by Cora Brent
I’d spent the week working out, shooting in the desert and taking a few online classes to keep my mind sharp.
On the day I decided Leah was due for a more fateful encounter I ran into McGraw filling a basket full of forties in the Emblem Mart at two o’clock in the afternoon. He wanted me to come with him and a few other boys to search out some fun in Tempe where the college girls lived. I declined. My dick had led a solitary life long enough and needed a workout but I had something different in mind.
McGraw was put out so I paid for my handful of items and treated him to whatever what was in his basket. Outside the Emblem Mart I left him alone with his pile of forties and his dreams about coeds who would leap at the chance to fuck a gruff, unemployed dude with orange hair.
Driving down Main Street I slowed when I reached the segment where the Dirty Cactus was located. There were two gleaming bikes in the gravel lot, the kind that their devoted owners probably valued more than any human being. There, parked on the north side of the building in the spot where it practically lived, was Leah’s black sedan.
She was bound to be distracted by assholes snapping their fingers and demanding drinks. I had no intention of competing for her attention in any way. Because the next time I got within ten feet of Leah Brandeis I planned to test out what that hungry look in her eyes was worth.
I’d promised myself I’d give Leah a chance to set the record straight and I had. She didn’t have the guts to take it. She’d spent too many years tutored by Luanne’s School of Viciousness. With the possible exception of Daisy, who’d fled two seconds after high school and never looked back, no one in that damn family felt an ounce of responsibility for the things they did, the people they ruined. Eddie was a sad sack enabler and Luanne was born to be the wicked witch of the west but what kind of defense did Leah have? So what if her mommy didn’t love her enough and the guy she never had a chance with in the first place turned out to be a world class douchebag? That wasn’t good cause to destroy him with a lie, try to take away his freedom, and ultimately cost him the only love in his life.
Leah suffered from some serious character flaws and in my experience those didn’t just vanish. I’d misjudged her before, assuming she was basically a good kid who came from a weird home. When the first challenge arose she’d proven how much of Luanne’s blood was in her veins. She wasn’t even sorry. She hadn’t said so once despite being handed an ideal opening.
After throwing a glare at her ugly car I gunned the engine and drove back to my place at a hair below the speed limit because I had no desire to deal with any of Emblem’s finest. Anger was the best adrenaline and I used it to my advantage, lifting in the weight room until my arms shook and then running a five mile loop around the desert until the sky darkened. My solitary dinner of dry cereal and milk from the carton wasn’t the stuff of gourmet legend but despite the fact that I was a decent cook I didn’t often go to the trouble since moving to Emblem.
My dick was as hard as iron when I showered off and I wanted to jerk off so fucking bad I was gritting my teeth. But I kept my hand at bay because I planned to give a certain skinny bartender the kind of night that would blow her spiteful little mind.
If I knew for sure that Leah got wet at the sight of a suit and tie I would have worn one no matter how many scowls I might have earned strolling into the Dirty Cactus like that. I had enough designer labels stowed away in the master closet to make an impression. But Leah was an Emblem girl, raised to idolize a rougher version of a man. I chose old jeans with a black t-shirt and didn’t run a razor over my jaw. Then I sat down with a hefty book about D-Day, keeping an eye on the clock until it was after midnight and the right time for a visit.
This wasn’t a busy night so parking was no problem. That unicorn-haired waitress with the gravel voice who’d been around last week was bellowing out a last call warning when I walked in.
She did a double take when she saw me and then snapped her fingers to get Leah’s attention. Leah was serving a final round of beers to a couple of geezers who were throwing money at her. Her face split into a happy grin when she noticed me and I took a seat alone at an empty table.
“Another water?” Leah called out teasingly and the old guys turned to look at me.
“I’m feeling daring tonight so I’ll go for a Coke.”
“You got it,” Leah said.
The only other customers in the bar were two couples on the high end of middle age who were covered in tattoos that probably looked good a few decades ago but time and gravity had turned them into bad life choices. The group was laughing wildly over some story involving a broken dishwasher.
The old guys needed something from Leah again so Unicorn Hair was the one who brought me my drink. She gave off all kinds of tough girl vibes and she threw me a funny look for the first time, like maybe she had a nose for bullshit and sensed I was up to no good.
“Thanks,” I said and took a casual sip of my soda.
She nodded. “We’re closing in fifteen minutes.”
I raised my glass. “I’ll drink fast.”
She snorted a laugh and walked away to go cash out the tattooed double date.
Leah emerged from behind the bar and headed in my direction. She wore shorts that had obviously been crookedly cut from jeans and a baggy cartoon character t-shirt that made her appear breastless. She still freaking dressed like she was fifteen.
“You should have come earlier,” she said, swinging her hair out of the way and sliding into a chair. “We’ve been slow all night.”
“I was busy earlier,” I said. She waited for me to elaborate. I didn’t.
Leah crossed her legs. They weren’t bad, her legs. She should show them off in something other than cutoff shorts and chunky sneakers.
“Closing time is in a few minutes,” she informed me.
I leaned forward. “And what happens then?”
She didn’t know what I was getting at. “Then Misty and I will clean up and I’ll lock the doors.”
The two couples left. Misty began gathering their dirty glasses.
“Tell Misty she can take off now. I’ll help you clean up.”
A chair scraped against the floor and the two old guys began shuffling their way toward the door.
“Night, Leah,” one of them said. He sounded like a video game character from the 1980s. “Tell Eddie to get his ass back here.”
“Will do, Jarvis,” Leah said but she kept looking at me.
I motioned to where Misty was ferrying the glasses back to their home behind the bar. “I’ll leave her a monster tip if you tell her to go now.”
Leah got the picture and her cheeks became a little pink. She rose and started walking toward the bar, once glancing behind her while biting a corner of her lip. I would never call her my type but I conceded she had a cute figure. I was going to enjoy doing things to it.
I plucked a hundred dollar bill out of my wallet and dropped it on the table. I was showing off but I felt justified if doing so moved things along. I watched Leah say a few words to Misty, who set her hands on her hips and must have asked a question because Leah nodded with a smile. Misty smirked, disappeared long enough to retrieve a rhinestone monstrosity of a handbag and swept in to snatch up the money I’d left out.
“Well played, hot stuff,” she said, gave Leah a final knowing look and popped her gum on the way out the door.
And then I was all alone with Leah Brandeis for the first time in six years. She was already dumping out the bowls of half stale pretzels. I stood up and turned the sign on the door to CLOSED.
“Do you always make sure you’re the last one in here?” I asked her.
She had finished disposing of the pretzels and now began swiftly upending chairs onto tables. “I always lock up.”
I began doing my part to put the chairs away. “Why?”
The question puzzled her. “My bar, my responsibility.”
“Your dad’s bar, his responsibility.”
Leah flipped her hair aga
in. She was ridiculous with that hair. She tossed it this way, she tossed it that way, she twirled it and shook it loose and generally used it like another appendage on her body. Some people got their point across with hand gestures or pouty looks. Leah had her hair.
The point about her dad must have been a sore one though because she tensed.
“I already told you I’m the manager now,” she declared and then slipped behind the bar once more. She moved like a cat, always had. Even when she was a scrawny little nothing skimming around corners and spying on me through the dust-speckled windows of the creaking trailer. There was a slyness about the way she moved.
I took a look around. There wasn’t much in sight worth being proud of. “You ever think about selling? The name has a lot of local recognition. Someone would buy it, maybe someone who actually knows how to run a bar.”
The comment annoyed her and she looked like she was having second thoughts about allowing me to stick around. “We’re doing just fine financially.”
“Oh, you are not, are you, Leah?”
She pursed her lips. A nerve had been hit.
“Why do you ask?”
Because I already knew the answer. “Because you seem stressed and overworked.”
She nodded, her expression softening. It softened even more when she looked around. “I talked to my dad about selling but he wasn’t interested. And now I’m glad. Six months ago when I dove into managing the bar I told myself I wanted to save this place for my dad’s sake. That’s still true. But it’s also true that I’m not here just for him anymore. I think I might love this ugly old bar now. It feels like home more than home does.”
I chewed on that for a moment. “What about college? Don’t you want to return to the world of keggers and frat boys?”
She shrugged. “Maybe I should miss that life. I should definitely want to get back there and finish my degree. But somehow I don’t.” She sized me up. “What about you?”
“What about me?”
“The house on the hill is a little big for one single guy.”
This was too fucking easy. “Perhaps I can find someone to keep me company.”
Leah had no immediate answer so she sprayed down the bar and began industriously wiping with a piece of white cheesecloth. The counter was dark wood and scarred with the careless cuts and marks left behind from decades of Emblem’s hard drinkers. She kept polishing like it was an Olympic event while pretending not to notice when I followed her behind the bar. I liked this view, liked the way her ass moved in those cheap cutoff shorts. My dick twitched.
“You need some help?” I asked, creeping in close enough to touch her if I felt like it.
She paused and tossed her hair, swiveling her head to peer at me over one shoulder. “How are you going to help me, Ryan?” There was something in her voice, a weary hint of despair that made me stop and reconsider what I wanted to do next.
I stared down at her. The top of her head hardly reached my shoulder and she’d never looked more out of place than she did right now. She was barely old enough to be allowed inside the door of this damn place and here she was trying to run it.
There was a stack of white towels in a cubby beside her. I bent to grab one, taking my time and straightening up slowly, a mere ten inches from where she stood, feeling satisfied when I observed her reaction. I noted the speed of her breathing, saw how she squirmed as she pressed her legs together. Fuck, it was a powerful thing to know that I got her so turned on that she couldn’t stand still.
“I heard a rumor about you,” I said.
Her eyes landed on my lips. “What kind of rumor?”
“That you’re fucking Terry.” I’d heard nothing of the kind. I’d drawn that conclusion all on my own.
Leah flinched, not expecting to be confronted with the crude facts. She tossed the cheesecloth aside and scooted back a few feet into a corner of the bar so she could prop her elbows on the wood and lean back, striking a post that was probably supposed to be sexy. “Now and then.”
“When was the last ‘then’?”
She frowned. “I didn’t mark it on my calendar. Maybe a month ago.”
I swept my eyes over her, imagining those cute little tits in my big hands, envisioning my cock pushing into the tight space between her legs. My dick enjoyed these thoughts and swelled, pressing against the confines of my jeans. The first night I had checked her out and didn’t see much that interested me. I was pretty fucking interested now.
“How is that working out for you?” I asked, deliberately brushing my hand against the telltale bulge. Leah saw. She breathed harder and pressed her lips together while winding a long piece of hair around one finger. She was bad at playing it cool.
“How’s what working out for me?”
“Fucking Terry now and then.”
“It’s…um…normal,” she squeaked and then cleared her throat.
“Normal,” I chuckled, thinking that if any woman ever described time with my dick using such a prim, ridiculous word then I’d failed as a man.
I took a step closer.
And then another one.
A few more inches and I’d be rubbing my hard on against her belly. If she wanted to get away she could easily move to either side.
Leah stood her ground and tilted her head up to look at me, maybe figuring I hadn’t noticed the hungry tour her eyes took of my body. I’d noticed. And so I felt bold enough to reach out and unsnap her shorts. She tensed for a second but said nothing, merely sliding her elbows back further so her hands could grip the edge of the counter. The back of my knuckle slowly rubbed against her zipper and a small noise escaped her throat, the kind of noise I’d heard before from other women in other places, the sweet sound of surrender. She was mine if I wanted her.
Her face was flushed now and her head down, looking at the place where my fingers now grasped the tiny handle of her zipper and pulled. Down one agonizing centimeter at a time until her shorts were loose enough to fall over her hips and to the floor, exposing her hip hugging panties. They were pink. Not a sexy neon hot pink but pale pink like a freaking Easter bunny costume.
“Is this happening?” she breathed.
Those panties. They were preposterous. They needed to be torn off and shredded.
“Of course it’s happening.”
She moaned. “Ryan.”
I didn’t like the sound of my name coming from her, not when she’d cost me the right to use it for so long. A red surge of anger pulsed behind my eyes and mixed with the basic impulse to settle the needs of my dick. I could have both, the fuck and the fury. I could make sure Leah Brandeis panted after me in a twisted way that was unlike any of her ‘normal’ experiences and then crush her hopes that it meant something to me.
Or I could walk out the door, jack off in the parking lot, and attempt to be better than I was trying to be.
One finger explored between her legs, teasing the damp fabric of her panties until she shuddered. The Dirty Cactus was dim to begin with and most of the lights had already been switched off, leaving only the hazy wall fixture still burning. If someone was outside looking in they could probably see everything. I hoped they did.
A phone blared to life with a distinctive ring tone. “Who is that?”
She winced. “It’s Terry.”
“Answer it.”
“Not now.”
“You need to answer it, Leah.”
“I do not.”
“Yeah you do.” I pushed my finger inside her panties. And then inside of her. She was tight. She was more than ready. She’d feel good. “Because I’m telling you to.”
She was starved for this, practically shaking already when a second finger joined the first. She was probably used to a few missionary style pumps from Terry’s gym rat ass before he rolled off and fell asleep. That wasn’t what I had in mind at all. Her phone rang again and I recognized the tone now. It was a few bars from Peter and the Wolf. A weird choice but it probably meant something to her. It seemed fi
tting to me right now. I was the fucking wolf. And I was just starting my hunt.
“Answer it,” I ordered, beginning to withdraw my hand.
Her brows drew together with a glint of defiance in her eyes that I wanted to bury. I didn’t want rebellion from her. I wanted her begging. Crying. Pleading for something more than my dick, something more meaningful than a filthy screw, something she didn’t have a chance to earn from me.
Leah gave in easily. The defiance disappeared and she snatched her phone from the counter, clearing her throat before starting the conversation. “Terry. Hi. Yeah I’m good, just closing up.”
She had trouble saying anything else because I’d decided to drop down and push my face between her legs. I licked her outside her panties, holding back just enough so she wouldn’t come as she told Terry that no, she couldn’t hang out tonight and she’d see him for his shift tomorrow. Then she dropped her phone on the floor and tried to shove her underwear down so my mouth wouldn’t have any obstacles.
Oh no, baby, you’re not getting that yet.
“What are you doing?” she asked because with no warning I’d stopped sending her to the land of sweet orgasms, got to my feet and began calmly pouring some Jack Daniels into a shot glass.
I tossed back the shot and left the dirty glass on the counter. I hadn’t taken a shot in years but this night was more about the past than the present anyway.
Leah touched my arm. “What the hell, Ryan?”
She wanted me to take her right here, bent over the dirty counter and white knuckling the edge while I pounded away. That was her idea of heaven. I wouldn’t have any trouble cooperating. I was about ready to bust out of my pants. But I wanted her to work for it. On my terms.
I pointedly wiped my mouth, still able to taste her even after the sting of the whiskey. “I’m sorry, I should get going.”
“Are you serious?” Those frustrated eyes, wondering what went wrong when she was about to have her greatest sex wish granted.
“I don’t think this is a good idea, Leah. You’d regret it. I’m not good for you.”
Her face changed, her eyes narrowing, and for an instant she looked so much like Luanne I was alarmed. “I’m pretty goddamn capable of deciding what I want.”
