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Kirsten's Life [3] .. The Weapon....

 
Kirsten Kjaer's picture
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     " And the things that they fear

                                        .... are a weapon to be held against them."      

 

            I open my eyes just as the amber dawn trickles into the hotel room. He lies next to me, Sleeping the sleep of the Just...... or more accurately, the Just After....  I study his boyish features, his chest is hairless but well defined, his thighs strong. I smile....

           I slip out of the bed and gather up my clothes, close the bathroom door to shower and dress as quickly and as silently as I can, Turn out the light and then open the door. Good, he still sleeps.

           I lean and kiss his morning stubble gently, Gather up the long cardboard box. I pause at the door, He turns over in his still deep sleep, I whisper "goodbye" with a smile...

           The early morning street is quiet, the usual clamour of an Embry evening is gone, I open the long box, remove the shining new rifle from it's oiled paper wrappings, and slide it into the holder on the side of my bike. 

            "Thank you honey, "   I smile to myself, "I think I was worth it".  My visit to Embry Crossroad is over, time to head north.

 

           By the time the steel gates of Oilville slid close behind me it was noon. I feel my stomach rumble.  I locate the diner quite easily, following the smell of hot fat and stewing meat as it drifted down the stony industrialised street.

           I walk through the door. Pausing, I look at the small number of diners, most alone, some in pairs, and in the corner a group of leathered unshaven men. The biker facing the door looks accross to me, elbows his neighbour and nods in my direction, pretty soon, after more nodding and elbowing, they are all craning thier necks to have a good old leer.  The guffaws and comments follow  as they track me to the counter, watch me order and, track me once again to the table I take. 

          I watch the group discussion. finally one guy rises to his feet, picks up a bottle and saunters over. At my table, he reverses a chair and stis astride it like its a bike or something. His face is leathery, weathered. A semblance of a moustache crawls accross his face topping a leering smile. After a brief glance over his shoulder to his collegues, He turns back to me,drawing a breath to speak..

          "You got a name, sugar? " I speak before he can. I follow the words with a smile and a slow blink of my dark brown eyes. It is enough to stop him in his tracks. Now he has a lungful of air and nothing to do with it.  I push my breasts forward a little and the trapped air in his lungs escape like a deflating tyre. I look sultry for him, but my thoughts come fast. It will be one of them and me in control.Or five and of them and no control.

          " Lenny... "  He leans forward after a short recovery, " So..... whats a dame like you doing in a fleapit like this.? " he asks, as his bravado slowly returns.

          I pick up a piece of meat on my fork and put to to my mouth slowly, all the while looking at Lenny, I lick the meat, before allowing it to slip into my mouth. I chew it slow before speaking, all the while holding his eyes with mine.

         " Looking for a room,,, Do you know one. hmm?" I make my subtext explicit with a sway or two, leaning forward as I speak.

         His smile is like a crack opening in the desert, " Sure.. " 

         " Good,  I could use some........ rest". I smile at him.. I mouth the next words wrapped in a soft whisper.  "Go book it..... "

         Lenny rises and heads for the door, I can tell from behind he is staking his claim on me with his friends. his arm moves, it says 'she's mine'. The others nod obeyance to thier leader.

         Full of macho bravado, but rough and clumsy... and far too quick..     I compare this sleeping mound of grizzled manhood to the more youthful novice of this morning, The younger man was a fast learner. this older dog never learned his tricks properly.

         Still naked , I decant the contents of Lennys pockets into my bag, gather my clothes and leave, pausing to dress in the shower room of the Science Dorm.

         Taking care to avoid running into the rest of Biker Buddies, I fuel up my bike and leave Oilville.  

         It retrospect.   It was not much fun... but.. hey....  20 red....   fair recompence.... hmm?

      

Comments

Joe Spivey's picture

((Two things I like about this. One, it's very well written. Full of little details that build the scene and 'put you there'. And two... it's a refreshing change from some of the more misogynistic stories that are the norm.


Edited to add: No sorry, I am doing a lot of the writers of FERP an injustice there. To say misogynistic writing is the norm is incorrect. Let me change that to say 'some'... but boy it is eye rolling stuff when it appears.

Stick with me kid and you'll be farting through silk.

Michael Destefano's picture

((Following her story and I am curious to what else is inside that woman. Nicely written indeed.

Kayleigh Stanway's picture

(( Really good read. Enjoyed and waiting for more!

AxB=AB, right?

Lyssa's picture

Good read.  I've also been following this one.  The level of detail writing is great and the character is very engaging.  On one hand you get the distinct feel of "a girl's gotta do what a girl's gotta do".  On the other hand there's this suspense factor. You are waiting for that other shoe to drop.

 

 

 



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