Help Me Rhonda

I Can Give You Lotsa Reasons Why

She stood there looking at him, half-naked in her bed, her body shaking with arousal and anger, the feel of his now-absent cock, hot and hard in her hand. It wasn't right! Her body wanted to wrap itself around him, his smell pervasive, pressing into his bony hip... but her mind, her treacherous, treasonous, over-active mind remembered her wedding, leaving Pete at the altar. Her brain reminded her body that she'd fled clear across the country to think and sort and understand what she'd done to her fiancé, to her father, to her friends and to herself. Her body ached for the man lying in her bed, but her head reminded her he was still her CO, and nothing had changed.

Jack shifted to lie on his side, making his own arousal a little less obvious in the mess of blankets. He propped his head on his hand and looked at her. Slowly, and without the least amount of self-consciousness, he smirked, his eyes traveling down her body, from full breasts to long legs and back up.

Sam, who had assumed a fighting stance, looked down at herself. She couldn't help it. She smiled... and relaxed, her fists uncurling, but when she glanced back at him, his eyes fastened to her breasts, nipples stiff, she cleared her throat and reached for a sweatshirt and pants. She might have imagined it, but she thought she heard him sigh as she pulled them on.

“So, Carter... didn't get married?” He asked, casually.

She felt a flush suffuse her face. For an instant she worried at her own transparency, that he understood, maybe better than she did, why she couldn't, and didn't marry Pete. And she felt an unreasonable, incendiary rage click through her that he figured her out so easily. Her eyes flashed, hard and angry, before she pivoted and left the room.

He watched her go, admiring her ass, even covered in those ugly, grey sweats. Then he stood, pushed his dick down, and went to the bathroom, hoping to get his overly eager cock under control before he had to talk to her again. He stood outside the bedroom door for a moment until he saw her, standing on the back deck, looking out over the lake behind the cabin. Her shoulders were slumped. He went into the kitchen and began to make breakfast.

When it was ready he took it out to her, handling the pan of eggs and bacon and toast in one hand, the coffee pot balanced on top of the plates, flatware and napkins in the other, cups dangling from one long finger. She hadn't moved, but when he came out, she turned and took the plates, helping herself. They ate in silence.

When every crumb was gone, he stood and turned his chair, the sun hitting him full in the face. He closed his eyes and waited. He thought he could almost hear the wheels turning in her brain, although knowing Carter, her mind probably worked more like a super computer, all whooshing hard drives and electrical impulses. He smiled to himself.

“What are you smiling at,” she asked, which made him smile more.

“Nuthin'” he responded, because he knew that wasn't what she wanted to ask him.

“What are you doing here?” she asked, a note of exasperation in her voice.

“Wanted to see you,” he said simply.

“Why?”

“Can't a friend want to see a friend?” he asked, knowing he hadn't answered her question.

“More than two thousand miles away?” she said.

“Heard you called off your wedding,” he said.

“Who told you?”

“Daniel.” With his eyes closed he had to listen carefully for her small huff of irritation.

“How did you find me?” she asked.

“Jacob.”

That shut her up. She told her father where she was going , only after he promised not to tell anyone, unless it was a matter of urgency, like the planet was in danger. The fact that Jacob told Jack spoke volumes to her ... and she wasn't sure she liked what it meant.

After a few minutes she cleared her throat. Ah, he thought, another question. “Where were you that night?” she asked. This was the one he'd been dreading, but he'd made up his mind he wouldn't lie to her.

“That bar on Colorado.”

“All night?” she asked, her voice small.

“I was too drunk to drive,” he said. “I went home with a waitress.” He peeked one eye open to look at her, but her face was turned away from him, and all he could see was the curve of her cheek. He settled back and waited.

“Did you fuck her?” His hackles rose, hard. No one could make him angry like Carter. He'd promised himself he wasn't going to do that, but there it was. He was angry.

He sat up abruptly, looking right at her, and she was staring right back at him. “Yeah, I fucked her. Several times. That night and the next day.” The fury posting from her eyes hit him, and he felt his own rage wane... and just as quickly he saw her anger ebb, replaced by what seemed to him to be sadness. “I...” He tried to say the right thing. “I thought you were ... on your honeymoon, Sam.” And as he watched, a big, fat tear slid down her cheek. She wiped it away angrily. They both settled back in their chairs.

With his eyes closed he could hear her fussing. She stood, and he thought she was going to leave him, give herself some space. Instead, she moved her chair alongside his and sat back down, her face in the sun. He looked over at her, the morning rays making her glow like a goddess. He closed his eyes, afraid his old heart would explode from his feelings for her. “You're gonna burn,” he said.

From somewhere low in her chest came a chuckle that sent spikes of lust through him. “Not yet,” she said.

Somehow he fell asleep, and when he woke up he was toasty and warm from the sun. He stood, his knees complaining, and went indoors. The chair next to him vacant. She was in the bedroom straightening up. She'd changed from the AF sweats into a pair of cut-off jeans shorts and a halter top, and was bending over to make the bed when he walked into the room. She glanced over her shoulder at him in his t-shirt and boxers. “I assume you brought more clothes,” she said casually, her ass shaking at him as she tidied the sheets.

“Uh... yeah,” he said, distracted. “In the truck,” he added, just to have something to say. She straightened and ran her fingers through her hair. The sun had pinked her pale skin and she looked healthy and more beautiful than he could ever remember seeing her. Her movements brought his attention to her breasts, not that it was ever really that far from them, and he felt the seam of his boxers cut into his dick, which was beginning to take firm notice of its surroundings. He rapidly turned and looked for his jeans. Spying them, he shoved one leg, then the other into them, roughly handling his erection to stuff it down his pant leg. She watched him surreptitiously, as she continued to straighten up the room, a smile crossing her lips when she saw the effect she was having on him.

“I have to go into town for groceries,” she said. He reached into his pocket, his keys jingling, as he showed them to her. “Let me just get the list,” she commented, sliding past him through the doorway, where he stood. Was it his imagination or did she just bump her ass into his hard-on? Jack shoved his fists into his pockets and looked at her retreating back, speculating.

He went into the bathroom and did the best he could with his hair, which as usual wasn't much. He brushed his teeth with his finger and Carter's toothpaste, and was standing by the front door, when she approached him, her shopping list in hand. Feeling just a little bit evil, he opened the door and stood in the doorway, holding it open for her. Sam squeezed past him, pressing into his groin. Yeah, he thought, that was deliberate.


He took her down to the truck, started the big engine and pulled onto the main road. She didn't give him directions. After all, he'd come all this way by himself. She supposed he knew how to get into the little village at the bottom of the mountain.

“What do you want for dinner, sir?” she asked, frowning at the list, pen in hand.

“Come on, Carter, you called me Jack last night.”

“What?” she asked, shocked. “When?”

He glanced at her seated next to him in the big front seat. “Well, when I got into bed with you,” he said, his eyes flicking back and forth between the road and her face. “You said my name and put your arms around me.” Her eyes were wide and skittish. He wondered if she would try to bolt.

“I did no such thing,” she said finally, her voice hushed.

“You did,” he said, just a quietly. “And this morning, you said my name again and then you put her hand on my...”

“There's the store,” she said, interrupting... needing to interrupt, because the sense memory of her hand wrapped around the thick base of his rampant cock made her womb clench, dampness soaking her panties. Jack glanced at her. She tightened her thigh muscles. He smiled to himself.

He pulled into the tiny gravel parking lot. She whisked out of the truck and went into the store. He followed more slowly, his knees a little stiff. By the time he was inside, she was busy filling a shopping basket. She came up to him. “I ordered some deli meat. Would you please see if it's ready?” Then she whirled away, down another aisle. He looked around. The deli was against the wall.

Behind the counter was a rotund, red-faced woman in a slightly dirty white apron. He stood in front of the glass case. “Uh... do you have something for ...”

“Oh, we're so glad you're here, Mr. Carter!” she said loudly. Jack stared at her stupidly. The woman bustled around behind the counter. “Just between the two of us,” she said, handing two packets of folded white butcher paper over the top of the counter to him, “Your wife seemed so sad... we were worried about her!” The counter woman came out from behind and moved past him. “Looks like she's ready to check out!”

Jack watched the woman waddle toward the front of the store, realizing that she was probably the cashier too. He followed. Sam had all her groceries on the conveyor belt. The round woman began to ring up her items. Sam took the deli packages from his unfeeling hand and laid them down along with the rest of her purchases. “I was just saying to Mr. Carter, Mrs. Carter, we're awfully glad he's here!” the cashier said, cheerily. Sam choked, flushing. Before he could stop himself, he slipped an arm around her and pulled her to his side.

“Yeah, she misses me when I'm not around,” he said.

The cashier looked him up and down. “I can see why,” she said saucily. It was Jack's turn to choke, and Sam gave him a harder than necessary pounding on the back. She paid by credit card, put everything in the basket and was back out in the parking lot waiting for him before he got his esophagus under control again.

In the truck, headed back up the mountain, Sam turned to him. She looked angry again. “Why did you say that?” she asked, her voice as clipped and icy as he'd ever heard it.

“She thought we were married,” he said. “Would you rather her think you were shacked up in this remote cabin with your CO?” Sam turned angrily from him, crossing her arms in front of her chest, staring stonily at the road. Apparently that was the wrong thing to say.

The cashier and another lady watched them leave. “Nice looking couple,” the rotund woman said.

“I bet they do it like bunnies,” the other woman replied.

“Wouldn't you?” the cashier responded, the two women bursting into gales of robust laughter.