She stumbled into the bar and looked around. There was a stool in the center of the bar and she sauntered toward it. Her sneakers had broke hours ago so she had gotten rid of them. Her socks were wet but somewhere in her head she knew she'd need them, so she kept them on. She ignored the stares and the way the bar went silent when she entered. It didn't matter anyway; the place would talk about this for a week then go back to its drunken honky tonk. It was a small bar in the middle of nowhere and these people were all regular locals. Half wore cowboy boots and the guys didn't look much better in their farming jeans. The floor was wood; everything was wood, even the worn pool table to the right. She stumbled past tables, despite her best effort to look like she belonged. The bartender stopped wiping the alcohol and skin oil from the bar long enough to look her over, then decided that worse had wandered in. In this one horse town, a tip was a tip, and if she had money, it was good enough for him.

She ignored the stares. She ignored the girl who snarled at her knotted brown hair as she sat at the bar, and she ignored the couple who simply left when they noticed the caked mud on her shorts. She briefly looked at her tanned legs, realizing they were also covered in mud. She looked up at the mirror behind the bar, noticing that the only thing that sparkled in her dirty face was her bright blue eyes. Her five foot six, 140 pound frame sat too heavy on the stool, and it nearly fell over as she deposited herself there. The bartender asked her what she wanted, and she ordered a double whiskey. She put her head on the bar as he filled her drink, ignoring the questions he posed when he dropped the glass in front of her face.

She walked down the street, considering the line of bars spread out before her. She wanted a bar that would be fast and easy. Sports bars were out; as were vibrant college bars. She needed a quiet place that leaked desperation from the front door. She had spent extra time on herself tonight – her long hair was brushed straight and her face was painted in delicate colors that brought the blue out. Her shirt was low cut over her C cups and her skirt barely covered her ample hips. She wore no stockings and no panties. She was looking for a quick romp in a back seat, then she was looking for the solo comfort of her bed in her apartment down the street. There was no reason to have a steady man when she could simply walk into the right place and satisfy her womanly needs. She finally found the right place, a hole in the wall, set underneath apartments, in an historic building front. The girls outside were older, so she knew the right age group would be inside. She pulled out a cigarette so she could get a better feel for the place before going in. The girls were talking about some job their boyfriends had; something about building shit. Perfect, she thought. A contractor's bar. Those guys are usually older, lonely as hell and looking to score because many of them worked too many hours for anything else. She finished her cigarette and went in the front door.

There was the typical bar pool table directly in front of her with a bar stretched the length of the place to the left. A dart board graced the wall with a sign reading, “Darts .25 each”. She wondered if that was a quarter a throw, then wondered what kinds of dicks owned the place. The bar was nearly full with guys that looked like they had just crawled off a roof. A hard day in the sun always made guys more willing for relief, in her experience. She checked out the patrons and immediately eliminated any options with girls hanging off them. Four guys, however, were sitting at the end of the bar, where it wrapped around the back of the room. One was looking directly at her, noticing the curve of her tits where they pushed her shirt to its limit. That was the one.

He was well over six foot. She could see the clarity of his blue eyes, which reflected years of hard work, but a hint of want and play. He was thin, but his arms were tree trunks. He wore a simple t-shirt and jeans. His hands were stained with dirt, and she noticed, as she approached him, that his pants were covered in the same kind of dust. He wore a hat pulled to his brow, which made his eyes hotter. She felt fired up approaching him, and she knew if he was willing, he would be tonight's conquest. She simply walked up to him and, not seeing an empty bar stool, said, “Hi. My name's Miranda.”

She talked to him for two hours while he bought her drinks. After the fourth Jack and Coke, she told him he didn't have to spend so much money on her. She was going to go home with him, drunk or not. He perked up and nearly fell off the bar stool, knocking her back a little. As she regained her stance, he stood up and grabbed her waist. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him down, landing her lips expertly on his. She sucked his top lip for a few seconds then pulled away. He was eager for more and showed it by pressing her hips to his. She pulled his ear down with her lips and whispered, “Where can we go?”

“My kids are at home” he responded.

“Are you married?” she asked. He held up an empty ring finger, responding, “I promise I'm not.”

“Ok”, she said, “you must have a truck or something? You said you were a contractor.”

“I do,” he said, “and it's an ExtendCab. Gotta have a space for all those kids.”

Ignoring the awkward kid comment, she led him toward the front door. He pulled her back, pointing to a back door she hadn't noticed. She followed him outside to an alley, where he pressed her against the wall and shoved his tongue past her lips. She responded and pressed her hips into his, noticing how much he wanted her. She wiggled her hips up and down for him, making him moan with desire. He grabbed her ass and squeezed, getting her wet. She stepped back, grabbed his hand, and shoved it up her skirt to show him she was ready. He slipped two fingers into her and she squealed with delight. He slipped out of her and took her hand, leading her to his truck, which was just outside the alley. He opened the doors for her to crawl in the back, where she immediately pulled up her skirt. She was shaved and out for him; he didn't waste time taking advantage of that. He whipped his tongue around her clit and fingered her at the same time until she was begging for dick. He got his jeans to his knees then flipped her over so she was on all fours. He pulled her shirt over her tits and held them while he plowed himself into her over and over. She came for him and he exploded inside her. When he was done, he held his hand on her back while he licked her one last time. He made her come again with only his tongue, and she collapsed in ecstasy. He asked if she had anyone who did that regularly, and she said no. He responded that he could use that at least once a week, and would she consider being his booty call. She responded by taking his cell phone from the seat where it had fallen and putting her number in it. She readjusted her clothes, sat on his lap for one last kiss, licked her come off his face, opened the door, and said, “Damn I taste good!” She left him hard again, panting for her.

Over the next three months, they fucked every week, at least once a week. She was fine getting her satisfaction from him, and he seemed to want to talk after. She was easy to talk to and he seemed to need a friend. They were far too busy for more, until the night when he was on top of her in her apartment and he screamed, “I LOVE YOU!” That pretty much killed the moment, and she pushed him off her. He never said another word, just gathered his things and left her apartment. She spent the week thinking about what had happened and how to respond, when he called her to apologize. She told him it was OK, and that she might be having feelings herself. He responded that he didn't actually have feelings, that was just something he said on accident. She hung up on him.

She didn't hear from him for a week, but she was fine with that. She just didn't want to deal with his shit, honestly, and she was getting ready to find someone new anyway.  

She walked down the street, considering the line of bars spread out before her. She wanted a bar that would be fast and easy. Sports bars were out; as were vibrant college bars. She needed a quiet place that leaked desperation from the front door. She had spent extra time on herself tonight – her long hair was brushed straight and her face was painted in delicate colors that brought the blue out. Her shirt was low cut over her C cups and her skirt barely covered her ample hips. She wore no stockings and no panties. She was looking for a quick romp in a back seat, then she was looking for the solo comfort of her bed in her apartment down the street. There was no reason to have a steady man when she could simply walk into the right place and satisfy her womanly needs. She finally found the right place, a hole in the wall, set underneath apartments, in an historic building front. The girls outside were older, so she knew the right age group would be inside. She pulled out a cigarette so she could get a better feel for the place before going in. The girls were talking about some job their boyfriends had; something about building shit. Perfect, she thought. A contractor's bar. Those guys are usually older, lonely as hell and looking to score because many of them worked too many hours for anything else. She finished her cigarette and went in the front door.

There was the typical bar pool table directly in front of her with a bar stretched the length of the place to the left. A dart board graced the wall with a sign reading, “Darts .25 each”. She wondered if that was a quarter a throw, then wondered what kinds of dicks owned the place. The bar was nearly full with guys that looked like they had just crawled off a roof. A hard day in the sun always made guys more willing for relief, in her experience. She checked out the patrons and immediately eliminated any options with girls hanging off them. Four guys, however, were sitting at the end of the bar, where it wrapped around the back of the room. One was looking directly at her, noticing the curve of her tits where they pushed her shirt to its limit. That was the one.

He was well over six foot. She could see the clarity of his blue eyes, which reflected years of hard work, but a hint of want and play. He was thin, but his arms were tree trunks. He wore a simple t-shirt and jeans. His hands were stained with dirt, and she noticed, as she approached him, that his pants were covered in the same kind of dust. He wore a hat pulled to his brow, which made his eyes hotter. She felt fired up approaching him, and she knew if he was willing, he would be tonight's conquest. She simply walked up to him and, not seeing an empty bar stool, said, “Hi. My name's Miranda.”

She talked to him for two hours while he bought her drinks. After the fourth Jack and Coke, she told him he didn't have to spend so much money on her. She was going to go home with him, drunk or not. He perked up and nearly fell off the bar stool, knocking her back a little. As she regained her stance, he stood up and grabbed her waist. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him down, landing her lips expertly on his. She sucked his top lip for a few seconds then pulled away. He was eager for more and showed it by pressing her hips to his. She pulled his ear down with her lips and whispered, “Where can we go?”

“My kids are at home” he responded.

“Are you married?” she asked. He held up an empty ring finger, responding, “I promise I'm not.”

“Ok”, she said, “you must have a truck or something? You said you were a contractor.”

“I do,” he said, “and it's an ExtendCab. Gotta have a space for all those kids.”

Ignoring the awkward kid comment, she led him toward the front door. He pulled her back, pointing to a back door she hadn't noticed. She followed him outside to an alley, where he pressed her against the wall and shoved his tongue past her lips. She responded and pressed her hips into his, noticing how much he wanted her. She wiggled her hips up and down for him, making him moan with desire. He grabbed her ass and squeezed, getting her wet. She stepped back, grabbed his hand, and shoved it up her skirt to show him she was ready. He slipped two fingers into her and she squealed with delight. He slipped out of her and took her hand, leading her to his truck, which was just outside the alley. He opened the doors for her to crawl in the back, where she immediately pulled up her skirt. She was shaved and out for him; he didn't waste time taking advantage of that. He whipped his tongue around her clit and fingered her at the same time until she was begging for dick. He got his jeans to his knees then flipped her over so she was on all fours. He pulled her shirt over her tits and held them while he plowed himself into her over and over. She came for him and he exploded inside her. When he was done, he held his hand on her back while he licked her one last time. He made her come again with only his tongue, and she collapsed in ecstasy. He asked if she had anyone who did that regularly, and she said no. He responded that he could use that at least once a week, and would she consider being his booty call. She responded by taking his cell phone from the seat where it had fallen and putting her number in it. She readjusted her clothes, sat on his lap for one last kiss, licked her come off his face, opened the door, and said, “Damn I taste good!” She left him hard again, panting for her.

Over the next three months, they fucked every week, at least once a week. She was fine getting her satisfaction from him, and he seemed to want to talk after. She was easy to talk to and he seemed to need a friend. They were far too busy for more, until the night when he was on top of her in her apartment and he screamed, “I LOVE YOU!” That pretty much killed the moment, and she pushed him off her. He never said another word, just gathered his things and left her apartment. She spent the week thinking about what had happened and how to respond, when he called her to apologize. She told him it was OK, and that she might be having feelings herself. He responded that he didn't actually have feelings, that was just something he said on accident. She hung up on him.

She didn't hear from him for a week, but she was fine with that. She just didn't want to deal with his shit, honestly, and she was getting ready to find someone new anyway.  She struck out at the first bar she went into, then she got a text from him.

"I see you".

Well isn't that lovely, she thought. She looked around for him, and those blue eyes stood out from behind the pool table. She was so attracted to him, and so interested because she already knew what was in his pants, that she danced over to him. It didn't take long before they were back at her apartment, in her bed. They wrapped themselves around each other for hours before he finally exploded inside her, then they lay together, her trying to curl up on him and him resisting her.

"What is your problem?" she asked. "A few weeks ago you were saying you loved me and now this?" 

"I like you - a lot. I just - I can't love you. I don't know why."

"Oh," she responded. "Let's go for a walk. Let's get the hell out of here. I need air. Do you need air? This is bullshit. I just want to walk with you one last time before I never speak to you again."

She could tell she had guilted him into the walk, but he went anyway. No one knew where they were, but this sweet little girl could never hurt anyone. She was just hurting and he could oblige her one last walk. She held his arm while they walked, and he pulled away. He was taller than her by a foot so it was easy to pull his arm off her. They walked for five blocks; he was a contractor with no work for the next day and walking was his favorite hobby. Finally, they came to the side of a mountain, where the woods stretched for miles. The largest cemetary in the county was there, and, though it was dark, they skirted the cemetary edge. 

She fell behind him, hurt and annoyed that he had pulled this shit on her. She felt betrayed that he could act this way. How could he not love her? What was wrong with him? She was finally in love with him, and he just blew her off like that? The asshole! The more she thought about it the more she grew angry. Finally, she tripped over something. She looked down to see a tire iron on the ground. A lot of kids came up here to party, so it must have been left by one of those idiots.

She picked up the tire iron and snuck up behind him. She swung as hard as she could, intending to hit his shoulder. He turned a minute too soon, and she hit him in the head. The tire iron smashed through his skull and blood poured out everywhere. She watched in horror as he fell down, down, down, and finally didn't move. She looked him over in the dark and found he was passed out. After a check of his pulse, she determined the blow had probably killed him. She rolled him over to look at it, and, sure enough, the bone and brain matter were leaking onto the ground. One blow had done that to him. She should have known this was a possibility, because she had seen this during her time at the morgue. 

Anything could have killed him, from a ruptured brain to a busted aneurysm, but what she knew is that he was definitely dead. She panicked and didn't know what to do until she saw a fresh grave in the graveyard. She hid his body in the woods and went home for a shovel.

She snuck through town with the shovel, avoiding street lights, which wasn't hard in her rural setting. She dug up the grave, which must have been freshly dug that day, because the dirt was still loose. This rural cemetary had very little security, so no one bothered her. She cleaned up as much blood as she could so she wouldn't leave a trail, then she dragged him to the grave. She pushed him in and piled the dirt on top. The only way anyone could tell there was a new body in there was the trail she made when she dragged him from the woods. She busied herself the rest of the night covering that trail, then she found a stray dog in the neighborhood. She took it to the spot where he had bled and slit its throat, leaving the body there. Very few people would wonder at the amount of blood when finding the dog; they would just pass it off as a cruel joke played by some sick kid in the woods. She went home, burned her clothes, showered, and called off work for the day. She slept soundly, not concerned once that someone would discover what she had done.

She went for a walk in the sun the next day, early in the morning. She barely even thought about him until late morning, when she walked past the bar where his truck was still parked. No one was even looking for him yet - his kids were off in their own worlds, whatever it was that they did. She considered the fact that she had never met them, then she realized they'd probably starve without him. She sat down on a nearby bench and thought about that.

If she had never met the kids, why in the world should she care about them? Why should she even worry that they might be starving by themselves? They were all older than 13, she knew, but they didn't have very many people to rely on, other than dear dead Dad. She decided she couldn't leave the kids without, but she'd be damned if she was going to spend money on them. She knew what she had to do, but it had to be done tonight, before it was too late. She walked home and looked in the refrigerator. As she thought, there was some leftover meat in there, along with some potatoes and carrots that she was going to make into a stew. She'd have to get the other ingredients tonight. She turned to her knife set and began sharpening the biggest knife she owned.

Tony snapped his head up at the sound of his name. He was exhausted after a long day of - well, nothing. Not much happened in this town, and some days, he could even catch an afternoon snooze without interruption.