Bones by the Wood (6 page)

And then something in her face had changed subtly.  Her eyes had widened before the lids had dropped low.  Then that little pink tongue had slipped out to lick her lips.  He was sure she hadn’t even realized she’d done it, but his cock had turned to steel in his jeans at the way she was responding to the sheer proximity of him.  He’d wondered again about those roses inked on her arm and had wondered if it was the night he was going to find out how far they trailed over her body. He hadn’t meant to back her up against the shelves; he’d been responding to a simple but urgent desire to...  to... what? 

Belatedly he’d realized that there was a good chance of a security camera recording the whole show.  But he was drawn to that long neck with the wispy tendrils of black hair stuck to it and she’d smelled fresh and warm and just... female.  He’d been drawn in, and she had fucking trembled when he’d gotten close, not out of fear, he could tell that it wasn’t fright causing her limbs to shake.  That she would let him do what he wanted, or even nearly, was almost too powerful an aphrodisiac to ignore, but he wasn’t going to fuck her there, not on the chance that he’d be providing jerk-off fodder for whoever might see the security videos, which also had the potential to end up all over the internet.  Not to mention they were in full view of the wide glass doors, so he’d let her make her escape.

But he was still intrigued, and the memory warmed his blood as he made his way through the juddering doors.  He’d enjoyed getting some revenge for her smart-ass teasing the previous week.  He wanted to see her again and see how she’d react, if at all.

He looked over to the register as he usually did, and she was there, but he was distracted from his thoughts of the previous night by the fact that she had her hand down her jeans and was, not dancing, but jigging in place.  He didn’t know what she was doing, but he wanted to find out.  His feet were already taking him in her direction instead of through the aisles.  When she spotted him, she flushed bright red, which made him smile, and whipped her hand out as fast as the tight denim would allow before shoving it into her jeans pocket.

“Whatcha doin’ there darlin’?  Scratchin’ an itch?”  His smile widened.  Surely it wasn’t possible for someone to blush more than she already had been doing, but the color in her cheeks flamed a couple of notches brighter.

Her eyes darted from side to side.  It was plain that she didn’t want to answer, but he wasn’t moving until she came up with some explanation.  He didn’t know her well, but his guess wasn’t that she’d had an irresistible urge to rub one out in full view of potential customers, but he couldn’t come up with any other plausible reason for her to be fishing around down there.  She huffed, obviously seeing no means of escape. 

“I’m trying to sort my... my... my underwear out.”  Her exasperation at the offending garment, and at him, was crystal clear.  “The fuckin’ elastic has snapped and it’s all gone loose.”

“Any way I can help you with that?”  He’d been wrong, she could blush harder, and he found it adorable.  This hot looking woman with the sexy ink was blushing like a schoolgirl.

He decided to save her from answering, since she was unlikely to say anything encouraging.  “You should take ‘em off.”

The blush faded, dialed down by frustration.  “I would, but I can’t leave the register.”

“I could watch it for you.”

“No offense.  It’s not that I don’t trust you, but it’s more than my job’s worth.  You can bet if I did that the manager would come by.  Fuckin’ Murphy’s Law or some shit.”

“So you’re just goin’ to keep playin’ with yourself for the rest of the night?”  He’d meant it as a joke, but suddenly the idea of Thea with her hand between her thighs was no laughing matter.  He was going to need to do his own bit of rearranging once he was out of view of the counter.

Thea cocked her head to one side, as if studying him.  All traces of the red had gone from her cheeks now, and her eyes glittered.  She seemed to have taken his question as some sort of personal challenge.

“No, I am not.”

He stayed where he was and watched, curious and rapt, as she stalked to the other end of the counter.  She bent at the waist to fish around in the cupboard or shelves or whatever underneath.  Dizzy didn’t think she’d bent over intentionally to give him a show, but her ass in its second skin of denim was quite the sight.  When she straightened, she was holding a pair of ancient, metal scissors that were almost the length of her forearm.

She came back to her spot at the register, defiance still flashing in those brilliant blue eyes. Curiouser and curiouser.  Surely she wouldn’t....  And then, with a little toss of her head to send the loose ponytail of hair over her shoulder and her bangs out of her eyes, she undid the top button of her jeans.  That got Dizzy’s attention, and he didn’t even give a shit if he was staring at that sweet spot down low under her belly button revealed by the partially open fly.  There was just the hint of dark hair and... he managed to stop himself leaning over the counter to see if that was white lace just peeking out there.  And then the mammoth scissors came into view and his brain stuttered as she slipped them into her jeans at her hip and snipped at something.

Dizzy couldn’t tear his eyes away.  He’d have liked to have met her bold gaze, but the show was too good to miss.  He vaguely noticed her placing the heavy scissors on the counter with a clunk, before those slim fingers delved behind the unfastened front of her jeans and, with a little tug and pull, emerged with a scrap of, yes, white lace.  There wasn’t enough of it for it to have been anything other than a thong.  As she stuffed it into her back pocket, Dizzy’s brain put the pieces together to show him the picture of how one side had snapped so she’d cut the other side to be able to pull the flimsy material from between her legs without actually taking her jeans off.

His mind was running riot on that visual as Thea fastened her jeans.

“You actually come in here to buy somethin’?  Or just to harass a lady in distress?”

As adorable as she was in the middle of mortifying embarrassment, the sass was unbelievably sexy.  He liked that she would stand up to him, that she would give as good as she got.  He liked that a lot.

“I definitely need a drink after that little show.  Maybe a smoke, too.  Grab me a couple of packs, sweetheart.”  He refused to feel any shame for staring.  The view had been worth a dropped jaw or two.

With just the hint of a grin playing on her lips, she turned to get his cigarettes.  Dizzy took the opportunity, while her back was turned, to scoot down the aisle towards the booze.  He took a moment or two longer than he needed while he was out of sight to arrange his solid cock into a more comfortable position.  He was going to need to take that in hand when he got home, or he’d have a bad case of blue balls.

He brought the bottle he’d chosen back to the counter.  Thea began to ring it and the packs of cigarettes up as if their little scene had been a figment of his imagination.  His imagination was now running full tilt on the knowledge that she was bare beneath her jeans.  He wondered if her little act of challenge had turned her on as much as it did him.  Christ, the thought that she was wet and basically naked... Dizzy did his best to concentrate on finding his wallet and fumbling out the required bills.

“You ever come to the clubhouse, darlin’?” 

He wanted a taste, and the only way he was going to get that was if he got her out of this fucking store.  She paused; he was reading it as a reluctance to answer, which piqued his interest.

“A time or two.”

“You should drop by sometime.  Everyone’s there on Friday’s.”  And by ‘everyone’ he particularly meant himself.

“No, thanks.  I know how it works, and I’m not interested.”

Oh she did, did she? And she wasn’t, was she?  “And how do you think it works?”

“A girl doesn’t just walk in on her own to have a drink.  I don’t fancy havin’ my ass pinched ‘til it’s blue.”

Now that set off a whole other set of intriguing images in Dizzy’s mind.  “Who’d you go with last time?”

“Annelle Beaumont?” He nodded to convey that he knew who she was talking about.  “She’s a friend of mine.  A friend-friend.  Not a boss-friend.”

There was that boldness again instead of the blushing.  Dizzy thought he got it.  She wasn’t bothered that he might think she was a stripper; she wanted him to know she wasn’t casual pussy like the other girls that Annelle brought with her.  Well, he’d already figured that out.

“I’ll make sure those gorillas don’t bother you, darlin’.”  Of course they wouldn’t; he had every intention of paying her whatever attention was needed to get between her thighs.

“I’ll think about it.”  Dizzy recognized that as chick-speak for ‘no’, but he decided to play to the dumb male.

“You do that, darlin’.  It’d be a memorable night.”  He made his tone deliberately suggestive, but she wasn’t backing down. 

He wondered where the responsive woman from the other night had gone and figured that she was feeling brave with the counter between them, or that maybe physical proximity would neutralize her bravado.  Either way, he wanted a drink, and he needed to sort out his hard-on before he injured himself.  He took the bottle and the cigarettes with a wink and headed casually out to his bike.  Only when he was in his house with the first glass of whiskey poured did Dizzy remember held forgotten to pick up any food at all.

Thea woke with a gasp, shooting straight up
in her bed like some vampire in a cheesy horror flick.  In her dream, she hadn’t just pulled the remnants of her underwear out of her jeans and stuffed them in her pocket, and Dizzy hadn’t just sauntered off to pick his whiskey. Oh no.  In her dream her hand had stayed in her jeans, stroking and teasing until she was drenched as he watched, until, at the point that she’d almost come, he’d vaulted over the counter and shoved her over it before yanking her jeans off her hips, ruined thong and all, and fucked her until she screamed.

Thea held her breath and listened intently.  She could hear the buzz of the refrigerator and the ticking of the wall clock from the next room, but there were no other sounds of life or movement.  She had come in her dream, but in reality, in the here and now, she was teetering right on the edge, desperate to tip over. 

She reached over and slid open the top drawer of the cabinet next to the bed and fished around until she found her little bullet vibrator.  About the same length and thickness as her index finger and shiny silver plastic, it was just the tool for the job.  She twisted the base, breathing a sigh of relief at the sharp buzz that indicated that the battery wasn’t about to die, and slipped it beneath the waistband of the thin cotton pajama pants that she slept in.  She had to be quick, she couldn’t risk taking the time to linger, and she needed the release. 

The buzzing plastic was almost too much sensation for her already sensitized clit.  As she moved the vibe in small, tight circles, her pussy clenched on thin air as her hips canted spasmodically, as if her body were begging for real and actual sex.  She came hard and fast to images dancing over her closed lids of a tall, blonde biker who had been haunting her subconscious for more than just this past night.  Her orgasm, when it hit, was a little like an explosion, pulsing out from the center of her body. It took her breath away.

She lay back and let the electricity tingle through her blood, around her limbs and then recede.  Having thoroughly relived the first half of her encounter with Dizzy the previous night, she took a moment to think about the second half, the part where he’d mentioned her visiting the clubhouse.  A small voice of suspicion, one that might have proved more useful had it appeared earlier, had reminded her of a portion of a conversation with Annelle.  Thea decided on the spot that Dizzy did not need to know that she’d had anything to do with any member of the Rabid Dogs MC. 

Not that it really mattered at all.  She would not be going to the clubhouse, on Friday or any other day.  She would not be acting on any whims to find out whether his attitude of authority and experience translated in bed.  He was just a man.  A panty-meltingly sexy one, but still a man, and she could do without the hassle.  But if he was going to keep giving her that sexy little grin she might take him for a test drive.  Just one.  She almost smacked herself in the head for her own foolishness.  Who the fuck was she kidding?  Like she’d get to call the shots on that.  No, it would be better to keep clear altogether.

Thea turned her head on the pillow and looked at the clock on the cabinet next to the bed.  The cabinet didn’t match any of the other furniture in the room.  It had all been collected from yard sales and thrift stores and was an interior designer’s nightmare.  It was time for her to be getting up, a little past time, thanks to that dream.  She would have to rush and shake Josh a little harder than usual.  She was supposed to have another two years before he turned into a teenager, but he’d started early practice on the sleeping-in trait.

She needed a shower; maybe a cold one would restore some sense, but she couldn’t face that.  She’d settle for lukewarm.  She sat up and planted her feet on the floor with a groan.  Every cell in her body was reluctant to leave the warm comfort of her bed.  She hadn’t been in it long, but having a young child and working night shifts had combined to ensure that she could operate on only a few hours of sleep each night, or more accurately, each morning.  She showered quickly and dressed in her usual jeans, t-shirt and Converse, but she pulled a hoodie out of a drawer and slung it over the arm of the sofa; she’d need it to ward off the autumnal chill when they left the building.

Breakfast was cereal and coffee, substantially more coffee than cereal, eaten with her hip propped against the counter.  She needed to give Josh something more substantial to sustain him until he claimed his free lunch at school.  Thea checked the cupboards; maybe she’d just have to give him something more, there wasn’t really anything more substantial in the kitchen.  She tipped a bigger serving of the budget brand cornflakes into a bowl and put two slices of bread into the toaster in readiness.

Even when she had finished, there was still no sign of movement from Josh’s room.  With a quick sigh of frustration she opened his door, not being at all careful about how much noise she made.  He was still asleep.  For once, his head was on the pillow and he was under the comforter, or at least half of him was.  He was a lively sleeper, and it wasn’t unusual to find him on top of the covers, at the wrong end of the bed, or even hanging out half on the floor while still in deep slumber.

She glanced around and saw that his handheld games console had been placed neatly on the corner of the chest of drawers.  If it was there, then it was unlikely that he’d been playing it until the early hours.  When that had been the case she usually found it on the floor by the bed, where it had slipped from his unconscious hand.  When that happened on a school night, she hid it before he woke up and refused to tell him where it was for a while.  She’d had to do some serious overtime to afford it as his tenth birthday present, but he was getting his money’s worth out of it.  He’d had to agree to forgo any major Christmas presents, too, and surprisingly, he hadn’t complained come Christmas morning.  They’d also agreed that she would only buy him games for it, one, on birthdays or at Christmas.  If he wanted one in between times he’d have to find a way to earn the money himself.  He did small odd jobs for the neighbors sometimes, and carefully saved any money he was given in return.

Thea took a moment to appreciate how young and peaceful he looked while asleep.  It wouldn’t be long before puberty started to hit and he’d change beyond all recognition, but for now, especially while asleep, he was still her little baby boy. 

Reminding herself that they were now in danger of being late for school, she shook his shoulder.  “Get up bud, come on.”

“Mmmhhhfff.”  Josh rolled and buried his face into the pillow.

Thea shook him again more vigorously.  “Come on, bud.  You’re gonna be late.”

“Pfffmmmmnnnfff.”

The coffee must have taken effect because she was almost finding his futile attempts to ignore her amusing rather than irritating. “Joshua Colby, you get up this instant or I will tip cold water over you where you lie.”

She hadn’t had to follow through with that threat yet, but she would if she needed to.  A cup maybe, not a bucket.  After all, she’d be the one doing the cleaning up.

“Mmmnnfff.  Alright.  Alright.  I’m awake.”  His response was muffled by the pillow. 

“Up.  Now.  Get washed and dressed.  I’ll make you some breakfast.  I’ll be back in here in fifteen minutes.  If you’re not out of this bed, then you can go to school in your jamas.”

“Alright.  Alright.”  He finally rolled over and sat up, rubbing his closed eyes with his fists. 

Thea switched the room light on to make it harder for him to go back to sleep and backed out, but hovered in the doorway until Josh tossed the covers back and swung his feet over the side of the bed.  His brown hair, that he’d recently decide to wear swept over to one side like some fifties movie star, was stuck up in all directions.  He’d also recently started to reject his old cartoon character pajamas. Where he’d gotten the idea for sleeping in just boxer shorts, which he did not have, she didn’t know.  She’d persuaded him to wear the pajama pants with a plain white t-shirt, which had so far proved acceptable.  He was a good boy who was helpful and respectful for the most part, but the teenage years were definitely on their way.  He was in the fifth grade and moving up to middle school next.  She was expecting his incipient adolescence to be accelerated by that move.

Giving him the space of trust, Thea went back to the kitchen and pushed the bread into the toaster and poured milk over the cereal before making herself another cup of coffee.  She listened out for the sounds of Josh getting up rather than going back to sleep as she tried to do the mental arithmetic to decide between spending gas money on getting to the nearest superstore to do her grocery shopping or whether it evened out if she paid the extra markup at the store she worked at and saved herself a longer journey.  In the end, it was the capability of her car to perform the extra mileage that made her mind up for her.

Josh still looked at least half asleep as he shuffled into the kitchen, but he was dressed for school and clean.  He’d made use of the cheap hair gel that she’d bought him to do the little side parting, sweeping little quiff thing that he’d adopted for his hairstyle.

She just about caught the mumbled “Thanks” as he picked up the bowl of cereal and took it to the dining table before digging in.  When the toaster popped, she buttered the rounds, sliced them into triangles, dropped them onto a plate and put them on the table next to him.  She poured him a glass of orange juice, and then left him to eat in peace.  He was still too sleepy to tolerate idle conversation without getting grumpy.

Apart from a guiding nudge here and there, she didn’t need to say much, anyway.  He rinsed his dishes and put them in the sink unprompted, and picked his coat up without complaint before grabbing his school bag.  It took a couple of tries to get the car to start, and she was about ready to panic, but on the third try it caught, and she pulled out onto the street with a silent prayer of thanks.  There was a school bus which would have saved her the gas money, but it picked up from two streets away and she didn’t want Josh hanging around on the street in this neighborhood until he was a little older.  Thankfully he hadn’t brought the subject up yet.  She was torn between mentioning it around the time of his birthday, or waiting and hoping the idea didn’t occur to him for a while longer.

He was beginning to look a little more alert.  “So, bud.  Anything you’re looking forward to today?”

“We’re doin’ story writin’ in English, which is sorta cool.  Mrs. Dawson is lettin’ us write about anythin’ we like so I’m gonna do a story about dragons.  I think Mr. Callaghan is gonna tell us about the Science Fair, too.”

“Will you let me read the story when you’re done with it?” 

“Sure.  Unless it sucks.”

“I’m sure it won’t, but I’d like to see it anyway.  Have you got any ideas for the Science Fair?”

“No, not yet.  I was gonna see what Mr. Callaghan says about it first.  Hey, can I go round to Billy’s house after school?”

“It’s okay by me if it’s okay with his mama, but you make sure he’s asked her first.  Don’t you just go turnin’ up on her doorstep.  I’m at work at five, though, so I want you home for dinner by then ‘cause Clarice will be cookin’ and it’s not polite to be late for her.  Tell Billy’s mama to let me know if you need me to come pick you up, okay?”

“Okay.  I’ll get Billy to send you a text if I’m not goin’ to his.”

Thea felt bad for Josh that he didn’t have a cell phone like his friends, not least because it would be much easier for him to keep in touch with her if he did, but her own was an ancient brick of a thing, and she couldn’t afford one for him, too.

“That’s good, bud.  Thanks.”

Thea didn’t drop Josh off directly outside the school because the traffic there was absolutely crazy, but there were plenty of kids making their way along the sidewalks from the point that she let him out a few streets away.  She was touched that she still warranted a quick kiss on the cheek before he clambered out of the car and followed the hordes.

She went by the store on her way home to pick up the few groceries she needed and spent the rest of the day at the laundromat.  She was relieved to get a text from Billy’s mama, confirming that Josh was at her house and that she’d make sure he was back at their apartment building for five.  Her own dinner was another bowl of cereal and a slice of toast before she pulled on her uniform polo shirt and headed to her shift.

Mondays were always a quiet night, and this one was no exception.  It was the lack of excitement that had made it the ideal day for her to schedule a regular double shift.  Nine hours of no fun and no frolics, but also no stock checking or deliveries.  If anything, the hardest thing about her Monday shifts was the struggle to keep her eyes open.