Willing

Fbailey story number 375


Willing


I rented the old farmhouse for the summer so that I could become a hermit for three months and write my book.

It was perfect. It was out in the middle of nowhere and miles from anyone. The nearest neighbor was at least three miles away. There was electricity, running water, and even a flush toilet. Other than that the place was pretty sparse. There was a fireplace and plenty of wood stacked out back. The best part was no television, no telephone, and no Internet to distract me.

I plugged in my computer and started my latest romance novel. My hero was a cowboy set in the late eighteen hundreds, working his farm, and taking care of the ladies on the next farm. In my story there were three women living alone without a man. There was the mother and her two teenage daughters. They were starved for sexual attention and kept coming to my hero for sex, lots of sex, and all kinds of sex. He could do just about anything to any of them at any time of the day or night. He never had to go to them because they were always coming to him.

In the first few days I had a pretty good start on my story and I was happy. That evening before it got dark I decided to build a fire in the fireplace and relax with a bottle of wine.

An hour later a pickup truck came flying up the road with a big cloud of dust behind it. It came to a stop and three women got out of it and rushed to my door. They opened it and rushed in without even knocking. They didn’t know that I was there and were concerned about the place burning down. My car was in the barn so they never saw it.

Anyway after a brief discussion we introduced ourselves. Bobbie Jo was the thirty-four-year-old mother, Penelope was her sixteen-year-old daughter, and Marguerite was her fifteen-year-old daughter. I told them that I was thirty-six, single, and a writer. Bobbie Jo had actually read one of my book, in paperback, but at least she had read one.

I offered her a glass of wine and she asked if she could read my latest story. I didn’t normally let anyone read my stories until I was happy with them and they were published, however Bobbie Jo was something special…and she reminded me of the woman in my story with the two daughters.

She read a couple of pages and told me to give her daughters some wine too. Then she sent us all outside to talk while she read my story.

Penelope and Marguerite were wearing tight blue jeans and button shirts. They talked about boys constantly but not in a childish way. They were quite mature for their ages and interested in finding a really nice man and settling down like their mother had. Then they told me about their father dying several years ago in an accident.

About an hour later Bobbie Jo came out with another bottle of my wine. The bottle was half-empty. She filled our glasses and we drank them dry. A few minutes later she sent the girls into the house for another bottle of wine saying that she was heading into town in the morning and that she would pick up some more wine for me.

Just as soon as the girls were out of sight Bobbie Jo pulled her T-shirt up over her head to reveal a perfectly rounded and tanned set of breasts. She stood there topless and said, “I haven’t had sex in quite awhile, you can have me any time you want, and my daughters too.” It was a line from my book that she was reciting. Then she put her T-shirt back on before her girls returned. We finished that bottle of wine too and we were all feeling pretty good. It was getting late when Bobbie Jo said, “I can spend the night if you like, my girls can find their own way home.” Again it was a line from my story. I was tempted to say yes but like my character in the story I said no the first time that she asked me. I got a kiss on the cheek as she pressed her breasts into my chest…just like her character did in the story. Then they left.

That night I lay in bed thinking about the possibilities for my story and those same possibilities in real life. Did my story imitate life or was life imitating my story. I fell asleep dreaming of the possibilities.

In the morning I jumped out of bed and started typing into my computer with a new zeal.