It seemed impossible, but prison made Eileen even more attractive.
Mason made the drive to Missouri in hopes of being able to see her the day after he picked up the new 1981 Continental Mark VI Coupe Givenchy Edition he’d special-ordered through Frontier Ford. Rather than being escorted into the Visitation Room where the other prisoners met their families, the guard took Mason directly to Eileen’s cell. He slipped the guard a $100 bill which she tucked into the front of her bra with one flick of her wrist. “Fifteen minutes,” she told him. “Not a single minute more.”
The huge iron door slammed shut behind him with a vibrating clang that echoed down the hallway. The noise made Mason jump. Eileen was so used to it, she didn’t even flinch. She was immediately in front of him, her lips finding his. They fumbled for buttons on each other’s clothes, the lack of time stealing the opportunity for more nuanced and extended foreplay.
As Eileen reached down and tugged at the zipper of his Levi 501s, Mason felt his entire body shudder. It was the exact same shudder he’d experienced the previous two nights when he’d enjoyed almost the same dream. He looked around the dark bedroom of the new home he’d only recently completed in order to get his bearings. He was still getting used to the size of the place after having lived in the barn on the property for so long.
The new Continental Mark VI was in the garage, still having never left Pecos County. The dream of driving it to Missouri had been repeated nightly since he’d received the phone call from Eileen a few days prior.
“Mason? Parker McHale. I mean, Eileen,” she’d said. Like it was a routine phone call. No big deal. It took him a minute to get over the shock of the sound of her voice in his ear again.
“Yeah?” he mumbled.
“I’ll be in Fort Stockton next week. Just driving through. Thought we could get together and catch up,” she said. “It’s been awhile.”
Indeed it had. Seven years or so at that point. It was the last call Mason had ever expected by that point.
“You still there?” she asked impatiently.
“Yeah. Of course. That’d be great,” Mason said. He looked for something to write down whatever pertinent information Eileen may have offered. She didn’t say how long she’d be in town for sure. Mason thought she may have left it open-ended on purpose.
In a town like Fort Stockton news of a notorious celebrity returning like the Prodigal Son, or Daughter in this case, does not stay a secret for long. Mason dropped off the Mark VI at Frontier Ford, “Home of the Straight Shootin’ Deal,” for its very first oil change. “The first one is complimentary,” the Service Manager said.
“I own 18% of this joint,” Mason replied. “They’re all complimentary.” The point was taken and he moseyed over to the Rusty Hammer Hardware Store to kill a half hour. He wasn’t there long enough to pour a cup from the Mr. Coffee on the counter next to the nail bin before Perry Silverman, Owner and Managing Editor of the Stockton Telegram-Dispatch, was standing right beside him.
“I hear Eileen’s coming back to town,” Perry said. Mason was surprised it was public knowledge. “Is she staying at the Cattle Baron Hotel, or out at your new place?”
“I’m sure she’s got a room booked at the Hotel,” Mason replied.
“That doesn’t really answer the question, though. Does it?” Perry countered.
Rusty stopped by and rattled the empty Folgers can next to the Mr. Coffee, just in front of the styrofoam cups. “It’s customary to leave a quarter or two in the can if you’re going to enjoy a cup of coffee and soak up the ambiance.” Mason poured the contents of his cup back into the Mr. Coffee pot.
“I hear Mayor Goodman is planning PARKER McHALE DAY while she’s in town. Presenting her with a key to the city. Making a big deal of her return to Fort. Stockton. The paper is doing a whole series on her career. The final feature in the series will run on the same day as the parade,” Perry noted.
“Parade? I’m sure she’ll be thrilled,” Mason noted sarcastically.
Franklin Danbury had walked up midway through Perry’s announcement of all the events planned. “That explains why the bed & breakfast suddenly sold out for the next three weeks. Maybe Parker Oaks B&B will finally turn a profit.”
“Mayor Goodman ordered a hundred copies of each of her books for City Hall. He’s setting up a display right next to the counter where you pay your water bill,” Rusty said. “You can pick ‘em up right here cheaper. There’s a whole Parker McHale display set up over on the rat killer aisle. Mine don’t include the ‘Mayor’s Mark-up’,” he added.
Somehow Mason felt like he was perhaps the last to know about her visit, rather than the first. He wondered if he’d even get a chance to spend any time alone with Eileen when she finally got to Fort Stockton, or if it would all be parades and presentations. About then the Service Manager from Frontier Ford walked in with the keys to Mason’s Mark VI in his outstretched, oil stained fingers. “Your Continental is ready.” He handed Mason the keys. Mason wiped them off with a paper towel from the stack next to the stir sticks before sliding them into his pocket.
“I hear the Cactus Theater is running all of Parker McHale’s movies back to back, non-stop, while she’s in town,” the Service Manager said. “Any chance you could get free tickets for the wife and me? I had the lot jockey wash the Mark VI when the oil change was finished.”
“I’ll see what I can do,” Mason grumbled.
“Murder by Moonlight is the wife’s favorite movie of all time,” the Service Manager added for emphasis. Mason concluded that it was probably just wishful thinking on the wife’s part.
A couple days later Mason was in his office when the phone rang. His secretary answered, put the caller on hold and shouted towards his office, “Parker McHale on line one!” She seemed giddy when she said it.
“Eileen? Where are you?” Mason asked. He never could get used to calling her Parker McHale.
“Santa Fe. Should be in Fort Stockton the day after tomorrow. Just wanted to touch base. Tie up any loose ends,” she said.
Hearing her say ‘tie up loose ends’ made him shudder just a bit. “It sounds like your return to town has garnered a lot more attention than I thought it would,” he said.
“My people in California got involved,” Eileen replied. “And apparently there are those in Fort Stockton who saw it as an opportunity to draw some attention to themselves, if you can imagine.”
“Go figure.” Mason muttered.
“Anyway, it will all sort itself out.” Eileen took the whole thing in stride, apparently.
“I’m hoping to spend a little time, just you and I,” Mason said. “I’ve got a lot of questions.”
Eileen seemed a little surprised. “Of course. That’s why I called to let you know I’d be there. What kind of questions do you have?”
“I don’t know,” Mason hem hawed. “It’s been a long time since we talked. I guess maybe the dead guy in your pool. Maybe Rusk Hamilton dumpster diving to his death behind the Shamrock Motel in Saint Jo, Missouri. Stuff like that.”
There was a long silence. Then a slow laugh that increased in volume from a chortle to a full blown belly laugh. The sound was both intimidating and arousing to Mason as he listened.
“Of course, Sweetie,” she said when the laughter subsided. “Of course. I’ll tell you anything you want to know. I always have.”
9 responses to “WHAT DRIVES EILEEN, Chapter 14”
Daughter CandyCorn, works with AI generated images and does photoshopping for the commercials she produces. She says the prisoner image above is definitely A.I.; ‘AI-leen’ vice Eileen. As such, the tattoo is indecipherable; just like the badges, nameplates, etc. Aloud, she wondered why nobody noticed ‘Frank Sloup’s’ left hand. I said, “We don’t mention physical deformities in this forum out of respect for the real people on whom the characters are based even if we don’t know them”, but to myself I thought, “That guard is probably quite popular with the inmates.” I also thought AI-leen’s female escort bore a strong likeness to Anne Lennox, but that was probably wishful thinking on my part because I like her voice.
Captain, I like the fifteen leg journey of What Drives Eileen. And, I truly will be shocked if in Chapter 16, it turns out she went to Trinidad, Colorado in the ’90s for an extended medical procedure prior to returning to Fort Stockton in the present day with Wendy Mae. If so, that will mean that Wendy didn’t have to explain anything back on 6/27/23. GLWTStory. d;)
That’s a tangled web you’re weaving there, Cornfield. Don’t know how you do it. (Unless, of course, Candycorn is helping out with the use of AI.)
Had to go back to the June 27th post to recall the details. Ah, Wendy Mae.
The male Officer to Eileen’s right looks a lot like YouTube’s Frank Sloup…..Fridays with Frank. Of course, it took me a really long time to even notice there was an Officer there.
REALLY surprised to learn that Mason is wearing zippered 501s in the story. I wasn’t even aware Levi’s made 501s with zippers, so I looked it up — short answer — they don’t. So, Cap’n, regrettably, I gotta throw the denim penalty flag on that one. Of course, it WAS a dream sequence, so maybe we give you a pass and chalk it up to Mason’s misfiring brain synapses during a fevered reverie.
Prompted me to fondly recall one specific instance in my yooth when my button fly rivets were being popped by an eager sweetheart anxious to get down to business, but who took the time to seductively sequence the action to maximum effect. “Emm, umm, ungh , POP.” “There we GO! Wow! Your jeans are sooooo STIFF. Emm, umm, ungh , POP! It’s so much HARDER than I thought it’d be. They must be new. Emm, umm, ungh , POP! Oh jeez! Is their first time ever COMING OFF ?”
Afterwards, I was left to conjecture as to the degree of spontaneity on display. Was that a practiced line of patter, or just a funny and clever extemporaneous expression of her erotic imagination? She WAS better in the sack than I was, frankly, and the circumstances of that particular session never repeated themselves. Upside was, I learned a little. Been a long time since I’ve had to consider the moves and strategies to employ when being with someone new. Just as well; never such uncertainty and self-doubt.
Just writing that last part reminds me of one of the Captain’s great stories. The young Cap’n — “Skipper” — is at a hospice facility, bedside with his dying grandfather who is fading fast. The old man beckons his grandson to come closer so he can impart some last words of invaluable and timeless insight to the young man. “Skipper,” he whispers coarsely, “If the girl’s bra and panties match, you’re not the one who decided to have sex.”
I hope I remembered that one right.
Looking forward to more adventures of Eileen the next couple days. Also, I think I’ll have a blow-up made of that image of our naughty girl in that striped prison get-up — even better than Vanessa Williams wearing that form-fitting nurse’s uniform in that ‘90s dance movie. That reminds me of another story . . .
Oh my.
That tattoo. Above her left ovary. I’m desperate to know.
Focus, Quincy. Focus.
Ok. My wife has better eyes. I ask her.
Or not.
Quincy — Looks like the first line says “Mason.” Below that — I could be mistaken — but it sorts looks like “Hairless.” Either that or “No Prunes” Tough one. Its taken several intense viewing sessions, but of one thing, I’m fairly sure: I really don’t think there are prison uniforms that actually look like that IRL.