by KT Morrison
The guy approached her car cautiously, he was bent over, hands in his pockets, peering in. She looked up and saw him and she waved. He smiled and waved back, and he said something even though she probably couldn’t hear him. He was all right looking, but he didn’t have the greatest head of hair. He was starting to thin out up top. He had black jeans on and a leather jacket and he was kind of slim.
Emma got out of her car and she had to stop a moment and pull her dress down a few inches before she came to the guy. He took her hand and then kissed her cheek. They exchanged pleasantries and were both all smiles. He asked her something and she shook her head, then she pointed up Main Street towards where they lived. They both laughed a moment, then she was looking down at the ground. That was his wife. Shy and uncomfortable. Troy smiled at her. He wished it wasn’t like this. He wished he could be enough for her.
Craig gestured towards the gates into the restaurant and let her lead the way. Troy watched the guy raise his eyebrows behind her back, getting himself a good look at her long pretty legs and her tight little bottom. He followed her up over the patio and got ahead of her to hold the door. They disappeared into the restaurant.
Troy started the Hyundai up again, turned the heat on. He watched the window for any sign of them in there. They got themselves seated perfectly. They were sitting across from one another, framed in the window right in front of Troy. Their faces close together, lit from below by three white candles. He sat in silence in the SUV and watched the two of them together. Craig122 looked at her while she talked, gave her his most attentive face. He would put his eyebrows up in the middle giving her the old James Dean. Wondered what he did for a living, this guy. He was sort of well dressed, kind of cool, looked like a nice leather jacket. He drove up here in a Silverado, but it was a couple years old. Didn’t really look like he worked with his hands. He looked more of a thinker than a doer. Or a talker. A big-talker. He was telling her something. Trying to impress her the way a guy does. He could tell by his body language. He was being humble. Letting Troy’s wife know he was a nice guy but also fucking awesome. Emma was listening. She was smiling and nodding while he explained something to her. She looked so pretty dressed up, sitting in this charming little bistro, out for dinner with her big dick boyfriend. He was going to fucking kill this guy.
They ordered and the waiter brought them a bottle of wine and two glasses. He toasted her, or the evening, or something, and they drank. She would rest her chin in her hand and listen to him while he talked. Then when it was her turn she’d get shy and put her hands in her lap. She’d shrug her thin shoulders and look away a lot like she was bashful. The whole show was so hard to watch and Troy felt his face was sore from having it clenched so long.
He rubbed his cheeks, his brow. What was she thinking right now? Was she thinking about having sex with this guy? They both knew it was just a hookup. When this guy spoke to her was she just picturing the dick pic he had sent? Was she sitting there anticipating what it was going to be like to touch it, to feel it inside her? To cheat on her husband.
He gripped the steering wheel tight and shook it, exploding in frustration. The vehicle shook with his effort. He stopped and closed his eyes. The last thing he needed right now was to break off his steering wheel.
The two lovebirds had ordered a dessert and the waiter brought it over. Cake, chocolate, served on a big white plate and two long stainless forks. He watched them eat.
Who eats all that food when they know they’re about to make love? Troy spread his hands over his face, put his elbows in the triangular slots of the steering wheel. He watched them finish up their date, peeking out through his spread fingers. He moaned, quiet, but it felt good to do it over and over. It eased the pain somehow.
Craig settled up the bill, bought Troy’s wife a nice dinner and put it on his credit card. They were getting up, Emma turning to get her purse. What was the plan now, guys? Where did they want to go to do this? It better be nice, it was going to be the place where Craig122 took his last breath. It’d be nice to die maybe in a park or by a stream or something, Craig.
Craig and Emma came out. Emma had his jacket over her shoulders, her arms across her chest. Troy didn’t like her in that dress, it was too short. She struggled along in her heels, still learning to walk in them. Her muscles flexed when she stepped, showing off her pretty thighs. How could this be happening?
They stood in the parking lot a moment, close together, talking. Emma’s back was to Troy and it was hard to tell what they were doing. They were talking and looking around now, working something out. Craig was nodding, they had come to some arrangement. Emma walked back to the Spark, she opened the door and looked around inside. She closed it back up and hit the key fob. The horn sounded and the lights flashed. She walked back up to Craig and he held his hand out to her. She took it and he walked her to his truck. He helped her up in to it, then closed the door for her.
Shit. This felt scary for some reason. Like if he lost them in traffic he may never see her again. Was this guy dangerous? His heart was jumping. He put the Hyundai in drive. He was going to put his nose right on Craig’s bumper.
Craig got into the truck and they backed out into traffic. Troy backed up and got himself poised to head out of the pharmacy. The Silverado turned right onto Main and drove right past him. He saw Emma’s profile as they went by, looking straight ahead. It looked like she was nervous, wrestling with the enormous thing she was about to do. Troy turned right out of the pharmacy and got himself behind them.
It was a slow drive through the main street. It was Saturday night and there were a lot of people out doing things. Mostly normal things. Were there other husbands out there right now stalking their cheating wives? There probably were. They passed the sporting goods store, their bank, that new brewery that opened up last month. Traffic loosened up once they got past the old narrow street, past all those old frontier buildings.
They were headed south out of town, going through the stretches were there were only streetlights, no businesses. Just trees and bare fields, and sometimes an abandoned car. He turned right onto Rio Grande and Troy was still on his bumper. They passed the big Baptist Church and now they were into a neighbourhood.
They drove down Rio Grande farther than he’d ever gone. They were right out of town. He could see the back of Emma’s head, she was turned to Craig and they were talking.
They slowed right down and signalled. They were at the end of the subdivision, the road ahead just went rural; farms and fields and the dark. He turned right on Pecan Street and he let them get up ahead. He signalled like he was going to pull into another little side street and let them take a turn to the left. He punched it to catch up, his hands were wet with sweat.
He roared that Korean four cylinder turbo, heard the stone chips pinging off his exhaust and his wheel wells. At the corner, he whipped his head around. He’d fucking lost them. He couldn’t believe they could get away like that, he was holding his breath and his mind was racing. There were houses rushing past on his right, and just black emptiness on the left. He could see a black tree line far off out there, the night sky a deep dark blue.
Did he take her in the field? Where did they go? Did Craig punch that Chevy too when he got around the corner, figured he was being followed? Did Emma warn him—say it could be her husband?
He slammed the brakes and fishtailed in the gravel. The Hyundai skidded and slid to a stop. He screamed Fuck! and slammed his palms into the steering wheel. He spun the wheel and stabbed the pedal, roaring back the way he came. She could be anywhere in this subdivision, but he was going to find her if he had to go house-to-house to do it.
Before he got back to the corner where he’d lost them he saw a black Silverado in a driveway, hidden under the low branches of an ancient oak tree. He gasped out with relief. It was them. His heart was pounding, his neck ached from clenching it. The relief was tremendous, warm. He thanked God out loud, earnestly and lovingly.
Emma and Craig wer
e still sitting in there talking. He could tell she was talking because he could see her hair moving. The house was rundown. Peeling blue clapboard and unkempt shrubs. The neighbours were right up close on either side but you couldn’t see the houses for all the untended overgrown trees and bushes. He drove past and then turned around and came back, turning his lights off and getting on the shoulder.
He put it in park and shut it off, his eyes glued to the Chevy. He must have raced right past them when he came around that corner. Hurtling down that road with Emma behind him with who knows what. This guy could be a serial killer who sent her a picture of any old big dick, tricked her into coming to his house.
Well, he was the one who was getting tricked. The one who was going to get murdered. He got ready to get out, turned off the dome light and put his hand on the handle.
They lit up in the Chevy, the doors getting opened. He saw Craig step out and Emma doing the same on the other side. Craig took her arm and helped her up the short driveway. They didn’t go up to the front door, but seemed to disappear behind some hedges along the side. Headed to the back door.
Wasn’t even the guy’s own shitty house. Did he rent a room in a rundown shack in the white trash part of town? Oh, Emma. This is what you’ll do, how low you’ll stoop to get what you want? He got the door open and stepped out, closed it behind him without making a sound.
He rushed across the dirt road and put himself in the bushes. He couldn’t hear them. He didn’t want to walk down where they’d gone, didn’t want to run into them. He had his back to some sort of fence that was wood and sheets of metal. He could hop it and sneak up next to them. He paused; everyone on this street had a pit-bull or a shotgun, or both. He did it anyway, putting his hands on the top of it and jumping into the neighbour’s yard. He crouched down and listened. There was no dog sound, no sound of any kind. He crept along the inside of the fence and made his way towards the back. The house on this lot looked abandoned. Too run down and neglected for someone to live in it.
He could hear whispered talk on the other side now. He was getting close. He made his way carefully along, getting up to where he could hear their voices, hear what they were saying. He found a gap in the sheet metal. Someone had screwed it in place with indoor screws that had rotted in the weather, and the whole section had just swung down leaving a gap he could get his whole body through. There were just branches separating them now and he could see Craig and Emma under the porch-light at the back door to that rat trap. They were up close and face to face their bodies touching.
11
Craig asked her again to come on inside but she didn’t want to go. She put her arms around his waist and put her chin on his chest. She said, “It’s jus such a nice night out. So warm for winter, don’t you think?”
“It’s freezing out here, you’re wearing my jacket,” he said.
“Don’t I look good in it?” she said and stepped back from him and put her hands in the pockets of his jacket. She posed for him, bashful, one long leg out in front of the other one, her toes pointed. She felt a square foil packet in there, two of them folded over.
“You damn sure do. Better’n I ever looked in it.”
“What’re these?” she held up the two condoms, and he smiled at her.
“Ooh, they’re Magnums,” she said and put them back in the pocket. She smiled back at him, cuddled up in the heavy motorcycle jacket. They stared at each other a moment.
He stood with one foot on the wooden step that led up to his apartment door. The porch light was on above him. His face was rugged and he was kind of good looking. She liked how he seemed so confident. He was tanned and had light hair but his eyes were dark. It almost looked like he had on eyeliner.
She stepped forward to him, put both her legs between his and let her body fall into him. She looked up at him and he kissed her. She let him do it, but she didn’t kiss him back. She put her palms up on his chest and broke away.
“I don’t like to kiss. This is something else we’re doin tonight.”
He didn’t answer, just stared into her. She kissed his collar and chest and put her hand up around the back of his neck.
His hands came around her narrow waist. They slid down over her rump and she encouraged him, biting the flesh of his chest. He pulled the hem of her short dress up behind her. He pushed it into her, dragged it along pressing into her taught bottom and she felt it come up and over. Felt the chill air between her legs and on her cheeks. He grabbed handfuls of her flesh, squeezed them.
“Hey, come on over here, I wanna get a look at you,” she said. She plunked her finger down the front of his jeans and pulled him to the picnic table by his belt. She walked backwards through the grass, doing all right in the high heels.
“Set yourself here,” she said.
He obliged, sat on the edge of the weathered old table and waited to see what she would do next. The table was off the patio and in the long grass. She could see beer bottles under it and cigarette butts. She pictured a bunch of guys like Craig, layabouts, sitting out here in the summer smoking and drinking twelve beers each.
She unbuttoned his shirt and opened it. She ran her hands over his chest. He was strong, but not built; he had a hairy chest and it looked manly. His legs were spread wide and she could see his penis sideways across the front of his jeans. They both looked down at it. She put her hand out and lay it on the obvious appendage. She could feel it soft under her touch.
“Wow, I can feel it through your jeans and it ain’t even hard yet. This is it right here.” She put her thumb and forefinger on either side of it and ran along its length. She watched her hand do it, said, “It’s thick.”
She unclasped his belt buckle and he leaned back so she could do it, putting his hands out behind him. She pulled the wide leather belt right out of the loops and threw it on the patio, let the metal clank on stone. She was looking forward to this.
She told him, said, “I’ve been thinkin about this for days.”
“Yeah?”
She undid the top button of his jeans. She saw that he had got harder under the denim, straining against it a little now.
“I’ve been looking at the picture you sent me. I haven’t seen one like yours before.”
His breaths were slow but lusty, he was getting harder from the anticipation. She put a finger on his sternum and ran it down his tight, bunched up belly letting it get under his jeans. Her nail scratched the flesh right above his manhood. She pinched the zipper and gave it a little tug. The sound of the teeth unclenching was loud. She ran it down to the bottom and his bulge relaxed.
“This is so excitin,” she said and pulled one side away and down til she could see the top side of his penis. She reached in and got her finger and thumb around it and pulled it out.
She let it go, watched it sag between his legs, then pick a side and slump that way, touching the tip to his thigh.
“You got a great cock,” she said.
“I know.”
She put a hand around it, felt it in her grip and started to gently stroke it.
“You like havin such a big one?”
“Of course.”
“All the ladies love this, don’t they”
“Yes, they sure do.”
She had him real hard now and she took a look at it. It was long and curved funny. It went straight out and then about halfway kind of nosedived towards the floor. It was thicker at the end than where it came out of him. The head was wide and smooth almost no flare around the lip of it. It looked a little beaten up, like it had seen better days. She liked that.
“Whyn’t you put that little mouth on it?”
“I don’t like that,” she said.
“You haven’t tried mine yet, have you?” He sat up and leaned towards her, kissed her collarbone. She let him do it and kept stroking him. His hands went up her sides and onto her shoulders. She could feel him make them heavy, pushing her down, wanting her on her knees. She went with it, kneeling down in her heels. She l
ooked at his thing up close, holding it in her hand. She put her mouth over the end of it and gagged. It smelled like soap and something else, like animal underneath it. But in her mouth it tasted like bleach and she could sense it in her nose when she breathed. She tried to do it, but she didn’t like it at all. She gagged again and took it out of her mouth, almost retching.
“I jus don’t like doin that,” she said up to him. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand.
“You hardly even tried.”
She had her hand stroking him, she said, “I thought you were supposed to be gentle.” She stood up. She wasn’t going to do that. She took his jacket off her shoulders and lay it on the table next to him. Craig put his thumbs in the thin straps of her dress that went from her breasts up over her shoulders. He pulled them off to the side then pulled the front of her dress down. She wasn’t wearing a bra and her petite breasts were stung by the cold. Her raspberry nipples hardened in the air, scrunched so tight her aureolas got goose bumps. She shivered and her arms were trembling.
Craig pressed his warm face into her chest between her breasts. She put her head back and warmed herself on him. He put his hot mouth over a nipple and she moaned out. She put her hands through the back of his hair and pulled him into her. He ran his tongue around and pulled it gently with his lips. She was a little sensitive but the heat felt nice. She let him do it to the other side. The wet one left out in the air felt like it had froze with his mouth off it and she started to shiver and she couldn’t stop it.
“C’mon,” he said, “Whyn’t we go inside, you’re freezing.”
“I tol you I want to do it outside.”
“I got a warm bed, soft sheets and a big cozy duvet. The heat’s on—”
“I have sex in a bed all the time. That’s where I have sex with my husband. Where he puts his little thing inside me and hammers away til he gets what he wants,” she said. She put her hands on his cheeks, said, “Tonight I want a little somethin different. Somethin I want. I ain’t never done it on a picnic table.”