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*Note - this is a chapter in the Fiona Files. These stores can be considered semi-autobiographical fiction, or just fiction. In these stories I will talk about Johnny and Fiona. Johnny is always the same person, mostly me. The Fiona Files is Johnny’s journey. The character of Fiona is a mash of women, real and imagined. Enjoy. Please let me know if you have enjoyed my stories.
NewRyder
The Fiona Files III - My Good Ghost
PART I
Outside the window was the city of San Francisco. The rooftops of the wood frame buildings receded into the early morning light. Her name was Fiona. I tended bar in the Marina district. With her I always felt young. She said I was quiet but I just didn’t know what to say and besides, being quiet around Fiona was okay. I liked to look and listen to her and try to figure out what made her attractive because she was not beautiful. Fiona was short, she was around five-four and strong with an ample firm ass. She had small breasts and wore heavy glasses. She had a smile and directness that was out of place in the city, she would talk and tell me about herself, her life in the city, laugh at her own little jokes and not mind that I just listened. I guess I was good company, didn’t try to impress her or tell lies about myself. In the shower I would wash her back, neck and ass, working cloth between her legs until she became shaky. With her glasses off and water running down her face she was nearly sightless and looked vulnerable. She allowed me to share her private moments and asked nothing of me.
I looked to the right, out the arched window in the gable of the house and out into the city. Fiona had disappeared; heat and light filled my loins, hot shifting light, burning madness and laughter. I arched and shifted; I shifted and grabbed the cool pipes of the bed. Fio was under the covers giving me head, that much I knew, the rest was just light, white hot light melting the head of my cock, baking the shaft, her mouth was wet, hot and alive. Fiona worked my cock until I came inside her, she held me in her mouth until my spasms stopped. I listened to her breathing through her nose and pushed my fingers through her hair. When she raised herself she wore a clever smile and kissed me full, the taste of cock and semen strong in her mouth.
I held her against me then, her ass against my burning erection, my shoulders eclipsing hers, I reached my hand to where she was wet, parted her coarse hair and dipped a finger into her hungry cunt. I kissed her neck, nibbled at her ear, buried my face in her hair. I made my breath hot and silent on her neck and worked the smooth wet places of her pussy. She moaned now and turned to kiss me but I didn’t let her. She tried to straighten now but I didn’t allow for that either. I held fast, and she was strong too. My finger stayed busy looking for a rhythm, trying to find a way to reach her. She squirmed trying to pull away but I was behind her, holding tighter, finding that rhythm now, bringing her closer. I took Fiona deeper into my arms and pressed my hand farther down scooping out her slick juices with my finger and rewetting her burning hood. She struggled once more to free herself then cried out as crashing orgasms overtook her. I eased my grip and kissed her softly as her ragged breath evened out and her heart slowed its’ pace. When she was done she hugged my arm, kissing it up and down.
PART II
You’ve got a friend in Pennsylvania. That’s all it takes. One car easing past me and I’m back in the memory of Fiona, born in Pennsylvania, moved to San Francisco.
I was man in hiding, stepping away from love I’d known and lives I’d led to be a man not known. I had my Nikon, I had a legal pad, a job, a bed and a phone.
Fiona had possessions. Fiona had made a home, she had a space, a world. Her room was up a narrow spiral stair and I’d have to keep my head down as I made the final turn. When my head came up I would be in her world. There was her dresser, crowded with small boxes and pictures, there was her desk with pocketed notes and loose change. A brass bed sat at angle under the long, low plaster ceiling, next to a rocking chair. When we lay in bed I was gone from the world of twenty dollar bills and car horns and into a feminine world beneath the shingles.
Fiona was a confident lover who took her own journeys. Love seemed to slide and float, never hitting awkward moments.
When we made love we moved with one another, she would move and I would go there, I would move and she would be there waiting. It was all as easy as moving a kiss from a neck to an ear.
Fiona lay beneath me her legs hooked around my calves, she held me by the shoulders and pressed her forehead hard to mine. She pulled to match my efforts and held off her orgasm until she felt me start to die, then slammed her hips and forced me deep, my whole length swelling, then glowing like wand and finally blasting away inside her. We lay together now kissing for a while, laughing softly, our heads burned where she’d pressed them together. I eased my way out and she held me firmly for a moment with the muscles of her vagina and then let go. Kissing her long I moved down the curves of her body and slid beneath the bed covers. I kissed her hard nipples, licked her belly, put her strong ass in both my hands and filled my nostrils with the heady smell of our mingled juices. Her lips were swollen and hot, her cunt hair pushed back and sticky. I flew around flipping her clit back and forth, clasping her lips in mine and pulling. Fiona responded by tilting herself up to meet me and catching my hair in her fists. I spun her labia, pulled myself away, blew cool air on her burning pussy and then plunged my tongue deep inside her to retrieve my tangy steaming seed. I licked back heavy gobs of my hot cum and mashed her clit with my open mouth. I was everywhere inside her. Fiona silently bucked, her pelvis in a frenzy. Her already swollen vulva rose like bread, then she began to cum, I ate that too. Then we were quiet again, kissing, her talking and telling stories as the dusty sun advanced across the polished floor bringing with it car horns and twenties
PART III
Fiona sat close to me on a pillow, her legs folded under the low table. The owner dotted on us, telling stories about the hot, sweet food the waiters brought around. The North Beach restaurant was deserted except for the staff and us. I talked about myself, a thing I never did with Fiona. I was moving back to Vermont. I had nothing there really, but I had run my course in the city. She and I realized too late that we were in love. How stupid we had been. We had sought out experience, not love and had not the wisdom to see or know love when it was in our grasp. Why do people hurt each other when it is just as easy to heal? Why did I not ask her for her love when it was the one thing I needed? Why did she not ask me?
I recall her smile, never cheap and full of teeth, but full, warm and personal. She would hug my arm and coax me into a laugh - laugh, come on, you can’t help yourself, you see? In my memory the evening had a warmth that ran through our bodies and joined us. It was a warmth that drew in all available light and closed the night around us. We drifted closer to one another, sharing food, leaning near to hear secrets of the soul. Being with Fiona that night was like growing old together and reliving a memory. Can two people know when something important is happening? Can they sense the sorrow of love even before it’s lost? Can they ever pull back from the brink folly? We had hurt each other and I assure you that is boring story. We had been non-exclusive and it cost us. Fiona was leaving too, moving back to Pennsylvania. She wrote down her mothers number and to this day I regret losing it.
I bought the dinner. She knew I was being brave. I was nearly broke and dinner broke me but I never let on. I think Fiona knew and saw it as the gesture that it was.
We stood outside in the drifting fog. I leaned against the fender of her old Toyota and she leaned into me, her sweet face against my chest, thigh in my crotch. I can now close my eyes, tilt my head back and memories of her sweep in like high moving clouds. I see simple things, riding with her on her bus route with her dressed in a business suit. Together seeing Raging Bull on it’s opening run, her breakdown of the screenplay and loving her. I see Fiona above me, ass spread out on my legs, eyes closed, clever smile, tight pussy stretched wide, rising and falling. There we are on an early morning, sleeping face to face, waking to see her hand tucked between her legs, eyes squeezed shut, silently climaxing next me, nostrils flared and mouth open, breathless. I recall as if it were today her sitting on the bed edge, undressing her like a servant, button by button, shoe, sock, kissing, licking bare toes, taking them in my mouth, sleeve, bra, licking nipples, armpits, neck, the smell of hair, belt, button, zipper, caressing, loving.
We parted at the car. She drove off to nurse a head cold and I went to North Beach to hear Charlie Musclewhite play the blues.
Fiona haunts me, she is my good ghost, she comes and goes as she pleases but I can call up memory her whenever I feel lonely.
NewRyder
I met Fiona when she blew through a red light and I broadsided her Alpha. I was able to kick the bumper of my truck back into place but her Alpha was now an organ donor. When the tow rig left she looked at me and said, “Alpha’s fucked”. When I asked if I could drop her somewhere she swung her pack into my truck and said, ”your place”. To say Fiona was quiet would be an understatement. She was nearly mute. But from the moment she slammed the door of my truck I knew that we would be together. Not that I wished we would be together, I knew we would be together. That much I was sure of. The rest was a surprise.
I stole glances at her in those first minutes. She had boyish hair, a little long and swept to the right, parted on the left. Not much tit that I could see. Her legs were shaved, brown and strong, she wore cutoffs, longer than a girl would wear and a dirty tour tee shirt. She caught me looking and I swerved to get back in the lane, Fiona looked back me without expression and pushed a Dylan CD into the dash. After a while she settled into the corner of the seat, tucked her leg up, rested her chin on her knee and took a long time checking me out.
“Your name?” she said finally.
“‘cuse me?”, swerve.
A laugh. “Your name. What’s your name?”, her chin still on her knee.
I took another look. She had pool deep brown eyes I don’t think she cared if she blinked or not.
“Johnny. John. Johnny.” I said like I had to recall my own name, the color rose in my face.
“Fiona.” She said.
“‘cuse me?”.
“Fiona, my name, call me Fio.”
In all time I knew Fiona she never asked for money. I never saw her use a phone. Never saw a check book or a credit card. I didn’t root through her bag or go through her pockets. I didn’t ask questions. I took every day as it came. I took every day with her as a gift.
When we got back to the house Yeller greeted her like she’d been gone for weeks. My usually stand offish best friend had just adopted a new master. While I cooked a diner Fiona alternately flopped and paced, Yeller at her heels or watching her the whole time. We ate and drank without a word, Fiona cleaned up. I put up my lunch for the morning and got into the shower.
I was face to the spray when the curtain pulled back and Fiona stepped in with me. I turned to look at her but she twisted my shoulders back and began to wash me. She started with my hair, moved to my chest and belly, then washed my erection. I was standing legs spread, arms up and out bracing myself. Fiona, soaped my cock and balls and then started on the crack of my ass. She washed me up and down and with a finger, washed me inside too. We still had not spoken since we had eaten, or at least Fio hadn’t. Fiona turned me and we kissed and embraced. I never once thought that I should say anything, I waited for her to speak and if she didn’t, I figured we were good.
Now I washed Fiona. She melted into me. I pressed my iron against her hot buttock and washed her hair. I felt the shape of her skull in my hands, felt her face relax and the grace of her neck. I soaped her muscled shoulders and with both hands washed her little tits. Fio pushed herself harder against me and my cock stood upright between her cheeks. I soaped her belly and then probed her sex. The wetness of the shower met with the slickness of her juices and I finger fucked her to climax. When she was done she reached between her legs and guided me home, bending at the waist to take my cock until we were as close as two people can be. We moved together in silence, the water spraying over her back, the rivulets finding the channels of her spine and ribs and then running down her honey colored moons. When she was ready for me she reached around and clamped a hand on my ass cheek and jerked her body against me until I came and came hard. I could feel myself burst and pump deep into her. I held Fio around the waist with both hands, pulled her up onto her toes and tried to bury my cock deep until the burning stopped.
Fio turned and kissed me. She locked onto me with her almond eyes, “Johnny? Do you believe what they say, that if you save a life, that you then take responsibility for that life?”
I turned the water off and pushed her hair back. There was nothing remarkable about her face, it was almost bland, unfinished, but it had a perfect symmetry and balance, it was a face you could spend a lifetime painting and would always want to look upon one more time. “Yeah, I guess I do. Yeah.” I said. But even as I answered, the question rang in my head; whose life has been saved?
Fiona pecked me on the lips pinched me, “I’m going to need some clothes.”
“No problem.”
Part II
Next morning I packed up and headed out to the truck. Fiona followed me onto the porch, Yeller along side. I threw a ladder on the rack and lashed it down.
“Hey Johnny.” Fio called.
“Yeah. Fio.”
“Did I forget to say thanks?” she asked taking a seat on the step.
I looked at her then, forearms resting on her knees, coffee steam blowing east and wondered how to answer that. Yeller and I had been living alone for years. I had really given up on chasing women and was concentrating on learning about myself and becoming comfortable in my skin. I read books, Jack London, Conrad, Toni Morrison, all kinds of stuff. I’d done allot of drugs, had fast friends, slept with friends of friends. Now I was banging nails and living by the river. I looked at this woman sitting on my stoop that my dog seemed to know the moment he met her. A woman who really didn’t need to speak. I mean it was strange. She just didn’t need to chatter and comment on useless things. She had no external dialog, none at all, I could be in the room with her not feel the need to fill the space with noise.
I reached into the truck and tossed her a set of keys.
“What are these?” she asked finger sorting them.
“To the Datsun.”
“That?” she said pointing to the ‘73 B210 under the maple.
“Does it run?”
“Yeah it runs. Good car. No AC. Just don’t blow through any red lights.” I said from the door of the truck.
“I’ll be home a little after five.” I turned the key and brought the truck to life.
“Hey Johnny!” She yelled over the engine noise, then trotted over to the truck.
“Hey, Johnny! Thanks.” she said
“Now you’ve thanked me.” I threw the rig in gear and headed down the road with a smile and hard-on.
“No. Thank you Fio.” I said to myself.
Part III
Fiona pulled her shirt over her head, tossed it on the rail of the wagon and leaned back on open palms. Her hair was longer now than when we’d met and she wore it tied back, if anything it made her look more boyish. I liked that about her, her boyish looks, her slim hips and her little breasts. But while she may have had boyish looks; if you put her in a short skirt and and a tank top, you could watch the women watch their men. Fiona was attractive and possessed a nonchalance that caused men to do things to get her attention. Months of working in the woodlot and gardens and toughened her hands. Her skin, that was honey colored when she crashed into my life was now bronzed and freckles ran across the bridge of her nose. Fiona was still quiet but in our months together she had become relaxed, playful and affectionate.
The light of the burn pile played across her bare shoulders and erect nipples. The fire highlighted the plains of her face and cast it half in shadow. Her eyes were dark pools that flashed amber. I stood between her legs and worked to button of her shorts. Fio pressed warm course hands hard against my stomach and roughly inspected my ribs, chest, shoulders and arms. I tensed my body as she made her way. When she squeezed a muscle I flexed it. I liked her hands on me and I wanted my body to please her. She opened my jeans, pushed them down, then laid back and shucked off her shorts.
On my knees now I pushed my face into her pussy. I inhaled deeply through my nose and dug my toes into the cool earth. The two of us were dirty and sweaty. Fio’s pussy smelled of urine and musk. I parted her damp hair and dug my tongue into her sweet clean folds. I knew how she liked to eaten, she had shown me. “Here” she would say placing a finger on the spot to lick. “Here” she would say reaching for her g-spot. I took my time. I enjoyed the dirty, tangy scent of her sex and labor. I enjoyed having my tongue in her, of gently pulling her clit between my lips. I took my time so that I could look up at her in the shifting light of the fire. So I could watch the rise and fall of her belly as she breathed. I ran my tongue over the sensitive parts of her sex and watched her ribs rise as she arched her back. I drew out her sweet juices and smelled the piss in her hair and watched her twist her graceful neck and chin and saw the fire glint off a single tooth from her open mouth. When she came she kicked hard against my shoulders, rolled her hips up and invited me to push hard and lick deeply into her snatch. Fio’s juices flowed heavy now, thick and sweet. I drew her honey out with my tongue time and again until she relaxed and her breathing slowed. She held my one hand against her belly and with the other I pulled on my cock. I held it tightly and moved the skin up and back in a frenzy until my hot seed exploded into the cool night air. We stayed like that for a for a long time, Fiona on her back and me with my mouth on her sex, stroking my cock and fondling my balls. I could see that Fiona’s eyes were open and that she was watching the sparks from the fire as they rose into the night sky and died.
Part IV
It was a Saturday morning. I wandered out of bed and found Fio drinking coffee and reading a book, she was in her running clothes.
“Burnt Pond?” she asked putting her book aside. No good morning or anything, just right to the question.
“Burnt Pond it is.” I replied reaching for the coffee grinder.
“Coffee’s made.” she said without looking up.
“Okay.” I reached for a bagel and the knife.
“Bagel’s all set and packed.”
“Okay. Should I brush my teeth or is that set too?” I asked.
“Funny. We can take my car.”
“Your car? You mean the Datsun?” I was starting to wake up now and sipping coffee from the thermal mug.
“Yeah.” she said with a crooked smile, the brown eyes flashed and narrowed. She was obviously way more awake than me. She waited for my reply but somehow I knew better.
Burnt Pond was our favorite spot. It had always been mine and now it was ours. Fio had indeed packed us up for the day. Yeller knew where we were going by the gear that was packed and whined and moaned the whole way to the trail head. Fio parked the Datsun under a tree and we unpacked amid the pickup trucks and Audi’s that had carried the mountain bikers to these woods.
The Burnt Pond run was where I had introduced Fio to trail running. She had obviously run roads and probably cross country, but never trails. She took to it and excelled. We shucked on our light packs and started running. Fio and Yeller took the lead. The first 2.5 miles is a climb. Never steep, but steady. I followed Fio’s bouncing form. Her pony tail switched back and forth across her shoulders and she held her head steady. Fio was a natural on the the trails, she read the terrain and picked a clean line. She had fast feet and kept them moving, dancing through the rock gardens and exposed roots. As we ran we picked off the mountain bikers one by one. There is nothing sweeter than seeing a big tough mountain biker being passed by a girl on foot. These guys would always stop when she passed and watch her go on. I would say something like, “Hey man, great day huh?” But inside I would be bursting with pride. I know the guys she passed would be thinking of Fio and telling stories for days. Fiona was ripped, beautiful square shoulders with deeply cut muscle definition. Any guy watching her attack an up-hill would see her chin pointed up the hill, fists and knees driving and abs hard and flat as a plate. I knew that on Monday they would be telling their friends about the chick that passed them on the trail.
Yeller hit the pond at full speed, took a couple turns then exploded out of the water and shook himself. If dogs smile, he was smiling. The nine miles to the pond passed in no time, the day was perfect, late summer, not a cloud, warm and windless. Burnt Pond is a small high lake with exposed rock all around and views in every direction. In the center is an island with a pine stand that survived the fire that had exposed the rock on the shore. We stowed our gear in a dry sack that I tied around my waist and we swam naked to the island.
On the island we sat on the rocks in the sun and ate our lunch in silence. When we finished we moved under the cover of the pines and made love on a small blanket we had laid on the soft forest floor.
I never took Fiona for granted, never treated her as just a punch. Her love was gift. I don’t know why it was given to me and I don’t know where it came from. When we made love that day I had so many things I wanted to say. I wanted to kiss her forever. I wanted my kisses to tell her things and not just be the thing you do before you actually fuck. I wanted to kiss her until she knew my thoughts. When I went down on her I imagined myself playing a song for her, I had rhythm and melody and tried to play through her and to reach her. When we were together and I was inside her I wanted to crawl inside and plant my thoughts in her womb.
Fiona sensed my need and responded by loving me in a nurturing way. She opened her self to me, she pulled me in with her arms and wrapped her legs around me. Fio kissed my neck and comforted me. Fiona lay on her back and spread her legs wide. Her pussy was slick and swollen. She took the head of my cock and guided it into her warmth then pulled me in deeply. In my head I could hear her say, “Come inside, be with me, we are one. This is sanctuary.”
Our lovemaking beneath the pines was sweet and kind and melancholy. Our bodies were strong from running and each of us passed that strength to the other.
We were through we lay on our backs holding hands.
“Where were you going on the day of the crash?” I asked.
“I never made it.” she said giving my hand a squeeze.
“Where were you coming from?” I tried another tactic.
“Someplace dark.” she said, her hand going soft now.
“Help me out here Fio, I never asked and I need to know.”
Fio threw a leg over and sat astride me. Her knees were by my ribs, her hands on my shoulders.
“Why do you think I got in the truck with you that day Johnny?”
“I don’t know Fio, I honestly don’t know.” I was suddenly very tried and a little sad that I had finally asked.
She looked down at me with warm brown eyes, “Because you didn’t care that I did. You weren’t trying to get over on me, you gave off no vibe. You were nice.”
“Oh great, so now I’m nice.” no one likes to be a nice guy. Dangerous maybe, but not nice.
“And you have a world class ass.” she said giving me a little punch.
“World class? Really? You have a world class ass my friend, not me.”
“No Johnny, I have GREAT ass. Yours in world class. And you have no idea and that’s why I got in the truck.”
“Okay.” I said and then waited. Fio was talking now and I needed her to continue.
“Do you know that you don’t have a calendar in your house?” the brown eyes were burning me now.
“Yeah I do…”
“No Johnny. Not one. Where I was coming from there was one in every room. There were calendars everywhere. Every day of my life was planned for months and years in advance. I felt like I was being held under water, that if I opened my mouth I would drown. The day you smashed into me I was going from the dark to the light. In your house one day just leads to the next and I don’t feel shut in. You don’t make plans for me Johnny. You don’t try to make me be you. You have no idea what that means to me.”
“What are we doing Fio?”
“We’re talking Johnny.” she said with a little smile.
“No, we, us. What are we doing. One day I am living down by the river and the next day - Fiona. Are we John and Fio or are we Johnny. And Fiona?” My hands were on her knees and I held them waiting for an answer.
“I don’t know Johnny. Sometimes a life is a just a life. Some are planned like mine was and some are not. Johnny, can’t a life just be a string of days? A life where every day you decide what your life will be? I love you Johnny. Today I think our life is together, but I’m not planning. I sometimes think we might be waypoints. But it might turn out that we are destinations. You want me Johnny. And I want to be wanted, but you don’t need me.”
“Wow. I don’t need you? Maybe I do. Maybe my life is better than it was before you. Maybe I didn’t need you before I knew you but now I do.” We were sitting now, legs twined together.
“What the fuck Fio.”
“Johnny. You don’t need anyone. You are complete. Another reason I got in the truck. You weren’t looking for missing pieces of yourself that you might get off of me. I want to be complete like you, but I haven’t been at it as long as you have.”
We sat for a long time then, naked in the woods, souls bare, leaning against each other, looking out through the pines at the water, the shore beyond and mountains beyond that. Maybe life could be a string of days. Maybe you just start walking and everyday you wake in a new place, look at new mountains and deal with that day. Then you walk some more. A string of days. Life made up as you go along. Was that how I had been living my life? One thing I felt sure of was that I would know Fiona my whole life. That even if we were waypoints, she would be in my life. I believed that Fiona had Fallen and that each of our lives had meaning to the other.
“I love you Fio.”
“I love you Johnny.”
“String of days?”
“String of days.”
“You know I’m going to kick your ass on the run home right?”
“I know you’ll try Johnny.”
“I have a hard-on.”
“I can help with that.”
“String of days.”
“String of days.”
“Cool.”
NewRyder
