Tracking Evil, a Podcast Pt. 11

Arlene was a cop; Sondra was bad ass with weapons and hard as nails. Erica was just a reporter who wasn't even good enough to land a job with a major media group. She was out of her league with all of this, Erica needed to put it all behind her.

She had made her way to the bus station, grabbing the first bus going anywhere but here. It took her to Washington DC, the place it had all started for Erica.

If it was a sign, she took it to mean that she'd come full circle so it was time to jump off the merry go round, it was making her feel ill. In Union station, Erica had taken some steps to change her appearance. A scissors and a helpful older woman in the lady's bathroom had combined to turn her ragged hair into a neat almost fashionable tousled pixie cut. A Washington Nationals baseball cap completed her 'disguise' and once more Erica randomly chose a bus to board.

Indianapolis was the destination but she knew taking public transport like this meant she could be tracked. She had used her bank cards back in Durham to get some travelling money, switching off her phone at the same time. That wasn't going to be enough though to shake anyone following her.

The bus had made a stop at a truck stop, a number of passengers alighting to stretch their legs. Erica had opened a rear door, slipping out and ignoring the drivers shouted protest as she left the door open behind her. The truck stop had proven to be filled with men willing to give her a lift, Erica wisely ignoring the barrage of offers. Instead, she approached an older man who required convincing before agreeing to give her a ride. He had taken her as far as Charlotte NC and by then was friendly enough with Erica to help her secure a second ride, this one carrying her to just outside of Charleston. Erica then switched back to public transport, taking a train to Savannah. Then she had decided to hitch another ride, still heading south. It took two cars but she had found herself nearing the Florida state line, walking by this time. That was when she had met Clarke.

Clarke was a black male, late thirties and working as a mechanic near Jacksonville FL. He had pulled over to offer Erica a lift and she had been happy to accept as it had been growing dark and she really just wanted to get off her feet for a while.

Clarke was almost the perfect company given her current mood and situation. He had picked up quickly that she wasn't interested in sharing her life story or any details really that were personal in nature. It didn't faze him in the slightest, rather than grow tight lipped himself he had launched into a monologue that filled the silence for the next thirty minutes of the drive.

It was the angry rumbling of Erica's stomach that had finally put a halt to his chatter. Without asking, he had pulled over as soon as somewhere serving food had come into sight.

Over the simple meal of burgers and fries, which Erica offered to pay for but he had insisted they split, Clarke had offered her a place to sleep that night. Erica had accepted, again reasoning that staying in a private residence if even for a night would aid her eluding her pursuers. Stomach full and mind somewhat at ease in the knowledge she had somewhere to sleep that night, Erica had drifted off to sleep, only waking when Clarke's pickup truck ground to a halt. He had escorted her into the small trailer he called home, fussing around her as he pulled out a bed for her to sleep in.

Despite him making a bed up for her, Erica had been expecting him to make an overture for sex. He hadn't and once she was settled, Clarke had headed to his own bed. It was the fourth night before anything happened between them and once the die had been cast, Erica had spent every night since in his bed.

Clarke had proved to be as good in bed as he was a person to know, the black man fucking her often and expertly each night. It was a strange thought but he had become the longest relationship Erica had been in since college and the big man didn't even know her surname.

The others who inhabited the small trailer park a few miles from the Jacksonville suburbs were a great deal more curious about Erica and her 'story' than Clarke was. Once it seemed like she would stay for a while there, Erica had ventured out with Clarke to meet some of the neighbours.

Lester, Terrell and Ray were of an age, all in their mid to late forties and seemingly Clarke's closest companions in the community. The four men had a regular poker game, alternated in hosting barbeques for the football games and generally hung out. The three older black men were not in full time employment like Clarke, something that seemed to rankle their partners who apparently viewed Clarke as a real catch in the locality. Jacqui, Kenya and Lori were the three men's partners, Erica didn't know if they were wives or girlfriends as the three black women were simply referred to as 'partners' by the men.

Erica was struck by how alike the small group were. For example, the three men could have passed for brothers, well certainly for blood relatives. They all stood a shade under six feet in height. They also shared the same body type, all of them paunchy from a lack of exercise and Erica guessed too much beer. Only their hairstyles differed and that was just to the degree that each was balding, Lester was completely bald, Terrell maintained a ring of hair around his head and Ray's was receding badly at the temples.

Their partners were likewise similar, not in body type, the three women ranging from skinny to obese, but in their fashion sense, big hair, lots of gold accessories, ripped denim shorts and assorted t-shirts.

The three women, the youngest a good two decades older than Erica, were cool at first in their welcome. It was their unbridled need for news and gossip that finally overcame that, all three of them vying to be the first to get Erica to share personal details of her life, how she came to end up in the trailer with Clarke.

Erica found avoiding their questions difficult. She tried lying but she discovered the three women had minds like steel traps and they were only too happy to pounce on any inconsistency or misstep in Erica's lies.

So instead, Erica fed them some simple truths, half-truths and bullshit. The easiest part was to tell them she had been in a destructive relationship with an older man, Erica had used

Butterman the graffiti killer as the inspiration behind this. Fleeing an abusive ex had earned her some sympathy and a little space from the three couples, especially the women, and so that had kept them at bay. For a time.

The questions kept coming so much so that Erica began to avoid the three couples, spending more and more time alone or in the trailer with Clarke. This wasn't easy as the three men had part time jobs at a warehouse, all of them working the same or similar shifts. For much of the week when the men were working, their partners were off and vice versa, the partners holding down a variety of jobs, mostly in the service industry. This seemed planned, the gaggle of children surrounding the couples always having a minder in this way. The downside from Erica's perspective being that there always seemed to be someone around.

Through the thin walls of the trailer, she overheard Clarke explaining Erica's behaviour to Kenya one evening, asking the woman to give Erica some space as she was 'delicate' and had gone through a 'hard time'. He was closer to the mark than he realised, he was just unaware how hard a time she had really had.

"Smells good babe." Clarkes voice pulled Erica back to the here and now and she hurriedly stirred the breakfast to stop it burning.

"Just a small bite before my man goes off to work," Erica said airily over her shoulder, "scrambling some eggs for you."

Clarke stood behind her, he was wearing his work overalls, freshly washed but still stained with oil and grease from his job. He had the top of the overalls hanging down, the sleeves knotted round his waist. On his torso was a plain black tank top, frayed and sporting a couple of holes. His strong arms wrapped around her waist, pulling her into his embrace as she continued to cook.

"Ah, you know there's just one type of egg I like scramblin' doncha?" He laughed as he spoke, Erica swatting at his arm as he continued to pull her butt into his crotch.

"Jesus, didn't you get enough last night?" Erica feigned annoyance at his ardour.

"No chance! Come on, quick one for the road? Set me up for the day, better than food and strong coffee."

"Seriously, you need to eat," Erica protested, she killed the heat under the pan, putting it to one side before squirming in his hold, reaching for a plate on the counter top.

"You're right, I do," Clarke agreed, then he was hoisting Erica up, sitting her on the counter beside the plate. He began pushing the hem of the t shirt up over her legs, exposing her panty less crotch.

Erica swatted at him once more, this time with the spatula still in her hand. He grinned as the plastic utensil bounced ineffectively on his broad powerful shoulders. Then he was pushing his face between her legs, Erica's protests stilling as his stubbled cheeks scraped along the inside of her thighs, his lips and tongue finding her pussy.

Clarke wore his hair and tight, a light stubble of a beard dusted his jaw. That same stubble was now pricking and tickling Erica's pussy lips as his generous lips parted and moved almost as if he were chewing on her moistness, rapacious in his need for her taste.

She moaned as he ate her, exploring her soft yielding pussy with his mouth, her own mouth was parted, lips stretched, tongue slightly protruding as Erica wallowed in lecherous relief. Her fingers played across his hair, fingertips pressing into his scalp as he munched on her.

"Oh, oh that's good, so good," Erica whispered. The wet smack and smooch sounds of his lips tasting her crotch stopped soon after, Erica looking down at him as his head emerged from between her legs, full lips wet with her delicious juices.

He reared up, both his and Erica's hands scrambling, obstructing one another as they grappled with the zip on his overalls, hauling it lower still, Erica's hands winning the race to dive inside. She pulled at the boxers her was wearing, yanking the front of them aside so she could claim her prize, hands lifting forth his hardening cock.

Clarke took over, lifting her legs up and out, Erica grabbing onto them herself beneath the knee so that she was open wide. The horny mechanic then lined up with her lubricated snatch, pushing into her in a slow, steady style that delivered the head of his cock five inches deep into her pussy on that first thrust.

"Mmmmh, good and tight babe, good and fucking tight. Time to scramble those eggs of yours now," Clarke quipped as he began a sedate stabbing motion, his big wide cock moving in and out of her. Erica sighed contentedly, the all too familiar sensation of her pussy stretching, resizing as it accepted the intrusion of a large black cock inside it.

Familiar the sensation might be, it was never boring. Clarke moved slow; Erica liked that about him. He didn't rush into things, building up gradually, moving in time to a crescendo. He did everything that way, not just fucking. Clarke wasn't one to burn out, rushing at a problem. He considered his options and paced himself accordingly.

For all that, his pace had increased now to the point that Clarke was holding onto Erica's hips, the force of his thrusts sending her bare ass sliding on the smooth counter top. Sex in the trailer always brought with it a backing band of noises. From the creaking of the floor beneath Clarkes braced feet, the clatter of utensils in their drawers beneath the counter top as the kitchen unit shivered and shook from the energy of their fucking, to the squeak of Erica's naked ass sliding on the laminate surface of the counter.

"Uhhh, right there, God, you fuck me so good!" Erica moaned as Clarke got deep inside her, his cock hitting all the right spots as it plunged within the cramped confines of her pussy.

"Yeah, uh, gotta step it up a notch babe, gotta get to work," Clarke breathed heavily, slamming her hard as if to emphasis his rushed schedule.

"Uh-uhuh, yeah, yeah, there... oh right there. Fuck me, fuck me, that's it, fuck me hard, fuck me harder," she moaned, her hands releasing her legs only to ball up into fists that Erica proceeded to pound against the wall behind her as her orgasm stepped closer.

Clarke was moving into overdrive when a crashing knock sounded against the door of the trailer. The two of them ignored it, Erica moaning loudly as Clarke fed her hungry pussy. Another loud knock, the full weight of a body behind it slammed on the door. From outside there came a hooting laugh. Then Erica and Clarke could clearly hear Terrell calling out to them.

"Yeah Clarkey, that's right, you fuck her good mah man, give it to her good," the words cut off into more laughter.

Clarke pulled out of Erica, whirling around on his heel before striding the short space to the door. He opened it with such a rage that the fragile hinges shrilled loudly in protest. He stepped out and over his shoulder Erica could see Terrell staring towards the advancing Clarke, her lower body exposed behind him as she sat open legged on the counter top. The sight of Clarke advancing on him, big cock still rampant before him, unnerved the smaller, older man. Terrell backpedalled a few feet, hands raised to ward Clarke off.

"Joke, just a joke. Come on man, show a sense of humour," Terrell babbled.

Clarke leaned towards him, a stiff finger poked Terrell in the chest, "Ha!", another poke, "Ha!". Clarke turned towards the trailer, heading back inside, "No more jokes funny man, y'hear?" Clarke didn't wait for a reply, he slammed the door shut behind him.

"Sorry," he said when he was alone with Erica again, "Shouldn't have done that."

"Fuck that," Erica replied, "That was fucking hot."

"Lemme show you hot," Clarke said, he lifted her from her perch, turning her around to bend her over the dated kitchen unit. Erica felt him lift the t-shirt clear off her butt, a large black hand on the small of her back keeping it from falling back down. She trembled in lust and expectation as Clarke lined back up to enter her once more.

"Uhhhh," Erica groaned as he went deep and hard from the offset.

"Uh, uh, uh" the strokes came thick and fast, Clarke channelling his adrenaline and anger into a rough need fuelled fuck that Erica just loved.

"That prick, spying on us," she said, throwing fuel on the fire inside Clarke. "Uh, uhhhh, oh, uhhhrrhh," she moaned immediately after as Clarke dropped another gear, grinding his cock into her doll like body.

"Yeah," Clarke said, reaching out to grip Erica's hair at the base of her skull, bracing her as his cock thumped forward faster still. "Probably still there, listening. Go on, give him something to hear."

This surprised Erica, Clarke's blood must really have been inflamed, he wasn't the type to brandish their private life, their sex life, in front of others. It was a new side to him, one she wasn't sure of but not seeing any harm in it she let go, sinking into the role of the moment.

"Yeah, uhh, yeah, cumming on your cock, uh, uh, ohhhh Clarke, cumming on your big black cock!" Erica wailed loudly, role play and reality finding a common truth as her body bucked against his controlling body, her head twisting in his grip, her ass pushing back hard against his thrusts as her pussy exploded into a kaleidoscope of sensation, the clenching and unclenching muscles of her vagina milking and massaging his stiff flesh.

The sensation of his own orgasm, coming fast on the heels of hers, sent them both into another round of loud moans and swearing.

As Erica slumped over the counter top, sated from the morning fuck, Clarke pulled half his length out, milking his own cock with his fingers, guiding the remnants of his ejaculation inside her.

"Ooooh, uh, you done?" Erica asked as he pushed in and out a few more times, his cock still almost rock hard.

"Just throwin' some hot sauce on those eggs of yours is all," Clarke answered grinning. He pulled out properly, his softening cock getting confined once more to his overalls.

"Shit," Erica said, straightening up. The frying pan of eggs and bacon still sat where she had left it, the breakfast lukewarm now at best given the time he had spent ploughing into her. "Give me a minute, I'll heat them up. No wait, I'll make it fresh."

"It's all good," Clarke replied, he kissed her on the forehead and moved to the door of the trailer. "I'll get something in work. See you later."

"See you," Erica said blowing a kiss at him.

"Oh wait, I forgot. I picked you up some newspapers yesterday, let them behind the TV, I figured you might like them. Local and National papers."

"You're sweet, now go or you'll be late."

Erica stood at the doorway watching as Clarke climbed into his pickup. Of Terrell there was no sign.

<<>>

After stepping from her shower, Erica could smell the congealed breakfast now cold in the pan. She swiftly dressed, tight denim shorts and a sage-coloured sweater tank top with a button up front. White sneakers completed her outfit and Erica then simply ran her fingers through her short-wet hair, smoothing it back before grabbing the frying pan and stepping outside into the warm Florida sunshine.

There was a food waste bin beside the Trailer and she made straight for it, squinting slightly in the bright sunshine. Between her single-minded desire to dump the greasy contents in the pan and the glare of the sun, Erica didn't notice Terrell had returned. Only as the turned away from the bin did she notice the older black man standing nearby, his cell phone in his hand, clearly photographing her.

"What the hell?" Erica raised her hand far too late to shield her face from the camera's lens. "What are you doing?"

Terrell put the phone away, slipping it securely into the pocket of his pants before deigning to answer her.

"Maybe Clarke is happy not knowing who you really are but can't say I am." He swept an arm out towards the rest of the park. "I got kids, a family. Not safe having a stranger with a past she aint willin' to share livin' among us."

"That's bullshit and you know it," Erica fumed. "Give me the damn phone so I can delete whatever pictures you took."

"Nope. See I figure I'll post them online, kind of float out a 'do you know this girl' vibe. See who is willin' to fill in the blanks on where you came from."

Erica flinched inwardly. She had tried so hard to drop out of sight, to make sure The Graffiti Killer and his friends couldn't find her. Now this asshole was fixing to ruin it all just because Clarke had embarrassed him earlier.

"Look Terrell, you don't really want to do that," she wheedled. "Let me have the phone, you don't want me telling Clarke about this do you?"

As she said it, she realised she'd miscalculated. His face stiffened as did his posture. Terrell rolled his shoulders back, drawing himself up to his full height.

"Clarke can kiss me black ass. So can you. You want the phone? Fine, it's yours. For two hundred dollars."

Erica had it, she had the money to pay him off but she hated having to part with it, especially for such a half assed blackmail scheme. Still, she needed to stay incognito. She'd give him the money, delete the pictures and then she'd turn Clarke loose on the prick.

"Okay, wait here a second," Erica turned to go back inside the trailer.

"No! Not here. In private." Terrell said, looking all around lest their conversation be noted. He looked up at the low hill that lay just under a mile from the trailer park across some waste ground. A group of trees ringing its top like a verdant crown. "Up there, one hour."