FOOTPRINT OF A GHOST

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Chapter 2

Her face was bent forward a bit so she could look directly into my eyes.

“The music on the radio was interrupted by an urgent news bulletin.” she said, kneading my chest ever so slightly. Even though it was fairly dark in the backseat of the Oldsmobile, I could make out a slight twinkle in her eyes. “A serial killer had just escaped from a nearby mental institution.”

Her shirt was unbuttoned to her navel but not parted enough for me to see all of her breasts- just the inner curves of her cleavage. I lifted my hand to slide under her shirt but she caught hold of it gently and squeezed my fingers.

“And he has a hook where his right hand used to be.” she said still staring into my face as she maneuvered her pelvis slightly and pushed her pubic arch a bit harder against mine.

I was not unacquainted with sex by that time in my life but nor was I a formal expert. I did know instinctively, or perhaps I had been warned not to interrupt a female when she was in the middle of recounting an urban legend, even though I already knew the outcome... especially when I was just about to get my dick wet.

“You’ve heard it, haven’t you?” she said.

“Well actually...” I said.

“Don’t lie.” she said.

“Yes.” I said. “The guy and the girl decide to drive away and when they get home, they find a hook hanging from the car door handle.”

She slid her hand down between us and took hold of my swollen penis and guided it upward and inside her.


One thing about the night skies in Texas, when they are clear and the moon is full and bright, they are extraordinarily beautiful- and it was such a night.

We had parked off a dirt road, near a water tank, a few miles outside of town. There were some trees near the tank, but beyond that it was just flat desert land for miles. I don’t remember how I knew about the place. I had been there before to hunt dove or quail with a shotgun.

“So does this mean I’m your boyfriend now?” I asked.

“Why do guys always think that?” she said in a somewhat... deliberately affable tone.

“Because most girls want a guy to say that they love them or that they won’t go out with other girls or something like that.”

“And have you done that?” she said, more serious now, like she was studying me- sort of like the way she’d told me not to lie about the urban legend story.

“No.” I said. And it was true. I had never told a girl that I loved her to get her legs apart.

“So you’ve had sex before,” she said, “just because you wanted to fuck.”

“Yeah,” I said. “Mostly. So that’s what this is? You just wanted to fuck.”

It was strange to me, talking with a girl like this. I wasn’t used to the kind of candor that Ellie seemed comfortable with and also the level of maturity. Though I didn’t get it at the time, Ellie was considerably more mature than I was, or at least more sophisticated.

“That doesn’t mean we can’t do it again sometimes” she said.

“You mean like now or in the future?” I asked.

“Either or... and both” she said grinning. “Do you want to do it again?”

“No...” I said. “I’ve already got my clothes back on.” And it was true. We had both dressed and opted to sit in the front seat of my father’s 1964 Olds 88 and look at the full moon. It was like a moment out of a movie or from a novel maybe. But it was pleasant.

“Ahhhhh...” she said. “You’ve got your feelings hurt because I let you between my legs but not into my heart.”

Who was this girl?!

“Not really...” I said.

“Don’t lie!”

“Okay...” I said. “A little bit...”

“What?” she said kidding me. “A little bit what?”

“I got my feelings hurt... a little bit.”

I deliberately turned away from her and looked through the windshield at the full moon and grinned a grin that I knew she could see but that I was keeping away from her.

The moon really was spectacular. I still remember. Like something plucked out of a Spielberg flick and hung from the edge of the solar system by invisible string: though I didn’t know it because I had not seen any of his movies yet.

“Are you going to the chili cook-off?” she asked.

“We were talking about.” I answered... meaning Scotty Bob and me, maybe Phil.

The last thing that I remember Ellie ever saying to me was- “I want to go explore the Devil’s Sinkhole.”

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