Blood Wild

"No. The card game was civil enough. Sure, there were some pissed off assholes when they lost some money but no fights or anything. It was after the game that things got shitty. Darrel and Henry had already gone home, a little lighter than when they had got there too." Hank said with a pained grin.

"And after the game was over?" Gerald nudged verbally hoping to get this over with sooner rather than later. He was tired and this excuse for coffee was more like battery acid on his already fitful stomach.

Hank set his coffee mug down and leaned back again in his chair and ran one hand over his face resignedly. Leaning back forward again to put his elbows on the table top and clasp his hand around his coffee mug, he looked up at Gerald and asked.

"Got any more cigarettes? I need a smoke."

Gerald reached for his breast pocket and pulled out a pack of Marlboros and extracted a cigarette for himself before tossing the pack across the table. From another pocket he produced his old zippo lighter that he had purchased when he was a green recruit in the Army many years ago. He lit first his cigarette then extended his arm across the table for Hank to lean in and light his smoke as well. When they both settled back and took a long draw of their cigarettes, Gerald looked his old friend in the face and raised one eyebrow again in an unspoken signal to continue with his story.

***___***___

Vivian had watched these little gatherings for years. An excuse for grown men to get together and get drunk and tell their tall tales and brag about their exploits. Oh sure, they'd play cards and gamble and win and lose. More often than not however, her Walter would lose. He was not very skilled or talented in most things in life, particularly at playing poker. It didn't help that he drank more than he should. It was as if he were competing in a stupidity contest and was determined to win at all costs. Well tonight he was winning... at the stupidity anyway.

Walt was a good man, generally speaking. He was a loving father and a good provider most of the time, but when he got to drinking and especially when he was in the company of Hank Lipscomb and Duke Simmons it was as if he lost his senses. His senses, or at least his common sense anyway. The more he drank the stupider he got, and the stupider he got, the more money he would lose.

Hank had always been fond of Vivian, he had dated her briefly back when they were all in school together, a lifetime ago it seemed. Vivian had taken a shine to Walter and the rest is history. Mostly. She would still flirt with the rest of the guys now and then and Hank had to wonder if there was more to it than that. Duke never seemed to worry or think about such things though.

Duke Simmons was the undisputed playboy of the crowd. He was and always had been a lady killer. He could sweet talk a nun out of her habit and into his bed they all joked. It was no joke though, rumors had it that he had done just that at least on one occasion. Yeah, Duke was not welcomed at the local Catholic church.

As the night wore on, and the drinking got heavier, the card game got hotter. Hank seemed to be winning, at least at cards, this night. Hand after hand he would drag his winnings into a pile in front of him. And the more Walt lost, the more he would drink. Vivian was beside herself because no matter what she said to him he just kept on getting stupider and drunker. He didn't even seem to notice that Duke was flirting even more than usual with her that night. So, Vivian did something that was out of character for her. She drank too.

Vivian drank mostly to take the edge off of her frustration and anger at Walt. Or that was the idea anyway. What happened was the alcohol might have dulled her anger a bit, but it didn't wash it away. What the alcohol did exceedingly well, however, was spark a latent interest in what Duke was saying and doing to get her attention. All the while Walt seemed to be oblivious to it, she might as well have been a stranger to him. That angered Viv even more.

Hank saw it developing, the attention that Vivian was paying to Duke's flirtation and inuendo. It started as looks, then words... and eventually even touching. Duke just has this way about him that women seemed to crave. Vivian seemed particularly hungry for attention this night so it was nearly a foregone conclusion that there would be fireworks.

Walter was seething. Not so much about Duke and his wife flirting, to that he was almost completely blind, rather he was angry for losing, again. Walt couldn't remember the last time he'd had a good night playing cards with his so-called friends. He might win a hand now and then but, in the end, he would always seem to walk away from the game with far less than he'd began with.

Outside the crickets and cicadas filled the hot humid night air with their insectile chorus, joined by the occasional calls of night birds. Inside the "shed" were the rough loud voices of five men and several women. The women were Vivian, Janine, Darrel John's wife, and Tessa, Henry Willis's latest girlfriend. The air inside was oppressive from both the heat, despite all the windows being open and the screen door. The shaded light hanging over the poker table left a lot of the room in shaded darkness but the portion well-lit was clouded with the thick smoke of cigarettes and Darrel's cigar. The air reeked from the smoke... and the stale smells of alcohol and sweat.

Anyone not drinking or smoking would have nearly gagged or choked, wanting fresh air, yet the whole group didn't seem to notice. There were other things happening that held their attentions, the card game, the jokes and lies being shared, the flirtatious innuendos... and inevitably, the tempers rising from those who were not winning.

After several hours of losing Darrel and Henry had had enough. They collected their women and departed, begrudgingly agreeing to meet again sometime for another game. The game was pretty much over at this point, but things were just about to get hotter. Duke excused himself to step outside and relieve himself of some of the beer and scotch he'd been drinking all night. Hank began to count his winnings while Walt sat and fumed, nursing yet another glass of scotch, his eyes bloodshot already.

Duke had winked at Vivian and gave a little head nod to her as if to say "Would you like to join me?" as he stood to walk around the table and then to the door. Vivian, as mentioned, was already feeling no pain herself, and highly pissed at Walt for losing so much money, again. With bleary eyes and a bit of a sneering grin she too stood and went outside.

Outside, Duke was at one end of the small covered wooden porch, one hand leaning on the weathered corner post, the other supposedly holding himself as he urinated off the porch. His back was to Vivian, but he looked over his shoulder with his patented knowing smile and a spark in his eyes.

"Oh darlin! I'm glad you came to help me. I was afraid this thing was going to get away from me. I'm barely able to keep it under control you know. It's been thinking of you all night, nudging my leg to get my attention trying to talk to you to hear your pretty voice." Duke spoke softly, almost as if singing.

"Now Duke, I know you are just full of piss and vinegar. Do you honestly expect me to fall for a line like that? How long have I known you? I've seen what you get up to with women of questionable morals and even less common sense." Vivian said with a chuckle in her voice.

Duke just smiled and shrugged slowly, still not turning away even as he finished emptying his bladder and shaking off his notably sized man snake. Instead of tucking it back away in his trousers however, he just turned around and faced Vivian who was leaning her right shoulder and body against the next porch post down. Her eyes left his face and traveled down his body to witness his brazen display. Those very eyes widened at first, then narrowed as thoughts flashed through her heated and alcohol infused brain. She unconsciously licked her lips as stories that she'd heard from other women finally had concrete evidence pointing halfheartedly at her.

Duke stepped closer to her, his hands on his own hips as he tilted his head slightly to one side as if judging Vivian's reaction or perhaps his chances at taking advantage of an opportunity. The happy feeling of warmth and excitement coursed through his veins carried along by the alcohol. It was a feeling that he was all too familiar with, it got him into all kinds of trouble through the years but even still he couldn't stop himself. Looking once more into Vivian's eyes when she did look back up at him, he saw the desire, the curiosity there, the look that he was happy to acknowledge and explore.

Vivian half turned to better face Duke as he leaned closer and brought his right hand up to gently brush some of her loose dirty blond hair out of her face and back behind her ear. Their faces were inches apart now, and the breath they shared became heated. Vivian half closed her eyes and she tilted her head back and up, and slightly to one side as Duke leaned closer and brought his lips to hers.

This was the first kiss Vivian had shared with any man other than her Walter since they had wed just over 18 years earlier. Walt had never been much of a kisser, but the chills she got when Duke's lips met hers literally made her forget about any comparison of the two. For that instant, Walt didn't even exist, there was only Duke. She felt his right hand gently cup the back of her head at the nape of her neck, drawing her ever tighter into their kiss. Duke's left hand was gently holding Vivian's right side, just under her rib cage, also pulling her closer to his body. Vivian's knees grew weak and she realized she was trembling.

Trembling and curious, while the kissing was enough to make her forget to breathe, her curiosity was in overdrive, her hands searched out and found Duke. Or rather, her hands found part of Duke, the part that she'd heard so many stories about, the part that she had finally seen for herself just moments ago. Wrapping both hands around it, she could feel it growing in her grip.

Duke's own breath caught when he felt Vivian's hands wrap around his manhood and grip him tightly. He smiled inwardly as he knew the game was on. There were no more bluffs or gambles to be made for this hand, only the call.

"Oh Darlin, your hands are so soft... but not as soft or sweet as your lips." He purred as he slid his own lips across Vivian's cheek and nuzzled her ear and neck while he slipped his right hand down her back to come to rest on her left side.

"And you're so hard..." Viv gasped as Duke sucked at the skin of her neck just below her left ear. The tingles and thrill ran through her whole body causing her to shudder in delight. The light stubble on his cheeks feeling rough on her delicate skin. His breath was hotter and more humid than even the night air.

"I would love to feel your softness there. Those lips... that tongue... Oh darlin, you could make a grown man cry." Duke purred and then continued kissing and nuzzling Viv's neck and ear as his hands very subtly gripped and pulled downwards on her hips.

Vivian was still trembling, both from excitement and from a touch of anxiety. She knew instantly what Duke was hinting at. In a way that was refreshing as Walter would not hint or make it her decision. When Walter wanted her to go down on him, he would flat out tell her he wanted a blowjob or to suck his cock. Like it was her duty not her decision. For that reason alone, she hated doing that for Walt. But Duke gave that decision to her. The corners of her lips pulled up from her still open mouth to form a smile.

Duke released his grip on Vivian's hips as she slowly sank down to her knees in front of him. Her hands never left his now fully engorged and erect cock. Looking up at Duke with a face that was at the same time partly embarrassed, partly curious and very much aroused, Vivian leaned forward and gently kissed the head of his cock. Duke smiled down at her and then his eyes closed as she opened those lips and drew the head into her hot wet mouth.

Inside the shed Hank had just finished counting his winnings and was taking another long draw off the beer he was drinking. Walter had drained the last of his scotch from the glass he held and after turning it up and looking at it crossly he drew back and hurled the empty glass across the room to shatter against the wall in the shadows. Hank looked over at his old friend with one eyebrow raised even as he drank from his bottle of beer.

"Aw come one Walt, don't be sore, you'll have better luck next time." Hank said as he wiped his lips on the wrist of his hand holding the bottle before setting it down on the table.

"Bullshit! I never seem to win. I'm beginning to think that someone cheats. Maybe more than someone... like it's a team thing." Walt said sitting back in his chair with his arms crossed on his chest, his face dark with suspicion and anger, fire in his bleary eyes. Eyes that were nearly obscured by greasy long back bangs that fell across his forehead.

"Are you saying that I cheated Walt? You know that's not true, come on! How long have we known each other? Damn man! How long have we all been playing poker for God's sake?" Hank said with an edge in his voice as his temper was changing from happiness to being pissed off in a hurry.

"All I know is that you and Duke always seem to do pretty well when it comes to poker. Funny that, huh? He'd probably do better if he weren't chasing pussy so much, wouldn't he?" Walt spat out with almost a growl.

Hank had had just about enough of Walt's insinuations. Friend or not, he wasn't going to stand for being called a cheat after winning fair and square. He stood up gripping the empty beer bottle and for a brief moment considered hurling it at Walt, but he calmed himself and let it go to fall over and roll off the edge of the table to shatter on the floor. Instead, he picked up his pile of bills and folded them and slid them in his front pocket. This seemed to anger Walt even more as he too stood up and placed his hands flat on the table and leaned over it towards Hank leering.

"That's right. Take the money and run." Walt growled even as he stood unsteadily across the table from Hank.

"Walt, your drunk and a sore loser. Go home and go to bed. That's where I'm going, home." Hank said as he turned to move to the door.

Enraged beyond reason, Walt flipped the overflowing square glass ashtray that sat on the table beside his hand towards Hank's back. The spent cigarette butts and ashes flew everywhere on its flight from the table to Hank's back. It hit him on edge, a corner breaking the skin just below his right shoulder blade. It hurt. It might not have hurt more than a punch being thrown but the fact that his friend, angry or otherwise, had done it, hurt even more. It also angered him.

"What the hell! Have you lost your damned mind Walt?" Hank spat as he spun back to face his assailant only to find Walter charging him from the other side of the table.

Before he could raise his arms in his own defense Walter had already thrown a punch. The punch connected to Hank's face with a glancing blow, hard enough to cause him to stumble backwards and through the flimsy screen door. Outside on the porch, Hank came to a halt with his back slamming up against the post beside the steps. Walt was charging through the remnants of the screen door after him but both came to a sudden stop as they saw what was going on just a few feet away from them.

Feeling weak in the knees from the glorious feeling of Vivian's hot mouth and soft lips and that wicked, wicked tongue of hers in action, Duke had to take a seat lest he fall down. Fortunately, there was an old glider swing there on the porch next to the wall. Duke had unfastened his belt and britches and lowered them down to his knees before sitting down. Vivian never stood up, but rather crawled the two steps over to the glider and pushed Duke's britches the rest of the way down to his ankles before gobbling up his still raging erection. It was there, on her hands and knees, her head in Duke's crotch that Hank and her husband Walt saw them when they erupted onto the porch fighting.

There was a long moment of awkward silence. Well, silence by all except Duke, he groaned rather loudly when Vivian paused her suction on his manhood even if it was still in her mouth while she looked up at her husband. Walt stood there, his body facing Hank, hands and arms raised as if to swing another blow, his face aghast to the point of near incomprehension at seeing Vivian, HIS WIFE, kneeling in the act of a blow job on Duke Simmons. It's not that Walt had not seen Duke on the receiving end of such things before, but NEVER from his wife. HIS WIFE!

Time seemed to stand still for a few brief heartbeats. But at the same time, it flashed by, at least in Walter's mind. There was a rage, already boiling over because he thought he had been cheated at the card game, but now, seeing his own wife cheating on him like this... it was too much. Walt drove his right hand into his front trouser pocket and drew out a pistol. It was a small pistol, but a very real one, and it was loaded.

To Hank, time was still moving in slow motion. He could see the rage on his old friend's face go from fire and vengeance against him, change into something far more hateful and sinister towards Duke and his wife. When Walt drew the pistol out of his pocket and began to raise it in their direction, he knew that he had to stop it. Still seemingly moving in slow motion, he reached out, charging Walt to try to divert his aim before he fired. As Hank collided with Walt the gun went off.

The first sound after the shot was the sound of Walt's body slamming into the door frame of the shed. He expelled a loud grunt as the wind was knocked out of him from Hank's body slam that drove him into the frame. Then came the sharp inhale from Vivian, just before she let loose with a scream of pain.

Hank managed to grab Walt's right army by the wrist. When he wrenched the arm, the small pistol went clattering across the porch before dropping off the edge into the weeds. Walt retaliated with another wild blow with his left hand that caught Hank on the side of his face. The punch landed with enough force that Hank staggered back away from Walt. By then Duke was standing and bent over Vivian who was gasping and crying in pain. When Duke raised his right hand, it was wet and slick with red blood. He fell backwards because his trousers were still around his ankles. Luckily, he landed in a sitting position back on the glider.

Walt, saw the blood on Duke's hand, and the growing blood stain on Vivian's sun dress, and panicked. Walt bolted, a staggering run really, off the porch and into the darkness beyond the weak oasis of light put out by the bare lightbulb over the now destroyed screen door of the shed. Hank shook his head to clear the fuzzy cobwebs and to focus his eyes again. He looked at Vivian rolled up into a ball on the floor of the porch, and then the abject shock on Duke's face sitting there on the glider, his pants still down but his cock gone soft and hanging limply as he looked at his bloodied hand.

***___***___

Gerald leaned back in his chair at the small table in Hank's trailer. His hands, together as he scrubbed his face a few times before returning to the table as he took a long deep breath. Another drunken poker game that got out of hand. Of course, the involvement of Duke Simmons was no surprise either. Gerald had known Duke most of his life as well, they were all well acquainted if not friends from as far back as grade school. Hank rested his tired head on the palm of his left hand, propped up with his elbow on the tabletop. Hank's right resting on the table, the hand loosely holding a nearly expended cigarette over the overflowing ashtray in front of him.