Samantha and Tilly Fallen Angels

She traveled a route she thought was a shortcut. But when Sam spotted the parking lot strewn with bikes, pickup trucks, and luxury cars, she had to check out the place. Maybe she would see some lovely little lady or a good-looking guy who needed to be abused for the night.

She never had a one-night stand, but she needed to purge her mind of the little black woman. The bitch stole her heart.

Entering the bar, her eyes struggled to adjust to the dim lighting. This atmosphere was her home. Sam worked in a place not so different from this, only she danced nude there. Holding her leather jacket in one hand and her helmet in another, she sauntered to the crowded joint to the bar.

"Barkeep, any place safe to store this stuff?"

"Yea, sure, I'll take it and keep them safe, chaps too, if you'd like."

Sam handed the man the gear and took off the chaps. He looked appreciatively at her tall, muscled body. Marveled at her tight ass, covered by the thinnest of material and shortest of black shorts. He ached to see the small breasts and six-pack tummy, covered only with a black ribbed T that clung to her like a second skin.

Aware of his rubbernecking, Sam handed him the chaps.

"I don't like boys."

"What can I get you?" he asked, ducking his eyes away from her.

An air of danger hung thick around the woman. He had the distinct impression she could and would hurt him. While he wouldn't like it, several in the bar would love it. He shot her a tentative glance back at her piercing blue eyes.

"A draft and a shot of Jack," she drank in the bar's atmosphere.

Bikers, rednecks, and sophisticated talked in their clicks. Sitting alone in the corner, a young woman appeared to be chasing off one guy after another. Petite, pretty, and dressed to the nines. It was apparent she was a whore. The men that talked to her must be unwilling to meet her price. A well-dressed older man strolled to her and made an offer. He stood there with this lusty gawking expression as they talked. The girl, barely more than that, would shake her head. Undaunted, he would make a new proposal.

Sam recognized her. It was the girl she'd been searching for, for all those months. The old bastard was bugging her. Slamming down the drink, Sam walked back to the table. She placed the beer on the table. Gripping the man's wrist, she pulled him toward her.

"The lady isn't interested."

The old man almost complained, but something about her look frightened him. Perhaps it was her cold blue eyes, the short man's style haircut she sported, the powerful muscles, or conceivably, all of it combined with frightening him. He moved away, grumbling about lesbos.

"I was in a negotiation," her anger was apparent. The black girl looked at Sam and quickly understood that it was Sam. Her heart missed a beat. All those things that frightened men attracted her. Sam sat beside her and wrapped her arm around the petite, more feminine woman.

"Negotiations are over for the night," Sam smiled without waiting, lowered her face, and kissed the girl. Softly, their lips met. Something passed between them. The younger girl sat speechless when they broke apart, her mind whirling. Sam raised her index finger as the waitress approached and pointed her thumb at the black girl.

"Now, don't you look just like a hot bundle of dynamite I fucked the shit out of last winter? I'm Samantha, but I go by Sam, and you're Tilly, right?"

"I go by Tilly, and I'm more like black powder," she looked around the room. No one in the place noticed the pair. "While I appreciate your attention, I need to make some money, or my pimp will pound on me."

The waitress returned with a glass of ice and a clear liquid.

"Vodka Tonic," the waitress told them. She whispered in Sam's ear, "I think she is a hooker." Sam extended a ten-dollar bill and told her to keep the change.

"Mind your own business," Samantha told her. Sam turned her attention to Tilly. "I'll give you whatever you need to give him," Sam said, rubbing the arm of the woman in a tender embrace.

"Why'd you stop looking for me?"

"Didn't, been watching you."

"Bullshit. You came around for a while and gave the fuck up."

"Tell you what, Tilly, I'll be your pimp, and you can keep your money." Turning, she took Tilly's face in her hands and again kissed her. Tilly leaned into her and felt her strength. The girl warped her arms around Sam. When they finally broke apart, Tilly looked up at the taller, muscular woman.

"You're big and strong, but he is bigger, stronger, and meaner. It just can't be done," the dejected black girl told her. "I'll be doing what he says for a long time, I think. Besides, you gave up on me. Stopped looking for me."

"The fuck I did. And, baby girl, I can take him. Why don't you finish the drink and take me to him?" it took Sam several minutes to convince her.

Wrapping her arms around the woman, Tilly felt the rumble from the powerful motor through her body. She clutched the woman, struggling with a slight fear that they would crash. The streets rushed by, and Tilly gave instructions. The town grew seedier the further they went.

"You remember this area, don't you, Sam?"

"Yeah, we must be close. I smell the poverty."

"Turn right, right there," Tilly said, pointing to the street. "Take a left on the next street."

Darkness covered them in the run-down part of the city. Streetlights were dim or not working at all. The windows of the houses were dark, and many stood abandoned, left empty to fall apart from entropy.

The darkness seemed to grow as the motorcycle pulled into the drive of the derelict house. Clouds covered the half-moon.

"That one, the one with the flickering light."

The house stood as a testament to man's neglect of the ghetto of the community. Shingles were missing from the roof, which sagged in the middle. Much of the siding had fallen to the ground, and in some places, holes gaped through to the nasty interior. The couple entered the dwelling and moved to a spacious master bedroom.

The pimp arched his hips into the face of the girl. She gagged and spewed as she sucked him. He froze, pushing her head down on his cock. He shoved in with small humps of his hips, forcing his dick deeper into her mouth as he disgorged his seed.

The whores watched his nightly ritual of showing them he was the boss. Every night, he forced a different girl to suck him off, beating them before and sometimes afterward to make a point. After he busted his nut, he realized Tilly stood near the doorway.

"Tilly, what the fuck you bringing a John here for?" Pushing the girl to the side, he stood on the ratty mattress on the floor, shoved his cock back into his pants, and zipped his fly. "Shit, you're a fucking girl. What you want to hustle for me—dike?"

"I'm going to kick your ass and take these girls from you," Sam said, throwing her coat and helmet on the floor. She reached down, unsnapped the chaps, opened the buckle, and let them fall to the carpet.

Jamil snickered and pushed his hand into his back pocket. He quickly planned his attack and shoved the brass knuckles on his hand. Keeping it behind his back, he approached the woman in a cat-like slowness, cutting the distance between them.

"Kick my ass, take my fucking women, bull-fucking-shit!" he charged her.

Sam's body twisted to the side, and her knee rose to her chest. She snapped her foot out hard, crashing into his chest.

The blow lifted Jamil off his feet, and the scoundrel flew back onto the gritty mattress.

In two quick bounds, Sam jumped on him. She bashed her fist into his face and nose with swift, hard blows. She sprang to her feet, her heart racing as she retreated to the center of the room, ready to resume.

The pimp held his nose and screamed incoherent curses and threats at the woman. Getting up, he again charged her.

"Dumb shits never learn," Sam thought.

The pimp threw a punch Sam deflected it with ease. Sam pivoted while holding his arm and twisting it. Slamming her elbow into his side several times. Sam pirouetted and kicked his chin.

He tumbled down on his knees. Sam grabbed his scruffy hair, clutched it, and hauled him upwards. She delivered a series of blows to his stomach and ribs, each one more forceful than the last. Finally, striking the pimp with a straight-hand blow to the back of his neck, Sam sent him crashing to the floor.

The pimp struggled to catch his breath in a heap on the floor. Pushing up with his hands, he rose.

Sam kicked his ribs again and again. Relentlessly driving the man across the floor with the blows. The snapping and popping sound rang out as bones broke. Standing over him as he gasped for air, Sam knew he was done. The awful sucking sounds of his pain as he tried to breathe filled Sam with joy.

For good measure, Sam kicked him again, hard.

"Get the fuck out of my town," she said. One more time, Sam kicked his broken ribs again. "Be gone by midnight tonight or," she lowered the register of her voice to nearly a growl, "I'll fucking kill you. You're fucking done here. You got your ass kicked by a girl."

Sam left him with one hundred dollars and his pink and purple pimpmobile. He didn't stop at an emergency room until he got to Tulsa. The doctor examined his injuries and eventually asked, "Son, what had happened to you?"

"I tripped down on the stairs and took a fall."

"Someone with a fast fist and booted feet is a much more likely culprit," he said to the nurse under his breath.

Sam told the girls they could work the streets and keep their money. She would stay as close to monitor them as often as she could but had her own job. The whores told her they would give her ten percent of their money if Sam would watch over them. A quick calculation told Sam she would be many dollars ahead with ten percent of fifteen whores' money. She would dance part-time and take care of the whores full-time.

Sam had a problem. She didn't want Tilly to work on the streets. The problem was how to tell her. For that night, it didn't matter. They went to the girls, and Sam and Tilly cruised up and down the boulevard, ensuring they were safe.

Tilly talked to Sam and told her about the other women.

At three am, Sam ordered the women to go. Tilly and Sam followed them to their respective motels, apartments, and abandoned houses. The two women went to Tilly's apartment. When they entered, Tilly turned on all lights and sat on the couch. Sam switched most of the lights off and sat next to Tilly.

"Well," Tilly fiddled with the hem of her dress. Sam put her finger to Tilly's mouth.

"Time to talk after," she kissed her as her hands roamed over the black girl's body. Tilly's response was instant. Her body moved to the woman, and their hands clutched, stimulated, and explored each other's bodies.

Clothing peeled off by one another hung from a limb here or dangled from the arm of the sofa there. Hungry mouths moved over a neck, breasts, and tummies, then lower and lower still.

Fingers press inside, followed by caresses with lips and deep thrusts with tongues. Instinctive passion led Tilly on what to do and when. Despite having learned a great deal in their previous encounter, there was still a slight awkwardness. Even so, Tilly knew what to do to a woman to make her feel good. She grasped how Sam made her feel good, so she did that to Sam.

Sam, having more awareness, certainly knew what Tilly needed.

An intuitive dance ensued as the women alternated between kissing each other's mouths to concentrating on other lips. Hips moved in a rhythmic synchronicity of lustful, passionate desire.

The pleasure that the two women shared was almost too much to bear. The sensation of pure joy caused their bodies to convulse and made their minds wander to faraway places. As the moment passed, they moved closer and passionately embraced.

The women's hearts and minds utterly entwined, as if they were one. Which made it difficult for them to break apart. They fit together naturally, as though designed one for the other. The women explored the flowered landscape with their heads between each other's legs. Testing and tasting one another's passion. They studied each other's carnal longings until they finally climaxed with a massive fervid euphoria.

Sam felt Tilly's body against hers through every nerve ending, and it felt so good she never wanted it to end. Deep down, she knew this was something special and would never forget it for as long as she lived. With their connection established through lovemaking.

For Tilly, being with Sam only strengthened her resolve. She wanted better things for herself and Sam. She knew from then on that being with Sam meant a fresh path had opened up before her eyes. They fit together naturally, as though designed one for the other. The women explored the flowered landscape with their heads between each other's legs. Testing and tasting one another's passion. They studied each other's carnal longings until they finally climaxed with a massive fervid euphoria.

In the early morning hours, with predawn light filtering through the bare window of Tilly's seedy apartment, the two women lay holding each other. Tilly curled into the bigger, stronger woman, feeling satisfied.

Contentment Tilly hadn't felt in years.

"I want to know all about you," Sam said.

"No, you don't. You really don't want to know my shit."

"Yea, I really do," Sam said blankly. "I think we should tell everything important right up front. No secrets. Put our cards on the table."

Tilly thought for a minute. Standing, Tilly marched out of the room.

Sam worried she had done something wrong.

After a few minutes, Tilly walked back, wearing one robe and holding another.

"Might not fit." She handed the pink robe to Sam. Tilly sat on the couch with her feet under her. "You go first."

Sam stood and, in a futile attempted to put on the robe. Laying the robe on the back of the sofa, she curled up on the couch and laid her head on Tilly's lap.

"I remember when my Mom died. I was eight years old. It happened twenty years ago, so long ago, but like yesterday or maybe the day before. Daddy went to pieces. Somehow we made it through the funeral. Dad tried to be a father and mother, but he didn't do too good a job on the mother part."

"He taught me to play baseball, basketball, and soccer. Dad coached little league teams, and I was a star player. The girly things he didn't know how to do. I've never felt girly, not even when Mommy was alive."

Sam sighed and rolled into Tilly tighter.

Tilly smoothed Sam's short, blonde hair and rubbed her bare arm. The big muscles were stiff, like warm iron. She ran her hand over them in a tender manner. Tilly felt the pent-up energy inside them. The muscles coiled, ready to be used.

"In high school, only a few boys ever had the nerve to ask me out on a date. If we dated, it never lasted long. Between my less-than-feminine ways and Daddy's bearish appearance, a boy didn't take long to lose interest." Samantha shifted a bit.

"I went to college and got a degree in English. I have a teaching certificate, but I didn't enjoy teaching. The snotty middle school brats drove me insane. I started dancing on the side. Once the school board found out, they fired me, thus ending my career in education."

Tilly leaned, kissed her, and grinned. Samantha smiled back.

"I have been in many spats, arrested and thrown in jail overnight twice for assault, but no one ever filed charges. The guys were too ashamed to admit a girl beat them in a fight. I have fought in underground fights and mixed matches where women fight men. I have a few lovers, a couple of men, maybe four women, and no one-night stands, but when I paid you." Sam paused. "This isn't a one-night stand, is it?"

"No, I don't think it is," Tilly said while she traced her finger down Sam's nose, moving it to her lips. Sam kissed her finger, and Tilly raised her finger to her mouth and kissed where Sam had. They exchanged a look, a smile perhaps, or it may have been more profound than that.

"Your turn," Sam said, sitting then laying back. Sam patted the couch, coaching Tilly to curl up with her, and as natural as breathing air, the two held each other in a loving embrace.

"It was a Monday night and my eighteenth birthday. My Daddy came home drunk. Nothing unusual about Daddy being snookered. He came in and saw my presents, all tied up with bows, and had this strange look in his eyes. What happened after that was terrible ... he took me ... with Momma watching." Tears flowed as she spoke, and she blubbered a few moments. "I tried to stop him but couldn't."

Sam held Tilly so tight she wanted her to know she was there for her.

"Next morning, Momma had all kinds of excuses for Daddy. He was a man with needs, and you gots to respect your Daddy. She let me stay home from school to heal up. That was how she said it. 'You got to heal up, La Quinta. You don't want nobody thinking you Daddy hurts ya,'"

"I watched something on TV, I think a rerun of an old TV show called 'Wings.' The TV stopped playing said. 'We interrupt your regularly scheduled programming for this important message.' The little bug thingy down the corner changed to say News Alert. This anchor fellow is talking about an accident in New York City. The thing was, yeah, the thing was, wasn't an accident, and the whole wide world came crashing down that day."

Tilly wiped away a tear.

"The guy said how planes crashed into two buildings, The World Trade Center buildings. As I watched the TV, one building fell, and one floor after another crumped on itself. It looked like someone had pulled the wrong stick out in Jenga. And it all came tumbling down, just like my life."

Tilly felt Sam's powerful hands running over her body in a tender and loving touch.

"I watched the news all day the first time I ever paid attention to the news. They said it was a terror attack, and I felt like them buildings myself. Like I had my very own terror attack. The ceiling fell on me, the floor fell from under me, we all came tumbling down, and shit covered me." Tilly sat for a few moments, quiet and still.

"That was when I decided I was out of there. After they were asleep, I left. I've never been back. I thumbed rides until I got here, became a whore, and now it's almost two years later, and here I am."

Her eyes were glassy, but she didn't cry. The warmth of Sam's touch felt—strange, delightful, and so very right.

"I have never had a lover," she stopped, adding, "before. I have fucked a lot, but tonight was the time I made love. Never been with a woman until you bought me back in January. I was never attracted to any female. You fucked me like I'd never fucked before. And shit, I saw you in the bar, standing there giving that would be John, the bum's rush. My heart most burst in my chest. You were tall, beautiful, powerful, and sexy. Never saw a woman like you in all my born days. You came back to me."

She snuggled into Sam.

"I was raped six times in two years. Had my money stolen, Johns and other whores have beaten me up. I am so worthless. I don't deserve no one, especially not someone like you."

"Hey, I won't hear that talk. You deserve the best," Sam decided it was time. "That brings us to something else. I don't want you working the streets anymore. You run the girls and live with me. I'll take care of you."

"Why?" Tilly asked. While this pleased Tilly, she didn't understand it and wanted to know what Sam meant. Till needed to know the why of it all.

"That's how I want it. I want to protect you." Sam didn't know how to say what she needed to say.

"Why? You don't know me, nor do you owe me anything." Tilly pressed Sam for a reason.

"I know I want you." Sam paused and pulled the girl to her. "I know you fill a hole. I don't know what else to tell you. Don't think I have to know you for months or years to know I care for you. I aim to be with you. Someday that might change, but not today. I don't see a time when it will ever change."