Sinful

Fit: Dress & Cowboy Boots



Now I aint no hussy. Well not a professional one anyway. But I had spent a time or two in the confessional sayin' things to Father Tallon and Jesus I wouldn't dare say to my own mama. The ol' broad had a backhand that could slap the melanin right out my skin and she wasn't afraid to use it either. Here I was giving my kitty a quick hedge trim and thinkin' 'bout mama? Oh heavens, I really did need Jesus. With the razor in one hand, my leg propped up on the tub, and my eyes to the sky, I made the sign of the cross with the other across my chest and whispered a little prayer for my very own soul before I finished up my downstairs. I wonder if he looks the same. Indie! What you doin' in there child its been nearly ten minutes? You better not be doin' nothin' sinful! I closed my eyes and exhaled before I continued putting on my lipstick. Now mama why don't you mind ya'own business? Lord if this ol' woman didn't go back home soon I was fixin' to switch game mid huntin' season.

I tugged on a few strands of hair before stepping back to give myself a look, rotating to make sure every angle was smooth and clean. I smirked at myself in the mirror as I reached into the side of my dress by my titty to shove in the tag. I grabbed my jacket off the counter and began slipping it on as I exited the bathroom. Mama, of course, was standing exactly two inches from the door with vodka on her breath. Oh there no way a child of mine is goin' out at this hour dressed like a harlot! You are a child of God Louise Adelaide Meilleur-Lemaire! I kept moving, and she reached for the bible as I passed through the living room and began praying for my soul. That's when I heard the honk outside and I turned around to kiss mama on her forehead. Don't wait up mama.

She continued begging to spare my soul an eternity of fire and brimstone as I exited the apartment and headed down the center of two bright headlights. When I reached the passenger side I just looked up. Now I know this cowboy don't expect me to climb Everest just to ride his pony. I reached for the handle and blew a strand of hair upward and out of my face as I reached for the back of the seat and jumped. I grunted as I pulled my leg up to climb the rest of the way in. You know what they say about men with big trucks don't you? I bitched as my ass finally found the seat and I finally looked at him and closed the door. A smile slowly spread across my face as I crossed my legs and tore my eyes away from his to follow down his arms. My eyebrows flashed upward and I bit my lip before turning my eyes away from him. Get it together there india you're like a cat in heat. He looked fine... Like someone dipped that clean shaven marine in sex sauce then sprinkled him in daddy dust. Did he always look this good?Oh yeah... I was definitely gonna need Jesus after tonight...

It’s been five years. Five fucking years since I’d seen her or even spoken to her. I guess you could say we had some unfinished business. How else would you explain how fast sliding into the DMs turned into an invitation for a lap dance? After Syria, we went our separate ways, as most hogs do. It helps the transition back into society, because most of us don’t want to go back or talk about what we went through. I opted in pressing the delete button and then emptying the trash bin. Forget and never ever remember again, only this method caused the good memories to fade away too. The less you talk about it, the less you remember it. A lot of my memories of her dissolved or felt disorientated. I remember giving her a hard time, especially when I found out she was my spotter. I faintly recall feeling very protective of her at some point. Dr. Esha was trying to get me to remember, while I was trying my damnest to make sure that the skeletons stayed in the closet.

I was surprised when she messaged me. The red flag was the timing of it. All the females of my past suddenly dropped into town like a helicopter dropping eggs on Easter Sunday. What the fuck did it mean? I felt fucking anxious, seeing her again. She knew parts of me that no one else knew. That’s the thing about combat, not just being in the military, soaking in the sun in Oahu, but actually being i combat. Although I knew better than to shit on marines that never deployed, but it was different, it just was. I took a marine shower (which meant just changing over), washed my balls, brushed my teeth, and sprayed axe in the scent of “Phoenix” all over my body. It was fucking unfortunate that the scent was named after the League’s all star world fucking class of a General. Meant it probably wouldn’t last long. Fuck. I grimaced, realizing that the thought made it sound like I knew from experience.

I put a black marine corps hoodie on - it said “usmc” in white, black joggers, and a League of Angels baseball cap. The cap was merch from Ty’s boxing gym, not the actual organization. I took one last look in the mirror, made a spilt second decision not to get rid of the rugged stubble, and gargled a little bit of listerine in my mouth before rolling up my sleeves and heading out. I had no idea what to expect, in the recent years, I’d looked at her Instagram, seen the type of content she was putting out, and thought she was bad. She looked fine as fuck and I don’t remember her looking like that in Syria. I remember all the guys wanting to bang her, but I just couldn’t look at her that way. Had that changed now or was I just lonely and desperate for pussy? I honked, the bass of the song, “Maria Don’t Call Me”, reverberated from inside the truck. My eyes like magnets were stuck on the headlights. When the door opened, the bass escaped and so had my eyes, only to be taken prisoner the moment she jumped.

Holy shit…

My eyes didn’t know where to start, they jumped from lips, to thighs, to eyes, to that fucking slit the size of the USS Enterprise on her chest. For the first time in my fucking life, I’d been successfully made unwillfully speechless. She crossed her legs and I tightened mine. Her comment about big trucks drove my mind into the familiar downward spiral I’d been trying to avoid. Is that what was hiding underneath the uniform?If it was, I’d do Syria all over again, I take back all the shit I said about us men not wanting to go back to the sandbox. You look good in red. I managed to say, my eyes settling on her thighs, one of top of the other, before reaching her face. I was a man of unyielding determination, and once my eyes were on the target, I became obsessed. Since when did my spotter look so fucking good? She looked too good to take her straight home, no matter how badly I wanted that. Where’s that fucking country club you were talking about? Maybe I could get her to explain that ten sheets in the wind thing. Fuck, I’d take her anywhere she fucking wants…

The memories attached to that face may as well have been in black n’ white. They certainly went back far enough that I couldn’t recall much in color. Well except red, and a fair bit of it too. I guess our past was less like film noir and more like Sin City. Specks of color without much rhyme or reason other than for a dash of dramatic flair. I suppose that cocktail mixed up just right. He was the black and white, and I was the color. Neither really needed the other but damn did he make me stand out. And I certainly liked to make an impression.

I wasn’t no fool. I could see his eyes all over me like for the first time in the boys life he couldn’t pick a target let alone focus on one. I guess that’s why I’d been his eyes for so long, cowboy couldn’t seem to get a lasso around his. Don’t get it wrong baby, I didn’t dress this way for a gentleman. Those usually preferred blondes anyway.

I smiled sweetly at him like if he hadn’t said it, I wouldn’t have even known. Thanks baby, so do you. I bit my lip to keep from laughin’. The redness on his cheeks must’ve been from the lil’ flash of inner thigh I gave him as I crossed my legs. Either that or it was just damn cold outside and that draft I'd let in had kissed his cheeks before I'd even had a chance to try. But I liked to give myself more credit than that. Country club? I echoed, shakin’ my head with a smile. Line bar suga’, south on the one-oh-one. You couldn't miss it- Big neon cowboy hat right on top the buildin'.

I leaned forward to shimmy my jacket off my shoulders. Not that I wanted to get in an accident. But it was good to wave that red banner at the bull before takin’ him for a ride. Speakin’ of a ride- This one was bumpy as all get out! Any moment my titty was gonna pop out and then the whole point of this matin’ ritual would be more spoiled than my own lil' sister. You’re gonna shake the dancin’ right out these boots before we even get there marine. Then what are you gonna do with me? I had half a mind to answer that question for him. And I would've too, if I hadn't been busy fantasizin' about him in a cowboy hat of his own.

She reminded me of Michele Clemmons. Michele Clemmons from North Carolina. As one would expect, my family gravitated towards the Weavers over the Clemmons, it was because we had much more in common. That quickly changed when the Clemmons lost their only son. Nathaniel Clemmons died in combat while touring in Afghanistan. My grandfather, who had known what it was like to lose a family member to war, made a profound effort to include them in everything. The Clemmons moved into the house next to my grandparents when I was about eight years old, although it wasn't until the death of their son that I even met any of them. Michele was unlike anyone I'd ever met, she was quiet but sassy, spoke differently, and she didn't look like the rest of the kids in the neighborhood. I remember the first time I spoke to her distinctly, it was also the first time I'd visited her home. We were at her brother's wake. She was sitting on her legs, playing with a train set that appeared to be a hand-me-down from someone else. "I'm really sorry...About your brother" That's what I had wanted to say, but those words did not come out, they never would. What do you say to someone who lost someone they loved? I imagined nothing would cease that kind of pain so instead, I brought her a gift that would offer my condolences. It was three yellow coneflowers, picked right from my grandparent's backyard. Grandma Nona' told me that coneflowers were linked with healing and that this would be a thoughtful gift that could cure a broken heart.

This was my way of saying I felt bad for what had happened to her and her family even if I hadn't known her. After that night, I looked for her as I played soccer in my grandparent's backyard, and then I looked for her again the following day when she hadn't come out. A few days passed and I took my bike around the block, cutting through her backyard as there was no fence dividing our homes. Summer was almost over and there was still no sign of her. I almost threw in the towel until one day...one day she finally came out. She was out on the porch as I rode my bike, my face fell flat on the grass when we locked eyes, and she laughed. See, now, that's why I don't ride those things! She giggled. Accident waiting to happen.

We spent every day together for the rest of that summer. When summer was over, I promised I'd be back to teach her to ride a bike, even though she protested. The next summer we were practically inseparable, the one after that my grandmother died, and then the one after that...she moved and I never saw her again. I used to think of her as my northern light, a secret comfort. When my grandmother died, she handed me three yellow coneflowers. I still think about her every now and then and wonder if she's happy. I wondered if the coneflowers finally worked their magic. So when I looked at India, it reminded me of that northern light, a call to safety in a risky fire-fight. India was my spotter, my partner, and my protector as much as I had been hers.

---

I lost my soul a million times and found it a million times more. It was purpose that kept me alive, but if the others were God-sent...I knew this one wasn't. I thought back to Zoya, to the view in blue that I wanted so fucking bad, back in wonderland and as far away from the rabbit hole as I could go. My eyes were on the prize and it wasn't the USS Enterprise. Instead maybe a pot of gold at the end of a rainbow. She looked like a fucking goddess, her dark eyes enigmatic, glossing whenever the headlights from a passing car would hit them. I had no idea how tonight would end and I refused to get my hopes up. It was awkward enough already, I wasn't good at small talk, and I didn't want to know what she'd been up to for the past five years. I didn't want to catch up or remember the past. I just wanted to hang out and see what happens.

Same difference. I chuckled nervously, starting the drive as a desperate means to lead my eyes elsewhere. That plan, like many of the others lately, was faulty. I drove but every five seconds my eyes would catch hers, or I'd stop dead at her thighs. Red light. I slammed on the brakes, fuck, I could have taken it. I think I've seen the place she's talking about. It wasn't in the nicest part of town, so I never went. I watched as her breasts bounced up and down, reluctantly lifting my eyes back up to the windshield. Fuck that. I said to her. I was promised a dance. You better hold your dress down. Then what are you going to do with me... Greenlight, I pressed on the accelerator, my eyes traveling down her legs and then back up her face when she said this. Don't make me stop the truck and fuck you right here.

They got a mechanical bull? I asked, raising a brow. I'd pay to see her ride that. We got on the highway and I didn't know what to talk about. It had been a long time and I don't think we left on bad terms, we just left on no terms. It was as if we made a pact to never speak about the events that unfolded in Syria. I managed a sorry ass, How have you been?"

There were just some lines you just don’t cross… But the sands of time had a way of erodin’ barriers. Enemy lines weren’t the only paths to danger, baby. And danger came in many flavors, some more addictin’ than nicotine. I just had to know what flavor he was. Like never before them lines had gone blurry and curiosity was finna kill my cat.

Ol’ Sgt. Tree here was a walkin’ red flag. Red… The pickup, the fit, them hungry eyes speakin’ my language more fluently than his lips ever could. But what of his tongue? Damn baby, I related to those eyes. They were bold, brave… Hungry. And I’d provided a soulfood feast for them to devour. Don’t underestimate their determination, either. Like the skilled touch of a musicians fingers, a snipers eyes had a certain je ne sais quoi. Women had a special way of fallin’ in love with parts of a man. It was our strength and our weakness. His entire personality could be a damn dumpster and I’d change my name to Meeko and dive right in just to experience him _seein’_ me.

---

My eyes narrowed. It wasn’t the same difference. I had to bite my lip to keep from sayin’ nothin’. How long had it been? Forty-five seconds? A minute and a half? I was already fixin’ t’fuck the mission before I’d even started to fuck the marine. Jesus, help me. I huffed quietly as I shifted in my seat, disguisin’ my frustrated breath behind a minor change in position. My thumbs tucked into the straps of my dress so I could adjust them up before I leaned forward to fix the buckle on my boots. While my fingers fiddled with the leather I flipped my hair over to peek up at him, smilin’ from behind my shoulder. Did I promise? I knew damn well I hadn’t.

As my gaze tried to find its way back to my fingers, it paused on his. The grip he had on that steerin’ wheel…. Combined with the vibration from the engine... Oh yeah… That’s why I like pickups. I found myself back upright, and used that opportunity to scoot closer, proppin’ my elbow on the back of the seat so I could rest my head in my hand. My entire body was shifted to face him, my torso leaning closer than my hind end as I smiled. Why? You fixin’ to take a ride? I giggled. They got a bull. But I was plannin’ on ridin’ somethin’ else tonight. I stared right at him as the fingers on my free hand walked up his leg, the closed lip smile on my face stretchin’ as wide as the mississippi.

And like that, I was no longer walkin’ the line, I’d gone and crossed it.

I don’t know what had come over me. I was possessed. This was Stein. Stein! Girl, what are you doin’? Heavens… Why the hell he smell like that? That stank ass axe had me practically feral. What was they called? Pheromones? That had to be it. We were both in our prime… It was just pheromones… Wasn’t it?

My hand moved further in. One touch, one gesture, and everythin’ between us, our entire past went from unambiguous to damn right cattywampus. Soul of Christ, sanctify me my thoughts were damn right sinful.