Where You Lead, I Will Follow

She was so surprised, at first she didn't recognize him. He was at the next checkout line, waiting, face hidden in an abundance of thick black curls, but there was no mistaking that nose and that mouth. When he straightened and tucked one long lock behind an ear to speak with the cashier she recognized both the huge ears and the dark-almond eyes.

The tall, lanky, ugly boy from high school had grown into a taller, fit, mesmerizing young man.

"Sweety, are you ready to pay?"

"What? Oh! Sorry, Karen, yeah, here." She took out her card to pay for her groceries, distractedly listening to the cashier warning her of a recent wolf attack that had killed one of the town bums while she hurriedly packed and grabbed her bag. She thanked her and caught up with the tall man

"Ben? Ben... Strider?

The tall young man turned to look at her, surprised. "Yeah? It's Striker, not Strider," he answered in a voice deep enough to resonate in her own chest.

Now that she was looking right into his face, Lana was a bit taken aback. The quiet boy at the back of the class had grown into his nose, and now high-cheekbones and a tall forehead framed deep-set eyes the color of dark amber that could stare right into her soul. Lana stepped back, dropping her gaze to his mouth.

Full, plush lips sat between a thin, scraggly mustache and a thin, scraggly beard that barely covered a delicate chin, set askew, crooked like his long wide nose. She quickly followed it up again.

"I don't know if you remember me? I'm Lana Granstone, from Insdale High?"

He peered into her face as if deliberating, not whether he remembered her, but whether he should. He seemed to opt for prudence.

"Yeah?" he answered, eyes suddenly shaded.

Lana had only been at the school one year, while her town school was being renovated after considerable water-damage had meant she and a bunch of other students were "loaned out" to nearby schools. "I was only there for one year, as a junior," she added.

He frowned for a moment more, searching her face, then a ghost of a smile touched the corner of his mouth. "Oh, yeah. You didn't fit in with the other girls."

Lana gulped, then turned to walk to her car, inviting him to continue their interaction. She'd tried to fit in with the group. Tried and failed. "They were so mean," she finally said, stopping in front of her blue sedan. She remembered something, "they were mean to you too, and to your friend... I don't remember his name..."

Now his face truly darkened. "Kyle," he said softly. "He died three years ago."

"Oh no, I'm sorry!" Lana said, "I didn't know."

"It's not your fault." Ben Striker stood silent for a moment.

Before malaise set in, Lana asked him: "Are you in town for a while?"

A hesitation, then he answered, "Yeah. I'm staying at the motel. Maybe a week."

Lana felt her face flush with heat before she pushed forward: "the snack bar just north of the Motel has much better fries. Do you-- " and here, she stammered, because she had not let herself meet with anyone since her breakup with Dale, "do you want to meet for supper? We could talk; this town has been a little boring for a while."

"So you're a little bored?" his deep voice was warm, and Lana realised she had been more than a little bored. She'd been lonely. She looked at him again; he was a little hunched over, like all tall men are when they speak to anyone shorter than them which is most people, and he was broad, and she looked at his huge left hand holding his groceries and saw neither a wedding band, nor the tell-tale pale skin of one who takes it off to meet women. She wasn't sure she'd even care that much.

He was only here for a week.

"Yeah, bored. Very much." She said, a little breathless.

He nodded, "Supper then. Six?" He smiled a shy smile.

"Six," and they parted, Lana into her blue sedan, he for his black SUV. It looked a bit beaten up, like he actually used it to go into the woods with it.

She lived only a few miles away, and as she drove, she felt confidence build in her. Sure, Ben Striker had been a bit of a dork in school, but all guys were. She hadn't heard anything really bad about him. She'd even found him a bit sad and lonely, like she had been. He and his friend Kyle had been best buds and... she suddenly remembered there had been rumors about them.

The pair had been teased and she now remembered a fist fight one day after class, right before summer. Someone had teased that Kyle, who was a senior, would be taking Ben to the prom.

A little disappointed, she carried her bag up to her apartment, and figured that maybe she could just spend some time with someone without all the pressures of hooking up with them.

She put the food away, cleaned the place up. It was Sunday. Sunday in Smallville. She hadn't quite felt up to going to one of the weekly barbecues at one of her friends' houses. Her clothes were ready for tomorrow's work. Her plants were watered. Her floor, clean.

She was restless. Had been for weeks. Had been since the break up. Her ex didn't call her up in the middle of the night anymore, and he'd stopped bothering her parents, but Lana felt like he was just biding his time. Sheriff Karley had done the right thing, keeping him locked up for the whole weekend that time, and Dale did behave, even if only to keep his job; but still, she'd laid low and kept to herself and been on her best behavior.

Now seeing the "ugly boy" from her junior year, seeing how he had grown into a tall, dark and, not exactly handsome, but definitely attractive, man was lighting fires in her she'd force herself to bank for months.

Maybe the rumors had not been founded. Kids were petty, and jealous, and competitive. Ben Striker had grown taller than most boys and so had stood out like a sore thumb. His face could have been described as, well, awkward, and that had been enough to brand him ugly.

She remembered the girls bad-mouthing him in the restroom, early in the school year.

"Imagine kissing him, with that nose!"

"He'd take your eye out!"

"And those ears, they gotta flap in the wind."

"At least they give you something to hold on too..."

A collective Shriek!

"Everything about his face is wrong! He's just... wrong!"

They'd been a heartbeat's silence then, until one of the girl finally said:

"Well anyway, anyone who would want him would have to pry him away from Kyle, who looks even worse."

"Pizza-face!"

"Yeah, maybe that's what they do together after school, eat pizza!"

Shriek!

Now they'd turned to her, "What do you think of Ben Striker, New Girl?"

"I--" she started to say she liked his thick black curls and his plush mouth, and his eyes... his deep, beautiful eyes. But when she looked at the four pairs of eyes staring intently at her she was completely surprised by what she saw: vicious jealousy.

Ben Striker was off limits.

So instead, she said: "I-- think he's too skinny?"

"That's true! He is too skinny."

"All elbows and no ass..." and they'd all walked away laughing that high-pitched laughter girls have when they're satisfied, as if Lana had passed some test... but not well enough to be invited to join them. That year, she'd hung around with the few other kids that spend all their time at the library. Eventually, that became her job: librarian.

*

Well, he's not skinny now, she thought, as she changed her blue dress for the yellow sunflower one. The weather was still warm, in spite of a warning for a thunderstorm later on. The time was five o'clock. She was early, but she could take her time, and walk there. She put her walking boots on, packed her light backpack with a vest, and took off.

Her path took her past her work, then across the city park, then behind the city grade school before it crossed the road to Dennis' Diner, where, still too early, she sat at one of the tables outside, enjoying the light breeze and the late afternoon sun. The sun was making the flowerbeds glow already and she turned to look at the bumblebees busying themselves among the colorful blooms. Dennis' wife planted them year after year around the parking lot.

"Enjoying the view?" came a deep voice, right close to her.

She startled, how did he sneak up on me like that? He had warm eyes and a warmer smile, so she didn't dwell on it, but got up. They went in.

There were few people on this Friday, maybe only the regulars that didn't have space for a barbecue, or a family to eat with, and so the other lonely people they knew all came here to eat together at their separate tables. The place itself was clean and proper, and by 7pm would be near empty for about two hours, when said regulars would go to the twelve-step program meeting in the church basement, nearby.

At nine, they would come back, for a fries and another coffee, and talk about the things they had understood this time, and to pass the time until ten pm when it was late enough they were too tired to do anything riskier than go home.

Ben Striker looked around the place when they came in, and took a deep breath, inhaling the new frying oil, and the fresh pot of coffee, and Sally slicing tomatoes and lettuce in the prep area. He noted the cookies in the cookie jar, next to the cakes.

He observed the way the tables were set, with two or three yellow flowers in single serving wine carafes, and the red-flowered curtains, and he took notice of the exit near the restrooms in the back. They sat next to the north window, Lana invited to sit first.

"You're not going to the meeting?" he asked her, pleasantly, as a way to break the ice?

"No," she answered. Laughing, she added, "that's not my vice."

He looked up at her sharply then, "It was mine, for a while." He raised her hand to stop her when she started to protest, "I'm all better now. It was more of a... a phase. Grief. It passed. But the group helped me."

**

He ordered the steak, the smaller size, but very rare, and the salad, and no fries even if she had lured him here with the promise of "better fries". Lana got a cheeseburger and fries for herself, and lemonade. He ordered a lemonade too.

They sat and spoke of life after junior high, when she had come back to her school, and he had finished at Insdale, then gone on to college, in electronics. He was in town installing a security system for someone, he wouldn't say who.

"I'm a Librarian," Lana piped up, proud of being part of an institution that was going out of style, but was still an essential service.

*

When they stepped out, Lana wanted to walk a bit so they took the path to her old school, and she ran to the swings and sat in one, and Ben sat in the one beside her. The sun was setting now, and some storm clouds were amassing east of them, a black wall rolling in, but the wind was still calm and there was time yet.

They spoke some more; she'd stayed pretty much in town while his studies and his work had taken him across the country, and when his parents moved to Ohio he helped them with the small mortgage in exchange for a room for him because he really didn't stay anywhere long enough to settle down.

He was on the road a lot, and the SUV had some commodities for the few times he'd decided to sleep in it instead of risking drifting off the road, but he preferred to sleep in a bed when he could.

Kyle had drifted off the road. They were partners then, on a contract in Mexico. Ben had fallen asleep, tucked against the door, lulled by the grayness of a cloudy evening.

Then Kyle had fallen asleep.

When he woke, they had fallen into a ditch. Kyle was hurt, probably a broken arm, and they tried to set the car right but couldn't. It was almost dark, but they thought they could see some town lights not too far off into the distance, so they set off in that direction.

"We walked maybe a mile before we heard him," Ben said, and his voice sounded far away, back to that fateful night. "I'm sorry, I'm rambling on. I don't want to bore you."

"Not at all, unless..." Lana felt the sadness in his tone; he was telling her of maybe the most terrible thing that had happened in his life, and she reached across the gap to take his hand. "I'm listening, you can tell me," she prompted.

His back was to the setting sunlight, his hair covering his face in shadow as he continued the tale.

"We heard a low howl behind us, like a call. Then we heard some answering howls, further out, to the west. We picked up the pace."

"What... what was it?" Lana's face was bathed in the fading sunset, and she had to squint to see his face.

"Wolves."

"Wolves? In Mexico?"

"Las Lobos. A pack." As he spoke, the wind finally started to blow, cold and damp.

"As the howls got closer we started to jog, but Kyle's arm was throbbing with pain and he cried every few steps, and I tried to help him along short of carrying him, but his legs were fine; it was each jolt to his arm that sent a shock through him."

Eventually they heard the distinct sound of claws scraping on pavement and they sprinted then, but the shocks of pain finally caused Kyle to stumble and fall, and he didn't get back up.

"The pack fell on him," Ben told the tale, horror clear on his face as if he watched his childhood friend attacked by three wolves all over again and he told her how he dove in to push them away until one -- a big one, much bigger than the others -- turned on him and bit him on the shoulder. They fought, until he passed out.

On the school playground, the lights turned on, while lightning flashed under the menacing clouds rolling towards them, but Lana sat still, frozen in place by the tale being told.

When he came too, Ben continued, an ambulance was there. It was morning. He saw a white truck parked on the side of the road and men were speaking. "Las Lobos, Las Lobos Magnificos," they said to each other, looking at him. Police arrived while he was being bandaged and taken into the ambulance. His only injury was a profound bite to his shoulder. The policemen had rifles. "Las Lobos Magnificos," they repeated.

Kyle was dead. A tarp covered him and Ben...

"I started crying. Beside his body was one of the wolves, the big one. I must have killed him."

"How? With your bare hands?"

"They said I tore out its maw. I don't remember. I don't remember much of that week. They shot me full of antibiotics and against rabies and I ran a fever. My hands were all bandaged up. A priest came, threw holy water on me. My parents and Kyle's parents came down to get us."

The rain started to fall. Ben and Lana sprang up and ran for Ben's truck.

***

The apartment complex was only a feet yards away from where they were parked, but the beginning rain was reason enough to stay in the truck with him.

"I haven't told anyone this story in ages," he said. She took his hand again and looked at him, wanting him to feel better. Accepted. Accepted like she had wanted to in school.

Wanted him, really. She let her eyes fall from his dark amber eyes to his lips and he took the cue and leaned forward to kiss her and Lana felt her heart jump in her breast.

She covered it with his hand and he hummed over her mouth while he palmed her firmly over the damp cotton, rubbing a nipple until it perked and that sent a spark down into her core. Lightning flashed.

When she parted her lips to invite a deeper kiss, he slid his hand down her dress to her thigh. His tongue was bold and Lana felt like for the first time in her life she was being properly kissed. It made her core throb, and she grasped the hem of her dress and pulled it out from under his hand, then draped it over, telling the dark-eyed man to further his exploration.

She felt a fire ignite in her, the dull past two years and the inhibited past six months all rising into a storm of want, just like the storm outside was buffeting the car windows in a wash of rainwater.

She felt her core pool with warm wetness. She ran one hand through his thick locks, uncovering and caressing one big ear, while her other hand pushed his up her thigh. She felt it slide up, large and calloused, reaching for the apex of her thighs. Reaching up until it bumped into her core.

Lana suddenly remembered she hadn't shaved, and it had been a hot day, followed by a hot evening, and she hadn't planned on going so far so fast and now she worried she wouldn't be at her best, but slipping his fingers under the blue cotton he grunted in approval, and pet her unruly bush. "Natural," he said, "I prefer that," he smiled as he carded through the sandy curls, then sliding further to find her clit and stroke it softly.

Lana sighed, then moaned, and in turn she let her hand caress him reaching up the washboard stomach to the muscular chest, palming a hard nipple, making him grunt before she slid her hand down again, over his jeans to where a lump was growing over his thigh.

That long pointy tongue of his felt like it could reach all the way to the back of her throat, and it was muscular, if such a thing could be said of a tongue. At the same time, his fingers were pushing into her lush folds and were now slowly thrusting in and out, in and out, unhurriedly, as if he had all the time in the world.

She broke the kiss, eyes almost rolling up into her head -- she was already close.

He sucked at her lip, nipped it then started to move down her throat, where he gently bit and sucked at her while he slipped a third finger into her and she clenched at the stretch; he pulled them out and brought them to his nose to scent them, eyes closed. Then he licked them, and hummed appreciatively, and she relaxed.

He continued his kisses down her cleavage, not stopping at her breasts but instead nosing as far down as he could, licking all the way. Finally he arranged her down onto the front bench seat to get to her core and when he pulled at her underwear, she raised her hips so he could slip them off.

He lifted her dress and dove right in, like a thirsty man into a fountain.

That tongue was one of nature's wonders, she was certain, as it pushed between her folds and reached inside her further than any man had ever reached before, strong and sure. And then he folded her legs up to lick at everything in reach -- everything in reach -- while he hummed over her.

Dale had never gone there. No one had ever gone there, and "Oh!", it was the greatest thing that was happening between her legs right now. Every part of her throbbed and pulsed and that thick tongue felt huge and ate her with a hunger she had never known. When he put his fingers back into her to concentrate on her clit, she cried out loud enough to drown out the thunder.

Her climax was glorious.

*

He was big and stiff inside his jeans and she wanted to return the favor. She tugged at his belt but he took her hand and held it, stopping her.

"I don't think that's a good idea," he said, shaking his head.

"But I want to," Lana said, surprised by his refusal.

"I know you want to... but... I don't think you'll like it. It's different." Then he whispered. "It's ugly."

"Ugly?" Lana couldn't believe any part of him could be ugly. At this point she was so aroused, she thought she would suck his toes.

"It's... misshapen," he added.

It had felt straight and hard through the fabric. What did he mean?

"Let me be the judge of that," she said, "let me see it."

The first thing she noticed was the color: it was swirled in dark red and light blue veins, with a lilac undertone further down the bulging shaft. It gleamed, shiny with moisture. Then she saw the shape of the corona; it looked like most of it had been cut away, leaving a near-flat triangular shape with a pronounced point. Cut, but healed smooth: there was no visible coronal ridge. It was unlike anything she had ever seen before. It was ugly.