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Damaged Goods Ch. 00

By: julie95



Prologue

June 2013

Julie sat in her wheelchair studying her reflection wondering if she was making the biggest mistake of her life. At eighteen she was fresh out of high school with no future. As a child she had lost her legs and arms in a horrifying accident that left her scarred both physically and emotionally. Her life had been bleak and the chances of it improving were zero. Until Alex entered her life.

Alex, her neighbor, was forty-two, divorced, and with a daughter in college. He too was scarred emotionally after his divorce. Perhaps that was why, despite their gap in age, they had connected. When he talked to her and looked at her there was none of the pity and repulsiveness Julie had grown used to. They shared a common love of reading and even liked some of the same authors. Despite her disability he had taken her camping - first in his backyard and then to an actual park. He never let her use her physical limitations as an excuse to avoid something.

Their friendship blossomed into love. He had given her her first kiss at Christmas. Two days after her eighteenth birthday she had given him her virginity.

Now, sitting here in a wedding dress, she was about to give him her life. Why was she so scared? Alex was her true love. Her soul mate. When he looked at her she saw her feelings reflected. When he said "I love you" it made her melt.

They had eloped. It had been Julie's idea, and Alex reluctantly agreed when he saw she was not going to budge. Normally he did not relent to her stubbornness. He had wanted to have a small wedding closer to home and invite their family and friends. Julie only wanted the two of them.

For being the happiest day of her life, the wedding sped past. One moment she was in the little room waiting for the ceremony to begin, the next Alex was lifting her into his van while being showered with bird seed to the cheers of the strangers who happened to be there.

At the cabin they had reserved for their honeymoon Alex carried her in and deposited her on the sofa.

"Shouldn't you carry me into the bedroom? It would be more romantic in their."

He laughed. "I have to get our suitcases."

She stretched out, pulled her wedding dress up, and parted her legs. They were amputated just above the knees, and her thighs were clad in opaque white stockings to conceal the scars. She gave him a clear view of her womanly charms.

"Are you sure you want to wait?"

"I left the van doors open. I'll be right back." He darted out the door and returned a moment later carrying two suitcases and breathing hard.

"Now..." He said and dropped onto the sofa next to her. "Let me kiss my beautiful wife."

She wrapped her right arm his neck. It was amputated just above the wrist while her left arm was amputated just above the elbow. Her wedding dress was a rather plain, short sleeve gown.

Their lips met. She tasted banana on his lips from the snack they shared along the way. He smelled of sweat and... there was another smell that she associated as him - a mixture of the body wash he used, his deodorant, and some other physical scent. It was intoxicating.

"Do you love me," Julie asked breathlessly when their lips parted.

"I love you more than anything in this world."

She smiled. "I will never get tired of hearing that."

"Then I will tell you every hour."

She laughed. "I'll hold you to that." Her look turned mischievous. "Would you like to open your wedding gift?"

Alex looked surprised. "I thought we weren't buying gifts."

She wiggled back and spread her arms. "I'm your gift. And you can unwrap me if you want."

Alex scooped her up and carried her into the bedroom. He placed her gently on the bed and sat next to her. She twisted so he could unzip the back of her gown, which he did very slowly. Beneath the dress she wore a white satin corset bought recently. When the gown was completely unzipped he pushed it open slightly and placed his warm lips on her shoulders.

"You are so beautiful..."

A shiver ran through her as his lips made a warm, damp trail from one shoulder to the other. His fingers traced the top of her corset slowly as if to enjoy the sensation of her skin. By the time he stopped kissing and caressing her, Julie was breathing hard.

Her body ached for him. Needed him. Wanted him. It was such a strong sensation like hunger or thirst. It took all her willpower not to turn and fling herself atop him and impale her body on his shaft. Instead she sat there waiting to see what he would do to her next.

Alex's fingers pushed the gown the rest of the way from her shoulders and let it fall around her waist leaving her corset exposed from the wait up. The cups of the corset concealed her breasts completely. During puberty her breasts had not grown to more than small bumps. What there was of them was crisscrossed with scars, and they were not identical in shape. In short, they were ugly lumps attached to her chest. The corset also concealed the myriad of scars that covered her back. By some miracle her face had been spared any marks.

When she and Alex made love she always insisted on wearing some form of top, and she only permitted him to see her breasts when they made love at night. Now, on their honeymoon, she was going to show him everything, and the thought made her stomach twist. 

A sigh escaped her lips, and she felt the tension slowly melt as his hands reached up to cup her cheeks. If he only touched her face the rest of her life she would die a very happy person. As his warm hands caressed her his lips resumed their tasting of her shoulders. The longing she felt grew.

Alex moved and gently gripped her shoulders and guided her onto her back. Alex stretched out next to her resting his head in his hand and running a finger along the curves of her face.

"Your eyes are so beautiful. Like little sapphires."

She blushed even though he had told her the same before.

His finger traced her nose.

"I have never seen a nose so perfectly shaped. It is the perfectly sized and curved."

He ran a finger along her lips. "And these... These are the most luscious and wonderful lips in the world."

Suddenly she snapped at his finger and bit it. Julie giggled as he jerked his finger back to look at it.

"You're awful!"

Julie grinned. "That's not what you normally say when we're in bed."

For a reply he leaned over and kissed her. As they kissed his hand slid down the front of her corset resting momentarily on her breast before reaching her gown. He worked the gown past her hips and cupped her bottom. A shudder swept through her. It had surprised her to find she liked having her bottom held, and sometimes when they were in public Alex would walk with his hand on it. At least during the times she wore her prosthetic legs, which was becoming more frequent at his insistence.

Julie lifted her legs and kicked the wedding gown the rest of the way off. Alex straightened and studied her. His eyes took in her long black hair, her blue eyes, the small round face, and her tiny body. Julie's doctor often chastised her for being underweight. She did eat, but she just never gained weight. The corset emphasized her almost childlike figure. Besides the corset she wore a pair of stockings attached to garters on the corset and white lace panties. The stockings were less for sensuality and more for practicality; with only her right arm it would be very difficult to pull pantyhose up and down.

"How did I get do lucky," Alex asked. He rested his hand on her waist. "You are so beautiful. Intelligent. Fun to be with."

Julie reached up and touched his cheek with her arm. "I'm the lucky one."

Alex's fingers moved to her thigh and carefully unclasped one of the garters. Then his hands moved to her other leg and undid that one. Her heart pounded. Carefully her turned her on her side and unclasp the two in the back. His fingers moved to the front of her corset.

Their eyes locked, and Julie trembled more than she had the first time they made love. Alex was about to see her – all of her. He had seen the good, what little there was. Now he was going to see the bad. Her heart pounded harder, and her mind screamed for him to stop. But she lay there meeting his love filled eyes.

When Julie did not protest Alex gripped the top of the corset and worked the first clasp open. His hands moved to the bottom and opened the clasp there. Then the second clasp at the top. Then the bottom. He took his time and alternated from top to bottom. Until a single clasp held the corset closed.

Wordlessly he unfastened it and slowly spread the corset open to expose her body. Julie watched for a reaction. Instead of the revulsion she expected his eyes were filled with – curiosity. He studied the scars that ran along her chest and stomach. He studied her misshapen breasts. His fingers followed the lines along her body. Gently he touched her breasts and cupped them to take in their feel.

"God! You are so incredibly beautiful!" His voice was sincere.

Julie began to cry. It was not a soft cry of happiness but a torrent of emotions that had been dammed up for so long and let loose. Alex scooped her into her arms and let her cry against his shoulder. His arms felt so safe.

"You must think I'm stupid," she finally managed when the tears slowed.

"I think you are wonderful."

Taking a deep breath she turned in his arms so he could see her back. Like before he studied and touched her. Then he wrapped his arms around her and cupped her breasts so his head was next to her. His hot body pressed against her back, and it was an amazing feeling.

"I love you," he whispered.

In a way this was their first time. Not making love, but the first time she had shown herself completely to him. He had looked at her body like a man admiring a beautiful sunrise or a work or art. His voice and eyes conveyed a genuine love and desire for her. And her heart and body returned the feelings a hundred fold.

Turning in his arms she looked into his eyes through tear lenses. She would not cry again! How could she do this on her honeymoon! It was embarrassing!

She reached up to brush his cheek. "I want to use my wish."

Surprise filled his face. "Now?"

For her birthday he had given her a certificate worth one wish. He promised to grant her wish no matter what it was as long as it was within his power. Julie knew what she wanted.

"Yes. Is that okay?"

He laughed. "Of course. Tell me what your heart desires, and I will give it to you if I can."

"I don't want to use a condom."

His eyes widened. "But you aren't on birth control yet? You could get pregnant!"

She smiled nervously. "Would that be so bad? To have a baby? You used to say how you wished you had had a big family. We can have that together."

He opened his mouth most likely to argue but then closed it. His eyes searched hers. Finally his hands cupped her cheeks, and an intensity filled his eyes.

"Is that what you really want? Or are you saying that because you think it is something I want to hear. You have to be honest. Remember? We promised to be one hundred percent honest with each other."

There was not a bit of hesitation. "It's what I want Alex. I want to have a baby. With you."

The look on his face said he might refuse even though she had used her wish. She could almost hear the reasons why from his thoughts. Alex sighed.

"Are you sure Julie? I mean really, really sure?"

Doubt began to creep into her. It was obvious Alex was not so sure. She had grown so much in the past year and become more independent. For the first time in her life she felt like she could take care of herself. Alex had pushed her so much to do that. If she struggled he did not help her; he encouraged her and provided support. But he always made her do things on her own. Most of all he always told her to pursue her dreams no matter what.

Her lungs drew in a deep breath, and her eyes locked on his. "I am sure Alex. But if you do not want to, then I understand. I don't want you to do this if you don't."

Her husband looked surprised at how she had turned the conversation around. Returning her grin with a mischievous one of his own, he pushed her back and knelt over her.

Alex loomed over her. Even though he was lean, his height and her small body made the difference seem extremely disproportionate. His lips met hers. She could feel his lust through the contact. She wanted him too.

A soft moan escaped her lips as his mouth made its way down her cheek, neck, and shoulder. His hand caressed her face and stroked her raven hair. Her arm guided his head toward a breast, and Julie gasped as his lips touched the sensitive flesh.

"Make love to me," she whispered. "Make love to your wife."

The tip of his manhood brushed her nether lips sending a tingling wave through her body. How could she be so close to a climax when they had not even made love yet! Her arm pressed against his back urging him to enter her.

Then she remembered that he wore no protection, and her mind became a turmoil of warring emotions. Her heart wanted him to fill her with his love. The images of her body growing as their baby grew inside her sent exciting emotions through her. Images of cuddling their child made her feel warm. Yet an almost overwhelming fear exploded in her.

Before Julie could speak Alex slipped into her. For the first time no barrier lay between her body and his. She was actually surprised that she could not tell the difference. Her best friend had praised the joy of condom-free sex, but Julie could honestly not tell.

Panic filled her as she sensed Alex growing more excited. He was close to an orgasm and releasing his seed into her. Her excitement seeped from her. Why was she feeling this? This was her honeymoon! She was making love to her soulmate! They were going to have a baby!

"Oh Julie... I love you..." Alex's voice was strained. "I love you so much..." His lips pressed against hers. His eyes were closed, and a look of pleasure painted his face.

Before she could tell him to stop... Before she could tell him she was having second thoughts... Her husband shuddered, and his manhood thrust deep into her. She cried out not from an orgasm but frustration. Again and again he thrust. With each thrust more of his life creating seed flowed into her.

Finally Alex shuddered one final time and then rested his weight on his arms. He looked down at her. "I love you so much."

She forced a smile. "I love you too. I'm so happy we're married." That much was true.

Almost by instinct her right arm touched her stomach. Could she get pregnant from one time?

Alex must have taken the gesture as excitement over having a child, because he placed his hand over her stomach as well. "You'll make a wonderful mother. Our child is lucky to have someone as wonderful as you as his or her mother."

Julie began to cry.

"Are you upset," Alex asked from beside her.

Julie jumped and almost lost her balance. "No. Why?"

"You haven't spoken five words since we got out of the car."

Today was the third day of their honeymoon. The first two nights had been spent in the cabin – mostly making love. Julie enjoyed making love to Alex. Sometimes he complained half-heartedly that she liked sex too much, but he rarely turned her down. The next three days would be spent backpacking.

Julie was small, and her pack contained a portion of the food and her water. Alex's pack bulged and strained against the straps. It held not only the tent but two sleeping bags, their stove, the remainder of the food, his water, a first aid kit, and their clothes. It looked like his pack might weigh as much as she did.

"I'm sorry. I was just thinking."

It was nearly three hours since they climbed from his van and began their hike. A part of her felt bad considering how slow she went. Even though the trail was relatively level with very few rocks and roots, Julie was still paranoid about wearing her prosthetic legs. The result was that they covered as much distance in a day as Alex could have hiked in a few hours by himself.

Her husband did not ask what she was thinking about. He assumed she would tell him if she wanted him to know.

"Are you disappointed in me?"

He blinked. "About what?"

"That I changed my mind about going to college?"

"No... Why?"

"I don't know. I just don't want to disappoint you. I want you to be proud of me."

He took her right arm in his hand as they walked. "I would be disappointed if you did not do what was important to you. I love you, and I want to make your dreams come true."

She sighed in relief. "Well..." She looked around. "You could start by keeping an eye out. I need to pee."

Julie moved into a flat area devoid of plants and leaves. Alex stood on the trail looking first one way and then the other. "No one is coming."

She laughed. "Not yet. But I could change that!"

"You're awful!"

"That's not what you said this morning."

She smiled remembering his surprise as she unbuckled her seat belt as they drove along the empty narrow road to the trailhead. With some effort she unzipped his pants and pulled his shaft free of his pants. Then she had given him a blowjob until he cried out and filled her mouth with his salty seed.

Julie pulled her panties down and pushed her skirt up. Leaning against a tree she relieved herself. She caught Alex stealing a look, and she pulled her skirt up higher to let him watch. To her surprise she felt a mixture of arousal and embarrassment as he watched her pee.

At lunch they stopped next to a stream that ran alongside the trail. The bank was covered in large rocks, but a log sat at the edge of the water. Alex scooped her into his arms and carried her to the log leaving their packs on the trail.

Together they ate sandwiches and drank a bottled Coke. Sitting here in the dense, lush foliage while listening to the water babble and the birds chirping, Julie felt at peace. It was clear to her why Alex loved the outdoors so much.

"Would you like dessert," she asked with a mischievous tone.

Alex grinned. "Again? What? We had sex when we woke up. Then there was your stunt in the van that almost caused me to wreck. We'll probably have sex tonight."

"I want you to eat my pussy."

His eyes went wide at her blunt statement, and her cheeks heated.

For reply Alex slipped from the log to kneel on the rocks between her legs. His hands parted her legs causing her khaki skirt to slide up. He pulled her panties down and removed them exposing her delicate parts to nature. Without any preamble, Alex leaned forward and slipped his tongue between her nether lips.

"Shit!" A jolt ran through her as his tongue stroked her clitoris.

Alex knelt there lapping at her sensitive parts and occasionally pressing his tongue into her opening. A warm tingling built in her stomach and spread through her body. Tremors caused her to shake, and she rested her arm on Alex for support to keep from falling from the log.

Then the orgasm hit her. She cried out uncaring about who might hear. Her hips thrust forward, and her arm pressed Alex's face against her. It was so wonderful! Waves of pleasure swept over her. Her nerves tingled. She felt so warm.

As the pounding in her ears cleared she became aware of voices. "Someone's coming!" She pushed Alex away from her and stood almost falling. Quickly she straightened her skirt.

Alex stood nonchalantly and listened. His smile took on a wicked look. "I think they passed us. The sound is going away."

"Oh shit! They saw us?" It was not really a question. The space between the riverbank and the path was nearly clear of trees, and they were only twenty or thirty yards from the path.

Alex shrugged as if it were no big deal.

Julie's embarrassment turned to horror when they reached the trail and saw the note. "Good job" it said and had a hastily drawn picture of a stick woman sitting on a log while a stick man knelt between her legs. It was obviously a woman by the long hair and breasts.


Damaged Goods Ch. 00



Alex stuffed the page in his pack and helped Julie don hers. An hour later something dawned on her.

"Where are my panties?"

Alex shrugged. "I guess we left them by the log."



Damaged Goods Ch. 01



Introduction

It may have been summer, but it felt like spring hadn't found the bounce in its step yet. It felt like lukewarm fluid to her, both in the bottle and the air outside of it. She pushed the straw between her lips and gulped down some of the brown liquid. She coughed like an experienced chain-smoker suffering from emphysema because the burn has singed her young throat.

"Better than seeing the back side of my mother's bony hand," she voiced to the empty air.

She nipped some more and coughed some more. She couldn't understand how her mother, a drowning alcoholic, could drink such a harsh concoction.

"If I drink this again, I guess I better add more cola," she voiced to the empty air after she stopped hacking.

Up close, the untrained eye could see the concoction as being more whiskey than Coke. From far away, the eye had to be trained just right. It was a good decision to have on a swing set that faced away from the sidewalk. The swing set was from a vintage era and it didn't have many visitors anymore. The light blue paint was peeling in many places and the exposed metal was oxidizing rapidly.

She took a small sip and didn't cough for once. More in control of her faculties, she stared around for a moment figuring she would still be alone. The crunching of pebbles behind her sullied that blind hope. She shut her eyes half-expecting, half-dreading to hear the demanding voice of some authority figure. Instead, it was the sound of sobbing that caught her attention.

She glanced to her right and saw the source of the sad sound. It was a boy with brown hair and his face was pressed into his hands while his elbows were resting on his knees. He was seated on a swing two away from her and even from that distance, she could see the possible source of his discomfort. An adult hand had left a sizable red mark on the boy's face. She immediately moved one swing over and extended a hand of caring onto his left shoulder. 

The boy moved his hand away from his face and looked over at the girl who was sitting next to him. He sniffed and rubbed his eyes to see who was comforting him. Immediately, he stopped crying and smiled.

"Thanks," his voice cracked through the tears. "At least somebody cares."

"Not a problem," she voiced. "I know what a hard slap across the face feels like."

"It sucks the big one, doesn't it?" He said with a small laugh.

"Yeah, and I bet it was over something small." She said as she took another small pull from the bottle.

"Yeah, my mom is nuts. I brought home a math test that had a D+ on it." He replied.

"I know that feeling. I talk back at my mom or dad and whether or not they are blitzed, I get it really hard." She said with wholehearted sympathy.

He sniffed loudly. "No kidding. It's the small shit that sets them off and running. Is that Coke?"

She moved her lips to the side in a show of concern, "Not so much Coke. It's more Jack Daniels than anything else."

He sighed without remorse. "Mom prefers Vanilla Stoli with Coca-Cola. She says it's her favorite medicine. I tried it once and the smell made me puke on the spot."

"How's your tolerance then?" She asked as she handed the bottle over.

"I don't have any." The strong smell caught his nose and his stomach almost did backflips. "Man, this shit stinks."

"Take a swig. Maybe you can handle it better than I can." She dared and smirked slightly.

He decided to take her dare but not without holding his nose. He took a quick sip and the organ-removal coughing immediately followed. "Holy balls! That is strong stuff!"

She laughed loudly and she took the bottle back from him. "I think I'll add less Jack next time. Besides that, it tastes pretty good."

"Maybe you should do that." He replied as he finished coughing.

He looked at the ground for a few moments and then his green eyes fixed themselves on her baby blues. She had long, flowing black hair that framed her young face perfectly. She had almond-shaped eyes, a pert nose and a model-like triangular complexion.

"Can I call you Snow White?" He asked figuring the small sip he had taken was already working its magic.

She blushed and giggled a bit, figuring the medication had murdered what little tolerance he had. "That's sweet of you. But my name is Delilah."

He giggled a bit himself, "That's the coolest name I've ever heard, maybe the prettiest. De-li-lah."

She snickered some more and gazed at him. His hair was shaggy and needed to be cut. He had round eyes, a pointed nose and a model-like round complexion. "What's your name, Prince Charming?"

He snickered himself, "Wellll...I don't look the part if you must know. My name is Dylan."

"Dillllllan." She said trilling the L-sound perfectly.

They both laughed out loud and from there, while passing the bottle back and forth between them, time seemed to melt away like snow did in the spring.




Chapter 1



Except time wasn't melting away, it was clicking by at a snail's place.

"Goddamnit!" He yelled but the noise of the production floor muffled the sound of his frustration. 

The smell of fatty dough meeting frying oil wasn't helping matters any. He was on the first station of the doughnut production line. It was his job to make sure that all doughnuts were fried uniformly before they were placed the pans for delivery to the packaging table at the end of the line.

"I know the feeling!" The guy next to him said aloud and it caught Dylan's attention, breaking his currency slave mentality if only for a moment.

"Not your cup of tea is it, Sal?" Dylan voiced loud enough that his friend could hear it.

"Not unless you pour a little of bit of sour mash juice in it while the boss's head is turned." Sal stated with a snarky grin.

"I think I'll do that when I get home tonight. The prison guards left today for their long summer vacation anyway." Dylan revealed as he poked some doughnuts with the wooden stick he held in his right hand.

"So, Aunt and Uncle complete random cell searches when you are not around?" Sal wondered as he placed another tray of uncompleted pastries on a wheeled rack.

"Yeah, I had to hide the Jack in my car. I need to pick up a bottle of Coke anyway so I can party hearty tonight!" Dylan shouted so loud over the machinery around him that a few heads turned his way.

Sal shook his head in disbelief and Dylan suddenly realized his mistake. Five minutes had clicked away according to the clock and three more racks of regular dough needed to be completed before he could clean up his area and clock out for the evening. Just the thought of being smashed without having his prison guard relatives around was enough to motivate the recent high school graduate into a more positive mood.

Fast forward to two hours and eleven minutes later. Dylan grabbed his plastic badge from the metal rack on the wall, swiped it in the nearby time clock, and pressed the OUT button. That beep made the night for almost every person who worked this in part of dead-end capitalist society. Like the average alcoholic, all Dylan could do was imagine that sweet combination of sour mash whiskey and sugary cola touching his lips.

Dylan exited through the back of the large-scale bakery where all the employee vehicles were located. The bakery was a place that manufactured goods for several large-scale food processing companies that included dough for bread, buns, cookies and pie as well as many types of pastries including angel food cake and cinnamon rolls. Dylan's customary routine after work was to stop at the nearby all-night gas station and buy a bottle of Coca-Cola. The only difference for his routine on this night was the bottle of Coke would be a two-liter instead of his customary 20-ounce bottle. He also needed a bag of ice in order to keep his drink cool.

Except the temperature reached ice level when he saw her, the evil bitch.

Her piercing brown eyes pointed at his head like a Marine-trained sniper would do in a combat situation. Her cool voice could ice over the warmest of hearts. "Hey Dylan, where are you going right now?"

He pushed his jaw out and released a slow, angry breath through his nose like a raging bull would if it saw red. "How the fuck did you find me, Deidre?"

The red-headed minx smiled without a hint of remorse. "It wasn't hard, Dill. I know you've worked here for some time."

Dylan retained his sneer. "What are you? Some kind of evil vampire intent on sucking my soul from my body."

Deidre shook her in disbelief. "Come on, Dill. You know I hate that dramatic side of you. I know you have a sensitive side but you tend to overdo it."

He walked around her since her lithe, toned figure was leaning against the trunk. He pushed the key into the lock and turned it until it clicked. She turned around to stare at him as the realization came to him.

He put his left hand on the luggage rack and glared at her. "Is that why you cheated on me? Because I am a candy ass unlike those studly athletes who can rip you in half without trying? Does jock cock give you a hard rock?"

She shrugged her shoulders and gave him the seductive eyes that had worked three times before. "Come on, Dill. Those guys don't have the loving touch you possess."

Dylan bristled and he started humming a song that his jailor Uncle Harald always played when the family cruised around in his 1978 Ford Ranger pick-up with the antiquated tape deck, "...Walk Softly on this Heart of Mine, Love!..."

Except this headhunting bitch wasn't from the state of Kentucky, but a state just below the 49th parallel.

He opened the door and was about to sit down when she ran up next to him and wrapped her arms around him. Her left arm was on his chest and her right hand grabbed onto his package. He winced at first, but they both knew the sad truth.

The blood flowed in somewhat, getting him ready for action.

She licked right ear and voiced softly. "As I thought, it still doesn't take much to rile up your soldier."

Dylan was fighting her as he could but to no avail, "Dee, I need you to stop and let me go. I don't love you!"

Deidre flipped Dylan around rather aggressively and gave him another Marine-style thousand-yard stare, "Maybe I will, but I want one more go-round before we part ways permanently."

At that moment, Dylan was too shocked to understand what was really happening. Deidre grabbed his face and kissed him softly. Dylan's resistance was as stone initially, but like the last part of his shift it melted away rather easily. Dylan and Deidre wrestled slowly, her tongue scraping against his and then she eased it into his mouth a little farther. Dylan returned the motion equally. Their tongues wrestled for several moments, loud enough to raise eyebrows if somebody had parked closed by. Luckily for Deidre and perhaps worse for Dylan, he had parked away from overhead lights and other vehicles. Deidre's expert right hand worked it wonders on him. She rubbed his soldier up and down with her index finger, tortuously so, through the thick material of his white sweatpants. The blood flowed in all the way and all of Dylan's resistance had caved. The first image that replaced the bottle of Coke and bag of ice in his mind was the love box that had kept him happy for the last year and a half.

Deidre dropped to her haunches and her expert hands released Dylan's trooper from its soiled cotton/polyester prison. Through both prison doors, the mushroom monster came free and Deidre eyeballed her prize pleasingly. Contrary to what Dylan believed, his seven-inch beast had an advantage that many of Deidre's jock cocks didn't. His girth was half an inch less on average so she didn't feel like she had to be ripped apart every time her nymphomaniacal tendencies took over. His length may have also been three-quarters of an inch or more shorter, but she thought that the hand of God could have designed it. The head was perfectly chiseled, the vein on the underside stood out like an elongated Adam's Apple and the skin was smooth to the touch. In those long moments of reflection, she opened her mouth and extended her tongue outward. She took the sweet tip and just touched along the length of the entire shaft backward first and then forward. She continued this motion in thrice succession. She repeated the angel's touch on the left side the shaft in thrice succession and on the right side as well.

Dylan's mental track was somewhere between sullen, horrified and overly pleased. The actions of her proficient tongue had overwhelmed any sense of danger he had before. She could have been carrying a flesh-consuming version of the human immunodeficiency virus and he wouldn't have cared. The sexual instinct, the most basic and powerful of all, had wholly taken over. He moaned longingly as she upped her speed and varied her motions. At first, three strokes on the underside, left and right sides of the shaft. Now she had upped it to five times on each side of the shaft and she consumed the entire head not once, but five times and he didn't want her to stop, not now and maybe not ever.

She ceased her angelic torture for a just a fleeting instant and gave him an audacious smirk. Saliva slithered off the end of the chiseled head and she sucked it back into her mouth with an almost childish giggle. Dylan only smiled as the faint light from yards away gave her face a dimmed, silhouetted look. Her mouth was like a velvet glove that had been coated in Vaseline. As she continually maneuvered her mouth and tongue in her oddly numerical style, he refocused his will so his rocket would not take off prematurely.

And yet, part of him wanted to because this bitch always stomped his heart after she played the repentance card.

Shame on me, part of his being thought, because I've been fooled three time before.

But the rest of being didn't want the sweet torture to end at all.

He grunted his reluctance and her eyes gazed deeply into his. Even in the diminished light, she could tell he wouldn't last much longer anyway. She counted to ten in her head and then took her mouth away from his trooper. Dylan didn't expect it as she got off her haunches and gave him a very sloppy kiss.

She opened the car door with force as soon she broke the kiss.

"Sit your ass on the seat now!" Deidre stated with an malevolent edge to her voice.

Dylan complied immediately as she forced her pelvis in front of her face. Without a word, he immediately unsnapped the fastener on her tight blue jeans and curled his finger around the denim waist. He swiftly pulled down her jeans and noticed the tanga-cut black panties she was wearing: the ones with the red heart dead in the front-center .

"My favorite." He said in a banal, but still seductively macho tone.

She chucked lightly, "I know, I still remember the day we bought them. It was our second date."

Dylan had no trouble remembering that experience. It was almost two years before when they had started dating. They had gone shopping at the largest shopping center in the state. They were bored and Deidre decided to go shopping in the lingerie department at one of large department stores. Deidre saw the panties on the rack and she told Dylan to act as lookout. She gave herself a five-finger discount and they took off for the exit. Dylan had never been an accessory to a criminal act in his life, but as he ran the high he experienced put him over the moon. Later, they arrived at her place and she decided to model her new prize for him. Wearing only a white crop top minus her bra, she moved her lithe body like a novice belly dancer and Dylan's weapon become warm, bored steel after the bullet had been fired. It was also the day he first experienced her tongue on his weapon.

It was also the day he was given visual access to the wisp of red locks she kept concealed under that red heart.

And here she was giving him unfettered access once again.

As he stared into the red forest, he noticed the oasis that had formed at the bottom.

Dylan took his right index finger and started stroking the nub right above her hole. With his slow hand, she started shaking like a leaf about to make its final downward trajectory. Her moans were guttural but soft. After a few moments of torture, he took his right middle finger and placed slowly into her silky mound while his mouth replaced his finger on her nub. Her juices were flowing and her moans became all the louder.

"Holy Christ, can you now see why I came back to you?!?!" she cried.

He stopped momentarily and looked into her eyes, "Then why did you cheat on me?"

His finger was still lodged in her pussy and he twisted it just enough to get a cry of ecstasy from her.

"I don't know why I did," Deidre whimpered. "I'll never do it again."

"Okay, I believe you." Dylan said simply but he knew the truth. She was the one who always chose paper in rock-paper-scissors.

And the repentance card was the trump she always played in the relationship card game.

Dylan continued the tongue torture on her boatman and the pointed assault on her pussy until her own resolve withered as his resolve did only moments earlier. She bent down suddenly taking his tongue off her bean. 

"Fuck me now! Fuck me now, Dylan!" She screamed into his ear.

His trooper was still at the ready as he removed the middle digit from her wetness. She spun herself and placed her ass on his stomach. She grabbed his soldier with her right hand and jammed the rod into herself not caring if the entry was painful at all. Deidre's vertical movements were both sudden and sensuous. Dylan wasn't going to last long if she kept up the pace, but part of him was still disengaged from the entire experience.

Part of him wanted it to end before it had commenced.

As soon those thoughts had fully manifested, Deidre's movements became less passionate and more impulsive. Sensing the impending end, Dylan's motions also took a turn for the frantic. Up-and-down, up-and-down he went like a pump jack with a warp drive and she met his motions the same way. 

And they arrived at the brink, the point of no return. He unloaded as if he was the creator of the Big Bang. Shot after shot went inside her as her vaginal muscles contracted around his soldier. Her dam broke and her waters returned to their rightful floodplain. Their frantic breaths returned to a normal pace after a few moments and she dismounted from her lover.

Deidre yanked her jeans back up and Dylan stayed on the car seat for a few seconds longer. He pushed himself up without tripping over his white sweats and he leaned his backside against the cold automotive steel. Deidre smiled as she bent down to pull his white boxer-briefs and sweatpants up so what little modesty he had left could be preserved. She leaned in and kissed him, which he only returned halfheartedly.

Over their heads, thunder started to roll.

She could sense his apprehension and she arched an eyebrow at him, "What's the matter, stud?"

He shook his head in disgust, "You're what's the matter, Dee. And I've told you that twice before."

She glared at him in almost genuine confusion, "Why am I the matter?"

He gave her a double take, "You can't be that stupid, can you?"

"Why am I the stupid one?"

"Let me see here. You've walked all over me every time we're together. It's the simple pattern of apology, make-up sex, false bliss, long fight and infidelity and you're the one who seems to be most committed to it."

Her mind appeared to be in a perplexed wasteland, "Am I that predictable?"

He shook in total disgust, "Yes, you dumb bitch, you are that predictable! In fact, I actually think you fuck the large cock because you somehow think it can fill the large hole that's inside your soul."

Her voice cracked a bit, "No, I fucked those guys because you're an asshole. I just wanted revenge."

Dylan stared toward the white lights off in the distance. Every syllable she uttered was a like a sharp object being rubbed along each of his auditory nerves.




Damaged Goods Ch. 01



"Fuck off, cunt! Get the fuck far away from me before I kill you!" Dylan voiced harshly without bringing too much attention their direction.

That statement broke her second dam and the flood manifested from her eyes. 

Deidre pleaded, "Dylan, I love you. Please don't do this to me."

Dylan grabbed the key from the car door and jammed it into the ignition. As he flipped the switch, she put her right hand on his right shoulder. The sudden gesture sent an unwanted chill down his spine. He threw his elbow back at full force smacking her in the midsection. The sudden thrust forced her onto the ground and she wrapped her arms around herself as she winced in pain.

Dylan jumped into the driver's seat, "Serves you right, you cunt and a half!"

He slammed the door just as the sky overhead started lighting up with a vengeance. He drove to the threshold of the parking lot and glanced in the rearview mirror. Large raindrops began to cover the succubus and he just smiled at her predicament.

He mouthed to her silently, "Never again!"

He drove to the south edge of town and into a parking spot next to the all-night C-Store and service station. He went inside and purchased his two-liter bottle of Coke. After the night he had, he wanted to pass out and have a mind-numbing hangover the next day. He didn't care if his liver failed because he would always have to relive the memory of this night until he perished. 

Once he was back on the road, he tuned the radio to the only working FM station in a 50-mile radius and the lines about taking her back once more and lending her a helping hand were blaring loud and clear.

Why does the radio always echo my thoughts, he wondered.

And then he heard a noise as if a loud helicopter was tailing his bumper.

"Shit! Fucking rear tire!" Dylan screamed.

Dylan pulled his white 1994 Chevy Lumina Z34 onto the nearest field turnout. The rain was coming down in torrents and it appeared to be almost perpetual in his mind. He felt like the universe was bringing him down further.

But, the universe had other plans.

The loud rapping on the passenger side window brought him out of his funk. A figure with long black hair and wearing a black denim coat was banging hard on the glass. Dylan pushed the button that lowered the automatic window to see who the figure was. 

A female voice yelled, "Can I get in? I'm soaked out here!"

Dylan unlocked the door and she opened it. She jumped into the seat and slammed the door behind her. She was carrying a large bag which was on her lap. She looked at Dylan and realized that her hair was covering her face. She pushed her hair behind her ears and smiled at the guy in the driver' seat.

"Thank you so much for pulling over! I probably would have died out there!" she stated with much appreciation.

Dylan stared at her for the longest time and then it came to him.

"Delilah, is that you?" he asked simply.



Damaged Goods Ch. 02



It may have been a dark and stormy night, but the inside of a stranger's car could not be the best place to wind up. Being struck by lightning on a night like this might be a better final fate. 

Of course, this was familiar experience to her by now.

Whenever she got into a strange car, she asked herself a simple question. 

How did I end up here?

On this day, she awoke beneath the shade of a mighty white oak that was a few hundred feet from a long stretch of cracked, broken pavement. The tree was next to a coulee full of water. She found this secluded spot by sheer accident the day before. She was pounding the pavement of a lonesome state highway until she saw the sign that pointed to a town with a three-letter name. Even though she was supposedly in the same county as the big city she escaped, it might as well have been the surface of Mars to her. She looked to her left, to the west, and saw the gentle rolling hills and lines of trees that had been planted every half-mile or so to prevent soil erosion. She huffed a bit and proceeded westward.

As she trudged, the pit in her stomach (and her soul) grew deeper. She was running out of food and she tried not to spend any of her cash unless she absolutely had to. Mile after mile, it became harder and harder to walk. This stretch of pavement was not known to see many vehicles great or small, let alone any sort of foot travelers. All she knew was that she needed to find a place to sleep for the night so she would be safe.

It was around sundown when she came upon the farmstead. The house was falling apart after years of neglect. All the windows had been broken, the roof was missing over half of its tiles, all the paint had peeled off, and the foundation looked like it needed to cave in. She walked to the porch and noticed that all the boards were either lose or missing. She was able to see in through the broken front window and she noticed boxes of Sudafed that been ripped open and tossed aside. She also saw remnants of busted lithium batteries, ripped coffee filters, small lengths of rubber tubing and plastic soda bottles with missing tops strewn along the warped, cracking floor.

"Meth house," were the only words she had spoken aloud since she had embarked on this path she had called the road to nowhere.

She walked backwards unsure if anybody unsavory was going to show up at that or any other moment. Scanning the farmyard, she saw several outbuildings in the same ramshackle state as the house. The trees surrounding the yard were a mixture of dead American Elm stricken with Dutch Elm disease and thriving species of oak, cottonwood, box elder and maple. She wondered if the property had been booby-trapped at all, so she decided to continue on the road to nowhere, but the descending sun caught the top of a lone white oak standing next to coulee she crossed before taking the path onto the farmstead. This poor tree looked like a sentry that was forever left to guard a deserted military outpost. The coulee had almost overflowed the banks because of a downpour that happened a couple of nights before. The sun had finally descended into the western depths and the evening had still retained its warmth. She might get some sleep after all.

She threw the rucksack she was carrying onto the ground and opened it up. She pulled out a black sleeping bag, a black toiletry bag and a white towel. She opened her toiletry bag to retrieve a bar of a soap that had been partially used. She kicked her sneakers and socks off. She had been wearing a pair of blue jeans and a form-fitting white T-shirt in need of laundering. She scanned in every direction to see if she was alone. Feeling satisfied after awhile, she pulled the shirt over head to reveal a black bra with a demi-cup design to the world. She then released the snap on her jeans and shimmied out of them to reveal a pair of black hipster panties. She huffed loudly and scanned around more until she was satisfied that she had complete solitude. She unclasped her bra from the back, released her arms through the straps and she shimmied out of her panties. With a flip of her right foot, the panties floated through the air and landed on top her of now discarded jeans. Her hair was up in a simple ponytail, which she released from its reigns.

She smiled sheepishly and said aloud, "Like the day I was born."

Except she was of legal age, and had the body to match. She was tall, lean and had prominent breasts that turn could any boy her age into a pool of tepid goop. Her ass and legs were toned and tight. Her hair was jet black and swung down to the middle of her back. She had a cropped landing strip just above her vaginal lips. A warm breeze blew through the area teasing the treetops and the lips between her legs. She felt a feeling so free that she couldn't help but take running start into the coulee. The shock to her system was immediate, but it only served to turn her on further. The water had been warmer than she realized because she acclimated to it rather quickly. She swam around in circles and in laps. She even tried to touch the bottom of the coulee a couple of times. Happy in this short-lived freedom, her problems seemed to melt away like last winter's snows.

She got out of the coulee to grab her towel and soap and then she returned to the water. She soaped her long arms, her angelic face, her shapely legs, her tight midsection, and her lovely ass. Each stroke of the soap sent an electric shock to each of her pleasure centers and her body begged for more. At long last, she soaped her pussy lips and that sent the shock that released the shockwave. Her orgasm wasn't earth shattering, but it was enough to make her want more. She threw the soap onto the towel and she giggled at her luck. She dunked her head underwater once more as she moved her right index finger and middle finger into her crease and she pumped hard as she resurfaced. Taking a large breath, she moved closer to the coulee bank so her head stayed above water. With every thrust she made, a small moan escaped her lips. She hadn't masturbated in water like this since she was fourteen years old.

At that moment, she remembered back to the time she first did it with a partner at age fifteen.

Suddenly her fingers became his fingers, and he knew how to touch her even though he was a greenhorn when it came to the opposite sex. With every gentle thrust, she cooed happily as she did now. After a while, he sped up but his touch remained consistently gentle. She opened her eyes for a moment and saw the large tree and the pile of her stuff beneath it. The flashback was almost too real to believe because she wanted him so badly at that moment. She closed her eyes and continued pumping her fingers in-and-out, up-and-down. With each thrust, each coo became louder and the tempo increased. Suddenly, the real shockwave appeared. The loud moan frightened the songbirds in the nearby trees and she was shaking as she came out of the water. She sat down on her towel and caught her breath. She stared around to see if anybody appeared from the farmstead or the road and nobody had. She was still living in graceful solitude.

She stood up and dried herself off because the warm breeze had chilled her almost to the bone. Still naked, she unrolled her sleeping bag and went within its warm depths. She shivered a bit, wishing she was holding the man who told her so long ago that he truly loved her. As her body temperature acclimated to the sleeping bag, her breathing returned to a normal pace and she slowly drifted off to sleep.

"Where are you, Dylan?" she said before she surrendered to the evening's slumber. 

The sounds of meadowlarks, blue jays and orioles singing their divergent songs awoke the sleeping beauty the next morning. She shivered because the sun had just cracked over the horizon and had yet to bathe the world with its warmth. Her short-lived stint with freedom had come to an end. She needed to be dressed and on the move because even in the boondocks, menacing events could occur. In short order, she was dressed in the clothes she had worn the day before and her supplies were packed back in her rucksack. At the last moment, she heard a vehicle coming from the east. It sounded like an old 1970's Ford pickup truck. She ducked behind the mighty white oak as she saw a dark green 1970 F-100 come over the coulee bridge and into the driveway of the farmstead. She maneuvered herself enough so the two figures in the vehicle couldn't have seen her. They were hooting and hollering like the good old boy, country bumpkins they were even though it was around 6am in the morning.

"Ready to make another round of the stuff, Joe?!" the driver screamed as he exited the vehicle.

"Fuck yeah, Rob! We're gonna make some bank today!" the passenger screamed as he exited the vehicle as well.

She maintained her hiding spot as the boys grabbed their chemistry set from the truck bed. They wandered into the house and she knew this was her boom or bust moment. She stared immediately to the west and noticed that the clump of trees was at a dead-on trajectory of maybe one-hundred to one-hundred fifty yards. Since the farmhouse living room only had a southern exposure, she knew she was safe as she made her mad dash for the clump of trees. Safe on the north side of the trees, she saw a section line road and a green durum field about three hundred yards away to the west.

Once she made she made it to the gravel road, she figured she'd be safe because it takes about two days for a potent, noxious batch of methamphetamine to be produced. Yet, she remained cautious because guys like that weren't the kind to be neighborly. 

She knew that kind only too well, just in a more urban context.

Time seemed to drag on slowly as she trudged toward the village with three letters. A couple of pick-ups and a tractor gave her a friendly wave and passed her by. All the fields of durum were greening up and the cornfields were almost knee-high in places. She heard the various bird calls from the shelterbelts that were a half-mile long. In her mind, it was a beautiful, pleasant day that could change to darkness in a hurry.

As she climbed a hill around 9:30am, she saw the very top of a grain elevator appear as if was a mirage in a parched desert. She smiled contentedly because that image was the universal sign of a town in the state. She hoped there was a gas station or a small grocery store where she could purchase some needed sustenance. Her contentment was shattered when she heard the same engine that made her take evasive action only hours earlier. She stared straight ahead, avoiding eye contact unless it was absolutely necessary.

The dark green pickup trolled up beside her and kept pace.

"Hey pretty lady, what are you doing out here in the boondocks?" the passenger said with some kind of suave machismo as his head leaned out the window.

She didn't answer and kept trudging onward.

"Come on baby, you need a lift someplace? We can give you a ride." he said with a raise of his eyebrow.

She could see his face perfectly in her peripheral vision. She imagined herself gagging on her own vomit because of how this jerk presented himself. He had scabs on his face, his eyes wore permanent dark spots, his teeth were yellow and his breath smelled like a fish tank that hadn't been cleaned in a month. 

"Fuck off, tweeker!" She stated bluntly without shifting her focus.

She slipped her arms from the straps of the rucksack and made a mad dash to the north. It was unlikely that these meth heads had any respect for property rights that were unique to the Northern plains of the United States. She heard the sudden braking and then the overpowering revs from the throttle being gunned. She heard the sound get closer and yet she hadn't looked behind her. She made a sudden track to the east again as the F-100 gained up on her. Faster and faster she went but the F-100 kept up with her. Suddenly, she cut south and made a dead sprint toward a large rock pile that some farmer had left behind maybe fifty or seventy-five years before. 

A thousand thoughts ran through her head at that very second.

I am going to die!

I am never going to get justice!

I am never going to have children!

I am never going to see Dylan again!

I am going to be scraped with a spatula!

I am going to be remembered as a drug dealer's ex-girlfriend!

I am going to be another casualty of the methamphetamine underworld!

I am going to go to hell!

I want to live!

I want to be a mother!

I want to be in love!

I want to see Dylan again!

The driver of the F-100 floored the vehicle and tried to run her down, but her timing was perfect, even miraculous. She cut to the left like a blitzing linebacker right as the F-100 desperately decided to have a make-out session with the rock pile.

She had managed to avoid the scrape by a razor-thing margin, but the sound of the crash she could not avoid hearing. She had fallen forward and had not seen the impact. The moment she realized she was able to move her limbs, she rolled over and saw a mangled wreck of a vehicle. The passenger had been thrown through the windshield, over the hood and onto the rock pile. He was bleeding badly from the head, but he didn't live to see it. She stood up and saw that the driveshaft had impacted into the driver's chest, and he wasn't making a single motion. 

She huffed for a moment, and took off for the road again to retrieve her rucksack. She needed to be as far away from the scene as possible. Her adrenal glands were working the equivalent of a triple overtime shift. She was no longer hungry or thirsty, she just ran like a runner seeking sanctuary from the sandmen. Suddenly, the train tracks that ran through the town with three letters came into view and it happened to be the state's main northwest cutoff. She pounded along the tracks, huffing and puffing, before she slowed down. She was a couple of miles away from the dead meth heads by now. Her reprieve was short-lived when she heard the simultaneous sounds of a blowing horn and the ringing of gates descending at a level crossing. She hit the deck just before the locomotive went by. The locomotive was hauling one-hundred empty box cars to a major rail yard in the next state.

Maybe this was the day of miracles, she wondered.

With her fleet feet, she chased the train and managed to jump onto an open boxcar. Using all the strength she could muster, she climbed into the boxcar and realized this the was second hardest asthmatic-like event she'd ever experienced. This modern day vagabond, this lost, aimless youth from the societal underbelly now realized what her grandfather meant when he was nearly captured by the bulls when he caught the City of New Orleans after it stopped in Mattoon, Illinois during the Great Depression. As she caught her breath, she watched the countryside pass her by as she hummed the lyrics to Arlo Guthrie's greatest hit.

Except this journey wasn't the 900 miles of Illinois Central track that went between Chicago and New Orleans, it was only one-thirtieth of that distance. Just enough distance to pass by a few shit splats that were decaying like the people that called them home.

It might have been an hour or two hours for all she knew since she hopped on the rails because time had become meaningless. She was running, never to return to the city she had once called home. She didn't know where she was going, but she knew it wasn't back to that metropolis noir. She didn't even think she'd be staying in the state, which was in a state of decay as she saw it. She had last heard through the human grapevine that one of her best friends from high school had relocated to a large city in western Canada. Lucky for her, the cutoff went toward that particular destination.

But, the universe had other plans.

The train slowed down and she heard a horn blowing in the distance. To the north, she noticed a train that was carrying hopper cars to some destination she might have seen on the state's map at one time in her life. Not in the mood to be idle, she dismounted from the train onto an access road that accessed the switching system for between the cutoff and the other line. She wandered northward and noticed a town about three miles off.

"The towns all look the same out here," she voiced only to herself.

Her body was aching for respite and nourishment. She made the hike from the switch to the town in about an hour. She was correct, the town looked like Mayberry but with a lot less polish and more Norwegian and German-Russian accents. Luckily, this town had a grocery store and a café on the same side of main street. She wandered into the café much to the consternation of the old men who usually drank their coffee and discussed the same three things over and over again in peace. She gave them all a dirty, knowing smile and they all stared downward at their half-empty coffee cups.

Dirty old man really means aging teenager, she thought herself.

The waitress gave her a faux smile, but was at least willing to serve the young lady some water. She dropped her rucksack and took a seat at the counter. She pulled her wallet from the front pocket of her rucksack and fished an Andrew Jackson out to pay for her meal. She ordered an off-brand grand slam breakfast platter with all the trimmings. She put the meal away with gusto. Even the old farts, who were leering at her again, were surprised at her appetite. She glanced at them once more and shook her head in shame as she looked at the clock over the serving window. It was around 2:30 in the afternoon by this time.

At that moment, a thin man in his early fifties with salt-and-pepper hair and a haggard complexion appeared through the café door. The two of them locked eyes and he nodded at her, a gesture that she easily returned.

"Can I get a cup of coffee, Joanne?" the man asked in an easy-going tone.

"Sure thing, Deputy Dan." the waitress replied in her friendly server's voice.

The man took his place over at the table where the old farts were gathered. She had asked for a refill on water before the settled the tab and returned to her vagabond ways. As she sipped her beverage, she couldn't help hearing the men as they conversed.

"Heard there was an accident in the next county." one old man stated nonchalantly, his accent thick with a German-Russian tone.

"Yeah, there was." the deputy answered matter-of-factly.

"Tweekers, was they?" another old man asked, his brogue rife with a Norwegian vintage.

"I can't say that for sure, but there was an accident that took the lives of two young men." the deputy answered in the same tone.

"From what Balder told us, the truck crashed into a rock pile and the boys was laid out like they was gonna be sacrificed or something." a third old man, in a Fatherland accent, stated like he was relaying the daily grain prices that the local grain elevator had issued that morning.

The deputy scoffed, "I wouldn't believe anything that Balder Jakobsen says, guys. He is right that there was a gruesome accident down south, but I can't go into specifics."

The first old man snorted and took a sip of coffee, "It was tweekers. Who else would be lamebrain enough to drive full speed into a rock pile."

The conversation was making the hairs on her neck stand up. The waitress issued the check and she handed the double sawbuck to her. As she was remounting her rucksack, the group of men leered at her again, only with suspicion instead of perversion. She rolled her eyes and wandered away from the establishment. All throughout the encounter, the guilt she felt for the deaths of those cretins was palpable. Still, she managed to buy a box of crackers, a large sack of peanuts, and an energy drink at the supermarket without drawing attention to herself. At the local park, she found a spigot so she could refill her canteen. Her impression she left on the older men of the town was extraordinarily brief, but memorable in a way that wouldn't be easily forgotten.




Damaged Goods Ch. 02



She found her way to a state highway that would take her to who knows where. She was completely lost, but that didn't seem to matter at all. Being on the run meant that laying down roots was an impossible task to accomplish. She could add two charges of involuntary manslaughter to her laundry list of crimes. The cops would have noticed the footprints in and around the accident site. Of course, those boys were going to kill her at the end of their playtime with her. Even if she was found not guilty of wrongdoing in the accident, her past would come to light at the trial.

And for her, that was not an option.

She kept trudging and trudging and noticed the landscape around her. It was filled the same scenery as before: flat farmland, wind towers, shelter belts, farmsteads left abandoned to the whims of decay and age, and empty fences with brown name placards decorated in a letter-hyphen-number format.

So much for the change of scenery, she wondered.

She looked to the west at that very moment. About a quarter mile from the road, she noticed a large yellow building surrounded by a high fence with barbed wire and tall spotlights. It was odd thing to see in a place where agriculture was the backbone of the economy. It looked like a small prison or the kind of place a sick, psycho killer would house his operation.

She looked to the north and noticed another grain elevator and water tower, another town like all the others, another shit splat on the map that nobody will ever notice. She noticed a clump of trees just off the road about a mile north of her location. The sun was starting its journey downward and she wanted to be up and on the move early the next morning.

She walked onto the empty farmstead and she noticed the dip that the land made immediately after that. There was a small river running through the yard just north of the dilapidated house. No wonder the owners abandoned this place so long ago. She opened the front door and noticed the garbage that was strewn across the floor.

It was the same scene as before: busted lithium batteries, ripped coffee filters, small lengths of rubber tubing and plastic soda bottles with missing tops strewn along the warped, cracking floor

"Another meth house," she stated while scoffing fate. "Another lucky day I guess."

She found a side room that was free of meth debris and she made her nest accordingly. She snacked on some crackers and chugged some of her water. She stripped down to her lingerie, wrapped herself into her sleeping bag and used her dirty clothes as a pillow. Her neck was sore for having slept without a pillow the night before. She was so exhausted that she fell asleep before the sun had even dipped below the horizon.

CRACK! BOOM! POW!

She awoke totally startled, unsure if she heard a car backfiring, a rifle misfiring or if the angels were bowling up in heaven this light. She suddenly noticed the blue light lighting up the entire room. The torrent was pouring through the broken window. She felt a little more at ease because her items were dry, but she was still dog tired. She tried to go back to sleep but it was fruitless. She grabbed her canteen and took another swig of water. She walked toward the window and watched the light show. At one point, she noticed a triple blast of forked lightning off toward the southern horizon. 

She wondered if lightning really could strike twice in the spot.

And it did.

It did in the form of a soft thunder crack that came from only a few hundred feet away.

She heard the sound immediately and she put her shoes on. She looked out the front window and noticed the yellow glow emanating from around the car. The vehicle had broken down and had turned into the field turnout just after the driveway into the farmstead. 

Her apprehension ratcheted up as she wondered who was in the car. She wondered if she should wander over and get a ride from the stranger. Was it even safe?

Still, there was a part of her mind that told her it would be all right.

People in this state tended to be of friendly stock.

She decided to throw caution to the wind.

She was tired.

She was lonely.

She needed a warm bed.

She needed a hot shower.

She needed a place to recoup for the time being.

And she had the capital necessary to do it.

She redressed herself and had her stuff packed up in record time. The torrent was still coming down hard and she soaked herself to the skin as she ran from the house toward the vehicle. She ran to the passenger side of the vehicle and rapped on the glass with the pinkie side of her left fist. The driver dropped the window as the rain splattered hard against her. She couldn't see the driver because her wet hair stifled her vision.

"Can I get in? I am soaked out here!" She screamed at him with pleading sound.

She heard the click of the door and she hastily opened it. Dropping herself into the passenger seat, she took a deep breath and pushed her hair behind her ears.

She looked to the driver and spoke her appreciation with a smile, "Thanks so much for pulling over! I probably would have died out there!"

The driver didn't react for the longest time. She stared directly into his eyes and he stared piercingly into hers. She started to wonder if her hasty decision had been the right one to make.

And then he spoke a simple sentence, "Delilah, is that you?"

She was stunned, nobody had said her name to her in over a week. She gave the same piercing look back to the guy. 

And then she spoke a simple sentence, "Dylan, Dylan Good?"

And he laughed nervously, "Yeah that's me. Are you Delilah Galt?"

And she laughed nervously, "Yeah it's me. In the flesh."

And he smiled and stared out the windshield for a moment, "What are the fucking odds?"

And she smiled too, "What are the odds, indeed."

She looked out the windshield as well, and then it happened without warning.

A triple blast of forked lightning strikes occurred off toward the southern horizon.

And she thought to herself, lightning really strikes twice in same place.



Damaged Goods Ch. 04



They arrived at their destination, which was only a mile or so south from the field turnout. The western sky was flashing up again like a neon billboard on the Vegas strip. The second wave of the storm system was going to crash hard on the countryside. Dylan had pulled the vehicle into the long driveway that led to the yellow building.

The same yellow building that Delilah had imagined as the home of a creepy serial killer.

He ran to the main gate and swung it open with his entire body. She gulped as he returned to the vehicle. He smiled at her as he saw her exasperated look.

"What's the matter?" he asked.

"You never told me you lived in the creepiest place imaginable." she answered bluntly.

He gave her a look of surprise, "Why is this place creepy?"

She answered, "Let's see, barbed wire fence around the building, spot lights standing overhead, large swinging gate. It's looks like a bunkhouse at a concentration camp."

He snorted with laughter and she glared at him with eyes so piercing, yet so striking.

She screamed as she punched him on the shoulder, "It's not funny! How the fuck do I know that some serial killer doesn't live here?!"

He gave her a shit-eating grin, "That would imply that I'm a serial killer."

She rolled her eyes and made a horse noise, "I guess so, that is if you lived here."

His grin remained intact, "Of course I live here. I have lived here for a few months now."

She didn't believe him, or didn't want to believe him, "Why the hell would you live in a place like this?"

He knew they weren't going anywhere until she felt completely safe, "This is my uncle's shop and quote unquote extra house. He's an electrician and he works from here. Since he decided that he could trust me enough, he lets me live out here on my own as long as I followed his strict rules. I have done that to some degree, but since I turned eighteen and I am gainfully employed, he's been lenient with me as late."

Her fears weren't quelled enough for her to trust him. She just shook her head obstinately.

He heaved a long breath and said sagaciously, "This is interesting. Little Miss Daredevil can't bring herself to go into a scary-looking building."

She laughed angrily as if she was a hornet's nest that had been violently poked, "Nice try, jackass. See if you get any more at all."

He shrugged his shoulders, drove past the gate and parked the car near the rear of the building. He jumped out of the vehicle, opened the rear door and grabbed her rucksack off the seat. She watched his actions and became pissed at him all the more. She jumped out of the vehicle and tried to tackle him. He anticipated her action, so he backed himself against the wall by the door and threw the rucksack under his foot. She reached out to grab it but it would not budge.

"Let go, Dylan! Give me my bag back!" She hollered like an angry mother bear.

"Do you trust me?" He asked simply, waiting for her to make the correct answer.

She stood about two feet away from him and folded her arms in frustration. Heaving a great big sigh, "I don't know."

Dylan arched his eyebrows as the thunder cracks continued overhead, "Dee, you told me you love me and we made love on the back of my car. How can you say you don't trust me?"

The bluish glow from the sky illuminated her as she threw her arms up in the air in further aggravation. "I am having a bad vibe about this place."

He became more frustrated with her response, "You're the one who wandered into the meth house up the road to stay overnight. A place like that could explode if the wrong glass bottle breaks."

She winced, not wanting to admit he was right, "I know about those places, Dill. More than you can even fathom. I had a feeling the place would be safe for the time being."

He responded, "Have about you feel safe with me? It's safer inside than it is out here. I don't want us to be remembered as a pair of human lightning rods."

Dylan released his foot from her rucksack and put his key into the lock. He opened the door, went inside and extended the welcoming gesture. She sighed once more, picked up her rucksack and came inside. As the door closed behind her, another thunder crack occurred and the rain came down again.

He had flipped on the overhead light and it illuminated a short hallway that led to the main hallway about ten feet from the door. She was still standing by the door as he gave her a somber smile.

"Welcome to my humble home," he remarked with his arms extended wide open. "Follow me down the hall a bit."

She gulped as she noticed the ugly, jaundiced fibrous wallpaper than lined the wall of every room and hallway. The floors were covered with a steel gray carpeting, the kind one might find in the basement of a home in a nearby town. She left her rucksack by the door, turned to the left down the long hallway and noticed Dylan about ten yards away from her. On the left side of the hallway were four rooms, each a bedroom used primarily by cooking and security staff when the place was operational years before. The right side of the hallway had three rooms, also bedrooms used by visitors, the commanding officer and the female staff. She whistled at how ordinary, how devoid of life, how militaristic the structure felt to her.

"What is this place, Dylan?" she asked with a puzzled expression on her face.

"This is a missile alert facility, or an M-A-F as the boys in blue used to call it." he replied as if he was a tour guide at a museum.

"A what?" she asked.

"A missile alert facility. This is was the place where the bombs could be launched by trained air force officers if the Cold War ever turned hot." he replied in the same tone as before.

"This place really has a cold feeling to it. It seriously gives me the creeps." she stated as she moved to where Dylan was.

"This place hasn't been active in fifteen years. In fact, the feds buried the structure underground after they pillaged it. There is no way we can get down into the capsule where the bombs were launched from. All that is left is the structure we are currently standing in." he answered as he looked into her worried eyes.

He flipped on the light in the room on his right side. Inside was a queen-size bed covered in a blue bedspread, a bedside table, a black dresser, and a small closet that wasn't built into the wall. The room was spartan by its very definition.

"This is my room, and back then the cooks lived here." he said without much fanfare.

He then moved across the hallway and flipped on the light, and there was a large bathroom with red-brown tile on the floor. There was a large tub, a separate shower, and a long vanity and toilet along the opposite wall.

"This bathroom only had two working showers, two working stalls, a urinal and three working sinks back then. This was the men's bathroom. Before my uncle purchased this place, my other uncle had wanted to turn it into a luxury home for his wife. She was always wishy-washy on the idea, so much so that uncle Peter sold it to my uncle Harald. A lot of remodeling was done before the switch was made, which is why the bathroom is so nice."

Moving further down and across the hallway, Dylan flipped on the light so Delilah could see the large kitchen. It was modern in every sense of the word with stainless steel appliances, oak cabinetry and a large island in the middle of the room.

"You weren't kidding about the kitchen, were you?" Delilah asked, some her fear melted away a little while before.

Dylan shook his head in negative fashion as he walked across the hall and flipped on the light. Delilah saw the washer and dryer and realized how wrong her reaction had been.

Delilah shut her eyes, moved her downward and sighed, "I am sorry, Dill. I knew I should have trusted you when you brought me here."

He shrugged his shoulders and heaved a sigh, "I don't know what you've been through up until now, but I will tell you that you will be safe here. I'll be here with you."

She broke he said that, and a tear appeared in her right eye. He took his right hand and held her cheek. He rubbed her eye slightly with his thumb to wipe away the tear and she grabbed his arm to wipe away more that were appearing. He reached around her back and pulled her toward him, their eyes staring at each other longingly.

"Don't worry, Dee. Everything will be fine. Let me show you the rest of the place." he said he took her left hand with his right hand and led her to the front of the structure. There was a partially-opened space that contained both the dining room and the sitting area. The large space had been partitioned by an L-shaped wall to make the two rooms. There was a doorway that led to a garage that contained a white Ford F150 labeled with the words "Good's Electric". On either side of the garage were rooms where Uncle Harald kept his tools and his office. Dylan took Delilah into the tool room on the southeast side of the building. He showed her where the old elevator shaft had been before Harald had the wall knocked out to make the elevator room and the security office into one open space. Delilah was taken with every piece of information had offered.

As the door to the garage closed behind them, Delilah asked an important question. "How did your uncles manage to get their hands on this place?"

Dylan chuckled as they sat down on the couch right in front of 27-inch TV. It was butted up in the corner formed by the L-shaped wall. He leaned back a little bit and she snuggled in next to him.

He stared up at the ceiling as he told the tale, "My grandfather had purchased the quarter-section back in the 1930's with the intent to expand his farming operation. The feds came along in the 1960's and used eminent domain to place the building here. About twenty years ago, the feds realized the nuclear missile program needed to be cut up here because it was a fiscal, maintenance, and political liability. After the missiles were removed and the field structures were destroyed, the original landowners had the first chance at buying the land back. Well, since Uncle Pete was now the landowner, he bought it back for less than $10000."

She just nodded in reply and looked at him, noticing his far-off look. She rubbed his cheek with her left index finger and he came out of his daze. He looked at her and smiled.

"I am sorry, I am just happy and tired right now." he said to quell her worried look.

"Me too, should we go to bed?" she asked with a knowing smile.

"Yeah, but I don't know if I have the energy." he answered truthfully.

"Well, we'll see." she voiced with a tinge of hope.

Dylan lifted himself up from the couch and wandered down the hallway toward the rear of the complex, and Delilah immediately followed. He located her rucksack at the back door and picked it up for her. He walked to the room immediately next to his to show her a spartan room but the bedspread was red and brown as opposed to blue. He pointed to the room, but she shook her head in a negative fashion. 

"I want to stay with you." she said simply.

"I don't have room in my closet." he replied.

She raised her eyebrows knowingly, "That's fine, I didn't say I wouldn't have my stuff in a separate room."

He chuckled a bit, "That is fine with me, Dee."

He set the rucksack on the floor just inside the room, and he grabbed her by the left hand. He pulled her inside his room and turned around the correct moment as he let go. She grabbed around his neck and crashed her lips into his. Despite two solid sack efforts, he truly had the stamina of a man his age. He reached his hands under her shirt and her arms immediately flew up toward the ceiling. Her movements still appeared to be in tune with his. He worked at her pants as he lightly kissed her neck, and she worked her bra off as he pushed her jeans and panties to the floor.

For a second, he looked at her breasts with awe. They had grown a couple of cup sizes since he had last seen them. They were prominent and showed no signs of sag. Like a kitten drawn to the mother's underside at the time of feeling, he touched her left nipple lightly with his tongue and it immediately popped out.

Like the lid on a jar of jelly, he thought to himself.

She shuddered and moaned softly in concord. She rubbed the backside of Dylan's head softly with her fingertips as he continued his assault on her left breast, going round and round her aureola like an annulus. Moaning and shuddering all the more, she placed her left hand on his left cheek and pushed him to the right side. His tongue work was masterful in her mind because she was still amped from before, but had subsided to a level five yet she was working her way back to level eleven. Time seemed to slow as he assaulted her succulent, immaculate orbs.

And then Dylan's penchant for variation kicked in.

He knew his soul mate inside and out. He knew where her magic spots were.

He moved his tongue to her middle valley, the one between her orbs and assaulted there and she became all the louder. After hearing her approval, the variation kicked on. He moved his tongue left over her left nipple and then to the right beneath it. His tongue returned to the middle valley for only a split moment and then over her right nipple and back to the left beneath it and then it returned to the middle valley once more. He repeated the process several more times and she sucked on his ear to return the favor, since she knew her soul mate inside and out.

After several moments, Dylan could not take it any longer. He needed to taste her, and he needed her to taste him. He needed to taste them together. He laid flat on the bed and whispered to her to put her velvet glove over his mouth. She immediately turned herself one-hundred and eighty degrees and stared at his underwear.

"Time to bring out this beautiful weapon," she said as she pushed the waistband below his scrotum. 

His seven-inch tube of tumescence smacked her on the forehead, but she didn't seem to mind. In her mind, his cock could have been chiseled from stone by Michelangelo. She licked her lips and then licked the top of it like a bad librarian worshipping a carrot or a cucumber. He tasted like a warm, medium-well steak, she thought and it was her favorite. After a couple of licks, she began to work the top side of his shaft in a numerical fashion similar to what Dylan did earlier that night.

She counted loudly for number of times she stroked the top side starting with one and then moving upward three steps at a time. Dylan's being shook as each time she counted and so he decided to return the favor. He pushed his tongue into her oasis and found it to be so wet, so juicy and so flavorful. Even with the addition of his salty white sauce, her sweet box still tasted as superior as before. She remained six steps ahead of him yet his motions were still languid, still strong, still sharp. She immediately screamed in orgasm as he reached the twenty-fifth tongue stroke.

"Fuuu...ck Dillllan! Do that to me again!" she so passionately stuttered that she began working her tongue on both sides of his cock, yet with quicker strokes.

"Oh yeah I will, baby!" he answered in a similar timbre, but without the stutter. He immediately lapped at her clitoris at a more furious yet patterned pace.

As they worked in synchronicity, Dylan silently hoped that he could keep other the prime directive, the one where they came at the same time, together, as one union, one flesh. He decided that he had to do it.

"Get up now!" he screamed at her.

Uncertain at what to make of his comment, she immediately complied.

He hopped off the bed and pushed his pants and briefs down and pulled his shirt off. She finally saw his full athletic physique and with the hunter's glint in his eyes, she felt compelled to do whatever he needed.

"It's time to add two to the last position we were in," he stated without a hint of irony.

Delilah knew what Dylan wanted because they were the same equation just made in different forms. She bent herself over the bed and he placed his quivering sword at the threshold of her sodden sheath. He slowly rubbed it along her clit as he held onto her hips rather tightly. She moaned so lightly, begging her lover to rapture her beyond anything she ever experienced before.

"Dylan, fuck me! Fuck me like the coyote does to his mate when she's in heat!" she voiced to her lover and she wiggled her hips, trying to get his shaft into her tunnel.

He could hold out no longer. He slid into her easily and began ravishing her fleetly. Thrust after thrust, she moaned his name loudly and told him to go all the deeper.

"Dylan, fuck me deeply. Give me your fuck stick! Give it all to me! Make me your she-coyote!" she shouted as another torrent of ecstasy ripped through her being.

Dylan looked down at her svelte, hourglass form that was moaning his name and his name alone and realized for the first time that she had perfect proportions. So beautiful was she is in his eyes that he realized he needed to do two things in short order, and so he asked the magic questions.

"Do you love me, Dee?" he asked in the same voice as before.

"Yes, I love you." she answered without pause.

"How much do you love me?" he asked.

"So much that I want you to fuck me every day." she answered fervently.

"Do you want my seed?" he asked.

"Yes, I want all of it!" she cried loudly.

"Do you want your uterine walls painted white?" he asked.

"Yes! I want to have a hundred of your children!" she confessed without a hint of irony.

That was all he needed to know. She was placed perfectly, at the correct angle, the angle that was right and best. He bent over and kissed her neck and she immediately arched her back to take him deeper. The sudden force of her pelvis caused his sperm to release for a second time. 

A second bit of perfection, as if the universe had planned it out beforehand.

Delilah screamed at the top of her lungs as yet another inundation of elation tore through like a seismic shockwave. At that moment, the only thing that went through her mind was the truth that she and Dylan were meant to be together, that she and he would be able to have the family they were meant to have.

Unlike the last time she found herself bent over a piece of furniture, a rather uncomfortable piece at that.

She could feel it, a rough, rubbery and rather uncomfortable feeling grating against her vaginal walls. It was as if somebody put sandpaper on the outside the condom he was wearing. She looked behind her and no longer saw the man she loved, but the man who disgusted her, a lecherous freak of a human being. His foreplay was like a stupid jock trying to play a French horn as a frat house prank. She turned her face away and her stomach almost turned after she saw his face mouse the fifteenth letter enclosed by a pair of parentheses. He gripped her hips forcefully as he lost his load within the rubber sock.

He pulled out of her as she remained bent over the living room couch. She stared around the space and saw the beer cans and pizza boxes and empty baggies with parsley-like remnants still within. It appeared and smelled like the kind of bachelor pad that the metrosexual demographic would avoid like a cholera-infested village in a third-world disaster zone. She gagged as she sighed in the fumes of flat beer, stale pizza and lingering marijuana. She pushed her lithe, sensuous, naked form upward and sat on the free-from-the-curb couch. She stared over at the man, or rather the less-than-male being, that left her feeling unfulfilled and used for what seemed like the thousandth time ever.

He was wiry, built with pipe cleaners instead of flesh and bone. Not ripped like a Greek creation from old yet he could pass for a modern day rock star that was both a cocaine and heroin fiend. He had a tattoo on his left bicep, written in black bold print, that said "Iron" and a tattoo on his right bicep, written in the same manner, that said "Lead". He believed his constitution was made of those base elements as opposed to carbon, nitrogen and a multitude of other elements, and it set him apart from the rest of the human rabble. He puts on and zipped up a pair of skinny jeans. He preferred the commando feel as opposed the support guaranteed by a pair of boxer briefs. It also guaranteed his bevy of beauties easy access to his massive claymore when he came around.




Damaged Goods Ch. 04



He grabbed the Zippo and his pack of American Spirit Non-Filters from a shelf by the couch as Delilah continued to stare at him. He twisted the cancer stick into his lips, flicked the Zippo open, slipped the wheel, stoked up the stick and sucked a whole load of cancerous molecules into his thoracic cavity. Blowing out the remains like a factory smokestack, they locked eyes finally.

He stated firmly, "I have to go. Marisa is going to meet me to hand off more supplies. I also have to bake up some stuff for Duey since I'm his main supplier now. Don't expect me until tomorrow at the earliest."

Delilah huffed unceremoniously, "Whatever Deek. You do what you have to do."

Deek replied angrily, "I'm sick of your bitchy shit. If you don't like what I've given you, then why not leave?"

She answered with no less force, "Let's see, a shitty apartment that I can't keep clean, a pay cut that amounts to less than $200 a week, and the risk of getting caught since I am one of your gophers. Not to mention the fact that I am not the only one in this relationship. If you treated me right, I'd probably be a lot less bitchy."

He snorted and then puffed smoke at her. She coughed her disgust back at him and he just sneered. "I took you in off the street and gave you a place to lay your head. I even gave a chance to earn some income, and you aren't even grateful for that!"

She screamed back at him, "You let me stay here if I would service you whenever you wanted it. You promised me a relationship, you promised me monogamy and all I became was a whore in your stable of them!"

He chuckled at her, "I never promised you anything. I know what I said to you but did your really expect me to be this awesome dude. You knew what you were getting from the start, Dee. I am not Mr. Nice Guy, I am Mr. Bad Example!"

Delilah turned away from him and he knew that she had been defeated for the moment.

Deek was a decent manipulator. He knew how to get shattered females on the verge of adulthood to be drones for him, both sexually and corporately. He knew where the scars were hiding and he knew what kind of scars they were. Being of the social media generation, he knew which ones could be the perfect targets to bring into his version of the meth trade. 

Deek was excellent at chemistry and staying out of the limelight. At age fifteen, he met a cousin who had done hard time for making and dealing meth. The product was substandard to what other local meth dealers had been producing and Deek decided to figure out how to change that. A whiz in school, he had taken chemistry as a freshman and was taking organic chemistry as a sophomore. He found the problem and he gave the fresh recipe to his cousin. Suddenly, the cousin was flush with quick cash and he gave Deek a sizable cut. 

As a chemist, Deek was meticulous when it came to working in labs and keeping notes. By the age of eighteen, Deek had dropped out of school yet was working full-time for his cousin. A few months before his nineteenth birthday, Deek's cousin was pinched in an undercover operation and he immediately went underground. With his collected knowledge and experience, Deek decided to go into business for himself and it didn't take him long to establish a reputation as an enigma. He wasn't ever at the forefront of the operation unless he absolutely had to be, which included making deals and arrangements with prospective buyers and established heavies. Which is why he selected the young and vulnerable females. They acted as his supply proxies.

Deek added more salt to Delilah's already wounded being, "It's not surprising that you came to me when you did. With how fucked-up your relationship was with your parents, you need a parent figure to get you started in this big, bad world. And you also needed a man to turn you into the woman you need to be. Without me, you'd be on the streets and suffering from your third bout of chlamydia. You'd probably be sterile anyway, which isn't a bad thing. Kids are such a waste of time and energy."

Delilah seethed with unmitigated scorn as he put on a Buckcherry T-shirt, yet she maintained her reserve. Deek wandered up to her and kissed her lightly on the forehead.

He stated, "I may not be faithful, but you are by far my favorite bitch. Stretch marks and a pot belly would not look good on you. I am with a hot eighteen-year old, not a forty-year old virgin."

He grabbed his keys and slammed the door. After a few moments of critical silence, she finally let rage come unbridled and she went on a rampage through the apartment. She was a mimic of Lilith scorned, sans the expansive wings and the eyes of scarlet. She grabbed a kitchen knife and shredded the couch, his favorite easy chair, every pillow, the bedspread and the bed itself. She even took his electric guitar and smashed every mirror and television set in the place. After her tirade, she quickly dressed in a white, form-fitting T-shirt and blue jeans, packed everything she owned in her rucksack and then took the $20,000 that Deek kept behind the heating grate in the spare bedroom. While Deek may have been a master in the meth trade, he clearly didn't have enough sense to not piss off the wrong woman. Slamming the door behind her, Delilah ran down the stairs and onto the street and disappeared to the north. Deek was one of those personalities that could appear out of the ether without warning. She didn't know why she chose to go north, maybe it was because it was the first thing that came to mind, maybe it was randomness.

Maybe it was the idea that the universe already had her plotted on that trajectory.

It wasn't far away and Delilah saw it. It was the rail yard that took trains in all directions and at that moment she decided that it was her best means of escape. She flipped her rucksack over and jumped the fence with ease. She saw an open boxcar directly ahead of her and she took off toward it. She didn't know where it would take her, all she knew is that she had to get away from there.

Get away from the city that made her life a living hell.

It wasn't long after she boarded the open boxcar that the train jerked forcefully to the west. Where she was headed, she didn't know but she knew she was free from the demented slimeball for who knew how long. And she could only think about the last thing he said to her.

About how she should be a sterile nothing of a woman.

Delilah was in deep pain, the kind of pain that one could never get over. She felt alone in the world even with her parents gone. She had no support structure beyond them. The day they died was really the day she died.

As the train tracks click-clacked below her, she was able to let loose the tears. The memory she relived was of the most visceral, horrifying event of her life.

She was back to the point where she had last seen Dylan, ever.

They had come quietly down the stairs, and her parents were already in a middle of a screaming match. It would be a rough one from the way it sounded. She positioned herself behind the small wall between the living room and front door and saw what unfolded.

Her mother yelled in a drunken timbre, "So this is what you've been doing since you were laid off! You've been texting and sexting that slut who lives up street!"

Her father screamed back, stone drunk as well, "At least she's willing to give me some. You haven't put out since the day three sixes appeared in a row on the calendar."

She replied angrily, "That's not fair. I have tried, but you are such a louse and sloth that you haven't made it easy for me to be in the mood."

He just chuckled, "Fuck, I need to be beyond wasted to get the proper wood for you!"

They had been facing each other from about three feet apart and that made her walk away into the kitchen. Delilah's father just sniffed and chuckled and told her to get him another beer. He laid down on the couch expecting Delilah's mother to be the beer bitch she was meant be. Instead, she returned with a 22-caliber pistol in her left hand pointing toward his head. The look of dread that came over his face was one that Delilah would remember forever. Her mother just sneered as she pulled the trigger. She retained the sneer as the bullet entered her husband's forehead and blood splattered back onto her face. Delilah suddenly screamed and it made her mother turn in that direction. She just mouthed the words "Good-Bye" as she raised the 22 to her left temple and squeezed the trigger. The bullet entered into the west wall along with a splattering of skull fragments, blood and brain matter. Delilah just screamed her lungs out wishing Dylan would be within earshot.

But he wasn't. He was already far down the street feeling emotionally dejected from what happened before. 

But it would not have mattered. She was sent into foster care, but the city's system was already filled. She ended up finishing her schooling in another town, and Dylan lost track of her.

She bounced in and out of the foster care system, and every home she found herself in wasn't conducive for a teenager being loved, unless she was a sexual object. She had found herself in a place like that in a small town where the foster parents wanted her to be their brood mare because the older woman could not bear children. It was then she made her break from the system.

And she made her way back to the city to find him. She checked everywhere she could but she wasn't able to find him.

The universe had other plans for him.

And the hell in her life only compounded itself like bank account interest.

Lost, hungry, cold, she found an open garage to maintain her survival for only so much longer. She had been resorting to dumpster diving and shoplifting to keep herself going. On that night, she had evaded a police cruiser that was trying to stop her after she stole a Coke and a bag of chips from a convenience store a couple of blocks over. She ran down the alley and found the open garage. It turned out Deek Weller's garage door opener had malfunctioned earlier in the day. Deek drove in not long afterward and the headlights of his Chevy Monza Mirage caught her dark shape. Her beauty immediately stunned him and he decided to play Good Samaritan.

And the hell compounded even more.

Up until she could not take it anymore.

But she decided not to take him out the way her mother took out her father.

She wasn't a wife, just a scorned girlfriend among many other girlfriends.

She thought back to the moment just before the shooting, the happiest moment of her life. 

She knew what was coming. 

She knew Dylan was going to say the magic words.

She knew he might even go further than that.

And that was her final thought as the train came to a halt outside a town with a large slough on the eastern edge. She departed from there and started walking north again.

As if north was the direction that the universe had her plotted on to begin with.

And that was her final thought as Dylan's soldier softened and slid out of her. He kissed her back and neck several times and told her that he loved her and only her deeply. She immediately reached her head back to kiss him, showing her affection for him and him alone.

He backed away from her and she was puzzled by the maneuver. He immediately reached into the top drawer of his dresser and put something in his right hand. She had seated herself rightly, exposing her milky form to him just as he remembered from that special day two years before. He opened his hand showing the ring that he had placed on her finger during their playful, goofy interlude all those months ago. 

Dylan said simply as he got down one knee, "Delilah, I wanted to do this two years ago but life got in the way rather abruptly. I still truly love you and cherish you. Will you marry me?"

Delilah was in shock at first and then screamed with a joy she never felt before, "Yes, I will marry you. I always wanted to marry you. I've wanted to marry you since the day you put your hand in your pocket."

Dylan chuckled at the memory, "You remember that?"

Delilah just laughed in reply, "Of course I remember that. I knew what you were going to ask me."

Dylan slid the ring onto her left hand and then sat next to her. They kissed for a little bit and Delilah stared at her ring finger in awe. For the first time in a long time, she was happy. 

Really, truly happy.

Dylan made a small confession to her, "I was going to propose to you after we saw each other in the mirror."

Delilah asked, "Why didn't you?"

He answered, "I remembered how you reacted to me kissing you for the first time. You recoiled and I was afraid you'd never want to see me again."

She sighed, "I did that because I was afraid that I was like my parents or that you would be like your parents. I came to realize that you were a much better man than either one of our fathers. You treated me with respect, you understood me, we had that connection. And we still do."

He stated, "After all the shit that has happened to the two of us, seeing you again was the only thing that really kept me going. Two years is too long and I want to know what has happened along the way. I want to tell you what has happened with me."

She put her finger to his mouth and kissed him once more. "We have plenty of time now. We are going to be together until the end."

He agreed and then yawned and she mimicked his motion. He got up and turned off the light. She faced the wall away from him and he scooted in behind her and they were soon fast asleep.

Just like many night before, only they were naked this time. For the first time.

All was right with the world. For them.

For the time being.

Yet the universe always appears to have other plans in the works.

Back in the home city, Deek Weller was standing out on his front porch living within a dimension of rage that he never experienced before. He stood out next to the garage, drinking a highball glass full of cheap whiskey. He had been gone longer than he expected because one of his girls got pinched as she worked the southern part of the state, and he received a double order not only from Duey, his contact one state over to the east, but from Huey, his contact one state to the south. He and his compatriots worked hard for two solid days in two separate meth houses to make the deadline. When he returned, he never expected his favorite filly to have become a full-fledged rabid wolverine. What irritated him the most was the heating grate that had been removed in the spare bedroom. He sorely wanted his $20,000 back and he didn't care how he would go about getting it. He slugged the whiskey in three gulps and returned to his hovel. He went to his bedroom and reached under the bed to retrieve a 9mm handgun. He sat beside the bed and pointed to a broken picture of Delilah on his dresser. He pointed the piece right between her eyes and made a popping sound with his mouth.

The universe had other plans indeed.