Adnan's Triad

By Donna Siepiela

Adnans Triad is a bold and empowering journey of adult escapist fiction with eccentric and eclectic characters that take the reader to a modern paradise carved out of the hills and woods. It is set in modern times in the rural United States with a refreshing slant on numerous topics. A life changing read for everyone that inspires both women and men to greater heights.

Daring and lighthearted characters walk through lifes many challenges. A fascinating read full of twists and turns. In her latest book, Donna Siepiela has crossed more than one line while writing this honest tale of three people who wind up walking the same road together. Often passionate and sometimes funny, it is an enthralling story of issues both ancient and current. A relaxing and entertaining fantasy that takes the reader away to a place where being human is accepted and celebrated, and co-existing with nature is the key to survival.

The book, also, has a wealth of information on various topics from raising birds, to planting trees, and fixing cars. It even has a few recipes! It is destined to become a classic with a place next to Fanny Hill, but much easier to read.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Mar 30, 2015
• ISBN: 9781496959294

Donna Siepiela

Donna Siepiela lives happily and peacefully in the middle of nowhere with her beloved hubby, their animal companions, and many birds. She is currently writing a sequel to Adnan’s Triad. She is also the author of Ab-ar-da: The Truth About Greys. And yes, her screen name was once “Warmer”.

Book preview

Adnan’s Triad

Donna Siepiela

50817.png

AuthorHouse™

1663 Liberty Drive

Bloomington, IN 47403

www.authorhouse.com

Phone: [phone]

Cover design and all photography by Donna Siepiela

© 2015 Donna Siepiela. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

Published by AuthorHouse 03/24/2015

ISBN: 978-1-4969-5930-0 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4969-5929-4 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2014922258

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, places or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

It is all pretend, and just for fun.

All rights reserved, including the right of reproduction in whole or in part, in any form. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without written permission from the author or her heirs.

CONTENTS

Dedication

Acknowledgements

Preface

Vocabulary

Damned

Chapter 1 Eye Candy

Chapter 2 Legs in the Mirror

Chapter 3 Burnt Plastic

Chapter 4 Glass Dishes

Chapter 5 Sacred Space Saturday

Chapter 6 Kicking It

Chapter 7 Just Wrong

Chapter 8 Perfect Life

Chapter 9 Motor Running

Chapter 10 The Plan

Chapter 11 All Good

Chapter 12 Educational Play

Chapter 13 Beat It

Chapter 14 3rd Strike

Chapter 15 Burner’s place

Chapter 16 Resource

Chapter 17 Photos

About the Author

DEDICATION

To my mom, who said I could do

ANYTHING I put my mind to.

Who could possibly have known

what I would put my mind to?

LOL!

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

First of all, I’d like to thank Tom for everything from the double dippers to the quiet place for writing. You rock, baby!

Thanks to Theresa, Ricci, Josh, Joni, and Linda, for all the assistance, comments, debates, and laughter. Thanks to Bro for his help with Beth’s guts.

To my muse, the clever chameleon, and Settled Lion, you were an inspiring character!

To Miranda, thanks for those crowns of thorns, without them I could not have written a single page.

PREFACE

Warning! This book was written as ADULT Escapist Fictional Entertainment. Many of the scenes contain graphic and explicit sexual content. Not that I think any of that is a bad thing. To me, war is the real obscenity. Some of the subject matter contains topics that some people may consider to be immoral or taboo. If you are offended by such things, please feel free to skip those parts or go read another book.

On the other hand, you may wish to give a copy of this book to your sons, daughters, brothers, sisters, friends, and or lovers. There is a lot of good stuff in here. Enjoy!

VOCABULARY

I always thought it was great when I would find a vocabulary list in a book I was reading. Sadly, most were in the back of the book and I didn’t find them until I was done reading. That is why the vocabulary list is in the front of my book.

Autodidact – self taught

Behemoth – A creature of titanic size

Candling – A process where raw eggs are held in front of a light in order to detect any blood spots or other imperfections in the eggs.

Coffeed – A word I just made up that sounded good to me. I meant it to express that the characters had made and consumed their coffee.

Contingency – A possible or accidental occurrence

Consumption – A slow wasting disease like cancer.

Conundrum – A riddle or enigma

Cuckold – The husband of an adulterous woman.

Deciduous – trees that lose their leaves in the fall

Deific – divine, marvelous, heavenly

Enigma – Paradox, mystery, puzzle

Glass Packs – Slang for an exhaust system that is extra noisy, often used by young men with allowances or old men seeking attention.

Lackadaisically – unenthusiastically

Lipizzaner – Famous trained white acrobatic horses that appear to have rhythm.

Malapropisms – A ridiculous misuse of words that sound somewhat alike.

Misanthrope – One who hates or distrusts mankind

Mits – Large hands. (Guess that is slang.)

Moniker – A name or a nickname.

Nepotism – System where those in positions of authority give jobs to relatives instead of the most qualified persons. (As in state and county jobs.)

Offal – Parts of a slaughtered animal that are not used such as the fecal matter in the intestines and colon.

Onanism – incomplete intercourse, pulling out, masturbation

Opined – gave an opinion

Perpetuity – For all time

Phenology – The study of the life cycles of plants

Proclivity – Preference, choice

Purulent - Infected, puss filled

Reiterated – retold

Rue – Regret, feel sorry about

Sans – without

Smooshing – I guess I made this word up too. But I know I’ve heard it before. I meant it to mean two things being pressed together. Like mashing peeled bananas together.

Sperm-ees – Playful term for plural sperm.

Tenacious – Persistent, determined

TRIAD – A group of three persons or things.

Tweekers – slang for people who use methamphetamines or other forms of speed.

Uglies – Slang for having sex with penises and/or vaginas, as in bumping uglies.

Venery – Quest for sexual satisfaction. (Usually not an onanism.)

Water Sprouts – Tiny trees growing at the base of a tree that are usually removed.

DAMNED

Not for the things I have done, but

For the lessons I didn’t learn.

For the fruit I didn’t taste.

For the friends I didn’t make.

For the praise I didn’t lavish.

For the songs I didn’t sing.

For the smiles I didn’t bring.

For the creatures I didn’t protect.

For the pollution I didn’t stop.

For the help I didn’t give.

For the beauty I didn’t create.

For the pain I didn’t prevent.

For the flowers I didn’t smell.

For the places I didn’t go.

For the injustices I didn’t fight.

For the wrongs I didn’t right.

For the courage I didn’t muster.

For the love I didn’t share.

For these things I fear

My soul will be damned.

-   Donna Siepiela

December 7, 2000

CHAPTER 1

Eye Candy

WHOA! SARA SIGHED ALOUD AS she first laid eyes on the finest piece of eye candy she had seen in many, many years. He was the new kid at the Big Bull Feed Store. Sara had seen over two dozen loading dock guys come and go over the dozen plus years she had been buying chicken feed at Big Bull. The conversations with those fellas had been light and forgettable. It was hard heavy work that few would take on. Who would want to spend day after day lifting 50 pound sacks of feed all day long? Most of the dock workers were not happy to be there. Some were obviously miserable.

But not the new guy. He looked happy. His clothes were shabby and worn. His jeans were closer to white than blue, but clean, she noticed. He wore a denim shirt, with rolled sleeves, that was almost as faded as his jeans. The brown Wellington boots on his feet were old, scuffed, and very large, like size 14 large. A flit of a smirk crossed her face as Sara wondered if his feet were really that big and how long this fella would last as a dock worker. There was something about his face she really liked, and he had no chin dimple. She hated chin dimples. The warm breeze tousled his long light brown hair as he stood on the dock looking a little lost, yet smiling agreeably. Sara smiled back and tried to act nonchalant. No drooling on the help allowed. She looked around to see if anyone had observed her while she was gawking and climbed out of her car.

Sara walked past the bigger than life-sized black bull that adorned the small yard in front of the store. She never did find out what that thing was made of. Resin? Metal? Recycled milk jugs? Sara was always curious. Life was full of mysteries.

Sara Marristan was 52 years old, five foot six, wore glasses and had a generous amount of white in her long brown hair. Her breasts were extra-large, but her ass was nice, small and tight. Her shape was less hour-glass and more apple than it used to be. The last time she got a wolf whistle was fifty pounds and many years ago. Still, she could appreciate beauty when it crossed her path.

Make no mistake. This new kid was a fine beauty.

Don’t want to scare him off by staring, she thought as she walked into the musty smelling feed store to pay for a couple bags of chicken feed. The clerk, a nice enough looking fella of twenty-something in jeans and a blue sweater, entered her order into his dusty computer while Sara stole a glance out the window at the tall, lean, very young, Mr. Eye Candy. His baby face made her estimate his age at 16 or 17. Delicious, was the word that went through her mind as she wrote the check for the feed and wondered if he was old enough to have a driver’s license.

Thank you, ma’am, and have a nice day, the cashier repeated as he did every time Sara stopped there. He gave her the same lifeless-polite smile as always.

You too, she responded in an equally robotic manner. Sara was glad that part of the ritual was over so she could get back to Mr. Eye-Candy-On-the-Loading-Dock. He smiled as she walked back to her little red Honda Civic. Sara smiled back.

I need two bags of 15% egg pellets, please, she called to him. He nodded, and vanished into the warehouse while she unlocked her car. The 1995 Civic didn’t have magical buttons that hung from her key ring. The doors had to be unlocked manually. Opening the front passenger door, Sara looked up to see Mr. Eye Candy striding toward her with two 50 pound sacks of feed slung over his left shoulder like they were two feather pillows.

Dude, dude, Sara scolded, One at a time. You’re going to blow a disk.

He flopped the sacks onto the edge of the loading dock and jumped down, flashing a shy and naughty grin at Sara.

He was strong before he started working here. Most kids these days can’t lift much more than a video game, Sara thought impressed. He, maybe, is more than a pretty face.

Put them on the floor in the front, please, she walked around to the driver’s side of the car and got in. He picked up the first sack and placed it into the car. Everything about him seemed to be beautiful and appealing. Something about the way he moved. So graceful. Delicious. As he stuffed the second bag onto the floor by the front seat, the first bag flopped over and pressed against the stick shift.

Easy Bucky, she teased. I still need to shift this thing.

I was wondering about that, his accent was deep southern. With a grin, he rearranged the heavy sacks away from the gear shifter.

Thank you, dear, she chimed in her sweetest voice.

Thank you, ma’am, he kept his gaze shy until he closed the passenger door, then he peered through the window and met her eyes gently.

Sara smiled and nodded as she shifted into reverse and backed away from the loading dock. Sweet sin on silk! crossed her mind and gave her a giggle.

The drive home took over half an hour and the old Civic bottomed out on every bump and dip in the road. She eased off the gas a little, taking mercy upon the old car. The first half of the drive Sara spent thinking about the new dock worker. Beautiful, just beautiful. The scenery in this town has just improved a great deal. I might enjoy getting feed from now on. She giggled to herself. When an old Led Zeppelin song came on the radio, she happily sang along. By the end of the song, she had forgotten all about the young man.

I desperately need new shocks on this old car, and what the hell do I make for dinner? took over her thoughts.

She drove past homes of all kinds, two story homes with gables and paved driveways leading up to matching three car garages and faded old trailers with muddy dirt driveways decorated with three wrecked cars in the yard. Some of the trailers were without siding as it was peeled off the metal home and sold as scrap for beer money. Not far away was the metal collector with his various metal piles growing high all over his yard with only tiny paths weaving through his half acre collection of old pipes and sheet metal. In stark contrast, the metal collector’s neighbors on each side were neat as pins with fine trimmed lawns. Poor bastards. Then there came a change in the scenery. The buildings vanished and the road was lined with fields and forests, pastures and miles of places fenced with barbed wire. Countless herds of cattle, goats, and horses replaced the people and buildings. This is where Sara started to enjoy the ride home. Hills and valleys and not a soul for miles at a time. Small pockets of homes occasionally marred the view, but Sara would look on the other side of the road where the wind blew trees so much that they grew at an angle instead of straight up and large vultures gathered in clusters around road kills of armadillos, raccoons, frogs, and stray cats.

Sara thought that would be the perfect way to dispose of her body after she was done with it. Let the buzzards and bugs have a feast. It would be economical, no expensive funeral home crap to pay for, and environmentally friendly. No land wasted on graves or mausoleums. Instead of slowly rotting in the cold ground, her body would be quickly digested as birds flew through the sky, occasionally making deposits of fertilizer to help the trees and plants grow. In no time, nature’s critters would leave nothing unused except for a few bones and teeth. To Sara, that would be a fitting and proper way to lay her remains to rest. By nourishing the life she left behind. Wasn’t that how the dead Dali Lamas’ bodies were disposed of? Or was that a different religion? No, Sky Burials were practiced in Tibet due to the rocky soil. The empty human flesh was offered as alms to the birds.

She drove up behind a large green tractor with a big round bale of hay stuck on a hay spike on the back. A clean shaven old man with a red ball cap and a red and black plaid coat drove the tractor from inside a plastic cab. She waited until they cleared the hill and she could see that there was nothing coming towards them before she drove past, exchanging smiles and friendly waves with the tractor driver. His last name was Parker, but it had been so long since they had introduced themselves that she no longer had any clue what his first name was.

Narrow dirt roads with grass growing up in the middle turned off here and there. Some led to homes back in the woods or fields, and others were just access roads for ranchers to drive their pick-ups to the back sides of their properties where they would hunt deer, sometimes, but mostly they drank beer as they fished in ponds and streams. As she drove, she saw fewer and fewer trucks and people. This was the only kind of place she ever wanted to live.

At one time, she lived in a town, but unknown to Sara at the time she rented the place, it was near the railroad tracks. VERY near the railroad tracks, actually. It was on the other side of the house next to her rental. Every night, at three in the morning, the train would go through, blowing its horrendous whistle over and over and over, and vibrating the house. Before she bought her home in the country, she checked to make sure it was many miles from the nearest railroad, airport, or anything else that would shake her home in the night. A light sleeper, Sara was at her best only after a good eight or nine hours of very peaceful sweet dreams.

The next time she saw she needed to buy feed again for her flock, the young dockworker came to mind. Ah, yes, Mr. Eye Candy! How sweet! I hope he didn’t quit already. I really enjoyed the view last time. Damn, she laughed to herself. She saw nothing wrong in appreciating beauty like Jake Gyllenhall, Brad Pitt, or Antonio Banderas. This was the first time since she moved here, over 14 years ago, that she had seen such a beautiful person in the flesh, let alone a man.

The drive to town seemed to take longer. Sara didn’t even bother to turn on the radio. She just wanted to admire the scenery at the feed store. She knew she had the balls to talk to him, but was it time? Was this another test of her patience? That seemed to be a reoccurring theme in her life. Patience. While most people regarded her as very patient, especially after seeing her work with children and animals, for Sara herself, waiting was always the real test. Like when she would go to the doctor’s and they drew blood, it always seemed that hell would freeze over before she learned the results. Today, the big question was simple. Eye Candy or no Eye Candy?

Sara made several stops to deliver fresh eggs to restaurants and small stores. Finally, her car was empty and ready to haul a load home. So, what would it be? Eye Candy or no Eye Candy?

The answer was…

…she drove down the gravel driveway looking at the dock, and the answer was…

…she parked her car and killed the engine, and the answer was…

…he smiled when he saw her get out of her car! Sara smiled back and went to do the paying ritual. She couldn’t have been happier if he was dipped in chocolate. Coming out of the store, she asked him for 2 sacks of 15% hen ration. Without a word, he vanished and emerged from the warehouse a couple moments later with 2 fifty pound sacks on his shoulder, again.

You really should do one sack at a time, she shook her head.

He gave her a naughty smile and dropped the sacks at the edge of the dock as his long hair fell across one of his eyes. She opened the passenger door for him and admired the silky way he moved as he loaded the feed. They exchanged Thanks and smiles and went their separate ways. As Sara drove off to finish the rest of her errands, she made herself a promise. Next time, she would ask Mr. Eye Candy his name. She was going to do it. It was time. It would sound natural and he would have no idea how much time he spent in her thoughts. Her car bottomed out on another pothole and she slowed down, again.

She smiled as she remembered Mary Ellen, an old friend, who had a special saying for gorgeous young men. If only you could quickly stuff a sock in their mouths, they would be perfect, she often said. Without the socks, they start talking and ruin the whole gorgeous part.

So true.

Alas, Mary Ellen had landed on her list of dead friends and relatives long before the list contained over a hundred names. Sara said to herself, I need to start making younger friends because at this point in my life, the people my age are dropping like flies.

Days passed and finally, it was time to visit the feed store again. Since her last visit, she had put new shocks on the car, so, as an experiment, she wanted to try driving home with the feed in her trunk. She pulled into the feed lot and saw the handsome young fella driving a fork lift with a pallet of cattle feed. Today he wore faded bibbed overalls and a blue and white plaid button down shirt. He hopped off the fork lift and started tossing the 50 pound sacks of feed into the back of an old black pick-up like they were nothing.

How the hell does a kid get that strong these days? Sara was curious. She backed her car up to the loading dock and continued the ritual of buying feed, giving her order to the guy with the dusty computer and writing a check.

Thank you, ma’am, and have a nice day, the cashier turned back to chat with two fellas who appeared to be his age.

You too, Sara smiled. Ritual completed. Time for Mr. Eye Candy. She smiled as she walked out the door to the loading dock where he waited for her order.

Three sacks of 15% hen rations and one chopped corn, please, She told him. He smiled and vanished into the warehouse while Sara unlocked her trunk. This time, he re-emerged with the four sacks of feed on a dolly. He lightly jumped off the dock and started putting the fifty pound sacks of feed in her trunk as Sara watched the lean muscles in his forearms.

What is your name? she asked. She thought he said something but she could not make it out. Probably because he was talking into the trunk of her car. She waited until he stepped back up onto the dock. What did you say your name was?

He turn toward her and smiled, Adnan.

Adnan?

Yes. The ‘A’s’ are soft like in ‘saw’.

Adnan, she nodded at him. Even his name was delicious like candy. I’m Sara, she added as she offered him her hand.

He quickly wiped his large hand across the thigh of his overalls before he leaned down, gently enveloped her hand in his, and smiled, Nice to meet you, Sara.

You, too, Adnan, she replied as a brown and weathered looking old rancher came out of the feed store and handed his receipt to Adnan, who pretended to read the receipt as he watched Sara get into her car and drive away.

The very next morning she woke up with Adnan on her mind. Before she even opened her eyes, the thought of him brought a gentle smile to her lips. Sara was grateful for such a pleasant thought to start her day. She thought it was odd, but perhaps there was a reason. Maybe, he had powerful pheromones and she had gotten a whiff. In any case, it was a pleasant thing to have stuck in her head so why not enjoy it. It was a much better thing to think about than the chicken shit she was going to shovel out of the henhouse. The big surprise was that Adnan stayed on the forefront of her thoughts all through the day and was the last thing she thought of at night.

Another week went by and her supply of chicken feed ran low again. Delighted, Sara hoped that Mr. Adnan Eye Candy still worked there. She watched for him as she backed up to the loading dock. This time, she got out of her car and locked it before she saw him walking out of the warehouse.

Hi, Adnan, she called to him. I need four sacks of 15% hen ration and a sack of chopped corn.

Adnan didn’t just smile, he glowed. Yes, ma’am, he hopped right to it, leaving Sara to wonder if it was the simple act of using his name that pleased him so, or if he just liked being told to go and grab 250 pounds of chicken feed. She watched him lightly stride into the warehouse before she opened her trunk and went inside to do the paying ritual. There were a couple people ahead of her so she thought about what she would say to Adnan when she finished. She settled on, Well, Adnan, did you load my order? But when she walked out and saw him, something else fell out of her mouth.

Hey, gorgeous, did you load my car? Sara was shocked. What happened to the question she had planned to ask? She didn’t plan on using ‘gorgeous.’ Especially not in front of a bunch of elderly customers. Luckily, they were talking and didn’t seem to notice.

Yes, ma’am, Adnan glowed. All loaded. He was really delighted, now.

Sara turned to walk away, but then turned back. Shouldn’t you be in school?

Oh, no. I’m done with that. I’ve determined that higher education is not consistent with my chosen career path.

That gave Sara a chuckle. Just by the way he said it, Sara could tell that Adnan was a smarter than average cookie. How old are you? she asked suddenly worried that a pissed off parent maybe lurking.

I am nineteen. I was going to join the military and study nuclear science, but I was in an accident and broke my hip. The military won’t take me now.

You were very lucky, Sara hated the thought of Eye Candy being blown to cookie crumbs fighting someone on the other side of the planet who he had never even met or personally pissed off.

Suddenly Adnan understood that he didn’t have to play the loyal patriot for Sara. He gave her a knowing nod. She walked on the gravel towards her car, as Adnan walked alongside of her up on the dock.

You’ll get really buff working here, Sara giggled. When she gazed up at him, something about him was different. No longer shy and boyish. He was very tall, broad shouldered and his shirt was half unbuttoned. Sara could see the muscles on his chest were defined and solid. His expression and posture were different. He faced her straight on, his wide bright smile was more mature. Sara saw that he was every bit a full grown man, ready and willing. (In her mind.) He looked like he had fire down below. Oddly, it seemed his fire was for her.

A bit shaken, Sara was melting from his heat and ready to have him on the dock. Her words were getting all knotted up and nothing came out of her mouth.

Bertrand Russell once said that ‘War does not determine who is right — only who is left’, Adnan pulled out a cigarette and a lighter from his pocket, as if to prove he was allowed in the adult world. He fiddled with it, but didn’t light it.

The first turn off. Damn.

You know, carrying two sacks is bad for your back. You could blow a disk. She tried to act normal while erotic thoughts raced through her brain. She wanted to touch his half bare chest. A younger, less self-conscious Sara would have. Maybe.

You’re right, he said. I know. It’s just quicker carrying two at a time.

Sara stepped closer to him and lowered her voice so the other customers would not hear. You do know that you are getting paid by the hour, don’t you?

Yes, he chuckled, amused, never losing his smile, and very much a very gorgeous man.

Sara was at a loss for words. She didn’t want to talk, she wanted to jump up on the loading dock and hold him close. Instead, she smiled and said, If I don’t see you, have a great holiday.

And if you do see me, do I still get the same wish, he replied, still fiddling with the unlit cigarette and lighter like he was waiting for her to give him permission.

Sure. No sense changing a good thing, she smiled.

Very polite, Sara thought as she turned and climbed into her little red Civic. She drove home, feeling more alive than she had in years. She was amazed at what a little flirting could do. She actually felt a joy that had been sitting on a long forgotten shelf getting dusty. As long as she brought the passion home, all was good and no lines had been crossed. When Joe, her husband of nineteen years, came home, she seduced him lovingly and enthusiastically. During the last few years, they had enjoyed some of the best sex of their lives.

Joe was lean with brown hair and bright blue eyes. He stretched out to be just a hair under 6 foot tall, was nine years younger than Sara and his work was his passion. He was an electrician who was very good at what he did. He enjoyed his pride in his work like a child enjoyed ice cream. He liked meeting new people and seeing how other people lived. Joe and Sara had met at a party at the home of a mutual friend. She had been sitting on the kitchen counter talking about one of her case workers when Joe walked by and heard the name.

She was my case worker, too, he joined in the conversation. He instantly liked the long haired woman in the Rolling Stones tee shirt and cut off shorts. They talked through the night and went for breakfast at dawn. By that time, they were holding hands as they walked and talked. It turned out they had both liked the case worker who had regularly visited them while they were in foster care. They, both, had stayed at the Bloomington County Children’s Shelter on many occasions and even knew a lot of the same people.

Joe’s biological parents had been very young when he was born. When Joe was small, he had been taken away from his mother and returned to her many times before the state finally kept him for good. Then, Joe came down with Scarlet Fever that turned into Rheumatic Fever when he was six and he spent a lot of time in and out of the hospital. Adoptive parents passed over the sickly child as they feared medical expenses.

When Joe was fifteen, his caseworker told him that he had an uncle who wanted to meet him. Uncle Patrick was the little brother of Joe’s mother, who remembered Joe as a baby. They kept in touch, but never really spent much time together.

Despite a series of foster and group homes, Joe had done well in school and worked his way up to having his own electrician’s business. Sara thought he put in too many hours, but he loved conquering the challenges he was handed. Often, it gave him a feeling of great creativity. It was his art.

Joe liked being creative in the bedroom, too. Sex had been better than great the past few years. Her orgasms were bigger, longer, multiple. Like she had finally learned how to do it right. And Joe was having more fun, too. He was proud of the skills he had developed for pleasing his lover.

Sara credited Joe and an article in Playboy for the improvements in their sex life. The article said women should mentally focus on their orgasms to prolong them. A simple, but surprisingly effective bit of advice. You learn something new every day, but Sara felt quite cheated. That sweet little bit of info should have been in her high school health book. If you can’t teach about great safe sex, stay the hell out of the classroom.

CHAPTER 2

Legs in the Mirror

JOE WAS SUCH AN EARLY riser it was like he and the sun had a contest each morning. The sun would be depressed if it knew how often Joe beat it. He used an alarm, but usually beat that too. Not that it mattered. Sara could sleep through the alarm every morning, no problem. The greatest test of Joe’s patience was waiting for people to wake up so he could go into their houses and get to work. Book work was a chore that could be done in the mornings with his 100% Columbian coffee. Payroll, invoices, thumbing through supply catalogs, and watching the news could fill the time until the rest of the world woke up.

When Joe was quite young, one of his foster grandmothers asked if he could run a phone line into her bedroom. The house and wiring had been ancient. He ran the line through the bedroom floor and across the basement ceiling to the point where the original phone wires had been installed. The basement was old and wet and even had shallow puddles here and there. One puddle was where Joe had to stand to hook up the phone lines. He didn’t even notice. He stripped the new wires and connected them to one post and then another. Then, he accidently touched both posts at once with his finger. Electricity danced through Joe to the water on the floor, threw him across the cellar and slammed him into the cellar’s stone wall. He was left a little sore and more than a little in love with electricity. Any day he could master the electrical beast and make it do his bidding was a good day. Just as soon as he could get his customers to wake up and let him start his day.

When she awoke, Sara’s mind was full of Adnan from her first waking moments to her last sleepy thoughts. She kept busy as usual, with critters to feed and holidays to celebrate, but she was doing these chores with her mind full of Adnan. She wondered if stalkers started out like this, but she kept it to herself and stayed away from town. The traffic and crowds of the holidays were something she avoided every year. She did her gift buying in August when there were no icy roads and no crowded stores.

Sara suddenly realized she was getting old when, instead of fantasizing about having hot sex with a gorgeous guy, she imagined him helping with the heavy chores like moving rocks, cutting brush, and tilling the garden. She could imagine conversations they would have about anything and everything.

I need to get out more, she thought. I spend way too much time with the critters.

She started making a list of all the questions she wanted to ask Adnan. Did he have kids? Did he drink alcohol? What kind of music did he like? His favorite song? Movie? Book? Food? Flavor? Scent? Did he like animals? Did he live with his mother? Did he throw his dirty socks on the floor? Eat beef or pork? Did he torture his little sister? Did he have a little sister? Was he kind, and gentle, or mean and cruel? Was he generous or stingy? Where was he from? Where were his parents? Did he have a car? Any guy that gorgeous had to be another evil bastard. The gorgeous guys were the big dicks of Pricksville as a rule. But he did seem really nice. What was his story?

And what did he do for fun? Move pianos? He was unnaturally strong. How did that happen?

It was very possible that Adnan had kids, especially in this area. It seemed to be the norm for children to have children, often several children before they reached the adult age of 21 or even 18.

Meeting new people was a thrill she had been missing since she moved out to the hills. While Adnan was extremely attractive, she didn’t need a lover, Joe did fine, she just needed a friend who she could have fun and conversations with.

One thing she felt she knew. Adnan was not a virgin. Not with the look she had seen in his eyes the last time she saw him. It wasn’t just a come-hither look. It was more of a whispered, Come-here-baby-I-know-exactly-what-to-do-for-the-both-of-us kind of look. Just thinking about that look and his half bare chest made her nether regions actually throb. There was only one cure for the throb and it wasn’t a solitary act. In any case, she really did enjoy thinking about him. That look he had given her reminded her of an old friend who was at the top of her Best Pieces of Ass Ever List.

Or he could just be another hormone driven teen who would fuck the couch if he found a hole in one of the cushions. She really needed more info and was having a hard time waiting for it. She didn’t want to start hanging around the feed store when she had no business being there. Stay casual. She didn’t want to look like a starving cougar. She just wanted to be friendly and make a new friend. If he was a fine piece of eye candy, all the better. Why not enjoy the view?

All the thoughts that went through her head all seemed connected to Adnan. Jokes, opinions, and likes they might share. She needed to learn more about him. Make sure he wasn’t the latest town looser, drunk, or woman beater. Then, after they made love a dozen different ways in her imagination, she wondered if he was married. The big question had finally made it into her mind, and that thought sucked. She moved on to more pleasant thoughts.

Somehow, in a perfect fantasy world, they would find a place to be alone. Alone with no one to judge them. They would be free to delight in each other’s bodies and, maybe, even in each other’s minds. Wouldn’t that be unusual? Incredible!

Sara laughed aloud. She remembered that post-menopausal women were often said to have better sex lives. Hell, now even her fantasy sex life was more awesome than she had ever imagined. The fantasy life was very safe. What if real-live Adnan turned out to be a greedy little prick who liked to use people? What if he had AIDS? Or was a thief who would vanish with her money, jewels, and little red Civic? Or worse, a liar!

No! Sara decided. She would check this Adnan out carefully. Slowly. Watching. Teasing. Flirting. Enjoying. Especially enjoying, for as long as it lasted. Even the lust for Adnan was delicious. Fantasy was sweet. You didn’t have to go through the hassle of training a new lover. In fantasy, they already knew what worked for you and were masters of the art. She was beginning to understand why men loved porn. There was no B.S, B.O., V.D., H.I.V., S.T.D.s, or hurt feelings, no risk of pregnancy, no dinner to dress up and pay for, no promises to keep, flowers to buy, or mother-in-laws to bow to. You didn’t have to sit next to her Dad at Christmas dinner. You didn’t have to sit through a romantic comedy. Nothing was complicated. Porn was sweet and simple. She had a new understanding for men and their love of porn. There really was a lot of great stuff to fantasy.

That reminded her. She needed to take a picture of Adnan. While he was still beautiful to her, before she found out he was into Monster Trucks, cheap beer, sit coms with laugh tracks, and country music. What if the last book he read was Cheats for Grand Theft Auto?

Sara gave a lot of thought to what she would say to him next. She knew it had to be something awesome. Something deep. And for a few days she thought she would ask him What do you do in you spare time? Move pianos? She liked that. It was flattering and funny. Then she woke up one morning knowing that she had to do the Death Bed thingy with him. For sure. Brilliant. And it wouldn’t send the wrong kind of message. Her day was happy with that thought in her mind. The Death Bed thingy was like a gift and a good way to start a friendship. She would treat him respectfully like a friend while she admired the view and enjoyed her fantasy life. Good for all concerned.

That night, she was awakened by her own screams. Joe was awakened, too. What’s wrong? he asked.

I had a nightmare. There was a big fire and that kid from the feed store was in it. Brrrrrrr! she shivered. It was awful. There were dead burnt bodies!

Come on, Joe wrapped his arms around her. It was just a dream. Let’s go back to sleep.

Eventually, they did.

Finally, Sara ran low on feed again. Nothing could have made her happier. Okay, maybe winning the lottery, but needing feed was great, too. When he could, Joe would stop at the feed store and pack the back of his truck with hundreds of pounds of feed for Sara. When he was too busy, Sara went for feed.

Sara was backing her red Civic up to the loading dock when two long legs in very faded jeans, and very big boots walked into view in her rear view mirror. The knees bent and Sara hoped Adnan was the owner of those long legs. It would be sad if he had quit. She watched and waited. The knees kept bending slowly, slowly, she could see a quilted liner in a green coat, and then, finally, there he was, slow, sinewy, graceful, smiling wide and waving at Sara, with his palm up, to keep backing up her car. For the first time in her life, the beauty of a man took her breath away, literally, and to her great surprise. She found herself hoping that she would not ram her car into the loading dock. She hit the brakes just to be safe, and waited to start breathing, again.

Damn, she thought. Adnan is hotter than Antonio Banderas was in the movie Never Talk to Strangers. Actually, no one ever took my breath away before, ever. What the hell is with this guy?

Sara got out of her car and started with a nice light normal question, Hi, Adnan. How were your holidays?

Just fine, he replied. How were yours? He smiled big and she could swear there was a twinkle in his eyes. Without a doubt, Adnan was happy to see her. Sara wondered why.

She looked around and saw the dock was deserted. Good. No customers to distract him. Peaceful, nice, she replied as she sat on the edge of the loading dock. Come here, she waved him over to join her.

Adnan walked over by her but gave her a suspicious look.

It’s okay, she said and he sat very close to her on the dock. Close your eyes, Sara instructed, and Adnan gave her another look of uncertainty. She just nodded and he did as he was told. I want you to take a deep breath. She waited as he did. "Now, I want you to imagine that you are 105 years old. You have lived a long life, and, now you are laying on your death bed, breathing your last breathes. What do you want to look back on? What do you want to have accomplished? You are 105 years old and your life is over. What do you want to have done? Now, what you need to do is make a list of these things. You don’t have to tell me what they are. Just make a list and carry it in your wallet, or hang it on your mirror. Someplace where you will see it a lot.

Now, I was lucky, she added. I was a teenager hitchhiking cross country when another hitchhiker told me about that. I wanted to go to college, see the world, raise foster kids, and write a book. When I finished that list, I sat down, imagined I was 105 years old again, lying on my death bed and I made a new list.

I want to climb the Great Pyramid, and swim with dolphins, he said. The deep southern accent was totally gone. And Sara was surprised that he would name two things that were on her own list. If he mentioned going on a cruise or scuba diving, she was going to lose it.

I am not sure they would actually let you climb one of their national treasures. You may want to double check that so you don’t end up in an Egyptian jail. Maybe, you can still climb one of the Mexican pyramids.

They laughed.

Where do you live? she asked.

I live in Lake Melissa.

Sara had been to Lake Melissa. It was a town just the other side of the highway with many run down old cottages and a huge trailer park. I know where that is.

That is when the verbal dam broke and he started talking for real. Some of it was pre-recorded. Things he had told people before when he was getting to know them. I like to travel. I’ve been to most of the states. I like fishing and hiking. I know how to survive and live off the land. I won’t change. I like the way I am.

To live is to change, not to change is to die, Sara was sure.

Adnan paused for a moment and considered the statement. Who said that?

I’ve been saying that for so long, I think I did, Sara giggled. But I believe it is paraphrased from Buddha.

Somehow, just sitting next to him calmed her. Her head wasn’t in fantasy land doing fantasy things with him. He was a real person she liked and wanted to be kind to. This was her chance to get the answers to her questions, but he was on a roll, so she just listened to his tales and looked off across the feed lot with its giant grain hoppers and eighteen wheelers. His tales all sounded quite familiar. Oddly so. It was like he had found an old pair of her shoes and had put another couple thousand miles on them.

Suddenly she remembered something important. She looked into his eyes. They were very white, like a Malamute’s eyes. White in the center and pale blue on the outside edge. Totally exotic. She looked closer to see the tell-tale ring of contacts, but saw none. Sweet sin on silk, she thought, he’s got the hottest eyes, ever.

Adnan paused and looked back at Sara.

So, what is the deal with all the grown men in cowboy outfits? You know, the pointy boots, hats, jeans, and long sleeve shirts even in 110 degree weather, she asked.

Yeah, no shit! Right! a smile started in his exotic eyes and spread through his face.

They laughed together.

What’s with the women and all that make-up? They look like beige geishas. That stuff has got to itch. Makes me itch just thinking about it, she scratched at her clean face with her nails. Can you imagine living under a layer of that goo in the summer? Ick!

It’s crazy. They live in fear of sweat and rain, he laughed. I met a man who does not allow his wife to leave the house unless she has make-up on.

Damn. Talk about emotional abuse. That is just wrong. Sometimes, I feel like moving here was like going back in time about 50 years. There was no culture shock, it was lack of culture shock.

They fry ice cream and candy bars, Adnan grimaced shaking his head. How about Lamb Fries? There’s no lamb about it. Its bull’s balls. Would you like a drink? Or a cigarette? He reached into his large pockets and offered her an unopened can of Mountain Dew and his open pack of cigarettes.

No thanks. I don’t do soda pop and I quit cigarettes. I only smoke the good stuff, now.

Adnan smiled and nodded. I’ve thought about moving to Washington State. It’s legal up there.

It’s always cold and wet up there. When I was there, Mt. Saint Helen blew. It felt like having warm grey snow fall on me. The further west I went, the deeper it got along the sides of the road.

That must have been some experience, he considered softly.

Yes, it was. Sara looked across the feed lot as she thought back to the time when she was Adnan’s age. That ash was everywhere and in everything. I was hitchhiking around the country with a backpack and a Doberman. I had just experienced one of the happiest moments of my life. I realized I was free. I finally belonged to myself. There was no one I had to report to. There was no place I had to be. No school. No Job. No bills to pay or anyone to answer to. I could go in any direction I wanted. Pick anyplace to explore.

And you picked Washington State? He fiddled with his cigarette, too polite to light it.

Go ahead, and light the damned thing already, she laughed.

Thanks, he lit it.

Actually, I picked everywhere. I wandered up and down and back and forth around the country. Canada, Mexico. I was so glad I had eyes to see with. A lot of people wait until they retire before they travel, but by then, half of them are dead and the rest are blind, crippled, or crazy. I say, see the world while you still can see.

Good point. I agree. Once people settle down and have kids and mortgages, travel gets put on the back burner. It’s all about daycare, and car payments, and getting to work on time, he tapped the small ash off his cigarette and watched as it fell to the gravel.

Are you into cars? I rebuilt the engine in that Civic. Sara offered for conversation when he paused. Adnan just rolled his eyes. He didn’t believe her at all.

No, I’m not into mechanics, he paused, but I could. If I wanted to.

Sure you could. Cars are nothing but big greasy puzzles.

Adnan nodded and laughed. Good way to look at it.

What are you doing here? Sara asked. In this town?

I came here to live with my Uncle Jimmy. He’s disabled. Bad back. He needed a hand paying the bills. So, he invited me to live with him. It’s just us guys and we like it that way. No girls to mess things up.

Sara was thrown. She wondered if he was saying he was gay. She didn’t care. She liked sitting and chatting with him so much he could have been green with antennas and she still would have been happy to sit and chat with him. She felt a connection to this other wild child who seemed to be walking the same roads she had.

I lived with my grandmother until she died, he continued. Then I lived in foster homes. My mom was into drugs in syringes. She chose them over me. I’ve been on my own since I was 15.

My drunken mom chose the psychotic bastard who was beating her brains out instead of her own kid. I lived in foster homes. I’ve been on my own since I was 15, Sara shared.

They looked at each other and nodded. Kindred spirits, they both said at the same time, then laughed.

I don’t regret anything I’ve been through. I figure it made me who I am today. A traveler. A wanderer. A student of life. Adnan smiled.

Me either. Sara agreed. I always figured that there was nothing ahead of me that could be any worse than what I’d already been through.

Adnan nodded, Me too.

I have a rule I live by, Sara offered.

"What’s that?

I never give anyone or anything the power to ruin more than a few moments of my day. Life is too short. No one can ruin my whole day.

I like that, he nodded.

When customers were ready to get their orders, Adnan just sprang up and tended to them. He never let them wait and never complained about the work. She admired that. That was the way she worked. She wasn’t used to seeing young people work like that. She knew of one young woman who had quit her job because her boss kept telling her what to do.

After loading Sara’s feed, Adnan sat back down next to Sara with a smile and not with a space between them, but right up close, like long established lovers or kids aching to have sex together. Not like people just getting to know each other. He looked in her eyes and relaxed as if she were an old and trusted friend.

Damn doctors got Uncle Jimmy hooked on pain killers. I’ve been trying to help him kick them. It’s been hard for him. The withdrawal is bad.

Takes time. How long has he been going through it?

A couple months, Adnan looked off into the distance.

Then, the worst is over.

Adnan got up to help another customer. For this one, Adnan brought a fork lift with a pallet full of feed. He easily tossed the 50 pound sacks into the back of the truck. If Sara tried to do something like that, she’d be in bed for weeks taking the big pills. She watched him and his graceful movements, so amazingly beautiful. He watched her, too. Smiling. Not even trying to hide that he was watching her. Like he was afraid she would take off when he wasn’t looking. Sara kind of liked that.

So, you got kids? Wife? Girlfriends? Sara had almost forgot.

No, girls are too much trouble, he said as he tossed another sack of feed.

Sara sat and wondered if that was another way of trying to tell her that he was gay. He finished unloading the fork lift, thanked the old farmer, and sat next to Sara again.

By the way, I had a dream about you last night. There was a fire and you were in it. If I were you, I’d be very, very careful, especially with flammables. My dreams are often prophetic, and I dreamt of you in a big horrible fire. It was so bad, I woke up screaming.

Adnan just gave her a puzzled look, and didn’t comment as he went to help another customer with his feed. She watched him and he watched her as he did his work. In between customers, they talked about everything from politics to religion.

I don’t believe in the ten commandments, Adnan offered for debate.

Me either, Sara agreed. I think parents are over rated. They have too much…

Power over kids, Adnan finished.

Or they don’t give a shit, Sara nodded, There was only one birthday I ever gave a damn about…

Your eighteenth, He knew.

Yep. Then I belonged… Sara began.

To yourself, Adnan finished.

Sometimes, I think I’ve been reincarnated because… he began.

…How else would I know all this stuff? she finished.

Time flew by as they skipped from topic to topic, laughing, finishing each other’s sentences and having silent pauses where they both thought to themselves, Wow. How are we doing that? This is too weird.

Did you see the news last night? There was a bridge that collapsed up north of here and all these people were killed when they drove off into the water, he shook his head.

I don’t watch the news. I don’t have to. I know what they are going to talk about. Let me guess. Sometime during the past month, there have been fires, homes have been destroyed, and there have been wrecks on the interstates. People have been murdered and babies have been born. There have been storms. Miraculous advances have been made in medicine. Medications have been proven to cause terrible side effects. Politicians have been caught in lies or with their pants down. New laws have been passed. Movies have been released. Actors have married, divorced, been arrested, and gone to rehab. Buildings have been built and torn down. Someone has invented a smaller gizmo and somewhere there is drought. People are protesting one thing or another and some stupid thing has been sold for an exorbitant price because someone famous once owned it. And the price of gas has gone up or down. Scattered in between these announcements were commercials for a lot of things that really aren’t healthy. Ever notice that there are no commercials for healthy things like apples and spinach? Bombings, shootings, and the death of some celebrity I never met. Tax hikes. Death, destruction, mayhem. Did I miss anything? Clips from sporting events? Scandals? Sara stated animating her face.

Life on Mars? he chuckled. Fine, you have just ruined the news for me for the rest of my life.

Sorry, she mumbled and hung her head.

No, you’re not, he busted her. You would do it all over again. I know better.

Just think of what you can do with all that free time, now. I have a friend who spends a half hour every morning doing her hair and make-up. If you add that up, at the end of a year, you have 182 and a half hours. That is almost five weeks at a full time job. In eight years, you could write a five hundred page book with that time.

Is that what you did with the time you saved? he asked.

Hell, no. I slept in, she laughed.

Adnan lowered his head as he laughed, That would have been my choice, too.

Do you like animals? Have any pets?

I like Pit Bulls, but I don’t have any pets now.

You don’t use them for fighting, do you? she asked.

Hell, no. That’s barbaric. Albert Einstein said, ‘If a man aspires to a righteous life, his first act of abstinence is from injury to animals.’ I believe that, too.

Wonder if he was a vegetarian. When I was in Florida, I used to go by Einstein’s house every day. I always meant to stop and do a tour through it, but I never did.

Alas, another golden opportunity left by the wayside, he smiled.

Do you have a phone? Do you text? she asked when he returned from helping another customer.

Not now, I dropped it over there the other day and it broke.

Well, I’ve enjoyed the hell out of you. Here’s my number, Sara pulled out a car dealer’s business card, put big lines through his side of the card and wrote her name and number on the back.

Adnan took the card, put it carefully into his wallet and smiled, I’ve enjoyed you, too. They shook hands and he watched her leave.

Sara thought about Adnan the whole way home, as she put away her groceries, as she showered and as she watched TV. She thought about him as she curled up next to Joe and waited for sleep.

That night, she and Joe were awakened by Sara’s screams.

It’s okay. It’s okay, He wrapped his arms around her, What were you dreaming?

There was a big fire. That kid from the feed store was in the middle of it. People were burning.

It was just a dream. Let’s go back to sleep, Joe comforted her as he dozed off.

Sara laid there remembering the vivid dream. There had been an explosion with glass flying everywhere. Adnan was on the floor and the smoke was thick. He was screaming.

She got out of bed and went for a glass