The wind on her face was soft and cool. The Fatboy beneath her wasquiet and smooth. She missed the reverberating snarl of her Sporty through theslant cut drag pipes and the vibration of the 1200 Evo engine. But she hadwillingly traded in the Sportster, as well as her meager life savings, to buyhim the Fatboy. She pulled out from the light, the bike beneath her responding easily but not as quick as she would have liked. She wanted more speed off the light, more response as she wove recklessly through traffic, challenging the cages. She just wanted more.
She cruised the city, her eyes taking in the neon, the crowds and thescents of urban dwelling. It was aimless meandering. She had no place tobe, no one waiting, nothing to do. Not a good way to spend what might beher last free night out. Her eyes focused on her surroundings, 37th and Sandy.She knew a place near here. He used to bring her here years ago, when theyfirst began dating, when he actually took her places. There it was. Shebacked in next to one of the half dozen bikes parked at the curb. Her heartfluttered a little at the thought of being unescorted. It was exciting, andthis was no time to be alone.
Pushing open the battered door, she stepped into the under lit, smokybar. The Eagles were playing on the jukebox, Hotel California. Her eyes scannedthe small gathering of humanity. Two couples were at the pool table,leather-jacketed backs turned toward her, and a slender young man was talkingearnestly to a big-breasted brunette by the jukebox. She recognized thebartender, the same shriveled old man who had always worked here. She hadalways thought of him as a troll. She walked slowly to the bar and restedher weary body on the red vinyl stool. The troll came over, wiped the barin front of her and set down a square bar napkin covered with tastelesscartoons.
“What’ll you have?”
“Scotch on the rocks, please.”
“Sure thing.”
He served her, took her two dollars and left her to her own devices.Her hand trembled slightly as she reached for the glass. Bringing it toher lips, the smell of the liquor hit her nose. It was the same sour smell so often on his breath and oozing from his pores. She took a sip and rolled it around on her tongue. The tremor in her hand stopped and she smiled.
Another sip. He had smelled of Scotch tonight. Night had barelyfallen when he walked in the door three hours late and reeking of his favorite,Johnny Walker. He wrapped his strong, thick arms around her waist, pullingher tight against his broad chest.
“Give me some sugar, baby,” he had breathed against her neck.
“Sarah?” The soft voice broke her from her reverie and she turned toward the source. A familiar, bearded face with dark hazel eyes looked at herhopefully. Her mind wavered for a moment, struggling to focus.
“Sammy?” The question was more doubt than greeting.
“I didn’t think you’d remember me. It’s been a while. You here byyourself tonight?” he asked hopefully, smiling into the bright blue eyes.
“Yep. Gonna paint the town red,” she laughed, “all by myself.”
“By yourself? That doesn’t sound like much fun. Want some company?”
“Sure, have a seat,” she let her eyes wander from the handsome faceto the flat stomach and narrow hips, then back to the hazel eyes.
They drank silently for a moment. She was savoring every sour sip ofthe cheap Scotch, breathing in the fumes and letting them remind her ofwhat waited at home. She turned on her stool to face her new companion.
“So what’s a nice guy like you doing in a place like this?” sheteased.
He smiled back. “Not much. Just stopped in for a beer after work.Nothing to go home to. How about you?”
“Nothing at home I need to take care of either,” she answered.
?Unchained Melody? came over the speakers and she watched the slenderyoung man lead the buxom brunette onto the postage stamp-sized dance floor andencircle her with his arms. Sarah sighed.
“Want to dance?” Sammy asked, seeing the direction of her gaze.
“Really? Sure. I haven’t danced for a long time.”
He took her hand and led her onto the floor. He politely placedhis hands on her hips, her hands settled on his broad shoulders. She closedthe gap between them, letting her body press against his. His arms tightened.
As she settled her cheek against his shoulder, she could almost hearthe thick voice again, “Give me some sugar, baby.”
She closed her eyes and let her hips rub against him, feeling himharden, feeling the arms tighten a bit more. They swayed to the music.
“Give me some sugar, baby.”
The calloused hands had been rough, insistent. The familiar kisseswere rank and repulsive. The fingers tugged at her shirt. She had pushed himaway, knowing how angry it would make him. He came after her. She had backedaway, into the bedroom, knowing there was no escape. There never was.
Now she felt the tentative hands in the small of her back and broughtherself back to the present. Here and now, in the arms of a near-strangerwhose hands were gentle and who smelled sweetly of Old Spice. She snuggledagainst him, enjoying the feel of the warm body. She let her lips brushhis neck ever so gently and felt goosebumps arise at the touch. The songended and she let him kiss her softly.
This was not a night for temerity or hesitation. She whispered, “Doyou want me?”
She could see the look of shock in the hazel eyes, quickly replacedby desire. “Who wouldn’t?”
“Do you live near here?”
“Just around the corner. Would you like to see my place?”
“Since you asked so nicely?”
The two left the bar under the watchful gaze of the troll. He toohad recognized the woman from her visits a few years before. He couldn’t helpbut hope her ape of a boyfriend didn’t show up and kill Sammy, he was agood customer. But it was none of his business. He wiped the bar with a whitetowel.
Neither spoke as they walked arm in arm to the small house around thecorner. He fumbled with the keys, suddenly more than just a little nervousabout the inevitable outcome of this evening. But his desire mounted as hecaught a whiff of her perfume, sweet and floral, and thought of honeysuckle.He flicked on the living room light, revealing a small, tidy space withlittle thought beyond function and comfort.
“Can I get you something to drink?”
“I don’t think so,” she stepped close, her arms returning to the firmshoulders, her hips pressing against him again.
He wasn’t going to question her actions. He pulled her tight andkissed her hard. She felt like warm honey in his arms, flowing against him,conforming to his body, rubbing gently against him. He was hard as a rockin seconds.
She could feel his eagerness, barely suppressed. It was good to knowshe was still desirable, that she wasn’t the ruined husk he had made herfeel she was. Despite the warm body in her arms, she felt cold. She knew he hadmeant to hurt her, rape her, maybe kill her. He had threatened it oftenenough, usually with his hands at her throat. But this time she had stoodher ground, daring him. She had seen the doubt flicker across his face,replaced as quickly by red-faced rage. His face had taken on the red hue and arched brows of Lucifer. His teeth glinted as he snarled his fury at her suddendaring.
“Do you want to go into the other room?” a soft, kind voicewhispered against her ear, gentle hands caressing her full hips and round ass.
“As long as the other room has a bed,” she whispered back. Shewould not be alone tonight. But she was still cold.
He led her by the hand into the bedroom. He lit two candles on thenightstand, casting the room in an amber glow. The flickering light playedacross the amiable face and glittered in the dark eyes. He smiled down ather, helping to lift a bit of the chill that had settled on her soul.She stepped back into the eager arms, willing herself to accept the caresses, allowing herself to feel the desire and need in the warm hands. The heatin her groin was helping to dispel the cold.
He unbuttoned her blouse, slipping it from her shoulders. The deftfingers unhooked her bra, dropping it to the floor. Deft fingers so unlikethe brutish fingers that had so often left their tracks behind as tattletale reminders in the morning. Bruises that even now showed, livid on arms,shoulders and thighs, but camouflaged by the shadows cast by flickeringcandlelight. Soft, tender lips unknowingly kissed the welts and bruises onher shoulders before kissing their way to her soft, pink nipples. Shemoaned softly at the unaccustomed sweetness of a gentle touch. The nimble fingers found their way to her waistband, unsnapping and unzipping the jeans,slipping them from her smooth hips before pressing her back onto the bed.He paused long enough to remove his shirt and jeans, adding them to the pileof still-warm clothes accumulating on the floor. She opened her arms and legsto him, he settled down on top of her.
Her breath caught in her throat as the additional weight pressed herdown into the mattress, pressing on the painful bruise on her back, areminder of the blow that had knocked her to her knees beside the bed. Onhands and knees she had fought against a red haze that threatened toswallow her, fought hard. The raging voice faded from her ears to be replaced by a roaring not unlike a stormy sea. With a will of their own, her fingerscurled around her salvation, just before the booted foot connected with her ribs. She did not lose her grip.
Hot lips nibbled the soft flesh of her stomach, a teasing tonguetrailed from her belly button down to her inviting pussy. He kissed her softly,his tongue flickered against her, eliciting a moan. Her fingers ran through hissilky hair, encouraging the skillful mouth, letting it take her body farbeyond any place her mind could follow. Even as she arched against him, thecold still held her in its vile grasp. But for a brief, shining moment itwas forgotten in the pleasure of the purely physical. Pulling him up toher, she kissed the warm mouth that tasted of her own juices, guiding him insideof her.
As they thrust in unison, the bruises on her long framewere nagging reminders, keeping his presence near at hand even asanother man pleasured her. She could feel his specter looming over her. Her eyeswere pressed tightly closed, but behind her lids his furious face andsneering lips loomed large above her. He had towered above her, haulingher viciously to her feet by her blond hair.
“Give me some sugar, baby,” he had repeated with only hate and rancorin the low voice. His hand clung to her hair, holding tight, painfully tight.She knew he was capable of removing the hair and scalp beneath it. She hadno options left. If he had felt the steel beneath his chin, he gave noindication.
The warm body on top of her shuddered and moaned. Lips sought hers,kissing as if he could pass his life force to her through the contact. Shereturned the kiss feeling as if she could drain him to revitalize her owndepleted spirit. Whispers, caresses, kisses, given and returned.
Behind her closed lids, the image was seared into her retina, thesoundless image of his head dissolving under the intrusive impact of a .32slug entering at high velocity and exiting nearly as rapidly. He hadfallen backward across the bed, a look of surprise frozen onto his face. Shestood above him for a moment, gazing wonderingly down at the suddenlysilent monster. A smile played across her lips as she wiped the handle of the gun on her shirt before placing it carefully in his limp hand and leaving theroom.
She lingered only long enough to wash her hands in the bathroom sinkand run a brush through her hair. She grabbed the keys from the hook by thefront door and stepped out into the welcoming twilight glow of the city night.The Fatboy sat silently at the curb, as if waiting to whisk her from thereality of her life and into one final night of living. He had started easily ather touch, as if he lived to serve. She had only ever been allowed to ridepillion, even though the bike was in her name and paid for with her money.She had smiled as she pulled from the curb, realizing that it was now herbike. Who would dispute her claim?
She looked into questioning hazel eyes, seeing a trace of doubt.Concern for her, concern for her needs.
She kissed him softly, smiled and whispered, “Want some sugar, baby?”
