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**Do You Still Hold Me In Your Heart?** by juanwildone

It was another one of those damn fucking hot days. I packed my tools away and slid behind the wheel of my pick-up. I can't say I was looking forward to the three hour drive hour, but I was definitely looking forward to depositing the check in my pocket.

East Texas is just too damn hot. Fortunately, I saw a roadhouse up ahead and pulled into the nearly empty parking lot. That suited me just fine as I was not looking to be sociable, as long as the beer was cold, the A/C worked, and I could get something digestible- I was fine. I eased myself onto the barstool and ordered a cold one. I nodded when the bartender asked if I wanted to watch the game. I was in mid-sip when the TV came on. Damn thing was set for the County Music Video Channel; the announcer introduced the new number one video - I should have known. The opening chorus wrenched my eyes to the screen and I watched as the singers face, showing the lines and cares of a life on the road slowly dissolved into a flash back scene of twenty years ago - I groaned.

The bartender mistook my discomfort for disapproval. He shook his head and opined that the singer was one of the hottest women in music; and how he "sure as hell" wouldn't kick her out of his bed. I told him he didn't know what the hell he was talking about. He said he knew what he liked and he liked "too fucking bad for you" Jolene.

God, I loved fucking Jolene in the morning. The sun streaming in would set her hair on fire -a golden glow surrounding auburn tresses. Her hair would be flat here, full there, a riot of individuality...you knew Jolene by her hair; wild, free, exciting - take your breath away sexy, pulled back intense... prowling. (She pulled it back into a tight bun once, like a librarian...that memory alone makes me tremble.)

The palest green eyes - scary, with flames dancing through them when her blood was up. Intoxicatingly alluring when her lust was on - God she could get me to do any damn thing she wanted. Anything, damn that woman.

I liked her eyes best in the morning when they were heavy lidded and soft...when she was soft...and warm...and yielding. She was drier in the morning, hotter too - internally I mean. At night she'd get real wet and wild, fucking Jolene after the sun went down seemed to be as much a contest, or a battle, as a coupling. At night she was demanding, insistent - she knew what she wanted (hell she knew what I wanted too) and she got it...more often then not.

But damn, in the morning, pretty much any morning...man, for me that was the best. Sometimes she'd just throw a leg over me all casual-like, reach down between her legs take hold of old Howard (Ok, let me explain - I met Jolene at a bar across the street from a Howard Johnson's. I was pretty drunk at the time and kept slurring her name from Jay -lynne to Joel - ine, finally she said "Jo like Ho Jo, ya know, across the street." I told her I did know and escorted right across the street to the front desk, and got us a room. We just about broke the bed by check-out the next day. So she named my johnson "Howard", sometimes "Howie" when she was all friskie and everything, and once, when I drank way too much, just "How" as in "How is that supposed to help me?" And believe you me, I never got that drunk again.) After taking hold of old Howard she promptly slid down upon him.

I was foolish enough, our first-time together, to think that it was just a one-night stand. I had a piss filled hard on the next morning and she used it with relish to get herself off twice. I can't come like that in the morning (gotta pee first), which didn't seem to concern her one bit. She just laughed and said that every time I took a piss that day I'd be smelling her. Then she kind of laser-beamed me with those eyes of hers and said that if I were to drop by her place after work and her smell was still on me, she'd be inclined to freshen it up - as long as it was always her smell. Which was how this old tomcat became famously monogamous for the first time in his life - damn that woman.

Sometimes though, in the morning, I'd get my wake-up piss taken care of and then slide back into bed beside her. I'd either spoon her or take her from the rear. This was fraught with a certain amount of danger in that, old Howard tended to rub a spot in Jolene that turned her on

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