Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32
The Black Keys thunder from pulsating speakers as Rex scorches us across a parched stretch of desolation. Madness glints in his eyes as he ups the volume and floors the accelerator, pushing the jittery needle past eighty-eight. The engine spits and roars. In the mirror I see a cloud of black exhaust streaming from the ass end of the restored Tradesman. The imagery has me reminiscing of raven hair and eyes that smoldered like dying coals.“Fuckin’ wild!” Rex growls, hands drumming out a furious ostinato on the steering wheel. “You see them eyes when I shoved Crystal in his face and told him to blow her like a crack whore? Fuckin’ missed that feeling, man.” He pets the sawed-off in his lap, and strokes the growing erection in his jeans. “Shit gets me hard.”“You’re sick, you know that? And slow down already, asshole.” Small fists beat against the back of Rex’s seat.“Forget how to live, Maria?” Rex crows. “We both know a little violence and danger gets you wet. Least till Riley starting stickin’ you.”“Fuck off, cabrón.”“Only if you lend me that talented mouth, darlin’.”There’s a hacked gag of derision.Some things never change, even if you leave your youth behind in a pool of blood in a decrepit bank. I turn the radio down. “Last thing we need is a bored trooper pulling us over.”“Nothing but empty road, Cole. Don’t add to the whiny bitch factor in back.”A chorus of Spanish obscenities fills the van this time, drowning out what little remains of the music, and leaving me grinning. I love it when Maria gets angry, her rough Juárez blood bubbling to the surface. Brings on memories. Some good. Some bad.“Jesus!” Maria screeches.Rex just looks over at me, laughing, and guides the wheel back and forth, zigzagging in and out of the dotted white line.“You dense motherfucker! There’s someone in the middle of the road!”Rex’s laugher is cut off with a strangled grunt of surprise, head swinging forward. The van’s brakes are banshee shrieks of burning rubber, tires skidding over hot Nevada concrete. The Tradesman jerks as the trailer fishtails behind us, threatening to throw us into a death roll, miles from civilization, double that from a halfway decent hospital.Rex easily course corrects, however, and the blacked-out van screams its way to a stop thirty feet from the figure straddling the lane divider.“Ya never do me bad, Delilah,” Rex murmurs, stroking the leather-padded wheel. Sweat beads on his forehead, but his eyes glint with feral excitement.Dumbass.Behind us, Maria glares daggers and mutters a frenetic prayer, hands clenched around a beaded rosary. I swivel back around in my seat and catch sight of our would-be reaper sashaying towards us, wavy blonde hair catching the sun’s light, shimmering like spools of golden wheat. If she is a reaper, my reaper, finally come knocking, I’d gladly welcome the end in exchange for a few hours alone… preferably naked.She comes to a stop a half pace from the van, looking more curious than anything. I give her the once over. Tiny denim shorts look they’ve been spray painted over her bronzed legs. And she’s wearing the sort of beguiling smile that’s survived a helluva lot more abuse than the vintage Louis Vuitton suitcase, the beat-up guitar case, and the rusted out VW they’re resting against.Rex breaks the spell with a wolf whistle.“That’s one fine ass bitch to sin your way to hell with.”Maria answers with a kick to his seat. kolej escort “And she can probably smell your sleazy bullshit from here, shit-head.”“Shut up, both of you,” I snap.“I don’t need to remind everyone what Riley said, do I?” Maria pipes in anyway. “No stops, even if it’s Mother fucking Theresa with a gunshot wound to the chest.”“Riley, Riley, Riley,” Rex cuts in. “Been a bitch ever since he put a ring on that finger. I’m sure we can… give her a ride.” Rex gives Maria a slow-mo wink.“How disgustingly chivalrous.”“What can I say? Momma’s stash of Molly and Jack raised me good.”Maria snorts. “Into a lecherous shit-bag that’d fuck his sister if he had one.”Rex grabs his crotch. “What can I say? I was made to rut. Don’t think I don’t remember you sucking my dick up like a good bong hit back in the day. Your eyes would roll up like a shark’s. Still beat off to those memories.”“You’re sick.”I yank Crystal from Rex’s lap and shove it under the seat. “Both of you shut the hell up. And pretend to be sane adults. At least.” I give them both a hard look before jumping out.-She said her name was Summer, like the season, with an infectious, Julia Robert’s smile. She said it twice, slim arm arcing up and bohemian bracelets sliding down, to pull amber tinted sunglasses low on a pert nose. As if I needed convincing. From anyone else’s mouth it would have sounded absurd. But she was the embodiment of raunchy sex on steamy July nights, with the sky blue eyes to emphasize. She could get away with murder in a police station if she wanted.Even so, Maria’s warnings thundered pot shots in my head: rookie mistake, asshole… she’s an undercover Fed. Maybe. Maybe not.Thing is though, consequences could fuck off. Her paper-thin tank top teases sleek swells and a pair of dime-sized nipples. And her sultry southern twang exploits a weakness I don’t remember having. Besides, she has a gig tonight at a dive bar ninety-nine miles away. Traveling musicians have to look after one another, right? At least, that’s how I rationalize it as I tuck her suitcase in the van.-Route 50 yawns a lonely length of brittle desolation through Nevada. If not for the concrete, it’s just how I imagined it’d always been, back when the bleak unknown was still something exciting. Manifest delusion.“Where you headed again?” Maria asks.“A graveyard in the sand,” Summer murmurs, stretching out those sleek bronze legs.“A what?” Maria’s eyes are dark slits.Summer shrugs. “Wicker’s Run. Typical Nevada. Not much doing but drinking, gambling, and fucking.”“Hell’s paradise,” Rex winks.“Why go?”Summer shrugs. “A girl has to start somewhere, right? And I need inspiration. Hell on earth is as good a place as any.” That eases off Maria’s suspicion. Somewhat. She’s still fingering her rosary. “What about ya’ll? Where you headed?”“Battle of the Bands,” I say, probably a bit too quick. Even if it’s a lie slathered with truth, it’s still a lie. If Summer notices, she gives no indication.“L.A.’s hosting this year,” I continue. “Big cash prize. We won a late entry from a gig in Austin. Figured with the time we have until then, we’d road trip it.”“Jealous,” Summer sighs.Silence fills the van for a few moments after that, three friends and a stranger trying to get a bead on each other. Rex shatters it before any conclusions are reached.“Always been a solo act, blondie?”Summer arches an eyebrow sihhiye escort bayan at the nickname, but otherwise ignores it. “After a fashion you might say. Band mates left me hanging during a gig. Not a damn word of explanation. Just the beer tab.”Rex can’t believe it and says so, spewing crass language and over the top metaphors of what he’d do to such limp-dick maggots. It’s the kind of shit Maria and I have heard a million times before. And it’s never really failed in reeling women in. Neither of us gets the why of it, but it gets Summer giggling a sweet, hauntingly melodic tune, so I can’t complain.Soon enough, each of us adds our own notes of laughter, trading outrageous stories of personal tragedies for darkly comedic memories. All the things you’re wont to do when traveling in a straight line through dusty, dangerously beautiful landscape.-Ninety-nine miles burns to ash with Rex at the wheel. He can’t help himself, even if a puritanical virgin could see he’d trade a few weeks in solitary for the opportunity to blow his load in Summer’s ass. It’s how he’s programmed. And I’ve never despised him more for that fact.-Wicker’s Run is just as Summer described it. The worn town looks like it was transplanted from a McQueen western into the modern age, and didn’t bother with the technological shift, and sure as hell didn’t want to deal with any cultural melting pot.There’s a sad looking bank off main street that also houses a post office; and you’d be lucky to net a few hundred if you were desperate enough to hit it. As the Tradesman rolls deeper in, we pass a neon-lit motel called The Jailhouse. It puts little effort in hiding the fact it’s the joint for sex and a willing ear for the right price. Maybe even a taste of coke with the right words… and a bullet in the brain for the wrong ones. This was paradise for people like Rex, sans fresh pussy. A town like this was where hookers faded from everyone’s memory… just wet stains on dirty sheets.-The Arrowhead is our destination. It lies somewhat apart from the rest of the town; it’s own little world. It’s like a modernized saloon. Pristine. Not a bit of neon anywhere. Just giant black granite out front carved into an arrowhead. In the dying desert sun, I can see that the tip sports a fresh coat of blood red paint.“Inviting,” Maria notes dryly.“My kinda town,” Rex adds. “Uncivilized.”“You sure about this?” I ask, turning in my seat.“Who’s ever really sure about anything, Cole? Besides, a girl needs to eat. And if I can survive playing here, I can survive anywhere.”There’s stark truth to her words. She pauses though, thoughtfulness cutting into those sky blues.“What’d ya’ll say about joining me on stage tonight?”She pops open the door and squeezes out, Rex’s eyes following the tight curve of her ass.“I know who ya’ll are, after all.”We flinch in turn, first Maria, then me, then Rex. There’s a ghost of a smile on Summer’s lips and I see Rex reaching for Crystal out of the corner of my eye. Hungry for pussy or not, Rex wouldn’t hesitate plugging her full of holes with the sun still shining.“I saw you guys play a gig at Eddie’ Attic a year ago.”There’s a relaxing of muscles Summer mistakes for embarrassment.“Hard to forget a performance like that. But, if you’re in a hurry…” Summer trails off, leaving the rest to us.Maria wants anything but.Rex’s eyes glint. Escort sincan There were few things he wouldn’t do to sink his dick inside a girl like her.Me?Well.-It was a star going supernova, a black hole swallowing its solar system. Lightning in a bottle. Pick any damn metaphor you like. You could make the case it described the show we put on. The simple truth is, I can’t remember the last time energy danced in my blood as hotly as when Summer took the mic, howling a honeyed croon of bourbon and Rocky Road. I don’t think any other soul could either.We played until we were hoarse, and our fingers were raw. Until Maria let the energy build in her body and explode out in her vocals like they’d never done before. Until we had to beg for release from the stage from a near rioting crowd of bikers, prostitutes, drug dealers, and the forgotten. We played until the sweat soaked us through and the heat sucker-punched us so hard we could barely stand.-Three hours later, we had reign over the bar and any drink we wanted free of charge. And the girl I hadn’t thought of in years began to reign over me.“Ever think about her?” I ask Maria, buzzed off moonshine and chasers.“Who?”“You know who.”She sighs. “You’re really asking if I think about her white ass? You know I hate her, Cole.”“Still. She was one of and us and we… I miss playing just to play. Not just to con.”“You’re drunk, Cole.”“Real fucking perceptive there.”“Come on. They’re probably done loading. Let’s go.”-Badflower’s “Animal” rolls into the night when I open up the Tradesman, along with an empty bottle of whiskey, which shatters against the pavement. High in the Nevada sky, the glow of a full moon reveals the debauched artistry of near black and white eroticism. A half-eaten stash of cannabis brownies at their feet, half-naked bodies wriggle and writhe against each other.Summer’s wedged between Rex’s legs, her eyes closed, lips parted. Lime flavored lace peaks from unbuttoned shorts while a meaty hand furiously rubs her clit. My cock quakes to life as my eyes scorch the bell-like curves of her bronzed tits, reaching a ten on the Richter scale and threatening to explode when they notice they’re pierced with little barbells.“Disgusting pervert,” Maria whispers angrily behind me. “He’ll have it smelling like sex all the way to L.A. There are plenty of sex holes around here to bang one out in.”Rex’s laughter filters out from the van. “What the fuck for, Maria? I customized Delilah for that very reason.”“You’re sick.”“You’re jealous.”“Of your tiny white prick, cabrón? Never.”“It’s anything but tiny,” Summer purrs, eyes closed, head falling into the crook of Rex’s shoulder. She nips at his tattooed neck, and whispers something in his ear that has him grinning.“They’d never go for it,” Rex laughs.“Never go for what?” I ask.“Our horny blonde stranger here doesn’t think either of you could sit and watch without wanting to get in on the action. You in particular, my little Chihuahua.”“I’m engaged now, shit-head.”“Never did stop you before.”“That was…”“Keep lying, little lady. Maybe you’ll get good at it one day. Now. If you don’t mind, we were about to fuck like animals.”Beside me, Maria fumes as Summer wriggles out of her tiny denim shorts, leaving her in nothing but that tiny scrap of lime green lace.“That’s our cue,” I tell Maria, grabbing her hand and turning to go. “Getting a room in this shit-hole won’t be hard.”“No,” Maria says, hand squeezing mine.“No?”“We’re staying.”“What about Riley?”“Fuck, Riley. I’m gonna make that deviant eat his words and his semen. You with me or not?”I look back into the van; Rex has Summer’s legs hooked over his shoulders, his shaved head moving for her smooth crotch.