by Shawn Keys
Titillated at the slight note of command in his voice, Grace put on an air of false meekness and walked over to him. She tried to look contrite. “Oh, I don’t think she has that big an advantage…”
Letting her think she might be winning in her effort to manipulate him, Drake waffled… then, slipped his hands under her skirt, brushed up along her thighs, and took hold of her undergarments. They were a little more sensible than Beth’s thong, but still sexy enough to be considered lingerie. His temptation for later. He pulled downward until they dropped to Grace’s ankles. Drake tugged her in closer and gave her a sizzling kiss. Then, met her eyes with a heated stare. “There. All equal.”
Grace nibbled at her lip, shaking her head. “Naughty boy.” But rather than object, she stepped out of her underwear and swayed back toward the table to line up her shot.
Beth was watching them both, her hands wringing around the pool cue she was holding in a suggestive way. She pranced around, inspecting Grace as she got ready for her turn.
Grace quipped, “What? We’re even now. You stay right over there!”
Beth didn’t listen, stepping closer provocatively. “Oh, I wouldn’t say we’re even.” She gestured at the ruffled skirt still up over her hips. “For us to be even, I’d have to do this…” She slipped behind Grace and flipped her fluffy dress up and forward, spilling it onto her back and revealing her toned ass.
Grace blurted, “Hey!”
Keeping the dress flipped up, Beth grinned. “What? Can’t you focus through the distraction, like you said?” She bent down and placed sweet kisses along the curves of Grace’s behind.
Quivering at the touches, Grace tried to do her next shot. In the end, she just dropped the pool cue and placed her forehead on the pool table. She sighed. “I surrender.”
Beth grinned wider. “Oh, that’s too bad. Because I was going to do this next.” She dipped lower, and stroked her tongue right along Grace’s exposed slit. Drake’s fiancé let out a groan of pure torment.
Drake was pinned in place, unable to move. This was rapidly moving into the realm of fantasy. He devoured every second, certain he would never see it again. He fixed it in place, determined to remember this for the rest of his life.
But Beth didn’t continue. She had won, after all. Instead, she left Grace wanting. Crawling upward, kissing as she went, Beth climbed Grace’s body and up onto the table. She managed to crush her lips against Grace’s own along the way, showing passion, but also not stopping.
Turning on the table, Beth then parted her long, luscious legs and presented her core in front of Grace’s mouth. “You surrender, huh? Then… surrender.” She fiddled with the sash across her body, and giggled. “Miss Idaho needs her just deserts.” Her hands swam up into Grace’s hair and clutched hold. She dragged her friend down toward her sex.
Grace went without much of a fight. Her mouth melded against Beth’s netherlips and reached out to pierce with her tongue. Letting out a whimpering purr of need, she began to feast.
Beth inhaled sharply, then settled down on her elbows in delight. Spilling Grace’s hair so that it wafted along her thighs, she was enraptured with the sight of her closest friend lapping at her.
Then, Beth’s eyes snapped up to Drake. Her gaze was hungry, wanting, knowing how they must be driving him crazy. Beth hissed, “She needs a lot more than this. Don’t you think, David? Look at her. Bent over the table like this. I think she needs a whole different type of loving touch, don’t you?”
Grace was buried completely in Beth’s core, but her needful mumbles sounded like eager agreement.
Drake pushed off his seat, creeping toward them like any moment the mirage might evaporate. Once his hands slid over Grace’s thighs, his confidence grew quickly. They had made love many times, and the familiarity of her curves under his firm touch helped dispel some of the dreamlike quality. Beth nodded in approval while Drake cupped Grace’s buttocks, squeezing them and parting them to reveal her sex already dripping down her leg with excitement.
Peeling off his shirt in a fluid motion, Drake cast it aside. Then, he nudged open his jeans, stripping them open and laying his heavy, hot shaft against Grace’s skin.
At the touch of his phallus, Grace grinded backward, begging for a deeper sort of attention. Her mouth pressed further into Beth, eager to be framed by two lovers like being pinned by bookends.
Still pushing the limits, Drake reached out and took hold of Beth’s ankles. It was the first time he had touched her in an erotic way. It was one thing to be sharing Grace between them. But Drake wanted more. He wondered if Beth would let him take a little control of her as well. If so… well, this night wasn’t going to end with sharing Grace over the pool table. He took in the sight of Beth in her crown and sash, adding a whole new level of kinky bizarreness to the moment.
Feeling the power in his grip and seeing the thick cock gliding between Grace’s buttocks, Beth let out a gasp of desire. She didn’t try to pull away.
Tugging on her ankles, Drake dragged her nearer to the edge of the table. Only by a couple inches, but it was an important couple of inches. It wedged her completely against Grace’s mouth, pinning her in place as much as Grace was also trapped. Holding Beth’s ankles became his point of leverage for what came next, connecting him to them both at once.
He worked with Grace to work his tip into her core. She dipped her hips and wiggled them until he was nestled against her wet core. A roll of his hips, and he pierced her with a few inches. She cried out, though it was muffled as she was smothered by Beth’s sex. Beth seemed to appreciate that; the vibration from that scream echoed up into her.
Drake growled, “Tongue out, babe. Stick your tongue out while I fuck you. Let Beth feel you inside her while I do this!” He grabbed Beth’s ankles and drove into Grace hard. The ripple of his thrust echoed forward, ramming Grace’s tongue into Beth, who couldn’t pull away with her ankles locked in place exactly as Drake wanted.
It was as much the image and Drake’s description as the feeling of Grace’s tongue that made Beth groan in lust. She watched as he started a pounding rhythm, and felt with each thrust as it carried through Grace to pierce her tongue into Beth’s core, where Grace then licked and lapped at her with half-insane need…
* * *
The dream shifted inevitably onward… mercifully, sliding past the moment he found out the girls wouldn’t be coming home again… past the funerals…
But not far enough.
…
Drake slammed the lid of his suitcase shut. He was angry. He didn’t want to leave this way, but his parents weren’t really offering him much choice. He stomped out of the master bedroom of his apartment, out into the central sitting area.
His mother was there, wringing her hands together. Her eyes were puffed and red, unable to produce any more tears. “You don’t have to do this, David.”
“I know.”
His father was leaning against the archway that led into the kitchen. “You know there are other options, right? Less drastic?”
Drake planted his suitcase heavily on the dining room table, then smacked the top of it. “I need something drastic!”
His mother pleaded, “Joining the marines? Isn’t that like ‘dialing it up to 11’ or something?”
Drake had to chuckle in dark humor. “Good job, Mom. Nailed that reference. But it doesn’t change anything! Yes, I’m being extreme here. But I need this. I need a change. And I need something to wipe away the memories!”
His Dad stepped forward, placing a warm hand on his shoulder. “You can’t blame yourself.”
Drake let the touch happen, but as soon as he heard those words, he brushed his Dad’s hand off him. “I don’t! I wasn’t even there! They did everything right, Dad! They called for a cab. They were sticking together instead of wandering around at night alone. They did everything right. But that still didn’t matter! That didn’t save them from the other driver who wasn’t, now did it?” Drake was about to punch the wall, but
stopped himself. A broken fist wouldn’t help him on basic training.
His mother insisted, “Take a vacation. Go off to the other coast, or… I don’t know, my dear, anything but putting your life on the line like this! You know where this will lead. You’ve seen the news!”
Drake nodded. “Yeah, Mom. I have. Right now, the thought of being dragged through hell sort appeals to me. I’m going. I don’t want to be myself on vacation. I don’t deserve a vacation! I was useless! I need to change. I need to be a different guy. I need to forget. Maybe find something new to believe in.” He shook his head. “Everything I see. Everything I touch. It’s still got her in it, Mom.” He shook his head, then met his father’s eyes. “Make sure this place gets cleared out? Rent is up tomorrow. You’re alright to store it all at your place?”
His father shrugged. “The garage is empty. This will all be waiting for you when you get home.”
“Thanks.” He held out his hand.
His father shook it, grudgingly.
Drake turned to his mother. “I don’t want to leave it like this, Mom. I know you don’t agree. But can you at least understand? Just a little.”
She didn’t say anything. She simply rushed forward and hugged him. Long and tight. Hoping she could hold on long enough that he wouldn’t leave.
But that wasn’t possible. Slowly, they disengaged. Drake said, “I’m not dead. I’ll call.”
His father said quietly. “You can’t forget them. You shouldn’t. It isn’t right. Their memories deserve to last.”
“I don’t know if I can face that, Dad.”
He nodded. He held up a folded piece of paper in his hands. “Found this while packing up your second room.”
Drake noticed that he didn’t call it ‘Grace’s room’, the one she had used to store all her clothes and sorta-move-in while pretending not to be living with him. He knew right away what that paper was. Normally, it was pinned up on Grace’s dresser mirror. It was the picture of her and Beth from last Valentine’s day. He loved that picture. It was more than a little risqué. The idea of his father seeing it almost made him blush.
Without showing it to their mother, his father walked over and slipped it into Drake’s suitcase. Then, he said, “She really was amazing. Beth was, too. I know you two were close. The picture will be there, for when you’re ready to remember. Don’t throw it out. Don’t lose it. You’ll regret it when you want it and it’s not there.”
Drake didn’t know what to say. So, he said nothing. Part of him resolved to throw it away as soon as he was gone.
His father strode over to circle his arms around his mother. “Go on. Get going, before we figure out another way to stop you.”
Drake conjured another somber shadow of a smile. “Thanks, Dad.” Once more, he met his mother’s eyes. “I love you, Mom. I’ll call.”
Then, he walked out the door, determined to never look back at what he had lost.
He broke that promise before he got to the elevator. He tugged the picture out of his suitcase. He looked at her. He almost missed the elevator when it came. Shaking himself loose, he tucked the picture away in his shirt.
He’d probably look at it again soon.
And again…
And again…
* * *
The dream tugged him further. It was jarring. He was sucked into dark places against his will. He heard the bangs. Bang… bang bang… crashes… damn, a part of him knew where this was going.
His mind curled in on itself, trying to resist…
The memories came anyway.
…
He jammed the new magazine into his rifle, charged the first round, then popped up to blast a half-dozen bullets at anything that looked like an enemy combatant.
He ducked back down again, wondering not for the first time why he was here. This situation was all kinds of bad. He should have pulled out hours ago. He was way behind the front lines on the Eastern Ukrainian border. Technically, he was still in the Ukraine, but only as maps were drawn. The Russians had possessed it militarily since the ‘little green men’ moved in.
Gathering intel and putting eyes on sensitive targets was the very definition of what Force Recon marines did. Which explained why he was in the vicinity in the first place. He could have gotten away clean and easy, if he hadn’t stumbled upon a small wagon load of civilians trying to make their way across the invisible line that was the current border around here. The ‘border’ moved every few days, which meant you were never safe until you were well over it.
He had been fighting a retreating fire-fight with a ‘Russian’ border patrol for the last few miles, covering the retreat of the civvies. All he wanted was to pull back far enough to break contact. But they weren’t giving up. Probably because he had picked off three of their people. Revenge was a wonderful motivation.
He saw the civvies’ truck vanish from sight over the next hill. They were as safe as they could be. Untouchable, except by maybe a random artillery shell. He wished them luck, and knew he was on his own for a while.
Laying down a little more suppressing fire, he crawled ten steps, then crouch-ran, hoping to stay out of sight long enough to disappear. Shots continued to pepper around him left and right. A sound like an angry wasp zipped in and punched angrily through his hip. Grunting in pain, Drake staggered and went down into the next set of bushes. It was lucky he did. A frag-grenade went off a few dozen yards to the left. The explosion tore the bushes up something fierce. He might have taken a face-full of shrapnel if he had been upright. As it was, a burning piece of metal scoured his right arm badly.
Hurting from both, Drake fought off the pain and crawled through a dense set of bushes…
And toppled right into an encampment of Ukrainian soldiers.
Startled, they were about to open fire.
He held up his hand, calling out in their language, “American! American! Friendly!” He realized they were screaming at him, demanding to know the password by using their own challenge phrase. Scrambling through his memory, he dragged the right words into the open. He yelled in their tongue, “Charlie Echo Foxtrot! Charlie Echo Foxtrot!”
Finally, he got through to them. They heaved him all the way into their cloistered little hole. They relaxed a little.
But not for long. Bullets slashed through the branches, scattering them back under cover.
But this time, the border patrol chasing him for revenge weren’t facing only a single answering gun. The Ukrainian soldiers all cut loose, firing into the small pack of ‘Russian’ soldiers.
They were back to a stalemate, both sides blasting away at the other. Each was hoping their artillery would answer first to end the deadlock and wipe the other side off the face of the Earth.
Drake collapsed back into the dirt, unable to hold upright anymore. The world fuzzed over a little. All he could hear was the shots of rifles and the hiss of nearby rounds flashing by.
Pain was starting to leak pass the adrenalin. Shock was helping, but…
The Ukrainian medic was suddenly over him, screaming for the others to help.
Oh good. He caught on. It would have sucked to die before anyone even noticed he was bleeding out. Now, he could die while they tried to stitch him up –
* * *
– bang! Zzzzziiip! Whiiisssssstttllleeee…. Bang! Bang bang bang bang bang!
Drake bolted awake. For a second, he feared the gunfire had followed him from the dream. Panic jerked him back against the wall, reaching for a gun that wasn’t there. Peeking from behind cover, he scanned for the…
A second later, he saw them.
Kids.
They were tossing fire crackers down the alley. Pop-rockets and zip-dragons.
He pulled back out of sight, breathing heavily. He clawed at the bedding, clenching hold and trying to calm his racing heart.
Damn. Damn damn damn! It had been a while since anything had dragged him down into a dream like that. Honestly, he thought he was over it.
He closed
his eyes and willed away the desire to climb the walls in fear.
It was another half-hour before the kids got tired of their game and ran off. Drake could have barked at them or chased them off, but he didn’t want anyone knowing he was there. So, he rode it through until the kids wandered off back home.
Quiet descended.
Then, it was only a matter of time. The pulsing in his blood faded. Long, cleansing breaths. Just… let it go. Breathe. Breathe. Like the psych-medics taught you.
It came slowly. Calm.
He pushed his sleeve up to look at his watch. It was a shoddy TIME-ALL. New ones went for ten dollars in a corner store, but he found one that was ditched. The face was cracked, but it still ran. He knew it was leaking time. Was over a half-hour slow the last time he measured. But he didn’t need anything that precise. The watch said it was just past 2 in the morning, which gave him a ball-park at the real hour.
He slunk back down onto his bed. His clothing was soddened with sweat, making him want a shower more than he had in weeks. Worse, the cold was already starting to freeze the sweat around his body. He coiled his blankets back around himself. It kept the stink in, but also the warmth.
Stupid. It was his own damned fault for inspiring vivid dreams. It never ended well. Selfish. Bloody selfish to keep conjuring his fiancé’s memory from the dead. He deserved it.
A headache was already growling into the back of his mind.
Tomorrow, he was getting a shower. If he had to kill someone to get it, he was getting a shower.
This time, as he fought back toward sleep, he did his best to keep his mind blank. Maybe, he could go back to dreaming about nothing. That was far safer.
Chapter 2:
Working Late
Cara ushered the last customer toward the exit. “Oh, you can be sure we’ll get the photos off by this evening.”
The woman was doing her best to corral the two children in front of her, both of whom were still trying to bolt back to ‘Santa’. “Are you sure you have my email right? My last name is really hard to spell, and I think I may have given you the wrong ending. I was never good at this sort of thing!”
