195

Chapter Seventeen

Bye-Bye Blackbird

New York State

Tuesday 5/5/15

10:34 PM

Sensing a cooling stickiness that was becoming uncomfortable oozing from within her vagina entwining within strands of hair — This time Agnes Pinks first ever penile penetration and projected witness due to the profusion of semen from an adult male ejaculation.

The slightest movement of her hips removing herself from the inch of now soft flesh still narrowly embe dded within her vagina as quietly as possible, more or less sliding off the side of the cot like bed, the nude, twenty-three year old woman shuffled her way into the small lavatory, turning the light on only after fully shutting the door as, immediately feeling the coolness of the minute room, grabbing one of the larger towels off the shelf above the commode. Agnes wrapped it about her shoulders because, yes, she ‘was’ cold, but also, for some unknown reason, whenever cooler air caresses her dark nipples they tighten in a delicious manner causing a sense of warmth within her uterus that gave her a sense of…? Uneasiness.

Sitting on the commode, entwining her fingers with a covering of toilet paper, Agnes swiped it onto the sticky mess covering the area of crotch and thighs…

Still feeling sticky ‘down there’, looking at the somewhat thick appearing fluid on the paper— having some idea of the physically, human to human sexual procedure needed in order to produce a baby… Knowing more if she had remained with her Amish family because, no doubt, by age twenty-three.. or more than likely she would have been married by age seventeen, or even younger yet, with three or four children of her own by this time.

Realising now that there was something different: Agnes felt none of the rickety motion of movement; the train had stopped. Philadelphia… she thought, we’ve arrived in Philadelphia. Quickly finishing in the lavatory, the towel still draping her shoulders, as the thin beam of light coming from within the lavatory fell across the form of her still nude husband, now turned onto his back—opening the edge of the window covering a bit; apparently beyond the depot itself, seeing a long, bare wood platform loaded with huge crates and beyond nothing but raw earth.

Straightening the light blanket, Agnes lay it over her husband then, moving onto the unused cot like bed, pulling the blanket to her chin, Agnes Longstead, now and forever, ‘Mrs Morris Pink’, fell into a restless sleep.

Harrisburg, Pa.

Wednesday 5/6/15

6:52 AM

A grinding stop in Harrisburg awakening both newlyweds where there was an hours delay while switching half of the coaches the southerly to a south-western bound track.

When they had fallen asleep in their sexual embrace, “Good morning!” Morris was momentarily surprised to see that at some time during the night his wife had changed beds, and lain a cover over him that now lay tangled within his feet.

Last night the first time she had touched a male ‘member’, let alone... Studying this slightly pudgy, though cute man, that had — never having seen one, a very noticeable...“Good morning.” Agnes said.

Having his usual morning need to urinate would most often cause a partial erection, but on this morning — their first morning as husband and wife, looking at Agnes from but three feet away, knowing that all he had to do was crawl into that narrow bed alongside her, he’d… they’d…

The urge becoming more of an urgent necessity. Always ashamed of his nudity, but now, making no attempt to hold his hand hiding his extended penis, giggling, “Go to go!” Attempting to look casually unashamed, the husband rushed into the lavatory.

As he rushed into the lavatory, Agnes took… got a good look at her husband’s adorable ass, thinking, remembering those moments of undeniable pleasure. Alright, we’re married now and it is about time… thought this accomplished, forward thinking, mid-aged twentieth century woman … I take some enjoyment… tweaking both nipples, sensing her old sense of uneasiness, that at this time feels more than merely a sense of uneasiness ….out of being a woman.

As…Standing before the commode, although the stream of urine had lost it’s force, and, shaking it, it’s last dribble dribbling, refusing to shrink back into it’s near nothingness, holding himself, Morris wanted nothing more than to join Agnes in bed and to repeat while fully awake what had happened the night before while not fully awake.

At the sink, looking at his reflection, ‘I’ve done it’, a sense of security coming to Morris that had been absent from the moment he had opened the safe and removed those eight diamonds.

Nine days now since the discovery of the theft. Sailing from Germany under an assumed name and a forged passport.

In the United States, on the train now — leaving no loose ends.

With actuarial dual British/German citizenship, ‘more than likely they’re still searching in England.’

This, the German detectives last hope of finding and capturing him.

Having covered all lose ends.. And even once in Cincinnati there would be one other deceptive move.

‘Yes’! He thought, Safe now! But? Forcing the extremely unlikely ‘But’ away, the thirty-two year old man brought his mind back to the lady on just the other side of the sliver of a lavatory, and the thirty-two year old mans penis responded.

At the sink, though having an extremely light beard, Morris decided to shave anyway’. Using the small bar of Ivory soap supplied by the Atlantic  and Pacific Railway, scrubbing it briskly over his face and throat then taking the straight razor from his bag, Morris drew it lightly over his cheeks, chin and throat. After drying his hands and face, he applied a lightly scented after shaving balm.

Turning from the sink, Uh-Oh! Remembering that when he’d rushed to get to where he could ‘go’, he hadn’t grabbed his robe, so now has nothing to cover himself with as the larger towels, although large enough to wrap about Agnes’s shoulders would not wrap about his pudgy waist and walking out holding a towel ‘there’ to hide his now shrunken, in hiding penis would feel absolutely ridiculous.

7:27 AM

Thinking pretty much as Agnes had: Alright, we’re married now, so might as well get it over with.

Standing fully nude in all of his thirty-two year old pudgy maleness, opening the lavatory door...

The two, approximately three foot wide beds separated by approximately one foot places completed naked Morris approximately four feet from his now semi-nude, twenty-three year old bride sitting with all of her frontal femaleness fully visible as…

7:29 AM

Somewhere along the track, hooking onto a row of coaches causes a sharp forward lurch —purposely? accidentally?— propelling Morris forward where— without thought, three spontaneous actions occur as, turning her body, Agnes is now onto her back with arms held tightly about her husband’s upper body with her legs open from side when a fourth— doing what comes naturally— ‘very’ naturally occurred as...

7:36 AM

“All aboard!” Came a conductors call from somewhere up or down the line. “All aboard!”

7:37 AM

His head dropping onto the hollow of her shoulder, in short, gasping words: “I-love-you.” He said, meaning it!

“Oh, Lord! Me, too. I love you!”

7:39 AM

“You smell nice!” Here breathing back to normal. “How many more stops you think this train has?”

“Not including in Cincinnati, three, maybe. Why?”

Smiling wickedly. “I like it when we start moving again.”

“The train?”

“Us.”

9:43 AM

Standing alongside the table. “Good morning…” the white jacked, black waiter asked “… Coffee for the lady and gentleman?”

“Oh, yes…” hand dramatically held to his chest, “’please’!”

“I’d like coffee also, please, and some juice.”

“Apple? Orange? Grapefruit?”

Thinking a moment. “Apple, please.” Agnes said, as Morris affirmatively nodded his head.

10:28 AM

In no hurry, both into their second cups of coffee while leisurely enjoying their breakfasts of ham and eggs for Agnes and sausage and eggs for Morris with fried potatoes and biscuit and honey for both as, without stopping, the train passed the City of ‘Chester’ depot.

10:42 AM

“What’s our next stop?”

“Don’t know. Why?”

“You said we’d be having an hours stopover in Pittsburgh.”

“That’s what the man said.”

“And after that?”

Shrugging his shoulders, signalling to the morning meal maître’d. “About how far we have to go to get to Cincinitti…” he asked the man “...and how many more stops till we get there?”

“We’ve ‘bout fifty miles to Pittsburgh, with ‘bout an hours stopover, and ‘bout a hundred miles to Cleveland, with a short layover there, then another two hundred, or so to Cincinnati, getting us there at about ten, ten-thirty tonight, or so.”

“If everything’s on time.” Morris said.

“Yes, Sir.” Smiling. “If everything’s on time.”

“That’s about what the ticket man said. Thank you.”

Looking at his empty coffee cup considering signalling for a third cup. Instead. “You want to get off and look around Pittsburgh for a few minutes?”

“No”...taking Morris’ hand — this twenty-three year old, independent, forward thinking, no longer virginal, horny, woman said “… thought we’d, uh…” giggling “...fool around a while.”

Losing all interest of a third cup of coffee.

5/6/15

12:15 PM

The shrill locomotive whistle...

Throughout this past day, with the hours between spent gazing at passing scenery from the window seat of a standard coach.

To rest their bodies, to take account of their spirits. And especially their amazement, that...

Feeling it as he walked into the bank, knowing by the look of him.

Was it only three days ago?

Both newlyweds near continuous thought: Was it only three days ago?

Oh, my God!

God works in strange ways!

12:15 PM

The shrill locomotive whistle...

Feeling the forward thrust of the engine as it chugged from the Pittsburgh depot, as...

Feeling the sweet drawing sensation of her hardened nipple within her husband’s mouth… The sensation of the feel of the movement of her husband’s caressing finger onto her hardened clitoral ridge as, of course, along with the circular, hard/soft, cool/warm throbbing flesh held within her hand.

Three days ago! Feeling an unbearable heat for this young man that was now her husband from the moment she first saw him on that day, now he is here … Oh, God! Sensing the itch, the erotic itch within her ovaries…

Now!

His mouth to her mouth, Morris did not speak.

Her lips pursed, inundated with sensations that immersed her mind and body, Agnes did not speak. I love you!

Moving his lips from her lips, kissing her mouth, chin, her neck. Kissing the spread of taut flesh between her hanging breasts as…

His penis instinctively finding it’s way forward. Forward and inward…Inward… Warmly, slickly inward, and outward.

Arching her body, draping her calves over his shoulder, allowing the sweet thrusting deeper access as feeling the quickening motions, lifting her buttocks higher, imperceptibly going with his motion as...

Constricting, the muscles within his penis along with the tightening and losing sensations within his scrotum constricting and expanding with each…

His pursed lips allowing no breath. Breath drawing and exhaling harshly through nostrils only, Oh, God! Powerful, forcefully felt ejaculations...

As the warm, sweet, Oh, God! So warm, so sweet waves surged through Agnes, tightening her calves about his neck, straining upward and back…. Her eyes tightly shut, her pursed lips allowing no breath. Breath drawing and exhaling harshly through nostrils only...

12:21 PM

At approximately six miles south of the Pittsburgh train depot, both husband and wife sitting, naked hip to naked hip, “Know what…” Agnes wantonly said, without waiting for an answer “… let’s come back to Pittsburgh sometime.”

1:03 PM
Surprising Agnes and Morris, the luncheon menu did offer a fresh oyster appetizer platter containing a dozen which the two shared, then had another of Mister McDonald’s Club sandwiches that they also shared, along with American style martinis — containing a dash of dry wine— that they did not share.

2:32 PM

Returning to coach number four; at this time, slouching on the seats window side, the right side of Morris’ forehead resting on the vibrating window, his eyes closed, the train’s movement causing veiled, pulsating tones of black and pink beneath his shuttered eyelids.

While in that sensually comfortable place between awareness and sleep—the gently felt vibrations and continually shifting shades of pink and black — for the first time since his thievery, Morris… now Morris Pink felt completely at ease! Completely safe because if there were police or a detective aboard he would have been apprehended by this time, and each rotation of those steel wheels on steel tracks bringing him further into mid America and further from any knowledgeable reach of the law.

As For Agnes? As for his wife…

A gentle prod on his left shoulder arousing Morris from his semi-sleep.

Having fallen asleep herself, Agnes’ head dropping to her right, now resting upon her husbands shoulder, the book she had been reading now on her lap laying open, cover up.

A gentle prod on his left shoulder bringing Morris from his semi-sleep. Looking to his left, seeing his wife’s head resting upon his shoulder, Morris felt a surge of heartfelt affection… truth be told, of love!

On her lap; recently published (1914-1915) the book’s title — causing Morris to chuckle— ‘Sherlock Holmes’: ‘The Valley Of Fear’.

As For Agnes? As for his wife… Surprised when he’d first seen this attractive woman within a ‘tellers’ cage doing a man’s job at prestigious National City Bank, then her offer of a safe place to stay at her aunt’s boarding hotel until arrangements might be made for his escape into Mid-America… And from that time forward all his complex planning falling into perfect aliment— including his thought of a safer journey to the unknown as a married man accompanied by his wife.

Actually, falling in love with this lady that to Morris became lovelier minute by minute. To say nothing of her willingness to do within the privacy of their bedroom what Morris, or most any decent man might dream of.

Agnes’ head onto his shoulder, placing an arm about her shoulders, as Morris brought his wife closer onto himself so then did his head rest atop hers.

Both slept.

3:16 PM

A bend in the tracks changing the forward pitch of the train arousing Agnes whom, moving quickly, caused her husband’s head to drop and his leaning body to shift to the side.

“Must have…” yawning “... fallen asleep.”

His left arm resting onto her right thigh. Holding his hand within both of hers. “You did, honey, me, too.”

Rubbing his eyes… Looking out the window. “You hungry?”

Standing in the aisle, stretching. “Think it’s too early for dinner, but… taking his hands, urging Morris to stand and into the aisle “… maybe a couple of drinks will help buy us a dish of cheese and crackers.”

Looking at the outside changing scenery, “Mid-afternoon, my dear!” Exaggerating his British accent. “Definitely time for us on guard in India to indulge in our mid-day gin and bitters.”

Maybe for you…” taking his hand, pulling him towards the diner car “...for me, I’ll settle for cold lemonaid.”

3:52 PM

Slipping a waiter setting tables a half dollar, a pitcher of lemonaid with a large chunk of ice floating within and a platter of three different kinds of crackers and cheeses had been set on the table between the newlyweds.

“So, Morris…”

“Agnes, whenever you call me that..”

“Your name?”

“Yes. Whenever you say my name, from you it sounds so formal…”

“What should I call you then?”

“Eh, Morrie would be nice, at least between you and me.”

“Thought you didn’t like being called that because it sounds too Jewish.”

“I did before, but whenever you call me ‘Morris’ it sounds so… don’t know, ‘strange’.”

“Okay, then, what do you want to call me because I think ‘Agnes’ is so ugly!”

“Uh…” smiling “...Agie? Would ‘Agie’ be okay?”

“ ‘Morrie’ and ‘Agie’ Pink? Sounds like the names of proprietors of a hardware store in Loveland, Ohio, you think?”

Signalling the waiter. “Think you can get us a couple of Martinis?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Yes…” Morrie told Agie “...just like.”

4:49 PM

The pitcher of ice diluted lemonaid long gone. Cracker crumbs and bits of cheese on the white table cloth along with cocktail glasses and two partially slurped orders of oysters on the half shell before Agie and Morrie.

Dripping a drop of hot sauce, then slurping her eighth oyster directly from the shell. “So, Morrie, you know anything about operating a hardware store?”

Draining the glass, then holding it up signalling for another. “Well, I do know...” slurping his ninth oyster “...the difference between a screwdriver and pliers.”

The waiter looking to see if Agie wanted another also.

Holding her palm over the rim of her glass, Agie signalled that she did not.

“How’s about kinds of nuts and bolts?”

“Guess we’ll have to learn as we go.”

“Any idea if the place is stocked at all?”

Nodding a ‘thank you’ as the waiter placed the fresh martini before him. “Haven’t the foggiest.” Morrie said.


Wednesday: 5/6/15

10:42 PM

Left on the platform by Floyd the Atlantic and Pacific Railway porter, their three large suitcases by their feet. Carry-on bags in hand, standing on the platform before the empty depot; the sign above the doorway reading, “Cincinnati: Pop. 354,000”

“What now?”

“Guess we’d better get hold of a taxi.” Leaving the luggage with his wife, going onto the vacant depot Morrie spotted a telephone on the far wall with a placard above the small table reading, Call ‘O’

Calling to his wife, “There’s a telephone here saying I should call ‘O’.!”

“So?” The night air having become brisk, leaving the luggage, coming inside, Agie sat on one of the five scattered wooden benches.

Lifting the receiver, jiggling the cradle, it took ten or twelve seconds until a weary sounding female voice came on asking, “You need a taxi?”

Correctly assuming there was a direct line from the train station. “Yes, please, to the closest hotel.”

The line silent a moment, then, “Bert’ll be there in a few minutes.”

“Bert?”

“An after hours taxi man.”

About to say ‘thank you’, the line went silent.

Some local newspapers on the desk alongside the telephone with a cup stating ‘1 cent’. As he didn’t have a penny, Morrie dropped a nickle into the cup removing the three cents that were there.

Removing a jacket from her carry on bag, “What the operator say?” Agie placed it over her shoulders.

“The night-time taxi man should be here in a few minutes,” he said as, opening the newspaper, thumbing to the back page. Having to squint due to poor light, Morrie scanned ‘For Sale’ column looking for… Yes’! Pretty near exactly what he had hoped to find, too late to call now, he thought.

10:50 PM

Parking alongside, coming into the depot. “You’re the folks called for a taxi?”

“Yes…” Agie said “...to the nearest hotel.”

“Kind’a figured, this time’a night. Those your bags...” cocking his head backward.

“I’ll get them!”

“Nah, don’t worry, mister…” Bert the cabbie said “...I’ll bring ‘em.”

Cincinnati, Ohio

Thursday: 5/7/15

9:10 AM

“ ‘Morning, Gertrude.”

“ ‘”Morning, Tillie.”

“Got a call for you from the CincInn.”

“The ‘Inn’? Okay, thank you.”

“Here’s your party, sir.”

“Thank you, operator.”

“ ‘Morning!”

“ ‘Morning, Ma’am, I’m calling about the Chevrolet, flat bed you’ve for sale, it it’s still available.”

“It is.”

“Umm, might I speak to your husband about it’s condition?”

“Husband’s dead and I can’t crank the dang thing, but last time he used it, it worked just fine.”

“Might my wife and me come to see it?”

11:05 AM

Morris Pinowskiz AKA Solomon Berkowitz AKA Morris Pink AKA Morrie Pink’s last well plotted plan to completely lose himself someplace in Mid- America.

However, as fate would have it, history added one more twist to the avoidance of German detectives ever apprehending the jewel thief: Morris Pinowskiz.

On May 7, 1915, the German submarine (U-boat U-20 torpedoed and sank the Lusitania, a swift-moving British cruise liner traveling from New York to Liverpool, England.

Of the 1,959 men, women, and children on board, 1,195 perished, including 123 Americans.

The sinking solidified U.S. public opinion against Germany and indirectly contributed to the entry of the United States into World War I.

Certainly not for the rest of the world, but for the Diamond thief.

                                 ‘ Bye-bye Blackbird’
                                   

                    “No one here can love or understand me
                    Oh, what hard luck stories they all hand me
               Pack up all my cares and woe, here I go, winging low
                bye, bye, blackbird!”