by Naomi West
To that end, I’d been planning my escape. One day when Tank left, the door to his study remained ajar. Curious, I snuck in. It was a pretty standard study with a tall fireplace and bookshelves packed with colorful spines, a large desk towards two massive, symmetrical windows on the back wall. And on the desk was a map of the property. I couldn’t believe my luck.
I pored over the map, taking a picture with my camera phone. Sure enough, there wasn’t anything around us but Florida forest. However, if I could follow the main road, there appeared to be a small road that branched off of it and led to a small town hidden in the woods. It looked to be a five mile or so walk, which would take about an hour and a half. All I’d have to do was wait for a day when Tank was out for the day, slip through the gate, and follow the map. Once there, I could get a ride back to civilization.
What I’d do after that, however, I had no clue. But I knew I had to have my freedom. My phone in one hand and Grandma’s dove necklace in the other, I hoped that Grandma was watching down on me from somewhere up there. I’d need all the help I could get to get out of here.
I passed the rest of the day experimenting with cooking in the kitchen. Today, I made turkey sandwiches, which ended up being delicious. After that, I made a Dutch apple pie, the kind my grandma loved. I didn’t think it turned out as good as hers, but she had a special touch that I just couldn’t match.
Around eight, Tank came home. My face reddened as he walked in; I realized that I’d gotten so into my baking that I’d forgotten to dress up sexy for him. But after he stormed past the kitchen and headed to the backyard, plopping into a chair with a beer in his hand, I realized that he had other things on his mind.
I gave him a few minutes, figuring that he just needed to relax from a busy day. After a time, I went out to the backyard, the shimmering surface of the water silvered with moonlight. Tank’s shaved blond hair poked out from the back of the chair where he sat.
“Hey …” I said, not sure what sort of reaction to expect.
He said nothing, his eyes on the shifting water of the pool. He took a long swig of his beer, and I could see that his brow was knitted in thought. Tank said nothing for a time, not even acknowledging that I was there.
“You wanna go for a ride?” he asked, finally speaking.
“Yes,” I said, not a trace of hesitation in my voice.
He drained his beer and got up. Minutes later, we were on his bike, my arms wrapped around his body as we headed down the road leading away from his house. As much as I loved riding and feeling his body against mine, I still made an effort to keep my eyes on the side of the road that I’d be escaping down. Sure enough, a few miles down, I spotted a small glow of lights off the main road—it had to be that little town. My destination confirmed, I closed my eyes and resting my head on Tank’s back.
After a half hour or so, we arrived at a hill overlooking Orlando. The city was stretched out before us, the lights of the city twinkling like stars arranged into grids. Once we came to a stop, Tank killed the engine and got off. He opened up the small compartment on the side of his bike and withdrew a tightly-folded blanket, a bottle of wine, and two glasses. I gasped when he took out these items—it was … actually kind of sweet.
“I don’t really drink wine, but I thought it was a little classier than taking pulls from a bottle of Evan Williams.”
Then, a sly, boyish smile formed on his face. My heart warmed at this sight—why did he have to be so charming right on the night that I was planning my escape?
He laid out the blanket and popped open the wine. We sat in silence for a time, sipping our drinks and staring out onto the city. And as we sat, Tank would occasionally turn to me, open his mouth slightly as if to speak, but before a word came out, he’d close his mouth and turn back towards the city.
It was as though he wanted to say something, but couldn’t find the words.
What could he want to talk about? I wondered. What would a tough-as-nails guy like him have a hard time discussing? After all, he had no issues telling me to strip, or barking orders to his men, or kicking ass when he had to.
Then, my eyes went wide with realization. Did he want to talk about … his feelings?
I knew, somehow, that this was the case. But as much as I wanted Tank to open up, I knew that there wasn’t a chance in hell that I’d be able to force something like that out of him. And it was a shame. I mean, I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t developing … something for Tank. It was so strange. He was gruff and violent, but something about his strength, not to mention the way he protected me, drew me towards him irresistibly.
We sipped our wine, which was a delicious red, and watched the city. As we sat in silence, I felt myself moving closer to Tank. I couldn’t help but feel safe and comfortable in his presence … not to mention extremely attracted.
Just as I began to wonder if he felt the same way, if our lovemaking had been just a fluke, Tank took my chin into his hand and brought my face to his, kissing me slowly and sensually. The kiss was unlike anything I’d experience with Tank. It was deep, passionate, and intense. He brought me close to him as his tongue slipped into my mouth, and the heat and hardness of his body was irresistible. Just as before, I fell right into his kiss, letting Tank hold me and move my body where he wanted. He pulled my shirt off, followed by my bra.
The mild evening air felt heavenly against my exposed breasts, but Tank didn’t leave them untouched for long. He brought his head in, taking my right nipple into his mouth and moving his tongue over and around its sensitive surface. I ran my hands through his hair, my head tilting backward in ecstasy as he turned his attention from one breast to the other. I moved my hands along the V-shape of his torso, his leather vest cool and smooth against my hands. When I reached his waist, I pulled his shirt off, moving the leather vest over his shoulders as I did. Soon, we were both naked from the waist up.
But I wanted more than that. And so did Tank.
He slipped his hands into my pants, his fingers barely fitting under the tight fabric. I helped him out by undoing my button and zipper, and once they were undone, he yanked my pants and panties off with a hard, firm tug. I did the same to him, getting his pants and underwear off and his incredible cock into my hand as fast as possible. I stroked him as we kissed more, and my body tingled as he moved his hand up my thigh right to where I wanted it. I sighed and moaned as he slipped his finger into me. Goddamn, it felt good.
We continued like this for a time, and I savored both the feeling of his thick, stone-solid prick in my hands and his fingers as they moved in and out of me. When I couldn’t take anymore teasing, a strange bold streak came over me. Instead of letting Tank take control, I wanted to be in the driver’s seat. Taking my hand off his cock, I placed my palms on his smooth, firm chest and gently guided him onto his back until he lay against the blanket. Then I moved on top of him, straddling him, his cock pointed straight up towards me. A sly little smirk formed on his lips when he realized what I had in mind.
Grabbing his prick, I pointed it straight up as I lowered myself slowly onto it. My face tightened into a wince as I did so; I almost felt as though I were being split in half by him. But his stimulation had made me extra wet—necessary for a cock his size. Once I fully lowered myself onto him, enveloping him in me totally, I took in a deep breath of total pleasure.
But I didn’t want to waste any time in getting right down to it. I began rocking my hips back and forth, letting Tank’s prick move inside of me. I loved having the feeling of total control over his cock, and I quickly learned how to move to get his thick member to stimulate just where I wanted it to. Tank grabbed my hips, squeezing my curves as I bucked on top of him. One hand of his moved up along my side, coming to a rest on my breast.
Soon, I need more. I leaned forward, resting my hands on the ground to the left and right of Tank’s head. My breasts hung right over his face, and he took full advantage of this by licking and sucking my nipples. In this position, I began to buck hard, slam
ming my hips onto him over and over again, the soft sounds of flesh on flesh filling the air.
I knew right away that this technique was going to lead to an orgasm very quickly. Tank moved his hands to my rear, squeezing my ass and pulling me towards him so that my movements did for him what he wanted. I moaned and shrieked, the pleasure running hard through my body. Looking down at Tank, I saw that his face was tightened into a fierce look of concentration. His eyes were fixed on my body, and a sheen of sweat formed on his brow.
I rode him harder and harder, the pace building to a fevered pitch. Soon, my orgasm arrived, the pleasure rushing through my body with an intensity that was almost unbearable. I rode him hard through the orgasm and, his hands gripping my hips hard, Tank came soon after. I continued to cum as he sprayed himself into me, and by the time it was over, I was spent. I collapsed onto his chest, soon falling in a blissed-out trance to the rhythm of his breathing.
But as we lay like this for a time, I couldn’t help but wonder why he’d gone to this trouble. Why had he taken me up here? Just to be nice? He seemed to be softening towards me, but something was odd about this. I considered the possibility that there was something going on in his life that he was trying to distract himself from, and he’d figured a night of pleasure with me was the best way to do it.
“What’s the deal with this?” asked Tank, lifting the dove of my necklace with his fingertips and letting it drop. “You wear this thing all the damn time.”
“It’s … something my grandmother gave me,” I said, trying to find the words. “After I lost my house it was all I had left of her. She loved doves. Thought they were ‘the only pure animal left in this word’—her words.”
This was strange; Tank never seemed to take an interest in me like this before.
“Probably thought way about you, too,” said Tank.
I didn’t know what to say to that. Tank was showing me a side that was totally unlike the gruff shield that he always had up. Was I finally seeing the real him?
I reminded myself that this would all be in the past, however. Soon, I’d make my escape and leave all of this behind. But as I lay there with Tank, the city sprawled out before us, I asked myself if leaving this behind was really what I wanted.
Chapter Seventeen
Star
It was the next day, and Tank was gone. He didn’t say where he was going, only that he’d be gone until late.
I knew that this was my chance to leave.
I plotted out my escape once again, figuring that if I left at around noon I’d be able to make it to the nearby town by mid-afternoon. Then I could find a ride towards Gainesville, and then … I didn’t know. I didn’t have any money, and I’d be in just as bad of a spot as I’d been before all of this insanity happened. But at least I’d be free; that was all that mattered.
I stuffed a few things into a little duffel bag that I’d found in one of the drawers—mostly clothes, along with some food from the kitchen and a few bottles of water. I briefly considered taking a few valuable-looking things from Tank’s house, just some things I could sell to make a little money. But I just couldn’t do it. Grandma Dove had done her best to make sure I had a good moral spine to me, and even though Tank had kept me here against my will, he’d treated me fine for the most part. Besides, I still felt raw about leaving that check at the diner unpaid, even knowing that Tank had covered it. Stealing just wasn’t in my nature.
So, bag ready and phone map pulled up, I set off. The fence was a little rough to climb, but I made it just fine. Taking one last look at Tank’s enormous estate, I turned to the road and started down it. From where I was walking I could see about a mile down, and not a car was to be seen. Still, I couldn’t take any chances. Pulling the map up on my phone, I headed down into the woods, close enough to the road that I could still see it, but far enough that anyone passing wouldn’t spot me.
The woods were the humid, wet type you only see in Florida. Bugs abounded, and the low-hanging trees went on as far as I could see. Down deeper into the woods I could see the light reflecting off of the pools of water that were common in the Everglades. I stayed as close to solid ground as I could, knowing that gators were no joke here.
After an hour and a half or so of walking, just like I’d planned, I arrived at the town—if you could even call it that. It was a rundown little smattering of buildings, and as I got closer I realized that it was more like a small settlement for loggers in the region. There was a small store, a couple of restaurants, and a few large apartment complexes. It looked like the type of collection of buildings you’d see in one of those little towns off of a major highway.
I approached the diner, thinking about the last time I’d been in one of these. I didn’t feel up to dining and dashing, so I pulled out one of my granola bars and chomped it down. I had no way to get back to Gainesville other than by the good graces of these people here, so I took a deep breath and approached the nearest man I could find, which was some burly-looking, working-class guy filling up his truck at the gas station. He told me that he was here for the day, but there was usually a truck or two leaving and heading down the road, and that I might try my luck with one of them.
Sure enough, one pulled into the restaurant parking lot. To my surprise, a stout woman wearing flannel, jeans, and work boots stepped out. I ran up to her, and I must’ve looked like a damn charity case because as soon as I asked for a ride she offered me not only that but a meal at the diner. I agreed, and I happily ate the eggs and bacon she bought for me. As we ate, she asked where I was coming from, and I the best I could come up with was that I had been out in the woods with some friends and they’d left me behind. It was a weak excuse, and the woman’s skeptical expression made it clear that she didn’t quite believe it. But she must’ve figured that my reasons were my own, which I was glad for; I wanted to get out of Tank’s place, but I didn’t want to turn him over to the cops.
After our meal and a drive, I was back in Gainesville. And as soon as I stepped out of the truck the realization that I had nowhere to go hit me hard. Sure, I had known this when I escaped, but being confronted with the reality was something different altogether. I had no money, a few clothes, and I’d even ditched my phone back at the diner for fear that I could be tracked through it.
I walked down one of the main roads in town for a while, and soon I came upon a familiar sight: the graveyard where Grandma Dove was buried. I decided that paying my respects was the least I could do. So, picking up a handful of wildflowers from the side of the road, I headed into the cemetery. It took me a few minutes to find Grandma’s tombstone, what with it being a humble little marker and nothing more. I sat in front of it, my mind awash with memories of simpler times, back when all I had to worry about was being on time for dinner. Part of me wished that Grandma had done more to prepare me for the real world, but I knew that her sheltering me was just her showing her love in the only way she knew.
I sat there for a time, tears forming in my eyes as I thought about how much I missed Grandma. I set the flowers on the marker. It was a pretty humble arrangement, but Grandma would’ve liked it that way: she was a humble woman.
Then I saw something that I never expected to see, not in a million years. A bird descended, landing right on Grandma Dove’s marker. And it wasn’t just any bird—it was a dove, the same kind of dove that dangled from my necklace. I wrapped my fingers around the necklace, holding it tight as the dove sat upon the stone. My heart skipped a beat. I remembered Grandma Dove telling me that this breed of dove was particularly rare, especially in this part of the country. But sure enough, as I held the dove on my necklace up to the real one, I saw that they were one and the same. The dove even had the small streak of pink on top of its head, just like my necklace.
Then, just as quickly it had arrived, the dove left. And as soon as it was gone, I heard the revving of an engine, that sharp snarl that you only hear from motorcycles. And I’ll be damned if my heart didn’t fill with gladness at the thoug
ht of it being Tank. I stood up and turned to face the road. It was a bike, but I could tell from where I stood that it wasn’t Tank.
What the hell is wrong with me? I wondered. I just ran away from this guy and now I’m hoping he shows up to find me?
I turned my attention back to Grandma’s grave. The dove, the motorcycle … it was strange. I wasn’t normally the superstitious type, but some part of me felt as though I’d received a sign.
What if I was meant to be back with Tank? It was a crazy idea, but it hadn’t just been in my imagination that he’d been … softening, almost, towards me. Almost as if I was finally getting past that hard front that he felt the need to always have up. But maybe that was all in my head. I kissed my fingertips and touched Grandma’s grave one last time, wondering what she would think I should do.
“Just listen to your heart,” she’d say—I could hear it in my mind clear as day. But what was I supposed to do when my heart was pulling me in two different directions? Towards freedom on the one hand, and the potential of love on the other?
I knew that I had to make a decision. Returning to the street, I walked until I reached a crossroads. One direction or the other—it was up to me to decide, and me alone.