Mercy's Season by Miranda Crowe

Author:Miranda Crowe [Crowe, Miranda]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2016-10-31T16:00:00+00:00

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Thursday night, the Carvers and Kimball returned to the Kurton Kitchen for their weekly night out together. They followed their usual routine to the letter. Mercy dropped Old Maggie off at the door, then drove up the street with Kimball to find a parking space. Kimball had gotten her license the month before, so she could go on her own to get groceries and the like, but she was never allowed to drive on family outings. That, Mercy said, was a man’s place.

And so she remained a passenger on Thursday evenings. She wasn’t let out at the door with Old Maggie, however. She was young and able; she could walk with Mercy. In truth, it was Mercy’s excuse for a few minutes alone in the car with her.

In front of the diner, Kimball was to get out of the back seat, open Old Maggie’s door for her, and help her out. She then got back into the car in the front seat. The minute the door was closed behind her, Mercy’s hand was on her thigh. She was wearing a skirt, another thing Mercy insisted on when the family was out together.

His hand was up that skirt as soon as they’d pulled away from the diner. Kimball noticed an empty space so close to the diner’s door Old Maggie could have parked with them and not had to walk more than three or four extra steps. Mercy drove past the spot.

In the beginning, Kimball had pointed out these missed spaces to Mercy, but it hadn’t taken long to figure out he would always do at least one lap around the square before parking.

As they made the first left-hand turn of their obligatory loop, he slipped a finger under the elastic at her crotch. He wiggled it up and down. Kimball sat still and let him have his fun.

After the next turn, he adjusted the angle of his hand, and put a finger inside of her. He didn’t do this often. It was an act designed to give the woman more pleasure than the man, and Mercy had no interest in Kimball’s pleasure. Most Thursdays, the expectation was for Kimball to manually service Mercy as they lapped the square, but from time to time he felt the urge to survey his territory.

His finger was neither as soft nor as gentle as Kimball’s, but it reminded her of her own recent touches in that region. This, in turn, led to the mental images that had accompanied her explorations. She felt herself open slightly and dampen.

“You like that, don’t you?” Mercy said. He sounded surprised, but quite satisfied with himself. “You sure do. I’d call you a slut, but I knows you can’t help it, I’s too much for ya.”

Kimball would have laughed had she not known he was likely to throw her from the moving car for doing so. Instead, she remained silent, letting him think what he wanted. Meanwhile, she thought what she wanted. They made three trips around the square before Mercy pulled into the empty space Kimball had seen in front of the restaurant.

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