Road Trip Pt. 04

We pulled the other musicians with us as we went to a back room behind the bar for our break. Before we could ever start to talk, the Buck's owner rushed in; "You guys are fantastic. I've never had so many people in here." He turned to Shaye; "You have a great voice; you can sing here anytime." To me, he said, "You devil. I didn't know who you were until someone told me. I guess you're her friend, and I thank you for being here. I sure hope you won't charge me your normal concert rate." He laughed, and I shook his hand, assuring him that the evening was a freebie for him as long as he kept Shaye coming back to sing for him. He congratulated the other musicians, all of whom he seemed to know on a first name basis.

The six of us quickly planned the next set, and talked briefly about the one after that. We picked up two more musicians at the start of the next set, a saxophone player, and a violinist that really knew his country music. I thought the eight of us sounded great. We were having fun on stage, and even Shaye had relaxed and started to roll with the evening. I could tell she felt responsible for the entertainment at the roadhouse. I kept pushing her to the front of the stage as our leader, and urging her to use the microphone to front for the group, a job she finally started to enjoy. I felt comfortable following her, the same way I'd felt comfortable following Crystal when we first started playing together.

By midnight, Buck's Roadhouse had over six hundred people in it or hanging in through the open doors. We did a fifteen-minute encore to large rounds of applause. The owner told us later that many people were calling their friends and telling them to 'get down here,' this music is the best we've ever had in the State. He was grateful the fire marshall hadn't shown up and closed him down. He'd opened all the doors and just allowed people to come and go, counting on their honesty to settle their tabs. I suggested he pay Shaye in cash that night and even give her a bonus; he thought about that for a moment and then agreed she'd more than earned that by her performance and by bringing me to sing along.

Despite the presence of a celebrity on stage, I managed to deflect the responsibility for the group's success to Shaye. She blushed, but accepted the accolades. She knew she'd done a good job, and that six hundred people agreed with me. The owner felt the same way, and suggested to Shaye that she make his place a regular stop when she was in the vicinity; he'd even offer her steady employment if that was what she wanted. Shaye looked pleased, and told him she'd let him know her plans in a day or so. Later, I found out she'd expected a hundred dollars for the night, but she'd received six hundred dollars. The owner had also given a stipend to each of the volunteer musicians.

At my urging, Shaye got the names and contact information for the guys who had volunteered to sit in with us. Several of them expressed interest in playing more with her if she'd line up the business. I suggested she call the group 'Shaye Sadler and the Volunteers,' and they all seemed to like that name as well as her taking the lead.

As we were standing around talking, a young man came up and quickly introduced himself as a DJ from KUSB, the local country music station in Bismarck that covered all the Dakotas. He wanted to do an interview with me, but I ducked the opportunity. Instead, I aimed him at Shaye, telling him she was the one that needed the break and the publicity. I shook his hand warmly and poured on the charm as I steered him in her direction. He looked exceptionally happy to meet the belle of the evening. As I walked away, I could see them swap business cards to set up their meeting.

The patrons gradually filtered out of the dance hall now that the live music had stopped and 'last call' had passed. Shaye and I ended sitting at the bar nursing a glass of wine, and celebrating a job well done.

About then, I realized I didn't have a place to stay. I asked Shaye, "Where are you staying?"

She laughed and said, "In the backseat of my car, probably behind this place."

The bartender overheard her comment and volunteered, "Shaye, there's a room upstairs with a bed in it; nothing special, but it's clean and safe. You'll be locked in overnight, but you can get out if you need to." He gestured to a flight of stairs and a closed door at the top. "No one's using it, and I know the owner wouldn't mind – not after what you did for his business tonight. We ran out of almost everything." He chuckled to himself and gestured to the half-empty shelves behind him.

Shaye said, "I'll take it." She turned to me and asked, "Where are you staying?"

I shrugged. "I was going to camp out, but it's late and I'm tired. I guess ..."

The bartender again interjected, "And, it's raining outside. Got a cold front movin' through tonight. Probably clear off tomorrow sometime. Really windy too."

I thought of trying to set up my tent in wind on a cold rainy night at two in the morning. Somehow, the prospect didn't excite me. As I held that image, Shaye leaned in and whispered in my ear, "Please, come join me upstairs?" I caught that glint in her eye that betrayed more than just a simple invitation. She had the same vibes about me that I had about her.

I think the bartender overheard her whisper; he shuffled down to the far end of the bar and got busy doing something else so he could politely ignore us and not embarrass Shaye.

I slowly nodded yes. I added, "I'd be delighted."

I have several mental images that I'll savor forever from that night. In one, her lithe body is stretched out in front of me with her legs flailing over my shoulders as my mouth, tongue, and lips attended her divine pussy. She'd just released my head from her orgasmic clutch. I had been eating her cunt, and driving my fingers rapidly into her in a frenzy of passion and excitement. I'd found her clit and G-spot easily, and played her like a fine instrument. Her orgasm had just passed, but the look on her face was one of complete satisfaction and immense affection for me. The dim light had cast shadows across her body emphasizing her breasts and the muscular abs of her body. Her tuft of pubic hair glistened with my saliva and her juices. Remembering that instant much later, I could even bring her taste to my lips – the nectar and aroma of her body were pure heaven; ambrosia for the gods, and I'd been lucky enough to savor them. Only seconds after that instant, Shaye invited my first penetration of her body.

In another of my mental images, Shaye was naked and facing me as she straddled my hips. She'd just had another orgasm. Her back had arched; her full breasts were thrust upward – one hand held her left breast and pinched her nipple almost in pain. The room was nearly dark, but at that instant a flash of lightning lit the room with a blue-white light the intensity of burning magnesium. She was beautiful. Where there had been uncertainty when we met in the afternoon, I saw her confidence in her future. She had options now that hadn't existed hours earlier, and she knew it. That lightning flash had been like a photoflash to sear that image on my memory.

My third mental image also involved our sex. The bar had closed completely; we were locked inside and everyone had left. Naked, I led Shaye downstairs and onto the podium where we had performed. In the dim light that came from the neon signs in the room and in the bar's windows, I had her recline on a table I pulled to the center of the stage. Once she was positioned, I drove my ramrod into her pussy – relentlessly seeking release in her body as she groaned our passion to the huge empty hall. The neon lights gave her body an otherworldly appearance that mixed the reds and blues of the signs across her skin in passionate patterns of lust and yearning. My orgasm hit me like a roaring freight train. Strong jets of my ejaculate surged from my steel shaft into the moist chamber that had clutched me to her during our sex play. I growled like a happy lion. Shaye moaned in delight. In our imaginations, six hundred fans of our music and sex act applauded and screamed in appreciation of our performance.

I carried Shaye back upstairs to bed with her head on my shoulder. We cuddled, and both fell asleep almost immediately. Shaye woke me later as the first rays of the sun were lightening the sky to the east. We made love again, our lust carrying us to new heights at that early hour. Soon after, we were asleep again, our nude bodies slick with each other's fluids.

We slept in until almost ten in the morning. After we showered and dressed, we came downstairs just as the janitors began mopping the floor from the previous evening's festivities. No one questioned the table in the center of the stage.

The storm of the previous night as well as the temperature drop had left the feeling of an autumn day in the air – sunny, crisp, and clean. Shaye and I found a diner near the Interstate and had a late breakfast.

Over breakfast, I wrote out for Shaye the contact information for Terry Ross, my agent. I also explained how to keep in touch with me. We talked about all the options Shaye now had in front of her. Her confidence had returned, and I believed it wouldn't fade easily after the reception she'd gotten from singing the previous night. Nights like we'd had can enthuse an entertainer for months. I've been told the music industry is like a small town, everyone knows everyone else and their paths cross often; I knew I'd see Shaye again some day, and she also took comfort in that idea.

We stood by her car for a few minutes kissing goodbye. She got in, waved, and headed off to Fargo where she had to provide an evening's entertainment at another country western club. I knew she'd do well. I also knew she was capable of more. I hoped she'd make it to Nashville. Later, I emailed Terry about her, so that when she called he'd have some background and my strong recommendation about her.

As I started my day's ride, I reflected back on the one-night stand with Shaye. The 'old me' thought of such events as sordid and without care or affection between the participants. Our tryst had been anything but sordid. Our time together had been beautiful, and truly moments to remember and cherish even though they had been of short duration.

South Dakota

One thing about riding on many western roads: they're straight, flat, and fast. I had to keep checking my speed as I rode south from Bismarck towards Sturgis and Rapid City, South Dakota. From some test runs, I knew my Harley would easily do a hundred.

I used the Wi-Fi at a public library to send one email to Lauren, Kim, Ellen, and Crystal that included a detailed account of my encounters with Shaye the previous night, and a few nights earlier with Brite – including our encounter with Mitch and Ashley. After thinking about it I took a risk and followed Kim's suggestion that I send a copy of the email to Anna. When I'd written about my exploits in earlier emails, Anna never said anything about the sexually explicit nature of that part of the message in her replies, so I took her silence as approval and interest in the subject.

I rode through Sturgis, South Dakota, and made the transition from the flat and slow undulating plains to a more hilly, even mountainous terrain, and from a nearly treeless part of the Dakotas to large stands of pine and spruce trees. I picked up some supplies in Rapid City and went south to the Black Hills. The weather warmed during the day, and the forecast was for good weather.

After Labor Day, most of the Black Hills' campgrounds closed. To find a good camping site, I selected a closed campground on a beautiful lake about twenty miles west of Mount Rushmore. The state run campground had a chain across the motor vehicle entrance, but pedestrian access to the lake was allowed along a path. I rode in on the path with my Harley, found a secluded campsite beside a lake and near a hiking trail up Harney Peak. In less than an hour I had a small fire going and my tent set up.

The site inspired meditation and communing with Nature. As the long shadows of the nearby mountain peaks slanted across the terrain, I sat beside the lake and cleared my mind of all. I allowed my mental gyrations to dissipate until there were none – just wonderful emptiness of mind. My eyes were open, I stared at the rippling surface of the lake, yet I accepted nothing that would disturb my contemplation.

At dusk, I set some of Karen's ashes free onto the quiet surface of the lake. She'd loved water and nature, so I assumed her spirit would approve of most of the locales I'd selected to leave a trace of her ashes. I've heard that some people receive strong messages from their dead loved ones about how to dispose of their remains. I'd received no such messages, but knowing Karen, she would have thought leaving a trace of her in each state a wonderful and fun thing to do.

I enjoyed a grilled steak for dinner along with a bottle of white wine I left to chill in the lake waters. I read a little using a flashlight in the after-dinner darkness, and then went to sleep early.

I probably had a sleep deficit accumulated from my night with Shaye and the nights with Brite. We'd chosen to make love instead of sleep. This night I slept soundly in the cool mountain air, not awakening until seven o'clock the following morning when a bird made a racket to show that it took issue with my presence. I freshened up in the lake, allowing the cool water to brace my face. I wondered whether I'd have the fortitude to swim in the cold lake after my morning run.

The campground had a posted trail map of routes to the top of Harney Peak – a mountain that topped out three thousand feet above the campground. Running in mountains can be a challenge. The down hills are as bad as the up hills. Uphill your body labors, you quads ache, and you gasp for air. Downhill your feet jam into your shoes, and you slide or skid on the uneven ground. I didn't plan to run to the peak, only some distance past the tree line where I might have a vista across the Black Hills. I carried my small camera strapped to my waist.

I'd run the winding trail uphill for thirty or forty minutes before I passed the tree line. After that, I ran mainly on the packed scree that formed the trail. The view across the area was magnificent. On the east face I had sunlight all around me. I took a couple of dozen photographs as souvenirs of that precious morning.

I started to run again, following trail markers for an alternate trail down the mountain and back to the campground. I have an uncanny sense of direction and distance, so I felt confident I'd find my way back without difficulty. I reentered the trees, and started my plunge down the mountain. In many places on this trail, I had to stop and climb down a near vertical incline before I could start again. In one place, I started a small avalanche of rocks that made quite a racket in the quiet of the pine forest.

"HELP! HELP ME!"

Over the sounds from the cascading rocks, I heard the plaintive cry of a female, but muffled by the distance from me – sound doesn't travel far in a heavily treed environ. I stopped and tried to determine the direction of the sounds – somewhere off to my left. I slowed and changed course, slightly to my left and off the trail.

"I'M HERE. YELL AGAIN SO I CAN FIND YOU," I shouted.

"Over here. I'm over here. Help. I've fallen. I'm hurt."

I zeroed in on the voice, slowly approaching the nearly hidden edge of a sharp drop off. When I got to the edge, I peered over.

"Hi," I said to the woman about twelve feet below me on a rocky ledge. Twelve more feet below her lay the rocky forest floor. "How are you hurt?"

Her head jerked upwards at the sound of my voice. "Oh, thank God someone's found me. I think I broke my leg or ankle when I fell over the edge. I almost fell the rest of the way down; that'd have done me in completely. I can't walk or stand on it, and I can't see a way down from this ledge." She moaned a little. "Oh, God. I've been here all night."

"Let me see if I can get down to you. When did you fall?"

"Yesterday, late in the afternoon, the shadows were really long, and I didn't see the edge up there as I rushed to get down. I'd gotten off the trail somehow, and had been trying to find my way back to it."

"My name's Jim. What's yours?"

"Mils – everyone calls me Mils. It's short for Millicent, a name I don't particularly care for."

Mils looked to be about forty with long brunette hair she'd pulled through the back of a baseball cap that had 'St. L' on it. She had a down jacket on, so I speculated she didn't have hypothermia – the night hadn't gotten that cold. She had a really pretty face – angular with high cheekbones. She appeared athletic from her body frame; beyond that, the coat hid her upper body. She wore tight blue jeans that proved she had good-looking legs that stretched out in front of her, although there seemed to be an unnatural cant to her right hiking boot.

I angled down the slope to one side of the ledge to see whether I could find a lateral path to get onto the ledge Mils lay on. I stayed close enough that I could carry on a conversation with her. "Where are you from?" I shouted.

"St. Louis. I came out here with two friends, but they had to go back yesterday. They took a flight from Rapid City. I kept our rental car. Dumb me! I thought I'd just see a little more of this area, so I thought I'd stay around another five days." I'd maneuvered to where I could hear her, but couldn't see her.

I explained my own presence on the mountain; "I was taking a morning run. Good thing you heard me and yelled."

I rounded a large boulder with a tall Ponderosa right next to it. Mils lay thirty feel away and level with my position. I could see that there was no way I could easily get to her ledge without either climbing up to her from beneath the ledge or down to her from above. I scrambled back up the slope so I could talk more to her.

"Mils, I'm going to scale down to you. Can you roll in closer to the face of the cliff, in case I have to jump right where you're lying."

"OK, I can do that." I watched her shuffle and roll her body sideways. I lay on my stomach and dropped my feet over the edge, feeling in the rocks for toe holds for each foot. As I found footing, I inched my body further over the edge until I needed handholds. They were there, but just barely. I caught a glimpse of Mils watching me with a touch of fear on her face. Gradually, I scaled down the rocks. I jumped to the ledge the last four feet, barely catching myself before I'd have gone over the next ledge and fallen uncontrollably for twelve more feet into the rocky floor of the forest.

Mils said, "That was daring. How am I ever going to get down from here? I can't climb like that – never could even with two good legs. I need a sling." She gestured to her right leg. I could see the boot and part of the ankle at an unnatural angle to her upper leg.

"Mils, I want to examine your leg. Is that all right?"

"Hell, yes!" She said, obviously hoping I could create a miracle cure for her.

I helped her stretch the injured leg out in front of her. I carefully unlaced and removed the hiking boot and sock, using every care not to twist or pull on her foot. Mils had pretty toes with manicured nails painted in a soft feminine pink. Despite my precautions, Mils winced in pain. I gently touched her ankle, noting it had already swollen – the body's protection mechanism to minimize pain at the broken bone and to make you stay off it while it heals. I felt gently up and down Mils' shinbone or tibia. She moaned in pain when I touched the fracture above her heel. As I held my left hand on the area of the fracture, I used the other hand to gently turn the heel of her foot a small way in each direction. Mils yelped in pain at a few of my moves.