I sat cross legged at the kitchen table. Coffee slowly cooling at my side as I went over the bills spread about the table, the paper proof of living the high life. Hard working well paid husband, 2.5 kids, two cars, nice house, I had it all. Well maybe not all. The kids were at school, the hubby at work, and here I was with the paper proof of my martial success. My mother in her endless thrifting had brought over a pointless set of kitten plates which my husband had placed in a row on the top of the kitchen cabinets. I had never really looked at them at length, but as boredom seeped in among my bill reviewing my eyes wandered to the tacky plates of fluffy kittens that now adorned my modern kitchen. Geez I mused why do they even make these damn things. As I was about to return to my bills one plate, the second to the left caught my attention. The bright eyed tortoise shell kitten on an ugly orange back ground stared back at me unblinking and pensive. Again I was about to turn around as with sudden flash a thick fog of memory rolled back and I remembered. I had seen that plate before somewhere long forgotten in my younger years. The incident returned with amazing quickness and I almost fell out of my chair with intensity and sharpness of it. It was the memory of the wildest, craziest, sexiest night of my life. That was a feeling that all this abundance could never replace, renew or recreate. The missing piece of my perfect life. This life would never be able to bring about the sensual experience I had had that night. I reeled in the remembrance and at the spark I would never ever feel again.
I grew up rich, silver spoon and all life was easy and good. Childhood was blasé. School and grades unremarkable. Finished highschool as nothing special. Parents demanded college but I wasn’t into it so I flunked out. At twenty two parents played the tough love card told me to get out and do something with my life. I cried and whined they kicked me out anyway. So in my desperation I hit up my favorite aunt. She said she’d take me in till I could get on my feet. That was how the pretty useless riches to rags girl found herself in Alabama with her frumpy childless aunt.
My aunts house was quaint and southern full of mementos of the simple life. I hated it. The heat the humidity, the slow stupid cadence of the people. I moped around the house for a few weeks, my aunt encouraged me to get out and make friends, live a little. She pointed out that there was a bar just a small jaunt down the dusty road. After a few nights of her insistent urging I finally accepted her rumpled twenty dollar bill and set off down the road to the hell hole of a bar I was sure to find myself in. I was dressed boringly by my tastes I did not want to attract to much attention from the locals, what a night this was turning out to be.
It was a dive. Dark stains in the wood floor, could be blood, maybe just dirt, maybe something nastier. Dusty beer swag mirrors lined the walls. Antlers adorned with brown wispy cobwebs hung high above the bar. It was dark and smoky. Dingy beyond belief. Country playing just loud to make you have to raise your voice to order a drink. So I ordered a drink, simple miller light, didn’t want to make things too difficult for the slack jawed glazed eyed bartender. I went and sat in a darkened booth in the corner. The bar regulars were all hunched over talking loudly as to be heard over the music. I sat and sipped my beer. So this is my life sitting in the shittiest bar, in the nastiest town, in the crappiest state. Well fuck it might as well get drunk. I sat my beer down and walked to the bar and ordered a shot. Again and again I tired to drown out how pathetic my situation had become. About five shots in I felt like someone was watching me. I lifted my head up from my misery and looked around. I was right a middle aged man was looking me over with his soft southern eyes. When sober I wouldn’t have given this guy a second look. But those eyes. Soft and deep like the south itself. Our gaze met, he smirked and slowly rose from his stool at the bar. I was frozen, was he coming over here? What do I say? What do I do? I must have let a little of my nervous thoughts show on my face because he walked up to my table and in a voice as rich as molasses said “Easy there hunny, I don’t bite.....much.” I smiled in spite of myself. He placed his large rugged hand on the table and leaned towards me. “ what y’all try’n to drink away so badly?” I scoffed. “ I’m fine” I said a little more hashing them I had meant to. His face softened, he gave the same lopsided smirk he had given me before. To this day I still don’t know what is was but this man this southern bumpkin man hovering gently in front of my table stirred something, moved something deep in the depth of my being. Again my drunken face must have given me away again as his gaze intensified. “ y’all must be new in town and I bet you’re not from round here at all, sweet little peach like you.” I must have blushed because his smirk changed to a grin and his eyes twinkled like the Alabama sky a wash with stars. I was at his mercy bewitched by this southern gentleman, he cast a spell on me of such magnitude that I didn’t even realize I was raising up as he offered me his hand and pulled me up from the booth. I think a nod was all I could muster as he walked me towards the door and asked if id like to join him for a drink at his place. I almost floated out the door as we walked to his beat up old truck. I was possessed in complete control of this smooth gentle stranger. The thought that I was getting into a truck with a man I knew nothing about in a town id just arrived in and was about to drive off into the darkness with never crossed my mind so deep was his hold on me. I was at his mercy and that excited me, it was a rush of rapture that enveloped me not fear that drove me as I climbed into the truck as though I was in a trance. The truck roared to life as we headed off into the night, I had no idea what I was getting myself into, no idea what was going to happen, no idea how this was going to end and with him beside me I really didn’t care I was along for the ride where ever it led.
The truck rumbled loudly and we sailed along the dark road on this hot moist summer night. I recognized shops and buildings I had wandered past while out with my aunt when we went shopping. We glided through town then turned and headed swiftly down a lonely country road.
I had hated this place but some how besides this southern stranger I felt at peace like all was well with the world and the night took on a veneer of beauty I had never experienced before. The road became rougher as we proceeded into the night. At last we pulled up to a lonely trailer. It was worn and old and seated on crumbling cinderblocks that shone pale in the moon light. Never in a million years would I ever imagine myself alone in the middle of no where with a man I had just met. The rush of absurdity of the whole situation instead of causing me to pause or worry filled me with exhilaration at the strangeness of it all.
He turned off the trunk and in a few deft movements was at my side opening the door and guiding me out of the truck and towards the ramshackle trailer.
He pulled open the door a gently pulled me inside behind him. It was small cramped and in disarray. I would normally be aghast of such sloppiness but somehow his presence made it feel homey and natural. The mess was a collection of half drunk beer bottles and cans some used as ashtrays some crowding what little counter space there was. The kitchen was nothing more than a tiny stove and a miniature fridge. From the ceiling hung deep cabinets full of all sorts of random cans and boxes of mixed foodstuffs. He steered to the couch and gently plopped me there. It was the ugliest couch I has ever seen the fabric would have sent my mother into convulsions at the shear hideousness of it. I sat quietly taking in the odd environment I had found myself in. A decretive plate hung loosely from a wall. A tortoise shell kitten glared down at me from an ugly orange back ground. Its seemed out of place in the obvious bachelor pad. He pulled open a cabinet and produced a dusty old bottle of Jim Beam he had obviously been saving for a long time. I felt honored that I was the special occasion that he seemed to saved the aging bottle for. From the back of the couch he retrieved two pill bottle with the labels removed. I wonder what those were for. He screwed off the top of the ancient bottle and filled each pill bottle to the brim with the amber liquid. I couldn’t contain my giggle at the make shift shot glasses. My giggle restarted the twinkle in those eyes that had enraptured me from the beginning.
We cheersed with out a word and warmed out bellies with the strong libation. We chatted a bit he seemed to swoon at my foreign accent my voice sweetening him even more, and I just about melted at his deep southern draw. I sat mesmerized by his liquid voice. I realized that I was sitting on my hands when not taking a shot as though I couldn’t trust what they would do if left to their own devices. He seemed nervous too not really sure what to do next as the bottle slowly dwindled. His uneasiness just enhanced my attraction to him. This looming stranger, he seemed so shy here in his private space. We locked eyes again and with one swift and sure handed movement he reached his massive hand behind my head and pulled me into his face with such passion I was almost startled as we pressed lips. I completely surrendered I in this moment on this night was his and his only. He pulled away and stood up and took me to the back of the trailer. The bedroom was just that bed and not much room for much else. He flung himself on the bed and pulled me down with him. His hands became wild like frantic animals burrowing into my clothing to remove it. I returned the favor, pulling and striping his own garb with a fevered haste. Shoes and belts disappeared to dark corners of the cramped room. We didn’t care what has become of them. I pulled back to undo my bra and as my breasts were laid bar before him he paused transfixed as though he was staring and a long lost goddess. I knew I was pretty but his eyes shone as if he had seen the beauty of all gods creation in my naked body that sat before him. As his nakedness came into my awareness in the dimly lit room he gleaned with the light sweat of the heat of passion. His body was hard and strong like old driftwood his skin rich and dark. Again he reached his powerful hands around the back of my head and pulled me into him as our bodies crashed together we were lost in each other adrift in a passion that only a chance meeting can arrange. We explored each other my curious hands reaching down past his chiseled stomach to search for the ridged prize im sure was waiting for me.
When I found my mark he shuttered briefly then heaved me to the bed him raising above. Before he entered my sweet womanhood he reached up a massive hand and ran it slowly down my face with a tenderness I did not know could even exist. He slid forward and my blossom richly welcomed his fully erect staff. I gasped as he filled me with his engorged manhood. He hit deep. Deep into my moistening flower. And then the dance began the rhythmic motion, the gradually increasing pulsation. We rocked and twisted and pushed and pulled our throws of passion becoming stronger and stronger harder and harder faster and faster. As the motions intensified we were lost in each other a world away from the worn trailer the old beat up truck, the town I hated. We were free, free in the rolls of ecstasy we had created together. Free in the one moment just two beings intertwined forever from that experience on. Just as we both gasped in climax the world seemed to lurch forward, the walls seemed to shutter, things rattled free from their cabinets. Bottles tipped, cans dropped and rolled and spill there contents. As our zenith abated something seemed amiss. The angles where wrong. Things sat at odd levels. It was only after the rush of adrenaline had started to subside that we realized we had rocked and knocked the old trailer off of it's cinder blocks. They a finally given way from age and weathering. We locked eyes again and we both shared a honest look of sheepishness between us. We sat stunned at our predicament. He let out sudden rolling laugh and I dissolved into giggles.
We very carefully extracted ourselves from the bed that seemed to sag under the slightly caving walls. We lightly searched around the room for our so haphazardly discarded clothing. We did not know what state the trailer was actually in. Would it hold firm or collapse like matchsticks. We gingerly dressed and made our way out of the ruined trailer. We stood and looked at the sorry result of our random meeting. He stood quiet rubbing the back of his head, a look of bewilderment on his strong hansom face. He turned to me and smirked, as I stood silent in embarrassment and shock. The poor thing looked as though it would give way at any moment. He grinned a troopers grin and said to me in his honey rich voice “ I knew y’all was somethin special but I did not expect you to bring down the house.” I giggled but I felt bad. “your home”, I said softly and with concern. “ well darlin this is not the first time ive wound up having to sleep in my truck.” He chuckled and sighed.“ don’t yall worry your pretty little head bout silly old me. Ill take y’all home and I’ll go bother my brother he lives near by, im gonna get an earful from him when he hears about this.” I looked up at him and smiled yeah he was going to be okay.
We climbed back into the truck and rumbled back into town. He laid his giant weathered hand on my leg as I slowly guided him to my aunts house. We pulled up in the gravel drive way. My aunt always with my best interests in mind has left the door unlocked and the porch light on. I walked up to the door and turned and smiled. “ thank for a wonderful night, really thank you.” He chuckled again “much obliged darlin, y’all get inside now get some good rest. G’night.” He turned and climbed into his truck and disappeared into the quiet night.
I never saw nor heard from him again, didn’t even get his name, nor he mine.
I lived with my aunt for a few more years I didn’t hate Alabama anymore. I finally got my act together, got a job moved out on my own. Met my husband, got my picket fence and 2.5 kids. As I slowly recovered from the sudden rush of memory I felt light headed lost once again in those twinkling eyes that crooked smirk and rich deep voice. Those days were gone never to return. I smiled a sad wistful smile and looked down at my bills. I know now that I would never again regain the passion and feelings created on that crazy Alabama night. Life now just seems mediocre and bland when compared to that one magic moment with a man I hardly knew in the middle of nowhere that I found myself and literally brought the house down.

© Elizabeth Moore