Siren's Garter: Issue One August 2016 (21 page)

The room heated up. Boiling hot.
Fingers pressed into her shoulders. Pete pushed her onto her back.
He placed a pillow under her head, and adjusted his body over hers.
She spread her legs, letting him kiss her, hoping for
more.

One finger on her clit, Pete rocked
her steady. Her body tightened, heart pumping fast, every part of
her numb and sensitive at the same time.

Her pussy became wet. He massaged
her faster, dipping a finger inside, pulling out. She wanted to
stroke him. Get his cock inside her. Something… but she was trapped
underneath him, at his mercy.

Finally, slow and gentle, Pete slid
deep into her, stretching her out little by little. Cheryl gasped
when he was balls deep. She clung to him by the neck, wrapping her
legs around his waist. A sweet moment of sweaty bliss passed, face
to face, lips touching but not locked, bodies pressed together in a
hot mess.

Cheryl bucked against him, wanting
more, now. His breath was sultry hot. Still, quiet, moving only a
nudge, Pete rotated his hips. She closed her eyes to slits. Every
nerve in her body screamed for attention.

One more kiss, sweet and wet. And
then Pete pumped. Again and again, faster. Rougher with each
thrust.

He slowed, catching his breath,
letting her catch hers, and shared a kiss. Pete took her hand, his
fingers entwined with hers, and he pinned her to the bed with his
other hand in her hair. The bed squeaked and moaned under their
bouncing. She breathed in short gasps, her heart pounding faster
and faster.

Time blurred and slowed for Cheryl.
Their skin made thwapping noises. Louder, harder.
Closer.

Her pussy tightened and spasmed
around his cock. She shuddered against his body, her orgasm
rattling her to the core.

Pete pulled out inch by
excruciating inch. Still holding her hand, he stroked himself. Face
tensed, brows pinched together, he squeezed her hand tighter. A hot
spurt erupted across her stomach, across her bra. Some of it
sprayed on her chin. He sighed, relaxing back into her embrace,
pressing his semen between them.

Another kiss, this time lazier,
half-hearted with no tongue. Pete flopped over on his side, opening
his arms, welcoming her to sleep.

She laid side by side with him,
warm fluids from both of them coating her body. Settling into his
arms, something crinkled underneath her, near her
breast.

Cheryl slipped two fingers into her
bra, and pulled out the hundred dollar bill Pete had tipped her.
Chuckling from exhaustion, she flicked the money away and closed
her eyes.

THE GIRL
BEHIND THE COUNTER

Jason had gone to the Quickie Mart
gas station every Thursday through Saturday night on his way to the
job at the cinema. It was cheaper to buy a sandwich and soda at the
station than at work, even with the employee discount on
concessions. Then every night on his way home around three in the
morning he'd drive back and stop again for some late night
munchies.

Only rarely did the redhead chick
get a night off. Jason at first was nice to her, always in a hurry
to get to work. After a few months of that job, he learned he could
afford to be a few minutes late. So he'd be nice and chat with the
girl for awhile, since it seemed like she was often bored and
lonely at the gas station. She had a nice handful sized rack,
pretty skin, and an ass to die for. Her name tag announced her as
Miranda, he noticed one day while taking a quick glance at her
perky breasts.

"So," he said,
"Miranda."

"Yes?" She checked out his box of
candy and soda and tapped her nails while he slid his
card.

"Hi."

"Hey you." Her smile was to die
for. He wondered what her smile would look like in the low lights
of his bedroom when he got home from work. "You want
something?"

"No, I'm good. Just wanted to say
have a nice day."

"Have a good night." She smiled
again, this time forced and coldly professional.

Jason cursed himself out on the
way to work, nearly tail ended a woman, and ran through a red
light. He'd screwed that up, and couldn't have gotten any
worse.
What a dumb ass
, he kept thinking and telling himself over and over. Pretty
young girl all alone and being friendly to him. And he didn't have
the balls to ask her on a date?

He went through the motions at
work, taking movie tickets, checking out pretty girls with dates,
smiling at children. He made short work of the late night clean up
and punched out before his boss could ask him to stay late. She was
always on him to stay later, to help her clean up or something. He
didn't want to fulfill her fantasy of having him in the theater
after hours. Not like he wouldn't do her, but he was already pissed
at himself for screwing up with the cutie at the Quickie
Mart.

Back at the gas station, he picked
up a few groceries. Miranda stood behind the counter, looking bored
and tired. "Jason, buddy."

"Hey Miranda," he said. "How'd you
know my name?"

"I'm psychic, of course," Her smile
turned bright and cheerful, white teeth and pouty red lips. "I can
see it on my screen when you swipe your card. Going to your next
job?"

"Nope. Home for the night and I
intend to sleep in for a few days. Why are you here so
late?"

"No ride. Besides, I could use the
extra hours."

"I hear you. Hope your ride shows
up soon. Not exactly the kind of place I'd like to work at
night."

"Fuck's sake, no. But my ride
totally canceled on me at the last moment. The night auditor is
here, but is taking a nap since I'm stuck with him."

Jason slid his card through the
machine and hit credit. "Hey, I can give you a ride. If you
want."

"Really?"

"Unless you want to stay here with
the napping auditor?"

"I'll wake him up and get my
shit."

"I'm parked out front here." Jason
pointed to his Civic through the front window. "I'll wait
up."

Miranda thanked him profusely, her
smile getting bigger as she ran off to the back room. Jason packed
his groceries in the trunk and sat listening to the radio for what
seemed like forever. Snow fell, he adjusted the heat, turned the
wipers on, turned up the defroster. He wondered if maybe this was a
bad idea. And he kept reminding himself that he was just being a
nice guy to a lady who needed some help. This wasn't a date, wasn't
an invitation to sex. Just take her home.

And then go home and watch late
night movies all night while eating frozen pizza. Sounded like a
lovely night. Such a lovely night that he had been repeating every
night for the last few years. He entertained the possibility of
bringing Miranda back to his place, at least for a
moment.

As soon as she walked out of the
gas station with purse in hand, he threw that idea out the
window.

Jason spared a glance at her
profile—long red hair tied in the back, pale face in the sharp lime
security lights, small nose with a piercing that seemed to shine in
the dark. Miranda glanced up and down at him as she buckled her
seatbelt, and he turned his focus to reversing the car and driving.
No use admiring a pretty face while running over a garbage can.
Maybe he could sneak a kiss on the cheek before she told him good
night. He imagined the scene in his head a little to clearly—her
eyes up at his, small hands on his torso as she leaned forward to
accept the kiss...

He swerved to the right, an angry
bystander flipped him off on the sidewalk. "Sorry. Long day I
guess."

"Sorry to keep you up
late."

"I'm a night owl normally." He
leaned his elbow on the window and brooded. "Nope. Long work day,
maybe. I was distracted."

Miranda laughed, a sweet curly
laugh, deep and womanly, somewhat like a child giggling at a
secret. "Distracted by what? The guy in the Packers
shirt?"

Jason couldn't help but smile. He
raised a palm up and shrugged. "You know me. I'm a sucker for
anything Packers."

"Is that so? Well, you'll love my
apartment."

"Let me guess," Jason raised a
finger, "green wallpaper. Favre posters. Yellow carpet."

"So close. I prefer Doug Flutie as
an idol. But I do have a Favre poster."

"I like you already. Did I mention
that before?"

"You didn't." Miranda looked out
the window, and hummed to herself. Nothing was said for a few
minutes, Jason struggled to find more to say—he wasn't really much
of a football fan, but he appreciated a girl who knew
sports.
Why the hell didn't he ask her out
yet?

"You want to do something? Monday
and Tuesday is my weekend."

"Maybe I have a
boyfriend."

"I didn't say candle light dinner
with wine." He scratched his nose, heart sunk to the bottom of
stomach. Why were the pretty girls always taken? "I'd say a movie,
but I work at a theater. Spend enough time there as it
is."

She laughed again and slapped him
on the arm. Her laugh was beginning to sound like a siren
call—lovely and deadly, and something he needed to keep in
perspective before he had a pissed off boyfriend with a shotgun
chasing him down. "I'd say we could hang out at the gas station,
but I spend a lot of time there."

"So no movie and no slushies from
Quickie Mart. Gotcha. How about bowling?"

"I suck at anything with balls. I
like mini golf though."

"So you only watch sports? I took
you to be athletic."

"Track and swimming."

"Awesome. I used to do cross
country, you know, back in the day."

"I don't miss those
days."

"Who does? Hey, what street do I
turn down?"

Miranda pointed down a number of
streets. He drove in what seemed like circles and was close to lost
in the weird neighborhood full of houses that all looked the same.
Mostly split level and all of them with cheesy white fences out
front. Garden gnomes watched him drive by as if taunting
him.

"Right here," Miranda pointed. "The
house without the fence."

"This cape cod thing?
Gotcha."

He pulled in the driveway and put
the car in park. He unlocked the doors while she gathered her
purse.

"Thank you for the ride home," she
said. "My roommate apparently decided to have a wild night at the
clubs, even though I begged her to give me a ride home."

"Not a reliable friend?
Sorry."

"I love her too much to move out. I
just need regular rides."

"Doesn't everyone." Jason
coughed.
Why the fuck did he say
that?

Miranda slapped him on the thigh.
Her hand didn't leave his leg. "So you want to have
coffee?"

"Do I get to meet you
boyfriend?"

"I said
maybe
I have a boyfriend. So unless
one just materializes out of nowhere, you probably won't get to
meet him."

"I'm disappointed. So looking
forward to meeting the chap."

"I bet you were."

"I could use a cup of coffee. But I
need to bring my groceries inside so they don't spoil."

"My fridge is yours. Come on." She
winked while unbuckling her seat belt. Jason tried to keep his
emotions in check. It was just an honest coffee, and she was a
stranger. No need to think it was more. It probably
wasn't.

She had lied about the carpets,
they were more of a faded beige than yellow. The wallpaper was a
puce green, like somebody from the seventies had thrown up on the
walls. He wondered if the Favre poster was in her bedroom, and if
he'd get a chance to see it.

Miranda put on a pot of coffee
while Jason pretended to read the front page of the newspaper. She
was a hottie—cute tight rear end, nice curves all around, a sexy
knockout smile—and those eyes killed him when she turned around
from the kitchen sink. "I'll put on something more comfortable.
Help yourself to the coffee mugs."

She opened the far cabinet where
the mugs were on her way past. He thanked her, and couldn't help
but notice how she swayed her hips when she walked. Jason thought
he'd play this smooth, maybe get a good night kiss on the way out
the door, and perhaps get a date lined up. That would make him the
happiest man on the planet.

He pulled out a U of M mug and
poured coffee for himself, and got a mug with a Dilbert cartoon out
for her. He found creamer in the fridge. Miranda came back wearing
tiny flannel shorts and a pink tank top.

He handed her the U of M cup. "Aw,
thanks. How did you guess I liked it black?"

"Lucky guess I suppose." He poured
coffee in to the Dilbert cup. "I like your choice of mugs. Did you
go to the U of M?"

"Awhile back. Didn't finish. You
know. School wasn't right for me at the time."

"That's too bad. Ever thought of
going back?"

She gulped coffee and winced at how
hot it was. "Now and then. No clue what I'd do though. I suppose I
missed out on the college experience."