The Seduction of Harold O'Shea |
The Seduction of Harold O'Shea ©1999 UrsusTeddy@aol.com.
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| Harry was the ugliest white man I'd ever seen. He had bandy legs and a
belly and wispy red hair fleeing the top of his head. But that much I didn't much mind as the nasty reddened skin on his on his arm and on his neck. It made me think of bad nights in Georgia. Hard for me to get past that. Other than that I didn't pay him much mind, just another middle aged white guy moving into the building--a middle aged guy with a big old truck that was half the time blocking traffic out front. I guess it was a truck, but that word is inadequate: the front half of a tractor trailer, (Thank God he never brought the trailer home with him too!) But tractor didn't seem right either for this thing--big and purple and aerodynamic like with a some kind of fairing on top and a cute little bulldog on the hood standing up like a little white pecker. My ex, when he came over to pick up Jimmy for the weekend, said that truckers call them 'rigs' and were real proud of them. He, my ex that is, thought Harry's rig was something special too--couldn't keep his eyes off it. Neither could little Jimmy; he was always climbing on it and I was always yelling for him to get down. But this Harry guy was real good about it. When he caught Jimmy climbing on his rig, he didn't yell, he just opened the door and let my little boy climb into the cab and look around. Jimmy was in heaven! I smiled to look at him with his big eyes as he tried to horse that humongous steering wheel around. And when Harry reached up and hit the horn! Jimmy's been running around yelling "Awooogah!" ever since. That's when I started to give him a second look. Men who are nice to children are too rare in the world no matter their skin. No, I'm lying. It wasn't exactly then when I first started getting interested in Harry. It was one day late at night and hot. The air conditioning was going whacka whacka and not doing such a good job and I was laying awake. I heard Harry's truck pull up outside--the whole neighborhood had to hear him pull up outside with that shuddering rumble of those two big smokestacks of his rig--and shut down. What followed was the loudest silence I ever heard in my life. Then the door of the rig slammed and the front door. Then I heard his boots on the stairs and I could even hear them hit the floor when he took them off. I think I even heard his big belt buckle hit the linoleum too. Then the shower started up and Harry started singing. Oh my. Who's that Italian guy? The one who sings opera? Harry was that good and that powerful. But he didn't sing in Italian. He sang popular songs and some others I never heard of. The one he sang that first night was something else. Something about a Danny Boy going away. I think I'd heard it before, but I don't remember, and never heard it like this... It's a good thing Jimmy was sound asleep--he sleeps in my room when it's hot, the a/c being as pisspoor as it is and not pushing the cold air much past the door to the hall--or he would have seen his mommy do a very naughty thing as she lay there in her night dress on top of the covers. So the next day my landlady, Mrs. Kennedy, came over for the rent and we talked. I didn't have to bring him up, she did it herself. She went on all about how nice a fella he was and how he'd used to be rich and owned a bunch of trucks but let his wife take the whole shebang of his business so he could get visiting rights. "And aren't his children just the cutest things?" she said to me. "Twins you know. And so polite. Did you see Harold introduce them to your Jimmy? It was so cute! They shook hands...." I did remember seeing Harry with a boy and a girl. Two little redheads with freckles. It was a sure thing they loved their daddy the way they hugged him when that nasty looking bitch came to pick them up. I could see she hated him for those hugs. "And isn't it just such a shame the way things go for some folks..." Mrs. Kennedy said and patted my hand across the kitchen table. "We all have our crosses to carry, don't we dear. Now my poor dear Albert, God rest his soul..." She went on about her dead husband and I listened for a while. When you got a nice landlady who lets you slip on the rent sometimes, you let them talk. But even if she wasn't my landlady, she was a sweet old lady and it was nice to have someone over to talk. Anyone. "Would you like some more coffee?" I asked. "Oh no dear, one more cup and I'd have to pee." She struggled her large bulk out of the chair and waddled to the door. "Anyhow, I must be off to get the rest of my rent." "Come back again and talk, anytime," I said but she was already out the door. I cleaned up the coffee things and tried to forget about Harry. But I kept listening for that shower to start up every night. Or whenever. Harry worked some pretty strange hours. You might forget Harry but suddenly that shower would start up and then the singing. You can't forget his singing. So Saturday rolled around and my ex came over early to pick up Jimmy. I fed them both breakfast so Jimmy could feel like he had both a mommy and a daddy for a little while. Then they were out the door with Jimmy making awoogahs and telling his dad all about being inside Harry's truck. I went and took my shower and came out. I didn't hear the shower start up but I did start to hear Harry singing. This morning he was losing his religion or some such but the words and his voice were so beautiful.... What the hell, I was naked and in the shower and Jimmy wasn't gonna come barging in just to hear me yell. Soon I was quaking from the feel of my own fingers moving in time to a capella lyrics of the ugliest white man I had ever seen. Coming felt so good after such a long time but not good enough. Harry was still singing when I turned the shower off and climbed out of my big claw footed tub. Now he was singing something about philosophy and slippery rocks--he knows the weirdest songs. Funny, his shower wasn't running. His voice was coming from out front. I padded through the kitchen and the living room, feeling guilty and naught y at being naked in my own house, and peeked out the blinds of my front window. Harry was washing his truck. He was wearing cutoffs and one of those old fashioned undershirts without the sleeves. Nice. I watched the muscles in his bandy legs and his but as he dipped what looked like the foam from a seat cushion into a bucket of soapy water and spread the suds around the silvery rim of the front wheel. He must be almost finished--the rest of his rig gleamed. I rushed back to my room and threw on my white sun dress over a pair of my nice safe mommy white panties--wishing I had something sexier. I decided to hell with the makeup in this heat but put on this tiny silver necklace I never get to wear. And then the little pearls for the ears and... yeah... a little ring on my second toe like I saw younger girls wearing lately. I eased my feet into my slides and took a moment to assess.... Not bad. I'm a little short on tit and a bit over on the butt, the legs still looked nice though. Momma had been half right when she said I only signed up for the track team just to show all the boys my legs. I have very dark skin and there were more Arabs then white folk in my family tree judging by my long straight nose. I always keep my hair short, always thinking it was the sexiest way to show off my heritage. But now I worried about what a white man would think of it. I felt a flutter in my belly. I debated taking the toe ring off as too blatant but you can never be too blatant with men, right? I went to the kitchen and dumped a tray of ice into the blender. Then I poured in the iceless lemonade from yesterday and ground the whole thing up until it was nice and slushy. I poured one glass, just one, and went out on my front porch. I didn't see Harry and I felt gees, all that for nothing.... Harry came from around the back of the rig with a green hose and started rinsing off the wheels. I pretended not to see him and sat down on the cheap white plastic chair and put my knees up against the rail, hanging my legs down and sipping my slushy lemonade. I watched Harry start to wipe the drops of water off the fenders with a chamois cloth. He wasn't buff like my ex. The muscles I was looking at didn't come from any gym. They reminded me of my daddy, who'd been a bricklayer and worked hard all his life, and they reminded me of those pictures I'd seen of God on the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel. I wiggled my feet until the slides fell off and put one foot--the one with the ring--up on the rail. Harry turned around at the sound of the thick black soles of my sandals hitting the porch. I don't know what he could see from where he was standing but he smiled. "Morning," he said. "Harold," I said. "You look hot, would you like some slushy lemonade?" He was wring the chammy out in his hands and came over to stand close to the rail. "Call me Harry ma'am, and yes I'd like that very much." Ma'am? Gees. I smiled and got up and went to my screen door, walking on the balls of my bare feet. I turned my head and said "come inside where it's cool." I went to the kitchen and got another glass of lemonade ready, pretending not to pay any attention as he came into my room carrying my slides like they were something real delicate in his one hand. He looked at me and I said "Just toss them in the bedroom by the foot of the bed." I pointed at the old door with the cracked white paint and said "that one there." When he opened it the a/c air hit him in the face like a wet fish and he made an "ugh" noise. "Don't that feel just great?" I asked. "Leave the door open so we can get some of that out here." Harry walked into my room and carefully set my shoes down by the foot of my bed. He looked so scared and was oh so careful not to look around. I covered my mouth and tried not to laugh. "Harry," I said. "Your slushy is ready, come sit down." He fled my bedroom and came and sat down at the table. He took a sip and then held the glass to his face, right between his eyes. That was okay because I was leaning against the counter and rubbing my glass on my bare shoulders and along my chin. "Ma'am, that's the best lemonade I've ever had." Well, I'm real glad you liked it Sheriff. "Call me Teesha. Okay?" "Yes ma'am... I mean Teesha. That's a nice name... so exotic." Exotic to him maybe. Half the girls I grew up with were something eesha or other. "Thank you Harry." I came over and sat down next to him. "Where's your little boy this morning? He said he wanted to help me wash my truck. Cute little fella." "This is his father's weekend." "Oh... I know how that is..." "I know you know, Harry." "You... do?" "Harry," I said. "I've been hearing you sing in the shower when you come home at night." There, I'd said it. "You do? I... I'm sorry. I'll try not to--" "Harry," I said. "Your singing has been getting into my dreams at night." I looked him right in the eyes. How plain could a girl get? He looked back at me like I'd just hit him in the forehead with the blender. Which, I suppose, I'd just did. "Harry," I said. "It's much cooler in my bedroom." That did it. Harry picked me up like a little girl and carried me into my room. He kicked the door shut and, kneeling, laid me on the bed. He started kissing my face. My ex was a good kisser but he only ever kissed me on the mouth or sometimes on the cheek. Harry kissed me all over. I liked that. I cupped his face in my hands and kissed him one long good one on the mouth. "Harry," I said, voice all husky now. "Let me get out of this dress. You too." Harry jumped back and pulled off his shirt. He dropped his shorts and undies together. His old sneakers came off last. Me, with less to take off it took longer. When I was ready I lay down on the bed and opened my arms to him. He crawled onto the bed and I thought of the little doggie on the front of his truck. But this was a bigger doggie. I was ready for him and he knew. He started kissing me all over my face again as he eased right into me. It felt like something I'd lost had just been found. "Harry," I said. "Sing to me." "Uh?" He got that hit with the blender look again. "Sing?" "Yeah Harry, that Danny song." "Ah... Oh... Okay..." And then he started singing: Oh Danny Boy the pipes, the pipes are calling >From glen to glen and down the mountain side The summer's gone and all the flowers dyin' It's you, it's you must go, and I must bide And I closed my eyes and felt him stroking inside me... His voice and filled the room and probably the whole house, maybe the whole town... But come ye back when summer's in the meadow Or when the valley's bare or white with snow It's I'll be here in sunshine or in shadows Oh Danny boy, oh Danny boy, I love you so I bit my lip and turned my head from side to side and writhed my whole body beneath him.... But come ye back when summer's in the meadow Or when the valley's bare, or white with snow It's I'll be here in sunshine or in shadows Oh Danny boy, oh Danny boy, I love you so And I screamed. I never scream when I come. I grew up in a crowded apartment block and learned to be very careful when I was in my bed learning my body as a young girl with my parents in the next room. But when I felt Harry come inside me and I felt my own insides shake so hard like a freight train was shaking the house--I howled. Harry was on top of me now and kissing my face. His voice was shaking as he said "oh Teesha, that was so wonderful ... you are so beautiful." Somthing wet hit me on my lips. I opened my eyes and looked up at him: tears were running down his cheeks. I grabbed his face again and held it still while I sucked the wetness from his face and then kissed him. "Hush baby, lie here and hold me." And that's what we did while the air conditioner mader rude noises and squirted cold air onto my ass. After a time, I reached out my tongue and ran it around Harry's big jug handle ear. "So Danny... I mean Harry, what other songs do you know?" |
The Seduction of Harold O'Shea ©1999 UrsusTeddy@aol.com.
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