KARTER Read Online Free PDF Page B

the highway into downtown, I chuckled at applying the government’s position on gays in the military to our age difference.
    Don’t ask - don’t tell.
    It had been a little more than twenty years since I spent any time in Wichita, but it didn’t matter much. The downtown area remained unchanged for the most part. I was well aware of where her apartment building was located as I had viewed them when I arrived to town a matter of a few days prior. Whether it would prove to be a blessing or a curse was yet to be determined, but I lived three short blocks from her location.
    I had grown up in a small town thirty miles outside of Wichita, and had gone to school there from kindergarten to my senior year in high school. During my initial training, my mother relocated to Wichita and remained there. This made my selection of a location to retire rather easy. I had no intent of visiting my home town or anyone in it, and as far as I was concerned if I lived in a city of almost half a million people, no one would know or recognize me. In a sense, I was obtaining a fresh start in a new city.
    I parked my truck in the street outside her apartment building. After a precursory glance in the rearview mirror, I decided it really didn’t matter. I couldn’t change anything if I wanted to. I was without any cologne, brush, comb, or clean clothes. I had no idea my morning would have eventually led me to Karter’s apartment. Surprisingly, I felt comfortable seeing her covered in sweat and dressed in my PT gear.
    As I knocked on the door of her apartment the sound from inside resembled a herd of elephants being assembled for a circus. Eventually, the door opened and Karter stood before me dressed in paint covered sweats, canvas sneakers, a Rolling Stones tee shirt, and a beanie. The shirt appeared to be something she had used for years, as it was covered in both wet and dry paint. The beanie rested atop her head more as an adornment than a necessity. As she swung the door open she waved her free arm toward the ridiculously colorful apartment.
    “Mi casa, su casa,” she said softly as she waved her arm.
    I quickly surveyed the very large open area and couldn’t help but grin at the furnishings and her choice of decorative accents. Three unmatched sofas sat in the front room, but they worked very well together. Various paintings littered the walls; most I now assumed were the result of her mind’s creative talent. Each wall was painted a different color, all bright and colorful. In the far corner sat a wooden trunk with an old glass screened television lying on its side. Numerous light fixtures hung from the ceiling, all at different elevations. After a split second inventory, I turned to her and smiled.
    “ Su casa es muy colorido. Me gusta su elección de ropa, eres muy linda,” I responded without thinking.
    She raised one eyebrow, “Huh?”
    The look on her face was clear. She didn’t speak Spanish. I asked anyway, “You don’t speak Spanish?”
    “Negative Ghostrider,” she said flatly.
    “What the fuck did you say?” she asked as she released the door.
    “Well, I said your home is very colorful, and you look cute. Well, I actually said I like your choice of clothes and you look cute,” I said as I stepped past her.
    “Me or the clothes?” she asked the instant I finished speaking.
    “Both. Your tee shirt choices are great. I’ve seen two so far, and I like them both. Your sweats are, well,” I paused and looked down at her skin tight sweats which were cut off right below her knees.
    Her calves were tan and smooth. She didn’t appear overly athletic nor did she seem out of shape. I guessed her to have naturally good genes which afforded her a well put together physique of average proportions. As I found myself lost in my admiration of her legs, she snapped her fingers loudly.
    She wagged her hand in the air in front of her face, “Dude, snap out of it. I’ll change the cocksucker’s if you don’t like ‘em. Hold