‘Sheriff Porter 114 (edited)

Sheriff Porter 114

I went back to pedaling my trike. I pedaled a while then let the motor pull me a while. When I was rested I pedaled again. It took me another fifteen minutes to reach home. I stored the trike in the shed and plugged the charger in to get the batteries ready for the next day.

I went to my part of the barge house to retrieve some cut off baggy pants with lots of pockets. I took a black tee shirt with a silkscreen drawing in red from the clear plastic box I used for storage. The drawing on the shirt was of a scrawny looking wolf. I had found it on line and bought five of them. The tee shirt reminded me of the Swamp Dog compound. I hadn’t shown it to any of the residents of the compound. I wasn’t in the mood during my last visits.

I was in the cut off uniform pants and the black tee when Wilson came in carrying a pizza box. “I got a three meat pizza,” he said.

“Good it’s my favorite,” I replied’

“Yes I know,” Wilson said.

I had a glass of chemical iced tea and a slice of the pizza when I spoke next. “Okay Wilson what have you learned?” I asked.

“Two totally unrelated things,” Wilson said but he could hardly contain his excitement. “I learned that gold from the mountain’s erosion makes it’s way to the streams. The water washes it down stream. It rolls along the bottom till it get trapped some where along the way to the sea.”

“Yeah that’s sorta what I had guessed from the pictures of the California gold fields,” I agreed. “So any stream that runs off from the mountains might have gold?”

“Potentially yes, somewhere else totally unrelated, I read about the State’s conservation efforts to restore the environment. It seems that the group bought up a bunch of old 1900‘s hydro-electric dams that were not in use. They demolished them. They reduced what had been an eight or ten foot river to a stream.”

“And this is of interest to me why?” I asked.

“Because those dams had been a place where I think gold was deposited along with the sediment. Right now that sediment is growing grass. I think there is a significant amount of gold buried there,” Wilson said with a confident smile.

“How do you propose we get permission to mine it,” I asked. That land is owned by the people who owned the land on the banks of the river. If a person owned land on both sides they own the stream. Now, if they owned only on one side they own up to the stream bed. So I spent last night on one site. I researched it and found the owner’s name and address.”

“So now we know who owns the land that may or may not have gold on it. So what do I do now have Rita contact them for mineral rights lease?” I asked.

“The easiest lease to obtain is one for a minimally intrusive search for precious metal for a flat fee. If we find anything we share it with the owner of the land. Then we will have to renegotiate the mining lease. Frankly I expect everything of value to come out in the first few months,” Wilson suggested.

“Do a cost analysis for me,” I suggested.

“I have read that the lease goes for about $50 an acre. We are going to have to lease the whole stream area to get to that one spot. So we are looking at about $500 for the one year lease. Then there is the equipment, probably under a thousand. We are going to need a place to live, so I don’t know about that.”

“We can most likely find a motel nearby for our exploratory expedition,” Wilson said.

“Well keep working on it,” I suggested. “But don’t call Rita. Let’s take a look at this thing before we get her involved. But do check out the name and address of the owner. Also anything you can about their financial status.”

“Well,” Wilson said, “We have finished the pizza and we had our little talk. It is time to go fishing.”

“Since nothing has come up, I am totally agreeable.” I was finding that the fishing relaxed me. I didn’t feel the need to deal with Liam’s death while I was fishing. I also didn’t think about who might have been in the Villa I bombed.

Since its owner was a drug lord whose life expectancy isn’t long, no one gave the bombing of his home any particular significance. Just figured it was one piece of trash taking out another piece of trash. I suppose that description fit me as well as a drug lord. There are those who tell themselves that we have higher standards. I wondered how different we really were.

“We are going to go see the owners of that piece of property aren’t we?” Wilson asked.

“Yes, but first I need to know how to go about exploring for gold?” I asked.

“Okay we have to have the sediment from the dam. For that we need to dig,” Wilson said.

“Okay we dig a few five gallon buckets full of sediment, then what?” I asked.

“Then we have to run it through a processing sluice,” he said. “The sluice separates the gold from the sand. That’s pretty much it.”

“Most of the stuff we buy has to have another use as well as gold digging. I won’t waste our resources even though we can afford it. We are going to work like we don’t have any extra money.”

“Okay we need shovels I think we can probably reuse those,” Wilson said with a smile. “We will need a water pump in addition to the Sluice box. It takes lots of water. That stream may not have enough. But we can recirculate the water. I saw that on one of those gold rush type shows.”

“Sounds good, I have a water pump at County Seat we can use. The truth is they are pretty inexpensive so we might want to buy another one as well. We can use a kiddie pool for our water collection tank,” I suggested. Those you can fold up.”

“Okay but I want to design the things,” Wilson said with a smile. “I have seen every episode of every gold show on TV.”

“Well that certainly qualifies you. Remember though keep it simple,” I warned. “Also everything has to fit inside the bed of the ranger.”

For the rest of that first week, Wilson did research and designed the gold wash machine. I had no input into it. That was just as well since I had slipped into a deep funk. Friday after my flight, I decided that the next day my first Saturday back would be a good time to visit the creek that had once been a river.

“So Wilson you up for a road trip?” I asked when I got home shortly after 9 AM. I had stopped for breakfast that morning. No, I didn’t take anything for Wilson.

“You want to go negotiate a lease?” he asked.

“Yes I do. So how about it?” I asked.

“Sure we can do that. I have been cooped up here too long,” Wilson said.

“Too long without Chrissy’s mother,” I replied with a laugh.

“Whatever,” Wilson replied dripping with sarcasm just like a petulant teenager.

I spent the afternoon having the truck cleaned at the local you wash it car wash. There were always a couple of guys hanging out there. One of them would run a wet towel over the car for five bucks, if I also paid for the soapy wash and rinse. They had towels and would use them between the cycles. It usually cost me about ten bucks to get a sort of hand wash. The guys who couldn’t find work anywhere else made a few bucks.

I got my laundry done the same way. There was almost always a family run laundromat in every town. If you asked around you could find the one where grandma did the wash for you. It usually cost me three bucks extra a machine bringing cost to about five bucks a load. I found that a good deal, even if I did have to provide my own clothes carrying bag.

I was home in time to go out to EZ’s fish camp. He didn’t own it of course. He had just been the one to introduce it to me. Wilson didn’t like the fried seafood, so I left him at home doing more design work on the gold wash plant. I stopped to pick up a Philly style steak and cheese submarine sandwich for him.

“Wilson go to bed early we are leaving at 7 AM tomorrow,” I said.

“My god Sylvia it’s only a four hour drive,” he said.

“Good then we will be there before noon,” I suggested. I watched a couple of TV shows on line while I waited for sleep to overtake me. I was trying to catch up on the Gold shows. I became bored after two hours and switched to an adult chat room.

I signed in as Golden Goddess. It didn’t take long for the men on line to notice. They mostly asked if I was blond. What the hell I began to assure them that I was. I enhanced the truth a bit just to make it about a woman who was definitely not me.

‘We would make a dramatic entrance to my club. You with your blond hair and white skin and me, the tall well built black man. People would stop and stare for sure,’ one of them wrote.

‘Any of you care what people think of you, it’s okay. I can just tell that you do,’ I wrote.

‘Since you put it like that yes. I like people to look up to me,’ he wrote.

‘So I would just be an object for you to exploit. Something to boost your ego and raise your self esteem.’

‘Are you some kind of shrink?’ he wrote.

‘No, not hardly. I just like to understand my place in the world,’ I wrote.

‘Your place in my world is on your knees with my ten inch cock in your mouth,’ he wrote. ‘You would do that wouldn’t you.’

‘I might, if the situation were right,’ I wrote.

‘There is no maybe. It is either yes or no,’ he wrote.

I thought it over for a few seconds that seemed like minutes then wrote simply ‘yes’.

‘Then I would have you do it with an audience. You wouldn’t mind being my white cocksucker in front of a group of my friends?’ he asked.

‘No,’ I said.

‘No what?’ he asked.

‘I wouldn’t mind being your white cocksucker in front of your friends,’ I wrote.

‘Good and what do you do with your pussy while you suck my cock in front of my friends?’ he wrote.

‘I rub and finger my pussy while I suck your cock in front of your friends,’ I wrote.

‘How wet does it make you to rub and finger your pussy while you suck my cock in front of people?’ he asked.

‘It makes me very wet. You know that it does,’ I wrote back to him. By that time I was rubbing my body in the spots it likes best. I was riding on a very erotic roller coaster. The ups and downs were maddening. I couldn’t have stopped if I wanted to and I certainly did not.

‘Now rub your clit you fucking cunt,’ he said.

I began to rub it and felt the roller coaster go off the rails. I began to orgasm in great spasms. It was both terrifying and exciting. Give me your messenger address I want to see what I am doing to you.

‘Go to hell,’ I wrote and closed the window on that adult chatroom that night.

Edited by Walt

About cindypress

sorry it is a mystery.
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2 Responses to ‘Sheriff Porter 114 (edited)

  1. jack says:

    She can sure shut them down quick when they want to get to deep inside her dream world . LOL Thanks .

  2. cindypress says:

    she is one of those remarkable people who can set boundaries and stay within them.

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