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The following piece of fiction contains strong sexual
content and is meant to be read only by adults. If you
are not at least 18 years old, or if you are offended by
this type of material, please do not read any further.
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"Blood and Sand"
by DG
+++ Part One +++
Fabian Barnes eyed the last few green shoots poking up from
the top of the ornamental hedge. Three satisfying snicks from his
hedge clipper, and they joined their companions on the lawn. He
dropped the clipper and stepped back to admire his work. The top
of the hedge, which enclosed three sides of the large, lushly
landscaped back yard, was now as flat and green as a billiards
table. In this quiet neighborhood, where the use of gasoline-
powered trimmers and blowers was strictly regulated, nothing less
would do.
It was three in the afternoon, the southern California sun was
still high in the cloudless sky, and it had to be ninety-five
degrees in the shade. Sweat was trickling down his face, making
his eyes sting and his white t-shirt stick to his chest and back
like a second skin. He turned to give the swimming pool a longing
glance, and noticed a flash of movement behind the large picture
window overlooking the yard. With a little smile, he peeled off
his white t-shirt and used it to mop the sweat from his face and
neck. Fabian was a big man in his late twenties, over six feet
tall and well muscled, with shoulder-length blond hair pulled back
into a ponytail with a rubber band. From a distance his face
looked smooth and chiseled, but up close the scars around his
eyebrows and the somewhat misshapen cartilage of his nose gave it
more character. Either way, he was a good looking man.
He raked up the hedge clippings and put them into a big
plastic bin, and then he walked up to the back door and knocked,
still shirtless.
The woman who answered the door was attractive, in a thin
overly-groomed sort of way. Fabian knew the type well: in her
mid-thirties, she was bored and restless in her suburban castle.
She smiled at him, flipping her shiny brown hair back with a
practiced gesture. "All done?"
"Yes, ma'am. Do you want to come out and take a look?"
Deliciously cool gusts of air from the house swirled past him,
evaporating the sweat from his chest and face and making his
nipples tighten.
"Oh, no, I've been... I happened to glance out and see what
you were doing a little while ago, and it looks great. Real nice
job." She was staring at his bare chest, and he saw the tip of
her pink tongue moisten the corner of her mouth.
"Thanks."
"Jesus, it's hot out there. Why don't you come inside and
have something to drink while I get my purse."
"Thanks, that would be great," he said, meaning it. He
followed her into the kitchen, eyeing her long tan legs and her
cute little ass, which was packed into a tight pair of snowy-white
shorts. He didn't see any possible way she could be wearing
panties.
She gestured towards the huge silver refrigerator. "There's
all sorts of stuff in there - help yourself. I'll be right back."
Fabian rooted around and found a six-pack of Budweiser long
necks lurking among the bottled water and fruit juice. He popped
the cap off one and took a long swig, emptying half the bottle.
Two more pulls and it was empty. He quickly stashed the bottle in
the garbage and opened another.
"Now, how much do I owe you?" the woman asked, coming back
with her purse. She came over and stood in front of him, a little
too close.
Fabian looked into her eyes, and said "Before we settle the
bill, are you sure there isn't anything else around here that
needs taking care of?"
A little smile played across her mouth. "Hmm...let's see, I
guess there might be something..."
"Something indoors, maybe? Sure is sticky out there."
She took the beer out of his hand and took a sip. Then she
wiped her mouth delicately with the back of her hand and said "Now
that you mention it, I think there might be something for you
upstairs."
"What sort of job, ma'am? Physical labor? Any heavy
lifting?"
She set the beer down on the counter and ran her hand up and
down his chest, tracing the well-defined plates and ridges. "I
think we've done enough dancing around the subject, don't you?"
"Yes ma'am," he said with a grin. He pulled her toward him,
and she came willingly, tilting her head up so that their mouths
met in a long, firm kiss.
"Is your name really Fabian?"
"I'm afraid so."
"No, I like it. You can call me Kathy, Fabian. Unless my
asshole of a husband is around, in which case you better stick to
ma'am." She stuck out her tongue and delicately licked his chest.
Her tongue felt warm and soft on his sweat-cooled skin, and he
twitched involuntarily when she flicked at his nipple. "What do
you say we go upstairs and put you to work...Fabian?"
He grabbed the beer off the counter and followed her through
the showplace home, which was filled with uncomfortable-looking
furniture and oddly-shaped objects too useless to be anything but
art. She led him up to the second floor, to a small room with a
full-sized bed; probably a guest bedroom. Or maybe it was the
designated room for fucking the help.
"You want me to grab a quick shower, Kathy? I'm kinda
sweaty..."
"No! I want you sweaty. You can shower after."
He shrugged and sat down next to her on the bed. They kissed
again, and she rubbed the bulge in the front of his faded jeans,
tracing the outine of his cock, making it bigger. He slid his
hand under her top and opened the front clasp of her bra with a
practiced twist, spilling out her small, soft breasts. Just from
their texture, he could tell that they weren't very sensitive, and
he treated them a little roughly, cupping one in his large hand
and squeezing it firmly, massaging the nipple between his callused
fingers.
Kathy moaned and broke the kiss. "Oh, that feels very good...
God, I love a man who knows what he's doing."
She pushed him back on the bed, straddled his chest, and took
off her top. He continued to squeeze and pinch her nipples, doing
it hard enough to hurt, and she gritted her teeth and twitched.
"Fuck yes," she said, her eyes starting to glaze with lust. "That
feels really, really fucking amazing."
As he continued working her breasts over, she reached behind
her back and unzipped his jeans. He lifted up his butt, and she
pushed them down past his hips. Then she closed her hand around
his stiffening cock and pulled it out of his shorts.
"Oh yeah... beautiful... I love a nice thick juicy cock more
than anything, you know that? More than any-fucking thing. I
haven't even seen this one yet, but I just I know I'm gonna love
it."
Fabian smiled to himself. These upper-income housewives
always liked to talk dirty and to be treated a little rough. He
supposed it was all part of the fantasy - the lady of the manor
slumming with the husky, sex-crazed yard boy. He wondered what
sex between this woman and her husband was like. Probably neither
one of them said a word the whole time.
She was jerking his cock with her hand behind her back, and he
was fully erect. "I'm making you hard, Fabian. You like that?
Do I make you hot, Fabian?"
"I want you to suck it," he said, deadpan. Might as well play
the part.
"You want me to suck this sweaty old cock of yours?"
"Yep."
"Not much of a talker, are you?"
"Nope."
She swung her leg off his chest and kneeled next to him, and
he reached down and finished taking off his jeans, his erection
bobbing back and forth, and then lay back down.
"You have a beautiful fucking cock, you know that?"
Whatever. She gripped the base in her right hand and licked
his shaft with long fluid strokes, using her whole tongue.
Apparently she was into licking. "Mmm, tastes so good...I love a
big, hard, sweaty cock more than anything..."
She moved her attention up to the head, teasing him with
little flicks at the sensitive opening, pretending she was a porno
actress or something. He put his hand on the back of her neck and
gently pushed her head down. She got the hint and started sucking
him in earnest, slurping away greedily as she worked her mouth up
and down his thick shaft.
It wasn't the best head he had ever gotten, but it was pretty
decent, and she didn't show any signs of letting up. He hated it
when a woman gave him head for thirty seconds and then stopped,
like they had done their duty. But not Kathy, she seemed to be
genuinely enjoying herself. After a little while she started
fondling his balls with her left hand, and he realized he had
better start fucking her before he blew his load in her mouth.
"That feels awesome," he said. "How about we fuck now?"
"Mmm, lets," she said with a smile, wiping the excess saliva
off her chin.
He stood up and stroked his hard, slippery cock while she lay
on her back and peeled off her tight shorts. No panties. "Oh
God, I need to be fucked so bad," she said, somewhat
unnecessarily. He pulled her shorts off her ankles and dropped
them on the floor, and she spread her legs and writhed on the bed.
"Come and get it, Fabian."
He could see the moistness inside the dark tangle of her bush,
and her spicy scent was in his nostrils. He moved over her,
aiming his cock with his hand, and entered her warm depths with
one delicious plunge that left him lying on top of her, face to
face. Her pussy was loose and slippery.
"That feels so good," she purred.
"It most surely does, Kathy," he agreed. He raised up on his
elbows and started fucking her with short hard pumps of his hips,
grinding his groin against her pussy at the end of each stroke.
Her eyes opened wide, and she reached around and grabbed his
muscular buttocks, pulling him even deeper into her.
"Oh god... yes, fuck me... fuck me..." She continued to chant
into his ear as they fucked. It was sort of silly, all this dirty
talk, but he decided he could get used to it.
He kept up a steady rhythm, making a wet slapping sound with
every thrust, and her voice started getting ragged and uneven.
"Fuck me... oh god, don't stop..." Some heavy breathing, and
then she came, bucking her hips sharply up at him and moaning with
her eyes shut tight. If it was an act, it was a damn good one,
and he was rather pleased with himself.
"Oh Fabian," she said, running her hands through his hair.
"That was fucking amazing. Your turn now... I want you to come
inside me... fill me up."
"Roll over," he said, getting off her.
"Mmm, whatever you say." She rolled over and waggled her ass
in his face. Definitely her best feature. He pressed his cock
into her ripe, swollen pussy and pulled her ass back against him.
Holding her hips firmly in place with his big hands, he fucked her
with rapid, powerful thrusts that made her ass cheeks ripple like
waves.
"Oh Fabian, yeah, take me... give it to me..."
It didn't take long. He leaned his head back and stared
unseeing at the ceiling as the semen came flowing up his shaft.
Grunting through gritted teeth, he spurted his hot liquid into
her, and for a few seconds an ordinary, carnal encounter was
transformed into something magical. But only for a few seconds.
"I've got a feeling my hedge is going to need trimming again
real soon," said Kathy.
"You gotta stay right on top of 'em, they grow back pretty
quick," he agreed.
"Should we say a week from today, then?"
"Sounds about right."
She looked at the clock on the nightstand. "Shit - it's later
than I thought. My husband could be home any minute. You better
be running along, Fabian."
"Right."
*****************
An hour later, showered and changed, Fabian was sitting in a
folding chair watching a hard-fought beach volleyball game. A
blond girl named Lynn was stretched out on her stomach next to him
in a skimpy bikini, soaking up the last few rays of sunshine.
Fabian was sleeping with her, but they weren't really in a
relationship. In fact, he didn't even like her all that much.
Lynn was the manager of a local Wendy's. She had been his boss
before he quit to go into the landscaping business, trading in his
mop and paper hat for a mower and hedge clippers. But she still
treated him like she was his superior, as if managing a lousy
fast-food place gave her some sort of intellectual edge. Besides
that, she wasn't really that hot, although she did have a
mouthwatering set of tits.
He was pondering how he should go about disentangling himself
from Lynn, when someone called out "Fabian, my man! How's the
lawn mowing gig treating you?" A skinny black guy with a cheerful
smile and a cleanly-shaved head came up and slapped him on the
back.
"Hey Mickey," said Fabian, looking up with a smile. "I prefer
to call it a holistic landscaping maintenance service. So far
business is so-so, but I'm enjoying the perks. I see you're
managing to stay out of jail."
Mickey was a hustler, a small-time criminal who always had a
couple of scams going. Fabian knew that with his own rich history
of bad luck he'd be sure to end up in jail the first time he did
something illegal, so he never gave much serious thought to
Mickey's schemes. But he and Mickey went way back, and he enjoyed
hanging out with him.
"Jail? Jail is for chumps," said Mickey with a snort.
Fabian gestured towards an empty lawn chair and Mickey dragged it
over and sat down.
"So what's shaking?" asked Fabian. Mickey had plenty of
friends in low places, making him an excellent source of juicy
gossip.
"Something right up your alley." He leaned close, and in a
conspiratorial tone said, "Beach brawl tonight at eight, over at
Tigertail. Ten bucks a head. You interested?"
"What are you talking about?" asked Fabian, turning away from
the volleyball game.
"Latest thing, man - couple guys go at it on the sand, winner
takes all. Guy called Basher is fighting tonight, he's a real
trip. Gotta keep it under your hat, though, this shit's illegal."
"I don't need to pay ten bucks to see a fight. I want to see
a fight, I'll just start one myself."
"Whatever you say," said Mickey, holding up his hands.
"Thought you might be interested, that's all."
Lynn pushed herself up on her elbows, displaying a dangerous
amount of cleavage. "What are you guys talking about? What kind
of a fight?"
"Boxing," said Mickey, helping himself to an eyeful of her
tits. "Light gloves, no hitting below the waist, last man
standing wins. None of that chop-socky oriental shit, or anything
like that."
"Sounds pretty cool," said Lynn. "I like a good fight, you
know?"
"Sounds kinda lame to me," said Fabian dismissively.
Actually it sounded fairly interesting, but if he spent twenty
bucks tonight he wouldn't be eating tomorrow.
"I bet you're short on cash again, Mr. Holistic Landscape
Man," said Mickey. "Tell you what, I'll pay."
And that settled it, of course.
A little before eight they piled into Mickey's car and headed
up to Tigertail, one of the more remote beaches. There were a
couple hundred people on hand; lots of yelling and laughing, and
the air was filled with the sweet smell of pot. As they walked
into the milling crowd, a guy holding a paper shopping bag shook
them down for the ten bucks each. Mickey handed the guy a crisp
hundred-dollar bill and got change, and then led them toward the
action.
The fighters were easy to spot since they already had their
gloves on, and Fabian gave them each a close look. Basher turned
out to be a big white guy in his thirties with a bald head and a
goatee. He had "hard time" written all over him: crude tattoos
on his arms and neck, a cold sneer, and the lopsided muscular
physique that guys developed in the exercise yard: big chest and
bulging biceps, but skinny legs and no core. All for show, like a
peacock's tail.
His opponent was a fat black guy with a jiggling belly who
looked more like a sumo wrestler than a boxer. Fabian reserved
his judgment on him, but Mickey shook his head and said "That
poor, tubby brother's gonna get his ass kicked big time." He
didn't sound too broken up about it.
At eight pm sharp a middle-aged guy with a craggy face and
slicked-back gray hair walked into the open area and raised his
arms for quiet. The noise level dropped a notch or two, and the
guy had the crowd close in around a circle drawn in the sand,
forming a well-defined ring.
"That's Jimmy Vargas," said Mickey. "An acquaintance of mine.
This is his new gig. He sets up the fights, and splits the take
50-50 with the winner."
Fabian nodded. There was electricity in the air now, and it
was bringing back a flood of memories. He was getting a pretty
good idea why Mickey had dragged him out here.
Jimmy Vargas went over a short list of rules, and then
introduced the contestants.
"The challenger, fighting in his first bout, wearing the
purple trunks, from San Diego...Lonnie 'The Hammering Homeboy'
Edwards!"
The fat black guy raised his flabby arms, and there was a
smattering of applause and some laughter.
"Dude needs to work on his nickname," said Fabian.
"That's the least of his worries," said Mickey. "Besides, you
should talk."
"In the black trunks, from Los Angeles, the current beach
brawl champion, with a record of nine wins and no losses...Bob
'Basher' Lebrowski!"
The crowd cheered more loudly this time. Most of the
spectators looked like high-school and college kids, but there was
a contingent of older, tough-looking men who seemed to be Basher's
designated rooting section, and they were pointing at the
challenger and making thumbs-down signals. Basher didn't
acknowledge the introduction, he just glared fiercely at Lonnie.
Jimmy positioned the fighters face to face in the middle of
the ring and blew a referee's whistle to start the fight.
With the crowd urging them on, the fighters circled each other
at close range. Basher was still giving Lonnie a death-ray stare,
and Fabian got the impression it was working. The Hammering
Homeboy didn't exactly look scared, but he definitely looked like
he wished he was someplace else.
Then, as if on cue, the two fighters rushed at each other and
started flailing away wildly. Basher got up inside Lonnie's guard
and seemed to be getting the better of it, hammering away with
both hands. Fabian didn't see any solid blows landed, but Lonnie
suddenly dropped to one knee and covered up his head. Bad idea.
Basher just kept right on swinging, and after missing badly a few
times he caught Lonnie with a sweeping underhand blow that snapped
his head back with a thwack that could be heard above the crowd
noise. Lonnie fell back and lay motionless on the sand, and Jimmy
Vargas blew his whistle and grabbed Basher before he could
continue pummeling his unconscious opponent.
The fight had lasted thirty seconds at most, and except for
Basher's friends the crowd wasn't happy. Jimmy Vargas raised
Basher's arm in victory and tried to make an announcement, but it
was drowned out by boos and catcalls.
"Cripes," said Fabian. "Not much of a fight."
Mickey nodded. "Happens sometimes. Basher don't mess around
none, but usually it takes him at least a couple minutes. There
was supposed to be another fight, but somebody musta canceled."
Unhappy with the booing, Basher started screaming angrily at
the crowd. "Fuck you all! I'll kick anyone's ass here - who
wants some? Who wants some?"
"What a putz," said Fabian. "I bet he's never been inside a
real boxing ring in his life."
"I wouldn't think so," agreed Mickey.
"Why do you say that?" asked Lynn.
"He doesn't have any boxing skills," explained Fabian. "He's
just a brawler. Boxing is a sport, you know."
"That's right, you used to box, didn't you?"
"Yep."
"Maybe you oughta go teach ol' Basher a lesson then." Lynn
was using that mocking tone of voice that he hated, reminding him
why he was getting tired of her.
Mickey grinned at him. "Yeah Fabes, why don't you go tell
Jimmy you want a shot at the champ? There's a decent pile of cash
in that shopping bag - you win, you can buy yourself a new power
mulcher or something."
Fabian stared at Mickey. "This is why you brought me here,
isn't it?"
He shrugged. "Hey - like I said before, I thought this might
be right up your alley."
Fabian took another look at Basher. He was working the crowd
like a pro wrestler, flexing until veins popped in his arms and
chest and screaming so violently that spittle was flying out of
his mouth. But what Fabian noticed was his skinny legs and his
soft stomach.
"All right, why not. If it'll make you two happy, I'll take
him on."
"Attaboy," said Mickey. "I'll go get you some gloves."
"Are you nuts?" said Lynn, her smile disappearing.
"Seriously, Fabian, have you lost your fucking mind?"
Ignoring her, he pushed his way into the open area and walked
over to Jimmy Vargas, who was arguing with a couple of drunk
spectators trying to get their money back. Jimmy seemed happy at
the distraction, pointedly turning his back on them when Fabian
tapped him on the shoulder.
"If you want, I'll fight Basher right now. You interested?"
Jimmy looked him up and down. "You know what you're doing?"
"I used to fight for Simon Girardi, up in Anaheim."
The promoter raised his eyebrows. "A pro,
huh?...Heavyweight?"
"Cruiserweight. Got my ass kicked by Aaron Pryor some years
back, when he was on his way up."
A smile spread over Jimmy's face. "You don't say. This might
be fun. I'm getting a little sick of Basher, to tell you the
truth." He turned around and shouted: "Hey Basher, this guy wants
a piece of you!"
The crowd started to cheer. Mickey came over with the gloves
Lonnie had been wearing. "Brand new gloves, ain't hardly ever
been used," he said with a chuckle. "Hey Jimmy," Mickey
continued, "you'll be mighty relieved to hear that your boy
Lonnie's gonna pull through." Jimmy just snorted. Fabian took
off his shirt and held out his hands, and Mickey started lacing
the gloves on.
Basher came over and looked Fabian up and down with a sneer.
"Gonna kick your ass, pretty boy."
Fabian smiled at him and said "Be with you in a minute. Why
don't you go show off your biceps some more."
"Gonna show you a world of hurt, asshole," said Basher. "No
mercy, you hear me? No fucking mercy." He pounded his gloves
together for emphasis, then walked away.
"All right," said Mickey, pulling the last lace tight. "You
all set. I won't insult you by giving you no advice for this
chump."
"Thanks." He took a couple of deep breaths and walked out to
face Basher, who was waiting for him in the middle of the ring
with his scowl firmly in place. He jumped up and down a few times
and fired off a few combinations into the air, trying to get
warmed up a little.
"OK, let's get going," said Jimmy. "You got a nickname,
Fabian?"
He opened his mouth to say "Fabulous Fabian Barnes" and then
thought the better of it. New career, new nickname. "El Toro,"
he said, thinking of his lawn mower.
"Ladies and gentlemen...we have a new challenger! Fighting in
his first beach brawl bout, wearing the faded blue jeans, from
Anaheim...Fabian 'El Toro' Barnes!"
The crowd hooted and whistled, and out of habit he raised his
arms over his head and turned a full circle. Mickey caught his
eye and winked at him.
"And by now you all know the reigning beach brawl champion,
wearing the black trunks, now with a record of ten wins and no
losses...Basher!"
Jimmy blew a sharp blast on his whistle, and the crowd started
to scream for blood. Basher immediately rushed straight at him,
trying to end it quickly. It was a good strategy, in truth his
only chance to win, but Fabian was expecting it and he dodged out
of the way easily. When Basher started to come at him again, he
set his feet and fired three lightning-fast left jabs into his
face that stopped him in his tracks.
"Hot damn!" he shouted. His blood was singing; he felt more
alive than he had in years. "I still got it."
Surprised but still game, Basher shook his head and kept right
on coming. His big, gleaming head made an inviting target, and
Fabian was able to circle out of reach and rock him again and
again with his left hand, puffing up both of his eyes and
splitting his lip. Basher didn't connect with anything but the
outside of Fabian's arms.
"Get the picture yet?" he asked sweetly, when his opponent
stopped to catch his breath.
"Fuck you!" Basher stepped up and launched a wild overhand
right. Fabian ducked under it and threw his first right hand of
the fight, a vicious uppercut to the stomach that thudded home
like a sack of cement falling off a truck.
The champion's eyes opened wide and he fell to his knees,
unable to breathe. After a moment of shocked silence, the crowd
went crazy. Then Basher fell over on his side and curled up into
a fetal position, gasping weakly for air. After a minute or so it
became clear he wasn't going to get up, and Jimmy Vargas came out
and blew his whistle.
Fabian raised his arms and took a victory lap around the
ring, accepting the cheers with a good-natured smile on his face.
Jimmy Vargas caught up with him and slapped him on the back.
"Yep, you're a fighter all right. You got a future in this little
dog-and-pony show. We can make some money, you and me."
"Sounds good to me," said Fabian.
"Just let me know how to get a hold of you, I'll set you up
with another fight right away."
"Hold on!" said Mickey, shouldering his way through the crowd.
"I'm the one you need to get ahold of, I'm his manager. You want
to deal with Mr. Fabian Barnes, you talk to me." He handed Jimmy
his card.
Jimmy looked amused. "Mickey is your agent?" he asked Fabian.
Fabian shrugged. "Sure, why not."
Jimmy put the card in his pocket and handed Mickey a paper
bag. "OK then, here's your cut from the take. I'll be in touch."
It was getting dark out, and the crowd was starting to
disperse. They walked back to the parking lot and sat in Mickey's
car to count the money.
"By the way, your lady friend took off before the fight, said
she didn't want to see you make a fool out of yourself."
"Hah. That saves me some trouble."
"Lookie here," said Mickey. "We even got my hundred dollar
bill back." The total came to twelve hundred and seventy dollars.
"Not bad for two minutes of work," laughed Fabian. He was
still on a heart-pounding high.
There was a knock on the window. Two girls were standing
there, both wearing skimpy bikini tops. Fabian rolled down the
window.
"Omigod, like...congratulations!" said one.
"I totally can't believe you beat that guy," added the other.
"Thanks, I appreciate that," said Fabian. He looked back and
forth between them, like someone trying to select a chocolate from
a luscious assortment. The one on the right had stringy blonde
hair and small perky breasts. The one on the left had stringy
brown hair and heavy breasts. Too close to call.
"So are you both boxing fans?" he asked. He heard a snort
from Mickey, which he ignored. The girls shrugged. "Like, we are
now," said the brunette brightly.
"Hey, do you want a beer?" asked the blonde. "We got a whole
cooler full in our van."
"Sounds great," said Fabian. He looked at Mickey. "We can
settle up later, right? You hang onto the cash for now."
"No problem," said Mickey with a grin. He was leaning forward
in his seat, trying to get a better look at the girls.
Fabian opened the door and got out, and the girls eyed his
muscular chest and giggled.
"Pick a number between one and ten," said the brunette.
"Three," said Fabian. The brunette made a face, and the
blonde laughed and clenched her fist.
"Great choice," said the blonde, taking his hand. "Right this
way. See ya later, Kelli. Oh, I'm Janice, by the way."
"Nice to meet you, Janice. Fabian."
"El Toro," said Janice with a giggle.
As they walked away, Fabian heard Mickey say "How's it going,
Kelli - I'm Fabian's manager."
The van turned out to be a custom job big enough to stand up
in. They climbed in and Janice had him sit down in the back.
With a feeling of deja vu, he took the beer that she handed to him
and drained half of it in one long pull. "Thanks, that hits the
spot."
She finished pulling the curtains across the windows and sat
next to him. "You must work up quite a thirst, beating up guys
like that."
"That's for sure," he said agreeably. He looked at her
curiously, wondering how this was going to play out. She smiled
at him and slowly pulled the string holding the front of her top
together.
"It really turned me on seeing you hurt Basher like that.
He's such an asshole, you know?" The top fell away, revealing her
small, cone-shaped breasts. "Anyway, I'm just like a totally
incorrigable slut," she said with a giggle. "I hope that doesn't
bother you."
"If it doesn't bother you, it doesn't bother me," he said,
amused. He pulled her toward him, and she slithered into his lap
with a little squeal of pleasure. She smelled like suntan lotion
and beer. He kissed her and she opened her mouth under his and
tried to lick his tonsils. Sensing little need for foreplay, he
put his hand between her legs and rubbed her pussy through the
tight cotton fabric of her shorts, making her moan.
"So what do you want to do?" she asked breathlessly.
"Let's see - can I fuck you up the ass?" he asked, meaning it
as a joke.
"Um, I don't know... like how big are you?" She squeezed his
erection through his jeans. "Wow, I don't know. I guess we could
try, if that's what you're into."
"No, that's OK," he said gently. No more jokes with Janice.
He eased her down onto the carpeted floor of the van and helped
her slide off her shorts. Her pussy was shaved bare. He took off
his jeans and his sweat-soaked underwear and then lay down on top
her, suddenly feeling that this little escapade was sort of
distasteful, even for him. Janice reached down and guided him
inside her with practiced ease.
"Oh Fabian," she cooed. "You're so big."
And you're an airhead with no morals, he thought. Then he
felt guilty. Who was he to be judging her? He pistoned into her
mechanically, supporting his weight with his arms so he didn't
crush her narrow frame. She wrapped her legs around his waist and
ground her hips upward energetically to meet his. As he might
have expected, she was a good lay.
The male sexual response is not affected by silly moral
considerations, and it wasn't long before he felt his climax
approaching. He really didn't feel like prolonging things, so he
groaned loudly for effect and spilled his semen inside her.
"Mmmm, that was a blast," said Janice, as he rolled off her
and sat up. It was hot and stuffy in the van, and suddenly all he
wanted to do was get out of there. "Hey, let's have another beer
and then I'll roll us joint, ok?"
"Um, I'd like to, Janice, but I really can't. I'm in training
- my manager would kill me." He found his jeans and pulled them
on, not bothering with the underwear.
"OK, like...whatever." She watched in silence as he zipped up
his jeans and slipped on his sneakers. "So I'll see you around,
OK?"
"You bet, Janice." He opened the sliding door and stepped out
into the fresh air, leaving her lying there naked. There was just
enough light left to see that the back of Mickey's car was moving
up and down rhythmically. He sidled over to the back window and
and peeked in. Then he chuckled softly and walked back down the
path toward the beach to wait.
+++ Part Two +++
The transit bus ground to a stop at the curb, and Lissa Tilo
hoisted her book bag over her shoulder, pushed open the front door
of the District 7 Public Library, and walked out into the sticky
summer heat. Almost immediately, she could feel her polyester
school uniform start to stick to her skin. Lissa was a strikingly
beautiful girl with smooth skin the color of honey and sensual
features that reflected her Latina heritage. A little shorter
than average, she had a ripe, womanly body that made her look
older than her seventeen years. Although the school uniform was
designed to be conservative and proper, it clung to her curves in
a way that men couldn't help noticing.
She climbed onto the waiting bus, which was air conditioned
but still uncomfortably warm, and plopped down in an empty seat
near the front.
The female driver closed the door and pulled away from the
curb. "How you doin', today?" she asked Lissa, who was a regular
passenger.
"Only four weeks of school, and I'm already burned out. Don't
know if I can take another year of that place."
"I hear you," said the driver. "You hang in there, honey. At
least it's Friday, right?"
"Yeah, thank God for that."
Lissa was starting her senior year at Our Lady of Peace, a
strict all-girls high school run by nuns. Every day after school
she went to the library and spent a few hours doing homework
before going home, a grueling regimen enforced by her mother. All
she had to do was survive one more year, keeping her grades up and
staying out of trouble, and her mother's dream would finally come
true. Lissa, the youngest of five children, would be the first
person in her family to go to college.
There were nine stops between the library and the corner of
Idlewood Avenue and Cesar Chavez Drive, a little over five miles,
but in socioeconomic terms the distance was a lot farther. The
houses got smaller and shabbier, the businesses became less and
less prosperous, and the cars got older and rustier. By the time
Lissa got off the bus, deep in the barrio, most of the storefronts
were boarded up and the street corners were covered with spray-
painted graffiti - deceptively cheerful scribblings that carved up
the neighborhood into fiercely guarded enclaves.
To Lissa the neighborhood was neither good nor bad. It was
where she had grown up, where she belonged, and as she walked home
from the bus stop it never would have occurred to her to be
afraid.
At one point a shiny black car with custom, low-ride wheels
slowed down to match her pace, and the three grim young men inside
eyed her knowingly, their heads bobbing to the traditional Mexican
music of El Tigres del Norte. The song was one of Lissa's
favorites, a romantic ballad about a man who will fight any odds
to win the heart of the woman he loves. Without slowing down or
looking at them, she sang along with the chorus, tossing back her
long hair and letting her expressive face take on a harrowed,
soulful look. The boys laughed in appreciation, white teeth
flashing in their dark faces, and the driver gave her a thumbs-up.
Then the car sped up and out of sight.
Lissa went around to the back of her small stucco house. Her
mother was in the kitchen, standing over the stove in an apron,
and she opened the back door when Lissa rapped on the glass.
"Hi Mama." Lissa gave her a peck on the cheek.
"Hello my baby," said her mother in her heavily accented
English. "How was the school today?"
"Boring. I mean, it was OK, I guess. No tests at least."
She went upstairs to her bedroom, tossed her bookbag in the
corner with a thud, and then shut and locked the door. As usual,
the first thing she did was take off her uniform. The
uncomfortable black shoes, the white socks, the dowdy knee-length
plaid skirt, and the white button-down blouse with the stupid
little Peter Pan collar all ended up in a pile on the floor. Then
she took off her plain white bra, releasing her full, round
breasts, and stretched her arms up over head, enjoying the sudden
feeling of freedom. Wearing just her panties, she lay down on her
bed with a sigh.
Later tonight she was going out to the beach to see her half-
brother Chico fight, and she was planning to change into something
casual and sexy. But first she would take a nice, cool shower.
She smiled up at the ceiling. But before *that*...
She pushed down her panties and took them off, and spread her
legs, enjoying the feel of the cool slippery sheets against her
bare skin. Humming the romantic Tigres song to herself, she put
her hand between her legs and closed her eyes, thinking about the
three boys in the car.
Lissa had started masturbating a little over a year ago. At
first it was something she did once in a while in the shower, and
it always made her feel guilty and unclean. But the guilt faded
with time, and she started doing it more and more often. Now it
was a necessity - she couldn't stop doing it even if she wanted
to.
Rubbing the palm of her hand over her pussy in a circular
motion, she moved her hips up and down, pretending that one of the
boys from the car was making love to her. What would it feel like
to have a man's cock inside her? Would it feel better than this?
Probably. She wondered what a man's face would look like when he
was doing it to her...would he smile? Or would he grunt and
strain, like he was lifting weights?
She slid her middle finger into her pussy, feeling all the
slippery moisture down there. Sometimes she would daydream about
sex in class, and she would feel a warm tingling in her pussy, and
her panties would develop a damp spot from all the moisture - her
body preparing itself for something that never happened.
Rubbing her finger up and down her slit, she imagined the
driver of the shiny black car lying on top of her, making love to
her. He was smiling, his face a few inches from hers, and his
stiff cock felt so good as it moved in and out of her tight hole.
"Lissa, you're so beautiful," he said. "So sexy..." Then he
clenched his white teeth and wrinkled his handsome forehead and
pumped even harder, and she felt his hot semen coming out, way up
inside her belly.
Her expert finger found the magic spot at the top of her pussy
and rubbed around it with just the right pressure, and her orgasm
started to build - a tingling in her thighs and then a delicious
contraction in her pussy, like a sneeze that teases and teases and
then finally comes.
She opened her eyes and stared at the ceiling. Out of habit,
she put her fingers under her nose and sniffed. Not much smell.
Boys were always talking about fishy smells and tuna, but it
smelled more like a faint whiff of the ocean to Lissa. As she
stood up and reached for her robe, she made a decision. It was
time to lose her virginity.
She mulled it over while she stood in the shower, standing
there with her eyes closed letting the cool water hit her face and
stream down her body. She knew that by keeping her virginity
until the ripe old age of seventeen, she was an oddity. That,
combined with her beauty, meant that all the boys from her
neighborhood were gunning for her. Whoever succeeded would be
guaranteed to blab. Her mother would eventually find out, and that
was a scenario too horrible to contemplate. What she needed was
someone from outside her neighborhood.
*************
Marcella Gomez picked up Lissa in front of her house at seven
thirty. Marcella was twenty, three years older than Lissa, but
Lissa had always been mature for her age and they had been best
friends since before high school. Last year Marcella had gotten
pregnant, and she had dropped out of high school and taken a job
at the big Coca-Cola bottling plant. Lissa's mother was fond of
Marcella and had taken the news pretty hard, even to the extent of
crying at Marcella's baby shower. Lissa wasn't sure what the big
deal was: Marcella had a cute baby girl, a decent job, and her own
car.
"Hi Marce," said Lissa, getting into the passenger side. "You
look great. How's little Rita?" Marcella was wearing a one-piece
pink spandex outfit that fit her body like a second skin.
"Hey Lissa. Never underestimate the squeezing power of
spandex." She patted her round tummy, which hadn't quite
recovered from the baby yet. "Rita is fine, just dropped her off
with my aunt." She accelerated down the street with a roar. "Is
that what you're wearing?" she asked, looking at Lissa's jeans and
loose t-shirt.
"What do you think?" said Lissa. She arched her back and
lifted up her shirt, revealing a black bra top that cupped her
breasts tightly, maximizing her cleavage. "My Mom thinks this is
underwear, you know? I can't just walk out the front door wearing
this."
"Poor baby," laughed Marcella. "Still living with Mama."
Lissa took off the t-shirt and put it in the plastic bag she
had brought with her. "Yeah, for one more year. Don't drive next
to no trucks for a minute, OK?" She kicked off her sandals and
then unbuttoned her jeans and slid them off. Then she opened the
bag and took out a short black skirt.
"That's more like it," said Marcella as Lissa put the skirt
on, lifting her butt up off the seat to pull it up past her hips.
"If you got it, you should flaunt it. And girl, you got it.
You're fucking gorgeous, you know that?"
"Uhmmm," said Lissa, carefully applying dark red lipstick to
her generous mouth. People were telling her that a lot lately,
and she hadn't quite figured out how to respond.
They parked on the street and followed the crowd of people
along the path that led down to the beach. Most of them were
young Latinos, and there was as much Spanish being spoken as
English.
"So when are you going to introduce me to Chico?" asked
Marcella. "I think he'd make a perfect boyfriend for me," she
added, only half-joking. "Think how safe I'd feel."
"I told you, I hardly know him," said Lissa. "He's eleven
years older than me, and he don't live at my house." Chico
Hernandez was a feared and respected figure in her neighborhood,
something that was only marginally related to his fighting
ability. Chico was a high-ranking member of the Latin Kings, and
he was rumored to have killed three people.
"Come on Lissa, he's your brother, for God's sake."
"Half-brother. And you know my mother don't allow me to talk
to him." The truth was, Lissa wished she knew Chico better, but
he ignored Lissa almost completely, never giving her more than
just a nod when they passed in the street. Although it was
probably for the best, Lissa still felt vaguely hurt.
"I guess I'll just have to introduce myself," sighed Marcella.
There was a big crowd of people on the beach, bigger than
Lissa had ever seen for a fight. "Let's hurry," she said. "Looks
like they're about to start."
They paid their ten dollars each and pushed their way into the
crowd, and the predominantly male spectators cheerfully allowed
the two attractive, provocatively-dressed girls to reach the
front.
"There's Chico," said Marcella, pointing to the other side of
the open circle of sand. Chico Hernandez was a powerfully built
man of average height, with closely-cropped black hair and hard,
deeply-set eyes. Colorful tattoos on his arms and chest
proclaimed his gang status. The girls stared at him for a few
seconds in silence as he shuffled in place on the sand, throwing
punches and bobbing his head. "He's gonna win, you think?" asked
Marcella.
"The other guy is supposed to be good too," said Lissa.
"That's why there's so many people here. But Chico always wins."
She looked around for the other fighter, then realized he was
standing just a few feet away with his back to them. He was a
tall, well-proportioned white guy with blond hair pulled back in a
ponytail, and he was also throwing punches and weaving from side
to side. He was covered with a glistening sheen of sweat, and
Lissa could see the muscles in his broad back rippling smoothly as
he shadowboxed. A skinny black guy was standing behind him,
rubbing his shoulders.
"Remember, this guy knows how to fight," said the black guy.
"So don't get cocky, you hear me?"
"Have you ever seen me cocky, Mickey?" asked the blond guy.
Something about the way he said it, sort of amused and
exasperated, made Lissa smile.
"Always a first time," said Mickey. "Keep him off with the
jab, use your reach. Keep separated, don't start mixing it up
with him."
"Right," said the blond fighter. He turned around and gave
Mickey a playful jab in the chest, and Lissa noticed that he was
very handsome, with chiseled masculine features. His blue eyes
met hers for just a second, and he smiled at her. She smiled
back, then instantly felt guilty. The guy was fighting her
brother, after all.
An older guy Lissa recognized from other fights walked out
into the middle of the ring with a megaphone.
"Ladies and gentlemen..."
The crowd cheered, and people behind Chico started chanting
"Chico, Chico..." Lissa noticed that the crowd on the other side
of the ring was made up mostly of Latin Kings, and she was glad
she and Marcella had ended up on this side.
With a little smile on his face, Chico motioned them to quiet
down.
"Ladies and gentlemen...We have a special bout for you this
evening, between two undefeated fighters. In the red trunks with
the gold trim, from Anaheim, with a record of five wins and no
losses...Fabian 'El Toro' Barnes!"
Lissa wondered if maybe the blond guy was Latino after all,
with a nickname like "El Toro," although he sure looked white.
Fabian walked out to the middle of the ring and acknowledged the
cheers, which seemed to come mostly from the white college kids.
A blond girl standing next to Lissa was screaming like she was at
a rock concert, and a long-haired guy with a roach hanging from
his lip yelled "Kick his ass, Fabian, kick his ass!"
"In the blue trunks, from Los Angeles, with a record of six
wins and no losses...Carlos 'Chico' Hernandez."
The chant started up again as Chico walked out to face Fabian,
and it was clear that most of the crowd was on his side. The
fighters tapped their gloves together and nodded, and the
organizer blew his whistle and started the fight.
Nothing much happened for a while, the two fighters seemed to
just be feeling each other out. In his other fights Chico usually
just ran up to his opponent and started hammering away at close
range, so Lissa figured he must be worried about this Fabian guy.
Finally Chico started moving in and throwing more punches, but
Fabian just moved back out of the way. The skinny black guy,
Mickey, was yelling out a constant stream of encouragement and
instructions. Since Fabian's arms were longer, Lissa could see
that Chico was going to be at a disadvantage in this style of
fight, and she figured that Mickey had come up with the right
strategy.
The fighters were way over by the other side of the ring, and
the LKs over there started insulting Fabian, calling him a chicken
for running away.
"Chicken!" shouted Marcella, picking up on it. "Stay in one
place and fight like a man!"
Finally Fabian held his ground, and the fighters traded a wild
flurry of punches at close range, causing the crowd to go wild.
Suddenly Fabian staggered back and sat down in a heap.
"Yes!" screamed Marcella.
"Fuck!" screamed Mickey.
Lissa didn't say anything. She was a little bit sad that that
Fabian had lost - he seemed like a cool guy. Then she noticed
that he was getting to his feet and was nodding his head to the
promoter guy, who was holding up two fingers in his face.
"Look, it's not over yet," said Lissa.
"Hah!" said Marcella. "It will be soon."
The organizer motioned for the fighters to continue. Chico
came right back at Fabian, but this time Fabian circled and kept
his distance. Then a whistle blew and Fabian walked over toward
them.
"Are you OK?" asked Mickey.
"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine." Fabian was hanging his head, like a
dog that knows he's about to be yelled at.
"What the fuck did you think you were doing? What the fuck
did I tell you?"
"I know, I know." He took a drink of water while Mickey
toweled him off.
"Bring the fight this way, away from those gangsters over
there," said Mickey. Lissa got the impression Mickey had a lot
more he wanted to say, but the whistle blew again and the fighters
went back to the middle of the ring.
The fight started again, and sure enough, Fabian started
luring Chico to their side of the ring. He would throw a couple
of quick punches and then move back, never letting Chico get close
to him. When Lissa got a closer look at Chico, she was surprised
to see that his face was blotched and swollen and that he had a
cut over his right eye.
"Oh my God," said Marcella. "Look at Chico, he's all beat
up."
"I know," said Lissa. "And the other guy looks fine." In
more ways than one, she couldn't help thinking. Fabian threw a
quick jab that went home, and from the closer range Lissa and
Marcella saw Chico's head rock back with the force. Chico tried
to retaliate, but his roundhouse right found nothing but air.
"Damn," said Marcella.
The whistle blew again, and this time Lissa could see some LKs
yelling at Chico while they toweled him off. On their side,
things were calmer.
"Perfect round, Fabes, perfect," said Mickey. "Keep jabbing,
keep moving, work the left eye if you can, it looks like it might
open up."
Fabian just nodded. He was breathing heavily and sweat was
pouring down face. His blond hair was soaked like he'd been
swimming.
"Gonna have to see about getting you in condition," said
Mickey. "It's only round three and you look like you been running
wind sprints in the jungle."
"Ain't gonna be no round four," said Fabian.
"Don't get cocky on me, now."
The whistle blew, and now Chico became even more aggressive,
trying to move in quickly before Fabian could hit him with the
jab. At first it seemed to be working - Fabian kept having to
back up and protect his head with his gloves, and Chico was able
to pound away at his body. The LKs started chanting again.
"You right, blondie - there ain't gonna be no round four!"
shouted Marcella. "Cause you goin' down in three!" Lissa just
watched, feeling oddly ambivalent about the fight. She didn't
really want to see either one of them lose.
Suddenly there was a gasp, and a groan from the crowd on the
other side. After waiting patiently for Chico to lower his guard,
Fabian had thrown a sharp right hook. Expecting the left jab,
Chico had ducked right into it, and now blood was flowing freely
from a nasty gash over his left eye. He pawed at it ineffectively
with his glove, cursing in Spanish.
As Lissa and Marcella watched in horror, Fabian landed punch
after punch, staggering Chico and driving him backwards. Blood
continued to pour out of the cut, covering Chico's face and neck,
and every time a punch landed more blood sprayed out onto the
sand. Chico wasn't even fighting back, and Fabian stopped
punching and seemed to be asking him if he wanted to continue.
"He can't see!" shouted Mickey, jumping up and down. "Jimmy,
you gotta stop the fight, the Mex can't see shit!"
The promoter blew his whistle and ran over to Chico. He took
a close look at the cut and then shook his head.
"That's it!" he shouted, waving his arms. "Fight's over."
There was a collective groan from the crowd, and everyone
started to disperse. A couple of LKs started attending to Chico,
wiping the blood away and putting a piece of white tape over the
cut to staunch the bleeding.
Fabian walked over and said something, probably asking if
Chico was OK, but a couple of big enforcer types pushed him back
rudely. One of them took something out of his pocket, and Lissa
saw the ugly gleam of a knife blade. A circle of LKs started to
form around the blond fighter, and Lissa thought there was going
to be trouble. But Chico said something authoritative and waved
his arms, and the situation was quickly defused.
"Shit, you try to say something nice..." grumbled Fabian as
Mickey unlaced his gloves.
"Forget about it. Come on, let's get out of here, have a
little party," said Mickey. "We got us a nice haul out of this
one, let's hit the West Club."
"Sure, why not." said Fabian. As he walked by, Lissa made eye
contact again and smiled. Fabian smiled back and looked like he
was going to stop, but a bunch of people suddenly came between
them, trying to talk to the victorious fighter, and the moment
passed.
"I saw that," said Marcella. "Don't think I didn't see that.
And after he beat up your brother, too."
"Terrible," agreed Lissa. "But he is cute." She felt
deflated all of a sudden. "So what do you want to do? Go home?"
"No way! It's only nine. Let's go somewhere and dance or
something."
"OK. How about the West Club?"
They looked at each other and both started laughing. "Sounds
like the place where the action is tonight," agreed Marcella.
***********
Lissa took a sip of her dacquiri and wondered what on earth
she had been thinking. She and Marcella had found the West Club
and had gotten in, sweet-talking the guy at the door, and sure
enough, Fabian Barnes was here. In fact, she was looking at him
right now; he was sitting at a corner table with several other
people, including the black guy, Mickey. He was dressed casually
in a clean white t-shirt and black jeans, and he was slouched back
in his seat with that sexy smile on his face, sort of watching the
rest of them and not talking much. There were three women at the
table, all very pretty, and all obviously interested in Fabian.
One of them, a thin redhead wearing a low-cut gold top, was
sitting right next to him, practically in his lap, and staring up
at him like a faithful dog.
"Cheer up," said Marcella. "What did you expect, he'd be all
lonely, sitting in a booth by himself or something?"
Lissa managed a smile. "OK, this was a dumb idea. I'm
sorry."
"Hey, it's a pretty nice place, I'm not complaining. Besides,
we can still have fun - a couple of cute college guys over at the
bar are looking at us."
"They probably think we're cheap hookers."
Marcella laughed. "You gotta think more positive. Expensive
hookers, maybe. Hey - you still want to talk to blondie? Now's
your big chance."
Lissa looked over at the other table. Fabian wasn't there.
"He went to the bathroom. Just go wait by the door and run
into him when he comes out. Give him that sexy south-of-the-
border smile and tell him how much you enjoyed the fight."
Lissa shrugged. It wasn't much of a plan, but at least she
could say she tried. "OK, what the hell." She downed a big sip
of her dacquiri and walked toward the restrooms. Halfway there,
the door opened and Fabian came out. He was heading back to his
table, and Lissa saw she wasn't going to be able to intercept him.
But then he glanced over and saw her, and he stopped and smiled.
Lissa's heart flipped in her chest, and after a moment she managed
to smile back.
"Hey," said Fabian. "Weren't you at the fight?"
Lissa nodded. "Yeah, I was there. You was great." She
cringed at her barrio accent, which always came out when she was
nervous.
"Sure, I remember - you were standing behind Mickey, my
manager. But you and your friend were rooting for the other guy."
He tapped his ear and grinned. "I hear everything when I'm
fighting, it's like I get super senses or something."
Oh that was just terrific. She swallowed, and said "My friend
is a big fan of Chico's. But by the end of the fight I was
rooting for you."
"Really? Thanks, that's cool." His smile was infectious, and
she suddenly felt more at ease. She saw him glance uncertainly
over at his table. Then he said "Hey, do you want to dance? I
mean, if you're not here with your boyfriend or something."
Lissa finally managed to pull off her grade-A smile, and she
cocked her hip and raised her eyebrow. "Sure, as long as you're
not here with your girlfriend or something."
He seemed to understand what she was getting at. "Nope, no
girlfriend. I'm just popular tonight because I'm buying the
drinks, that's all."
He took her onto the crowded floor and they danced one dance.
It wasn't Lissa's favorite music, industrial stuff with a grinding
beat, and Fabian wasn't a great dancer, but it was still a lot of
fun. God, he was handsome. She could feel the jealous looks she
was getting from other women, and she got a discreet thumbs-up and
wink from Marcella, who hadn't wasted any time dragging one of the
college boys onto the dance floor. When the song was over, Fabian
put his hand on her back and said "Come on, let's have a drink.
I'm too beat to dance any more."
They sat down at his table, which was littered with bottles
and glasses. There was no sign of the redhead, and the other
people seemed friendly enough. Fabian said "This is..." and then
looked confused. "Shit, I never got your name, did I?"
Mickey laughed. "You the man, Fabes. Nobody smoother than
you."
"It's Lissa," she said, laughing along with everyone else.
She realized they were all a bit drunk.
"OK everyone, this is Lissa," said Fabian. "She needs to
catch up." He picked up a bottle of tequila and poured two shots.
"You like tequila, Lissa?"
"Um...sure." She watched him as he tossed back the shot, made
a face, and then bit into a lime wedge. She picked up the other
glass a little uncertainly. How bad could it be? She drank it
down, and thought it was the vilest stuff she had ever tasted.
The need for the lime was now obvious. She took the wedge out of
Fabian's hand and bit into it.
"That was disgusting," she said. "Makes me ashamed to be
Mexican."
They all all laughed again. "Show me someone who says they
like the taste of tequila, and I'll show you a liar," said Mickey.
"So why are we drinking it?" asked Fabian. He smiled at
Lissa, showing her he was on her side. "Let's stick to beer."
"Great idea," she said. He continued to look right at her,
and she dropped her eyes self-consciously.
"You're really beautiful, you know that?" he said softly.
"Thank you."
He put his hand on her knee under the table, and she moved her
leg closer to his, letting him know she didn't mind.
"So what do you do, Lissa?"
She blanked out for a second. Naturally Fabian assumed she
was at least twenty-one, and either had a job or was in college.
"I work at the Coca-cola bottling plant," she said.
He seemed pleased, for some reason. "I do landscaping," he
said. "I just started my own business. It's just me right now,
but I'm planning to eventually expand and hire some workers. I
can't beat people up for a living forever."
Lissa realized he was self-conscious about his job, and she
was glad she hadn't said she was in college. "Oh yeah? That's
great - how's the business going?"
He made a wry face. "So-so. I'm making a lot of money from
the beach fighting right now - makes it kinda hard to get
motivated for mowing lawns and trimming hedges. But I think it's
going to work out eventually."
A waitress came over with a tray of beers, and Fabian grabbed
two bottles and handed one to her. Lissa realized she was thirsty,
and after the tequila the beer tasted great. She and Fabian
continued to drink and talk, and the time went by quickly. After
a while the others drifted away, leaving them alone at the table.
There was a little lull in the conversation, and then Fabian
asked "Can I kiss you?"
She nodded, suddenly short of breath. He leaned forward and
kissed her gently and briefly on the lips. They looked at each
other for a second, and then they kissed again, a long delicious
exploring clinch. She opened her mouth a little and they touched
tongues, and licked each other's front teeth. His hand was on the
inside of her thigh now, and it felt warm and heavy as he stroked
her bare skin. She felt the moistness between her legs
developing, and she thought about the decision she had made this
afternoon, about losing her virginity.
Then, out of the corner of her eye, she saw Marcella hovering
nearby with an amused look on her face. "Um, can you hold on a
sec? I need to talk to my friend."
As she stood up, Fabian gave her ass a discreet squeeze, and
she giggled.
"Having fun?" asked Marcella. "I must say, I'm impressed."
Lissa blushed. "He's really sweet."
"Uh huh, I bet you can't wait to introduce him to your mother.
Listen, I told my aunt I'd pick up the baby by eleven. Do you
still need me to drive you home?"
Behind Marcella, Lissa could see the college boy leaning
against the wall, trying to look unobtrusive. "You're such a
liar, Marcella."
"He needs a ride home, his friend already left," she protested
weakly.
Lissa went back to the table. "That's my ride, and she's
gotta leave now," she told Fabian.
"Don't leave. I'll give you a ride home later."
"You sure?"
"Yep." He put his arm around her and pulled her down next to
him. Lissa waved to Marcella, signalling that she could go.
"I guess I'm in trouble, now," she said to Fabian.
"You sure are," he agreed. He brushed back her hair with the
back of his hand and kissed her neck, making her break out in
goosebumps. She turned to face him, pressing her breasts into his
chest, and kissed him boldly on the lips. She sensed that she had
crossed some sort of line now, and she felt daring and wild. They
kissed passionately for a few minutes, their hands wandering over
each other's bodies, and then Fabian pulled back. She could tell
that he was getting very turned on. For that matter, so was she.
"You want to get out of here now, before we get thrown out for
indecent behavior?" he asked her.
She smiled and nodded.
In the parking lot, Fabian held open the passenger door of a
rusty pickup for her. "Sorry about the wheels," he said. "Lexus
is in the shop."
"That's OK," she giggled. The inside smelled like grass
clippings.
It was a short drive to Fabian's place, and they made the trip
in relative silence. His apartment was small and shabbily
furnished, but clean and neat. Lissa used his bathroom, and when
she came out soft music was playing on a portable boom box and
Fabian was sprawled back on the couch. She sat down next to him,
feeling a little nervous.
"You look tired," she said. "Not surprising, I guess."
"Yeah, the thing about a fight is you use up a lot of nervous
energy before it even starts. I'm always dead beat afterwards."
He ran his hand through her hair and massaged the back of her
neck, and her skin tingled at his touch. She reached up and
traced her finger down his somewhat crooked nose.
"I guess some of your opponents had better luck than the guy
tonight," she teased with a smile. She thought about telling him
that Chico was her half-brother, then decided against it. Too
weird to explain it all now.
"That's for sure," he said. "I was too damn slow to be a pro
fighter. I did OK for a while, then I started fighting some guys
who were really good, and I turned into human punching bag."
She laughed - the boys she knew, with their macho posturing,
wouldn't say something like that in a million years.
"You have a great laugh," he said. He pulled her toward him
and kissed her. "And you're a great kisser. In fact, I bet
everything you do with that mouth is great."
They kissed again, playfully wrestling with their tongues, and
then she felt his hand cup her breast. It startled her a little,
but it felt good, and she said "mmm" through the kiss. He
continued to massage her breast through the tight top, finding her
nipple as it hardened and gently squeezing it between his thumb
and forefinger. Deciding she might as well make it easier for
him, she slid over into his lap, sitting crossways on the couch in
the little hollow between his spread legs.
Fabian placed his hand on the warm, bare skin of her upper
chest, and then he slid it downwards, slowly moving his palm over
the swelling curve of her bosom, sliding her top downward in the
process, until his big hand was covering her bare breast. She
closed her eyes and took a deep breath, concentrating on the
feeling.
"You are so hot," he whispered in her ear.
"You're good at this," she said, thinking of previous fumbling
attempts to get inside her top. She shifted position slightly and
suddenly noticed the jutting bulge of his erection pressing
against her hip. As he continued to fondle her breast, she
pressed herself more firmly against the bulge, grinding her hip
into it, and she heard him draw in his breath.
"Let's go into the bedroom," he said. Before she could
answer, he stood up, cradling her effortlessly in his arms. She
let out a little shriek and laughed, kicking her feet.
"You're so strong!" She felt like a little girl all of a
sudden, all clumsy and awkward, and her chest tightened as she
thought of what was to come. The bedroom was dark, and he laid
her down on the bed and stretched out next to her.
Their lips came together again, and she shuddered as he pressed
the length of his body against hers. His hand roamed down her
back and over her ass, rubbing and squeezing, and then moved
between her thighs.
She shifted slightly, opening her legs just a little, and as
his hand moved upward under her short skirt, she closed her eyes
in anticipation. When his fingers touched the warm mound of her
pussy through her panties, it felt like an electric shock, and she
let out a little moan.
He rubbed her gently, and kissed her again, and it started to
feel very good. Then he took his hand away and sat up and took
off his shirt. She lay there and watched him as he took off his
jeans and his underwear.
"Your turn," he said. He helped her sit up, and then he
reached behind her and unfastened her top, letting it fall off,
and then he unzipped her skirt and worked it down, taking her
panties with it. "You sure know how to take off a woman's
clothes," she said. She tried to sound lighthearted, but her
voice was cracked and raspy.
"Practice, practice," he said.
Her skirt and panties dropped to the floor, and she suddenly
realized she was naked in a strange bed with a man she didn't
really know. This is what I wanted, she thought. Then he pushed
her back on the bed, sprawling next to her, and she could feel the
ridges and planes of his solid body pressing into her. He kissed
her hard, and then his hand was between her legs again, and this
time one of his fingers went right to her hole and pushed its way
up inside her. She closed her eyes and tried to enjoy the
feeling, but her body was tense and it felt more like an
intrusion.
He pulled his finger back out and moved over her, positioning
himself between her legs. Peering down the narrow space between
their bodies, she saw the outline of his hard cock, an angular
shadow that seemed much too large to fit where it was supposed to
go. A twinge of panic formed in her chest as he rubbed the head
up and down her slit and then positioned it at her opening.
"Fabian..." she said.
"What is it baby? Get ready to take it...it's coming. " He
sounded distracted and distant, and the pressure increased as he
began to enter her.
"Just...nothing. Go ahead." She closed her eyes tight and
grunted in faint protest as her pussy was wrenched open wider then
she thought was possible. A burning, swelling pressure inside
her, and then he was lying on top of her, covering her with his
massive body, and she wasn't a virgin any more.
"Damn, you're tight," he said, smiling at her.
"You like?"
He moved his hips slightly, pushing himself in even deeper,
and the sensation made her gasp. "Yeah, I sure do," he told her.
He started really fucking her then, and everything seemed to
happen much too quickly. If he would slow down a little, not push
into her so fast, not so deep...but she didn't say anything, she
just clung to his chest and breathed in short tight gasps, waiting
for it to end. After what seemed like forever, but was in reality
only a few minutes, Fabian groaned in her ear and she sensed
rather than felt his orgasm as he spasmed deep inside her.
He rolled off to the side, and she clung to him, feeling a
desperate need to talk.
"Fabian...was that OK for you? I didn't tell you
before...maybe I should have said...that was like my first time."
No response - nothing but slow, even breathing. She felt a
warm trickling between her thighs as his seed oozed out of her,
and she suddenly felt dirty. And angry.
"Hey! What are you doing? You can't jus' go to sleep like
that, you bastard - wake up!" Fabian grunted and opened his eyes.
"Huh? What's the matter? I told you, I'm tired."
She found the light switch and flooded the room with a painful
burst of illumination. "You gotta give me a ride home. My moth-
... you promised."
He blinked at her like an idiot. "I will - first thing in the
morning. What's the matter with you, anyway?"
"No, not in the morning - I gotta go home tonight. Now."
Her voice was edged with hysteria, and Fabian came fully
awake.
"OK, OK, I'll call you a cab. He dialed a number on the bedside
phone and as she told him her address he repeated it to the
dispatcher.
"Taxi'll be here in five minutes. Did I do something wrong?
Something I said?"
He was looking at her with genuine concern now, his bloodshot
eyes partly hidden behind a tangle of blond hair. His cock lolled
limply between his muscular thighs, harmlessly soft now.
"No, it's not your fault," she said. "It's me."
He took his wallet off the nightstand. It was jammed so full
of bills it would hardly close. "Here, I'll pay for the ride. I
really shouldn't drive right now," he added lamely.
Lissa snorted a sudden laugh. "Yeah, I think maybe you got a
point there." She took the twenty he offered her. As she moved
to put it in her pocket, she remembered she was stark naked.
Suddenly self-conscious, she shut off the light again. "Go back
to sleep," she said. "I'll be fine."
+++ Part Three +++
Fabian and Mickey were sitting in a booth at the Last Resort,
watching the tireless younger generation thrashing and preening on
the dance floor. They'd been there for a few hours, drinking beer
and arguing good-naturedly about who was a better guitar player,
Jimi Hendrix or Eric Clapton, when Mickey elbowed Fabian in the
ribs and jerked his head toward the door.
"Ain't that the Mexican dude you cut up the other week? One
that saved your ass when his homeboys started acting up?"
Surrounded by three husky young men wearing sunglasses, Chico
Hernandez walked slowly through the crowded club. He was wearing
a shiny form-fitting green shirt and yellow slacks, and had a
small bandage over his left eye. The crowd parted to let them
through, and Chico nodded impassively at a few people who called
out his name.
"Yep, that's him," said Fabian. "Sharp dresser. Think I'd
look good in a shirt like that?"
Mickey shook his head and started laughing, and got that look
on his face like he was going to come up with a bad-ass put down,
and Fabian decided to change the subject. "Maybe I should send
him a drink or something. Let him know there's no hard feelings."
Two tables had opened up in the back of the club as if by
magic, and Chico sat down at one of them by himself. His friends
or bodyguards took the other table and started playing cards.
Mickey said "He knows you ain't got any hard feelings, cause
you won the damn fight."
"What if I run into him on the dance floor, or in the men's
room? Could be awkward. Maybe we should leave."
"Leave? Why the fuck should we leave?"
Fabian saw the waitress looking at them, and he motioned her
over. "I'd like to buy a drink for the guy in the green shirt
over there. You don't happen to know what he drinks, do you?"
"Chico? He drinks Bacardi and coke." She gave Fabian a
suspicious look. "What do you want to buy a drink for Chico for?
If you owe him money or something, you'd be better off just
leaving, you know what I mean?"
"Naw, nothing like that. Just a friendly gesture."
She shrugged. "OK, one Bacardi and coke for Chico."
They watched as the waitress brought it over and talked to
Chico. When he turned to look at them, Fabian raised his hand in
a little wave and grinned.
"You're a real cheeseball, you know that?" said Mickey under
his breath.
Chico nodded politely at Fabian and motioned for him to come
over to his table.
"Back in a minute," he said to Mickey. He walked over and sat
down across from Chico, uncomfortably aware of the stares from the
Mexican gangster's entourage.
"Thanks for the drink. Fabian, right?" Chico's face was
expressionless, neither friendly or unfriendly.
"Right. No problem. That was a good fight last week, real
even. Considering I got about twenty pounds on you, I'd say you
were the better fighter."
Chico flashed a quick smile. "The twenty pounds was no
problem. I think your reach is like a foot more than mine."
"Yeah, that came in handy too," agreed Fabian.
"You gonna fight again soon?"
"Yup - got one in three days. Some Jamaican guy, I guess.
Jimmy says he isn't too tough, gonna be an easy win for me, but
what else is Jimmy gonna say, right?"
Chico grinned, flashing a gold tooth. Mimicking Jimmy
Vargas's rapid New York delivery, he said "I got one lined up for
you Thursday - this guy gonna kick your ass so you better bring a
first aid kit." Fabian laughed appreciatively. Chico seemed
pretty OK.
"I gotta a wait awhile myself," said Chico, fingering the
bandage over his eye. "Couple more weeks for this to heal. You
open me up pretty good."
"Sorry about that."
He shrugged. "I always cut real easy. Pain in the ass."
"By the way, I wanted to thank you for helping me out after
the fight. Things were getting ugly."
Chico nodded solemnly. "No problem, man. My people come to
see me kick some ass, they get a little upset if I lose."
"I hope you didn't like, lose too much status in your gang or
whatever."
Chico's face turned hard and cold for a few seconds, then he
shook his head with a tight little smile. "Shit, no. My 'status'
as you call it don't depend on my winning fights."
Fabian decided it might be a bad idea to ask him just what his
gang status was based on. "So you're just in it for the chicks
and the money like me?"
Chico threw back his head and laughed, causing the goons at
the next table to look over from their card game.
"Chicks and money, man, that's exactly right. Especially the
chicks. You win a fight on Tigertail, you get to pick and choose,
am I right?"
"Amen," said Fabian with a grin. "Hell, even my manager gets
laid after I win a fight."
Chico leaned forward with the easy familiarity of men
everywhere when they start talking about women. "I bet you get a
lot of those skinny white college girls, the ones that smoke pot
and pretend they living in the sixties or whatever."
"Yeah, that's right," said Fabian, thinking Chico was pretty
perceptive.
"Me, I go for the Chicas - the Latina chicks. I like a woman
with a little meat on her bones, you know? I don't mean fat or
nothing, I just like to have something to hold onto. Most of the
white chicks, I just want to tell them to eat something, you know?
Get a decent meal once in a while."
Fabian thought about the Mexican girl he had taken home the
other week. She had been the whole package: nice smile, great
body, easy to talk to. He had a nagging feeling he had somehow
screwed up big time with that one.
"No offense, man," said Chico, misunderstanding Fabian's
silence. "Everybody got they own taste, right?"
"No, I think you got a good point there."
"Oh hey, I almost forgot," said Chico. "I want to get a
rematch when my cut heals. What do you say?"
Fabian was a little surprised. "You want another shot at the
champ, huh? You figure out a way to get a longer reach or
something?"
Chico smiled at the verbal jab, but Fabian could see he wasn't
amused. "I had the wrong strategy, fought a stupid fight. Be
different next time. I personally guarantee there won't be any
trouble from my friends."
"Because you'll win?"
Chico smiled. "Either way."
Fabian shrugged. "Sounds good to me. Me and Jimmy split five
thousand dollars last time. If you guarantee your friends will
behave, I'm sure Jimmy'll be happy to set it up. "
"Don't worry about Jimmy, I'll talk to him."
Back at his own table, Mickey said "What did you two buddies
chat about over there?"
"He wants a rematch."
Mickey nodded. "I thought that might be it. Well, you kicked
his ass once, you can kick it again."
****************
Fabian jogged slowly along the winding beachfront path, his
breath rasping in his throat and his chest burning like he had
inhaled some sort of noxious acid. Mickey was right - he was out
of shape, at least by his previous high standards. It was all
coming back to him, why he had given up boxing. The pain and
humiliation of losing in the ring was bad, but the drawn-out
torture of keeping his body in perfect condition was even worse.
A girl on rollerblades skated by, swaying gracefully from side
to side, the muscles in her legs working smoothly under her golden
skin. He admired the generous curves of her hips and ass, and the
cascade of shiny dark hair down her back. She reminded him of the
girl he had picked up at the West Club last week, the one he
hadn't been able to get out of his head. Lissa something.
Then the girl cut in front of him and turned around to face
him, skating backwards, and he realized with a shock that it was
Lissa.
"Hey," she said. "Remember me?"
Fabian felt an instinctive surge of guilt. He wished he had a
nickle for every time a woman he hadn't called for a while came up
to him and said that. But this time it wasn't his fault.
"Yeah, absolutely. I remember you, Lissa. I wanted to call
you, but I didn't have your number or even your last name." She
was still gliding along backwards, smiling at him and letting him
get closer and closer. He had to resist the urge to push her along
by resting his hands on the inviting curves where her narrow waist
swelled into her hips. She was just as beautiful as he
remembered, which was a little surprising considering how much he
had drunk that night.
"I know," she said. "I had my reasons. And besides, after
what happened I didn't know if I wanted to see you again."
"I don't blame you. I wasn't exactly at my best that night.
I felt bad about the way things ended up, me falling asleep like
that."
She laughed. "It wasn't what I was hoping for. But not for
the reason you think. It wasn't your fault."
He thought about this for a second, puzzled, and said "Maybe
there's not enough blood flowing to my brain or something, but I
don't think I'm following you." He stopped jogging and started to
walk. Lissa rolled to a stop, still facing him, and he had to
stop or run into her.
"I've been looking for you, but I'm not exactly sure why," she
admitted. "I'm probably just annoying you."
"No you're not," he said, truthfully. "You know, for the past
week I haven't been able to stop thinking about you."
Lissa looked pleased. "Really? Me too. Hey, you think maybe
we can go someplace and talk? There's a couple things I should
tell you."
As it happened, they were next to a small beachfront park with
some shade trees and benches. They found an empty bench and sat
down, and Fabian looked at her expectantly.
"Well, the first thing I guess I should tell you...I'm only
eighteen."
He was surprised, but not stunned. Without the makeup, she
did look a bit younger than he had remembered. "So you don't work
at the bottling plant either, I bet."
"You remembered! Maybe I did make an impression on you after
all. No, I'm a senior in high school."
"High school, huh?" That didn't sound too good. "So I guess
the real reason you had to go home that night was to keep from
getting grounded."
"Killed is more like it," said Lissa. "I still caught a lot
of shit, getting home at one in the morning."
"So that's it?"
She shook her head. "No, I didn't tell you the big thing yet.
Except it's big for me, no big deal for you, I guess."
"What?"
She looked at him, then looked down. "It was my first time."
"Your first...? Oh, man. I'm sorry, Lissa."
"You got nothing to be sorry about. I was the one who threw
myself at you. I wanted it to happen."
"If you'd said something..." He thought back to the way it
had happened, and felt sick.
She shook her head. "It's kind of embarrassing. My friends,
male and female, all lost their virginity when they were thirteen
or fourteen, and I started feeling like a weirdo. That whole
thing about guys wanting to marry a virgin is bullshit, as far as
I can tell."
"Never saw the appeal, myself," he agreed.
"So finally I decided I just wanted to get the monkey off my
back."
"But why me?"
She laughed. "You was in the right place at the right time.
Don't worry about it, Fabian. I was a virgin, but I wasn't like
totally inexperienced. It didn't hurt or anything."
"That's good," he said, feeling a little better. She smiled
at him, and he smiled back. "Anything else you need to get off
your chest?"
She thought about it, chewing on her lower lip. She had about
the sexiest mouth he had ever seen, and he felt his cock twitch.
Then he felt guilty. He decided right then that he wanted to get
to know her a lot better.
"Well, no, that's about it. I guess it's best if we just
shake hands and walk away, no hard feelings, right?" she asked.
"I mean, you're a lot older than me, I'm Mexican and you're
white..."
"If that's what you want, then of course," he said carefully.
"But I don't know, it seems like we get along pretty well. I
mean, before we went back to my place we had a really good time
talking and hanging out, I thought. I talked more to you that
night than I can remember talking with anybody for a long time.
And I've been thinking about you since then more than I've thought
about anyone in a long time. So what I'm babbling about, I guess,
is no, I don't want to just shake hands and walk away."
"Oh." She didn't say anything for a few seconds. "In that
case, I'm actually seventeen."
"Shit." He buried his face in his hands.
"But if you can handle that, and if you're serious about
maybe...you know, going out or something..."
"If you're sixteen, now's the time to tell me," he said
through his hands.
She giggled. "I'll be eighteen in two months, I promise. I
got my driver's license and everything."
He looked up. "That's a relief."
There was a few moments of awkward silence. Fabian spotted a
little stand selling fast food on the other side of the park. He
nodded towards it and said "Would you like a soda or an ice cream
or something?"
She nodded, a happy smile growing on her face. "That would be
very nice."
As they walked across the park, he took her hand in his.
**************
Fabian climbed the stairs to his apartment and unlocked the
door. His little place was looking a lot better these days, ever
since Lissa had started spending her afternoons here instead of at
the library. Colorful prints and hand-woven rugs decorated the
walls, and the rattiest furniture had been replaced with
inexpensive but tasteful new pieces. A woman's touch.
"Hola, Senorita," he called out in atrocious Spanish.
"Hola, Se–or," answered Lissa, sounding happy and amused.
"Como estas?"
She was in the bedroom, sitting Indian-style on the bed
surrounded by papers and textbooks, wearing only her bra and
panties. Her school uniform was folded neatly on a chair. Fabian
leaned against the doorway and stared her with an appreciative
smile. "Bien. Mucho bien, gracias."
"It's nice that you want to learn Spanish, Fabian, but I do
speak pretty good English. My native language and all..."
"That last one exhausted my vocabulary, so it's just as well.
How's the studying going?"
She closed the textbook in front of her with a crack.
"Chemistry, ick. Time for you to teach me something that's more
fun. Hit the showers, mister."
"Shower?" He brushed at the grass clippings stuck to his arm.
"Yeah, maybe you're right. Don't go anywhere."
When he padded back into the bedroom five minutes later with a
damp towel around his waist, the books were put away and she was
sitting against the headboard with the sheet draped loosely over
her body. She had loosened the knot in her hair, and it cascaded
down past her shoulders in thick, glossy waves. He sat down next
to her and gave her a long hard kiss. The sheet slid away,
exposing her full, soft breasts. He kissed his way down her face
and neck, inhaling the sweet aroma of her skin, and then took one
of her nipples into his mouth. He teased at the soft, warm flesh
with his lips and tongue, making it swell and pout.
"That feels so nice," she said, rubbing his neck. She put her
arms around his broad, muscular chest, holding him possesively
close.
He moved to her other breast, and soon he felt her hand slide
under the towel and move towards his groin. She took his
stiffening cock in her hand and just held it, keeping it company
as it came fully erect. Then she squeezed it gently and started
rubbing the underside of the head with her thumb, making him
groan.
"Did I teach you how to do that?" he asked. "I must be a damn
good teacher."
"Nah, I used the experimental method - we learned about that
in school. Tried all sorts of stuff, and watched to see which
ones made you squirm." Her thumb slid up over the little slit,
smearing out a drop of precome. Using it as a lubricant, she
started moving her thumb in slow circles. "See? You're
squirming."
"Yep. Bet I can make you squirm, too."
"I know you can," she giggled. "I love it when you make me
squirm, Fabian."
He pulled the sheet away from her legs and pushed her thighs
apart. Her sex was a symmetric ribbon of dark pink nestled in the
glossy curls of her pubic hair. He shifted position, bringing his
head down into her lap, and breathed in her faint, musky aroma as
he nibbled on her inner thigh. She trembled and stiffened,
anticipating the pleasure to follow. Finally he put his mouth
over her pussy and teased at her outer labia with his tongue,
letting his saliva mix with her juices as she opened up.
"Oh, yes..." she sighed. "Lick me."
"Are you sure?" he teased. "You don't think it's nasty any
more?"
"Of course it's nasty, but it feels sooo good," she said. She
lay back and spread her legs, inviting him to burrow in deeper.
Fabian lapped away contentedly, stimulating her with long
strokes of his tongue, until she was moving her hips in time with
his head and moaning. It had taken a lot of convincing before
Lissa had let him go down on her - some sort of cultural thing.
At first she had been stiff as a board, unwilling to spread her
legs and relax. But Fabian's unfeigned enjoyment and the
undeniably pleasurable sensations of a probing tongue in her pussy
had eventually changed her attitude. Now she was addicted to it,
and it was a regular part of their lovemaking.
When he sensed that she was ready, he moved his attention
upward, concentrating on the meaty little bump of her clit,
circling around it with the stiff tip of his tongue. She gasped
and lifted her hips up, and he slid his hands under her ass,
squeezing her buttocks.
For a few seconds there was only the sound of her ragged
breathing as she focused intently on the waves of sensation coming
from her pussy. Her orgasm was a teasing, lurking promise,
hovering just out of reach. She needed the stimulation just a
fraction of a millimeter higher, just a tad faster... she lifted
one knee, shifted her weight slightly, and Fabian's tongue
suddenly hit the right spot. Her orgasm blossomed quickly inside
her, like fireworks exploding in her stomach, and the pleasure was
so unbearably intense that she cried out without even realizing
it.
Fabian wiped her copious juices from his mouth and smiled up
at her. Her warm brown eyes were still hazy and unfocused, but
she smiled back at him lazily.
"Thank you," she said.
"You don't have to thank me," he replied automatically, and
they both smiled. "Didn't take as long this time, did it?"
"I don't know, I wasn't paying attention to the time," she
said. "It takes a lot of concentration to come that way. Not
like..."
"Not like what?" he asked, sitting up. His cock jutted up
into the air like a flagpole.
Lissa looked embarrassed. "Like when I do it to myself."
"Oh, so you masturbate?" he said. "You never told me. How
naughty. Jeez, here I was thinking you were a nice girl and
all..."
"Oh stop," she said, giggling and kicking him playfully. "I
*was* a nice girl until I met you."
"But you had these... urges," he said dramatically.
"Yeah, I had urges. Every day after school I had an urge."
"Every day, huh? Interesting. You'll have to show me some
time."
"Show you? No way!"
"Yes way. I want to see how you get yourself off. Maybe I'll
learn something."
"Hmm. Maybe someday. It's easier that way, but it doesn't
feel nearly as good."
He picked up one of her feet and moved it into his lap, and
rubbed his cock against the sole. She giggled. "That tickles!"
"Don't forget, I have urges too," he teased. "Not as strong
as yours, I'm sure, but pretty strong."
She sat up so that she was facing him and squeezed his firm
cock in her hand. "Poor Fabian. What would you like your Lissa
to do about those urges?"
"Maybe you could kiss it?"
She smiled. "Maybe I could." She leaned forward into his
lap, and her hair spilled forward in a dark curtain, shielding his
view. He felt her tongue touch the underside of his cock, a
little exploratory lick, and then her hot mouth closed over the
head. She didn't take him in any farther than that, and he had
to restrain himself from thrusting upward. He was dying to fuck
her lush, beautiful mouth, driving himself all the way to the back
of her throat, but he had decided to take it very slow and easy
when it came to sex with Lissa. As it was, he felt vaguely guilty
about corrupting a high-school girl. He closed his eyes and
sighed, his stomach muscles tensing and twitching as she licked
and nibbled tentatively at his cock. After a few minutes she
lifted her head and looked at him, her lips wet with saliva.
"I really don't know what I'm doing," she said with an
apologetic smile. "You've got to teach me."
"I will," he said. "But there's no rush. Besides, you're
doing great."
"No, I'm not," she laughed. She moved closer to him, pushing
him onto his back, and straddled his waist.
"Let's make love," she said. "I'm getting pretty good at
that, at least."
"That you are."
His erection still intimidated her slightly, seeming too large
to go into her pussy, but now she knew better. Now she knew how
it felt to have her insides filled up by a hot, rigid cock, and
she was as anxious as Fabian was.
As Fabian held his cock in place, Lissa positioned herself
carefully, getting the angle just right, and then slowly allowed
the rigid shaft to slide up inside her. When she finally sat
astride him, pinned in place and deliciously full, the feeling was
so wanton and yet so indescribably right that her body gave an
involuntary shudder of pure joy. As if of their own accord, her
hips began to make little sliding and twisting motions, grinding
her sex against his pubis, and her body greedily soaked up the
little spikes of pleasure.
When Fabian reached up and cupped her breasts, she put her
hands over his and pressed them more firmly in place. Her whole
body seemed to be giving off slow waves of pleasure now, and she
closed her eyes and just let herself drift along on the rhythm of
Fabian's long, smooth thrusts. After a while the steady buildup
of pleasure became overwhelming, and she found herself restlessly
pushing the pace, lifting herself up to lengthen the long,
pneumatic strokes, wordlessly urging Fabian to increase the tempo.
"Harder," she finally moaned. "Do it faster. Please..." Her
voice was whiny and selfish.
Fabian smiled and gripped her waist. He smoothly accelerated
the pace like a powerful luxury car, and Lissa started uttering a
strangled little "oh!" every time he arched up into her with a
smack. The orgasm snuck up on her, seeming to gather itself out
of thin air like a summer storm, and the climax was a long and
drawn-out pleasure ride that left her gasping for air and
momentarily dizzy.
She leaned forward, draping her limp honey-colored body over
his, and kissed his mouth tenderly. She smiled as she felt him
pull her thighs apart, making room for what he needed to do. Then
his big hands covered her round buttocks, gripping the muscles
underneath her warm skin, and he quickly sought out his long-
delayed pleasure, urgently driving himself into her.
Lissa felt incredibly womanly and somehow privileged to be the
object of his primitive exertions, and she was happy to give her
body over to him entirely. When he began to groan and lift his
head off the bed, she contracted herself around him, trying to
make herself even tighter, and then she felt the warm flooding
rush of his release.
"That was fun," she whispered, brushing a damp strand of hair
away from his eyes. They lay entwined on the bed for several
minutes, sleepy and comfortable in the warm, sunny room. When
Lissa finally pulled herself upright and padded off to the
bathroom, Fabian started to think about the future. It wasn't
something he did very often, but he had a feeling it was time to
start.
**********
The Ocean View Gym was a no-nonsense facility: a single hot,
smelly room filled to overflowing with free weights and Universal
machines. The clientele was overwhelmingly male, and they came
for one reason only - to lift weights. Like most boxers, Fabian
instinctively mistrusted any sort of amenities or frills in a
weight room, and Ocean View fit the bill perfectly.
He was working his legs this morning, doing a descending
series of squats with a huge black man in his forties who went by
the name Horse. His thighs were quivering like jelly and he felt
sick to his stomach, which meant that he was getting a good
workout. He was spotting for Horse when he noticed Mickey
wandering through the room, looking decidedly out of place in
linen slacks and a white turtleneck.
He grinned, called out "Hey Mick! What's going on, you lost
or something?" Mickey had a well-known aversion to exercise.
"I'm looking for you," said Mickey, coming over. His face was
unusually serious. "We gotta talk, it's important."
"Sure, no problem." He helped his lifting partner guide the
bar back onto the shoulder-height brackets. "Gimme five, OK
Horse?"
He led Mickey into a quiet corner. "What's up?"
His friend looked uncomfortable. "Fraid I got some bad news,
Fabian. The Mexican dude, Chico? Word on the street is he's
gunning for you."
"Gunning for me?"
"Yeah, as in he wants to kill you. I asked around a little,
and this ain't a threat to take lightly. Wouldn't be the first
time this dude popped somebody."
"I'm giving the guy a rematch in a couple days just like he
wanted," said Fabian, completely mystified. "So what's his
problem? He trying to psyche me out or something?"
"Listen to me, you big white moron: he found out you're
screwing his little sister!"
"What!" It didn't take him long to figure it out. For once
in his life he was only screwing one woman, so there weren't many
options. "Lissa is Chico's sister?"
"That's what I been told, Fabes. Could be bullshit, but then
why would Chico be after you, right? Listen man, it gets worse."
Fabian stared at him, wondering what could possibly be worse.
Mickey actually looked embarrassed. "I shouldn't be the one
to be telling you this, but the rumor is, you knocked...she's
pregnant."
"Pregnant?"
"Yeah, I'm sorry man. I take it she hasn't said anything to
you?"
Fabian shook his head, looking stunned. "I gotta go talk to
her. Thanks for telling me, Mickey."
Mickey grabbed his friend's arm as he started to leave. "Whoa
there, cowboy. Isn't she in school right now? What are you going
to do, walk into her algebra class and confront her?"
Fabian shook off Mickey's hand. "I don't know, I'll think of
something."
"Listen up," said Mickey seriously. "I know it don't look
that way right now, but Lissa ain't your main problem. Chico is.
You gotta stay off the streets, or you're gonna get killed."
"What am I supposed to do, lock myself in my apartment?"
"I don't know what the fuck you should do! All I'm saying is
that you gotta think before you act."
They stared at each other for a few seconds in silence. Then
Fabian sat down on a weight bench with a sigh. "You know where
Chico lives?"
Mickey sat down next to him. "Nope. Why? You gonna go kill
him before he kills you?"
Fabian shook his head. "I was think more along the lines of
talking him out of it. But first I need to talk to Lissa, find
out what's going on."
"Might just be a bullshit, about her being pregnant. A
gangster like Chico, he might be pissed enough that you're messing
around with his sister to put out a hit."
"Maybe." But he had a sinking feeling it was true. The first
time they'd had sex, after he brought her home from the West Club,
like an idiot he hadn't used a condom. And Lissa had seemed very
quiet and preoccupied the last couple days. Combine all that with
the famous Fabian Barnes Losing Streak, and there wasn't much
point in being optimistic.
"How can I get her out of school so I can talk to her?" he
asked.
Mickey smiled. "Gotta be a hundred different ways. Come on,
we'll think of something in my car. You don't want to be driving
your ugly-ass landscaping truck right now - they might be looking
for it."
Fabian nodded. "Thanks Mick."
Mickey slapped him on the shoulder. "Managing 'El Toro' has
been a sweet gig. You get whacked, it's gonna put a real dent in
my cash flow."
**************
The side door to Our Lady of Peace opened, and Lissa stepped
out and scanned the parking lot. Fabian was standing next to a
shiny silver El Camino, dressed in his workout clothes. He raised
his hand, and she hurried over.
"What's going on?" she asked. Fabian looked so serious and
worried, it was giving her a sick feeling in her stomach.
He looked around, and saw that there was no one within
earshot. "I heard you were pregnant. Is that true?"
She stared at him silently. For Fabian, it was answer enough.
"Why? Why didn't you tell me?"
"I thought...I just found out a couple days ago..." Her eyes
filled with tears. "I was going to tell you this week, Fabian.
I'm sorry." The stress of the last three days suddenly
overwhelmed her, and she started crying.
"Hey...it's going to be OK, Lissa." He pulled her close, and
she threw her arms around him. They clung to each other
wordlessly for a few moments.
"How did you find out?" asked Lissa, lifting her face up to
look at him.
"From your brother. That's why we're here actually." He
suddenly remembered the death threat, and his heart sank.
"My brother? You mean Chico?"
"That's the fellow," said Fabian dryly. "He didn't take the
news very well, apparently."
"I hardly even know Chico, how the hell did he find out?"
Fabian looked confused. "You didn't tell him?"
Mickey said "Folks, we best be moving along now. Fabian don't
look much like Lissa's daddy, and the sisters are getting a mite
suspicious." A pair of nuns were standing in the doorway, staring
at them.
Fabian and Lissa climbed into the back seat, and Mickey pulled
out of the lot.
"So who did you tell?" asked Fabian. "You must've told
someone."
"I told my friend Marcella. Same thing happened to her last
year. I made her promise not to tell anyone, but... " She shook
her head angrily. "She's been wanting Chico to notice her for
years. So Chico told you?"
"Not exactly." There was a few seconds of silence.
"According to Mickey, he's threatening to kill me."
Lissa eyes got wide. "Oh my God!"
"Right," said Fabian. "You know where he lives?"
She nodded. "Yeah, I can tell you how to get there. But are
you sure that's the right thing to do?" She looked at Mickey.
"What do you think?"
Mickey shrugged, his eyes on the traffic. "Can't hurt, might
help. Chico ain't likely to start blasting away at somebody in
his own front yard."
***************
When Chico Hernandez walked into his untidy bedroom, shirtless
and barefoot, Fabian was standing in the corner, holding a small,
ugly-looking gun down against his thigh.
Chico was startled, but he covered it well. He took in the
gun and the open window with one glance, and his face hardened
into a mask.
"You," he said. "What the fuck do you want?"
"I heard you were going to kill me."
Chico didn't say anything for a few seconds, but Fabian was
determined to wait him out. Mickey's gun felt awkward and
slippery in his hand. He wanted to wipe the sweat off his palm,
but he didn't dare set the gun down.
Finally Chico said "You've been fucking around with my sister.
Got her pregnant."
"I happen to like Lissa a lot."
Chico sneered. "You do, huh? Nice young piece of Mexican ass
for you to play around with."
"It's not like that."
Chico sat down on the bed, pushing a tangled pile of clothes
out of the way. He had a big tattoo of a snarling panther on his
chest, and Fabian had to force himself to not stare at it. Chico
said "You shoot me, I guarantee you won't get out of this house
alive."
"I don't want to shoot you. I just want to talk."
Another long silence. "You got cojones coming here, sneaking
into my room, I'll give you that. Tell you what I'm gonna do -
you promise me you'll never go anywhere near my sister again, and
I'll let it go."
"No way."
"Why the fuck not?" His voice was still flat, but Fabian
sensed that he was genuinely puzzled.
"I'm in love with Lissa. She's going to have my baby, and I'm
not going to just disappear."
"No, she's *not * gonna have your baby, asshole." said Chico.
"You better get that straight right now. You off the hook on
that, so just walk away."
"Why the fuck are you so damn interested? Lissa says she
hardly even knows you. You're the one that should stay out of
it."
Chico stared at him. "You wouldn't understand, white boy."
"Try me. And cut the racial crap. What was it they called it
in the OJ trial? The race card. Don't play that stupid race card
with me." He realized he was waving the gun at Chico, and
returned it to his leg.
"Lissa is a special girl. She's smart, she's a good person.
She's gonna go to college, be a doctor or something like that.
Have a good life."
Some of the things that Lissa had told him went through his
head. About Lissa's mother, and her single-minded plans for
Lissa's future. Chico's mother.
"This isn't really about Lissa, is it? It's about you and
your mother."
"Fuck you. Don't you talk to me about my -"
"You fucked up your life completely, and fucked up your
brother's lives too. One big, happy family of gangbangers. You
felt guilty about that, and now you're trying to make it up to
your mother by protecting Lissa."
Chico chuckled, spreading his hands apart as if to say 'you
got me.' Fabian queasily wondered what made this guy tick. He
makes a little comment, the guy takes it personally. Now when he
accuses him of destroying his family, he shrugs it off.
Chico was still smiling, seeming to sense his discomfort.
"Back when Lissa was a little girl I promised my mother that I
would protect her. Everybody in the neighborhood knows she's my
little sister, and they know they better treat her right. I pay
tuition for her private high school. I'm gonna pay for her
college. And when some asshole starts hassling her, I take care
of it."
"And then your momma forgives you and you all live happily
ever after?"
"You think that's bullshit?" Chico leaned forward and rubbed
his face reflectively. "Go ahead and think that. But if it
wasn't for me, Lissa would just be another fucked-up barrio chick.
Probably be a hooker or an addict or both."
Fabian tried to imagine Lissa like that, and then quickly
pushed the image out of his mind. "You think this is what your
mother would want? For you to kill me and arrange for an abortion
for Lissa?"
"I've done plenty of things my mama wouldn't like," said
Chico. "I've killed people before, I've done all sorts of bad
shit. All my mama knows is that Lissa is a good girl who's gonna
be somebody, and that it's partly because of me. Except now you
come along and fuck it all up. You say you love Lissa, but all
you've done is fuck up her life."
"I can't change what's happened, and I'm not going to stop
seeing Lissa," said Fabian carefully. "If she wants to have the
baby, which I hope she does, I'm going to support her decision
and be a father to the kid. Either way, I want her to go to
college too. I don't see how that interferes with your promise to
your mother."
"You don't, huh?" Chico scratched under his arm, looked at
Fabian thoughtfully. "We're goin' at it day after tomorrow. Big
rematch."
Once again Fabian was caught off guard. What the hell did the
fight matter, compared to this? "Yeah, well, I might have to
cancel. Seeing as I got a death threat, and all."
"No way, man. The fight stays on. But we gonna make it
interesting. You win, I let you date Lissa. You lose, you never
go near her again. What do you say - pretty fair, eh? Specially
seeing as you got that big reach advantage and all."
"You're crazy, you know that? You want to settle my future,
your sister's future, with a fistfight?"
Chico grinned. "People's lives been fucked up for stupider
shit than that. I seen it happen all the time."
After a long moment, Fabian nodded. "OK, I guess that's how
it's gotta be."
"That's right. That's the way it's gotta be."
*************
Tigertail beach was buzzing with the electric hum of
adrenaline and blood-lust. Mickey pushed his way through the
restless throng of people and found Jimmy Vargas.
"Where the fuck you guys been?" asked Jimmy. "Fight was
supposed to start twenty minutes ago."
Mickey shook his head. "Just got a call from Fabian. Ain't
gonna be no fight. He just retired."
Jimmy turned pale. "He pussied out, you mean. Didn't want to
face Chico again."
Mickey nodded. "Between you and me, that's about right. I
ain't happy about it either. Wish he'd at least had the guts to
tell me before the last minute."
Jimmy glared at him, his teeth gritted. "These people came to
see blood. What the fuck am I supposed to tell them?"
Mickey slapped him on the shoulder. "Ask for a volunteer from
the crowd, Jimmy. Wave that paper bag fulla dough around a
little. There's bound to be some sucker out there who thinks he's
got the right stuff."
************
The Nevada desert was slowly cooling down from the white-hot
intensity of midday, and the setting sun was transforming the pale
blue sky into a delicately shaded canvas of pink and orange. The
highway stretched out endlessly in front of them, an arrow-
straight strip of blacktop bisecting the flat, dry landscape.
Fabian shifted his eyes from the shimmering horizon to the
warm figure nestled against his right side. Lissa was staring
quietly at her outstretched left hand. The diamond on her ring
finger absorbed the dim sunlight and returned it as flashes of
pure fire.
He smiled, and said "Still think it's too big?"
She looked up with a start, closing her hand reflexively, and
then laughed. "Maybe not. I'm getting used to it."
"They'll be missing me on Tigertail right about now. I told
Mickey to wait until the fight was about to start, make it look
like I chickened out. I bet Jimmy is going nuts, calling me all
sorts of bad names."
She rubbed the inside of his bare thigh reassuringly. "You
regretting it?"
"Nope. Not a bit. Chico's going to come out looking like a
hero, and that's exactly what I want. What we want."
They rode along in companionable silence for a few minutes.
"My mother liked you, I think," said Lissa.
"She's a nice lady. I think she knew we were going to get
married whether she said it was OK or not."
A glowing green road sign appeared in the distance, and slowly
grew in size.
"Las Vegas, a hundred and twenty miles," read Lissa. "I
really don't believe we're doing this."
"You still got about two hours to change your mind."
She leaned her head against his shoulder, her thick hair
tickling his neck.
"Nope. Never, ever."
+++++ The End, "Blood and Sand" +++++
© 1998 by DG (dionysian1@hotmail.com)
Author's notes
1) Thanks to The Bear for proofing this story and for
helpful plot advice.
2) This story was somewhat inspired by the song "Santeria"
by the band Sublime. I'm sad to say that Sublime is no
more, due to the death of their lead singer in 1997.
3) I love to get email. Enough said.
4) Please visit my web page:
http://baird.pair.com/dg.htm