"Pass The Pie, Please." (fm:first time, 1566 words)

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"That damn car!"

This was the third time during the weekend it had broken down. There was no way I could trust it to get me out to the office picnic. I couldn't trust it to get me downtown, let alone all the way out to Jim and Arlene's ranch and back; it was nearly eighteen miles one way.

It might've been just the excuse I'd needed to get out of going. These "group activities" intended to "foster camaraderie and team spirit" always left me cold. Having to spend time with people--some of whom I'd rather not see for one extra minute outside work and pretend there's nothing I'd rather be doing--was a misery.

No, the awkwardness of the explanation to the hosts, the hundreds of questions at work tomorrow from everyone, and the ad nauseam repetitions of "all the fun I'd missed: would have been almost as bad as having to attend the thing in the first place. I decided that I might as well go.

Who could I call for a ride? Randall was the only one at my end of town but I hardly knew him. Well, it was worth a try...

"Hello, Randall? This is Beverly from work. Yeah, I'm fine. Yeah, I'm going, that's what I'm calling about. My car isn't running right and I wonder if I could catch a ride with you? That would be great. I'm at 614 W. Mac Arthur, do you know where that is? Great, okay, I'll see you then."

With that out of the way and Randall coming for me in an hour, I had to figure out what I had left to do...just put the meringue on the pie and bake, shower, and dress. And since I wanted to wear those white shorts I had better shave my legs.

The pie was still pretty warm when Randall arrived. I decided to take it as it was, putting it on a plate, and hoping that Randall wasn't the sort of man who drove with his dick.

Getting into the car and settling back into the seat-the pie balanced carefully on my lap--I began to relax. Randall had good taste in music and as I listened to John Coltrane and Johnny Hartmann do "You Are Too Beautiful..." I began to loosen up in spite of myself. I found myself letting go of the tension and irritation from earlier in the day as we left the last remnants of the city behind and the landscape took on a pastoral flavor. Randall left me to my own thoughts which I appreciated. Maybe there was more to this guy than I had guessed.

Turning onto the country road, the quality of the pavement deteriorated. "You'd better hold onto that pie. It looks pretty good and I'd hate to miss trying some of it. Lemon meringue is my favorite." I smiled at his flattery. I was pretty vain about my abilities in the kitchen...and in other rooms as well.

I had just begun to explore this last idea when I was shaken from my reverie by the shriek of brakes and gravel and by my body's sudden change of direction, jerking in surprise. I just caught sight of the deer disappearing into the trees, not ten feet from the car. at the same time, I became aware of a slippery warmth sliding slowly down the inside of my top and the insides of my thighs.

The pi. It was all over me, a sea of yellow lemons curds, cloudlike white tufts of meringue and islets. of golden crust; I was awash in a sticky seascape. I couldn't speak. I was stunned and still trying to comprehend this abrupt turn of events.

Randall knew better than to laugh.

"What a shame. Do you mind if I have my piece now?" He reached over and with two fingers scooped up some of the wreckage. Putting it in his mouth he sighed. "This is, or was, a great pie. It would be a pity to waste it."

I watched, amazed, as he took off his seatbelt and brought his face close to the gooey mess I was wearing. Very slowly and with apparent

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SheMonster writes Fri 5 Apr 2024 17:35:

Thank you, James. I really appreciate the feedback.

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James writes Sun 31 Mar 2024 00:12:

Lovely story. Really enjoyed this one

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