Freeing Lana (10 page)

“You scared me,” she
managed, one hand on her chest, more to relay the message than any real need to
keep her heart inside as the gesture indicated. She saw him chuckle, clearly
pleased with himself, as she stepped from the curb and leaned down to look at
him through the car’s open window, resting an arm on the door.

“Sorry ‘bout that,” he
said through the widening grin. “I’d offer you a cigarette, but as far as you
are from home, my guess would be that you are trying to get some exercise.”

It was more of a
question than a statement, but she recognized the concern behind it, and she
appreciated it. He was clearly asking her if she was alright, but allowing her
the opportunity to avoid the conversation if she wanted to. It wasn’t the first
time she had recognized it in their conversations. When things started heading
in a direction she wasn’t comfortable with, for one reason or another, there
was always an out available. It had taken some time, but she had eventually
recognized it involved no coincidence.

She looked up and down
the street she had been walking along, only now realizing she really wasn’t
quite sure where she was. Lost in thought, she had just been walking, and now
she knew she had no idea how long she had been walking.
Exercise?
Her guess was that she had attained plenty by now. The sun was low in the sky,
making it later than she might have planned on being out.

“Want to sit a bit?”
she asked, gesturing to the wooden bench under the tree behind her. It wasn’t
really a park, per say, but the grass was well groomed and manicured on the
stretch of land between the road and the line of trees she was beginning to
realize probably ran along the edge of the river.

“Yea, let me park.”

“Bring the cigarettes,
Tink,” she said, offering a wink as she turned and headed for the bench.

She knew he wasn’t
overly fond of the nickname at first, its clear connection to the Disney
character and all, but it had become an allowable offense in time. She doubted
anyone else would have gotten away with it, but he didn’t even flinch when she
called him by the moniker. Hell, he almost seemed to like it on some level.

Lana sat with her back
toward the street watching the birds flutter through the branches of the tree
above her before flying to the larger ones in the distance. She was now certain
they did in fact run along the river’s edge, but she still wasn’t clear exactly
what section of the river was in front of her. She had never seen this ‘park’
before.

His car parked, most
undoubtedly in the most legal manner possible, she presumed, Tinkerton came up
behind her and took a seat beside her, his hand extended with an already-lit
Marlboro between two of its fingers. Nodding her appreciation, she took it from
him and put it between her lips, inhaling deeply.

“Thanks, I needed
that.”

“Um-hum,” he returned
while lighting one for himself.

The birds bickering
back and forth above them sufficed for any need to break the silence with
conversation while they smoked. Lana had a lot on her mind, but she didn’t try
to hide it from him, as she usually did, the ‘brave front’ screaming she was
just fine. She wasn’t fine and she knew he was perfectly aware of it. That in
fact was fine. She had always recognized the concern from him, but it had never
crossed the line into pity or sympathy. She didn’t want that, not ever. She
never claimed to know much, but she knew the best place to find sympathy was in
the dictionary, right between shit and syphilis. She took a final drag from the
butt, and while she flicked it through the air to land on the grass in front of
them, she finally broke the silence and spoke again.

“You
still
working
this late?”

“If I was, I’d have to
arrest you for littering,” he joked, pointing toward the still-smoking evidence
on the ground in front of them. She laughed heartedly, but got up just the same
and retrieved the butt, first grinding it out under her foot. She turned back
toward the bench in time to see him grind his own cigarette out on the arm of
the bench and then place the butt in his shirt pocket. He took that shit
seriously, she mused. She dropped her own into one of the back pockets of her
jeans before sitting on the bench again.

“But, the main question
is: would you put me in hand cuffs?”

She was laughing when
she said it, and it evoked a laugh from him as well, but she couldn’t help but
notice he turned his away as he did. She didn’t think he was embarrassed, but
it certainly resembled a blushing shade of red trying to creep up on his face
as he turned. Was he…? Holy shit, he was. He was at loss for words, not trying
to say the wrong thing, the thing he would mean.
Holy shit.
She hadn’t even thought if that before. They had known each other for some time
now, thrown together in an intense situation, to say the least, but she had
never thought of that. He didn’t see a victim when he looked at her, a poor
defenseless victim, not anymore; he saw a woman. And he was doing his best to
hide it. How, in the name of Satan’s red ass, had she missed that? For a split
second, she allowed herself to wonder if she was reading too much into it…

Wishful thinking, perhaps?

…but before she could
entertain the thought seriously, he had found the response he had been
searching for.

“Only
if I get to frisk you too.”

They both laughed
loudly, but he wasn’t looking at her at all, doing everything he could to avoid
her eyes, it seemed. Instead, he was staring out at the trees along the river
and fumbling in his pocket for his cigarettes again. She reached up, catching
his hand under her own and holding it against his chest. Here it was, the point
where the question arose whether there was any truth behind the jokes, cut the
ropes to the safety net and just see if the bitch could fly. Normally, it was a
line she had been unable to cross, but she had decided earlier that the lines
no longer meant anything to her. She had no idea at the time she would end up
here on this bench, the sun now disappearing below the horizon with a man other
than her boyfriend, a great boyfriend at that, but it made for a perfect test
to see if she truly did have the courage to follow through with her newfound
convictions.

“I’m good with that,”
she said still smiling at him. There was a flimsy safety rope attached to the
smile, a faint chance of returning to the joke if she slipped, but it was
disappearing quickly. There was no denying the surprise in his eyes, and she
watched as he searched for the right step to take next. Yea, it was an odd
position she had thrown him into, and she knew it would be very difficult,
given the history for him to take that leap, but she was growing bolder with
each passing moment, more confident that the only thing stopping him from
taking her right then and there was a concern for her. It was sweet, it was
cute, but it wasn’t necessary, not anymore. She stood and turned to face the
bench, and still seeing his eyes, even in the fading light, she bent forward and
placed her hands on the back of the bench, keeping her knees straight, the
pronounced shape of her ass suggestively contrasting against the purple shading
of the evening sky.

“Like this?” she asked,
representing a coyness which had once actually existed inside her. He stood
beside her, and while she could still see a faint caution in him, he took hold
at the top of one of her arms and led her around to the back side of the bench.
His hand let go of her arm and placed it between her shoulders, leading her forward
over the bench as she bent at the waist. He moved a foot between hers and
gently touched the inside of each of her ankles repeatedly, indicating for her
to spread her legs.

“Like this,” he said,
once he had her legs where he wanted them. Taking one arm and then the other,
and pulling them together at the small of her back, he removed the steel
bracelets from their place on his belt and applied them to her wrists lighter
than she expected they were generally applied, but tight enough to keep her
hands from escaping.

“Happy?”

“Getting
there.”

His hands found their
way to her shoulders, separating at her neck and then rolling over the top of
her arms and underneath each. He slid them down each side of her upper body,
stopping at her waist before pushing them forward to meet at the point her
jeans’ zipper joined together at the top. Upward his hands went, separating
just enough so each actually missed an actual cupping of her breasts, but not
enough to make them go untouched, then downward again, separating as he reached
her waist again, each firmly sliding down the outside of each of her legs. His
right hand left her right ankle and reattached to her on the inside of her
left. Now both hands went up the leg, stopping painfully just shy of her
crotch. The temptation of bending her knees enough to cause his hand to make
contact through her pants with her ever moistening pussy was almost more than
she could bear. But her hesitation lasted just long enough to allow him to
repeat the process in reverse down her left leg.

Straightening behind
her, he stuck his fingers into each of her back pockets, pulling the cigarette
butt from one and dropping it to the ground between her feet. She felt his
hands return to her hip pockets before again separating, this time reaching
around her and digging deep into her front pockets, pushing them inward until
his finger tips met at the top of her pussy, the mere inner lining of the jeans
between them. He pulled them back slightly and then plunged them in again, this
time intentionally pressing against her clit, and holding there. The moan
escaped her lips without any restraint, as much intentional as by accident. She
wanted to make sure he knew she was done joking around. He apparently
understood, as one hand removed itself from her pocket and came up between her
legs, gripping, lifting her with its firmness. Again he held it there as she
teetered on the back of the bench, her feet barely touching the ground, doing
little to balance her. Most of her weight it seemed was concentrated through
her pussy and was resting securely in his hand. The feeling was unlike anything
she had ever experienced. Then, his hand still holding her ass-up in the air,
he spoke.

“What do you want more
than anything else?” he asked.

She didn’t have to
think about that one; she knew the answer before he asked it, in the bath
earlier, on the chair in front of Sergio. There was only one thing she wanted,
and while she had only recently been able to come to grips with it, somehow she
knew she had wanted it all along. She looked back over her shoulder at him and
said the truest thing she could remember ever saying in her life.

“I want you to do any
and every thing you want to do, without ever asking that question again.”

He lowered her until
her feet were back on the ground below her, removing his hands from her, and
walked around the bench to face her suspended upturned face. Her eyes followed
him as he walked, leaning back to watch his face as he approached her again. He
was looking behind her, but this time it wasn’t to keep her from seeing his
face; he was looking up and down the street to make sure no one had come up
behind them. Convinced they were alone, he looked down at her, his eyes locking
with hers. Surely, he could see the seriousness in her eyes. She did her best
to hold his gaze, the one she had often seen as kind, but was now becoming
something different, a truer level of kindness, one which reached past her
outer weakness and found the strength inside.

“That’s easy enough to
say,” he said, his eyes seemingly searching hers, searching for any hint of
regret, for anything resembling weakness. Completely understanding the
difference between submission and weakness, Lana smiled.

“So is ‘stop,’ but you
will never hear me say
it.
”

He held her gaze a few
seconds longer, then seemingly convinced, stepped forward,
unzipping
his pants. When he pulled his dick from his pants, she had her mouth open
waiting for him. He lowered his pants far enough to keep the buckle of his belt
and the zipper from his pants from coming into contact with her face, then
gently holding the sides of her head, pushed his dick into her mouth. Lana felt
it pause momentarily at the back of her mouth before sliding in deeper. Her
uplifted head created a straight line from her mouth into her throat, and
though there was some resistance, he had no real trouble getting its entire
length inside her mouth. She held no delusion that any prolonged pressure of
this nature would turn discomfort into actual pain, but it didn’t matter; she
was where she wanted to be, completely vulnerable but in complete control. He
held her head in place and fucked her mouth, gentler than she might have
thought, but firmly, his pace quickening. His anticipation had been extreme and
it was not long until she felt the head of his deck swelling against her
tonsils.

He pulled his dick
backward, stopping when only the tip remained inside her mouth, and then as a
loud grunt came from his mouth, she felt the hot release explode inside her
mouth, easily filling it with his salty cum. He pushed forward some, now
stopping at the back of her mouth, forcing some of the sticky mess into her
throat, while causing some to escape and run down the corners of her mouth. She
felt it as it dripped from her chin, while more found its way down her throat
into the pit of her stomach, its warmth easily recognizable inside her. He
milked the last of it into her waiting mouth before pulling his dick back out
into the night air. She tilted her head backwards, swallowing as much as she
could, the remainder slipping out of her mouth as she looked up at him and
opened her mouth. With his hot jizz on her chin and lips, she looked up at him,
whispering the most sincere thing in her heart.