Roxy looked out the windows at the streets still lined with some snow. There were people walking around, still hunched over from the winter. There were drunks passed out in the snow banks. The sun was up, but it wasn’t high. The light seemed pale and distant compared to the sunlight in New Jersey.
Roxy looked at the profile of the driver from where she sat in the back seat. He had a clean jaw line, but he was partially unshaven. His hair looked like it hadn’t been cut in a couple months. He had a rough look to him.
He wore short sleeves, despite the cold. And he kept the taxi windows down in the front
A series of black tattoos were visible on his bicep and inner arm. It looked a Navy anchor. He had probably been in military service. He was thin and wiry, very muscular looking. But not too big. He looked a little like a wild animal, lean and hungry, ready for anything. Driving a cab seemed like a strange thing for him to be doing.
“Well, here we are sweetie,” he said. “The cheapest bar in all of the great city of Anchorage.”
“Thanks,” said Roxy, handing him a $20. There goes a 1/40th of all my money, she thought. “You want to come in for a drink?” said Roxy, on a whim, suddenly feeling very lonely at the prospect of not knowing anyone at all, and at the dim sunlight, and run-down appearance of the bar.
They had parked in an alley. The bar looked like it had been built 200 years ago and hadn’t changed a bit. It was basically a glorified log cabin. A decades-old neon sign hung crooked on the front, announcing “Bar, cold drinks.” The bar didn’t seem to have a name.
“Sure,” said the driver. “Why not? I get tired of driving this thing anyway.”
The two of them walked into the bar. It was practically pitch black inside. The door swung closed behind them, stopped the last bit of light that there was.
“First drink’s on me,” said the driver. “I’m Herbert, by the way.”
Roxy laughed in spite of herself. She hadn’t heard a name like Herbert for years and years. It didn’t seem to fit with his persona or demeanor either.
Herbert seemed completely at ease at the bar. He ordered two stiff whiskeys from the ancient bartender.
There were only two other people, aside from the bartender in the bar. They were both seated on stools, right around the bar corner from Herbert and Roxy.
Roxy gulped down the drink in one go, making Herbert laugh. “Always liked a lady who could drink,” he said, removing his taxi company cap that said “Anchorage Red Taxis,” and slicking his hair back. It was greasy. It looked like hadn’t showered in weeks.
Roxy took a moment to admire his body, now that she had a better view of it. She pretended to be looking at the surroundings. There were all sorts of ancient little trinkets lined up on shelves behind the bar.
But as Roxy swept her glance around the dingy bar, she didn’t pay much attention to it. Out of the corner of her eye, she looked Herbert the taxi driver up and down.
For the moment that she was eyeing his physique, she didn’t think or worry about her finances, her lost job, the loss of her career, the loss of the pictures of her parents at her apartment, the loss of the sweater her grandmother had knit her as a kid, or the loss of her industrial vibrator.
Herbert looked even better away from the taxi wheel. His jeans were grease stained and torn in places. But his legs looked powerful. He wasn’t compact and burly like some of the guys Roxy had been attracted to in the past. But despite his lankiness, he had a good build. He looked like one of those old fashioned men who worked outside, and who had naturally strong, dense and powerful muscles.
He didn’t look anything like the models in the men’s underwear catalogs, or the hulking muscle heads. He didn’t look anything like the big puffy men in the porn that Roxy watched everyday. She had grown to hate the porn videos. She hated the way the men looked, so big and sweaty. They looked slimy and gross. Roxy hated, yet was addicted to, their violent attitudes. She had a hard time justifying her porn watching with herself and her ideas about strong women. She wanted to be fucked hard, but she didn’t want to be the subject of that type of violence.
Herbert sat staring in front of him. What was he thinking about?
How recently had he been in the military? Had he seen armed conflict? Did he have PTSD? Roxy wondered as she drank her second whisky.
“I heard he hasn’t been around much these days,” a burly looking lumberjack type was saying.
“Not too much these days, that’s right,” said his drinking buddy, short man, barely five feet tall. He had at least ten empty beers in front of him at the bar.
“But what do you think about the new traps? You think they’ll get him this time.”
“No way to know, you know. If you talked to my grandfather, may he rest in peace, there’s no way to get him. He’s got powers, you know. He’s not like us. He’s not like the other animals.” The short man was badly slurring his words.
“But don’t you think with all this modern technology, they can get him. I mean, they got him on camera, didn’t they?”
“Sure, they got him alright,” said the short man, taking a deep drink. “But that doesn’t mean anything, you know? I saw the pictures myself. Just a big regular old bear. I mean there’s all that other stuff about him, about how he’s a human that turns into a bear. Or about he’s a bear that takes the shape of a human.”
“Only the Eskimos think he’s a shape shifter.”
“I wouldn’t be sure myself, either way. I’ve heard some strange things.”
“You’re telling me you’re that gullible yourself. You really believe there’s a shape shifter out there? That it’s not just some mean old son of a bitch bear that likes to screw everything up for us, like to wreck our traps and spoil our hunts.”
“Look,” said the short man. The Inuit have been talking about this bear for centuries, maybe millennia. They say he doesn’t die.”
The other man laughed. “That’s just a bunch of native gibberish. Maybe they’re just making up something scare us. Or maybe they’re just crazy themselves and really believe it. Who cares though? You can’t trust what they say.”
“Maybe I’d say the same thing if I hadn’t seen him in person.” “You’re telling me you saw a man turn into a bear.” “Other way around.”
Roxy was completely fascinated. So there was some kind of legend here about a shape shifting man/bear? What were the odds she’d hear this kind of thing on her very first visit, listening to her very first Alaska conversation?
Roxy was about to ask the short man something about what he had seen, but the big man stood up quickly, and picking up his stool, he threw it to the ground, where it splintered into many splintered wooden pieces. “I’ve heard enough of this garbage.” He said. “Don’t bullshit me. I’m tired of everyone bullshitting me about this. Some kind of huge prank? Is that what this? An idiotic indigenous prank? You got some Indian blood in you or something? You 1/100th Indian? Is that it? You feel obligated to pull this prank?
The short man just shook his head.
“Come on,” said the big man, curling his hands into fists. “Let’s go. Let’s settle this like men.”
“Another drink, Herbert?” said the bartender, not paying the fight any attention. “Don’t pay any attention, dear,” he said to Roxy. “They get all riled up after a few drinks.”
The short man still sat in his stool, concentrating on his drink. The big man was swinging his fists in front of him, making grunts and threats.
“Sure,” said Herbert.
The bartender poured him another one. And he poured another one for Roxy.
“Wait a minute,” said Roxy, to Herbert. “How does he know your name?” “I come here a lot.”
“And how come he doesn’t charge for you for the drinks?”
“Charge him for the drinks?” said the bartender, shaking his head a little. “Jesus Christ, he owns the place.”
“You own this? Why in the world do you drive a taxi then? I mean, there aren’t a to
n of people in here, but I’d think you’d make a decent profit. The drinks taste like they’re watered down by at least half.”
“Got to do something,” said Herbert. “Got to keep busy.”
Roxy look at the tattoos on his arm again. They looked like the very old kind of ancient prison tattoos that were made with pins and ink, rather than the sophisticated machines in modern tattoos shops. The black ink bled a little at the edges of some of the tattoos.
“So you were in the military or something?” said Roxy. “Something like that,” said Herbert. “Come on, you goddamn son of a bitch,” said the big man, his fists still swinging.”
“Don’t feel like fighting right now, Slam,” said the short man. “Just got done a shift. You know how it is. Why don’t we schedule something for tomorrow.” “That’s it, god dammit. I’ve had enough of your bullshit. It’s not funny, you know.”
“Maybe it’s time to get you out of here,” said Herbert, just as the big man’s fist connected with the back of the short man’s skull.
“But...” said Roxy. She still wanted to ask more questions about this bear legend.
“Come on,” said Herbert, leading her away from the bar by the arm. “Which hotel are you staying at? I’ll drop you off in the taxi.”
As they passed through the door to the outside, Roxy heard another barstool being smashed behind them. Roxy was surprised, despite herself, to see that the Alaska sun was still out. She’d have thought it would have set by now. It did seem a little dimmer. The florescent light shone, advertising beer.
“I don’t have a place yet.” Roxy took a good look at Herbert. She felt like she could trust him. He had a relaxing, calming presence. He made her feel safe, and relaxed, even though she has just met him. She wasn’t thinking about her abandoned apartment or her abandoned vibrator. She wasn’t thinking about losing her job, or having to return to work at 711. She wasn’t even thinking of the human bear prints she was supposed to be looking for. But she did think for a moment about her vibrator. She took a quick peek at the fly of Herbert’s jeans. What was underneath? Was he calm in bed too? Or was this calm exterior just a mask, a disguise?
“No place, yet, eh?” said Herbert, grinding the toe of his boot into a bit of snow on the sidewalk. “Well, I can recommend a place down town. I’d be happy to take you there. No, charge, of course.”
“I’d like to see where you live,” said Roxy. Once she knew that she wanted something, Roxy didn’t like to mess around. She didn’t like to waste any time.
Herbert laughed. “Now why would a nice young lady like yourself want to see the squalor of an old bachelor?” he said. “Just for kicks? Sort of like a tourist thing? Going to take a lot of pictures of the ‘true’ Alaska?”
“The only thing I’d like to take a picture of is what’s under those pants.” Roxy looked him dead in the eye as she said it. During these moments of aggressive flirting, Roxy wasn’t conscious of her body the way she normally was. The bad mental image of herself flew right away during moments like this. Roxy was completely concentrated on the task at hand. She was like this during sex, too, provided the conditions were right. It was afterwards that Roxy started to fell embarrassed about her weight, about her pendulum-like heavy breasts and her stomach.
Herbert laughed again. He seemed a little nervous, maybe even shy. He looked down at his boot in the snow, only glancing up at Roxy for a moment, before looking back down. “Mighty kind invitation, miss, but... Well, you know, I’m quite a bit older. And it’s been a long time for me. I don’t get up to that kind of stuff too much these days.”
“Even better for me then,” said Roxy. “I always like it when men are grateful.”
Herbert laughed a little louder, a little bit of the nervous leaving his voice. “Well, all right then. Giddy on up.”
“Where’s your place?” said Roxy. “Should we take the cab, or do you live close by?”
There weren’t many other people on the street. There was one young man passed out in a snow bank only a few feet away. Roxy hadn’t noticed him before. There was a small group of kids walking towards them down the block.
“We’re looking at it,” said Herbert, pointing to the bar.
“You live in the bar? Like in the back or something?”
“I have an apartment upstairs. It’s nothing glamorous, like I said. And it can be a little noisy with the bar downstairs.”
Herbert led Roxy by the arm through an alley that ran along side the bar. There was a door there that had huge icicles hanging down from the roof over it. “Those things nearly killed me last spring,” said Herbert. “They actually got one of the bartenders one night as he was coming to drop off the money from the till. I found him there in the morning with one of these icicles in his neck.”
Roxy gasped. But she was thinking about what lay in store for her up those stairs. Herbert held the door for her, and motioned for her to climb the stairs first. Roxy climbed slowly, swinging her hips, imagining that behind her Herbert must be enjoying the view.
There wasn’t much space on the landing up the stairs. Herbert had to squish himself next to Roxy’s ample body as he jiggled the key in the lock. It seemed to take forever, getting that key in the lock. Roxy hoped he’d be a little more skilled with his own key, when it came time.
4. HERBERT’S APARTMENT
Roxy didn’t like to waste time. As Herbert pushed the door open, she grabbed him by the hand and pulled him to her. She kissed him, a big wet sloppy kiss with a lot of tongue that was meant to show him that she wanted it bad.
Herbert kissed her back. “You must like us Alaskan fellows or something,” he said. “Come on, I’ll show you the place. After you,” he motioned for her to enter the apartment, pushing the door open with his hand.
Roxy didn’t say anything. Instead, she got down on her knees. She reached out and grabbed Herbert forcefully around his hips. He has almost dainty hips. He had big hip bones with little fat. She could feel them through his shirt. Roxy reached up and grabbed his belt buckle.
“Whoa, girl. Whoa. What are you doing? There’s another apartment up here. Bob and Casey might come home any moment.”
“Let me worry about everything,” said Roxy, in her sweetest voice, almost a whisper. She unbuckled his thick belt buckle. Her fingers were the one part of her that was tiny, and she used those delicate little digits to find the buttons to his button fly. It was hard enough undoing a zipper on jeans, and undoing the buttons was next to impossible for most women. Fortunately, Roxy knew what she was doing. And men though taking off a bra was hard! Come on!
Roxy reached into the old-fashioned tight underwear that Herbert wore. Roxy liked that. She wasn’t crazy about boxers. She didn’t have to reach very far, since Herbert’s penis was already starting to bulge. She gave it just a little tug and it popped right out of the fly. One of Roxy’s favorite things about cocks must have been to watch them grow. And Herbert’s grew right before her eyes, nearly growing right into her face. It seemed to take only a second as it doubled, and then tripled in size.
Herbert’s erect cock was quivering in the air. It seemed to pump up and down, moving on its own.
Herbert moaned softly as Roxy put her mouth onto his cock. She liked to submerge cocks completely in her mouth, rather that starting off slowly with just a lick. She liked to imagine the pleasure Herbert felt all at once, feeling the warm wetness of her mouth all around his cock, from every side and every angle, not a piece of it not completely covered.
“Someone might come...” said Herbert, but his words trailed into another moan.
Roxy bobbed her head up and down. She swirled her tongue, using it to apply more pressure to the cock. She liked feeling it in her mouth. She knew she was getting wet between her legs. Herbert’s cock felt as hard as steel. Roxy bobbed up and down, rhythmically, quicker and quicker.
“Roxy,” said Herbert. Then he came. It happened quickly. Roxy couldn’t have been giving him head for more than thirty seconds. He shot his
load right into her mouth. She felt the hot, sticky goo shoot strongly into her mouth. The blast had a lot of pressure to it. The cum hit the back of her mouth with some force. It was a lot of semen, just a lot of material. Her mouth was almost completely filled with the stuff. It just kept coming and coming, Herbert’s cock pumping it out faster and faster. He moaned softly, then loudly.
Finally, after a full half a minute of Herbert’s cock pumping semen into her mouth, it was over. He was done. He had ejaculated all the semen he could at that time. His cock started to go a little limp. But it kept a lot of its erect shape. Slowly, Roxy reached around to the base of Herbert’s cock. She grabbed onto it. There was still quite a bit of his penis outside of her mouth, even though it reached almost to the back of her tongue. It was a large penis when erect. And Roxy imagined that once it went soft, it would still be long. Holding onto the cock, Roxy pulled her mouth away, keeping her lower lip stiff, so that no cum would leak out. She didn’t want her lipstick to run. Not know quite what to do, and maybe getting a little excited at the idea, Roxy tilted her head back and swallowed all the cum, as if it was a shot of whisky. It all went back in one huge gulp, all hot, warm, sticky, and a little sweat.
“Roxy,” said Herbert, regaining a little bit of his composure, his breathing becoming a little more regular. He reached down and gently removed Roxy’s hand from his penis. He tucked his penis back into his old-fashioned underwear. “I’m sorry, Roxy,” he said, with a gentle voice. “You don’t want to mess around with an old guy like me. It must have been a decade since I’ve been with a woman. I just don’t have the control that I used to.”
“Shh,” said Roxy, standing up, grabbing Herbert by his waist. Her belly and boobs were pressed up against his flannel shirt, touching him through her own shirt. “Don’t worry, Herbert. There’s nothing to worry about. You’re still going to show me your apartment, aren’t you?”
Herbert laughed. He seemed to relax even more, now that he could see Roxy wasn’t upset. He regained a little of his tough Alaskan man composure, and lead Roxy into his apartment, closing the door behind them.
Wild Ride: A Bad Boy Romance Page 18