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I know you probably wouldn't have read this story if you were still with us, because it wasn't your "thing", but you would have still told me how proud you were of me. I love you, and thank you for being incredible. I never told you that enough.
THE FIGHTER’S GIRL
The Fighters of Absinthe, 1
Copyright © 2013
Brock spit out a mouthful of blood and turned back around to the drunk that was currently staring him down. He’d come in to
for a drink, but then a blonde with big tits had rubbed her shit all over him and set off her jealous biker boyfriend. Now here he was, out in a darkened alley with that bitch of a girlfriend screaming for her boyfriend, Butch, to knock his head off.
“Come on, boy, let’s see what
got.” The big biker ran his hand over his long, greying beard, and grinned. His yellow stained teeth flashed, but he held no amusement
his expression. He cracked his knuckles, and the impressive muscles in his arms flexed beneath his faded tattoos. This Butch guy might have a good two inches and thirty pounds on Brock, but what he didn’t have was a history of fighting dirty.
When Brock didn’t respond the biker’s face twisted into something akin to rage, and he charged forward. Brock held his ground until he could smell the stench of sweat and liquor coming from the older man. Butch swung out, but Brock ducked right before his meaty fist connected with the side of his head. Twisting around until he was now facing the other guy’s back, he sent his fists out in rapid succession, connecting with the biker’s kidneys until he howled in pain. The biker may be a little bigger than Brock, but he lacked stamina and speed, and that was what would bring him down on his ass
The big guy spun around and swung out. He had already sucker-punched Brock when they had stepped outside, and he wouldn’t get another opportunity. Brock feigned left, and swung right, hitting him square in the jaw and having Butch stumbling back. His girlfriend screamed out, but Brock tuned out everything else. He focused on this one moment, and even with the shadows everything because crystal clear. Over and over his slammed his fists into the biker, loving the sound of bones cracking and the grunts of pain from his opponent. The skin on his knuckles split, and the warmth of blood slipped along his clenched hand. When Butch fell to the ground, Brock was on top of him, never stopping in his onslaught until he heard the high pitched squeal of the biker’s girlfriend right at his ear. Only then did he move off the still form. He hadn’t killed Butch, but he had done some serious damage. He may fight in the underground circuit, bare knuckling with other guys for a living, but he also didn’t turn down a challenge for a back alley brawl. It let him release his anger and energy. Some called what he did fucked up, that fighting with other guys for bloody entertainment was barbaric and disgusting. But Brock thought it was a fine fucking outlet, and he embraced it.
Fuck everyone else.
The massive dildo that the customer set on the counter would have startled anyone else, but Izzy was used to it. Working at a sex shop wasn’t the most prestigious career, but it paid her bills and entertained her on most days. At twenty-five she certainly would have loved to do something else with her life, but she took everything in stride and made the most out of it. What else was she supposed to do but smile and be grateful for what she had?
“Hi.” The girl who placed the monster on the counter looked down at the ground, her cheeks red as tomatoes. There were several gentleman shopping that stopped what they were doing and stared at the thick, black dildo on the counter, no doubt thinking all sort of lewd things that would be done with it.
Izzy smiled, trying to offer comfort even though she could tell the couple was embarrassed. Clearly they were sex shop virgins, but that was the best type of customer. It was the pros who came in that
her out the most. She grabbed a set of batteries, opened up the package, and inserted them into the rubber cock. The couple that stood on the other side looked mortified, and Izzy couldn’t help but smile. They refused to watch what she was doing, but Izzy didn’t fault them for it. The guy, with his plaid vest and pressed khakis, and the girl in her tweed skirt and cardigan set, were certainly not the norm to frequent Slippery When Wet. Yeah, Izzy cringed every time she said the name as well. The massive, ten inch chunk of rubber wiggled across the counter once she turned it on. The guy’s eyes
and the girl slapped her hand over her mouth in total horror.
“Sorry, store policy to test all equipment since it is non-refundable.” She was surprised, however, that the young couple had chosen the deluxe model. At a whopping nine inches long and as thick as her damn wrist the dildo dubbed, “The Terminator” wasn’t for the faint of heart. Izzy glanced up at the couple before continuing. “You can see it is in working order.” The couple finally looked up and nodded, both of their faces redder than hell. “Sorry, don’t mean to have the damn thing doing a jig on the counter for all to see, but it is store policy.” She finished ringing them up and handed them the discreet black plastic bag with their goodies inside. They smiled, but their embarrassment was still apparent. “
don’t feel weird about coming in here.”
They stopped and glanced at her a little surprised she had said something, no doubt.
“I mean, at least you don’t work here.” They cracked a smile, and that made Izzy feel better that she had made them feel a little less awkward. She returned the gesture and watched them exit the store. There were no windows in the tiny shop, but it was late, and she was counting down the rest of the time she had to listen to the moans and groans coming from the jerk-off rooms in the back. The problem with working at a sex shop was there was no sense of time, and everything was crammed together for easy browsing. A glance at her watch told her she still had two more hours to go.
“Can you tell me if this movie is any good?” A balding, middle aged man held up a DVD case in front of her face.
Galore” was a popular sell, but that really wasn’t what this man wanted to know. He was like every other lonely, middle-aged guy who came in here. He wanted to see her reaction, wanted to get a thrill from it. She responded the same way she did with every guy who asked her that question.
“Everything you need to know is explained on the back of the case. It is a popular seller, though.” She pasted on a forced smile and hoped he didn’t push it, like some did. It wasn’t a dangerous job, just one where she had to deal with sexually charged men and women on a daily basis. Fortunately, he took the hint and went to explore the rest of the store.
Izzy jumped in her seat and placed a hand over her chest. Turning around to see Caleb right behind her had
pulse slowing. He held a cup of coffee in each hand, and his grin was wide.
“Scared yah, didn’t I?”
“You’re an ass.” She looked at her watch again. “Why are you here already? I still have two more hours left on my shift.”
Caleb shrugged and handed her one of the cups. “I was hoping I could bribe you with coffee and my dastardly good looks.”
Izzy raised her eyebrows, but took the offered paper cup. “Why would you need to bribe me?”
“I need the extra money since I’m taking Maria out next weekend. I know it’s only two hours, but that’s two hours of overtime and gas money.”
“Honey, you don’t have to bribe me, I would have given you the whole damn day.”
He smiled gratefully. “Thanks. Besides, I thought maybe you wanted to try some of those wicked seduction moves I know you have on your roomie. What’s his name?
Brock Larson with the big
She nearly spewed the mouthful of coffee in her mouth at Caleb’s statement. It had been six months since her brother had introduced her to his friend, a hardened fighter that needed a place to stay. She trusted her brother, and even though she knew nothing about the man aside from the fact he was built like a tank and looked like he didn’t take shit from anyone, she trusted her brother and the ones he called his friends.
“Oh my God, Caleb.
What the fuck?” Izzy couldn’t help but laugh. “He’s my roommate, and totally off limits given the fact he’s a man-whore. I think I told you this like a dozen times.” Yet Caleb thought it was necessary that he bring up Brock on every occasion.
“Man-whore is just the dirty word for he knows how to fuck.” Caleb stared at her with a very stoic expression.
, Caleb. Does Maria know what a filthy fucking mouth you have?” It was a rhetorical question, because for the last four years she had been working with Caleb at Slippery When Wet, there wasn’t a time when he wasn’t spouting off filthy, foul things. She loved him for it, loved Maria for putting up with his shit, and that was why the three of them got along so well.
“Izzy, you know damn well she talks like a sailor. Hell, everything I know I learned from her.” This was true, and they both started laughing over it. “Anyways, get out of here, and do me a favor.” She grabbed her purse and looked over her shoulder, waiting for him to finish. “At least try a little flirting with him. I’m not gay, but even I can say six months is too long to try and not hit that.” Before she could say anything he started talking again. “You have been talking about him since he moved in with you. You’re single. He’s single. It’s time to mingle, sweetie.” She shook her head, but didn’t stop herself from smiling. “
come over for a little gathering Maria and I are throwing. It’ll just be a few of my guy friends, and of course Maria. We can get drunk, talk about sex, and eat chicken while watching the game.”
“Wow, eating chicken and talking about sex with a bunch of guys. Sounds like a lot of fun.” Of course she was teasing. It was always a good time at Caleb and Maria’s, and Caleb’s friends were decent guys. “Okay. Just text me the time, and I’ll bring the chicken and a case of beer.” She gave him a hug and waved goodbye. She played it off like what Caleb said was completely ridiculous, but in all honesty Izzy had thought about Brock, more than once.
The image of Brock slammed into her head, all six feet, three inches of hard, muscular
. It also helped his overall alpha persona that he fought in underground cage fights to make his living. That little tidbit her brother had divulged when he asked if Brock could stay with her. Once she had gotten a look at him she knew he was made to fight. Hell, she worked in a store that sold double-ended dildos and videos of squirting fetishes. How in the hell could she judge someone else for their choice of profession? Seeing his split lips, black eyes, and busted up knuckles didn’t disgust her, but instead made her panties wet every time she thought about it. Naturally she was insanely attracted to him, and honestly what women wouldn’t be when a guy looked like that? But she wasn’t a fool to think anything more than a one-night stand would come from being with Brock. He may never have brought a girl back to the house they shared, but more times than not he didn’t come home, and when he did stroll in the next day reeking of stale perfume she knew he had screwed some random woman. He did this at least twice a week, and every time he wore a different suffocating scent. She had to be a masochist because even after all of that she still wanted him in the worst kind of way.
Now she just had to decide if she was going to listen to Caleb, push her fears aside, and have a little harmless sex with her roommate, or if she was going to use her head and realize that wanting him was not the same thing as letting
have him. If she did give in and tried to be with him, she knew she would have to harden her heart, because Brock didn’t do the whole more than once thing. She also had to realize that rooming with him may because tense after sex.
Ugh, too much to think about.
Why was sex so complicated?
The redhead that was currently riding Brock’s cock was gorgeous, but she had just as much intelligence as a can of cranberry sauce. Her tits were huge and clearly fake, and although he liked everything real and natural on a female, he wasn’t picky when it came to needing to get off. The fight he had just finished a few hours ago hadn’t been enough of an outlet. His opponent had been a fierce fucker, and that had been one hell of a fight, but it hadn’t been enough. Then he had seen the Chaser, a female that hung around in the underground circuit just waiting for a fighter to fuck. They were a nice, easy distraction, but certainly not something he wanted to keep long-term, especially when they had most likely been passed around to dozens of men he trained with.