Little Things Ch. 04 of 04

I don't respond immediately, trying to quickly reassemble my clothing, to cover myself as unobtrusively as I'm able. My heart still pounding from the nearness of this escape. Only once I've finished buttoning up my blouse do I cautiously ask, "What do you mean?" A quiver of outrage held quiet in my heart, horrified at what nearly happened.

"Just what I said." Sharply, glancing pointedly over at me again. "I'm not a...I'm not gonna force you to do anything. If you wanna just call it a night after all I did for you, well, that's your decision. Just don't count on me giving you a ride home."

It slowly dawns on me what he's implying. "You can't be serious." Indignation bubbling up inside; I try to hold it back, afraid of provoking him again. "We're ten miles out of town. What do you expect me to do, walk?"

"Hell, you're a smart girl. You'll figure something out." He simpers at me snidely. "'Course, I'd be happy to take you - if you make it worth my while." His hand rubbing vulgar and suggestive at his crotch.

God damn it. This is barely better than before. Helpless, hopeless anger circulates in my head, a maddening mixture of fury and despair; I stare into my hands as though to find an answer written on my palm. I could have been at home right now. I could have been peacefully sleeping, safe and warm in the bunk above David's. Or even...god, why the hell did I have to do this? I don't even know anymore what I was hoping to accomplish. Just another of my stupid fucking ideas.

Self-loathing slithers like a serpent in my gut. Maybe I should just do it. Give him what he wants, so I can just go home, put an end to this disaster of an evening. What's one more blowjob, after all? One more time used. Wouldn't even be the first I've given him. And it's not like I've got much virtue left to lose...

"Well?" Eric demands impatiently. "I don't wanna wait around all damn night. Go down or get out." Scorn seething in his eyes, barely touched with lust. So simple, so obvious how little I am to him. Less than nothing. Valued only for my holes.

Somehow, this settles it for me. Maybe I'm not a pure and perfect princess, but I have at least a trace of self-respect. The cold night air whirls into the car as I pull open the door, a chill easily below zero; still, I manage not to shiver as I rise out of my seat and step into the thin slush outside. "Fuck you, Eric." Contempt, loathing dripping from my lips, looking back for a parting shot before I slam the door closed.

The car's engine roars to life before I'm three steps away, but I don't bother to turn around until my ears catch the window rolling down. A faint hope of reprieve, that he's changed his mind. It dies as I see the spite still in his eyes, hear the vitriol in his voice. "Just so you know," he nearly has to yell to be understood above the growing wind, "You always gave lousy head anyway. But at least when my dick was in your mouth, I didn't have to listen to you talk."

Smug satisfaction on his face as the window rises once more; I can think of nothing more eloquent than "Asshole!" to yell back. Fuck, it's cold. Rubbing at my arms for warmth, it takes me a few moments to realize suddenly the significance of the bare skin beneath my fingers. By that time, Eric's already pulling around to leave. "Hey, you've got my sweater!" Screaming as I try to run after him, to bang on the window, but he peels off like a madman, spraying me with gobbets of ice and frozen earth. I can't even tell if he heard me, whether it's accident or simple malice that I'm left out here in the snow wearing just a blouse and blue jeans. There's nothing I can do but stare after him in helpless rage as the red gaze of his tail lights waver and disappear around a curve, the sound of his engine swallowed up by the howling wind.

I'm okay. Anxiety pounds in my heart, anguish presses on the back of my eyes, but I'm okay, I have to be. I have to get out of this. Hugging myself to try to keep warm - I never much liked the cold, never dealt well with it, was always the first to bundle up, hang out by the fire, turn up the thermostat. Hardly options, now. My teeth are already chattering as the wind whips cruelly over me, stealing away my body's meagre stores of heat, leaving me numb. No joke, this - it could be dangerous, not just unpleasant. I could freeze, hiking home for hours in the frozen wind.

There's only one chance, really. One slim hope. Cell phones never used to work out here, too far out of town...hell, that was one of the reasons it was popular, since you could be sure you - or your date - wouldn't be suddenly interrupted. But they're always putting up those damn eyesore towers, right? It's been three years - maybe it's covered now. Maybe, maybe, maybe...my fingers stiff and uncooperative as I squeeze the phone from my pocket and flip it open, a silent prayer on my lips. Peering at the reception display in the corner...oh, thank god. A single, feeble bar, flickering down to nothing once even as I watch. Out of network, but who gives a damn - I laugh briefly there in the snow, near-delirious with relief.

There's only one person I even consider calling. It takes forever to connect, long seconds waiting for that first ring, crossing my fingers that the call won't be lost. A touch of panic on my spine as I suddenly notice how little battery power I have left - I won't be able to give this a lot of tries. But finally I hear the quiet click of linkage, a familiar voice on the other end obscured and garbled by digital static. "- -m. I didn't th- - - -ng to hear from you."

"David!" I clasp the phone tight to my ear, my eyes feeling abruptly damp. Suddenly so glad to hear his voice, however distorted, however poorly I was treating him before. He picked up on the second ring - must have been waiting for me, despite what I told him. "David, this is a really bad connection, and I don't know how long it's going to last, but I need you to pick me up from the overlook, okay?"

"Sh- - - - -arely underst- - - - - - up from where?" My ears strain to pick out the few snippets of meaning amidst the noise.

"From the overlook. I need you to pick me up from the overlook." A gust of wind blows by, wet and freezing, and I can't help shivering. "And it'd be really nice if you could make it fast."

"- - - - as soon as I can." I can hear a clatter of motion in the background. "Is everyth-" Sudden silence falls like a knife in the middle of a word.

"David?" No response. A glance at the display confirms what I know already, that the call was lost. No reception, now. And hardly a moment later that I think I feel the reason why, settling on my skin in wet, delicate impacts. The air around me filling with tiny snowflakes drifting to earth, illuminated like little crystals in the dim glow of my cell phone. A sight right now less beautiful than ominous.

It's okay. I'm okay. He's coming; I'll be able to go home, and...and everything will be okay. I hunch down shivering in the snow, huddled as best I can to try to keep warm, to stay out of the wind. Staring blindly in the darkness as the anger and the worry and the desperate resolve which so recently filled me drain slowly away, leaving in their wake a desolate emptiness, a chill within to match that without. When I feel the wetness on my cheeks I think at first that it's melting snow; it takes a moment for me to realize that I'm crying.

Not even sure why. Stress, shock. Everything that just happened. Finally finding out for real just how little I'm worth, how the only reason guys waste their time on me is this fucking hole between my legs. To the point that if I don't give it up, they'll just take it, or...cast me aside. Throw me out in the cold. Pain pounds a slow tattoo in my heart, self-loathing sharp and vicious. What did I think? What did I expect? That's always the deal, when you dip below the surface, when you get past the dance of courtship, the flattering lies about how nice you are to be with. In the end it's always about sex. Did I think I was special? That he'd be happy just to see me? If I did, I'm an idiot. A fucking fool.

Damn it, no. I don't cry, not anymore. I don't. I won't. Shoving the tears to the back of my mind, trying to remember old poetry, to recite in my head the paper I just wrote. Embracing distraction with all my strength. Emotion aching behind my eyes, but dammed down to a trickle. I'm okay, I'm fucking okay. I can handle this. I can. David's going to get here, and I'm going to go home, and everything will be fine.

Time passes slowly in the swirling snow, the bitterness of cold biting at my skin and of misery clawing at my heart. It feels an eternity before I hear the low rumble of a truck's engine past the howl of the storm, before bright headlights finally bob into view - but a glance at my watch says it's only been twelve minutes. God, he must have been racing down those icy roads. I should stand up, wave, help him see where I am, but I can't bring myself to move. I just kneel there, huddled and shivering, barely managing to tilt back my head to look as he pulls up beside me. The glow of the interior lighting like a halo around his head as he opens the door and steps out into the snow.

"Sam!" Backlit as he is, I can't really see his face, but I sniffle somewhere between laughter and tears at the familiar tone of concern that he infuses so urgently into my name. "Are you okay?" Taking off his jacket as he rushes to my side, he slips it quickly around my shoulders, a kindness to which I can only stammer out a quiet 'thanks,' forced through chattering teeth. Pulling it tightly around my chest, drinking thirstily the leftover warmth from his body, comforted by his scent. Almost ready to stand up. Almost.

"Where's Eric?" Perplexity in David's manner, straining to look around the empty lot. Maybe thinking the problem was a broken-down car. But as moments pass without an answer and without a sign, comprehension dawns, swiftly boiling into outrage. The stiffness of fury moving in, a stranger to his form. "I'm going to kill him." Spoken like a revelation, the words coming quick and hot, and to the extent I can think I'm taken aback - David never makes such pronouncements.

"No," I push unsteadily to my feet, trying to remember how to shape a reassuring smile. "No, he didn't do anything."

"Didn't do anything?" His eyes are wild and seething, burning like little stars. "Don't give me that. You're out here alone, half-frozen, in the middle of the night, and you..." A double-take, as he looks closely at my face. Shock passing swiftly through his expression. "And you've been crying. Whatever he did to you..." His head shakes ferociously, unable to finish the sentence. "I'm going to kill him. Where is he?" His voice intense and demanding.

Still trying feebly for denial, "He didn't..." I trail off into silence. Pointless to lie. But dammit, I don't want a feud, I just want all this to be over. "I don't know, okay? He left, he didn't say where. And look," my voice cracking slightly with emotion still raw, "It doesn't matter. I'm tired and I'm cold and I just want to go home. Please, David." My arms clutched helpless around my chest as I stare up at him, my brow low and pleading.

I can see him hesitate. Anger rebellious in his breast, eager for some vague and half-considered notion of vengeance. But gradually he pushes it down, his gaze acquiring again the lambent quality of mercy and concern that I'm familiar with. Staring back at me with worried regard. "Jeez, you look awful," a soft and tender deprecation. He almost hugs me - stepping forward, only to awkwardly stop again as the prohibition I set flashes across his face, and I feel my eyes tighten again with tears, wishing that he had, that he could, that I hadn't screwed everything up.

"Yeah, well, thanks," I try weakly for humor as he ushers me to the truck, opens the passenger door for me. And god, it's a relief at least to get out of the wind. I flip the heat to maximum, and sit curled almost to a ball in the seat, silent and unmoving as David gets back into the driver's seat and starts to turn us around.

He asks when we're barely back on the road. I knew he would. Who wouldn't. "What happened, Sam?" Quieter than before, circumspect - but I can still hear in it a thin and fiery flicker of his earlier fury.

"Nothing happened." Low and flat, laying on my side as I stare into the darkness outside the window. Not wanting to face David too long, to see him too much.

"Yeah, right." A snort of irritation escapes his nose. "Look, if you don't want to tell me, then...then just say that. Don't lie to me." Greater force in his voice than I'm used to. And I don't, really. Don't want to tell him. I don't know why I don't. Shame, I guess. Fear of what all of it means, of what it says about me. Not wanting him to worry about me...or to know what other guys really think of me. Afraid that it might break whatever illusion makes him think I'm special.

But there's a strident voice inside me, somewhere above my heart. A remonstrating reminder - I should want to tell him. That's who we are - I don't keep secrets from David, I don't lie to him. I don't want to abandon that honesty. Not now. I have, it feels, so little left...

There's a space of seven breaths before I speak. "It's not what you think." My voice coming low and ghostly, almost pleading away his fears. Whatever he might think. "He didn't...we just had a normal date, you know? Then we came out here, and we fooled around a little, but I just...I didn't like it. I wanted to stop, to go home. He didn't. We kind of fought, and he...for a little while, he acted like he was going to force me." 'Force.' The euphemism heavy on my tongue, bitter as ash.

From the corner of my vision, I can see David's big hands tighten and squeeze at the steering wheel like he's trying to throttle it. "I'm gonna kill him."

"But he didn't do it, okay?" I'm quick to declaim, trying to settle him down. "He didn't do...that. What he did was...he just said I had to give him a blowjob if I wanted a ride home. And I said no." I look away, hug myself tighter, feeling a sudden stab of cold in my chest. "Anyway, it's...I was stupid. I should have just given it to him, saved everybody a lot of trouble."

I can hear the shocked disbelief in David's voice. "Should have...? Jesus, Sam, how can you say that?"

"Because it's the fucking truth." My voice wavers with upset, all the torturous tide of disgust and self-loathing rising up again inside me. "Not like it's anything new. That's all anybody's ever wanted out of me, the only thing I've ever been good for. The only reason anybody ever wasted his time with me. Eric was just more honest about it." I laugh brokenly, misery blurring my vision. "Hell, even you. Even my own brother only cares about me because he wants to fuck me."

The truck suddenly swerves to a stop at the side of the road, and a frantic terror catches hold of my heart. He's mad at me. I couldn't take it, I can't, I need him right now...but no. When I turn to beg my apology, he's already looking at me, desperately imploring, his hands clasped in anxious earnesty. "Sam, don't think that. Please don't think that. I..." His mouth stretching, grasping for words just out of reach. "I love you, as my sister, as my friend, before anything else. Even if all this other stuff is over. Even if...even if I could never even see your face again, I would still care. I'd still love you. I swear I would." Those perfect blue eyes, shimmering soft and sincere like an echo of his soul.

"I know." Words whispered with the helpless fervency of truth. "I know you would." Tears welling up again in my eyes, my heart pounding deep and aching with an undeniable longing. Crawling across the gearshift into his seat, into his lap - I need to know that he's there, that he's real, need to feel him beside me. Throwing my arms around tight around his neck, burying my face in his chest. A little sniffle, as I'm warmed by the feel of his heartbeat on my cheek. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." I whisper into his shirt, clutching myself close against him. "I've been such a jerk...I don't know why you're so good to me."

He is. Always. A shadow of a smile blooms faint and bittersweet through my tears as I nestle in his arms, as his hands rise gentle and comforting on my back. Murmuring - quiet, but almost overcome with feeling. "You've always been there for me, haven't you? No matter what I do, no matter what it costs you. You've never questioned, never hesitated. God, you helped me get ready for dates so many times, when you must have been feeling..." Quiet. A moment's stillness in my heart as my fingers trace slow at the back of his neck. A decision trembling into being. "I...I've given myself to a lot of guys, you know? Guys who didn't mean a tenth as much to me as you do. If you want..." There's a lump in my throat, anxious and aching; I have to swallow it before I can continue. "If you're crazy enough to want me...you deserve me." And I look up expectantly into his eyes, my chin scraping slightly on the white cotton of his shirt.

David's reaction is muted, looking back down at my hesitantly for long moments. Finally asking slowly, "I deserve what, exactly?"

"You know." A significant look, my voice hushed. "Me. My...my body. Sex." My insides stirring now, flush and warm with the frankness of this offer. Awareness of my rear planted sideways in his lap, of the gentle strength of his body around me. "We can do it here in the truck." Husky thickness creeping into my voice. "You can have me, right here, right now."

Another silence. The only sounds are the wind outside and our slow breath. I can feel his groin awakening beneath me, stretching with interest, but his eyes are quiet, almost sad. When he speaks, it's with a tone nearly of resignation. "No."

"No?" Blankly. The wheels in my mind spin without catching, unable to process this refusal. "What do you mean, 'no?' You don't..." Then understanding strikes, a sting of humiliation in my soul - I shake it angrily away, press feverishly forward. "I know I don't look my best right now, but-"

"No," he interrupts with a tone fairly mortified, "Jeez, no, it's not-"

"-but I'll make sure it's everything you ever dreamed about." Continuing over him, undeterred and undistracted. Fiercely, planting a soft, seductive kiss at the side of his chin. Grinding my hips slowly in his lap, feeling with relish the answering growth of his organ beneath me. Urgent whispers as my heart pounds in my chest, my lips brushed upon his ear, purring as evocatively as I'm able. Applying everything I know about what turns guys on. "You can do whatever you want to me, David. Use me however you like."

"Sam..." His tone strained, but still low and serious. Trying for denial, and spurring a frantic determination to claw at the back of my mind. If I owe anyone anything, it's David. Everything he's done for me, every time he's listened to me ramble, put himself on the line, talked me up when I was feeling down...he's earned this from me. I can't let him go on being so damned noble, so selfless. I know he wants me; I just have to make him take me. To relieve this terrible feeling of debt that throbs in my soul.

"Where do you want to start, huh? You want to play with my tits?" My fingers fumbling impatiently at the buttons of my blouse, undoing them for the second time tonight. Staring up into unhappy eyes - dammit, I have to try harder, have to really turn him on. A lustful murmur, faintly roughened with frustration. "You want me to suck that big cock of yours? Want to fuck your big sister's pussy? Jerk off on my face? Anything, David. My body belongs to you. Tonight, I'm your own personal slut." My teeth clicking closed around the final word. Appealingly, I hope.