Author's note: This isn't so much a story about sex, rather it is a story which uses sex to explore the characters. It's explicit but I am not a writer who is just interested in my reader getting off, I hope you feel it a bit deeper than that ...
My thanks to those who've read through the drafts and shared their thoughts. And to VMKane who continues to encourage and inspire me.
*
The sky is indelibly inked in my mind, a surreal blue. Not a cloud to be seen, just vast emptiness. As I drive, the fierce midday sun penetrates everything. It still feels intimidating; I'm from a green and luscious country and not used to all this dry, dusty
space.
It's iconic; I can almost see the ghosts of those forced along this route all those decades ago bound for California, carrying their own unique story of hope, loss and sorrow.
Faith is tripping in the passenger seat, unable to describe what's going on, not because she can't but because I don't understand. She's younger than me. To the casual observer she almost looks innocent, a blonde with a beautiful face. She's an escort or was until she met me and has a love hate relationship with men as a result. Imagine bright, bold colours and red lips; trashy. There's sadness behind her eyes.
I've always found it difficult to be in the company of someone who is hallucinating. She isn't the most stable of personalities, meaning I get to deal with the fallout and there will be fallout.
Her little grey top is worn for effect, no bra underneath, nipples pushing against the fabric. I'm taken in by her. I wonder if I'm any different to all those men who paid to fuck her. Maybe I feed myself the same lies.
"What you thinking about, peach pie?"
Her southern accent is foreign to my ears and yet at the same time so very familiar. American culture as much a part of my upbringing as it was hers.
"You. You're high and now it's my problem to deal with."
"Ain't anyone's problem, I can look after myself."
"Sure you can, Faith."
"Have you ever really thought about time?"
"It's something I can't control, I know that much. Plus you take up a lot of it."
She reaches over to my right hand resting on the gear stick, weaving her fingers between mine. Her palm is clammy.
"Not sure that's a great idea."
We've been here before, many times.
"Stop over-analysing. You make my stomach do funny things when I touch you."
The urge to kiss her is always there, waxing and waning with her emotional neediness.
We're driving through one of the smaller towns which still exist along this road. I pull over into the lot of a general store which has a few bikers out front. It's bright. The sun is always bright here, becomes part of everything. The store has a huge sign announcing souvenirs; wooden cladding giving it that old world, Wild West feel.
"Wait here, I'm going to get supplies.
Don't move
."
"Sure thing."
I'm not entirely sure I trust that she will be in the car when I get back. I lock the doors just in case, not that she notices.
I'm hit by a blast of cold air as I enter the store. It's so thick, almost as if I am wading through it. I head straight for the wall of drinks, most of the colours bright and garish. I choose a few bottles with the least offensive contents and fight the sudden urge to laugh at the sheer unpredictability of life.
***
Arriving back at my place, the heat is as oppressive as ever. It's secluded out here and not too far from a little town that attracts outdoorsy people. The only downside is it's a good four-hour drive from Vegas.
After some careful manoeuvring, I manage to guide Faith into my bed. Tell her I'll be here if she needs anything. I grab a beer and sit on the porch, wondering how I got myself in this position. Knowing how Corky felt.
I don't pay her, never have, never will. I pay for dinner and I pay for drinks, but I don't pay for sex. I want someone to fuck me because they choose to, not because they have to. She tells me sometimes what it's like, to walk through the hotel lobby with a stranger, not knowing how it's going to turn out. She thrives on the adrenalin, not to mention the money.
I hear her moving around inside, I've been out here longer than I'd realised, the sun that bit closer to the horizon. I'm met by her sitting on the sofa smoking.
"You weren't in bed very long. Let's have a toke. I don't have to drive you anywhere else, do I?"
She glares at me, not liking my insinuation. As I take a seat next to her and inhale, I watch the smoke whisping from the joint, catching the light, its aroma mixing with the coffee percolating in the kitchen.
"What's it like?"
"It's hard to explain, I know you don't always agree with that stuff but you really should try it. It's like time didn't exist in the same way. My filters were removed and I could see things differently, my perception was altered."
She moves without warning, climbing onto me, straddling my lap. I put the joint in the ashtray, glancing to the window, checking no one is walking by.
"What are you doing?"
My hands move to her hips, feels good having her on me like that. She smells amazing, perfume and her own individual scent. She's looking down at me with beautiful eyes, black liner on her upper lids. There's still an edge to her.
"If I tell you, it'll make you blush. Although I do know how much you enjoy it when I make you uncomfortable."
"You like to do it often enough."
Her words have a direct link to my libido. I am blushing, flushed by my sexual arousal that she so easily stokes. I can feel her slowly grinding against me. It's making my stomach churn.
"Do you think about it?"
"Think about what?"
"Don't be coy, Olivia."
"Sometimes. But that's no surprise to you."
She puts both hands on the back of the sofa and leans down to kiss me. I allow her tongue permission to enter, my breath catching in my throat. It's delicious; I can't stop my hips pushing up to meet hers. The skin on her waist feels soft, warm, my fingertips tracing her flanks.
"Am I making you wet, Liv?"
She grips my wrists and places my hands on her chest. I can feel her nipples straining against the fabric and pressing into my palms. She lets out a moan as I squeeze and twist them between my thumb and forefinger. She looks so innocent, I feel like I want to take advantage and look after her all at the same time.
I slide my hands under her top and slowly pull it up and off, exposing her breasts to the cool air, a silver piercing dissecting her right nipple. Her areola are light pink, nipples perfectly in proportion. I lean in and take one into my mouth, suck it aggressively, grazing it with my teeth, playing with the bar. That same moan again, an air of desperation to it, her hands gripping my hair, pulling me against her.
"
Fuck
, feels amazing. Harder."
Biting her nipple now, I know it must hurt but she responds by grinding into me harder. Our breathing is becoming laboured, desperate.
"On the floor, now. Lie on your stomach."
Giving me a quizzical look, she climbs off my lap and obeys. Her shorts are tight, on purpose of course. I stand and walk around her, watching her watch what I'm doing, wondering what's next. Her skin is pale, unusually so for someone who spends a lot of time in the sun.
"Pull your shorts down."
"Why?"
