photo by Sheri Dixon

Saturday, December 14, 2013

A Little Between-Holiday-Shopping Reading

Well, the first one was so much fun, I've already finished the 2nd one...and will start #3 tomorrow. Don't worry- they won't go on forever, just for six installments.

Please enjoy the beginning of "Unhealthy Obsession"- Book Two of the series "Wyrd Justice- Weekends in Dystopia".

Their laughter wafted through the smoke-filled room, causing her to involuntarily shudder. Anytime these guys laughed it meant that they were talking about the suffering of someone or something innocent.

They made her skin crawl, but she put on her hardened-barmaid face and approached the table in the corner. “You boys need another round?” she asked with a tired smile, putting her hand on JR’s shoulder with familiarity- hoping her revulsion didn’t show.

“Yeah, yeah- in a second, babe- first you gotta hear this! This is the funniest shit I’ve ever heard- tell her, Dickie! Tell her just like you told us!”

Sighing silently and mentally rolling her eyeballs, Fate turned just a bit to face Dickie and give the appearance of giving a damn.

Dickie puffed all up to his full 5’6” at being the center of attention for once and he squinted as he tried mightily to remember exactly how he had told it so it would come out just as perfectly this time as well. Sweat beaded on his forehead under his unkempt hair hidden under an ancient feed store cap that matched his overalls and torn dirty work shirt.

He smelt rather strongly of perspiration and beef jerky, cheap cigarettes and gallons of beer.

Finally, he opened his eyes and tried to focus roughly in the area of her straight perfect nose. Or maybe her lips; full and soft, yet free of lipstick. Possibly her cheekbones, high and elegant.

But definitely not her breasts. The one man who had stared too boldy and overlong there had encountered first her backhand across his face and then an unfortunate and sudden injury to his manly bits, dropping to the floor as though kicked by a bull, even though she hadn’t moved anything but her hand.

Fate had immediately helped him up and mumbled, “Sorry- didn’t mean to hit you that hard”, but after that all the guys were very careful to stare anywhere but…there.

There were plenty of other nice parts to stare at. Her hair always managed to stay not quite contained up in the admittedly haphazard bun she wore in a hat-tip to the laughable “health code” not even enforced in a corner tavern that served food. Frothy tendrils in hues of precious metals softened her normally guarded expression.

She wore a single coat of mascara on her long lashes; a protective jet black barricade for her brown eyes flecked with green to nestle behind, but that was her only makeup. Her hands were strong and her nails short and clean; neither buffed nor polished.
Her stereotypical ‘barmaid’ outfit seemed designed for her body alone- the low-cut white cotton peasant blouse perfectly displaying cleavage that boys’ fantasies start with, short and tight leather skirt accentuating her muscular and totally feminine buttocks, and the hated ridiculous fishnet stockings ensnared her impossibly long legs; impossible since she was barely over 5 feet tall all told.

She had needed the money badly, so she’d taken the job and the uniform, but had drawn the line firmly at footwear. There was no way she was going to wear 4 inch “knock me down/fuck me” heels on a job where she’d be on her feet for ten hours at a stretch. No way.

Eddie had glared at her. Most women backed down at ‘the glare’, but Fate had returned it unwaveringly, and he’d acquiesced. Her first day at work he had to acknowledge that far from detracting from the desired look, for some reason the sensible soft leather ballerina flats she had chosen to wear only made her look even more sexy.

And that, of course, was what he was looking for. Because he expected his girls to be ‘full service with a smile’.

“DICKIE! Jesus! We don’t have all night!” JR’s caustic voice jolted Dickie back from his ‘looking everywhere but Miss Fate’s boobies’ trance.

He cleared his throat, made a muffled gargling noise and spit onto the floor; a pre-show warm-up.

“Well, Miss Fate- I was just tellin’ the boys here about the damnedest thing. I went out to do chores this morning for my momma and found her two ducks stone cold dead in the water trough. In the water!”

There was renewed chuckling as his audience imagined the scene.

“Yes, ma’am- those ducks had flat drowned! Now how the Sam Hell does a duck drown?”

Dickie looked puzzled and not at all amused- he actually seemed more disturbed by the incident than humored by it, but his comrades were unanimously cackling and hooting thinking about such a ridiculous thing- drowning ducks.

Fate closed her eyes and the images came to her.

Two half-grown ducks in a smallish water trough- not much bigger than a bucket, really. The water was not deep- they could’ve stood up in it easily. One tried to hop out and slipped, briefly going head-under upside-down.

The hapless duckling panicked, causing the other one to instantly be filled with fear as well.

Her mind’s eye watched in hopeless horror as the ducklings pushed each other under the surface over and over again as they tried to clamor out of the water…and then they were still.

“That is weird, Dickie, but you know fear is a powerful force- I hope your mom isn’t too upset losing her ducklings”.

Dickie looked at Fate gratefully and said, “Well, she’s pretty broke up about it, but I’m fixin’ to get her some new ones next time I get a chance”.

And Fate knew she’d be taking Dickie home with her at the end of her shift.

The others were still laughing and JR snorted and sneered, “What the hell? What do you expect of stupid ducks? Fucking bird-brains, right? Nothing to get all ‘quacked up’ about!” and everyone but Dickie and Fate grinned appreciatively at his masterful humor.

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