Needs (An Erotic Pulsation)

by Scarlet Chill

  Needs

  An Erotic Pulsation

  Scarlet Chill

  Author’s Note: This is a work of erotic fiction. The material contained herein is intended for readers over 18 years of age.

  Delicious Freedom

  With a shudder, Steel glanced over his shoulder at the wire fence as it slowly became smaller in the distance. Shoving his hands in the pockets of his torn stonewashed jeans, he headed towards the bus station. With only $80 to his name and not a single family member to stand beside him, Steel had no idea where he would go. But one thing was certain: he was getting the hell out of Oregon. Ten years of false imprisonment for murder in the state’s most notorious men’s correctional institution had infused a vagabond longing in the 37 year old man.

  Browsing the various destinations at the bus station, he selected a route bound for Oakland, California. He had never been to California but had spent countless hours in prison dreaming about the Golden State…and about its beautiful, tanned women. Handing over a 5 dollar bill to the driver, Steel walked towards the back of the bus and took a window seat. Immediately, he felt a pair of suspicious eyes boring into him from the side. Steel knew he made an intimidating spectacle in his tattered old clothes that were too tight for his exquisitely defined muscles. He scoffed under his breath, thinking how the old woman staring at him didn’t know what he had endured in the past decade. Exercise, in the form of hours of punishing daily drills in his cell, had been his only release.

  Steel stared out the window throughout the entire bus ride, grinning crookedly when he saw a sign that said “Leaving Portland” and smiling from ear to ear as they crossed the border into California. He drank in the sights as though he had spent the past 10 years as a blind man and finally received the gift of vision. But the gnawing concerns of where he would sleep and how he would earn money were like new prison bars forming around his heart.

  Wrestling his concern’s aside, Steel exhaled in relief as the bus pulled into the station. Oakland wasn’t a pretty city, but it also wasn’t his final destination. On a particularly brutal day laboring in the prison yard, Steel had decided that he would go to the glorious wine country of Sonoma if he were ever set free. That way, if he couldn’t find a job or a place to sleep, at least he could drink himself into oblivion with fine wine.

  Steel boarded the connecting bus as his stomach rumbled. He hadn’t enjoyed a good meal since the days before his bogus murder trial. During the trial for the homicide of his neighbor, he had been so stressed that he lost all appetite for food. In prison, his appetite had returned with a vengeance, but he couldn’t stomach the moldy sandwiches and mystery meat, so he usually wolfed down a stack of protein bars from Commissary.

  But tonight would be different. Rubbing his hands together, he salivated at the thought of a thick steak marinated in its own juices and served alongside a pillow of mashed potatoes drowning in salty gravy. A spicy bottle of Pinot Noir would go nicely with that meal. So what if he would be flat broke after eating like a king? He had been living like a pauper for too long and couldn’t endure another minute of it.

  Spying an expensive steakhouse shortly after hopping off the bus, Steel began striding towards it and then stopped dead in his tracks. Grimacing, he looked down at the rags he wore and touched a hand to his unshaven face. His electric blue eyes shone with rage as he realized that he wouldn’t be seated in the restaurant without a jacket and tie. So he improvised and plodded over to a national chain steakhouse and sat in the corner. The meal might not be as tasty, but at least it would leave him with some money. Then he could use the remainder of the funds to do a little tasting at a local winery.

  The waitress who took his order wore a black apron and a swinging auburn ponytail. She was young and fresh and looked very appealing in his state of sensory deprivation. But she was just a girl. Not more than 18 or 19. Steel needed a woman. A woman who knew how to please a man and would be able to endure the ferocious desires that had been boiling in him since the day he had been locked in a cage.

  Curtly, he gave the girl his order and tried to ignore the look of horror on her face as she appraised his attire. Or maybe it was the vulture tattoo on his forearm that was unnerving her. Whatever the reason, he wanted to eat his dinner and hurry out of the dim, suffocating place. After only ten minutes in the joint, it already felt like the walls were closing in, and he needed to reclaim his freedom.

  Voraciously, Steel shoved the sirloin and spuds down his throat, barely chewing in his haste to consume the food. He washed the meal down with a mug of cheap beer and wiped his face on a napkin. Hurrying over to the cash register, he paid and left a decent tip for the girl before shuffling out of the restaurant and into a majestic purple sunset.

  Steel fought back an ambush of tears at the sight of the sun disappearing over the horizon. He had forgotten how beautiful a sunset could be. The swirl of fiery and pastel colors in the sky was mesmerizing, and he stood on the curb for long minutes just staring heavenward.

  Finally, Steel started walking again, heading south randomly and peeling his eyes for a winery. A mile or so down the road, he spotted a sign for Lush Grape Winery. Licking his lips in anticipation, he followed the sign until he reached the edge of a sprawling vineyard. Inhaling the organic scents all around him, Steel again battled to prevent himself from crying. This first taste of freedom was simply overwhelming.

  “May I help you?” A woman’s sweet voice inquired.

  Whirling around, Steel’s heart barreled against his sternum as he gazed at the breathtaking woman. Donning an ankle length, floral patterned dress with sling back sandals, the brunette was stunning. He swallowed as his eyes couldn’t help taking the tour of her luscious curves tucked inside the feminine dress. Her breasts looked ample and round, and her hips framed a delightfully slender waist.

  Steel shifted his gaze nervously to the fertile ground, fearing that he wouldn’t be able to utter an intelligible word to this sensual woman. She looked at him expectantly, but her features were absent of the judgment and disapproval he had seen plastered to so many others today.

  “Sir, were you here to take a tour of the vineyard? Or just wanted a little wine tasting?” She ventured, looking directly into his eyes.

  Noticing that her eyes were a bewitching shade of brown, Steel tried to formulate a coherent reply. “Uh, wine tasting,” he clipped, hating himself for the caveman reply. But it was all he could manage as he struggled to keep his eyes on her face. Even her face was a distraction, though. Her cocoa brown eyes sparkled too brilliantly, and her lips curved too temptingly.

  “Great! I’m Mary Anne. I own this vineyard,” she informed as his eyes widened.

  “Wow,” he said foolishly. “I mean, impressive. It’s very beautiful,” he drawled, though the only beauty he could notice now was hers.

  “Thank you,” she replied, walking a few paces towards a tavern.

  He cleared his throat and followed her, trying not to gawk at the sway of her hips or fantasize about clutching his hands over her buttocks. Silently, Mary Anne led him to the empty tavern.

  “We usually have a bigger crowd. But you’ve come at an off hour. People usually start pouring in later at night on a Saturday,” she explained, opening the door.

  “It’s Saturday?” He mumbled without thinking. Steel was no longer accustomed to keeping track of clocks and calendars. His days had been painfully monotonous in prison, each night bleeding into another morning. But with an excited shiver coursing through his body and a familiar throb in his groin, he felt that tonight would be extraordinary.

  Regarding him quizzically, Mary Anne gestured for him to have a seat on a bar stool. “What’s that you said?”

  “Um nothing
,” he hedged, afraid to make more of a fool of himself than he had already.

  “Any favorites?” She queried, pointing to a long row of bottles.

  “Pinot Noir,” he replied as she nodded and smiled.

  “Good choice. I know a lot of people say Oregon has the best Pinot Noir, but I would have to say that we do in California…” she trailed off, noting how the man flinched as soon as she said Oregon. “Did I say something wrong?”

  “Not at all. I’m sure everything is better in California,” he replied with a sly wink. It was his first attempt at flirting with the woman, and it felt exhilarating.

  “I didn’t catch your name,” Mary Anne commented, selecting a trio of Pinot Noir bottles and setting them in front of him.

  “Steel,” he answered, drawing in a sharp breath.

  “Steal?” She echoed in surprise. “As in ‘I’m going to steal your heart?’”

  “No. Steel. As in hard as steel,” he replied firmly as her expression of surprise deepened.

  “Is that your real name?” She asked doubtfully, pouring him his first taste.

  “No, but it might as well be. People have been calling me Steel for the past 10 years,” he declared, swishing the wine around in the glass.

  “I see,” she mumbled. “Anyway, this is our special house blend,” she informed, pointing to the glass.

  “Aren’t you going to drink with me?” He asked, his eyes unblinking as they surveyed her face.

  “Well, no. I don’t drink with the customers,” she said uneasily, pushing a wisp of dark hair away from her brow.

  “Could you make an exception?” He prodded.

  “I don’t think so, sir…”

  “Steel,” he corrected brusquely. “Why not? Wine is one of the finer things in life, and I haven’t had anything fine in too damn long,” he revealed, curling his fingers around the stem of the glass.

  “Uh, I don’t know what to say…” she faltered, looking down at the bar. The man was unnerving her with his intense perusal and odd morsels of conversation.

  Boldly, he took the bottle of wine from her hand and poured her a full glass. “Cheers,” he offered, raising his glass to tap hers.

  Hesitantly, Mary Anne picked up the glass and took a tentative sip. “Are you from around here?” She asked, hoping to learn more about the enigmatic stranger.

  “I’m a drifter,” he replied vaguely, sipping his own wine. “Delicious,” he murmured while fixing his gaze on her wine-stained lips.

  “Thank you,” she whispered, pressing her lips to the rim of the glass as he persisted to ogle her.

  “I don’t mean to stare at you, but you are damn beautiful,” he muttered as his erection created a painful friction against the fabric of his jeans.

  “Thank you. No one’s said that to me in a very long time,” she admitted, taking a deeper swig of the red wine.

  “You’ve gotta be kidding me,” he said in genuine disbelief. On a rising note of curiosity, he probed, “No husband? No boyfriend?”

  “Just an ex-husband,” she answered bitterly. “And 2 teenage children,” she added more brightly.

  “Teenage children?” He asked in disbelief.

  “Yes,” she twisted her luscious lips into a smile as he struggled to keep his breathing calm. “How old do you think I am? And don’t try to flatter me.”

  “Well if you’ve got teenage kids, you’ve got to be at least in your late 30’s, but I wouldn’t say any older than that,” he wagered honestly.

  Her smile widened as she said proudly, “I’m 46.”

  Steel winced in genuine astonishment. “You know you look better than most women who are 26, right? And by better, I mean hotter. Sexier. More desirable,” he said in a raw tone as her face flamed.

  “Thank you,” she laughed, though the intensity of his words jolted her.

  “Don’t thank me,” he muttered.

  Reaching across the bar, he dared to place a hand on her cheek and stroke the velvety soft skin. His fingers trembled at this slight contact, and she peered at him in surprise. Trying to rein in his pent up passions, he parted his lips and angled them towards hers. A foot of space separated their faces as she opened her lips as well. Confident that the intoxicating woman wanted to be kissed, Steel grabbed her face in his hands and fed off her pliant mouth ravenously. The kiss quickly became reckless as their tongues touched, and he knocked over a wine glass with his elbow.

  The glass crashed onto the hardwood floor as Mary Anne broke off the kiss and stood away from him. “When was the last time you were near a woman?” She asked bluntly, touching her fingertips to her bruised lips.

  Steel knew he could fabricate any story he wanted, and Mary Anne would probably believe him. Prison makes a man highly adept at weaving tangled webs. But a long forgotten part of him felt compelled to tell her the truth. Maybe she would turn him away and leave him starving, but he had to take that chance. So much of his life had been wasted in dubious prison friendships and palpable loneliness.

  “10 years. It’s been 10 years since I was near a woman.”

  Suddenly, Mary Anne noticed the sinister vulture tattoo on his forearm and the shabby clothing he wore. Her intuition told her that she had just kissed an ex-con, and the idea plagued her with shivers. “Why?” She asked cautiously.

  “Because I just got out of prison,” he confessed, confirming her suspicions. As she backed away from him, he explained urgently, “But I’m not a criminal! I was just released today after being cleared of a crime I didn’t commit. Some of us poor souls in prison really are innocent. Most are scum, but some of us are in there for the wrong reasons.”

  She looked down demurely, debating whether she should tell him that one of her nastiest sexual fantasies had always been to sleep with a man just out of prison. The hunger, the virility, the desperation. It set her body aflame just thinking about it. But she decided against telling him. Instead, she grabbed her wine glass and took a long swig.

  Swallowing the wine with an audible gulp, she asked, “Did you get that tattoo in prison?”

  “Yes,” he replied in his typical monosyllabic fashion.

  “Is it an eagle?” She asked, already knowing the answer.

  “No, it’s a vulture.”

  “Why would you get a tattoo of a vulture?”

  “Because everyone in prison is a vulture. From the inmates to the guards. So I decided to imprint the vulture on my skin. That way, the symbol would lose its power. And I’d be the vulture. Swooping in to…” Steel cut himself off, noticing the unnerved expression on her face. “I’m sorry. I’m not used to being in the company of a lady anymore.”

  Mary Anne wanted to ask him a million questions, especially about what his charges had been in prison. But she frankly didn’t feel like talking. In the last years of her marriage, sex with her husband had been so infrequent and bland that it left her yearning constantly. Since her divorce, she had dated a sorry collection of balding, middle aged men. She hadn’t glimpsed a man like Steel except in her nighttime fantasies that never seemed to come true. But she could make her fantasies---and his---come true right now.

  Smiling naughtily, she strolled over to the tavern door and locked it as Steel watched through blazing blue eyes. Without saying another word, she walked over to the bar and stood a few inches away from him. Red wine was potent on his breath, and the scent excited her. Eagerly, he bridged the small distance between them and clasped her face in his hands again. Just a kiss felt like heaven as he molded his lips to hers and inhaled her perfume.

  Mary Anne, the lifelong good girl, responded to his kiss with an urgency to rival his as she pressed her breasts against his brick solid chest. Steel instantly felt winded at the incredible pressure of her cleavage and pulled her tightly against him, shoving his hands up her dress and caressing her hips inside a lacy pair of panties.

  Summoning all his control, Steel paused, ending the kiss and staring at her through glazed pupils. She looked at him challengingly as if to say, �
�Trying to resist me? Don’t bother. I’m irresistible.’ And indeed she was irresistible. But if he didn’t slow down, he knew he would cum right there in his pants. And he wouldn’t allow himself to suffer that kind of humiliation. The only way to experience Mary Anne was to pretend that she was a bottle of fine red wine. To be tasted. Sampled. Appreciated. His Neanderthal needs would just have to wait a little longer.

  “Let’s slow it down, beautiful,” he urged hoarsely.

  “Slow it down?” She arched a pretty eyebrow and pouted.

  He chuckled and nodded. “Yes. I have to. Let me just discover you…” he licked his lips and walked around her.

  Kissing the nape of her neck, he gripped the buttons of her dress and undid them one by one. His instincts demanded that he rip the dress to shreds and fuck her on the floor like an animal, but he rose above those base needs. Even as Steel’s fingers trembled, he patiently unbuttoned every snap of her dress until she was naked to the waist. Gulping as sweat formed on his brow, he eased the dress off her shoulders all the way down to her feet. He knelt on the floor like she was a goddess to be worshipped. Kissing the backs of her knees, he helped her step out of the dress, leaving her in a pale pink bra with matching panties.

  Mary Anne spun around to face him, confident about her toned body that would make many women half her age envious. He indulged in the sight of her breasts and zeroed in on the nipples peeking out through the sheer material. She looked 100% natural and so ripe, so womanly that he felt ready to pass out from desire. He seized her lips again while moving his hands down to cup her breasts inside the bra. His fingers trembled more violently than before as he pebbled the nipples and squeezed firmly. She cried out against his mouth, relishing the sensual attention that she had been missing for so long.

  “I haven’t been in prison, but it’s been forever for me too,” she admitted on a husky breath as he massaged her breasts gently.

  “Then we both have a lot of catching up to do,” he managed to rasp, stroking the nipples with his thumbs and perceiving their deep burgundy color through the fabric.