Her skin was a gorgeous alabaster, her buttocks firm but with enough flesh that my mind went straight to images of filling my hard palms with handfuls of her.
Her back was supple and delicate bare shoulders made me think of trailing my lips along them. Even the swell of her breast which I got a view of the plump but perky side of, was perfect. And all the way down her soft body. As I was standing behind her she didn’t see me, thank all the devils, because my camos were tented out hard by the picture of her.
Like the deer, she must have got wind of me because her head snapped around, scanning the trees.
“Who’s there.” She shouted, nervous.
I froze rigid in my tracks and in my mind. I couldn’t go walking out in front of her, naked and vulnerable there in her hot spring pool. She’d have spooked at that. Some weirdo with a bloody buck wrapped around his neck. So I backtracked through the woods, retreating like a pussy. Then I made my way home through the trees, avoiding the trail. In all it was pathetic. Not at all my finest moment.
“I can’t find the right moment to talk to her.” I grunt, wanting an end to this convo. Let’s just ride back up the hillside in silence. This was yet another one of our dumb ideas that backfired.
“You just had the moment.” Tank says, not letting it drop.
“I know. I messed up. Thanks for trying, man.”
“Always looking out for you.”
There. Now we can finally go home, crack a beer and sit on the makeshift porch. I’m happy just to stare at the trees and marvel how long they’ve survived this world. Tank says I’m morose. That I need a woman to keep me company and take care of my wounded soul. What does he know about women or taking care of anyone? He lives for himself. Loves ‘em and leaves ‘em as the old timer saying goes. Except there doesn’t seem much love involved.
He says he has no idea what love is. That some women made up the idea just to get men ensnared. That men don’t fall in love, they prefer to ride wild and hang out with their buds. Yeah, Tank is a weird freaking dude. No judgement. Because he’s also a friggin’ hero. He pulled at least three of our guys out of a bad situation, not thinking of the risk to himself.
I shift my thought away from that, which takes a significant force to accomplish. Luckily, I have the goddess to think about instead. I let my head dwell on the images of her body lowering into that hot pool. And now I have a close-up picture of her face that will haunt my dreams.
My steel unfurls in my pants just remembering her standing on the other side of the filthy glass. She was even more stunning than I remembered from seeing her turn to look for some stranger’s approach in the silent woods. She wasn’t scared this time. In fact her features were set slightly defiant, slightly confused, but totally gorgeous.
I’d do anything to claim her as mine. Whatever it takes to convince her that I’d be the man she needs if she’d let me. Tank circles the block to get back on the main road, the only road, out of town. I set myself a new mission - whatever it takes.
3
Whitney
I stand for a moment staring at the tailgate of the disappearing truck. That guy drives it like he’s hell bent on picking up a DUI. But he didn’t seem to be at al under the influence. Unless you count the influence of his own cockiness. The lustful flicker in his eye showed that he’d have no trouble whatsoever picking up any women. Even literally picking her up out of the street - where’ he’d just run her down.
I lips turn up in an ironic smile and I bend over to pick up my phone. It must have slipped out of my grip with the shock of the passing truck, and fell to the ground. I completely forgot I was in the middle of FaceTime with Reese.
I check the screen. Fortunately it isn’t cracked or anything but Reese has disconnected the call. Not surprisingly, she must have gotten fed up with waiting while I toyed with a couple of hillbillies. I press the starter to get her back and nothing happens. The screen doesn’t pop up, no apps are visible. Just a blank stare.
My phone is dead.
“Hey my phone is broken. Can I borrow yours for a second to Google a local…”
With a squeal of rubber and a back kick of dust, the truck veers around a corner. It’s way too far from me for them to have heard anyway. Why am I asking that pair of gurning fools for help anyway? Maybe I actually like having coffee thrown all over me.
“What the…” I mutter.
I know I’m being over the top with my reading of the situation. They didn’t try to run me down, nor did they throw coffee on me. It was me who stepped out on the street without looking, thereby spilling coffee down myself when I was obliged to jump back, out of the way of a passing vehicle.
Still those two were definitely abnormal beings. My mouth turns up again at the involuntary thought - with abnormally hot bodies. I guess that just because some professional tells a person they aren’t to enjoy any physical expression for at least a year, that doesn’t actually mean a person’s body will obligingly obey. Mine seems to have gone into rebellion if the damp between my thighs is any indication.
“What a pair of weirdos.” I try to convince myself but deep down I know it’s not working. Those two boys were hot and that’s the end of it. One was a whole lot more cocky confident than the other. I wonder why the other just sat there staring at me like a robot, devoid of voluntary action. Not a smile, a wave. No flicker of emotion whatsoever. Just forget about it Whitney.
Now I have no way of calling Reese back. As I walk home, the worry sets in that Jarke might have wrung some detail of my whereabouts out of her. She’s pretty loose-tongued, even without a couple of cocktails. Once she indulges in the other cocktail of hedonism we used to put ourselves through, there’s no holding her back. How did I ever get involved with that crowd?
In fact it was Reese who first introduced me to Jarke. He was the supplier of all her fun - her dealer I guess you’d say. I came in from upstate, not a country bumpkin myself but not completely used to city ways. I thought I was lucky finding a spare room to rent in Reese’s tiny shoebox apartment. I must be weak-willed because when Jarke stopped by with a delivery, it was hard to say no to the two of them pressing me to join in.
I was lucky, I guess, that my father intervened before things went too far. He pulled me out of that scene and got me into a rehab facility. I’m not sure that it was so much out of fatherly care as that my out of control behavior would have had a detrimental affect on his business. Reese doesn’t have a daddy with political connections, so I guess I can’t be too judgmental on her. And whatever the reason, I’m grateful to him. So I can’t let him down now that I’m clean again.
At the rehab they made us talk a lot, in group therapy, about our parents and what we recalled about our childhoods. At first it was uncomfortable AF but then, it became enlightening as to how we get messed up without realizing it. I don’t think the parents realize it either, it just rolls on out of control. Like an avalanche.
Reese and I first bonded over us both having lost our mothers at an early age. Her dad remarried but mine threw himself into his work. He wasn’t mean with me, he just wasn’t there for me. It seemed that success was a drug for him and the more he had the more he wanted, or needed. With money comes power too and I think that seduced him.
Perhaps that’s an addiction too, working too much to the point of self-annihilation. It’s just one that’s more acceptable to society as it is right now. No one wants to live simply, like I am right now in this no-name mountain town.
There’s no point dwelling on all this. I got stuff out of my head during those therapy sessions and it’s behind me now. Whatever did or didn’t happen in the past, is over and there’s no way to make it different. What’s important is not to let things wreck the present.
My only concern is that I remain Jarke-free, so I really hope Reese didn’t let anything slip. He can be very persuasive when he wants to be, if it means getting what he wants out of someone. I owe it to my dad not to go back to my former lifestyle, which was fun while it l
asted but heading absolutely nowhere.
I take a slug of the coffee replacement that the handsome but over-confident dude brought me and walk down the street, munching hungrily on the scone. I’m starving and have had no breakfast. I’m not the best in the kitchen and there’s never anything in the refrigerator at the townhouse I rented when I got out of rehab. That’s something I can do while I’m considering what to do next with my life - learn how to cook.
I’m lost in a swirling array of thought - what will I do next and into the future, Jarke, the facility’s instruction that I should abandon old friends that might pull me backwards (like Reese).
Inexplicably, pushing through all the vital stuff I have on my mind - is that weird hairy dude’s eyes. How they drilled into me. How they moved through my skin right into my core. My knees are a bit trembly as I walk. I’m all tumbled up, as though I’ve been jolted out of my skin. But that’s got to be down to being almost run down by the ancient pick-up.
Nothing more than that.
“And you are not supposed to be looking at men in that way.” I mutter to myself. “Definitely not that way.”
I guess it’s just been too long.
Too long since I felt a man’s hands on me. Or big arms enveloping me.
Not that Jarke was much for embracing. Or had big arms. He has biceps after a fashion, although you’d never call them bulging, not in your hottest dreams. The rest of his body was lean. Lean and mean. He was strong despite being scrawny. The absolute opposite in every way from the two strange dudes with muscles like marauding tribesmen. If marauding tribesmen wore tight black tee shirts that strained against their flexing biceps. Round bulging flexers that pumped with the smallest movement in their arms. Even still, rigid as the guy fixed in his seat, the muscular tension was evident.
Argh, I have to stop this. Marauding tribesmen, Whitney, seriously?
This time, when I step down to cross the street, I make sure to check all around for traffic. Nothing. I love that this is the kind of town that tumbleweed rolls through on a windy day, despite its recent tourist-driven gentrification. Some new build ranches have gone up on the outskirts recently. There’s even one of those hip pharmacy type stores about to open on the corner of main street.
I smile to myself and take another bite of the scone, garnering a tasty mouthful of raspberry and white chocolate mixed with the cake. Oh, that’s so good. My eyelids come down halfway, drooping in pastry heaven. Then I look up at the sky, relishing my world, grateful for the new beginning.
The future is wide open, which is a little scary but also exciting. I can do anything I want. Anything my mind sets on, I just have to figure out what that is.
I’m aware of feeling unusual contentment - about the beautiful day and the huge sky. Also, that while I have a reputation as a fiery little wildcat, I’ve now learned a bit of self control. I was calm and centered enough that I held it together and didn’t scream curses at those two hillbillies who tried to run me off the road.
There we go again, thinking of hunky men. How long will it take to stop that? This year long purgatory is going to be painful.
I’m walking along, practicing gratitude stuff and forcing the image of flexing tough muscle out of my mind. My heart is serene right up until the moment it plunges to my belly and ricochets up into my mouth. It kind of blocks the scream that tries to escape. My lungs press in on themselves, constricting so it’s impossible to breathe.
When a pair of heavy hands grab my upper arms from behind, the coffee cup and remaining scone fly through the air. I let out an uncontrolled squeal but it’s quashed by a palm going over my mouth. An arm encircles my torso, crushing my breasts under the hard muscle.
All those fantasies of biceps have come to haunt me like a horror story. I’m lifted off my feet and my legs bicycle in the air. My body thrashes in resistance to no avail. I’m held firm. Then rough material goes over my head, plunging me into darkness.
I try to scream louder but any noise is muffled. The arms that pinned me now wrap around my torso so my kicking legs come up higher off the ground. I can flail all I want, but it’s clear I’m going nowhere other than where the assailant wants me.
Helpless, I’m bundled into the back of a vehicle and my head is pushed down on the seat, presumably so I’m not seen by any passers-by. I pop back up, because no one is taking me without a fight.
A rough hand shoves the back of my head back down and then pulls my arms back roughly, but not too painfully, to tie my wrists together behind me.
A body comes close to mine. I feel the heat from the torso radiate into my back. Then hot breath on the side of my neck as a gruff voice comes close to my ear.
“If you scream again I’ll stuff your mouth.”
“I won’t.” I squeak into the hard fabric of the seat.
But the man isn’t waiting for my agreement. He gets into the front seat and drives off at speed. Only one thought comes to mind about my predicament.
How do I deal with my recovery and my future now that Jarke has me in his clutches once again?
4
Blaze
Tank tosses the girl into the back seat, slams the door and just like that she’s mine. It seems way too easy that you can pluck the woman you want right off the street, but that’s how it is.
The moment she looked into my eyes, I knew my fate was sealed. Our fate. Her gaze came floating up and glued onto mine, flashing, provocative, but strong and sensual too.
Totally irresistible.
I’ve never known such a powerful connection to another soul. Admittedly I haven’t been close to that many women and the ones I have known barely possessed a soul. Nowadays, it isn’t often I get into town and there are no women out where I live. Aside from the one that climbs up to bathe in the hot springs.
I regretted not getting out of the cab and getting to know her while Tank went to replace her coffee.
Truth is I was mesmerized. As though she’d unknowingly cast a trance of hypnosis over me. I should have gotten down to check on her, it was the decent thing to do.
Problem was I became transfixed in the moment our stares locked on. Time bent out of shape, slowing to a halt as she stood in the street staring through the windshield like she’d never seen a man before.
Like Tank and I were a pair of aliens, or maybe brutes come to destroy the colony. Then life speeded up way too fast and Tank was ram-raiding down the street, like we were back in the desert and Haji was coming. We left the girl back there, still staring after us like she’d missed the chance of her lifetime.
Maybe not exactly that but I sure felt like I’d missed mine.
I mentioned this to Tank as we drove away. “I want her.” I might have said out loud. Always a mistake when Tank is about.
“What’s that?” He grunted.
“That woman. I want her. I want to take her home.”
“You sure ‘bout that?” He chuckled. “She looked like a bit of a feisty one to me.”
Tank doesn’t do resistance. Even with me, it’s often an issue between us if I counter his orders. I guess because he figures I owe him. And he certainly doesn’t stand for any lip from a female.
But it’s interesting he doesn’t try to dissuade me. “She’s the one I want. I know it.”
I was speaking out loud, more about the future plan. I never expected him to immediately act on it. I should have known better when it comes to Tank.
“Well alright, dude. If you think you can handle her. Let’s go get her.”
He was doubling around the block to get us back on the road up to the mountains, after his small meltdown. A very tank-sized meltdown. He seems to be able to rein it back in and get back to business impressively fast. He cruised silently along a side street, way too slowly for him.
Then we came upon the Goddess approaching the crosswalk, such as it is. I can’t believe how wildly my blood was pumping through my veins - just seeing her again. Even combat never got me as cranked up as she does.
She yelped and thrashed around but her strength was feather weight compared to a special ops leader. I was out of the cab right behind and took her from him. I wasn’t going to let him hold what’s mine in his arms.
Actually, I relished the bucking of her body against mine.
When I wrapped my arms around her, I couldn’t help but notice the press of her full breasts into my forearms. I restrained her by lining my torso to her back and her writhing immediately set my iron length shifting hungrily in my pants.
It was a bit extreme of Tank to slip a tee shirt over her forehead but I guess old habits are hard to break.
“Let me go.” She shouts with defiance from the back seat.
“Can’t do that I’m afraid.” Tank grunts. “This is a bona fide kidnapping.” He pronounces the word ‘Fi-dee ‘and cracks up with amusement all over again.
He seems to be enjoying himself way too much. I hope he realizes this is my woman. If she speaks, I’m the one to tell her what’s going to happen.
“Please, I’m not who you think I am. No one will pay money to get me back.” She moans.
Tank flashes me a triumphant grin. This was even easier than we imagined.
“There must be someone gonna miss you.” He probes.
“No one with any money to pay you off.”
“You hear that Blaze? No one with money will come for her.”
“Yeah I heard.” I snap. I’m irritated that he used my name. It occurs to me that bona fide is exactly what this isn’t. Maybe my one chance with this girl has been blown because now she’ll hate me forever.
Mountain Man SEAL Page 2