by Dani Stowe
Chapter 9
Shelley
BLUE DOESN’T ANSWER. He’s looking at me funny, biting his lip as a crack of thunder rips through the sky. I look up. The clouds are rolling in quickly as what little moonlight we had is now dissipating.
“We need to go,” I say and I try to get up, but he pulls at my waist. “I think it’s going to rain and if I run and you push yourself without me on top of you, maybe we can get to my aunt’s house faster.”
Blue shakes his head and pushes on his wheels and we start rolling.
“Whoa!” I yell because it scares me a little and he pushes even harder. Rain starts to come down and I have to grip onto him because I feel like I’m going to slip off. I can feel his body shaking up and down—he’s laughing!
“Don’t laugh!” I snap and he pushes on the wheels with all his might.
I scream louder. My heart takes flight as I cling for dear life as we roll down a slight slant towards Aunt Cora’s beach house where there’s shelter from all this rain and, hopefully, to where he’ll have no choice other than to stay for the night.
I point to the back of the beach house and Blue rolls us around the corner to a ramp as the rain turns into a drizzle. He struggles to roll us both up the ramp. I know his arms are tired and I reluctantly get off and open the door.
“Come in,” I tell him as I scamper into the house looking for a towel. I head into the adjacent kitchen and spin around, expecting to see Blue behind me, but he’s nowhere to be seen. I skip to the back door and he’s still outside with his face pointed upwards to the sky with his mouth open and his tongue hanging out.
“You like the rain. You like getting wet. Don’t you?” I ask.
He rolls himself in. He’s soaked, along with his chair.
“Wait here,” I say and I run around the beach house to get more towels.
When I come back he’s got his shirt off and I try not to stare at his muscular upper body slick with rainwater above thin wet jeans that cling to his thighs making the peaks and globes of his groin obvious.
“I think you need to take off your pants before you freeze,” I say as I bring him the dry towel. He tries to dry himself off. “Maybe you should move to the couch and I’ll see if I can find you something to wear.”
Blue wheels himself over to the old, dusty, fluffy couch that’s been stuffed, mended, and patched a few hundred times over. I wanted Aunt Cora to throw it away and get a new one, but she insisted it was too comfortable, like a nest handcrafted of multiple materials intended to lure lovebirds.
I leave him to find something to wear in the next room and dig through my backpack. I don’t have anything and I don’t see any other luggage. I guess I never intended to stay in town more than one or two nights and the rest of my clothes are muddy, which I’d better wash soon.
I move to Aunt Cora’s room to look through her stuff and all the old woman’s dresses are handmade and too big; I refuse to look like a ragdoll in front of Blue. What’s worse is Aunt Cora doesn’t own a T-shirt and there’s no way I’m going to fit any of her underwear. The only option I have is to wear one of her white tank nightgowns.
I peel off my wet dress and slip on Aunt Cora’s nightgown; the neck scoops low—lower than the wet dress I had on, but it works. My nipples are cold and wet and they’re obviously hard as they peep through the nightgown so I cross my hands over my chest. I also have nothing underneath, but I’m sure Blue won’t even know.
When I come out of Aunt Cora’s room, I notice the rain has stopped. It’s quiet, except for the sound of the ocean beyond the sand dunes and Blue’s heavy breathing.
He made himself comfortable on the couch—the nest made for lovebirds, lying down with his eyes closed and his appendages sprawled over propped pillows. He covered his lower half with a blanket so I tiptoe closer to pull the covers up over him. I flinch as lightning flashes through the windows and thunder creeps through the sky before Blue suddenly grabs my arm.
He slides his back closer towards the couch and motions me to lie down with him. I move his chair out of the way and lie down in front of him so he spoons me and covers us both with the blanket. He gingerly moves my hair out of his face and wraps his arm around my body, squeezing me gently.
I listen for more thunder, but all I hear is the air cycling in and out of Blue’s lungs as it blows past my ears. It seems to be in sync with the ocean as waves wander up on the sand.
My mind wanders as I close my eyes. I feel like I’m floating over the ocean, but then I start to sink though something won’t let me. I open my eyes to see Blue’s arm wrapped around me and I pull it tighter, tucking his hand flush around my waist as I close my eyes again.
The sound of chirping resonates in my ears and I open my eyes to the creeping of sunlight inching its way into the beach house. The big glass windows seem eager to greet the sun creeping in between the panes.
My shoulders feel chilly but my toes feel warm and I feel wet heat wafting across my breast and figure I must’ve turned towards Blue at some point in the night. His arm is still wrapped tautly around me.
I tilt my head down to take a peek at him. My whole breast is hanging out of the neckline of Aunt Cora’s oversized nightgown and Blue’s eyes are gaping wide open just staring at it.
I swallow my foul morning breath and try not to move, as my nipple is an inch from his mouth; every breath I take brings my breast closer to his lips. I can’t help but take a big breath and my nipple barely brushes across his lower lip.
He looks up at me with bright blue eyes. Neither of us move for a minute; we stare into each other’s eyes until he bites his lower lip, which makes my breathing quicken.
I still don’t move as he keeps his eyes fixed on mine and I see his tongue slowly reach out of his mouth, past his own lips, and he licks the tip of my nipple. The tiny flicker of his tongue over the small mound at the tip of my tit sends a shockwave throughout my body.
I swallow again, but I can’t keep it in. “Just bite it,” I whisper.
Blue breaks eye contact and latches his mouth over my breast and then grabs at my thigh, pulling it over his side. I moan as he licks and sucks, moving his hand between my legs and up my thigh until he reaches my slick folds, spreading them and plunging his digit into me.
“Oh God!” I cry as he plunges two fingers in and out, deeper and deeper, until his fingers climb out and he finds the small mound that is meant to make me peak with pleasure. He rubs my clit and I cannot contain myself. My back arches as he rubs and sucks on my nipple until I fall backward—halfway off the couch with my head on the floor as he grips my leg.
I start laughing and tilt my head up to see Blue peek over the couch, but he’s not laughing. He keeps gripping on the one leg and wraps it behind him. He leans over my hips that are still on the couch and spreads my pussy lips open. His tongue darts out to lick me and I’m in ecstasy, but my head hanging upside down feels heavy. The feeling is familiar and the image of a man with a fishtail swims by in my head. Alarming, but it turns me on.
Blue continues to move his tongue softly as I allow the fantasy of the man with the fishtail to take over my mind. As the space between my legs starts to soak of Blue’s saliva, I imagine an ocean and Blue as a merman licking at my clit; I’m drenching him in my come as I explode on his face.
I envision Blue with a long, shiny fishtail pulling me out of the water with my legs dragging until they touch the sand and then both of us in the sun as he squeezes himself between my legs. I can almost feel the waves washing over my toes; it brings me back to Blue’s tongue as it swishes and swashes over my clit that is beginning to reach its summit.
My leg clamps around him and Blue swirls his whole head a bit faster. I moan and his tongue swirls so fast, it feels like my clit is caught in a violent vortex so heavy and wet making me so ready to come.
Blue shoots his finger into my canal and, like lightning, it sends off a chain reaction and I groan. He plunges his digit deeper and pushes in harder, helping me to
climb towards my peak and I feel my voice sounds off like a siren as I come on Blue’s tongue.
He continues swirling his tongue, sending shockwaves throughout my body until I cannot stand the pleasure anymore. I push away, feeling silly for wanting him to be a merman and he tries to grip my thighs, but I escape his hands as I let the lower half of my limp body slip off the couch and onto the floor.
Blue peeps over the edge. I cannot see his legs as I’m still imagining he has a fishtail. I feel so irrational, like a naïve high school girl with her head in the clouds imagining a merman wrapped between her legs. Yes, I used to have those thoughts, but I do not want to know what Blue would think of me if he knew.
I collect myself and stand up to grab Blue’s clothes for him as he sits up. He’s mostly naked except for the corner of the blanket that covers his package and I notice how thin his legs are compared to the average man. He’s still adorably sexy and my mind wanders to the size of his package. Though he’s disabled from the waist down, maybe his stuff doesn’t work, but I’m tempted to find out.
I hand him the clothes Yanka dressed him in even though they are still damp, but he doesn’t mind in the least. He’s able to dress himself. I keep my eyes above his waist whenever I try to offer him help as he struggles a bit, but he indicates with pointed fingers and a raised hand, several times, he wants to do it on his own. His legs seem stronger than they were and I see he’s able to put a little bit of weight on them to help him pivot from the sofa and into the wheelchair.
Blue pushes himself towards me, proud of himself for getting dressed and I’m sure for giving me an orgasm, as he rolls himself a few feet in my direction. I’m about to ask him if he’ll take me for another ride on his wheelchair, but I’m distracted by another set of wheels also rolling in our direction. Through the window, I see dust stirring behind Pike’s police car as he speeds towards us with his lights flashing—another big storm is on the way.
Chapter 10
Blue
SHELLEY LOOKS DISTURBED. I watch her eyes as they follow something, or someone, through the window and towards the front door until we hear a pounding.
“Shelley!” yells the Sheriff. “You got that stranger in there? Open up!”
Shelley hesitates. I want to tell her not to open it, in hopes he’ll go away. I’m sure he’s jealous, but I can’t speak a word and she goes to open the door.
The sheriff pushes himself in, like an arse, and tosses Shelley aside.
“You!” he says pointing at me and marches towards me.
Shelley cries as she grabs the sheriff’s arm that is reaching for the shackles hanging at his waist. “What are you doing?!”
The sheriff pushes her and she falls. As I reach towards her, the sheriff reaches to his hip and pulls out a gun. I know guns. I’ve seen them multiply in numbers and evolve as fast as humans have, but their purpose has not changed. All guns do are drown lads in their own blood.
“Put your hands behind your back,” he says and I know this drill. He’s shackled me once before.
Shelley is crying. “Pike, what are you doing?! He’s been with me the whole night.”
I’m just as surprised as she is but her words matter not, as the sheriff tugs hard at my arms, purposefully trying to hurt me as he shackles my wrists.
“I’m sorry to tell you this, Shelley, but while your stranger was in the hospital I took the liberty of collecting some DNA samples and had Athena send them to the university where they do our forensic testing.” The sheriff yanks on the shackles to make sure they’re tight.
“So?” she asks.
“Our stranger’s hair matches one of the hairs on your parents’ boat we found anchored and abandoned at sea.”
“What? That doesn’t make any sense. That was twenty years ago! My Aunt Cora said—”
“Your Aunt Cora lied,” snickers the sheriff. “She asked us all to lie to you when you were a child, but since you insist on harboring a potential criminal, I think you should know your parents’ boat was found in the company of another smaller paddle boat reportedly stolen. Neither your father or your mother, despite all our diving efforts, were nowhere to be found nor were there any traces of your parents, other than the blood we found along the deck determined to be your mother’s.”
I gulp. I don’t understand how the sheriff pieced together the story, but I do know what he is talking about. I also know why Shelley looks so familiar and how and why we are connected.
My heart sinks. If I had known and made the connection beforehand, I would’ve never chosen to behave like an angler—desperate to enjoy the trappings of a woman, especially this woman.
“We also found a strand of hair,” continues the sheriff, “that matches the one from your friend here.”
“That’s ridiculous! You’re lying. You set this up, Pike! You can’t arrest him because you’re jealous.”
The sheriff pushes me in the wheelchair to the front door. “Don’t flatter yourself, Shelley. You’ve certainly grown up to be beautiful, but you’re as loony as the rest of the women in your family.”
“Fuck you!” she cries and the wooden floor shakes as she stomps towards us, attempting to strike the sheriff.
“Cut this out right now,” he says as he blocks her, but she’s able to get in a good smack to his neck with the other hand. “Goddamnit, Shelley!” he shouts as he pushes her back forcing her to hit a wall, but it doesn’t stop her.
Shelley charges the sheriff again and I want to tell her to stop. I want to tell her to leave him alone. The sight of her in distress and using her hands to fight for what she wants is too familiar. She looks exactly like her father.
The gobsmacked sheriff takes another slap and if I don’t do something, she’s going to get hurt. If she’s anything like her father, she’s going to keep fighting and arguing until she gets what she wants and I can’t let her fight for me. I know she’s fighting for me, but I can’t let her go on like this. Not for me.
I look at the five steps of steep stairs leading down the front door and I lift myself off the seat of the wheelchair. I make an attempt to stand up; I can’t believe it—I’m on my two feet!
Wobbling as every muscle in my body, including my arms and back, work in unison to keep me upright, I hear Shelley shout. “Catch him!”
For a moment, I regret doing this; I’m about to land on my face and arms atop of a hardwood stairwell painted the color of the seashore. I hit the steps hard and my body stumbles down to the ground.
Pike shows no mercy for the pain I’m in. I taste blood in my mouth from piercing my tongue with my own teeth, but the pain of Pike pulling me up by my arms and the embarrassment of not being able to stand on my own hurts more than anything.
“You stupid fuck,” the sheriff states as he drags me across the dry rubble and towards the car. Opening the back door, he tries to lift me, but struggles. “Get in the car,” he says.
I see Shelley coming towards us. She’s screaming at the top of her lungs; I can’t even make out what she’s saying. Her hair is not as red, but she is as irrational as her father and my heart sinks deeper into my gut.
The sheriff tries to pick me up and I wrap my shackled wrists around his neck to help him as he loads me into the car. He shuts the door, walks around the enclosed metal carriage, and gets in as Shelley continues to spit fire. I think even the sheriff is afraid of the flames pouring out of her mouth.
“Pike, you fucking asshole! Get him out of the car!” she screams as she pounds on the door.
I see the sheriff work a few gadgets and knobs with his hands and a rumbling resounds, vibrating straight through the cushioned seat and into my bones. It has the same sound as speedy boats that have lost their sails. In truth, I’ve always wanted to ride in one of these—a car, but not under these circumstances. I’m sure a sheriff’s job is the same as it was back in the days before I had fins.
I’m sure I’m going to jail, but I hope I won’t have to face a hanging.
Chapter 11
Blue
“YOU JUST CAN’T SEEM to stay out of trouble, can you?” Yanka asks as she props her head against the cell door.
I spin my chair around over the smooth, freshly mopped floor of the jail cell, which comes complete with a firm bed and a whirlpool for the biggies that come out of my arse. This is hardly the gallows.
“What happened to you, Blue?” she whines, slipping her fingers through a small rectangular hole below a glass window in the door. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you and then I found out this morning Sheriff Pike arrested you.”
“He’s being held for suspicion of murder,” says a female voice and a redhead looms from beyond the meshed door.
“There’s no way! Blue is not the type to commit murder. Believe me, I know,” Yanka defends me and I’m glad she has so much confidence in me as she flashes a smile. Yanka then looks back to the redhead with disdain, “And who the fuck are you?”
“I’m Athena,” the woman says with pride, but Yanka shakes her head and continues to stare wide-eyed at Athena who’s face falls morose. “I’m the librarian, also named the town historian and assistant to the Sheriff’s Department.” Yanka continues to shake her head as she surveys Athena. Athena slouches. “I moved here two years ago, Illuyanka. We’ve crossed paths a few times.”
“Honey, I have no idea who you are,” smirks Yanka, “and if you did you’d know not to call me by my full name. Nobody calls me by that name.”
“Illuyanka? Because it means ‘seadragon?’”
“No!” Yanka shouts and I laugh to myself as Yanka’s features soften and her eyes grow with inquisition. “Seadragon—is that really what my name means?”
Athena chuckles, “Yes. Illuyanka was derived from Hittite mythology and is often depicted as a serpentine.”
“I thought you said it meant dragon!”
“In ancient cultures, both serpent and dragon could mean the same thing.”
