deputybodecker

[deputybodecker]

The truth for the pair of us is that one of us can’t live without the other anymore, we intertwined like kudzu vines and seperatin’ us would mean certain death— I know for me at least. The red string that fate tied us together with wrapped around our necks and keeps draggin’ us back to each other. It’ll be like this until we die, old and ornery, cursin’ and swipin’ at each other with our canes.

On some level, I know what I did to you that night wasn’t right. I know that God will deal with me when he sees fit. I just hope that when he does decide to pass my eternal judgement, he sees my whole world in the green of your eyes and he understands my motivation. I hope he understands that I saw you and the devil himself whispered and told me I had the right to possess you, to keep you like hidden treasure, locked away and sacred. I hope God heard every time your waverin’ voice called me Daddy and begged me to fill you, ‘cause then he’d get it.

I hope he remembers that I was made in his image,

and you were my Mary,

and we are monsters.

Your chest quakes, emotion makin’ you shaky as tears spill over your cheeks. I feel guilty, the venom we spit at each other only makin’ everything worse. You fling the wallet back at me and I swat it down before it can hit me in the face. You follow shortly after, frantic and angry as you swing. Pain radiates in my eye socket, your fist makin’ contact before I can catch your wrist. I keep ‘em held tight to my chest, your face fallin’ while you tell me how much you hate me. “I know, Doe.” Is the only thing I can manage to get out, the rest of the words I want to say lodged firmly in my throat. Eventually you sag into my chest, and I release you, my fingers holdin’ your hips before another burst of energy and anger sends your fists flyin’ against me again. I don’t fight fight back, I’ll take every beatin’ from you if it keeps you this close to me.

You pull at my fingers, make me feel the life growin’ in you that we made together, tell me it’s mine. “I know, Doe.” The phrase replays from my lips like a mantra moments before your hands start scramblin’ with my belt and pants. I’m already rock hard and leakin’, because when have I ever not been with you, and you bunch your skirt up enough to line us up and sink down. The familiar warmth of comin’ home, of bein inside you, nearly has me blowin’ a load right away. You struggle for something to hold onto, my face and my neck what you settle on. It’s the closest I’ve gotten in a long while to bein’ able to comfort you.

I feel when your fingers wind up my scalp and pull, a groan wrenched from me when you jerk my head back. The way you ride me is torture, not a second thought given to my pleasure as you take your own, an ironic twist of events. I’m okay with that, probably deserve it. Every ‘i hate you’ and every ‘i love you’ is followed with a soft “I know, Doe.” It’s all I can say and be honest about. You ride me with a vengeance, the soft squelch of your pussy ringin’ in my ears like a hymn singin’ my salvation.

My knowledge about takin’ is vast and has always outshone my knowledge about givin’. So when you tear yourself from me and land on your back on the soft ground, I can’t help but wonder what you took from me and if it added up to everything I’ve ever taken from you. I inhale a few steadyin’ breaths, my cock still out and rigid, now abandoned. You may be done, but I’m not. I reach forward and wrap my fingers around your ankle, pullin’ you toward me again before I can crawl up between your knees and sink home.

I don’t know how to say that losin’ you would mean losin’ myself, don’t know how to tell you that you leavin’ is the only time I’ve ever been scared of anything. so I rut into your hot cunt slow and deliberate, until your legs shake around me and your grab for the fabric of my tshirt. I spill inside you like I want a second child, deep and hard, breath stolen from my chest like you’ve stolen the beatin’ heart from my ribs. With small kisses on your swellin’ chest, up your pale and bruised neck, over your scuffed jaw, I lift my head up and meet your gaze.

“You can’t leave me. I don’t know how to live without you.”

New Season

How many times do I wake up to you usin' me, takin' your own pleasure and denyin' me my own? Perhaps I deserve it after questionin' your love and dedication. Delores is dead, doesn't matter how at this point, but the rift that it has created between us feels wide and ever growing. It scares me, I can't imagine my life without you, but sometimes you scare me more. As time slips by and days turn into weeks, winter finally releases its grasp on the Earth, and everythin' begins to thaw. As flowers bloom, so do I, just barely able to hide it with a new wardrobe.

You're the one to suggest we go shoppin', never leavin' my side as I select dresses and accessories that will help hide the bump. We have church to worry about, your presence there important for the upcomin' election. And I'm expected to be there as your wife-to-be, a symbol of your happy life and a cheerleader to the wives of the men you're already butterin' up.

And cheerleadin' I can do, the church crowded, and everyone eager to be out after the cold season. You're close, never far away, able to reach out and touch me if you wish. We both have a group of potential voters, my smile broad as I talk about you. The women love you regardless of their husband's voting intentions and everythin' I'm tellin' them only makes them more smitten. A few have a hint of jealously, but I don't care, they'll vote for you anyway.

The new position of power will give us so much. You mentioned the night before about takin' me up to Brewer Heights, lettin' me see some of the new houses they've built up there. You tell me they have a full livin' room, a dinin' room which leads into a large kitchen. The stairs lead to a second floor that boasts three bedroom, one of them with a master bath attached, and a shared one between the two remainin' rooms. As you put it, perfect for our little ones to share. There are more closets than we have stuff to put in them and a picket fenced backyard perfect for the kids to play or a dog to romp around.

I think of that as I tell them how important it is for you to ensure the safety of everyone, that you're so protective with me, that you will do the same for your beloved town. It's all mostly bullshit, but I give them a smile, and fall silent as they prattle on about somethin'. My thoughts are interrupted by one of the jealous wives, her statement catchin' me off guard.

"You're lucky Lee was there to help you when he did. Poor thing wanderin' around all confused and lost. He's a good man that will be an even better father." Her words make me stall, my smile slow to return. Does she know? Can she see my bump, despite my best effort to hide it? It still isn't anythin' that noticeable, perhaps some extra weight that I need to work off, that's all. But there's somethin' in the way she says it that has me excusin' myself and puttin' some space between me and those nosy cunts.

They grate on my nerves the way they carry on about their mundane lives, like servin' their husbands and poppin' out babies is the only thing worthwhile in life. The thought makes my stomach hurt. How long before I'm one of them, dronin' on about Betty Crocker recipes and the best detergent to get shit stains out of nappies? Do I even want that? Without you standin' over me, I take a moment to think, takin' refuge in the field that runs along the back of the church. Everythin' is startin' to turn green and eventually I lose myself, windin' through trees that are seedin' and ready to leaf.

I'm startled as a crow caws nearby, a hand comin' up to clutch the bark of a nearby tree. It's wide and I lean against it, takin' a breather. My heart is hammerin', somethin' I blame on bein' out of shape, but another crow makes me break into a sweat that has me panicked. Pushin' away from the tree, I turn, disoriented to what direction I came from. Everythin' looks the same and I'm wheelin' in a circle when I hear it.

'Where didya go, lil Doe?'

Pure terror grips me tight and I run away from the sound, heels gettin' dirty in the mud. Tears are wellin' up in my eyes and they dart down my cheeks as I run as hard as I can from a fear that I don't understand. The trees seem to thicken, or maybe I'm just imaginin' things, and I push my way through some low hanging branches. With a scream, I slam into somethin' hard, unknown hands graspin' at me as I begin to struggle. I fight back, swingin' blindly, and it isn't until a hand crack across my cheek that I stop. It's you, your face flushed as you lift me from the ground. I still feel some need to fight you, somethin' deep down that makes me tense at the contact, but your hold is tight, keepin' me close as you carry me from the woods.

You don't even take me back to the church, instead placin' me in the backseat of the cruiser and lockin' me securely inside. You get in the driver's seat and I meet your gaze in the rearview mirror. Your eyes are hard to read and I turn to tuck myself away from you, the vibrations of the car eventually lullin' me into a deep sleep. I don't even wake as you pull me from the back of the car, carryin' me inside and placin' me in our bed. You remove my shoes, then my dress, leavin' me in my slip. You let me sleep, the day turnin' into night before I finally stir.

We say very little over the next day, you leavin' the followin' mornin' for work with just a kiss on my forehead. It makes me angry, tears wellin' in my eyes as I clean up after us, a string of swears fallin' from my mouth as I drop a teacup. Pieces of it fly around the kitchen, the big chunks easy to clean up. Dumpin' everythin' in the trash bin, I pause at the sight of a piece I missed. It rests against the basement door and that's where I stand for over a minute, tryin' to remember why it's locked.

You said somethin' about the stairs bein' dangerous and how you kept it locked so I wouldn't go down there. I didn't think about it then, but it doesn't make sense to lock the damn door if you told me to stay away. Reachin' up into my hair, I pull out a bobby pin, lookin' back at the front door before liftin' up the pad lock. It's simple enough, nothin' fancy about the mechanisms, and like the locks I used to break when I was a kid for fun, this one is easy too. Pulling the lock free, I tuck it into my apron, slowly openin' the door.

A rush of cool air hits me, along with a stale smell. The steps are steep and I'm slow as I work my way down there. There isn't much to see, the only light comin' from the top of the basement stairs, but I'm still able to make out the mattress on the floor. It makes my stomach turn, head wipin' around to see that the windows are covered. My hands tremor and I turn quickly, practically sprintin' up the stairs. The door slams shut, the lock returned with shakin' hands, and I rush into the bedroom to put some space between me and what I seen down there.

Why would there be a mattress? Was it for me? Why can't I remember anythin'? As I pace the room, the still air starts to make me feel like I'm suffocatin' and I rush over to the nearest window to throw it open. I'm reminded of the bars, hands wrappin' around them as I stare silently. You didn't go into much detail on the windows either, just sayin' that livin' out here all alone comes with danger and the bars were meant to keep people out.

They're meant to keep you in.

The weight of the situation is heavy and I sit down, my head swimmin'. If what they say is true, you found me wanderin' around and took me in. Were these things already here or were they meant for me? I try to convince myself they aren't, but I know deep down inside that you took me and whatever else you wanted, and now I'm yours and pregnant.

How many days have I been here? I don't know. But I do know that it takes me another two to come up with a plan, and then another fourteen to set it in motion. Rebuildin' your trust is the hardest part, but eventually I get you to agree to let me spend the day with Sarah Lambert, the wife of one of your fellow deputies, and a handful of other wives. The final selections for our weddin' are drawin' to a close and that's how I get you to hand over a crisp fifty dollar bill, insistin' that the decorations were in Chillicothe and that you could pick me back up that afternoon after work. Bein' involved in the plannin' so far, you're hesitant. But I insist that you let me do this with my friends, that I promise I'll show you everythin' when we get home.

That's how I find myself sittin' in your cruiser, idlin' in front of the Lambert's one level brick home. You have me pulled close, kissin' at my jaw as you tell me to be careful, that you'll pick me up after you get off. I nod, givin' you a smile, and I feel your eyes on me the entire time I walk up to the front door. Sarah and the other women are excited about shoppin', all of us pilin' into her Cadillac and drivin' into Chillicothe for lunch. We eat at the diner, munchin' on fries and club sandwiches until we head for the nearest shop.

On the way, we pass the bus depot. It's small, nothin' like the Greyhounds that travel across the country, but it will be enough to get me to Cincinnati. There's a board with all the fare prices and a one-way trip would cost me about three dollars. That would leave me seventy-eight dollars, extra cash taken from your wallet each day leadin' up to now. You didn't seem to notice, or maybe you did and said nothin', perhaps thinkin' you spent it on lunch. Either way, it will give me a chance to leave with only the clothes on my back and the child I must protect.

Guilt makes bile rise in my throat, but I know I have to leave. At least for a little while, long enough to have my baby and make sure it's safe. So, I wait, minutes feelin' like an eternity, the moment to slip away finally presentin' itself at the dime store. They're all fawnin' over bolts of lace, not noticin' when I step away. The air is still slightly chilly when I step out onto the sidewalk and I wrap my coat around me tightly as I walk quickly to the bus depot. Chillicothe is always busy and today is no different, cars movin' up and down the main street and makin' me nervous that you're one of them.

I find a miniscule of relief when I get a ticket, nerves sparkin' to life again when I realize I have to wait fifteen minutes before the bus arrives. That means my absence will be noticed, if it hasn't already. My leg bounces with nerves as I watch the clock set up at the court house, the same one where we parked and you showed me off as your bride-to-be. It makes tears burn in my eyes and I grit my teeth, head turnin' away and not noticin' the cruiser that coasts by. It isn't you, you're back at the station doin' paperwork. The officer behind the wheel does see me, pullin' off to watch as I jump up from my chair and rush for the bus that has arrived. He radios in, tellin' the dispatcher to get Lee, and the bus is turnin' out of town by the time you get on to see what he wants.

There is a moment of relief the second my backside meets with the creaky bus seat. I have nothin' other than the cash in my pocket, but there's a sense of calm that I haven't felt in a while. I will have so much to pay for, for what I've done, for the sins that I have committed, but I know I'll be fine far away from Knockemstiff. The bus moves away from Chillicothe, pickin' up speed on an old asphalt road that will take us to the highway, and then to Cincinnati. It's so close, just within my grasp, and the chirp of a siren dashes it all away.

My stomach lurches and I almost yell out for the driver to keep goin', the other handful of passengers lookin' back to see why we're stoppin'. I don't need to look, I know why, and my gaze stays straight ahead as the bus pulls over and heavy footsteps move past me, the doors squeakin' open as the driver pulls the lever. Goosebumps erupt across my skin as a tall figure steps onto the bus, a hat perched perfectly upon his head.

It's you, our eyes meetin' from across the bus, and I feel like I'm drownin' as you begin to walk towards me.

@deputybodecker

[deputybodecker]

There’s a pack’a smokes I keep in the glovebox of the cruiser for nights when I get especially drunk on patrol and stare up at the stars. I take ‘em out now, needin’ some kind of metric for how much of a head start to give ya. Puff after puff of smoke rises into the air, your footsteps gettin’ farther away as the time passes. When I was a boy my daddy used to beat on my momma, after a bottle’a shine and one too many snarky comments. Next day he’d bring her flowers and tell her he was real sorry and it was like it never happened, until the next time he bruised her up real good.

“I’m comin’ for ya, baby!” I shout it into the trees, a sick laugh bubblin’ its way up my throat. Maybe I shoulda started beatin’ on you, maybe I was too soft. I squash the cigarette under my boot, throwin’ my hat and my uniform shirt in the passenger seat of the cruiser. I watched the direction you started in and stalk into the treeline after ya. If you look close enough, you can see where your feet have disturbed the earth, kickin’ up leaves and dirt in your wake. It’s easier than trackin’ deer, deer ain’t so clumsy.

Off in the distance I hear a scream and a grin pulls at my lips ‘cause I just know that somethin’ small has startled you. I zero in on the sound and trail you, the sound’a your frantic steps gettin’ closer as I do. I wonder where we got lost. Where you forgot that I loved you. Where you let go of the idea that I would burn down every tree, every buildin’, slit every throat in Knockemstiff to keep you. I wonder if Christmas wasn’t enough for ya. Or if there weren’t enough roses for Valentine’s Day. Next year I’ll fill the goddamn house with ‘em, pick all my fingers on every thorn to show you much I’d endure for ya.

“Lil’ Doe.” It’s a taunt, like the one I used to use on my sister when we played hide’n seek. Somewhere a crow shrieks and your soft gasp follows, just behind a tree not far from me. I round it quick and I’m met with somethin’ wide and hollow to the gut. It knocks the wind outta me with an oof, if I wasn’t furious that you’d swung on me, I’d be proud of the force you put behind it. You’re the only woman on the planet that ever made me think I might lose.The next time you swing I see it comin’, a sharp pain radiatin’ up my arm with the impact, debris flyin’ into my face where the branch crumbles in on itself.

My fingers close around the fabric of your top and I yank you toward me, your knee comin’ up into my groin. Nausea washes over me, my knees meetin’ the ground as you scramble. Somehow I manage to grab an ankle, tuggin’ until I have you close again. The pain in my arm and my groin has my neck searin’ hot with rage, my open palm weltin’ your face. It stuns you for the moment I need to get my fingers around your throat, squeezin’ as hard as I can, wantin’ to feel that familiar soft of your pliancy under me. I don’t even realize that my eyes are welled, your stuttered words unheard until I feel the splatter of my own tears hit the back of my hand.

I let go of your neck, stunned by my own emotional reaction. The tips of my fingers come to my face, confirmin’ the wetness trailin’ down my cheeks. The confusion only enrages me further and I reach down to grab two handfuls of your blouse, bringin’ you up and into my face. “Kill you?! You stupid bitch, you think after all I went through to get you, I wanna kill you?” The image flashes through my mind for a moment; me, holdin’ our babe, your closed casket bein’ lowered into the ground. I shove you back, out of my face, into the leaves and dirt where you catch yourself.

I ain’t never cried a day in my fuckin’ life, my daddy would beat the shit outta me for doin’ it now, but as I think about spendin’ the rest of my life without you, tears are barely restrained from flowin’ freely.

I plop down on my ass, leanin’ against the tree behind me as I try to catch my breath. “Where ya gonna go, huh?” You with some bitter answer about bein’ anywhere other than with me. I get it. I been a bastard, but the truth remains that the only one willin’ to provide for you and that child is me. “You gonna find another man to take care’a you and that bastard child you’re carryin’? Only woman I ever fuckin’ loved-” I scoff, swipin’ at the dirt on my slacks.

“Tell ya what,” I reach into my back pocket, pluckin’ out my wallet and throwin’ it across the space to you. “There’s about two hundred dollars and my business card in there. When you get done spendin’ the money, and you get arrested for stealin’ diapers from the fuckin’ five and dime like you got caught when I first met ya, you have them call me and I’ll come bail you out."

New Season

How many times do I wake up to you usin' me, takin' your own pleasure and denyin' me my own? Perhaps I deserve it after questionin' your love and dedication. Delores is dead, doesn't matter how at this point, but the rift that it has created between us feels wide and ever growing. It scares me, I can't imagine my life without you, but sometimes you scare me more. As time slips by and days turn into weeks, winter finally releases its grasp on the Earth, and everythin' begins to thaw. As flowers bloom, so do I, just barely able to hide it with a new wardrobe.

You're the one to suggest we go shoppin', never leavin' my side as I select dresses and accessories that will help hide the bump. We have church to worry about, your presence there important for the upcomin' election. And I'm expected to be there as your wife-to-be, a symbol of your happy life and a cheerleader to the wives of the men you're already butterin' up.

And cheerleadin' I can do, the church crowded, and everyone eager to be out after the cold season. You're close, never far away, able to reach out and touch me if you wish. We both have a group of potential voters, my smile broad as I talk about you. The women love you regardless of their husband's voting intentions and everythin' I'm tellin' them only makes them more smitten. A few have a hint of jealously, but I don't care, they'll vote for you anyway.

The new position of power will give us so much. You mentioned the night before about takin' me up to Brewer Heights, lettin' me see some of the new houses they've built up there. You tell me they have a full livin' room, a dinin' room which leads into a large kitchen. The stairs lead to a second floor that boasts three bedroom, one of them with a master bath attached, and a shared one between the two remainin' rooms. As you put it, perfect for our little ones to share. There are more closets than we have stuff to put in them and a picket fenced backyard perfect for the kids to play or a dog to romp around.

I think of that as I tell them how important it is for you to ensure the safety of everyone, that you're so protective with me, that you will do the same for your beloved town. It's all mostly bullshit, but I give them a smile, and fall silent as they prattle on about somethin'. My thoughts are interrupted by one of the jealous wives, her statement catchin' me off guard.

"You're lucky Lee was there to help you when he did. Poor thing wanderin' around all confused and lost. He's a good man that will be an even better father." Her words make me stall, my smile slow to return. Does she know? Can she see my bump, despite my best effort to hide it? It still isn't anythin' that noticeable, perhaps some extra weight that I need to work off, that's all. But there's somethin' in the way she says it that has me excusin' myself and puttin' some space between me and those nosy cunts.

They grate on my nerves the way they carry on about their mundane lives, like servin' their husbands and poppin' out babies is the only thing worthwhile in life. The thought makes my stomach hurt. How long before I'm one of them, dronin' on about Betty Crocker recipes and the best detergent to get shit stains out of nappies? Do I even want that? Without you standin' over me, I take a moment to think, takin' refuge in the field that runs along the back of the church. Everythin' is startin' to turn green and eventually I lose myself, windin' through trees that are seedin' and ready to leaf.

I'm startled as a crow caws nearby, a hand comin' up to clutch the bark of a nearby tree. It's wide and I lean against it, takin' a breather. My heart is hammerin', somethin' I blame on bein' out of shape, but another crow makes me break into a sweat that has me panicked. Pushin' away from the tree, I turn, disoriented to what direction I came from. Everythin' looks the same and I'm wheelin' in a circle when I hear it.

'Where didya go, lil Doe?'

Pure terror grips me tight and I run away from the sound, heels gettin' dirty in the mud. Tears are wellin' up in my eyes and they dart down my cheeks as I run as hard as I can from a fear that I don't understand. The trees seem to thicken, or maybe I'm just imaginin' things, and I push my way through some low hanging branches. With a scream, I slam into somethin' hard, unknown hands graspin' at me as I begin to struggle. I fight back, swingin' blindly, and it isn't until a hand crack across my cheek that I stop. It's you, your face flushed as you lift me from the ground. I still feel some need to fight you, somethin' deep down that makes me tense at the contact, but your hold is tight, keepin' me close as you carry me from the woods.

You don't even take me back to the church, instead placin' me in the backseat of the cruiser and lockin' me securely inside. You get in the driver's seat and I meet your gaze in the rearview mirror. Your eyes are hard to read and I turn to tuck myself away from you, the vibrations of the car eventually lullin' me into a deep sleep. I don't even wake as you pull me from the back of the car, carryin' me inside and placin' me in our bed. You remove my shoes, then my dress, leavin' me in my slip. You let me sleep, the day turnin' into night before I finally stir.

We say very little over the next day, you leavin' the followin' mornin' for work with just a kiss on my forehead. It makes me angry, tears wellin' in my eyes as I clean up after us, a string of swears fallin' from my mouth as I drop a teacup. Pieces of it fly around the kitchen, the big chunks easy to clean up. Dumpin' everythin' in the trash bin, I pause at the sight of a piece I missed. It rests against the basement door and that's where I stand for over a minute, tryin' to remember why it's locked.

You said somethin' about the stairs bein' dangerous and how you kept it locked so I wouldn't go down there. I didn't think about it then, but it doesn't make sense to lock the damn door if you told me to stay away. Reachin' up into my hair, I pull out a bobby pin, lookin' back at the front door before liftin' up the pad lock. It's simple enough, nothin' fancy about the mechanisms, and like the locks I used to break when I was a kid for fun, this one is easy too. Pulling the lock free, I tuck it into my apron, slowly openin' the door.

A rush of cool air hits me, along with a stale smell. The steps are steep and I'm slow as I work my way down there. There isn't much to see, the only light comin' from the top of the basement stairs, but I'm still able to make out the mattress on the floor. It makes my stomach turn, head wipin' around to see that the windows are covered. My hands tremor and I turn quickly, practically sprintin' up the stairs. The door slams shut, the lock returned with shakin' hands, and I rush into the bedroom to put some space between me and what I seen down there.

Why would there be a mattress? Was it for me? Why can't I remember anythin'? As I pace the room, the still air starts to make me feel like I'm suffocatin' and I rush over to the nearest window to throw it open. I'm reminded of the bars, hands wrappin' around them as I stare silently. You didn't go into much detail on the windows either, just sayin' that livin' out here all alone comes with danger and the bars were meant to keep people out.

They're meant to keep you in.

The weight of the situation is heavy and I sit down, my head swimmin'. If what they say is true, you found me wanderin' around and took me in. Were these things already here or were they meant for me? I try to convince myself they aren't, but I know deep down inside that you took me and whatever else you wanted, and now I'm yours and pregnant.

How many days have I been here? I don't know. But I do know that it takes me another two to come up with a plan, and then another fourteen to set it in motion. Rebuildin' your trust is the hardest part, but eventually I get you to agree to let me spend the day with Sarah Lambert, the wife of one of your fellow deputies, and a handful of other wives. The final selections for our weddin' are drawin' to a close and that's how I get you to hand over a crisp fifty dollar bill, insistin' that the decorations were in Chillicothe and that you could pick me back up that afternoon after work. Bein' involved in the plannin' so far, you're hesitant. But I insist that you let me do this with my friends, that I promise I'll show you everythin' when we get home.

That's how I find myself sittin' in your cruiser, idlin' in front of the Lambert's one level brick home. You have me pulled close, kissin' at my jaw as you tell me to be careful, that you'll pick me up after you get off. I nod, givin' you a smile, and I feel your eyes on me the entire time I walk up to the front door. Sarah and the other women are excited about shoppin', all of us pilin' into her Cadillac and drivin' into Chillicothe for lunch. We eat at the diner, munchin' on fries and club sandwiches until we head for the nearest shop.

On the way, we pass the bus depot. It's small, nothin' like the Greyhounds that travel across the country, but it will be enough to get me to Cincinnati. There's a board with all the fare prices and a one-way trip would cost me about three dollars. That would leave me seventy-eight dollars, extra cash taken from your wallet each day leadin' up to now. You didn't seem to notice, or maybe you did and said nothin', perhaps thinkin' you spent it on lunch. Either way, it will give me a chance to leave with only the clothes on my back and the child I must protect.

Guilt makes bile rise in my throat, but I know I have to leave. At least for a little while, long enough to have my baby and make sure it's safe. So, I wait, minutes feelin' like an eternity, the moment to slip away finally presentin' itself at the dime store. They're all fawnin' over bolts of lace, not noticin' when I step away. The air is still slightly chilly when I step out onto the sidewalk and I wrap my coat around me tightly as I walk quickly to the bus depot. Chillicothe is always busy and today is no different, cars movin' up and down the main street and makin' me nervous that you're one of them.

I find a miniscule of relief when I get a ticket, nerves sparkin' to life again when I realize I have to wait fifteen minutes before the bus arrives. That means my absence will be noticed, if it hasn't already. My leg bounces with nerves as I watch the clock set up at the court house, the same one where we parked and you showed me off as your bride-to-be. It makes tears burn in my eyes and I grit my teeth, head turnin' away and not noticin' the cruiser that coasts by. It isn't you, you're back at the station doin' paperwork. The officer behind the wheel does see me, pullin' off to watch as I jump up from my chair and rush for the bus that has arrived. He radios in, tellin' the dispatcher to get Lee, and the bus is turnin' out of town by the time you get on to see what he wants.

There is a moment of relief the second my backside meets with the creaky bus seat. I have nothin' other than the cash in my pocket, but there's a sense of calm that I haven't felt in a while. I will have so much to pay for, for what I've done, for the sins that I have committed, but I know I'll be fine far away from Knockemstiff. The bus moves away from Chillicothe, pickin' up speed on an old asphalt road that will take us to the highway, and then to Cincinnati. It's so close, just within my grasp, and the chirp of a siren dashes it all away.

My stomach lurches and I almost yell out for the driver to keep goin', the other handful of passengers lookin' back to see why we're stoppin'. I don't need to look, I know why, and my gaze stays straight ahead as the bus pulls over and heavy footsteps move past me, the doors squeakin' open as the driver pulls the lever. Goosebumps erupt across my skin as a tall figure steps onto the bus, a hat perched perfectly upon his head.

It's you, our eyes meetin' from across the bus, and I feel like I'm drownin' as you begin to walk towards me.

@deputybodecker

[deputybodecker]

Kudzu is an invasive, dangerous type’a ivy. It was brought to the states from Japan in the late 1800’s; advertised as a food source for cattle, shadin’ for the porch, cover plant to protect soil. The leaves are beautiful; deep green soakin’ up all the sun it can get so that at night, it can crawl along the ground and grow into and over everythin’ you ever built. Kudzu has no regard for ownership. It’ll lure ya in with the sweet smell of its deep, bruise-colored blossoms, and before ya know it the vines have wrapped ‘round your ankles.

Before you quite understand what’s happenin’, you’re too weak to struggle against tendrils like fingers. You’re in too deep under the beautiful green leaves and purple blossoms to realize that the vines’ll soon be weavin’ in and out of your ribs, keepin’ you locked away under it’s shade like a secret.

The thing ‘bout kudzu is that if you let it grow too close to the house it can crack the foundation right out from under ya, crumble the walls like you ain’t spent your entire life buildin’ ‘em. Fear grew in you like that, took root and fractured the trust you had in me like concrete under our home.

I let myself believe that I was seein’ things, that I was paranoid for not trustin’ the mother of my child. When you made a run for it at the church, I had everybody believin’ you just had an episode. Too many people and too much stimulation in one day made ya tired, wore ya out. I had ‘em believin’ it was my fault for not seein’ it comin’ on and takin’ you home to rest. I held you vice grip tight that night, worried that I’d fall asleep and you make a run for it again, only this time you might actually get away.

It took weeks before I would let your hand go in public, the touch of your skin on mine more reassurin’ to me than it was to you. Once I convinced myself that you calmed down, that you ain’t takin’ my baby away from me, my grip returns some slack. I return to fuckin’ into ya gentle, slow, memorizin’ the way you breathe against my neck, the way you call me Daddy like ya already brought our child into this world. You ask me if you can go to Chillicothe with Lambert’s wife one night while we’re layin’ in bed, my seed coatin’ the inside’a your thighs and your lips pressin’ to my jaw.

You tell me you just gotta pick up a few last things for the weddin’, convincin’ me that it’ll be good to get out with the bridal party. Maybe I’ve grown soft, the pleadin’ look in your eyes my achilles heel when your body is pressed to me like this. I let you go, hand over fifty goddamn dollars too. I tell ya I’ll be back to pick ya up when I get offa work and I keep that soft smile you give me tucked in my jacket for the rest of the mornin’.

I’m riflin’ through paperwork on my desk sometime after lunch when my phone rings, shrill and annoyin’.

I pick it up, holdin’ it between my ear and my shoulder.

“This is Lee.”

“Deputy, I have an officer on the other line for you,” comes the dispatcher.

“Alright, put him through.”

There’s a cracklin’ of crossin’ phone lines before the officer comes through loud and clear.

“This is Lee.”

“Deputy Bodecker, this is Officer Kincannon.”

“Brent, what can I do for ya?”

“Uh, well, Deputy I think I just seen your fiancé at the bus station in Chillicothe.”

I feel the blood leave my face, knowin’ instantly that you’d played me and were tryin’ to run, take my love and my child from me in one fell swoop. I grit my teeth, feelin’ the heat creep up the back of my neck like kudzu vines.

“She get on one?”

I can hear Brent yellin’ at the ticket attendant, askin’ where you bought a ticket to.

“The one headed to Cincinnati, sir.”

“Get a route, find the bus, tail it and wait ‘til I get there.”

“Yes, sir.”

I nearly break the phone in half when I slam it back onto the receiver, shovin’ my chair back and away from my desk. I grab my hat and leave the station ‘fore anyone else can ask questions. Once I’m in the car I flip the lights and sirens, speedin’ towards Chillicothe. I get on the radio and ask the dispatcher to get me a secure line with Officer Kincannon. He crackles through the speakers of my CB radio and the silence between static lets me know that he and I are the only ones on this channel.

“You got eyes on that bus, son?”

“Yes sir, eastbound on highway 50, ‘bout mile marker 26.”

“Stay on it, I’ll be in your rearview in 15.”

I stomp the gas pedal into the floor, all six cylinders of my cruiser workin’ harder than they ever have, my knuckles goin’ white over the steerin’ wheel, swervin’ in and out of traffic like I’m chasin’ down a dangerous criminal. In reality, I’m just chasin’ down what belongs to me.

13 minutes later I’m catchin’ up to Officer Kincannon and the bus, flashin’ my highbeams at him so he’ll merge and let me take point. Once we get the bus stopped, the officer approaches where I’m stepping outta my vehicle. I shake his hand and clap him on the shoulder.

“Thank you for watchin’ out for my bride-to-be, son. Ever since her uncle passed, she ain’t been right. I’m real thankful you helped me track her down ‘fore she hurt herself.”

He’s still green, this only his first year on the force. Young kid looks at me like I handed him a goddamn purple heart with the words I said. A smile breakin’ out across his face.

“Go on back to Meade, let the Sherriff know that I’ll be back at the station tomorrow, but for the sake’a my poor wife, don’t tell no one else what happened.”

He nods quick, the high of my praise makin’ him want to please me further. He gives me another Yes, sir and parts, leavin’ me with retrievin’ you from this bus. I walk around to the passenger side and the doors open, lettin’ me climb the stairs. I thank the driver for stoppin’, explain to him that there’s a young woman on this bus that’s – I pause for a second like I’m tryin’ to find the right words, tryin’ to be delicate about the situation – emotionally compromised. I tell him I’m going to remove her and he’ll be on his merry way. I hand him my card and tell him that if his supervisor needs to know why he was late to the depot they can call me and I’ll explain everythin’. I shake his hand in thanks and turn towards the passengers, all of ‘em lookin’ at me and tracin’ my eyeline as I scan up the seats for what I’m lookin’ for.

Dark brown hair cascadin’ like a waterfall attached to a head hidin’ behind a seat stops me dead. Eyes green like vine leaves meetin’ mine before turnin’ to look out the window. My boots thud heavy up the aisle, stopping in the row you’re sittin’ in and lowerin’ myself to your level. I can feel all eyes on me, knowin’ that I have to keep myself in check or I’ll be the asshole cop draggin’ a scared woman offa bus.

I hold out my hand for you, making sure my smile is soft.

“C’mon, honey, back to Knockemstiff.” You look over at me, eyes waterin’, and give me the smallest shake of your head. I purse my lips, noddin’ at your decision to make this more difficult than it needs to be.

I lean towards ya, close enough for you to feel the fan of my breath. “Last chance before I yank you outta here by the hair,” I hiss. You stare at me for longer than I like, not givin’ me an answer, and I take that as an answer by itself. My hand snakes out and wraps around your bicep, holdin’ you in a bruisin’ grip. I jerk you out of your seat before I grab your other arm, puttin’ your back to my front and forcin’ you toward the stairs of the bus.

That’s when ya really start fightin’ me, kickin’ your legs and squirmin’ all over the fuckin’ place. It takes monumental effort to get you off the bus, but not before you swing your head back and bust my lip open, blood pourin’ down my chin. I shove you up against the side of the bus, blood from my chin drippin’ onto your shoulder.

The pretense is gone, the softness I was fakin’ evaporated. “You will get in my cruiser, or I will fuckin’ shoot you.” You go still, a sob wrackin’ through your chest as you let me pull you away from the bus and sit you in the back seat’a the car. I wave my final goodbye to the bus driver and they pull away. I lean against the hood of the cruiser for a couple minutes, tryin’ to reign myself in before I get within’ arms reach of ya alone.

It clicks in my head then, then need to remind you who I am, what I’m capable of. I climb back into the driver’s seat and turn around, headed back towards Chillicothe.

Great Seal State Park is just offa Marietta. My daddy used to take us campin’ here when I was a boy, let me and my sister run around in the trees with a canteen and a compass, tell us not to come back until the sun started settin’. Just like it’s doin’ now.

You try to get my attention, the squeak of my name from the back seat through small sniffles barely heard. It grates on my nerves anyway. All your fuckin’ snifflin’ and cryin’ like you ain’t done this to yourself, done this to me and our child. I slam my fist against the cage.

“Shut the fuck up!” My eyes bore into yours in the rearview, before turnin’ it up so I don’t have to fuckin’ look at ya.

I drive into the trees for twenty minutes, pavement turnin’ to gravel turnin’ to dirt. Eventually I pull off, the sun threatenin’ to disappear behind the trees completely. I reach to the glovebox and pull somethin’ out of it, shovin’ it in my pocket. Pine spiced air meets my nose when I step out of the cruiser, a cool breeze pricklin’ goosebumps where it dries the sweat on the back of my neck. I unzip my jacket and let it over the trunk before I yank the back passenger door open and wrench you out by the hair. You’re doin’ that pathetic shit again, cryin’ and scratchin’ at the hand that has you by the hair. I take the jacket off the back of the car and pull ya back into me, one last hiss before I let you go.

“You seem to forget where I found ya, Doe. Let me fuckin’ remind ya where you came from.”

I pull the gun from my belt and fire three shots in the air, scarin’ you still against me. I untangle my fingers from your hair and push you toward the tree line, watchin’ as you stumble and fall in front of me. It takes you a moment to right yourself and you look back at me with those wide green eyes when you turn.

“Run.”

New Season

How many times do I wake up to you usin' me, takin' your own pleasure and denyin' me my own? Perhaps I deserve it after questionin' your love and dedication. Delores is dead, doesn't matter how at this point, but the rift that it has created between us feels wide and ever growing. It scares me, I can't imagine my life without you, but sometimes you scare me more. As time slips by and days turn into weeks, winter finally releases its grasp on the Earth, and everythin' begins to thaw. As flowers bloom, so do I, just barely able to hide it with a new wardrobe.

You're the one to suggest we go shoppin', never leavin' my side as I select dresses and accessories that will help hide the bump. We have church to worry about, your presence there important for the upcomin' election. And I'm expected to be there as your wife-to-be, a symbol of your happy life and a cheerleader to the wives of the men you're already butterin' up.

And cheerleadin' I can do, the church crowded, and everyone eager to be out after the cold season. You're close, never far away, able to reach out and touch me if you wish. We both have a group of potential voters, my smile broad as I talk about you. The women love you regardless of their husband's voting intentions and everythin' I'm tellin' them only makes them more smitten. A few have a hint of jealously, but I don't care, they'll vote for you anyway.

The new position of power will give us so much. You mentioned the night before about takin' me up to Brewer Heights, lettin' me see some of the new houses they've built up there. You tell me they have a full livin' room, a dinin' room which leads into a large kitchen. The stairs lead to a second floor that boasts three bedroom, one of them with a master bath attached, and a shared one between the two remainin' rooms. As you put it, perfect for our little ones to share. There are more closets than we have stuff to put in them and a picket fenced backyard perfect for the kids to play or a dog to romp around.

I think of that as I tell them how important it is for you to ensure the safety of everyone, that you're so protective with me, that you will do the same for your beloved town. It's all mostly bullshit, but I give them a smile, and fall silent as they prattle on about somethin'. My thoughts are interrupted by one of the jealous wives, her statement catchin' me off guard.

"You're lucky Lee was there to help you when he did. Poor thing wanderin' around all confused and lost. He's a good man that will be an even better father." Her words make me stall, my smile slow to return. Does she know? Can she see my bump, despite my best effort to hide it? It still isn't anythin' that noticeable, perhaps some extra weight that I need to work off, that's all. But there's somethin' in the way she says it that has me excusin' myself and puttin' some space between me and those nosy cunts.

They grate on my nerves the way they carry on about their mundane lives, like servin' their husbands and poppin' out babies is the only thing worthwhile in life. The thought makes my stomach hurt. How long before I'm one of them, dronin' on about Betty Crocker recipes and the best detergent to get shit stains out of nappies? Do I even want that? Without you standin' over me, I take a moment to think, takin' refuge in the field that runs along the back of the church. Everythin' is startin' to turn green and eventually I lose myself, windin' through trees that are seedin' and ready to leaf.

I'm startled as a crow caws nearby, a hand comin' up to clutch the bark of a nearby tree. It's wide and I lean against it, takin' a breather. My heart is hammerin', somethin' I blame on bein' out of shape, but another crow makes me break into a sweat that has me panicked. Pushin' away from the tree, I turn, disoriented to what direction I came from. Everythin' looks the same and I'm wheelin' in a circle when I hear it.

'Where didya go, lil Doe?'

Pure terror grips me tight and I run away from the sound, heels gettin' dirty in the mud. Tears are wellin' up in my eyes and they dart down my cheeks as I run as hard as I can from a fear that I don't understand. The trees seem to thicken, or maybe I'm just imaginin' things, and I push my way through some low hanging branches. With a scream, I slam into somethin' hard, unknown hands graspin' at me as I begin to struggle. I fight back, swingin' blindly, and it isn't until a hand crack across my cheek that I stop. It's you, your face flushed as you lift me from the ground. I still feel some need to fight you, somethin' deep down that makes me tense at the contact, but your hold is tight, keepin' me close as you carry me from the woods.

You don't even take me back to the church, instead placin' me in the backseat of the cruiser and lockin' me securely inside. You get in the driver's seat and I meet your gaze in the rearview mirror. Your eyes are hard to read and I turn to tuck myself away from you, the vibrations of the car eventually lullin' me into a deep sleep. I don't even wake as you pull me from the back of the car, carryin' me inside and placin' me in our bed. You remove my shoes, then my dress, leavin' me in my slip. You let me sleep, the day turnin' into night before I finally stir.

We say very little over the next day, you leavin' the followin' mornin' for work with just a kiss on my forehead. It makes me angry, tears wellin' in my eyes as I clean up after us, a string of swears fallin' from my mouth as I drop a teacup. Pieces of it fly around the kitchen, the big chunks easy to clean up. Dumpin' everythin' in the trash bin, I pause at the sight of a piece I missed. It rests against the basement door and that's where I stand for over a minute, tryin' to remember why it's locked.

You said somethin' about the stairs bein' dangerous and how you kept it locked so I wouldn't go down there. I didn't think about it then, but it doesn't make sense to lock the damn door if you told me to stay away. Reachin' up into my hair, I pull out a bobby pin, lookin' back at the front door before liftin' up the pad lock. It's simple enough, nothin' fancy about the mechanisms, and like the locks I used to break when I was a kid for fun, this one is easy too. Pulling the lock free, I tuck it into my apron, slowly openin' the door.

A rush of cool air hits me, along with a stale smell. The steps are steep and I'm slow as I work my way down there. There isn't much to see, the only light comin' from the top of the basement stairs, but I'm still able to make out the mattress on the floor. It makes my stomach turn, head wipin' around to see that the windows are covered. My hands tremor and I turn quickly, practically sprintin' up the stairs. The door slams shut, the lock returned with shakin' hands, and I rush into the bedroom to put some space between me and what I seen down there.

Why would there be a mattress? Was it for me? Why can't I remember anythin'? As I pace the room, the still air starts to make me feel like I'm suffocatin' and I rush over to the nearest window to throw it open. I'm reminded of the bars, hands wrappin' around them as I stare silently. You didn't go into much detail on the windows either, just sayin' that livin' out here all alone comes with danger and the bars were meant to keep people out.

They're meant to keep you in.

The weight of the situation is heavy and I sit down, my head swimmin'. If what they say is true, you found me wanderin' around and took me in. Were these things already here or were they meant for me? I try to convince myself they aren't, but I know deep down inside that you took me and whatever else you wanted, and now I'm yours and pregnant.

How many days have I been here? I don't know. But I do know that it takes me another two to come up with a plan, and then another fourteen to set it in motion. Rebuildin' your trust is the hardest part, but eventually I get you to agree to let me spend the day with Sarah Lambert, the wife of one of your fellow deputies, and a handful of other wives. The final selections for our weddin' are drawin' to a close and that's how I get you to hand over a crisp fifty dollar bill, insistin' that the decorations were in Chillicothe and that you could pick me back up that afternoon after work. Bein' involved in the plannin' so far, you're hesitant. But I insist that you let me do this with my friends, that I promise I'll show you everythin' when we get home.

That's how I find myself sittin' in your cruiser, idlin' in front of the Lambert's one level brick home. You have me pulled close, kissin' at my jaw as you tell me to be careful, that you'll pick me up after you get off. I nod, givin' you a smile, and I feel your eyes on me the entire time I walk up to the front door. Sarah and the other women are excited about shoppin', all of us pilin' into her Cadillac and drivin' into Chillicothe for lunch. We eat at the diner, munchin' on fries and club sandwiches until we head for the nearest shop.

On the way, we pass the bus depot. It's small, nothin' like the Greyhounds that travel across the country, but it will be enough to get me to Cincinnati. There's a board with all the fare prices and a one-way trip would cost me about three dollars. That would leave me seventy-eight dollars, extra cash taken from your wallet each day leadin' up to now. You didn't seem to notice, or maybe you did and said nothin', perhaps thinkin' you spent it on lunch. Either way, it will give me a chance to leave with only the clothes on my back and the child I must protect.

Guilt makes bile rise in my throat, but I know I have to leave. At least for a little while, long enough to have my baby and make sure it's safe. So, I wait, minutes feelin' like an eternity, the moment to slip away finally presentin' itself at the dime store. They're all fawnin' over bolts of lace, not noticin' when I step away. The air is still slightly chilly when I step out onto the sidewalk and I wrap my coat around me tightly as I walk quickly to the bus depot. Chillicothe is always busy and today is no different, cars movin' up and down the main street and makin' me nervous that you're one of them.

I find a miniscule of relief when I get a ticket, nerves sparkin' to life again when I realize I have to wait fifteen minutes before the bus arrives. That means my absence will be noticed, if it hasn't already. My leg bounces with nerves as I watch the clock set up at the court house, the same one where we parked and you showed me off as your bride-to-be. It makes tears burn in my eyes and I grit my teeth, head turnin' away and not noticin' the cruiser that coasts by. It isn't you, you're back at the station doin' paperwork. The officer behind the wheel does see me, pullin' off to watch as I jump up from my chair and rush for the bus that has arrived. He radios in, tellin' the dispatcher to get Lee, and the bus is turnin' out of town by the time you get on to see what he wants.

There is a moment of relief the second my backside meets with the creaky bus seat. I have nothin' other than the cash in my pocket, but there's a sense of calm that I haven't felt in a while. I will have so much to pay for, for what I've done, for the sins that I have committed, but I know I'll be fine far away from Knockemstiff. The bus moves away from Chillicothe, pickin' up speed on an old asphalt road that will take us to the highway, and then to Cincinnati. It's so close, just within my grasp, and the chirp of a siren dashes it all away.

My stomach lurches and I almost yell out for the driver to keep goin', the other handful of passengers lookin' back to see why we're stoppin'. I don't need to look, I know why, and my gaze stays straight ahead as the bus pulls over and heavy footsteps move past me, the doors squeakin' open as the driver pulls the lever. Goosebumps erupt across my skin as a tall figure steps onto the bus, a hat perched perfectly upon his head.

It's you, our eyes meetin' from across the bus, and I feel like I'm drownin' as you begin to walk towards me.

@deputybodecker

[deputybodecker]

I see it the moment it happens, the moment your doubt in me sweeps across your face, wonderin’ if Delores had any truth to what she was worried about. She did. You and I both know that at this point, but if for a second, anyone thinks that might scare me int’a actin’ straight, then they don’t understand the lengths I would go to protect what I’ve made for myself. What I’ve stolen for myself. Palm pressed to your tummy I feel a flutter of somethin’, my jaw steelin’ as it steals the breath from me.

That’s mine.

You and that child.

Mine.

If I wasn’t sure before, I know now that I am too deep. For you. Our child. The life we’re buildin’. It sets aflame a new rage; born from fear that you might realize how much of a monster I really am. That you’ll try to leave. You push my hand between your thighs, breakin’ me from my thoughts when the pads’a my fingers glance between your folds to collect the wetness that’d been collectin’. Maybe you can’t live without me after all. Your body creates a need for me every time I’m this close, and truth be told my body craves you the same.

I feel how your cunt draws my fingers back in every time I pull back, only to shove them in harder, faster, findin’ that spot and workin’ it over until you’re barely holdin’ yourself up against the counter. Sometimes I wish you knew how close to God you made me feel. Or maybe you make me feel like a god. It’s hard to tell with how you worship the fuckin’ ground I walk on. Like I waltzed right into heaven and stole an angel, breathin’ hard into my neck and whimperin’ confirmation of the invisible shackles she thinks shine like jewelry.

“Every breath you take, Doe, every meal, every mornin’ you wake up, you have ‘cause you’re mine. ‘Cause I have claimed you so completely, so fuckin’ thoroughly, that even your cunt betrays ya. Ain’t that right?”

You don’t give me an answer, you ain’t gotta. Your shudderin’ orgasm is answer enough. I retract my fingers and snatch the bottle’a whiskey from the counter next to ya, goin’ to sit in my chair at the head of the table. I toss the lid onto the table, takin’ a long swig straight from the neck while you slowly pad closer to me, kneelin’ between my knees. I don’t say a word, waitin’ for what you’re gonna do to make it up to me, and make it up to me you do. Strokin’ reassurance straight into my ego with an eager mouth and throat, swallowin’ down every bit of anger laced insecurity you coax outta me.

We get through dinner and I barely let you get the dishes set in basin of the sink before I’m bendin’ you over again, slidin’ into your cunt like I could fuck a second baby into ya. Before I fill you up I pull you back over to the dinner table, layin’ you back and spreadin’ you wide so you’re forced to look at me while I pull orgasm after orgasm from your overworked and puffy cunt. And just when you think I’m gonna be done, just when you think I’m gonna splatter your walls with cum, I pull out and work myself into your incredibly tight ass. Slow and methodical, two fingers workin’ your pussy palm up, thumb from my opposite hand workin’ your clit, until you’re screamin’ from overstimulation.

And when you plead with me that you can’t cum anymore, you can’t give me anything else because I’ve wrung everything out of you, I growl out that you can, that you will, ‘cause I want it. You’ll do as I say and you’ll thank me for it ‘cause you love me and you want to see me happy as much as I want to see you the same. My happiness lies in the moments when your back arches, overwrought, overworked, overstimulated with the pleasure I pound into your body. My safe haven lies in your chest and between your thighs and as I push myself as deep as I can, claimin’ parts of you other men only dream to see, with you keenin’ high and loud, your nails diggin’ blood red crescent moons into my wrists, I remember the ferocity with which I claimed you the first time.

My happiness lies on the forest bed, a feral little creature starin’ back at me, hackles raised and teeth bared, unaware that it would submit to me completely only a few weeks later.

A glass of water, a bath, and fresh clothes later I curl up behind you in bed, dozin’ off with a sated smile, your hair ticklin’ my nose while your belly flutters under my hand. And hours later, when I wake up in the middle of the night with the curves of your ass pressed against my pelvis, I lift your leg over my hip and sow into you the love I wish I could speak out loud.

The furniture burns easy enough- the clothes and tools that we used to cover up what we did either get incinerated or buried with the bodies. I was kind when I buried the brothers next to each other, the mess we cleaned up the next mornin’ bein’ a quick job. My contact at the Meade junkyard let me sell their cars for scrap metal by the pound. Got a pretty penny for ‘em too. You picked out a new dinin’ set, new plush couch, new coffee table, ended up gettin’ you a new dresser for all the clothes I’m still gonna end up buyin’ for ya; a new baby needs a new maternity wardrobe and I ain’t about to have you lookin’ rough around the edges (unless you’re under me).

Work drones on, patrols drag, and as the winter slowly passes by your belly starts growin’. It’s nothin’ impressive yet, but the curve of it is becomin’ more pronounced. The ladies at church haven’t noticed yet, and I know we’ll have to usher our weddin’ along soon, but this almost married with a babe kind of domestic bliss is intoxicatin’. We picked out seeds for the vegetables and fruits you’re gonna grow this year, and you start takin’ recipes from the wives of the boys I work with. It’s my own heaven, sins’a the flesh sprinkled in for flavor.

People start askin’ questions when Delores stops showin’ up for work, but she drank damn near as much as her late husband so everyone just assumed that she took up the bottle again and shut everyone out. She was always a bit of a moody woman.

The call for her death didn’t come in until one’a the mailmen on her route knocked on the door to give her the mail that had been pilin’ up in the box and got an eyeful of dead Delores frozen stiff. I got called in to do the check, and I felt just downright nauseous not bein’ able to find anythin’ that woulda caused her untimely death. My report back to the Sheriff deemed it natural causes, seein’ as how I couldn’t find nothin’ suspicious in the way her body was slumped in her chair.

That night as I drove home from the station, I knew that I had to break the news to ya. I couldn’t let ya find out from anyone but me, if I’m gonna be your husband I have to be able to hold ya up when things get tough.

A freezin’ gust of wind follows me in the house when I get home, somethin’ savory and fragrant makin’ the house smell delicious. My footsteps are heavy, my gaze fallin’ when you greet me with a smile. You can tell right away that somethin’ ain’t right. You help me out of my coat and my hat, hang my belt up next to everythin’ else, shufflin’ me towards our dinin’ room where supper is almost ready and sittin’ me down. You set a couple fingers’a whisky down next to me, pullin’ my face up after I take what I hope looks like a steadyin’ sip. You ask me what’s wrong, what’s got my shoulders so heavy, and for a moment all I do is wrap my arms around your waist, lean into the belly where my child is growin', and mumble somethin’ into your dress about how it was a rough day at work.

It’s enough for ya to pry further, your nails scratchin’ into my scalp while you trace over my jaw.

I sit back, look up to meet your concerned gaze, swallow hard and say—

“We found Delores’ body today, baby.”

@viridescent-steph

[deputybodecker]

You try to step away from me, put distance between the two of us like I hurt ya, and I don’t like it. I tighten my arms, keepin’ the warmth of your body close to mine. You ask me how she died and I tell you she died of natural causes, ‘course not breathin’ is natural in some cases, but not so much hers. Our gazes lock and you tell me not to lie to you, to tell you the truth about what we talked about that day at church, why she was so angry with me.

I feel my jaw lock, the idea of tellin’ you what really happened, why you’re really here makin’ me uneasy. But still, you told me not to lie to ya, and I know that now, with no family, the two bodies we have buried in the backyard, and my bloodline bloomin’ a new generation in your womb, you can’t leave me.

Your hands wrap around my arms, pry me off’a you so you can back up into the kitchen. The faux concern for that old hag falls from my face, replaced with a cold indifference. “She was mad ‘cause she didn’t trust me. Didn’t think I could provide for you right, didn’t think I could do right by you.”

You back all the way up into the counter, your hands bracin’ next to your hips while you lean back, tryin’ to get as far from me as you can. You ask if she died thinkin’ you didn’t care, died angry. “Naw, baby, she didn’t die mad atcha. I made sure she knew you cared for her when I took her those cookies you made for her.”

My hands frame yours on the counter, trappin’ you between my arms while I lean down in your face. Your breathin’s picked up, your heart probably patterin’ away. “But if you want the truth, honey, I’ll give it to ya,” I say, leavin’ a peck on your cheek before levelin’ you with a stare.

“When I saw her at church, she wanted to talk to you, see how you were doin’, but I knew that wasn’t somethin’ you were ready for. You were already stretchin’ that pretty little mind’a yours so thin just bein’ out of the house with me to begin with, and I knew she was only gonna ask questions that you didn’t have an answer for.” You stutter out a question, ask me what I mean, what questions I thought she’d ask you, so I elaborate.

“She’d ask you if you were okay. Ask if I was hurtin’ ya, ask if you needed help, like I don’t give you everythin’ you need. She was worried ‘cause when I found you, after your uncle died, I took you right in. She didn’t see you for a long time, thought there might’a been somethin’….unsavory happenin’. But that ain’t the case, is it honey? Everythin’ we got, everythin’ we built together, you want that dontcha?” My tone don’t imply a need for reassurance, it commands compliance. I can see the gears in your head turnin’, tryin’ to put together the pieces, and I know I gotta get you to stop thinkin’ so hard or you’ll just throw yourself into a fit.

My right hand comes up to your neck, my fingers wrappin’ around the nape so I can tilt your head up to look at me with my thumb. “Ain’t that right? You like bein’ here with me, bein’ my pretty little fiancé, the mother of my child?” The thumb restin’ under the line of your jaw curls, creatin’ a collar of my fingers around your neck to pull you closer to my face, your breathin’ frantic as you search my eyes for the man that was buried in your belly just moments ago. My voice drops an octave, a growl of a question flowin’ from my throat against your lips. “You love me, don’t you, Doe?”

The furniture burns easy enough- the clothes and tools that we used to cover up what we did either get incinerated or buried with the bodies. I was kind when I buried the brothers next to each other, the mess we cleaned up the next mornin’ bein’ a quick job. My contact at the Meade junkyard let me sell their cars for scrap metal by the pound. Got a pretty penny for ‘em too. You picked out a new dinin’ set, new plush couch, new coffee table, ended up gettin’ you a new dresser for all the clothes I’m still gonna end up buyin’ for ya; a new baby needs a new maternity wardrobe and I ain’t about to have you lookin’ rough around the edges (unless you’re under me).

Work drones on, patrols drag, and as the winter slowly passes by your belly starts growin’. It’s nothin’ impressive yet, but the curve of it is becomin’ more pronounced. The ladies at church haven’t noticed yet, and I know we’ll have to usher our weddin’ along soon, but this almost married with a babe kind of domestic bliss is intoxicatin’. We picked out seeds for the vegetables and fruits you’re gonna grow this year, and you start takin’ recipes from the wives of the boys I work with. It’s my own heaven, sins’a the flesh sprinkled in for flavor.

People start askin’ questions when Delores stops showin’ up for work, but she drank damn near as much as her late husband so everyone just assumed that she took up the bottle again and shut everyone out. She was always a bit of a moody woman.

The call for her death didn’t come in until one’a the mailmen on her route knocked on the door to give her the mail that had been pilin’ up in the box and got an eyeful of dead Delores frozen stiff. I got called in to do the check, and I felt just downright nauseous not bein’ able to find anythin’ that woulda caused her untimely death. My report back to the Sheriff deemed it natural causes, seein’ as how I couldn’t find nothin’ suspicious in the way her body was slumped in her chair.

That night as I drove home from the station, I knew that I had to break the news to ya. I couldn’t let ya find out from anyone but me, if I’m gonna be your husband I have to be able to hold ya up when things get tough.

A freezin’ gust of wind follows me in the house when I get home, somethin’ savory and fragrant makin’ the house smell delicious. My footsteps are heavy, my gaze fallin’ when you greet me with a smile. You can tell right away that somethin’ ain’t right. You help me out of my coat and my hat, hang my belt up next to everythin’ else, shufflin’ me towards our dinin’ room where supper is almost ready and sittin’ me down. You set a couple fingers’a whisky down next to me, pullin’ my face up after I take what I hope looks like a steadyin’ sip. You ask me what’s wrong, what’s got my shoulders so heavy, and for a moment all I do is wrap my arms around your waist, lean into the belly where my child is growin', and mumble somethin’ into your dress about how it was a rough day at work.

It’s enough for ya to pry further, your nails scratchin’ into my scalp while you trace over my jaw.

I sit back, look up to meet your concerned gaze, swallow hard and say—

“We found Delores’ body today, baby.”

@viridescent-steph

[deputybodecker]

The furniture burns easy enough- the clothes and tools that we used to cover up what we did either get incinerated or buried with the bodies. I was kind when I buried the brothers next to each other, the mess we cleaned up the next mornin’ bein’ a quick job. My contact at the Meade junkyard let me sell their cars for scrap metal by the pound. Got a pretty penny for ‘em too. You picked out a new dinin’ set, new plush couch, new coffee table, ended up gettin’ you a new dresser for all the clothes I’m still gonna end up buyin’ for ya; a new baby needs a new maternity wardrobe and I ain’t about to have you lookin’ rough around the edges (unless you’re under me).

Work drones on, patrols drag, and as the winter slowly passes by your belly starts growin’. It’s nothin’ impressive yet, but the curve of it is becomin’ more pronounced. The ladies at church haven’t noticed yet, and I know we’ll have to usher our weddin’ along soon, but this almost married with a babe kind of domestic bliss is intoxicatin’. We picked out seeds for the vegetables and fruits you’re gonna grow this year, and you start takin’ recipes from the wives of the boys I work with. It’s my own heaven, sins’a the flesh sprinkled in for flavor.

People start askin’ questions when Delores stops showin’ up for work, but she drank damn near as much as her late husband so everyone just assumed that she took up the bottle again and shut everyone out. She was always a bit of a moody woman.

The call for her death didn’t come in until one’a the mailmen on her route knocked on the door to give her the mail that had been pilin’ up in the box and got an eyeful of dead Delores frozen stiff. I got called in to do the check, and I felt just downright nauseous not bein’ able to find anythin’ that woulda caused her untimely death. My report back to the Sheriff deemed it natural causes, seein’ as how I couldn’t find nothin’ suspicious in the way her body was slumped in her chair.

That night as I drove home from the station, I knew that I had to break the news to ya. I couldn’t let ya find out from anyone but me, if I’m gonna be your husband I have to be able to hold ya up when things get tough.

A freezin’ gust of wind follows me in the house when I get home, somethin’ savory and fragrant makin’ the house smell delicious. My footsteps are heavy, my gaze fallin’ when you greet me with a smile. You can tell right away that somethin’ ain’t right. You help me out of my coat and my hat, hang my belt up next to everythin’ else, shufflin’ me towards our dinin’ room where supper is almost ready and sittin’ me down. You set a couple fingers’a whisky down next to me, pullin’ my face up after I take what I hope looks like a steadyin’ sip. You ask me what’s wrong, what’s got my shoulders so heavy, and for a moment all I do is wrap my arms around your waist, lean into the belly where my child is growin', and mumble somethin’ into your dress about how it was a rough day at work.

It’s enough for ya to pry further, your nails scratchin’ into my scalp while you trace over my jaw.

I sit back, look up to meet your concerned gaze, swallow hard and say—

“We found Delores’ body today, baby.”

@viridescent-steph

[deputybodecker]

I ain’t stoppin’, the poundin’ of my pelvis into yours windin’ me higher and higher. I feel your fingers on my chest and it raises goosebumps all over, my limbs set ablaze when you tell me to give you my cum, when you call me Daddy. You’re filthy, my beautiful filthy future wife tryna coax the seed right outta my body. It pulls an animalistic growl from somewhere deep in my chest and I lean down into your neck when I feel my balls draw up to empty myself inside’a you. I’m a pantin’ mess when you roll me, our bodies slick with sweat, our pelvis’ slick with our combined releases. I tell you that I love you too, through heaved breaths.

Then you adjust your weight, sit up in my lap and gyrate on top’a me, my sensitive cock still buried deep, stirred by your sluiced cunt. The groan that comes outta me is near pained, overstimulation comin’ up quick, but I wont stop you from gettin’ off again. It’s mesmerizin’, the way you’re fuckin’ yourself with my cock, unconcerned with how I feel about it. I’m proud, hypnotized, incredibly turned on by it. You look as feral as I feel, the animal leavin’ claw marks at the back of your skull forced to the forefront as you take what you need from me.

You want more, of course you want more, and I want nothin’ but to oblige you. I plant my feet as much as I can on the floor, give ya some kind of stability while you bounce in my lap. In a matter of minutes I can feel myself rock hard inside’a you again, fingers diggin’ into your hips to guide you up and down my length. I feel the sting across my left cheek, eyes wide when I look back up from where we’re joined. Your possessiveness makes me falter, makes my cock ache, your laughter causin’ me to sit up and bear hug my arms around your middle.

I kiss you hard, cantin’ my hips up into you harder, not concerned in the least about the sweat drippin’ down my face and my shoulders. “How could I forget, huh? I belong right here, buried in your tight cunt, Mrs. Bodecker,” I say, leanin’ in to bite down on the underside of your breast, gruntin’ between thrusts. It’s only then, in the pause of our filthy conversation, that I hear the poundin’ on the door, loud and insistent. I want to ignore it, irritated that someone’s disturbin’ me while I’m balls deep in you, but seconds turn to minutes and whoever is at the door doesn’t fuckin’ let up.

I slow you to a stop, hoistin’ you offa me and wrappin’ a throw blanket around my waist even though it does little to conceal my erection. I stalk outta the bedroom and into the livin’ room, tuggin’ the curtain to the side to see Bobo’s car runnin’ in the drive way. I pad over to the dinin’ room table where Leroy’s gun still sits, palmin’ it as I come back to the front door. I swing it open, Bobo’s expression furious and his face red. “Where the fuck’s my brother?” he yells, knowin’ that Leroy has to be here somewhere, his car still parked in the driveway next to the cruiser.

I chuckle, pullin’ back the hammer on the gun where it’s hidden behind the door in my right hand. “My fiancé slit his fuckin’ throat,” I reply. Before he has a chance to shove past me and look for you, I pull the door open the rest of the way and aim the gun, pullin’ the trigger and sendin’ a bullet right between his eyes, a fine spray of blood comin’ back at me. He drops immediately. His weight makin’ him crumple on the porch. It’s dark and cold, and no one else is comin’ up here, so I throw the gun down on his chest and slam the door.

When I get back to the bedroom you’re sittin’ on the edge of the bed, your hands between your legs, tryin’ to kill me playin’ with that sweet pussy’a yours. “Now where the fuck was I?” I growl, sheddin’ the blanket and steppin’ up to you. I jerk you up by the arm, bendin’ you over the bed and thrustin’ into you hard, grippin’ your hips harder to pull you back into me to meet every deep rut.

A New Garden

Couple’a weeks ago, when you told me that Leroy had come by the house, I went to their diner they owned on the outskirts’a town. Told ‘em both that it didn’t matter what deals I had goin’ with ‘em, if they ever showed up on my property again and pissed off my bride to be, I’d put a bullet in both of ‘em. They laughed, spat in the money that was mine and handed it to me, the blow to my ego nearly enough to make me shoot ‘em then, but they have a direct line on my baby sister, so I don’t.

It’s a surprise when we’re sitting down to lunch one late winter day and we hear a knock on the front door. You’re wearin’ one of the dresses I got you for Christmas, that dark blue velvet huggin’ your ass makin’ it hard to talk myself into goin’ outside to get firewood for the furnace. I know damn well that the boys at the station know better than to come up the property, so that knock is either my baby sister leavin’ her shit-for-brains husband and comin’ to stay with us while she gets her shit sorted out like I begged her to weeks ago, or one of those fuckin’ fools I told not to come here again. We look from our plates to each other, and I can tell you’re already just as irritated as I am.

No one is supposed to come here.

Ever.

“Why don’t you put on a pot of coffee, sweet pea. You grab these plates and I’ll grab the door.” I lean over the table and plant a quick kiss on your lips, liftin’ from my chair to stalk over to the front door. I look back to where you’re cleanin’ up the mess on the table, placin’ the plates in the sink and then gettin’ the kettle ready for coffee, facin’ away from me long enough for me to grab my pistol from my patrol belt and tuck it into the back of my pants. I swing the door open and standin’ in front of the screen is Leroy, smile plastered across big ugly face.

“Lee! I was drivin’ by and thought I’d chew your ear.”

I don’t tell him yet that I don’t want him here, my blood boilin’ just under the surface of my skin, so I fake my own smile, pushin’ the screen door open to let him step inside.

“Leroy, good to see ya. C’mon in, my Stephanie was just puttin’ on some coffee.” He steps in the door and stomps his boots free of snow on the mat, my jaw clenching because I know he’s going to expect you to clean that up later. I scrub my hand over my face as he waltzes toward the kitchen table.

“This’a cute little place you got here, Lee. I thought you’d’a upgraded by now with the type’a money you’re makin’.” Leroy turns back to shoot me a glance, bringin’ up our deal without statin’ it plainly, right in fuckin’ front of you. You look from him to me. It’s not a secret that I got money, I’m just grateful you don’t know how much a small-town deputy earns yearly.

“It was my parents place,” – I reply, followin’ him to the kitchen table where we pull chairs out opposite each other, “I figure I’ll give it to Sandy after the election.”

“Bit far from the club, ain’t it?” He asks, his brows knitted together.

“Yeah, that’s what I like about it.”

“I thought I told you to stay away from Sandy?”

There’s a tense moment, one where he looks from me to you, his eyes starting at your feet and make their way up to your face. I can tell it’s a threat, he knows where you are now. Where he can find you later. You’re finishin’ up the dishes just in time, dryin’ your hands off with one of the kitchen towels. You turn to catch his eyes just as they reach yours and I watch you shrink back, the last thread of my resolve snappin’. I don’t answer his question about my sister.

“Baby, why don’t you go grab a couple’a towels out of the bathroom? Y’know the ones that’re startin’ to fray at the ends? The ones you don’t like? Bring those out here for me, our friend is gonna need ‘em.” I tear your gaze away from him, giving you an excuse to leave the room for a few seconds.

You nod, crossin’ the livin’ room into our bedroom and as soon as I hear the click of your heels on the tile of the bathroom floor I reach for my pistol. My movement startles Leroy but he doesn’t reach for his gun fast enough before I’ve got mine trained on him.

“Set it down real slow, Leroy. Your brother know you’re here?” He nods, his jaw set in a defiant rage. “Good, I hope he swings by lookin’ for you.”

You re-enter the dinin’ room to the sight of me holdin’ a gun on our guest. Timidly, you set the towels down on the table on my right, and then pause, like you’re wonderin' what to do next.

“Slide that gun across the table, honey.”

@viridescent-steph

[deputybodecker]

You walk away from me butt naked with that smile on your face and my heart swoops in my chest. I feel like Adam seein’ Eve for the first time, the one woman that God put on the planet as his match. I shed all my clothes just after you do, half hard cock danglin’ between my thighs when I stalk into the house after you. I catch you right before you get into the bedroom, snaggin’ you by the hand and spinnin’ you back into me. We’re both exhausted, both sweaty, both dirt caked – but this easily becomes one’a my favorite looks for you. I claim your mouth with mine, our tongues dancin’ together as I walk us back towards the bathroom.

I part only long enough to get the shower runnin’, then I’m usherin’ you in before me and we begin the meticulous process of scrubbin’ ourselves clean’a what we’ve just done. I make sure all of the dirt is out from under our fingernails, all the blood is scrubbed from our hair, and the blood on your feet makes it way down the drain. It’s slow, methodical, with a distant look in my eyes as we use up all’a the hot water. I’m checkin’ you over when you stop me, your hand on my face, guidin’ me to look at you when ya ask me what’s wrong. I shake my head outta the daze that I was in.

“I’m just makin’ sure we got everythin’, I know that table and chair is gonna have to go, and those’ll burn just fine,” I say, my eyes glazin’ back over as I list things off. I know you scrubbed everything to hell and back so I shouldn’t have too much more to worry about, but again you pull me outta my thoughts when you press your body against mine, backin’ me up against the shower wall. Cold tile against my back and your hot skin against my front sendin’ me through a whirlwind of sensation. You grab at my face, pullin’ me down to your level and mashin’ your lips against mine, it forces a grunt from my chest, my hands comin’ up to paw at your chest and then down and around to your ass.

There’s somethin’ animalistic clawin’ at the back of my neck, threatenin’ to pull me under, and I have to remind myself that you’re carryin’ my child, that I have to be gentle. My left arm wraps your waist, my right hand trailin’ down your middle to the apex’a your thighs, where you’re already slick soaked for me. I crest two fingers into your folds and trace them down to the openin’ of your cunt, where I can feel you clenchin’ around nothin’. I spin us, pinnin’ you against the cold tile and threadin’ my fingers into you as deep as they’ll go, attachin’ my lips to your neck when you lean back to keen for me. I think about every life I have and will end to keep myself buried here.

I pump in and out relentlessly, until your thighs are shakin’ and your nails are diggin’ into my shoulder, threatenin’ to draw their own blood. “That’s it, Doe, let me feel you cum on my fingers, then I’ll give ya what you really want.” A few more deep strokes to the most intimate parts of you has you screamin’ my name, shutterin’ against me while you hold on for dear life. I reach back and turn the shower off, tearin’ the curtain back and wrappin’ you in a towel before I’m movin’ the both of us to our bed. I throw you backwards onto it, draggin’ your ass to the edge and spreadin’ your legs wide, your cunt bloomin’ open before my eyes.

“I’ll never get tired of that sight,” I growl, my fingers wrappin’ around my achin’ cock to line up. I press your knees together and into your chest, layin’ em over my right shoulder before I sheath myself inside’a you. “Always take me so well.” I pull back until I nearly pull all the way out and then surge back into you with a vengeance. The sound of our wet skin meetin’ over and over again reverbs through the house, your whinin’ and my grunts soundin’ off in tandem. I feel you start to flutter around me, your knuckle white in the sheets, your beautiful tits bouncin’ with my thrusts. “You gonna cum again, baby? Gonna make a mess on my cock? Go on, let me see it, fall apart for me.” I rut into you harder, faster, lettin’ your legs fall open so I can trace circles over your clit, my jaw tickin’ when you lock up around me.

A New Garden

Couple’a weeks ago, when you told me that Leroy had come by the house, I went to their diner they owned on the outskirts’a town. Told ‘em both that it didn’t matter what deals I had goin’ with ‘em, if they ever showed up on my property again and pissed off my bride to be, I’d put a bullet in both of ‘em. They laughed, spat in the money that was mine and handed it to me, the blow to my ego nearly enough to make me shoot ‘em then, but they have a direct line on my baby sister, so I don’t.

It’s a surprise when we’re sitting down to lunch one late winter day and we hear a knock on the front door. You’re wearin’ one of the dresses I got you for Christmas, that dark blue velvet huggin’ your ass makin’ it hard to talk myself into goin’ outside to get firewood for the furnace. I know damn well that the boys at the station know better than to come up the property, so that knock is either my baby sister leavin’ her shit-for-brains husband and comin’ to stay with us while she gets her shit sorted out like I begged her to weeks ago, or one of those fuckin’ fools I told not to come here again. We look from our plates to each other, and I can tell you’re already just as irritated as I am.

No one is supposed to come here.

Ever.

“Why don’t you put on a pot of coffee, sweet pea. You grab these plates and I’ll grab the door.” I lean over the table and plant a quick kiss on your lips, liftin’ from my chair to stalk over to the front door. I look back to where you’re cleanin’ up the mess on the table, placin’ the plates in the sink and then gettin’ the kettle ready for coffee, facin’ away from me long enough for me to grab my pistol from my patrol belt and tuck it into the back of my pants. I swing the door open and standin’ in front of the screen is Leroy, smile plastered across big ugly face.

“Lee! I was drivin’ by and thought I’d chew your ear.”

I don’t tell him yet that I don’t want him here, my blood boilin’ just under the surface of my skin, so I fake my own smile, pushin’ the screen door open to let him step inside.

“Leroy, good to see ya. C’mon in, my Stephanie was just puttin’ on some coffee.” He steps in the door and stomps his boots free of snow on the mat, my jaw clenching because I know he’s going to expect you to clean that up later. I scrub my hand over my face as he waltzes toward the kitchen table.

“This’a cute little place you got here, Lee. I thought you’d’a upgraded by now with the type’a money you’re makin’.” Leroy turns back to shoot me a glance, bringin’ up our deal without statin’ it plainly, right in fuckin’ front of you. You look from him to me. It’s not a secret that I got money, I’m just grateful you don’t know how much a small-town deputy earns yearly.

“It was my parents place,” – I reply, followin’ him to the kitchen table where we pull chairs out opposite each other, “I figure I’ll give it to Sandy after the election.”

“Bit far from the club, ain’t it?” He asks, his brows knitted together.

“Yeah, that’s what I like about it.”

“I thought I told you to stay away from Sandy?”

There’s a tense moment, one where he looks from me to you, his eyes starting at your feet and make their way up to your face. I can tell it’s a threat, he knows where you are now. Where he can find you later. You’re finishin’ up the dishes just in time, dryin’ your hands off with one of the kitchen towels. You turn to catch his eyes just as they reach yours and I watch you shrink back, the last thread of my resolve snappin’. I don’t answer his question about my sister.

“Baby, why don’t you go grab a couple’a towels out of the bathroom? Y’know the ones that’re startin’ to fray at the ends? The ones you don’t like? Bring those out here for me, our friend is gonna need ‘em.” I tear your gaze away from him, giving you an excuse to leave the room for a few seconds.

You nod, crossin’ the livin’ room into our bedroom and as soon as I hear the click of your heels on the tile of the bathroom floor I reach for my pistol. My movement startles Leroy but he doesn’t reach for his gun fast enough before I’ve got mine trained on him.

“Set it down real slow, Leroy. Your brother know you’re here?” He nods, his jaw set in a defiant rage. “Good, I hope he swings by lookin’ for you.”

You re-enter the dinin’ room to the sight of me holdin’ a gun on our guest. Timidly, you set the towels down on the table on my right, and then pause, like you’re wonderin' what to do next.

“Slide that gun across the table, honey.”

@viridescent-steph

[deputybodecker]

Your fingers lace into my shirt like if you don’t hold yourself up against me you’re gonna fall. You’re shakin’, which I anticipated, but it’s not fear that’s makin’ you shake. The brutish tug at the back of my brain reminds me why I picked you, why I chose you out of every other woman in Knockemstiff, Mead, Chillicothe, Ohio. I knew there was the potential of you seein’ the world like I do, of carvin’ out your place in it right beside me. You spend too long lookn’ at Leroy, and I steer your face back into mine, ain’t no use in lookin’ at somethin’ I’m gonna bury, you’re just gonna conjure up a conscience that you didn’t have before draggin’ the blade.

The blood don’t bother me- I was raised in it. Dead things have been plaugin’ my life since I was a boy, my adulthood shouldn’t be any different. You step out of your shoes, makin’ a break for the door and I can’t help the immediate thought that you’re runnin’ for it, the conscience I thought I saw winnin’ out. I take long strides followin’ you out to the porch where you’re bent over the railin’, my eyes trailin’ down your backside involuntarily. I close the gap between us, pressin’ into you and cagin’ you in against the railin’.

After a few moments, you turn, holdin’ my face like it’s something worth reverin’. You tell me that you would do the same, kill for our family and I have to swallow back the urge to strip you down right here and give in to every evil fuckin’ thing I wanna do to you. I don’t want Bobo to see any piece of you when he decides to come around lookin’ for his brother, but it doesn’t stop my cock from growin’ between us. I have to ignore it for now, I have shit that requires my attention right now.

“Go inside and take everythin’ you’re wearin off and change into somethin’ you don’t mind me burnin’. We got a big mess to clean up.” My hands wander up your back and press you further into me, sowin’ a long kiss into your forehead, takin’ in the smell of your hair. I let you go, let you step away from me, but before you get too far I catch your wrist, spinnin’ you around to look at me. “And when we’re done cleanin’ up this mess, I’m gonna strip you down, piece by piece- and show you exactly why I would kill every person that would dare stand between you and I.”

Your face starts to turn red and the corner of my mouth quirks. Murder wont make those cheeks turn, but the minute I mention touchin’ you like you crave you get all bashful on me. It’s enough to drive a man absolutely mad. You part, headed into the house to do what I asked, and I shed my shirt on my way in after you, throwin’ it on the table and then makin’ my way down to the basement where I keep the shovel. There’s a thirty foot length at the back of the house that I could dig out. You could use a new garden, have somethin’ growin’ out back, whatever you wanted. I dig for hours, ‘til my hands ache and my shoulders scream. Deep enough to bury Leroy when I drag him to the back through the side door.

Before I cover him with dirt you stand next to me, the both of us lookin' over his body laid haphazardly in his impromptu grave in our backyard, I’m reminded that everythin’ I have gained up to this point, I have fought tooth and nail for. And nothin’ I ever give up will leave without the distinct red of my claw marks in it.

A New Garden

Couple’a weeks ago, when you told me that Leroy had come by the house, I went to their diner they owned on the outskirts’a town. Told ‘em both that it didn’t matter what deals I had goin’ with ‘em, if they ever showed up on my property again and pissed off my bride to be, I’d put a bullet in both of ‘em. They laughed, spat in the money that was mine and handed it to me, the blow to my ego nearly enough to make me shoot ‘em then, but they have a direct line on my baby sister, so I don’t.

It’s a surprise when we’re sitting down to lunch one late winter day and we hear a knock on the front door. You’re wearin’ one of the dresses I got you for Christmas, that dark blue velvet huggin’ your ass makin’ it hard to talk myself into goin’ outside to get firewood for the furnace. I know damn well that the boys at the station know better than to come up the property, so that knock is either my baby sister leavin’ her shit-for-brains husband and comin’ to stay with us while she gets her shit sorted out like I begged her to weeks ago, or one of those fuckin’ fools I told not to come here again. We look from our plates to each other, and I can tell you’re already just as irritated as I am.

No one is supposed to come here.

Ever.

“Why don’t you put on a pot of coffee, sweet pea. You grab these plates and I’ll grab the door.” I lean over the table and plant a quick kiss on your lips, liftin’ from my chair to stalk over to the front door. I look back to where you’re cleanin’ up the mess on the table, placin’ the plates in the sink and then gettin’ the kettle ready for coffee, facin’ away from me long enough for me to grab my pistol from my patrol belt and tuck it into the back of my pants. I swing the door open and standin’ in front of the screen is Leroy, smile plastered across big ugly face.

“Lee! I was drivin’ by and thought I’d chew your ear.”

I don’t tell him yet that I don’t want him here, my blood boilin’ just under the surface of my skin, so I fake my own smile, pushin’ the screen door open to let him step inside.

“Leroy, good to see ya. C’mon in, my Stephanie was just puttin’ on some coffee.” He steps in the door and stomps his boots free of snow on the mat, my jaw clenching because I know he’s going to expect you to clean that up later. I scrub my hand over my face as he waltzes toward the kitchen table.

“This’a cute little place you got here, Lee. I thought you’d’a upgraded by now with the type’a money you’re makin’.” Leroy turns back to shoot me a glance, bringin’ up our deal without statin’ it plainly, right in fuckin’ front of you. You look from him to me. It’s not a secret that I got money, I’m just grateful you don’t know how much a small-town deputy earns yearly.

“It was my parents place,” – I reply, followin’ him to the kitchen table where we pull chairs out opposite each other, “I figure I’ll give it to Sandy after the election.”

“Bit far from the club, ain’t it?” He asks, his brows knitted together.

“Yeah, that’s what I like about it.”

“I thought I told you to stay away from Sandy?”

There’s a tense moment, one where he looks from me to you, his eyes starting at your feet and make their way up to your face. I can tell it’s a threat, he knows where you are now. Where he can find you later. You’re finishin’ up the dishes just in time, dryin’ your hands off with one of the kitchen towels. You turn to catch his eyes just as they reach yours and I watch you shrink back, the last thread of my resolve snappin’. I don’t answer his question about my sister.

“Baby, why don’t you go grab a couple’a towels out of the bathroom? Y’know the ones that’re startin’ to fray at the ends? The ones you don’t like? Bring those out here for me, our friend is gonna need ‘em.” I tear your gaze away from him, giving you an excuse to leave the room for a few seconds.

You nod, crossin’ the livin’ room into our bedroom and as soon as I hear the click of your heels on the tile of the bathroom floor I reach for my pistol. My movement startles Leroy but he doesn’t reach for his gun fast enough before I’ve got mine trained on him.

“Set it down real slow, Leroy. Your brother know you’re here?” He nods, his jaw set in a defiant rage. “Good, I hope he swings by lookin’ for you.”

You re-enter the dinin’ room to the sight of me holdin’ a gun on our guest. Timidly, you set the towels down on the table on my right, and then pause, like you’re wonderin' what to do next.

“Slide that gun across the table, honey.”

@viridescent-steph

[deputybodecker]

When I reach for ya at first you flinch away from me, scared. I hate that, hate that I’ve scared ya like this, but I know that in the end it’s for the good of both of us. You open your eyes and for a second, I think you’re gonna go to the bedroom, let me do what I need to do for us and our growing little family, but you keep lookin’ over my shoulder to him and that’s when I pick the kettle up and take it over to him, pourin’ it over him when he talks about makin’ my bride a whore like he’s done to my sister. My head whips back to ya, thinkin’ that I must’a heard you wrong, but I catch the corner of a smile right before you slap a hand over your mouth.

I’m grinnin’ wide. I never expected you to be like me, never expected that you’d find some kind of pleasure in causin’ pain to those that threatened our home like I do. I set the kettle down in front of him, turnin’ and walkin’ back over to where you’re standin’ in our little kitchen. My fingers close around our kitchen knife, flippin’ it in my fingers and offerin’ the handle to you. “You wanna finish him off, Doe?” You look from the knife to me, and back again, worryin’ that cute little lip between your teeth again before you nod. I move back over to Leroy, takin’ a handful of his hair and yankin’ his head back hard with my right hand.

My left hand motions for you to come closer. You take a timid step forward, and then another, and I catch the fabric of your dress and pull you in front’a me. “Go on, take his hair like I’ve got,” I say, movin’ my hand so you can replace it with yours. You thread your fingers into his short grays and hold it tight, pullin’ back just like you saw me do. “Good girl, now take that knife –” I watch as you bring your right hand up, “—where you wanna put it? There? Okay, baby, you’re gonna press down an’ pull across, it’s just like ya bleed out a pig ‘fore you butcher it.” My fist closes ‘round where yours grips the handle of the knife, guidin’ you the whole way.

You bring the knife up to his throat, pressin’ down with my help, and together we drag the blade from one corner of his jaw to the other. He’s in so much shock at this point that he ain’t fightin’ anymore, and that takes a little bit of the fun out of it, but I know his dumb fuckin’ brother will be here at some point. Dark red blossoms from his neck and flows down his chest, a wet gurglin’ where he’s trying to breathe around drownin’ in his own blood comin’ from him. I take the knife from ya, settin’ it on the table next to the kettle before wrappin’ my arms around your middle and spinnin’ ya to face me. “Look at that, baby, you done real good. I’m so proud of you.”

I leave a kiss on your cheek, watchin’ with reverence as you survey Leroy bleedin’ out into our kitchen floor. “You see that, honey? That dead man at our dinin’ table? I would do that every day if it meant that you and our baby would be safe. That’s how much I love you.” You look from him to me, still wide eyed, and I take advantage of the moment, attachin’ my lips to yours, cradlin’ your face in my hands.

A New Garden

Couple’a weeks ago, when you told me that Leroy had come by the house, I went to their diner they owned on the outskirts’a town. Told ‘em both that it didn’t matter what deals I had goin’ with ‘em, if they ever showed up on my property again and pissed off my bride to be, I’d put a bullet in both of ‘em. They laughed, spat in the money that was mine and handed it to me, the blow to my ego nearly enough to make me shoot ‘em then, but they have a direct line on my baby sister, so I don’t.

It’s a surprise when we’re sitting down to lunch one late winter day and we hear a knock on the front door. You’re wearin’ one of the dresses I got you for Christmas, that dark blue velvet huggin’ your ass makin’ it hard to talk myself into goin’ outside to get firewood for the furnace. I know damn well that the boys at the station know better than to come up the property, so that knock is either my baby sister leavin’ her shit-for-brains husband and comin’ to stay with us while she gets her shit sorted out like I begged her to weeks ago, or one of those fuckin’ fools I told not to come here again. We look from our plates to each other, and I can tell you’re already just as irritated as I am.

No one is supposed to come here.

Ever.

“Why don’t you put on a pot of coffee, sweet pea. You grab these plates and I’ll grab the door.” I lean over the table and plant a quick kiss on your lips, liftin’ from my chair to stalk over to the front door. I look back to where you’re cleanin’ up the mess on the table, placin’ the plates in the sink and then gettin’ the kettle ready for coffee, facin’ away from me long enough for me to grab my pistol from my patrol belt and tuck it into the back of my pants. I swing the door open and standin’ in front of the screen is Leroy, smile plastered across big ugly face.

“Lee! I was drivin’ by and thought I’d chew your ear.”

I don’t tell him yet that I don’t want him here, my blood boilin’ just under the surface of my skin, so I fake my own smile, pushin’ the screen door open to let him step inside.

“Leroy, good to see ya. C’mon in, my Stephanie was just puttin’ on some coffee.” He steps in the door and stomps his boots free of snow on the mat, my jaw clenching because I know he’s going to expect you to clean that up later. I scrub my hand over my face as he waltzes toward the kitchen table.

“This’a cute little place you got here, Lee. I thought you’d’a upgraded by now with the type’a money you’re makin’.” Leroy turns back to shoot me a glance, bringin’ up our deal without statin’ it plainly, right in fuckin’ front of you. You look from him to me. It’s not a secret that I got money, I’m just grateful you don’t know how much a small-town deputy earns yearly.

“It was my parents place,” – I reply, followin’ him to the kitchen table where we pull chairs out opposite each other, “I figure I’ll give it to Sandy after the election.”

“Bit far from the club, ain’t it?” He asks, his brows knitted together.

“Yeah, that’s what I like about it.”

“I thought I told you to stay away from Sandy?”

There’s a tense moment, one where he looks from me to you, his eyes starting at your feet and make their way up to your face. I can tell it’s a threat, he knows where you are now. Where he can find you later. You’re finishin’ up the dishes just in time, dryin’ your hands off with one of the kitchen towels. You turn to catch his eyes just as they reach yours and I watch you shrink back, the last thread of my resolve snappin’. I don’t answer his question about my sister.

“Baby, why don’t you go grab a couple’a towels out of the bathroom? Y’know the ones that’re startin’ to fray at the ends? The ones you don’t like? Bring those out here for me, our friend is gonna need ‘em.” I tear your gaze away from him, giving you an excuse to leave the room for a few seconds.

You nod, crossin’ the livin’ room into our bedroom and as soon as I hear the click of your heels on the tile of the bathroom floor I reach for my pistol. My movement startles Leroy but he doesn’t reach for his gun fast enough before I’ve got mine trained on him.

“Set it down real slow, Leroy. Your brother know you’re here?” He nods, his jaw set in a defiant rage. “Good, I hope he swings by lookin’ for you.”

You re-enter the dinin’ room to the sight of me holdin’ a gun on our guest. Timidly, you set the towels down on the table on my right, and then pause, like you’re wonderin' what to do next.

“Slide that gun across the table, honey.”

@viridescent-steph

[deputybodecker]

The gun slides across the table, just as the kettle starts screamin’, and I feel the excitement of being out from under someone else start to pulse through my veins. You take the kettle off’a the stove and set it to the side, worryin’ the oven mitt in your delicate fingers. There’s a detached indifference I feel in murderin’ someone like Leroy, or his brother, that I’m pretty sure someone oughta put me away for, but I just can’t find it in me to give a fuck if he keeps takin’ up oxygen.

Truthfully, I put up with his bullshit for long enough. I turn to you again, makin’ sure he’s still focused in my peripheral. “Cover your ears and shut your eyes for me, honey,” I say, and after a wide eyed, fearful look, you obey. Your hands come up and press against your ears and your eyes screw shut. I pick up Leroy’s pistol and aim it at him before I set my own down, knowin’ better than to discharge a police issue weapon into a civilian.

I count to three before I pull the trigger, just to watch the sweat drip down his angry, terrified face. You jump anyway, lettin’ out a yelp, the earthshatterin' bang of pistol bein’ discharged ringin' through the rooms of our home. He screams out too, the bullet tearin’ through skin, viscera, and finally comin’ to rest in the cavity of his gut.

The wound I gave him ain’t lethal, but it hurts more than anythin’ I’ve ever heard described. When you open your eyes again, not much has changed, save for the thin trail of smoke coming from the end of the gun, the growin’ dark patch on Leroy’s shirt, and the screamin’ he’s doin’. I stand from my spot, grabbin’ two of our towels to take with me. I tuck the gun in the back of my pants so I have both hands, to wrench his head back by the hair, and shove a towel in his mouth, and one to put under his chair so he don’t stain the tile.

“Shut the fuck up or I’ll take your fuckin’ kneecap,” I spit, lookin’ down into his now pathetically blubberin’ face. He manages to reign in his volume, his breathin’ comin’ short and shallow, shock hangin' just on the horizon. He holds his stomach, blood pooling between and runnin' over his fingers.

I leave him and go to you, where you’re cowered in the corner of the kitchen. I gently pry your arms away from your head, raisin' your chin up to look at me. “I’m sorry baby, that was loud, I know it was. I’ll probably end up doin’ it again, but you can go to the bedroom if you want to while I finish up here. I shouldn't be too much longer."

“You sonovabitch! I’ll kill you!” He yells, the towel falling from his mouth and into the floor. I reach past you for the kettle of water, my fingers closin' over the wood handle and pressin' the button to open the spout. I duck down and press a kiss to your cheek before takin' the kettle full of hot water and stalkin' back over to Leroy. I hold it high, lettin' a stream of boilin' water pour over his wounded stomach, his screams startin' to echo through the house again.

A New Garden

Couple’a weeks ago, when you told me that Leroy had come by the house, I went to their diner they owned on the outskirts’a town. Told ‘em both that it didn’t matter what deals I had goin’ with ‘em, if they ever showed up on my property again and pissed off my bride to be, I’d put a bullet in both of ‘em. They laughed, spat in the money that was mine and handed it to me, the blow to my ego nearly enough to make me shoot ‘em then, but they have a direct line on my baby sister, so I don’t.

It’s a surprise when we’re sitting down to lunch one late winter day and we hear a knock on the front door. You’re wearin’ one of the dresses I got you for Christmas, that dark blue velvet huggin’ your ass makin’ it hard to talk myself into goin’ outside to get firewood for the furnace. I know damn well that the boys at the station know better than to come up the property, so that knock is either my baby sister leavin’ her shit-for-brains husband and comin’ to stay with us while she gets her shit sorted out like I begged her to weeks ago, or one of those fuckin’ fools I told not to come here again. We look from our plates to each other, and I can tell you’re already just as irritated as I am.

No one is supposed to come here.

Ever.

“Why don’t you put on a pot of coffee, sweet pea. You grab these plates and I’ll grab the door.” I lean over the table and plant a quick kiss on your lips, liftin’ from my chair to stalk over to the front door. I look back to where you’re cleanin’ up the mess on the table, placin’ the plates in the sink and then gettin’ the kettle ready for coffee, facin’ away from me long enough for me to grab my pistol from my patrol belt and tuck it into the back of my pants. I swing the door open and standin’ in front of the screen is Leroy, smile plastered across big ugly face.

“Lee! I was drivin’ by and thought I’d chew your ear.”

I don’t tell him yet that I don’t want him here, my blood boilin’ just under the surface of my skin, so I fake my own smile, pushin’ the screen door open to let him step inside.

“Leroy, good to see ya. C’mon in, my Stephanie was just puttin’ on some coffee.” He steps in the door and stomps his boots free of snow on the mat, my jaw clenching because I know he’s going to expect you to clean that up later. I scrub my hand over my face as he waltzes toward the kitchen table.

“This’a cute little place you got here, Lee. I thought you’d’a upgraded by now with the type’a money you’re makin’.” Leroy turns back to shoot me a glance, bringin’ up our deal without statin’ it plainly, right in fuckin’ front of you. You look from him to me. It’s not a secret that I got money, I’m just grateful you don’t know how much a small-town deputy earns yearly.

“It was my parents place,” – I reply, followin’ him to the kitchen table where we pull chairs out opposite each other, “I figure I’ll give it to Sandy after the election.”

“Bit far from the club, ain’t it?” He asks, his brows knitted together.

“Yeah, that’s what I like about it.”

“I thought I told you to stay away from Sandy?”

There’s a tense moment, one where he looks from me to you, his eyes starting at your feet and make their way up to your face. I can tell it’s a threat, he knows where you are now. Where he can find you later. You’re finishin’ up the dishes just in time, dryin’ your hands off with one of the kitchen towels. You turn to catch his eyes just as they reach yours and I watch you shrink back, the last thread of my resolve snappin’. I don’t answer his question about my sister.

“Baby, why don’t you go grab a couple’a towels out of the bathroom? Y’know the ones that’re startin’ to fray at the ends? The ones you don’t like? Bring those out here for me, our friend is gonna need ‘em.” I tear your gaze away from him, giving you an excuse to leave the room for a few seconds.

You nod, crossin’ the livin’ room into our bedroom and as soon as I hear the click of your heels on the tile of the bathroom floor I reach for my pistol. My movement startles Leroy but he doesn’t reach for his gun fast enough before I’ve got mine trained on him.

“Set it down real slow, Leroy. Your brother know you’re here?” He nods, his jaw set in a defiant rage. “Good, I hope he swings by lookin’ for you.”

You re-enter the dinin’ room to the sight of me holdin’ a gun on our guest. Timidly, you set the towels down on the table on my right, and then pause, like you’re wonderin' what to do next.

“Slide that gun across the table, honey.”

@viridescent-steph

[deputybodecker]

A New Garden

Couple’a weeks ago, when you told me that Leroy had come by the house, I went to their diner they owned on the outskirts’a town. Told ‘em both that it didn’t matter what deals I had goin’ with ‘em, if they ever showed up on my property again and pissed off my bride to be, I’d put a bullet in both of ‘em. They laughed, spat in the money that was mine and handed it to me, the blow to my ego nearly enough to make me shoot ‘em then, but they have a direct line on my baby sister, so I don’t.

It’s a surprise when we’re sitting down to lunch one late winter day and we hear a knock on the front door. You’re wearin’ one of the dresses I got you for Christmas, that dark blue velvet huggin’ your ass makin’ it hard to talk myself into goin’ outside to get firewood for the furnace. I know damn well that the boys at the station know better than to come up the property, so that knock is either my baby sister leavin’ her shit-for-brains husband and comin’ to stay with us while she gets her shit sorted out like I begged her to weeks ago, or one of those fuckin’ fools I told not to come here again. We look from our plates to each other, and I can tell you’re already just as irritated as I am.

No one is supposed to come here.

Ever.

“Why don’t you put on a pot of coffee, sweet pea. You grab these plates and I’ll grab the door.” I lean over the table and plant a quick kiss on your lips, liftin’ from my chair to stalk over to the front door. I look back to where you’re cleanin’ up the mess on the table, placin’ the plates in the sink and then gettin’ the kettle ready for coffee, facin’ away from me long enough for me to grab my pistol from my patrol belt and tuck it into the back of my pants. I swing the door open and standin’ in front of the screen is Leroy, smile plastered across big ugly face.

“Lee! I was drivin’ by and thought I’d chew your ear.”

I don’t tell him yet that I don’t want him here, my blood boilin’ just under the surface of my skin, so I fake my own smile, pushin’ the screen door open to let him step inside.

“Leroy, good to see ya. C’mon in, my Stephanie was just puttin’ on some coffee.” He steps in the door and stomps his boots free of snow on the mat, my jaw clenching because I know he’s going to expect you to clean that up later. I scrub my hand over my face as he waltzes toward the kitchen table.

“This’a cute little place you got here, Lee. I thought you’d’a upgraded by now with the type’a money you’re makin’.” Leroy turns back to shoot me a glance, bringin’ up our deal without statin’ it plainly, right in fuckin’ front of you. You look from him to me. It’s not a secret that I got money, I’m just grateful you don’t know how much a small-town deputy earns yearly.

“It was my parents place,” – I reply, followin’ him to the kitchen table where we pull chairs out opposite each other, “I figure I’ll give it to Sandy after the election.”

“Bit far from the club, ain’t it?” He asks, his brows knitted together.

“Yeah, that’s what I like about it.”

“I thought I told you to stay away from Sandy?”

There’s a tense moment, one where he looks from me to you, his eyes starting at your feet and make their way up to your face. I can tell it’s a threat, he knows where you are now. Where he can find you later. You’re finishin’ up the dishes just in time, dryin’ your hands off with one of the kitchen towels. You turn to catch his eyes just as they reach yours and I watch you shrink back, the last thread of my resolve snappin’. I don’t answer his question about my sister.

“Baby, why don’t you go grab a couple’a towels out of the bathroom? Y’know the ones that’re startin’ to fray at the ends? The ones you don’t like? Bring those out here for me, our friend is gonna need ‘em.” I tear your gaze away from him, giving you an excuse to leave the room for a few seconds.

You nod, crossin’ the livin’ room into our bedroom and as soon as I hear the click of your heels on the tile of the bathroom floor I reach for my pistol. My movement startles Leroy but he doesn’t reach for his gun fast enough before I’ve got mine trained on him.

“Set it down real slow, Leroy. Your brother know you’re here?” He nods, his jaw set in a defiant rage. “Good, I hope he swings by lookin’ for you.”

You re-enter the dinin’ room to the sight of me holdin’ a gun on our guest. Timidly, you set the towels down on the table on my right, and then pause, like you’re wonderin' what to do next.

“Slide that gun across the table, honey.”

@viridescent-steph

[deputybodecker]

I get you into my lap, the warm weight of you calmin’ my nerves if only by a little bit. I can’t the stand the way it looks like you’re about to cry, makes me want to take it all back and put the package in the back of the closet and forget I asked. We look from the present to each other and you’re the one to reach for it. You pull at the twine, openin’ the red paper to reveal the smallest sweater I’ve ever seen. You tell me you made it for me, your voice soundin’ like it could crack at any second. Were you afraid I was going to be mad that you got my measurements very very wrong? I set my glass down, surveyin’ it properly.

I pick it up, holdin’ it against my chest. “I could grow into it,” I say, offerin’ you a warm smile. Your laughter rings through the room and I feel like I can breathe for the first time in hours, a weight lifted off my chest with the tension broken. It’s barely bigger than my hand, it could fit one of them little puppets they use for kids’ theater, or it could fit a newborn. My head falls to the side, a few things clickin’ for me at the same time. The way you’ve been nauseous and not wantin’ me to know, the candy you ate that we had to replace, and if I squint your chest does look a little bit bigger.

I zone out for a minute thinkin’, makin’ all the numbers fit, when I hear your voice. My mouth hangs slack, breathin’ heavy to accompany my thunderin’ heart rate. “Baby, are you…?” My voice is thick, caught in my throat, and I can’t finish my question. I look from the sweater to you to your tummy. I stand us both, puttin’ the present on the table and takin’ a step back to look at ya right. I clear my voice, my eyes turnin’ red from where I’m tryin’ not to cry.

“Is there a little Bodecker in there?” I ask, eyes wide, hangin’ on every breath you take. You nod, your own tears spillin’ over as mine do. I look from your tummy to you and back again, wrappin’ you up in a tight hug and kissin’ your forehead. “Holy shit, Doe. You’re makin’ me a Daddy for Christmas,” I pull away with a wet chuckle, droppin’ to my knees and bringin’ myself eye level with the child you’re growin’. I pull your shirt up enough to reveal your stomach, not yet round, but I know it will be.

I press my lips to the skin there, closin’ my eyes as my arms wrap around your waist to hold you close. It feels like the entire center of my universe has shifted, the life that we’ve created right smack dab in the center of it. I look up at you from my knees, dopey smile spread from ear to ear, eyes red from happy cryin’. “Thank you, honey. This is the best gift I ever got.” I press kiss after kiss into your tummy, snifflin’ to keep my tears in check, while your fingers card through my hair.

The Christmas Parade

Somethin’s been buzzin’ under my skin for weeks, call it nerves, call it anxiety, call it whatever the fuck you want, but the mornin’ of the parade I almost shove you away from the toilet so I can empty my own stomach. My hands are a little shaky and my face might be a little pale, but you wrap your arms around my neck and ask me what’s botherin’ me and that’s all it takes for everythin’ to still again. Your body against mine is all it takes for everythin’ to click back together in my brain.

That green dress I got you is downright sinful, the way that it hugs your curves and offsets the pale of your skin. The way that it makes those goddamn green eyes feel like they’re lookin’ right through me. I been plannin’ this for weeks and the way you look at me, the way you smile at me with those full red lips, the way your heels click in my direction, the way your curls fall down your back and over my hands while I hold you close, it threatens to tear it all down. It threatens to take every well laid detail of my schemin’ and jumble it all up right in our living room until it a mess of my thick tongue stuck to the roof of my dry mouth because fuckyou look like that.

You tell me you’re ready to go, lookin’ up at me through those lashes and givin’ me that soft smile, the same smile you give me after I’ve pulled you apart on my cock for the fourth time in a single night. Exhausted and blissed out and goddamnit, we need to go. I help you into your coat before slippin’ into my own, pattin’ my left pocket for good luck before I whisk you out the front door and to the cruiser. I swing the passenger door open and settle you inside, kissin’ your cheek before I pop open the trunk. The banner that the receptionist at the station helped me make is safely nestled inside, still wrapped up nice and pristine. It’s another small comfort, that I worked for this, that I deserve this, deserve you.

Our ride into Chillicothe is just as peaceful as the last two times we’ve done it. Cause Knockemstiff is just a township, and ain’t really big enough to host its own parade, everyone floats over to Chillicothe to watch them put together the big one. All the Sheriffs and Deputies from all the surroundin’ towns get to drive down main street with their lights on, whoopin’ to high heavens. They’ve got the street blocked off for a full mile and my heart rate starts to pick up when I park the cruiser at our place in line. Right behind the Sheriff’s cruiser and right in front of the Meade Sheriff.

“Stay here just a minute, Doe,” I say, placin’ a kiss in the corner of your jaw before I climb out of the driver’s side. There’s a bucket’a candy in the back that I been savin’ for today, for you and I to throw out to the kids on the street. I remove it from the trunk along with the banner. Stalkin’ over to your side of the car, I fit the bucket in through the window, givin’ you a searin’ smile. “Hold that for me a minute wouldya, baby?” I wink at ya, takin’ the tape from where it’s tucked under my arm and securin’ the banner in place on your side of the car.

You look like you want to look out and see what I’m doin’ but I usher you back from the window, spoutin’ something about a safety hazard and ladies ain’t allowed to open their own doors. Once everythin’ in place, and I’m back in the car with you crushed into my side, my fingers wedged between your thighs.

As the parade caravan starts to roll down main street, I flip the lights on, red and blue twirlin’ for all the kids to see. They’re laughin’ and playin’, scramblin’ when we throw candy out for them, but it’s the ladies’ reaction that seems the most outta place. Most of it is a mixed back of cooin’, awin’ a couple of ‘em pointin’ fingers with jealousy on their faces, and I think those might be the ones that I like most, because I know what’s in store at the end of this incredibly slow mile. And if your sugar sweet smile ain’t waitin’ for me then I might just die.

@viridescent-steph

[deputybodecker]

You suck me dry, clean me up with your mouth while mine hangs slack in wonder. If I would’a known this is what I was gettin’ myself into all those months ago, I might’a risked it all a lot sooner. You tell me to close my mouth and my face is almost sheepish, my chest risin’ and fallin’ rapidly with the urge to fuck you all over again. We need to get home though; the snow’ll be settlin’ soon and I don’t like the idea of drivin’ in it with you in the car. A little while later I wake you from where you fell asleep against my side, help you into the house, take off your coat, the rest’a your clothes too. I run us a hot shower and let myself give in to my urge to have you against the wall before we clean up.

It wasn’t too long ago that I couldn’t get you to look at me without bein’ scared, seein’ where you are now threatens to make my heart fly away. I fall asleep on the couch with a movie and the pretty lights of our first Christmas tree. I’m tempted to take a bit of the branches off and try to propagate one for next year. Your absence wakes me from a dream where I watched every Christmas for the next thirty years play out with a tree born from the one in our livin’ room now. I look around and don’t find you on the couch with me, gettin’ up and paddin’ to the bedroom. I get there just in time to see you tuckin’ away a small parcel, one of the presents from under the tree, the wrappin’ paper an unmistakable red.

I don’t pry, not yet anyway. We get settled in our big warm bed and I pull you to me, scared that somethin’ is seriously wrong. I think about it so hard that I can’t sleep, your soft snorin’ next to me not the tranquilizer that it usually is. Softly, carefully, I shuffle away from you to the edge of the bed, tip-toein’ over to the closet and pullin’ out the tiny package. It don’t weigh too much, barely a couple ounces. But whatever is in it has you tied up in knots and I contemplate hard openin’ it to figure out what’s goin’ on. I take the present back out into the dinin’ room, pourin’ myself a couple fingers of whiskey and sittin’ down at the table to have the debate.

If I open it, and it’s nothing I should be worried about- then you’ll be upset that I didn’t trust you. Or maybe you’ll be upset that I ruined a surprise. Shit, you might be upset just because I waited until you were asleep and you didn’t get to see the look on my face. But that naggin’ feelin’ I have that somethin’ is off, that somethin’ ain’t right couples with my urge to protect you, to keep harm from ever comin’ to you. The struggle becomes makin’ you unhappy to protect you, and makin’ you happy but leavin’ you vulnerable.

I don’t hear when you call for me from the bed, wonderin’ where I went off to when you rolled over to find it empty, but you pad out of the bedroom a few moments later and that’s when I’m torn from my thoughts. “Hey, Doe,” I say, quiet and soft, knowin’ you just woke up to an empty bed and might be a little grumpy, “-I’m sorry, I just- I saw you hide it and I been tearin’ myself up wonderin’ what’s so bad that you gotta hide it from me.” You don’t respond at first, but take a couple tentative steps towards me, and I reach out, snaggin’ you by the hip to pull you close so I can look up at you. “If it’s that important that you don’t want me to see it, I’ll put it back where I found it unopened, but I did promise you that you’d never get hurt with me, and I meant that. I love you, all of you, whatever it is.”

I let you chew on it, process what I’ve said and see if it makes you change your mind about hidin’ this from me while I rub your back, takin’ a sip of my whiskey to occupy the silent moment.

The Christmas Parade

Somethin’s been buzzin’ under my skin for weeks, call it nerves, call it anxiety, call it whatever the fuck you want, but the mornin’ of the parade I almost shove you away from the toilet so I can empty my own stomach. My hands are a little shaky and my face might be a little pale, but you wrap your arms around my neck and ask me what’s botherin’ me and that’s all it takes for everythin’ to still again. Your body against mine is all it takes for everythin’ to click back together in my brain.

That green dress I got you is downright sinful, the way that it hugs your curves and offsets the pale of your skin. The way that it makes those goddamn green eyes feel like they’re lookin’ right through me. I been plannin’ this for weeks and the way you look at me, the way you smile at me with those full red lips, the way your heels click in my direction, the way your curls fall down your back and over my hands while I hold you close, it threatens to tear it all down. It threatens to take every well laid detail of my schemin’ and jumble it all up right in our living room until it a mess of my thick tongue stuck to the roof of my dry mouth because fuckyou look like that.

You tell me you’re ready to go, lookin’ up at me through those lashes and givin’ me that soft smile, the same smile you give me after I’ve pulled you apart on my cock for the fourth time in a single night. Exhausted and blissed out and goddamnit, we need to go. I help you into your coat before slippin’ into my own, pattin’ my left pocket for good luck before I whisk you out the front door and to the cruiser. I swing the passenger door open and settle you inside, kissin’ your cheek before I pop open the trunk. The banner that the receptionist at the station helped me make is safely nestled inside, still wrapped up nice and pristine. It’s another small comfort, that I worked for this, that I deserve this, deserve you.

Our ride into Chillicothe is just as peaceful as the last two times we’ve done it. Cause Knockemstiff is just a township, and ain’t really big enough to host its own parade, everyone floats over to Chillicothe to watch them put together the big one. All the Sheriffs and Deputies from all the surroundin’ towns get to drive down main street with their lights on, whoopin’ to high heavens. They’ve got the street blocked off for a full mile and my heart rate starts to pick up when I park the cruiser at our place in line. Right behind the Sheriff’s cruiser and right in front of the Meade Sheriff.

“Stay here just a minute, Doe,” I say, placin’ a kiss in the corner of your jaw before I climb out of the driver’s side. There’s a bucket’a candy in the back that I been savin’ for today, for you and I to throw out to the kids on the street. I remove it from the trunk along with the banner. Stalkin’ over to your side of the car, I fit the bucket in through the window, givin’ you a searin’ smile. “Hold that for me a minute wouldya, baby?” I wink at ya, takin’ the tape from where it’s tucked under my arm and securin’ the banner in place on your side of the car.

You look like you want to look out and see what I’m doin’ but I usher you back from the window, spoutin’ something about a safety hazard and ladies ain’t allowed to open their own doors. Once everythin’ in place, and I’m back in the car with you crushed into my side, my fingers wedged between your thighs.

As the parade caravan starts to roll down main street, I flip the lights on, red and blue twirlin’ for all the kids to see. They���re laughin’ and playin’, scramblin’ when we throw candy out for them, but it’s the ladies’ reaction that seems the most outta place. Most of it is a mixed back of cooin’, awin’ a couple of ‘em pointin’ fingers with jealousy on their faces, and I think those might be the ones that I like most, because I know what’s in store at the end of this incredibly slow mile. And if your sugar sweet smile ain’t waitin’ for me then I might just die.

@viridescent-steph

[deputybodecker]

I feel the second your velvet walls flutter closed against my thick digits, a groan ripped from my chest ‘cause I know that it’s mine, that I’m gonna bury myself in it until the day I die. You’re grabbin’ at my face when I curl the pads of my fingers into the spot I know makes your legs weak. There’s a sinister smile that spreads across my face, watchin’ my pretty little bride-to-be so done up and so proper get so fuckin’ messy in the back seat’a my car. The hand not buried knuckle deep in your pussy keeps you in place by your ass, fingers diggin’ into flesh hard.

You don’t let me fuck around for too long, tearin’ my hand away to grip me by the dick, anglin’ me just right so you can seat yourself- quick and precise. My eyes damn near roll outta my head, but when I reach for your hips to move us together you snap at me. Tell me no. Tell me to let you do it. Tell me to let you take care’a me. If I was any more riled up I woulda embarrassed myself right then, shot a load straight into you. You ride me like you got a point to prove and the only think I can do is hold on to your ass for dear life.

You kiss me hard, and the taste shared between us is malt chocolate, sweet and sultry. Your hips bounce faster, you’re showin’ no signs of stoppin’ and when I lean back against the seat to give you a little more room you duck down into my neck to leave bite after love bite. I can’t concentrate on the marks I know you’re gonna be leavin’ with how your cunt is grippin’ me and tryin’ to milk me for everythin’ I’m worth. I only have a few seconds of warnin’, the flutterin’ in your pussy gettin’ more frantic right before you slam into your orgasm and start shakin’ above me. I plant both’a my feet in the floorboard and grip you by the hips, fuckin’ up into you hard and fast.

My ear rings with how loud you cry out into my neck, the sound only vaguely muffled by my shirt. My core burns with the effort but I don’t stop until I feel you seize again, a second orgasm right around the corner. “You gonna cum again for me, Doe?” Your arms wrap around my neck, holdin’ on tight while I push your hips down to meet mine. “Yeah, I knew you would, baby. Make a mess on my cock, go on. There it is, oh fuck, always so good to me, honey. Pussy’s so fuckin’ tight, shit.” I can feel the cords start to unravel in my own gut, my release not far behind.

“C’mon baby, I want one more, give Daddy one more.” I wedge my hand between us under your dress, findin’ where our pelvises meet and thumbin’ circles into your clit, quick and dirty. Your legs start shakin’ violently and you’re takin’ in air like ya ain’t gettin’ enough of it to begin with. “Give me one more, honey,” I coo. You start sayin’ somethin’ about how you can’t, how it’s too much, but your body ain’t sayin’ the same thing, the words caught in your throat as your eyes glaze over and your mouth falls open in a silent scream. “Look at that. All pretty and cockdrunk and- ah fuck!”My release hits me like a truck, I slam myself into you a couple more times, emptyin’ everything I have in the haven of your cunt.

I’m sweatin’ somethin’ awful, the car smells like sex, and you’re damn near incoherent curled against my chest. “I love you, future Mrs. Bodecker.” I say, between pants. “Let’s go home, yeah?”

The Christmas Parade

Somethin’s been buzzin’ under my skin for weeks, call it nerves, call it anxiety, call it whatever the fuck you want, but the mornin’ of the parade I almost shove you away from the toilet so I can empty my own stomach. My hands are a little shaky and my face might be a little pale, but you wrap your arms around my neck and ask me what’s botherin’ me and that’s all it takes for everythin’ to still again. Your body against mine is all it takes for everythin’ to click back together in my brain.

That green dress I got you is downright sinful, the way that it hugs your curves and offsets the pale of your skin. The way that it makes those goddamn green eyes feel like they’re lookin’ right through me. I been plannin’ this for weeks and the way you look at me, the way you smile at me with those full red lips, the way your heels click in my direction, the way your curls fall down your back and over my hands while I hold you close, it threatens to tear it all down. It threatens to take every well laid detail of my schemin’ and jumble it all up right in our living room until it a mess of my thick tongue stuck to the roof of my dry mouth because fuckyou look like that.

You tell me you’re ready to go, lookin’ up at me through those lashes and givin’ me that soft smile, the same smile you give me after I’ve pulled you apart on my cock for the fourth time in a single night. Exhausted and blissed out and goddamnit, we need to go. I help you into your coat before slippin’ into my own, pattin’ my left pocket for good luck before I whisk you out the front door and to the cruiser. I swing the passenger door open and settle you inside, kissin’ your cheek before I pop open the trunk. The banner that the receptionist at the station helped me make is safely nestled inside, still wrapped up nice and pristine. It’s another small comfort, that I worked for this, that I deserve this, deserve you.

Our ride into Chillicothe is just as peaceful as the last two times we’ve done it. Cause Knockemstiff is just a township, and ain’t really big enough to host its own parade, everyone floats over to Chillicothe to watch them put together the big one. All the Sheriffs and Deputies from all the surroundin’ towns get to drive down main street with their lights on, whoopin’ to high heavens. They’ve got the street blocked off for a full mile and my heart rate starts to pick up when I park the cruiser at our place in line. Right behind the Sheriff’s cruiser and right in front of the Meade Sheriff.

“Stay here just a minute, Doe,” I say, placin’ a kiss in the corner of your jaw before I climb out of the driver’s side. There’s a bucket’a candy in the back that I been savin’ for today, for you and I to throw out to the kids on the street. I remove it from the trunk along with the banner. Stalkin’ over to your side of the car, I fit the bucket in through the window, givin’ you a searin’ smile. “Hold that for me a minute wouldya, baby?” I wink at ya, takin’ the tape from where it’s tucked under my arm and securin’ the banner in place on your side of the car.

You look like you want to look out and see what I’m doin’ but I usher you back from the window, spoutin’ something about a safety hazard and ladies ain’t allowed to open their own doors. Once everythin’ in place, and I’m back in the car with you crushed into my side, my fingers wedged between your thighs.

As the parade caravan starts to roll down main street, I flip the lights on, red and blue twirlin’ for all the kids to see. They’re laughin’ and playin’, scramblin’ when we throw candy out for them, but it’s the ladies’ reaction that seems the most outta place. Most of it is a mixed back of cooin’, awin’ a couple of ‘em pointin’ fingers with jealousy on their faces, and I think those might be the ones that I like most, because I know what’s in store at the end of this incredibly slow mile. And if your sugar sweet smile ain’t waitin’ for me then I might just die.

@viridescent-steph

[deputybodecker]

Your fingers are cold against my cheeks but they send sparks through me all the same. Your verbal agreement to be my wife flushin’ a new kind of warmth through my body that I ain’t ever felt before. It feels like everythin’ falling together, fittin’ perfectly just like the ring fits onto your finger. You take in the sight of it on your finger, my hand wrappin’ around yours and pressin’ my lips to your palm, the wide eyed face of wonderment makin’ every moment worried over makin’ this work worth it.

I shuffle you out of the cruiser and we’re greeted by the small crowd, the red coverin’ your cheeks makin’ the smile on mine grow wider. With my arm wrapped around your waist I reach for your left hand, holdin’ it in the air and announcin’ our engagement. The boys on the force hoot and holler, the ladies oohin’ and ahhin’ their own approval. You get pulled away by the ladies, all these little hens cluckin’ about dresses and houses recipes for shit I know you’d make better than they could.

The boys are talkin’ about the bachelor party, never really somethin’ I was interested in. It always seemed more like a funeral for a man’s freedom than it did a party, and that ain’t really how I see our union. It’s the beginnin’ of somethin’ I’ve been cravin’ my whole life. The consummation of a love and devotion that I never got from anyone else, but the boys will probably insist on the party anyway and we’ll most likely end up settlin’ on a dinner some cigars. I don’t know what the ladies will have talked you into, but I hope you have fun with it either way.

I look over to see your face knotted up and realize that this is probably a lot for you, intervenin’ by snakin’ my arm around your middle and pullin’ you from the middle of the throng.

“We’ll call y’all the minute we start makin’ plans, but for now, I think I’m gonna occupy a whole lot of her time,” I say, placin’ a kiss at the corner of your jaw before winkin’ and turnin’ us back towards the cruiser. I help you lower down into the seat and then head around to enter on my side, wavin’ everyone a Merry Christmas and a promise to catch up later when we get a chance.

A few turns later we’re pullin’ up to one of the diners I used to frequent, before you started sendin’ me to work with lunch, and the smell of fries and malt shakes makes my mouth water. We talk here and there of small details with the weddin’. I tell you that I’ll pay for whatever you want to do with it, that you’ll have whatever budget you want for the dress as long as I don’t see it until you walk down the aisle, that we can invite whoever you want, keep from invitin’ whoever you want. I’m just grateful to be the guy you meet at the altar; the rest is icing.

After cheeseburgers, a plate of fries that we split, and a malt shake that you insisted I didn’t finish by myself, we climb back into the cruiser. The whole time we ate my eyes couldn’t stay off’a that damn left hand. Images of you with a silver band under it after the ceremony, consummation the night of, and the family we’ll raise together flyin’ through my head like a movie at a drive in. My leg bouncin’ under the table durin’ our entire meal.

We’re at least a half hour from arrivin’ home and my half hard cock throbs at the thought of you round with my child, chest swollen, ass jigglin’. I’m tryin’ hard to keep myself in check, at least until I can lay you down in our bed, and it’s a mental fight I’m losin’ quickly. We hit a pot hole in the road and it scares you, your reflexes makin’ you grab at my thigh and I surrender all rational thought to the part of my brain that supplies blood flow to my extremities. I curse out, shit, and your face falls concerned that somethin’ might be wrong with the car. Another half mile up and I’m pullin’ the car into an alcove’a trees that I use to watch for people that speed down this road.

You turn and ask me what’s wrong and I realize that you can’t read my mind, haven’t been privy to the litany shit that’s been makin’ my cock ache with need.

“What’s wrong is that you just agreed to marry me and the idea of bein’ buried in that tight pussy’a yours for the rest of my life is makin’ me an impatient man,” I growl, reachin’ over to pull you close and attach my lips to your neck. “Baby, I gotta have now, right now.” I don’t know if the ring gave you a new kind of confidence, or you just like hearin’ how weak I am for you, but your hand grips me through my pants my mouth dries up, a muffled fuck fallin’ out of my mouth against your skin.

The front seat doesn’t have enough space, there’s too much shit in the way, so I pull you out of the cruiser on the driver’s side and usher you into the backseat, climbin’ in after you. We’re a mess of tangled fingers and rushed movements, gettin’ my belt and pants undone and shoved down my thighs before you move to straddle my lap, hoverin’ that heavenly cunt just a few inches above me. With one hand on your hip the other finds it’s way under your skirts, findin’ the gusset of your panties already clingin’ to you.

“Fuck, Doe, cunt like this you might as well be concealin’ a deadly weapon,” I groan, pullin’ your underwear to the side and curlin’ my fingers into you as I look up into your face to watch it pinch when I glide over spots inside'a ya I know you respond to.

The Christmas Parade

Somethin’s been buzzin’ under my skin for weeks, call it nerves, call it anxiety, call it whatever the fuck you want, but the mornin’ of the parade I almost shove you away from the toilet so I can empty my own stomach. My hands are a little shaky and my face might be a little pale, but you wrap your arms around my neck and ask me what’s botherin’ me and that’s all it takes for everythin’ to still again. Your body against mine is all it takes for everythin’ to click back together in my brain.

That green dress I got you is downright sinful, the way that it hugs your curves and offsets the pale of your skin. The way that it makes those goddamn green eyes feel like they’re lookin’ right through me. I been plannin’ this for weeks and the way you look at me, the way you smile at me with those full red lips, the way your heels click in my direction, the way your curls fall down your back and over my hands while I hold you close, it threatens to tear it all down. It threatens to take every well laid detail of my schemin’ and jumble it all up right in our living room until it a mess of my thick tongue stuck to the roof of my dry mouth because fuckyou look like that.

You tell me you’re ready to go, lookin’ up at me through those lashes and givin’ me that soft smile, the same smile you give me after I’ve pulled you apart on my cock for the fourth time in a single night. Exhausted and blissed out and goddamnit, we need to go. I help you into your coat before slippin’ into my own, pattin’ my left pocket for good luck before I whisk you out the front door and to the cruiser. I swing the passenger door open and settle you inside, kissin’ your cheek before I pop open the trunk. The banner that the receptionist at the station helped me make is safely nestled inside, still wrapped up nice and pristine. It’s another small comfort, that I worked for this, that I deserve this, deserve you.

Our ride into Chillicothe is just as peaceful as the last two times we’ve done it. Cause Knockemstiff is just a township, and ain’t really big enough to host its own parade, everyone floats over to Chillicothe to watch them put together the big one. All the Sheriffs and Deputies from all the surroundin’ towns get to drive down main street with their lights on, whoopin’ to high heavens. They’ve got the street blocked off for a full mile and my heart rate starts to pick up when I park the cruiser at our place in line. Right behind the Sheriff’s cruiser and right in front of the Meade Sheriff.

“Stay here just a minute, Doe,” I say, placin’ a kiss in the corner of your jaw before I climb out of the driver’s side. There’s a bucket’a candy in the back that I been savin’ for today, for you and I to throw out to the kids on the street. I remove it from the trunk along with the banner. Stalkin’ over to your side of the car, I fit the bucket in through the window, givin’ you a searin’ smile. “Hold that for me a minute wouldya, baby?” I wink at ya, takin’ the tape from where it’s tucked under my arm and securin’ the banner in place on your side of the car.

You look like you want to look out and see what I’m doin’ but I usher you back from the window, spoutin’ something about a safety hazard and ladies ain’t allowed to open their own doors. Once everythin’ in place, and I’m back in the car with you crushed into my side, my fingers wedged between your thighs.

As the parade caravan starts to roll down main street, I flip the lights on, red and blue twirlin’ for all the kids to see. They’re laughin’ and playin’, scramblin’ when we throw candy out for them, but it’s the ladies’ reaction that seems the most outta place. Most of it is a mixed back of cooin’, awin’ a couple of ‘em pointin’ fingers with jealousy on their faces, and I think those might be the ones that I like most, because I know what’s in store at the end of this incredibly slow mile. And if your sugar sweet smile ain’t waitin’ for me then I might just die.

@viridescent-steph

[deputybodecker]

Mixed into the bucket is a few Bodecker for Sherriff pins that I had made a couple towns over, and they get thrown out with the candy. If the kids like me, then the parents will like me, and you gotta start at your grassroots, right? All the ladies on your side of the car are havin’ some kind of reaction, and for most of the ride I pretend not to notice it, but once we get towards the courthouse I know the parade is about two thirds of the way done and I know I gotta start talkin’ myself up now. You thank me for bringin’ you, and the segue presents itself more perfectly than I coulda imagined.

“Of course, Doe. Couldn’t imagine bringin’ anyone else. Say, you wanna do this again next year?” I ask, whippin’ my heads towards you. You pause your distribution of candy to beam up at me, my heart meltin’ even in this chill, and nod. I give an affirming nod, letting the moment settle for a moment before I ask again. “What about the year after that? You wanna do it that year too?” Your smile has gone as wide as it can go, returning my question with a giggle that bounces around in my skull. “Well, hold on now, I’m not done. I’m thinkin’, the year after that, we could maybe pencil another one’a these parades in then, too.” You’ve damn near gone full belly laugh, leanin’ over into my shoulder.

“Ma’am I don’t know why you’re laughin’ at me; this is a very serious affair.” My own chuckle is startin’ to betray me, the contagious nature of your guffawin’ infectin’ into my chest. “Now Stephanie, if you don’t settle down,” I say, the act of threatenin’ you makin’ you peer back up at me incredulously. “I got about fifty more’a these things I wanna pencil you in for. You think you got time?” The confusion returns, accented by that cute little grin, and you ask me what I’m on about.

“Well, I was thinkin’ right after I win that election and we’re sittin’ in that car in front of us,” I point to it, the Sherriff’s cruiser the same as mine, with different wording along the side, “you might go with me to the parade as Missus Sherriff Bodecker.” I pull a small box from my left pocket, openin’ it before I show it to you. There’s one big diamond in the middle, with two more diamonds on each side, wedged tight into the pure silver band. “Will you make me the happiest buck in the forest, Doe? Will you marry me?”

There’s a tense moment passin’ between us, so silent I can hear the banner that reads Future Mrs. Sherriff of Knockemstiff flutterin’ against the side of my car.

the ring

The Christmas Parade

Somethin’s been buzzin’ under my skin for weeks, call it nerves, call it anxiety, call it whatever the fuck you want, but the mornin’ of the parade I almost shove you away from the toilet so I can empty my own stomach. My hands are a little shaky and my face might be a little pale, but you wrap your arms around my neck and ask me what’s botherin’ me and that’s all it takes for everythin’ to still again. Your body against mine is all it takes for everythin’ to click back together in my brain.

That green dress I got you is downright sinful, the way that it hugs your curves and offsets the pale of your skin. The way that it makes those goddamn green eyes feel like they’re lookin’ right through me. I been plannin’ this for weeks and the way you look at me, the way you smile at me with those full red lips, the way your heels click in my direction, the way your curls fall down your back and over my hands while I hold you close, it threatens to tear it all down. It threatens to take every well laid detail of my schemin’ and jumble it all up right in our living room until it a mess of my thick tongue stuck to the roof of my dry mouth because fuckyou look like that.

You tell me you’re ready to go, lookin’ up at me through those lashes and givin’ me that soft smile, the same smile you give me after I’ve pulled you apart on my cock for the fourth time in a single night. Exhausted and blissed out and goddamnit, we need to go. I help you into your coat before slippin’ into my own, pattin’ my left pocket for good luck before I whisk you out the front door and to the cruiser. I swing the passenger door open and settle you inside, kissin’ your cheek before I pop open the trunk. The banner that the receptionist at the station helped me make is safely nestled inside, still wrapped up nice and pristine. It’s another small comfort, that I worked for this, that I deserve this, deserve you.

Our ride into Chillicothe is just as peaceful as the last two times we’ve done it. Cause Knockemstiff is just a township, and ain’t really big enough to host its own parade, everyone floats over to Chillicothe to watch them put together the big one. All the Sheriffs and Deputies from all the surroundin’ towns get to drive down main street with their lights on, whoopin’ to high heavens. They’ve got the street blocked off for a full mile and my heart rate starts to pick up when I park the cruiser at our place in line. Right behind the Sheriff’s cruiser and right in front of the Meade Sheriff.

“Stay here just a minute, Doe,” I say, placin’ a kiss in the corner of your jaw before I climb out of the driver’s side. There’s a bucket’a candy in the back that I been savin’ for today, for you and I to throw out to the kids on the street. I remove it from the trunk along with the banner. Stalkin’ over to your side of the car, I fit the bucket in through the window, givin’ you a searin’ smile. “Hold that for me a minute wouldya, baby?” I wink at ya, takin’ the tape from where it’s tucked under my arm and securin’ the banner in place on your side of the car.

You look like you want to look out and see what I’m doin’ but I usher you back from the window, spoutin’ something about a safety hazard and ladies ain’t allowed to open their own doors. Once everythin’ in place, and I’m back in the car with you crushed into my side, my fingers wedged between your thighs.

As the parade caravan starts to roll down main street, I flip the lights on, red and blue twirlin’ for all the kids to see. They’re laughin’ and playin’, scramblin’ when we throw candy out for them, but it’s the ladies’ reaction that seems the most outta place. Most of it is a mixed back of cooin’, awin’ a couple of ‘em pointin’ fingers with jealousy on their faces, and I think those might be the ones that I like most, because I know what’s in store at the end of this incredibly slow mile. And if your sugar sweet smile ain’t waitin’ for me then I might just die.

@viridescent-steph