips; this storm might last a few hours. I had AC in the truck hardly ever using it out on the open road as it was, but with the haboob blowing all the fine dust I made sure I kept it off.

The force of the winds picked up shaking the truck continuously, so I decided to kill the engine, it was sucking air in and I wanted to make sure it stayed sand free.

Almost izmir escort two hours later the winds had stopped and there were a few sprinkles of rain hitting. A lot of the dust was settling. I fired the engine up thanking my stars it started, hit the wipers throwing sand off, then powered on the headlights, lights on the roll bars, and the push-guard. Still, too much sand in the air so I killed the roll bar lights and could see a lot better. I headed back towards the road, apparently, I had gone a lot farther from it than I thought.

I felt a tire slip as I got close to the road, hoping it would not make me get out a lock the hubs for four-wheel drive. I felt the front tires give and then heard the pops and the air hissing. In the floating sand, I could not see a narrow trench that was covered by a bunch of tumbleweeds. Sharp jagged rock edge sides had punctured both front wheels about twenty feet from the highway.

I backed out of the trench, having one spare would work with one, but I now had two flats. Thirty-five-inch tires could not just be carried around. You had to have a mount and the bed I only had one. Now I needed two. I debated for a bit just waiting till morning the flagging a car down, but I was hot and sweaty. Maybe I could get a ride to Phoenix, get a motel room for the night then find a tire shop tomorrow and get going again.

I moved the bags I had had in the back into the cab after brushing the sand off, took a smaller bag, and put a few items for the night in it. I had my back to the road when I felt a cold wind hit me that made my spine shiver and shake my body. My Grams would always say a rabbit ran across your grave when you got those chills up your spine. I closed the truck door and turned to see a black Thunderbird sitting there on the shoulder of the road. Had to be a classic automobile from the looks of it. The old car shinned like new, under what little moon was visible with a good amount of sand still suspended in the night air.

My dad was a car guy. Well, a gun guy owning a gun shop, but he had passion for old cars too. He could have told me the year I am positive. I guessed maybe pre-sixties with those wide whitewall tires on it. Whatever year it was, I could tell it was a hard-top convertible as it just sat there idling. Not being sure if they had pulled over for me or what, I stood staring at the window in the dark. With a lot of sand still in their air, I could not see through the window at all. The driver honked the horn a short beep, so I headed toward the door.

Opening the door, I was greeted by a smiling blond with ruby lips. “Where you headed, cowboy?”

“Looking for a ride to Phoenix for the night, ma’am.”

She turned the ignition off, handing me the keys. “Put your things in the trunk.”

“You are sure, ma’am?”

“Of course, cowboy.”

I placed my bag in the trunk, climbed in, and handed her the keys. “Thank you, ma’am. Much appreciated.”

I noticed when she started the car and the dash lights came on, she has dressed appropriately for the vintage car. She looked vaguely familiar. She reminded me of old pin-up models I remember seeing on the nose of World War II planes at an air show once. Nose art I think they call it.

“Where you headed?”

“Home to Texas.”

“So, I was right, you are a cowboy?”

“No ma’am. Just a simple country boy. That’s about it.”

“Sure, are cute. What’s your name or would you rather I just call you cowboy?”

I could feel the heat in my cheeks and been grateful she could not. “Travis ma’am. Travis Steele.”

“Sounds like a cowboy name to me … or maybe the name of a spy in a book.”

I laughed. “What’s your name, ma’am?”

“Just call me M.”

“M? As in the letter?”

“Yeah.”

“Where you headed?”

“Oh, I always love to take this car out down along the highway during the night.”

“What model car is it?”

“’56 Thunderbird.”

“It’s beautiful.”

“Thank you. I bought it brand new.”

I sat trying not to stare at her in the glow of the dash. She was gorgeous and there was no way she bought this car brand new in 1956. This was 1992. The car was thirty-four years old and she was maybe thirty. I was not going to argue with a beautiful blond, much less one that let a stranger in the car with her to give him a ride.

I heard her laugh and looked at her fully.

“What?”

“You. You are adorable. You are trying not to look at me and failing.”

Embarrassed, I managed, “You look so familiar. I’m sorry.”

“I get that a lot. No worries. Is that all that makes you look at me, Travis Steele?”

“Well, you are quite beautiful. Even in those jeans and a white shirt, you have a look of class and elegance.”

“My, aren’t you the charmer.”

“Oh no, ma’am. Just … Just never really met someone quite like you I guess.”

“Oh, I’m just a simple girl from Los Angeles.”

“Riding out near Arizona in a storm?”

“I like to ride at night. You wouldn’t happen to have a cigarette, would you?”

“No keçiören escort ma’am, I don’t smoke.”

“I miss them. I haven’t had a cigarette in years,” she said driving along.

“You just look so familiar,” I remarked again as we rode.

“Thanks, cutie. I take that as a compliment. So where to in town?”

“I just need a motel for the night. Anywhere cheap.”

“How about the Hotel San Carlos? It’s been there for years.”

“Long as it’s cheap.”

The beautiful blond, I only knew as M, never said another word about the hotel. She talked about the music on the radio, which all seemed like oldies. It’s like the station came right out of the ’50s. She would make remarks like, “I remember that song,” or “I always loved dancing to that.” Maybe M was a psyche patient on the loose. There was no way this woman sitting in the diver’s seat was much older than thirty.

Sure enough, we pulled up in front of the Hotel San Carlos. I was surprised when she got out of the car too and handed me the keys to get my bag, then headed to the door and waited. I caught up with her at the door opening it.

“Thanks, cutie.”

I followed her to the desk where an old sleepy looking gentleman met us. “How many and how long?”

“Two for the night and make it the best room you have.”

I looked at her, she winked as he fished a key out from a set of wooden cubby holes behind him. “Here you go Miss. Room 713.”

M took the offered key. “Could you be a dear, and have someone park my car?”

“Yes ma’am. Lewis!” The man called and a skinny teen came around the corner. “Park the lady’s car carefully, please.”

We headed up the elevator and off to the room. I waited as she opened the door and went in, kicking up the AC unit to make the room cooler.

“Why don’t you grab a shower?”

“Uh. OK. You know, I cannot really afford to stay here. I have to buy tires tomorrow.”

“My treat, sweetness. Now shower and leave some hot water.”

I managed to get my raging boner down before coming out of the bathroom.

“Why don’t you call down and see if they have any champagne while I shower?”

I nodded as she went in. “Oh, and some extra towels,” she called to me as the door shut.

“Yes sir, right away,” The sleepy looking man downstairs said on the phone. Minutes later there was a knock on the door as the skinny kid from earlier wheeled in a cart with a bottle of champagne chilling, two glasses, and some towels.

“Shall I open it, Sir?”

I nodded and he did then set it back in the bucket and headed out the door. I could hear the shower shut off then M asked, “Could you be a doll and hand me the towels?”

I handed them to through the cracked open door, it closed. Sitting on the bed unsure of what was going on and as nervous as a long-tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs. This was a woman! No silly girl; a classy and sophisticated woman.

M came out with a towel around her head and one wrapped around her body. God, she had an amazing figure, such a tiny waist that set her hips off. She was not large breasted either, but her narrow waist made her hips and chest pop.

“Pour us a glass, would you?” She sat down at a dressing mirror outside the bathroom. Opening her purse, she let her hair out of the towel and began to brush it as I filled the flutes with champagne and brought her one.

“Thanks, cute stuff.”

“You are welcome M.”

She smiled at me in the mirror. “Let me get my face back on.”

“You are beautiful without makeup.”

“Such a charmer, but a girl feels better with it on.”

I nodded and sat in one of the chairs by the window overlooking the street in front of the hotel, sipping the champagne. It was not my first time; when we won the conference, the coaches had celebrated with it, but it was not really for me. I would take a cold beer over it any day.

I so was lost in my thoughts about how much the tires would cost, I barely noticed the fireworks going off in the distance. If the tires were too much, I would have dad wire me the money and pay him back out of my savings when I got back.

“Hey, cutie.”

I looked up as she sat down in my lap with just a dry towel on.

“Oh hey.”

“Your mind on your truck instead of me?”

I felt the heat in my cheeks. “I’m sorry. Just…”

“Nervous?”

I nodded.

“Well let me worry about your truck. You worry about me.” Her ruby lips came toward mine as I tried to swallow. “Mmm. You are a charmer and a very good kisser.”

More and more fireworks were going off lighting the room up. Somewhere in Phoenix there was a firework show illuminating our room making it more romantic.

M’s arms went around my neck as we tasted each other again, gently at first, our tongues meeting and picking up passion.

“Make love to me Travis Steele. It has been far too long for me.”

My cock was iron under this blond beauty, my legs however felt like rubber. I managed to calm my body and picked her up, taking demetevler escort her to the bed, noticing she had turned it down while I had been lost in thought.

“Lose the shirt cutie.”

I pulled it off and moved in beside her as she scooted and pulled the sheet up. The towel quickly came off by her hand and flew across the room as she giggled. Her skin, I finally noticed, was milky white and smooth as my lips explored her face and my hands her breast and hard nipples.

Her red painted nails reached for the button of my jeans getting it undone and the zipper down as our tongues danced a soft wet dance like we were old lovers. M’s hands pushed the top of my jeans down the worked on them with her feet till I stopped and pulled them off throwing them across the room like she had the towel.

“Take me,” she giggled as I settled between her legs. Like magic my cock settled right against her warm lips as she pushed herself toward me and gasp as the head started in. I pushed slowly toward her us both groaning as I slid deeper. “So thick,” she panted, and I bottomed out making us both trembles. “Mmm Steele is an appropriate name,” she moaned.

I had never felt anything as close to heaven as what I felt inside of her. Her eyes stared into mine and I began the gentle thrusts back and forth in her.

“It’s been so long.”

“You could have any man you wanted. How can that be?”

“I have the one I want right now. Do not stop. Please don’t stop till we are both spent.”

We made love longer than I had ever imagined was possible. There is no explanation of how I did not cum, and she did; over, over and over again. Our bodies were one for who knows how long. It seemed like her biggest orgasm would come when the room lit up from the fireworks the brightest. Our kisses, our arms, and legs. Her grabbing and holding my hands as she would orgasm, soaking us both.

Her eyes met mine coming out of a passionate kiss. “Fill me!”

Her arms brought my mouth to hers again, her legs locked around my waist, and just as this blond beauty commanded my body responded and cum started it is journey up my shaft and into her awaiting body, triggering another orgasm that had her moaning then biting my shoulder to stifle her screams of passion.

I barely remember falling asleep with her head and arm on my chest, one leg across mine.

I awoke with the sun coming in from the open curtains. Feeling beside me then looking I was the only one in it. No sign of her. Maybe in the bathroom. The door was open; I checked she was not in there either. I need to use the toilet and did to see the telltale stream of a man who had had sex the night before.

I dressed, noticing her towel where she had flung it. I waited a few minutes after I was dressed, then deciding she was not coming back I went to see if they had seen her downstairs. The same sleepy looking old gentleman was there. I handed him the key to the room.

“Have you seen the lady I came in with last night?”

He looked at me strangely. “Sir, you were alone last night.”

“What? No! There was a blond with me last night. You parked had her car parked for her.”

“Sir I assure you that you came in alone. There was no car and you paid for the room for you only.”

“What? I paid for the room?”

“Yes, sir you gave me a one-hundred-dollar bill and I gave you change.”

“There is some mistake. I have never in my life owned a one-hundred-dollar bill.”

“Sir, you just do not remember. You took a tan leather wallet out of your back pocket with a big T engraved on it and handed me one hundred dollars.”

“This wallet,” I asked taking mine from my pocket?

“That very one.”

“This is absurd,” I said. “I have never had…” I opened my wallet to show him and stopped talking. Flipping through the bills in my wallet there had to be a thousand dollars in one-hundred-dollar bills as a shiver ran down my spine.

“Maybe the champagne got to you, sir. Will there be anything else?”

“Huh?”

“Will there be anything else sir?”

“Uh … No.”

“Check out is at eleven sir.”

“You got a phone book I can use?”

The sleepy-looking old man handed me a phone directory and pointed toward a phone in the lobby. I found a tire store that had my tires in stock and that was willing to take me to my truck, bring it back, and replace the tires by noon. My worry about how to pay for it all was wrong thanks to all the money that appeared in my wallet. I shuddered again remembering her words. “You let me worry about your truck. You worry about me.”

A guy named Mike from Big Al’s Tire and Auto picked me up a few minutes later and we were off to pick up my truck in a tow truck. I rode quietly for a few miles.

“You OK fella?”

“Huh?”

“You look like you saw a ghost.”

I laughed nervously.

“You know the ol’ San Carlos is haunted?”

I laughed again.

“Yeah, sure is. Girl back in the ’20s, Leone Jensen, jumped out a seventh-floor window. A lot of customers say they have seen a pretty blond there who just disappears.”

“Oh bull.”

“Ask the hotel. They will tell you.”

“You know what she looked like?”

The driver described the pictures he had seen of this blond apparition which calmed my nerves, she looked nothing like M.

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