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(Author’s note: all characters in this story are pretty clearly over 18.
While some chapters will stand alone, this one really depends on Chapter 3 to make sense.)
The snow piled up that Saturday, as much as it ever piles up this far South. I measured seven un-drifted inches and knew, particularly as it was the weekend, that I wasn’t going anywhere for a couple of days. Snows like that are rare enough around here that it doesn’t pay to invest in a lot of snow clearing equipment, so we just shut down until the thaw that inevitably comes within a couple of days.
I cleaned the house and worked out a little. I had a pretty serious photography hobby and spend some time editing some photos from a couple of shoots that I’d done for a local band at their latest club show. Beyond that, I generally puttered around and enjoyed the quiet. Sunday was beautiful and snow-covered and I hiked out to the nearby university-owned woods with my camera to capture it.
And I thought about Ramona. There was clearly more to her than our neighbors (myself included) had ever imagined. I was curious, of course — I’m usually a better observer of people than that, although I had never spent much time around her before the previous week. And none inside her (sorry, bad joke). It was pretty damn clear that she hadn’t always been the Suzy Homemaker that she presented to the rest of us and I figured the story there was probably pretty interesting.
True to form, the highs climbed into the 50s on Monday and the 60s on Tuesday and the snow was pretty much gone by Wednesday afternoon. I was back on my normal schedule, even getting out to go for a walk with Joanie on Tuesday. Of course I didn’t mention Ramona’s visit but she did become the topic of conversation again. Joanie made a couple of snarky remarks about her and her husband and I found myself defending Ramona, which drew some puzzled looks from Joanie.
“Hey, I just feel bad for her, okay?” I said. “She’s got enough going on without the neighborhood buzzing about her.”
She did a double-take and started to respond, then apparently thought better of it and changed the subject. We finished our walk with the subject of Ramona apparently forgotten, but after I got home I wondered a little at my reaction. I knew that I had a tendency to get protective of the women in my life, but I didn’t consider her a ‘woman in my life’, did I?
That question was put to the test on Thursday, when I got a call from Ramona asking if we could meet for dinner on Friday. “I really want to talk to you. There are some things that I think you deserve to know about me. And I think maybe I owe you,” she said, the last with a little chuckle.
I thought for a couple of minutes, knowing that this could be a horrible, very bad, no-good mistake. But I’d already admitted to myself that I was intrigued by her. “Tell you what,” I finally said. “I’m supposed to photograph the band that’s playing at The BarNone Friday night. If you want, we can grab some dinner in the neighborhood and then go to the club. I can get an extra backstage pass for you and we can hang out. How does that sound?”
I guess I was testing her. I figured the seemingly conservative neighborhood mom would quickly turn down a night at a rock & roll club and we’d be done, or at least find some other night to meet. That was definitely not the response I got. “You’re shooting The Howsoevers? That would be amazing!” she almost gushed.
Okay, things were getting curiouser and curiouser. It was surprising enough that she would have heard of a fairly obscure band like these guys but for her to know they were playing locally seemed… well, “unexpected” would be a considerable understatement. Nevertheless, I arranged to pick her up at 6:30 the next night figuring we’d grab some dinner at a brewpub near the club before the show. That was a little early but I thought that would give me time to get her home and still make it back to the show if she decided to bail.
I pulled into her driveway right on time and she practically bounced down the steps to the car. It was dark by then of course and still pretty chilly, upper 30s or so, and she was wearing the same overcoat that she’d had on the week before. Jeez, had it really only been a week? I could see what looked like Dr Martens boots under her coat, with thick black leggings covering those long legs. That was certainly a different look than I expected!
We chatted about the snow and, rather pointedly, not much else on the short drive into town. I lucked into a parking space within a block of the restaurant and we walked over, the breeze whipping her coat around her legs. I’ll admit that after the last time I’d seen her wearing it, my imagination was running wild thinking of what she might have on underneath it.
As we walked under a streetlight, I also noticed for the first time that she had dyed her hair platinum blonde and had razor-cut the left side of her head – not shaved but super-short in a punky cut that looked canlı bahis şirketleri as interesting and dangerous as I assume she was going for. Definitely no longer a suburban mom look and now I was imagining her vacuuming the house in a studded leather choker rather than pearls.
We were seated pretty quickly, at a booth in a corner which suited me fine since Ramona had “wanted to talk” – that usually implies the need for some privacy. She took her coat off and I reassessed my earlier observation. Instead of tights, she was wearing knee-high black socks, leaving a mile of creamy bare thigh on the way to the black micro-mini leather skirt she was sporting below a 1980’s vintage Betty Boop cropped sweatshirt. She looked young and cool and a little dangerous and I’m guessing every damn person in the pub was sure I was her old dad taking his rebellious daughter out for dinner.
I ordered the brewpub’s pale ale and Ramona picked out a glass of pinot grigio — that at least seemed in keeping with what I was coming to regard as her facade. She winked at the waiter when he carded her and laughed when he looked convinced that it was a fake ID. After we took our first sips of our drinks, she looked at me and said, “I said I wanted to talk, didn’t I? I guess I’d better start.” I took another sip and nodded, now a little hesitant to hear what she might have to say.
“So, I spent most of the last few days with my mom. She’s been taking care of Tina since… since the shit hit the fan, I guess. Or since that shithead hit the road. And… I’ve learned a lot. About my family. About myself. And I felt like you ought to know. Or maybe I just needed someone to talk to.
“I know everybody in the neighborhood thinks I’m some kind of strait-laced, buttoned-up prude. And I get why. But that’s not me. It’s never been me.” She took a deep breath, then took another sip of wine and looked out the window at the cars crawling by. “I was a wild child. I almost flunked out of college from partying. My parents basically forced me to transfer to Liberty University, thinking a good dose of religious education would straighten me out. That’s where I met my shit-for-brains husband.” I snorted at that.
“My folks and Todd’s folks and the people I met at Liberty all convinced me that I needed to be the wife that I guess I look like to y’all. Todd was supposed to be successful and I was supposed to pump out babies for him, of course, and keep the house and all that crap. I thought I could do it. I thought I could play that role. But it didn’t help that Todd’s a fucking idiot,” she said a little more heatedly. She looked around at the other tables and calmed her voice back down.
“His part of the bargain was to make lots of money, but he’s honestly just not very smart. So his career is going nowhere. And on top of that, I find out he’s fucking his secretary but somehow I’m too pure for him to bother with unless it’s to make more babies. Well, fuck that. And then I talked to Mama this week. And found out that she went through the exact same thing with my dad, except for the secretary-fucking part, and she never escaped and I never knew! She was going to clubs and partying and having fun — having a life! – when she got pregnant with me and my grandparents convinced her to marry my dad and ‘settle down’,” she said, making quote-y marks with her fingers.
“I never knew that she regrets going along with them to this day and feels bad about pushing Todd on me. I guess she did it because Daddy convinced her to. But I think there may be a reckoning coming for them too. I think Mama might be about done with that bullshit like I am.
“So anyway, I guess I… I just wanted you to know that I’m not some psycho split-personality freak. Or, hell, maybe that’s exactly what I am. But I’m done with being Miss Priss. That shit’s over. And I’m SO done with Todd.” She raised her glass in my direction and I clinked my pint glass against it, still unsure what she wanted from me.
“Oh, stop looking at me like I’m going to go all psycho bitch wanna-be girlfriend on you or something! I like you, Jim, but you’re too damn old for me,” she winked while taking a big drink. I laughed loudly at that, maybe a little bit out of relief. “I just wanted someone to understand and you have been really nice to me — more than I probably deserved. But, hey, you got fucked by a hot chick for your troubles, right?” she said, a little louder than maybe she should have. But if we were starting to get stares from some of the diners around us, I decided I really didn’t care. I guessed they wouldn’t think I was Dear Old Dad anymore, at any rate, and that did good things to my ego.
Our dinners had arrived while we were talking and we relaxed a little and dug in. We kept talking around the food, but the talk turned more to her parents. It turned out that her mom was pretty much the same age as me and we’d probably been to some of the same shows in the mid 80s, at the Milestone in Charlotte or Ziggy’s in Winston-Salem. canlı kaçak iddaa I gained a lot of respect for Ramona, thinking about her stepping out of the role she’d agreed to inhabit when her mom had never been able to do that for herself.
“I borrowed the boots and the skirt from her, you know,” she said, raising her leg up to the side to show me – and to rather obviously flash the guys at the table next to us. “She pulled a box of stuff out of the back of the closet that she’d never shown me before. Pictures, clothes, these boots, ticket stubs. She was hot stuff! Made me happy that she’d been such a fun person and really sad that she just… stopped. I can’t… I’m not going back to that crap, Jim. I’m just not.”
The conversation was turning a bit morose, so I took the opportunity to check my watch. Sure enough, it was time to head over to the club so I called for the check to settle up. I gave Ramona one last chance to be driven home before the show but she was having none of it. “Are you kidding me? I still keep up with good music and do you think I’d pass up a chance to see The Howsoevers? Not on your life, mister,” she said. The use of “mister” sent a jolt through me, given the circumstances of the last time she’d called me that, but she didn’t seem to notice.
I grabbed my camera bag and we headed out into the cold and joined the growing crowd headed over to The BarNone. The guys at the door knew me and the owner, JB, was there as well. I introduced Ramona to him and asked if I could get a backstage pass for her. He gave me a little grin and said “of course!”, handing us a couple of lanyards with the appropriate badges to give us the run of the place.
I walked her to the main bar at the back, where Cherie and Ben were working behind the bar. Cherie was an African-American woman in her mid-30s, with an awesome blues voice. She sat in with a number of the local bands that played around and was an accountant for the University during the day. Ben was a tall good-looking guy in his mid-20s. He looked like a stereotypical millennial (short hair, long oiled beard) and was also the owner of a couple of very successful co-working spaces, one in town and the other in Raleigh. I introduced Ramona to both of them, got her a beer and then excused myself for a minute to go talk to the sound and lighting guys.
Jimbo, the house sound guy, was working with the band’s tour manager on the set-up but they also had a lighting guy with them. I spent a few minutes talking shop, getting a breakdown of the general lighting cues he was using and the types of filters and cels and frequencies he had planned so that I had a better idea of how to set up the camera for the best results. Satisfied that I had all I needed, I headed back to the bar.
Ramona was down at the end, leaning over the bar in an intense conversation with Ben when I walked up. They both straightened up as I approached and Ben gave me a big grin and thumbs up behind Ramona’s back as I took her by the hand and we walked towards the stage, weaving our way through the growing crowd.
But she had a different destination in mind, veering off towards the door out to the patio where the smokers hung out. It was cold as hell, particularly after the warmth of the club, and the couple of die-hard smokers that were out there headed in past us as the opening band started to play their first song.
Ramona led me across the patio and around the corner, where the chain link fence that provided security to the club connected with the side wall about 4 feet past the corner. It was completely out of sight of the smoking patio and the only way she would know about it is if Ben had told her.
She shoved me up against the wall and planted a big, deep kiss on me as she fumbled at my belt buckle. She managed to get it undone and unzipped my jeans, yanking them down over my ass. My cock was hardening, despite the cold, and Ramona knelt in front of me, taking me into her warm mouth as I got even harder. She took me deep and then started working me in and out of her mouth with her arms wrapped around my thighs. After three or four minutes, the intense pleasure started to turn to pain as I felt way more teeth than I was comfortable with. I looked down and realized she was shivering like crazy and her teeth were trying to chatter but my dick was in the way.
I eased myself out of her mouth and pulled her up to me, wrapping my arms around her shaking shoulders. “W-w-w-anted to s-s-surprise you. T-t-t-oo cold-d-d!” she said into my ear, her lips freezing against me.
I pulled my jeans up and hustled her back into the now-steaming club to warm her up. I pulled her back behind the stage, flashing our passes at security, and brought her over to the other side of the backstage area where the dressing rooms were. There was a built-in ladder there that I directed her to and nudged her up and yes, I did sneak a few looks up under her skirt as we climbed. I’m only human.
We emerged into a sort of hidden canlı kaçak bahis room over the dressing room, with an opening overlooking the stage. Years ago, the old lighting control board had been up there but the lights had since been computerized and the controls incorporated into the sound board. The only thing remaining in the room next to the stage was a rough table knocked together from 2 x 4s and a rickety old stool.
The heat from the club tended to collect up there, which made it unbearable in the summer but damn nice and toasty in the winter. I wrapped my arms around Ramona again, leaning down to briskly rub my hands over the backs of her bare thighs. When she started to feel a little warmer, I turned her around facing away from me and did the same, rubbing the fronts of her thighs vigorously, very much conscious of her cute little ass right in front of me.
Ramona leaned over and gripped the edge of the rough table, which was next to the window over the stage. I continued to rub the fronts of her thighs, but now I knelt behind her and flipped her mini-skirt up out of the way so that I could kiss and nibble on that fantastic butt. She seemed to be warming up, in more ways than one, and I slid her thong down her legs so that she could step out of them.
I moved my hands up to her tight rear end and massaged her buns before gently pulling them apart and contemplating her little brown bud. I started at the top and slowly licked down her ass crack until I was circling her asshole. Continuing to hold her open, I firmly slid my tongue inside her, feeling her resist and then give way with a gasp that I could hear over the opening act below.
She pushed back against me, driving my tongue further inside her anus. She leaned further over, opening herself up to me even more as she went down on one elbow on the table while the other reached down and found her clit. She tightened around my tongue again as she rubbed herself and I started working my tongue in and out of her now well-lubricated asshole. She shuddered and bucked as she came, squeezing my tongue out of her. I just held her until she stopped shaking.
She was still leaning against the table as I unzipped my jeans and lowered them to my knees. She turned and looked at me over her shoulder and gave me a big smile and mouthed “yes” to me. I was hard as a piece of rebar and I lined my cock up and then sank into her pussy with one motion. I stayed there for a good long while, almost lying on top of her as her upper body lay against the table, her tits pressed into the rough wood. I pulled back slowly until just the tip of my dick was left inside before impaling her again as deep as I could go.
I started fucking her then, slamming in and out of her, pushing her forward with every thrust. I realized that anyone on stage looking up would have seen her blonde head appear in the window then disappear rhythmically and it would be pretty obvious what was going on. I also realized that I didn’t give a damn what they thought and clearly neither did Ramona.
Way sooner than I hoped, I felt my balls tighten and my orgasm start to build. Ramona was moaning and growling as I continued to invade her, standing up straighter now so I could watch her fantastic little butt compress with every thrust. I picked up speed a little and finally let go with a spurt of jizz deep in her cunt, followed by five or six more before I slowed down and pulled her ass back towards me, burying my cock in her cunt and holding her there while I stood panting, trying to catch my breath.
She looked back at me over her shoulder again, her blond hair now in disarray and hanging in sweaty strings across her forehead. She slid forward a little and my shrinking dick popped out of her with a squelch that was more felt than heard, given the volume of the opening band. She turned around and gave me a big open-mouthed kiss before we dressed again and checked each other to make sure everything was still in place.
“Ramona, I would love to take you home right now and fuck you until sunrise, but I really do have to take some pictures. Do you mind hanging out while I get to work? I at least need to shoot the first few numbers,” I said in her ear. The opener had finished their short set but the sound guy had put on some thumping dance music during the break and it was still hard to talk and to be heard. “OK, Jim. I want to see those guys anyway!” Ramona shouted at me. “I’ll be down in front of the stage. But don’t be too long!”
I helped her down the ladder and we made our way through the crowd that had gotten refills of their beers and were starting to converge on the stage. There was usually a gap of a few feet between the stage and the crowd when the opener was up but with the headliners coming on stage, the audience would move right up to the edge, almost leaning on the monitors.
I started walking with Ramona towards the bar in the back but she (as usual) had other ideas. She pulled me through the crowd until she was in front of the stage house-left, near where I knew the bass player was set up. I was still beside her when the band walked out and the crowd surged forward as the drummer counted off the opening beat to one of their minor hits from a few years before.
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