What a Long Strange Trip

"Why don't you make it two weeks and pick me up?" she suggested in the sexiest, most seductive voice I had heard in forever.

I thought it over. I had the time coming. I'm one of those guys who always loses vacation at the end of the year because of the "use it or lose it" policy. If I was on a project, which I almost always was, I could rollover up to three weeks. My seniority had me up to five weeks, so with the three I could technically take two months off. Technically, because I never actually had the time to do it.

"I suppose I can," I told her. "I'll have to clear it on Monday, but it's doable. How are you wrangling the time off?" I figured she couldn't have that much seniority.

"I'm burning pretty much all my accrued and current vacation to do this trip to Dad's, plus the extra week if we go back together and 'lazy it' like you said. It's my last gasp before Asshole runs out of delaying tactics and we have to go in front of the judge. I'd planned on getting my head on straight just chilling at my Dad's, but now..." and she looked at me with a dreamy, far-off look like a love-struck addle-pated schoolgirl. "I think I'd rather be with you."

I knew that look. I was feeling that look.

"Angie, I hope you're not falling for me," I told her and her expression fell, "because I'm already making that mistake and if we both do, it could become permanent." The smile came back as she figured out what I'd said.

"Too late," she told me. "Already smitten. But I can hide it at home when necessary. Just, please don't walk out on me, Steve. You're the best man I've met, second to my Dad, and I'd really like to keep you in my life."

I nodded but kept quiet as I turned my attention to polishing off Tillie's excellent breakfast. I decided to take some time and shave, and to my surprise, so did Angie. Weird, standing at the sink, shaving, and in the mirror seeing her standing in the tub, one foot up on the edge, with a razor between her legs. I cringed every time she moved.

We got the rest of our gear together and were ready when Luke came and got us. We were heading out the door when I saw Angie dig in her purse and throw a couple of twenties on the kitchen counter. We walked down to where Ted had my truck already hooked up to the trailer, and were told we were good to go. I thanked Ted and shook his hand, and Luke's. Angie thanked him and gave him a light kiss -- on the lips -- then turned to Luke. She gave him a kiss, too. Except, she kept it going long enough for Ted and his men to start chuckling and for Luke to start turning red. She finally broke the kiss and thanked the whole crew again.

"Ted," she told him as I was getting in the truck, "Tillie was wonderful. She's offered to clean up after us, so I left a tip for her in the kitchen. Make sure she does something nice for herself, okay?"

"Yes, ma'am," he nodded, and we were off. As far as Larry's Six Mile Casino and Café, anyway. That's where we stopped to get drinks, snacks and move the guns back to the truck. Then we were on our way.

"Three hours to Spokane," I told her as we settled in. "You're in charge of entertainment."

I meant the music. She thought I meant something else. Coincidentally, it was a test of my willpower.

She pulled off her dress. Perfectly naked like the day she was born. Minus the blood and plus a bunch of curves and such, of course. Then she leaned over and started unbuckling my belt.

Ever have one of those situations where you know what's happening but you just can't believe it? Well, I was in one of those. I did manage to keep the truck rubber-side-down when she took my rapidly swelling cock in her mouth and started a three hour blowjob. Minus the time it took her to sit up, put on a playlist, and go back down on me.

Honest to God, she was at me for three hours... and didn't let me cum once. Close, yes. Cum, no. And she didn't stop when we passed the few semis out on the road on Sunday morning. In fact, she'd occasionally sit up, turn and wave to them in all her naked glory, provided they didn't have their cell phones out. Friendly was good, pictures were bad. Pictures would only show her from behind.

The word must have gone out over the CB because it got to the point where every time I'd overtake a semi, the driver would hit his air horn and then stick his hands out the window to show they were empty. There were even a couple of female drivers, giving Angie a Thumbs-up or Okay sign. The only time she eased up was when we got near Coeur d'Alene and both the traffic and the population density went up. I was going to have a horrendous case of Blue Balls.

She put her dress back on, but still kept playing with my cock until we turned off onto State Route 2 and wound our way north, up near Eloika Lake. Angie gave me directions and a little after noon, we pulled into the drive for a ranch self-identified as Wapiti Run Ranch, with the most massive racks of elk antlers bracketing the gate.

"Mine," Angie said, pointing to the ones on the right.

Okay, so, like, wow! Definitely trophy sized, a 7-point Imperial. I was impressed.

"Mine," she said again, pointing straight ahead. At the man standing in the drive with a rifle under his arm. I pulled up to him and stopped. Angie got out. I stayed put.

"Daddy!" she yelled as she rushed to him and he caught her with the non-rifle arm. They hugged and kissed, deeply, and I knew full well he was completely aware of me and if I'd done anything he didn't like, I'd be looking down the business end of his rifle. Actually, I was beginning to admire his style. From where I sat, it looked like a Winchester Model 94. And he had some form of revolver in an open-carry holster. Finally, they broke the clinch.

"Steve!" Angie called to me. "Come here!"

I eased out of the truck and looked pointedly at his rifle. He got the idea and put in up on his shoulder. That's when I decided it was safe to walk over to them. God bless the woman, she was going to get my head blown off. She stepped up next to me, facing her father, and put her arm around my waist.

"Steve, I'd like you to meet John Evans, my father," she told me. I nodded to him as he did to me. "Daddy, this is Steven Andrews, one of my coworkers and my ride out here." I decided to take the chance and offer my hand. His look was inscrutable, but he took it.

"Good to meet you, sir," I told him and he nodded. He looked kind of like a redheaded Sam Elliot. When he spoke, he sounded a lot like him, too.

"Pleasure," he said. "I appreciate you gettin' my girl out here safe, despite the screw-up with your truck."

"He came to pick me up in the middle of an argument with Edward," Angie volunteered. "Made me glad I'd decided not to do the trip alone."

"So you've met Asshole?" John asked with that gravelly sort of voice

"In a way... he's a real piece of work," I told him. "Last I saw him, he was handcuffed and being stuffed in the back seat of a squad car."

"What'd he do?" he cocked his head.

"Assaulted an officer, trying to get at your daughter."

"Well, good. I hope he gets up close and personal with a billy club before he gets out."

"I don't think they do that much, anymore," I pointed out.

"Chicago, right?"

"No, the suburbs, actually."

"Hmmph... you a gun nut?" He nodded towards my truck and I realized I had my ISRA and NRA decals in the window, along with a couple of fraternal organizations.

"I guess a lot of Libs would call me that," I told him.

"Good for you," he nodded. "At least you're not a complete idiot."

"Daddy!" Angie objected. He turned to look at her for a moment.

"From the look of your truck and trailer, I have to wonder," he told me. Or maybe he was telling us. "Been a bunch of CB chatter about a naked lady in a black Explorer hauling a trailer, blowin' the driver."

Angie turned beet red.

"Yeah... that's what I thought," John commented. "Okay, let's get you up to the house." He turned and walked away as Angie took my arm before I could say anything and pulled me towards the truck.

"He likes you," she hissed. "C'mon, let's go..."

I was about to ask go where? when I heard the Harley start up. There is only one engine in the world that sounds like that. Okay, maybe two if you count the Indian. I looked over and saw her Dad sliding the rifle into a scabbard on the side of the bike that had been behind a tree. I just shrugged and got in the truck, and Angie slipped into the passenger side. Her Dad took off down the drive and I followed.

"How do you know he likes me?" I asked her as we drove towards the house. "He sure seems PO'd enough."

"That's just him being gruff," she told me. "He didn't shoot you or tell you to get the hell off his land. Therefore, he likes you."

"Okayyyy..." I drawled. He had obviously figured out she'd been giving me a blowjob on the Interstate. And he was still being his version of civil to me. So maybe she was right. I followed the bike up the lane to the front of a sprawling ranch house.

"Daddy pretty much runs the ranch by himself, now," she told me as we drove. "Mom died about five years ago, from cancer, and my brother Gil lives in Spokane with his wife. Daddy's got a hired hand and his family living in one of the tenant homes and helping him. Otherwise, it's pretty much just him."

"Then who would the young woman be?" I asked. "Sister?" I was kind of joking because the woman on the porch looked Latina.

"I have no idea," Angie told me, getting serious and taking a hard look at the woman. "She's news to me. Gus, the hired help, and his family are black." I think characterizing her attitude change as one of suspicion would be fair.

Her father parked the bike in front of the house and dismounted, turning to face us as the woman came over to join him. When we parked and got out, he addressed Angie.

"Angie, I want you to meet Juanita," he told her. "She's my live-in and handles most of the domestic chores, and she takes care of me as well. Juanita, this is my daughter Angie, currently in the middle of a nasty divorce. She'll be staying here for awhile. What about you, Steven? Will you be staying?"

I was caught a little flatfooted.

"Um... no, sir, I don't think so," I told him. "I have to deliver that trailer of furniture to my daughter in Tacoma before I head for my hotel. I just wanted to be sure Angie got home okay."

"Don't 'sir' me," he told me. "I work for a living." Then he turned to Angie. "Did you get home okay?"

Instead of answering him, she turned and pulled me into a kiss. A rock-your-socks Angelica kind of kiss. In front of her father. I think I had the good graces to look embarrassed. She let up and turned back to John.

"I got home way okay, Daddy!" she told him. Then she abruptly walked to the back of my truck and started pulling out the gun cases. I went over to help her and soon she was placing them on the ground in front of her father.

"Thank you for the loan, Daddy," she told him -- emphasis hers. "The environment has become too hostile to keep them with me, so I'm returning them. Now everything is straight up and street legal."

John went to the cases, opened and checked inside each one, then closed them up again, taking them over and putting them on the porch. As he was coming back, he turned to Juanita.

"Novia," he addressed her, "we'll be four for lunch, if you would." Juanita nodded and smiled at us, then turned and headed back into the house. "I'm presuming you're gonna want a bite to eat before you have to hoof it to Tacoma, Steve," he told me. "If you don't mind Tex-Mex, Juanita makes a righteous burrito."

"I'm fine with that, sir," I told him. "And I appreciate it."

"I told you..." he started.

"Sorry," I interrupted. "I'm fine with that, John."

He nodded towards the house and said , "C'mon." The three of us headed that way.

"What do you shoot?" he asked as we walked. It caught me a little by surprise.

"Well, it depends," I told him. "I've got a variety and I like to shoot them all. I suppose my two favorite rifles are a sporterized Model 1891 Argentine Mauser that I've put a scout scope on. That's my hunting rifle. I got it from my ex's uncle. Second would be my Garand. Springfield Armory, January 1943. I've restored her as close to original as I can, but she's got new CMP furniture. Behind that I've got a couple of AR-15's, one configured as a free-float Hbar Service Rifle, the other as a tactical carbine. And of course, a couple of .22's for plinking."

"Shotguns are a Remington 870 20 gauge converted to tactical for home defense. For hunting I've got an old Savage 12 gauge, which I'll probably upgrade one of these days. For pistols, I have a Colt M1911 from Vietnam, a Taurus PT1911, a Ruger P94 in 9mm, a Smith & Wesson Shield in 9mm for carry and a Bersa .380 ACP for carry. And a Ruger 22/45 with a red dot for plinking. There's others that come and go, but those are my favorites."

"Nice," was his simple reply. "Carrying?"

"My Illinois CCL isn't good in Washington State," I told him. "And I haven't got my Utah non-resident, yet. So, no, nothing on me at the moment."

"Ever shot full auto?"

"Only in the service," I admitted. "Though someday I'd love to, again. Illinois isn't too friendly to machine guns."

"Which branch?" he asked.

"Navy," I told him. "Lieutenant when I got my honorable. Crypto-tech. Did tours on the Dale and the Eisenhower."

John nodded. "How much of your drool is on my Thompson?" We had reached the porch.

"Absolutely none, sir," I told him. "Not for lack of desire." He actually broke a smile.

"You come back when you're done with your business and we'll take her down to the gully," he told me, then went on in, leading us to the dining room.

"I told you he likes you!" Angie whispered to me, rather forcefully. I wasn't about to disagree.

Juanita had laid out an excellent lunch. Everything from beef burritos, to scrambled egg tortas, to chicken and white bean chili, plus salads and bread. She had beer, water, coffee and lemonade available, too. It was great.

Over lunch, I got the expected grilling from John about what I did for a living and what I did with my free time. I gave him a summary, going into details if he wanted them. In turn, I got to ask him about his ranch and what his life was like. He was mostly into wheat and hay, with some tree nursery business, plus guiding occasional hunting trips. I waxed poetic about a chance to hunt elk and got an invite, in a sort of back-handed way.

"You be here in season," he told me. "I figure, if you're good enough for my daughter, I won't mind having you along."

"Where you can keep an eye on me," I joked.

"Hell, Steve, Angie's her own woman," he told me, dead serious. "She wants to marry an asshole, I wasn't gonna be able to stop her. She wants out, I'll help however I can. She wants to pick up with you... well, I figure you're a step up from Asshole. Might even be good for her. She's gonna do what she's gonna do."

"Amen," I muttered, but they both caught it... and I caught an elbow in the ribs from Angie while John just sort of chuckled.

It finally did get to where I had to get back on the road if I wanted to get the trailer taken care of before dark. John and Angie walked me out to the truck, where Angie pulled the last of her stuff out and handed it off to her father. Then she kissed me.

I mean, she kissed me. One of those "I own you, body, mind and spirit" kisses. And right in front of her Dad. I was getting a serious hard-on by the time she let up. John, for his part, was expressionless.

"When are you coming back through?" Angie asked while I tried to recover my breath, and my sanity.

"Probably noon-ish next Sunday," I told her. "I'll spend Saturday with Caroline and her family. Maybe leave Sunday morning."

"In which case, I'll be packed and waiting," she smiled and I felt that smile all the way through me. "Call me if something changes." Then she pressed those bountiful assets into my chest while she whispered in my ear, "I love you, Steve. No matter what happens, or doesn't. I mean it."

I started to echo her sentiment as she straightened up but she put her finger on my lips, quieting me.

"Don't say anything right now," she told me quietly. "We'll talk when you pick me up. Actually, you might want to plan on a day or two here. A little male bonding time..." She smiled that wonderful smile and let go of me.

"You take care," I told her. "Try to relax. You'll beat Asshole. You aren't alone anymore." She gave me another quick hug and I got in my truck.

"See you on the flip side, John," I called over to him. "See you, goddess," I smiled at her, then pulled away, heading for Tacoma.

* * * * *

Sunday morning and I was going to be driving into the sun. Damn.

I'd gotten to Tacoma okay, near six o'clock. Caroline's husband Don was waiting and had two of his buddies there, also, to help unload the furniture. Caroline kept her two kids out of the way while the four of us men emptied the trailer. I had enough time for a quick supper with them before I had to beat feet to the rental company, to drop off the trailer before they closed. It was close to 10pm when I got to my hotel.

For once, there weren't any screw-ups and I got into my room and settled with plenty of time to get organized for the morning. Falling asleep was harder... I went through more than my usual couple of nightcaps before the images of Angie's luscious body would leave me alone. I was afraid I was going to be severely distracted that week.

The assholes at V-H managed to get me focused. On them. And Angie got put on a back burner. I made it through the week's idiocy and ended up Friday with an electronic sheaf of notes that would become my findings and recommendations. Saturday with Caroline and crew was great. The kids, Max and Tina, warmed up to "Grandpa Steve" pretty quickly and the five of us went to see a couple of tourist traps, although I have to admit, Fort Nisqually was kind of cool. A step back in time to the French fur trading era. The Children's Museum was more for the kids with a lot of hands-on activities, giving us adults a chance to chat quietly.

"You seem happier than you've been in a long time, Dad," Caroline observed as we sat, resting, while the kids played. "Something happen I should know about?" I turned to Don.

"What is it with this feminine intuition thing?" I asked.

"Aha!" Caroline exclaimed as Don answered, "I have no idea. When in doubt, just go with the flow."

"Spill it, Dad!" Caroline almost beamed. "You have a new ladyfriend?"

"I've met someone, yes," I told her. "We're just getting to know each other, but we have a lot in common and we're happy around each other."

"So when do I get to meet her?" she asked.

"At the wedding?" I asked in return. The look on her face was priceless.

"Actually, I don't know when, honey," I went on. "We've barely started dating. And there are complications."

"Married?" my daughter asked with that insight of hers than can be vexing.

"Getting divorced," I explained. "A really nasty divorce that has almost run its course. No kids, thank God. I ran into the asshole. Had me thinking about what a hit would cost."

"Dad!" Caroline was not happy.

"Just thinking, honey," I reassured her. "I wouldn't be able to spend time with my new ladyfriend if I was in jail."

"Just don't do anything stupid," she admonished me.

"Hey, that's my motto!" I smiled. "Don't worry, honey, I'll keep you posted. And..." I looked at my watch, "what do you want to do for dinner?"

"Waiting for us at home," she told me. "In the slow cooker. Did you check out of your hotel?"