Lem - 8. Flamingo

"You look like you've seen a ghost." Mattie holds the door open for me.

I walk in, and he closes the door behind me. "Why do you say that?"

"Your eyes are dark, like you didn't sleep much." He scratches the side of his head.

"Just been a really freakin' weird weekend."

"What's wrong?"

"Dude, nothing." I hesitate. "What you wanna do tonight?" Like I really have to ask.

"I had Ronnie rent some horror movies, if you're up for it. We got the first Saw film."

I'm so tired I'll probably fall asleep in the middle of the movie.

Mattie leads us downstairs. Their house always stinks of potpourri; his mom has a little burner for it in the kitchen. The damned smell gets into everything, and most of the time I go home smelling like a flower. Ronnie's basement is different. It's not normal basement smell, but more like clean hotel linens and fabric softener. Before Mattie used to wear deodorant and cologne, he smelled like a mixture of both. Funny the things a mind remembers, sometimes.

He flips on the TV and puts the movie in, setting it to play. I'm not too into the Saw movies, what, with the way the people are being tortured and everything--I guess I've never had the stomach for that kind of thing. Mattie can't peel his eyes off the screen. He'll probably spend most of the movie with his hand over his mouth, naming off random gods with each new scare that comes 'round the bend.

I'm laying on my side on the futon. It's too comfortable for me not to just doze in and out, and I'd be asleep right now if Mattie wasn't jumping every single time the music changed.

After what seems like a few short minutes, I open my eyes. The DVD's on the menu, just repeating itself over and over; I guess I slept through most of it.

Mattie's laying on top of me, draped over my side at the waist holding onto my arm. He's dreamin' about something, cuz' he jerks and mumbles in his sleep, burying his head into my side.

Not too soon after, I find myself drifting off again.

* * *

Backdraft was originally owned by DB&L Livestock Contractors of Greely, Colorado. A few weeks after he was born, a feedlot in Greely was temporarily shut down under a bunk Mad Cow scare. Livestock contractors in the area moved most of their animals to other locations and most of them.

The move and medical expenses bankrupted DB&L, so their animals were sold at auction to pay off their debtors. A small steer, only known as XNR432J, was sold to Richard and Grace W. Kelly, who only before had dabbled with the idea of contracting animals. The business never brought them much in the ways of profit, until, by a stroke of luck, they were asked to donate a few steers for the use of steer wrestling and riding events at an amateur rodeo event in Jefferson County, Colorado.

In the steer riding event, 681 had an especially mean temper and all the spirit of his grown-up counterparts. Richard knew there was something special about the animal, and gave contracting another go. Backdraft was born.

* * *

"Hey man…"

"Um, hi. Hold on." Jeff clicks the line over, and goes back to a call I must have interrupted.

I walk around my room, keeping the cordless snuggled up to my ear. It'd be a big risk if Jason or anyone decides to pick up the other line. I take a deep breath and just convince myself it's fine.

"Lem?"

"Yeah, hello? Hi. Jeff?"

"Calm down, Susan. I can hear you."

I sigh. "So, yeah. Hey, what's up?"

"Um, not anythin' special." He sounds cautious,and bothered.

"Look, the other night…"

"Don't worry 'bout it. It was my fault."

"No, I freaked out. I wanted to apologize, you know, for actin' like such a chicken-shit."

"Jesus, Lem. You don't have to say sorry for anything."

"No, I wanna make it up to you." God, I sound like a chick from one of Momma's flowery romance movies.

He hesitates. "I'll be there in ten minutes."

"Jeff?"

It's already too late; he hung up. I look out the window, and the sun's already starting to go down. I stayed with Mattie last night, and I don't know if I'd be lucky enough to stay out again tonight.

Ten minutes. Shit.

I could sneak out. But someone would notice me gone. I'd be in deep shit, then. I don't wanna get hooked up in Jason's bad reputation and lose my freedom.

I run down the steps and find Momma in the kitchen emptying the dishwasher.

"Um, Momma?" I walk up behind her.

She stacks the plates in the cupboard. "Mmm hmmm?"

"I was wonderin' if it'd be okay if I could go over to Jeff's and hang out?"

"Didn't you stay over at Mattie's last night?"

I knew this would happen. "Yeah."

"What're you two going to do?"

"Well, he said he was thinkin' bout going bowlin'."

"You're not gonna be drinkin', are you?" She looks right at me.

"Mom, you know I don't drink."

"I know." She goes for some glasses, and stops to think for a second. "I guess you can this once. Are you staying out late?"

"I was thinkin' I could stay over there since we'd be leaving the alley late. That way I wouldn't wake you up coming in."

"Okay. But if someone starts drinkin, you don't get into a car with 'em. Call me, I don't care what time it is. I'll come get you."

"Okay, Momma."

"Be back in time for chores tomorrow."

"I will. Love you!" I turn around, and run up the steps to get ready. Maybe I should take a shower, but I've only got five minutes.

I run to the bathroom and strip, flipping the faucet to get the shower running. I jump in, shampoo my hair, scrub my face, and give everything a quick once-over.

I turn off the water and realize I forgot to grab my towel from my room. Shit. I check under the counters, but the Momma hasn't cleaned the towels yet. I crack the door, and look both ways.

Clear.

I streak to my room, covering my crotch in case Chase decides to come out of her room. I make it without being seen, dry myself off, and put on some clean jeans. I decide not to wear any underwear, thinking something might just happen. Soon as the thought hits my brain, I start getting stiff.

I throw on the rest of my clothes. Maybe not wearing underwear was a bad idea, because I'm rubbing against the zipper.

Before I can even think about throwing on some boxers, I hear honking out front. It's Jeff.

Right on time. I head downstairs, get a light coat out of the closet, and make a bee-line for his truck. He leans over and pulls the door open for me with a nod. I get into the cab and nod back as he puts it in gear.

"So, what's the plan?" I scratch the side of my leg.

"I don't know. I thought maybe we'd go somewhere and talk 'bout some things."

"You bring smoke?"

He looks over at me, then back to the road.

"I mean, I could do it if I can stay with you tonight." I sound desperate.

"Don't see why not. Mom's in Billings for one of her church things."

"We hangin' out at your place, then?"

"Too cold to be out in the stick tonight. Where else we'd go?"

"Won't your mom get pissed if we're smokin' at your place?"

"Probably. I get my stuff from my neighbor. He don't care none, so we'll just smoke with him."

We turn onto the highway, and take it a little past the Safeway, eventually turning onto the street leading into the mobile home park. It's run down; most of the trailers here are showin' their age. The ones you can see from the road, the siding's starting to fall off.

Jeff takes the first turn to the right. It's the first time I've seen where he lives.

We pass a few homes, and pull up to something right out of the nineteen-seventies. The trailer is tan, with a big brown stripe all the way around it. The molding around the bottom of the house is broken in a few places, and there's a stake in the lawn connected to a chain that disappears into one of the holes.

Jeff parks, leads me through the front gate.

There are a few pink flamingos in the yard, and I find myself wondering why I'm not at all surprised. There are three or four of them off near the fence; one's on it's side, body chewed up, and another one had it's little plastic head decapitated--the neck is a gnawed stump.

The culprit, a black German Shepherd, comes out from under the house wagging his tail. He barks at me and sits next to Jeff as he tries to find the keys to the front door.

"Stay here a sec. I need to get something right quick." He steps in, and turns on the porch light, leaving the door open a crack.

The dog stands up and looks me over. Once he figures I'm okay, he leans against my leg and licks my hand. I scratch his head and look around the neighborhood. This really is the other side of the tracks. Not that there's anything wrong with it, but it makes me realize how blessed I've been all my life.

Jeff walks out, points across the yard and snaps his fingers at the dog. "Go."

The dog walks back to the yard, looking over his shoulder at Jeff like he's sorry for something.

"Come on."

I follow Jeff to the trailer next door. The front stoop is dark, but you can see the flickering blue glow from a television set inside. Jeff knocks on the door and waits.

After a minute, the door just opens; nobody's there.

Jeff leans forward a little. "Hey, it's Jeff. Got a friend with me."

A guy inside coughs, and says, "he cool?"

"Yeah." Jeff pushes through the door.

There's a balding man sitting on the couch, who looks to be around his forties. He's in sweat pants and a tank top, with his feet kicked up on the table. The couch has a rip across the back, and there's a loaded gun rack above the couch.

Jeff sits next to him. "Wanted to see if you wanted to smoke up. Make a salad."

"I think I'd be down for that." He scratches himself.

I've never seen this guy before. In a town like this, you eventually run into everyone. He must be a rough-neck, an oil-field guy or something. Maybe he's railroad seing BNSF hubs in Conrad. I guess it's better not to ask, because I'm not too good around strangers.

He looks up at me. "Who're you?"

"I'm… I'm Lem." I hold my hand out, and he looks at it.

"The Taylor kid. Bronc rider, right?"

"Yeah. How--"

"Mahhh. I read the paper. There's only a hundred of ya' to keep track of 'round here."

Jeff goes to a cabinet under the television, and pulls out a large glass pipe. "Lem, he's Frank."

I tug at my hat. "Nice to meet you."

"Got some ice for my scotch in the fridge. Probably wanna change out the water and drop a few in there."

Jeff nods, and walks to the kitchen.

I just stand there, a little uncomfortable, and figure I should sit down so I don't look like such an idiot. Frank's just fixed on his TV.

Jeff walks back in with the pipe, and sits on his knees on one side of the coffee table. He dumps out a small bag of weed and starts picking through the seeds. "Bongs are easier to smoke. Shouldn't have as much trouble this time." He winks at me, and starts packing the shag in a little bowl-looking piece off to the front of the bong, using the butt-end of his lighter to pack it in. "Watch how I do this, Lem. You gotta put your thumb over the carb here. Then, you light up and breathe in. Once it takes, let off the carb a few times and breathe in the smoke." He leans over and lights it up.

The bong bubbles and fills with smoke--lots of it. Me moves his thumb and takes the whole chamber, holding his breath while he passes the pipe to Frank.

Frank takes a long rip off the pipe, and slides it over the table toward me.

The room smells to high heaven, just reeks of pot--sweet and sharp. Frank smiles at me; he's missing a few teeth. "Watch out for this shit, kid. It's that creeper weed."

"Creeper?"

"Yeah. Th' shit creeps up on you." He cackles at me.

I lean over and flick the lighter a few times. Finally the flint catches and makes a flame. I hold it up to the bowl, and inhale, filling the chamber full of smoke.

"That's enough." Jeff pushes my hand away from the bowl. "Breathe it in."

Cool, smoky air flows into my lungs and tickles my throat. I might throw up if I'm not careful, and God all mighty I need to cough.

I just hold it in.

Hold it in.

Breathe out.

* * *

Jeff and I sit on the couch at his place. We've got the TV set on, and we're watching a movie on one of the local stations. I don't know what it is, but I don't particularly care.

I'm getting that rolling numb feeling going through my body, shifting from one place to another. I didn't feel it a minute ago, but I feel it now. "You know what? I… I'd…"

Fuck. Lost my thought.

Jeff smiles. His eyes are squinty and red. "You know, I was thinkin' the same thing."

I cock my head to the side. "R… really?" He must be shittin' with me. I sit there for a minute and watch the colors on the TV set bleed together. "You know, I… I could be a girl for you."

Why the fuck did that just come out of my mouth?

Jeff throws his head back and laughs. "Fuck, kid! You gonna go get a sex change operation or something?" He nudges me in the side. "Then you'd really be called Susan."

I feel my cheeks smoldering. I slump down in my seat, a little pissed, and cross my arms. "I didn't mean it." How do you say what's on your mind when feelings don't make sense anyway?

"Bet you'd look good in a pair of pink boots." He laughs again until he's almost crying.

"Dude, fuck you."

He leans in and cuddles with my neck. "Suuuusannnn!"

I lean back and punch him in the arm. "You're a… a… a fuckin' fuck!"

He howls with laughter.

"Maybe I should'a stayed at home."

"Just settle down."

"Why the fuck should I?"

Before I know it, he pulls me over for a kiss; that shuts me up right quick. I'm not so sure about this, this thing, right now.

The numbness swells like an ocean wave, like it wants to move from my tummy to my chest. I feel it in my neck.

My chest tingles because he's rubbing it. "You're not gonna freak out on me again, are you?"

I shake my head. "Dude, nothin's ever gone through my ass the wrong way before. Kinda messed with my head."

He unbuttons my pants and yanks them right off so I'm in nothing but my shirt and hat, and I am sticking straight up.

I reach over the side of the couch, grab his crotch, and start rubbing it. He licks his finger and starts rubbing it over my hole. "You like how this feels?"

I nod and spread my legs open a little more. "Uhnn-huh." I could crawl up the walls right now, just… God! He pushes on it a little bit harder, making me moan.

I can't contain myself. I get the button on his pants undone and stick my hand right down his the front of his underwear. My fingertips run through his bush, meeting with his dick. He's hard, too. I feel it pressing against the back of my hand.

I grab him and feel it all the way up; it's bigger than I thought it'd be. I squeeze him. "Stand up," I whisper.

He gets up, but keeps his finger right in the middle of the battle. I pull his pants down, and look him over. I start shaking, getting goosebumps as my face gets closer to his crotch. I can smell his balls, his aroma--sweaty and strong, just a hint of piss. I kiss his cock and lick from balls to tip. His hair tickles my tongue. I suck on one of his balls, like he did to me.

I think I'm enjoying myself a bit too much.

"Hey," he pushes me back a bit. "Easy there." He kneels down in front of me, sticks me in his mouth and sucks me off a few times. He sucks on my balls for a little while, then moves his tongue to… he… he starts licking the part of my ass crack behind my nuts, moving his tongue lower…

Lower…

Lower…

"Uhh, Jeff, I-- fucking Christ. Hhnnnnn." I gasp. I've never felt anything burn inside my soul like this: it's a fire; a wild animal. I'm moaning so loud I can't even hear my own fucking thoughts. He's got his tongue in my ass, licking it up one side and down the other. Then he jams his tongue in, and wiggles it around like he wants to get the whole damn thing inside.

I start workin' my pole. I'm gonna explode, and I wanna cum something fierce.

He grabs my wrist and yanks my hand down to my side, holding it there. Looking up at me from between my legs, he says, "what's your fuckin' hurry?" He licks my sack and gets back to business. This time, he just starts lashing around in me, like, total tongue-fucking. I've got my legs over his shoulders, rocking my hips, and I'm grinding my ass into his face as much as he'll take it.

I want to grab myself. It feels too good not to. "FUCK, I wanna cum!"

He stops and gives me an evil grin, pulling me forward by the legs. He starts making out with my neck, running his dick through my crack.

He kisses me on the lips, but I don't know if I can let him make out with me when he's just been sucking on my ass parts. I…

Somehow, he gets me to make out with him--lock lips, rock hips. Jeff sticks his middle finger in me, and suddenly I'm in heaven; it feels so good. He keeps kissing me, sucking on my tongue. I'm too gone to care.

"Don't move." He stands up, kicks his pants off, and walks down the hallway. He comes back with a bottle of clear liquid, squeezing some onto his fingers. He starts rubbing me again, sticking two fingers in this time. I pull my cheeks open as wide as I can, just to let him in, to press on my insides.

I cry out in pleasure. He's twisting his fingers around, rubbing toward my spine so I feel it in my back. There are sensations running up to my shoulders, causing my body to shiver. "Please… please. I wanna… let me cum." I'm almost crying.

"I know." He pushes up on my knot and whispers in my ear. "I know. You wanna be my girl? You wanna please me?"

"Yes!" I gasp.

"You gonna take it all?" He pushes on the button again, a thick drop of clear fluid oozing out of the tip. His fingers feel so warm inside me. He pushes his fingers in further. "You want it?"

I grit my teeth, squint my eyes and hiss, "Yessss-ss."

He pulls his fingers out and puts more of the clear fluid in his hand, rubbing it over his cock. Whatever it is, it's smooth and slippery. He presses his dick against my asshole, rubbing the head around. "Imm'a go slow, so it doesn't hurt so much goin' in."

He's gonna what?

He starts pushin' it in. When he gets a little past the head, he stops. It hurts a little bit--feels like he's stretching things out a bit.

I can take this.

He pushes in a little more. Slowly. Little by little. After another little bit goes in, it suddenly hurts like hell.

"Fuck! Stop!" I breathe hard. I don't know how much more I can take.

"Relax it a little. Don't squeeze."

I try, but I feel like I'm gonna crap myself. This feels strange and painful. He pulls out a little, to where it doesn't hurt much, and starts in again. He gets in a little further before a blue-hot pain rips through my hips.

"Ahh!"

He pulls out a little, and pushes in more.

It feels like he's tearing me from the inside out. It aches so bad, but with the swirls in my head, it's starting to feel right. Maybe I am a little bitch--his girl, a virgin fuck. A little… further. I scrunch my face, grit down and try to let him in.

He grabs a clod of hair on the back of my head, pulls me forward and kisses me again. His face is pressed so hard against mine it's almost painful.

His body is against my butt, my hole, jolting and squeezing, is getting used to this thing inside me. He whispers in my ear. "You wanna cum?"

I feel different now. I've got my legs wrapped around him, and he's connected to me--inside me. Something comes out of my mouth that I never expected to hear myself say: "fuck m-me!"

He starts pumping his hips slowly, dragging my nerves in and out with him. I feel full with him in there, so full I could probably drop my load on my own without using hands-just shoot all over

He rams me, in and out, over and over. My head is in spins. He's going at me, hard. Slapping against my cheeks. I want him to go in further--so much fucking deeper!

He grunts and squeezes the sides of my thighs. "Yeah," he whispers.

I'm taking him like Hope probably did, and I feel like I'm all that matters to him right now. I know this is what I wanted, but I can't help but wonder if he really loves me. His face starts changing; a vein in his neck sticks out. He arches his back, looks up at the sky like it's about to rain, and pumps his hips. "Gahhhhhhhhhh--"

He starts jerkin' me fast and hard. His grunting gets louder, and all I can do is plead and beg for mercy. "Make me fuckin' cum. Do it! Fuckin-- Nnnnng! Nnnnnnn! MMMMMM." I release in three quick throbs. I shoot so hard I hit my own face, getting it all over my chest.

He throws his head back again. "Hahhhhhhh!" He thrusts forward and stops, a blank look on his face like he's somewhere else. I can feel him pulsing inside me, filling me with his warmth. Real quick, he pulls out and slams in again, breathing funny. Sweat runs down his face. He rams me one more time, and leans across my body, still in me, breathing hard.

Jeff licks cum off my face and kisses me; I taste myself on his breath. He goes soft and falls out of me. Sitting on the couch, he grabs a pack of cigarettes off the table next to the couch and lights up, giving me a sideways glance like it was no big deal.

All I can do is try to catch my breath. It still feels like he's inside me a little, and I'm still hard. I feel some of him dribble out of me, roll down my skin and land on my ankle.

He takes another drag and looks away. "Go clean yourself off."

* * *

We're on his bed. I'm laying with my face in his comforter, shoulders down, and ass in the air. I'm propped up on my knees, and my head keeps hitting the headboard. He's got three fingers in me, pulling down on my knot. He's got his head between my legs and he's sucking me off.

I know I'm close, and I'm gonna cum any second now.

He told me to keep my mouth shut--don't say anything, no matter what. He just keeps pushing his fingers in and out.

I bite the blanket and unload in his mouth.

He just keeps going--keeps sucking.

* * *

He's laying on his back, inside me again. This time I'm sitting on his hips, scooting back and forth. I'm facing away from his face, with my back to him, and this time I'm doing the work. It feels too good to stop, but I'm almost overloaded.

I want him to fill me up again; I want him to keep going.

* * *

I'm laying on my back with my knees over his shoulders. Jeff's in deep, but all I see is his torso bobbing up and down, in and out of my view. He's got some chest hair right between his pecks.

His head, his silhouette, bobbing up and down.

There's light startin' to peek through the window, and a songbird outside sings. Something so beautiful in a place like this seems strange and filthy.

He's been going for half an hour this time. I feel raw, like a bundle of nerves. I'm not even hard anymore, he's just doing what he needs to finish himself a little more pleasure.

Somewhere along the way this got to be too much. I'm liking this, and I know I shouldn't.

I stare at the posters on the walls. It's too dark to see most of em, but there's one next to the door. The poster is Lane Frost riding a bull named Taking Care of Business, snapped just seconds before the animal killed him.

I wonder what it was like for him, in his last moments, and what it felt like when he died. He was in over his head, and I feel the same way: in over my head. It's getting complicated, and this is not at all what I expected it to be.

He finishes.

This time it's quiet, like it wasn't anything good for him. He pulls out, wipes himself off with an old tee shirt, and lays down. I let my legs down and squeeze my cheeks together. My butt aches, and probably will for a while.

Jeff has had his way with me six times tonight. It was good for me--for a while, I mean.

I know I could do this, be kin to his heart. We could be like this.

Jeff stares through me, but I try to smile at him. A kiss would tell me this is real and seal the deal. Instead, he rolls over, back to me, and falls asleep.