Jen's Legacy.

They took all day to walk into Culver.

Long before they got to the outskirts where anyone could see them, though they could see the occasional dog-walkers in the distance, they moved off the track and she pulled on her shorts, pulling her gut in to fasten them, wearing them for the very first time in the last few days; finding them aggravatingly uncomfortable and tight upon her.

He buttoned up her shirt for her, discovering several buttons missing, leaning in to kiss her breasts before they were hidden away.

He would resist putting his coat over her to hide her clothing deficiencies just yet, and buttoning that, leaving it until they had to. The day was too warm for that, but once the sun went down she would be thankful for it.

They booked into a small motel at the very edge of town. It was one of those motels that did as much business during the day as it did at night-- one of those 'no tell, motels'-- but it was clean, and there were no questions asked of those who paid cash, as most of those who stayed there for just a few day-time hours, did; the ‘nooners’.

There were ten rooms on each of the two levels, with only five of them occupied when they arrived, close to dusk. Claire waited back, as he booked in for them both. ‘Mr. and Mrs. Healey’. She heard the clerk say their names.

Not their real names of course; no one ever signed in with those, but they were old enough to know what they were doing. The young woman had a cap pulled over her hair, and stayed back out of the light. He'd seen it all before. At least she didn't look under-age, not with tits like that. Though that could be misleading.

Royce asked about nearby restaurants.

The clerk pointed. “The strip mall just across the road. That’s popular, and they deliver, or take out.” He put a business card on the desk. “There’s, a small grocery that makes good sandwiches, and a drug store.”

Royce thanked him and picked up the key. Number ten, the farthest room on the ground floor.

Room-service was even then being directed to clean out rooms five, seven and eight for later arrivals.

It would be nice to sleep in a soft bed for once and get a proper bath.

Royce let them in, turned on all of the lights, drew the curtains, and then turned to find her arms going around him without her saying a word.

He got rid of his pack and they kissed, and undressed each other as they slowly migrated to the bed farthest from the door, leaving a trail of clothes, turning it down, and they wasted no time getting grid of boots and sneakers, and making love for only the second time that day, then lying exhausted beside each other, recovering their breath, smiling in relief, and the long-overdue, cathartic release.

The cleanup staff would be used to such stains on the worn sheets in this place, and there would be a lot more of them before they left in the morning.

He rolled and kissed her breasts, smoothing his hand down her belly, pausing for a few moments, saying nothing. He would always want to touch and explore, but they had all evening for that.

“We should dress, or I should, and go and buy a few needed things; food; see what they have other there, and then when I come back we can shower, wash our clothes out, bathe; whatever we want to do.”

She would not let him leave her behind, so they dressed each other, taking their time about it, and walked to the mall across the road together, with her arm in his, and then holding hands as they investigated the mall.

There was a Chinese take-out, as well as a Pizza place; and the drug store, as the clerk had described.

They spoke for some take-out, paid for it, and then explained that they would be back to pick it up, after they’d been in the drug store.

He bought those toiletries that Claire needed, with her having lost everything on that raft; a hair brush, toothbrush and tooth paste. She wouldn’t need anything else. She’d be home tomorrow.

There was nowhere she could buy underwear; panties or a bra, though she didn’t care. Nothing about her was too obvious, and there was nowhere to buy sneakers, with her own being on their last legs. She’d survive.

Their appearance, wherever they went, raised a few eyebrows, but it was obvious they’d been walking the canyon.

She blushed and felt uncomfortable. “They are staring at me Royce, but I know I can’t be recognized. At least I hope not. I doubt my own mother would recognize me the way I look, with my hair the way it is, and in these clothes, and with this sunburned, windswept look.”

He smiled at her and kissed her. “Of course they are staring. The women are envying you, and the men are envying me that I have the most beautiful woman in the world looking at me as you are looking at me and hanging on to me… and please keep doing it. They are staring because we are obviously in love and you are holding on to me so very tightly and looking at me in an unmistakable way with what I think are referred to as ‘bedroom eyes’.” She was not about to let him go.

There was never any question about them not being together. or sharing the same room after they had shared the same sleeping bag for the last five nights, making love as often as they had, and each knowing exactly—most of the time—what the other was feeling and thinking.

Once they were alone again in their room and had eaten as much as they needed, leaving some for later, they showered together, still in their clothing; washing them out as they wore them, before getting rid of everything one piece at a time, rinsing them out, squeezing them out as much as Royce could, then tossing them into the nearby sinks.

For the first time in almost a week, Claire could shampoo her hair and get the tangles out of it. They washed each other’s hair.

As he did that for her, he set her breasts dancing, wanting to hold them still, but resisting that urge until he could no longer help himself. It was the same when he rinsed it out.

Their clothes would dry out on a line over the bath, or over the air conditioner in their room. They’d be dry by morning. They made no plans for tomorrow. Tomorrow would come too fast as far as they were concerned.

He put the plug in the bath to fill with hot water now that they’d rinsed all of the sand out of their clothes; from their bodies and down the drain, and they bathed leisurely together in a hot bath, lying out together and talking, as everything around them steamed up.

Fortunately, there was no one in the room at the side of them to hear their laughter as they took their time washing each other again. She became more ticklish and sensitive as they moved together, anticipating the inevitable next stage, considering how aroused he constantly was for her now.

They made a last detailed inspection of each other for ticks and other biting and burrowing insects (or so he suggested), even though they knew there weren’t likely to be any, but it was fun to be able to relax in that way and to be sure, and to investigate and to touch so personally in such a private setting.

As a final step, he got her to lay back in the bath, raising her legs over his shoulders for him to groom the little hair left on her down there, on either side of her vulva that he’d not been able to take off easily that third morning in the gully. He’d been rushed at that time with the weather being relatively cold. He could take his time now, and would.

He leaned in often, to kiss her there, and to check with his lips and tongue for what he was missing, knowing he was missing nothing, setting her squirming and gasping again.

This was all new for her, being so personally attended to, and in a way she’d never known before.

She lay back, happy to let him do whatever he wanted with her, knowing that the moment when he could stand the suspense no longer and would make love to her again was fast approaching. There was only ever one way this could end for them.

Until then, she insisted on returning the favor, doing the same for him, taking all of that hair off him too, as she carefully moved that rampant barometer of his mood around; first to one side then the other as she swiped at him down his shaft with the razor, sweeping the hair out of the blade, as he had done, by wiping the blade in reverse on the palm of her other hand.

As she dropped each clump of hair into the water, she scooped it out with her fingers and dropped it into the trash can. There was a lot of it, but he didn’t complain about losing it. Then she went over his belly and his balls the same way; a much more delicate and difficult operation; learning about them too.

They were walking a tightrope, with him becoming more and more excited, and her knowing that soon she would have to stop and cater to the beast’s needs once more, wondering what it would feel like, making love in the warm water of the bath, before they showered the last of the soap off them, dried each other and then retired to make love again and again.

He almost took her by surprise, able to hold back no longer, pulling her down to him, rolling with her, slowly going into her again, and soon coming.

He warned her about not staying in the water after that as he lifted the plug, letting her know that sperm in the bath always wanted to stick to everything; skin, hair; everything!

She wasted no time getting out with him.

She’d phone her grandmother in the morning. She wanted this last night, to be alone with Royce. Their privacy would be gone once they left here.

This was fun. Learning so many strange and wonderful things that they’d never taught her at school as part of the usual curriculum.

She would phone her gran in the morning, and she and Royce would be going everywhere, and doing everything together from now on. She was still afraid of having this entire, wonderful dream brought to an end before it had properly begun, with so many uncertainties and unknowns.

They had only known each other for—she counted off the days in her head again; almost six full days. Six lifetimes the way each day had been different and more eventful, surprising, and wonderful than the ones before; and they’d been in love for five of those days; correction, for all six, and making love 'properly', for only three of them. So much time wasted, though it had not been wasted.

She sat naked with him on the bed, between his legs, her back to him, as he vigorously dried her short hair, setting her breasts dancing for him again, as he could see in the now-clear mirror, driving him crazy, and then brushed all of the neglect out of it as he leaned in to kiss her and touch her as she expected of him.

For the first time in days she felt clean, as well as well-loved.

They were tired after that longer walk, and having eaten well, as well as after that hot bath, should now get some rest. In theory.

There were two beds in that room, but there was never any thought of them sleeping apart, so she pushed him back, climbed in with him to straddle over him, reaching out to turn off the lights as he mouthed at her breasts, starting her laughing again, and squirming to playfully avoid him, then giving in.

She could feel that he wanted into her again. Already?

But of course he did.

They could make love again if that was the mood he was in, and then they could talk and play for another hour or two; caress each other, investigate, touch, before they needed to think of sleep. Or they could make love again. The latter. Sleep would be impossible after any more excitement like that.

The sheets would have taken a hell of a beating by morning!