Ken Douglas - Ragged Man

“ Hi,” he said, “I’m a little early.”

“ That’s okay, I was ready.”

“ I didn’t see any sense pacing the motel room waiting, so I grabbed the bull by the horns and here I am.”

“ I’m glad you did. I was a little anxious myself.”

“ Anxious? I wasn’t anxious, I was sweating. I haven’t been on a date since my wife died fifteen years ago.”

“ Really, Sam? It’s been eighteen months for me. Eighteen months since my divorce, but you can’t expect me to believe that you haven’t been with a woman in fifteen years.”

“ I didn’t say I hadn’t been with a woman. I said I hadn’t been on a date.”

“ You have been with a woman then?”

“ Well sure, a woman here and there that I might have met in a bar, but when you wake up next to someone you don’t know, who couldn’t care less if you were alive or dead, it hardly qualifies as a date.”

“ And when was the last time you met a woman in a bar, here or there?” Judy laughed. She was beginning to like Sam Storm. His honesty was refreshing.

“ So long ago I can’t remember.” He laughed back.

He drove straight to the Tampico Diner, taking the alley shortcut off Kennedy, like he’d lived all his life in Tampico.

“ How did you know about the short cut?”

“ Whenever I come to a new town I make a habit of getting the lay of the land. I like to know my way around.”

He parallel parked in front of the diner and jumped out of the car. He had her door open before she started to reach for the handle. A very interesting contradiction, she thought. He honks me out of the house, but he springs out to open the door. Mr. Storm was consistently inconsistent.

They spent the next three hours eating, drinking and talking about everything under the sun. He told her about his hopes and dreams, his successes and failures, his beliefs and fears, but he also listened. It was a two way conversation.

“ This has been one of the nicest evenings I’ve had in a long time,” she told him as they were getting ready to go.

“ I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself.”

“ I don’t eat out often, in fact, I don’t eat out at all. This was a real treat for me.”

“ I still think we should have brought your son,” he said.

“ I tried, but he didn’t want to come.” Judy was impressed with this man. Not many men would want a seven-year-old boy along on a dinner date.

“ Why not?”

“ He’s staying at a friend’s in town. It had been planned for a long time.” She wondered why she’d told him that. Was she unconsciously trying to tell him that nobody was home at her house.

“ Would you like another drink before we leave?”

“ I don’t think so. I’m ready if you are.”

“ I’m ready.” He signaled the waiter and paid the bill with a credit card. Then he got up from the table, came around to her chair and eased it back as she rose.

“ Very gallant,” she said.

“ Your arm, my lady,” he said, offering his. She took it and they made their way out of the diner to the parking lot and his brown Ford Granada.

“ You know, from our conversation on the boat, I would have pictured you in a flashy sports car,” she said as he unlocked the passenger door for her.

“ Why is that?” He seemed amused.

“ You seem so independent, in control, a sports car kind of guy.”

“ Well, I guess I like all this pig iron around me. No question if I get in an accident with one of those little Jap cars who the winner is going to be.”

For a second she felt a twinge. Was that a racist statement? She hoped not, he was such a caring man, she couldn’t imagine that it was.

As if answering her thoughts he said, “I hope I didn’t sound like I have a problem with the Japanese, I don’t. I just don’t like tiny, tinny cars. I spent a good deal of my Army time in Germany in a tank and I guess it rubbed off. I feel safer in a big heavy clunker.”

“ I can understand that,” she said, getting into the car. She leaned back into the worn Naugahyde and closed her eyes. She couldn’t remember when she’d felt so good.

“ We’re here,” he said.

“ What?” she opened her eyes.

“ You fell asleep.”

“ I’m sorry.”

“ Don’t be. You don’t snore.”

“ Would you like to come in for a drink?”

“ I was hoping you’d ask.” He seemed tense to her.

“ What are you thinking about?” she asked.

“ Happier times,” Sam Storm said.

“ And times aren’t happy now?”

“ They’re getting there.” He smiled, getting out of the car. He walked around to her side and opened the passenger door.

“ I don’t think I’ve ever known a man that’s done that for me,” she said.

“ A lady pretty as you should never have to open her own doors.”

“ Why thank you,” Judy said, leading him up the walk to the front door. She fumbled with her keys at the porch as he stood by and watched. “Got it.” She opened the door.

Once inside he reached for her shoulder, spun her around and covered her lips with his. She tried to protest, but he hugged her to him and it was all she could do to breathe. She reached her hand up to his shoulders and was starting to push away, when she felt his hand cup her buttocks and pull her in to him. She gasped when she felt his hardness.

He broke away from the kiss and lowered his mouth to her ear, “Will you obey me?”

Judy knew that she was at a crossroads. Something from down deep told her to say yes, or else, and besides she told that inner voice, a part of her wanted to submit to this man.

“ What do you want?” she asked.

“ Music, something slow.” He opened his arms to let her go to the stereo.

She toyed with the idea of running, the situation was getting out of control, but realistically, she asked herself, how far could she get. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad, and still there was that part of her that wanted to submit, to abandon her problems and worries and wallow in a night of sexual pleasure.

She went through her CDs and decided on Saxuality by Candy Dulfer, a soft, soothing saxophone piece.

“ I like that,” he said.

“ So do I.”

“ Dance.”

“ With you?”

“ No, with the music.” He crossed over to an easy chair and sat down. “I want to watch you.”

She looked into his eyes and saw a touch of evil and started to dance. Whatever this man wanted, she decided, she would do.

She closed her eyes and started to sway with the music, moving her hips with the rhythm. Humming along with the saxophone, she tried to imagine that she was dancing for Rick Gordon, surprised that his image planted itself in her mind. She smiled coyly, kicked off her shoes and began moving with the music.

She was getting into it when he said, “Take off your dress.”

Without opening her eyes or breaking her rhythm, she reached and grabbed her dress below the waist and lifted it over her head. She continued to dance, clad only in her bra and panties. She knew he could see her nipples and pubic hair through the thin fabric and she was both thrilled and terrified.

She reached behind her head, swaying with the music, and took out her ponytail. She swung her head back and forth, fanning her hair and waiting for his next command. She felt goosebumps on her skin and a tingling sensation running up and down her spine. She was dancing on the edge, sliding on a razor with no end in sight, more alive than she could remember.

Now she knew what freefall felt like, the stark terror of wondering if the chute would open or if she would Roman candle into the earth. She had no idea where this night would lead or how it would end, but she knew she would remember it always.