Tracking Evil, a Podcast Pt. 10

"Shit," Chance said.

"Holy shit," Jarad agreed.

"So... yeah. Anyway, nice meeting you two." Arlene started up the car as the two young men bounced their gazes from their home, to each other and at Arlene.

"Yo, yo... lady, wait up," Jarad said jumping towards the open driver's window.

"What's wrong?" Arlene asked, a little tense from his sudden proximity.

"Umm any chance of a lift back into town? There's no way we are staying here tonight, not with those two thrashing the place."

Arlene felt a twinge of sympathy for them, it was getting late and cold as well and the five minute drive would be a much longer walk for the two young men.

"Okay get in," she said.

She drove them back to town, chatting a little as they went. Apart from introducing herself, she kept the conversation focused on them, having no wish to share any facts with strangers. The two young men were only too happy to carry the conversation and Arlene had passed through the town, approaching her own motel when she thought to ask them where they wanted to get out.

"Here is fine," Chance answered, and Arlene pulled into the motel parking lot.

The two men thanked her and headed to the small office where the night clerk was looking out his window at their arrival. Arlene got out and stretched her back, it had been a long day with a bad night's sleep before it. She went to the trunk of her car, pulling out a gun case she had stored there. She opened it, checking its contents briefly, considering taking a handgun out to keep close by. Had Jarad and Chance meant her harm earlier she had been defenseless.

As she was considering her options Arlene heard the crunch of footsteps and she swung around to see the two men had returned, both of them staring at the contents of the case.

"What now?" Arlene asked them.

"Uh, umm there's no vacant rooms," Jarad answered.

"Jesus... look guys I'm exhausted, I'm not driving you back again tonight," she said irritably.

The two youngsters looked forlorn standing there and Arlene thawed, her normal good nature overcoming the testiness that the last few days had given her.

"You fella's didn't plan this at all did you?"

"Well in fairness we weren't planning on our Pops having someone over, you know?" Chance said cheekily, dropping his gaze to his feet, however, when Arlene stared at him.

"No, no I guess that's a fair point," she agreed. "Okay fine" she blew out a resigned breath, "there's a spare bed in my room. It's a single so you can either share it or sleep on the floor. I've had a shit day and I'm not in the mood for any joking around. So, if you want a place to crash then its straight to sleep, got it?"

The two young men nodded, Arlene snapped the case closed, spinning the combination lock on the front. She heaved it out, noticing their stares.

"This... I'm a cop, so this is nothing to be worried about. Okay, let's go." Arlene lugged the heavy case towards her room, Jarad and Chance a few steps behind.

......................................................................................

Erica finished texting Arlene, stepping away from the wall as she continued looking down at her phone. She felt someone's shoulder bump hers lightly.

Even as she began raising her head to apologize, Erica was shoved bodily by whomever she had collided with. She tried to catch her balance but the shove was too unexpected and Erica found herself futilely windmilling her arms as she fell backwards, her ass colliding with the ground with a crump.

"Fucking bitch!"

Erica looked up at her attacker. A heavy-set moon faced young black woman stood over her. Her fists were set on her hips as she looked down at Erica on the ground.

"Bitch, you need to check yourself, watch where the fuck you walkin', dumb slut," the woman spat vehemently at her.

"Grace!" Erica heard a man calling out. The young woman turned around to where the shout had come from, Erica doing the same.

A black man in his fifties was stood beside an expensive looking car, a big Mercedes. He had a look of shock and outrage on his face as he stared at the young woman.

"Grace!" he repeated in admonishment.

"What? What? What the fuck do you want?" 'Grace' jabbed a finger toward Erica. "This skinny bitch attacked me. Me! So, what the fuck are you doing about it? Nothing! Useless. Go home, you're so embarrassing!"

The overweight young woman spun around and flounced dramatically away. Two other girls were waiting on her near the door to the club and they immediately began fawning over her as she joined them. The three of them then headed through the club entrance.

Erica stopped looking at that point and began to pick herself off the ground. She'd half risen when the black man who had called out to her attacker reached her. Solicitously he helped Erica to her feet, even pulling a fresh handkerchief from his pocket, offering it towards her.

"I'm so sorry," he said as Erica brushed herself down, waving away his offered handkerchief.

"What for? It wasn't your fault," Erica replied. Her butt felt a bit sore, probably bruised, but that was the extent of her injuries.

"My daughter, my youngest. She's a bit... umm"

"Lacking in grace?" Erica supplied with a smile.

"Yes, yes, you could definitely say that. It's a lot nicer than what most other people say about her." He paused for a second, adding, "My wife indulges her, and I let her."

"Well, I'm all good, thanks for the help" Erica said, taking a tentative step and giving a slight flinch from the ache in her ass.

"No, listen. Take my number, send me the bill for the dry cleaning on your dress. Please, it's the very least I can do" Grace's father said, pulling out his phone.

"The least you could do was nothing at all and you didn't do that, so it's all good. No, honestly, it's fine. I appreciate the offer" Erica said firmly but friendly to him.

He smiled at her wit, "I wish she had a fraction of your refinement and even a sliver of your intelligence" he said wistfully. "I'm Lawrence."

"Erica."

"And you are sure I can't do anything to apologize for her?"

Erica thought about going back into the club, now that Grace had turned up. Destry looked to be all tied up as well. So, what was her options, go in, drink beer alone and maybe end up in a fight with a teenage spoilt princess who was big enough to crush her..."

"How about buying me a coffee Lawrence?"

He looked taken aback by the idea, then he smiled. "Sure, let's go grab a coffee, I know a nice place a couple of streets over."

"Okay if we take your car?" Erica asked, rubbing her backside with a pained expression.

..........................................

They sat in a small coffee house that was all but empty at this point of the night. Erica sent Destry a quick text that she was going to be out for a while and received a thumbs up emoticon in reply.

Lawrence seemed a decent guy, mannerly, educated and quite spoken. The complete opposite of his monster daughter in fact. He mentioned that he had three other children, all older than Grace, who had turned out well. It seemed that Grace's mother had spoiled her youngest, allowing her too much leeway and Lawrence had in turn indulged his wife's wishes and actions with regard to Grace. Leading to a willful young woman with no respect for her peers or parents.

"I blame myself" he said, stirring his coffee absently.

"Bullshit! Sorry, but that's what got you here to begin with. Got lay the blame at the foot of the right person. You being a martyr solves nothing" Erica disagreed.

He was a handsome man for his age, perhaps carrying a little weight around his waist. Lawrence ran his own business, long office hours it seemed. No doubt this was partly to blame for his slight gut. The business must have been going well. It wasn't just the expensive Mercedes. His clothes, watch, the perfectly trimmed goatee and freshly shaved head all spoke of money and success. So, it seemed odd to Erica that a man like that should be so unsuccessful with his daughter.

They talked for an hour. Then another one. His phone beeped twice, and he didn't check it for close to twenty minutes. When he finally looked, Lawrence pulled a face.

"Shit. Grace had to take a cab home after the club. I was supposed to collect her. I'll pay for that tomorrow."

Erica felt sorry for him but more than that she felt pissed off at his wife and daughter for walking on him the way they did. For her to treat her father like that was unthinkable. For her mom to treat her husband that way was just as outlandish an idea. If Sondra had been here with her, she'd have slapped some manners into Grace outside of the club but that hadn't been a choice for Erica and even less so now.

There was nothing to be done now.

Except maybe for some petty revenge?

Erica reached across the table and took Lawrences hand in her own, her thumb lightly stroking the back of his hand. He stiffened momentarily at the intimacy of her touch but tellingly he didn't try to pull his hand away.

"Are you sure I can't help out," Erica said in a low honeyed voice. She licked her lips, "After you helped me earlier, well it's the least I can do," she added in a parody of his words from earlier that night.

Episode 5: 'Happiness consists in frequent repetition of pleasure' - Arthur Schopenhauer

Arlene allowed the two young men first turn at the small bathroom in the motel room. They'd picked up some toothbrushes from a vending machine beside the office so at least they could brush their teeth before turning in for the night.

While Chance and Jarad were performing their ablutions, Arlene stowed her gun case safely away. Before setting it beneath the bed the Deputy Sheriff secreted a Smith and Wesson.38, a model 642, beneath a magazine on the bedside stand. The small 6 inch long revolver hardly made a discernible bump beneath the year old issue of Vogue.

'Better safe than sorry' Arlene reasoned to herself. She palmed a second handgun beneath a towel and carried it into the bathroom with her. The room was average sized, but she still had an awkward moment as she squeezed her way past the two young black men as they left the bathroom for her.

Inside, Arlene flipped the lock on the door and left the second revolver within easy reach as she started the shower running. The steam from the hot water began to drift through the bathroom as Arlene peeled off the grimy clothes she'd worn all that long day. Beneath the fluorescent light, Arlene noticed a slight stain on the sleeve of her canvas shirt. The slight brownish hue of the stain meant it was probably blood rather than brain matter from when she'd executed the two thugs from earlier.

She vomited.

It came on her without warning, the sink thankfully right in front of her as the hot, acidic bile leapt from her stomach, up her throat and out of her mouth. The water rushing out from the shower head must have masked the sounds of her tortured retching as neither of the young men knocked on the door to enquire after her. Arlene found herself dry heaving for a couple of minutes, her skin flecked with cold sweat and flecks of vomit, as she bent over the sink in just her underwear.

The episode passed finally, and the redheaded officer of the law groggily staggered away from the sink, faucet running to flush the remnants of her stomach contents away. Arlene rested her hands palm down against the wall of the shower as she let the hot water flow over her. Despite the heat of the showers spray and the lather of suds she rubbed over her flesh, she still felt dirty.

After a good twenty minutes Arlene emerged dripping wet from the shower. She brushed her teeth and decided to forgo using a hairdryer. By now she hoped the two strangers she had allowed into her room were fast asleep and she didn't want them woken by the electric whine of the dryer. Instead, she settled for a vigorous toweling that left her hair slightly damp. Collecting her clothes and her gun she stepped out of the bathroom. She switched off the light before leaving, allowing herself to be guided by the faint glow of her cellphone's screen.

Chance and Jarad did seem to be fast asleep, lying top to tails in the small single bed that sat near the door of the bathroom. She stepped carefully over the pile of their clothes that lay on the floor at the foot of the bed. From the dim illumination offered by her phones screen Arlene could see that both of them had stripped down to their boxers, the thin top cover of the bedspread bunched into a lump at the foot of the bed. Arlene continued onto her own bed, the double, and sat down on the far side, nearest the door. She dropped her clothes to the floor, checked the gun under the magazine, which remained undisturbed before slipping the second one under her pillow. She had changed into an oversized t-shirt that had once belonged to her late husband while she was in the bathroom, but she'd forgotten to bring a spare pair of underwear in with her at the time. For a moment Arlene considered getting a pair from her bag before deciding that the T-shirt was enough to satisfy her need for modesty. All she really needed was to sleep.

The sleep did come, her exhaustion saw to that, but it was fitful. It wasn't just the events of the day, replaying through her mind, that kept her from drifting into full sleep. It was also the low, deep breathing coming from the two men. She was confident enough that they posed no threat to her, it was what their presence reminded her of that was the problem. Despite being a widow for a time now, the memory of her husbands heavy breathing as he burbled from one snore to the next, was still fresh in her mind. In her current emotional turmoil, the sound of these men sleeping evoked memories for Arlene of her husband. She squeezed her eyes tightly closed and drifted off once more.

...................................

The sensation of a weight settling on the mattress of her bed brought her fully awake. Arlene twisted over like a snake, a hand diving beneath the pillow to close over the butt of the revolver. She saw the long figure of one of the two brothers now stretched out on the bed. The only reason why she didn't pull the gun free there and then was that he had settled himself on the very edge of the bed and had his back turned to her.

"Chance?" she whispered, an even chance of being right.

"Oh hey" he said turning over.

"You remember the bag of guns, right?" Arlene said pointedly.

"Sorry" he said, hands coming up in a warding off gesture, "Its...well...Jarad, he's a kicker."

"Kicker?"

"I mean he kicks out in his sleep, he's already caught my twice in the face. I thought you were asleep and that if I kept to the side, then...." He trailed off under Arlene's withering gaze.

She considered the young man, he was over twenty years her junior and her job and status of 'armed and dangerous' seemed to have really made him nervous of her. He began to slide off the bed, one foot on the floor.

"Fine" she said in a vexed yet resigned tone. "Keep to your side and remember, any funny business and the next bed you occupy will be in a hospital. Understood?"

"Understood ma'am," he turned over once more, his back to her.

Arlene turned over as well, settling the gun back in place.

She wasn't sure how much time passed before she once again found herself awake. The echo of a dream, back in her own bed with her husband by her side, fading as soon as her eyes flickered open. Something was off but it took a moment before she could reason out what. The answer made her reach beneath the pillow once again, only this time the gun wasn't there. The shot of adrenaline brought clarity with it and Arlene stilled her frantic search for the gun, her heart rate dropping back to normal.

The incongruity that had disturbed her was the sensation of a body pressed against her own, molded to her back. Her first thought had been that Chance had taken leave of his senses, opting to take a 'chance' that Arlene had been bluffing about using a gun on him. That was when she'd reached for the gun. However, before full panic had set in, she had noticed an important detail.

Chance hadn't sidled into her, she had backed into him. That was the only logical explanation, Arlene was now in the middle of the bed, this being why she hadn't been able to find her gun at first.

It must have been the dream. Thinking about sharing a bed with her husband had caused her to seek the warmth of another body in her sleep.

The young man appeared to be still fast asleep, and Arlene found the security of human contact too comforting to return to her side of the bed. She closed her eyes once more instead seeking the sanctuary of the dream.

The next time she awoke, her mind was clearer. She knew the difference this time between dream and reality. In her dream she had lain entwined in her dead husbands arms. In reality, Chance had obviously stirred in his sleep, his arm now thrown over her torso. Arlene found herself frozen with indecisiveness. On one hand she knew she needed to work herself free, to move back to the other side of the bed. On the other hand, while she had been shifting in her sleep, her t-shirt had ridden part ways up her body so that her bare ass was pressed into Chance's crotch, and she could feel his semi erect cock squashed into the valley between the cheeks of her firm white butt.

Arlene dithered as to her next move, moving slowly, slightly, to see how much room she had to escape. The minor adjustments, the slight squirming motions didn't free her. They did manage to rub her ass against his crotch however and she found herself freezing once again as Chance let out a sleepy groan of pleasure. Arlene bit her bottom lip as the black cock, still stuffed inside his boxers, stirred at her inadvertent ministrations.

Chance's hand that had been hanging loose over her side now moved. It slid onto her bare stomach, her t-shirt having moved high enough up to reveal it, and flattened against her firm flesh, holding her in place. Arlene didn't dare move, she just hoped the young man would drift back into a deep slumber and she could then lift his arm clear.

It wasn't going to work out that way, however.

Maybe the arm moving was an unconscious gesture, much as her backing into him had been. But what Chance did next spoke of deliberate conscious action.

Arlene felt him shift slightly behind her, as if he was settling in his sleep and, thank God, his crotch moved out of contact with her. Briefly. In seconds his crotch was back where it had been but with a noticeable difference. Now she could feel the uncloaked heat from his bare cock as it came into direct contact with the silken firmness of her ass. Chance had pulled his cock free of his boxer shorts and the slab of black fuck meat had swollen further in the seconds it had taken to free it.

'Fuck meat'. The lurid slang for his penis echoed in her mind.

Chance was moving again, his almost fully erect cock shifting back and forth in incremental strokes as it worked itself between the cheeks of her ass till it was sandwiched between them like a black hotdog in a milky white bun.

"Don't," Arlene whispered, conscious of the fact that Jarad was only a few feet away. Chance didn't reply although his micro thrusts stopped. So, he was definitely awake then.

"You need to stop," Arlene continued in the hushed murmur.

Chance didn't reply but he didn't move either. The next twenty seconds or so seemed to stretch out like hours. All Arlene could hear was the soft snores of Jarad and the hoarse rasping breath's coming from her own lungs and from the young black man behind her. His thick cock was fully hard now and over that twenty second interval she could feel the pulsing twitches from his smothered dick as it shuddered faintly against her enveloping flesh.