by Jade Allen
"That was unnecessarily graphic."
"I'll see you in an hour."
Nixie walked back to Damian and flashed him a smile.
"Alright. Let's go. Patrick is going to meet us up there in a bit. Is that ok?"
She watched Damian look back over at the bar like he was evaluating Patrick, and then back at her, scanning her body up and down. He shrugged.
"He should fit in just about as well as you do."
He turned to walk away and Nixie scurried after him, the words striking her as strange.
"What do you mean by that?" she asked, but he just laughed and kept going out into the parking lot.
Nixie climbed into her car and watched as Damian got into a sleek black truck a few spots away. For the first time, she really noticed how his fitted jeans molded to his ass under the tail of his pale grey and white plaid shirt, and the worn-looking boots tucked beneath the legs.
"Mmmm, cowboy take me away," she muttered to herself and turned the key so that she could follow him out of the parking lot and down the darkened road.
His interpretation of a "little bit down the road" was a little shady and by the time they had driven for fifteen minutes down the progressively emptier road, Nixie was truly starting to think that the potential for impending murder might be higher than she was comfortable with. A moment later, though, she saw the vibrant orange glow of a neon sign in the distance and let out a sigh of relief. There really was a little bar and it seemed to have a nearly full parking lot, reducing the chances in her mind that he was bringing her out into the middle of nowhere to keep her as a pet or turn her into a scarecrow for his fields.
She shuddered. She really needed to stop watching late-night true crime documentaries.
Damian pulled into the parking lot and slid into a spot in a row of remarkably similar trucks that seemed to be in varying degrees of newness and cleanliness. It was like looking at a timeline of the progression of the modern farm use automobile. He hopped out and glanced at her, but she shrugged, not seeing anywhere to park. She rolled down her window and he approached her car, gripping the window so that he could lean in.
"Go around back. There's more parking back there. It's not as well-lit, though, so be careful."
Considering the front parking lot was lit exclusively by the glow from the neon sign and whatever light was trickling from the bar itself, that warning did not bode well for the condition or safety of the lot in the back. Nixie drove cautiously around the building, narrowly missing a group of men dressed very much like Damian, and found a spot in the nearly pitch-black lot.
Peeking in her review mirror, she was relieved to see Damian walking around the building to meet her so that she didn't have to walk through the darkness herself. She took a few seconds to brush through her hair and try to reconstruct her makeup as well as she could before he got to the back of her car and peered in through the back window at her. Climbing out, she gave a smile that she hoped would come across as confident and strode toward him. The gravel of the lot felt loose and unsteady under her spiked heels and she fought to maintain her balance. Her tight black dress and fishnet hose were not designed for tumbles in a dark parking lot.
****
"There sure does seem to be a lot of trucks here," she said as she came to Damian's side.
He made an affirmative sound that she did not find terribly reassuring and took her by the elbow to guide her toward the back of the building. This was a place he had obviously been many times before because he led her directly to a door on the back brick wall that she would never have noticed in the darkness and pulled it open.
Immediately a wave of yellow light, the smell of cigarette smoke and beer, and the sound of a country song being fed through a meat grinder washed over her. She hesitated and Damian eased around her, giving her a gentle tug so that she would follow him inside. They stepped into a brightly lit area with a cracked linoleum floor and wood paneled walls. A door to one side marked the entrance to a kitchen and two doors on the other wall had little vinyl stick figure drawings that indicated the men's and women's restrooms. In between these doors was a tiny table with a single chair and a dusty-looking silk flower in a narrow bud vase.
"What is that?" Nixie asked.
"The non-smoking section," Damian replied.
"Charming."
"Come on," he said, smiling as he reached for the handle of a second door in front of them.
As he pulled the door open, the smell and sound intensified and Nixie had to take a moment to assimilate herself. She had spent plenty of time in bars, but they had been more of the cocktails-and-flashing-lights-type bars. This one had the distinct feeling of the corner destination that wives would often lose their husbands to and that was the receptacle for countless drowned hopes, dreams, and sorrows.
They walked up a dark blue-carpeted ramp into the main section of the bar. Just as they reached the top, the horrific song ended and a smattering of applause rippled through the room. Nixie took another step into the bar and suddenly she felt every pair of eyes in the space turn to face her.
She stood in a sea of cowboys and women of ambiguous ages who appeared to be made of tanned leather that had been lightly tinted with fluorescent orange. They all stared at her intensely, taking in her long black hair, brief black dress, fishnet hose, and high heels to Jesus. A few eyes flickered to her red fingernails and matching lipstick. The bravest settled on the black crystal drop pendant that nestled in the swell of her ample cleavage.
"Oh, lord, they look like they think the Angel of Death has come for them," she muttered to Damian.
He laughed and reached down to take her hand. His hand felt warm despite the chill of the air outside and she enjoyed the rougher texture of his skin against hers. She let him guide her further into the bar. As they walked she noticed that someone had climbed up onto a small carpeted platform at the far end of the bar and was clutching the microphone in front of him like he was preparing to breathe life into it.
Holy hell, it's a karaoke bar. A karaoke bar filled with cowboys. At least that explained the frightful music when they first came inside.
"So, this is your idea of fun?" she asked as they slipped onto the stools around a high-top table toward the front of the bar.
"Yes."
"Fantastic," she said, glancing around for a drink list, "and do you sing?"
"Only once I have enough tequila in me."
"What, you don't drink moonshine?" she cracked.
He narrowed his eyes at her.
"You don’t drink blood?"
"Fair enough. Speaking of libations, how do we get service around here? The bartender seems to be a little on the busy side."
Damian scoffed.
"You only use the bartender if you are sitting at the bar ordering a beer. If you are sitting at a table, you use Missy."
He gestured and seemingly out of nowhere a woman with approximately six shades of blond hair and a chest that made Dolly Parton look dainty appeared beside our table.
"Damian! How're you doing, Honey?"
"I'm good, Missy. How's about a couple of shots?"
Missy turned to evaluate Nixie and Nixie had the sudden feeling that she was continuously being stripped down and brought up for inspection. She glanced at Damian who smirked at her. Maybe being stripped naked wouldn't be so bad as long as he was in the room.
"And who's this?"
"This is my new friend Nixie."
"I'm just sure she is," Missy said, pivoting and walking away.
"What did she mean by that?" Nixie asked.
"I’m sure she didn't mean anything by it."
"No woman ever says anything without meaning something by it."
"Oh, really? And why do you say that?"
"Because all women are bitches. All of them. Every single last one of them."
"That seems like a fairly pessimistic perception of your own sex."
Missy sidled back up to the table and settled two shots along with a bowl of l
ime wedges between them. Nixie picked up one of the shots and tossed it back.
"I'm just a realist," she said, hissing through the burn of the tequila.
Damian laughed and took his shot with a bit more poise and control than Nixie had, sucking a lime wedge after. His eyes met hers as his mouth pulled across the wedge, the tip of his tongue slipping out to run across it as he took it from his lips. Her body tightened and she licked her lips unconsciously.
Missy appeared back by the side of the table and put two more shots on the table, this time with a touch more force than was probably necessary, but even the clink of the glass hitting the wood didn't pull Nixie's attention away from Damian's mouth and hot chocolate eyes. He reached over and took her fingers in his hand again, gently pulling her off the stool toward him.
****
Damian was sitting facing her and as Nixie stepped down from her stool and toward him, he parted his knees so he could pull her to stand between his thighs. His hands came to her full hips and kneaded gently into them. She sighed and leaned closer, letting her body brush against his.
"You know, everyone is looking at you," he said softly, "It's not every day a woman that looks like you comes in here."
"Oh, really?" she said, nudging her hips against him subtly, "and what exactly is it that I look like?"
"The pin-up model of the damned," he said and laughed softly, "Luscious," he ran his hands down her soft waist and the swell of her hips accentuated by the tight black wiggle dress. "Tempting," he cupped his hands around her plump ass and pulled her in a little closer. "Sexy as hell."
"Let's give them a little more to look at."
Nixie reached beside her to pick up a wedge of lime and the saltshaker. Tucking the lime into his mouth so that he gripped the rind between his teeth, she ran her tongue along the side of his neck and coated the damp skin with salt. She picked up one of the new shots and leaned against him. Damian groaned as she licked the salt from his neck, took down the shot, and then bit down into the lime in his teeth, sucking the juice into her mouth.
His hands tightened on her hips and she felt him harden at the front of his pants. He released her hip with one hand and reached between their mouths to remove the lime, tilting his face up so that his lips settled onto hers. She sighed and relaxed into the kiss, bringing her hands to the back of his neck so she could hold on to him as he parted her lips with the tip of his tongue and explored her mouth. After a few seconds, she pulled back slightly and ran her tongue along his bottom lip. He tasted just as sweet as his eyes looked and she dipped in for another kiss.
"I leave you alone for five minutes and this is what happens."
Nixie's mouth tore away from Damian's and she turned to see Patrick standing beside their table. In her indulgence of Damian's hot chocolate eyes and citrus-flavored tongue, she had completely forgotten that Patrick was supposed to meet them and the sight of him suddenly standing there startled her. The look of him against the backdrop of the cowboys with the strains of a heartbreaking Patsy Cline ballad made all the more painful by the fact that it was sung by a woman who seemed almost incapable of standing was somewhat disorienting.
She glanced down at Damian's watch and then back at Patrick.
"Technically, it’s been forty-five minutes. You're early."
"I managed to claim emotional distress and get out of my shift early."
"Emotional distress?" Damian asked, "Is that a legitimate excuse?"
"You would be surprised," Nixie said, running her fingers through the thick, silky hair at that nape of his neck and leaning in to touch a soft kiss to his lips again.
"I'm just going to take this seat right here," Patrick said.
He squeezed between Nixie and the stool she had recently vacated and hopped on.
"I guess you're just going to have to sit right here," Damian whispered against her hair and turned her around to lift her up into his lap.
Patrick picked up one of the slices of lime and sucked on it, grimacing at the sour flavor.
"I need something with a little more substance. I think I'm going to make a visit over to the bar."
Patrick hopped down again and started over to the bar.
"Is he going to be ok?" Nixie asked.
Patrick weaved his way through the crowd of men standing three deep at the bar and slipped his way in between two to stand up against the edge. Some of the men gave him confused, appraising looks, but none seemed outwardly disturbed at his presence.
"Yeah, he's going to be fine. Cris'll take care of him."
"Cris?"
Damian gestured to the bar and Nixie saw a strong-looking woman with short hair the color of flames step up to Patrick. She gave him a grin and patted him on his cheek.
"Everywhere he goes, he collects people. It's pretty impressive."
"I bet you get your share of attention."
Damian's mouth was tucked close enough to her ear that she felt his lips move across it as he spoke and his hands grazed against her generous thighs. She nestled into his lap and felt him twitch in response.
"I got your attention," she said.
"Not just me," he replied, "You have this entire room in the palm of your hand." She looked at him skeptically. "You don't believe me? OK," he turned so that she was facing the stage and could see the man standing at the microphone, waiting for his song to come on so he could sing. "That is my buddy Remy. Look at how he's watching you."
Nixie saw Remy's eyes burning into her, scanning her hungrily as the first notes of a song built around him. It was not a country song like the last string of karaoke performers had attempted, but a metal song that brought much the same shocked stares from the assortment of men throughout the bar as she had when she first walked in. He licked his lips and she moaned softly. Remy was just as beautiful as Damian and filled out his jeans in the same irresistible way.
The song's introduction ended and Remy started to sing. His voice was rich, deep, and just growly enough to send a shock through her core and make her wriggle slightly in Damian's lap. Damian made an approving sound and lifted his hips just enough to press against her.
"You like him, don't you?" he murmured into her ear.
Nixie bit her bottom lip and ran her hand down to the side of Damian's rock-hard thigh, digging her nails into him. Remy continued to stare at them, his gaze on her getting hotter and more intense the longer he sang. Damian ran his hand up her waist, just barely grazing along the underside of her breasts as he dipped his mouth to nibble on her earlobe.
"Well I think I have just enough tequila in me to get me up on that stage. What do you say we let Remy take care of you while I sing?" Nixie turned to look at him, her eyes searching his. He smiled at her and kissed her. "Don't worry. I'll be right back."
He kissed her again, scraping her bottom lip between his teeth as he pulled away from her. The song ended and she heard Remy put the microphone back into its stand. Damian carefully eased her off his lap so that she stood beside him. He stroked her face gently and walked toward the stage, giving Remy a meaningful glance as they passed.
Nixie's belly trembled as Remy approached her. The faintest hint of a smile curved his full, soft lips and his smoky grey eyes slumbered at her from under long, dark lashes.
"Hi," he said as he got to within a few steps of her.
His speaking voice was just as sexy as his singing voice and she felt a tingle between her thighs.
"Hi," she said back, her voice dropping so low she didn't know if he could even hear it.
Without another word, Remy's hand came to her stomach and he led her backward a few steps until her back touched the wall behind her. His mouth crushed down on hers and she felt her body respond immediately. She ran her hands up Remy's chest, feeling chiseled muscles beneath the soft fabric, and onto his neck so she could bury her fingers in his hair and hold his mouth against hers.
****
Nixie whimpered into Remy's mouth, putting a voice to the desire that had been building since sh
e first saw Damian. He gripped her hips tightly, pulling them against him so that she could feel the already-hardening erection pressing toward her. A moment later she felt him pull her away from the wall so she was up against his chest, led her sideways a step, and then pushed her back.
She expected to hit the wall again, but instead, she felt her body come into contact with someone else. His hands came to her ribs and she felt him ease her back so that she rested her head against his shoulder. She breathed in the scent of Damian and her body tightened again as if seeking their touch.
"It seems that someone else got to the DJ before I did," he said into her hair, and then kissed the side of her neck.
"Who?" she managed to say through her labored breath.
The opening strains of "These Boots Were Made for Walking" game over the speaker and she knew exactly who. She opened her eyes and glanced around Remy's shoulder to see Patrick in the middle of the stage, his back to the rest of the bar and his hips bouncing to the beat.
"Oh, lord."
Patrick suddenly whipped around and started singing, his heart pouring out every ounce of Nancy Sinatra he could muster as he performed a dance that looked like this was not the first time he had done this song. She waited for the redneck renegades to start an uprising. Instead, it seemed that Patrick's retro venture had touched something inside them and several of the women streamed onto the small dance area in front of the stage to reminisce about their teen years. Many of the men were nodding their heads and she even saw a few mouthing the words.
Well, damn. Patrick was apparently the cowboy pied piper.
"I don't even know what I'm supposed to say right now," the DJ said over his microphone as Patrick dropped to his hands and knees and started crawling across the stage, "I usually heckle new people, but I just don't even have any words for what's happening."
"I think that he has found his new home," Nixie said.
She felt Damian's arms encircle her waist and he bent over slightly so that he molded to her body.
"I guess that means we have a little bit of time on our hands. Let's take a walk."
