Docker Takes Mist aka SallyHamilton into the Mountains: and What She discover . . .

     I settled into the back seat next to Docker in a low-slung four-door sedan about as old as me.

     "Awright, Mormo, move it," he barked to an enormous man behind the wheel, a man so huge he had to duck to see out the windshield.  Docker's two kids, about three and six, asleep, snuggled next to this giant.

      "Who told you where I was?" I said, slipping my arm through his.

      "That's not important.  We're together, now."  He pressed my arm to his side and kissed my cheek.

     "Where are we going?"

     "To the mountains, like I said."

     "In this?"  He didn't answer.  "Well, how long are we going to be away?  I--"

     "Baby, I'm telling you right now.  Cool it with the questions."  He looked straight ahead and put his arm around me. 

     "Where've you been?  What've you been doing?  I never heard a word--You never called, dropped me a line.  They wouldn't tell me anything at the bar."

           "Shouldn't've done that."  I couldn't see his face in the dark.  Couldn't tell if he was looking at me.  The tone of his voice warned me to keep mum about Darlene.

            "What were you doing?" I said.

            "Hnh?"

            "I asked you what you did while, you know, for the year--"
            "Was it a year?"

"More--a year, a month, two weeks, and three days.  We met in late August, last year.  I remember 'cause a couple of weeks after you left, we had to change from DST to PST--"

            "You lost me."

"Daylight Savings Time changes to Pacific Standard, you know, 'Spring forward, Fall back'?" 

"Ha, ha!" Docker guffawed, "Oh, that.  Sure, I know.  Who do you think I am?  DST to PST, PST to DST," he sing-songed, "You are really something else."

"You don't know anything about me.  But I intend to find out everything about you."

            "No.  No.  You won't find out anything.  There's nothing."

            "Don't you want to know what I did all last year?"

            "No, not really.  I don't give a shit.  I live in the Now, baby.  I'm a Now person.  There's no such thing as then, or even the next minute.  We could all be dead."

            "Docker!  That's morbid."

            "No.  It's the truth.  Someone could come along with an assault weapon and blow us all away."

            "You've seen too many movies."

"Never go to flicks.  Too phony.  Here!" he said, slapping the seat beside him, "Here's what's real."  He lifted his hand, "Right here's all I give a fuck about."

            "Stop it, Docker!  You're hurting me!"  I grabbed his wrist, "Get your big paw off my boob, you fucker!"  He pulled his hand away, laughing,

"Oh, God, babe.  I'm sorry."  He leaned over and kissed my breast.  I could feel the moist warmth of his breath through my sweater.  He raised it and kissed my bare skin and sucked my nipple.

"You know what I remember about you?  Remember I told you the first time we made love that the tip of your prick felt as soft and as smooth as a ripe apricot, my favorite fruit?"

"Get outta here!"

"Really.  The next day you brought me a whole basket.  You never told me where you got them so late in the season." 

"You never asked."  He caressed me, sucking.  I dug my fingers into his lush hair, exuding a fragrance of musky spice, and massaged his warm scalp.  He moved his hand between my thighs.  I found the belt buckle on his black twill pants.  Suddenly, he sat up, and with a sharp exhale, rolled down the window.  Mormo wiped the windshield with a crumpled bandanna hanky.     "We'll have plenty of time for fucking and messing around," Docker said, "and no one to bother us where we're going.  Now let's us try and catch some Zs."  I heard the clank of a bottle and saw his profile against the window as he upended a pint to his lips.  He passed it to me.  I took a couple of hits and handed it back.  One more swig and he pulled his leather flight-jacket around himself, drew me close, threw his head back and dropped off.  I tried closing my eyes, but every few minutes they'd pop open.

            Mormo drove on.  Whenever I caught his eye in the dim light of the rear view mirror, his thick upper lip curled.  The little boys, breathing softly, barely stirred.  I must have dozed.  Half-asleep, I heard Docker say, "Mormo, stop at the next place for another bottle."  In a low voice, thick with saliva, the big man emitted a low growl, then said, "Gas, Doc.  We need gas."  Still on the road at dawn, we stopped at a Gas 'N' Charge for fuel and a quick plug-in, took a pee break, and bought coffee, bagels, and orange juice.  The tow-headed kids sat quietly in the front seat eating and drinking their juice, as we barreled along.  They cuddled next to Mormo who, I now saw, wore a full beard and braided black hair in one thick plait down his back.  They never spoke.  I pulled my cell phone from my jacket on the seat beside me.

            "What the fuck're you doing?"  Docker snatched it out of my hand.

            "Calling work!  Give it back!"  He rolled down the window and tossed it out.  I couldn't have been more shocked if he'd punched me.

            "Man!  Why did you do that?  They'll wonder what happened."  My blood rose.

"They'll figure it out.  Nobody's indispensable.  You won't need it where we're going."  He gathered me to him, kissed and caressed me.  "Relax, baby.  You're with me.  Forget about work.  We're in the Now."  I went limp, closed my eyes.  The sensuous smell of his leather jacket made me dizzy.  I'll just take each moment as it comes, I told myself; que sera.

Jolted out of a deep sleep, but  not fully awake, my eyes still closed, I was hazily conscious of being carried along by the steadily humming engine on an interminable ride, bumping along a winding, narrow rutted road.  I cracked my lids enough to see stands of gigantic trees obliterating the late afternoon sun.  Limbs and shrubs scraped the top and sides of the car.