Chapter 35

Ever winding upwards, I followed a rough trail through chalky foothills. As my filthy, dirt-encrusted shoes trudged through dusty rocks and stunted, scrubby thorn bushes, all a burned tan, it was so fudging hot. Even with a navy polo pulled up over my shoulders to shade my head, the sun was relentless.

Coating everything, the powdery sand got everywhere. As I staggered forward, the bottoms of my dark dress slacks were tinted yellowish gray. It clung to my skin. The inside of my dusty mouth mirrored the desert I was walking across. Every blink of my eyes was like scraping sandpaper.

Each gust of bone-dry searing air added to my misery, slicing through me as it swirled glittering dirt upwards in towering eddies. Before me, heat mirages slithered across the wavering horizon.

So hot.

So dry.

And endless. As it had for thousands of years, the desiccated brush-dotted slope baked beneath the fierce, blazing orb in a bright blue, cloudless sky. While the desolate waste possessed features, none were noteworthy. A larger boulder here. A sloping pile of crumbled sandstone there. Around me, taller hills, identical in their ochre dust-covered coats, watched in whispering silence as I stumbled uphill.

My mind wandered back to where this suicidal trek had begun. Two? No, more like three days ago. Perhaps? By that point, I was fairly sure the sun had set several times. Not that it was any better when night arrived. The blistering heat was replaced by teeth-chattering, body-shaking cold under a star-filled, uncaring sky.

“Why?” I murmured through split lips. “Why?”

It had been late, and I’d been on the way home from a date—our date. There’d been a crash on the highway. A horrific one, the radio said. All lanes closed. So, I’d gotten off to wind through the dingier part of town. Nothing untoward happened as I drove over rutted and cracked asphalt, past shuttered and graffiti-covered buildings. It was only older and less well cared for. You know, the other side of the tracks.

Everything should’ve been fine. After rolling around the blockage, I could’ve simply glided up an on-ramp and been on my way. Except, I’d planned on getting gas. And the angry orange fuel light had been flashing for a while. When I spotted a Quik-Mart on the corner of two dark streets, I pulled under a brightly lit canopy above its row of gleaming pumps.

As I stepped out, my brows tightened at the sight of a red sports car parked in front of the store. Shiny, the late-model compact’s hot engine still ticked. It resembled ... Well, her daddy had just bought her a similar one for her eighteenth birthday. Nah, she said she was going straight home. And she’d no reason to visit this side of town.

After tugging a crinkled ten-dollar bill from my wallet, I walked towards the glass-fronted store. Between posters for lotteries and beer, I spotted the only employee. In a Quik-Mart uniform shirt painted on his wide torso, a well-muscled black man towered over the counter. Angular solid chin quivering, his youthful face was tilted downward.

At the jingling of the glass door’s bells, he looked up. His wide-spaced dark eyes were glossy and large mouth open. Despite the sudden shakiness of his lower jaw, his was a friendly face. It was Carpenter Evans, a star player on our high school varsity football team.

I flashed him a grin.

At my approach, he swallowed and glanced downwards. When I’d stepped close enough, I followed his gaze. The entire world—ended. Well, flipped before blinking out of existence. As I swayed to one side, my grin slithered away.

Before his spread legs, familiar dark wavy hair eased back and forth. Glossy, red, and drooling long trails of swaying glittery saliva, a slender girl’s lips were distended around his thick, glistening pole. The crimson-tinged white skin of her face was a stark contrast to his coal black flesh.

Although the universe returned, its only unblurred view was of the kneeling girl. Time stuttered to a slow crawl. Distorted and muffled, there were no sounds but her ever more rapid rhythmic liquid slurping, Carpenter’s speeding breath, and the roaring of blood in my ears.

After swan-diving into my stomach, my heart plummeted further in a whizzing spiral. Her face was so pale, even with the make-up she’d worn on our date.

Her face? That was Wendy’s face. My Wendy’s perfect, beautiful face.

As whimpers slithered from her and answering grunts escaped him, Wendy’s blue eyes sparkled up at Carpenter. Lustrous, red-tipped nails, the ones she’d had done for our dinner date, slid through the dark curly hairs covering his massive ball sack. The shiny, pretty nails of her other dainty hand stroked along his throbbing purple-black meat, sliding long trails of her thick spit to the floor between them.

Maybe Wendy just needed to pay for gas? Had no money?

Except ... Except, with a moan, one I recognized, she drove herself forward, twisting, moaning, and staring up at him. Each languid sinking of her reddening cheeks highlighted his swollen shaft within her bulging mouth.

Her tongue swirled.

My brain swirled.

The world swirled.

It whirled faster when, chest hammering, I abandoned the wrinkled tenner on the counter and fled. As the bells jangled behind me, I dashed to the car and leaped inside. My heart was thumping a thousand miles an hour. After several scraping bangs of the key against the ignition, I finally thrust it into the slot. With a squeal of tires, I tore from the “Quik-Mart in Hell” in a cloud of smoke. The sound of screeching rubber echoed along the darkened road.

Even as the orange fuel light continued to blink, I raced further, until the houses disappeared. Not long after, the asphalt became a meandering dusty trail leading up into the dark desert. With nothing but the bouncing headlights, becoming dustier with every torturous mile, to guide me, I sped onwards. Curses—not actual curses since my mother hated cursing—shot from me. At first, my clenching fists ached, then pain rushed through them as I hammered at the steering wheel. With tears blinding me, I wove the lurching car up an ever more rutted path.

More and more often, I was forced to power through patches of deep sand. Although I couldn’t see much beyond the powdery clouds whirling through my headlights, the wheels bounded over an endless line of ridges.

All the while, the scene in the Quik-Mart replayed in my head. Like a broken recorder, the images appeared to tumble in my brain before spinning off into the red-tinged distance. After a second, they’d reappear, and the cycle repeated.

Each time, Wendy’s slurps grew louder, longer, and ever wetter. So much drool. Swaying trails, glittering in the store’s bright lights. Sheets of her warm spit swept off that massive purple-black pole by her stroking fist. A widening puddle between her stockinged knees.

Each replay had her brilliant blue eyes blazing brighter. So hungry and fixed on Carpenter. Those gentle fingers, the ones that had slid along my cheek as we’d kissed not more than an hour earlier, fondling—ever so gently—Carpenter’s enormous balls. Not even mine. She hadn’t. I’d asked. Once. Not yet, she’d said. We hadn’t ... Nothing but kisses and hands. And even then, only my hand, one, in her bra. A single time.

With a groan, I shifted in my seat, letting my swelling cock slide free under my tightening slacks.

Far up in the endless dark hills, the fuel-starved motor’s thump-thump announced its demise. Even so, I coaxed the wavering car further, cresting a slight slope before gliding down the other side. It was a rattling, swaying steel glider. There was no sound but the crunch of tires until silence swallowed me at the base of the hillock. Seconds later, the dust had caught up, engulfing me in a choking cloud.

At last, I could see plenty of stars.

And then, beneath those myriad blue-white twinkles, I walked. Straight ahead. For uncounted miles. The sun rose. It baked. I sweated. Then I heated. My mouth dried out. Every follicle in my nostrils dug at me whenever I took a labored breath. After midday, breathing the hot desert air seared my lungs. And still I marched onwards.

Perhaps he’d forced her to do it? Carpenter had blackmailed Wendy. Except, how her eyes had sparkled. Hungry. Nah, way beyond that. She’d been ravenous. When she’d surged forward to take more of him, his thick black fingers had dragged through her shiny tresses, trying to catch her.

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