Republic Ch. 02

All the cards looked the same. Besides, he did not really know what he wanted. He just needed a thank-you card. It was nearly 6 PM. He was the last customer and the staff was preparing to close. Overwhelmed, John began to walk towards the door. Suddenly something caught his eye. There on a shelf was a box containing a collection of antique motorcycle note cards: Norton, Matchless, and Ariel. They were blank inside. Perfect he thought. He had found what he wanted now he just had to figure out what to write and where to send the card.

John sat at his desk in the den. A baseball game on TV provided the background noise as he examined the box of cards. He chose a card with a hand drawn picture of an Ariel 4 Square on the front. "This motorcycle is like me," he affirmed to himself. "Unique, old, and treasured only by the true connoisseur. I wonder if she appreciates me. I'm definitely an acquired taste. Just ask my ex-wives!" He laughed, opened the card, and began to write. The easy part was soon over. "Now here's the rub, you old fool," he mumbled to himself. "You can't just write Teresa, Republic, Washington on the envelope and expect the note to get there, asshole! Her last name, her address, or even the name of the restaurant might be helpful!" John began his search on the Internet. He discovered the town history and little else. The Internet phone books were useless without a last name. A friendly AT&T operator was just that, friendly and could provide little information. However, she did suggest that he contact the local police department and provided the telephone number.

Late the next afternoon, when everyone had left the office, John made the call. He found himself talking to a jovial sergeant who seemed to have all the time in the world.

"Well, you could be talking about only one person. That's Teresa Schwartz. That's one feisty gal. She owns the Everett Bar & Grill, on Clark Street. You know, right on Highway 20 there..." The more or less one sided conversation continued for nearly 10 minutes. Obviously there was not much real police work to do in Republic. John copied down the information he needed, thanked the officer profusely, and hung up the phone. He carefully removed the envelope from the inside of his jacket pocket. With a shaking hand, he addressed it. John found a stamp in his secretary's cash box. John made sure he put in the correct change and a note to ensure that everything balanced. He did not need to complicate his life by upsetting the strict order of the office petty cash. A trip to the post office extended his drive home. There he stood frozen before the post box for a few seconds. "Oh hell, what have I got to loose?" he muttered to himself. Then he pulled back the drop door, threw in the envelope, and headed off to his lonely apartment.

After the weekend with John, the restaurant felt the same but somehow it was different to Teresa. The same customers arrived, ate, and left. The help wanted sign still hung again in the window. Nevertheless, Teresa's step was a little lighter, her smile a little brighter, and she nursed a hopeful emptiness. Nevertheless, with each passing day a little bit of the happiness faded and the emptiness grew. By Friday, Teresa optimistically awaited the arrival of Mildred and the mail. Mildred was Republic's postmistress. Everyday at 4:30, she dropped off Teresa's mail, shared some coffee, and the local gossip. However, this Friday there was no time for coffee or gossip. Mildred and her husband were heading off for a wild weekend in Winthrop, but more important for Teresa, there was no mail.

As the days turned into weeks, the summer heat became oppressive. Working over the restaurant stove was cruel torture, but what was even harsher for Teresa was the realization that she had opened herself to a stranger, risked it all, and lost. She had hoped for a telephone call an email, a letter, or even a postcard, but nothing came. What more could she expect? They had not even exchanged telephone numbers or addresses, let alone last names. It would remain the perfect summer memory. It had been the ideal one night strand. The only problem was Teresa wanted more.

The hot August days dragged on and life returned to normal. Then one afternoon it all changed. She heard the antique bell over the door announce another customer. She glanced at the clock. It was 4:32. It was Mildred. The sweat dripped from Teresa's face onto the grill as she worked the cleaning stone back and forth. She still had not been able to find steady help and the long days of doing everything were killing her.

"Hi, Teresa. It's only me," came Mildred's cheery voice from counter. "Shall I pour you a cup of coffee?"

"Sure, and will you flip over the closed sign. I've had it for today," came Teresa's tired reply from the kitchen.

"I've already done that.... Isn't this heat something awful?" Over the sound of the coffee being poured and the scrape of the cleaning stone, Teresa heard, "And by the way, sweetie, you've got mail!"

"Oh great just what I need right now some surprise bills and more junk mail."

"No honey, I mean, you got mail! I've known you for 25 years. Who the hell do you know in Seattle?"

Teresa's heart stopped. She put down the cleaning stone, wiped her hands on her apron, and walked slowly into the restaurant and joined Mildred at the table. Beside her coffee cup was the mail. Mildred had placed the small hand addressed envelope on the top of the pile. Teresa sipped her coffee and stared at the pile of mail. Her stomach was in knots and she had to hold onto her cup with both hands to ensure that she did not spill it. "Well, aren't you going to open it?" inquired Mildred.

Teresa bit her lip and put down her coffee cup. She took a deep breath. Her eyes never left the envelope. Her voice quivered as she spoke. " No not now," she whispered. "It probably from Frank's niece. I think she lives in Seattle. Probably a wedding invitation or Frank's death notice or something..." Her voice trailed off.

"Look, you got to banish those thoughts about that no good ex of yours from your mind forever! Now you need to know, whoever wrote that envelope got the zip code wrong. That's why it took so long to get here. It went to Tonasket first." Mildred knew better then to pursue the topic of Teresa's ex-husband any further. "Maybe it's from a secret admirer," she added teasingly, hoping to defuse some of the tension that was now around the table. Teresa just laughed, but the laugh was hollow. In the silence that followed Mildred quickly finished her coffee. "Look, I got to go. Have a good night, sweetie, and stay cool," she said as she rose and headed towards the door.

"Thanks for bringing the mail," called Teresa to the closing door. Mildred did not see the smile that was now on Teresa's face, the tear that trickled down her cheek or the way she gently rearranged the mail pile before returning to the kitchen.

The soft hum of the window air conditioner and the crack of the melting ice in the glass of Jack and ginger were the only sounds heard in Teresa's loft. She silently sat at her kitchen table staring at the envelope before her. She knew who had sent it. However, she was afraid to open it. Finally, she fortified her courage with a long hard swallow of her drink and ripped open the envelope.

The picture of the antique motorbike pleased her. "Just like him," she thought. Teresa slowly opened the card and read the words aloud. "Thanks for your rainy day hospitality. I have not enjoyed a weekend as much in a very long time. I would like to see you again. Hugs and kisses, John." Her voice faltered as she read once more, "...I would like to see you again. Hugs and Kisses." She clutched the card to her chest, bit her lip, and cried. Teresa could not figure out whether she was happy or sad or just plain scared. Glancing again at the writing, she saw that he had written on the inside of the cover of the card, his home address, his telephone number, and his email address. All she knew is that the card was over two weeks old. If she was going to do anything, Teresa had to do it soon.

The kitchen tile felt cool against her bare feet as she approached the counter and eyed both the telephone and her laptop. She reached for the phone and froze. What would she say?

The TV blared out the baseball game in the background. John worked at his desk. The sweaty beer bottle brought its coaster with it as John picked it up. He didn't notice. As usual, he was trying to kill the loneliness of the evening by multitasking: writing his ultimate novel, surfing the net, hoping for email, and watching the ballgame. The Mariners were winning. At least something was going right. As he lifted the bottle to his lips, the coaster fell onto the keyboard and the screen went blank. John stifled to urge to use the F word, picked up the coaster, placed it and the beer bottle back on the desk, and apprehensively tapped the spacebar.

The email program flashed onto the screen. Highlighted was new mail. Nevertheless, it was from someone he did not know. His finger was just about to hit the delete key, but he paused. He opened it instead. A cryptic message appeared on the screen. His heart stopped.

"John, My zip code is 99166 not 98855. I enjoyed myself too. My phone number is 509-555-0001. Teresa

They had exchanged emails and long romantic telephone calls. This Labor Day weekend rendezvous was the result. John had missed most of the heavy holiday traffic by leaving work at 1:30. He had turned up the wick on the big V4 and the miles had literally melted away under the motorcycle wheels. Now he was rapidly approaching the outskirts of Republic over an hour ahead of schedule. Remembering the advice of the friendly sergeant, he dropped the bike down into third gear and watched the speedometer needle fall below 35 as he passed through the hidden speed trap. He waved. He wanted to stop and say thank you, but he wanted to see Teresa more. Soon he was negotiating the laneway and alley to the back of Teresa's restaurant. He parked again beside the well-worn Camry, unloaded his saddlebags, and headed to the kitchen door. He knocked. The sound of his knock reverberated through the empty kitchen. Impatiently he knocked again.

"Hold on, hold on, I'm coming for Christ's sake." He heard the sound of footsteps hurriedly descending the stairs. The door swung open. "Damn it you're early and I' not..." John didn't let her finish. He swept her up in his arms and kissed her. She returned the kiss. Then she relaxed into his arms and hugged him tightly. "I missed you," she softly whispered. "I really missed you."

"Me too," he replied.

"Let's get you upstairs and out of those hot leathers." Not waiting for his reply, Teresa grabbed his bag, pulled him inside, locked the door, and bolted up the stairs. He watched her thin legs, and tight ass disappear up the darkness of the stairwell. John followed the pink terry shorts as closely as he could.

The apartment was a cool relief from the heat of the kitchen and the stairwell. "Take off your boots, hang up your leathers, I'll take your things to the bedroom, and get you a beer." The words flowed rapidly and without a pause. "Oh Jesus, listen to me, I can't stop barking orders."

John leaned back against the wall and started to pull off his boots. "Look Tee," he said wearily. "I'm hot, tired, thirsty, and hungry for food and love. Relax, I'm not going anywhere soon."

"Egg salad sandwiches with my famous potato salad and a Rainier, OK?" came the voice from the bedroom alcove.

"That would be terrific, as long as it's served with hugs." They ate side by side at the kitchen table to the hum of the air conditioner. There was little conversation. Teresa ate modestly. John was ravenous. The food disappeared quickly. He sipped the last of his beer, sighed, and said, "That hit the spot. I really liked your potato salad."

"It's the mustard that makes it. John, would you like another beer?" Teresa stood up. However, before she could head to the refrigerator, John turned in his chair and grabbed her. He drew her to him. His hands rubbed up and down the backs of her legs. They kissed. His fingertips crept under her shorts and caressed the lower parts of her buttocks. She drew his head to her breasts. John soon realized she was not wearing a bra as he could feel her left nipple harden as she moved her chest against his cheek. His mouth found the taunt protrusion and he sucked hard through the terry material.

"Mmmm... That feels so good," she sighed.

"I think the beer can wait. I've found something else to suck on."

"Not so fast big boy," she said pushing him back. "We need to clean you up before we go any further." She started to pull him out of the chair.

"What the..."

"You're all sweaty and grimy and frankly, you stink! You need a shower before you get to do anything!" She led him to the bathroom and quickly helped him discard his clothes. The large claw-foot bathtub was equipped with an overhead shower. Teresa turned it on, adjusted the temperature to lukewarm, drew the ceiling suspended shower curtains partly around the tub, and directed John to enter. As he stood under the shower, he looked at Teresa. She stood directly in front of him and slowly raised the hem of her pink terry T-shirt. Her movements were sultry. John's hand moved towards his hardening dick. "Don't get too far along without me," she cautioned as she let the top fall to the floor. Teresa turned. Her back was now to him. Teresa wiggled her bum teasingly as she removed her terry shorts and underwear and let them fall to the floor. Bending forward, she exposed herself totally to John's gaze as she tossed her clothes onto the pile of his clothes by the washer. She looked over her shoulder and asked, "Are you ready for me now?" All John could do was smile.

Teresa entered the tub and drew the shower curtains closed. She lathered and rubbed every part of his body. He returned the favor and paid particular attention to her buttocks and labia. After they had rinsed, Teresa began to rub John's chest and then his abdomen. She knelt before him and began to stroke his semi-hard cock. Her tongue traced a circular pattern around his glans. John moaned as he felt the pleasure build. He watched as his swollen dickhead disappeared into her mouth. Then Teresa began to suck. "That feels soooo goood," moaned John's as his hands gently held the back of her head. He felt his urgency build. His knees flexed, his pelvis arched, and he shuddered. The rest of the evening and night found Teresa and John in bed sharing soft conversations, making slow, gentle, and safe love, and sleeping in each other's arms.

The music from the radio and five o'clock sunrise announced the holiday Saturday morning. They showered together, dressed, and headed down to the restaurant. Teresa lit the grill, turned on the exhaust fan, and headed into the restaurant to start the coffee machine. John followed. "Are you sure you want to do this? Help I mean?" These were earnest questions and they caught John by surprise.

"There is nothing that I would rather be doing," he replied honestly.

"Well then you had better put this on." She bent down under the counter and threw him an apron. John was surprised to find that the new apron had his name embroidered on it. "Well, don't just stand there, take down the closed sign, and open the front door. Better, let the cool air in while we can.... If you are you ready, let's get cracking!" A laugh delivered the clichŽ as she turned and marched back into the kitchen.

"Sure. Just tell me what to do. I take instructions well and I'm a quick learn." John propped open the door and his eyes followed her little ass into the kitchen. He knew his biggest problem was not going to be the restaurant work but keeping his hands to himself until closing time.

The day passed swiftly. It was the holiday weekend and they were very busy. Teresa was surprised by how easily John fell into the routine of the restaurant. He bused, he washed, and he mastered her archaic cash register. During the chaotic lunchtime rush, he even worked the grill and the deep fryer. He was the perfect employee.

By 4 o'clock, the hectic day in the restaurant was over. The grill was scrubbed, the dishes washed, the dining area cleaned, and the closed sign prominently posted. Two very tired and sweaty people stood in the kitchen of the Everett Bar and Grill. John hugged Teresa. "We did it kid. We did it." John spoke softly and kissed the top of her head. "Would you allow me to take you out to dinner?"

"A bus man's holiday, where shall we go?" came the weary reply as she burrowed further into his chest.

"There is the Mexican place down the street. I could tempt your virtue with Tequila and nachos."

"Sure sounds good to me, but I need a little rest first. Something kept prodding me in my sleep last night," she laughed. "Did you get enough..." She was interrupted John's hoarse chuckle. "...Not that, you old pervert! Sleep, I mean..." Silence filled the kitchen as the two lovers enjoyed each other's embrace.

Upstairs in the apartment, Teresa stretched out on the couch while John made some iced tea. When he approached the couch with her glass, he found her snoring softly. He placed the glass on the coffee table, kissed the gently on the forehead, and then quietly gathered his gear, paused for a moment, and then slipped silently out the door. Teresa stirred at the sound but slipped back into her dreams.

Teresa felt a tickle on her cheek, her chin being raised and warm lips touching hers. "Awake my sweet princess." The words penetrated her dreamy haze. She opened her eyes to find John staring at her. "Dinner is at 7:30, I thought I should wake you."

"What time is it?" came the sleepy reply.

"Almost 6:00, we've got lots of time." They showered together, enjoying each other's touch. Teresa was the one that broke the romantic interlude. "Come on lover, I still have to do my hair. Turn off the water and let me get going." He dried himself quickly and left the bathroom to rummage through his bag for something suitable to wear. A few minutes later, he returned to voyeuristically peer into the bathroom.

Teresa stood naked before the mirror curling her hair. The erotic beauty of her performing such a simple task struck him. He gazed. He froze the picture in time. Then putting his voyeurism aside, he entered the room and stood behind her his fingers softly touching her shoulders. "Careful this iron's really hot," was all she said.

Teresa felt his lips trace down her spine. She pulled herself a little taller and removed the curling iron from her hair. Where his lips touched, her skin burned. His beard tickled. John's kisses spread out over her buttocks and his tongue slipped down her crack. It felt delicious. She put the iron down onto the counter and she steadied herself by grabbing the edge of the sink. "Oh it is so easy to like this man," she thought as his hands gently touched her hips and turned her around. His breath tickled her abdomen and his short beard brushed against her pubic hair. Involuntarily she arched her pelvis. His tongue traced the through the valley between her pussy lips and he kissed the hood of her clit. "Ohhh...John, that feels so nice," she whispered.

Suddenly he stopped. John pulled his head away. "What the...?" Teresa sputtered.

"Just a taste of what's to come," John taunted as he scrambled to his feet and fled the scene laughing.

"You tease...I'll get you! Remember getting even is only half the fun," came the reply to an empty doorway.

A slight breeze provided welcome relief to the stagnant heat. It also played at the hem of Teresa's sundress as the couple walked hand in hand the few short blocks to the restaurant. She felt like a teenager on her first date. Was everyone in the town looking at her?