The three Brassington brothers huddled at the tellers window and discussed the mornings events with Lois, the teller. Joe Jr, Howie and George were still all worked up over the days events and probably would be for awhile. Lois was only interested in talking with George, to ask him over for dinner tonight, alone, at her house, but he wasn’t paying her any attention yet. At 45, George was the youngest of the Brassington boys - all that was left of the once richest family in the county. There had been a fourth son, but he had disappeared, along with his mother right after the birth, and everybody assumed she had left Joe Brassington and took the boy with her.
Little by little, the Brassington farm had been sold off after their father had died and left everything to his three boys, none of which were very smart, and they had let their daddy’s cotton die off and rot in the fields and lost most of the land back to the bank and Garland Lockhart thru repossession. Garland had tried to help them at first, bringing in people who knew how to run cotton farms, but the boys had spent their time drinking and chasing women and buying cars instead of learning from Garland’s managers and it was soon mostly gone. By helping the boys, Garland had spent more time out at the farm than any outsider. Old man Brassington was never too keen on visitors. You could call but you couldn’t come over, he would either settle business by phone or come to you.
The northwest corner of the farm had a series of limestone caves that ran along the Pearl river and into the adjoining farm of old crazy Tom Wilson. The caves were not visible from the river and no one had ever been aware of them except crazy Tom and old Joseph, until Joe Jr. had shown them to Garland one day five years ago. Garland had stopped helping them after that. Even though he knew nothing about the history of the area, he knew the cave paintings inside were very old and would be worth a lot of money to whoever owned the land they were on. The archaeological reports from the State in his briefcase had proved his suspicions were true. Garland and his partners were going to be very wealthy men before long. From his office,Garland could see the brothers out front and waited for them to leave so he wouldn’t have to go through their ritual greetings. Add to it this death, and he knew the talk would be at least a half hour before they would let him go. No, thanks! His secretary buzzed and said he had an emergency phone call from home.
Lois had a new smile this morning, a changed woman. George was everything she imagined he would be and more. When he arrived for dinner, he had brought her a small bouquet of flowers and a bottle of wine. ‘A perfect start!’ thought Lois and in her mind, it only improved as the minutes went by Later, side by side in the kitchen, doing the dishes, his arm bumping hers, his hips pressed to hers, she had a moment of playfulness and kissed him on the cheek. In return, he grabbed her and held her tight to him and let his passion bruise her lips. He had come tonight thinking he might get lucky. Lois showed him just how lucky he was. George’s luck held out till 4 am before he finally fell asleep. Lois didn’t sleep at all. She just lay there propped up on one arm, looking down at George and listening to him breathe. I just hope he doesn’t snore, she thought and then dismissed it. It wouldn’t matter to her if he did, he was here and he’s going to be here a long, long time. She was now positive George was THE man for her after this magnificent night. He had insinuated himself deeply into her soul, completely unaware his fate was now sealed in this woman’s mind, George dreamed of rosy lips and soft pink flesh. Lois padded nude back into the kitchen and started rummaging through drawers, wetness sliding down the inside of her thighs.
The Brassington boys, Howie and Joe Jr. sat at their usual table just inside the door at Maybelles with a couple of their drinking buddies from down the road aways at Hoods Crossroads. They sat and sipped their coffees, speculated and spat in the tin cans that were provided at all the tables, just like salt, pepper and sugar. The current topic of conversation was the whereabouts of George, the younger Brassington. Howie knew he had gone to Lois’ house for dinner and by the way she always looked at him at the bank, he figured George was there for breakfast too. That drew a round of crude remarks from the Hoods Crossroads boys and a rebuke from Joe Jr. about their choice of words describing a woman they didn’t even know.
Laughter rocked the table and drew sour glances from other patrons throughout the diner
Lois was rubbing at her hair with a towel as she came out of the bathroom, fresh, pink and smelling good. George looked up from the bed and felt an involuntary surge begin in his loins.
“Oh, look, somebody’s glad to see me,” cooed Lois. “I guess I’ll just have to say good morning” and she knelt down on the bed, reaching for her admirer. A few deft strokes and he was ready, but before she began, she looked up at George fondly and asked,
“Have you decided what you want for dinner, dear?. . . . how about, this!”
Lois turned around and sat down on George's face, muffling him before he could answer, then leaned over and started bobbing happily in his lap. All George could do was comply and moan, briefly able to breathe through his nostrils. She was fantastic and his mind yelled more, more, more! Never mind that he was tied to the bed hand and foot. Never mind that his brothers might be concerned of his whereabouts. Never mind that he should have dropped from exhaustion hours ago. His stamina was seemingly endless and his desire just kept increasing with each thrust of his hips upward and her head downward.
“I shoulda done this long ago, who knew she was like this. Just a plain jane bank teller that turns into Sexzilla in bed?”
George thought about the weekend ahead and managed a smile; that made her moan more, so he smiled a lot.
George stood in the shower and let the hot water beat on his neck and back, his thoughts on the previous night - and day - and now the coming night. He felt the familiar stirrings again as the actions of this woman replayed through his mind, unbelievably he was almost ready for her again! Amazing, just amazing, he said to himself over and over as the water relaxed him.
Lois was busy in the kitchen, putting frozen mixed vegetables in the microwave. The pot roast and potatoes were ready in the slow cooker. She opened a bottle of wine, poured two paper cups and headed for the bathroom, still naked. George was happy to see her step through the curtain into the shower. She could see and feel how happy he was as she pressed against him under the warm water. The two cups hit the tile floor, immediately forgotten in their passionate embrace. In her mind, Lois was singing like a horny canary, ecstatic in her new found lustiness and George’s awesome capacity to fulfill her every desire. I may never go back to work, she thought.
Lois woke with a start. Her ingrained alarm, set by years of routine, waking her just before dawn. She looked over and George was there beside her on the bed, totally, completely exhausted and snoring! Part fingernails on a blackboard, part diesel exhaust, the combination of sounds that came from his mouth was truly irritating. Perhaps if she just. .managed. .uh. . to . .get. . uh. .him . .to. . turn. . uh. . over, There! Not easy to do, he was all dead weight, but once he was on his side, he stopped. The poor dear, I’ll just let him sleep. She was sore from 30 hrs or so of non-stop passion and upon examining him saw that he was quite red also. She reached over and just stroked him lightly with her fingertips, just grazing his skin and ooh! it moved! Even sound asleep and dog-tired, he responded to her touch! She was quite pleased with her ability to stir this man’s passion and his ability to do something about it when she did.
I love you, George. I love you, little Georgie and she backed away from the bed and headed into the bathroom for yet another shower, humming softly to herself. It sounded a little like it might have been “March of the Toreadors”, from Bizets “Carmen,” but only the first stanza.
George Brassington lay on his side on the bed, eyes closed, listening intently for any sound. His body ached from eyeballs to toenails. He hadn’t been hurting this bad since the last time his old man had taken a stick to him for not doing his chores when he was younger. He pondered on what day it was and whether this had been such a good idea. Messing around with Lois had been wonderful and exciting and he wondered how in the world he had lasted as long as he did. The woman was a monster in bed, the best he’d ever had and he smiled slightly at the thought of the last . . . how long has it been? He was here for dinner Thursday night, then all day Friday and Friday night, then . . . it must be Saturday. . . sometime. Where was she? Probably in the shower again, getting cleaned up, smelling good and ready to pounce again as soon as he woke up. He felt the stirring begin again and groaned slightly, he didn’t think it was possible to go again the way his body ached, but there it was, and all he had done was think about her. I’m not going to last through the weekend. I’ll be dead by Sunday for sure if this keeps up and it looked like one part of him was very interested in testing that idea. His stomach spoke up then and grumbled mightily, putting in its bid for some attention, then his kidneys told him he had better do something about them real soon and he groaned again and opened his eyes . . looking right into the eyes of Lois. “Georgie, dear,” she cooed.
“Lois, I’m not going back into that bedroom again until we talk.” George was as adamant about that statement as he could be with a naked woman rubbing all over him.
“OK, Georgie, you talk I’ll listen,” and she knelt down before him.
“No, NO!, Lois, I mean it now! I’m starving, I’m tired and we need to talk. I need some fresh air, some sunshine, some food. I need to know what time it is, what day it is, I need a break! Where are my clothes?”
“That’s beginning to sound like you want to leave, George. Is that it? You want to leave? Just come here, have your way with me and then goodbye?”
George heard alarm bells going off in his head. Lois was trying to get worked up about this and if he didn’t say something quick, he was in big trouble. He took her in his arms.
“It’s not anything like that, Lois, I’m just saying we need to take a break, talk, get to know each other better. Go for a walk outside, hold hands and enjoy the day, or night and the memory of what has happened and still might happen. You understand that, don’t you?”
Tears still glistened in Lois’ eyes, but she loosened up and melted against him.
“Let’s get cleaned up, dressed and go to Maybelles for something to eat, OK? I’d be proud to walk arm and arm into Maybelles with you, Lois.”
“OK, Georgie. You take your shower and I’ll get dressed. Your clothes are all washed and ironed and will be laid out on the bed.”
She held him tight and then kissed him, feeling him stir against her belly.
“Maybe somebody doesn’t want to go just yet Georgie?” she smiled.
“Plenty of time for that Lois, plenty of time.”
Joe Jr. grabbed his brothers arm and stopped him short as they approached the front windows of Maybelles.
“Lookee here what’s sitting at our table, Howie. I do believe our wayward brother has decided to show his face.”
“I think we should go in and say hello, don’t you Joe?” said Howie.
“Indeed we should, dear brother, after you.”
The Brassington boys opened the door and strolled in, grinning mightily as they approached their younger brother George and his date Lois.
“Why, it’s our long lost little brother George, Howie. Sittin at our table with his lady friend.”
“Go away, Joe - you too, Howie.”
“Go away? Now is that any way to talk to your kinfolk, George?”
“Go away now, Joe! I mean it! Leave us alone.”
“I don’t understand, George. Why should we go away? This is our table.”
“This is just as much MY table as it is yours, Joe. Now turn around and walk away, we’re having our supper.”
Lois could see George was getting a little red in the face. So could Jolene and she headed for the table to stop this before it got out of hand. Other customers were beginning to turn and look.
“Joe, Howie, you can sit at another table. Leave George alone.”
Jolene had grabbed Joe’s arm and spun him around to face her.
“You’re bothering a paying customer Joe, you and Howie come sit at this other table or leave, now. Your choice.”
“Now wait a minute, Jolene, you can’t. . “ Joe was cut off in mid sentence.
“You having any trouble here, Jolene?” said Jed as he came through the door and walked over to face Joe.
“This ain’t none of your concern, Jed,” said Joe. Howie was staring at George, who returned the look just as intently.
“ No, it’s MY concern,” said Bill who had quickly stepped out from behind the counter as the voices got louder. “You boys want something to eat, go sit down and order, otherwise, be on your way. You’re annoying my customers.”
Joe looked from Bill, to Jed, to Jolene, then Howie, down at George and then back to Bill, started to say something and thought better of it, then turned to Howie again. “Come on Howie.”
Howie, started to protest, “But, Joe, I’m hungry, where we going to go?”
“Shut up Howie, just come on. We ain’t welcome here any more.”
“Now I didn’t say that, Joe,” said Bill, but it fell on mad, embarrassed ears as Joe stomped out the door, followed by Howie who was still protesting.
George started to apologize for his brothers’ actions, but Bill interrupted, “Don’t worry about it, George, you and Lois just enjoy your supper. What about you, Deputy, you ready to eat?”
“Don’t concern yourself about it, Lois,” said George. The three of us have been fussing and fighting since we got old enough to make a fist. They were just out to tease me a mite about being with you, and I didn’t want to hear any of it. What do you say we go up to Oneonta and see a movie? They’ve got that drive-in that stays open year round.”
Lois was just tickled pink about the way things were going. George defending her, sort of, and taking her out to eat and now a movie! Things were happening a little backwards from the way they should, but as long as it kept George around, she was all for it.
“I’d love to go to a movie with you George,” she cooed at him and held his arm tight as they walked toward the car.”Do you know what’s showing?”
“Does it really matter, Lois?, said George with a impish grin on his face and a waggle of his eyebrows.
“Oh, George, I love it when you talk dirty to me!”
“Oh, George, I love it when you talk dirty to me!” echoed a male voice as Joe Jr and Howie moved up behind them. George turned to face his two brothers. Lois looked around desperately and waved and called at Deputy Jed as he drove by, but his window was up and Lynyrd Skynyrd was in the middle of “Freebird” on the radio. He was on his way home and oblivious to her call for help.
“George, hold still. How can I help you if you keep wiggling around like that?” asked Lois.
“That stuff stings, Lois. Just leave me alone I’ll be OK.”
“That cut on your cheek could get infected, George. Let me clean it up and put a bandage on it. It’s still bleeding a little.”
The cut on the cheek didn’t hurt half as much as where Joe had kicked him in the ribs after he knocked George down. He didn’t mention that to Lois at all. At least Joe would be hobbling around for a while on that sore knee that George had kicked. Howie had stayed pretty much out of it as always. Howie didn’t like pain too much and had always been sort of the referee in these little spats. His usual job was to break it up when Joe and George got to wrestling around on the ground too much. Once that was done, it was pretty much all over and everyone calmed down and nursed their wounds and forgot about it. Some scrapes, some bruises, a torn shirt sleeve or pocket hanging limply and they went on their way. Until the next time.
“Why are your brothers like that, George?”
“It’s just in our blood to be ornery sometimes, Lois. Don’t worry about it. It’s happened hundreds of times and will happen a hundred times more or until one of us gets too old to fight anymore.”
“Well, I think you were just wonderful to protect me, George,” said Lois and leaned down to hug him. The pain in his ribs was almost too much to bear.
“Easy, Lois, I’m sore all over,” he groaned.
“Oh, my poor baby, where can I kiss it to make it feel better?” she said, reaching for his belt buckle.
“Now Lois, just let me rest a bit. None of that.”
“I’ll be very gentle, Georgie,” she said, and she was.