Cherry (chapter 5)

Chapter 5

The last 24 hours were mostly spent with the Love of my life and I was in an amazing place emotionally. At the same time, I was still troubled about the loss of Katie. My thoughts alternated at random between the two as I drifted off to sleep.

I found myself walking along an all too familiar road. Up ahead stood a girl facing away from me and I knew who she was before I got to her; she wore a yellow sundress. As I reached her, I stopped next to Katie.

Without needing to look at her I said, “Hello, Katie.”
I could sense her look up to me and she said, “Oh; hello David.”
We stood before “the intersection” and I said, “Why are you here? Wouldn’t you rather be somewhere else?”
Katie took my hand and said, “Yeah. I don’t like it here. This needs to be different; it looks scary this way.”

I looked down to see her face and she looked up at me again. For the first time, her eyes looked normal to me. They were deep brown like her hair that was blowing lazily in the breeze. Seeing her eyes with life behind them for the first time gave me an anew sense of the tragic loss.

I looked back at the intersection and agreed, “It is scary; you’re right. And it definitely needs to be different.”
Katie asked me, “Can you do it? Make it different?”
I shook my head saying, “No; that’s not what I do. Remember? I’m just a fireman.”
Katie said, “I remember.” After a few moments she asked, “Do you know someone that knows how to make roads different?”
I thought for a moment and said, “I might be able to find someone.”
“You should try,” she suggested.
I said, “I’m going to find someone to fix this; I promise.”

Katie hugged my arm and moments later, she was gone. I woke up to see it was still the middle of the night. Not wanting to forget the dream before morning, I wrote notes to myself and went back to sleep.

I had another dream, but this time it was about Cherry—and much more pleasant. The dreamed focused around the possible pregnancy we were facing together, but there was never a moment that said definitively that she was either positive or negative—just as the results were to be revealed to us, something would happen to stop us from getting the information we sought.

Unable to sleep in (even though it was a Saturday), I got up early and went straight to my computer. After a brief search online, I found that, as luck would have it, there would be a town hall meeting next Wednesday. I would be there: I had a mission.

I got dressed (still without having a shower), grabbed my HD camera, and went for a drive. I was going to “the intersection”, but this time it wasn’t about my work—it was about my mission and the promise I made to a little girl in my dreams. I parked my car on the side of the road and got out before getting to work. I started taking pictures of the intersection from every angle imaginable; pictures approaching the intersection from both roads and both directions; pictures at the intersection showing blind spots and possible optical illusions that could cause a driver to miscalculate the speed or distance of a vehicle.

When I was satisfied that I had enough photos to document the intersection, I went home and got back on the computer. I did a satellite search and found the view of the area from directly above. I saved the image to disk and took it with me to have a large print made.

With the collected materials in hand, I began putting together a presentation of the problem; it was so easy even I was able to do it! It infuriated me that no one else had done this before now. It occurred to me that perhaps they knew it was a problem but just didn’t know what to do about it (or worse, didn’t care).

Knowing that it did little good to simply point out a problem and have no solution to offer, I began trying to work out how to fix the intersection. By no stretch of the imagination was I a civil engineer and the solution was evading me. Putting in an overpass only served to move the problem further up the road. There was already a light there and it was clear that was not enough. Signs did little or nothing to alert drivers not paying attention.

My project was beginning to frustrate me when my phone rang. It was Cherry calling to FaceTime with me. I took the call (of course) and she was still lying in bed.

I said, “Well, good morning sleepy head! You know it’s 12:30, right?”
Through a yawn she answered, “Yeah, I know. The game tired me out last night; my legs are sore—but in a good way.”
I smiled at her coded message and said, “I know what you mean: I had a good workout yesterday, too.”
As she got out of bed she asked, “What are you doing?”

I told her about my day to that point and how I was at a loss for a way to fix the issue. While I talked, I could see Cherry as she went about her business in her room and she took me with her into the bathroom. Without a bit of embarrassment, she sat on the toilet and peed. She wasn’t showing the graphic details of it; all I could see was her face and the picture over the toilet in the background as she listened to me, but I knew what she was doing. She finished and set her phone down giving me an excellent view of the ceiling for a few moments before I heard a flush and then running water.

She came back to the phone and her hair was piled up in a bun on top of her head. She walked over to the tub and the sound of running water became louder. She propped the phone up on a shelf near the tub and I could see her sitting on the side of it as she added bubble bath to the running water.

I finished telling her about my project and how I was stuck at the moment and she offered, “Sometimes when you get to a point like that, you have to just stop and step back from it for a while. Think about something else and come back to it with a clear mind.”
I conceded, “Yeah. You might be right.”

I could just make out Cherry’s Mom yelling something to her when she relied yelling, “OK!” Her Mom said something else and Cherry said, “No thanks; I’m fine!”

Before I could ask what that was about, she informed me that her Mom was going to the store for groceries. Before I could finish the thought about going to see her while her Mom was gone, Cherry said, “Don’t even think about it: she won’t be gone long enough—unfortunately.”

Cherry was still sitting on the side of the tub and testing the temperature of the water. I was only able to see from her knees to the top of her mid-drift. She was wearing a pair of loose-fitting shorts that were cut from a pair of sweat pants and a t-shirt. Cherry made an adjustment to the hot water valve before pulling the t-shirt over her head. I could see the very bottom of her amazing tits and found myself tilting my phone in attempt to see more. She stood up and all I could see was the very bottom of her self-made shorts before she pushed them down to her feet, giving me a brief look at her breasts, before stepping out of the shorts. She stepped into the tub and sank down into the bubbles, finally coming face to face with me on the screen.

I watched as she quietly luxuriated in her bubble bath. There were enough bubbles to hide her breasts from view, but not her shoulders and upper chest. However, I was really just focused on her face; she wore no makeup and she was still stunning. The hair hastily piled on top of her head was just as sexy (perhaps because of the setting) than if she had spent an hour fixing it.

Cherry sang a sweet song; replacing the words with various sounds like ‘la’, ‘de’, ‘dum’, and etcetera. Her singing voice was like that of an angel and I was not surprised. She would periodically took over at me on her phone and give a mildly amused smile—probably due to the stupid look on my face.

I continued to watch as she reached for something out of frame. She leaned back and one leg rose above the bubbles—toes pointed. The item she had grabbed turned out to be a lady’s razor and she began gliding it along her silky skin. I had been with her just over 12 hours ago and they were like silk then; I guessed she shaved them regardless of need. She continued to sing while finishing her legs. Once she completed the task, she bent her knees up and leaned forward into them; wrapping her arms around her legs while we continued to talk.

We talked about anything that happened to come to mind. Neither of us was afraid to broach a subject; if we thought about it, we brought it up without hesitation or worry due to possible reactions. We discussed everything from when we might get to see each other again to where we saw our relationship going; from what we were going to do if she was pregnant to how many kids we thought we would want to have.

Cherry leaned forward again, but this time she flipped the lever to drain the water from her bubble bath.

I asked, “No more bubble bath?”
She answered with a smile, “You can’t have a bubble bath without bubbles. See? They are all gone.”

She picked up the phone and gave me a view from higher up; looking down at her in the tub. Just as she had said: there was nothing in the tub but clear water and an incredibly sexy, naked young lady.

Suddenly, Cherry gasped in faux shock and she used her free arm to try and cover her exposed body while saying, “How dare you look in upon me while I’m bathing!” She put on an over-exaggerated southern belle accent that seemed to come straight out of a western movie from the 1940’s.
Picking up on her joke, I adapted my own cowboy accent and said, “Terribly sorry Ma’am. I didn’t recon there was no one in here.”
She was still holding the phone in the same position when she said in the same voice, “Well look away you cad!”
I said, “I’m powerful sorry, Miss, but if you ain’t just the pertiest thing I ever did see—I…caint…look away!”

The last line had her laughing and she dropped character, securing me the ‘win’ for our little game. She stood up and reached for her towel to dry off. The phone was propped up again and I could see almost all of her bathroom. She dried off as casually as if no one was watching and hung the towel to dry. Once again she sat on her vanity stool, applied lotion to her legs, and I found myself wishing I was there to do it for her—still able to sense the fragrance of it. Besides, I was much more thorough when it came to massaging it into her skin! Cherry turned to face her mirror, let down her hair, and began brushing it out in long, slow strokes.

In a very nonchalant tone, Cherry asked me, “What were you doing a week ago at this time?”
I said, “One week ago at this time? Easy: I was with you at the mall.” I looked at the clock to get the exact time and said, “At this precise time, we had finished lunch and were still talking in the food court.”
Seeing an opportunity to challenge me, she asked, “What was I wearing?”
I said matter-of-fact, “Black yoga shorts and a tank top; that was easy.”
Her eyes narrowed and she asked, “Yeah, but what did I have for lunch?”
I said, “Oh, give me a break! How am I supposed to remember that you had a spinach salad topped with char grilled chicken and balsamic vinaigrette? Next you’ll expect me to remember that you like an orange wedge in your water instead of lemon!”
Cherry’s mouth hung open for a moment in surprise. “You, Mr. Mann, have impressed me! For your attention to detail, you shall be handsomely rewarded!”
“Really? What is my reward?” I asked.
“It’s a surprise so don’t ask!”
I said, “Can I ask WHEN I will get it?”
She teased, “No-you-can’t!”
I sighed in ‘disappointment’ and said, “Ok; fine…”

Cherry stood and only then did I remember that she was still as naked as the day she was born. She took me with her to her closet and turned the phone around to show me her clothes. She first opened a drawer that had all of her panties and even some lingerie. She was digging through the unfolded, unorganized collection of intimates while whispering ‘what to wear, what to wear?’ Something caught my eye.

“Oh, what was that—the red thing?”
She dug around and asked, “This?”
I said, “No, there was something else, go back!”
She dug around again and found the item, “This??”
“Yeah!”
“It’s a garter belt,” she answered.
I said, “Oh, that is HOT,” and she pulled it out of the drawer before grabbing the thigh-high stockings that matched them.
“Ok, now I need panties. Help me find panties.”

She was digging through the drawer when I barely caught sight of the perfect pair. “There! The little red pair!”
She questioned me holding the very sheer, G-string panties up, “THESE?!”
I said, “OH YEAH!”
She said, “I had these when I was like 12! They are too small!”
I said, “I’ll bet they still fit! They are perfect…”
Cherry said, “Well, there’s only one bra that will go with this…”

She pulled out the next drawer and retrieved a red bra that was almost as sheer as the panties before she began getting dressed. She faced away from me as she stepped into the tiny panties—they looked like they would be small for a Barbie doll.

As the string disappeared between the cheeks of her perfect ass and the side strings were pulled up over her hips, she leaned forward to look at the little patch over her crotch and said, “Oh, these are so naughty!”

She turned to the side, denying me a view from the front, to sit on her stool and she slowly slid her stockings on while trying to pay no attention to me watching her. With both stockings on, she stood again (still facing away from me) and she put her garter belt on; attaching the four elastic suspenders to the tops of her stockings. She was the sexiest woman I could imagine!

She put on her bra and asked, “Are you ready to see?”
I had to swallow hard before I could say, “Yeah; I’m ready!”

Cherry turned slowly, struck a model’s pose, and I nearly came in my pants. Fortunately I had the presence of mind to take a screen capture! And, a part of me wished I would go blind at that very moment so that would be the image forever burned into my brain! The red lingerie complemented her hair perfectly and her green eyes seemed to grow in intensity. But I would be lying if I didn’t admit that her panties were drawing my attention like a hypnotist’s pocket watch. The tiny patch did almost nothing to cover her. Not one part of the fabric was opaque, leaving all of her parts clearly visible. As they passed her clitoris, they pressed immediately between her vaginal lips and vanished; giving her a major ‘camel toe’. Cherry tried to pull them up a little to try and get them to cover more of what little pubic hair she kept, but they weren’t moving very much.

It pained me to say it, but I didn’t want her to be uncomfortable, so I said, “Those panties are really hot on you, but they look like they don’t feel very good. How about a different pair?”
Cherry said, “Actually, they are quite comfy! The fabric is really soft and they feel so naughty; I can feel every move I make. They feel better now than they did years ago!”
“Really?” I asked amazed.
She just nodded and said, “I’m going to wear these all day; these are my panties for the day!”

Cherry went back to her closet to pick out what else she would wear for the day and she decided that she would put on a basic pair of jeans and an over-sized sweat shirt (with no additional t-shirt) over the selected underwear. A pair of socks would keep her Mom from noticing that she had stockings on her feet. When she was done getting dressed, it was impossible to see the sexy lingerie she wore underneath the average outfit.

Just then, Cherry’s Mom returned from grocery shopping and she had to go and help bring the bags inside. We each said, ‘I love you’, and ended the FaceTime call. She would tell me later about her Mom’s reaction to her outfit for the day.

Her Mom took one look at her and asked, “To what do we owe this to?”
Not understanding, Cherry asked, “What?”
Her Mom said, “The way you’re dressed?”
Cherry looked at herself and asked, “What’s wrong with this?”
Her Mom answered, “Nothing. It’s just for once you aren’t wearing anything that is skin-tight, too revealing, or slutty. I was just wondering why.”
Cherry said, “I’m grounded: it’s not like I’m going anywhere or any of my friends are going to see me… HEY! I’m not a slut!”
“I didn’t say you were. Just some of the things you like to wear—sometimes—are a little slutty.”
Cherry said, “I just felt like being comfy today. That’s all.”

Her Mom accepted the explanation, completely oblivious to what Cherry wore underneath.

Meanwhile, I had gone back to my project of finding a solution to the dangerous intersection. The transition of getting back to work was a gradual one; I was having a difficult time putting the conversations, bubble bath and fashion shows behind me. But I told myself that any guy with a pulse would be having the same problem.

Looking over the multiple pictures and notes I’d made about my observations, I thought back to what Cherry said when I told her of the dead-end I was running into. She said that you just had to ‘stop and step back from it’ sometimes. Her words (especially the ‘step back’ part) echoed in my head and I had a sudden thought: the problem wasn’t AT the intersection; it was the stretch of interstate that seamlessly transitioned into local roads with nothing more than road signs to warn about the transition. That meant the REAL problem was at least ¾ of a mile before the intersection. I thought if there was a way to make sure that ALL drivers were completely aware of what lay ahead, the problem would be solved. I asked myself, ‘how do you get someone to know that there is a stop on what appears to be an interstate? Almost as soon as I asked the question, I had the answer. It was so unbelievably stupid and simple that I had difficulty in believing it might work. The solution in simplest terms was a toll booth. The lanes could be divided with guard rails and heavy plastic poles leading up to the rails: an unaware driver would notice hitting the poles and the only thing to be hurt is a front bumper and maybe a headlight.