Redemption of Blood Read online

  A smile crossed her lips and she stretched out her legs on the steps of the bleachers at the football field.

  “Can’t blame a girl for trying.”

  I heard Nye’s bike pull into the parking lot and Kiriana stood up.

  “One drink,” she ordered, holding up her index finger with authority.

  “One drink,” I promised and walked her to Nye. She straddled his bike and released her blonde hair from its ponytail so she could put on her helmet.

  “Thanks for takin’ care of my girl,” Nye said through his helmet as Kiriana wrapped her arms around his stomach. His voice was muffled, but I could hear a tinge of protective anger to it.

  “No problem.”

  I jumped in my ’67 electric blue Shelby GT 500. She came to life purring like a lion. No kittens in my car that’s for damn sure. I shouldn’t have such a beauty. It makes me stand out so I always try to park her around back when I go to the bar. The last thing I need is a bunch of motor heads talking cars with me all day. But I loved her.

  The smooth lines. The way she could open up on the road. It was one of my pleasures.

  I pulled into The Valley Bar on the outskirts of town. It’s a dive bar with a small bowling alley attached. Walking in I saw it was a typical Wednesday night. A few stragglers were searching for a buzz. Today there was a group of college kids with their books out discussing some topic in the corner booth, and Trisha was tending bar.

  There was something about Trish. Her long brown hair with a slight curl to it was flowing all the way down her back. Just the front was pulled back with a small binder. She smiled when I walked in and I instantly hardened at the sight of her soft pink lips. With a small lick to the top one, she bent down the tap and poured me a beer.

  “Soldier boy, when are you going to start looking your age?”

  I saddled up to the mahogany bar and leaned against the brass railing on the edge.

  “When you start believing me that I’m really almost eighty and you can stop carding me.”

  “I swear, young man, one of these days I’m gonna get a fine because of you.” She held the beer close to her chest and smiled at me with her midnight blue eyes. Her flawless skin glowed even in the darkened bar room. The pink hue across her cheekbones warmed me more than a shot of Jack.

  “Can you get me a pack of Marlboros too?”

  Setting the beer down, she leaned against the bar and put her hand out.

  “Seriously?”

  “Yep. I’ll believe you’re old enough to fight, smoke, and buy a Playboy, but drinking’s a whole ’nother thing.”

  She laid a red hard pack in front of me.

  “A year I’ve been coming here,” I said, pulling out my wallet and tossing it on the bar.

  “And I still say that’s the best fake job I’d ever seen.”

  Okay so it was a fake, but only because it was necessary. I am almost eighty years old, but being frozen at nineteen made it so I had to have a new ID every few years. Luckily, I was someone that got moved around a lot so becoming a regular at a local bar wasn’t that big of an issue. I’m a Closer. Moving from one Hell’s Mouth to another right before it closed. Trying to keep the humans safe when the run begins. It kept me in the action; it was just the in-between that bit.

  I hated the downtime. The time when I could only fight twice a day was hard enough. Now, with Kiriana’s rules I can only fight once a day. I was on the night crew. Personally I would have preferred days so I could spend all night in the bar, but Nye wanted someone he knew to be partnered with KK. Can’t say that I blame him even though I really didn’t know him that well. That is, until KK’s damn therapy sessions.

  “It’s last call anyway.” Trish smiled, then walked around the bar, letting the other tables know to put in their final orders. Watching her was always fun. She usually wore a tight black T-shirt that showed her chest off nicely. Her jeans were the low-cut ones that women were wearing nowadays and she would always have dainty flats on her feet during the week and spike heels on the weekend.

  This had become my place. With its sports signs and smart-ass comments adorning the wall. The jar of big-ass pickles on the bar. Hell, even the donation cup for some local kid waiting on a transplant that I usually drop a few bucks in every time I come by.

  I was in the middle of tapping the cigarettes on the bar to pack them tight when Trisha’s hand touched my back right between my shoulder blades.

  “Those will kill you someday, soldier boy.”

  I wish. My lungs were probably as pink as the day I was born, even with my pack a day habit. Her fingers went up my neck, letting the soft strands of my high and tight hair cut tickle her palm. Then she leaned in close.

  “Let me get the riff-raff out and you can help me close.”

  That was the other reason I came here. The sex began about six months after my first visit.

  “All right, I’m closin’ her up,” she said when she was back behind the bar.

  I made sure that my beer was only half-drunk so I had a reason to stay just that little bit longer. I stood up and stretched, pretending I was just finishing my beer.

  The regulars grumbled and said their goodbyes. They left a few dollars behind for Trish, and then the college kids finished and headed out as well. When they were clearly out the door, Trish locked it and turned to me.

  * * * *

  Trisha O’Driscoll

  “So…where ya been? Haven’t seen you in a few nights,” I said, smiling at my little piece of ass. I never thought I’d be considered a cougar—well, I was only thirty-eight so that made me a puma or some other stupid ass cat animal. This soldier boy that liked to pop in every few days sure did brighten my hours.

  He was so handsome and even though his ID said he was twenty-three, I still swore he looked eighteen. God, I have to thank Demi Moore for making it cool to fuck older women. Oh sure I kept myself up, but my body had the curves of an older woman. I wasn’t hippy or anything, but I was far from the stick figures that come in here from the college.

  “I’ve been busy. Plus I came in here last week and some dude with hair almost as long as yours was here.”

  “Don. He’s harmless, but I wonder.” I walked over to my little soldier boy who had settled back onto his stool and wedged myself between his legs. His arms instantly wrapped around my waist while his hands squeezed my ass. He pulled me close to his tight body. My core warmed and I rested my chin on his shoulder.

  Whispering lightly, I asked, “Did he kick you out after last call?”

  “There is something about bartenders.”

  “You nasty little shit.”

  “They never believe my ID.”

  I chuckled and tossed my head back while my body was supported by his strong arms.

  “So what else is legal for me to do?”

  He smiled as his blue eyes twinkled, reminding me of when I used to watch Cool Hand Luke with my mother.

  “Not much. But I can think of a few things.”

  “Can you now?”

  He kept his smile in place as he went for my neck, kissing his way up until he found my lips.

  My hand slid down his arm. Reaching behind, I found his hand and led him to the backroom. The white chest freezer always served nicely for our little interludes. Picking me up, he placed me on the freezer and started in on me immediately. He kissed my lips with a hunger reserved for the young. His hands glided under my shirt to pull it over my head. His kisses then found a trail down my neck, only this time landing between my breasts. He turned his head up and smiled at me.

  “Did you really miss me?”

  “Hardly noticed,” I joked. I yearned for the nights when he would come in and take me somewhere else. Playing a little with his soft blond hair at the top of his head, I smiled. I was content in the fact that although he'd said he’d seen battle it hadn’t been in the last few years.

  I knew this couldn’t last, but in this moment we were tog
ether and that was enough for me. It could never be long-term. He was too cute for me. With his slightly crooked nose, I assumed came from a fight and his piercing blue eyes that had to be stolen from Paul Newman. He was tall and strong as he should be for a grunt, with a tight, firm chest and abs hard enough to wash clothes on.

  His fingers started to pull at the button on my jeans with the eagerness of a child. That’s the weird part. We’d done this so many times, but each time he acts like he was just given the coolest toy ever.

  I slid his jacket down his arms and he instantly threw it on the freezer.

  “Always the gentleman.”

  “Only on Tuesdays.”

  “It’s Wednesday.”

  “What’ll I have to do for you to keep my secret?”

  “I can think of a few things.” I smiled, laying my elbows on his shoulders and wrapping my arms around his head so I could pull him closer. He must have had the same idea because he pulled my waist tight to his. His kisses continued, distracting me from the magic his hands were working. How he got me out of my head enough to miss him stripping me and him down, I’ll never know.

  Only when he entered me would I come back to reality. Young, dumb, and full of cum. That’s what little boys are made of. Every once in a while he’d tell me of his adventures in other lands, but mostly it was a little flirting and a lotta sex between us.

  He was skilled for someone who drank the way he did. I wonder if it would it be better or worse if he was sober? Either way, he got me off, and the way he looked at me made me feel young again.

  His hands stroked and petted me the way I liked, but I kept my intimate feelings to myself.

  As his long shaft entered me I arched my back, and his hand kept my body up. Over and over he made my body flush and tingle as waves of pleasure crashed through my flesh.

  “Oh, Jimmy,” I moaned as his lips found my neck again and I clung to his back by digging my nails in.

  He was biting his bottom lip. Once he had slipped while he was coming hard and said I love you, Trish. He didn’t come back around for almost a month after that. Ever since then he's bitten his bottom lip when he's been about to come. Sometimes I kiss him. His lips need to be used for something better than that.

  I felt his body stiffen, then go lax in my arms; he always made me feel as if I was the best lay he’d ever had. Looking down at me, he ran his fingers through my hair and I had to touch his cheek. It was flushed with perspiration. I kissed him again and he rolled off me. I smiled at the form of his back as he pulled on his jeans that hung perfectly on his hips. I curled to my side and let my nails run up and down his spine as he rested against the freezer.

  Leaning over, he cupped my face and kissed me. His tongue lightly stroked mine, making me want more from him, but afraid to push. His hand reached for his cigarettes and I marveled at the way he put one in his mouth and lit it with a cupped hand. Not like I hadn’t seen the motion a thousand times by a hundred people, but Jimmy was different. The way his lips surrounded the cigarette made me jealous.

  As the smoke escaped his lungs he looked at me and passed the cigarette on. I took a long drag and lay back against the hard freezer. He took the cigarette back and repeated the behavior.

  “Why don’t you ever wear your uniform?”

  “Class A’s?” he joked.

  “No. I’d be happy with you in your camo.”

  “Maybe I do, but it works so well you never see me.”

  “That was bad.”

  “I thought you liked that I was bad.”

  “You think my boss would notice if I put a bed back here?” I joked. He started to bite at the corner of his mouth as he flicked the ash from his cigarette. Keeping his eyes focused on the door, he inhaled deep again. Bed must mean commitment to him. Great, now I’ve lost him for another month. “Can you pass me my shirt? It’s getting cold in here.”

  His head turned sharply to look at me with fear in his eyes.

  “Fine, I’ll get it.” I slid off the freezer and landed on the cement floor while pulling my shirt over my head.

  “I better head out.” His hand stroked my cheek to pull me close for another kiss.

  “Are you feeling okay?” I asked, putting the back of my hand on his forehead.

  “Yes. Why?” My hand traveled to his cheeks, then the back of his neck. Look at me being a mommy to his child-like self, I thought.

  “You feel cold.”

  “I’m not wearing my shirt.”

  “Uh-huh.” I nodded, but I knew he was keeping something from me. Whenever I mention temperature he closes off immediately. “I was appreciating that.”

  “Were you?” He smiled as my hand went to one of his perfect pecs. His hand moved to mine and I could feel him heating up.

  “I think you need me to keep you warm, soldier boy.” His lips went to mine and I felt my whole body warming from his touch. My muscles relaxed and my mind cleared. “Do you really need to leave so soon?”

  “I need to re-up on supplies.”

  “Oh.”

  I dropped my head and realized he was out of condoms. My rule, not his. I had to appreciate that he respected it. Last thing I needed was some nasty disease he picked up in the Middle East or wherever he got stationed abroad.

  “Will you tell me about this one then?” I asked, pointing to the tattoo on his right side.

  He was tattooed up on his torso and upper arms. Nowhere that could be seen when wearing his uniform, I assume. Every once in a while I could get him to spill something about himself or the tats. Not that I ever shared anything from my life, but he never really asked. I think he liked the mystery. Either that or he feared the connection that knowing more about me could bring.

  “That’s my newest one,” he said, “I got it right before I came here. I was in Kenya and we brought in the New Year with a bang.”

  I traced what could only be the outline of the country with a party hat in the center. “Not one of your tattoos has made any sense. You need to cut back on the booze. Tell me truthfully, were you sober for any of these?”

  “There are varying degrees of sober,” he joked, covering his chest with his T-shirt.

  “Keep telling yourself that.”

  “Hey, you gonna be working all week?”

  “I don’t know yet.” I busied myself, rearranging the vodka bottles that needed to be restocked.

  I avoided the conversation. He didn’t need to know the reason why my boss was so lenient and giving with my schedule. Everyone was. They all helped me out at the last minute and let me work when I actually had the ability to. Reality sucked.

  “You don’t know? Your boss sucks at scheduling.”

  “Afraid of finding Don here instead of me?”

  His hands wrapped around my waist and he pulled me tight to him.

  “I’m not afraid of anything,” he whispered lightly in my ear, then kissed my cheek.

  “Ahh, the mantra of the young.”

  “I told you, I’m eighty.”

  “You don’t fuck like you’re eighty.”

  “They have these blue pills…”

  “Shut up, soldier boy.”

  He laughed and kissed me one more time. “I better get going. I’m sure you have better things to do than hang out in the storage room.”

  I did, but that was reality; this was fantasy, and in the world of fantasy anything could be true.

  “Yeah.” I turned and sighed at him. “See you around.”

  “Yeah, Trish, I’ll see you around.”

  Chapter 2

  PFC James Schmitt

  “JIM,” the beautiful brunette said as she approached me in the schoolyard.

  Sarah Brogan had been my off and on girlfriend for most of high school. The summertime had brought us closer and I knew she hoped someday we’d marry. It was the only reason I’d been able to convince her to sleep with me. She wasn’t one of those girls. A good Catholic from a big Irish family
. Her brothers had threatened me more than once, but if nothing else I knew she’d protect me from them.

  “My parents are going into Detroit tonight.” She wrapped her arms around my neck and kissed her way up to my ear. A shot of need went straight to my groin and I clutched my thigh to not have more discussion start around school.

  “What about your brothers and sisters?”

  “They are all scattering to the wind, except Marnie and I’ll have her in bed by seven-thirty.”

  “When did you get so bold?”

  “I love when you hold me. You don’t do that in the car. Only in bed.”

  “Well then, I better be at your house by seven-thirty-one.”

  She kissed my nose and skipped off to be with her gaggle of girlfriends.

  Shaking off the memory of Sarah, I crawled into bed and reached for the whiskey on my nightstand. I took a swig and it burned as it went down my throat. Flipping on the TV, I left it on ESPN and listened to the recap of the week’s games. Passing out on my bed was my normal MO, but tonight I couldn’t.

  Trish had caught me off-guard. Had I really froze her? I couldn’t have. She was lying on a freezer. Even with my coat underneath her the metal had to be cool. Damn it. Just the mere mention of a bed sends me into a different frame of mind. That’s why sex is bent over a bar, up against the wall, or in the middle of a field. Anywhere but a bed.

  In a bed I’d stay and hold her tightly. I could fall asleep next to her, but what could that mean in the long run?

  I heard someone walking outside my door and had to step out. There shouldn’t be anyone walking the hall.

  “Jesus fucking Christ, Schmitty,” Kiriana gasped. “Are you trying to scare the crap—Fuck me.” One hand went to her gut while the other shoved me hard into the wall. She rushed to my bathroom and filled the toilet with vomit.

  “I think Nye would disapprove of that,” I joked as I walked back to my bed and sat down.

  “Go fuck a duck sideways,” Kiri snipped.

  “I can handle my own sex life just fine,” I called toward the bathroom. “Would you quit trying to set me up?”

  Another loud wrenching sound came from my bathroom. Getting up, I walked into the room to see only her blond hair surrounded by the halo of my toilet seat.