Live Chicken Sandwich

"I'm sorry," she giggled. "I'm being a pig!"

"You be how you want to be, ok? It's fine by me."

"Ok! Can I ask you a question?"

Here it comes.

"Those photos downstairs; did you take them?"

Oh. Alright.

"Yeah. I have a darkroom across the hall."

"Do you ever do portrait photography?"

"You mean, like wedding photos?"

She giggled again. I love her when she giggles.

"I was thinking more like, wedding night photos."

I picked up my wineglass and thought about where this was going. As I swirled the wine, there was a flash and a shutter went off in my brain and I saw Janet. Naked Janet. Spread out on my bed with her back arched Janet. Packing her suitcases Janet. While I cried and begged her not to go.

"I haven't done any of those in a while."

Suddenly the wine wasn't working.

"You want to go to Pappy's, Maggie?"

"Um, not really."

I'd fucked it up. She was going to leave now. Better. Better for me and better for her. I'm cold and I'm old and I'm too damn confused. I stood up to clear the dishes. She reached over and grabbed my arm.

"I want you to take pictures of me, Lisa." She said it softly, like a whispered confession. My heart gave a lurch and my blood surged.

I sat back down slowly. She didn't let go of my arm. She came over with me and knelt at my feet. I looked down into those big, wide blue eyes and wished I could get off this rollercoaster.

"Please? It would be fun, wouldn't it?"

Janet, with her head hanging off the end of my bed, looking back at me, arms outstretched to me.

She thinks it would be fun.

I held her face. So sweet. She closed her eyes as I bent down to her. She's uncertain, but she opened her mouth for me. My tongue sought hers, and she gave it to me. She tasted of wine and spices. I pushed the chair back and knelt beside her, held her with both my hands around the back of her head and worked my passion on her mouth. She rested her hands softly on my forearms as I ravished her pretty, pouty little pink lips. I plucked them, sucked them, pressed them and pushed my tongue between them again and again.

When she whimpered I sprang back like a scorched cat. Her eyes were dark and wide. I'd frightened her. Hell, I'd frightened me.

"Is it just pictures you want?" My voice was a croak. "I don't know what you want, Maggie."

"I... I don't know. I like what you just did. But... I don't know."

I guess that made two of us.

*******

My camera is whirring, speeding through the film.

"Look right at me. Give me a hard look. Nice pout! That's good! Slide your hand up behind your head a little higher; let your hair get messy. Great! Now bunch your hand up under your tee shirt. A little more. Get some height. Got it!"

Suddenly, I'm flying. I don't have the right lighting and my living room isn't the best setting but it doesn't matter. I'm loving it and so is Maggie. God, she's a natural. Little bare feet, wide stance, jeans pulled open, little bikini bottom peeping. I love her smooth tanned belly.

"Lift the tee shirt. Hold it up. Show me your bikini top. Nice!" She's not heavy breasted but they're very full and round for her frame. Mine are aching.

She's got two hands pulling up on the tee shirt, now one. The other one's slowly pulling a cup sideways. I keep the shutter working.

"Peek a boo!" She surprises me. I work fast to get that cheeky grin and the quick flash of taught nipple. I'm wet.

The tee shirt comes off. She's slowing down, losing her confidence.

"Push 'em together darlin'. Hold 'em up and suck on yer lip. Yeah! Oww! Maggie's hot!"

She likes my dirty drawl. She can't keep a straight face. She's back into it. "Wanna see? Wanna see 'em?"

"I wanna see 'em Maggie! Show me those beauties!" The clasp comes undone at her back. "Whoa, whoa, slow down. Hold it against you; yeah, like that, let the straps hang. Hug 'em up. Nice!"

Her eyes are shining. She drops her arms and the limp thing falls off her tits. I'm throbbing. Gotta keep it going.

"Lift your hair, both hands! Fan-tastic! Arch your back, babe. Blow me a kiss! She's alive! Look at that girl!"

"I'm a live chicken, Lisa!"

Oh. Oh yeah.

"Where's the chicken, babe? Grab that chicken! Scratch it for me!"

It's a classic. One hand down her pants, the other holding up a breast. Chin down and tongue protruding. Looking right at me. I've got no room, but I'm bouncing around like an orangutan.

"Turn around babe. Show me your ass. Bend forward and look back at me. Sweet! Ease the jeans down. Hold it there!"

She's grinning like a banshee. So am I. The camera's whirring. So's my head.

I don't have to tell her. The jeans slide down to her ankles and she straightens up, still looking over her shoulder. Baby doll pose with a finger in her mouth. Nobody ever did it better. Sweet pink thong between her tanned smooth cheeks. I wanna rip it off. I wanna do it so bad.

She kicks the jeans off. She walks over to my sofa and throws herself on it, flings a leg up and hooks the heel over the back. She's wide open, her other foot on the carpet. I walk over, still clicking as she arches back over the low arm. Her hand's in her bikini bottom, stroking. I can see the little blonde strip peeking above it. Her other hand's index finger and thumb are rolling a nipple. I talk to her softly as I take a few last shots.

"Stroke the chicken, baby doll. Yeah, baby. It's a live one. All hot and steamy."

Her eyes are dark. She licks her lips and swallows. I put the camera down on the table and turn back to her. 'Too young, too...' Oh, shut up. Just shut up.

I kneel in my jeans between her straight, slender legs. I pull her hand away from her nipple and hold it by the wrist. I hold it out as I place a hand to support myself beside her, lean over her.

"Keep working it, baby doll. Daddy-Mommy can take care of that."

It's been so long.

*******

Do you know the line? An old Beatles song... "and in the end, the love you take, is equal to the love, you make". It was playing in my head as I bent to her, to take her firm, begging nipple into my mouth. Sweet, the way she sighed, "Make love to me?"

I worked my tongue around and over the swelling peak. I held it between my teeth and pulled, just a little, and let go. Something snapped in me when she let out a gasp and a whimper. I lunged on it, sucked hard on it, drew her blood and fire, and all the electricity I could into it. She cried out, and I held her hot wrist tighter as I slathered my way over to her other breast. I could sense the muscles moving in her arm and fingers, I could smell her heat.

I liked it. I liked that nothing of my body was accessible to her, and everything of hers was coming undone. I laid on her, pushed my jeans-clad legs hard against the insides of her open thighs. I squeezed on the tit I had just taken. I had trapped her arm; she pulled it out from under me, pressed my back through the soft cotton of my tee shirt. 'Maggie's holding me.' I dared to tell it to myself. I almost dared to feel the love. I watched her eyes open slowly and felt her breathing deepening beneath me.

I fall. I tumble into the wide expanse of her deep, ocean blues; that big, crazy openness. I long to go there; to fill her with all that I can not contain.

A trace of agony plays across her face as I grind against her. I let go of her wrist and slide my hands under her, grasp her under her shoulders and kiss her quickly, erratically, as I work my body against hers and feel the drag of my jeans against my pulsing clit. She enfolds me with her two arms, as she breathes her pleading. "Lisa. Lisa. Oh, please!" My name sounds magical to me, like the hiss and sigh of a gentle surf.

I slip away from her, pull her down to the carpet beside me. Her arms stretch wide and her palms flatten out against the fibers as I pull the sodden piece of fabric from between her legs. Her bent, raised knees arc back down slowly; they part for me as her feet land softly on the floor. She's naked now. I'm throbbing hard.

I lay myself over one of Maggie's outstretched arms and prop my head on my hand. I gaze at the little blonde strip above her swollen lips, stroke it softly and watch her hips rise. She whines as she seeks to pump her clit against my fingers. Instead, I trail my fingertips around her plump, shaved lips and pinch them together, pull them to get her attention. "Easy, girl. Open your eyes for me, baby."

She sees my smile, and it brings her down. As I begin to touch along her open pussy lips, her smile quickly fades; I watch to read the rise and fall and rise again of her pleasure. I stroke her lips and slowly bring my fingers up their wet, inner length. I feel a pang of tenderness as I see her eyes roll closed and hear her moan. I soothe back down, and her back arches as she catches fire.

The soft petals of her inner lips are thickly slick beneath my fingers. I glide and trace them to her clit. I see her free arm rise and her hand waver, with nowhere to go as my finger gently, slowly circles the center of her pleasure. The rising wail tells me when I have what I seek. I touch my fingertip to the side of her clit and rest it there as I work the tiny shaft. Her fingers claw the carpet and I don't think she notices as I push my aching, craving body over her to steal a kiss. But she crushes me to her in an instant and pushes her tongue into me, hands sweeping to grip my hair and hold me at her mouth.

I break free and suckle her once more, my own breasts swollen as I mouth and pull on hers. A deepening flush spreads over her chest and I watch her face as she grows quiet. I would think her peaceful, if it weren't for the knifing tension I can see in her body. I slip a finger to her entrance and let my pulsing focus on her closing walls. As I ease into her, I feel her tighten. Her breathing is shredded as she fights a welling scream. But I want it. I want to hear it.

I press down just above her bone as I wedge my fingers together and drive them all into her. Her head and shoulders lift clean off the carpet, her eyes wild, her mouth a soundless "Oh!" She falls back as I pull out from her and then I hear her. I hear my angel's voice as I tuck in my thumb and drive into her again. And again. I pounce between her legs as she opens herself as far as she can. I smooth my tongue around her clit; I keep the pressure on her mons, pressing her pussy wall against my other hand as I ease it, all of it, every wedge-driving inch of it, into her.

She pushes my head away and I let her move on my hand as she wants, letting her dictate the limits. When I feel I know how much she wants, I start to fist her, slowly at first. She clamps around my wrist as I move in her wet, clenching, love embrace.

"Good, Maggie? Maggie."

She opens her heavy eyelids and I see her eyes are dark and unfocused.

"Tell Daddy-Mommy. Is it good, Maggie?"

Her breathing is regular as she focuses on my face, and her voice comes deep and clear as she tells me, calmly, "Fuck me."

When she reached her orgasm, she contracted so deeply and for so long I was filled with awe. She slept while I held her, and my heart did not cease its joy as I waited, quietly, for her to wake.

*******

Pelican Beach has widened its appeal, somewhat, since "Live Chicken Sandwich" first opened its doors. We still get tourists and townsfolk looking for a quiet spot to cuddle. And the local residents still seem comfortable with the visiting gay and lesbian crowd; which is good, because there are more coming all the time.

In fact, it seems to me some of the local residents have positively embraced them, a few of them even literally. After all, I'm a local resident; and I embrace my angel, nearly every day. Oh, and I can be hugged now, even by people I know. And a lot more people know me than used to. I'm not running from anything.

I still photograph the local scenery for the tourists and make packed lunches for the charter fishing folk. Dave still enjoys working here and keeping in with his old crowd. He likes the new crowd too; the ones that started coming in when I put the pictures of Maggie on the walls. I'm selling other photographers' work besides my own now, and we have poetry and story telling in the evenings. "Live Chicken" is getting to be a regular artist's enclave.

Big bear Rob matted and framed the pictures of Maggie for me, and a couple of months later he told me he wanted that dinner I'd offered him. When the tears came to my eyes and I said "Thank you, Rob", he knew why.

We had a good time. We ate, drank, and laughed a lot. We talked about my lost love, Karen, and some subbies Rob had lost in his time. We talked about letting go and quiet time alone. Rob knows exactly who he's looking at; and I can handle that.

Maybe I'm chicken. But I am a live one.