WithoutSpeaking
Acrobat
- Joined
- Oct 18, 2009
- Messages
- 304
Title: Lost Highway
Authors: 1screamingangel & wo_speaking
Rating: PG13
Disclaimer: Alas, we are not Sam and Mel, and this is not true...
***************************
Where they were going to go, Paul wondered and so did Mel. Its not like there weren’t plenty of empty spaces out here in this small little town, but he had more respect for Mel than to treat her that way in a public place. Besides, since he ended up escaping his life, he was always looking over his shoulder to see if someone was following him. That would not be the moment he would want to be found in a small town after being arrested for having sex in public.
So they walked down the beat up deserted main street of Bridgeport, California. Past the police department and what passed for a city hall. Mel took Paul’s hand and he was reminded of why he wanted her to stay around for a while.
She marveled at the open night sky that seemed to turn on its own lights as they walked out of the town’s sparse streetlights. She had let go of any reservations she had about Paul by the time they had passed the motel. They would have gone in and gone straight to his room, but Hester was still there and they wanted to avoid her prying eyes.
Mel stopped Paul in front of the motel and kissed him with as much passion as she could to relay to him that what she had in mind would be worth the wait. He encircled her waist and answered her back without words.
“We can wait just a bit, she’ll be leaving to get home soon. Then we will have the place to ourselves”, she whispered in his ear and then promptly bit down slightly just below his earring.
“Better keep walking then”, he answered hoarsely. He took her hand and continued out of town. He told her about each building and what he knew about his adopted home.
“Paul”, she paused and faced him, “how long do you plan on staying here in this place? You can’t really like it here that much and your friend there doesn’t seem to fit in at all.” There – she alluded to the fact she knew they were friends.
He searched her face, but it was dark and he couldn’t clearly see her eyes. So the unusual feeling of honesty overtook him, as it had last night when they were talking. Mel was a unique woman that was for sure. He found himself wanting to be honest.
“Not much longer Mel. We need to move on and get back to some things. Can’t stay in hiding too long now can you?” Honesty actually felt good.
“I guess we are all running or hiding from something aren’t we?” Mel said quietly.
“How do you know?” Paul took her chin and made her look at him.
Mel was feeling honest too. She didn’t really care what he was running from right now. Maybe it was just the same shit she and Sam were running from.
“We went out to the little brick house this afternoon. We didn’t break in but the door wasn’t locked and when Sam knocked on the door, it opened. I saw your passports. I am sorry, I didn’t tell Sam. I do need to know if you are in trouble with the law or something…although being out here in this dark place means I must not be too worried about that, huh?” Mel’s confession was over.
Paul laughed as he searched her face for any recognition. She did not put the names and faces together or know who he was. “No, not runnin’ from the law. You think we are IRA or something? No…no…not that at all.” He was actually strangely relieved that she thought that and incredibly relieved she had no idea who he was.
* * * * *
“Wow, this is definitely a small town bar,” Sam laughed as she leaned over the bar, eyes bright as she watched her Irish cowboy pour her another shot of whiskey, “Paul barely knows you and he just lets you close the place up?”
He slid the drink toward her.
“Sorry its not the good stuff, seems that just disappeared. You know I would give you the good stuff, right love?” he asked, changing the subject and moving his hand on top of hers as she reached for the shot glass. There was that beautiful Irish lilt again, she could listen to him talk for hours and was hoping that’s what would happen tonight – among other things.
She nodded her head and turned his hand over, touching his long fingers and feeling the hard pads of his fingertips meet her soft skin.
“You really do play the guitar, don’t you?” she inquired.
“I do,” he replied softly, almost under his breath.
This was the very first thing he’d ever told her about himself – she was finally getting somewhere.
“I’d really like to hear you play sometime,” she said as he stepped away from the bar and reached for the bottle of whiskey so he could pour himself a shot as well.
“I’d like that,” he whispered, holding her gaze and raising his shotglass to hers in a silent toast as they threw them both back.
“Tell me your name,” she coaxed as she placed her empty glass on the bar, “please ...”
He set his glass next to hers and stepped around the end of the bar, swinging her to him on the barstool as he stepped up to her and put his arms around her. He pressed his forehead to hers.
“Why do you need to know? You’ll be gone in the morning, and it won’t matter, will it?”
Every time he got involved with a woman and told her his name, it never worked out in the end. Why would this be any different?
“It matters to me. Whatever happens here, I want to know who you are – even if it’s just a little bit of who you are – if only your name,” she persuaded. She hoped it didn’t come out like begging, but she was almost ready for it to.
He moved his mouth to her ear and kissed it lightly. “It’s David Evans. David Howell Evans. That’s my real name, and that’s an actual fact,” he whispered, studying her face closely as he spoke. “I grew up in Ireland, but I’m actually Welsh. And whatever you do, don’t ask what I’m doing out here, please Sam? I promise I’m not a bad person, I’ve just got some things I’m trying to get away from. Call it a sixth sense, but I have this feeling you can relate to that yourself...”
She took his face in her hands and looked into his eyes, really looked into his eyes for the very first time. His face softened, almost with a weight that had been lifted. She really did not have any idea who he was.
“Thank you, David Howell Evans,” and she brought him into a kiss.
He kissed her softly this time, almost lovingly. Until this very moment, she had been playing back memories of the wild sex they’d had last night, but now she really wanted to get to know him better too. He intrigued her.
“Do you, erm, I don’t know how to ask this of you, but do you want to spend the night with me? And stay with me until the morning?” he invited as he began to kiss her neck.
“Yes ... I would like nothing better,” she sighed, sinking into him as he continued nipping at her skin and pulling her body into his.
Now this was different. He was asking her permission – it was definitely a bit peculiar, especially given how forcefully he had taken her the night before. He was driving her mad for him with this sweet and sexy mix, always keeping her guessing as to his intentions. His intentions were to keep her guessing; he wished he could tell her everything but he couldn’t risk it. All he knew was he was a lot more comfortable knowing she’d made no connection when he told her his name. He could have lied to her, but when she asked him with that sweet voice and gentle touch, he let down his guard for her. He knew now he could relax and make things perfect between them, just as they should have been last night.
He’d spent hours agonizing afterward – should he have done what he did to her? Would she leave town in the morning, sickened by what he had done? He’d chosen last night to act out a fantasy he’d had his whole life – something he could never admit to anyone. He was never the one in control – every woman he’d ever been with had wanted to be in charge, he seemed to draw them to him like a moth to a flame. Yet Sam was different. She had a strong personality and was very assertive on the outside, but she crumbled under his touch in the bedroom, and he liked that, for a change.
“Let’s go. I live just up the road, I walked here tonight, I hope you don’t mind.”
“No, it’s a beautiful night, and I’m really looking forward to the rest of it,” she smiled.
“Oh, so am I,” he answered back, lifting her off the bar stool and giving her one last hard kiss before locking up the bar for the night.
She knew exactly where he lived. In the brick house up the road – where she had left his hat earlier that afternoon.
Authors: 1screamingangel & wo_speaking
Rating: PG13
Disclaimer: Alas, we are not Sam and Mel, and this is not true...
***************************
Where they were going to go, Paul wondered and so did Mel. Its not like there weren’t plenty of empty spaces out here in this small little town, but he had more respect for Mel than to treat her that way in a public place. Besides, since he ended up escaping his life, he was always looking over his shoulder to see if someone was following him. That would not be the moment he would want to be found in a small town after being arrested for having sex in public.
So they walked down the beat up deserted main street of Bridgeport, California. Past the police department and what passed for a city hall. Mel took Paul’s hand and he was reminded of why he wanted her to stay around for a while.
She marveled at the open night sky that seemed to turn on its own lights as they walked out of the town’s sparse streetlights. She had let go of any reservations she had about Paul by the time they had passed the motel. They would have gone in and gone straight to his room, but Hester was still there and they wanted to avoid her prying eyes.
Mel stopped Paul in front of the motel and kissed him with as much passion as she could to relay to him that what she had in mind would be worth the wait. He encircled her waist and answered her back without words.
“We can wait just a bit, she’ll be leaving to get home soon. Then we will have the place to ourselves”, she whispered in his ear and then promptly bit down slightly just below his earring.
“Better keep walking then”, he answered hoarsely. He took her hand and continued out of town. He told her about each building and what he knew about his adopted home.
“Paul”, she paused and faced him, “how long do you plan on staying here in this place? You can’t really like it here that much and your friend there doesn’t seem to fit in at all.” There – she alluded to the fact she knew they were friends.
He searched her face, but it was dark and he couldn’t clearly see her eyes. So the unusual feeling of honesty overtook him, as it had last night when they were talking. Mel was a unique woman that was for sure. He found himself wanting to be honest.
“Not much longer Mel. We need to move on and get back to some things. Can’t stay in hiding too long now can you?” Honesty actually felt good.
“I guess we are all running or hiding from something aren’t we?” Mel said quietly.
“How do you know?” Paul took her chin and made her look at him.
Mel was feeling honest too. She didn’t really care what he was running from right now. Maybe it was just the same shit she and Sam were running from.
“We went out to the little brick house this afternoon. We didn’t break in but the door wasn’t locked and when Sam knocked on the door, it opened. I saw your passports. I am sorry, I didn’t tell Sam. I do need to know if you are in trouble with the law or something…although being out here in this dark place means I must not be too worried about that, huh?” Mel’s confession was over.
Paul laughed as he searched her face for any recognition. She did not put the names and faces together or know who he was. “No, not runnin’ from the law. You think we are IRA or something? No…no…not that at all.” He was actually strangely relieved that she thought that and incredibly relieved she had no idea who he was.
* * * * *
“Wow, this is definitely a small town bar,” Sam laughed as she leaned over the bar, eyes bright as she watched her Irish cowboy pour her another shot of whiskey, “Paul barely knows you and he just lets you close the place up?”
He slid the drink toward her.
“Sorry its not the good stuff, seems that just disappeared. You know I would give you the good stuff, right love?” he asked, changing the subject and moving his hand on top of hers as she reached for the shot glass. There was that beautiful Irish lilt again, she could listen to him talk for hours and was hoping that’s what would happen tonight – among other things.
She nodded her head and turned his hand over, touching his long fingers and feeling the hard pads of his fingertips meet her soft skin.
“You really do play the guitar, don’t you?” she inquired.
“I do,” he replied softly, almost under his breath.
This was the very first thing he’d ever told her about himself – she was finally getting somewhere.
“I’d really like to hear you play sometime,” she said as he stepped away from the bar and reached for the bottle of whiskey so he could pour himself a shot as well.
“I’d like that,” he whispered, holding her gaze and raising his shotglass to hers in a silent toast as they threw them both back.
“Tell me your name,” she coaxed as she placed her empty glass on the bar, “please ...”
He set his glass next to hers and stepped around the end of the bar, swinging her to him on the barstool as he stepped up to her and put his arms around her. He pressed his forehead to hers.
“Why do you need to know? You’ll be gone in the morning, and it won’t matter, will it?”
Every time he got involved with a woman and told her his name, it never worked out in the end. Why would this be any different?
“It matters to me. Whatever happens here, I want to know who you are – even if it’s just a little bit of who you are – if only your name,” she persuaded. She hoped it didn’t come out like begging, but she was almost ready for it to.
He moved his mouth to her ear and kissed it lightly. “It’s David Evans. David Howell Evans. That’s my real name, and that’s an actual fact,” he whispered, studying her face closely as he spoke. “I grew up in Ireland, but I’m actually Welsh. And whatever you do, don’t ask what I’m doing out here, please Sam? I promise I’m not a bad person, I’ve just got some things I’m trying to get away from. Call it a sixth sense, but I have this feeling you can relate to that yourself...”
She took his face in her hands and looked into his eyes, really looked into his eyes for the very first time. His face softened, almost with a weight that had been lifted. She really did not have any idea who he was.
“Thank you, David Howell Evans,” and she brought him into a kiss.
He kissed her softly this time, almost lovingly. Until this very moment, she had been playing back memories of the wild sex they’d had last night, but now she really wanted to get to know him better too. He intrigued her.
“Do you, erm, I don’t know how to ask this of you, but do you want to spend the night with me? And stay with me until the morning?” he invited as he began to kiss her neck.
“Yes ... I would like nothing better,” she sighed, sinking into him as he continued nipping at her skin and pulling her body into his.
Now this was different. He was asking her permission – it was definitely a bit peculiar, especially given how forcefully he had taken her the night before. He was driving her mad for him with this sweet and sexy mix, always keeping her guessing as to his intentions. His intentions were to keep her guessing; he wished he could tell her everything but he couldn’t risk it. All he knew was he was a lot more comfortable knowing she’d made no connection when he told her his name. He could have lied to her, but when she asked him with that sweet voice and gentle touch, he let down his guard for her. He knew now he could relax and make things perfect between them, just as they should have been last night.
He’d spent hours agonizing afterward – should he have done what he did to her? Would she leave town in the morning, sickened by what he had done? He’d chosen last night to act out a fantasy he’d had his whole life – something he could never admit to anyone. He was never the one in control – every woman he’d ever been with had wanted to be in charge, he seemed to draw them to him like a moth to a flame. Yet Sam was different. She had a strong personality and was very assertive on the outside, but she crumbled under his touch in the bedroom, and he liked that, for a change.
“Let’s go. I live just up the road, I walked here tonight, I hope you don’t mind.”
“No, it’s a beautiful night, and I’m really looking forward to the rest of it,” she smiled.
“Oh, so am I,” he answered back, lifting her off the bar stool and giving her one last hard kiss before locking up the bar for the night.
She knew exactly where he lived. In the brick house up the road – where she had left his hat earlier that afternoon.
