Here's chapter 3. Hope you like it...
_______
The Spider and the Fly
Part 1*Chapter 3
by: Lou Gojira
A nice and relieving stream of cool winds blew across the landscape that pleasant Thursday afternoon and seemed to lick every inch of Lacey's young body as she stopped walking and stood at the roadside, allowing herself to relax as much as a person could standing in one spot. She lost track of how many miles she'd covered that gray and cloudy day, and for the moment that was okay, because today was a serious relief from how it had been for a while now. Her little white tank top fluttered slightly with the breeze, and the untucked bottom of it rode up to teasingly reveal her taut and tanned belly. Her "store-bought" blonde mane whipped about a bit as well, particularly her pony-tail that seemed to act like a riding crop, lightly smacking the back of her neck as if subtly saying: "get a move on sister!"
She observed the trees as they swayed and moved, branches twisting and turning with the winds, and could tell by their leaves that rain was coming as certainly as death and taxes were a part of living. Lacey had succeeded in making herself forget most of her (often unpleasant) past, but there were some high points and some little nuggets of wisdom that stayed with her. One such nugget she received over ten years ago from her mother...
She had been outside playing by herself, trying to get lost in the woods that were behind her home, deeply entrenched in some imaginary game, something that children without neighbors and expensive toys tend to do, and her mother told her to keep an eye on the leaves earlier that day. "When you see 'em turned over, that means they're thirsty and rain is comin'."But by the time she remembered those words, and noticed the overturned leaves the sky decided to break open. When she came trudging up the steps of the back porch almost 20 minutes later, she looked like a drowned and miserable little rat. She'll never forget how her mother laughed that day, cackling like some fat hen that just layed an egg, as she toweled her angry and embarassed daughter dry.
Ever since that incident, whenever she saw the light underbelly of the leaves on the trees, she knew rain was right around the corner. Years later when she relayed the story to Luke, he gave it about half a chuckle and made yet another comment (among many over time) about her being a hick. She never minded the hick comments that he'd throw out there; what did that sissified city boy know?
"You can take the girl out of the country, but you can't take the country out of the girl." he'd lovingly say with a grin, sometimes tacking it onto one of his numerous hick comments. It sounded like a legitimate and tried and true enough saying, but where his city-slicking ass picked it up she didn't have a clue. Thinking back, that was probably another thing about her he enjoyed, getting a sampling taste of the American South without having to relocate. Up until he met her, his only semi-real exposure to the South was "bullshit" country music (poor uneducated Luke actually put the words "Dixie Chicks" and "Hank Williams" in the same sentence once, blasphemy!), the lame-assed line-dancing that he and his old buddies from college would stand to the side and snicker over if they happened to be in a bar or club that had people doing it, and (sadly) re-runs of the Dukes of Hazard. "Is that why you go barefoot everywhere?" he'd ask jokingly, knowing good and well that wasn't the reason.
The reason was, as Luke found out eventually, was that Lacey was not only an exhibitionist (she was a far cry from a snob, but she knew very well that her feet were gorgeous), she had a rather large streak of masochism in her too. She quite enjoyed, in some (perhaps perverse) way, the mild abuse her barefeet would get from walking on rough terrain or banging them into things, and she seemed to wear dirty soles like a badge of pride. It made her feel vunerable to the world, helpless you could say, and this gave her quite a charge. Now Luke was the type of man who knew the differences in female feet; what constituted ugly feet from pretty ones, but it wasn't until he hooked up with Lacey that he got to fully explore this "subterainean world"of sexuality and eroticism. Just when ol' Luke thought he'd been around the block plenty of times in his 34 years of life, and seen and done anything worth seeing and doing in the bedroom, 18 year old Lacey came long and blew him away. Lacey had managed to awaken the sexual beast that lay dormant in him for a little too long, and she reflected on this as she slowly picked up stride again. 'Oh Luke...' she thought as she walked, staring down at her beautifully barefeet, treading the roadside gravel, almost cat-like in the way she lightly stepped. 'Why couldn't I keep you?'
She jerked one foot up suddenly with a wince. Holding her leg by the ankle, she bent sideways and saw a crystal-like tiny shard of broken glass (no bigger than a pebble, or a particularly large grain of sand) poked into the soft and fleshy ball of her barefoot. The spark of pain sent a tingling rush up her leg that was enjoyable in a way that she understood on her own levels, and yet it was annoying. Maybe the pain did it, but at that very next moment the words "my wife" coming from Luke's mouth went through her mental ears. She squeezed her eyes shut, feeling them start to well with tears, her beautiful mouth grimacing and exposing her white teeth. She wasn't sure if it was the glass or the painful words from Luke that made her want to cry, as she spread her long and defined dirty toes holding her ankle, arching her foot to where the glass piece was more pronounced. Instead of plucking it out, Lacey stared straight ahead at the road disappearing over the horizon, released her ankle, and stepped back down. She felt one particular rock pressed even with the piece of glass, and without so much as taking a deep breath, she started twisting her ankle, pushing her leg down, driving the piece further in. What started as a little spark in her foot was now a throbbing burn, and she began to walk again, not cat-like, but forceful. She wanted the pain, she needed it maybe, to push Luke a little bit more out of her mind. And in her stride, she noticed her pussy would get warmer and wetter each time that certain foot struck the gravel, sending that delicious burn in spurts up her leg, into her sex. It made her heart pound, as well as make her breath a little weaker. She was beginning to get lost, consumed in this pseudo-masturbatory euphoric state. Her cluttered and racing mind found a means of reaching a peaceful self-gratifying utopian nirvana.
That is until she felt the first warm droplets of rain start to pepper her bare and sun-bronzed shoulders. 'Time to get drenched...' she thought to herself becoming aware of reality again, as the surroundings made it clear that shelter from the rain was going to be mediocre at best. All at once this impending and overdue summer downpour hit, and Lacey took off running. She had to find something to get under, and quick. It didn't take long for steam to rise from the asphault, and the air had become both cool with the rain, and miserably humid from the steam all at once. She realized a little later down the road as she ran that she was practically soaking her panties through, that burning rush still as strong minutes later as it was when she first got it. She figured her excitement would've shown through her pants if the rain hadn't already drenched them...
The old saying "pouring like piss out of a boot" fit the weather to a tee that rainy and generally overall miserable Thursday afternoon in the big city. Ian slowly blew a stream of smoke from his nostrils as he sat and watched the cascading drops add to the all-consuming sheet of water that enveloped the windshield of the car. He rolled the automatic window down just enough to flick the still-lit butt outside, and then watched it bounce off the brick wall of where he was parked as the glass went sliding back up. He mindlessly groped at the steering wheel and tried to get a grip on his nerves, which were slowly but surely becoming more and more frazzled. Being cooped up in his car in the back alley of a run down section of town for so long the windows were just beginning to steam up and fog over was bad enough. Trying to get this extremely paranoid dipshit sitting next to him to tell him what he needed to know without scaring him off was the cherry on top of the sundae.
'Think of the money...' he kept mentally reminding himself whenever the urge to cut the pussy-footing and start prying would begin to strike. If Paranoid Motherfucker (which he mentally amused himself by nicknaming this guy, which he also kep to himself) wasn't so anal about covering his tracks, he could've been lucky enough to talk this deal over in a nice cozy cafe where he would get a cup of "real motherfucking coffee" and not this "gas station cat-piss" that he had to settle for (which, incidentally, was getting colder and less satisfying than it already was the longer this situation played out). While Ian was amusing himself with "could've-might've-would've been's", he almost allowed himself to openly grin at the idea of getting to talk this over at a nudie bar, which, like strong and heavily caffeinated "real" coffee, he was particularly fond of as well. "Who am I kidding?' he thought 'Nobody talks around tits, that only happens in movies.' But he already knew, that if this deal was to go down with him carrying out the deed, he'd find himself in more than a few nudie bars before it was all said and done. Even better, Paranoid Motherfucker was going to have to pay all of the admission charges, no questions asked, and perhaps a few lap dances would hit the bill too if he saw it fit.
"Tell me about where she worked." Ian said quite professionally (by his standards) and not turning to face this passenger that was taking up his time.
"I told you about it." Luke answered him as he fished his own cigarettes out of his shirt pocket. He'd been meaning to cut back for a while now, but damned if the situation didn't make him antsy enough to fall prey to the nicotine demon once again.
"No-" Ian retorted with a slight pause for dramatic effect "-you didn't. You told me the name of the place and the days she worked." He turned and faced Luke, pushing his glasses up his nose simply for something to do with his idle hands. "How close did she get to her co-workers? You think she might've got close enough to one of them that they wouldn't mind shacking her up somewhere? I know the kinda' money those girls can make, it wouldn't be nothing to have a secluded little cabin out in the middle of the woods or enough cash to pay for a hotel room way the fuck out of town for an indefinite period of time." He felt his aggrevation tick one notch closer to all-out anger when he saw that Luke was going to take his time to answer.
And Luke took his time to answer, sure enough, making it all the more clear when he fired up the menthol he had pursed in his lips. Sure, he didn't like the way this guy carried himself, (so it was quite the little treat to push this skinny, snotty little prick's buttons whenever he could) but he was truely at a loss for knowing because Lacey was the type of person to leave work 'at' work. Aside from the time she came to him wanting to press the charges she did, she never went into a whole lot of detail about the Double-Visions club. In retrospect, he realized she did it to avoid stepping on any feelings of jealousy he may have stupidly acquired, not allowing his mind's eye to picture the total strangers drooling over this lady he cared so much for. He felt his chest warm up a little, reflecting on how thoughtful she always was towards him, whether it was a conscious effort on her part or something she did instinctively. Not to mention that Lacey always contended that it was just a stepping stone of a place, nothing to even remotely think about retiring from. She had her dreams, and he used to enjoy sitting and listening to them when she talked about them, even though he knew he never really showed it when she did. That was something else that became more clear in retrospect.
But wait a minute. Is "care" the word to fit the feelings he had? He sure "cared" enough to find himself secretly talking with a private investigator in a back alley, standing a very good chance of losing everything he had if the wrong people were to find out. He sure "cared" enough to spiral into a depressed state of confusion when the police wire came in at the office, and Lacey vanished even before that. He "cared" so much that he never felt right with himself after the night of the break-up, and inevitably blamed himself for everything that happened even though reality and common sense would've proved him wrong if he had allowed himself to stay in reality long enough to see it. Luke was a social drinker, by nature, but within the last month he found himself stopping off to pick up a flat bottle on his way home from work several nights a week. Yeah, he "cared" alright. He "cared" so much it was all slowly and surely killing him. Not that his wife noticed though, she wouldn't notice unless he suddenly lost his job over it and it cut into their income substantially.
"I guess she had a couple of girls or whoever she talked to," Luke finally answered as his cigarette burned up between his fingers. "Aside from Krystal I don't think she got too froggy with anybody."
"And this Krystal..." Ian started, sipping his coffee and then grimacing shortly there-after. "She still works there, right?"
"No." Luke said flatly. "I'm pretty sure she skipped town before Lacey disappeared." He turned to look out the passenger window at the wall of graffitti facing him, and mindlessly read the words 'FUCK GRINGO' (all immacualtely rendered in spray paints) for the thousandth time as they sat there in the car. "Every subpoena we tried to serve her got returned. After the fifth one the sheriff told me to give it up."
Ian snickered a little, and when Luke looked at him, he began to explain: "It's nothing." He stared out the windshield for a minute."It's just that I got a brother in some town up North who's a sheriff. Real Andy Griffith set-up he's got going too..." His smile was slowly disappearing. "Don't worry, we're not close at all. And should I take this job, he'd be the last person sticking his nose in this." He wasn't about to explain the gregarious claims his brother made about vampires living in the town, or that he was actually seeing one on a regular basis.
"Well, whether or not you think she's guilty-" Luke started.
"Sir!" Ian cut him off, almost slipping up and calling him by name. If Luke knew some things about him, or that he knew what he did, he concluded, he could kiss the possibility of this lofty paying job and perhaps even his life good bye. "I could care less if she did it or not." he popped his thumbs with his index fingers "She could've cut their big black dicks off and stuck them in the freezer for popsicles, a la Jeffrey Dahmer, for all I care..." he folded his arms "If you want me to find her, I'll find her. Morals or ethics don't mean shit to me."
"Your humanity is your strength..." Luke said, rolling his eyes while not turning to face Ian.
'And your loyalty to your wife is your's.' Ian thought.
Lacey could hear the thunder gently rumbling in the distance from where she was poised. She had ran long-enough to find an overpass, which was above a stream. The stream was probably pretty high in less dry times of the year, you could probably fish out of it, she figured, but as it stood at the moment all it was was a medium sized flow of water, with plenty of embankment on each side for her to find a dry spot. The muscles in her long legs twitched as she slowed her breathing down from her frantic dash. She stood there under the small bridge and let her duffle bag drop to the soft bare ground, mentally cussing the fact that a nice warm towel was nowhere to be had in the contents within. She noticed her nipples were rock hard and pointed erectly through the thin, and now soaked white tank top that clung to her skinny top half. She plucked at the cotton material annoyingly, hating the sticky feeling it had.
After a few breezes found their way through the small tunnel, Lacey folded her arms, her teeth chattering from the cold her wet clothes generated. She cast a quick glance out both sides of the tunnel, mainly out of habit, because who in their right mind would be around a place like that and on a day like this? She gripped the bottom of her top, arched her back, and pulled it off over the top of her long and dripping hair, her ribbed definition showing through as she did this, her nipples pointing even further away from each other. She let the top flop onto the duffle, and started to unbutton her equally soaked jeans. 'I haven't come this far to freeze to fuckin' death...' she thought, as she pulled her beauteous tanned legs out of the denim and using one of her pretty feet to fling the pants on top of her white tank top. The cum drenched thong came off with a snapping sound, and that hit the pile too. She ran her hands rather vigorously over her smooth skin, up and down her chest, around her sides, just anything to get some of that cold rain off. She slipped her hands around to her teardrop-like ass, rubbing both cheeks simultaneously in circular motions, then down the backs of her thighs and around to her knees. She gave her head a shake, and felt the weight of the rain water in her hair suddenly become a bit less, and heard it spatter the concrete walls of the embankment, then finished hand-drying her hair by running her fingers through it a few times. Her pony-tail holder got slipped off when she did this, and to keep from losing it, she slipped it onto her ankle (as she had a habit of doing) to join the anklets that were already there.
As the twitching in her legs came to an end, she noticed the burn in her foot was easing up too. She raised her leg and looked at her gorgeously dirty and wrinkled sole, the glass was still there even though the burn was less obvious. Maybe she ran so hard for so long she actually managed to kill the little nerve that registered that pleasurable pain? She shifted her foot around on the ground a bit, with no luck. That delicious feeling was gone.
But what a feeling that was, she marveled, her cunt still warm, wet, and throbbing from it. As she thought more about it, she started trembling; not from any sort of chill (which was almost a thing of the past as well) but from the excitement of the burning sensation. Her breathing picked up pace again. 'I have to finish this' she thought 'I'm too turned on...'
And so she did, putting all of her weight on that one slightly injured foot, arching it, then crouching to where her shaved and lovely pussy was even with her upturned heel. She rested her cunt on her smooth heel and undulated her hips, massaging her pussy with her foot. The weight of her body pressing even harder on the glass brought the tingling feeling back, and coupled with the soothing massage her pussy was receiving, she layed her head back on her shoulders and softly moaned, the cold of her long wet hair touching the lower part of her back. With one hand she tugged and pinched at her tight and rock solid nipples, and with the other hand she teased and stroked her clit with her finger tips. She didn't care if somebody may have walked up on her just then, she didn't care if there could've been a flash-flood, causing the creek to overflow and take her with it. The only things that were in her world for the next several and ecstatic moments were Lacey and her beautiful body. Every nerve-ending in her body tingled with an electric-like charge, while her heart hammered her chest like a jackhammer. She just kept on doing this; grinding, undulating, teasing, stroking, pinching, moaning. It could've been for an hour or it could've been all day, she didn't know and didn't care because she wasn't timing herself, all she was working for was that hot and wet climax. When it came, she thought she heard herself shriek, but wasn't sure, as she was so caught up in it.
Lacey layed there now, naked, beautiful, out of breath and basking in her own aftersex glow. She could feel the dirt of the ground pressing into her bare back as she layed there, her legs crossed one over the other, her arched and delicate barefeet there in her field of view. She couldn't help but want for a cigarette to make this relaxing and fulfilled moment complete, but she figured she'd have to make herself do without.
There was no telling how long she'd have to stay down there, waiting for her clothes to dry, or more importantly when the downpour was going to ease up enough to hit the road. All she knew was that it was going to be a while, thankfully, because after cumming that hard, she was too weak to move... |
