Don't. Please. Don't Make Me

Chapter One-6

“Here's dears...” the barmaid stepped out from behind the counter with a plate in each hand. “Egg 'n chips for the lady,” she said, sliding a plate of crispy fries in front of Sue. There where two eggs drooling soft yellow goo and toast with strawberry jam as well. “Coffee's brewing.” She spun on a heel and, after dumping a similar plate onto the table opposite, she disappeared back into the kitchen.

Sue had a passion for pepper. And there wasn't any on her table, but she could see it on his. It gave her the excuse she needed and, she had to admit to herself, that she was more than a little bit curious. She slipped from her chair and moved across. “If you don't mind...” she started, pointing to the pepper, but he startled her by bolting back in his chair and then, taking an inordinate long gander at her breasts, spouted: “If you're hooking; I'm sorry. I mean you're nice enough. But I don't have any fuckin' cash. Sorry.” And his eyes finally lifted above her bust-line.

Sue stood for what seemed like a couple minutes before she realized her lower jaw was hanging. “I just wanted some... some pepper,” she finally managed and they gaped at each other. Then he turned his head to the side, snorted, and started to laugh.

“What?” Sue asked in astonishment.

He looked back. “You... a hooker,” and he disarmed her with a lewd grin. “I'm sorry. I didn't get a good look at you.”

“I'm not so sure about that,” Sue retorted, thinking of how he had assessed her cleavage. “And now you've had a moment to think about it, why the change of heart? What... too old?” Sue took a step back and c****d a hip. “Not good looking enough for you?”

“Naw, nothing like that,” he eased back in his seat, still grinning. “You look like a fuckin' mom.”

“Oh. A mom?” she started in. “I'll have you know...”

“Oh. You two met up, then? Ah, that's so nice.” It was their Irish barmaid back again, sounding like she had instigated the setup and before Sue could protest, the lass had scooped up her plate and slipped it in, across from his. He groaned in protest but said nothing.

“No,” Sue tried to tell her. “I just came over here...”

“Coffee's coming right up,” the barmaid called back over a shoulder and, swiveling a hip, she was gone again.

“...for pepper.” Sue looked down into his dark eyes.

“No use fighting it, sweetie,” he said, “looks like we're an item! Sit down and eat your fries. Name's Dwight, by the by.”

“Yeah,” Sue shot back, sliding into the chair opposite and picking up her fork. “An item made in heaven,” she said, looking about the dumpy bar.

“What? You don't like the place? I'm fuckin' astonished. Classy dish like you. You in here lookin' for something else perhaps; besides the fancy que-zeen?” He tossed the newspaper aside. “Maybe I was wrong. Maybe you are lookin' for something. Something that's not on the menu.”

“What's eating your ass,” Sue said. “I came over here looking for pepper, not your mouth full of chili-sauce.”

“f**k you,” he exhaled under his breath.

She chose to ignore that. They ate fries in silence for a moment. “Could you pass the ketchup,” he finally broke the silence.

“Trade you for the pepper,” Sue said and was surprised when he laughed. Well it was more of a snort!

“You caught in the storm?” he asked, passing the pepper shaker into her hand.

“I work in the building across the way. Made it in alright, this morning, but it's been snowing ever since. The lot hasn't been plowed.”

He gave Sue a hound-dog look. “That'll be me. I got the contract to plow all the parking lots around here...”

“You dip-s**t. I've been waiting for you all afternoon!” Sue cut him off.

“f**k lady. You think I'm happy about it?” He held up a hand. “Blew out a hydraulic hose on the truck and can't lower the blade. Spent most of the afternoon trying to get the fucker fixed; nobody's open!”

“So I can't get my car out?”

He shrugged. “Sorry, mom. I'm losing a thousand bucks tonight; right outta my pocket. All because of a fifty-dollar hose! I ain't happy about the situation either!” Sue watched as he pushed a french fry about his plate. He stuffed it into his mouth. “You got a place to stay?” he finally asked.

“Couch in the office,” she replied and took a bite of toast. “You?”

“The truck will do; unless that bit of Irish will accommodate me.” He shot Sue a lazy taunting smile.

“I would think that 'bit of Irish' has more sense. And besides, she's outta your league; don't you think?”

His eyes came up. Sue realized she was being reassessed. It gave her a queer feeling but she boldly met his gaze, eye to eye. Then he laughed again, but there was a sense of embarrassment in it.

He was a crude character; scruffy in appearance and unwashed. And his comments were lewd and reckless. But he had an intensity that seemed to displace the air, stifling Sue, forcing her to fight for breath; a disturbing quality that, at the same time, both repelled and attracted her, shamelessly.

He leaned back and finished off his beer; mulled something over. “C'mon,” he finally said. “Let's have a look; see how bad it is. The four-wheel drive's ok. Maybe I can give you a pull.”

They paid, and after warning the barmaid that they might be back, Sue and Dwight pushed through the snow drifts that blocked the entrance. He directed Sue to a rusted-out jeep with a light bar and a blade. “Nice...” she commented as she pulled herself up onto the passenger seat and slammed the door.

“It's paid for,” he countered and cranked the tired engine while Sue tried to see out the scratchy vinyl that had replaced the glass in the passenger door.

The engine caught and the lights came up. “Lord. They haven't plowed the street yet.”

“Nope... City will be concentrating on the school-bus routes. They won't get to the inner-city 'till after midnight.” Sue checked her watch and was surprised to find it was only six-thirty. “Let's have a look at your car.” He pulled a tight u-turn, side-slipping up over the sidewalk and jammed the truck through the drifts into the parking lot behind the building.

“Where is it?” he asked.

“It's that hump in the corner,” Sue answered, her voice forlorn. “It's hopeless, isn't it?”

He linked his arms across the top of the steering wheel and rested his chin on a wrist. “I could possibly get a chain on you; pull you... but then what. The roads are impassible. You're better off here. At least you'll be safe 'till morning.”

“Oh please...” Sue whined, moisture blurring her eyes. The thought of spending the night in the deserted office seemed intolerable.

“Bad suggestion,” he chuckled. It was a rich sound that came from deep within his throat. “Look, I can drive you.”

“It isn't a problem?” Sue asked.

“Not in this baby,” he jammed the shifter into reverse and she heard the wheels spin. “Tires are good and we got chains on the wheels. I'll have you home in no time. You do live in the State, don't you?”

“Yes,” Sue breathed thankfully. “It's only thirty minutes on a good day. I'll pay for your gas.”

“Never mind gas. Fiddle with that damned radio; find us some music.” And while Sue worked the radio dial, they motored to the highway, the chains jangling like Santa's little reindeer.

It took an hour but the jeep safely rounded the corner on Sue's street and churned up her driveway. “Thank you so much.” She hesitated for a moment but refused to be ungrateful. “I'll make us some coffee, if you like. And there's pie in the fridge. It's not fresh but it's homemade. And there's ice cream.”

“Homemade pie? You kidding me?” he gushed. “Let me get your fuckin' door.” He took Sue by the arm, and propelled her through the snow. They piled through the front door and slammed the winter storm out the other side. Sue unbundled her coat and pointed him to the sofa. She retreated to the kitchen to flick the switch on the coffee maker. Once it had started gurgling happily, she stopped by the bathroom to try to do something with her hair and to pull a clean bath towel from the linen closet.

“Here,” she said, throwing him the towel; his hair was stuck to his scalp. “You don't own a coat?”

“Yeah... it's in the back of the truck. I find it kinda' restrictin' when I'm driving.”

“Well you got a tee shirt on under there? I'll throw your shirt into the dryer for a few minutes.”

“Naw,” he replied, getting to his feet. “It don't matter.” And Sue held her breath as he tore open the buttons, pulled the tails from his jeans and tossed her the balled-up denim. She swallowed hard. He was beautiful. His skin was the ruddy color of ground cinnamon; muscles work-hardened. He was hairless, his breasts bulging as he took a breath. His stomach looked like the side of a log building and his arms were long and ropey. On his right shoulder he sported a tattoo of a mermaid, her long blonde hair coyly hiding her modesty, and her tail curling down to his elbow.

He didn't seem to notice her gawking; he just gathered up the towel and began burnishing his scalp. “I'll... I'll just toss this in the dryer,” she managed, her throat suddenly dry, and dragging her eyes from his bunched biceps, she went down the hall to the laundry room where she weakly gripped the sides of the dryer while trying to get control of her senses. Sue finally tossed his shirt in and set the temperature to “low.” She thought, shamelessly, that the longer he was without his clothes, the better she would like it!

When Sue got back, the coffee was ready. She pulled two mugs from the cupboard, filled them and took them into the living room. He had draped the towel about his neck and his unruly hair made it easy to think of him as a young ruffian. “Coffee's here,” Sue said brightly as she stepped forward to place a mug in front of him. He straightened. And before Sue had a chance to relieve herself of the hot mugs, he had slipped a hand around the back of each of her knees. His bold actions hadn't fully registered before his fingers crept up under her skirt to where he cupped the undersides of her buttocks. Sue stood, arms outstretched, a mug in each hand, her body trembling with anticipation. It felt like she was being wonderfully, and completely, crucified.

“You can have me, if you want,” she said.

It was a different woman that reached down and grasped his hand and pulled him toward the bedroom. A different woman than the one that had left this very house, this very morning, on her way to a tiresome office. That woman had been an insecure doormat. The victim of a gut-wrenching desertion when her husband had discovered a girl half his age. A woman who had the unenviable job of raising a belligerent teenager who could hardly bring herself to bestow a “thank you.”

This was a different woman who had ridden home in a truck with chains, listening to outlaw country music and sipped on a can of beer from a cooler in the back, while Dwight, the snowplow-jock, had bull-dozed his way through the drifts as easily as he had bull-dozed her s****l morality.

She hadn't even worn her seat-belt. Madness!

Sue was rejoicing in her new found skin; laughing, teasing, suddenly playful. Emotions she hadn’t experienced in years. And now she had even turned slutty. Unabashedly pulling him into her bed.

It was surprisingly bright in her room. Even with the lights out and the sheers pulled across the window. The moon was full and the light reflecting from the snow, cast the room in soft 'whisper-light' and shadows. They tore the clothes off each other. Then, pushing her back across the covers, he dropped on his knees beside her hip and, with rough hands, opened her legs. Without pretense, he slid one finger into her v****a; simultaneously tucking a second into her rectum. Sue arched her hips against the delectable pain. She wanted it to hurt; wanted to be abused. My bottom, she thought. She had never considered it a s****l organ, 'till now.

“You remind me of a little gladiator,” he said.

“A gladiator?”

“Yeah,” he said. “Someone who has fought and scratched for everything she ever got!”

She liked that. She had always thought of herself as being just stubborn, maybe even pig-headed, but she liked gladiator better. She smiled up at him. “Do something to me,” she said. “Use me.”

Dwight nodded. Sue pulled him over her thighs. He pressed. There was the delectable decent; and the final acceptance. Then after: peace and solitude and sleep.

Sue woke in the predawn glow, nestled in the crook of his arm, tracing little circles over his ribs with her fingertips and wondering why she didn't feel pangs of guilt. He had been a crude lover; taking more than giving. Oblivious to her cries of pain, he had violated her. But it had been just what she needed. She felt abused and beaten, and... fulfilled!