Geneva – 8

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(Continued from Geneva – 7)

As unashamedly smitten as he’d been with Geneva from the moment she wandered across his blanket it had never really occurred to him that she might actually be useful in his daily life. He winced recalling the thought, not only because of where it placed him on the evolutionary scale, but because there she was, in the bed of his pickup, guiding, then securing with straps and ratchets, the Barton’s 800-pound mantle that he was lowering from his forklift.

His first hint of her utilitarian side was when they picked up her things. Expecting-and not being disappointed by-the stylish, if small wardrobe, the thongs, the lacy things, there were also work boots, gloves and jeans torn by function rather than fashion.

She jumped into the passenger seat. “You want to check the straps?”

“They good?” he asked.

“They’re good.”

“Let’s go then”, he pulled out slowly respecting the weight in the bed. It was a short drive.

“So, these folks…”

“The Barton’s…friends for a few years.”

“Knew your wife, right?”

“Yep. They didn’t too much like her. Which made it difficult at times…but it was fine.”

“They were your friends first?”

“No”, he grinned at the inquisition. “It was a good match life-style wise, but not any other wise.”

“Life style….?”

“That’s an onion best peeled slowly”, he said, ending the conversation as they pulled off the road onto a long ribbon of black paved driveway.

Duke Barton stood in the middle of the circular driveway waving them around to the back. It was a sprawling rambler that looked more modest than it was. Driving around to the back the house seemed as deep as it was wide and the patio, where they were delivering the mantel, had a bigger footprint than Gennie’s childhood home. Duke was in his forties-slim and sandy-haired but he was moving too quickly for her to get a good read.

He disappeared into what looked to be a four-car garage and came steaming out in a compact green tractor with a bucket. Does everyone out here have construction equipment she wondered? The bucket had chains stacked inside which Duke jumped out and rigged to lift, noticing her for the first time.

“Hello there!” he said over the hum of both vehicles holding out a gloved hand. Gennie shook firmly. “Geneva”, she said quickly apparently caught up in Duke’s kinetic energy field. “Pleased”, she said then pulled on her own gloves and hopped up onto the truck bed. Duke glanced at him and he smiled with a half-shrug and pointed at her palms up in a ‘she’s got it’ gesture.

Their relationship had changed over the past week as he knew it would, one way or the other. She had become less a girl hiding out at his place and more of a partner in what he was doing-curious, helpful but not intrusive. Plus they had slept together every night since. His third-floor studio was going unused and he didn’t mind a bit. Now he smiled watching Gennie hustle, rig chains, hop up onto the side of the truck-bed to steady the mantel as Duke lifted it clear. He loved that she was showing off but wasn’t sure if it was for him or for Duke. Either way, it was a good look. A very good look.

“It’s finally here…” cried a voice coming from behind her.

She followed the men’s eyes to settle, as everyone’s did, on the formidable breasts of Bethany Barton. She was doing nothing to show them off-they just were. Supremely casual in corduroys and flannel with long dark hair she wore the ‘lady of the manor’ air with aplomb.

“Just when I said it would be…” he countered.

Bethany pulled up beside Gennie, “Who is this green-eyed wonder?”

“Geneva”, she said removing her glove and holding out her hand. Bethany took it lightly, as if catching a butterfly, and slid close.

“Geneva”, she purred. “Wonderful to meet you.”

“Gennie, is fine…”

“So, Geneva”, she asked with an appraising gaze, “Are you a good girl or a naughty girl?”

“Uhh…” Geneva said tentatively.

“Please Beth”, said her husband.

“I’m only asking dear, because that one usually falls toward the naughty girls…”

“We’re still trying to decide that”, he called over.

“Hard to tell”, Bethany said smiling. “With these eyes she can go either way.”

“She’s only just had her first spanking.”

“Really honey?” she asked with arched eyebrows, “Your first?”

Gennie shot him a look- like REALLY?

“Oh, dear. I envy you that.” Bethany gushed closing her eyes in theatrical ecstasy.

“The fear, the confusion, embarrassment, humiliation. You are never as naked as you are over a strong man’s knee, are you dear?”

“Then the pain-there is that-the first shock of it, then the spreading of the warmth-providing he was using his hand and not one of the oak paddles he’s so fond of making, the brute!” She winked at him and he could do nothing but smile and shake his head.

“Then, after the pain, the heat, then the warmth, there is the release-the mind reels at the release-never have I seen the world so clearly as upside down over a lap. Then after the release, the tenderness…how sweet and soft the hands that could be so hard and punishing.”

Finally Duke stepped in.

“Easy Bethany. You don’t want to tell this girl all of your secrets right away.”

The woman smiled at Geneva and leaned close-reaching to touch her blushing cheek. “I think she already knows, don’t you dear?”

They were there just long enough to complete the transaction and ensure the mantel was secured in storage. Duke still had work to do before placing it and he was happily moving rocks before they were out of sight. Bethany had walked them to the truck and given Gennie a little peck on the cheek.

She was quiet until they got onto the two-lane.

“Which is she?”

“Pardon?”

“Is she a good girl? Or a naughty girl.”

“Very naughty.”

Gennie smiled and watched the hills pass the window. Here and there spatters of gold were appearing.

“You ready to pack?”, he asked.

“Definitely not.”

 

(Continuing…)

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3 responses to “Geneva – 8

  1. Pingback: Geneva – 7 | Hot Bottoms

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