Dirty

by A. C. Bextor

  Without giving her time to process what we’re doing, in my parents’ home while they’re just outside my door, my hands pull her shirt up and I release her mouth to take in her chest. The camisole she’s wearing under her shirt doesn’t pose a challenge to navigate through. Once her chest is fully exposed, I lean my body back to look down at her.

  “Jesus Christ, you’re more beautiful now than you were back then,” I breathe, not taking my eyes from her body.

  “We’re in your parents’ house, Max.”

  “Yeah, and?”

  She moves to sit up, but using my hand, I brace it against the middle of her chest and push her back beneath me.

  “Touch me,” I demand, unbuttoning my jeans.

  Her eyes follow my fingers’ deft movements, and I watch her inhale a quick breath and swallow hard.

  “If you don’t touch me with your hands, I’ll take off those flimsy fuckin’ pants you’re wearing and fuck you right here.”

  “You’re serious,” she snaps, furrowing her brow.

  Reaching for the hem of said pants, while not appreciating her lack of urgency, I grab the material at either side, all while being thankful for whoever the hell invented yogas or whatever the fuck they’re called.

  “All right!” she calls out, grabbing my hands to stop me.

  Using one hand to hold me in place, she uses the other to unzip my jeans, finding my cock hard and ready. Her fingers wrap around the shaft as her thumb massages the head and the extremely sensitive skin underneath it.

  “Fuck,” I hiss, leaning over and placing my arms on either side of her face. “Harder,” I tell her, thrusting my hips into her.

  She quickens her pace as I suck her neck viciously, coaxing her to continue.

  “Max,” she whispers in my ear. It’s not a breathy whisper; she needs my attention.

  Lifting my head from her neck, I feel her squeeze my cock, and the irony that I’m in my childhood bedroom, making out with a hot girl I’d once daydreamed about fucking, isn’t lost on me.

  Smiling, I acknowledge her, “Yeah, babe?”

  Her cheeks are red and her eyes are hooded with desire. She confirms this with her demand, “Touch me.”

  “Fuck yeah,” I answer.

  While she’s still working my cock, stroking wildly, I graze my hand down her stomach, into her pants, and slip my finger over her swollen clit. When I slide my finger into her, I feel how wet she is from touching me.

  “Ride my fingers, Emilyn.”

  Her body tenses underneath mine hearing me use her full name. Her hips start to move as I hold her sex and use my thumb to assault her clit. Her heavy breathing feels warm against my neck. She doesn’t stop working my cock, and I feel my release coming as I snap out in her ear, “Harder, Em. Fuck my fingers.”

  I watch her expression lose itself to concentration as she comes un-fucking-done in the palm of my hand, her slickness coating my fingers as she continues working me. Without any further delay, I succumb to my own release.

  “Jesus Christ,” I spit out once we’ve both come down from the sexual high.

  “I’m in Max Taylor’s bed,” she jokes. “And I just made him come like a school boy.”

  “I hear the sarcasm,” I tell her, kissing her nose.

  “I meant for you to.”

  Pulling my hand from her, I continue to lie on top of her and watch her eyes widen as I suck the finger she just rode.

  The ringing of my phone interrupts the moment, and I lock my teeth and hiss out loud. “Fuck.”

  “Your friends have good timing,” she says, releasing me and watching me as I move from on top of her. Before I answer, I throw her the box of Kleenex, mentally thanking my mother for being the tidy woman she tries so hard to be.

  Bet she never expected me to use them for this. Fuck it, yeah, she probably did.

  My mood is ruined when I glance at the caller ID; I find the number repulsive.

  “Max,” I answer, bringing it to my ear and watching as Emma cleans the mess I’ve just made of her.

  Even the rancid voice on the other end of the line can’t take away the smile on my face as Em scrunches her nose while she continues wiping.

  “Hoss needs you,” his voice says into the line.

  “When?”

  “Now, fucker.” No longer lost in the post-release bliss I was enjoying, I’m faced with a hateful reminder of what I’m doing. Hangar says nothing more before disconnecting the call.

  “Who was it?” Em asks, noticing my tension.

  “I gotta go.”

  “Where?”

  “Creed.”

  After saying a quick goodbye to my parents, Em and I make our way back to my place on my bike. Before she gets off, she briefly sits still behind me.

  Grabbing her hands around my middle, I squeeze gently before taking off my helmet. She removes hers and offers her concern, “Maybe you shouldn’t go.”

  “I have to, Em.”

  “I don’t like this.”

  “I know.”

  * * *

  “Hey, Tommy. I’m in a hurry, brother. What’s up?” I answer his call as I’m walking up to the compound after being summoned.

  “Where are you headed?”

  “Creed.”

  I hear the hiss in his tone before he drops a “fuck” into the conversation.

  “Greg’s still nowhere. Low’s working on it, though. All the fucker has to do is run through an ATM, use a charge card, or show his face in town and he’ll have him.”

  “Good. Aimes is working him. You and Low stay down.”

  “You got Em?” he asks. I hear the concern for her in his voice.

  Stopping my momentum, I stall in the drive and look up toward the door. I was let in as soon as my bike pulled up. Hoss is waiting.

  “I got her.”

  “Careful with her, Max.”

  Not appreciating his little-thought-out sentiment, I correct his intention. “You think I’ll hurt her? I won’t.”

  “Aimes says she’s a little badass.” His tone is lighter. “So, maybe I’m tellin’ you to be careful for your own sake, not hers.”

  Laughing, I start to walk again. “You done, little brother? I’ve got shit to do.”

  “I’m done for now. Call me if you need anything.”

  “Right,” I answer before I disconnect.

  When I knock on the red door at the top of the stairs, I’m met with Hangar. He looks well drugged-out. White powder traces his upper lip.

  Charming.

  “Well, look who’s decided to grace us with his presence,” he starts with a minor slur. I smell the alcohol on his breath. He’s drugged up and he’s been drinking.

  “I’m here for Hoss.”

  Stepping back and giving me room to enter, he replies with sarcasm, “Well, of course you are. Come on in then. He’s in the office. Need directions?”

  “No,” I answer, looking back and watching him lean his body on the door for balance. “I’m good.”

  Just as I start to turn around, I hear him sneer under his breath. “Don’t know what the fuck Dee Dee sees in you. You aren’t any better than the rest of us.”

  “From what I’ve heard about you, I am,” I smart, even knowing this is not a good idea. He’s both drunk and high.

  “How’s that?”

  “Rumor is you’ve got a small dick.”

  Hangar releases the hold on the door and lunges at me. I manage to grab him, since he’s not much but dead-weight, and slam him back into the wall next to the still-open door.

  “My small dick’s had all these women,” he hisses, losing his breath. “They all have my mark. When I’ve finished fuckin’ ’em good, I slice ’em up.”

  What the fuck?

  “What the fuck are you goin’ on about, you drunk ass?” I ask as I release him.

  His hands come up to his neck, holding on to it to help him breath, not that it’ll do any good. “Before you sink your cock into any of these girls, check ’em. You�
�ll see.”

  Shaking my head, trying not to let him see the repulsion I feel in his presence, I return, “I don’t know what the fuck you’re sayin’.”

  Sticking his filthy palm out, he uses his dirt-crusted fingernail to draw on it. He forms the shape of an ‘M’ and smiles sadistically as I compute.

  You’re bleeding.

  We’re all bleeding in some way, aren’t we?

  “You’re a sick fuck, and you need to be put down.”

  Laughing, he sneers, “I’m gonna piss on your dead skull and hang it out back with the others when I’m done.”

  Thankfully, so I’m not forced to turn my back or respond to this lunatic, I hear Dog come up behind me.

  “Max,” he calls. “Hoss is waitin’ on you.”

  “Go, run,” Hangar chides. “Go find out what the big man needs from you now.”

  The door to the office is closed, as it always is, so I knock once and hear Hoss tell someone he’s got to go.

  “Come in, it’s open.”

  Opening the door, I find Hoss in his place behind his desk. The cigarette smoke is thick, and the distinct smell of body odor oozes throughout the room.

  “Hangar said you wanted to see me?” I ask, stepping in and moving forward.

  “I did, Max. Thanks for comin’.”

  Right.

  I wanted to leave my parents’ Sunday dinner after being gone all these years. I left a beautiful woman alone in my apartment as well, and he wants to thank me for coming in.

  As if there was a choice.

  Taking a seat in the chair across from his desk, I make myself as comfortable as I can get with the vile surroundings taking up my senses.

  Throwing down a file folder, Hoss rests the palms of his hands on top of it. He looks visibly confused.

  “Cilas is still out. He sent a text this morning and mentioned he’d be back later this week. I need you to watch the girls.”

  “Same rooms, same girls?”

  “Minus one,” he informs.

  Trying not to relay panic in his company, I shift in my chair and ask casually, “Which girl’s gone?”

  “Does it matter?” he asks, pinning me with an annoyed look of disdain for my question.

  “Not so much, but need to know which room I should skip.”

  “Elvie.”

  “Elvie?” I ask, unsure who that is.

  “Older lady. Asian. Used to be an attractive gal, but not so much anymore.”

  “Black anklet,” I say to myself, but Hoss catches it and his eyes narrow.

  “Why the fuck you interested in their colors? You don’t have business for that.”

  “Observation, Hoss,” I state, rolling my eyes and feigning disinterest. “What are they for?”

  “What’s what for?”

  “The colors.”

  Shaking his head and lifting his hands in mock surrender, he tells me what I figured he would. “Not any worry for you.”

  “Okay, so I’ve only got two girls today.”

  “Two girls and Anna. She’s down with a cold. She’s in Elvie’s old room.”

  Standing up, I wait near the desk for the keys. This fucking shit is starting to become a routine, and I’ve gotten nowhere in regards to a plan to get Casey out.

  “Wick’s making lunch now. He can help you deliver.”

  “How hard is it to feed women? They’re fairly defenseless, don’t you think?”

  Laughing at my comment regarding unarmed, unhealthy, and brutalized woman, Hoss returns, “Guess so. Either way, pick shit up in the kitchen and come see me when you’re done.”

  As he hands me the keys, I reach for them and he pulls back, reminding me of a child playing keep-away. His snide smirk makes me nauseous.

  “What?” I ask, dropping my hand with impatience.

  Sitting back in his chair, he takes the keys with him and gets comfortable. “I know you don’t want to be part of this club, Max . . .”

  He doesn’t finish his statement. Behind us, Hangar busts in the open door. His lip’s been cut open and he’s bleeding, but he’s also laughing.

  “What the fuck?” Hoss demands.

  “It’s nothing. Wick doesn’t like to be bothered when he’s making lunch for the wenches.”

  “Goddamn it, Hangar. What the fuck did I tell you about goin’ near those girls? They aren’t yours. Stay the fuck outta the goddamn tank!”

  The tank.

  Hoss refers to their living quarters as a tank.

  “Oh, fuck it. I was only giving him a hard time.”

  Hoss looks at me, pissed as fuck. “Are you sure you don’t want a cut, Max? Seems soon I may be in need of a new VP.”

  Shaking my head and leaving my back to Hangar, I explain what I’ve already done before. “No, I’m not here to make friends.”

  Tossing me the keys, Hoss hisses in Hangar’s direction, but his words are meant for me. “Fuckin’ pity there. Can’t say I blame you with these fuckin’ idiots.”

  After he says it, we hear a fist hit wood. When I look in Hangar’s direction, not only is his lip bleeding but now so is his hand.

  “Hot-headed motherfucker,” Hoss mumbles as a crazy-eyed Hangar walks away.

  “I’ll be sure you get these when I’m done.”

  “That’d be good. Thanks.”

  Just as I’m about to breathe easy and make my way outside his open door, Hoss calls for my attention again.

  “Shit, Max. Hang on,” he says, rummaging through various paperwork throughout his desk and looking flustered as he does. “Viktor’s coming in this week. It’s possible he’ll arrive Friday.”

  “Viktor?” I ask, although I have an idea he’s the one truly behind the girls.

  “Yeah. I’ve advised him of your position here. If he requests to meet you, I expect you to be as loyal to me as you’ve said you’d be.”

  “Friday,” I confirm.

  “You have my back, I’ll have yours. And so you don’t forget, the poker game is Friday.”

  “Got it. We good?”

  “Good,” he repeats.

  Finally, I’m able to turn and walk away.

  Grabbing my phone, I pull it out and send a quick text to Low.

  08:32 P.M. Viktor. The first name was dropped directly by Hoss. Possible visit this Friday. Can you check him out?

  My text is returned before I make my way down the corridors leading to the kitchen.

  Low 08:36 P.M. I can. Give me a few minutes to run it and I’ll get back. Probably won’t be great news.

  Well, I hadn’t thought he was a fuckin’ saint.

  “How’s it possible that the Sergeant at Arms and the club treasurer get stuck pullin’ cooking for bitches duty?” I say, walking into the kitchen.

  Wick smirks at my off-the-cuff comment, but Iron doesn’t.

  “Anna’s sick. Hangar’s not allowed back here, which means we gotta do it.”

  “Aren’t there about ten prospects runnin’ around this place?” I ask, confused why they’d be stuck with this job.

  “They’re not allowed around the girls,” Iron answers, pouring ice from a disgusting bucket into even dirtier glasses.

  Wick finishes the sandwiches then moves to stretch his jaw. Its left side is swollen. I’m guessing Hangar must have tried to come in here and they had to force him back.

  “Food’s done,” he tells me, wiping his mouth. “Leave the dishes in the rooms. I’ll get to them later.”

  I haven’t seen Hangar since he stormed out of the office. I’m learning it’s good to know his whereabouts at all times.

  “Hangar come back here?”

  “Yeah, fucker got me good again,” Wick informs. He’s pissed but can’t say too much.

  “Again?”

  “He went to get one of the girls to shower. He said Hoss told him it was okay this time. He said Hoss gave him the spare key. I saw it on his personal key ring.”

  Bullshit.

  Nodding casually while my blood boils, I grab the tray full
of sandwiches then the other with the drinks before making my way out of the kitchen and into the long hallway that leads outside.

  Fucking bastard.

  * * *

  When I make it down the first hall toward Casey’s room, I find her door has been left open and her room is empty.

  Pulling out my phone, I see Low’s already texted back. It’s times like these when I’m thankful he’s enthusiastic about his work.

  Low 08:47 P.M. Got it. Viktor Koslov.

  08:49 P.M. And?

  Low 08:50 P.M. Talk offline later. As I said, none of it’s good.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  I’ve learned it’s not the filth of the earth which makes me dirty. It’s the prints of his fingers I can’t ever wash away.

  Casey feels Hangar’s abrasive hand clutching her shoulder to the point of pain, but she doesn’t wince as any other child would. She knows by displaying fear it serves as motivation and gives him a rush of power she’d fight to the death to avoid.

  “You and me, kid.” He bends and whispers in her ear as they continue walking down the muted hall side by side toward the communal shower room. “We’re gonna have a good time together. And we’ll be doin’ it soon.”

  Her breath catches at his words, smelling the alcohol on him and listening to what he’s telling her. As always, she remains still and quiet.

  Hangar grunts above her, a noise she doesn’t understand but makes her uncomfortable nevertheless. Lifting his hand from her shoulder and placing it roughly across her mouth, he stops their forward movement and bends down to lick the skin of her neck as he now stands behind her. This time, she can’t control her fear. Her body trembles, and it simply urges him on.

  “Fuck, yeah,” he breathes onto her skin. His heavy panting moves the hair from her ear as he speaks his vile words into it. The hand not covering her mouth, reaches up and skims the base of her breast over the thin material of her worn-out nightgown. “That creamy, white skin of yours, I can’t wait to taste it. I can’t fuck you, little one, but there are other ways. There are all sorts of things I can do to make you scream.”

  He licks again, but this time his teeth bite down hard on the lobe of her ear. Her whimper of pain is ignored as he moves to stand in front of her. His hand reaches down toward the hem of her night dress and he uses his fingers to pull it up, resting them just inches below where she’s never been touched. Casey jumps from the contact and her body bounces off the wall behind her. She’s pinned in without any possible way to escape.