Sometimes, I am partway through a story and I realize that before I can go any farther, I had better figure out the rules. Why does he do what he does, and who the hell Sucky is.
Because later on in the story, I might fold her in as a subplot, or maybe just a continuation of the story.
So I sat down and wrote how Inky and Sucky met. A piece of the original story was posted a while ago here.
I hope you can figure out what they are by the clues.
GW
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Inky, Sucky
By G.W. Hogg
©9-15-06
The grocery store was not very busy when I stopped off to buy something for dinner. I wasn’t surprised. The moms had been there earlier and now they were back home busy cooking dinner for their husbands and family. I’ve always had a hard time thinking what to make for dinner. Many nights I decided as I drove home, if not as I perused the aisles in the store.By G.W. Hogg
©9-15-06
It was Friday, the repair job on the linotype had taken a lot less time than was expected and I was able to quit early today. I felt like something easy, but tasty. I looked over the meats in the butcher counter and the cube steak looked good. Maybe Swiss Steak tonight? I could make several and then I would have leftovers. They were always good.
“How’s the cube steak, Fred?” I asked the old guy behind the counter.
“In two days ago. The Missus cooked some up last night, quite tasty.”
“Okay, I’ll take four pounds.”
“Company?”
“Naw, just figured I’d cook up a mess. That way I won’t have to cook for a while.”
“Smart thinking. Still, a man like you should have a wife at home. How long has it been, three years?”
“Three and a half.”
“She was a good woman. Shame to have been taken so young.”
“Yes, it was.”
He weighed out the meat and then wrapped it up in the white paper. After marking the price with a grease pencil, he looked up. “Anything else?”
“Yes, I’ll take two of the thick pork chops and a chicken.”
“Okay, but you should buy the chicken on Tuesday. I’ll have fresh ones in then.”
”Okay. Thanks.”
He weighed and wrapped up the chops. “There you are.” He said as he passed the wrapped meats over the high counter.
“Thanks, Fred.”
“You’re welcome Mr. Scott.”
I took my time selecting the potatoes and vegetables. Meat, starch, and vegetable. At least the minimum. I had seen guys who didn’t take care of themselves. Always eat right; not that I really ever had to worry. A few more items and I had everything for tonight’s dinner.
As I rolled my cart up to the checkout line, I saw that the new girl was running the register. I had seen her once or twice in the store. Nice looking young gal, maybe nineteen. Long dark hair pulled back into a ponytail. No makeup, but she didn’t need any. Pretty face with full lips. Black skirt, white shirt, and a thin black tie. Her brown smock was buttoned up, but you could still tell where the curves were. Kinda of a funny butt, still, nice looking. I rolled up and smiled at her. She looked up, our eyes met and she smiled at me.
I felt the wave of desire crashed over me. The thoughts of cupping those young breasts in my hands, my hands on her slim waist, the moist, musky smell of her curly black hair, her nails digging into my back as she cried out.
And I let it all flow away, like water off a ducks back. I knew who she was now.
I kept looking up at her, as I wrote out the check. She saw me glancing up at her constantly, as she punched in the amounts and rang up my purchases. Yes, let her think it has affected me. She should have know better than to cast one on a regular customer. Or maybe she was just playing.
“That will be eighteen forty-nine.” She said as she turned to me. The smile on her face was a little different now, more predatory.
I finished writing the amount and handed her the check. As she reached for it, I extended one finger so I almost touched her. I was rewarded with a huge blue spark that leapt off my finger and into her hand. There was a satisfying ‘crack’!
“Son of a Bitch!” She exclaimed, then dropped the check as her hand flew to her mouth. “Oh, I am terribly sorry Mister! I didn’t mean to say that!”
“It’s okay.” I said as she bent down to pick up the check.
“It’s not okay. I shouldn’t have said what I did. I just didn’t expect that!”
“Sorry, I shouldn’t have done that, but it was a fun way to say hello.”
“You’re mean.” And she smiled at me. It was a totally different smile. More like a starving person sitting down to a huge meal of steak and potatoes. There was now lust in her eyes and a look of anticipation.
“Not mean. Maybe a brat?”
“Yes, a brat for sure.” She looked at the check, studying the address. When she looked up at me, her eyes glance at the ring on my left hand. Her look changed. “Married?”
“Widower”
“Oh, I am sorry.” But she looked relieved.
“Thanks. It was a while ago.”
“But you still wear your ring.”
“It comforts me.”
She started bagging the groceries. “It’s good you know how to cook.”
“I have always liked to be self sufficient.”
“Good for you.’ She placed the three bags into the cart. “Do you need carry out service? I can call the bag boy.”
“It’s okay. Billy is busy stacking the shelves.”
“Okay, well enjoy your dinner. And I’ll be seeing you.”
“Thanks…” I stared a little too long at the nametag on her smock. “Cynthia.”
On the drive home, I tried to remember the last time I had met another. Sometime before the last war. No, it was the war before that. A long time ago. I didn’t dwell upon it as I pulled the Bel Air into the driveway of my old Victorian.
If someone had been walking down the dark street at eleven, and if they had turned to look at the old Berkeley Victorian, they might have seen a white mist flowing across the front lawn and down the driveway. If they had watched it, they would not have believed their eyes. The white mist coalesced at the rose bush there, then slowly flowed up the trellis. It paused by the second story window for a moment, then flowed inside.
The sound of the window unlocking woke me. The cool damp air flowing over my naked skin brought me fully awake. I sat up and slid my legs over so I faced the window. A white mist flowed over the windowsill into a small puddle on the floor. As I watched, the mist rose up into the diaphanous form of a woman, slowly undressing.
And suddenly, she was standing there. The long dark brown hair cascaded to her shoulders. The full lips smiled with ravenous anticipation. The thin film of perspiration made her clear white skin glistened in the moonlight. My eyes traveled down to her firm, well rounded breasts. The hard, slightly upturned nipples, pointed over my head. A slim waist and flat stomach drew my eyes down to the generous curve of her hips. The black triangular patch of hair was like a road sign, guiding me down the highway. Firm, muscular thighs sloped down to slim calves and well turned ankles. I smiled back at her with equal anticipation.
I stood and let her look me over. She seemed pleased.
“It took you long enough to get here.”
“Yours is not an easy place to find. Did you have to lock the window?”
“I just wanted to see how good you were.”
“Oh, I’m good.”
I looked her up and down again and smiled. “I can see that.”
She took a tentative step towards me and I did the same. A blue spark coalesced on her shoulder, rolled down her arm and arced across the five feet between us. It stung a little where it hit my shoulder. We took two more steps towards each other and more sparks erupted from our skin and arced between us. Quickly, we reached out and grabbed each others hands. The electricity sparked and cracked along our hands. We stared into each others eyes, feeling the energy surge between us.
“I will take nothing from you, only give.” She recited.
“And I will take nothing from you, only give.” I recited back to her.
The oath and spell were said and the sparks of energy between us slowly died.
She tightened her grip on my hands and suddenly pushed down. My arms didn’t move. She pushed harder with a strength that would have forced a man to his knees.
I smiled and lifted my arms. Slowly I drew her arms up over her head, she fought back but was unable to stop me. I raised my arms further, until her toes were dangling above the floor.
“You’re a lot older and stronger than I thought.”
I just smiled and took a few steps towards the wall. I stopped when she was pinned between me and the wall. And I kissed her, long and deeply. She responded for a moment, then turned her head to the side.
“I have waited forty years for this and I am not going to play any games!” She hissed. Then she pulled her legs up, wrapping them around me. I pulled back a little to give her some room, she squirmed a little to align us, then her strong thighs pulled us together, impaling her against the wall.
She rolled off of me and lay next to me, panting. When she finally caught her breath she turned and looked at the broken clock on the floor. “I think it’s Monday morning. I have to be at work at ten. Do you know what time it is?”
“About five. I think I heard the milk truck.”
“Do we have time for breakfast?”
I leaned over and kissed her nipple.
“No, not that! Eggs, bacon, hash browns.”
“I can do that.”
“Good. I am starved!” She turned over to face me and wrapped her small hands around me. “I was so afraid you might be small. But goodness! I’ll be walking bowlegged for a week!” Then she kissed me hard on the mouth. “Not that I’m complaining.”
She stood up and walked off the bed. Then she turned and surveyed the damage. The headboard was leaning against the wall, but intact. Deep grooves, like claw marks, crisscrossed it. The bed was on the floor, it sheets torn, burned and bloody; the footboard was snapped in two.
“Can I use the downstairs shower?”
“Sure, mind the broken glass.”
She grinned, picked up her clothes that were strewn about the room and walked bowlegged out the door.
I got up carefully, trying to avoid the broken glass. I wasn’t sure how and when the mirror got broken, but we did spend two hours picking glass out of each other. I glanced down at where a large piece had sliced a three inch gash in my arm. It was healing nicely.
I showered quickly and carefully shaved the three days grown of beard off my face. A least I was able to find my shaving brush and soap.
I put a robe on and picked out some clothes to wear.
As I made my way downstairs I cataloged the damage. Some holes in the walls, a broken chair. I’d need new sheets and pillows for the guest bedroom. I was glad the windows were closed and the shades drawn.
Downstairs wasn’t too bad. I’d have to put the furniture back in place. Hopefully, I could repair the dining room table. It looked funny on the floor, with its four legs splayed out.
At least we had not spent too much time in the kitchen. The little silver and grey breakfast table was intact, as were the chairs.
I filled the percolator and plugged it in. I was really going to need my coffee today. I dug out my two large cast iron frying pans and set them on the stove. The center griddle was just too messy for bacon. It took me a few minutes to find the grater attachment for the Mixmaster. Nancy had been so thrilled when I bought it for her.
Once it was put together, it only took a few minutes to grate the four potatoes. I set them aside and fired up the two pans. Soon the pound of bacon was sizzling and snapping in the pans.
While that cooked, I pulled the ironing board out of the wall and set up the iron. Get the toaster set up. Bread, butter, plates napkins. Then it was time to get the eggs and hash browns going.
The hash browns filled the center griddle and I was liberal with the bacon grease. The dozen eggs filed the two pans and I was hard pressed to keep them from sticking together.
She came into the kitchen and saw that I had everything under control. So she plugged in the iron and started ironing my clothes. “Over easy, if you can do it.” Was all she said.
The second batch of toast popped up. She was finished with the ironing, so she took over the buttering. Then she set the table as I gingerly served the eggs. I was glad I had grabbed the big plates. Six eggs apiece, a pile of hash browns and a few strips of bacon. There was barely enough room for the toast. I placed the dishes on the table just as she sat down. The rest of the bacon I dumped on the plate with the toast.
She poured the coffee then surveyed the repast. “You put together a mean breakfast Cerric.”
“Thanks for your help Cindy”
“You’re welcome.” And we dug into our breakfast.
An hour later, we had the kitchen all cleaned up and were drinking the last of the coffee. “I hate to end this weekend, but I have to get to work soon.”
“And I have to get going too.” She stood up and came over to me. I rose to meet her.
“It’s been a great weekend!” And she folded herself into my embrace.
“I’ve enjoyed it too.” She said as she held me.
“Do you plan to be around for a while?”
“Another twenty years.”
“Good. I just moved here. I am glad I found you so soon. Like said, it’s been a while.”
“I’ll be here if you need me.”
“I’d like that. Not too often.”
“No, too often can spoil the fun.”
We turned and walked to the door. As I opened it, she pulled me too her and gave me a long, lingering kiss. “Keep your window unlocked Inky.”
“Don’t be a stranger Sucky.”
And she turned and I watched her walk slowly to the sidewalk. She turned, waved at me, then continued down the street.
