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The crowd grew a little thicker with the addition of a
dozen more. The air conditioner whined on, a death rattle in its throat, unheard
over the noise and smoke filling the bar. The crowd grew in size and enthusiasm
with each new song the band pounded out. Benny laughed into the glance of a
fleshy woman with cold and pale eyes.
"You really got a ride?" she ask, her voice
ever so slightly doubtful and she batted her lashes at him. "I've never
done it on a motorcycle . . . and I just love to do it." She caught her
lower lip in her teeth and she breathed in his ear, "Can we?"
Her hand crept over his chest. Benny shuddered and
pulled her close, the swelling in his groin pressed into hers. Something buzzed
in the back of his mind, a warning, a voice from the past, but the controls of
the Project overrode it.
The sparkling white T-shirt was pulled, inch by sweet
agonizing inch from his jeans and the hot little hands followed a thin line of
hair up his lean stomach to his nipples. The nails dug in, just a little, and
her eyes grew clouded with her desire.
He blinked the sweat from his eyes and blurted,
"Lady, you do that one more time and I'll cream my jeans right here."
Her laughter purred low. "I figure the first
time," she lowered her mouth to his left nipple, "is always a waste,
anyway, cowboy. Ready to get back in the saddle, Mr. Grey? Hm?"
He opened his mouth just as hers closed on the nipple
through the shirt. Nothing came from his mouth. Benny gave her a hard grin. She
giggled and pushed away.
Like a dog on a leash, he trailed after her, his
manhood threatening to burst the buttons on the cheap denim trousers. Mesmerized
by the musky odor of her pheromone laden perfume and the woman's own scent
dampened jeans, he was helpless. Maybe some day, if he survived, he would learn
to control his desires. Now he was their slave, just as Grace Hylnn planned.
"It's called Take Me Home & Do as You
Will," she told him and ran a finger down between her breasts. "Like
it?" The finger waft under his nostrils.
Benny closed his eye. She smiled and thought of money.
A lot of money. Too bad they had to deliver him alive.
She lay a hand on his chest and he grasped it, turned
the palm up, and brushed his lips there. His tongue made slow, lazy circles.
A shiver rolled up her spine. Damn, but he was good.
If she weren't real dammed careful, she might just get caught in her own web.
"They call me the Black Widow. My handle," she added and cursed
herself.
"You don't look black." He smiled into her
eyes and leaned a hand on the door frame next to her ear.
"It's just a nick-name, Benny-the-Stud." She
snatched loose of his hand and turned from him. Benny tried to follow.
"Little girl's room," she giggled.
"Like Young Stud. I'll be right out, ok?
Her eyes flashed sparks of laughter and she left him
standing on the dark oaken floor, stunned and aching to the bursting point.
Benny swallowed convulsively. Women, they ain't got a
clue of what they do to a guy. Drive us insane, make their own rules and you
gotta second guess 'em all the time. He stumbled back to Ron's table and chugged
the warm dredges of his beer.
She was hot. Man, but was she hot for it. She had him
running a fever for her.
Benny gave Ron a sly wink, man to man, and turned back
to the lady's room. Stepping onto the dance floor, he saw her weaving through
the crowd, ignoring the men who tried for her attention.
"Benny? Son?"
There was a catch in that voice, one of the concern of
an Elder. All the training his mother, Grandfather Waya, his uncles and the rest
had instilled in him made Benny pause, despite the raging ache of desire, the
sly plotting of the mind control that forced him to breed.
So he stopped, swaying to the music, the beer, and the
hunger in her eyes. He watched her come towards him, his eye locked in hers.
Ron's voice drew him back to the table.
Good sense warred with good manners. Ron hesitated to
speak, until Millie's bare heel cracked against his shin.
He glared at her.
"Ahem. Ah, Benny? Hey, man, you hear me? Earth to
Benny." Ron cleared his throat. He looked from Benny to Boone to John.
Benny swung around and gave Ron a lopsided grin. He
ignored the cold anger in Boone's eyes.
"Benny . . . I know you and Terry Marie aren't,
well-" Ron scowled at Millie and shifted his leg out of reach. "Son,
don't mess with that girl. Ah, maybe a year ago she, well . . . ." He
scowled and muttered at his glass of pop, "Just don't."
Millie drew back her foot in grim silence. He saw it
coming and jerked away in time to run into Ellen's.
"Dammit, woman," Ron snarled and rubbed his
leg.
"Benny," Ellen said and leaned towards him.
"About eight months ago some trucker picked her up. His entire rig
disappeared, and she had a great deal of money shortly afterwards." The
woman in question wiggled up and Ellen's voice trailed off in hostile muttering.
Millie glared at the woman. "He was never heard
of again, Benny." She gave Ron her most severe look. He finished, hesitant
to speak of a failing of his department. "Nothing was for certain. We got
no proof, but-"
Misty's eyes glittered contempt at them all. Her hand
slipped round the brass buckle Benny's Grandfather Waya gave him years before,
and she tugged. He snatched her to him and forced his tongue in her hot, willing
mouth.
Whistles and cat calls followed. They broke apart,
each darkening at the smiles and cheers of the dancers. Benny scooped the woman
up and strode from the hall.
"It's the dammed control," John said and
shook his head. "The things the government gets away with . . . God, if
only he would give his side of the story."
"You go after him. All of you," Millie
demanded. "Or you all can go sleep in the barn tonight."
Ron sighed. Flanked by his son and son-in-law, he got
up and hobbled to the door. They paused and saw her straddle the 'Sun
backwards, her knees pressed into Benny's sides. Seeing the three men watching
her, Misty pulled the short skirt up to her waist. Ron blushed and saw Benny's
jeans were open and the reason she was sitting like that.
Face in flames, he spun around and scowled at the
thoughtful, admiring look in Boone's eyes. No doubt he's got to buy a motorcycle
now. Scowling at Boone, Ron marched back to their table. The sound of the Red
Sun as it wound out from the parking lot brought a heaviness to his soul
that had not been there before.
"Let's go home, old woman." He matched her
glare. "The boy was gone before I could get to him."
Boone scowled at his parents. "Honestly, Mama. I
think you and Daddy like him more than you do us kids. You see what he was doing
on that machine?" Boone demanded. "Him and her were already-"
John glared him into silence.
Not a word did Millie speak on the ride home. Her lips
compressed into a hard unrelieved line. Millie stalked to their bedroom and
undressed.
They got into bed and he reached for her. For the
first time in their married lives she turned away.
Ron sighed. He folded his hands behind his head and
tried to sleep.
The Uohali slowed. Benny's head went back and
the woman screamed, "Faster, harder, damn you." The motorcycle
wobbled. Gasping for air, still deep in the woman, Benny shoved on the
accelerator and the Uohali rumbled, scattering sheets of muddy water.
She moaned, hips grinding on him.
"Geezis, what a pig." Benny grinned.
"'S OK. I sure as hell don't mind."
He eased the 'Sun down the lane, wandering
around puddles and pot holes. A ramshackle house appeared out of the gloom. A
single light shown through newspaper curtains.
"Mm, home already?" She snuggled close, gave
Benny one last kiss, and dismounted from his lap. He kicked the stand down.
"She gonna stay in this?" He gave the soft
mud a look of distaste. The stand sank an inch then steadied. He dismounted and
went to button his jeans. Misty grabbed him before he could push it in.
"Come on, lover. Let mama keep you warm."
With a grin for her bold moves, Benny let her lead him
through a cracked door and into the house.
The door slammed shut behind him, something hard
pressed a double circle into his back.
"He give you any trouble?" a harsh voice
demanded.
Misty laughed. "Benny, this is Brucey. Brucey,
meet Benny. Bruce is my hubby of five years of un-marital bliss." She
laughed again and stroked at Benny's manhood. "Got the rope?"
Bruce handed her a coil of quarter inch manila. She
turned Benny to the emaciated tall man, saying, "Be a good boy, honey, and
strip." When Benny didn't move, she pinched him. "Now, none of that,
boys. It's all part of living. Dying, I mean. Why, I bet Brucey could take your
nose off without hitting anything else. Couldn't you, Brucey?"
The man showed Benny a mouthful of gums. "Yeah.
I'm good with this thing."
The shotgun loomed. With a cool shrug, Benny stripped.
Misty pulled his hands back and tied them. The rope was pulled down and laced
around his ankles. She helped him to a damp, mildewed couch on the far side of
the small room.
"Hungry?" Misty stroked him from throat to
groin. "I got some steaks in the fridge. I like 'em well done."
Benny turned his face away. She sighed.
At about three A.M. he rolled over for the thousandth
time. Millie levered him out of bed with a well aimed thrust of her foot.
"For God's sake, Ron. You're as worried about
that boy as I am. Go fetch him back if you have to tie a knot in his tail."
Millie blushed, thankful for the dim lighting in the room. "I mean arrest
him or something."
With a grin from ear to ear, Ron smiled and took her
by the shoulders and kissed her with a passion that left them both breathless
and her bemused.
"I'll be back as quick as I can, old woman, and
you by God had better be waiting for me. Got it?"
All she could do was smile and fan herself.
"With bells on, Ronny Donnelly," she
promised, "and nothing else."
"Step and fetch it, mister. And be sure you bring
me my money, or your boy joins the rest of 'em."
Mike Donnelly said a quiet, "Yes, ma'am,"
and replaced the receiver. "Let's git, Milhouser. My friends got him."
He checked the load in his gun and went to the car.
©2003 StoriesByEmail.com
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