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From: SnakeEater <mghargh@yahoo.com>
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Subject: Re: {ASSM} April Showers {Hoisington} (Mf oral first cons rom)
Date: Tue, 08 Aug 2006 17:43:32 -0700
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===================
To Mr Hoisington,
This is probably one of your best stories, even better than your GS
series.
SnakeEater
Russell Hoisington wrote:
> APRIL SHOWERS
>
> Russell Hoisington
>
> ************************************************************
>
> This is an erotic fantasy. The characters and the situation are
> purely imaginary, and this story is NOT intended to be a guide
> for actual behavior. Any similarities between this story and
> actual people or actual events you should be ashamed of are
> purely coincidental. If it is illegal in your part of the world
> to access and read erotic fiction, or if you are underage, or if
> you don't like underage sex stories, then stop now.
>
> This story is copyright 2006 by Russell Hoisington. Please do
> not remove the author information or make any changes to this
> story. You may post freely to non-commercial (free) sites, or in
> the "free" area of commercial sites. That does not mean that
> these stories are in the public domain, nor does it mean that I
> give permission for you to use them in spam advertising. I
> reserve the right to determine what is "spam advertising" by my
> definition, not yours or anyone else's.
>
> Thank you for your consideration.
>
> My sincerest thanks to Denny Wheeler for editing this story and
> to the Night Hawk and Wizard for their input.
>
> ************************************************************
>
> Leslie Gray, CPA, had an excellent reason for living in his
> new house for six days before using the shower in the master
> bedroom's private three-quarter bath: taxes.
>
> Les had spent his past ten years sitting in a chair and
> analyzing complex tax returns for the Internal Revenue Service in
> Philadelphia while waiting for a promotion. Stan Lowenstein, a
> field auditor, was the one who finally told him he was wasting
> his time. Stan said that Les was too introverted to do the
> butt-kissing necessary to advance, not that his boss would ever
> recommend him for a promotion. Stan said that Les was too
> competent to promote, that he was the only one who really made
> his boss look good. When the shock wore off, Les decided to move
> back home and establish his own private accounting practice.
> Stan said that his own private practice would be almost as big a
> mistake as staying unless he significantly improved his social
> skills. When he called his parents in Florida, they agreed with
> Stan, saying he had always been too incompetent to run his own
> business, or, for that matter, his own life. Les moved anyway.
>
> Neither the occasional pick-up game of basketball or
> softball nor his morning jogs had prepared him for the lifting,
> bending, and straining associated with moving into a new home in
> suburban Indianapolis, across the city from where he spent many
> of his years growing up. Shifting boxes, unpacking them, and
> putting their contents where he wanted them was a lot more
> strenuous than it sounds to the uninitiated.
>
> Unused muscle groups shrieked at the disturbance of their
> lassitude. Les spent the first five nights soaking in the hot
> water of the upper hall bathroom's tub. By the sixth night he
> felt he could replace the relaxing soak with a quick shower
> before bedtime, since the shower head included a massage feature.
> His muscles howled at being used for nothing more than removing
> his clothes.
>
> He had been looking forward to using the shower. It was
> fully tiled, brightly lit with waterproof bulb enclosures in the
> ceiling, and a continuation of the ceramic tile floor, with a
> slight slope and the shower doors keeping the water confined
> within. The floor plus the high and low corner shelves of
> matching ceramic indicated that it had been built for a
> wheelchair patient. However, it was on the second floor of the
> house. He hadn't asked either the one neighbor he'd met or the
> Realtor if they knew why. He didn't want to appear nosy or
> presumptuous.
>
> "Gym," he said to the empty bedroom as he hobbled toward the
> master bath. "I'll join a gym to keep in shape, in case this
> doesn't work out and I have to move again."
>
> He grimaced at his face in the medicine cabinet mirror. He
> supposed that he shouldn't be surprised that he looked twenty
> years older. He certainly felt that way. He reached for the
> door, winced in pain, and closed it so that he could observe
> himself in the full-length mirror on the door's inner side. He
> sighed. Another good reason to join a gym. He needed to lose
> ten pounds and convert another ten to something more solid.
>
> He sighed again and absently turned the hot water knob while
> lost in thought. Maybe if he'd joined one earlier, Jessica
> wouldn't have suddenly moved out fifteen months ago to shack up
> with someone who was all-muscle, especially between the ears.
> Les was still trying to recover from that one. Seven years
> together. He was within maybe a month or two of proposing
> marriage to her when he came home to find her closet empty and a
> magnet holding a note to the refrigerator. He couldn't imagine
> her hooking up with that Quinlan clown, one who didn't have the
> brains to hold a conversation for more than ten seconds.
>
> Not that he was much better. Sure, he could keep a
> conversation going, sort of, more or less, with a little help
> from the other party, but he was incredibly inept at initiating
> one. Except with Jessica. He knew her well enough understand
> her thoughts, her moods, her interests, her needs. Any other
> female, though, he needed help with.
>
> He refused to admit to himself that the loss of Jessica was
> the other reason he'd moved, despite his mother's insistence that
> he was running away from the fact that her leaving was proof that
> he was too much of a loser to keep a woman.
>
> Steam rose from the spray of water. He added cold and
> adjusted the knob until it was as hot as he thought he could
> tolerate. Maybe if he looked like dating material, he might want
> to get back into the game, he decided as he stepped under the
> stream. As if he'd ever been into it in the first place.
> Jessica had made the first move. And the second. And most
> others. He let the heat penetrate for a minute and then set the
> shower head to deliver a pulsating massage stream. After it had
> beaten him for a couple of minutes he adjusted it to a normal
> spray. He'd soap and rinse and then enjoy another massage before
> collapsing into his bed.
>
> He didn't want to expend the energy to wash himself, but,
> without Jessica to help, he had no choice. The stall covered the
> area of a tub, enough to hold two people comfortably, three
> cozily. There was a lot of space going to waste. He could use
> somebody to massage his sore back and shoulders. Somebody to
> enjoy showering with the way he'd enjoyed showering with her.
>
> The bathroom door clicked and swung open, startling him.
> The translucent shower doors revealed someone entering. "Who's
> there?" He slid a door open and leaned to look out around the
> edge. For a moment he couldn't speak, couldn't move, couldn't
> even think. Was fatigue causing him to hallucinate? "Who the
> heck are you?"
>
> A brunette teenager, wrapped in one of his towels, smiled
> brightly at him. "My name is April, but they call me Ay," she
> said in a soft, clear voice and then spelled it. "It's a
> nickname, a word, not my first initial." The way she said it
> implied that everyone made the same mistake he'd mentally made.
> "It's in the dictionary, you know."
>
> Correction: that wasn't one of his towels. He didn't have
> any towels imprinted with cutesy cartoon dogs and cats.
>
> "What are you doing in my bathroom?"
>
> She smiled at him again. She was attractive until she
> smiled. Then she was beautiful. "I'm stinky. I need a shower,"
> she said. She reached beneath her left armpit and pulled free
> the corner of the towel that tucked underneath the wrap, holding
> the cloth up. It dropped around her feet, giving him a momentary
> view of small, pink circles atop pale teacup mounds and a
> neatly-trimmed brown triangle.
>
> The view vanished when she bent forward at the waist to pick
> up the towel. Her face vanished, too, when her shoulder length
> hair swung forward. Les had just enough time to realize that her
> body showed no tan lines, primarily because the pale skin showed
> no tan at all, before she straightened and he forgot about
> mundane tan lines.
>
> "How did you get in here?"
>
> She arched thin eyebrows, thin as in not dense rather than
> not wide, and pointed over her shoulder. "I came in that door.
> I thought you knew." She folded the towel in half three times
> and placed it atop the toilet lid.
>
> "N... no. I mean... aren't the outside doors and windows
> closed and locked?"
>
> The smile returned, and she shrugged. "I don't know."
>
> "What do you mean..." He tightened his fingers on the edge
> of the door when her hand suddenly shot out to push it open.
> "What are you doing?"
>
> She stopped pulling against the resistance of his grip on
> the inner door, grabbed the towel bar on the outer door, and
> pushed it open. He jerked his hands away from inner door to
> avoid having his fingers pinched. She used the distraction to
> slide into the back of the shower. "I told you. I need a
> shower."
>
> His hands dropped to cover himself. Unfortunately that
> wasn't a difficult task for just one hand. Two was overkill.
> "Well, uh, why shower here?"
>
> "There's no shower there. And you have hot water and need
> help."
>
> He tried to concentrate on her face, or else he really would
> need both hands to cover himself despite the shock, though, again
> unfortunately, that wouldn't be difficult for two. "No shower?
> Well, don't you have a tub where you can take a bath?"
>
> "No tubs! No baths. Showers only." Her voice flowed
> smoothly from harsh to conversational in six words.
>
> Startled at her reaction, his mind raced and then stammered
> out the first thing that he thought of. "Uh, well, th... the
> hall b... bathroom, uh, has a... a shower over that tub...."
>
> Her face turned almost angry. "I told you, no tubs! Ever!
> Not even for a shower!" Her face relaxed and the smile hinted at
> a return.
>
> She took a small step forward. He backed into the corner,
> allowing the water to spray over his shoulder.
>
> The smile returned before she leaned her face into the flow
> and then lowered her head to wet her hair. "That feels so good,"
> she sighed.
>
> "But... Well, what would your parents say if they knew you
> were in my shower with me?"
>
> She hesitated a moment. "They'd be very happy." He tone
> was almost wistful.
>
> That made no sense, but Jessica had often said things that
> were as senseless. He thought maybe that was why he had trouble
> talking with women, but, no. He had trouble holding
> conversations with men, too.
>
> Her voice turned cheerful. "Would you squirt some of that
> shampoo in my hair, please, Les?"
>
> He didn't know what else to do at this point, so he reached
> for the bottle with one hand and flipped open its top with his
> thumb. The full sentence finally penetrated. "What did you call
> me?"
>
> She spoke with her face down and her wet hair still hanging
> around her face. "I can call you Mister Gray if you'd prefer,"
> she said in an apologetic tone. "I just thought that since we're
> showering together I could use your first name. You get to call
> me Ay either way. Use a big squirt! I like my hair all sudsy
> when it's shampooed."
>
> "You know my name? How?"
>
> "Don't be silly! You live here! Come on, squirt the
> shampoo! We're using up the hot water."
>
> Neither his parents nor the IRS nor life with Jessica had
> taught him how to handle this situation. All they had taught him
> was how to follow orders. He followed orders, then flipped the
> lid closed and returned the shampoo bottle to its home in the
> small ceramic corner recess.
>
> Ay hadn't moved. "If you shampoo my hair for me, I'll scrub
> you. My fingers are pretty strong, and with the hot shower, they
> should help relax your shoulders and arms and back."
>
> "Um...."
>
> "Oh, come on! You can use your hands. You don't have to
> hide it. I know that those things look like. I already know
> what yours looks like, remember? I saw it when I got in. Come
> on! Who else is going to help you tonight, huh?"
>
> After thirty seconds of useless protests and ignored
> questions, he surrendered. "Just promise me one thing," he said
> as he began working her hair into a lather. "Promise me that you
> won't tell anyone else about this."
>
> "Of course, silly. Who could I tell?"
>
> Obviously somebody. Thoughts of school friends, cousins,
> and parents who would be 'very happy' to know they were showering
> together came to mind, but he held his tongue. No need to give
> her any ideas.
>
> Unless she was a runaway. Maybe she was looking for a place
> to spend the night. He forced that idea out of his mind when he
> felt the twitching and the onset of the initial swelling.
>
> Washing Ay's hair wasn't difficult. Jessica's hair had been
> both longer and fuller.
>
> Maybe a conversational approach would help. He'd try
> getting to know her first. "Ay, where do you live?"
>
> "I don't."
>
> He waited for more. Nothing was forthcoming. He'd blown
> that opportunity. Maybe he was going too fast? He should have
> learned more than the fact that she was homeless and verified
> that she was quite likely a runaway. Shouldn't he?
>
> "Okay, let's rinse your hair," he said after a fruitless
> search of his memory for conversational topics.
>
> He was sure he'd removed all the shampoo before the thought
> occurred to him. "Ay, I had the temperature set high for me. Is
> it too hot for you?"
>
> "It's fine," she said. "Okay, your turn. The best place
> for you to sit is right here."
>
> He sat and found the curly brown triangle at his eye level.
> He looked down, but she stepped around him and reached for the
> shower head control. "The best setting for you is this one," she
> said as the water began pulsing.
>
> It did feel good, hitting directly between the shoulder
> blades with the right amount of heat and force. And with her
> behind him, he didn't have to worry about the sight of her
> naked...
>
> She stepped over his shoulder, giving him a momentary view
> of pink with a moistness that wasn't shower water, and knelt in
> front of him. She was so close to the back wall of the shower
> that she couldn't put her lower legs flat. Instead, she balanced
> on her knees, with her toes pressed against the shower wall about
> a half-foot up from the floor.
>
> "I can scoot back and give you more room," he said, starting
> to lift himself on his hands.
>
> "No! Don't move," she commanded. The voice was as soft and
> sweet and innocent as a baby kitten, but it was unmistakably a
> command. "That's the best spot for you." She'd brought the bar
> of soap with her. She rolled it until she was satisfied with the
> lather, then placed it on a low corner shelf, leaned forward, and
> began massaging his shoulders with slippery hands.
>
> His choices were to look at her breasts, her waist, or her
> crotch. He opted for the middle and tried to ignore his
> peripheral vision until he realized he had Option Four: Close
> the Eyes. He did, but he could still see the pale, straight body
> before him. Straight not because she wasn't developing adult
> curves but because she wasn't slender. Some of it was baby fat,
> but most of it was the other kind. She wasn't overweight yet,
> but she gave the distinct impression that she would be as an
> adult. Either she hadn't been a runaway for long, or she had a
> good food supply. He hoped the right reason was the latter.
>
> He was so relaxed that he drifted into that netherworld
> region where the mind and body dissociate. He was suddenly
> brought back to consciousness by her hands patting his shoulders.
>
> "Time to quit," she said, rinsing her hands behind his head
> and forcing him to try ignoring the soft, pink-capped white
> mounds inches from his face. His mind raced with indecision,
> arguing whether he should close his eyes again. "You'll run out
> of hot water in another four minutes. You need time to rinse and
> get out, or the cold water will tighten your muscles again. Dry
> off quickly and put on something to hold in the heat, then get to
> bed."
>
> He looked up at her face when she pulled back, ending the
> vacillation of his thoughts. She lowered her head and gave him a
> quick, innocent kiss on his lips. "That's thanks for letting me
> use the shower. You can't imagine how desperately I needed
> that."
>
> She stood. The brown triangle moved past his nose, giving
> him a musky hint that she'd been aroused. Before he could speak,
> she pushed the door open. "I won't need to shampoo if you take a
> shower tomorrow night," she said with a gentle smile. "That will
> give us time to wash more of each other." She closed the shower
> door behind her.
>
> "Ay?" He stood. Through the translucent panel he watched
> her wrap the towel about her body and tuck the corner in place
> under her left arm. "Ay, wait a minute." He rinsed quickly.
>
> A second towel, one he'd not been aware of, wrapped around
> her head. He pulled the shower door open in time to see the
> bathroom door close, cutting off her final sound, so that all he
> heard was, "See you tomorrow ni...."
>
> He lurched for the bathroom door and threw it wide. Ay was
> gone.
>
> He found no trace of her in the house, nor did he find an
> unlocked window or door. When he gave up, the cooler air was
> causing his shoulders to tense again.
>
> ~ ~ ~
>
> Les sat on the end of the bed, reading a book while waiting
> for Ay to arrive. He'd made it easy for her, after a search of
> the house, basement, and attic had shown no trace of wherever she
> was sleeping. He'd left the patio door and three windows
> unlocked. He didn't want someone catching the girl breaking and
> entering if she was delayed picking locks. He should have been
> worried about a runaway who could break into his house so easily,
> but he knew that Ay wouldn't steal from him. He didn't know how
> he knew, but he did.
>
> His parents always said that blind trust like that proved
> that he was gullible and incapable of living by himself, with
> nobody to do rational thinking for him.
>
> He glanced at the clock and gave up, deciding she wasn't
> coming. He felt surprisingly disappointed as he stripped and
> moped into the bathroom. He brushed his teeth and then turned on
> the hot water in the shower. As he was adjusting the temperature
> a soft noise at his side caused him to look down. A folded towel
> with cartoon dogs and cats lay on the toilet lid. He turned in
> surprise.
>
> "Hi, Mister Gray," she said in her soft voice, a sweet,
> demure smile teasing the corners of her mouth.
>
> "Ay!" he said in pleased surprise. "Where did you come
> from?"
>
> "Same as before," she said. And that ended that line of
> conversation. She gave him a pleasant smile. "Come on. You can
> wash me before I do your shoulders again. Congratulations on
> finishing your move-in today."
>
> "Oh. Well, thank you, Ay." He searched for the right words
> to convey everything that he wanted to say. Anything that he
> wanted to say. He was tongue-tied as usual. He felt like a fool
> standing there and saying nothing.
>
> "We'd better get in," she said with her usual bright smile.
> "Otherwise we're wasting time and hot water."
>
> "Oh. Uh, yes. Yes, we are." He held an arm out for her to
> enter, followed her, and closed the door. He waited while she
> rinsed first, letting the water thoroughly wet her face and body.
> Then she stood back and let him have his turn before handing him
> the soap.
>
> "Start with my back, please?" she asked as she turned to
> face the back wall. He stopped at the slight flare of her hips.
> "All the way down, please, Mister Gray?"
>
> He spun the soap in his hands and then, holding the bar in
> his left, began moving both down the outside of her hips. He
> slowly brought his hands together, giving her every opportunity
> to tell him to stop as they lathered the smooth, firm globes that
> were nicer than Jessica's, and he'd always told Jessica she had
> the nicest butt he'd ever seen. When his hands met and he moved
> down to the backs of her thighs he felt a twitching, but,
> fortunately, he avoided erecting. As he reached the backs of her
> knees he said, "Ay, you can call me Les. If you'd like."
>
> She made a soft little sound as his fingers flowed over her
> calves, gently massaging them. "I'd like that very much," she
> said in a near-whisper.
>
> When he reached her ankles she raised one foot at a time for
> him to wash, asking him to thoroughly rinse away the slippery
> soap before she returned each to the shower floor. Then she
> turned to face him and stood with her feet apart the width of the
> shower stall. Clearly, it was an invitation. And it had been a
> long time. Fifteen months, in fact. He re-soaped his hands,
> started at the tops of her toes, and moved upward. The last of
> his reluctance evaporated.
>
> When he reached the tops of her legs he hesitated
> momentarily, then placed the soap on a low corner shelf and slid
> his palms up the insides of her thighs until his little fingers
> were nestled between her legs and folds. As he scrubbed her
> thighs he arched the fingers, so that they applied pressure and
> stimulation.
>
> Ay moaned softly. "I like that," she said as she closed her
> eyes and tilted her head backward. "I've wanted someone to do it
> for a long time."
>
> Les rotated his hands so that the soft folds, with their
> light coating of curly dark hair, were sandwiched between his
> fingers. He pressed and then see-sawed his hands, causing Ay to
> tremble, then brace herself with her hands on his shoulders. She
> shook violently, then relaxed with a moan as her knees trembled.
>
> While she caught her breath he soaped the dark triangle and
> moved up to the bottom of her rib cage. She sighed again and
> murmured, "I've really needed that!" His hands continued upward
> to cup her breasts. She smiled almost shyly at him while he
> washed them, giggling when he tweaked the nipples. Rather than
> stoop to get the bar of soap, he took lather from her bush and
> used it to wash her glowing face with gentle fingers.
>
> He stood back while she rinsed.
>
> "Your turn!" she said in her brightest voice. She started
> with his face and then had him rinse it immediately, so that he
> wouldn't risk getting soap in his eyes.
>
> When she reached his erection she washed it with such
> gentleness that he almost released in the first few seconds. She
> quickly moved onward, finishing his front and asking him to turn.
> He wondered if he'd missed his chance. Maybe she knew what
> "those things" looked like, but she apparently didn't know what
> to do with them. She was a runaway, but she was also a virgin.
> Since he needed the release, he wondered if he should ask her to
> jack him off, but decided against it. If word got out, it would
> look better for him if she couldn't say that he'd asked her to
> touch her in a sexual manner.
>
> The incongruity of that thought eluded him. It eluded him
> sixteen more times before she said he could rinse. When he was
> finished she smiled at him and took his erection in her hands
> again. Without a word she dropped to her knees and took him in
> her mouth.
>
> The surprise delayed his release a good five or six seconds.
> Then, suddenly against his will, he began spraying the back of
> her throat. She coughed around his length once, but kept him in
> her mouth, moving forward as he softened until she was able to
> contain all of him. He reveled in feeling the sensation again,
> but it quickly became uncomfortable.
>
> "That's good," he said, patting one of her shoulders.
>
> She held it by the base as she pulled back, kissed the head,
> and rose. "Sure is," she agreed, her eyes sparkling. "Better
> than I thought it would be."
>
> "Ay, that was wonderful. Would, uh, would you like to, uh,
> lie down for a few minutes?"
>
> She gave him a look of honest heartfelt sadness. "I wish I
> could. Les, I have to leave."
>
> "Go? But where..." he started to ask. She pushed the
> shower door open, grabbed her towel and wrapped it about her in
> one smooth movement, and disappeared out the door without another
> word. The cooling water reminded him to get out, too.
>
> ~ ~ ~
>
> Les released the safety bar on the lawnmower's handle,
> allowing the engine to die. He pushed the mower up the driveway
> to the garage, pausing to wave at a neighbor when his garage door
> clattered up and the car backed out into the drive. They had
> spoken less than two minutes the day he'd first moved in, but he
> remembered the man's name. Artie Fenton, construction worker.
> Wife Alicia had been a documents specialist with the Marion
> County Clerk's office. Married five years, no kids when she died
> suddenly of an undiagnosed heart problem two years ago. He was
> considering starting his own roofing company next year. Taxes
> were simple at the moment, but he'd need an accountant when he
> established and began operating the business.
>
> Good accountants had good memories for people. That's how
> they kept clients.
>
> He pushed the lawnmower into its designated spot in the
> corner and received an olfactory reminder that he would need a
> shower when he was finished. What had Ay called it? Stinky. He
> had time to trim the front bushes before dark. His thoughts
> strayed to April as he reached for the hedge trimmer atop a stack
> of metal shelves. Would Ay join him tonight? He hoped so.
>
> Not just for the sex, he told himself, though he knew he was
> looking forward to that as well. But he really liked the girl.
> She had a sweet innocence about her that he found charming. And
> seductive. For whatever reason, she was afraid to join him
> outside the shower. He supposed she was afraid of what he might
> do if they were alone in the bed. She probably didn't realize
> that the close confines of the shower stall put her in more
> danger than the open bedroom would, if he had been someone who
> intended her harm.
>
> He didn't know much about runaways, but he knew they often
> ran into bad situations. Well, after she grew more comfortable
> with him, more certain that he wouldn't harm her, she would join
> him in his bed.
>
> What kind of a thought was that? She was only... well, he
> wasn't sure of her age. He'd have to ask her if she...
>
> He'd become too involved in his thoughts of Ay. The trimmer
> sat on the top shelf, behind a box of wrenches and box of
> screwdrivers that were waiting for him to attach their holders to
> some pre-existing pegboard. Both slid off the shelf. He grabbed
> for the screwdrivers and caught the open box before the contents
> spilled. The metal box of wrenches hit him in the forehead. He
> dropped the screwdrivers as a flurry of stars exploded and as
> quickly vanished into sudden darkness.
>
> He awoke on the garage floor, next to the car. A
> screwdriver spun down to a stop a foot from his face. He'd
> blacked out only momentarily. For a moment he thought he'd heard
> April's voice as the darkness descended. No, he thought he'd
> seen her standing there wrapped in her towel. No...
>
> No. He recalled a softball game three years ago, when he'd
> lost a high pop fly in the sun. He saw it again just as it
> missed his glove and smashed into his forehead at the same place
> the box had hit. When that happened he thought he'd seen a jumbo
> jet landing between second and third bases as his lights went
> out. Just before the ball reappeared he'd seen the contrail of a
> jet high overhead and had thought about the flight to Florida in
> two days. Jessica and he were to catch a ship there for a
> Caribbean cruise. He guessed he would have seen the ship
> steaming into third instead of the plane if he'd thought about
> the cruise instead of the flight.
>
> He grimaced as numbness lifted and he suddenly felt the pain
> over his eyes. He sat up, then waited for the world to stop
> spinning. He gently touched his forehead and felt sticky wetness
> on a growing lump. Blood, but less than he'd have expected if
> the sharp corner of the metal box had caught him instead of a
> rounded edge. Less than he'd have expected from a head wound,
> too.
>
> The world shimmied as he rose to his knees. He tilted
> sideways to look at himself in the car's side mirror and almost
> fell over from vertigo. The cut wouldn't need a band-aid, but he
> was going to have an interesting bruise. He sank to a sitting
> position and picked up the closed wrench box, only to put it back
> on the concrete and shove it toward the shelves. He picked up
> screwdrivers and shoved them back into their shoebox. One was
> missing. He spotted it when he looked under the car. It had
> rolled completely across and was on the other side. He'd get it
> later. He slowly rose to his feet, pausing twice when dizziness
> threatened his stability.
>
> He'd left the screwdrivers on the floor. He pushed the box
> aside with his foot and staggered to the door into the house. He
> hit the button to close the garage door and stumbled into the
> cool air in the kitchen.
>
> Blood trickled down the corner of his eye and nose. He wet
> a paper towel and cleaned his forehead, then pulled one of the
> drink cooler's frozen gel packs out of the freezer. He collapsed
> into a kitchen chair and pressed the cold pack to his forehead.
>
> He remembered how Jessica had cared for him after the
> softball injury. Somewhere along the way his memories of Jessica
> became thoughts of April and didn't change back.
>
> When he realized that the pack was warm he rose carefully
> and put it in the freezer. He gazed out the window at the
> lengthy shadows, then filled a glass with ice and water from the
> refrigerator's door dispenser. If he moved too quickly the world
> wobbled slightly. Two glasses later he decided he was done for
> the day. Time to go clean up. He'd order a pizza if he felt
> like eating later.
>
> He was halfway up the stairs before he realized that April
> might not show up if he showered this early. But he really
> needed to clean up. Well, he could always take another shower
> later if that was what she wanted to do. He'd crawl out of bed
> and into the bathroom if he had to, just to be with her.
>
> He was so dizzy when he reached the top of the stairs that
> he decided he would skip supper. He wasn't going down those
> stairs again until tomorrow. Besides, he needed to lose weight,
> didn't he?
>
> He undressed sitting on the foot of the bed, leaving his
> clothes scattered on the floor. After a few deep breaths to
> clear his head he rose and wobbled toward the master bathroom.
> He removed the excess liquid forced out by the two glasses of
> water and then examined his head injury in the mirror while the
> tank refilled. He winced at the sight. He'd wear a cap in
> public for the next few days, assuming he could stand the
> pressure against the purple lump that had arisen.
>
> When the toilet fill valve closed he opened the shower door
> and turned on the hot water.
>
> "You've been hurt!"
>
> He wasn't sure whether he'd been more surprised by the voice
> or by the fact that the voice had surprised him.
>
> April flipped the seat and lid down and put her towel on the
> corner of the sink. "Sit here and let me see," she said.
>
> "It's all right, Ay," he began.
>
> "Don't argue. I like helping people. Sit down and let me
> see." He voice was too soft and sweet to be a command. Maybe
> she knew she didn't have to use a more strident tone. Maybe she
> knew he didn't have any choice because he was unable to argue.
>
> He sat. She straddled his legs and sat, then felt his
> forehead with cool, compassionate fingers. Satisfied, she gave
> the injury a gentle kiss.
>
> "It will be much better by morning," she said before tilting
> her head to one side and kissing him. It was a gentle, innocent
> kiss, as light as the one she'd placed on his injury, and it
> ignited the desire in him. His arms crossed behind her back.
> She responded in kind, and the kiss intensified. When it was
> over he was more dizzy from passion than from the head wound.
>
> The bright smile reappeared. He realized for the first time
> that her teeth were slightly crooked. It wasn't an unpleasant
> sight, and not really bad enough to require braces. It was just
> a minor detail that he'd not noticed before, and he didn't want
> to overlook any details about Ay.
>
> She lowered her head and brought her hands down from behind
> his neck. "Well!" she said, taking him into her grasp with both
> hands and raising her eyes to his, "I think we both enjoyed that!
> I know I did."
>
> He searched her eyes and saw the same longing he felt.
> "Ay..."
>
> "Come on," she said, rising. "Let's make good use of the
> hot water."
>
> "You sit on the shower floor," she said when he had
> thoroughly wet his body. "We don't want you passing out in the
> middle."
>
> He understood her implied meaning. He sat below the shower
> head, letting the water flow past overhead. She was quick yet
> thorough. He rose to rinse, then sat on the floor again at her
> insistence. She'd asked about how he'd injured himself. He also
> told her about the softball injury. She'd asked three or four
> other questions. It was the longest conversation they'd had, and
> it ended when he asked something about her.
>
> She sat in front of him. "Your turn to do the dirty work,"
> she said with a giggle. He, too, was quick and thorough, paying
> special attention to her breasts and her nether areas. She
> gasped and climaxed quickly as he washed the hard little lump
> between her soft folds.
>
> She rose to rinse, keeping him in place with a gentle hand
> atop his shoulder. At the end she hunched her hips forward and
> used her hands to part her flesh, letting the water stream into
> her crease for a few moments. Then she straightened and smiled
> down at him.
>
> "Soap irritates if it's not completely removed," she said
> with a mischievous grin. "Would you please check to see that I
> didn't miss any?"
>
> "I can't refuse a request from a beautiful lady," he said,
> reaching for her.
>
> "No, not like that," she said, taking a small step back.
> "Your fingers might miss some. The best way to check is to see
> if you taste any."
>
> She had rinsed quite thoroughly. He checked for a good five
> minutes and found nothing but two more orgasms.
>
> Then she had him lean back against the wall and did her own
> soap check. It was the most massive release he'd ever
> experienced, not in terms of production but in terms of pleasure.
> She lifted her face from his lap and pushed her wet hair aside.
>
> "There," she said. She kissed his injury again. He'd
> forgotten about it. "This will be much better tomorrow, and then
> tomorrow night you won't have to sit down to have fun."
>
> The promise of another night stopped him from asking the
> questions he had. "I look forward to it," he said.
>
> "Me, too! There's enough hot water left for you to touch me
> some more, if you'd like to."
>
> He grew overzealous while sucking her breast and bumped his
> forehead against her shoulder. He was surprised that it hadn't
> hurt as much as he'd expected, though it wasn't a pleasant
> experience. It was certainly less pleasant than the feel of her
> nipples hardening in his mouth and the hot wetness that convulsed
> around his probing finger as his thumb triggered her fourth
> release.
>
> She purred as her face fell into that post-orgasmic look
> that was so enticing. "I wish I had time to repay you for that
> tonight," she said, "but you have less than two minutes of hot
> water left."
>
> She kissed him and rose, pushing the shower door open. In
> rapid succession she wrapped the larger towel about her body, the
> smaller about her hair, and blew him a kiss before vanishing out
> the door.
>
> He watched, wondering where she went, and then rose as the
> water cooled noticeably. Tomorrow, if he wasn't as dizzy, he'd
> check the water heater in the basement. Perhaps it was old and
> in need of replacement. He'd get one with a larger capacity.
>
> ~ ~ ~
>
> He'd slept in the next morning, awakening after ten to
> discover that his forehead had only a slight discoloration and
> mild swelling that was noticeable only to his fingertips. It was
> practically invisible in the mirror. The dizziness was gone,
> too. The concussion had affected his vision more than he'd
> realized.
>
> First things first. He checked the shower head. It already
> had a flow restrictor to reduce the water volume, increasing the
> amount of time required to use up the hot water supply. He
> checked the water heater. It was only three years old.
>
> Maybe it was defective and needed replacement anyway.
>
> He checked prices on-line while he had a cup of coffee and
> an elephant ear for breakfast. He hauled trash to the curb for
> his scheduled Monday morning pick-up. Then it was time to tackle
> the shrubbery. It hadn't been trimmed in at least a year, he
> decided as he began molding the greenery into shape. He finished
> as Artie Fenton returned home. Artie parked his truck in the
> garage and ambled toward Les.
>
> "You aren't working today?" Les asked. Artie was normally
> gone from before sunup to after sundown.
>
> "Nope," Artie said in his clipped tone as he shook Les's
> hand. "Apartment complex I was roofing is in financial trouble.
> Creditors shut down the construction, and the lawyers are getting
> involved. I'm on call through tomorrow, and then, if we aren't
> back to work, we move on to another job. Won't be that way with
> my company. You shut down without a definite resume date, we
> move to the next project immediately. Won't be no sitting around
> on hands that could be working."
>
> Les indicated Artie's left hand and frowned. "You hurt
> yourself?"
>
> Artie shrugged. "Not nearly bad as it looks. Nail gun.
> No, not mine. Kid next to me failed to observe safety procedures
> yesterday, managed to trigger his, and shot a nail between my
> thumb and finger. He flinched and fired a second one. It
> bounced off the brim of my hard hat, right over my eyes. Yep,
> he's gone now."
>
> Artie held up his hand and looked at it. "I think the medic
> gets paid a kickback for how much bandage he uses. Another year
> of this, he can retire. You started setting up your office yet?"
>
> "Not yet. Boxes are unpacked. I should be done with the
> yard work today or tomorrow, and then I'll have the office ready
> by the weekend."
>
> Les let Artie guide the conversation for a few minutes.
> When Artie seemed to be ready to leave Les said, "I've been
> meaning to ask you something. Did you ever know of a girl named
> April?"
>
> Artie shrugged again. "Just the one who used to live in
> your house."
>
> Les's heart skipped a beat. "What was she like?"
>
> "Oh, she was fifteen. Pretty little thing. Shining brown
> hair to her shoulders, sweet face and disposition. One of the
> nicest people you could ever hope to meet. She loved helping
> people. Do anything necessary to help. When Alicia or I got to
> feeling bad, she'd be right on the spot to lend a hand. Alicia
> had bronchitis a couple of months before she died. Ay spent the
> whole day with her so she didn't have to get out of bed. I
> sometimes think helping others was her whole life."
>
> Les's heart skipped another beat. "Ay?"
>
> "Her nickname." Artie spelled it. "Everybody called her
> 'Ay' except her mother."
>
> "Do you know where she lives now?"
>
> Confusion, then concern swept over Artie's features. "Guess
> that the broker didn't tell you why you got such a deal on that
> house."
>
> "What do you mean?"
>
> Artie sighed heavily. "Ay caught Alicia's bronchitis. She
> was sick for a week. Bad sick. Just two days after her
> fifteenth birthday she felt well enough to get out of bed. I got
> two sisters, so I know how fastidious they are at that age. She
> insisted she was "stinky" and wanted to take a quick shower, then
> change the sheets and return to bed. Helen, her mom, insisted Ay
> wasn't strong enough for a shower and told her to take a bath
> instead, saying she'd change Ay's sheets for her. She even
> filled the tub for Ay, which didn't sit well with the girl. She
> was always helping others but didn't want nobody to help her in
> return."
>
> Les felt a cold knot tightening in the pit of his stomach.
> This, he realized, was the event that had caused Ay to run away
> from home. It was a silly reason, but teenagers were infamous
> for silly reactions. He'd have to talk her into returning home,
> of course. But he didn't want to do that.
>
> "Helen went to help Ay to the tub. Doorbell rang as Ay was
> getting out of bed. Helen told Ay to wait and went down to the
> door. It was Alicia, still on sick days, checking on Ay. Helen
> spoke with her for a couple of minutes and then went to help Ay
> to the tub.
>
> "Ay, as usual, didn't want nobody helping her. We don't
> know if she tripped, or she lost her balance and fell, or she
> passed out, but she hit her head on the way down. It knocked her
> unconscious, and she fell head-first into the tub. She had
> already drowned when Helen found her."
>
> "WHAT?"
>
> Artie looked at him with watery eyes and continued, his
> voice quavering. "The whole neighborhood turned out for the
> funeral. Everyone loved her, in part because she'd done so much
> for everyone else, but mostly because she was such a sweet kid."
>
> Artie had to be confused. It was the head blow. "But...
> but she can't be dead!"
>
> "We all said the same thing. Only thing worse for me was
> waking up a couple of months later and discovering that Alicia'd
> died in her sleep beside me. After the funeral, John and Helen
> moved out. Temporarily, they said, but after a year they put it
> on the market. Nobody wanted to buy it because of the girl
> drowning in it. They kept lowering the price until you came
> along." He looked down and shook his head. "I wonder if she's
> still taking care of Alicia for me."
>
> ~ ~ ~
>
> Les turned on the hot water and looked down in time to see
> Ay place her towel on the toilet lid. He turned to her.
>
> April's face warped into one of concern. "Your eyes are all
> red. Is something wrong?"
>
> "I trimmed the hedges today," he said, forcing his voice to
> stay even. "Dust and pollen."
>
> "Some eye drops will flush that stuff out of them," she
> said. "If you have some, sit down and I'll use them on you."
>
> "Top shelf in the medicine cabinet," he said as he sat.
> When she'd finished and had replaced the cap he said, "Thanks."
>
> "That's okay," she said as she returned the small bottle to
> the cabinet. "I like to help. Let's get in the shower while the
> water's still hot. I see your head's better."
>
> "Yes," he said, allowing her to enter the shower first.
> "You helped with that, too."
>
> "I do what I can," she said with a bright smile of self-
> satisfaction. "Would you like to use the body brush today?"
>
> "I'm sorry, Ay, but don't have a body brush."
>
> "Sure you do! Us! We get each other soapy, and then we
> scrub ourselves against each other."
>
> He'd never thought of that with what's-her-name. Jessica.
> If he had, maybe she'd have laughed and giggled in the shower the
> way April did. After a few minutes she stepped back, took the
> soap, and worked her small brown bush into a lather. "Time to
> wash your face!" she said. "Kneel."
>
> "Yes, My Lady." He knelt.
>
> "And keep your eyes closed, or I'll have to flush them
> again."
>
> Though he thoroughly enjoyed the experience, part of his
> mind worried about how to ask.
>
> She angled the shower head to rinse his face and then said,
> "Okay. My turn." She knelt before him and soaped his stiffness,
> then sighed while he washed her face with it.
>
> After she'd rinsed her face she put her arms around his neck
> and kissed him, not as innocently this time. "It makes a better
> toothbrush than a face brush," she said.
>
> "Really?" he asked as she lowered one hand and began pumping
> him to maximum hardness. He kissed her again. "You want to
> brush your teeth now?"
>
> "No," she said with a mischievous grin, rising on her toes
> and angling him downward until she could straddle it. "I have
> other places that need cleaning, too."
>
> She was wet, willing, and waiting. The height difference
> meant he had to flex his knees to enter her. After a minute of
> watching each other's faces distort with the pleasurable
> sensations, they decided the most comfortable position for both
> would be for her to lean forward against the back wall of the
> shower and for him to take her from behind. Within seconds they
> were grunting in unison.
>
> Les was cautious at first, until he verified that he
> wouldn't hurt her, and then gave himself over to his animal need.
> One small rational part of his brain said he should care for Ay's
> needs, too. The other small rational part said he was. He held
> back for almost three minutes, until she climaxed. Then he
> released into her. He pressed his hips into her firm round
> bottom until he softened completely and was squeezed out by a
> spasm of her tunnel.
>
> April straightened, turned, and kissed him passionately.
> "Wow! That's even better than I imagined it would be. You
> needed that," she said. "I'm glad that I could help."
>
> "I am, too," he said. He took a deep breath. "Ay? Are...
> are you still helping Alicia?"
>
> She nodded. "Yes. She really misses Artie. I've tried to
> get her to come back, to visit him, but she won't."
>
> "But you came back. She can come back, too?"
>
> She nodded again. "She can, but she's afraid to. She's
> afraid she won't want to return when the time is up. Most people
> are afraid of that. If you don't return when the time is up, it
> creates a big problem. I don't know what her limits are, so I
> can't help her with that."
>
> "Limits? What..." He knew. "You mean like your limits are
> that you can be here only when the shower has hot water?
>
> "Yes."
>
> "Why are those your limits?"
>
> She shook her head and squeezed her body to his. "Because
> those are the rules, silly."
>
> "Whose rules?"
>
> "THE rules. I can come back to help you here while the hot
> water is running. I don't know what the rules are for Alicia.
> She can't tell me."
>
> "Why not?"
>
> She tightened her squeeze and kissed him. "It's against the
> rules. My rules were that I got to come back while there was hot
> water running in either the shower or the tub and, since it's
> your house now, you needed help. My parents moved out too soon,
> so I couldn't come back to help them."
>
> "But you told me your rules. Why can't Alicia tell you
> hers?"
>
> She kissed him again. "You already guessed most of the
> rules, and since it's your house and the rules are about you, I
> can tell you. See? You needed help getting over Jessica. I
> waited for you to start using the shower instead of the tub, and
> then I helped you do that."
>
> Cold dread washed through him. He heard his voice crack
> when he asked, "Are you saying you won't be back?"
>
> She nodded, sadness distorting her face. "I have people to
> help there, though, so I won't be bored. But I'll miss you.
> I'll miss you a lot."
>
> She kissed him passionately and then, reluctantly, stepped
> back. "You have one minute of hot water left. Don't forget me."
> She kissed him again and then pushed open the shower door and
> stepped out.
>
> "Ay, wait!"
>
> "I can't," she said, wrapping the towel about her body. "I
> have to obey the rules." The smaller towel went around her head.
> She turned to him. "Les, I... I love you."
>
> She whirled and rushed out the door. Unlike the rest of Ay,
> her foot didn't disappear around the corner. It just
> disappeared.
>
> Les stood in the cold water and wept for a very long time.
>
> ~ ~ ~
>
> "Damn it!" Les shouted and slammed down the phone. Didn't
> anyone believe in opening a few minutes early anymore?
>
> Apparently the next number in the Yellow Pages did. He
> glanced at his watch. Eight o'clock. He guessed he was right
> the first time. Just as long as he was right about his idea, he
> decided. The important thing the only thing that truly
> mattered was that he was right about his idea.
>
> He placed his order, scheduled a time, and then gave the
> girl on the other end of the phone a curt, and uncalled-for,
> dismissal before hanging up and flipping to Home Medical Supply
> companies in the Yellow Pages.
>
> ~ ~ ~
>
> Les returned from Hoosier Home Health Supply an hour and a
> half before the plumbers were to arrive. He wrestled his
> purchase out of the car and hauled it upstairs to his shower. He
> was closing the shower doors when the phone rang. The plumbers
> would be an hour late. Another phone call brought another delay.
>
> While he waited he examined the idea in his head, searching
> over and over for some little thing he might have missed. He
> couldn't afford to overlook anything. One minor detail could
> ruin it. Les had had ten years of practice looking for minor
> details. When the plumbers finally arrived, he put them to work
> and continued to look for mistakes and false assumptions.
>
> The clock said almost seven when the plumbers left, the old
> water heater now in their care.
>
> He undressed as he rushed upstairs, dropping his clothes
> along the way. He spun the valve and fretted an eternity while
> the hot water traveled to the shower head. Hot water that would
> continue to flow until they shut off either his water or his
> natural gas, thanks to the new single-pass, on-demand water
> heater.
>
> He adjusted the temperature and then sat in the comfortable
> bath chair he'd placed in the shower. He concentrated on his
> loneliness and the despair caused by his need for April, and how
> only she could help alleviate that despair with temporarily
> respites of happiness. He closed his eyes and frowned with the
> effort and with the pain of emptiness in his soul.
>
> He heard a soft sound, not unlike that made by heavy, folded
> cloth landing on a toilet lid.
>
> Copyright Russell Hoisington 2006
>
> ************************************************************
>
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> Russell Hoisington
> State of Confusion
>
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