Pure Iron

by Bargo, Holly

  He briefly glanced at her, taking in the smooth, fair skin and said, “Your skin is perfect. There’s no need for ink.”

  Again her cheeks flushed. He wondered whether that flush extended down her chest and felt a heavy heat pool in his groin. With a surge of will, he reminded his libido that this was neither the time nor the place for an erection. This innocent young woman obviously did not do casual hook-ups. This girl had permanence written all over her.

  He could not help but wonder if she were still a virgin. She had that untouched air about her that practically beckoned for defilement.

  “So, what’s the plan after your month of R&R?” he asked.

  “I’ve got some résumés out with several restaurants, some with the big-name chefs,” she replied and shrugged. “I don’t really expect to be accepted by the big guys, though.”

  “Why not?”

  She shrugged and replied, “I’ve got the academic credentials, but not the fine restaurant experience they’re looking for. There aren’t any five-star Michelin restaurants in North Hampton, Ohio.” She chuckled and shook her head. “We’ve got a diner and a sandwich shop. The Lions Club’s annual spaghetti supper doesn’t qualify.”

  “Small town, hm?”

  “A village actually. I’d be surprised if the population topped a thousand. We don’t even have a gas station.”

  “That is small,” he agreed and wondered just what in the hell he was doing in the company of an innocent like her. “But it doesn’t mean you can’t go where the big-name chefs are.”

  She grinned at him and said, “That’s true. It doesn’t. Which is why I sent in those résumés.” She sighed and added, “I think, though, that I’d miss the living in the country. I like small towns.”

  “There’s nothing stopping you from opening a smashing restaurant in a small town, though, is there?”

  She held up her hand, rubbing the forefinger and thumb together. “That takes money that I don’t have.”

  She turned her face away from him and so did not see his expression turn glacial. But she continued talking: “I’m determined to make it on my own, though, which means working for someone else, earning a good income, and getting the experience I need before taking that big step of diving into debt and opening my own restaurant.”

  Listening to her, he detected no guile and relaxed. She wasn’t slyly trying to hit him up for a loan. Or a “gift.” She was merely being candid. It was a refreshing change of pace.

  Which expressed volumes about his life.

  They chatted about inconsequential topics ranging for the next several minutes until he pulled into the parking lot.

  “Sonia, reach into the glove box and pull out my hat, would you?”

  She cast him a confused glance, but did as he asked and handed him the baseball cap. He jammed it on his head and donned a pair of sunglasses.

  “Going incognito?” she teased.

  The expression on his face wiped the smile from hers.

  “Oh,” she said in a subdued tone. “I guess you really are going incognito.” She paused, then asked suspiciously, “Is your name really Mick?”

  Knowing the moment had to come, he nodded curtly and said, “Mick Hendriksen.”

  Her expression showed no recognition.

  “Iron Falcon.”

  Now recognition dawned.

  “Really?” she asked, eyes widening.

  He nodded. Her mouth opened in surprise, lips forming a silent “O.” Consternation followed.

  “Oh, God, I made you cook me breakfast! And you just wanted to be left alone. And now I’ve imposed upon you to take me to the aquarium. I am so sorry!”

  Mick found himself charmed by her reaction, which wasn’t the fangirl giddiness he expected, but rather consternation that she’d imposed upon his good nature and desire for solitude. He reached over and took her hand in his. “Calm down, Sonia. You did not force me to make breakfast. You did not impose. I offered, remember? ”

  She nodded, mouth still open in shock.

  He pulled on her hand, drawing her toward him a little. In a rough whisper he said, “If you don’t close your mouth, I’m going to kiss it.”

  She squeaked and her jaw snapped shut.

  Damn, he should have just kissed her, see if she tasted as sweet as she looked.

  Reaching deeply for a self-restraint he seldom used, he released her hand and said, “There’s a whole building full of fish just waiting for us to gawk at them. Let’s go.”

  She fell into step beside him. He found himself watching her more than the aquatic displays. She read the placards beside each display, smiling at the gelatinous grace of the jellyfish, the sinuous power of barracudas, the creepy stretch of spider crabs. Every so often, she would glance back at him with a grin and sparkling eyes or a comment as though he were any hometown boy holding her hand. He found he liked that feeling of just being a boy holding her hand, rather than a celebrity hiding behind a hat and sunglasses.

  Funny how he’d worked for so long to become famous and found it stifling and empty. When he focused on the music life was better, had deeper meaning. He had the niggling feeling that this artless young woman could bring even deeper meaning to his existence, to his music.

  He wondered what the band would think of her. Then he wondered whether she should even meet them. Immersion in his toxic world would surely destroy that fresh, unspoiled innocence. Mick found himself reluctant to be party to such destruction. No, he’d keep her away from the band; he’d keep her separate from the rest of his sordid life.

  “Oh, come watch the otters,” she exclaimed with a happy laugh.

  Mick stood beside her, his arm wrapped around her waist. He could not help but notice how well she fit against him, which inevitably drew his thoughts as to how well he would fit inside her. She tilted her face up to his and grinned. He smiled back and tried to think of puppies and kittens and icy cold showers.

  Sonia felt Mick moved behind her, wrap both arms loosely around her, encouraging her to lean back against him. She hesitated, then relented because his warm, solid strength behind her felt so good. She smiled to herself when the bottom of his chiseled jaw rested on top of her head. A fine tremor rippled through her when she felt something else press into her lower back.

  Oh, dear. How did one extricate herself tactfully from that?

  She arched her back away from his body, trying for subtlety. His arms tightened around her and he said in a low, quiet voice, “Let me hold you.”

  She swallowed audibly and gradually relaxed against him again as they watched the otters’ high-energy antics. To his credit, he did not grind his pelvis against her.

  A high pitched squeal accompanied by a bass exclamation of “Dude!” behind them provided an interruption that Sonia appreciated. Two seconds later, they were surrounded by a half dozen fans of Iron Falcon begging for autographs. Bursts of light from camera flashes made her blink as she watched Mick transform into a celebrity personality who smiled and wielded pens and traded quips with adoring fans. Two of the giddy girls practically draped themselves over him. One pulled at the already low neckline of her shirt and begged him to autograph her breasts.

  “Who are you?” one of the young men in the group asked her. “You his latest girl?”

  “No, I’m just his neighbor. We’re friends.”

  “Cool. Where?”

  “I don’t give out other people’s information,” she replied coldly.

  “You’re cute. Where do you live?”

  She looked down her nose at him and answered, “Ohio.”

  One of the museum’s senior managers approached, asking the young people to please not use their flashes when taking pictures, as doing so upset the fish.

  “I appreciate you guys,” Mick said, “but I came here with a friend for a bit of peace and quiet. I’d consider it a personal favor if you’d keep my being here a secret. Just among us.”

  The girls squealed again and their male companions nodded as though t
hey were undertaking an important quest. Sonia marveled at how easily he managed them.

  “Thanks, folks,” he said, reaching into his pocket to pull out his wallet. He dug inside the main compartment to extract a handful of tickets. “Use the codes on these tickets. They’ll get you free admission to any Iron Falcon concert here in the USA this year.”

  With more squealing, the six people happily accepted the tickets and, chattering animatedly, continued on their way. Mick sagged against the wall as soon as the crowd had rounded a corner.

  “Are you all right?” Sonia asked.

  “Sure,” he replied.

  “How did they recognize you?” she asked. “It’s pretty dark in here.”

  He shrugged and said, “I probably should have worn long sleeves. The tats are rather distinctive.”

  She looked at his arms and allowed as how that might have been the clue. She said, “You handled them well. I would have been a wreck.”

  “It gets to be second nature,” he replied, reaching out to take her hand. “Let’s head outside to see the tidal pools.”

  She agreed, thinking that after being swarmed by fans, he wanted some space. Hand in hand, they headed in the opposite direction to the tidal pools which proved just as fascinating as the indoor aquariums. Sonia leaned way over the railing to get a closer look at colorful sea stars and spiny black sea urchins. Mick came up behind her, wrapped an arm around her to ensure she did not topple over. With her pert bottom aligned with his crotch, Mick found himself quickly returning to a state of arousal … and liking it.

  Sonia straightened against him and put her feet firmly on the ground feeling the bulge of his arousal against her lower back as he tightened his arms around her. This time, instead of resting his jaw on her head, he leaned down to press a soft kiss just below her earlobe.

  “I want you,” he said.

  Sonia closed her eyes. She felt the strong attraction between them battle with her old fashioned values. “I—” she began awkwardly. She swallowed and said, “I can’t, Mick.”

  His hands spread out against her abdomen, just barely missing the underside of her breasts. She inhaled slowly, felt her breasts swell, grow achy with want. Her nipples perked, poked against the fabric of her bra and shirt. Excitement and heat pooled low in her groin. She gulped nervously.

  “I don’t do casual flings.” Actually, she didn’t do flings at all, but there was no need to advertise that.

  “This doesn’t feel casual,” he murmured against the sensitive skin of her neck, punctuating his words with light kisses that made her shiver.

  “I’m only going to be here for three more weeks.”

  Inspiration struck. “Come on tour with us. We could use a personal chef. Food on the road is crap.”

  Sonia felt insulted. She had never seen a hotel room with a kitchen. “I am not going to travel with you as your mistress under the guise of the band’s cook.”

  “We’d pay you a salary.”

  She stiffened in offense. “You’ll be living in hotels while on tour, right? So what would you be paying me for?” she pointed out in an icy tone. “There’s a word for a woman who accepts what you’re offering and it’s not ‘chef.’”

  Mick continued to nibble at her neck, her earlobe, but she remained unyielding in his arms. With a sigh, he ceased and slid his hands to her hips, gripping the gentle flare to hold her against him.

  “What do you want from me?” he asked.

  “Until a minute ago, I liked you and would have said your friendship would be nice, but now I’m not so sure,” she replied angrily.

  “I’ve never been friends with a woman and I don’t think I can be just friends with you,” he said candidly. “I don’t want to be just friends with you.”

  “Then we’re at an impasse, because that’s all I’m offering,” she retorted, then repeated, “I don’t do flings.”

  Chapter 2

  The drive back to the cottage passed uncomfortably. Mick and Sonia both attempted to start conversations, but faltered after a word or two. Finally, Mick’s long abandoned conscience found the strength to pluck at him and he apologized. It wasn’t a good apology, but it was the effort that counted, right?

  “Look, Sonia, I’m sorry if I pushed you too fast,” he blurted.

  Her eyes flew upward, locked onto his chiseled profile, the shoulder length, dark hair that the ocean breeze had blown wildly about his head. Unaccountably, she felt guilty. She wasn’t sure why.

  “I—I—I’m sorry, too.” She sighed and turned her face away to gaze out the passenger side window for a few seconds. “It’s just that I …” and her voice died off.

  “I get it,” he said gently, although he wasn’t really sure he did. Surely, she couldn’t be … nah … impossible, right? “Look, if your friend is still … er … occupied, why don’t you grab a book or whatever and spend the day at my place? You can relax; I won’t jump you.”

  She looked back at him. There was nothing in his voice or his expression to indicate duplicity. And he had backed off when she told him no.

  “You’re sure my being there won’t bother you? I don’t wish to impose.”

  Oh, her being there would bother him, but not in the way she meant. He promised himself he would behave.

  “No, you won’t be a bother,” he assured her.

  The car pulled to a stop and Sonia hopped out. She looked toward her cottage and noticed a new vehicle parked out front. Mick saw an expression of uneasiness cross her face.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked.

  “That’s not my car,” she answered.

  Mick chivalrously offered, “Would you like me to walk you to the door, make sure everything’s all right in there?”

  “Yes, thank you,” she accepted.

  With trepidation, she climbed the wooden steps and entered the cottage’s front room. Mick quietly entered behind her, easing the screen door closed. Empty cans and bottle and cigarette butts littered the area. She wrinkled her nose in disgust.

  “Penny is going to clean this mess if I have to bludgeon her,” she grumbled.

  A wail reverberated from Penny’s bedroom, followed by what sounded like a loud smack.

  “Penny?” she exclaimed in suspicion and hurried toward her housemate’s bedroom. “Penny, are you okay?” she asked as she flung open the bedroom door just as another smack and wail resounded.

  Then she gasped. And wished she could take melon baller to remove her eyeballs, but the image was burned on her brain. Penny straddled one man, while a second pumped into her from behind. A third knelt, straddling the first man’s head, his dick moving in and out of Penny’s mouth. As the penis left her mouth the man riding her smacked a buttock and she wailed.

  “I’m cumming, boys!” she shouted.

  Mick realized that Sonia was frozen in shock, not fascinated by the raunchy tableau. He gently tugged her back and turned her around and shut the bedroom door. He wrapped his arms around here, a gentle hug meant to soothe. With a gurgle, she wrenched herself from his embrace and raced to the bathroom. He followed her and kindly held back her hair as she vomited.

  Damn it, she really was an innocent.

  How did a nice girl like this end up with such a slutty roommate?

  Squatting down beside her, he rubbed her back while she shuddered uncontrollably.

  “Oh, my God,” she repeated over and over, running the words together.

  “Brush your teeth and rinse your mouth,” Mick said kindly. “Get something to occupy yourself and we’ll head over to my place. You can even take nap in my bed if you want.”

  She nodded and reached for her toothbrush. Her hands shook and the glob of toothpaste missed its target. Mick put his hands over hers to steady them and the second attempt loaded the toothbrush properly. He stood near her while she scrubbed the vile residue from her mouth. After rinsing out her mouth, she splashed cold water on her face. Mick patted her face dry with a hand towel and took her by the hand, leading her to the other si
de of the cottage—to her bedroom. He glanced around and saw a couple of paperback novels and picked them up. Ah, there was a lightweight sweater. He picked that up, too and draped it over her shoulders because she hadn’t stopped shivering. Perhaps the sweater would warm her up a little.

  He led her out the back door to avoid the mess in the front room. Unfortunately, that way led past the other bedroom’s open window through which the sounds of vigorous fornication could be clearly heard. Sonia’s pale face went white and she gurgled. Mick hustled her along, saying quietly, “Hold it down, sweetheart. We’ll get past them in a second.”

  He walked her the short distance back to his cottage. Sonia panted as though she’d run a marathon. He worried that her color hadn’t returned. He led her to a chair and she sat down, closed her eyes, and groaned.

  “I need to burn that off my brain,” she whined as she rubbed her hands over her face.

  The proximity of the two cottages and the open windows carried sound from one dwelling to the other. Sonia covered her ears and groaned again.

  Mick paused to listen for a second, then went back out to his porch to pick up his guitar. Sonia still sat, eyes squeezed shut and hands muffling her ears, when he returned. With a glance at his guest, he sat down and positioned the guitar comfortably in his arms. Then his fingers strummed a hard chord.

  Sonia’s eyes flew open. Her hands fell away from her ears.

  “Focus on me, on this,” he ordered and old Metallica hit poured forth from the instrument.

  The music drowned the noises emanating from the cottage next door. Sonia focused her eyes on the ripple of muscle in his forearms, the skilled manipulation of the strings, and the intent expression on his face. He glanced up at her, eyes glowing as the music claimed him. It was always thus. The music absorbed him, made him its own. He could forget everything beyond the instrument in his arms and play until his fingertips bled.

  One song segued into another and soon he began to sing. The baritone voice growled the lyrics, low and throaty. Sonia let the music surround her, permeate her body until her flesh throbbed in sync with the beat.

  When the final chords faded, Sonia leaned her head back against the chair and sighed deeply. She opened her mouth to thank him, but all that emerged as a soft moan.