Wild Ride: A Bad Boy Romance (19 page)

“No
place, yet, eh?” said Herbert, grinding the toe of his boot into a bit of snow
on the sidewalk. “Well, I can recommend a place down town. I’d be happy to take
you there. No, charge, of course.”

“I’d like
to see where you live,” said Roxy. Once she knew that she wanted something,
Roxy didn’t like to mess around. She didn’t like to waste any time.

Herbert
laughed. “Now why would a nice young lady like yourself want to see the squalor
of an old bachelor?” he said. “Just for kicks? Sort of like a tourist thing?
Going to take a lot of pictures of the ‘true’ Alaska?”

“The only
thing I’d like to take a picture of is what’s under those pants.” Roxy looked
him dead in the eye as she said it. During these moments of aggressive
flirting, Roxy wasn’t conscious of her body the way she normally was. The bad
mental image of herself flew right away during moments like this. Roxy was
completely concentrated on the task at hand. She was like this during sex, too,
provided the conditions were right. It was afterwards that Roxy started to fell
embarrassed about her weight, about her pendulum-like heavy breasts and her
stomach.

Herbert
laughed again. He seemed a little nervous, maybe even shy. He looked down at
his boot in the snow, only glancing up at Roxy for a moment, before looking
back down. “Mighty kind invitation, miss, but... Well, you know, I’m quite a
bit older. And it’s been a long time for me. I don’t get up to that kind of
stuff too much these days.”

“Even
better for me then,” said Roxy. “I always like it when men are grateful.”

Herbert
laughed a little louder, a little bit of the nervous leaving his voice. “Well,
all right then. Giddy on up.”

“Where’s
your place?” said Roxy. “Should we take the cab, or do you live close by?”

There
weren’t many other people on the street. There was one young man passed out in
a snow bank only a few feet away. Roxy hadn’t noticed him before. There was a
small group of kids walking towards them down the block.

“We’re
looking at it,” said Herbert, pointing to the bar.

“You live
in the bar? Like in the back or something?”

“I have
an apartment upstairs. It’s nothing glamorous, like I said. And it can be a
little noisy with the bar downstairs.”

Herbert
led Roxy by the arm through an alley that ran along side the bar. There was a
door there that had huge icicles hanging down from the roof over it. “Those
things nearly killed me last spring,” said Herbert. “They actually got one of
the bartenders one night as he was coming to drop off the money from the till.
I found him there in the morning with one of these icicles in his neck.”

Roxy
gasped. But she was thinking about what lay in store for her up those stairs.
Herbert held the door for her, and motioned for her to climb the stairs first.
Roxy climbed slowly, swinging her hips, imagining that behind her Herbert must
be enjoying the view.

There
wasn’t much space on the landing up the stairs. Herbert had to squish himself
next to Roxy’s ample body as he jiggled the key in the lock. It seemed to take
forever, getting that key in the lock. Roxy hoped he’d be a little more skilled
with his own key, when it came time.

Roxy
didn’t like to waste time. As Herbert pushed the door open, she grabbed him by
the hand and pulled him to her. She kissed him, a big wet sloppy kiss with a
lot of tongue that was meant to show him that she wanted it bad.

Herbert
kissed her back. “You must like us Alaskan fellows or something,” he said.
“Come on, I’ll show you the place. After you,” he motioned for her to enter the
apartment, pushing the door open with his hand.

Roxy
didn’t say anything. Instead, she got down on her knees. She reached out and
grabbed Herbert forcefully around his hips. He has almost dainty hips. He had
big hip bones with little fat. She could feel them through his shirt. Roxy
reached up and grabbed his belt buckle.

“Whoa,
girl. Whoa. What are you doing? There’s another apartment up here. Bob and
Casey might come home any moment.”

“Let me
worry about everything,” said Roxy, in her sweetest voice, almost a whisper.
She unbuckled his thick belt buckle. Her fingers were the one part of her that
was tiny, and she used those delicate little digits to find the buttons to his
button fly. It was hard enough undoing a zipper on jeans, and undoing the
buttons was next to impossible for most women. Fortunately, Roxy knew what she
was doing. And men though taking off a bra was hard! Come on!

Roxy
reached into the old-fashioned tight underwear that Herbert wore. Roxy liked
that. She wasn’t crazy about boxers. She didn’t have to reach very far, since
Herbert’s penis was already starting to bulge. She gave it just a little tug
and it popped right out of the fly. One of Roxy’s favorite things about cocks
must have been to watch them grow. And Herbert’s grew right before her eyes,
nearly growing right into her face. It seemed to take only a second as it
doubled, and then tripled in size.

Herbert’s
erect cock was quivering in the air. It seemed to pump up and down, moving on
its own.

Herbert
moaned softly as Roxy put her mouth onto his cock. She liked to submerge cocks
completely in her mouth, rather that starting off slowly with just a lick. She
liked to imagine the pleasure Herbert felt all at once, feeling the warm
wetness of her mouth all around his cock, from every side and every angle, not
a piece of it not completely covered.

“Someone
might come...” said Herbert, but his words trailed into another moan.

Roxy
bobbed her head up and down. She swirled her tongue, using it to apply more
pressure to the cock. She liked feeling it in her mouth. She knew she was
getting wet between her legs. Herbert’s cock felt as hard as steel. Roxy bobbed
up and down, rhythmically, quicker and quicker.

“Roxy,”
said Herbert. Then he came. It happened quickly. Roxy couldn’t have been giving
him head for more than thirty seconds. He shot his load right into her mouth.
She felt the hot, sticky goo shoot strongly into her mouth. The blast had a lot
of pressure to it. The cum hit the back of her mouth with some force. It was a
lot of semen, just a lot of material. Her mouth was almost completely filled
with the stuff. It just kept coming and coming, Herbert’s cock pumping it out
faster and faster. He moaned softly, then loudly.

Finally,
after a full half a minute of Herbert’s cock pumping semen into her mouth, it
was over. He was done. He had ejaculated all the semen he could at that time.
His cock started to go a little limp. But it kept a lot of its erect shape.
Slowly, Roxy reached around to the base of Herbert’s cock. She grabbed onto it.
There was still quite a bit of his penis outside of her mouth, even though it
reached almost to the back of her tongue. It was a large penis when erect. And
Roxy imagined that once it went soft, it would still be long. Holding onto the
cock, Roxy pulled her mouth away, keeping her lower lip stiff, so that no cum
would leak out. She didn’t want her lipstick to run. Not know quite what to do,
and maybe getting a little excited at the idea, Roxy tilted her head back and
swallowed all the cum, as if it was a shot of whisky. It all went back in one
huge gulp, all hot, warm, sticky, and a little sweat.

“Roxy,”
said Herbert, regaining a little bit of his composure, his breathing becoming a
little more regular. He reached down and gently removed Roxy’s hand from his
penis. He tucked his penis back into his old-fashioned underwear. “I’m sorry,
Roxy,” he said, with a gentle voice. “You don’t want to mess around with an old
guy like me. It must have been a decade since I’ve been with a woman. I just
don’t have the control that I used to.”

“Shh,”
said Roxy, standing up, grabbing Herbert by his waist. Her belly and boobs were
pressed up against his flannel shirt, touching him through her own shirt.
“Don’t worry, Herbert. There’s nothing to worry about. You’re still going to
show me your apartment, aren’t you?”

Herbert
laughed. He seemed to relax even more, now that he could see Roxy wasn’t upset.
He regained a little of his tough Alaskan man composure, and lead Roxy into his
apartment, closing the door behind them.

The
apartment was sparse, probably even for Alaska standards. It wasn’t that there
wasn’t a lot of stuff. It wasn’t a barren apartment, totally empty. But it
really wasn’t fancy. It was bare bones styling, you could say. There wasn’t
molding on the walls, for instance. There weren’t really any modern things at
all. There wasn’t a TV, or even a radio. The whole apartment wouldn’t have
looked out of place more than hundred years ago, save a few practical odds and
ends here and there. There was a woodstove, rather than modern heating. Roxy
wondered how that worked in the bitter cold of Alaskan winters.

Everything
in the apartment was practically. IT wasn’t a typical bachelor pad, which were
always dedicated to self-pleasure and entertainment, at least the ones that
Roxy had seen. Normally there was something like a big screen TV, and a stereo
system. Roxy found it all a little disgusting, when she woke up at some guy’s
house and saw all of that stuff, or when he tried to impress her with
it—didn’t they see how cheesy that all was, the buying

products
for a lifestyle that could never really have, for lifestyle they didn’t
deserve, for a lifestyle that wasn’t any good to begin with? Who wanted to be
entertained all day, without doing anything useful? It was the modern fantasy,
based on TV and reality shows that featured the decedent lives of the chosen
few who didn’t sweat for a living, every week, day in and day out.

Roxy was
pleased to see that Herbert didn’t have any of that nonsense. She wondered
whether every Alaskan man had the same sensibilities. But she thought of the
idiots in the bar downstairs fighting each other over some bear legend, and she
reconsidered. It was just some silly bear legend. What a crazy thing to be
fighting over. Wait a minute, thought Roxy. Wasn’t she here in Alaska, risking
her entire and very precarious financial status on some crazy bear
transformation story she’d seen in a hundred year old book? Maybe she was just
as stupid as some drunks in a backwater bar. Maybe that was why she was losing
her job. Maybe she deserved it.

Herbert
led Roxy past the rows of skis and snowshoes, climbing and fishing gear that
lined the hallways.

“You
don’t have any hunting gear? I thought everyone here was a hunter.”

“Most
everybody is,” said Herbert, in a slow, measured tone, as if he was choosing
his words carefully. “Most everybody but me that is. Never could abide by a
rifle or a gun. Just some quirk in my personality, I guess.”

“I guess
so, too,” said Roxy, smiling a big smile, although she wasn’t exactly sure what
she was smiling about.

Herbert
returned the smile. Then he seemed to grow embarrassed again after a moment of
the two of them locking eyes. “Look,” he said. “Don’t fell like you need to
stay around on my account.

Roxy
actually laughed. “Come on, Herbert. Well... Well, look. I was going to say
‘well, you should know me better than that.’ But I guess the truth is we just
met and you don’t know me. But I feel like we already know each other somehow.”

“I might
feel a little of the same,” said Herbert. “Don’t get me wrong, mind you, I’d
like you to stay. Stay as long as you like. I was hoping you’d stay the night.
But don’t feel any pressure. Don’t feel any pressure, either way, is all I’m
trying to say.” A man like Herbert could be so funny, thought Roxy. He had
seemed so tough and grizzled, rough and untamed, when she had first met in the
taxi. Now he seemed sweet, and soft, and she wanted to cuddle up with him, even
though she was still more than a little horny, if she was being honest with
herself. Maybe she would like to cuddle up with him after she got off, after he
fucked her, and hard.

He seemed
to be a complex man. There was something a little strange about him, but not in
an off putting or creepy way. He seemed old-fashioned, if she could call it
something. But it was very hard to put her finger on it. There were so many men
her age and younger who considered themselves “Old fashioned.” That meant that
they acted a certain way, imitating the stand-out old trends that they tried to
copy, doing so poorly, from

old
movies with Humphrey Bogart. They knew little tricks like flicking cigarette
lighters, and wearing strange hats, and holding doors. But Herbert had
something else. It didn’t mean he didn’t hold the door for her. But he did it
so naturally. And he had other ways of holding himself that reminded her of a
man form another era. She wondered how old he was. He kept saying he was old,
and that she was too young for him, but he didn’t look much more than year
years older than her. There were some grey streaks in his hair, and a little in
his short grizzly beard, but there really wasn’t very much of it. And with his
dense muscles, he actually looked quite young, not to mention fit.

But there
was definitely something old about him, and it wasn’t just his apartment.

Herbert
was loading up the wood stove. He lit it skillfully and in a moment there was a
roaring fire inside. “Should get the place warmed up in about half an hour.”

Roxy
shivered in spite of herself. That always happened to her when someone
mentioned it was cold – that was when she finally noticed it herself. It
felt like it was going to get quite cold that night, for the Spring. Maybe not
cold for Alaska. But cold for Roxy.

“You want
something to drink?” said Herbert, gesturing to the cupboards or the stove
stop, Roxy couldn’t tell which. But she felt like at tea.

“Sure, a
tea would be nice, black, if you have it.”

Roxy sat
down on the couch that must have been at least four decades old. It had a
flower print that actually seemed to compliment the décor of the hardwood
utilitarian apartment nicely. Herbert busied himself in the kitchen for a
moment, making loose tea with an infuser, and boiling water in an old fashioned
kettle that sounded a loud whistle when the water started boiling.

He came
over, carefully carrying a cup of mug of tea in each hand. The mugs were both
chipped, but Roxy noticed he gave her the mug that was the least chipped.

Herbert
sat down next to her on the couch, about a foot away.

While
waiting for the tea to boil, he had put on a thick cardigan sweater in the
place of his flannel shirt. He’d also put on some thick plastic reading glasses
that he must have worn around the house, in case he needed to read labels. It
changed his appearance once again. He looked predictably studious with the
sweater and the glasses. But it wasn’t a kind of fake studiousness. He wasn’t
trying to be anybody else, or look like someone else. He was just doing what
was natural to him. Roxy was already appreciating the subtleties of Herbert’s
complex personality. Maybe Alaska did something different to men than the
Continental States did. Maybe it forged a different kind of man. But Roxy
thought again to the idiots downstairs fighting over a bear, then she started
thinking about her bear mission, which seemed so distant now, and even
ridiculous.

“Is there
anything to that legend they were talking about downstairs,” said Roxy. She
felt like she owed it to herself to at least make something of an effort to
investigate the archeological reasons for her visit. She tried to sound casual
as she said it, but she was worried she came across a little worried or tense
anyway.

“What do
you mean,” said Red, growing pensive looking, furrowing his brow, and blowing
steam onto his black tea. “Do you want sugar for your tea?”

“I’m OK,
thanks,” said Roxy. “I mean that stuff they were talking about with the bear
and all that. So there’s some kind of famous bear that terrorizes Alaska, or
something like that?”

“Or
something like that,” said Herbert, not looking up from his tea.

Roxy got
a weird feeling from Herbert, but she wanted to push him a little further.
“What do you mean, exactly?”

“Well,”
said Herbert. “There are all kinds of legends. Now, the thing about legends, is
that they’re all true. Well, they’re all true in a way, I mean. I’ve spent a
little time with the natives here?”

“You mean
the Inuit.”

Red
nodded. “That’s one name for them, yeah. Some people still call them Eskimos.
Some of them call themselves Eskimos. Anyway, they have these legends, but they
say that the important thing about a legend isn’t whether it’s true or not.
It’s whether people believe it. By believing in the legend, the legend becomes
truth.”