When Darkness Loves Us

The humid air hit him like a steam bath. He stood at the door, surveying the place. A typical Friday night. It was packed. Smoke hung in the air like a thundercloud, stinging his eyes. The jukebox was too loud; there were too many people. Not an empty seat, as far as he could see.

He shouldered his way to the bar and got a beer, then turned, one elbow on the bar and one boot hiked up on the rail, looking for somebody he’d want to drink with. He knew most everybody there.

The old folks had the corner booth. They always took that booth; everybody said Mike served them for free so they’d hang around to stop trouble before it started. They did, too. Any loud swearing or rumblings, and the old gents were right there, either cooling it down or escorting the offenders out. Four old men. They played cards.

The rest of the place was filled with young people, with an occasional visitor or old lady boozing it up at the bar. Come closing time, it got real friendly inside Mike’s, and most everybody got laid on a Friday night, trading partners around from week to week.

“Hey, Les!” Leslie turned and saw Ned, his face flushed, perspiration running down his cheeks. “They let you out, eh? Let me buy you a beer.”

Little asshole. Squealer. “Yeah, okay.”

With a beer in each hand, Leslie followed Ned to his table in the back, pleased to see that there were already three girls sitting there, giggling drunkenly. His chances were looking better all the time.

Ned tried to introduce them, but he forgot their names, all except for Priscilla. They’d been shacking up together. Leslie grinned. Priscilla was the target. He’d get that little asshole—he’d take his woman for the night. She was nice, too, a little old, maybe, but a nice bod.

Priscilla grinned up at him, a little drunk, but not too bad. “Hey, Les. Good to see ya. Gee, they didn’t keep you long, eh?”

“Nah. They ain’t really got nothin’ on me.”

“Sheee-it,” Ned said. “That’s not what I heard.”

“Yeah?” Les had to keep cool. “Just what did you hear?”

“Be cool, guys. It ain’t no big deal. Leslie. Play some Stones on the jukebox.”

“Okay. Come pick ’em out.”

As they stood up together, the flush in Ned’s face got deeper. The other two girls watched silently, with quick glances at each other.

Leslie followed Priscilla’s skintight purple jeans as they wiggled themselves between tables and chairs to the jukebox in the front corner. She stopped, drumming her fingers on the glass as she looked at the selections. Leslie stood just behind her, close enough to feel her body heat, but not close enough to touch. They both felt the heat.

“A-thirteen,” she said.

He reached around her, brushing the side of her breast with his forearm as he punched the buttons. He withdrew his arm slowly.

“B-six.”

Again his arm snaked around her, his lips so close to the little hairs on the nape of her neck that they moved with each breath. This time the pressure on her breast was more pronounced. She seemed to move into it.

“C-eight.”

His arm went wide to the right, so he pushed up against her as he moved closer to reach. He felt her giggle. It turned him on.

“Hey,” he whispered into her ear. “Let’s split.”

She turned around in one fluid motion, so their bodies, and their faces, were almost touching. Not quite.

“What about Ned?”

“What about Ned?”

“I can’t just leave him.”

“I can.”

She giggled again, her cute little nose wrinkling up. She had a twinkle in her eye. A real tease. “C’mon. Get your purse.”

“Okay. Be right back.” She touched his cheek with her finger, then slid out from between him and the music box. He watched her ass sashay all the way across the room. She picked up her purse and waved a dainty good-night to Ned and the girls, then wiggled her way back to him. Leslie saw Ned stand up, his face red with fury. Priscilla didn’t turn back. He put his hand on the small of her back and guided her to the door. He took one quick glance back to Ned, still glaring, and gave him the finger. Then he pushed the door open, into the cooler air, took a deep breath and realized he had a real handful of woman. It felt great.

Her hands were inside his pants before he got the truck in gear. He drove fast, trying to concentrate on his driving, out of town, to the edge of the woods by the Blackman pond. He pulled up short, cut the lights, and pulled on the parking brake. He turned to her, gave her a sloppy kiss, all tongue, gave her crotch a squeeze, and opened the door. “C’mon.”

She followed him out, giggling as usual, as he pulled a greasy, stained blanket from the back of his truck. Stumbling, they stepped over the fallen fence and walked through the trees until he found a place littered with beer bottles and other trash. He kicked aside a few things and laid the blanket down, then grabbed Priscilla and lowered her onto the blanket.