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Chosen Mate

Category: Mature
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“They are real!” Harry said emphatically, glaring at the drunken brothers sitting across the bar from him. Billy had fallen off his stool, assisted by the wildly flailing arms of his larger brother; but Billy usually did anyway; and Bob, trying to keep from falling was holding tightly to the bar, tears in his eyes, howling with laughter.

“So faggots are trying to take over the world?” Bob gasped trying to catch his breath then exploding again into alcohol assisted howls of amusement. Harry sighed and lay his head on his arms crossed on the bar and spoke from their shelter.

“Not faggots fool, fairies and they’re everywhere. Everything on this planet except for Man and ape are fairy folk. Plants, birds, insects, animals, and fish are all fairies or fairy related with kings, queens, princesses, princes, and noble, or gentlefolk that rule over each family or clan. He turned to call the bar- tender. “Sandra, when you get time, three more beers please.” She nodded.

He turned back to brother one, who was pouring the rest of his bottle down his bucket mouth; he was getting most of it in too. He smacked his lips, whacking the empty down on the bar top, wiping his chin. He sat for a moment then started laughing again; wiping his foam filled face, then his eyes.

“So a fish fairy could tell me where all the big bass are, maybe a big suckerfish.” He bellowed between gusts of laughter.

“It’s possible Bob, but tell me,” he paused “what’s in it for the suckerfish?” Bob started choking out sounds. Harry could not tell if it was laughter or indignation. Hopefully there would be fresh beer soon. Maybe he could deaden the noise with alcohol. He was not hopeful of that though.

Sandra walked over to the corner of the bar, fine boned and fair skinned; she had fresh beers. Her long hair, that was not quite red or brown, fell down to the collarbones showing in the v of her blouse. Slim, with upturned breasts, a small waist, and healthy buffed arms, Harry thought she must be about the tastiest morsel of womanhood he knew. She might be in her late 30’s Harry thought; but it was hard to tell.

–Too young for you. Spoke the voice in his mind that he called the Oldman.

She did not wear an excessive amount of make up; but he was damned if he could tell if she wore makeup at all. With her flawless, slightly olive complexion, it was hard to tell. There was a small scar at the corner of her right eye. You would miss if you were not paying close attention; Harry always did. Skynard played on the juke, “The Four walls of Raiford”. She looked in his eyes. ‘Oh Jesus save my soul,’ Skynard sang. Amen, he thought as he looked in hers. They were a pale frosty blue and seemed to reach to the bottom of his soul, laying bare all his lusts, secrets, and dreams along the way. His heart beat faster as she moved to the corner, with the bottles of beer held by the necks.

“Are you telling those fairy tales to them again”? She said double knocking his bottle like a judge’s gavel as she set it before him. Order in the bar, he said to himself. She looked at Bob then Billy, who sat up a little straighter under her disapproving look, as she deposited their bottles before them. Then her attention turned back to Harry and held his eyes; one eyebrow arching, and those eyes became a bit sharper as she waited for an answer.

“I should know better by now.” He said tearing his own eyes away down to the beer. “Buy you one?

“Mmm,” Sandra considered for a beat. “Only if you tell me a bedtime story”

–Innuendo, I like that, Oldman declared.

Her eyes captured his as he looked up, startled surprise, shock, and wonder on his face. Oh, man! This was new. Sandra never played games and was usually sparse with her conversation. He struggled against the paralyzing pin of her gaze like a butterfly prepared for study.

“Ahh,” Brilliant conversation he thought. Those eyes damn it! “Ahh, you don’t look sleepy.”

She looked away, something like embarrassment or frustration on her face. Checking the few other patrons in the place, she saw that all were busy, content, and well supplied with drink. She returned her appraising gaze back to him and began addressing the points that brought her to this conversation.

“You come in here twice a week, never on the weekend, always when I’m working. You watch me more than the wide screen but try not to let me see it. I don’t miss much do I Bob?”

“Just me when I’m gone.” Bob said with a grin. Billy smiled at the bar top, avoiding her eyes.

“Bob we miss you when you’re here.” Her eye had not moved from his during the interruption; they were still captives, willing captives as she chastised Bob then turned her silken voice back to him.

“You are always polite and quiet except when telling your stories. You’re good looking in a kind of old man way and you smell okay.” She looked at him with her appraising eyes.

“Thank God,” escaped from his mouth before he could stop it. Her eyes became filled with mirth.

She laughed, musical laughter that ended when she picked up his beer and drank, draining a large portion. She carried the money and his beer to the till. Turning her head she hit him with those incredible eyes once again that tore his from her sweetly filled jeans. She took another pull of his bottle and placed it back in front of him, lounging on the bar top close to him. Her scent was sweet.

“Well? Are you afraid your story telling skills aren’t up to it or is it something else? Do you have problems with some other skill?” Picking up the bottle, looking full in her face, he drained it in three long swallows. How erotic he thought, drinking from the same bottle as a beautiful woman.

–Are you going to answer that question? Oldman asked.

–Which one? Shh, he answered the inquisitive nagging thought.

No, my skills are adequate, I suppose. It’s been a while since I’ve used them. Do you believe in fairies?” He asked suddenly; painful tension played in his eyes. Again the amused appraising eyes searched his.

In answer, she looked to see if anyone was listening or watching; then, she brought her leg up to the bar top. Wow, was she ever limber. She looked again, pulling up her jeans leg to expose a tattoo on her ankle. Tinker Bell, he saw, looking closer. One finger crept out to caress the saucy cartoon. Little fists were on her slim hips, her chin upraised with a defiant expression.

–Tattoos tell a lot about a person. What does that tell you about her, Oldman asked.

“Nice work.” He said as his finger continued to trace the lines of the tat. Sandra shivered and removed her leg to the safety of the floor. He frowned as his fingers slid off her ankle.

“Bye Tink,” he said looking back at Sandra. She flushed, color spreading from cheeks to shoulders, glanced down the bar and left to chat and fill glasses and drinks. Left by himself with no beer and no distraction, he pondered just what and how much to tell her. He was still deliberating with himself when she came back with beer.

“On me.” She said. Harry couldn’t help it.

“Before the bedtime story?” The look came again, searching.

“No such luck; gimmie your spiel.” Her eyes were a bit speculative though.

“O.K. long before written history…” He started. She shook her head in negation.

“No, no, no,” Sandra broke in.” Wrong story; tell me your story. I want to know about you.” Her eyes had gone serious now. There was no trace of the playful banter from before. He held her stare for a moment then took a monumental drink, then another. He began babbling out his life to her.

“I’m an old guy. I smoke; drink, but not excessively. I have a hard time sleeping at night. I don’t hear particularly well; there were too many years of loud music, motorcycles, and guns. I lost my job about a year ago; my wife left two days after that. There’s been no one since. I’ve almost gotten over the hurt but…I’m so…”

He paused. He had started to say lonely but it was more than that. Heartbroken came to mind but that would not be accurate either. It was like a bruised muscle that hurt every time used, so you tried not to use it. He glanced up, shrugged and then continued without an explanation.

“I haven’t found a regular job. I work at my shop at home doing a little leatherwork and woodwork, but it’s not commercial type stuff. It’s more artsy higher end stuff. I’ve just started getting my disability from social security ’cause I’m an old beat up guy. She laughed.

My appendix burst back in. …’68? I didn’t have a clue that it had happened. The doctor I went to see told me I had the flu, so I ate aspirin and Alka Seltzer and little else for five days. After screaming in pain most of the fifth night my friends took me to the emergency room. The doctors took a blood count then carried me straight to surgery where they sliced my beautiful young body from navel to sternum. They said that they used ‘buckets’ of saline to wash me out and that I was extremely lucky to be alive.” He drank again eyes focused on the past, silent.

“Shit, I miss the good old days when you could smoke in a bar. So …months in the hospital while recovering, enough antibiotics to cure most of Africa’s illnesses, and a scar that reminded me of an ass crack where my six pack used to be. Then there were the wrecks.”

She placed a hand on his forearm at a call from down the lightly peopled bar and said.

“Wait.” Then she left to circuit the bar again.

–She escaped just in time. Oldman said.

“She asked.” Harry replied to himself, looking quickly around to see if anyone heard him.

He wandered over to the pool table and shoved in quarters. Bob stumbled over to rack the balls and gossip as Harry shot making a solid ball on the break then looked for other opportunities.

“I haven’t seen Sandra talk to anyone that much in a long time,” Bob said. Harry made two more balls, saying nothing. His mind more on his own internal conversation, missed, and then lost interest as Bob cleaned the table off. Billy came over with two fresh beverages and more quarters. Harry left them the table and returned to his stool. Sandra came back.

“Another beer?” she asked. She leaned on the bar, closely. Her scent was as intoxicating as drink.

“Nah, Got any coffee back there? I could live on the stuff if it was possible.”

“I’ll make a fresh pot. Take a few moments if you care to wait.”

–Come on. Oldman taunted. You started, go ahead.

“I can wait if you smile before you go” Harry said quickly; an embarrassed look on his face betrayed the flirting words. She lit up a ten-thousand-watt-smile that gleamed from her teeth and disappeared over her shoulder as she turned and walked into the tiny bar kitchen. Damn nice girl, Harry thought. He wondered what size jeans she was wearing. Billy stumbled to where Harry sat and spoke drunkard for a couple of sentences. Harry just nodded because he hadn’t a clue what he had said. Encouraged Billy rambled on.

Sandra walked up and leaned on the bar, a chin resting in her supporting hand watching and listening while Billy spoke on and on. She exchanged a sighing glance of long-suffering with Harry. She leaned over, putting a hand on Billy’s shoulder, and whispered in his ear for a moment. Billy straightened up quickly, staggered away, and found a chair by the pool table and sat.

Harry followed Billy’s trek all the way over to the chair turned back to find ‘her’ gone again. His frown turned into a grin as she came through the kitchen door with two steaming mugs. She was still smiling.

“Sugar,” she inquired with upraised eyebrows.

“Yes ‘darling?”

“Mess with me and you’ll drink it black.” She was right, that was an old joke.

“You know I like that blue stuff if you have any.” He said quickly. She produced a small crock filled with assorted sweeteners from under the bar. Harry dosed his coffee and stirred while looking back at Billy. Bob was there also. They were head to head talking full bore. He looked back at Sandra. She was watching them also drinking her coffee black as those frosty eyes lost temperature.

“It seems like you’ve got them pretty well trained.” He said to her silent appraisal.

She continued to watch the two for a moment, not speaking, although Harry could swear her ear twitched at him as he spoke. Her head turned to face him but her eyes had stayed on drunkards two for just a moment, and then revolved back to his. Piercing pale blue orbs flashed as she spoke.

“Those two are like weeds; you have to chop them back every so often.” Her eyes turned liquid as they looked in his. Smiles played hide and seek behind her full pouting lips that looked like some tasty fruit. He looked up then down, again avoiding her direct searching stare, until her silence forced him to look again into her eyes. He tumbled into their deep well. It seemed like he fell a million miles in a hundred years.

“Harry?” She prompted. His eyes refocused; her face was there again. Sipping at her mug, she waited patiently for him to answer.

“Sorry. I got lost in there for a moment. What did you say to Billy?”

“Trade secret”, she replied, “sure you really want to know?” There was just a hint of frost now.

Harry thought about that. Anyone who could get Bob to shut up had his vote of confidence. He was happy with the results, and cared little for the process.

“No, I’d rather get lost again.” Then he opened his soul to her eyes. She tore a chunk out, smiled softly, and looked at the small watch on her wrist. She turned, changing to her boss lady face.

“Last call folks; drink up.” Turning back to him she said, “Stay.”

–Woof, said Oldman. Harry looked at her with a ‘puppy dog gaze. His mind supplied the lolling tongue that flapped in his head, panting in canine imitation. She walked away down the bar, picking up glasses and trash, looking at Billy and Bob as she strolled. They saw her and were on their feet and moving toward the door unsteadily.

“Goodnight Harry.” Bob said as he passed by. “Bring me some of those cigarette cases to the station when you get a chance. I’m almost out.” Harry waved.

“Will do,” he answered as he stood and followed them into the parking lot. Lighting up and smoking while he waited. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Sandra peeking through the window in the door.

–Dang! She’s checking up on us. He blew smoke into the cool night air, ignoring the window and Oldman. He tried not to crack up watching his two friends. They crawled their big redneck asses into Bobs ancient Toyota Corolla, wound up the rubber band, and puttered away down the ally in a comparatively straight line.

What a wonderfully cool summer night it was. There was not a cloud in the sky. The stars sparkling down seemed as happy and pleased as he was. People wandered out to their vehicles chatting and laughing. He entered the bar again, heading for the restroom. Sandra was swamping out the business end of the bar as he walked by.

“There you are!” she said, “I’m almost done. Just hang out until I finish. It won’t take too long.”

“Be right back, pause for the cause you know.” He said as he pushed the men’s room door open. Passing the mirror, he caught his reflection and stopped turning to face the man standing there. A man who had not made his mark on life, but life had certainly made its mark on him. I haven’t a clue what’s next do you? Shaking his head, he turned and stepped up to the urinal. He was in full stream when he heard the door open behind him. He had thought the bar was empty. Before he could look, he heard her voice behind him.

“Doors are locked and everyone’s gone.” Sandra said behind him. Two hands touched him then, gliding from his shoulders to under his arms, then around his chest in a snug hug. It was like an electric shock. She laid her head on his back for a moment, then left saying.

“Don’t forget to wash your hands.” Wow, now he had to walk back out that door, at least he hadn’t pissed himself when she touched him, although it had been a near thing. Okay, deep breath, here we go.

She was waiting by the exit when he came out, smug dimpled smile on her face, fringed buckskin purse in one hand, deposit bag in the other.

“Drive me to the bank; we’ll go eat something after. I’m starving.” Devilish twinkling eyes studied his face. Call and raise Harry said to the old man sharing his brain as he moved toward her.

“First things first,” he said, then took her slowly and carefully into his arms and kissed her softly and long, one hand between her shoulder blades the other trembling on her sweetly rounded waist. Please don’t wake up he said to himself.

She met the kiss in kind. Her full hands searching for a hold, finally dropped their contents to the floor and roamed over his shoulders, back, and hips, at last finding a purchase, twined in his hair. Time slowed. The room spun. He smelled flowers, soap, beer, and woman. He released the kiss slowly then stepped back swallowing. A pleased smug look was in the dancing eyes searching his.

“Ready?” He asked. Her hands were resting lightly on his chest now tracing the fabric of the shirt while watched the emotions flash over his face.

“Oh yeah,” she answered grabbing a fist full of his shirt and stepping back in his arms to feed on his lips. Harry was sure smoke must have been coming out of his ears when she finally stopped. Hands sliding down his sides and legs, she sank slowly before him.

–Oh hell she’s going to …Oldman started. Sandra picked up the deposit bag and her purse from the floor; then standing, turned, unlocking the door, and walking out. He followed, fingers hooked in her belt loops, short of breath, and dizzy with emotion.

Harry glanced around the lot while digging keys from his pocket and readjusting recently uncomfortable portions of his anatomy, discreetly, while she locked up behind him. They walked to his truck, bumping into each other on the way, her hand through his arm. He held the passenger door open while she climbed onto the seat.

“Couldn’t find a bigger truck could you?” She asked, stepping up.

“1984 Ford 150, 4×4, I call it my Bullfrog.” Harry declared proudly as he got behind the wheel. Sometimes I like to play in the puddles.”

“Oh! It’s an amphibian is it?” She retorted.

“Pretty close, I’d say, but it does need a little bit of mud to get things going.”

“It must be male.” Sandra said, busy running her hands over the almost obscenely sized shifting levers, which sprouted from the floor. Her head swiveled to the dashboard, then opened wide and round as they surveyed the gages, lights, switches, and knobs. She almost seemed to pant as her eyes glazed over.

“Tell me Harry. Do you like to play in the mud too?” She asked absently. Her gaze never left the dash, but he could swear that ear was pointing at him again.

–Damn, the Oldman exclaimed.

“I do,” he answered, blinking at the innuendo, “it’s one of my favorite pastimes; but, I can’t remember the last time. We’ve been looking for a damp spot to frolic in for a while. There’s been no rain for a long time” There, he thought.

“I can tell. Your truck seems to be rather dusty but well used.” She announced with knowing eyes and an evil grin.

“You peeked didn’t you?” He asked and turned the key. She laughed until the truck started.

The straight six rumbled to life sounding dangerous in the empty parking lot. The exhaust echoed off the walls of the buildings surrounding three sides of the lot, rumbling with the sound of a well-tuned engine.

Her eyes were racing now, darting from one gauge to another as they displayed information to the driver. Her breath had quickened.

“Clutch” She said, fondling the gearshift. She licked her lips and grinned at the tachometer.

“Seatbelt?” He answered, peering over the top of his glasses. Sandra released the stick long enough to squirm and buckle herself into the center set of belts.

“Clutch!” She repeated.

–Whatever you do, don’t let her drive. Oldman warned.

Harry depressed the petal. She slid the gearshift smoothly into first. Harry put his hand over hers. She looked at him. He was watching her face; it was that of a demented teenager; she was ready to hit the streets wasting fuel and rubber. Harry pulled them back to second gear then released her hand. Putting his on the wheel, he smiled amusedly.

“Ready?” He said giving the gas a shot and grinning as he reached over to give her belt a tug.

“I thought I had already answered that question,” She answered distractedly, still fondling the shifters.

“Fine then,” Harry replied, grasping the wheel again, laughing manically inside at her expression when he popped the clutch and let the truck bound forward.

She looked like a rodeo rider as he continued to goose the petal, her hair flying about her head in silken whips each time he rapped the gas making the truck bounce down the alleyway.

“Yeaeeeeehaaaaaaaa!” Sanra exclaimed as they bounded along, echoing down the alley. Harry was gassing it every time they crossed a gutter, sending the truck airborne.

“It really is a bullfrog, isn’t it,” she chortled as he made the last turn into the bank lot, backing up to the night deposit.

“It does know how to hop.” He smirked, as she unbuckled and slid to the passengers window to place her bank bag into the night deposit drawer. Harry admired the view as she hung half in half out of the truck with her backside waving back and forth. He ached to run his hands over the enticing display.

“Alright,” the drawer slammed shut. She scrambled back to the center of the seat, buckled up, placed her hands on the gearshift and looked at him. “Let’s go eat.”

He depressed the clutch, watching her as she shifted into second, then drove smoothly around the bank and on to the empty street. He accelerated, then clutched. Sandra made the shift into third like she was an extra hand. Well done he thought, glancing out of the corner of his eye at her ear-to-ear grin.


Mildred’s coffee shop was the only place in the town of Backwater open after 10:00 P.M. All the quick food places closed then. Because of the interstate, Mildred’s stayed open 24 hours a day. The small restaurant did a steady, if lack luster, business until 5:00 A.M., then went full bore until after the evening mealtime. It was always neat, clean, and open.

The parking lot held two semi-trucks and three cars, one of which was Bobs Corolla. Harry drove onto the lot and shut the truck down, extinguished the lights, then reached for Sandra’s seat belt. When he released the catch, she flowed into his arms and onto his lap, leaning back on the steering wheel to face him.

Her hands combed his shoulder length hair and very full beard; her eyes again locked on his as his trembling hands stroked her hair and waist slowly. The sinuous motions of her hips soon destroyed the earlier personal adjustment he had made in the parking lot of the bar.

“Feed me” she said quietly, continuing to move and kissing his lips pleadingly. Her scent filled his head; her touch was electric; her eyes took away his thoughts and will. He groaned into her mouth and pulled away reluctantly.

“Let’s go keep you from starving. I want to watch you eat anyway.” He opened his door, slid to the pavement, and lifted her down slowly and carefully. She was a lot lighter than she looked. They walked to the door bumping and jostling each other, her hand on his shoulder and his at her waist.

The two truck drivers sat on stools at the counter, a seat between them, drinking coffee and chatting between bites. They turned as Harry and Sandy entered, ignoring him, but giving her the head to toe look.

“Get us a booth,” Sandra said, sliding from his arm, hand trailing down his back and ducked into the ladies room near the front door, fumbling in her purse. He continued across the floor and slid into a booth by the window facing the front door.

Bob had spotted him as he entered and was leaning across the table to speak to Billy who turned to smirk in his direction. Harry shook his head in resignation and turned his back on them to sit in the booth, mind churning with the unexpected turn his night was taking.

“Going to get lucky tonight Harry? It looks like you did already. What happened to her hair?” Bob’s voice breathed alcoholic fumes over his shoulder.

“Go away Bobby or I will hurt you.” Harry said, voice filled with annoyance. He turned his head to give him the ‘don’t screw around ‘look.

Bob was in full smile, eyes twinkling with silent laughter. He saw Billy; one booth back, with the same expression on his face. Harry turned placing his elbows on the table and his face in his hands.

“Bob if you mess this up I’ll make sure the sucker fish fairy never lets you catch a bass again.” Bob howled, and then looked up to see Sandra coming toward them. He left quickly, diving back in his own booth and proceeded to concentrate on his meal.

“Headache?” Sandra asked, sinking down on the opposite side of the booth and tossing her purse on the seat beside her. He looked up from his hands. She was smiling, hair brushed and tucked behind her ears, revealing silver earrings. She had applied lip-gloss and eye shadow. A little makeup went a long way with her. He straightened looking for the waitress who seemed to be on her way carrying two mugs and a pot of coffee then turned back to Sandra.

“Yeah, two of them, Bob and Billy are here. I threatened Bob with fairy retribution unless he left” Sandy laughed as her eyes lifted from his face and spotted the two brothers who were busy not looking their way.

“Humph, Those two”

“Hi Sandra,” the waitress said as she deposited coffee mugs and menus before them. Harry knew her from eating here occasionally. She always seemed to be efficient and timely when he had eaten here before, and never seemed to make more trips from the kitchen than were necessary. Harry had always tipped her well for competence.

“Hello Donna. Are you making it O.K.?” Sandra smiled; her glinting eyes conveyed their own unspoken account of her night.

“Yeah, you know. Work, sleep, eat, and then start again. Know what you want?” She asked Sandra with small aside looks at Harry.

“I’m famished Donna. Give me two over easy, biscuit, hash browns, sausage, gravy and a small O.J.” She said with no look at the menu.

“Right,” Donna said, jotting on her ticket then looked to Harry. “and you” she said studying him. He felt like he was interviewing for some position she would make the determination of. He smiled, nodding his head up and down.

“I’ll have the same please, except tomato juice instead of orange.”

Donna left, leaving them to stare at each other. The silence grew but neither seemed to care. They were content for the moment to look into the face that sat across the table. Harry wondered to himself if he was lucky or cursed. The idea that some exciting woman, beautiful, intelligent, full of life and mischief as she was would actually contemplate being with him was overwhelming. The thought that this was just a tease disturbed him also. He was so ready to have someone in his life again.

He broke their stare and hung his head picking up the wrapped silverware and starting to shred the napkin. Doom, he thought. This would probably never be the end of his long-suffering but the promise, the hope, the wanting, was enough to keep him going for the moment. He dropped the napkin, picked up his mug, raised his eyes to hers, and took a sip. Good coffee but he had forgotten the sweetener. Before he could put the cup down, Sandra’s toe touched the inside of his thigh.

His startled leg jerked hitting the bottom of the table with a loud bump. Coffee slopped all over his side of the table, his shirt and ran over the edges as he reacted in surprise. She laughed, grabbing napkins to help him soak up the mess.

“God you’re touchy! I’m going to have sensitivity adjustment classes with you quick before you destroy the coffeehouse.” Harry looked up shaking his head in unbelief, hands full of soggy napkins. Twisted-pursed lips were showing his chagrin as she smiled at his reactions. He suspected that she loved having fun tormenting him. He stood, coffee dripping from his black long sleeved dress shirt, and walked to the men’s room to dry off, saying over his shoulder.

“I’ll be right back. I’m just going to dry this off.”

He stood in front of the sink in the restroom, shirt off, staring into the mirror while rinsing his clothing. Glaring at the wild man that glared back at him he said.

“You are going to blow this for us if you don’t calm down.”

The door opened and Sandra stood there, watching him in the mirror. When he turned, she walked over to run her hands over his flat abdomen. A gasp escaped him as he shivered under her touch; breathing hard as her fingers examined the scar running from just above his navel down into his jeans. Her caress was like fire. He could feel the skin peeling back from the heat of her fingers as she traced the scar down to its base just above his pubic hair.

“Wow you really do have a bad scar,” she said, leaning her head on his chest and looking down to view the damage done to him in his younger years. Her hair trailing down his chest flayed away the skin missed by the touch of her fingers.

“What happened here?” She asked looking at his back and prodding the puckered scar on his left shoulder that her roaming fingers discovered in their explorations. The flames were gone now; the crackle and spark of static electricity followed her hand as she examined the old wound.

“Uh, let’s see if I can remember. That one would be a car crash in …1980?” He answered after a moment’s thought. Her hands were tormenting his touch-starved body. He was having trouble breathing.

“Are you ready to eat?” he asked while flapping the shirt in the air in an attempt dry it fast enough to protect his body from the terrible assault of her flaming, battery charging, deadly fingers.

She lifted her head from its close inspection, kissed the scar, and took the shirt from his hands, moving to the electric hand dryer and holding it under the stream of hot air with her hot little hands. The shirt, thin and light, quickly dried out and she helped him back in it.

“I told you. I am so ready to eat,” she said sneaking a look at his blown away face while buttoning his shirt and arranging his hair over the collar. Finished, she rubbed his stomach with an open palm.

“Do you want your shirt tucked in?” She asked, eating her lips to keep from breaking into laughter at his wide eyes as he processed this new question.

–Oh my God, oh my God. Say yes, Harry! Oldman babbled in his head.

“Ah. No thanks. Ah it should dry faster out than in,” he said swiftly. Madness reduced him to gibbering in her presence.

“Good to go then. Class one complete. Let’s eat.” She said and walked out with a wink on her decidedly smug face.

He followed her back to the table where their breakfast was waiting. She sat and dug in. Harry stepped to a nearby booth and grabbed the hot sauce, because that is the only way to eat eggs, a chance for a calming little breath helped too.

My God! That girl was high octane and the sparks were flying everywhere. Combustion was eminent. He turned back to the table. She was well into her meal, eating with both hands, but he noticed that ear twitching again. She knew he was standing there watching her. He sighed, took a big breath, and walked to the table. B & B (Bob and Billy) walked past on their way out saying goodnight to Sandra in small voices. She said nothing, giving them a quick flash of her eyes as they passed.

“Goodnight guys see you later,” Harry said. “Drive safe.” They answered, hands waving over their shoulders, and then leaned in to each other, jabbering away down to the cash register and out the door.

My, my, they sure were careful around her. She was like wolf bane for rednecks. Then why was he immune? He was well on his way to catching up with Sandra race to wipe the last trace of food from the plate when he heard the Corolla’s rubberband putter off. He looked up from his plate in time to see her rise up for a sip of juice. He smiled a cocky, smart-ass smile. She sputtered with giggles into her glass. Placing it back on the table, she wiped her chin then used the napkin on him.

“You do enjoy your food.” She said, brushing biscuit crumbs out of his beard.

“As do you,” Harry replied, returning the favor and wiping gravy from the front of her blouse while he scanned the room to see if they were under observation.

“Make sure you get it all” Sandra murmured and leaned forward, thrusting her chest forward and shoulders back. Contact! Harry’s brain screamed as her breast pressed against the hand holding the napkin. They were firm and solid. He managed to pull his hand back, slowly, and begin eating again quickly.

“Getting full?” He asked, chasing the last bits of hash browns around his plate and draining his cup. Leaning back, he shook his head at the waitress, who gave up trying to fill his cup and Sandra’s, dropping the check on the table and leaving. The place was empty now except for the staff, who gathered at a large table rolling silverware, snacking, and speaking to each other in the easy way of co-workers.

“Not quite yet, I am done with breakfast though.” She answered, wiping her face and chin then leaning back in the booth; arms behind her head, she stretched like a cat, arching her back and licking the corners of her lips; her tongue searched for any remaining traces of food. He stared, and then picked up the ticket. Standing he dropped a tip on the table and said.

“I’m going to take care of the bill.” He said, escaping gracefully.

At the register, Donna took the check and rang him up, asking if everything had been satisfactory. Harry smiled, told her everything was fine as usual, and then turned to go. Donna stopped him with a hand on his arm and a serious look.

“This is the first time I’ve ever seen Sandra in here with a man. Be nice to her.” Harry hesitated, looking out the window where Sandy was walking around the truck, running her hands over the frog skin paint job that he done this spring in a fit of boredom and inspiration, then turned to face her.

“Miss Donna, I don’t know if she’s an angel or a demon, but I would follow her to Heaven or Hell if she wanted me to.” She nodded looking at his face full of fear and hope, eyes welling and threatening to overflow; a small smile touched her lips.

“Go, she’s waiting for you.” She released his arm. He looked back at her with a nod that she returned that reminded him of a bow. He walked out, stopping near the door and firing up a ‘ciggie’.

Sandra had climbed onto the truck bed. She stood behind the cab holding the roll bar with the various lights designed to light up the night. Harry stood and smoked by the door watching her inspect the truck. She reminded him of a child on a playground. He had just finished his smoke when she looked up to see what was keeping him. She spotted him by the door and stood straight, waiting for him.

Here we go, Harry muttered to himself and started walking toward her. She waited, arms at her sides, as he opened the door then held out his arms for her. She sat backwards on the side of the truck bed, swiveled her legs around and let him pick her up. Arms around his neck, resting her head on his shoulder, she nuzzled his neck while he took the single step to the door. He placed her in the driver’s seat then handed her the keys.

“Buckle up.” He smiled, as she looked at the keys in her hand. Then, he walked around to scramble into the passenger’s seat and adjust his own safety equipment.

When he turned to her, he could see Donna’s face, watching from the dinner window. Sandra fumbled the keys into the ignition, frowning when it did not start as she turned the key. She checked the stick. Yes, it was in neutral, and then looked to him for instructions.

“Depress the clutch first.” Harry said gently. The truck rumbled to life at her actions. Harry leaned over, hand on her thigh, and flipped a switch.

“Lights, this is the fuel for tank one, oil pressure, and the high beam switch is by your left foot.” He said, tapping gauges and pointing. She nodded, put the truck in first, and released the clutch easily. She drove around the lot, the engine running fast in the low gear.

“I see why you use second now.” She said, shifting up to Harry’s normal in-town position then made two more circuits of the empty lot before driving onto the deserted streets. Harry leaned back resting his arm on the back of the bench seat, playing with her hair, and stroking the smooth lines of her neck as she let the truck wander the town. Soon she was driving smoothly, even dimming the lights when the police drove by heading in the opposite direction, each waved as they passed.

She turned into the cemetery as she neared the edge of town and drove to the back. A small hill allowed observation of the front gate.


Lord Sand was standing, silhouetted, on the gentle slopes of one of the hills that surrounded the town of Backwater. He was dressed in dark clothing. His short white hair and close trimmed beard framed a face containing pale eyes that glinted in the darkness but did not reveal their color in the night. His daughter had finally chosen a mate, unfortunately he was human.

He watched the truck containing Sandra and Harry as it moved through quiet night and the deserted streets there. It was the only vehicle traveling except for the patrol car. It passed them and he saw them wave as they headed out of town toward the lights from the interstate that moved north and south constantly. When it drove down Cemetery road, he turned and strolled over the hills in that direction.


Quickly shutting off the engine, the lights, and slipping from her seat belt, she walked across the seat on her knees then leaned her back against the dash. Folded legs bounced open and shut against his side. She reached down and released the catch of his seat belt. Harry’s arm still rested on the back of the seat.

“Class two,” she said, placing a hand in his waistband and pulling forward to his lips. They kissed long and slow. Harry suddenly discovered his hand on her breast; the hard nipple pressed into his palm. He let it move on its own to cup, squeeze, and slide over the sweet curves he had been introduced to at breakfast.

He felt his jeans pop as the button was undone. Leaning forward, using both hands he skinned the blouse over her head and threw it on the dash; His eyes recorded her image as she leaned back in the dim vantage of the security lights.

Hair wild, eyes on his, she arched her back stretching like a cat. Her fingers moved at his waist. His zipper rasped down. He tried to reach for her but a knee suddenly pressed against his chest pinning him to the seat. She pulled his jeans where the zipper ended, gaining more room for her fingers to explore and free him. She lightly traced her fingers around him until his head filled with the thundering sound of throbbing blood.

Harry was again restrained as he tried to reach for her. His breath caught in a gasp of pleasure as she started to examine him slowly, He remembered his left hand. He reached with it to the knee pinning him. She pressed harder to keep him from moving.

“Don’t get excited,” he said, “I’m not trying to escape.” He slid his hand, fingers extended and locked like a claw; the rasping sound of his nails on the fabric as they moved down the inside of her thigh slowly was escorted by her groan of pleasure. The pressure of her knee lessened and her legs opened widely. The heel of his hand rotated slowly over her center, hidden under the fabric of her jeans. Her hand, joined by her left, moved faster on him. He had been up and down too many times this evening and began to revolt at this unaccustomed abuse. He felt that old familiar feeling that told him he would not last but a moment more and tried to warn her.

“Sandra you better stop quickly. I’m going to lose it!” He warned desperately, keeping his hand moving on her but not in a co-coordinated way.

His feet tried to push out the floor of the truck.

She said nothing, continuing her motions until he stopped trembling and lay exhausted against the seat. When she slowed enough for him to get his breath again, he tried to rise only to be pressed back again. He gave up, leaning back and watching her. “I’m not trying to escape.” He assured her again.

“Open my purse, there are some wet wipes in it,” She said, looking at her fingers. He dug through her purse, holding it near the under dash light while noticing that it was one of his creations by the logo branded on the inside of the fringed flap. He found wet wipes and antibacterial wipes in the large pocket under the flap and held one of each up for her. She pointed to the wet wipe. He opened the package for her. She took it and cleaned her hands.

He unsnapped and zipped down her jeans, folding the sides back to display black lace low under her belly button, and let his hands wander there in sensation-starved abandon. She stopped, threw the wipe in a trash sack that hung from the dash, and turned her hands back him.

“This is going to be a long class isn’t it?” She asked. He responded by reaching under her to grasp the back of her jeans and pull them toward him until they rested midway on her thighs, revealing the black lace thong. He ran his hand over the black satin. She stopped, and taking an antibacterial wipe cleaned his hands, inspecting his nails as she did, then placed his hand back and continued her former movement. He pulled her jeans over her knees then down to her ankles.

Restrained no longer, her legs fell apart giving him complete access to her. She was taking little short breaths now, head back on the glass behind her. She shivered, gasping in quick deep breaths as she held his hand with both of hers.

She cried loudly, a spasm ran through her then she fell limp. He continued to move for a moment then stopped, looking at her face. She whined in disappointment. Unbelievable he thought looking at her limp body. He began again. She moaned weakly.

“Enough of this,” Harry muttered, and began untangling their bodies, struggling to lift her dead weight back on the seat. She ended up face down, legs across his thighs, feet in the air. Her toes pointed out the window. He pulled her underwear down her body to join her jeans puddled around her knees. He copied her earlier action with a hand on the small of her back holding her down while enjoying the feel of a woman’s body that had been denied to him for so long. She turned her head on the seat, hair covering her face then her arms moved under her shoulders trying to push up. She spoke gratingly.

“Harry, Stop, Enough, please Wait.” He kept going, placing his palm between her shoulder blade to keep her down; she tried to push up again. She shook her head, clearing her face of the hair, revealing her pleading eyes. Harry’s grin changed to a devilish one as his hand moved. Her head sank with a moan. She convulsed again and went limp, again breathing hard. Harry didn’t relent but did slow his movements.

“Do you want me to pee all over you and your truck?” Her muffled voice emerged from the cushions, and then she exploded into action. Turning, spinning, kicking her legs, she struggled to free herself.

He let her go, holding his endangered body in his hand. She scooted up in the seat, kicking her dangling pants and underwear to the floor of the truck. Opening the driver’s door, she stepping to the ground, her nude body gleamed with sweat in the sodium security light. She squatted to pee, saying with unguarded enthusiasm.

“God, it’s been such a long time since I’ve let a man have me!” Her eyes narrowed; she spoke softly. “You know you will pay for holding me down don’t you?” He believed her.

She stood, legs spread wide and wiped, looking in the open door at him staring back at her with awe and wonderment at her beauty of body and face. She shook her breasts at him teasingly while she finished wiping. He still held his pride and joy and shook it back at her. She dived in across the seat and pulled his hand away.

“Wait! Wait! Wait!” Harry pleaded. “I want to see your face while you do that”

“Tough!” she answered, voice muffled. She gave an excellent oral examination, or maybe it had been so long he couldn’t remember. He tried again to put his feet through the floor and was sure he’d succeed when the world became fuzzy 30 seconds later. He gave no warning. She rolled over to look at him as he lay back on the seat, chest heaving. She laughed, pleased with herself, and then began to chatter away.


As the white haired figure of Lord Sand neared the slopes over the cemetery, he spotted two Fay, close together, observing the activity in the truck below them. Their breathless amusement was punctuated by crude remarks that angered him as he slipped near them. He stood scant feet behind them and willed his raging temper to subside. The childish remarks and prying eyes of the two near overcame his efforts, but at last he was able to speak in the cold even words that he sought.

“Bob, Billy, what are you doing?” The quiet inquisitive sound of his voice galvanized them into shocked movement. Bob spun around, sliding down the slope at the voice that came from so near. Billy took off with a cry of startlement and raced across the hills in full flight. He would not stop until he reached the station by the interstate, if then, he thought; he turned his gaze on Bob, who knelt where his sliding actions had halted.

“Bob, there are no strangers below for you to watch. You have duties elsewhere do you not?” Bob hung his head and nodded silently. “Sandra will be …upset …when she finds out you were intruding on a private moment.” Bob knew that ‘upset’ was nothing to what the fiery Princess would feel, but he answered.

“Yes, Lord.” The thoughts of the feelings of incense that she would display shone from his face. Her reputation for violence was well known.

“You may go now,” Lord Sand said. Bob left in hurried imitation of Billy.

He walked slowly down the slope, moving among the stones there, as the voices of the two in the truck sounded in the quiet night with gasps of sensual exclamation and the easy laughter of lovers. He stopped by the tall stone that covered the remains of his brother, lost so long ago. He held the stone in his arms in an attempt to be closer to his departed sibling and spoke softly in the concealing night.

“We live still brother.” Sandra’s quasi-enraged voice caused him to glance behind him to where the man gave as well as he got, refusing to be completely suborned by her demands. He smiled at their playful words; caressing the stone once more then strolled away over the hills to attend to his own duties with a final glance downhill.


“The sun will be up soon.” Harry observed, looking at the pink tinged sky to the east. The stars were fading from the cloudless sky. Sandra groaned and sat up searching the floorboard for her clothing.

Laughing inside with amusement, Harry opened the door and relieved himself at the side of the truck then shook off, tucking it back in his pants, and zipping up.

“What do we do now, Sandra? We can’t stay here. People are going to be going to work soon. We need to move. I’ve had a great time. Are you done with me?” Harry asked as he walked around the truck and climbed in the driver’s seat.

She pulled her shoes from the floorboard and set them on the seat between them while covering her sweet body. Looking up the still hillside above them, her eyes were lost for a moment. She turned, glancing at him as he held the wheel, head down, not looking at her. She suddenly realized that he thought that she was only playing with him. Her heart cried for the man that had so much love and affection in him, that thought he wasn’t worthy to receive the same.

“Done with you, Harry?” She said with wet eyes, buckling in the center seat, again hugging his arm with both of hers and laying her head on his shoulder.

“I haven’t even started yet.”

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