The Last Mountain Man-chapter three

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Other  |  House: Booksie Classic
hapter three

Submitted: March 26, 2007

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Submitted: March 26, 2007

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chapter threeThe girl that stared out the café window could have graced the arm of any aristocrat.

One look and a person could tell she didn’t belong here, but as anywhere, a person settled where they wanted. If they answered questions about their past it was because they wanted, and though everyone who came in contact with her wondered why she had moved here, this was Texas, and questions weren’t asked.

She paid no attention to the way the sun’s glare through the window outlined her small but well developed body as she stared out the plate glass onto the dusty street. Though her uniform was simple, it did nothing to hide her taut physique, instead it pronounced her small but pert breast trying to free their restraint within her blouse. Allowing the top two buttons to remain free only gave the breast hope of success.

The uniform material her bodice, flowing down her waist as if a second skin clung to her, flaring at just the right instant to enhance the swelling of her hips, stopping just inches above her knees. Fingers of sunlight stroked the opening of the blouse as the girl wiped sweat from her cleavage.

Absently she numbered the patrons that would soon fill the small place for lunch. First would be the local banker. She didn’t see how a small town such as this could support a bank, but she guessed there was hidden money in this country. It had to be hidden though, for none of it was coming her way. She guessed the bank was needed, but the banker wasn’t.

She cringed at the thought of the man. A short, fat individual, who thought he owned the world and showed it. She knew his routine. He would come in, sit and drum his fingers on his table until she waited on him. She would take him his normal order of tea and steel herself to his groping hands on her back, would ignore the way he always let the hand slide over her buttocks as she turned to leave. A performance that would repeat itself when she delivered his meal. She desperately wanted to put him in his place, but as he let be known without saying, he held the lease to the café and could close the doors anytime he wanted.

Wanting to release herself of these thoughts, her mind went to the next customers that would appear. This thought brought a small smile to her face. These would be the boys from the CO-OP in town. First to come in would be "Big John", the owner, followed closely by Paul and George, the tire man and mechanic, lastly, "Little John", the owner’s son and the butt of everyone else’s jokes.

Since opening the café, the three older ones had kept the boy on edge about her. Wasn’t he ever going to ask her out? "What’s the matter boy? You touched in the head? Why if I had a pretty young girl like that in my neighborhood, I’d be parked on her front door step"

Naturally, she knew he had a crush on her and would sometimes add to the good natured "hounding". A special turn or movement from her and the boy would turn four shades red. A simple placement of her hand on his shoulder would cause immediate discomfort for him. In comparison with the banker’s leering eyes on her body, she could only smile at "Little" John’s attempts to see her cleavage.

The next patron would be "Robert", the supposedly love of her life, at least he let it be known he had the inside track. She guessed it was so if she were going to stay in this town, for he was the only available male close to her age in the country. He was followed shortly by the tellers at the bank, Stella and Drew.

Then Mary, Robert’s secretary, Marge, and Fran, the two nobler than thou bitches of the tiny burg.

Millie shrugged her shoulders. She guessed even small towns needed their "bitches" to survive. Others would drop by occasionally, but these were the main ones.

She turned to start filling tea glasses with ice when she heard the door open. Glancing at the clock on the wall, she thought he was early as the banker entered the building. Gracing the man with a smile that didn’t reach her eyes, she asked if he wanted the usual tea. Sitting at his usual table, he nodded, then looked up.

"We need to talk about something." he commented as she approached.

"I know I’m late with the lease money but I should have it by the end of the week."

His hand had reached her back for the usual feel, but this time it lingered just above her buttocks. "What about the balance of last months or the month before?"

Placing her hands on the table, she nodded, "I know. It’s just been slow with the drought and

all. I’ll make it up as soon as everyone’s crops come in."

The hand started a gentle massage on her back. "I know you will, but frankly I don’t know if the bank can wait that long." He paused, "You know there are ways to pay without being in such a bind." The hand dropped slightly to the top of her right buttocks.

Ignoring the suggestion, she stepped away from his clasp. "I’ll take care of it. We’re having meatloaf on the plate today, is that alright?"

He started to become more aggressive then the door opened. He eyed her, " Come by the bank. We’ll talk some more."

Millie turned to the four new patrons that entered. Though her mind was filled with what the banker had said, she smiled at the guys from the CO-OP, "the same, guys? Meatloaf’s on the menu today."

Quickly the little café filled. Robert had brought some new "investors" to lunch today and everyone was curious to know their business. People that hadn’t been in the café in weeks dropped in while the regulars lingered longer than they usually did.

As far as Millie was concerned, the "investors" wasn’t anything special. They looked to be a married couple that had made some money somewhere. The man was medium height and build, wore clothes that looked fresh off the rack of some name brand clothing store. He had money and wanted to flash it around.

His wife was different. Her dress looked as though she stood it next to the wall and poured herself into it. well, developed breast thrust against the sheer fabric of her blouse, erect nipples thrusting even farther. A small waist flared out into a magnificent swelling of the hips. Long legs slid gracefully from beneath her short, tight skirt. Whether he wanted or not, every man in the café became spell bound with the beauty as the trio crossed to an available table. Even Little John’s attention was diverted from Millie to the woman.

Millie crossed to them. "What will you have to drink?"

Robert spoke up, "Tea all around. I tell you folks this place makes the best tea in the country."

He placed a hand on Millie’s hip. "What’s on the menu today, sweetie?"

Stepping just out of reach, she answered, "meatloaf’s on the plate."

"Fine, bring us three orders of meatloaf."

Slowly the crowd began to disperse once they found no information of the three’s business was being discussed in public. The cash register began to chime as one by one, the people filed out. The banker left a note to come see him in the near future, The tellers from the bank close on his heels.

The boys from the CO-OP approached the register. George slapped the boy on the shoulder as the youngster produced his wallet. "Well, you going to ask her? You said you were."

She wondered if the red face was part of his make up as Little John looked up at her. " Uh, uh, are you going to be at Jonesey’s tonight?"

Millie hid her smile as the boy’s eyes fell to her cleavage. "Up here John." An open laugh escaped her lips as his eyes shot up, his face turning a deeper red. "I may be. Will you save me a dance if I am?"

Uh, sure I will, if you want."

She slid the boy’s change across the counter. "I’ll be looking forward to it."

As the quartet left the building, George reached forward and slapped the boy’s head. "Date my ass."

As she slid the drawer shut, the door reopened. Expecting Little john, surprise crossed her face to see a new face. A rugged face, not much to look at but not bad either. The type of looks that would make a woman turn her head. Broad shoulders filled the door frame as the stranger stepped through. As a funnel, the shoulders emptied downward to a flat stomach and muscular hips.

Robert and his wards approached the counter. Her "man" casually glanced at the entering stranger, turned her way, then glanced back to the man coming in. He had seen him somewhere before, where?

Either him or someone who looked as lot like him. Filing the thought to memory, he stepped up to the counter.

Laying a bill on the top, he waved away the other man’s offer to pay.

Eyeing the girls as she totaled his tab he asked. " Are we on for tonight?"

She shrugged, "Why not, I thought about going to Jonesy’s after work."

"Fine, I’ll be there around seven. I’ll save you a seat."

"Alright,"she replied as she handed over the change. She watched as he turned away, catching

sight of his hidden leer of the other woman’s ass while she departed in front of him. "Her man, Yeah right," she thought as she turned to the stranger. "Sit anywhere you like, I’ll be with you in a moment."

Nodding, he sauntered back to an empty table and sat. "No hurry," he smiled at her. "A glass of tea when you get a chance."

Making sure everyone had been taken care of, she, then, poured the desired tea and carried it to his table. "Are you hungry?" She finished with the meatloaf sale.

"That’ll be fine. Got time to answer a question or two?"

Turning his order in, she poured a cup of coffee and returned to his table. Indicating a chair, she asked if she could join him.

"Sure, sit down please."

"What’s your question?"

"Well, I’m looking for someone," he started with a smile, "but just don’t know who it is?"

"Why are you looking for them, then?"

The man shrugged. She couldn’t help but notice the rippling muscles of the man’s shoulders

at the small gesture. This man was a hunk, she thought. Closer inspection of a square jaw line, broad cheek bones, and contrasting blue eyes confirmed her thought.

Her question brought an outright laugh to his lips. "Fair enough, this guy’s supposed to be my father only I’ve never seen him."

She laughed, "There’s got to be a story behind this."

"Oh, there is, but not a very pretty one."

Millie retrieved his order from the counter. Returning it to his table, she told him to enjoy the meal and let her get caught up on her dirty dishes. They’d talk afterwards.

Picking up a fork, the man sunk it into the meatloaf. The cook stepped from behind the counter as he savored the dish. It was really good, homemade, not like the type usually found in restaurants. He turned to the woman who sat down at a far table and complemented her.

The woman, who seldom received one such as this became flustered, "Well if you like that, come around tomorrow and chew on some of my chicken."

Swallowing some of the meatloaf, he nodded, "I’ll do that."


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