By Margo Perry  (margo707 AT rogers DOT com)
Copyright 2006 by Margo Perry, all rights reserved.

On Cold Jenny Mountain

The song’s title and melody came to Jason fully formed, swirling into the vortex of disappointment and suspicion left in the wake of Jenny’s sudden and frantic departure. He sat at her kitchen table, scrambling to transcribe the chords and notes onto his computer’s music program while they still played clearly in his mind. He took his guitar from its open case and worked out the particularly complex transition into the coda. Carefully replacing his instrument, he went back to the arrangement, his fingers flying over the keys, his heart aching with the melancholy that informed every note. Before long, he was done. He sighed, leaned back and struck the F12 key. A beautifully sad and haunting composition washed over him. His mind couldn’t plumb the depths of his despair, but his heart felt its weight and nearly broke under the pressure.

From the hall, the grandfather clock chimed 6:30. He’d arrived at 4:30, anticipating a great weekend with Jenny, but she’d left a half hour later. He’d considered returning to his own apartment in the city, but was much too tired to even contemplate the three hour drive. He felt lost and lonely in the old house. It grumbled under the weight of the snow burdening its roof and the windows rattled like brittle bones in the wind. He listened to his new tune again, gazing mindlessly at the bleak landscape through panes decorated by icicled Rorschach blots. During the five years of his and Jenny’s committed relationship, they’d spent most weekends here and he’d been looking forward to this one more than ever. How could things have gone so wrong?

His work week had been hell. A virulent virus, targeting the Mac platform, had ravaged his company’s computers, bringing business to a standstill. He and his team, working around the clock, had managed to get the system back up by last night, but the pressure surrounding them had been unbearable. And when he woke this morning, all he wanted was Jenny with her long auburn hair, moist brown eyes and soft body. All he wanted was to hold her, talk to her and make love to her all weekend long. All he wanted was for Jenny to want that, too, and it seemed that she had. But, now she was gone.

When he’d arrived, he was so happy to see her car already parked in the garage. He took off his wet boots, left them on the tray in the enclosed porch, and used his key to get in. He hung his coat on the rack just inside the kitchen and deposited his box on the counter. Jenny was sitting on the living room couch, sipping a drink. She got up when she saw him and posed, showing off her new floor length black diaphanous robe and strapless teddy. Managing her women's retail sales department often left Jenny irritable and aloof by Friday, but today she was home early, relaxed and in a sexy mood. Jason couldn't have been happier. An erotic current surged through his body. It warmed him. It caused his cock to tingle with anticipation. He rushed toward her, but she held out her hand like a policeman directing traffic, stopping him cold.

“You get upstairs and settle in. Don’t you touch me ‘til you’ve warmed up.” She was smiling seductively, but she meant what she said.

“Okay gorgeous, I’ll be right back.” He wanted to smother her in his arms, kiss her until their knees were weak, but that would have to wait. He moved quickly around her and upstairs to the bedrooms.

He was changing from his suit to a pair of jeans and the red sweat shirt Jenny had given him for his birthday, when the phone rang. Sometimes Jenny would refuse to answer and shut the whole world out during their time together. But, it depended on her mood and tonight there were only two rings. Jason finished dressing and headed back downstairs. He couldn’t make out the words, but her tone was hushed and urgent. She hung up and met him at the bottom of the stairs.

“That was Ken. He’s not feeling well and he’s all alone in that house. I can’t take any chances. I’ve got to check on him.” She kissed Jason on the cheek and raced upstairs.

What does that mean? ...
I just got here …
I need you …
Why can’t Ken call somebody else?

Jason walked into the kitchen, his mind in turmoil as he listened to Jenny’s footsteps bustling about upstairs. He couldn’t help feeling confused, jealous and disregarded. Jenny and Ken had been an item for ten years, but that was a long time ago. They'd remained friends and Jason had no problem with that. So why was he feeling this hurt and resentment? Ken had had a heart attack the year before and Jason knew that Jenny worried about his living alone. He was twenty years older than Jason and Jenny’s forty years and, according to Jenny, tended to overdo things. Certainly, if anything untoward were going on, Jenny wouldn’t be so forthcoming. She’s being a caring friend, he told himself, and I’m being ridiculous. But his feelings of unease and insecurity defied logic, sticking to him like a second, ill-fitting skin.

Jenny interrupted his musings, rushing into the kitchen, overnight case in hand. “Come give me a hug.” Jason got up and moved toward her, arms outstretched. “You understand, don’t you? He doesn’t have anyone else,” she whispered reassuringly in his ear.

“Any idea when you’ll be back?” Jason kept his tone light.

“I don’t know what I’ll find. I’ll give you a call tomorrow. You know I love you.”

She tossed the final phrase over her shoulder as Jason walked her to the door and he felt something crumble inside. He no longer knew that she loved him. He no longer knew that he loved and trusted her. The case of beer and carefully packed box of weekend treats he’d brought: CD’s and DVD’s, packages of popcorn, a couple of bottles of wine - all Jenny’s favorites - still sat ignored and unappreciated on the counter. The tantalizing smell of rabbit stew, his favorite, teased his nostrils, but he had no appetite; he was too full of resentment. He turned off the stove, grabbed a cold beer from the fridge, uncapped it and took a long swig, willing his thoughts to be still. He returned to the table and sat in the warmth of the kitchen, shivering. He felt lost, unable to sort out his thoughts or feelings. He didn’t know how he felt about Jenny, about them, or even about himself. His feelings were like the stars hidden by the glare of the midday sun. He knew they were there, but he couldn’t see them. All he could see was blue. All he could feel was blue.

The phone rang again, startling him. Jenny, he prayed. Ken’s okay and she’s heading back. In twenty minutes, she’ll walk through the door. Part of him wanted to answer, but the greater part of him was afraid to. Suppose Ken was really sick? The thought of spending the whole weekend here without her was intolerable, especially since she’d be working the following weekend. He crossed the room in three strides and grabbed the wall phone.

“Hello.”
Hello, Jason. My name is Alice. I’m a friend of Jenny’s and I think it’s time we met.
The voice was velvet, a contralto rich enough, but much too lazy to sing opera. “Nice to meet you, Alice, but Jenny’s not at home, she had to . . . ”
Go to Ken’s. I know. Have you eaten? She told me this morning that she was going to make rabbit stew. Did she get around to it?
“Yes, she did, but I haven’t eaten.”
Yummy, we can’t let that go to waste now, can we? And there’s always wine and beer, so we’re all set. I’m about five minutes away. See you soon.
“Okay.”

Jason didn’t remember drinking it, but his beer was finished. He placed the bottle in the case for empties that sat beside the fridge, and grabbed another cold one. What was it about this Alice, beside the fact that Jenny had never even mentioned her? She was close enough to know what Jenny had cooked today and that she was now at Ken’s. A surge of anticipation overwhelmed his confusion. Like a bolt of lightening on a clear summer day, he realized just how much he didn’t want to spend the evening alone, how delighted he was to have company. It was as if life were suddenly presenting him with a new and tantalizing tree whose fruit was full of knowledge and mischief. He tried to picture the woman whose voice was so provocative and sensual. Her hair would be dark and curly, her skin smooth and swarthy, her body voluptuous. He imagined giant breasts stretching the fabric of a low cut gypsy blouse, swaying and hypnotizing him, as she danced around a fire. He guiltily rubbed the hard-on filling his jeans. All the women he’d had relationships with had small or medium-sized breasts and his fetish for huge ones had been diligently nurtured in the privacy of his bedroom since childhood. Magazine images and later, computer picture and video collections of hugely endowed women had peopled that world by night; and by day he was the master of the covert glance. He espied and shot mental photos of women in the street, or seated in a restaurant or at the local supermarket checkout; all to be recast later in elaborate and orgasmic fantasies. He sat back at the table and, discarding his beer, picked up his guitar and began to strum, Lonely Accordion, an Old Russian Gypsy waltz. He could see the caravans, the beautiful women and darkly handsome men. He could see his Alice mesmerizing everyone, using her large beautiful breasts to bring him to his knees. Jason was lost in his music and daydreams. He didn’t hear Alice or see Alice come into the house and then this room. Instead, the smell of spice and mystery filled his nostrils and a presence blew over him like a warm warning breeze that comes before a storm.

“Don’t stop!”

She embodied the magic of harmonious contradictions: Standing 5’10” in her stocking feet, ripe curves enhanced every contour of her body. Her silky hair was rendered wild by the plethora of tiny ringlets that framed her face and fell over her shoulders and back. Her eyes were cat’s eyes, moist grey and glowing, and they claimed and held his. She moved as if the notes he played were mixing with her very blood, joining them in the most intimate of dances. She moved close to his chair and stood eyes closed, swaying like a woman possessed. She was more alluring than his gypsy. And out of her came a voice, haunting and naked with emotion:

Snova zamerlo vse do rassveta,
Dver' ne skripnet, ne vspykhnet ogon'.
Tol'ko slyshno -- na ulice gde-to
Odinokaya brodit garmon'

Jason’s fingers moved over the strings tenderly, as if they were attached to her skin, her limbs, her hips and breasts. And she conducted him, stroking his bourgeoning bulge, smiling at the wet spot that soon soiled his jeans. She sang her throaty song and it seemed like a mating call and then a promise as she spread her fingers through her hair, turning around herself slowly and then, bowing her finish. She sat in a chair and spread her legs, moving her knee in and out to his rhythm, until he brought his accompaniment to a close.

“I’m Alice.” She leaned toward him, hands on her thighs, her pendulum breasts rocking to the gentle beat of her shifting shoulders.

“Alice.” Jason stared, transported to a world that was as foreign, exotic and as captivating as his most bewitching dream.

He absorbed her every nuance as she sashayed to a cabinet, grabbed a goblet and filled it with chilled white wine from the fridge. “How long have you known Jenny?” he asked.

“All our lives; we’ve been neighbors and playmates all our lives. How’s your beer?”

“I’m good.”

“Follow me. Let’s make ourselves comfortable.”

Alice moved past him and he followed her into the living room. She plopped herself against an end of the couch, one leg curled under her, and waited for Jason to sit. She watched his every move, a tentative smile lifting the corners of her mouth. Jason sat, struggling to lift his eyes from her mesmerizing breasts, but it was too a difficult job. Alice grinned knowingly and, pulling her knees up to her chest, rested her folded arms over them. Her breasts spilled up and over the platform. Jason felt his huge attraction to them overwhelming every other reality. His face was hot and his head dizzy. He was very familiar with these sensations, but they belonged in the place that he cultivated for himself alone, that nobody else even knew about. Jenny was aware of his fetish and tolerated it, but had no interest in investigating or participating in it. He turned toward Alice and felt the full power of her exotic beauty. There were no words. She had full knowledge of the effect her breasts were having on him and had every intention of using them as the weapons of seduction that they were. He felt completely discombobulated and entirely at her mercy.

“I have a distinct advantage. I know lots about you and you know nothing about me. I know that you’re a computer whiz and make a good living at it, but that your real love is your music. I know that you’re gathering original material for your first CD. I know that you and Jenny have had a thing for quite a while now, that you live in the city, but spend weekends and holidays together. I’ve heard that you’re a really nice guy and a dynamite lover. Oh my, have I heard.” Alice caressed her heart, head thrown back in an exaggerated imitation of orgasmic pleasure.

Jason stared at her in embarrassment. He couldn’t begin to imagine what Jenny might have told this woman about their intimate lives. He had to change the subject. “You and Jenny are obviously close. I thought I knew all of Jenny’s friends. Why haven’t we met?”

“Probably because I told her that if she ever introduced us, I’d try my very best to pry you out of her clutches and into my own.” Alice’s hearty laugh disarmed Jason, making him feel safe. Of course she’s kidding, he told himself. “I’m quite serious,” she continued, “and that’s exactly what I intend to do.”

With that she jumped off the couch and, with breasts swaying, sashayed out of the room. Jason was glad for the moment alone. He tried to concentrate on thoughts of Jenny, but it was like trying to extract pain from his heart and transfer it to the palm of his hand. From the moment Jenny had deserted him to go to Ken, she’d become a shadow of the girl he loved, someone unreal. Alice was returning, humming a slow and beautiful melody that improvised itself in lovely circles, loveliness its only purpose. She was carrying his guitar. She was real.

“Play for me. Something of yours.”

“Here’s something that I wrote today.”

Jason began to play and Alice stood still, listening. When he was finished, he looked up. Tears were streaming down her face. “That’s so sad. It’s about you and Jenny. You wrote it after she left. It’s so full of pain. Play it again.”

Jenny used to listen, but that was a long time ago . . .

Alice dropped to the floor. She hugged Jason’s legs and her breasts enveloped them.

He remembered when Jenny used to sit at his feet when he played, but that was a long time ago and he missed it . . .

“That’s truly beautiful. More. I want more of you.”

Jason played another and then another of his original tunes. Alice shifted onto her knees. Jason looked into her eyes and they were lambent with promise. She snuggled between his legs and ran her red tapered nails up and down his thighs. She avoided his hard-on that needed to be touched, that screamed to be touched. Jenny and guilt were smoke rings blown on a windy day, gone before they could form themselves. His heart threatened to burst out of his chest when her palms began to heat his cock and balls, rubbing and squeezing. She took his guitar from his hands, only when he finished his piece and, with reverence, lay it a safe distance away. She tugged at his zipper and he raised his hips when she was ready to take him. He felt her breath, warm and moist before giving himself over to the most ardent pleasure a mouth and fingers and teeth and tongue could provide. Head back, he molded himself into the couch as fingers tickled and her tongue licked and teased his thighs. And always her breasts falling over his legs, or pressing themselves against his cock or belly. And he wanted to come, but he didn’t want to come. He wanted this to go on forever. And when she sat back and wiggled out of her slacks; when she opened her legs and, pulled aside her panties, exposing her glistening pink clit. When she rubbed it and moaned, climbing up to press her pungent wet fingers just under his nostrils. When she sat back and pulled her sweater over her gargantuan mounds, exposing breast flesh spilling lewdly out of her black lace bra, a clear thick liquid surged out of his cock and he knew the end was near. She knew the end was near. But she wanted to feel him inside her and she demanded it. In one swift movement; her panties were removed and her arms and legs were opened wide.

He entered her roughly. They moved together, each struggling to delay the inevitable, each plunging and thrusting as they rose toward their very first shared orgasm. They fell over the cliff and onto each other, with tears streaming down their faces, holding on tight to feelings that were too big to be contained. They lay together and silence was their friend.

They ignored the phone when it rang and listened to the message together as they warmed the rabbit stew. The voice was hushed:

Hi, it’s me. Ken’s still not feeling well. I won’t be back ‘til late Sunday. I’m so sorry, but I’ll make it up to you. Have a safe drive home. Bye.

“She’s just too much,” Alice said, taking her cell phone from the purse that she’d left just inside the kitchen door. She sat on Jason’s knee as she dialed.

“Hi Ken, is Jenny around?” She held the phone up to Jason’s ear.

Yeah, she’s demolishing the kitchen, baking me a birthday cake.

“I thought the party was next week.”

It was, but I’ve got an emergency meeting overseas that I can’t miss, so we’re celebrating tomorrow. Jenny’s going to call you. I hope you can still make it.

“Actually, I have a date. I’ve met someone special. His name is a Jason. Can I bring him?”

Absolutely, and good for you! Here’s Jenny.

“No, no! Don’t bother her. Just pass on the good news. Same time tomorrow ?”

Yeah, anytime after 6:30.

“Okay, Ken. I’ll call early tomorrow and let you know whether to expect us.”

Okay, bye for now.

“Bye.”

They talked over dinner. Jason realized that Jenny had never given up Ken, never really been his. He and Alice shared their ideas about relationships, what they should and shouldn’t be. They found themselves in tune with each other, both despising the pain that Jenny’s lies, manipulations and self interest had wrought.

It was past midnight when Jason walked with Alice to the door.

“I sort of roped you into the party tomorrow night. We certainly don’t have to go,” Alice said.

“It would be one way of ending things,” Jason said, “but I’m more interested in our beginning. Let’s forget Jenny and Ken. Come back to the city with me.”

“I’d love to.”

They sealed it with a kiss. Jason looked out at the falling snow. It was bright and beautiful. Before going to bed, he played, On Cold Jenny Mountain, one more time. It was a coda, the end.