While there, she meets Mary, another free spirit, and Ryan, a broad-chested, dark-haired sweetheart of a man. They teach her the ways of Appalachia. They show her the strengths and weaknesses of such an overlooked place. Together, the three learn to accept the love they all have for each other.
I stay in nearby Somerset for a few days. Then, I get the call I had been waiting for. I got the job. Not only did I get the job, but he is willing to let me move in to a teacher’s dwelling immediately if I agree to help the maintenance crew with odd jobs.
I am moving my meager belongings in when I hear a man’s voice behind me. “Need any help?”
I turn to respond that I have it all under control. Then, I stop. I stop everything—moving, thinking, breathing. The man standing before me is tall. He towers over me. He is stocky. Well, maybe burly is the best way to describe him. Normally, I am attracted to men with runner’s bodies. However, stocky and burly have never looked so…manly, capable.
He looks like he could swing a sledgehammer without any problems. He could probably cut down trees, dig ditches, and break wild horses. Dear God, he looks like he could give a woman a good time in bed.
I gather my wits. “This is it,” I answer. “Thank you for the offer, though.”
“I have steaks marinating and baked potatoes already on the grill. Care to join me?”
“Well. Thank you, but I shouldn’t—”
“I see that you are not from around these parts…”
What an odd way of phrasing that, I think. “No. I guess my accent gives it away.”
“It is a bit clipped compared to the local twang, but no, that is not what I am referring to.”
“Oh,” I answer quizzically.
“See, around here…actually, anywhere in Appalachia, if someone offers you food, you better have a gosh darn good reason to turn it down. Otherwise, it is a huge insult.”
I set down my boxes inside the one bedroom apartment. “I am so sorry. I did not mean to offend. Quite the opposite.” I blush at my faux pas.
“I realize that. I went to college a few states away, so I learned that our mountain ways are not shared throughout the entire country. I have to say that the world would be a better place if they were.”
“Well, I am hungry. If it does not cause you too much trouble, I’d love to have dinner with you.”
“See, you are a quick learner,” he jokes.
“Maybe you can tell me other customs I need to know about this area. It is a beautiful area, by the way.”
“First, let me guess where you are from. No doubt from the north.”
“You aren’t a Yankee, are you? Darn Carpetbaggers,” he kids.
“Long Island,” I answer.
“I will overlook that.” He winks.
“What brings you to little ol’ Mt. Seldom?”
“I need a change. I threw a dart, and it landed on Mt. Seldom.”
He stops and looks at me. “Seriously?”
I just realize how outlandish that must seem to him. “I guess you could say that I let fate lead. My hippie upbringing and all…I’m Sunshine, by the way.” I offer him my hand.
“Seriously?” he asks again.
“Yes. Very. My father is a history professor. One of his favorite quotes is from Robert Greene Ingersoll, a Civil War veteran and lawyer. ‘Kindness is the sunshine in which virtue grows.’”
“Sunshine, I do believe you will turn out to be the most interesting person I know.”
I blush. “Nothing at all interesting about me.”
“I am Ryan, by the way.” He looks at me curiously. “Well, here is a crash course on Appalachia. Ready?”
“Do I need pen and paper?” I ask jokingly.
“Well, there may be a test,” he replies. “Appalachians are fiercely proud. Never mind if they are poor, uneducated, out of work…none of that matters. They want to do for themselves, and they want respect.”
“That is admirable.”
“They struggled. Your dad is a history professor, so you probably know of the history of Appalachia—”
“No,” I interrupt. “I don’t.”
He sighs. “Such an overlooked area of the country…Appalachia had rough beginnings. It truly was a matter of the strong survive, and the weak die. If you have time, you should read up on it,” he suggests.
“I hope that you are willing to be a mentor while I am here. This area and this type of school is new to me.”
“I have got you covered, Sunshine,” he says with a grin. “How do you like your steak?”
“Medium rare,” I answer.
“Me, too. We just may be two peas in a pod,” he surmises wistfully.
“Where did you go to college?” I ask.
“Wow. I did not expect that.”
“Football scholarship,” he explains. “I came from a poor family, so I had to do whatever it took to get through.”
“Sounds like you have quite a story, too.” He shrugs in response. “Why are you teaching here? And what do you teach?”
“I teach high school math. I want to connect with the kids—their struggles. I just hope to lead them down the right path. Many would say I am naïve.”
“I don’t know about naïve. Sounds like you just have a big heart.”
“That I do,” he replies ominously. “What do you teach?”
“High school social studies.”
“Hmmm…you most definitely need to read up on Appalachian history. I think you will find it fascinating.”
“I will,” I promise. “Do you know the history of Mt. Seldom?”
“It is a history steep in feuds, unfortunately. Most people assume that the Hatfields and McCoys were the only ones to have a deadly feud. Quite wrong. Mt. Seldom has a history of turmoil from the lay of the land, also. Mt. Seldom gets its name from the fact that people seldom went up the mountain and seldom went down the mountain. Its terrain was just too treacherous.”
I look at him quizzically, trying to decide if he is joking.
“I am serious.”
“That is so…I don’t know if it is odd or funny. Maybe both. Definitely interesting. Steaks smell wonderful,” I compliment.
“Thank you.” He sets my plate in front of me on the patio table.
“Thank you for the invitation.” I take a bite of the steak. “This is so tender,” I note.
“And thank you for the great company,” he replies. He raises his glass of water. “To the start of a great friendship,” he toasts. We clink our glasses together. I just cannot help but think that we could be so much more than friends.
I have one last job to do before I leave for Mt. Seldom, Kentucky. My breath hitches just thinking about it. My heart is beating rapidly.
I keep telling myself that I must do this. I must finish this one last task. YOLO, and all that shit.
I pull into Sam’s driveway. Sam is John’s best friend. They have been friends since childhood. Just like John, Sam is a bum. He lives in his sister’s basement and plays video games most of the day. Occasionally, he takes a bartending gig.
Sam made a pass at me a few months ago. “Made a pass”…does anyone really say that anymore? Anyway, Sam made it clear that he wanted to bang, fuck, bump uglies, bump cheeks, have a go…well, I am about to see if Sam is ready to do the nasty before I go.
I walk down the basement stairs and knock on the metal door. Sam greets me with a surprised smile. I guess I have that pissed-off sexuality radiating from me.
“Sunshine…” he greets me with a knowing look. “Won’t you come in?”
“Your sister and her family home?” I ask.
“No. Gone for a few hours,” he replies. He licks his lips as if ready to devour me.
He shuts the door behind us. I kiss him hungrily. “Fuck me,” I demand. “Fuck me hard.”
“Not to ruin the mood. The fucking awesome mood, but I take it you and John are having problems…”
“There is no more ‘me and John,’” I reply as I take off my clothes. “Fuck me like John could never fuck me,” I challenge. “I need to be fucked rough.”
He lets out a guttural growl. He works at peeling off his clothes. “You sure you want it rough?” he asks huskily.
“I need it rough and hard,” I assure him.
“Bend over the table,” he instructs.
I do as he says, and he wastes no time entering me. He grabs the back of my neck to pin me down, and he fucks me without mercy.
“Did John fuck you like this?” he asks while tightening his grip on my hair.
“God, no!” I answer, panting. “Fuck me! It feels so good.”
“You have needed a good fucking,” he tells me as he continues his frantic pace. “A woman like you does not need to be treated with fucking kid-gloves. John is a fucking pussy. You need a real man in that tight snatch.”
He slaps my ass a few times, and he grabs my hips roughly. It hurts, but it feels so right.
“Rub that clit,” he yells out. “I am about to bust a nut.”
My clit is wet with my juices, and it is so swollen. The little nub is a circuit of sensory. Just a few taps, and I feel myself coiling up. The pressure builds. Release has to be imminent, but the pressure plateaus. I need something to push me over the edge.
I feel Sam stick his finger in my ass—way up my ass. Then, he adds another one. The coil is released. The orgasm springs and radiates through my entire being. I feel his cum spurting onto my ass. Warm, thick globs.
He wipes my ass off with a Sandlot T-shirt that was laying on the arm of the cane-back chair in the corner. He picks me up and carries me to his pull-out couch bed. We lay together as he twirls my chestnut hair around his finger. “You should have come to me sooner.”
“I agree. You are what I have been needing.” There is a comfortable silence. “I am leaving,” I tell him. “Moving.”
“Mt. Seldom, Kentucky.”
“Cool,” he retorts.
“Yeah, cool,” I agree.
“Guess we need to do that a few more times before you leave.”
“Yeah, I guess we should.”
By the time I leave, I’m feeling a bit sore. Blissfully sore.