Collateral Damage

By ChristopherDB Copyright 2022

Interior work on cars and trucks was never my thing. That is unless it’s tearing stuff out to get at something with resale value. Like a fuel pump that you can get to from under a back seat, or a computer module hidden behind the glove box. That’s why I had saved the interior of my F250 project until last. It was coming together better than expected.

Chewbecca gave a low growl and raised her head slightly, looking out the open garage door into the night. She was an old chow, mastiff, shepherd, wooly mammoth mix. A perfect junkyard dog, back in her prime.

Before long I heard tires crunching on gravel over by the west gate. A key was hidden there that only a few good friends knew about. It was probably Joe, and I smiled, knowing he would bring some cold beers with him.

We had graduated from high school together and he stuck around for a few years, working whatever shit jobs he could find, but then joined the Navy. Any time he was home on leave he would drop by and we’d drink a few beers and have some laughs.

While he had no regrets enlisting in the Navy, he made it no secret that he was envious of my position. I was in line to be the third generation owner of my family’s auto salvage yard. A life contract, he called it. Just take over the family business that I already knew, while a guy like him had to figure out how to make it in life.

An old beater with only one headlight on slowly came around the corner of a long stack of cars. I didn’t recognize it. Certainly wasn’t Joe. He always drove his mom’s Impala when he was in town.

The car approached slowly. Almost cautiously. The engine running smoothly, but with a faint squeal of the serpentine belt. Chewbecca painfully got on her feet and gave a single deep bark. I glanced over at the cluttered workbench under the fluorescent glare, noting the location of the pony sledge. Just outside the garage door the driver stopped and shut off the engine.

“Hello, Chewie!” a woman’s voice called out. The dog started to wag her bushy tail and walked over to the car with a rare spring in her step. I was surprised that Anna had dropped by, especially this late at night.

She had a black leather motorcycle jacket slung over one shoulder of her low cut Harley tank top, which had narrow straps and seemed to enhance her modest breasts. A wide studded leather belt encircled the waist of her faded jeans that fit nice and tight over her full hips. The jeans were tucked into the tops of some scuffed black leather boots, and their short spiked heels made a wonderful sound on the cracked concrete floor. It had been a while since I’d seen her.

“Looks like you’ve had a rough night,” I said, after we’d exchanged a hug.

Her left cheek was smeared with dried blood, and the eye above was starting to swell. For some reason it disturbed me even more that her hair, which had always been a lush flowing mane of golden blonde, now looked brittle and frayed.

She briefly admired the truck I had been building over the past months. Said it looked pretty, but then set about inspecting her damage in one of the rearview mirrors.

“Let’s go to my place so you can get cleaned up,” I offered.

One row of cars over from the shop is a little clearing, like a cove. An old Airstream trailer has been parked there forever. I showed her to the bathroom and told her that first aid supplies were in the small medicine cabinet over the toilet. Then I set about getting some ice cubes out of the freezer, wrapped them in a wash cloth, and handed that to her though the open doorway.

Anna was in the bathroom for a long time. When she came out, she stopped by the kitchen sink and looked at the rack of clean dishes on the counter. Then at Chewbecca on the living room floor, comfortably sacked out on an oversized dog bed, food and water bowls close by.

“This used to be like your little clubhouse,” she said curiously. “Now it’s like, a bachelor pad.”

“I haven’t been getting along with my dad, so I fixed up the trailer last year. Been living out here since then,” I told her. “I won’t bore you with the details.”

Pulling a bottle of Old Crow from the cabinet under the TV, I offered her a drink, and she accepted. When I had two glasses poured over ice, she had settled herself in on the sofa.

“I haven’t seen you up at the Halfway Inn lately,” she said, referring to a dumpy little roadside bar a few miles from here.

“Yeah, those bikers you ride with seem to have taken over the place. You remember Mick?” I asked. “People used to bully him all the time when we were in school. I guess he rides with them now. Last time I was up there to see Dave’s band, Mick walked up to me. I didn’t recognize him at first. He’s all tatted up now and bulked out a little. Told me it was a private party. Said I could finish my beer but then it would be best for me to leave. So that’s what I did.”

“Well, that was the smart thing to do,” she said flatly.

It was a few years ago when a small group of bikers moved into the area. Now I’ve ridden before. I can enjoy a loud motor and partying with friends, but there was more to these guys then that.

They mostly kept to themselves and rumor was they maintained what they called a weigh station, a transfer point for drug trafficking. Then there were more bikers, and an abundance of cheap drugs, both resulting in a lot of collateral damage. How or why Anna had fallen in with them I didn’t know and wasn’t going to ask.

“I have no idea why Dave is playing up there. That dude picked up an electric guitar sometime around junior high and had a band together ever since. Man,” I said. “If I could play the guitar like that, the day after my eighteenth birthday I would have packed up my stuff and left for the west coast to become a rock star.”

Her glass was empty, so I refilled it, and sat down next to her on the sofa. Before long, I kissed her, and my advance was welcomed.

We eased into a familiar routine of deep French kisses. Tongues slowly and deeply probing, simultaneously rubbing together, never breaking contact with our lips. A technique we had come up with after high school graduation, in the back of an old custom van I had brought back from the dead.

Her body felt soft and warm through her faded clothing. I broke off our kiss, and tucked in under her chin, gently kissing the side of her throat. Light kisses, mixed with a few short and gentle licks. Taking my time to make my way around her neck to just below her earlobe.

We kissed some more. Then, as I gently kissed the other side of her neck, and heard her exhale deeply, I eased one strap of her tank top off her shoulder. Gently and slowly kissing my way down to the base of her neck, I slipped the second strap of her top off her other shoulder, and let the tip of my tongue run a light trail down into her cleavage.

Her breasts were small and firm, and looked even more enticing in her bra of black lace and satin. More lingerie than function, lace unraveling a bit at the ends. No doubt she had bought it sometime ago to thrill another man, and had probably worn it for someone other than me that night.

It thrilled me that I was the one to release the front opening clasp on her bra. Cupping her breasts in my hands, giving the nipples light flicks with my tongue.

My penis had been hard and uncomfortably confined for too long, so I paused for a brief moment to kick off my work boots and my dirty jeans. She took that opportunity to shrug her open bra off her shoulders, and remove her tank top, which had wadded up at her waist.

Anna stared at my erection, so I moved in closer. Back when we had taken the old boogie van to the Starlite Drive-In on a regular basis, she had sucked my cock a few times, but she made it clear that she didn’t enjoy it. I was somewhat hopeful that she had warmed up to the idea since she was running with a rough crowd, but I was wrong, so I kissed her some more.

I knelt on the floor in front of the sofa, and started to unbuckle her belt. Her response was to start working her feet out of her boots, and her jeans were off not long after that. It had occurred to me that she might be wearing some lacy panties, or better yet a thong, that matched the bra, part of a set, but that was not the case.

Easing off her plain white cotton panties, I moved in and kissed her thin soft mound of pubic hair. I gave a few long slow licks. Anna responded with a deep exhale and adjusted her position on the sofa.

I like to savor moments like this. Take it slow. Enjoy her warm natural scent. Some gentle probing with my tongue, but mostly light, teasing licks. Back in the day I might have dove in with reckless enthusiasm, but somehow I found that exercising restraint got the most powerful results.

….

Maybe it’s a small town thing, when you’re in school people separate into their own little groups. Then there are a handful of people left over that just don’t seem to fit in anywhere.

The lanky awkward kid who always had grease under his fingernails since he could pick up a wrench. Anna, who was pretty in her own way but always too self conscious of carrying a few extra pounds. The restless Joe, who had been smart yet struggled to make decent grades. Sometimes these outcasts find each other and form their own unique group. Dave had been one of us, until he started playing guitar.

Anna and I had never really been a couple. Living in a dumpy little town with limited options, after most people graduate from high school, they marry their sweetheart and start having kids, or they find a reason to leave town, like college or the military. Either way, they are rarely seen again. Our group stayed together for a while, but eventually fell out of touch.

It was just by chance that I ran into Anna in town one day and we started going out. Mostly to the drive-in with my rusty Mach 1. Then later in the van.

For true Romance, there has to be that magic spark between a couple that sets it off. For Anna and I, that spark never came. However, there were certain things we wanted to experience. Needs that hadn’t been fulfilled. We trusted each other.

….

She adjusted her position, resting one of her ankles near the center of my back. Since she was breathing more heavily now, I gave her clit some quick, darting pokes with my tongue, and she gasped in a familiar way.

Her ankle slipped off my back and I was able to catch her leg, easing it up onto one shoulder. Knowing her Orgasm was drawing near, I lightly ran a finger tip down her taint. Her hips flexed in response. Just light traces of the finger tip, but more aggressive with my tongue. Anna bucked her hips involuntarily, and she gasped, and then moaned. Loudly at first, tapering off softly.

When her body started to go slack, I eased her legs to the floor at my sides, while I lingered just a bit longer with some light licks, setting off a few twitching aftershocks.

Gazing into her eyes, I saw a familiar lazy and satisfied smile. I took her by one hand and led her down the narrow passage past the bathroom to the little rounded bedroom at the back of the trailer.

There were condoms close at hand. I was tightly focused and aroused. It was difficult to restrain myself and keep an easy pace. Full thrusts, solid, but slow. Our lips locked again. The intertwining of tongues perhaps more aggressive than before.

Then came the time when I couldn’t restrain myself any longer. My pace quickened. Thrusts, shorter. She raised her knees up along the sides of my body. Before long I gave several low, deep, exhales, as I came.

I kissed her lightly for the last few easy thrusts. We were both breathing heavily, and I could feel the sweat in my uncombed hair. I collapsed beside her, and we held each other gently.

….

I woke suddenly to the sound of roaring motorcycle engines on the highway outside the yard. My muscles tensed and I reached one hand out from under the covers and towards the built-in nightstand where a.357 was in the drawer, but the riders didn’t back off their throttles and kept on going.

They passed by here just about every night at this time, after Halfway Inn closed. Normally I’d sleep through it, like the freight trains on the tracks a mile away, but tonight I’d been spooked.

Out in the living room I heard the tags jingle on Chewbecca’s collar. She would normally sleep through the bikers passing as well, but tonight she was on alert.

“They won’t think to look for me here,” she said in the darkness. I hadn’t realized she was awake. While her voice was calm, when I rolled over to kiss her, I thought I felt tenseness in her body. That melted away though, as I wrapped one arm around her bare waist.

I kissed her gently, and let my hand trace down from her waist to her light patch of pubic hair. Easing into a better position, our tongues intertwined. With light strokes of my fingers, I felt her responding, warm, moist.

As I began to kiss her neck, she spread her legs allowing me better access. Before long she was breathing heavily. I backed off slightly, leaving only one finger tip barely making contact with her clit, and then kissed her under one earlobe. Anna’s body shook in a powerful Orgasm.

Quickly grabbing another condom, I kicked the heavy blankets to one side. I’d like to tell you that I took it slow and easy, but I was overcome with arousal.

As I thrust hard and fast, she raised her knees up, and locked her ankles around my waist. I wanted to kiss her some more, but I was breathing too heavily.

The thin plywood of the built-in bed frame began to creak. She must have sensed my Orgasm was near, and pulled me in for a deep kiss.

Pumping, thrusting, the groans of my Orgasm were stifled. Then I had to break off our kiss, breathing heavily. I slowed my pace, continuing for just a while longer, while lightly kissing Anna some more.

….

Next morning the early sunlight was cold and gray. I could hear the rumbling of the loader somewhere on the east side of the yard. It was Sunday and we were closed, but my dad would often cruise the yard on the loader before going to church with my mom. Pulling out a handful of cars that had been stripped too clean, and putting them aside to be sent to the crusher.

Although I was hungry, I didn’t offer to make breakfast. I assumed that Anna would want to be on her way soon, and I was right. She had an aunt that lived about an hour away and planned to stay with her for a while.

Walking her from the cove over to her car, Chewbecca trailing behind us, I was surprised when she asked,

“How long before you skip town?”

“What makes you think I’m gonna take off?” I countered.

“Your pickup truck in the shop. It has all those tool boxes in the back, and it’s a crew cab but there’s no back seat, so Chewie can lie down back there,” she continued. “Last night, even in the dark, I could see the trailer had new tires on it.

I had no response.

“I know you’ve never been happy here,” she said. “You’ve always wanted, something different. Something more.”

“You gonna be safe? Driving to your aunt’s house?” I asked, changing the subject.

She said that her old man and his buddies wouldn’t be out of bed for a few more hours, so rolling out of town would be no problem.

I suppose I could have been a gentleman and unlocked the west gate for her, but she would end up letting herself out. A few months later when I hitched up the Airstream, I thought back to that time, and wished I had asked her to join me on the road. Somehow, I thought she would have turned me down.

One thing I’ve learned since then is that the world is a small place, and our paths crossed a few years and many miles later. I won’t elaborate on that now. It’s one of many stories from the road, and perhaps one of the better ones.