A hellion August-day offered no relief
from the inferno descended on the river-bottom plain.
Why “The-Governor” had pointed his shiny
red Cadillac-convertible up that
desolate, dusty road, Lo! These
so-many years ago? She had entertained that very query myriad times since then.
No! He certainly weren’t no “Governor”! She knew that without hearing
his first word.
In a fury of summer dust flared to life
in the onslaught of a highly revved fiery-red chariot on a hot July afternoon
as the young-gal shuffled her bare feet in the hot dirt delaying completion of
the chore removing air-dried clothes fresh-washed at the garden-creek from the
hemp-line stretched between the corner of the ramshackle-shack and the
out-house eave.
Hessie hated “wash”-day! But, enjoyed
her “au-natural” cool-creek cleansing of her hot-body.
Hands on her lithe-hips, Hessie stood
with a disdain-façade showing on her face as the red-“demon” slid to a halt in a
“cloud-of-dust” that might have rivaled the ole “Lone-Ranger’s” steed. That the
speedster drove a Cadillac did not
escape her purview; curiosity supplanted her anger. Hell! That ole creek would still be clear and cool tomorrow! Today!
Cadillac-man was calling! The second
alluring color she noticed was his pearly-whites!
As a fury of dust settled over the shiny
red of the halted-conveyance and upon her formerly crispy clean-white wash,
Hessie stood her ground. Handsome Cadillac-man
looked her up and down displaying his obvious-conclusion with a brilliant smile
gleaming in the summer-sun.
“Girl!” He began in a high-pitched
laugh, raising black-rim sunglasses for a better-view of his quarry, “You-all
just might need to re-wash them there clothes. Looks like they done gone and
got theirselves all grimy-dirty.” His laugh seemed more “flirting” than
“menacing”.
“Sure-enough Sorry! About that ‘little’-accident!” He half-apologized.
“Accident!” Her nostrils flared and
anger-hate accented her words. “Accident!? Hell! Crazy!”
Hansdome laughed at her reaction.
Holding his left palm forward as an olive-branch peace- offering, he tried to
calm the angrily-excited young-beauty. She sure-enough was some-“looker”.
“Luvy! I’m sure-enough truly-sorry for
any damage.”
He opended the side door. “Be more than
happy to help you re-wash them there clothes.”
Hessie stood adamant, unsmiling, still
angry. Secretly, she admired his looks and manners.
“I’m sorry! Missy!” Handsome tried.
Then, smiling, “I’m Grover Thronton. The “Governor!”
After a few seconds of silence, as the
declaration of the interloper sank in, Hessie smiled, slightly. Letting his
words echo through her mind, the smile broadened so wide that soon she could
not control an hysteric-guffaw. “Governor!?”
She queried in a bellicose insulting-outburst.
Handsome’s six-foot frame had exited the
red-chariot; he seemed chagrined at the young-girl’s disrespect for his “honor”-moniker.
Reminding himself to be careful of his infamous-temper, he forced a faux-smile.
Handsome did not want to anger the girl, further.
“Just a nickname my buddies tagged me
with. Young lady! A ‘play’ on ‘Grover’.”
“Well!---Governor!” Hessie laughed. Looking at his vehicle. “You sure do
drive his car!”
“That’s a pretty smile! Girl!” Handsome
offered. “Just what might your name be?”
Clasping her hands behind her back and
taking a deep breath to enhance her full-figure for a young lady already
enhanced by the thin cotton white-dress reaching six-inches above her knees.
This girl was no novice when it came
to the attentions of the “male”-gender.
Demurely, with her eyes downcast, she
replied, simply, “Hessie! Just---Miss…Hessie!”
“Well! Pleased I am to make your acquaintance,
Miss-Hessie!” He reached out his hand.
When she took his firm, large hand in
her own, it was amazingly “cool” to the touch. She felt her heart flutter; this
was a “man” she might very-well really like to get to know, much better.
Still holding his right-hand in her own,
she allowed her left hand to touch his wide shoulder.
“My! Oh! My! Mr. Cadillac-man!” Her eyelashes fluttered. “You sure are a
strong-one!”
The Governor,
a man-of-the-world, so to speak, considering he had not been farther than ole
Nashville-town up Tennessee-way, sized up the girl realizing he had met his
match. This little slip of a girl had been around-the-block, more than once, if
he was any judge; and, he surely was that; she reeked with the “woman”-scent of
long-experience with men.
Hessie seemed to read his thoughts; she
also made it clear that she was enjoying the dance.
“Y’all sure-enough reckon you can handle
this here little ole-gal? Why? I ain’t nothin’ but a defenseless-young
black-girl trying to make ends meet.” It sounded like an invitation.
Her eyes flashed in a somewhat inviting-way.
“Same ole-game,” he thought. “Parry
& thrust!”
(Part 4 0f 6 tomorrow)
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