I sat in a flimsy plastic chair out back in my house’s sandy yard. I watched as Lazarus slowly chugged around the large enclosure, sniffing, doing his business. We were so nervous about his poisoning we wouldn’t let him go out to pee alone. I’d barely known him before he got sick, and he was an older dog age eight, so I didn’t know if his slow plodding was normal for him. He was a very sweet and gentle dog and Levon loved him with a passion. Any man who loved a dog that much couldn’t be all bad.
And I was his old lady. The thought made me smile as I sat in the chair. The spires and cliffs of Zion to the east blocked out the sunrise, and the dramatic crimson and amethyst clouds were lit from below. I was in nature’s chapel, not the Assassins of Youth’s chapel, and I was a fucking old lady.
It had all been such a whirlwind. Deciding to move here, taking the position with Dr. Lee—shacking up with two other men. Was I out of my ever-loving gourd to say “yes” to being an old lady? I knew from Mahalia this would involve a lot of cooking at various get-togethers. I also had the feeling it involved turning a blind eye to the mens’ dalliances with the lambs, the pass-arounds. Mahalia wouldn’t tolerate that and neither would I. I’d have to get that straight with Levon.
Not only was I shacking up with a biker, it appeared I was involved in some form of mild BDSM with him. Now there was a kink I’d never experienced. My lovers had all been totally unimaginative, in retrospect. The idea of acting out some fresh “scenes” with Levon had my very cells aroused at a primal level. This was all new and unknown to me. It might not work out, but it would be a fun ride. The Nurse and the Biker. I shook my head in disbelief.
I knew for sure I was massively attracted on a physical level to Levon. And little by little, he’d gotten under my skin. Knowing Levon and Deloy better now, I didn’t view their Liberty Temple as a den of iniquity. I now saw that Levon had built what he could with the tools at his disposal, and those men were so much better off for it. Levon had given over the running of the house to his second in command, now committing himself to this town that so far had just kicked him in the ass.
It certainly was mysterious that both Shumway and Pratt had fallen ill at the crab feed. I smiled every time I thought of it. The men didn’t discuss club business in front of women, but I had the distinct impression that Shumway had fallen prey to Antabuse, a popular medication to make alcohol distasteful to alcoholics trying to get off the stuff. As for Pratt, it sounded like simple food poisoning. Ever since, Levon kept checking the kitchen laptop for YouTube videos. He acted evasive when I asked what he was looking for. Had there been a video camera in the men’s bathroom at the Elks Lodge? He left his key words in the search box, and I saw he’d typed “Deloy Pingree.” Strange.
Right now, everyone was serene, and I clapped my hands and called for Lazarus. He came obediently, and we trudged up the back stairs to the kitchen. I gave him a biscuit to lead him to his comfy bed. He had the best view in the house right by the bay windows. I cuddled and kissed his giant skull—who could resist?—and I padded quietly into Levon’s bedroom on my ridiculously high four-inch heels. I would never wear shoes like that in a genuine work environment. Today, they fit my image.
Unsnapping the top couple snaps of my uniform, I looked down on the sleeping man. So unbelievably handsome all sprawled out there like that, nude. He slept on his front like an angel, his face on his hand, all worries of the world erased from his mind. He’d been out late doing another Cornucopia run, his bike pulling into the driveway around midnight. I didn’t know what he did inside those walls and I didn’t want to know.
Sitting down next to him, I bowled him toward me. I ran my palm all over those satiny shoulder muscles. He was tan from swimming in his Bountiful pool, but as I ran my hand down the exquisite slope of his back, I saw from the luminous rise of his juicy ass that he had not gone skinny dipping. I lingered on the juicy globe, rousing him to whimper and squirm a little on the sheets.
“Nurse Oaklyn is here,” I said in my best bedside tone.
His eyes popped open. He’d never seen me in any official attire before. “Nurse Oaklyn?” he mumbled. He parted his thighs, allowing me to slip a couple fingers into his crack and tickle his balls, pressed up bulging against his body by the mattress. His eyelids fluttered and he unfurled his spine like one giant tsunami wave. It was something to witness, the rolling and porpoising of his spine, unwinding like a fat boa constrictor.
At the end of the luxurious stretch, he pressed his cock into the mattress and gave it a big hump, pleasuring himself. An idea struck me.
“Yes. Nurse Oaklyn is here to take your temperature.”
Again, his eyes popped open. But he didn’t stop his sensual gyrations. Already the tip of his cock bulged out from under his hip, and I gave it a few tickles that had him gasping. “Temperature?” was all he said.