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A Taste of Danger
Apr. 24th, 2012 02:51 amIt was only my tin bravado, which she mistook for golden confidence, that earned me her name when I docked beside her at the bar. I was funny enough apparently that she allowed me the honor of buying her a drink. A few improvised moves around the jukebox later bought me the chance to get her a second and by the third, well by the third I had started looking good enough to have finally secured her attention. She buried a seemingly endless text message conversation within the depths of her purse, somewhere deep between wallet and pepper spray, from where she withdrew a set of keys attached to what appeared to be a squirrel skull that she rattled invitingly in front of my face. I immediately ordered us a round of shots that served as our own private last call before heading to her car.
I didn't ask and she didn't tell me, so I thought it best to just ignore the three well dressed and fully inflated blow up dolls sitting in the backseat. Instead, upon her insistence, I focused on the dance of my fingers within her lap. The snap of her panties pinned the wrist to her belly. A spider crawl probe down the lily, damp petals spread beneath the quick circumnavigation of my press. Before us the headlights illuminated the panoramic darkness of the flowing highway. A Morphine saxophone crackled through the cranked up speakers and the wind roared through the cracked window to muffle her groan. Perfectly she piloted us through the mysteries of the night, translating her mounting ecstasy with a language of velocity. Where her body ended was along the bullet of the hood, within the race of the wheels, beneath hands melted into steering wheel, across eyes vanished under the reflection of the barreling road.
We took a sharp corner and just ahead of us, right on the other side of the meridian, a spray of sirens blared around a burning eighteen wheeler. She slowed down and ordered me to withdraw my efforts. Once we passed the big scene across the meridian she pulled over into the emergency lane and killed the engine. She tilted the rearview mirror down, adjusted her seat so it slid as far back as it would go, she kicked off her boots, peeled off her panties, spread pale thighs wide across the dashboard and told me to go to town.
I crumbled out of my seat into a crouch, twisted on my knees and slithered towards her. I kissed steadily along the inside of her legs towards the center. She pulled her shirt over a single breast, yanked the cup of her bra down and clawed fiercely at the nipple. I parted back her lips and lapped at her with abandon. She ran the cool palm of her other hand down my shaved scalp releasing a series of involuntary shivers that only aided my efforts. I suckled at the pit of her fruit diligently while she watched gleefully the spectacle of the burning rig in the rearview mirror. Above us the three blow-up dolls hovered, though politely averting their unblinking gaze straight out ahead, their rounded, lipless mouths betrayed their shock.
When I gently slipped my fingers into her she threw her head back to roar a furious satisfaction just as the flames of the wreck flared behind us to ignite the interior of the cab in an orange glow. But then we were both plunged just as quickly back into the shadows of the car.We waited for an explosion and were given instead an anxious silence. Finally she pushed me off her and brushed damp bangs out of her eyes. We both looked out the back window and noticed that the fire had extinguished itself. Only the carousel whirl of the sirens could be seen now.
"Alright." She said simply sliding the seat back forward and readjusting her rearview mirror. "You can get out now."
"You're kidding right?" I snickered.
Ten minutes later, as I marched down the highway with my thumb stuck out at the rare passing car, it occurred to me she wasn't. I had 20 bucks in the wallet and more on the card but not a cab in all the world to blow it on. I had a cell phone to make calls that none of my friends were answering. I even had the skills now to drive a car that I didn't possess. Still, I had the taste of danger lingering on my lips and plenty of cigarettes to keep me company for the long walk home... and that was more than most men had that night.
I didn't ask and she didn't tell me, so I thought it best to just ignore the three well dressed and fully inflated blow up dolls sitting in the backseat. Instead, upon her insistence, I focused on the dance of my fingers within her lap. The snap of her panties pinned the wrist to her belly. A spider crawl probe down the lily, damp petals spread beneath the quick circumnavigation of my press. Before us the headlights illuminated the panoramic darkness of the flowing highway. A Morphine saxophone crackled through the cranked up speakers and the wind roared through the cracked window to muffle her groan. Perfectly she piloted us through the mysteries of the night, translating her mounting ecstasy with a language of velocity. Where her body ended was along the bullet of the hood, within the race of the wheels, beneath hands melted into steering wheel, across eyes vanished under the reflection of the barreling road.
We took a sharp corner and just ahead of us, right on the other side of the meridian, a spray of sirens blared around a burning eighteen wheeler. She slowed down and ordered me to withdraw my efforts. Once we passed the big scene across the meridian she pulled over into the emergency lane and killed the engine. She tilted the rearview mirror down, adjusted her seat so it slid as far back as it would go, she kicked off her boots, peeled off her panties, spread pale thighs wide across the dashboard and told me to go to town.
I crumbled out of my seat into a crouch, twisted on my knees and slithered towards her. I kissed steadily along the inside of her legs towards the center. She pulled her shirt over a single breast, yanked the cup of her bra down and clawed fiercely at the nipple. I parted back her lips and lapped at her with abandon. She ran the cool palm of her other hand down my shaved scalp releasing a series of involuntary shivers that only aided my efforts. I suckled at the pit of her fruit diligently while she watched gleefully the spectacle of the burning rig in the rearview mirror. Above us the three blow-up dolls hovered, though politely averting their unblinking gaze straight out ahead, their rounded, lipless mouths betrayed their shock.
When I gently slipped my fingers into her she threw her head back to roar a furious satisfaction just as the flames of the wreck flared behind us to ignite the interior of the cab in an orange glow. But then we were both plunged just as quickly back into the shadows of the car.We waited for an explosion and were given instead an anxious silence. Finally she pushed me off her and brushed damp bangs out of her eyes. We both looked out the back window and noticed that the fire had extinguished itself. Only the carousel whirl of the sirens could be seen now.
"Alright." She said simply sliding the seat back forward and readjusting her rearview mirror. "You can get out now."
"You're kidding right?" I snickered.
Ten minutes later, as I marched down the highway with my thumb stuck out at the rare passing car, it occurred to me she wasn't. I had 20 bucks in the wallet and more on the card but not a cab in all the world to blow it on. I had a cell phone to make calls that none of my friends were answering. I even had the skills now to drive a car that I didn't possess. Still, I had the taste of danger lingering on my lips and plenty of cigarettes to keep me company for the long walk home... and that was more than most men had that night.