Shalane

This is a long story, written as one piece, so I'm choosing to post it in one submission. There are actually only two sex scenes within a short period of time, but that means, of course, that the remainder of the story is not filled with that kind of content. Read as you like. The story reads better as one piece, rather than chapters.

A very heartfelt Thank You to Erik Thread for his fabulous editing. His skills make your reading pleasure better. If you find errors, it's because I messed with the story after he worked on it.

*

"What the hell kind of name is Shalane?"

"It's just a name, Angus. Who the fuck cares what it means? Shalane, that's what Prissy said. All I care is that she's a redhead."

Although he was generally a silent man, Angus responded to Billy, "Okay man, okay. Don't get pissed at me 'cause your girl wants you to wear a suit. Look at me. I haven't had on a tie this tight since the last time I went to a funeral."

"Don't give me that shit, big man. I know what goes in your suitcase when you go out of town."

Angus growled, a fairly good imitation of the bear to which his personality was frequently compared. His few words reminded his friend, "You keep your trap shut, Billy."

"Yes, sir, 'Doctor' McCall, indeed I will."

The additional warning was clear in the tone of voice Angus used, "Billy."

Angus kept his non-ranch activities very private. That he was educated, no one doubted, although most people would have expected his education to be in a subject that benefited him as the owner of a large, very productive ranch. That his education was extensive enough to earn him a doctorate was something he kept rather quiet. His absences from the ranch were given little attention, even by those who lived there and worked for him. He was a private man. The ranch was enough distance from the city that he and the permanent employees who lived there did not feel they were residents of the city.

Billy's eyes may have twinkled when he did it, but he used his thumb and forefinger to pull the tab of an imaginary zipper across his lips. He likely did not understand Angus's absences had anything to do with insomnia. Billy had no problems with his sleep, nor would he have cared that anyone else had a problem. However, that did not prevent Billy from asking, "And tell me, why the hell are we going to this Valentine's Dance in a truck?"

Angus looked around the inside of his truck. The rubber mats on the floor were clean -- at least, mostly clean. The long bench seat wasn't ripped and the windows weren't too dirty to see through. "What's wrong with my truck?"

"Nothing Angus, absolutely nothing is wrong with it," Billy sneered and added, "Nothing that a new one wouldn't cure."

"I got a new car at home and I like this truck," Angus added, defending his choice of vehicles. "Get off my case or I'll leave you at Prissy's house and go back home."

"You wouldn't dare."

"Try me, asshole. This wasn't my idea."

Billy did not comment on the threat Angus issued; instead he easily changed the subject. "And don't forget to have Jose pick me up tomorrow when he takes Maria to church."

The two men continued their conversation, although if a stranger had heard them, he would not have thought the men were friends, much less very good friends who were employer and employee and had known each other their entire lives. Billy's comments often took some time and required his listener to have patience while other subjects were mentioned. From Angus, comments or responses were often one or two well-chosen words, spoken in the deep rumble of his bass voice. Part of their conversation concerned the weather and the occasional flash of lightning in the western sky toward which they were travelling. Several of their comments and questions involved the animals on the farm and what to do if the storm came nearer.

After one particularly brilliant flash, still a long way off, Billy asked, "Is that thing gonna soak us?"

"We could use some," Angus muttered. "Last I heard though, it's gonna stay well to the west."

* * *

Meanwhile, at their destination two women were frantically rushing through their final moments dressing for the event. Prissy had spent months planning, scheduling, and making telephone calls. The last few days involved executing those plans. Early today was devoted to last-minute decorations she added to their meeting facility, turning it from a hollow-sounding display hall to a softly lit, attractive nightclub. Perhaps as many as one hundred couples would spend that Saturday evening eating finger foods, drinking adult beverages, chatting with friends, and dancing.

Prissy was almost 40 years old and still very attractive, but she had to work hard to keep herself that way. She was short, had a very full figure and only her hairdresser knew she wasn't a natural blonde, at least that's what she thought. She was so obsessed with appearing to be blonde she had some very expensive and painful electrolysis treatments to remove any trace of her pubic hair. Billy had made a number of comments about her bald pussy, only some of which were complimentary.

For mid-February dances of previous years, no one had gone to the trouble to do much more than set a date, hire a band, and call a caterer. This year was going to be different. Priscilla Roundtree, affectionately known as Prissy, was the current chairperson of the Annual Valentine's Day Sweetheart Dance. She intended to use the success of the evening's festivities to launch her campaign for presidency of the Young Women In Business Association. While women fought to join primarily male organizations, there did not seem to be any male members, or even any applications from males, wanting to join YWIB.

One club member was married to a moderately successful talent agent. At her instigation, he had prevailed upon three of his clients to bring their newest adult comedy routines for a tryout before this discerning crowd.

The other woman rushing to be dressed in her finery before the men arrived was not similar to the wannabe club president. Almost ten years younger, in her own right and in her own sphere she was just as strong, as personable, and as organized, yet to many she was a mystery. As the few people who knew her would express it, "Oh well, that's Shalane." Whatever the "that" meant, it was appropriate for any situation when the speaker was unable to place a label on such an enigmatic woman.

"Shalane, help me" Prissy called from her bedroom where she stood in front of a full length mirror. "Look at this dress. Something is wrong with the front here."

Shalane stood at the doorway and suggested, "Take off your bra."

"WHAT! I cain't go without ma bra." Only because she was so startled did Prissy's voice sound like the natural heavy southern accent of her birth. Prissy would normally have used her more polished and practiced business tone.

"Why not?" Shalane questioned. "The only one who will know is Billy when he holds you and I assure you he will enjoy it. Besides, from what you've said, he already knows what those boobs feel like."

Prissy's next few words displayed her cultured professional tone, "Are you doing it?"

"Am I what?"

"Are you going braless?"

Shalane turned her back to Prissy, showing the rear of the deep blue dress that shimmered with green highlights. "Now, where do you suppose I could hide the hooks in this dress?"

Prissy nodded as she looked at the wide vee formed by the back of the dress, extending from the nape of Shalane's neck, showing her shoulder blades, to a mere inch above her waist. Prissy remarked that the woman was right, but for herself it was not a comfortable option.

"Well, that dress screams you're braless, but I can't stand at that microphone and welcome everyone with my tits bouncing."

"Suit yourself, Prissy. It was just a suggestion. So, tell me about this man Billy is bringing."

"Oh, Angus is Angus."

Shalane chuckled a moment at the way Prissy flipped her hand as if the original build-up she had given about the man was now inconsequential. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"Well-l-l," Prissy's voice was muffled as she bent over to buckle the straps of her high heel sandals. "I think him, Billy, and me are about the same age. He's local, has a big place east of town. He and Billy do some male things together. He's not a loner, but I don't see him much. He's a big guy, not one of those overweight lugs, just big. I guess my grandma would have called him barrel-chested. He's sort of quiet, but in an intense way, looks at you, like he can see right inside you. It's hard to explain. You'll like him. He's fun, too."

"Oh, I hear car doors. Do you want me to ..."

"No, I'm ready, I'll do it. You get your jacket or whatever. That hall's gonna be cold at first." It hadn't been much of a debate. Keep the meeting hall as cool as possible, because after everyone arrived and the dancing began, the room would grow progressively warmer. They had arrived the previous morning to begin decorating and needed to wear light jackets for the first few hours.

After a greeting at the front door, where both men were allowed to kiss Prissy's cheeks while she giggled at them trying to do it at the same time, she was singing Happy Birthday to Billy. Everyone turned to the corner of the room when Shalane closed the door to the upstairs guest bedroom and started walking down the stairs.

Someone should have had a camera to take a photograph of Angus when he saw her. He watched in anticipation. He was fascinated as the woman was revealed, from the dark red polish showing on each toenail of her bare toes in her high heel sandals, all the way up her long legs. The one nearest him was exposed well past her knee as the side slit in her dress parted when she took the next step down the stairs. Angus licked his lips as the clinging fabric moved across her flat stomach, yet he was unaware her short bolo jacket hid the fullness of her breasts. He imagined her slender torso, saw her elegant neck and the startling mass of brilliant fiery red hair piled in haphazard curls on top of her head.

However, the photographer would have needed to turn his attention immediately to the stairway to catch the moment's hesitation in her next step, when Shalane saw Angus. For a heartbeat, or perhaps two, the strangers looked at each other and Billy smiled. Billy would have performed one of his ancestral war dances of victory, or high fived everyone in the county, had it not been such a fleeting moment.

"Angus McCall, this is my friend, Shalane." To Angus, Prissy's casual statement did not convey the importance of such a monumental event. It did not seem unusual for Angus to walk forward and take Shalane's hand as she took the last step to the floor below. Angus did not know whether he intended to take her hand in a formal handshake or to be less formal and hold her hand when he nodded his head in greeting. He simply understood he had to touch her. Shalane did not realize she allowed him to hold her hand for longer than necessary for a traditional greeting. She simply knew she felt something from the warmth of his hand she had not known before.

Although Angus was not what would traditionally be considered a handsome man, he was impressive. Everything about him was oversized. He was tall at six foot three inches and the breadth of his shoulders told of his sturdy body. It was his dark auburn hair that attracted most people to take a better look at him. That is until they saw his eyes. His eyes were not green, nor were they blue, or even brown, but somewhere in the range of all three colors. However, people looked away from his eyes; they backed down from the intensity of his gaze. As Prissy had said, he "looks at you like he can see right inside you."

After a short discussion, concerning the size of Prissy's compact car and the large flower arrangement occupying much of the back seat, Prissy and Billy left for the meeting hall in her car. The arrangement would cover the base of the microphone she planned to use when she made her mildly veiled remarks. She planned to say she was responsible for the success of the evening and had high expectations for a repeat of that success during the next year, under her leadership of YWIB.

Angus followed Shalane to his truck to open the passenger door for her. She stopped for a moment, looking at the running board, estimating how high she would have to step to get into the cab of his truck. As she reached down to pull the lower part of her dress up so she could take the step, Angus moved behind her.

"Let me help," Angus muttered as he put his hands around her waist, easily lifting her up to stand on the running board but noticing how stiffly she held herself. His hands remained around her until she turned to lift her hip and sit down. After closing her door, he walked around the front of his truck. Angus suspected, after following her to the truck and seeing the glimpse of skin below the bottom of her short bolero jacket, Shalane was probably absolutely naked under the thin fabric of her dress. Her dress slid across her skin when she had turned to sit down.

After only a few minutes in her presence, Angus knew that he would be fighting a raging erection for most of the night. It was already beginning. His cock hung down his leg, he could feel the fullness and the tightening of his scrotum. His body heat was building. He slung one leg up into the truck and sat down. The urge to adjust himself beneath the tight fitting pants of his suit was so strong he took a deep breath before he turned the key to start the engine.

During the ride to the meeting hall, Angus and Shalane exchanged a few comments, discovering a little about each other. For the most part he gave her simple answers of few words in response to her questions, explaining that he farmed and worked cattle and occasionally spent part of a day on a horse, but he also had men he employed who did much of that work. His answers were not a reluctance to provide information. He was just a man of few words.

Shalane sat stiffly on the far end of the truck's bench seat as she told him she was a self-employed accountant with a small staff and a limited number of clients. More and more of her work was done without requiring face-to-face meetings with her clients. The internet, email, and document scanners were becoming more prevalent in her profession. The size of her business allowed her a great deal of flexibility with her office. She was considering purchasing a larger home and using one or two rooms for her business rather than maintaining a separate office space.

Although Shalane did not live in the immediate area, the company for which Prissy managed a branch office was one of her clients. Shalane tried to visit her clients at least once a year, and for the first time had agreed to stay with Prissy instead of going to a local hotel. Her visits were usually one or two nights, which gave her an opportunity to see a little of the communities where her clients lived and to take them out for a nice dinner to get to know them on a personal basis.

Prissy already had her table selected in a quiet corner of the large low-ceilinged room where she could watch everything and everyone. She directed Angus and Billy to that corner and told Billy what she wanted to drink. By the time the band was playing the second or third piece of music, a few couples were beginning to test the dance floor.

Angus spoke quietly, not caring to draw attention to himself or his partner, "Do you often have the opportunity to go dancing?"

"Not often," Shalane answered. "And never with someone who can dance as well as you."

"I thank you, ma'am," Angus responded, "and my mother would also thank you, if she were here to do so."

Shalane had relaxed some of her stiff posture from the earlier ride to the dance.

"So, your mother taught you to dance?"

"Yes ... and probably half the other people in this room. She gave a small class at the junior high school every Wednesday after school."

"Oh, that's neat."

Within half an hour, Shalane was removing her jacket and other women around the room were doing the same. A few of the more energetic male dancers removed their coats to allow for easier movement during the faster dance pieces. Some of the men stopped to speak to a friend across the room and traded dance partners for a turn around the floor. Small pockets of attendees seemed to be more interested in visiting and imbibing in the cash bar than dancing. After several more dances, they heard the rain beginning to fall on the roof of the building. Angus commented that he wasn't surprised. He never did have much faith in the people who forecast the weather.

Twice during the night, Angus mentioned to Billy that maybe the smaller man should slow down with his drinking, but Billy had always been a heavy drinker. He claimed his Cherokee genes just made the drink go to his head faster than Angus's Scottish genes. It was one of the reasons Angus always made sure he was in his own vehicle when he went anywhere with Billy. Although, Billy could no longer drive legally, his lack of a driver's license did not always stop him from leaving the ranch in one of the many vehicles used for various chores.

After one particularly pointed remark, Billy responded, "Get off my case, you ol' fart. Hell Angus, it's my birthday and Prissy promised me an all night fuck. I'm just getting' lubed up to enjoy it."

Without telling the man to clean up his language, Angus left him at the bar when he ordered another double and a beer chaser. Billy was back at the table they shared a few minutes later, asking Shalane to dance with him.

Halfway through Billy's dance with Shalane, Angus looked at the couple on the dance floor. For no reason, other than the look on Shalane's face, Angus threaded his way through other couples and tapped Billy on the shoulder, telling him, "I'd like to reclaim my date."

Shalane's relief was obvious. She rested her head on Angus's shoulder and relaxed in his arms until the band paused before they began the next song. For the remainder of the evening, she held herself less rigidly and enjoyed herself, occasionally commenting that everyone was having fun despite the weather.

As the evening grew late, Prissy began to make the rounds of the tables, gently reminding people how much longer the bar would be open and what time the band would play the last waltz to end the dance. She stopped by the table where Angus and Shalane were listening to Billy telling some old Indian tales, his voice getting more slurred as he continued to drink. Despite his affected state, he was so entertaining they were willing to listen to him relate some of his family's stories. Prissy offered Shalane the key to her front door, but Shalane said she didn't feel comfortable going into Prissy's house without her there.

Finally, with just a few couples who looked like they were picking up their belongings and making their last few remarks to friends, everyone was making their way to the door.

Prissy turned and put her arm around Shalane's waist, "Don't forget darlin', we're having fun when we get home."

Before Shalane could respond, Prissy looked at Angus, "Hey, big man, you don't need to drive Shalane to my house. She can ride with Billy and me."

Prissy took a few steps away, put her arm around Billy, kissed him on the cheek, and then turned back to smile at Shalane. She held up her hand with her palm toward Shalane then lowered her index finger putting the tip of her thumb across the fingernail to hold it down. Angus wasn't sure if she was leaving the other three fingers upright to indicate the number three, or if the circle of her forefinger and thumb indicated a zero, or perhaps the signal meant the same thing as saying okay However, Angus did not like the way Shalane's face paled before she shook her head.