Ice Heart Ch. 02

*Disclaimer: Any and all persons engaging in sexual activity are at least eighteen years of age or older.

Chapter 5

Cris ignored the 'Thank You' card that Hank sent, thanking him for the flowers. He had not sent any flowers and figured the man was trying, quite unsuccessfully, to make him feel guilty for the omission.

He remembered the quite cheap floral arrangement Hank and Sophia had sent to his parents' funeral. The man was a millionaire and certainly could have afforded to fill the small funeral home with flowers, but instead sent a very cheap, almost gaudy arrangement. But Cris had bit back his anger and sent the man a 'Thank You' card. There had been no acknowledgement of that card, but Cris had not expected one.

He tossed Hank's card into the wastebasket and continued to pore through the mail that Sandra had stacked on his desk.

****

Nicole breathed a sigh of relief; her period had come.

The first few times she and Tom had made love, he wore a condom.

"You know what?" he whispered into her ear. "I hope your mother does catch us; I hope she does find out about our love for each other."

She groaned as he drove his cock in and out of her; the thought of Mom coming up the stairs and bursting into her room was so exciting.

"I bet if you got pregnant, she'd have to see it, I bet she couldn't ignore it then," Tom whispered into her ear.

"Do it," she groaned and he quickly pulled out of her tight pussy and pulled the condom off.

"O fuck yeah," he laughed as he drove himself back into her tight pussy.

But, thankfully, she was not pregnant. She saw now that Tom had not loved her, or loved her mother. He had used them, and used Grandpa and Grandma.

She stuck a tampon in, washed her hands and left the bathroom. Her mother, her poor mother looked so haggard, so beaten.

Ann Marie looked up as Nicole entered the room and tried to force a smile to her face. Then a contraction hit and she gasped.

Father and daughter comforted Ann Marie as they drove to University Medical Center. UMC, the same building that her mother had died in.

She had not wanted to give birth in the charity hospital, had planned on giving birth at Women's and Children's Hospital, the same hospital that Nicole and Mikey had been born in and Tom had promised her that.

When he skipped out on her, when the full extent of his deception had been revealed, she took the jewelry he'd given her and pawned it all.

The two and a half carat ring had turned out to be nothing but glass, however. The metal itself wasn't even gold. She discovered that when she took it to the jeweler's whose box it had been in.

"Yeah, we sell them boxes all the time," the man smiled sympathetically. "But that's not our ring; it's not even real gold."

"But it didn't turn my finger," she had argued with the jeweler.

"Uh huh," he shrugged and showed her the traces of clear fingernail polish.

Sophia Marie Campion was a beautiful little blonde, six pounds, nine ounces. Later on, she would develop her father's wicked little smile.

****

Cris stood in line at the After-Hours registration at the University of Louisiana at DeGarde. Obviously there were several people interested in learning to cook authentic Cajun dishes. He knew most of the basics; years of watching his mother cook had given him that. But there were some dishes she used to cook that he hadn't had since her death. Plus that, it would be a good way to get out, meet women.

It had been a while since Sherri had stopped by; she was experiencing some complications in her pregnancy so her mobility was limited. From some of the sidelong glances he was getting, he would not have any problem finding a replacement for Sherri.

Another table caught his attention; there was no one at the table at the moment and there was just a crudely hand printed sign taped to the wall behind the table to give any indication of what class was being offered.

"Motorcycle Maintenance."

He had wanted a motorcycle when he was younger; his older cousin Terry had bought one. But Terry had been careless and reckless and had been killed when he tried to beat a semi to an intersection. His mother and father used that as justification to deny him the coveted motorcycle.

Then when he got older, marriage and parenthood had denied him the motorcycle again and he had completely forgotten about it.

As he stood, looking at the few brochures on the table, a young woman sauntered over and took the seat behind the table. She wore tight blue jeans tucked into boots and a leather vest, unbuttoned; her smallish breasts threatening to slip into view. Cris saw a gold chain that dangled between her breasts, but did not see a gold chain around her neck. She actually sneered at him as he looked at her.

"Unless you can eat pussy as good as my girlfriend, fuck off, old man," she said.

"I got to eat your pussy to learn motorcycle maintenance?" Cris asked, unperturbed by her rudeness.

"Huh? Oh no, no, sorry, I'm just so used to old fuckers trying to pick me up," she apologized and scurried to get the sign-up sheet out.

"Well, don't advertise if it ain't for sale," Cris suggested, looking at the brochure.

"I got a fucking right dress any way I fucking want to," she spat at him.

"Uh huh, and I got a right to think it's for sale if there's a billboard out," he said.

"So what kind of bike you got?" she asked, remembering why she was there.

"None at this moment," he admitted.

"Going to be kind of hard to learn how to take care of it if you ain't got it, huh?" she sneered.

"But I am looking," he said.

"Oh, my old man's got one he's looking to sell; want to see it?" she asked.

The BMW roared to life and April smirked as he got on behind her. At five feet two inches, she was barely tall enough to pull the bike upright, but she did and stomped it into gear.

"Watch the hands, old man," she warned as he put his arms around her

The motorcycle was a 1949 Indian Chief, twelve hundred cubic centimeters of power. Cris looked at the grossly overweight man as he pushed his wheelchair out to where April and Cris stood.

"That there's a piece of American history," the bearded man said, pointing to the motorcycle.

"What you asking?" Cris asked.

"Fifteen thousand," the man said and lovingly touched the rubber grip of the throttle.

"It run?" Cris asked.

"Nah, but got them all original parts! Except the seat and the rubber." The man said, pointing to a box in the corner of the garage.

"Twelve five, cash," Cris said.

"Yeah, yeah, fine," the man grumbled then smiled wistfully. "Hadn't broken my neck you could kiss my pasty white ass you wanted to get this bike, for any price."

"How'd you break your neck?" Cris asked.

"Deer hunting fell out the deer stand, landed on my head, "the man said.

"Damn, that's rough," Cris said.

The man looked at Cris, nodded in appreciation of Cris not pretending the wheelchair was invisible or that he wasn't handicapped.

"Yeah, well, shit happens," the man said and shrugged. "Thank God I got this bitch taking care of me."

"Uh huh, quit calling me 'bitch,'" April said, no rancor in her voice.

"So what's your old man think of you and your girlfriend?" Cris asked when April brought him back to his automobile, an ugly nondescript company car.

"No girlfriend; I just say that shit scare off dumb asses trying to get in my pants," she admitted.

"Uh huh, suppose I'm trying to get in your pants?" Cris smiled and unlocked the door to his car.

"You can try," April said, pointedly giving him a top to bottom glance. "Don't think you'll get anywhere, but you can try. Class starts seven thirty, Tuesdays and Thursdays until nine thirty. Remember how to get to my trailer?"

"Uh huh," Cris smiled and got in his car.

****

"Thank you!" Ann Marie's voice bubbled through the phone. "That was so sweet of you."

Cris was surprised when the inside line had rung; very few people knew the number. He did not hesitate to answer it; it might be one of the rigs, or the home office.

"What?" he asked. "What are you talking about?"

"The brush and comb set, and it came in that pretty silver box," Ann Marie bubbled on

"Ann Marie, I don't have a clue what you're talking about," Cris said. "There is no way in God damned hell I would send you anything and please, do me a big favor. Don't ever call me again. Ever, is that clear?"

He hung up before she could respond and looked at the doorway of his office.

"Sandra!" he bellowed.

"Uh huh?" she asked, standing in the doorway.

"Did you send a brush and comb to Ann Marie and put my name on it?" Cris asked.

Sandra looked at his dark mask and realized that it may not have been the wisest thing she'd ever done. But she also knew better than to lie to him about it.

"Yes I did; it was for her baby. I thought you'd want to do something nice for her. She was your wife for almost nineteen years, Cris," Sandra said.

"WAS. Was my wife," Cris said, fists clenched in hardly controlled rage. "Sandra, don't ever, ever do that again. Do you understand me?"

"Yes sir," Sandra whispered, frightened for the first time in her thirteen years of working with Cris Dumas.

****

Nicole did not look at her mother; crying was a normal occurrence in the apartment they shared. If Sophia wasn't crying, wanting a bottle, or wanting her diaper changed, or just wanting to be held, Ann Marie was crying. Ann Marie cried out of exhaustion; Sophia was up at all hours of the day and night, or from self-pity.

Her cell phone chirped and she smiled; it was Zack. She'd met him at the hospital; he was doing community service and she'd run into him as she was leaving the maternity ward.

"Damn, you one of the moms?" he asked, looking at her flat belly and tight shorts.

"No, no," she laughed.

"Want to be?" he asked and smiled playfully.

She burst into laughter and gave the red head her phone number.

"Can't you stay in just one night?" Ann Marie begged as Nicole hurriedly brushed her hair and ran for the door.

Nicole did not even bother answering her, just slammed the door, unmindful of the baby that was finally sleeping. Thankfully, the slamming door did not wake the sleeping infant.

****

April and he worked on boring out the piston chambers. After the mind-numbing tedium of staring at a computer screen all day, reading graphs and charts and looking at ledgers, Cris really enjoyed the 'hands-on' approach of working on his motorcycle.

April was the instructor, but most of the actual instructions came from Jimbo; April would run inside, ask him the question, then run back to the garage and tell Cris what to try next. From time to time, Jimbo would push his immense bulk into the too-small wheelchair and roll outside to watch the restoration of his pride and joy.

While it was being rebuilt, Cris was borrowing Jimbo's Harley.

"Nah ain't selling that; April keeps saying she wants it," Jimbo smiled when Cris asked about buying it.

"Shit, Jimbo, thing's bigger than her!" Cris laughed.

"Yeah, but she thinks one day she's going to get her own gonads and wants that bike for when that day happens," Jimbo said.

"Fuck you, Jimbo," April said easily as she pointed out the piston rings to cris. "Hey, old man, forget something?"

"Shit!" Cris said and rethreaded the bolt. "And quit calling me that!"

"Okay, gas in the tank and try it," April smiled.

Cris held his breath as he poised on the kick start, then forced it down. He smiled widely as the powerful engine coughed, then roared into life.

"Fucking A right!" he said and eased it into first gear.

"I think he's graduated, what you think, Jimbo?" April said as she gathered up all the tools.

"Yeah," Jimbo agreed sadly as Cris slowly rolled around the clamshell driveway in front of the garage. "Tell him come on in; we'll have a little graduation ceremony."

****

Zack and his band practiced their cacophony of thrash metal for a while before Rudy's mother finally screamed at them to stop. Then the five musicians brought out the joints and passed them around, talking about what their lives would be like when they hit the big time.

"Hot and cold running pussy!" Zack whooped out loud.

"Hey!" Nicole said peevishly. "What you need with that, huh? You got me!"

"Oops!" Zack laughed.

"Huh?" Nicole whispered petulantly in his ear. "What you want with them skanks, huh?"

""He don't want you, I'll take you," Rudy offered hopefully.

"Yeah, he'll take you," Zack suggested.

Nicole looked at him, the tears beginning to form in her eyes.

"Aw, don't start that fucking crying shit," Zack spat and slapped her face. "Fucking hate that shit, stupid bitch!"

Nicole clutched her face and ran from the garage.

"And another one's gone, and another one's gone, and another one bites the dust," Phillip sang out.

"Hey, going to get you too; another one bites the dust!" Zack finished.

Forgetting that Rudy's mother had told them to cease, the five of them began a loud, dissonant rendition of 'Another One Bites The Dust' by Queen.

****

"Thanks again," Cris said and shook Jimbo's hand warmly.

""Uh huh, think April wants to talk to you," Jimbo said.

Cris looked around the filthy living room but did not see her. He peered into the equally soiled kitchen area.

"Think she's outside," Jimbo said in a subdued voice and began to push his wheelchair toward the doorway of the bedroom.

She smiled as he approached his motorcycle.

"Jimbo said you want to talk with me," he said.

"Nah, just want a ride," she smiled. "Tired of talking to your old ass."

He got on and she swung her leg over the seat and gave him room to kick the large engine into life. Then she scooted forward and clutched him tightly.

"Where?" he asked.

"Your place," she said, placing her small hand on his crotch.

He killed the engine.

"Hey, what...?" April said.

"Hey, Jimbo's my buddy," Cris said. "I ain't screwing around with my buddy's old lady."

"He already knows," April said. "He's the one said I ought to."

"Uh huh, we'll see about that," Cris said, put the bike back on its kickstand and stomped back to the dilapidated trailer.

April smirked at him when he returned.

"Let's rock," he said and again kicked the large motor into life.

The three mile ride from Jimbo's trailer to the apartment building was over far too quickly so Cris went past the building and opened the bike up when they pulled onto Highway 19. After a moment, he chanced a glance down and saw that the needle was buried out of sight. He laughed out loud; the exhilaration was overwhelming.

"Fuck yeah," April whooped when they finally pulled up in front of Cris's apartment building.

"Fuck yeah," Cris agreed and let her into Apartment 1.

"Nice," April commented as she looked around.

He'd painted the walls a pale lemon color, and the wood was a pale lime green. The pale beige carpet was cheap, but Cris had laid down double padding, giving it a plush look and feel. The linoleum in the kitchen was a stark white, matching the Formica counter tops. The entire apartment was almost sterile in its cleanliness.

The double bed was neatly made and covered with a peach colored bedspread. April started toward it, shrugging out of her tee shirt.

Cris came up behind her and softly kissed her neck and shoulders, then helped her out of the shirt.

"Don't," she moaned. "Don't do it nice."

"What?" Cris asked as he pulled her long brown hair aside to get at her bare shoulder.

He lightly kissed the dragon tattoo and she gave a slight hiccough.

"Damn it!" she screamed and turned around. "Come on! Mother fucker, I said don't do it nice!"

"Fine, fine, how's this?" he asked.

He grabbed her and forcibly threw her on his bed. Roughly, he grabbed her boots and pulled them off of her. She actually smiled as he jerked her jeans down and off of her slender legs.

Her breasts were small and her pink nipples were small as well. Each nipple was pierced and a chain went from one ring to the other. Her chest and belly were adorned with several tattoos, most of which were dragons.

Her pussy was hairless and also had a dragon tattoo adorning the mound. The jaws of the dragon spread open from the top of her slit, making her pussy appear as if it were the dragon's mouth.

Her brown eyes watched as he undressed himself and smiled as his manhood came into sight. He gripped it by the base and approached her.

"Suck it; you bite it I swear I'll fucking kill you," he hissed at her.

She flicked her pierced tongue lovingly over the head then pulled it slowly into her mouth. She looked up at him as she did so, making sure to rasp her tongue ring along the vein of his cock.

He ran his finger up and down her bald slit and discovered she was already quite wet. She moaned happily around his cock when he roughly dug two fingers into her pussy. Her eyes opened a little wider as he quickly grabbed her head in his hands and thrust his cock down her throat.

"Mmph, aw shit yeah! he grunted as he pumped his seed down her throat.

"Fuck, you always so fucking quick, huh?" April complained when he released her head.

"Uh huh," he smirked and shoved her back against the pillows.

"You put your fucking mouth down there, I swear to God I'll piss on you," she threatened as he prepared to eat her pussy.

"Wouldn't if I was you," he said, pulling his broad leather belt from his jeans and looping it around his hand.

She took the threat seriously and did not urinate in his mouth. She did grip his head tightly with her legs and screamed as he found her small clitoris with his tongue.

"Stop!" she screamed. "Stop, stop, I fucking hate that!"

He shoved her against the pillows again and slammed his cock into her spasming pussy to the hilt.

"Hate getting your pussy eaten, huh?" he smiled and stuffed his tongue into her mouth.

"Yeah," she admitted when he released her mouth. "Too fucking sensitive."

As if to prove her point, she clamped down on his cock and grunted in orgasm.

When she was able to breathe again she looked up at him.

"Let me on top," she said.

"Fuck you bitch," he said and began to pound in and out of her. "Ain't no way you're getting on top here."

"Fuck!" she screamed and clamped down on his cock again.

He spurted heavily into her pussy and she giggled happily and kissed him.

"Uh uh, we ain't done here," he said as she moved to get out of the bed.

"What?" she asked and he roughly grabbed her and forced her over onto her belly.

"Uh uh! Aw, hell no!" she protested as he spit onto her anus. "Uh uh, mother fucker! Ain't nothing going in there!"

She screamed as he forced the head of his cock into her tightly clenched rectum and he forced her face into the pillows to muffle her screams.

"Uh uh uh," she grunted and sobbed as he savagely thrust in and out of her rectum.

She twisted her face around and pulled his face to hers for a kiss.

He grabbed her as she sauntered out of his small bathroom and threw her back onto his bed.

"God damn it, no!" she yelled. "Come on, Cris, let me go! Come on, old man! Damn it!"

He yanked her blue jeans halfway off her legs and thrust himself into her wet pussy.

"Fucking hate you, ass hole," she murmured as they kissed hungrily.

"So let me ask you something," he said as he lay next to her on the bed. "You always saying 'no,' how I'm supposed to know if it's really no or not?"

"You'd know," April said producing a large blade and pressing it to his throat. "All right? You'd know."

Chapter 6

Zack sat in his pride and joy, his 1978 Z28 camaro. He had Metallica cranked as loud as the stereo could handle it without distortion and laughed as he glanced around at the annoyed looks he was getting from the people in the other cars.

He pulled up in the back parking lot of the Acadiana Mall and lighted a joint.