Chosen Mate

"Clutch!" She repeated.

--Whatever you do, don't let her drive. Oldman warned.

Harry depressed the petal. She slid the gearshift smoothly into first. Harry put his hand over hers. She looked at him. He was watching her face; it was that of a demented teenager; she was ready to hit the streets wasting fuel and rubber. Harry pulled them back to second gear then released her hand. Putting his on the wheel, he smiled amusedly.

"Ready?" He said giving the gas a shot and grinning as he reached over to give her belt a tug.

"I thought I had already answered that question," She answered distractedly, still fondling the shifters.

"Fine then," Harry replied, grasping the wheel again, laughing manically inside at her expression when he popped the clutch and let the truck bound forward.

She looked like a rodeo rider as he continued to goose the petal, her hair flying about her head in silken whips each time he rapped the gas making the truck bounce down the alleyway.

"Yeaeeeeehaaaaaaaa!" Sanra exclaimed as they bounded along, echoing down the alley. Harry was gassing it every time they crossed a gutter, sending the truck airborne.

"It really is a bullfrog, isn't it," she chortled as he made the last turn into the bank lot, backing up to the night deposit.

"It does know how to hop." He smirked, as she unbuckled and slid to the passengers window to place her bank bag into the night deposit drawer. Harry admired the view as she hung half in half out of the truck with her backside waving back and forth. He ached to run his hands over the enticing display.

"Alright," the drawer slammed shut. She scrambled back to the center of the seat, buckled up, placed her hands on the gearshift and looked at him. "Let's go eat."

He depressed the clutch, watching her as she shifted into second, then drove smoothly around the bank and on to the empty street. He accelerated, then clutched. Sandra made the shift into third like she was an extra hand. Well done he thought, glancing out of the corner of his eye at her ear-to-ear grin.

***

Mildred's coffee shop was the only place in the town of Backwater open after 10:00 P.M. All the quick food places closed then. Because of the interstate, Mildred's stayed open 24 hours a day. The small restaurant did a steady, if lack luster, business until 5:00 A.M., then went full bore until after the evening mealtime. It was always neat, clean, and open.

The parking lot held two semi-trucks and three cars, one of which was Bobs Corolla. Harry drove onto the lot and shut the truck down, extinguished the lights, then reached for Sandra's seat belt. When he released the catch, she flowed into his arms and onto his lap, leaning back on the steering wheel to face him.

Her hands combed his shoulder length hair and very full beard; her eyes again locked on his as his trembling hands stroked her hair and waist slowly. The sinuous motions of her hips soon destroyed the earlier personal adjustment he had made in the parking lot of the bar.

"Feed me" she said quietly, continuing to move and kissing his lips pleadingly. Her scent filled his head; her touch was electric; her eyes took away his thoughts and will. He groaned into her mouth and pulled away reluctantly.

"Let's go keep you from starving. I want to watch you eat anyway." He opened his door, slid to the pavement, and lifted her down slowly and carefully. She was a lot lighter than she looked. They walked to the door bumping and jostling each other, her hand on his shoulder and his at her waist.

The two truck drivers sat on stools at the counter, a seat between them, drinking coffee and chatting between bites. They turned as Harry and Sandy entered, ignoring him, but giving her the head to toe look.

"Get us a booth," Sandra said, sliding from his arm, hand trailing down his back and ducked into the ladies room near the front door, fumbling in her purse. He continued across the floor and slid into a booth by the window facing the front door.

Bob had spotted him as he entered and was leaning across the table to speak to Billy who turned to smirk in his direction. Harry shook his head in resignation and turned his back on them to sit in the booth, mind churning with the unexpected turn his night was taking.

"Going to get lucky tonight Harry? It looks like you did already. What happened to her hair?" Bob's voice breathed alcoholic fumes over his shoulder.

"Go away Bobby or I will hurt you." Harry said, voice filled with annoyance. He turned his head to give him the 'don't screw around 'look.

Bob was in full smile, eyes twinkling with silent laughter. He saw Billy; one booth back, with the same expression on his face. Harry turned placing his elbows on the table and his face in his hands.

"Bob if you mess this up I'll make sure the sucker fish fairy never lets you catch a bass again." Bob howled, and then looked up to see Sandra coming toward them. He left quickly, diving back in his own booth and proceeded to concentrate on his meal.

"Headache?" Sandra asked, sinking down on the opposite side of the booth and tossing her purse on the seat beside her. He looked up from his hands. She was smiling, hair brushed and tucked behind her ears, revealing silver earrings. She had applied lip-gloss and eye shadow. A little makeup went a long way with her. He straightened looking for the waitress who seemed to be on her way carrying two mugs and a pot of coffee then turned back to Sandra.

"Yeah, two of them, Bob and Billy are here. I threatened Bob with fairy retribution unless he left" Sandy laughed as her eyes lifted from his face and spotted the two brothers who were busy not looking their way.

"Humph, Those two"

"Hi Sandra," the waitress said as she deposited coffee mugs and menus before them. Harry knew her from eating here occasionally. She always seemed to be efficient and timely when he had eaten here before, and never seemed to make more trips from the kitchen than were necessary. Harry had always tipped her well for competence.

"Hello Donna. Are you making it O.K.?" Sandra smiled; her glinting eyes conveyed their own unspoken account of her night.

"Yeah, you know. Work, sleep, eat, and then start again. Know what you want?" She asked Sandra with small aside looks at Harry.

"I'm famished Donna. Give me two over easy, biscuit, hash browns, sausage, gravy and a small O.J." She said with no look at the menu.

"Right," Donna said, jotting on her ticket then looked to Harry. "and you" she said studying him. He felt like he was interviewing for some position she would make the determination of. He smiled, nodding his head up and down.

"I'll have the same please, except tomato juice instead of orange."

Donna left, leaving them to stare at each other. The silence grew but neither seemed to care. They were content for the moment to look into the face that sat across the table. Harry wondered to himself if he was lucky or cursed. The idea that some exciting woman, beautiful, intelligent, full of life and mischief as she was would actually contemplate being with him was overwhelming. The thought that this was just a tease disturbed him also. He was so ready to have someone in his life again.

He broke their stare and hung his head picking up the wrapped silverware and starting to shred the napkin. Doom, he thought. This would probably never be the end of his long-suffering but the promise, the hope, the wanting, was enough to keep him going for the moment. He dropped the napkin, picked up his mug, raised his eyes to hers, and took a sip. Good coffee but he had forgotten the sweetener. Before he could put the cup down, Sandra's toe touched the inside of his thigh.

His startled leg jerked hitting the bottom of the table with a loud bump. Coffee slopped all over his side of the table, his shirt and ran over the edges as he reacted in surprise. She laughed, grabbing napkins to help him soak up the mess.

"God you're touchy! I'm going to have sensitivity adjustment classes with you quick before you destroy the coffeehouse." Harry looked up shaking his head in unbelief, hands full of soggy napkins. Twisted-pursed lips were showing his chagrin as she smiled at his reactions. He suspected that she loved having fun tormenting him. He stood, coffee dripping from his black long sleeved dress shirt, and walked to the men's room to dry off, saying over his shoulder.

"I'll be right back. I'm just going to dry this off."

He stood in front of the sink in the restroom, shirt off, staring into the mirror while rinsing his clothing. Glaring at the wild man that glared back at him he said.

"You are going to blow this for us if you don't calm down."

The door opened and Sandra stood there, watching him in the mirror. When he turned, she walked over to run her hands over his flat abdomen. A gasp escaped him as he shivered under her touch; breathing hard as her fingers examined the scar running from just above his navel down into his jeans. Her caress was like fire. He could feel the skin peeling back from the heat of her fingers as she traced the scar down to its base just above his pubic hair.

"Wow you really do have a bad scar," she said, leaning her head on his chest and looking down to view the damage done to him in his younger years. Her hair trailing down his chest flayed away the skin missed by the touch of her fingers.

"What happened here?" She asked looking at his back and prodding the puckered scar on his left shoulder that her roaming fingers discovered in their explorations. The flames were gone now; the crackle and spark of static electricity followed her hand as she examined the old wound.

"Uh, let's see if I can remember. That one would be a car crash in ...1980?" He answered after a moment's thought. Her hands were tormenting his touch-starved body. He was having trouble breathing.

"Are you ready to eat?" he asked while flapping the shirt in the air in an attempt dry it fast enough to protect his body from the terrible assault of her flaming, battery charging, deadly fingers.

She lifted her head from its close inspection, kissed the scar, and took the shirt from his hands, moving to the electric hand dryer and holding it under the stream of hot air with her hot little hands. The shirt, thin and light, quickly dried out and she helped him back in it.

"I told you. I am so ready to eat," she said sneaking a look at his blown away face while buttoning his shirt and arranging his hair over the collar. Finished, she rubbed his stomach with an open palm.

"Do you want your shirt tucked in?" She asked, eating her lips to keep from breaking into laughter at his wide eyes as he processed this new question.

--Oh my God, oh my God. Say yes, Harry! Oldman babbled in his head.

"Ah. No thanks. Ah it should dry faster out than in," he said swiftly. Madness reduced him to gibbering in her presence.

"Good to go then. Class one complete. Let's eat." She said and walked out with a wink on her decidedly smug face.

He followed her back to the table where their breakfast was waiting. She sat and dug in. Harry stepped to a nearby booth and grabbed the hot sauce, because that is the only way to eat eggs, a chance for a calming little breath helped too.

My God! That girl was high octane and the sparks were flying everywhere. Combustion was eminent. He turned back to the table. She was well into her meal, eating with both hands, but he noticed that ear twitching again. She knew he was standing there watching her. He sighed, took a big breath, and walked to the table. B & B (Bob and Billy) walked past on their way out saying goodnight to Sandra in small voices. She said nothing, giving them a quick flash of her eyes as they passed.

"Goodnight guys see you later," Harry said. "Drive safe." They answered, hands waving over their shoulders, and then leaned in to each other, jabbering away down to the cash register and out the door.

My, my, they sure were careful around her. She was like wolf bane for rednecks. Then why was he immune? He was well on his way to catching up with Sandra race to wipe the last trace of food from the plate when he heard the Corolla's rubberband putter off. He looked up from his plate in time to see her rise up for a sip of juice. He smiled a cocky, smart-ass smile. She sputtered with giggles into her glass. Placing it back on the table, she wiped her chin then used the napkin on him.

"You do enjoy your food." She said, brushing biscuit crumbs out of his beard.

"As do you," Harry replied, returning the favor and wiping gravy from the front of her blouse while he scanned the room to see if they were under observation.

"Make sure you get it all" Sandra murmured and leaned forward, thrusting her chest forward and shoulders back. Contact! Harry's brain screamed as her breast pressed against the hand holding the napkin. They were firm and solid. He managed to pull his hand back, slowly, and begin eating again quickly.

"Getting full?" He asked, chasing the last bits of hash browns around his plate and draining his cup. Leaning back, he shook his head at the waitress, who gave up trying to fill his cup and Sandra's, dropping the check on the table and leaving. The place was empty now except for the staff, who gathered at a large table rolling silverware, snacking, and speaking to each other in the easy way of co-workers.

"Not quite yet, I am done with breakfast though." She answered, wiping her face and chin then leaning back in the booth; arms behind her head, she stretched like a cat, arching her back and licking the corners of her lips; her tongue searched for any remaining traces of food. He stared, and then picked up the ticket. Standing he dropped a tip on the table and said.

"I'm going to take care of the bill." He said, escaping gracefully.

At the register, Donna took the check and rang him up, asking if everything had been satisfactory. Harry smiled, told her everything was fine as usual, and then turned to go. Donna stopped him with a hand on his arm and a serious look.

"This is the first time I've ever seen Sandra in here with a man. Be nice to her." Harry hesitated, looking out the window where Sandy was walking around the truck, running her hands over the frog skin paint job that he done this spring in a fit of boredom and inspiration, then turned to face her.

"Miss Donna, I don't know if she's an angel or a demon, but I would follow her to Heaven or Hell if she wanted me to." She nodded looking at his face full of fear and hope, eyes welling and threatening to overflow; a small smile touched her lips.

"Go, she's waiting for you." She released his arm. He looked back at her with a nod that she returned that reminded him of a bow. He walked out, stopping near the door and firing up a 'ciggie'.

Sandra had climbed onto the truck bed. She stood behind the cab holding the roll bar with the various lights designed to light up the night. Harry stood and smoked by the door watching her inspect the truck. She reminded him of a child on a playground. He had just finished his smoke when she looked up to see what was keeping him. She spotted him by the door and stood straight, waiting for him.

Here we go, Harry muttered to himself and started walking toward her. She waited, arms at her sides, as he opened the door then held out his arms for her. She sat backwards on the side of the truck bed, swiveled her legs around and let him pick her up. Arms around his neck, resting her head on his shoulder, she nuzzled his neck while he took the single step to the door. He placed her in the driver's seat then handed her the keys.

"Buckle up." He smiled, as she looked at the keys in her hand. Then, he walked around to scramble into the passenger's seat and adjust his own safety equipment.

When he turned to her, he could see Donna's face, watching from the dinner window. Sandra fumbled the keys into the ignition, frowning when it did not start as she turned the key. She checked the stick. Yes, it was in neutral, and then looked to him for instructions.

"Depress the clutch first." Harry said gently. The truck rumbled to life at her actions. Harry leaned over, hand on her thigh, and flipped a switch.

"Lights, this is the fuel for tank one, oil pressure, and the high beam switch is by your left foot." He said, tapping gauges and pointing. She nodded, put the truck in first, and released the clutch easily. She drove around the lot, the engine running fast in the low gear.

"I see why you use second now." She said, shifting up to Harry's normal in-town position then made two more circuits of the empty lot before driving onto the deserted streets. Harry leaned back resting his arm on the back of the bench seat, playing with her hair, and stroking the smooth lines of her neck as she let the truck wander the town. Soon she was driving smoothly, even dimming the lights when the police drove by heading in the opposite direction, each waved as they passed.

She turned into the cemetery as she neared the edge of town and drove to the back. A small hill allowed observation of the front gate.

***

Lord Sand was standing, silhouetted, on the gentle slopes of one of the hills that surrounded the town of Backwater. He was dressed in dark clothing. His short white hair and close trimmed beard framed a face containing pale eyes that glinted in the darkness but did not reveal their color in the night. His daughter had finally chosen a mate, unfortunately he was human.

He watched the truck containing Sandra and Harry as it moved through quiet night and the deserted streets there. It was the only vehicle traveling except for the patrol car. It passed them and he saw them wave as they headed out of town toward the lights from the interstate that moved north and south constantly. When it drove down Cemetery road, he turned and strolled over the hills in that direction.

***

Quickly shutting off the engine, the lights, and slipping from her seat belt, she walked across the seat on her knees then leaned her back against the dash. Folded legs bounced open and shut against his side. She reached down and released the catch of his seat belt. Harry's arm still rested on the back of the seat.

"Class two," she said, placing a hand in his waistband and pulling forward to his lips. They kissed long and slow. Harry suddenly discovered his hand on her breast; the hard nipple pressed into his palm. He let it move on its own to cup, squeeze, and slide over the sweet curves he had been introduced to at breakfast.

He felt his jeans pop as the button was undone. Leaning forward, using both hands he skinned the blouse over her head and threw it on the dash; His eyes recorded her image as she leaned back in the dim vantage of the security lights.

Hair wild, eyes on his, she arched her back stretching like a cat. Her fingers moved at his waist. His zipper rasped down. He tried to reach for her but a knee suddenly pressed against his chest pinning him to the seat. She pulled his jeans where the zipper ended, gaining more room for her fingers to explore and free him. She lightly traced her fingers around him until his head filled with the thundering sound of throbbing blood.

Harry was again restrained as he tried to reach for her. His breath caught in a gasp of pleasure as she started to examine him slowly, He remembered his left hand. He reached with it to the knee pinning him. She pressed harder to keep him from moving.

"Don't get excited," he said, "I'm not trying to escape." He slid his hand, fingers extended and locked like a claw; the rasping sound of his nails on the fabric as they moved down the inside of her thigh slowly was escorted by her groan of pleasure. The pressure of her knee lessened and her legs opened widely. The heel of his hand rotated slowly over her center, hidden under the fabric of her jeans. Her hand, joined by her left, moved faster on him. He had been up and down too many times this evening and began to revolt at this unaccustomed abuse. He felt that old familiar feeling that told him he would not last but a moment more and tried to warn her.