The big man leaned back in his chair and let out a laugh that began in his belly and after it raced around inside him for a while exploded through his mouth with the force of a thunderstorm. When he had sufficently recovered he leaned forward and grabbed his drink from the table, a whiskey and soda, and took a long pull. A cigar lay in the ashtray to his right with its plume of smoke heading straight up again now that the big man had settled down.

“You kill me Russ. If that story’s true,” he said with a smile, “it’s a better fish tail than the one I wrote.” he glanced at my drink and nodded at it with his chin. “What do you think?”

He had ordered my cocktail for me, an absinthe and champagne. I had had an absinthe drip before but never this. I lifted my glass again and took another sip. “It’s quite a unique combination, Mr. Hemingway, but I must say it’s growing on me,” I answered and took still another sip before returning it to the table.

“Ernest, its Ernest or Papa, if you like, not Mister anything.” He eyed his cigar as if he were about to pick it up but then thought otherwise. “That’s my recipe, you know, they should call it a Papa if it ever catches on. First mixed it up on the Savannah chasing lion’s around. We’d sit by the campfire at night telling tales and mixing together whatever the hell we had. Some crazy ones, I’ll tell ya but that one there, that might have legs.”

“Gotta admit, I think I’ll have another,” I said, as I drained the last of it from my fluted glass.

As if accepting a challenge the big man rubbed his beard while he eyed me up and down and then picked up his whiskey and knocked it back. “Me too! So anyway, this story of yours, I think the hero needs to be tougher, more of a man; troubled maybe, flawed is okay, but a real man, you know? He takes too much shit from folks.”

PART ONE

She sat in the back row of Mr Luca Serra’s Spanish class, as she always did. Her name was April and she was sexy as hell. Today she wore the school skirt, a little shorter than it probably should have been, and a black, loose fitting Metallica tank. Her auburn curls were pulled up into a messy pony tail and dark eye shadow accentuated her green eyes. Black, faux leather cuffs circled each wrist and a choker featuring a silver cross fit snugly around her neck. Underneath her desk, Luca could see her long, fishnet clad legs – legs he quite often fantasized about; running his hands up them, having them wrapped around him as he fucked her, or wrapped around his head as he tasted her sweetness. He had never met a girl like her. She intrigued and fascinated him and he couldn’t help but wonder whether she was into all that kinky stuff he had read about; things he had always wanted to try but had never met the right woman. April certainly fit the profile. He held no doubts that she could make him her bitch and torture him in the most delicious ways possible. His cock gave a pleasant throb as he watched her biting on the end of her pen, puzzling over the work he had set the class. Suddenly, as though she could feel his eyes on her, she glanced up and caught him staring. She traced the pen across her lower lip and he could have sworn she smirked at him. Naughty, lustful thoughts poured through his head of what he could do to that smart mouth of hers and his cock strained painfully against the confines of his jeans. Her gaze traveled down his body to his crotch beneath the desk. Little minx, he thought to himself. If he didn’t know better, he would have guessed she wanted him just as much as he wanted her. But what if he was wrong? What if all the subtle flirting that had gone on between them over the past year was all his own imagination? Perhaps it was time to put it to the test. It would be risky. Teacher student relationships were forbidden after all, but that just turned him on even more. He smothered a groan as his cock pulsed with desperate lust. Usually he tried to keep his thoughts in check during class however, she was making it increasingly difficult. He couldn’t stay here like this. Sooner or later he was going to have to stand up and there was no hiding his raging hard on. He had to get rid of it. What to do? Thinking quickly, he grabbed his jacket from the back of his chair and held it in front of him as he stood.

“I’ll be back. I just have to go and make a phone call,” he announced to the class in a barely controlled voice. “Keep working through the questions and we will go over them when I get back.”

April watched him leave, a devilish grin spreading across her face. She loved messing with him. He was young for a teacher, not even thirty yet, and she wanted him. Bad. The things she wanted to do to him would have made most people blush. Though he was her Spanish teacher, he came from an Italian background and he absolutely oozed with sex appeal. He was gorgeous with dark, luscious hair and those dark, sultry eyes that looked at her with a desire he tried so hard to hide. She knew very well he wanted her and that he was incredibly curious about her. It wasn’t difficult to tell that he had no idea when it came to the world of kink and the knowledge thrilled her. How fun it would be to teach him, to make him the student for a change. She shifted in her seat as she felt a growing wetness seeping through her panties. Sooner rather than later, she had to have him. Maybe now? A laugh started to rise in her throat but she swallowed before it could escape.

“I’m going to the bathroom,” she told her friend Brie who sat beside her. “If Luca gets back before I do, mark my work for me.” It wasn’t a question, but her friend didn’t pick up on that. April was good at getting what she wanted; in all areas of life.

“No worries,” Brie answered.

Without further delay, April darted out of the classroom. She had a guess as to where he might have gone. There was a toilet block across the other side of the school that wasn’t used much as it was quite out of the way. She hoped she hadn’t left it too long to follow him. Picking up her pace, she hurried across the school and caught sight of him just entering the toilet block. It wasn’t the first time he had done this. And it wasn’t the first time she had followed him. Just last week he had slipped out of class and made his way here, completely unaware that she was not far behind. She’d sneaked around the back of the toilet block, where the cubicle windows were open, and strained her ears, smiling in satisfaction as she heard what she had hoped to hear; the sound of her hot teacher jerking off. Knowing he was jerking off over her made her body quiver with lust and her pussy scream for release. Her hand dove into her panties to discover that she was absolutely soaking wet, and she had to bite her lip to keep from moaning in pleasure when her fingers found her clit. She worked it hard and fast. The sound of Luca cumming sent her over the edge and she came with him. Then she had waited, listening to the toilet flush and the tap run as he washed his hands. When she was sure he would be out of sight, she crept out and made her way back to class. This time, she wasn’t going to hide. This time, she would take matters into her own hands. Hot on his heels, she walked into the toilet block right as he was about to close the cubicle door and managed to stop it with her foot. His eyes went wide when he saw her and wider again when she crowded into the cubicle with him before closing the door.

“Thought you could use some help,” she quipped with a cheeky grin. 

His shock rapidly turned to salacity. He said nothing, simply waited in anticipation of what she was going to do next as she closed the lid of the toilet, sat down and crossed those gorgeous legs.

“Take off your belt,” she demanded in a tone that left no room for disobedience. He was quick to comply.

“Give it to me,” she ordered.

He did.

“Now drop them.”

His hands shook a little as he undid the button of his jeans and pulled down the zipper. Did she want him to drop his briefs as well? Fuck it. Now was not the time to hold back. He pulled down his briefs along with his jeans, letting his erection spring free. He knew he was a good size but, would she approve? His heart pounded nervously until he saw her raise her eyebrows in obvious delight and lick her lips. The sight made his muscles clench and his cock jumped. She looked up at him with that impish little smirk. Slowly, she stood and forced him to turn around. Confused, he did as directed and felt something being wrapped around his wrists. His belt? Holy fuck! She really is into that kinky shit! Still, he kept quiet, letting her do as she pleased, wanting her to do as she pleased – anything she pleased. The belt cinched tight. There was no escape now.

“Face me.”

It wasn’t easy to turn with his pants around his ankles but he did as he was told. Her hands reached for the buttons on his shirt, which she soon had undone. He swallowed as she pushed it off his shoulders, revealing his muscular torso. She stepped close, pressing her body against his.

“Very nice,” she murmured into his ear.

Her provocative voice threaded its way through him and her breath tickled, sending a shiver up his spine. He wished she would hurry up and touch him. She wished she could draw it out a little longer, but she knew they didn’t have a lot of time.

“This is going to be quick,” she told him.

Before he could respond, she promptly sat herself back down, grabbed him around the arse, pulled him roughly towards her and buried his cock in her mouth. There was no holding back his groan. How often had he dreamed of those sumptuous lips sliding up and down his dick? Now, here she was, doing just that. He could scarcely believe it. She moaned low in her throat, sending delicious vibrations along the length of his shaft. He gave a small thrust, testing the waters and gasped as her nails scraped across his arse cheeks. It wasn’t exactly painful, but it certainly wasn’t gentle.

“Don’t move,” she growled and took him deeper into her mouth.

Her hands moved to his stomach and again, her nails dug into his flesh. It felt amazing. He chanced a peek at her and she returned his fiery gaze. Neither of them looked away. April had never been so aroused in her life. She could feel her pussy juices saturating her panties and, keeping her eyes locked on his, she snaked a hand up her skirt and pulled them aside.

Luca’s jaw dropped. “Oh yeh,” he sighed then jumped as nails scratched into his thighs, much harder this time.

“Shhh,” she warned.

It was all he could do to nod.

“Good boy.” She went back to sucking.

Both were breathing hard and fast as they neared their climax. April could feel it building. She slipped a finger inside her dripping pussy, spreading her juices over her swollen clit. A sudden thought hit her and she swapped hands, forcing her pussy-juice coated fingers into Luca’s mouth. That was the last straw. His cock erupted, shooting his cum into her mouth. She tasted as sweet as he had expected and he sucked and licked greedily on her fingers. April moaned deeply as her own orgasm hit with brute force but she never stopped sucking his cock, swallowing every drop of semen that poured into her mouth. When he was finished, she dragged her lips up his softening shaft one last time then let it fall from her lips. Luca was panting, struggling to stand on shaky legs. April carefully rearranged her panties and skirt, made sure he saw her lick her lips and rose with all the grace of a queen. She traced her fingers along the scratch marks she had left on his stomach. Reaching her arms around him, she undid the belt. He breathed in her intoxicating scent, wondering what perfume she wore. She smelled so good. Then, to his disappointment, she was pulling away and handing him his belt.

“See you in class.” She laughed as she opened the door and left him with his pants still around his ankles, staring after her as her hips swayed, moving that short skirt almost enough for him to catch a glimpse of her arse but not quite. Oh, he would see that arse, he vowed to himself, and the rest. April had no idea what she had just started.

PART TWO

Luca’s dreams that night were full of her. In them, she was at his mercy as he drove his cock into her slick pussy. Twice he woke in the middle of an orgasm, unable to stop the surge of cum emptying into his boxers. Yet even still, he woke in the morning with his dick as hard as it had ever been. With images of the day before filling his mind, he stepped into the shower. He took his time washing, imagining it was her hands touching him. When he couldn’t stand it anymore, he took his aching cock in his hands. It was all wet and soapy and he imagined it was her pussy he was fucking. It wasn’t long before he was cumming again. What was this girl doing to him? Now that he had had a little taste of her he wanted, no, needed more. He didn’t think he would ever get enough. At first, he had thought he would be happy for her to completely dominate him, and he had certainly enjoyed the first experience of that very much except, now he found himself wanting more. That first taste of her had woken something up in him. Today, it would be him making the move. Luckily, April’s Spanish class was the last of the day, when most of the other students and teachers would be gone. It was going to be difficult waiting all day; especially when he saw her during recess. His breath caught in his chest as she turned and her eyes met his, regarding him with an expression that clearly stated, “I own you.” That may be the case, he thought with a sly grin. But he would show her that he knew how to make her his.

The day passed far too slowly for his liking. Finally, April came sauntering into his classroom, clad in all black today. Another skirt, indecently short for school revealed a wonderful amount of bare legs. A tight shirt, emblazoned with the symbol of some band he didn’t know, hugged her slim waist and the deep neckline provided a sneaky peak of her cleavage, nestled into a black, lace bra. He would bet money on the fact that her panties were black as well. With great difficulty, he forced himself to look away and give his attention to teaching the class. She didn’t make matters easy and it seemed his efforts to ignore her were making her angry. He stole a glance at her from the corner of his eye. That was the moment she had been waiting for. Without hesitation, she spread her legs, giving him an uninterrupted view straight up her skirt. He had been right about her panties. He gritted his teeth to keep his jaw from dropping. His cock however, jumped to attention. She didn’t stop there. In utter disbelief, he watched as she casually dropped a hand into her lap and began to slowly massage her pussy. Every sense of logic told him to look away but he couldn’t. Knowing she had him in her thrall, she brought her other hand into her lap and pulled her panties aside showing him a perfectly shaved, gorgeous pink pussy; a sight he had yearned to see ever since he first laid eyes on her. Struggling to control his breathing, he checked to see if any of the other students had caught on to this dirty little game. Thankfully, they were all intent on their work. At that moment the bell sounded, signaling the end of class. Thank fuck, he thought, clearing his throat. Saved by the bell.

“I have your work books here so as I call your name, come and get it before you leave,” Luca called over the immediate ruckus.

One by one he called each student’s name. He didn’t stand. He couldn’t. He was already certain his erection was blindingly obvious though he knew no one could see it. When he came to April’s workbook, he quickly slipped it to the bottom of the pile. In hindsight, he probably should have done that earlier but it didn’t matter. The classroom slowly emptied until it was just the two of them left.

“April.” It came out huskier than he had intended.

She walked lazily towards him. “I saw what you did.”

“Did you?”

She nodded, eyeing him defiantly.

He walked purposefully to the door, checked the coast was clear then closed and locked it with a satisfying click. “Do you see what I’m doing now?”

“I see what you’re trying to do,” she returned with heavy sarcasm though honestly, she was a little shocked and, if she was completely honest, quite turned on that he was trying to take control. Should she let him play things out as he wanted or should she take matters into her own hands? She wasn’t used to being in this situation and was torn between curiosity and the need to be in control. He appeared rather confidant, a vast difference from the wide-eyed, seemingly innocent man of yesterday. Perhaps she had woken a slumbering beast. Trying to act unfazed, she sat herself on the edge of his desk and crossed her legs, hiding what she had only moments earlier been giving him a show of. Before she could decide what she wanted, he was moving stealthily towards her, like a cat moving towards its prey. This wasn’t right. Usually she was the cat. Nervously, she squirmed as she tried to clear her head and make up her mind but the next instant, he was standing in front of her, prying her legs open and pressing himself against her. 

Keeping a firm grip on her thighs he brought his mouth to her ear and whispered, “You have no idea what you have started, little miss.”

In spite of herself, she shivered. “Careful,” she threatened in a soft, silky voice.

“Or what,” he challenged, bringing his face close to hers until their lips were centimeters apart.

Coyly, she closed the gap further, down to mere millimeters. “Or I might bite.”

She was so close he could feel her breath brush across his lips. “Not if I bite first,” he growled, then he crushed his lips to hers, pulling her roughly by the legs until she was sitting right on the edge of his desk, her body crushed against his.

All thoughts shattered and she gave in to him, wrapping her legs around his hips, trying to draw him even closer. He caught a fistful of her hair and jerked her head to the side so his lips could assault her neck, but it wasn’t enough. Softly at first, he grazed his teeth over her skin then gave a tentative nip.

“Ahh,” she moaned.

Encouraged, he bit harder. She gasped and pushed his head into her neck, pressing her chest against him so he could feel her pert little breasts against his pectorals. From her performance yesterday, he knew she would like it rough. Confidant now that she wasn’t going to knock him out, he ran his hands down the sides of her petite body, grasped the bottom of her shirt and yanked it up. As much as he wanted to take her, there was still a part of him that was afraid she would retaliate. Then again, maybe he would like that. Maybe, if he was lucky, she would punish him for it later. But for now, this was his show and he was determined to keep his part for as long as possible. His fingers brushed up her soft, bare skin as he pulled her shirt over her head. April lifted her arms so he could remove it completely. Deftly, he brought her arms in front and wrapped the shirt around her wrists, holding them in place. She was surprised at first, if only for a moment, then she was glaring at him.

“Just what do you think you're doing?” she demanded.

Luca simply smirked at her, as she had done to him so many times, and plunged his face into her cleavage, kissing, licking and nibbling. She arched her back, wanting to feel more yet still conflicted. Luca’s lips moved back up to her neck, one hand still binding her wrists and the other reaching to unclasp her bra. He took a step back to watch as her breasts came free then dragged the bra down to join the shirt holding her wrists. Gently but forcefully, he put a hand to her throat and pushed her down so she was lying flat across his desk, then simply admired her. She was still glaring at him, but he could see the lust building behind those jade-coloured eyes. He took her hands and placed them above her head, letting his own hand move down her neck to her chest. She inhaled sharply as he cupped her left breast, tweaking her hard nipple between his thumb and forefinger. Without warning, he squeezed, giving her nipple a sharp pinch and caused her to squeal, making her angrier, furious at herself. She never squealed. What was he doing to her? She moved under him, twisting as she tried to escape.

“Don’t move,” he said thickly, repeating her words from yesterday.

“Fuck you,” she growled.

“Soon,” he promised.

His dick was screaming at him to fuck her now but he wanted to draw this out. Unlike yesterday, they had plenty of time. Replacing his hand with his mouth, he swirled his tongue around her sweet little nub then moved across to repeat the process on the other. She lifted her head to watch him but he pushed her back down, grazing her nipple with his teeth and biting down on it. She cried out, her body jerking beneath him. That alone was nearly enough to make her cum. 

Luca marveled at her sensitivity. “Shhhh,” he whispered. 

He loved that he could throw her own words back at her. Leaving her breasts for the moment, he kissed and nipped his way down her belly to the top of her skirt. 

“Let’s see if you’re wet for me.” His hand delved under her skirt and straight into her panties. “Holy shit,” he murmured when his fingers brushed across her mound.

The heat coming off it was amazing and she was indeed wet, extremely so. He ran his middle finger up the length of her slit, from her opening all the way to her clit. She moaned and tried to push herself harder into his hand. He hadn’t planned on making her cum yet but now that he could feel how wet he was making her, he changed his mind and began kneading and circling a finger over her swollen clit. Agonizingly, he continued to tease her, watching her squirm.

“Do you want to cum?” he asked.

“Yes,” she pleaded.

“Ask me. Nicely. Beg me to make you cum.”

“Please,” she begged. “Please make me cum.”

He slid his finger down to her waiting hole and ever so slowly, pushed it inside her. Shit she was tight.

“Ohhhh fuck,” she moaned as he began to move his finger in and out.

He slipped his index finger inside as well, stretching her open, and pressed his thumb to her clit. She was breathing faster now. Knowing she was close, he let her have it, thrusting his fingers in and out and assaulting her clit with his thumb. He could feel the walls of her vagina clamping against his fingers as her back arched off the desk. He flicked and pressed her clit harder, sending her into a powerful, sweet release.

“Holy fucking shit,” she cried as her orgasm peaked.

He brought his teeth to her nipple and bit down. She screamed in pure ecstasy and her juices flowed freely, coating his hand. He wanted to lick up every drop. Needing to see her, he removed his dripping hand, pulled her up, unbound her wrists and set her on her feet.

“Take off your skirt.”

“Make me,” she challenged, taking a step towards him. She didn’t know whether to be angry that he just made her cum like that or thankful. The challenge however, caught him off guard. How was he meant to make her? His momentary hesitation was all she needed. She pounced, grabbing him by his tie and dragging him to his chair. How convenient he chose today to wear a tie, she thought. Leaping into his lap, she smiled in approval as she felt his hard cock press against her pussy. Keeping him in place, she removed his tie and used it to bind his hands behind the chair then climbed off.

“So, you want to see my pussy?” she purred.

Advantage lost, all he could do was nod. She turned her back to him and slowly undid the zip on her skirt. She twisted her head around to look at him as she let it fall to the floor and for the first time, he got a clear view of her scrumptious arse. Her panties barely covered her supple cheeks. She reached back and spread those cheeks, giving them a squeeze - something he wanted to do himself - then she turned to face him again, her hands tracing across her body to squeeze and massage her breasts, then falling down to tuck her thumbs into the top of her panties.

“Tell me you want to see it.”

“I… I want to see you. All of you.” His voice trembled, hoarse with lust.

Grinning in satisfaction, she inched her panties down, bending forward to slide them all the way to her ankles. As she came back up, she covered her pussy with her hand before kicking her panties aside. She was now naked except for her chunky, heeled boots. Her wetness gushed into her cupped hand and she fought the temptation to masturbate. One orgasm wasn’t enough. She needed more and if she was going to cum again, it was going to be in his mouth. She walked to the desk and sat on the edge, using her foot to turn Luca’s chair to face her. Propping a foot on either side of him, she spread her legs and removed her hand, revealing her glistening lips.

“Come closer,” she ordered him and he used his feet to wheel the chair closer.

She drew her legs up, putting both feet onto the desk and laid back. “Eat me.”

Eagerly, he buried his head between her legs and with the tip of his tongue, licked all the way along her slick slit, lapping up her wetness. She tasted like heaven. Slowly, he circled his tongue around, up and down then back to her opening and up again, using his lips to suck on her hypersensitive clit.

“Mmmmm,” she sighed.

“You like that?”

“Just shut up and eat me,” she growled.

He picked up the pace, flicking faster and faster over her clit and down to fuck her tight hole with his tongue. How he wished he had a hand free so he could work her clit as he tongue-fucked her. Her juices were filling his mouth and he sped up even more, focusing wholly on her clit, sucking and licking in a rhythmic pattern. Suddenly, she lifted her legs and wrapped them around his neck.

“Mmmmm,” he mumbled into her, sending wonderful waves across her clit.

“Ahhh,” she cried and her hands flew to his head, pushing him harder against her as she ground her hips against his face.

Luca was so aroused. Pre-cum was dribbling from the tip of his penis, leaving a wet patch on his boxers. Her legs clamped around him and her body thrashed wildly about as she reached her second climax.

“Holy shit! I’m going to cum!”

He sucked her clit hard into his mouth and flicked his unrelenting tongue even faster. Yes, he silently begged. Cum, baby. Fill my mouth. And she did. In one giant convulsion, she let go, squirting her juices into the warmth of his mouth, completely coating his tongue. He moaned as he felt it slide down his throat. Gradually, he slowed his assault, riding out the aftershocks with her, making sure he lapped up every drop she was giving him.

April’s body was on fire. But she still wasn’t done. She needed his cock inside her; the grand finale. When she lifted her head to look at him, her expression was pure, animalistic lust.

“Untie me,” Luca growled, “because I am going to fuck you into next year.”

“Only if I let you,” she snapped.

“Who said you had a choice?” he retorted.

Smirking, she climbed off the table but instead of untying him straight away, she knelt down in front of him and began to remove his pants. He kicked off his shoes so she could slip them off all the way and his dick stood proudly before her, fully erect. Once again, she admired his perfect size; at least a healthy 8 inches long and a decent girth as well, he was big without being too big. She leapt onto his lap, sliding her pussy against the full length of his shaft, feeling it pulsing with need. Leaning over him, she reached around and untied his hands. Immediately, his hands went to her waist, holding her in place as he ground his rock-hard cock against her, watching as it became nicely lubricated with her juices. She was so fucking wet. Lifting herself slightly, April used her hand to spread her juices all over his dick then guided it to her opening, softly pressing the tip against it to tease him, but he had been teased enough. He grabbed her hips firmly and pushed her down, lifting his own hips to meet hers and impaling her fully on his throbbing member. It shocked her, but she threw her head back in ecstasy, relishing the feeling of fullness he gave her. She was so tight. Her pussy walls squeezed and pressed around him as he filled her, so warm, cozy and wet.

“I’m going to fuck you,” she announced.

He leaned back, keeping his hands on her hips and looked at her. “You better fuck me while you can then,” he threatened.

He would enjoy watching her riding his cock, for the moment anyway. He had every intention of bending her over his desk so he could fuck her until he came. He just needed to hold out until then. Gripping the back of the chair for support, April began to move, grinding her hips back and forth as she used her legs to slide herself up and down his shaft. It was a sight to behold. Her tits were on full display, begging for his mouth so he latched his lips onto one of her nipples, grazing it with his teeth, licking and sucking at it. He left one hand on her hips and with the other, ran it up her body to the back of her neck and brought her head down so their lips could meet. His tongue pushed between her teeth, clashing with hers in a hot, passionate kiss. The taste of her was still on his tongue and lips, mixing with their saliva. He grabbed her hair and pulled her head back once more so he could kiss and bite her neck, her shoulders then work his way back up to her lips again for her to catch his bottom lip between her teeth. He let go of her hair in surprise and she pushed him back into the chair so her teeth could go to work on him, biting his neck, ears, shoulders; whatever she could get her mouth on. Shit she bit hard. It was painful but at the same time, so damn pleasurable it sent rippling sensations to his dick buried deep inside her. As she went back to kissing him, she scraped her nails across his chest and without warning, firmly pinched his nipple. 

"Fuck!" He grunted. How could that feel so good?

Their tempo increased as he thrust up, meeting her pace. The room was filled with the sound of their panting.

“My turn.” 

With that, Luca placed his hands under April's bottom and lifted her off him as he stood. He grabbed her arm and forced her to the desk, took hold once more to the back of her neck and pushed her down so her torso was lying flat against the desk top. Quickly, he found his pants and the condom he had stashed in his pocket for this very occasion. He rolled it on then, using his foot, he spread her legs and brought his hand down to slap smartly across her arse.

“I’m going to fuck you now, hard and fast.”

“Do it,” she growled. “Fuck me.”

He slapped her arse again and she groaned, then, he locked his hands onto her hips and in one motion buried his cock deep back inside her. Where it belongs. That thought came unbidden to his mind and he shook his head. No time for that. It's time to show her what I can really do, and he began to thrust. Wanting to draw it out as long as possible, he started slow, pushing all the way in then pulling almost all the way out before slamming back into her again. He leaned forward, kissing up her spine, running his hands over her body, scratching gently then a little harder, taking his time to explore. When he couldn’t stand it anymore, he gripped her hips hard and began to thrust in earnest, pounding in and out of her pussy. She met him thrust for thrust, pushing her arse up and back, presenting it to him. Taking up the invitation, he spread her cheeks and saw her cute, puckered arsehole. He wet his finger with saliva and ran it up her crack. Knowing what he was planning, she pushed her arse up, giving him permission. He tickled her arsehole then gently began to slide a finger inside. She gasped and spread her legs wider. Her arse was so tight. One day I’ll fuck that arse. But for today, his finger would have to do. He wanted her to cum with him so, when he felt he was close, he ordered her to play with her clit. Her hand rushed to obey and she groaned as every sensitive spot was being given attention. Her nipples were rubbing on the desk top, her pussy was being fucked, her arse was being fingered and her clit was getting all the rubbing she could muster up. Sweat slicked their skin, both grunting and moaning their pleasure.

“I’m going to cum,” he told her. “Cum with me, baby. Cum for me.”

His words were the final push she needed and she cried out as her orgasm exploded in the most powerful climax she had ever had. Her pussy walls tightened deliciously around his dick and with a final thrust, he too spilled his load. Pleasant aftershocks ran through them and he stayed buried in her sopping pussy for several minutes until they both returned from their high. When he finally pulled out, he helped her to stand and took her in his arms, surprised to find that he was feeling quite fond of her. Maybe it was more than just lust he felt. Only time would tell, but they both knew this would not be their last adventure. There was much, much more to come.

My older sister Carla was supposed to be babysitting me.

She’s in high school, she just got her braces off and figured out how to stick contacts in her eyes, but she's bad at putting on her Proactiv so she’s got lots of zits. I can say all that because I’m her sister. Just like how I can say she has hair on her toes and her boobs are different sizes.

Also, she likes to shower with the door open so everyone can hear her bad singing more clearly. That’s not really relevant, but it’s a fun fact.

Anyway, Carla is 16 and has never been laid, and she thinks that’s a really big deal. She was really hoping to get laid with our neighbor, Tommy, according to her diary. She and Tommy had been best friends since before I was born. They learned how to ride bikes together, and I guess used to take bubble baths together, according to my mom. To be honest, I wouldn’t want to get laid with someone I took a bath with. That’s just creepy.

Anyway Tommy used to look goofy but he turned into a good-looking kid with shiny hair and played on the tennis team at school. Somehow, through some kind of tennis connections, he ended up dating a college girl with much better boobs than my sister. And once you do good boobs, you can’t really go back, so I’ve heard.

That was the worst week of my life, when he started dating Tennis Boobs. Carla locked herself in our room all day and played the boring Coldplay songs and cried. I was like, hey, can I get into our room? I left my Game Boy in there. And she was like NO! So I couldn’t even play Donkey Kong.

Anyway, I’m getting off track here.

Carla was interested in this new guy at school named Zach. He was kind of a loner, a brooding type, which is sexy, according to her diary. She called him a Bad Boy, but Carla’s idea of Bad Boy is a guy that plays Dungeons & Dragons in the state park after the sun goes down. He wore cargo pants and hoodies and smelled kind of Bad, but I guess he did have nice hair.

Anyway, about 15 minutes after mom left for her date, Carla came bounding into our room holding her phone up for me to see.

“He asked me out. He wants to go out. Oh my GOD!” she said, shaking the phone up and down in my face. I couldn’t read it when she was jiggling it up and down like that, but I saw a lot of exclamation points from her side of the conversation. God, she was already ruining it.

“Congratulations,” I said, “Maybe now you’ll finally get laid.”

Carla stopped bouncing and looked at me.

“What? I don’t care about-- that,” she said. “I just want to have a boyfriend.”

“Yeah, okay.”

“And anyway, you shouldn’t be talking like that. You’re way too young.”

She typed on her phone, frantically. She paused, the phone dinged, and she looked up at me in awe.

“He wants to see a movie at the drive-in tonight.”

“You’re babysitting me.”

“I know, I know.” She flopped on the bed. “But what if this is it -- what if this is my only shot? What if he thinks I don’t like him and moves on to Heidi or something?”

Uh oh. Heidi had better boobs.

“I like movies,” I said.

“This movie is rated R,” she said, as if that was a big deal.

“So? Nobody cares.”

“You’re 10 years old.”

“You’re 16, technically you can’t see it either.”

“So, I can’t just… that’s not… you’re… I’m.... UGH! I’m not bringing you on my date!”

“I’ll hide in the back seat and play games, he’ll never even know I’m there.”

“What if you just stay here, alone, for a couple of hours?”

“What if I call mom?”

Carla narrowed her eyes at me. Then she was typing again.

“Alright. Whatever. But if you ruin this for me--”

I held out my pinky for a pinky swear. “I promise I’ll be good.”

15 minutes later I was sitting in the very back seat of our mom’s SUV as Carla drove across town to pick up Zach. She was nervous, and a bad driver, so she was swerving everywhere and I wanted to throw up.

She stopped to pick up Zach from his house, hitting the curb when she pulled the car over. We were definitely on the creepy side of town -- his front yard was overgrown with weeds and there was a fenced-in backyard full of barking dogs -- big, fat, cranky ones.

“Get down, he’ll see you!”

Carla was spreading another layer of make-up over her zits, kneading her skin like she was making Christmas cookies. It was getting dark outside, but it was still about 90 degrees, and her face was extra shiny and her hair was extra frizzy. The sight of herself in the rearview mirror was making her stressed, which made her neck all red. She was a hot mess, as they say.

Zach came brooding out of his front door, banging the screen door behind him, tossing his golden bangs. Carla inhaled sharply, nervous. I ducked down.

Zach opened the side of the van and slid into the back seat, one seat in front of me.

“I told my parents you were an Uber driver,” he explained to Carla. "They don't trust teenagers."

“Oh,” she said, “Cool. Um…Gotcha.”

I heard her fumbling around with the gear shift as though she’d forgotten how it worked. But eventually she pulled herself together and the car started rolling.

It was really quiet and weird for a few minutes, so I peeked up. Zach was looking at his phone -- I could tell from the way his head was lowered.

“Nice night,” Carla said.

Zach looked up. “What?”

“Oh I just said, "Nice night," because it’s probably what an Uber driver would say. So it’s like, kind of funny because that’s what I’m pretending to be.”

Oh my god, Carla, just shut up and make kissy faces in the mirror, that’s all this guy wants.

“Oh, hah,” he said, looking back down at his phone.

This was not going well.

We got to the drive-in and Carla tuned the radio to the right station for the movie, trying to make small talk. Something about science class, something about lunch, something about Heidi. It all felt so forced and dumb. After a few minutes, Zach went to go get some popcorn from the concession stand while a smiling hot dog danced on the big screen.

I popped up to say hi to Carla.

“Hey,” I said, “How are things going?”

Carla turned back to look at me, furious. “Get down!”

I didn’t.

“We had an arrangement!” she snarled.

“Are you having fun?”

Carla glared at me, motioning for me to get down, flapping her hand.

I couldn’t really watch the movie, because I had to hide, but it was a horror movie. I could tell because of all the shrill violin music and screaming. Something about a guy who goes to a hotel with a lady and she turns out to be a demon or something.

It had been quiet for a while, so I peeked up over the seat.

Carla and Zach were holding hands! Plot twist!

I ducked back down and played some more Donkey Kong, surprised that things were going that well. Maybe Carla had some game after all.

I heard them talking to each other in low whispers -- and then different sounds started. Muffled, slippery sounds. Sure enough, when I peeked up again, they were sucking face, really going at it. Or at least trying to -- neither of them seemed very good at it. They both had their eyes squeezed really tight, like they were trying to focus.

Ew.

I noticed a light on the back seat and looked down -- Zach’s phone was lighting up with messages. They were both so occupied, I couldn’t help myself. I reached around and snagged the phone, wanting to see what kind of bet he lost to end up in this situation.

I looked at his messages.

A bunch of random numbers -- no names. And they were all sending him one word.

Faggot.

Faggot.

Ur a fuckin’ FAGGOT.

Hmmm. I tried to remember what that word meant.

I heard Carla’s voice again -- she was whispering.

“Um, maybe we shouldn’t -- there’s people… around.”

“It’s dark in here, no one will see.”

“Yeah... Okay.”

I peeked up.

Zach was in the process of lifting Carla’s shirt off her body. It was getting stuck up around her head. Oh man. They were really going for it. I kind of couldn't help but watch.

“Um, maybe--” she said, muffled.

“It’s okay. Just relax.”

His hand was shaking and he reached for his pants pocket. He patted his pocket -- something was missing.

He looked around on the ground for it, looked toward the back seat, and he saw --

My face lit up by his phone.

“What the FUCK?!”

Zach scrambled backwards, fumbling for the car door. Carla shot up -- she couldn’t really see 'cause of all the shirt bunched around her head.

She sounded panicked. “What? What, what is it? Are they that bad?”

Zach got the door open and fell out onto the pavement.

“Zach!” Carla finally got her shirt down. “Did I do something?”

“There’s a fucking -- child -- in your car!” he spat, pointing at me.

Carla looked back at me. I waved, nervous. She sighed.

“It’s just Izzy, my sister. I was babysitting her and--”

“And you brought her here? What the FUCK?”

“Stop swearing!”

“Stop swearing?!! That’s what you’re fuckin' worried about?!”

A couple of car lights were coming on, people checking out the commotion. On screen, a creepy naked woman was crawling down a hallway towards us.

Zach looked at the screen and screamed.

Then he pinched the top of his nose and took a few deep breaths.

“I’m going home,” he said, finally.

“Should I drive you or--”

“No. I'm -- I'm sorry."

He flipped up the hood on his sweatshirt, shoved his hands in his pockets, and walked towards the road. 

Carla sat, her hands gripping the wheel tightly, staring straight ahead.

She didn’t say anything for a long time. And then she let out a long, shaky breath.

“Sorry,” I said.

She shook her head.

“It’s not your fault. I shouldn’t have…” She shook her head again.

I crawled up into the front seat so I could get a better look at her. Her foundation was runny, her eye stuff smeared, her lipstick rubbed off. And there were little tears sneaking out of her eyes. She brushed them away.

I put a hand on her shoulder and she leaned her head down and started to blubber, the way kids do when they hurt themselves and someone comes over to comfort them.

I whispered:

“If it makes you feel any better, I think maybe he was homosexual.”

She sniffed.

“What?”

“Everyone was calling him a bad word. I think that’s what it means.”

“What?”

“I mean he probably doesn’t like any boobs, not just yours.”

I held out his phone so she could see the messages.

We caught up with Zach as he was walking home, his fists still in his pockets, his face all scrunched up and red. It was starting to rain -- a summer thunderstorm. Really coming down. 

Carla pulled over and rolled down her window.

“Hey, get in,” she said, “We need to talk.”

Zach kept walking. Carla kept the car moving.

“I know what you were trying to do,” Carla said. “Please.”

Zach looked at both of us. He looked like he might just keep going. But then he stopped.

He opened the back door and got in.

They didn’t talk, not really. Instead they both just sat there in the dark car, each of them brushing their faces every few moments and sniffing and breathing heavy. It was taking so long that I took out my Game Boy and played a few levels of DK.

“I’m hungry," I said.

We went out to the 24-hour McDonald's drive-thru for fries and shakes, and ate everything in the car. Mom was going to be so pissed about the crumbs.

Before we dropped him off, I reached back to give Zach his phone.

“Thanks,” he said.

“You're welcome. Block those guys, they’re fucking punks,” I said.

His eyebrows shot up.

"Uh... Thanks."

“And don’t worry,” I said, “I already knew the word "fuck.""

The Rakish and Ribald Adventures of Captain Blackheart and her Lady Chartreader

The Captain's Portion

By the time we dropped anchor at Hastings, we had been at sea two years. The crew deserved an extended shore leave, and most I would never see again. My quartermaster and lieutenant were misty-eyed about our ship, The Mermaid, and suggested we put into to dry dock in London. It was just turning March, and I could see the advantage of repairs and provisions, trade and pleasure, I found myself effortlessly persuaded.

We parted company on good terms and agreed on a summer at sail. We had just plundered the spice route and could do with some Spanish Gold before winter, particularly since the charts looked like they would be on our side with the Portuguese out of the way.

I wandered along the Thames from tavern to tavern toward the tower and under the bridge. There I came across many society whores ready to relieve me of my change purse.

I loved the women here; all cultured fallen wealthy who could go down on you in five languages who loved pirates of all genders for their no-hurry-to- leave and drink-till-dawn three -abed- games. I knew from the cat –calls and earnest beckoning that I would spend a week not seeing my clothes.

A group of such damsels were courting my relaxed gaze one in particular; the Lady Calico even uncupped her breast, inviting me to an evensong ball where we would fuck hard in the belfry for dessert

“Blackheart we thought you drowned, come see if we're all as wet as that sea you hold so dear…”

Too tempting, I mused, to ignore and with the night so young

“ Twice as wet and three times as long to drown I’ll wager…who says three pieces?”

Giggles cheers whoops and smiles settled then

I started toward the awaiting entertainment.

It was then I felt a warm hand slip deftly into my shirt not making a steal for my coins but grazing a thumb almost imperceptibly across my nipples before it steadily played on the curve of my ribs.

I break my stride, but from the touch, I realised there is no need to reach for a blade.

I turned to meet eyes I hadn't seen since being in Indus eighteen months passed.

She made quick to rest her lips on mine staring but briefly, at Lady calico and saying for the benefit of ear-shot “Lady Calico? Really, Captain? Where I come from, Calico is cotton my Blackheart. Why have cotton, when you can have silk?

“Leica?” I was pleasantly startled.

My night's plans changed in a whisper.

Kissing and touching then as if no one stood watching

hot wild you let me take you right there against the bridge wall.

Lady Calico made no fight of it bowed her head in accepted reverence and waved herself and her cohort away.

Yes, they all knew who Lady Leica was even if they'd never seen the small 'Rose and Roger' tattoo on her caramel shoulder showing allegiance to only one flag

there'd be no belfry for anyone else today but one nor foreseeable for if this Blackhearted Captain had a Lady Blackheart? Then it was her.

Since we reunited by tower bridge, we’d been fucking for a month now in a room above a Southwark vintner. A peel of bells punctuated our raucous acts of love.

Ceilings so low you started to become accustomed and then positively enjoy taking me in your mouth on your knees with me in a chair.

At once and again at times not allowing me to finish the cup of rum brought up from the cellars as it was poured into my hand by the housemaid, you swung between my legs to make me come in kicks barely permitting the room girl to depart.

Crawling up from the floor to lay along me you put your head in the crook of my arm impatient with her attending to her duty

your hand in a sweeping gesture toward the door.

“Captain…” you whispered into my shirts…

then pleading;“ I will not wait any longer… are my needs any less than yours?

You compelled me to affect the scene, and I address the maid;

“It matters not if you stay…however, the Lady Leica shall not divert her attentions further so if you blush easily I suggest you take your leave…”

The girl leaves in runs, and you smile and allow me to finger you a little as you tease my thighs in strokes…

“you wanted her to stay…”

you slip yourself lower

And then as you graze your nipple against my hardness and you place my fingers in your mouth…I court your move with words;

“Well, she is so young, she could learn a lot from you…”

I push your head down to kiss at my wetness.

Breathlessly pausing from sucking at me, you ask;

“ Captain, Would you pay her to stay?”

I coil my hand into your hair to pull your lips closer;

“If my Lady bade it I’d empty my pocketbook into her lap.”

my suggestion only serves to engender your ardour you begin to fuck me with your tongue feverishly

I name the angels aloud, and in shaking satisfaction come hard in your mouth, I feel your lips quiver with pleasure….

And I know my reward will be fucking you till you call out

But before we reach the bed there are raised voices and rapping at the door…

Ignore the din my Blackhearted one… fuck me where I lay and let me at a noise to distract you from this irritation…”

At which a two of my crew burst in fetching my clothes from around them as they come toward us.

“ Captain…” They are earnest and afraid of something so much, they do not immediately see whose arms are about me. Then they see that marking of yours and doff their tricorns.

The Quartermaster is chastened having always been fond of you.

“Lady Leica we had no idea we thought you…”

I sit up and stop them “ Yes, yes, what's this? Your news ought be great, or as I love you I’ll run you through for this”

“ Captain we must away the king has warranted your arrest and is ordered arms to be fetched here…

“ Here? My whereabouts are privy only to yourselves… for you know if I am found you swing as well as I.”

“ Captain we know not how you are betrayed, but you must make haste it is only that the king's daughter pleaded an hours grace for you else your head would be on a pike just now.”

As if to remind all present of their misdemeanour you take my hand, securing me by my mid-arm you course it between your breasts and down past your stomach to your damp clit you move wantonly against my arched fingers

The quartermaster and lieutenant dutifully avert their eyes they both know of your pleasures well, together and apart, but would never dare even brush by you whilst I was at port on pain of hanging from a yardarm

Looking briefly at each other they reluctantly interrupt us, My lieutenant is first to

speak;

“ Captain…. good lady if it pleases…”

And meet with your scathing disdain;

“No! it does not please at all…it is the very least in pleasing… is it not plain there is only one pleasure here.”

With that, you pull me closer…encircling my shoulder, you ease yourself hard onto my fingers and with a cry of desire and allow my fuck of you, your knee at my elbow the thumb of my free hand between your teeth defying my fate and I willingly ready do accept it if you promise not to desist.

You slope a long glance at my troubled crew as they must mind your throes, twixt pitches of delighted breath you dare them;

“ tell the king…. and that…. worthless wench of a daughter…. to run out their guns….where they might….. for the captain and lady Blackheart have better time to waste this day.”

I wince like a puppy at what must be and scarcely believe my own words;

“ Lady Leica …whilst I agree no virtue higher than an afternoon at your beck and call I’ll wager fucking more enjoyable whilst still alive.”

You smile and let me at my leave but add as I’m dressing

“Permit me Captain, but you should not sail the timbers are not mended and a week more to season such” you proffer knowingly

But I know I risk the ship impounded if not.

I know what I must do

And orders are swift; to one

“ You release the ship from dry dock find five crew and slip her to shutes till dusk we’ll fetch back to Hastings tonight.”

and to the other,

“You muster all the whores in our employ to relieve the King's best of their will to obey commands…”

You kiss me long, and I’m away

Lying in bed, you are perturbed and its but moments before you call for the house maid.

“ …What puzzles still, is how anyone knew us to be rooming here and to have been here long enough but only now to give us a chase of it?

The girl is all fidgets and is clenching her fist you beckon her to you

“ Approach me.”

“Mistress…I…I…” she begs with a stammer

“ Come here …. Give me your hand…” you command calmly

The girl edges forward, and you grab her forearm she starts to squeal

“ Oh stop I’ll not harm you…well not unless its absolutely necessary”.

Reaching behind the headboards for your kirpan you ask her to open her palm

She shakes her head, and her knuckles whiten with refusal

So you tap the as yet unsheathed blade on her closed fingers

“ Show me your hand… or lose it at the wrist.”

She loosens in seconds and drops five pieces of gold onto the bed linen

“Crossed keys” you snarl.

You know only court whores are paid with coins such as these.

“ Well, it seems Lady Calico still has much left to say on the matter…

You eye the girl sternly,

“Tell your mistress this… that…I have paid you ten for a message that she should not to court my temper”.

Dismissing the girl and knowing you'll deal with this later, you start to dress for the sea…

Riding toward the ship, I remember how I first met you.

We were tacking north of Keralaputra, along the south-west coast of Indus. Heading for port at Kandla in on the Gujarat peninsula yawing wide to shun a scrape with Portuguese traders and hoping we’d meet with some Rajput exiles who would join us; we were some fair few crew down after running into guns down in Ceylon, and none fancied our chances against a man-o-war in open water.

Lucky for us we’d taken on some chart readers at Pondicherry, and we dropped anchor out of sight to settle our route.

One such reader tempted all the crew greatly with her knowledge of where we were to steer You’d been in service one way or another to privateer crew all over the Asias, but Your home was Amritsar.

None from this ship had been that far inland on Indus and Your stories weaved sultry entertainment when there was nothing to do but hide.

The Lady Calico was still draped over me from seeing to our fuck still wet and coaxing… My cabin door open and the quartermaster was idling a little drunk at its hinge… daring not to enter but making much of having spent time listening to the mores of just moments ago

“ Captain, if I may… the Lady Leica… I want her…”

I beckon in

“Ha ha…Does she want you? My briny friend?”

“ if it pleases she’d have us both the lieutenant and me…”

“ Mmm…Tigress…Maybe I should cut into the fray.”

Ever since you’d board and we’d been fucking for week on the mid deck among some ropes where you poured honey on my openness and sucked at me till I came on your lips you knew whoever was in my bed that I still wanted you…

taunting me with these cabin games knowing full well they’d have to come and ask me first, and the Lady Calico knew, and when she looked at me she saw it, and it burned her.

She interjects... her hand steadying my will to leave

“Dear Blackheart why should only you have your fill of fun after making such a good chase of it from Ceylon reward your crew with this reader minx…. sweeten your lips with me…and if you’re still hard we’ll ask she joins us later.”

I was trying at much to hide the sullen jealousy

“ have your fuck, then, quartermaster…be at your sport” I laid back down but was restless and later whilst Lady Calico slept from love I made my way out to the lieutenant's cabin and could hear you laugh and make such delightful sounds of pleasure...

As I turned to leave you to your diversions, the door cracked open, and you backed out giggling with a bottle of rum wrapped only in bed linen you stepped unwitting into my arms, and you spun round in surprise

“Captain…! Have you come to play with me, and these two…or has the Lady Calico tired of you?”

You uncovered yourself and dropped to your knees

“…I would never tire of you” you unbuckled me in a flick.... my clit hard before you could kiss at me…

“I will always want you in my mouth…” you handed me the rum.

My eyes closed with desire and you took your fill of me……

The Servant's Eyes

I am a waiting-maid at the court of the king, and there have been many spectacles here...

our education as dark as it is lively and we are covered in the tittle-tattle of the day but one choice piece of court gossip was the return of Lady Leica... from the dead to all and purposes…

You must understand, we knew pirates could never be kept, but the Captain Blackheart had such a flame for the Lady Chartreader it was all that was in Lady Calico’s power to see to her dispatch.

Now? Having believed it true until a month hence, she revelled in seeing the Captain in London again. However, The Lady Leica defying the attempt on her life by Lady Calico herself a year passed, returned to claim Captain Blackheart as her own. The Lady Calico searched the streets of South London paying all who would take her coin to find out where they were hold.

When the news arrived this one morning... of the two of them blissfully rooming in Southwark for a month she turned hell cold with her cursing;

The sounds of porcelain smashing were coursing through the king's courtesan quarters The lady Calico was enraged to madness screaming with anger and rotting with jealousy manifest.

“Will no one rid me of this willful wench?”

The room-girls quaked in the corner avoiding flying crockery

“Am I to be plagued to the ends of my days with this tiresome deck whore?”

Turning her hands on curtains shredding them from their stays with fury she ranted;

“How in the sands of time is this worthless guttersnipe still alive?”

calming herself with wine she sent word with me to the king's advisor;

“You…go to that gluttonous excuse for a man and tell him this…tell him there rats in the port of London and that those rats seek consort with the king's own courtesans….remind him of the penalty for piracy and taking your fuck from the court of the king.”

she smiled at her nemeses fate

“let the captain and her lady have pikes for a wedding gift.”

I made my haste the Lady Calico was a cruel and unforgiving mistress and having delivered my message I started back toward the abbey rooms and was dragged into a shadow

“What is your business here?

The voice was gentle, and I recognised its command beneath the velvet hood

as the king's own daughter

“I lowered my eyes immediately speaking reverently into her sleeves

“ I am just the messenger kind majesty.”

“Do not be afraid tell me what you know…” she coaxed sweetly

’If it pleases, the Lady Calico is saying the Captain Blackheart is waging the court’s own property that’s death M’lady as sure as I breathe.”

“that insolent and hypocritical whore….fucking her way through every black-flagged ship that drops anchor along the coast…I will deal with the king you take a footman into Cheapside and find friends of our dear captain make sure she can make her escape…”

I run as fast as was able…I hoped I would be made good time to save the Captain Blackheart after all she did make us all step a little more lightly and sing a little more sweetly….

We remember most fondly her teaching Spanish, we willingly recited verbs and removed garments with each answer….

Playing naked Chess and Canasta quite more than four hours the captain fucking the winner whilst the losers watched and touched each other for sport…

Shame indeed to have such afternoons end for envy's sake.

The Pirate Round

My crew have made well their orders and secured the ship to the shutes and floated her to open water past cannon fire I have been circuitous in my escape making much of the hour setting false stories that I’m heading west to Avonmouth on the Bristol packet. We were to meet on the ship at eight bells, and you had given to rowing out to the boatswain's signal.

You boarded to his hand.

“Lady Leica the captain is not here…if it pleases…perhaps you would take to waiting in my cabin?”

The boatswain is an opportunist, but you are not enamoured

You step to make your way to the mid deck to my quarters

“ I am flattered by your hospitality, but I shall be reading the chart for our plot….”

He blocks your path and takes your arm

“ Oh, but have I not heard you with the lieutenant and the quartermaster…why not take your turn with me?

“ you would take your fuck of me without speaking with the Captain…?”

the boatswain's grip moves to your hand pressing its path beneath shirts pulling you in to meet his mouth

“What a happy secret this could betwixt us…is not my rum as sweet…?”

you smile and make a whisper of your retort close to his ear

“I suggest… you seek fast to unhand me….lest the captain finds you with your arm about me and is forced to make casting dice, from your teeth…”

The boatswain, chastened allows you to continue.

Naked now in my bed you unfurl your design for the trip. Your gold map-wheel hung from a leather cord between your breasts in readiness. Your astrolabe, compass and quadrant were quickly matched to the longitude and latitude of the new journey. You were not as familiar with these waters, but to a reader, with your skill, it was a matter of time and pitching out of Hastings passed the French? Child's play for you.

So thusly distracted you do not hear the bells strike eight….

looking up when I, at last, arrived you smiled

I sit down next to you

“ Leica …” I touch your shoulder where it meets your breastbone and kiss the scar so deep and pitted there.

“ What passed twixt you and Lady Calico?”

You stretch your fingers out over the chart and exert a little irritation

“ Captain, we are not wed, the secrets of my head will always be mine and mine alone…do not ask this of me.”

You comfort me with kisses and reach for my belt 

“ beside the secrets of my flesh will always be yours…”

You unbuckle me in gasps

“ Be you content with that.”

I place my hand over yours and redo my belt

“ No we are not wed ….so why would I ask for secrets…I cannot pry, I do not ask for secrets, I ask only for the truth…”

You push the charts from the bed you have no wish to quarrel and bid me lie next to you

“ What are the rumours, my Captain?”

“That whilst I was gone six months toward the new world where we had pledged to meet…you took to Lady Calico’s bed and were thrown overboard for your trouble.”

You cover your eyes.

“Captain do you believe this…?”

“The quartermaster heard a shot… and saw you lifelessly smash against the water…when I got the news, I changed my course for the spice route…”

You touched my lips with your fingers

“You must have made much of hating me….”

“Well…All was forgiven when we took our fuck at tower bridge….”

You laughed adding;

“Captain you must believe as you are able…but I know the truth…and I must deal with her once and for all.”

“If she harmed you…I promise... I will kill her, Leica…”

“Captain… If you believe she harmed me should you not grant that I and only I am allowed the pleasure of dispatching Lady Calico myself?”

As if to seal the agreement, you set about unbuckling me again, this time I do not stop you…

The Quartermaster’s say

I am the Quartermaster aboard a Dutch frigate. I take my orders from one Captain Blackheart. She has commandeered a ship to the New World, where we are to join her in a few months when those who would hang us have sort other quarry. She charged the Lieutenant with the run of The Mermaid and to protect us all from Portuguese guns we are at port in Kandla on Indus and the crew but were soon to disperse with booty each enough.

Above all, she charged us with her most precious cargo the Lady Leica, a chart reader from Indus as wanted by the Portuguese as any pirate for running the maps for privateers where they that would plunder, knew not the route. Lucrative dangerous and not fine work for anyone but she made it her own. It was said that the captain had many lovers but only one lady, and this was her.

The lady Calico was also aboard, the Captain's hitherto lover ever waning in the Captain's attentions while the reader was aboard but she was well connected to the courts of both England and Portugal and was gone three days at her business occupied thus I knew I had time for play.

The lady Leica had come to my bed and that of the lieutenants from time to time. She liked us well enough, so I fancied my chance and sent for some rum and asked her to make a night of it with me. I surprised when she came to the quarter deck

She saw to my drink

And sitting astride me moving back and forth along my thighs.

Telling me how she was naked under her dress and had hoped I might ask of my fuck of her so had not worn any undergarments to hinder our sport. She thrust her hands into my shirts and pulled at my nipples and kissed me taking rum from my mouth allowing my fingers free to travel over her and uncup her breasts her nipples were hardening under my thumbs

“you wetten me, quartermaster.... will you not touch me …?

She swung around with her back to me and took me at the wrist to hitch her dress and expose her glistening clit. As she sat in my lap her legs widened to my quickening touch her delighted cries allowed me to finger around her cunt, but when I plead to fuck her, she steadied my hand, and I knew there was only one who entered that gate “make me come for you” she beckoned and she rubbed herself against me until she came in my hand.

She said she wanted to taste me and watched me unbuckle and sank to her knees to lick at my wetness

my pleasure was mounting I left the cabin door open as you had asked and coming in your mouth the Lady Calico stood watching as I put my hands in your hair she stepped into the room.

I begin to wave her away and take a drink, lady Calico rolls her eyes;

“Oh do not flatter yourself deck hand…Do you seriously think I want the quartermaster when I have the captain…? No, it’s the reader I would speak with.”

You look up from your amusement turn to face her and wiping your hand across your lips you make your answer...

“Lady Calico…. I am at my diversion what would you have me do…?”

You ask me for the rum

“ Leica…come to my cabin when you are… done here…. I have some news that would benefit you and the captain.”

You wait until Lady Calico leaves and touch my arm

“Quartermaster will you follow me” I jump at your request you ask….

Lady Calico's guard enter the cabin and order I stand outside.

I hear Lady Calico's voice

then your laughter

I could see you had opened the door

then as quick you close it again

more of Lady Calico then you say something

There is quiet for a moment then a pistol shot

I round the door your neck and shoulder crimson with blood….Lady Calico’s guard are at your elbow one has his hand over your mouth… you are too weak to struggle…Lady Calico's guard hold me fast you look at me eyes pleading… Lady Calico is screaming

“ She tried to kill me throw her overboard…”

They drag you out to the rail

I break free from their grasp, but they had swiftly cast you over, I run to put my arms over for you put I you are gone, and I see you fall to the water…

Lady calico runs to me

“Quartermaster do not blame yourself, those people cannot be trusted…I tried to tell her I could help…but she became angry…that knife you see…”

There was blood on her breast…

I went back to my cabin and lay down, reeling... how would I explain this to the captain…

The Chartreader’s way

I was quite beside myself with missing your touch and although the quartermaster and lieutenant were pleasing enough I tired easily of their games.

All well and good then that we were to make the rendezvous with the rest of the crew in a matter of days. And? In less then three months to sail to make our meet with my Captain in the New World. Where we would not be put to the chase for our plunder. We could not make it passed both the King’s and the Portuguese guns alive, so the wait was on. We spoke nightly positing if only we were free, we could sail sooner, but buying our freedom meant flanking court at sea, and none here wanted to ferry under royal colours. The captain always said we ought rather hang. So anchored as we were off from the Indus coast, I knew so well and happy to be entrusted with the charts for The Mermaid.

I came to her cabin that night Lady Calico was not one to be refused and having already taken my fuck of you and brazenly…I did not see the need to taunt her further and just that I may have been born at sea does not make me insolent.

I was a little drunk for sure on grog and playing well with the good Quartermaster, but my wits were not dulled so asked her to accompany me to the Lady’s cabin.

Lady Calico was a courtesan and from nobility and five of her own paid guard made the constant show of strength needed to remind us there were other orders on open water around the colonies. Although I had no personal quarrel with the lady what she stood for was what I hated that more than anything.

The Quartermaster was not permitted to enter the cabin, and one guard stood outside to agree it.

I made my way in and in my surround was an excessive four guards and a cabin girl my kirpan felt keen against me, but I made no move to use it.

She offered me refreshment but I wanted to get on with the business she had spoken of when first she’d interrupted my sport with the quartermaster my patience thinning cordiality had no place.

She wanted me to see to spend the night in her bed to secure our release and whilst I found this more than a little amusing? She was deathly serious…

“So…Leica can I offer you some refreshment some liqueur perhaps…?”

“No…thank you Lady Calico….The captain has entrusted me to the chart I must see to my duty…so if it pleases…do we have business here today?”

“…Leica …. I can secure your release from the Portuguese…”

“ I do not need my release from those imperialistic dogs my life has always been at sea, and I will die at sea free or hanging.”

“Yes…. well…. whilst that is no doubt a comforting thought….

I have negotiated the release of both you and the captain….”

“Why would you step aside and allow this…and help us?”

she paced around her cabin

“ I have….given some thought to this…I have some dignity the captain has chosen you….for now at least…with or without my help, you are going to set sail for the new world…”

“what does this bring for you?”

“Well, there in lies the offer Lady Leica… I would like one night with you…. then you and the captain can leave freely…do we have an accord?”

“I think we are finished here…”

Laughing as I took my leave, she felt trifled with and threatened me with my Blackheart’s life;

“Here’s the document, take it, I know you can read….”

“…and here’s another… a death warrant…with reward…”

I saw she was not in the mood for games and closed the door again.

“ You spend one night with me, or I will see to it every naval and legal ship from here to the New World has Captain Blackheart for quarry…

There'll be no escape at land or sea...you'll never be free...how will you go on without this pardon...how will you live real lives...?"

The document she showed me was true a seal from the Portuguese Queen, the crown prince…and in the king's own handwritten sentence; A pardon…

She then waved a death warrant in front of my eyes making her threat a promise I became anxious….stepped forward ….and took the documents to study… I bowed my head and concentrated over the legalities…as I did…knowing the Quartermaster stood at the door, she must have silently signalled to her guards as before my wits knew two were about me, holding me fast. She wrenched the pardon from me and handed it to the cabin girl to put to a candle as it burned, I did my best to resist and thrash free, but she held my face to read the death warrant more closely and there plainly… Orders for me to be shot on sight without trial… with her free hand she found herself to my thigh and unsheathing my Kirpan, she said cutting herself with it …

“ What would you have me do…. allow someone like you her free fuck of my captain…?

She took her guards pistol and holding the barrel to just below my collarbone; “I will say...I quite liked you…and gave you a chance to give yourself up…but you resisted arrest and attacked me…so I had no choice…” she pulled the trigger, and the quartermaster came in sword to the ready, but? They held her….

I felt faint with pain and tried to struggle free but was weakening with blood loss I looked at the quartermaster I wanted for all the world at that moment for her to believe I did not try and kill Lady Calico and that I had been tricked…

I was naïve of what covetousness could do…I was not to know she had already secured your release and only yours…. That she planned my demise and for all, I would ever know would claim the reward for it. No one but Lady Calico and I would know what really passed twixt us that night the poor quartermaster only relaying what she had seen to you, a now long-forged rumour by the time the news had reached you.

I was picked up by kinsmen from the boat I had crawled into roped at the side of the mermaid it had drifted into fisheries, and I was glad of their kindness.

I was land-lubbed for a year and heard not one bit of news of where you might be until some tale of you wanting to return to Hastings attached me to sail with traders to find you I searched St Leonards and Pevensey for a sight of you.

However, when I saw the state of the ship I knew your crew would persuade dry dock of you and stowed in sluice till we made London. The rest you know but this you do not;

Having made our pledge to meet at eight bells in your cabin, I find myself down to the port…

I have sent an envoy to lady Calico to meet me alone in a Redcross Street Tavern

My enemy enters…

“Lady Leica raised from the dead…none more surprised than I …”

“ Lady Calico…we are to be roomed…” I send the table boy to her side and show her a key

"…. so that no one may overhear us or you be tempted to put guards at my surround…now take off your clothes…”

“ are you out of your mind?”

I need to be plain you have not concealed a weapon about you…”

“ I will do no such thing…”

“ Lady Calico you will remove every last thread of your attire and you will do it here or in the street….”

“ I shall take my leave..”

“you will undress like the common whore you are, or I will shoot you where you stand…. you were altogether glad to see me in your bed when it suited, so lets see the measure of you now…"

she begins to shed her garments

“Not so brave today at threatening me with the life of the one I have chosen…!”

she stands naked in front of me

“well… I see if you were a weapon about you I’d have to fuck you to find it which I have the least desire to do…go on...follow the boy up the stairs.”

I close the door and lock it behind us

I allow her to dress…

“ we need to settle this what do you want?”

“I want nothing from you…the Captain will always be mine. Look how she found her way to the London…to me… when she thought you were dead…”

“ it was only the thought I might be dead that would make her touch you..”

“ You are nothing…just some deck rat fucking anything that moves as long as it is covered in salt..”

“I am free… no court has me tethered like a goat to their whim my allegiance is to the sea and to those who would love me as I am…thanks to you the captain is free to….the Portuguese think me dead…you have nothing to gain from this bottomless jealousy…”

“I made a witness of the guards and the cabin girl….that night …and claimed the reward for your capture… I bought the finest French bed to do nothing but fuck in and when The Captain tires of you…and? She will… I’ll be there in that bed, waiting and when my nipples are in her mouth she’ll forget the arms of a common reader…”

I stepped toward her and brought her close by the forearm

“Lady calico…tonight the only thing tiring the captain will be that delicious sleep from love…when we are spent from having her two fingers inside me for an hour and my lips at her cunt, it is you who will be the distant memory….and I’ll see to it…”

I drive my kirpan in between her ribs to the hilt the blade stopping her heart with a slice… 

releasing her from its grip, I drag her to the bed and cover her

I wipe and sheath my knife

Unlocking the door I take one last look I go down into the tavern and pay for some rum I warn the room boy to allow the good lady sleep… they know lady Calico’s reputation for temper and have no truck with a flying cup this night and agree they’ll not bother her till morning on my coin…I pay them handsomely and take my leave…

Having had you question me and set your mind at rest with sucking at you playfully you move to taste me and forget our argument your mouth is hot against my clit and your lips circle my wet and open cunt.

My calls of pleasure make you tongue-fuck me fast and hard, but I want you inside me so take your wrist and plunge two of your fingers into me in cries of delight…I whisper for you to fuck me harder…and as I come…I ask that you stay within me a little longer…I kiss you deeply, and I plan to stay like this for the rest of the night….

Becky shivered in delight as Simon delicately slid his palm up her thigh. His fingers didn’t quite reach her panties, teasing her with their adjacency. He nuzzled at her neck and shoulder with his lips and she felt herself getting slick in anticipation. Absently, she glanced at the television staring at them from across the room.

She had no idea what they were watching; some kind of Japanese torture porn flick. It was subtitled, which she didn’t mind, though she was long since too drunk and horny to follow it. It was something about a man who was looking to find a girl to remarry, so he held fake auditions for a non-existent movie. The girl he liked turned out to be a sadistic murderer who killed the ever-loving shit out of people.

“You ok?” he asked.

“Mm-Hmm.” Becky murmured truthfully. Her head was spinning with wine and foreplay. Her palms caressed the firm muscles under his shirt. Horror wasn’t her thing, but the gory scenes were mostly just gross to her, like a sink filled with aging, dirty dishes.

“Is it too much?” Simon asked her, inclining his head toward the screen. She shook her head, smiling as the motion dizzily heightened her disequilibrium.

He glanced at the wine glasses on the coffee table. His was still mostly full. Hers was empty. Simon grinned, “Refill?”

“Sure,” she said, slurring enough to make herself laugh as her tongue tumbled over the monosyllabic hurdle.

“The wine’s alright?” he asked.

She nodded, breaking into a giggle as her world sloshed in yet another new direction, “Absolutely! It’s my favorite. Red.”

They laughed together. It was surprisingly comfortable with how little they knew about each other. A couple newly forged from a mutual dating app, they’d initially met up for coffee. Neither of them had an interest in brands and exalted in their own benign tastelessness. That ultra-expensive coffee harvested from cat poop may as well be instant coffee crystals.

As the afternoon turned into an evening, their joke turned its attention toward their drinks. She didn’t know a merlot from a shiraz. Wine tasted the same from a box or a bottle. It was a bit of humor she shared with her friends, as well, happily enduring playful slights at her penchant for cardbordeaux.

Simon laughed with her and then slipped away. Her reluctant hands sliding from his body, it was all Becky could do to let him go. She was long since ready for a tour of the bedroom, but didn’t want to come across as slutty. Patience, she told herself, he’s not going anywhere.

He pushed himself to his feet, looking steady. She smiled up at him, looking over her prospective lover. Simon wasn’t anything exceptional, but she found nothing overtly unattractive about the man. He wasn’t muscular, but he certainly wasn’t fat either; toned. He wasn’t tall, but wasn’t short. He wore glasses, but took them off unless he was driving or reading. Faded jeans and a black t-shirt; clean, but nothing for the eye to linger over. She found his averageness intriguing.

Why is he still wearing his shoes?! she wondered. She’d slipped off her heels the moment they were in his house. Becky didn’t mind getting dressed up, but it wasn’t for comfort. She loved how her ass and legs looked in heels, but once she’d gone home with someone, as far as she was concerned they’d served their purpose. She wanted as much for her little black dress, but urged herself, Patience!

Becky considered asking why Simon was still wearing his sneakers, but he was already gone. He moved smoothly enough that she was briefly suspicious whether he’d actually been drinking with her. You’re being paranoid, she chided herself, Why would he pretend to drink?

She looked to the television again. A fetching Asian woman in a leather apron was doing something absolutely terrible to her captive with a length of wire. It’s probably just the movie putting me on edge.

With that, she took action. She leaned back as far as the sofa would allow, then threw herself forward. Not quite enough momentum to stay standing, Becky half-fell, half-melted back down to her seat with a snort of laughter.

“You alright in there?” Simon called from the kitchen.

“I’m fine!” she called back, “Where’s your bathroom?”

“Just down the hall, first door on the left.”

“Thanks!”

Becky hunched down, readying herself for another attempt at becoming upright and ambulatory. Idly, she thought she’d read somewhere that was how elephants got up. Roll and roll until there’s enough momentum to overcome their own mass.

“You need to get out of here,” said a tiny voice, out of nowhere, in a hushed tone, “Now!”

The woman startled and looked about quickly. Simon didn’t say anything about a roommate. All at once, she found the speaker.

Standing on the coffee table was a diminutive figure. Perhaps two inches tall, it was humanoid in most respects. It stood upright on two legs, though it had hands instead of feet. It was covered in a fine fur; a blend of black, brown, and gray, rather like a squirrel. It was naked, but she couldn’t identify a sex. Pointed tiny canines protruded from an underbitten jaw. Large ears, slightly pointed like a cat’s, were turned toward the kitchen. For a breath, then two, they simply regarded each other.

The creature broke the silence in a tiny voice, “Meet me in the bathroom if you want to live.”

Becky screamed, her eyes wide in horror. On reflex, she pushed away from the tiny, inhuman being. She succeeded only in shoving herself up the back of the couch, risking teetering over the side. The threat of falling froze her and the woman hovered there, panting heavily, unsure what to do but all her instincts shouting at her to do something.

Simon popped his head around the corner almost immediately. His tone sounded genuinely concerned, “You alright?”

She jerked her head in his direction automatically at the sound of his voice. Quickly, she looked back at the table, but the little creature was gone. Looking back to Simon, she tried to steady her breathing and told him, “Sorry. The movie scared me.”

His look of worry melted into an understanding smile, “Want me to switch it off?”

Becky shook her head. The vertigo of intoxication had gone from being a pleasant feeling of floating to a feeling of drunken vulnerability. Taking another breath, she managed a smile, “No, that’s alright. It’s only scary when I’m by myself.”

Settling herself back down, she patted the seat next to her and smiled coyly. Simon laughed at that and gestured back toward the kitchen with a long carving knife, “I’ll be just a second, then I’ll be right with you, ok?”

“Ok,” she agreed. She was feeling better, but she glanced at the table again uncertainly. She tried to will it away, but a knot of fear wouldn’t quite leave her stomach and she wondered if she were getting ready to vomit.

“I’m going to use the bathroom,” she decided, “Meet you back here in a couple minutes?”

“Absolutely!” he agreed, “Won’t be so startling with two of us.”

Simon smiled disarmingly and headed back to the kitchen. Becky pushed herself to her feet, carefully. She leaned over the armrest like an old man, then straightened with a thrust of her arms. She teetered and nearly fell, taking a stutter step to regain her balance. Sloshy memories of high school played across her mind’s eye and she raised her arms triumphantly in a gymnast’s salute.

Tugging her dress back into place, Becky plucked her smartphone up from the cushion she’d occupied and padded quietly toward the hall. Her bare feet whispered over thick carpet. From what she’d seen of the place, it was a study in beige. It was clean, organized, and adequately furnished. Simon’s home was an extension of himself; forgettably pleasant.

What was the knife for? she asked herself, stealing a glance toward the kitchen. From her angle, nothing could be seen but an archway and part of a black refrigerator. Is he chopping up limes for margaritas? Maybe making up a snack or something? Becky paused to listen for a pregnant moment. Apart from the movie’s sound effects, she couldn’t hear anyone chopping anything.

As she reached the bathroom, the leather apron the film’s killer wore got her thinking. Was Simon wearing latex gloves? I’ve met some people who work in food who wear them at home out of habit. Is he a chef or something? Becky’s stomach hitched nervously as it occurred to her how little she knew the man. She thought of her purse, her car keys nestled within, and remembered they were useless. He’d persuaded her that he drive them both and her growing lust had obliged her to accept.

Now she absently drew her thumb across the screen of her phone. She debated calling Trish, but her roommate would only laugh at her for getting cold feet at the last second. She could picture the lecture, Only you would go through all that work just to cockblock yourself!

Pushing aside her trepidation, she fumbled for the bathroom light. Once she’d succeeded in blinding herself under a set of harsh fluorescents, she closed the door and looked herself over in the mirror. Closer to twenty than thirty. Dark hair in a long pageboy cut framing pale skin. Subtle contouring accentuated the angles of her bone structure and minimized the roundness of her face.

Becky gave herself a sloshy smile. She liked her look. Thank you, YouTube!

Looking down at her chest, she contemplated taking off her bra. She pictured Simon coming back to find her C-cups perking, her nipples brushing against the thin fabric of her dress. Becky reached back to unhook when she heard the little voice again.

“Are you serious?! Put your tits away!”

Becky started to scream, but clapped her hands over her mouth. Inebriated and lusty as she was, some deeper instinct told her to keep quiet. Kitchen knives and latex gloves sprang back to mind. Perched on the bathroom sink, the little creature was frowning up at her, arms akimbo.

“We don’t have much time,” it said, “Take a seat on the crapper. Piss if you need to. Buy us some time.”

Never taking her eyes away from the little thing, Becky sidled toward the toilet and did as she was told. She dropped as she slid down her panties, landing harder than she meant to. A laugh escaped her lips, high and hysterical, and she stifled it as she had her screams, clamping down with both hands.

“What are…”

“I’m a pixie,” it interrupted, “My name is Blackberry.”

“A p-…”

“Yes, a pixie. I’m a lass, er, a girl if you couldn’t tell. We don’t have much time.”

“S-sorry?” Becky managed. Unconsciously, her urine began to stream in a rush. She smiled despite herself, feeling crazy, thinking, What goes in, must come out.

Aloud, she apologized to the pixie, “Sorry, couldn’t help it.”

“Stop apologizing and listen!” Blackberry spat. Becky squinted and looked close. The pixie had fear in her eyes and trembled, her little hands shaking. Keeping her voice steady, the pixie told her, “I’m the last one. I’m talking to you now because you’re the last chance for both of us.

“Pixies exist, obviously. We live in Clans. Among you humans. Understand?”

Becky wrinkled her nose, “Like in our houses?”

The pixie rolled her eyes, “No fucking shit in your houses. Most houses everywhere. We live on what your kind wastes. It’s essentially an unlimited supply of everything we need.”

She jerked a Lilliputian thumb toward the door, “This fucking guy moves in a few months ago. Not a single pixie came with him. Not. One.”

When the woman only stared blankly, Blackberry grudgingly elaborated, “That doesn’t happen. Clans move with their humans. We merge and form new Clans. Simon shows up with nobody. Nobody!”

Becky didn’t notice when she stopped peeing. She could only stare spellbound as the little creature ranted. All at once, there was a loud knock at the door.

“You alright in there?” called Simon.

The woman startled, but managed to keep her voice even enough, “Fine, thanks! Be out in a minute!”

“Okay dokey!” the man said cheerfully. She listened as he turned and walked away. She wasn’t sure if she imagined it, but she thought she heard a faint scratching like something lightly dragged against the door. It had been right at the height of the doorknob. She puzzled, then her eyes widened. Is he still walking around with that knife?!

Blackberry smiled approvingly, “You heard it. That’s good, but we don’t have much time.”

The little creature sighed and pressed on, “Listen. We sure as hell figured out where the pixies went. He ate them.”

Becky blinked, then again as she searched for words. The best she could manage was a thin, “W-what?”

“You heard me. I don’t know how he knows about us but the bastard started setting traps. In the basement. In the attic. In the walls.”

“Like mouse traps?”

“Fuck you!” the pixie spat, indignant, “You think I’m stupid enough for something like that? Good traps. We never saw it coming. When we panicked, he started to flush us out. He was ready, we weren’t. Now they’re gone. The whole Clan. It’s just me now and if you won’t listen to me we’ll be gone, too.”

“What?” Becky blinked, “You said he eats pixies.”

“Loves them,” Blackberry agreed, “but the greedy fucker ran out.”

The pixie slumped as if all the weight of the world pressed against her, “He ran out about two weeks ago. He got weird after that. He stopped with the traps, just pacing and muttering all hours. Some kind of psychopath. Couple days later, he gets an idea.”

The woman was putting it together, “He couldn’t get pixies, so he…”

“Escalated,” the pixie finished, “Good, you’re getting it. Yeah, last week he hooks up with a girl. Barbara. He’s got a dating app on his phone. She came back to the house and he feasted on her. You’re next.”

“That’s it, I’m calling the cops,” Becky fumbled with her phone, Blackberry carefully watching her hands as she made several attempts to tap in her security code. She pressed 9-1-1 and stopped abruptly, her finger hovering a hair’s breadth from the call icon. She could hear Simon pacing. She couldn’t hear the movie anymore.

She hissed a whisper, “I think he’s out there. He’s waiting for me?”

“No fucking shit he’s waiting,” Blackberry told her, “Probably thinks you’re spooked, maybe on to him. He doesn’t want you to leave. He won’t let you. I don’t think he’s eaten since he finished what he got from Barbara.”

“Jesus Christ!” Becky hissed through her teeth, “Ok, what do I do?”

“You run,” the pixie said, “I’ll help you.”

The woman cocked her head, incredulous, “What are you going to do?”

“I can sit and tell you about the lion and the mouse or you can get the fuck out of here and live, if you’re lucky. Pick me up at the mailbox, alright?”

“Alright,” she agreed.

“Swear it.”

“What?”

“Swear. It. Give me your oath that you’ll pick me up.”

“O-ok,” Becky stammered, “I, uhm, swear…”

The pixie nodded, dead serious, “And I give you my oath that I will help your escape, even if it means risking myself.”

With that, the tiny being extended her little hand. Becky blinked, then slowly, carefully held out the tip of her pinky. They touched, the woman doing her best not to flinch away as she would at the feel of a mouse or a bug crawling across her skin.

All at once, the pixie vanished. No, Becky told herself, looking closely, she’s camouflaged! Forcing herself to believe what she was seeing, the woman watched as an indistinct blur leapt from the counter to the bathroom floor. Like a chameleon, the pixie matched her surroundings perfectly. Even as she moved, the little creature was little more than a slight distortion, changing to match her surroundings almost instantly as she ran along on all fours. In seconds, Blackberry had scurried under the bathroom door.

That was real, Becky told herself, It had to be. It’s real and I need to go!

With that, the woman unsteadily got to her feet. The world reeled with alcohol and fear. She tried not to hurry, counting to ten while she washed her hands. As she reached for a towel, she realized she hadn’t flushed and her panties were still around her knees.

“God damn it!” she muttered, pushing the little silver lever on the toilet and arranging herself. She considered washing her hands again, but hesitated as she reached for the faucet. What am I fucking doing?! Becky took a deep breath, let it out slowly, and opened the door.

The hallway was empty and she stepped out, trying to look unperturbed as she tried to remember where her purse was. She startled and bit back a scream when she found Simon standing in his living room, a glass of wine in each hand. He smiled and held out a glass.

“You alright?” he asked.

“Yeah,” Becky lied. Blearily, she tried to estimate how many steps to get to the door. She thought of the contents of her purse, considering. My ID’s in there. If this isn’t some crazy dream, I don’t want him showing up at my place.

Simon held out her wine, “Bottoms up?”

The girl looked desperately at her purse, tossed lazily onto the seat of a burgundy recliner, “I…I’m not feeling good. I think maybe I should get going.”

The man’s face twitched and for a moment it twisted with frustrated rage. Then Simon smiled, his mask in place again. When he spoke, he couldn’t quite smooth out the tension in his voice, “One more for the road? What do you say? I can call you a ride. You might feel better if you sit for a bit.”

Becky glanced around, thinking. The television was off. All the curtains were drawn. It was dimmer than when she’d gone to the bathroom, the only light coming from a single lamp in the corner. She looked back to the wine. Ancient memories of cartoon witches offering poisoned apples to unwary girls played across her mind’s eye.

“N-no thanks,” she stammered. Her neck and shoulders were knotted with tension and she rolled her head gently from side to side to ease it, “I can call myself. I’m just going to get going. This was fun.”

Becky took one step toward her purse and Simon splashed both glasses of wine in her face. She gasped and closed her eyes, hearing the glasses shatter against the floor and suddenly his hands were gripping her biceps. Blinking through the stinging alcohol, tears streaming down her cheeks, she could see Simon’s mask had slipped away again. His lips were drawn back from his teeth and his eyes were wide and wild. He pulled in close and she could still smell the coffee on his breath. Still coffee?! So stupid! the thoughts came in a rush, Here I am turnt and I don’t think he’s had more than a sip all night!

“But we’re having such a lovely time, Becky!” Simon was shouting now, flecks of spittle joining the wine and tears on her face.

The girl struggled, but his fingers felt like stone as they pinched painfully into her arms, “Let me go! You’re hurting me!”

Simon ignored her pleas, trying to pull her in closer as she struggled, “I heard you talking to someone in there, Becky! A little birdy tell you some stories?”

The man was visibly salivating now, “I thought they were all gone, but I guess you found a couple morsels yourself? Tell me how many you saw and I’ll let go…”

Becky stiffened in his grip. Holy shit! He does know! Aloud, she shouted in his face, “Fuck you!”

With that, she drove a knee toward his crotch. She was off balance and far too slow, her drunken reflexes telegraphing everything in advance. Simon turned, putting a thigh in the way of his manhood. Her sharp knee made him shout in pain anyway as it connected. His fingers loosened only a little, but she heaved and pushed herself away and got loose.

Becky stagger stepped backward, crashing up against a wall. She hit hard enough that a picture frame fell and shattered. Flat shards of glass joined the curled teeth of the shattered wine glasses on the floor. She curled her toes as if she could retract them into her feet. Fuck! My fucking shoes!

Accepting what had to happen, Becky rushed for the front door. She screamed as the glass knifed the bottoms of her bare feet, but kept her eyes on the lock. She fumbled the deadbolt, turned the catch in the doorknob, and hauled the door open.

The girl rushed through the doorway, limping as quickly as her lacerated feet would allow. She stepped out onto the threshold of Simon’s home just as a heavy hand clapped over her mouth and pulled her back. She nearly lost her balance before her head came to rest on his chest.

She felt a punch in her lower back. Did he just kidney punch me?! He knows karate too?! Then, she felt a burning where he’d punched. She felt him draw his hand back and distinctly felt something slide out of her body.

Becky threw herself sideways, spinning like a running back to get out of his grip. She managed to reverse herself, staggering backward until she stepped out onto the open air past his front stoop and fell hard. She landed on her right elbow and was sure she felt something give way, but that was nothing compared to her back. As she hit the ground, the burning sensation spiked in intensity, the pain driving out any rational thought.

Simon stood at the threshold. In his hand, he held the carving knife. It was covered with blood and then some, the gore running down the handle and onto his fist. He’s still wearing those fucking gloves! Vaguely, she noticed his belt was hanging loosely. Must have had it tucked behind him. Wrecked his belt pulling it on me. Wait! Oh god, oh god! That fucker stabbed me!

Simon smiled, breathing hard, “Come on, Becky! Don’t be such a bitch. I haven’t eaten a bite in days!”

With that, he stepped out, and then paused, his eyes growing wide in surprise. He looked down at his feet, then howled in agony. Drunk and weakening quickly, Becky couldn’t understand what was happening until Simon dropped onto his bottom, set down the knife, and started worrying at the bottom of his left shoe. He hissed and whistled through clenched teeth as he caught at something with his fingernails and pulled.

It was a long, thick nail. It had absolutely no business being there on his front stoop, but there it was. What’s more, something had been holding it point upward, exactly where the man was stepping. He held the nail up to inspect it in the dim light cast from his open front door, then snarled as he threw it aside.

“Mother fucking pixies!” he shouted, then began hauling himself to his feet. It was difficult work, the man keeping his knife in hand as he crawled up the doorframe, relying on his free hand and his good foot to keep him steady.

Becky was shoving herself backward with her heels, making agonizingly slow progress down the driveway. She supported herself with her left arm, her right trailing along at her side. She’d just reached the front wheel of his black van when she stopped to look for help. She was accustomed to living in town, neighbors all around. She groaned, remembering the drive out to his place. It wasn’t in the middle of nowhere, but the last house she’d seen on the drive in had to have been at least a mile away.

Of course he drives a van! she thought, feeling her focus drifting, What psycho cannibal wouldn’t drive a fucking van! Ah, my back!

Becky wanted to stop and get a feel for her wound. Pausing in the shadow of the van, she tried to reach back, but found she couldn’t. Her right elbow wouldn’t respond, but to her surprise she didn’t feel a thing. Is it broken? Shit! I’ve never broken a bone. Shouldn’t it hurt?! Am I in shock?!

Simon was upright, breathing heavy as he leaned against the front doorframe. He glared at the girl and pushed off of his house. He nearly fell as he tried to put weight on his left foot, hopping awkwardly to rest against the siding.

“Becky, stop!”

She ignored him, crying out in agony as she twisted around so that she was on her knees. She reached up to grab the passenger side mirror with her left hand and dragged herself upward. The bottoms of her feet burned, slick with blood, but she fought through the pain until she was upright. Her dress was plastered against her body on her lower right side where he’d stabbed her and she could feel something hot trickling down to her thigh.

Moaning and crying with the piercing pain of each step, Becky handed herself along the side of the van. She could hear Simon behind her and risked a look over her shoulder. He was limping along, heavily favoring his left foot and putting almost all his weight on his right. He held the knife carefully away from his body so as not to accidentally stab himself as he lurched after her.

The girl turned to face the end of the driveway. She knew it wasn’t long, but as she was it may as well have been a mile. She distinctly heard her footsteps making a squelching noise as she plodded forward, doing her best to keep her lead in their race of cripples.

Becky was halfway to the end when she heard the click of the van’s doors unlocking. She spared a glance to see Simon throwing himself into the driver’s seat. He’s going to run me over! Oh God! Oh Jesus! Come on, Becky. Don’t stop! You can make it!

Miraculously, nothing happened. The driver side door still open, she could hear the man cursing and banging on the steering wheel. The van was dead, no lights, no little bells dinging to remind him to buckle up; nothing. The girl thought of the pixie’s oath and smiled through her pain. Blackberry! Oh, thank you, you weird little monkey!

The mailbox drew ever closer and the girl couldn’t wait to open it and thank the pixie. How the hell could she have done it?! She must have worked on the van before she even talked to me. The little thingy must have been busting ass the moment he got me in the door.

Behind her, the van door slammed shut and she could hear Simon handing himself along the side of it, as she had done. Her breath coming in heavy gasps, Becky held out her left hand for the mailbox. Her right arm dangled useless at her side. She imagined how it would feel to have something to lean on again, if only for a moment. Then, almost within reach of it, the girl’s ankle rolled under her and she fell.

Becky groaned as she came down hard on her knees, too winded to scream. She caught herself with her left hand, feeling her wrist as it strained until she was sure it was sprained, if not fractured. She tried to crawl, but the pain was too much. Letting herself fall forward, the girl dragged herself on her stomach, inching toward the wooden post of the mailbox. She could feel the blood welling up from her back, tickling her sides as it rolled down toward her belly. Behind her, she could hear Simon grunting and cursing, grunting and cursing as he limped along, slowly closing the distance between them.

It’s not far, Becky, she told herself, It’s not far at all. You’re going to pull yourself up somehow and you’re going to keep going. He hasn’t caught up and you’re going to keep moving and he won’t catch up. Blackberry will slow him down somehow. She promised. You’re almost there! Keep pulling. You’re…

* * *

The mailbox creaked open and the pixie looked out into the night. There was nothing standing in front of the mouth of her little metal cave. She could hear the heavy breaths of a human. Above her, she heard a hissing, scraping sound of clothing against metal and felt the mailbox shift slightly under the body weight of a giant.

“Becky?” Blackberry called, “I’m in here. Let’s go! Hurry now!”

She waited a breath, then two. Everything was still. The only sound was that heavy, labored breathing, the heavy tide of massive, human lungs echoing in her little chamber.

Suddenly, quick as a snake a hand darted into the mailbox. It snatched blindly and the pixie screamed at the suddenness of it. In a moment, she was gripped in a giant fist and hauled out into the moonlight.

There was Simon, smiling down at his prize. Blackberry heaved and drummed her fists against his hands, but she may as well have been punching a mountain. Looking about wildly, she spied the girl on the ground below.

Becky wasn’t moving. She wasn’t breathing. Blood was pooled all around her. She’d been reaching for the mailbox when she died, the tips of her fingers just touching the post.

Simon raised the pixie to his face, ignoring it when she resorted to nipping at his hand. He held her under his nose, inhaling deeply as his eyes rolled back in ecstasy. He wiped at his mouth with his other hand, careful not to pierce his cheek with the blade, swapping his drool with the drying blood on his sleeve.

“I thought I’d gotten all of you weeks ago,” he told the pixie, “I didn’t know if I’d ever get another chance.”

Simon gestured toward the body of the girl with his knife, “The meat’s alright, but it’s not the same thing. Quantity isn’t quality, you know.”

“Please,” Blackberry begged, “Don’t do this! Let me go and I’ll do anything you want. I’ll…I’ll get you more pixies! Huh? You can have as much as you want, just please, let me go!”

The man looked down at the pixie for a long moment, then he began to laugh, “Thanks, little buddy, but I think I can manage on my own.”

He looked down at Becky’s corpse and tsked, “Going to take me all night to get the place picked up, especially with this fucked up foot. I’m so goddamn hungry, too! You know I haven’t eaten a thing in three days, right? Ah well, there’s time for a quick bite.”

With that, Simon raised the pixie to his lips. Blackberry screamed and thrashed, but the man only opened his mouth wide and put her head between his molars. With relish, he bit down on her head carefully, applying increasing pressure until her skull cracked.

“Mmm!” he groaned, feeling the pixie’s juices squirt into his mouth. Shoving the little body in whole, he chewed reverently. He savored every nuance, even the bones as they crunched and snapped.

All too soon, he made a last swallow and the pixie was gone. His appetite whetted, Simon got on his knees. The pain in his foot seemed far away, a thin whine drowned in the roar of his hunger. Flipping the knife underhand, he cut away Becky’s little black dress and looked over the pale, smooth skin of her bloody back.

Simon considered for a time, then cut loose a filet from her shoulder. He raised the meat to his lips. He tore her flesh with his teeth. Long into the night, he feasted.

He flew like 'Glesga' wind. Like a great grey whippet hunched madly over his beloved bike, pedaling hell for leather in yon Scottish fog. A bead of sweat made its way down the bridge of his pointed nose as he hit the incline of the hill, his thighs filling with lactic. The air of the back roads was fresh for his lungs. After a long days ride he was quite looking forward to retiring to his apartment to read his book. After those harsh interval sprints earlier, his thighs had started to give way. He had given those legs a good thrashing and the Sunday rain was dreicher by the minute. As the hilly slope climbed steadily towards a dual carriage he almost dropped his work rate, he questioned himself, why the fuck was he out in this 'pourin' rain 'batterin' roads like a banshee? It was the fatigue talking, his better half chipped in. "You love this, you live for this" it said. He turned his head and saw a mucky white van overtaking him from the inside lane. He was drenched in sweat, mud and rain. He could hear the bowels of the van, the oily smoky bowels of the beast 'chunderin' away. There were three in the front smoking Mayfair. The driver took a glance over, he had on a high viz, had a belly, tired eyes and he was scooping polomints into his stubbly mouth. One could see that the driver felt warmer and happier at the very site of this poor wet fool cycling in such abysmal weather. The cyclist saw this man in slow motion and so clearly for a second. He saw the man and he saw himself. Suddenly he felt lighter and remembered why he was there. Thier had always been a longing to leave the house. A disgust for rules and confinements. As long as he hit these roads with all his strength he would breath fresh air, see his country with his own rhythm and race his way to championships. He fired his gears up a notch and took off forgetting his legs, body, stress. Just flew on adrenaline and grit, embracing that lowland rain. And off he flew home putting in an honest shift for the last 5 miles, merrily pondering a wee cup a tea up the hoos. 

He got back to his scheme and took the side entrance towards the council garages. He was 'knackered' bit it was a good feeling. While locking his bike away safely he overheard a rabble of noise. There was a crack of air and a clatter then a car window smash, a shriek, a gasp and a patter of running steps. He swiftly came round the side of the garage towards the racket. Th n he saw a very odd scene. In the car park was a scuffle of men. One had a cricket bat and was running after a fellow with a very large head. That same fellow had another man on his back and was trying his damnest to get him off. A third man was running towards them, 100 metres away wielding a crow bar and a fourth was there throwing silly punches at the big headed man. The cyclist didn't think much. He already knew whose side he was on and that that tea would have to wait. Strangely it was like his bold legs had carried him straight towards the ruckus. He whinched when he saw the cricket bat clatter off the poor fellows head but with great force it bounced off and sent the attacker into a 360 turn then he landed on his arse. The big fellow never even budged but made a big daft Glasgow yelp that sounded a bit like AAYAAAH!

No reflection, no thought te cyclist ran at the guy with the crowbar who was mid swing and possibly about to murder this poor 'big heeded' guy. Yon cyclist didn't consider how fatal it could have been if he himself had gotten 'chibbed'. He forgot he had just smashed out a 60 mile cycle. Instinct carried him across that car park and right up to unsuspecting prick and pooom, he toed the bastard square in the baws. Grimly, it was like kicking a sponge cake and he may have lodged the fuckers testicles back up into his groin. The man sank like a battleship and stayed down. Then a crack of wrist and shreik of pain, the punchy one had finally landed but that skull was like a bowling ball. Two down, two to go now it was more or less even Stevens. The cyclist tried rugby tackling the man with the cricket bat who was back on his feet but it's was here that the old legs would give way. His hamstrings tightened mid dive and he flopped like a shocked fish and crashed into a car door, his bike helmet was still on luckily. "Shite"he said. 

The big headed 'fella' had finally gotten the one off his back and had him in a hockey grip but the cricket bat came down hard and this time there was no rebound. The cyclist was up on shaky legs and furious. With a final short sprint coming from the blind side and with all his momentum and inspiration from playing red card football at school he delivered a two foot tackle to the back of the knees crumpling the guy. Finally the big headed guy turned and open palm slapped the last guy standing who went down with a whimper. 

Are ye alright mate? The cyclist asked

Aye, no bad. Thanks said the big fella

That's some skull you've goat pal, whit the fuck wis that all aboot?

Thir scammers them, they tried the rob the wee würmien next door blind, charging her fir  faulty services

Is that right aye, replied the cyslist

And off they went, brothers in arms somewhat confused. They went on to discuss what the dickens had just occurred soon to find that they both lived in the same group of council flats and that those alleged "plumbers" were at it, and were not to be trusted around these parts.

 He hated the way she always made the same sounds like she was reading from a script or just using him to warm up for someone else, but his fingers were tangled in her hair and he was buried within her as deep as he could force himself to be.

"You feel so good," she let out a breathy whisper.

I know, Williston rolled his eyes and hurried to finish. He couldn't wait to get away from her but he needed this after the day he'd had. He just needed to empty all of that negative shit into someone outside of himself, and right now, that meant he was going to fuck Tara until he finished, then go eat some greasy bar food. In fact, the thought of hot wings and beer was making him harder than the fact that he was inside a chick, leaned over a dresser, watching himself take her in the mirror.

He pushed away from her.

"What's wrong?" she asked emptily.

"I'm not even close. I can't get into this right now," he put on his jeans and his work boots. "I'm sorry, Tara. I'm in a weird headspace."

Tara wiggled into her panties and a t-shirt. "Whatever. You act like you didn't even enjoy it."

I didn't, he thought and combed his hair. We're both a fucking waste of space.

"I'll see you soon," was all he said as he wafted out of the door like the autumn breeze that drifted through the stairs of the cheap motel where they always met. He slumped down the stairs flaccid both inwardly and outwardly. He would probably end up at Chucky's. They had good beer there and someone had probably ordered the fight on pay-per-view.

Williston sat in his car and lit a cigarette. He never smoked an entire cigarette but he liked the feeling of pulling the smoke into his lungs and feeling angsty. He liked the ritual of people watching while he feigned interest in their lives.

He eventually made his way down to Chucky's. Amber was working. She was his best friend, and that was a lot to a guy that didn't really have friends.

"How's it going, Willy-bean?" she greeted from behind the bar and poured him a draft. "I was beginning to think you forgot I worked today."

Amber was always cheerful, an average brunette with hazel eyes and a huge smile. She wasn't particularly fit. She wasn't particularly pretty. She wasn't particularly noticeable except that she was the sweetest woman in Terrence. If Amber wasn't nice to you, there was a reason.

"I wouldn't forget a thing like that," Williston said and climbed atop a stool. He took a large swig of his beer. "Yep. You're the only bartender that pours anything right."

Amber smiled and continued to wash glasses.

Williston never talked to Amber much while there were other people around her. The things he said to her were usually personal. He could unload his emotional and mental baggage on her, she would organize it, and then he could pack it away again. Those conversations were saved for after 2 am when he would help her close up and they could be alone. She was the only person who really understood that he wasn't broken, but he was mostly stuck inside of himself. He was arrogant, vain, and self-centered, but he was compassionate and anxious and felt the gamut of human emotions within his limited body. It caused him a lot of confusion. It caused him a lot of internal anguish. It added to his dramatics, and he was already quite dramatic.

Amber had been staring at him, and he noticed. She must be able to sense that he's a wreck inside. He certainly felt like he'd been through the wringer. He was so unhappy, but he couldn't pinpoint why. He felt empty and jittery and vulnerable all of the time, and it was starting to wear him down.

He felt her hand on his hand.

"Hey," she said low. "Do you need me to close early tonight? You look like you need someone to talk to." She looked into his face with her large eyes.

Williston was ashamed she had noticed him. "You have a business to run, you know? I'm just some guy that likes to talk."

Amber shook her head. "You're not just some guy. Let me wrap these customers up and then I'll lock the door and shut off the lights, and you and I can split a bottle and talk about whatever it is that's bothering you, okay?"

Williston didn't answer.

"Will, it isn't like Charles gives a shit anyway. Hell, he's on life-support and if he does wake up, he won't know his asshole from his elbow. This bar is mine and if he wants to bitch about it I'll still be here when he wakes up," she huffed.

He gave her a muted smile.

"Hey, everybody, last call!" she called out and walked down the bar to attend to customers while they complained she was closing an hour early.

Williston sighed heavily and thought of Charles, or Chucky as his friends had called him, an old vegetable settled into a permanent bed at the local hospital while his body waited to die. It hadn't been eight months after Charles married Amber that he had a stroke and fell into a coma. He'd been that way for over three years now, and any love that Amber had forced herself to choke down for the reptile was fading as fast as his heartbeat.

Amber had told Charles no to his proposals five times. Charles finally told her that even if she didn't love him that he loved her and wanted to make sure she was always taken care of. That was the only way that he could see her getting his businesses and his land and his retirement. He also knew she would never sleep with him any other way.

She was 23 and he was 68 when they got married 4 years ago. His children, who were older than her, hated her and accused her of being a gold digger. But when Charles had been awake and aware, Amber did everything that she could to make him happy and comfortable. She visited him in the hospital as often as she could to read to him even though she was sure he couldn't hear her. She managed his legacies, his businesses, the accounts for his ungrateful children. She appeared at town hall meetings in his stead as she was a major landowner in the county. She was a good wife, and at the green age of 27, she was mostly a widow. Williston noticed with a certain distaste in his mouth that his thoughts had turned to Amber.

"I'm beginning to hate all of them, Will," she growled and grabbed a bottle of whiskey and two glasses. "I haven't got the patience for any of this shit anymore. I want Charles to either get better or die. I want everyone to leave me alone."

Her hair was in a messy bun with tendrils falling down around her face. Her make-up was a little smudged from sweating during the night. She poured them both a drink.

"I'm sorry for talking about it like that. You didn't come here to listen to me complain. What's going on with you?" she leaned over the bar on her elbows and took a swig of her drink. Williston caught a glimpse of her cleavage.

"I'm just stuck in my head, Amber. You know how I get. I hate my job. I hate this place. I hate living alone but I don't want to be around anyone. I tried to fuck Tara earlier and it just wouldn't happen."

"Tara...that's the one stripper from Red's right?"

"Yeah, I know I'm disgusting."

"Why would that be disgusting? Sex is her business."

Williston took a drink. "Maybe that's why I thought it was disgusting. I'm just another day at the office for her. Nothing is special about it. But nothing's been special to me in a long time. You know that."

"At least it's someone to touch and to touch you. I can't even look at anyone. I have old man's widow leprosy."

"Amber, he's not dead yet."

"So, I'm supposed to live in some sort of purgatory limbo until he finally croaks? I don't hate him, Will. You know I don't, but fuck it if he didn't ruin my life." She poured herself another drink.

"I know you don't hate him, but you never loved him."

"Is that even a real thing? I'm pretty sure that it's something we tell children about so that they'll have something to look forward to until they figure out it's like Santa Claus. Lies to sell shit on Valentine's Day." She stopped herself. "I'm sorry, Will. I'm making this about me and it shouldn't be. I'm just really tired of being the good person all the time. I never get a break to be me. I can never make mistakes. Everyone is always watching and I never even wanted any of this."

"I know," said Williston as he reached for the bottle. "May I?"

"Please, help yourself," she waved a hand dismissively and stared out of the window. "It's getting cold again. I wish I didn't have to stay in this town anymore."

He could smell her defenselessness. If he was a predator, which he had admitted to himself long ago that he was, he would take advantage of all of this tonight.

"I got a job offer. I guess that's one of the main reasons I wanted to see you," he said and grabbed her hand, playing with the ring on her finger. "I'll be leaving for Canada next week. I don't know how long I'll be gone." He pushed her ring off of her hand and set it on the bar. "I just want to make sure you're okay before I leave."

Amber smiled and put her ring back on. "Williston, if I didn't know any better I would think that you actually cared about me. I'm not an idiot."

"I never said you were. I'm just saying that there is an opportunity in front of you to have some closure mind, body, and soul, so that when I leave, you'll have something to remember me by." He finished his drink and took off his coat.

"Is that all that this has been for you, then? Our friendship is just a way to get close enough to me to seduce me on a lonely evening?"

He walked behind the bar and pushed himself up against her and kissed her. "It's never just been about that, but I want you now." He hadn't felt the desire to take a woman in a few weeks, but the way she almost said no to him made him want her more.

She melted into his arms when he kissed her neck. "Will, I—"

He kissed her and put his hand up her shirt. No one had touched her in years, and he knew that any physical contact would stimulate her enough to make her cave to him. She shrank away from him and he followed, his body leaned onto hers and his hands were everywhere. Suddenly, he felt her change. He felt her kiss him back and push against him and wrap her hands up his back.

He lifted her onto the bar and took off her shirt. He kissed her shoulders and her chest while she ran her fingers through his black hair and giggled.

"I'm ticklish. I'm sorry," she said.

He took off her pants and unzipped his. He slid her off of the bar and onto him. She wasn't giggling anymore. He felt her breathing change and her muscles tighten. He felt himself close to the edge. He looked at her as she looked at him, her eyes rolling back while he held her against him. Her body shook while they finished. He stood there pressed against her, looking at her blushing skin and remembered how beautiful a woman was after sex.

"You're so beautiful," he said and looked down at her while she laid on the bar. "I've never felt anything like that."

Amber smiled and covered her face, catching her breath. "That's the endorphins talking. Thank you for the compliment though."

He slid away from her and put his pants back on. "I'm sorry. I couldn't help myself, Amber. I'm sorry."

She put her clothes back on. "It's okay. We both wanted to. I've wanted to for a long time but I never did anything about it." She poured them both another drink. "Are you really leaving?"

"Yeah, I didn't lie about that," he said and looked at the ground. "I know it's strange but I really don't lie to you about anything. I've always tried to keep it honest."

"I know," she threw her hair back up into its messy bun and went back to cleaning.  "Everyone tells little lies all of the time, but you usually don't even do that. I'll miss your company."

Her attitude towards him had changed. How was he to know that she hadn't played him all along and finally gotten what she had wanted out of his endless nights of bitching and crying on her shoulder? She was almost dismissive the rest of the night. Their conversation spun mostly around his plans to leave for work and how she wanted to go back to school to become a teacher.

Williston grabbed his jacket and headed out into the muted night, never knowing if he would ever see Amber again.

I looked through the water spotted glass. The rain winding its way down the smooth surface. What had I done? I reached to open the window, sliding it open the cool moist air hitting my face. My fingers leaving dark prints on the clean white surface as I looked out into the yard. The trees swaying in the wind as a tear ran down my cheek. Everyone has their breaking point.

I thought back to another time with him, the man I loved the one I thought I would spend the rest of my life with….. I pushed myself into the corner, pulling my knees to my chest; what had I done?

_____________________________________________________________________

The crickets were alive tonight, as the warm summer wind whistled through the trees. The bench cool through the fabric of my clothes. The moon cast a pale yellow glow across the night.

I pulled my legs over his as we held each other.

His eyes were cool against his pale skin, a deep green brown speckled with gold.

His hair soft between my fingers, a dark brown.

He leaned into me, as I breathed in his scent a pull in my throat as I longed for more of him.

Looking up at me, innocence in his eyes.

He always spoke of his experience and my innocence, oblivious to just how innocent he really was; or maybe it was me that made him so delicate, because of his trust in me.

I stroked his chin, a little scruffy from lack of attention, feeling the shallow divot of a scar just to the right hardly noticeable to the touch.

I ran my fingers along his cheeks, he pulled his lips into a smile as my fingers explored his features, running my thumb along his lower lip he reached forward with his teeth grazing my nail. Back and forth I let my thumb skim his lips. I traced his cheekbones, caressing his brows I held the weight of his head in my hand as he relaxed against my chest.

I let my hand slide down, tracing his neck to his strong shoulders. I shifted now facing him as I traced his body lightly with my hands. Along his collar bone, over his chest and ribs. Feeling his strong abdominal muscles, I moved to his back. I could feel his muscular physique, strong build. He shifted and his body rippled, muscle over bone. I wrapped my arms around his back hiding my head in the crook of his neck, he buried his face in my hair and took a deep breath. I held him tight, the moment too perfect to end as I felt his breath against my neck.

He pushed me up and I straightened my arms as he brushed my hair from my eyes. Running his fingers along my temple he tucked a few loose strands behind my right ear. He examined my face, his eyes lightly prodding until he came to my eyes. He made me soft, made me melt like butter left in the warm sun. It was hard to keep eye contact with him. The connection too fierce, I always wanted more while a small piece panicked at the intensity. The wind ruffled our hair, mine lifting in the breeze. He smiled. Oh how I loved his smile. His eyes open and clear, he stretched and kissed me on the forehead then nuzzled me with his nose. I reciprocated as we felt each other’s warmth and strength taking comfort in our bond. He reached for my lips with his, but I pulled back, mischief in my eyes. Now I reached in and kissed him grazing his lower lip with my teeth, pulling it taut, I heard a faint rumbling groan come from his lips as I released and pulled back teasing. He looked at me for half a second his eyes dark and longing, reaching to tease and then a moment later pulling me in, tired of the game. His lips came down forcefully pulling me closer his hands pulling intertwined in my hair with one snug, as the other stroked my spine. Putty in his hands. Grabbing the back of his neck firmly bringing him closer. As close as we could get. I gently reached with my tongue, stroking his lip and getting under the edge of his upper teeth and pulling him closer. He ran his hands along my thighs, giving my bum a quick squeeze; I squeaked. A rumbling chuckle came from his chest. As his tongue darted out against mine.

I slowly pulled away as he leaned further into me, not wanting to let me go. My bare feet hit the grass as I pulled him to his feet. I grasped his hand tightly looking into his eyes, full of fire and longing. I turned around and lead him from the garden bench, through the backdoor and up the stairs to our bedroom. I released his hand and slid off my light summer dress and took a seat on the edge of the bed, legs crossed. He pulled his shirt over his head and slid off his shorts.

He was on top of me. Holding me close, skin on skin. He undid the hooks of my bra and I slid it off. I pulled at his underwear, slipping them off as he did mine. He kissed my neck lightly tracing down my breasts, varying pressure; light as a feather then more forceful as I moaned and leaned into him further. Hooking his arms around my thighs he ventured further as he kissed my inner thighs and deeper, as I flinched. He slowly circled with his tongue, then faster as my back arched and I pushed into him. He grabbed with his teeth and I flinched, he gave me a sly smile. He moved up and I pulled his lips to mine, desperate longing. I pulled him in. We were one piece as we moved together, the feeling overwhelming as I dug my fingers into his back. Our body’s slick with sweat, we moaned. Oh I wanted him longer, harder, uuuhhh…. Our breathing laboured, I curled my toes into the sheets as I pulled at his hair, his hands entwined in mine. His warm breath in my ear as I pulled at his ear lobe, grazing with my teeth. He went slow and hard. Faster uuhhhh. My back arched, more forceful and we came together, my eyes rolled back as I held him close and he slowed his movement as he pulled out. And we grasped each other’s slick backs, fingers slipping as we dug deeper.

He was mine. I could breathe him in all day, all night. I didn’t know how I had gotten so lucky. I pulled back and leaned into his chest, catching my breath as I listened to his heart pound. I loved him will all my heart and soul. With him it was so easy. Never a struggle.

I was lightheaded and woozy from him. My addiction, my drug, my love.

We were blissfully happy in this moment and no one could steal it from us. He leaned his face against mine the scruff scratchy, but the comfort I felt like no other.

I looked him dead in the eye and whispered “I love you”, his eyes focused and clear he whispered back “And I love you” and he kissed me and I was lost to the world once again. Lost in him.

_____________________________________________________________________

He had come at me fierce and powerful. Crazed he didn’t recognize me anymore. He wasn’t mine. The man I knew. Not anymore. The hideous sickness had taken him over. My stomach turned thinking of what had just happened. I had no other choice. If I hadn’t done it, I would be the one lying still on the cold tile in the other room. What now? Without him …. Knowing I was the one who had ended his life how could I move on. My shirt stiff with his blood, still a little sticky. I kept replaying the scene, I couldn’t make him listen he wasn’t him in that moment. I had reached for the butcher knife as a last defense. His soft touch gone replaced with a brutality that wasn’t him. He had come at me pushing me to the floor he stood over me panting rage burning in his eyes. I pulled myself up and grabbed the closest thing to defend myself. I held the knife blade out, and in a moment he flung himself at the blade. It pierced his chest as he let out a cry and we fell to the ground, the blood pouring from his chest I couldn’t stop it as he lay still, the life leaving his eyes. The rage drained and I saw a hint of him in his eyes that man I knew and loved and as tears poured down my face his face went slack, his lifeless eyes fixed.

I pulled myself up from the ball I had curled myself into and walked into the kitchen. Leaning against the door way I took in the scene I had left behind. His lifeless body in a pool of his own blood, the knife handle protruding from his chest. My vision blurred and the darkness overwhelmed me as the world spun and my head hit the floor.

     Lighting up in front of a no smoking sign, while singing signs, signs, everywhere there’s signs, is about the ballsiest thing I do these days. The nurses allow it, simply because I refuse to be cooperative without my hourly smoke break. I had been sadly mistaken in the assumption that the truth would set me free, and found myself under twenty-four hour protective watch, after sharing fantasies of driving into oncoming traffic with my shrink. When she mentioned in-patient treatment, I laughed a little before telling her to fuck off. She in turn, politely stated it was not a suggestion. Alas, I find myself here - in a safe place, where I can work out my inner kinks under the guidance of a well trained, but slightly irritated psychiatric staff.

     I am attempting to settle into this new atmosphere, and to adjust to the surroundings, which include doctors, nurses, and several other patients - some with nervous tics that are driving me batty. I’ve yet to accept any visitors, feeling as though I am a dog wearing the cone of shame. My husband will most likely leave me anyway, and I’m certain to be fired from my job. The doctor say’s that’s purely the anxiety talking, and everyone just wants me to get well. But, I know she’s full of shit. At least I am spared from wearing a hospital gown, and am allowed to stroll around in my own clothing, which I have selected with great purpose. Today’s attire consists of black and white striped lounge pants, hot pink slipper socks, and a t’shirt that reads, I Do Not Have Enough Middle Fingers For This! Sadly my favorite shirt - # Go Fuck Yourselfie - has been confiscated.

     Today is sharing circle day. I’ve not participated in this activity as of yet, and frankly I am rather doubtful as to it’s benefits. I don’t particularly care for strangers, let alone do I want to share my inner demons with them. I figure giving it a good honest try won’t do any harm though, so I am patiently waiting in one of the chairs for the group therapist to arrive. The man next to me introduces himself, and tells me that he is a YouTube star. Apparently he has 429 subscribers, who watch him breath like a tiger twice a week. I fake a smile, then turn away, as he continues to describe his breathing technique. Just as the doctor walks into the room, I turn to the tiger man and explain to him, tomorrow is Mother's Day, and normally I would be able to drink as many mimosas as I like and no one would be able to say shit, but instead I'm stuck here with a bunch of crazies, and would he kindly shut up. It is then decided I might not be ready for group session just yet, so the doctor asks one of the nurses to escort me to the courtyard for some air.

     In the courtyard the nurse sits next to me on a wooden bench underneath a willow tree. I observe, from the tag on her shirt, her name is Gilda. I pity her for it. She wants to know why I am so angry, and I tell her my mouth tastes like a monkey’s ass, because they don’t allow their patients to keep mouthwash. I can see the annoyance in her eyes, but she is trying hard to stay positive with me. She hands me a notebook, much like the ones used in elementary school for spelling words, or daily writing practice. My assignment is to write down why I am here, and what goals I might have for my stay. Nurse Gilda supplies me with a ballpoint pen and takes her leave. I notice her taking a deep breath as she walks away, and I call after her to enjoy the rest of her morning.

     For a few moments, I just sit staring across the lawn beyond the yard, while resting the notebook and pen in my lap. I think about the assignment Nurse Gilda has given me, and decide to have a sincere go at it. Putting pen to paper I begin to write:

Dear Nurse Gilda,

     I am here, at this beautiful retreat center, because I had thoughts of taking my own life. Mind you, they were just thoughts, no action was taken, but nonetheless I am here. The doctor’s say I have major depression, an anxiety disorder - without agoraphobia, and suicidal ideation. Ideation is the key word in the phrase, I believe. You see, just because I thought of it, doesn’t mean I’ll go through with anything. They say death is only a problem for the living, and not for the dead. I think this is a true statement. Taking my life would mean hurting those precious souls closest to me. I could never do such a thing to my children and my husband. Perhaps, there will come a day when my absence would no longer sting, and my suffering could be relieved, but until then I vow to remain a living, breathing, pain in everyone's ass.

     You asked me to write some goals for my stay here. I can think of only two:

          1. Use the opportunity to lose a few pounds - the food service in this place is horrendous! It reminds me of the slop farmers feed to their pigs.

          2. Go home.

Thank you for the assignment, would you kindly bring me some mouthwash or a package of breath mints?

                                                                   Sincerely,

                                                                   The lady from room 200

     For a split second, I almost consider giving this letter to the nurse. A tear begins to form in the corner of my eye, and the familiar feeling of panic starts to arise in my body. I rip the page from the notebook, crumpling it into a ball, and toss it in the garbage can next to the bench. I see Nurse Gilda coming back, and I know she can tell I am crying. I quickly write in huge letters, across the now blank page in front of me: Piss Off! I tell her as she approaches, that I have completed my homework, and I hand her the book. With a sigh, she reads, then closes it. In her palm, is my cigarette and a lighter. She tells me I may commence my signing if I should like. I don’t feel like singing, and quietly light up, without saying a word.