Blow By Blow

Tonight, I’m going to tell you a story. I’ve gone over it in my mind again and again. It’s creased and greasy like a ripped out page from a dirty magazine you keep stuffed in your pocket. I’ll tell you everything. The blow by blow.

She scared me a little, but my fascination was so complete that nothing would stop me. I had to meet her. She worked the mini-golf out past the edge of town off the highway. I hated mini-golf. She smoked and her skin already looked older and more lined than it should. Sun and cigarettes. Too much drinking.

She drove a pick-up. She could palm a basketball. She was lean and lanky. I swear she had an Adam’s apple. I’m not going to tell you her name. You don’t need to know her name. Call her what you want. Like I say, she scared me a little. I’d seen her eye me some nights when she came into town. How did she know? How could she see me? I was so young. I barely knew anything about myself. I didn’t know anything about what I wanted. But she made me shake. My hands actually trembled when I thought about her.

The first night I saw her, I caught her staring at me. She was with a group of rowdy guys at the pizza place. She laughed at their jokes but kept her eyes on me. So bold. Terrifying.

We lived in a bloody place. We lived in a small town that had too many bodies found in odd places – behind the laundromat, in a dumpster behind the discount grocery, in a burned out car in a corn field, and once, most hideously, in a vat of acid in some guy’s garage. This isn’t the part of the story you’re looking for, but like I said, I’m going to tell you everything. We lived in a bloody place. People died. How could she sit there and stare at me like that. People might see. She didn’t give a fuck about that.

That same night, I stared at myself in my bedroom mirror when I got home. I brought my shaking hands up to my face and touched my lips. I pushed my hair back. I opened the buttons on my blouse and touched my breasts. I opened the top drawer of my dresser and pulled out my brother’s pocket knife. I pulled the blade out and ran it across my chest, up my neck. I made a small cut on the side of my chin. Tiny. So thin and shallow the blood crept to the surface but didn’t drip. Just a scratch. My hands no longer shook.

I looked at my bed with the four posts and saw myself splayed, spread-eagle, bound so tightly to those posts that my arms and legs were lifted up off the mattress. I’d never had sex. I’d barely made out with anyone. But when I imagined sex it was forceful, dark, powerful. I don’t know why that was my earliest desire. I don’t know what put those thoughts in my head. I didn’t question it.

She showed up in town again and again. I’d see her cruising around late at night in her car. One night she pulled up behind me at the light. I drove all over town with her right behind me for an hour. I took her out on the blacktop and through the farms I knew. I drove her out past the new development behind the strip mall. And then I headed south on the highway towards Kentucky. There’s an old grocery near the national forest that looks abandoned, but isn’t. It was closed this late at night. I pulled into the parking lot and she pulled up beside me.

I got out of my car and into her truck. She kept her hands on the wheel. There was a hole with wires hanging out where her radio should be but Jerry Jeff Walker was playing on a tape recorder in the seat next to her. “I think about you,” she said and turned her head slowly to look at me. She was simmering. Gripping the wheel. I watched her muscles move under her skin. I didn’t answer, but I reached over and touched her arm. “Do you know what you’re doing?” she barked at me. She sounded angry. I jumped and pulled my hand back. I unbuttoned my top. I cupped my breast and held it up for her like an offering. “Jesus,” she muttered and that was all.

She moved the tape player to the floor but left it playing with Jerry Jeff sounding sad and regretful. I pulled her hands to my jeans but she slowed me down. She finished unbuttoning my shirt. Her rough hands were scratchy on my skin. She smelled like cigarettes and old spice. I noticed that her hands shook. Her fingers moved across me with a stutter. I pulled one of her hands up to my neck but she wouldn’t grip me. I wanted it. I wanted her control, her cool stare, her boldness. “Please,” I begged her and held her hand again to my throat.

She stared at me, looking like a frightened boy, but something kicked in and she squeezed my throat harder than I expected. I struck out at her with my fists in sheer terror. For a second, I was sure she would kill me, that I’d made a terrible mistake. She saw and eased up. She put her thumb against my jaw bone. We both recognized the danger in this. I closed my eyes. My body rolled, released in complete pleasure, with just one hand on my throat and the other roughly rubbing my breasts. She moved a knee between my legs and I grinded against her.

Things moved slowly. She moved around my body taking her time, staying in one place for a long while. She turned me over, tugged my jeans down over my ass and rubbed me with her hands. She sucked on the back of my neck and brought her hands around underneath me pulling on my nipples. She was hunched on her knees bent over me. There was a moment where I felt like the river under her. Like she was a thirsty hiker bent over to drink from me. I was there for the taking.

When she finally pulled my jeans all the way off, I was so turned on that I growled at her like a wild thing. I grabbed her wrist and shoved her hand against my pussy. “I want you,” I raged at her, truly angry and impatient. She shoved two long fingers inside me. I lifted my ass up off the seat. I pressed one foot against the window and lifted my hips high to her mouth. She kept her fingers deep inside me, sliding slowly in and out, twisting and curving. Everything felt lit on fire. She licked me softly with her tongue but I yelled out at her until she took off. Roughly tonguing me, sucking, pulling on my clit. When I came, I smacked my head hard against the door.

I tried to kiss her, to touch her, but she pushed me away. She was tender, holding me, but kept me off of her body. “Don’t be stupid,” I muttered and regretted saying it right away. The words hurt her. I felt her wince. I didn’t know what to say next. I grabbed her hand and pushed it between my legs. She pounced on me, fucking me again with a ferociousness that I will never forget, that left me breathless. She slammed her fingers into me with the palm of her hand smacking my clit. She gripped my shoulder so tight that I found five small bruises the next day from her fingers and thumb. She stared at me, angry, and fucked me until I bucked beneath her, yelling out. She stayed over me, staring, watching me come down from it. I wanted her to kiss me, but she quickly sat up when she saw me staring back at her.

“You’ve got a sense of adventure,” she laughed and pulled a pack of cigarettes out of her shirt pocket. She sounded like she’d already smoked too many, her voice hoarse and gravelly. “Let me get out before you light that,” I said, scolding her a little. Jerry Jeff was singing Derby Day, one of my favorite tunes, as I hopped out.

I walked to my car. The gravel crunched under my feet. I looked into the old store and saw the near empty shelves and the old cash register. I like these old places. I like the sense of time gone by everywhere around us. People complain that we’re out of touch around here, but I don’t mind.

I thought we were lovers. I thought I’d see her again, but she never showed up. I’d see her truck parked out at the mini-golf, but I hate mini-golf. She never came back into town that I saw. Maybe I scared her. I couldn’t understand why. I didn’t tell her she was my first. I didn’t say much.

I remember that night again and again and still feel the same rush when I think of her rough hands on my soft skin. She ran those hands over every part of me. For a long time, I lay there staring into her face as she petted and stroked me. I didn’t get to touch her at all.

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