Rough and Ready

by Sandra Hill

  He took her to his bed and crawled into the sheets with her. Within seconds, they were both asleep.

  Life is good.

  You dog, you! . . .

  Hilda felt so warm and all-over peaceful when she heard a loud knocking noise and opened her eyes to see herself cuddled up with her back against the lout. He was snoring into her ear, with his hairy leg sprawled over her thighs and one hand resting familiarly on her breast.

  “Aaaaccck!” she screeched.

  He shot to a sitting position and reached reflexively for his gun. “What? What?”

  She jumped out of the bed and put her hands on her hips, trying her best to ignore that achy pleasure down there. “You promised not to touch me.”

  Placing the gun back on the bedside table, he said, “Well, hell, Hildy. If you didn’t want me to touch you, you shouldn’t have sat in front of a mirror, buck naked, with your legs spread, searching for gold.”

  “You are the one who said I should learn my own body. You are the one who showed me how to master-bait.”

  “Don’t blame me for having red blood in my veins.”

  “You should not have touched me.”

  “You weren’t protesting then.”

  “And that is an excuse? Turn my bones to butter and that makes everything all right?”

  He grinned. He actually had the nerve to grin.

  She threw a pillow at him. “I suspect something else, too.”

  “What would that be, sweetheart?” The whole time he spoke, his eyes were feasting on her nude body.

  “That doggie business . . . you said it was a woman’s favorite position . . . well, I suspect it is more like a man’s favorite position.”

  There was a coughing noise in the hallway. They both turned as one to see Cage leaning lazily against the open door, arms folded over his chest, ankles crossed. “Well, this is all very interesting, but don’t you think you two should answer your door? You never know who might walk in.”

  “Eeeeek!” Hilda cringed, covering herself with a big towel. Torolf got up, totally uncaring about his nudity, and stretched.

  “What’re you doing here?” Torolf asked with concern.

  “You’ve got a problem.”

  Hilda and Torolf were suddenly alert.

  “Your brother made me bring someone here.”

  “Which brother?”

  “Ragnor. He said that if I didn’t bring her here, he and Alison would be evicted from their apartment. Apparently, the neighbors are complaining.”

  “She. A woman?” Hilda shrieked.

  “Oh, God, please tell me it’s not Gina,” Torolf groaned. “Where is she?”

  Cage was grinning, as if at some secret jest. “In your kitchen, eating a leftover hoagie on the counter.”

  “What?” Torolf asked in confusion.

  He was not the only one who was confused.

  Just then, a huge animal rushed past Cage, lunged at Torolf, with fur flying everywhere, knocked him backward on the bed, and proceeded to lick him all over. “Slut, you old dog, you,” Torolf said, laughing as he tried to escape the dog’s drool.

  Once the dog settled down, after licking them both up and down, Hilda and Torolf put on their clothing, with her glowering at him and him grinning at her, offering her something called wild monkey sex. They prepared to go out to the scullery, where Cage was preparing them a break-fast. But first Hilda put a hand on Torolf ’s arm. She was still mad at him for tricking her into sex play last night, but she had a more important issue now.

  “Who is Gina?”

  When a guy’s bad deeds come back to bite him in the butt . . .

  Torolf kept stealing glances at Hilda across the small table. He was falling for her, hard, and she blamed him for every friggin’ problem in her life.

  “Do you want more?”

  His head jerked up. Is she reading my mind now? Cage grinned at him across the small table as he read the morning newspaper, something he’d been doing ever since he got here. Grinning, that is.

  Turning, he saw that Hilda held the frying pan in one hand and a turner in the other. Wearing an old red-and-white-checked apron—the type that slipped over the neck and tied behind in old movies—she was offering him more of the mushroom and cheese omelette Cage had made for them. He shook his head, and she put some on her plate with another piece of toast. “I really like that apron on you, but—” Good Lord, I must be developing a good case of foot-in-mouth disease.

  “But?” she said, sitting down and tearing the omelette apart with her fingers. He hadn’t taught her about the use of forks and knives yet. Slut was crowded under the table, tongue hanging out to catch Hilda’s droppings.

  Cage smiled and told her, “Torolf meant he would like you in that apron with nothing under it.”

  She stopped eating and speared Torolf with one of her “the lout” looks. “Is that what you were picturing?”

  He thought about lying, then shrugged. “Sure. Why not?”

  “Do women in this land walk around bare as bairns under their aprons?”

  “All the time,” he told her.

  She looked to Cage for confirmation.

  “All the time,” good ol’ Cage agreed with a wink at him.

  “Thanks,” he mouthed.

  “Anyhow, Max, your brother wanted to know where the hell you were hiding. He suggested there must be a woman involved.”

  “Gina, no doubt,” Hilda said with sugary sarcasm.

  “You didn’t tell Ragnor, did you?”

  “Nope. I’m enjoying your mess too much. Moving on, mon coeur. Slut is spayed, but apparently she has attracted every hound dog in Ragnor’s neighborhood. Howling dogs are breaking their leashes to get to her.”

  “Shame on you, Slut,” Torolf said, although he was kind of proud of her for being such a hottie.

  “Wanna help me decorate for the big bash tomorrow night?” Cage asked Hilda.

  “I am not sure how much help I can be, but certainly I would like to be useful.”

  You could be useful to me, Torolf thought with continuing lack of sense. And, hey, why Cage had asked Hilda and not him raised a few red flags. “By the way, where are you staying?”

  “He is staying here with us, of course,” Hilda offered. Vikings were known for their hospitality. He should have known.

  “I could sleep in the second bedroom.”

  “That’s my bedchamber,” Hilda said.

  At the questioning tilt of Cage’s head, she added, “That was a mistake, my sleeping in Torolf ’s bed. He cannot keep his hands off me.”

  Cage was enjoying Torolf’s discomfort immensely. “Okay, I guess I can sleep on your couch. As for the rest of the guys, Serenity assured me there will be plenty of single girls to hook up with.”

  “This is turning into a bloody nightmare,” Torolf pronounced. Hilda, on the other hand, smiled as if everything was okeydokey.

  “She’s gonna give me a tattoo today.” At their surprised looks, Cage said, “Just kidding.”

  “I would not mind getting a tattoo,” Hilda said, wiping her mouth with a paper napkin, which she folded neatly to use again.

  “Why would you want a tattoo?” he asked.

  “To remember this place when I am gone,” she answered.

  Strangely, his heart sank at that apparent yearning on her part, to be away from this place, which pretty much meant away from him, too.

  “Where would you put the tattoo?” Cage asked.

  “I do not know. Where do people usually put them?”

  “Usually on the butt,” Torolf told her.

  “They do not!”

  “Yeah, they do. Hearts, butterflies, whatever. You never know what you’re going to find when you get down to business.”

  “And you get down to business a lot, do you?”

  Well, I stepped right into that one. “On the rare occasion when I have the opportunity to view a bare female behind.”

  Cage snorted his opinion of that statement. Hilda did,
too. She was learning bad things from Cage.

  “Body piercings are another jolt to the eyeballs when ya get down and dirty.” Cage was on a real roll now. “I met this woman one time. It was in the French Quarter, which shoulda given me a clue. She had herself pierced right here.” He pointed to his crotch.

  Hilda was shocked. “Why, for the love of Odin?”

  Torolf knew what was coming next.

  “She had this little ring, down there, and she also had this thin chain she could attach to it. She wanted me to lead her around on a leash. Talk about!”

  Several seconds passed while they all pictured that scene.

  “And did you?” she asked finally.

  “Nah. I’m not into kinky stuff,” Cage said with a straight face. Then he leveled his mischievous gaze on Torolf, batting his eyelashes like a blinkin’ neon sign. “How about you, Max? You into perversions?”

  He was about to tell him to shut up, but it was too late.

  “Just doggie style rutting,” she told Cage, “but that is a good perversion. There are good and bad perversions, you know.”

  “I did not know,” Cage said, still with a straight face. “Shame on you, Max, for never sharing that information.”

  I am never, ever going to live this down.

  Sensing that she had disclosed something she should not have, she added to Cage, “But do not tell anyone.”

  “Like the entire sixteen teams of SEALs on both coasts,” Torolf said with a groan.

  I am never ever going to live this down.

  Chapter 18

  One perversion, two perversion, three perversion . . .

  Hilda was happy.

  And that was a real surprise to her.

  Oh, she still wanted—nay, intended—to return to The Sanctuary. But for now, she was enjoying these new people she was meeting here in Ah-mare-eek-ah.

  Yesterday, she had helped Serenity and several other women decorate the great hall named Fire. In many ways, women throughout the ages were the same. They talked about men, clothing, men, their monthly flux, men, women’s work, jewelry, men. One difference was the amount of time women here spent worrying over their sizes. In this country, or mayhap just in this time, being very, very thin was the ideal. Hard to fathom a starvling woman being considered the comeliest.

  This morning, some of the women were taking her to a large shopping mart, called a mall, to buy a special garment for tonight’s event. Torolf did not know she was going, though she had taken some parchment from his pocket to pay for her purchases. He was being a grumpy bear over her even leaving the trailer to visit with neighbors in the hog park for fear the sign-tiss would arrive.

  Right now, Torolf and Cage were off chasing Slut, who kept evading them as she found every male dog within shouting distance and beyond. Hilda was learning an assortment of new swear words from these two. In many ways, Slut reminded her of Stig, whom she missed. Later, the other SEALs would arrive, and they would be watching some kind of horseless carriage races. Strange country, this Ah-mare-eek-ah!

  At the last minute, Serenity decided not to go with them to the mall.

  “Is this about Jolene?” Linda asked. Linda was a young woman who had just started call-ledge, a school for adults, and who took off her clothes and danced for money one day a sennight.

  Hilda was trying hard not to judge the girl. A woman did what she had to do to survive. She knew that better than most.

  “I thought I heard a scream last night,” Linda remarked.

  Hilda went immediately alert. A scream?

  Serenity’s face betrayed her. She must have heard a scream, too. “I wanna go over and see how she is, once that asshole of a husband is on the road again.”

  “I swear, we oughta all get together and do an intervention with that girl,” Lizzy declared with obvious frustration. She was a teacher of young children who was several years older than Hilda. She spent her summers and some weekends here at Hog Heaven, as did many others, their common interest that they all owned hogs.

  “No, I’ll tell you what we oughta do. We should pull an Earl on that husband of hers, who just happens to be named Earl. You know, that Dixie Chicks song where the women go off and kill Earl, the bastard that was beating one of their best friends.”

  Seeing Hilda’s confusion, Serenity said, “Jolene is a young woman. Only about twenty. She’s married to a trucker. They have no kids, thank God. He hauls freight from coast to coast. He beats the crap out of his wife, occasionally, and we think Jolene ought to either leave the jerk or at least file charges the next time he raises a hand to her.”

  Hilda felt rage boil up in her. Did men never change through the ages? Were there always those who felt it their right to beat their women, as if they were property or dogs? “I want to stay and go with you. In my country, I have a sanctuary for women. Although I cannot take this young woman there, I can give her advice.”

  Everyone gazed at her with surprise . . . and admiration.

  Hilda was not looking for praise. This was something she could do, and she did it well.

  “You run a women’s shelter?” Linda asked.

  “Yea, I do.”

  “Good for you,” Tissie said, reaching over to squeeze her hand. Tissie was a woman with beautiful reddish brown skin, stemming from her chair-oh-key ancestors.

  “No, you go to the mall today, Hilda. It’s better if I talk with Jolene alone this time. Maybe later.” Then she laughed and tried to change the subject. “While you’re out, I want you all to pick up a joke gift that I set aside for Spike at The Horny Toad. Just give them my name.”

  “Ooh! A sex shop,” Lizzy said. “Maybe I’ll get a new set of Ben Wa balls.”

  “What are Ben Wa balls?” Hilda asked.

  The others giggled, even Serenity, who kept saying, “I’m too old for this stuff.”

  “Serenity, I’ve learned more stuff from you than Sex and the City,” Linda said.

  Serenity beamed.

  Lizzy explained what Ben Wa balls were, and Hilda’s face got hotter and hotter.

  “They’re great when you’re having sex with a man,” Tissie elaborated, “but I enjoy them as much just riding my Harley.”

  “Yea, those hogs are a wonderful self-pleasuring device, are they not?” Hilda remarked.

  There was a stunned silence, then a burst of laughter.

  “Sweetie, you are a breath of fresh air.” Serenity gave her shoulders a squeeze. “I’m gonna love havin’ you around.”

  Hilda wasn’t sure what she’d said to prompt such a reaction, but it was rather nice to be mothered.

  Then Linda said, “I might buy a new set of nipple rings. My old ones are getting tarnished.”

  No one appeared fazed by Linda’s comment; so, Hilda bit her tongue. She could scarce imagine how a woman could wear rings on her nipples.

  The final shock came from Tissie, who added, just before the four of them rose to leave Serenity’s trail-her, “I’m hoping you can touch up my tattoos before I leave this weekend.”

  “Sure, hon,” Serenity said. “Let me see what’s happening, and I’ll get my tools out while you’re gone. I brought some home with me from the shop.”

  “Oh, dost have a heart or butterfly on your butt?” Hilda asked, trying to appear less naive than she apparently was.

  “Hell, no!” Tissie raised her tea-ing shert, and showed them both breasts totally covered with tattoos.

  Hilda’s eyes nigh popped from her head.

  Tissie explained that Serenity had tattooed them to look like ice cream cones, whatever that was.

  Hilda could not keep her thoughts to herself. “Blessed Thor, I have been married three times, and ne’er have I heard of such things. I thought the things Torolf favored were perverted, but they are not like this.”

  All eyes turned on her with interest.

  “What?”

  “C’mon. Spill,” Linda said. “You can’t say that and not finish.”

  “Oh, ’tis naught like the thi
ngs you have all mentioned. Just teaching me how to pleasure myself.”

  “My, my, my! I always thought Max had some mojo hidden away,” Lizzy said. “Don’t go lookin’ so crushed, though. He turned me down.”

  “Me, too,” the others said.

  That was interesting . . . that Torolf had declined sex with these very attractive women. Not that she cared. Much.

  “Any other perversions Max has?” Linda asked with casual interest, which might not be so casual.

  “Just the woman’s favored sexual position.”

  Silence.

  Then Tissie asked, “And that would be?”

  “Doggie sex.”

  Everyone laughed except a puzzled Hilda, who decided that while she was opening her big mouth, she might as well finish. “Of course, he knows the famous Viking S-spot, as all Northmen do, though not my three husbands, the know-nothings. The S-spot is not really a perversion. Leastways, I do not think it is.”

  When they finally left for the mall, which was a big shopping mart, they were all chattering away. It turned out she had as much to teach them as they were teaching her.

  “Tell me again where this S-spot is,” Linda said.

  “Oh, I cannot explain it. Really. It can only be found with a tongue. A man’s tongue.”

  “Honey,” Linda said, looping an arm over Hilda’s shoulders, “you are my new best friend.”

  “Me, too. Me, too,” the others said.

  It was always good to have new friends.

  Doggone it! . . .

  Navy SEALs were trained to fight the hardest terrorists in the world. They took down tangos around the world and destroyed their caves and safe houses. Lots of U.S. enemies feared them.

  Why then did it take five SEALs to catch a friggin’ dog?

  For more than an hour after the other guys arrived, they chased, almost caught, slipped down a hill, climbed up a steep embankment, fell in a pond, and called out the silliest things in the world, “Here Slut, here Slut!” “Hey, Slut, I got a boner here for you!” “Look, 101 Dalmatians is on the tube. Hurry!” “Is that a hot pit bull I see over there? He’s got somethin’ for you, chère.” “Hey, Slutty mutty!” “Think dog pound here, Slut!” “Think doghouse here, Slut!” “Even dogs have to give it a rest sometime! I’m tired. Aren’t you tired, Slut? C’mon, let’s go take a nap!” “Uh-oh! Is that a T-bone I spy over there?” And finally, “Get the fuck over here, you motherfucker, before I stick a bone up your ass and make dog soup!”