Crystal River Witch
Copyright©2006 by Ed Howdershelt
ISBN 1-932693-29-7
Caution: Erotic Content
Chapter One
The woman 'manning' the campground's gate waved Ed Cade through after a glance at his event pass. He parked his bronze '84 Olds Eighty-eight where the shade of an oak tree would be during most of the afternoon and sat looking around the campground for a few moments.
There were about fifty tents of all sizes set up among the trees and about half that many cars in the zone roped off for parking. Another couple of cars entered the campground as he sipped the last of his coffee from his mug.
Although it was the first day of a three-day pagan festival, Cade didn't expect to see really large numbers of people until later in the afternoon and evening, when those who couldn't take Friday off would arrive.
The campground was part of a nudist resort, so as the day progressed, some of the attendees would bother with clothes and some wouldn't. Because such events were the only times a lot of them got naked or nearly so, many would wind up seeking relief from sunburns in sensitive regions.
Saturday would be like a '60's hippie-convention, replete with longhairs and bright, flowing clothing when any clothing was worn at all, lots of beads and odd and gaudy jewelry, and bare feet or sandals.
A few tents had been erected over some of the spaces along 'dealer's row'. Some of the tents still glistened with early morning dew, indicating that they'd been put up the night before. Other tents and fly-tarps were going up as he watched.
Two women -- one blonde, one brunette -- were arranging items on a folding table in the second 'booth' from the beginning of the row. Both were wearing cutoff jeans, but while the brunette wore a tee-shirt, the blonde wore what looked to be a flannel shirt with the sleeves rolled above her elbows.
The brunette said something, pointed at a section of table, and picked up two apparently empty boxes, then carried them to a brown Dodge van in the row of spaces behind Cade's car.
Oops. He'd been fooled by long hair and distance. The brunette now appeared to be a skinny little guy, but something was wrong with the overall picture.
Hm. No hair on his arms or legs, thin-line eyebrows, and he didn't walk with a confident stride; he took quick little steps and hip-slipped around the post that marked the end of the parking lot, waving effeminately and smiling at Cade as he moved toward one of the cars.
Nodding in return, Cade let his eyes return to the blonde, who had continued setting up the display. She straightened, stood with hands on hips, scanned the table thoughtfully, and nodded slightly as if satisfied.
She then stretched -- rather gloriously, Cade thought -- and looked around the encampment and the parking lot. Hm, again. The blonde was undeniably female, judging by the way she filled the upper front of her shirt.
Unless, of course, she wasn't, Cade amended.
That was always a possibility in these days of gender confusion and silicone implants, and her little friend was pretty obviously gay.
Cade had once met a guy with store-bought boobs. A car had died in the middle of a downtown Tampa street at rush hour. Cade had parked his car and gone to help push the disabled car out of traffic.
As Cade approached, he saw that the driver was a slim brunette woman and he was more than a little surprised to see her get out to push against the driver's door, steering the car toward the curb while traffic was stopped for a red light.
He added his strength to hers by pushing against the trunk and the surprised woman turned to look back briefly and say, "Thanks!" as the car surged forward at a quicker pace.
She wore a frilly blouse and way too much makeup. He'd seen her dark skirt and low-heeled pumps as he'd approached; her outfit kind of reminded Cade of the woman who managed his bank.
When the car finally stopped on a side street, the woman pantingly slumped into the front seat and muttered something profane about her luck as she brushed off her skirt, then she reached for a cell phone and dialed.
After resting a moment to catch his breath, Cade had walked around the car to see if she had some kind of plan to deal with her situation.
She'd loosened her blouse so she could pat herself dry with a wad of kleenex, and Cade could see her hefty boobs bobbling back and forth as she alternated between dialing and patting.
Before Cade could speak, the woman fluttered a ten-dollar bill at him and chattered, "Oh, thank you so much! I was so afraid one of those damned fools out there would run into me!"
The voice -- although deliberately softened -- belonged to a man, as did the adam's apple that bobbed as 'she' spoke. Cade stopped by the rear passenger door and peered at the driver for a moment.
Yeah, he'd been right. Heavy makeup. Very heavy. A fluffy hairdo. Frilly blouse above a sedate skirt. Too much chin, just a hint of beard stubble, and an effing adam's apple. A tranny.
Oh, well. A tranny with a dead car is no better off than anyone else with a dead car.
Cade shrugged mentally and asked, "You have Triple-A?"
Smiling and again holding the ten toward Cade, the guy said in a less agitated tone, "No, but I have a friend who can take me to work. I can come back for this piece of junk later."
He thumbed the reset button on the cell phone and redialed, then added, "If I can find him, that is. He's supposed to be home, but he isn't answering."
Waving away the ten, Cade asked, "Did the car just die out there? What happened when it quit?"
Pointing and gesturing with the hand that held the money, the guy said, "It just quit running at the light and I couldn't get it started again."
Hm. The gas gauge read half-full. Cade told the guy to turn the key. He heard the fuel pump whine, then the engine cranked, but it wouldn't start. Cade smelled raw gasoline and reached for the hood release.
Opening the hood, Cade glanced around the engine. It was carbureted, not fuel injected. It seemed awfully hot, but it was a four cylinder and they normally ran around two hundred.
Then he spotted the empty radiator reservoir. Using one of his paper-towel handkerchiefs to protect his hand, Cade squeezed the upper radiator hose. Empty.
Pulling out his belt knife, he rapped the brass butt of it on the side of the radiator and heard the hollowness within it. The car had run out of coolant and overheated, that's all. Well, most likely, anyway.
Cade bent the copper gas line a bit farther away from the engine and checked the oil. The stick came up dry. Down two quarts, at least. Yeah, that would do it in a little engine.
The guy was having no luck reaching anybody by phone and swore as he bitched about being late for work.
Letting the hood down, Cade said, "Your radiator's empty and your oil's way low. Overheating can make a bubble in the fuel line and then pumping it probably flooded it..."
Looking completely baffled and somewhat irritated, the guy shrugged and asked, "So why are you telling me about it? I don't know squat about cars. If I did, I'd be trying to fix it instead of trying to find a ride."
Cade said nothing for a moment, then pointed up the street and said, "If you're up to it, I'll help you push it to the end of the block. At the convenience store we can put some oil and water in it, let it cool down some, and it'll probably start."
Looking up from dialing his cell phone, the guy asked, "And what if it doesn't? Then we'll have pushed it another whole block for nothing."
"Nothing? Hardly. It'll be in front of a convenience store instead of in a no-parking zone."
The guy got out and looked at the red curb, swore, and almost kicked the left front tire. Only almost. He caught himself just in time and turned the kick into a hop to kill the momentum.
Apparently gathering himself for a moment, he sighed deeply, let the cell phone fall to the car seat, then put a hand on the steering wheel and a shoulder to the car door as he rather resignedly said, "Okay. Ready when you are."
At the store, Cade had the guy buy a jug of anti-freeze, two quarts of oil, and a can of lighter fluid, then he used a handful of paper towels as a shield when he popped the tab on the radiator cap.
After the initial hiss and a tiny bit of steam, he removed the cap. A whole jug of anti-freeze and half a jug of water filled the radiator. Both cans of oil nearly filled the crankcase properly, but there was still some room on the dipstick's gauge-zone.
Cade opened the carburetor and squirted in some lighter fluid, then told the guy to try again to start the car without giving it any gas. It started, faltered, and then the engine smoothed out.
The guy with the boobs was overjoyed. He got out of the car grinning like an idiot and stood bouncing up and down and clapping his hands like a game-show contestant.
Cade managed to avoid an enthusiastic hug by looking for radiator and hose leaks, then he closed the hood and very obviously wiped black engine muck off his hands to keep the guy at a distance.
"All set," said Cade. "This wasn't the car's fault, y'know. Check your oil, water, and transmission fluid once a week. Do it or you'll be pushing it again someday soon."
The guy nodded happily, then dashed around the open door to lean into the car. Cade headed for the store doors to get out of the Florida sun and get a cold Dr Pepper.
"Wait! Wait!" yelled the guy.
He came dashing around the car waving a couple of bills and joyously stuck them in Cade's shirt pocket.
"Thankyouthankyouthankyou!" he prattled, then he hurried to hop in his car and get underway again.
Taking the two bills out of his pocket, Cade saw that one was a ten and the other was a twenty. It seemed a bit much for sharing some car knowledge and a push, but the guy was already gunning it out of the store's parking lot. Cade shrugged and went inside the store.
Breaking his remembrance of meeting the boob-guy, the booth-blonde's sweeping gaze met Cade's across the sixty feet or so of newly-mown field in which the event was being held.
After a moment, she nodded and smiled at him. He returned the nod and added a slight wave by raising his right hand in a two-fingered salute.
She had to duck to step out of the tent as she walked a few paces into the aisleway to stand by a trash barrel and turn to look at her booth display.
As she reached up to shade her eyes a bit against the rising Florida sun, Cade noted her height. A 55-gallon drum is about four feet tall. The blonde was almost half again as tall as the drum; possibly close to six feet. Wowsers.
Unlike many tall women, she wasn't particularly thin. Her legs below the cutoffs were well-shaped, and even at that distance, Cade could see her thigh and calf muscles stand out as she cocked a leg and gave the display some more thought.
Cade guessed she might weigh between one-forty and one-fifty-five; he couldn't begin to guess her waist size under that baggy shirt. Another note; unless she was somehow padding her cutoffs, her curves were real.
A spot of light flickered around the interior of the car. Cade glanced up at his rearview mirror to see the skinny little guy walk behind the Olds, his shiny pendant again reflecting a spot of sunlight around the interior. The guy moved to stand between Cade's car and the one on his left.
Returning his gaze to the blonde, Cade watched her put her hands on her hips and step back another few paces to check the booth display again, then she raised both hands to sweep her hair back as she returned to the booth with several long, graceful strides.
As if talking to himself, Cade said aloud, "Well, damn. I've only been here five minutes and I may already have seen a real, live pagan goddess."
Reaching across the seat for his coffee mug, Cade opened the door and swung a leg out, then froze as if he hadn't known the guy was there. The guy looked at him with amusement.
"So you think she's a real, live goddess, huh?" he asked.
Cade finished getting out of the car and stood up, then gestured at the distance between the booth and his car and added, "At this range she is. Have to get closer to be sure."
Holding up his mug and trying hard to ignore the skinny guy's severely plucked eyebrows, Cade asked, "Does anyone on this side of the lake have any coffee, or will I have to walk all the way around to the clubhouse?"
Ignoring Cade's question about coffee, the guy eyed him another moment, then stuck out his hand and said, "I'm James. Jamie to friends."
It was a blatantly obvious test of acceptance.
What the hell; Cade didn't care about James's sexual prefs any more than he cared about his politics.
Shaking hands with him, Cade said, "I guess that makes you Jamie, then. I'm Ed. I saw you come out of that booth. What kind of stuff do you sell?"
Jamie continued studying Cade for a moment before he shrugged and said, "Oh, this and that. You know; the kind of stuff everybody sells at these events. It's easier to show you than tell you." He pointed at Cade's mug and smiled as he said, "And we may even have some coffee left. Helen lives on the stuff. C'mon."
As Jamie pivoted and started toward the booth, Cade asked, "Helen's the blonde?"
With a fat grin, Jamie said, "Yeah. Your pagan goddess's name is Helen. I'm going to tell her you said that, you know."
Cade shrugged, grinned back, and said, "If I don't beat you to it, feel free. I'm not real shy."
Jamie gave a rather ladylike snort of laughter that turned into a soft chuckle and said, "Yeah, right. We'll see how shy you aren't. She scares the hell out of most guys."
"That's probably because they're insecure to start with."
Another quick laugh escaped Jamie.
"And you don't have any insecurities?"
"Not many, and damned few of them have anything to do with other people. Besides, for the time being, this meeting is about coffee and maybe watching each others' booths later."
Stopping in startlement, Jamie asked, "You have a booth?"
Nodding, Cade said, "Yup. One space away from yours. It isn't really mine, though. A friend set things up last night, then took a friend of hers to the emergency room early this morning. She called me around five a.m. to ask me to set her stuff up and handle things until she gets here."
"Your friend's a her?"
"Yeah. She has a shop in New Port Richey and wholesales my stoneware stuff. Hm. Make that 'our' stoneware stuff. I have a partner who actually makes it. I just design it, handle email orders, and make pages for the website."
Apparently truly surprised, Jamie asked, "The website? You can make websites?"
Nodding again, Cade said, "I scan stuff, make pages, send 'em up to a server, all that."
Jamie seemed thoughtful as he led off again. As they approached the tent, Cade looked up and saw a stained wood plaque with the words 'Helen's Emporium' painted in gold.
The stereo in the next booth was softly playing new age music; that is, the music itself was soft-toned, with a muted drumbeat and gentle chorals interspersed with the tinkle of what sounded like wind chimes. It was dull, droning stuff, but exactly what people expected to hear in an incense booth.
As they rounded the edge of the tent and entered past the display table, Cade saw Helen standing by the open rear of the tent. She was facing the lake, sipping from a big stoneware mug, and moving in a muted sort of dance to music from her radio headphones.
Yup. Damned near six feet tall. Thirty? Not quite thirty? Well-muscled under a masking veneer of soft-looking skin. Hair below her shoulders, flowing freely except where it was anchored by the headphones.
The campground was still fairly quiet and Cade could very faintly hear her music -- 'She's Got the Look,' a Prince tune from the eighties -- from more than ten feet away as Jamie moved ahead to make introductions.
Cade looked at the stuff on their display table. Crystals and handmade wands, wire jewelry, some hefty chunks of quartz in various colors, and some enameled copper pendants. It was nice stuff, thoughtfully made. Intricate designs, too.
Jamie moved into Helen's range of view and waved his hands in a classic 'Earth to Helen!' sort of gesture, then thumbed back toward Cade.
Helen swiveled slightly in her dance and continued dancing as she sipped her coffee and regarded Cade in an apparently thoughtful manner.
Cade gave her another of his little two-finger salutes and grinned, then joined Jamie at the coffee pot that sat atop a hibachi-style grill a little to one side of things.
"She likes the eighties stuff, huh?"
Looking up from pouring coffee, Jamie asked, "How the hell did you know that?"
"She was listening to Prince's 'She's Got the Look'."
"You can hear what she's listening to?"
"Yup. Now it's 'Rock of Ages'. Def Leppard. Must be one-oh-one-point-five. They play a lot of eighties stuff."
In apparent amazement, Jamie handed the coffee pot to Cade and went to stand next to Helen, where he listened intently as she gave him a quizzical, grinning gaze without interrupting her dancing.
Returning to the hibachi, Jamie said, "I can't believe you can hear that from all the way over here."
Shrugging, Cade added some cold water to his coffee and sipped it. A bit hot, but another shot of cold water fixed it. He turned to watch Helen dance and danced with her a little as he softly sang along with the chorus and a couple of lines he vaguely remembered.
Helen grinned hugely and eyed Cade as she sipped her coffee -- during which Cade noted with a measure of relief that she had no adam's apple -- then she pointed to the lawn chairs and headed for them, still dancing.
Settling into a chair, she gestured to the one next to it. Cade nodded and went to sit down as she took off her earphones and turned off the radio.
Extending a hand, Cade said, "Hi, I'm Ed."
She took his hand and firmly matched his gentle grip as she said in a rich contralto, "I'm Helen. How's the coffee? If it's good, I made it. If it's bad, he made it."
"You made it, then."
Jamie was still fussing with his coffee as he said, "Helen, he could hear what you were listening to all the way over here."
"Not everybody's deaf, sweetie," said Helen. "And it could be he's just more aware of things." Turning back to Cade she gave him a raised eyebrow and grinningly asked, "Is that it? You're just more aware of things?"
"Maybe so. For some blonde reason I just happened to be looking in the right direction, too. That helps, you know."
Her grin widened and she peered squintingly at Cade as she asked, "Was that a... rather subdued... compliment?"
Nodding, Cade said, "Yup. Very definitely. Would you like one that's considerably less subdued?"
"Oh, sure!" she said brightly, going through the motions of pretending to brace herself in the lawnchair. "Okay. I think I'm ready now. Shoot."
"Jamie," said Cade, "Tell her what I said at the car."
Jamie looked startled for a moment, then grinned and said, "Okay. I quote, 'Well, damn. I've only been here five minutes and I may already have seen a real, live pagan goddess.'"
Looking at Cade with surprise, then with apparent doubt, Helen asked, "Did you really say that, or did you guys just cook this up to tease me?"
"No joke, milady," said Cade. "He pretty much nailed it. I think that's almost exactly what I said."
Her peering gaze fixed on Jamie, who shrugged and gave her an innocent look as he said, "Really! That's what he said!"
"Who was he talking to? You?"
"No. He was just talking to himself in the car. While he was staring at you, you know?"
"And you just happened to be close enough to hear him?"
Trying to look and sound unjustly accused, Jamie said, "Well, I was kind of standing behind his car. I mean, well, beside it, really. Sort of. Close enough to hear him, anyway."
"Uh, huh. He doesn't look particularly gay, Jamie. Why were you standing beside his car?"
Jamie sighed loudly and exasperatedly and sounded like a valley girl as he said, "Well, duuhh? How was I supposed to know anything about him until I met him?"
Helen snickered, then turned back to study Cade before she asked, "Well? Does Jamie stand a chance in hell with you?"
Cade gave her a slight shake of his head. "Nope."
With a grin, Helen said, "I kind of didn't think so."
For some moments Helen and Cade sat sipping coffee and studying each other.
Jamie became agitated and came over to unfold another lawn chair and sit near Helen as he said, "He's got the booth on the other side of Raven's."
One of Helen's eyebrows went up as she regarded Cade, but when she said nothing, neither did Cade. Fidgeting for another couple of moments, Jamie spoke again.
"Helen, he says he does webpages."
Helen's eyebrow stayed up and her head tilted slightly as she looked at Cade, then she turned to Jamie to say, "We've talked about that already, Jamie. Too expensive for now."
"How expensive?" asked Cade. "Prices can vary. A lot."
Facing him, Helen said, "Seventy to register a name, fifteen a month for a place to put the pages -- a host, I think it's called -- and the cost of having the pages made. The lowest bidder so far wanted eight hundred for making them."
Shaking his head as he reached in a shirt pocket, Cade said, "Damn. Yeah, that's expensive, all right. I like my solution better. I bought a book about HTML back in 1993, made some pages, registered the name 'WiccaWorks.com', and put the pages on the space that came with our ISP account. I also put a copy of them on a free website so I'd have an extra twenty megs of space for pictures and writings."
Jamie incredulously asked, "A free website?!"
"Yup. Free. But they put a little banner ad at the top of each page. It might be an ad for clothes or Coke or Chevy or anybody else who can afford it. No porn, though. The ads are no biggie; they scroll up and out of view."
Jamie switched his excited gaze to Helen.
She ignored him and her eyes narrowed as she peered at Cade and asked, "You're saying that since you were online anyway, all you actually paid for is your name registration?"
Nodding, Cade said, "Yup. The main sales site is small enough to fit on the space that comes with the ISP account and there are no banner ads or pop-ups there. Extra stuff -- clip art and other freebies -- go on the free site. I'll show you my setup on my laptop later, if you want."
Grinning hugely, Jamie exclaimed, "We want! We want!"
Helen smiled at his outburst, then said, "Yes. We'd like to see what you've done." Turning to Jamie, she added, "But there's still the cost of the pages."
"Well, actually," said Cade, "They could wind up being pretty cheap. If you have pictures of your stuff and you like what you see of my site, I can clone my pages and change the words and pictures, then set you up with a free site. You can register your dot-com name and have it link to your free site, and if you don't want banner ads or pop-ups, give the ISP five bucks a month and you won't have them."
As if they'd been let in on the secrets of the universe, Jamie excitedly grabbed Helen's arm and hissingly squeaked, "Helen! We can use the pictures we used in the catalog! We gotta do this Helen! Holy shit! We can be on-line in a week!"
"Sooner," said Cade. "By tomorrow, probably. But the name registration would take a couple of days."
Putting a hand on his, Helen sharply regarded Cade and asked, "There's no catch? That's really all there is to it?"
Nodding, Cade said, "Yup. That's really all there is to it. I can give you a copy of the software I use for page-making, too. Legally, that is. Here's one of my business cards."
She looked at the card he handed her as she asked, "How much would you charge to make the pages?"
"Well, since I'm not having to design things from scratch, twenty bucks a page. Or less. It depends on how many pictures I'll have to scan and how much typing is involved. Fact is; if you can type, I'll just show you where to type in what you want about your stuff, then format it for you when it's ready. If we do it that way, fifteen a page. Or less."
Rolling her eyes with a grin, Helen said, "You keep saying 'or less'. Why would you charge less than fifteen a page?"
Shrugging, Cade said, "You have a big tent and I have a sleeping bag in my trunk. Work with me on page construction. Feed me twice a day and save me from having to drive to and from Spring Hill tonight and tomorrow night. I'd do up to twenty pages or so for ten bucks each."
Jumping up, Jamie squeaked, "Oh, wow! Ten bucks a page, Helen! We gotta do this!"
Helen chewed her lip as she eyed Jamie's starry-eyed enthusiasm, then she turned to Cade and said, "I'd like to see your pages before we call this a deal."
Getting to his feet, Cade said, "I'll get my laptop and scanner, then. We have an hour or so before things officially open. Mind if I borrow Jamie to carry some folding chairs?"
Jamie stepped forward, snapped to attention, and produced a quick, if not very perfect, salute.
Grinning at him, Helen said, "Oh, yeah. I think I can spare him for a few minutes."
More? On to Chapter 2!
or
Get the rest of the book!
Purchase page:
LIT - Rocket/REB
PDB/Palm - PDF - KML
(Must be 18)
|
|
|
|
