by Cassia Leo
Dane jingled the chain on his belt. “Does she?”
Stella didn’t want to look at him, he could tell, and she wiped her hand along the counter as if it were dusty. “She does. But she doesn’t want him to know she’s in a wheelchair now.”
“Does it have a happy ending?”
“Yeah.”
“Good. Then I’ll see you there.” He nodded at her and turned away, heading out of the shop with long steps. He’d just gotten himself tied up even more, not his intention. And all that romantic mush in her head. But something about Stella bugged him, made him not think. Just act.
***
8: On the Tower Again
STELLA approached the tower with trepidation. She peered up, curious if Dane was already up. But the night was dark, no moon, and she couldn’t see anything but the gray gleam of streetlamps reflecting dimly on its surface. If the platform held any secrets, it kept them close to its metal belly.
She would not let the quivering in her gut stop her from going up. She’d done it a hundred times, well, okay, five times. Once carrying a ladder, for Christ’s sake. She shut out her mother’s admonishment for the foul use of the Lord and ducked through the opening in the chain-link fence. She wondered if Dane even knew how to find it.
Despite this being a date of sorts, she’d resorted to tennis shoes, unable to consider heading up the ladder barefoot, in heels, and certainly not in jellies. Even her lightweight Keds seemed slippery, so Adidas was the choice. She still did the miniskirt, though. Not much could make her wear anything else.
She set her purse behind the concrete base to one of the steel legs and jumped to grasp the first rung of the ladder. Usually she had someone with her for the initial boost. But she could do it alone. She swung back and forth, grasping the metal tightly, until she had enough momentum to bring her feet up and above her head to catch on the ladder. Her leg crept up until her knee was over the rung, then the other, and she pulled herself up to sit on the lowest bar.
Even this height made her stomach lurch. She remembered almost falling a few days before, her foot slipping off the beam. She forced herself to pull her leg through and firmly plant her shoe on the rung. She pushed up to standing and walked her hands up. Without letting her mind consider what she was doing or where she was going, she began scaling the first tier.
A low whistle below made her pause. She looked down.
“Impressive mount, good form. Definitely worth a replay.”
Dane.
She turned around on the ladder, like she had that day with Janine. “And the score?”
“Nine point nine.”
“Really?” She turned back around and began climbing again, faster now. “I think I just got robbed.”
She finished the first tier, reaching up to cover the gap to the second ladder. A hand grasped her ankle, startling her. She gripped the bar tightly.
Dane was just below, grinning up at her, teeth bright in the dark.
“You scared the crap out of me!” Stella tried to pull her foot loose. His grip was firm, sure, then became gentler, a caress. Still, she was hopping mad. “How did you get up here so fast? You trying to kill me?”
He rose a few more feet, pulling up to stand behind her. “I wouldn’t let anything happen to you.”
He pressed her against the rungs, one arm encircling her waist.
With anyone else, she might have felt panicked, trapped. But she didn’t, just a zip of danger, a thrill. “What you going to do back there?” she asked.
He pulled her to him with even more force. She felt his belt buckle against her back, the pinch of his arm wrapping securely around her middle. He moved his leg, bracing one foot on a higher rung, and fit her snugly against his pelvis.
She didn’t know him at all. She shouldn’t do this. But of course she would. She’d been with a man or two. Or ten. A car cruised down the street below, stopping before a house. A girl ran onto the porch, waving. She jumped into the car, and it took off again. All oblivious to the scene above.
Dane moved behind her, leaning down, his mouth on her neck. They hadn’t even kissed, she realized, and now they wouldn’t, not in this position. She’d never had sex first, kiss later.
She shouldn’t do it. He was Darlene’s, really. She tried to climb another rung, out of his embrace. He let her go, but when she paused, he came up behind her again.
He ran his hand along her waist, then beneath her shirt. She leaned her forehead on a rung, concentrating on the feel of his fingers. Did he think she was just an easy roll in the hay? Was she? Her leg trembled with the effort of supporting herself. Dane felt it and increased the pressure, taking some of the weight off her, shifting her against his body.
The wind kicked up and ruffled her hair. He eased his hand up her rib cage and along the edge of her bra. Were they going to do this? Here? She didn’t see how, in this precarious position. They weren’t super high, but high enough. A bone-crushing fall.
He slid his fingers beneath the flimsy lace. She shuddered lightly and turned her head to him. “Dane?”
He shifted slightly to one side, and now his mouth reached her, kissing her lips, a question. She flooded with relief. Somehow not kissing made her a whore, but this, this was better. She’d kissed so many boys, often sloppy, sometimes dry, but a few were absolutely right.
Dane was tender with it, careful and almost shy, the opposite of everything else about this moment—their position, his fingers encircling her nipple, his groin flush against her back.
“This would be crazy,” he whispered. “And maybe not even possible. Should I let you down now? Get to know you proper?”
But him asking changed everything. He’d given the power to her, and now she surged with the need to do it, to do this crazy, impulsive, dangerous thing. They’d never forget it, even if she ceased to know him after today. She’d remember it all her life, a boy on the side of a water tower, high above her home town.
She wouldn’t let this moment pass. It didn’t matter that she didn’t know anything about him but his name.
Stella leaned into his mouth, letting go with one hand to press his palm more firmly against her breast.
He smiled against her lips. Now his hand moved down past her waist to the miniskirt, sliding it up.
She looked down as another car passed below. No one could see them, she felt certain, but she’d never done anything like this before. Outdoors, sure. In fields. Backs of trucks. In barns. Once on the roof of the high school. But never this. Not even close.
His fingers slid inside the edge of her panties, tugging them down. She couldn’t move, couldn’t step out of them. He realized her problem and so instead, with a sharp yank, ripped them right off her.
Stella felt nothing from the tear, just the cool sensation of air where there had been fabric. She looked down just as the pale-green scrap flitted below them, caught a bit of breeze, then landed on the branch of a tree just to the right. “You owe me a pair of underwear,” she said.
He didn’t answer, just moved his hand beneath her knee, lifting her leg so that she separated her feet to rest on different rungs of the ladder. The wind cooled her even more, and she shivered. “This is crazy,” she whispered.
He paused immediately, waiting, she realized, to see if she wanted to stop. She hadn’t expected that from him, just the push forward, the press into the act.
“I’m game,” she said. “Something to tell our grandchildren.”
He chuckled. “I think that qualifies as entirely too much detail.”
Stella pictured Grandma Angie on the ladder with some beau and could totally see it. “Depends on the grandmother.”
Talking so casually felt strange for what they were about to do. But maybe they should be more practical than romantic. Or not do it. His hand shifted on her thigh, leaving another cool spot. She reached behind him, feeling for the belt buckle.
His belly sucked in as she missed the mark entirely and landed a little lower than she’d planned. He p
ushed against her, trapping her hand. Stella wanted to turn around, to face him, but that was impossible here.
Dane reached between them and unsnapped his jeans. Stella sensed more urgency in him now, and her own pulse sped up. The miniskirt moved even higher, and now she felt the scrape of his jeans against her bare skin. He shifted on the ladder, moving beneath her, then up, and she felt it, felt him, sliding against her. She was slippery, wet, so easy this time. She wanted him like crazy.
They were really doing this thing.
Her arms trembled, so she hugged the ladder, preparing for the additional force of him moving against her. But he stopped. Stella turned her head as much as she could. “You okay?”
“Are you?” he asked hesitantly. “Should we get something?” He pressed his lips against the side of her cheek.
Oh, right. Details. “I’m on the pill. And nothing catching. You?”
“Not on the pill,” he said and she could feel his smile on her skin. “But nothing catching.”
“But Darlene.” She had to say it.
“Condoms, always.”
Stella hesitated. “But just last night…”
“Not with her,” he said. “I didn’t. I’m done.”
Stella felt a lightness come over her, bubbly and cool. He’d changed things. For her. The world was shifting, their lives rearranging to make room for the two of them, together.
Dane held the rung above her head and reached down with his free hand. His fingers slid inside her, stirring the dark force of her need. His thumb pressed hard against her bud and she almost forgot to hold on to the ladder. She sank into him, reveling in the feel of his touch, hot sparks bursting through her body.
She closed her eyes to the sensation, but then opened them again. This was too incredible, too much. Up so high, feeling these things, hot and passionate and thrilling, danger and sex.
She was high, so high. She could hardly bear it.
Stella gripped the ladder, moving back and into him. “Please, now,” she whispered, not sure he could even hear her.
But he did. He closed in tight. She felt him, hard against her thighs. He shifted her leg slightly, and Stella sucked in a breath as he slipped inside her.
He moved more deliberately then, one hand gripping the ladder by her head, the other still working her around where they joined. They swung lightly, locked together, into the ladder and away.
Stella watched the stars across the horizon, the lights of the town creating a haze just above the rooftops. God, she loved this. It was so exhilarating. She felt like she could do anything, like she was more than alive, but supersonic.
Dane’s movements got faster, more intense, and his fingers plumbed her just as she needed. She felt herself starting to go, the orgasm spreading through her. She managed to keep her grip on the ladder, but closed her eyes, reveling in each stroke.
“Come on, baby,” Dane said, his breath was hot on her ear. “Let go for me.”
She cried out then, the blast arcing through her body. Dane pushed harder, a strong thrust, and then the warm wetness flooded inside her and quickly trickled down. He huffed against her hair, then exhaled, slow and long, like the distant bellow of a train.
Stella floated along, opening her eyes again to the sparkling lights of the town below. This was living, she thought. She’d never known anyone like Dane, who’d do something like this.
He sagged a bit, still holding on behind her, face on her shoulder. He seemed vulnerable now, like a boy. Emotion surged through her. They rested together a long moment, hearts hammering, breath fast, until they started to calm, and Stella’s arms started to shake.
Dane pulled away from her, tugging down her skirt before attending to himself. Stella felt wobbly, but she continued her climb, heading up the second ladder, then the third, and grasping the edge of the platform to poke through the hole.
Her emotions were all over the place as she went up. Exhilaration began to give way to panic. The sensation of rising through the square brought back the helplessness of a few days before, when she’d almost fallen. She could see the pale reflection of the bent rail, and suddenly her heart hammered and her breath came in short bursts. She backed against the solid wall of the water tower, her hand pressed against her chest.
Dane’s head popped through the gap. As soon as he saw her, he leapt onto the platform and drew her close. “I’m sorry, Stella. I didn’t mean to upset you. I’m sorry.”
She tried to shake her head against his chest. He didn’t understand. But she couldn’t draw a proper breath, couldn’t speak.
He clutched at her hair, holding her fiercely, like an injured child. “I’ve wrecked things already. I should have held back. I shouldn’t have pushed.”
She did shake her head then, pulling back. “N-not that. N-not at all.” She closed back in. Even the small glance at the town from this height set it all off again. She couldn’t talk herself out of it, couldn’t rationalize the panic away. She wasn’t going to fall. She was fine. But no, her body reacted as though she stood on the edge, tumbling forward.
“What is it?” Dane’s voice rumbled from his chest.
“The height. Too high.” All she could manage.
“You’re afraid of heights?”
She wasn’t, or maybe she was. It was all so new. She nodded against his shirt.
He gripped her even more tightly. “Can you get back down?”
She shook her head.
He bent down, bringing her with him so they could sit. “Let’s just pretend we’re somewhere else,” he said. “We’re on a beach in Florida. The sand is hot. Kids are shrieking in every direction.” At that, a child somewhere shouted, causing them both to laugh lightly.
“See?” he said. “I know what I’m talking about.”
He held her in his lap, rocking. “I failed to set up the beach umbrella properly. It’s just fallen over.” He stroked her hair. “But I couldn’t stop looking at you in a little pink Ocean Pacific bikini.” He stopped. “You do have a bikini, right?”
She smiled against his shoulder and nodded.
“Good. I’m too poor for panties AND bathing suits on one paycheck.”
She grinned again.
“Sand is already everywhere. It’s stuck to a few beautiful places.” Dane slid his hand across her shoulder, then down between her breasts. “This hollow is like a valley of the dunes. I just want to lick it clean.”
Stella felt something uncurl inside, to relax. Her breathing slowed, became manageable again.
He rested his hand against her rib cage. “I feed you grapes and fried chicken.” His voice rumbled against her head, filled her with a deep, easy satisfaction. “And lick your fingers.” He took one in his mouth.
She smiled against his shoulder. She’d be all right with him. They’d make it down. They’d see each other again. The whole future was laid out before her like the lights of the town, spreading out in a geometry that had logic and beauty, a natural progression from one part to the next. Whatever she was doing next, she was doing it with Dane.
***
9: Carburetor Warning
DANE wiped his hands on a shop towel. This carburetor was gunked like nothing he’d seen before. What had the guy put in his gas tank? Molasses?
Joe came up behind him and laid a hand on his shoulder. “How’s it coming?”
“Haven’t gotten the floater pins off yet. Gonna have to soak ’em.”
“Did the carbs come off the air box clean?”
“Yeah, just pulled them off by hand. Didn’t need to ratchet it. Did he say what happened?”
“Wife caught him with a girl. Put Karo syrup in the gas tank.”
Holy smokes. So he was close. “Going to have to get the floats out before I can even get to the jets.”
“Yeah. Ugly work. But good for thinking things through.” Joe moved farther down the workbench, sorting through a stack of wiper blades.
Dane shook his head. Damn waste of a good bike engine.
&n
bsp; “No? You don’t need to think?” Joe asked.
“What?” Dane finally worked the floater pin free and dunked it in cleaning fluid. What was Joe talking about?
“Darlene. Stella.” Joe stacked and restacked the boxes of wiper blades. He was irked.
Joe must have misunderstood something. Dane ran his thumb along the next floater, trying to coax it free. “Trying not to think, actually.” Damn small towns. Did Joe know about his night with Stella? He’d gotten her all calm and off the tower about 2 a.m.
“Both girls have had their troubles. Don’t need any more from you.”
Another floater came free. Two to go. He stole a glance at Joe, who was still messing with the blades and apparently would stay there until Dane agreed with him. “Understood.”
“Pick one or the other. Don’t play around.”
Dane dropped another floater in the fluid. “Got it.”
Joe nodded, satisfied, and headed into the office.
Dane watched him through a small, greasy window. The music kicked on suddenly, too loud, then down again. “All My Exes Live in Texas.” Dane stifled a snort. Subtle, that Joe.
He worked on the third segment of the carburetor, this one not quite as bad off as the first two.
Couldn’t have been too much syrup, maybe the bottle wasn’t full. Dane wondered how the bike’s owner had figured it out. Had the wife told him? Were they speaking still?
Maybe he had driven off on it, the wife watching smugly from the window. He might have gotten a few blocks before it started missing, goo flowing through its veins.
The last floater pin came out cleanly. He picked up a flat-head screwdriver for the jets, to see how badly they were gunked. This wasn’t going to be a cheap job, for sure. Labor was killer, even if he didn’t replace anything. He wiped his fingers again, black and sticky.
He imagined Darlene, shouting, face blooming red beneath wild hair, wielding a Karo bottle and chucking it after his retreating form. He had to handle this carefully. She no doubt had a mean streak a mile long. Stella wouldn’t talk about her, but their verbal catfight in the bay a few days ago was probably an indication of what he could expect from either one.
