Head in a Haymow

by Chris Seaton

  She wrapped her arms around his neck, kissing her way around his collarbone, his Adam's apple, his jaw line. She bit playfully on his earlobe and circled the tip of her tongue around the sensitive opening.

  When his hands cupped the lusciousness of her round butt cheeks and he pulled her to him, the surge of need was breathtaking. Bernice began to feel restless in the slow torture. She went to resolve the issue by grabbing for his fly.

  Agent Wyatt stopped her. The disappointment upon her face was almost enough to make him forget his intentions. Instead, he captured one of her arms and brought it up to his face, kissing her skin from inner wrist to elbow. He bit her flesh softly, admitting through his gruff whisper, “You start digging in there now, and I'll be done for.”

  Bernice stuck out her lower lip, but her eyes gave her away. She watched him nibble his way up the muscles of her palm and suck a pinky into his mouth. Her eyelids fluttered from the sensation. “You make that sound like a bad thing,” she chided him as her free hand swooped down through his chest hair and captured an unattended nipple, gently pinching it. His response told her it was a good play. There's more than one way to skin a cat.

  Agent Wyatt kissed her softly as they began to move to the side of the bed. Bernice felt the back of her knees touch the mattress. His hands moved in position to lower her down.

  She pulled away from the kiss and looked into his eyes. “Now?” she asked, her hands gripping his waist in their descent.

  “Not yet,” he answered through a low chuckle. His methodical mind made its observations: her face surrounded by a halo of golden hair; her knowing eyes, narrowed slightly; her well-kissed lips and ruddy cheeks, the result of his rough stubble. No way was he rushing it.

  Bernice's ardor for a climax was eroding away at her patience. She frowned slightly, pulling her head up for a kiss and moving her hands inside of his jeans to cup his buns. “Why are you making me wait?” she asked him as she squeezed.

  Agent Wyatt moved against her a little harder than he wanted and grunted in his reaction. Not to be thwarted from his course, he pulled at her biceps and firmly placed her arms over her head, holding her wrists there. “I'm making us both wait,” was his answer before moving down.

  Her brain struggled to remember the last time any man had paid so much attention to her body during sex. It had been a while. She had gotten used to foreplay being rushed at the expense of intercourse. Now, she was getting spoiled rotten. Finally giving in, Bernice closed her eyes and let Agent Wyatt have his way.

  He noticed the change and grinned, shaking his head at her astounding stubbornness. “'Bout time,” he growled against her breast bone. He elicited a giggle from her that turned into a gasp when he pulled a big pink nipple into his mouth.

  He let himself get lost in the creamy soft flesh that both tightened and jiggled at his caresses. Every peak, valley, mole, and freckle was at his disposal. Her sighs and moans helped him form the connection between the woman and her body. This was Bernice's breast, Bernice's ribcage, Bernice's bellybutton, Bernice's pubic hair, Bernice's- “Oh God.”

  The scent of her caused a shudder of animal need that made his jeans extremely constricting. Agent Wyatt worked his fly free and rearranged while his mouth explored her healthy thighs. The sudden loss of blood made him light-headed, but he steadied himself and went about his business.

  Bernice's eyes sprang open in a flutter of excitement when he removed her panties. She raised her head with just enough time to catch sight of his tongue flicking out before he descended upon her. After that she lost all interest in anything but the sensations he was causing in her lower torso.

  There was no polite way of putting it. Between his hands and his mouth, he was playing her like a pornographic one man band. There were preludes and movements, manipulations that worked every nerve ending so acutely that all she began to sense was one huge opus of feeling soaring inevitably on its way to a spectacular crescendo.

  Her feet had planted themselves on the small ledge between the box-spring and the mattress. She gradually dug her heels in and gripped the other end of the bed with her hands. Everything slowly tightened with the constant onslaught until her orgasm hit her like a molten lava flow, bubbling up from her center in a wave of hot wet magma.

  She rode it out in tight, gripping muscle spasms, yelling incoherently and bucking in mindless acceptance until it all became too much. She began to pull away from him, pleading, “Please stop.”

  He ripped his mouth from her, swearing harshly. She flipped her legs onto the bed and rolled over into the fetal position. She continued to ride out the aftershocks that coursed through her with intense pulses.

  Bernice heard the unmistakable sound of a drawer opening. She lifted her head to watch Agent Wyatt peel off the rest of his clothes. His dark swollen sex was cradled in course curly hair. It caught her off guard with its intimidating rawness.

  He turned from her and viciously ripped the condom package open. She sat up and went to him.

  “May I?” she asked, holding out her hand. Then she caught the look on his face.

  Agent Wyatt's ravaged features were alarming with their intensity. His teeth were clenched. He almost looked in pain. The arrogance was clearly replaced by urgency.

  He handed her the foil pouch. “Hurry,” he commanded with a soft gravelly voice.

  Bernice sat back down on the bed and produced the condom, efficiently working it over his swollen shaft. She allowed her fingers to explore for a mere moment before she looked back up to witness his barely constrained fury. They held each other's gazes as if by tractor beam and simultaneously lowered back down.

  She took in her own scent glistening all over his face. Bernice grabbed his head and kissed him, tasting both of them in that unabashedly sexual state. Agent Wyatt snarled into her mouth like an animal and raised himself up to begin the insertion.

  The previous orgasm made her tight. There would be no plunging. Bernice watched with marked fascination as he worked himself in, raising his head and moaning at the gradual progress of every stimulating centimeter to inch. Then she felt it too. She gasped at the intrusion and prepared her body to enjoy an entirely new song, one that was faster and harder.

  Agent Wyatt shifted her thighs up and leaned over her, entering her completely. Bernice grasped at his back, opening herself wider and burying her face in his shoulder. He began to pull out then back in again, breathing harshly, increasing speed and grunting with his effort not to go too fast or too hard.

  But when she cried out and gripped his ass, his own need took over. It set the pace to a ramped up rhythm that would lose control and come to a crashing end of mayhem and destruction. A shudder worked through him with its harsh vibration, causing his facial features to seize up into a tight mask.

  Bernice wound her legs around his thighs, wrenching out the last vestiges his climax with her intimate embrace. She smiled in extreme satisfaction.

  Agent Wyatt slowly relaxed his knees until he was sprawled out on top of her. He turned his head away from her face, stitches up, and let the good temple drop to her shoulder.

  Beyond the sighs of contentment and involuntary swallowing, there were no accolades of love or endearments. Instead, Bernice remained blissfully silent.

  Agent Wyatt simply said, “My head hurts.” This caused them both to laugh.

  Chapter 14

  “Her name was Mila.”

  After their first time they showered together. Soaping up each other's parts and washing each other's hair, they ended the frolic with a brisk towel whipping fight. Completely exhausted, they opened the sheets on the bed and slept, naked and satiated.

  Unfortunately, almost like clockwork it happened again. In the earliest light before dawn Bernice started to dream, flinching and muttering incoherently.

  It startled Agent Wyatt awake. “Not again,” he muttered. This time he held her down by the shoulders and shook her, commanding firmly, “Bernice wake up.”

  And she did, gaping up a
t him with a look of absolute terror. He softened his features immediately. “It's me, Evan.”

  A tear escaped her eye socket and traveled down her cheek. “I'm sorry,” she squeaked, her vocal chords becoming constricted by the lump in her throat. “I wish they would stop.” More tears tumbled down as her lip started to tremble.

  By the time she was sniffling, Agent Wyatt had her gathered to him, rubbing her back and kissing her damp hair. Her crying increased, shaking her form in his arms. He ached for her, wishing he could fix it somehow, but knowing he was not equipped to do so.

  Instead he just let her get it all out. Eventually, she raised her head. He looked into her red, swollen face and gently kissed her lips. “Now we're both a mess,” he remarked. It made her smile and made his night. He stretched over to reach down next to the bed and brought up his forgotten t-shirt. “Here,” he offered.

  She accepted it, wiping her face on a corner and inhaling the smell of him appreciatively. Bernice looked down at the wet mess she had made on Agent Wyatt's shoulder and sopped it up.

  He watched her work. “How long have you been having the nightmares?”

  “They started a few years ago, but eventually they went away. I didn't start having them again until...”

  He raised her chin to look at him. “Until Herb,” he finished for her. She nodded, frowning. Agent Wyatt assessed her, breathing deeply, then suddenly got up.

  Bernice watched his beautiful, naked butt retreat out of the room. She yelled after him, “Where are you off to all dressed up?”

  “Be right back!” he hollered from somewhere in the apartment.

  He unabashedly sauntered back in carrying a frosted cylinder and two spoons. “Hope you like Rocky Road.”

  Bernice eyed the glorious decadence of the hot, naked man offering her ice cream. She mentally praised the Lord for her blessings and smirked at Agent Wyatt. “You know how many calories are in that?”

  He carefully crawled back into bed with his loot and handed her a spoon. “I'm sure we'll work it off somehow.”

  Bernice gazed at the cold, sweet treat with the veracity of a spoiled child. But to her dismay, she was spoon blocked. She grimaced at him with annoyance.

  “I'll make you a deal,” he offered. “I'll tell you about my divorce in all its gory detail, and you tell me why you quit your job.”

  Suddenly the chocolate delight didn't look so appetizing. She worked her mouth with an unsavory expression.

  Agent Wyatt wasn't giving up. He buried his spoon into a strip of marshmallow and worked it out like a backhoe. “We got a deal?” He brought the heaping mound to Bernice's lips, surprising her with his tender gesture. She nodded and opened her mouth. It was delicious.

  “Who was she?” he asked about Mila, digging out an almond.

  Bernice skimmed from the edge of the ice cream carton. “She was a hard headed sixteen year old. She was short and cute with this long, thick hair. It would have been gorgeous natural, but every time I saw her it was a different shade of Skittle.” She turned the spoon upside down and emptied its contents on her tongue. Swallowing, she continued. “She caught me coming out of a convenience store in South Minneapolis and tried to bum a smoke.”

  Agent Wyatt raised his eyebrows in judgment. “You smoked?”

  “No,” Bernice admitted, “but I had seen her hanging out with some bad people, so I told her I'd go in and buy her a pack if she'd talk with me.” Bernice fidgeted with her spoon. “Not a proud moment,” she confessed quietly.

  Agent Wyatt held back his opinion and asked, “Did she go for it?”

  Bernice smiled a little. “After I agreed to throw in a pack of grape gum.” She peeked into the container and excavated her own almond. “She was crazy about grape gum. I would watch her shove a half a pack into her mouth in one shot and chew it like cud.” Bernice shook her head and ate the creamy almond.

  “So she was your source.” Agent Wyatt rotated his spoon around her almond excavation and smoothed out the edges, eating the slack.

  “At first, I just wanted human interest on the life of a teenage gang banger.” Bernice concentrated on a vein of fudge. “But after a couple of meetings, I realized there was a darker element going on.” Her features grew tight at the recollection.

  Agent Wyatt filled in the blanks. “Her gang was reselling drugs confiscated from raids for crooked cops.”

  Bernice nodded. “And sweet, gum crazy Mila was screwing those cops in exchange.” She let the spoon lay in her hand, losing her appetite.

  “Was she doing this against her will?” he broached.

  Bernice shook her head sadly. “No, she was quite proud of herself. She was moving up in the ranks, getting gifts and attention from all these men. She found it very gratifying.” She twisted the empty spoon in her hand, digging slightly into her palm with its cold metal.

  “So, when you broke the story and the court subpoenaed as a witness, you went into lock up to protect Mila.” Agent Wyatt took the spoon from her hand and rubbed the warmth back into her palm.

  Bernice watched his attentive actions, somewhat detached as she continued. “There was no doubt in my mind that they would kill her. Either the gang or the cops, but she wouldn't live out the day.”

  “And you stayed in lock-up for three weeks?” He leaned his head on hers.

  “It wasn't that bad,” she mumbled. “Some people liked to talk and that was fine. Some people liked to keep to themselves and that was just fine too. No one threatened me. I stayed out of people's way.” Bernice closed her hand over his. “It was fine,” she repeated.

  “Then how'd you get out?” He tugged her a little closer.

  Bernice huffed. “The city was threatening to sue the station if they didn't cough up my source. But no one at the station knew who my source was, not even Cameron.” Bernice became very still. “No one except my fiance.”

  The clarity of that statement hit Agent Wyatt like bucket of cold water. It explained so much about Bernice. No wonder she was in no hurry to get into another relationship.

  “I was living with Brock Albright. His real name was Bert Algerheimer, but an anchor is almost like an actor, so he just took on a stage name.” Bernice shifted restlessly.

  Agent Wyatt set the ice cream carton on the nightstand and sat away from her. “You confided in him?” he confirmed.

  Bernice nodded sadly at her lap. “We were engaged. My parents were practically wetting themselves with the prestige of it all. He told me he believed in my cause, that he understood my convictions.” Bernice looked up at Agent Wyatt with a look of utter pain and betrayal. “ What a crock of shit,” she spat bitterly.

  “He sold you out.” Agent Wyatt took her hand.

  She ripped it back, angry, staring at him and crying out, “He revealed my source on the air!” Bernice's glare could have chilled the room enough to store their ice cream. “He made a deal with the station to release me from jail and transfer both of us to a sister station in Denver.”

  Bernice stood up from the bed, holding her loose breasts to her chest with her crossed arms. She began to pace. “Brock thought he was doing me a favor. He claimed he was looking out for our future.” She halted and ground out, “He never for one moment thought about Mila. They slit her throat and left her body to rot in a pile of garbage in a vacant lot.”

  Her body started to shake again. She could no longer speak in complete sentences. “Her whole stupid life...treated like trash...even me...” Bernice shook her head, denying the tears that would come despite her stubbornness. “I left that night. I didn't pack. I didn't take my phone. I just showed up on Darlene's doorstep.” She grumbled, “The only time I've ever known her to have enough sense not to ask any questions.”

  Agent Wyatt remained on the bed, watching Bernice deal with her demons. No amount of assurances or affection from him would help. Instead he asked, “What happened to Albright?”

  Bernice laughed bitterly, “Well, after his stunning success in Denver, Brock moved on to Sea
ttle, then Phoenix, and eventually LA. He married one of those chicks from the celebrity news programs. My parents get a letter every year at Christmas.”

  Her face twisted into a maniacal scowl. “Mila would have been nineteen now.” The irony of that comparison pushed her over the edge. Bernice kicked with her bare foot at a wooden arm chair. The chair was lighter than it looked and went flying into the wall. In the assault, it lost an arm.

  Bernice's act of violence evaporated her temper. She looked over at Agent Wyatt with complete disbelief. “I'm so sorry. I didn't know how fragile it was.”

  His inscrutable expression returned. Agent Wyatt left the bed and walked around to stand next to her. “'Bout time that piece of shit got broken,” was his flat remark.

  She scrunched her eyebrows at him, confused. “You're not mad?”

  He shook his head and shrugged. “I hate that chair. It used to be a set.” He walked back to the bed and scooped up the slightly melted container of ice cream. It had left a huge, white ring on the dainty, cherry wood nightstand. Agent Wyatt didn't seem to take any notice.

  Bernice followed him out of the room, checking to make sure his blinds were pulled as she went. “Where's the other chair?”

  Agent Wyatt opened the top freezer door, answering, “I broke it over the assistant DA's head when I found him naked with my wife.”

  Bernice stopped suddenly. “Oh,” was all she could think to say.

  “Yeah,” he remarked as he shut the freezer and pulled open the fridge. Fishing around in there, he added, “Cocksucker's a state senator now.”

  Bernice gingerly walked into the kitchen and draped her arms across the top of the refrigerator door. “Well, a deal's a deal. You want to talk about it?”

  Agent Wyatt stood up with two bottles of water in his hand, but he took one look at Bernice's naked shoulders and changed his mind. He tossed the bottles back into the fridge and shut the door, removing the barrier between them. He quickly pulled her to him, receiving a cry of surprise. “What say, we see what other pretentious furniture we can break this morning.”