Isabel and the Wolf: (Part 1)

by Ariana Hawkes

  Isabel scoured all the customers again, but there was no other single man in there. Giving up, she walked over to the bar. There was no way she was leaving without a drink, whether she found her date or not. She ordered a Wild Turkey and coke.

  “Did you see a guy in here by himself?” she asked the bartender as he slid her drink onto the bar. “Uh… dark hair, late twenties?” She felt even more stupid at describing someone she’d never met before, and the only proof she had of his existence were two low-res photos.

  “Yeah, I did see someone,” the bartender replied. “You must’ve just missed him. A really tall guy, dark hair, big build. He was over there for maybe half an hour.” He jerked his thumb towards an empty corner table. “But I saw him leave a few minutes ago. Couldn’t have missed him, really.” He chuckled. “I’m surprised you didn’t cross paths, actually.”

  Isabel went cold. How could she have been so dumb? Peter was obviously the man who’d almost crushed her in the doorway! It was just that the guy was so huge, and so unsettling that she hadn’t contemplated it. Sure, she’d been expecting tall, and he’d ticked ‘defined’ under body type, but this guy was off the scale.

  “So, he was sitting right there?” she asked.

  “That’s what I said, miss,” the bartender said amiably. In a daze, Isabel took her drink over to the vacated table and sat down. She leaned her elbows on the table and gathered her thoughts. She didn’t know if she was more shocked by Peter’s size, or his behavior. She hadn’t thought he’d take his “let’s be on time” so literally. She’d been evasive about where she was coming from, but he knew she didn’t live in Black Peak City. And they were in the middle of a storm for god’s sake! She was more than a little stung, especially after what she’d put herself through to get here. She took a big gulp from her glass and slammed it down on the table. This was exactly the reason why she’d never tried online dating before, wasting time being stood up by freaks in the middle of nowhere.

  She noticed that Peter’s empty glass was still there as well. She picked it up and sniffed the dregs. She smelled whisky – Scotch, not Bourbon, and definitely straight up. At least he had good taste in spirits. Idly, she turned the glass around in her hands. She’d been expecting Peter to be dominant, but this guy was like – well – a bit like an animal. Although, if she was honest with herself, there was something kind of hot about his hugeness. In the moment he’d pressed against her in the doorway, and she’d picked up a spicy outdoorsy scent and been enclosed by his muscularity, she’d felt something, a definite tingle. And his eyes – she’d never seen any like them before. If he was looking directly at you, you wouldn’t be able to tear your gaze away. Still, she couldn’t imagine what it would be like to have sex with him. He’d probably tear her apart. All of its own accord, an image popped into her mind – him arched over her, his eyes boring deep into hers, a strong hand at the base of her throat, and him thrusting himself hugely into her – Stop! she told herself, and clamped her thighs together. But it only made things worse. The tingle returned, more strongly this time. To distract herself, Isabel picked up her drink and drained it. What was wrong with her? She’d just been stood up by someone, who’d also nearly crushed her in the door, and not even apologized, and here she was, fantasizing about having sex with him!

  She couldn’t wait to get online again and tell him what she thought of his behavior. But, in the meantime, she had to decide how to get home. She was pretty sure she could do a big detour that would eventually get her back, but that would take a really long time. Or, she could check into a motel for the night. From the beginning, she hadn’t had any real plan for getting home afterwards, being so uncertain how the date would turn out. She had assumed that being out in this wild country might sometimes mean a long, lonely drive late at night, or an impromptu motel stay, but it was a worthwhile trade-off for living here. She looked at the time. It was over an hour since she’d seen the fallen tree. Maybe they’d moved it by now.

  The bartender came over and collected the glasses.

  “Have you heard anything about a tree coming down on the road to Silver City?” she asked him.

  “Yeah, it was on the shortwave not long ago,” he said.

  “Have they said if it’s still there?”

  “I don’t know. Let me go find out for you.” He went back to the bar, and picked up a walkie-talkie kind of thing and started speaking into it. It was like something from another era, Isabel thought, smiling to herself.

  “The guys say it’s been moved and the road’s open again,” the bartender called from the bar.

  “Thanks!” Isabel shouted back. Back home it was, then. She stopped at the restroom and then, with a backward glance at the table where she and Peter had both been sitting at different times, she left the bar, ready for the drive back.

  Retracing most of her previous journey through the small town, Isabel found the road easily. The rain had stopped again, and the sky had cleared. The moon was now directly overhead, and she could see that it was almost full – she hadn’t been far wrong before. The moonlight shone on the wet road, transforming it into a brilliant silver strip. As Isabel drove, it seemed almost magical, a different world from the unwelcoming blackness of before. There were animal noises, howls, coming from the woods, but they seemed far away. Her mood lifted, and she was eager to get home, not least so she could do something about the maddening tingle between her thighs.

  Chapter Two

  She was being chased through woods, her pursuer always just out of sight, fear thick in her throat, and death a whisker away. But then she became the pursuer instead, all her senses focused on a bobbing white tail. She was running fast, faster than she would have thought possible, but never tiring. Others were on her tail, as hungry as she was, nerves thrumming with adrenaline, voices hoarse with excitement. Pulling ahead, she seized her victim, sharp teeth breaking into vulnerable flesh. Claiming it as her own, she snapped its neck.

  Isabel awoke with a jolt. She felt hot and realized she was panting. Weird. She shook her head, trying to break free from the dream, and rolled over and stretched out, proving to her body that she was back in reality, safe in her huge, comfy bed. She was naked, as always, because she loved to feel unencumbered by anything, and the touch of the sheets on her bare skin. She reached for her phone: 11.30. Later than she liked to lie in, but it had been the early hours by the time she’d arrived home the night before.

  The stranger from the internet rose up in her mind again. What a strange night it had been. Her thoughts were caught between annoyance at having been stood up, and, as much as she hated to admit it, a frisson of heat that hadn’t died down during the night. She couldn’t get over how Peter had towered over her in the doorway. The thought of his strength spoke to something primal inside her.

  The same couldn’t be said of a lot of the men on the alternative dating website. Isabel had only been on there for a few weeks, but she was gaining the impression that most of them were into domination because they were losers in life. They created fantasy worlds online, where they could style themselves as ‘Master of the Universe’. God. Isabel turned over again and buried her face in her pillow. It was all too cringy. She’d signed up to the website very reluctantly, and not even added a photo until she discovered that other users assumed she was a man in disguise, up to who knows what internet freakery. Then she’d clicked through one nerdy profile after another, and received more weird messages than she had time to read. None of the fetishes corresponded with what she was looking for. They were so specific, involving terms she had to look up online, and communities she didn’t want to be part of. She was starting to wonder if she had any business being on a site like that, when a message came from Peter. It said:

  I wonder if you’re the one who’s strong enough to submit to me.

  That was all. It was enough to awaken her interest though, which was further piqued when she clicked on his photo. No-one seeing him would think he was anything but dominant, an alpha male
. Isabel exhaled hard. There was something inappropriately arousing about the concept of the alpha male. A leader, not a follower. The top dog. Subject to no-one. She pressed her comforter between her legs. It was also a concept that went against all her principles. It was very important for her to have equality in relationships. The pressure of the comforter wasn’t helping. Images of being dominated by Peter kept flashing through her mind. What did he mean by ‘strong enough’, anyway?

  Stop. She was getting herself all worked up over someone who’d behaved as if the normal rules of social etiquette didn’t apply to him. With a superhuman effort, Isabel tumbled out of bed and put on her dressing gown, a white, gossamer number that didn’t make much difference to her nakedness. She opened a window, letting the sweet New Mexican air blow in. Then she walked over to the kitchen to prepare breakfast.

  She made a hazelnut latte and egg and cheese muffins, her weekend morning treats, and took them through to her living room. Settling down on a sofa in the light, airy space, she opened her MacBook. She took a sip of her coffee and sighed – she’d made it perfectly this time – then opened up Facebook. There were three different invites to parties in Chicago that she couldn’t attend. It was great that people still included her, to show she hadn’t been forgotten. But at the same time these things plucked at her heart, little twinges of homesickness, which, if she let them, would transform into nagging questions of what she was doing here, so far away from everyone she knew. She clicked onto a message from her best friend, Kara:

  Hey Chiquita! I’m back from Grenada. The dig was awesome – I've got so much to tell you!

  How's the land of UFOs? It's been, what, six weeks now? Are you all settled in? Have you met anyone yet? I hope it's not all dry out there ;)

  So, I’ve got a couple of free weekends coming up – not next weekend, but the two after that, and I was thinking that I’d come and pay you a visit. Are you free? ANNND I'm warning you, when I come, we are going OUT! I've heard the guys there are hot! (Can you tell it's been a while? I was hoping there'd be some cute archaeologists on my dig, but nada!)

  Also, when are you going to stop being a massive technophobe and get a phone with internet, so I don't have to wait so long to hear back from you? Seriously, I keep worrying that you’ve been abducted for alien experiments!!

  Anyways, let me know which weekend works for you, and I'll be right there!

  Besos grandes!

  Kara xox

  Isabel broke into a grin. She’d love to see Kara and show her around. Kara had told her more than once how crazy she thought she was for moving out to New Mexico, but she understood Isabel’s ambitions and need to be somewhere with the space her soul was craving. Isabel took a large bite of her egg muffin – it was pretty good as well, maybe her best attempt ever, in fact. The light and the landscape here were amazing, and she was succeeding at what she’d set out to do, which was to develop her sculpture business. Big-city living was fine while she was doing corporate stuff, but she had long felt that her true creativity, and longer-term plan to create and sell individualistic, gallery-standard pieces was being stifled. At the same time, she missed her best friend badly. She and Kara were used to seeing each other two or three times every week, and this was the longest they’d been apart for years.

  Isabel clicked on another message. It was from a couple she’d recently met at a gallery opening, confirming dinner plans tonight for a small gathering of local artists. She smiled to herself, happy that her new social life was beginning to shape up.

  She finished eating and zoned out on her computer screen. She was avoiding logging on to the dating site. There was no way Peter was going to get away without hearing exactly what she thought of his behavior last night though. She hadn’t worked out what she was going to say yet, but it wouldn’t be polite. Seriously, what kind of a person acts like that? Anger sparked in her again. Allowing herself to get all fired up, she typed in the web address. The page opened and she cringed as her screen filled with images of slinky vixens in latex and men in masks, brandishing pathetic-looking whips. She entered ‘Little Red’ in the username box, and then her password. Her inbox was displayed, and there was a new message waiting for her. It was from him. She clicked to open it:

  Lupus11: You were late.

  Isabel gasped. She read the three words over and over. His audacity was incredible. She barely paused to think before she began typing.

  Little Red: Uh, perhaps you failed to notice, but I came to meet you in the middle of a storm! It was actually a really stressful journey, so it’s pretty amazing that I was only 20 minutes late! And you didn’t even have the good manners to sit in the bar and wait for me!

  She hit ‘send’, satisfied. She could’ve been a lot harsher, but that was enough to get the point across. She was just about to shut the computer, when a message alert popped up. He was online right now! She opened the message.

  Lupus11: You could have left more time. Didn’t you know it was raining when you left?

  Isabel’s anger flared up again, and her fingers flew on the keyboard.

  Little Red: Yes I was aware of that, thank you! But, apart from the storm, the main issue was that there was a tree blocking the road from Silver City!

  Lupus11: You came that way?

  Little Red: Yes, of course I did! – it’s the only direct route to Black Peak City.

  Lupus11: I didn’t realize.

  Isabel flicked through their messages in her inbox. They actually hadn’t exchanged many, just a couple verifying mutual interest and when and where they were going to meet. Peter had suggested the bar, and she’d agreed to it. She hadn’t at any point mentioned it took her a while to get there.

  Little Red: It’s an hour’s drive away.

  Lupus11: Oh, I didn’t think you would have driven that far.

  Suddenly, Isabel had another thought.

  Little Red: Hold on. How did you know I was late? I might not have turned up at all.

  Lupus11: We met in the doorway.

  Isabel gaped at the screen, trying to piece several different types of incredulity together into a single response.

  Little Red: What?! You recognized me and you said nothing?

  Lupus11: How did you arrive at the bar when there was a tree blocking your route?

  Suppressing her annoyance that he’d just ignored her question, she replied:

  Little Red: Well, luckily there were cops at the scene, and one of them took me on a short cut through the forest.

  Lupus11: Ah, that explains your smell.

  Little Red: My smell? What ARE you talking about?

  Lupus11: When you walked in, I could smell the woods on you. And the mark of a man.

  Little Red: You could smell from that distance away? How is that even possible?’

  Lupus11: I’ve had a strong sense of smell since I was young. I picked up the scent, but, of course, it was much stronger when I touched your skin.

  Little Red: So that’s why you left?

  Lupus11: I left because I found out all I needed to know.

  Isabel took her MacBook off her lap and put it on the sofa next to her, at a loss. Words failed her.

  Little Red: WTF?? You’re telling me that you left because you didn’t like the way I smelled?’

  For a long time, there was no reply. Isabel waited, annoyed at the fact that she was waiting, on tenterhooks, for whatever crazy response he was about to come up with. At last, the new message alert flashed.

  Lupus11: Forgive me. I haven’t explained myself properly. On the contrary, the way you smelled was very arousing to me. I left because I was satisfied you have the strength I am looking for.

  Little Red: Really? And how’s that?

  Lupus11: You showed that you have spirit.

  Isabel recalled the way she’d yelled at him in the doorway, and couldn’t help smirking. She wasn’t aggressive by nature, but she never let anyone get the better of her either, that was for sure. Another message came:

  Lupus11: I
also saw that your photo doesn’t do you justice.

  To her disgust, Isabel felt her cheeks warming. But she wasn’t going to give in that easily.

  Little Red: I’m surprised you could see anything, the way you were hurtling through the door.

  Lupus11: No, I saw you clearly. You're a beautiful woman. Also very different looking from most of the women around here.

  Little Red: That might be because I’m not local – I just moved here.

  Lupus11: Oh, really? From where?

  Little Red: Chicago. You know, those photos of yours don't do you any favors either.

  Lupus11: You mean they’re bad?

  Little Red: Just really grainy. That was probably one of several reasons why I didn’t recognize you when I was introduced to you in the doorway there.

  Lupus11: Oh – they’re the only ones I had. I don’t like having my photo taken.

  And, to her surprise, he followed up the message with an embarrassed emoticon.

  Little Red: So, what’s with your name – isn’t lupus some kind of disease?

  Now there was a manically-grinning emoticon coming her way.

  Lupus11: Haha! It is, but it’s also Latin for wolf, which is the reason why I chose it.

  Little Red: You have a thing for wolves?

  Lupus11: I do. They’re beautiful, majestic animals, no?

  Little Red: I guess so. I hadn’t really thought about it.

  Lupus11: Maybe you should ;) And what does your name mean?

  Little Red: Well, by some really interesting coincidence, it partly relates to the story of Little Red Riding Hood, a little girl who got eaten by the big, bad wolf.

  An open-mouthed emoticon popped onto Isabel’s screen.

  Lupus11: That IS a coincidence! I’ll have to check out the story. I haven’t heard it before.

  Isabel paused, caught off balance. It was strange to see this softer side to him, and even a little bit endearing. Hardly knowing what she was doing, she wrote: