Read Part 1 here.

I know I sounded like a buffoon, barely able to keep from stuttering.  I didn’t know her name at this point. She laughed, and I didn’t feel so stupid.

“Molly,” she said, holding out her delicate hand. I shook it firmly and turned back to the bar. The amazing Lanice, unfazed by a full bar, had my shot waiting for me. I grabbed it from the bar and handed it to Molly. She accepted it gratefully, looking almost demure. If I only knew then what you’re about to find out, I would’ve been terrified by that look on her face. She was nothing even close to demure.

I held up my beer, preparing to announce a new toast when Molly slugged her shot back in one quick motion. A professional.  Someone who wasn’t worried about a damn thing. But being completely ignorant of what would transpire, I smiled at this. She struck me as a keeper.

“Wow,” I said. “You’ve done that before.”

“Yep. More than once. And what’s your name?”

“Steve,” I lied.

“Well, Steve, nice to meet you.”

“Very nice to meet you. I saw you this afternoon, getting out of the semi, right?” I asked, thinking the small talk was my only option at this point.

“Yes. Were you there?”

“I was. I just got off work, happened to be coming out of the store. You definitely cut a pretty picture.”

“Well, thank you,” she said. “I imagine you don’t see many pretty girls getting out of big rigs like that on a daily basis in this town.”

“To be honest, there isn’t a whole lot of pretty woman anywhere in this town,” I said. We both smiled, and then I moved away from the bar and offered Molly my stool. She nodded and slid onto it without hesitation.

I can’t speak for you, but I associate violence with drunk folks and honky-tonk bars. No idea why. Maybe because I spent a brief portion of my formative years hanging out with my old man at small bars in the neighborhood, he was a bit of a drinker. Never violent or mean, but he enjoyed knocking a few back. Drove my mother crazy until the day she died of a brain aneurism while going to the bathroom. Dad died six months later. He fell eight stories from a hotel window while staying in Atlanta. That’s pretty much all you need to know about my folks. They don’t figure into this story in any important way so that I won’t waste your time.

So, when the violence came that first night I met Molly, it shocked me that it didn’t happen in the bar. It happened long after we were gone. And far enough away that I would never associate it with Rory’s in any meaningful way.

We had a few more shots that night, with Molly being very forthcoming about her business.

“I’m pretty much running away from my problems,” she stated.

I nodded in all the right places, still nowhere near concerned with the things she was telling me. I was still in puberty mode, rock hard in a funky place with a beauty. Sometimes the devil hides in the details. And Molly was giving me a shitload. That should’ve been the very first red flag. The first thought that maybe she wasn’t the very thing that I thought. But no man can argue with his cock. And mine was the only one listening.

“I left a husband and a young daughter.” She looked genuinely sad, and instead of asking why she would leave a family behind, I just felt sorry for her.

“But I know I did the right thing. They’ll think I’m gone, vanished into thin air. And in time, they’ll learn to cope with it.”

I ordered two beers and two shots from Lanice. The bar was thinning out, the air around us less smoky. We drank together a while longer while she told more of her tale. And like I’ve told you, I bought into it until it was too late.

“This bar was packed when you walked in,” I started. “What made you stop and get my attention?”

“Come on, Steve. It was Jägermeister.” She smiled, and I melted.

We finished our last round and paid the tab. Molly insisted on leaving the tip, a crisp fifty-dollar bill. I acknowledged how cool I thought that was, and Molly smiled.

“It’s not my money,” she said, giving me another opportunity to catch those red flags. Nope, nothing. I didn’t even acknowledge.

We walked out of the bar and into a fantastic night. The air was chilly, and I offered my coat to Molly. She took it without a word and pulled it over her shoulders.

“Where are you staying?” I asked.

“I hadn’t figured it out yet, but the guy who drove me into town said there’s a small motel not far from here.”

“Yeah, that’s Happy Springs Motel. A lady named Gert runs it. I actually stayed there my first night here, before I got my little bungalow over the Worster’s garage,” I said.

“Ya know, I just realized I’ve been yapping the entire evening. I don’t know a damn thing about you.”

I nodded. “So true.”

“Well?” she said.

“Well, I think we should head back to my bungalow and drink some whiskey and talk. I’ll bore you with my life story.”

She laughed and grabbed my arm. “Lead the way, Romeo,” she said. That was too easy—another missed red flag. I was very good at being blind.

Tanya And Bill Worster lived along a canal that spanned almost three counties that converged near Big Springs. There was a small thrift store half a mile to the east, but other than that, nothing. It was quiet around their home, which is probably why I agreed to stay there. I met Bill at the grain mill. We were both hauling pallets when I mentioned I was staying at Gert’s motel. He offered me the room over the garage, and I accepted. I went to his home after work, met Tanya, his wife, and within an hour, I was their new tenant. They charged me a fair wage, and I would have total privacy, which meant the world to me.

Molly had tucked her arm into mine somewhere along our walk. She was leaning her head against my shoulder, and I could feel her warmth. I felt excited. Not so much in a horny way, but in that schoolboy way I mentioned. In that being-in-love way. We walked up to the driveway, and I pulled myself free from her arm. I motioned towards a set of stairs that ran along the side of the garage.  She nodded and then walked up the steps. I took notice of her ass, looking fantastic in those Levi’s. We got to the top of the stairs, and I slid past her to the door. I opened it and ushered her inside.

“You don’t lock your door?” she asked.

“Nope. Nothing in here anybody would want, I suspect.”

She gave me a sly grin, almost devilish, and took off my jacket.  Not to sound like a broken record, but I didn’t think anything of that devilish grin, either. But you’re starting to get the picture, I’ll bet.

“This is cute,” she said, whirling around my small living room, touching things as she did. I moved into the kitchen and opened the fridge, pulled two beers out, and popped them open. I walked over to her and offered the beer. She accepted it, took a big swig, and then set it on my coffee table behind her. I was about to give her the tour when she smashed into me and kissed me on my mouth. Our teeth banged together, and I was momentarily startled until we settled into the kiss, and it felt good. I remember the taste of her. It was beer and smoke and sex. It was passionate and wild. Our clothes came off next.

I consider myself a bit of an expert with the geography of a woman’s body. I know every curve and crevice, every contour and groove. But something about Molly was different. And I couldn’t put my finger on it. The lights were off when we staggered into the bedroom. We did the deed in the dark, the smell of sweat and lust hanging heavy in the air while she rode me. I felt her thighs tighten up against my hips when she came, bucking like a wild horse until she flopped forward, breathing heavy.

We laid like that for a while, not speaking, just listening to each other’s labored breathing turn calm. And then, when I was convinced Molly had fallen asleep on top of me, I attempted to roll her off. She sat up instead, pushing my shoulders back.

“Where the fuck are you going, Steve?” she asked. And even in the dark, I could imagine her sly grin splitting her face.

Molly was clearly not satisfied yet, and she rode me until we both climaxed again. This time, when she slumped onto me, we both fell asleep instantly.

But it was when morning came, when the sun filtered through my open blinds, that I caught sight of her naked body. She appeared to be sleeping, laying on her side, breathing slow rhythmic breaths out of her mouth. I watched her, gazing on her gorgeous body. I ran my fingers along the curve of her side, down to her hips, and then to her knees. She looked perfect. I couldn’t find a single blemish on her body. No wrinkle. No stretch marks. Nothing. She looked like a porcelain doll. I slid up against her, lining my body with hers. I felt my penis bend against the crack of her ass.

I usually kicked women out of my place as soon as we got done fooling around. But with Molly, I wanted her to stay. I wanted to sidle up against her and snuggle all day. I felt her move just then, her hips pressing back against mine. She looked back at me through half-closed eyes.

“Are you spooning me?” she said.

I kissed her cheek and nodded. “Is that okay?”

She kissed me, and I knew her answer.

“I was just marveling at how beautiful you were?” I said, instantly feeling silly for saying it.

“Oh, somebody’s in love,” Molly said, attempting to roll over and sit up. “This was fun, Steve, but you might want to slow down.”

I felt so stupid. Why I had opened myself up to this woman, I’ll never know, but she had brought me down to size real quick.

She was off the bed in one quick motion, grabbing her bra from the floor and flipping it onto her chest. She pulled on her jeans and fumbled into her peach-colored top.

“I’m gonna head home,” she said. And if I were paying attention, I would have realized that Molly just rolled into town. She had no home in Big Springs to go to. But at that moment, I felt like a used piece of meat. Not unlike most of the women I had been to bed with throughout my life. So, I just sat on my bed, naked, and watched her leave.

I must have fallen asleep at some point, waking up to the sound of someone pounding on my front door. I was covered in sweat; the sheets stuck to my body. The pounding continued at the door, and I jumped out of bed, naked. I didn’t bother putting on any pants, thinking whoever was being rude would get more than they bargained for. Not much more, but you work with what God gives you.