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</div></span><span style="font-size: 26px"><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ff4d4d"><b>J</b></span></span><span style="font-family: 'Bad Script', 'cursive'"><span class="fixed-color" style="color:rgb(255, 128, 0)"><span style="font-size: 15px">ason watched as Rose's ass hitched and rocked seductively, from side to side as though intentionally swaying them. Jason's sizeable hands clenched tight. He wanted to hit something--or go after her. Neither of which he couldn't really do. He'd either wake his drunk ass father or surprising his sister in a potentially very uncomfortable manner. He just quietly blew steam out of his ears. He went and got the keys to his <i>1967 Shelby Mustang "Elenore"</i> off his dresser.</span></span><br/>
</span><br/>
<span style="font-size: 26px"><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ff4d4d"><b>T</b></span></span><span style="font-family: 'Bad Script', 'cursive'"><span class="fixed-color" style="color:rgb(255, 128, 0)"><span style="font-size: 15px">he car was hypnotic to most girls at their school. Wasn't every day someone could hand machine a 427 cubic inch, 6.9 Litre V-8 engine and build a monster of a performance car. But, the truth spoke for itself. The revving of that engine would get any man hard and any girl, wet. Dressed in his usual <i><b>Harley Davidson</b></i> attire; Tight fitted blue jeans that expressed his sculpted ass, a shirt he wore for work which read: "Horsepower is how fast you hit the wall--Torque is how far you bring the wall with you." It was twin wrenches forming an imposing <a class="link link--external" data-proxy-href="/proxy.php?link=https%3A%2F%2Fi.pinimg.com%2F564x%2Fea%2Fe7%2Ff1%2Feae7f169468a82c7531755c3ba6dd90a.jpg&amp;hash=ce7823ba7d5face7c41aded425e314b7" href="https://i.pinimg.com/564x/ea/e7/f1/eae7f169468a82c7531755c3ba6dd90a.jpg" rel="nofollow ugc noopener" target="_blank">skull</a>. Covering his feet were a pair of <a class="link link--external" data-proxy-href="/proxy.php?link=https%3A%2F%2Fi.pinimg.com%2Foriginals%2F9e%2Fa1%2F72%2F9ea17273300834e393ef0999e398fe0b.jpg&amp;hash=7dc2b3adf8242a0848001b119602345a" href="https://i.pinimg.com/originals/9e/a1/72/9ea17273300834e393ef0999e398fe0b.jpg" rel="nofollow ugc noopener" target="_blank">Welton Waterproof FXRG Performance Boots</a> which had strapped on earlier followed by his heavy, <a class="link link--external" data-proxy-href="/proxy.php?link=https%3A%2F%2Fimages-na.ssl-images-amazon.com%2Fimages%2FI%2F61aU8wqHYbL._UX679_.jpg&amp;hash=90681d60c525fb60c505c919a48f014e" href="https://images-na.ssl-images-amazon.com/images/I/61aU8wqHYbL._UX679_.jpg" rel="nofollow ugc noopener" target="_blank">brown leather coat</a> with a wool inside and dark brass buttons the color of coffee.</span></span><br/>
</span><br/>
<span style="font-size: 26px"><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ff4d4d"><b>H</b></span></span><span style="font-size: 15px"><span class="fixed-color" style="color:rgb(255, 128, 0)"><span style="font-family: 'Bad Script', 'cursive'">e unlocked the car with his key, popped the lock on Rose's side, then slid in the key into the ignition. It went in peacefully; no questions no arguments. He yearned that all things were as simple in their mechanics and functions as cars. Jason didn't care for the way human nature consisted of diatribes one after another; What house he grew up in, what school did he go to? The why, the who-what-the where and the how; till he was so crazy inside, he was ready to tear his hair out. It was one of the main reasons he didn't get along with anyone with the exception of Rose. Of course, that meant the rest over guys often spewed bullshit about him, and any girl who was anyone wanted him an all the glamor that his bad-boy image gave off.</span></span></span><br/>
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<span style="font-size: 26px"><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ff4d4d"><b>S</b></span></span><span style="font-size: 15px"><span class="fixed-color" style="color:rgb(255, 128, 0)"><span style="font-family: 'Bad Script', 'cursive'">ure, he had his few, a select few friends here and there. But, for the most part, he was a loner. </span></span></span><br/>
<br/>
<span style="font-size: 26px"><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ff4d4d"><b>A</b></span></span><span style="font-size: 15px"><span class="fixed-color" style="color:rgb(255, 128, 0)"><span style="font-family: 'Bad Script', 'cursive'">s he awaited Rose, whom he'd told through the bathroom door to dress warmly--there was a cold front coming through. That only meant one thing to him: a high likelihood of rain. The cold notwithstanding, as he hunkered patiently, he turned the in-dash <a class="link link--external" data-proxy-href="/proxy.php?link=https%3A%2F%2Fpisces.bbystatic.com%2Fimage2%2FBestBuy_US%2Fimages%2Fproducts%2F5366%2F5366400_sa.jpg%3BmaxHeight%3D640%3BmaxWidth%3D550&amp;hash=446fb1c901cb57a8b47ee37b57d2f732" href="https://pisces.bbystatic.com/image2/BestBuy_US/images/products/5366/5366400_sa.jpg;maxHeight=640;maxWidth=550" rel="nofollow ugc noopener" target="_blank">CD/DVD/DM Receiver</a> on to one of the hundreds of channels of the blue LED lit surround sound stereo which had both Bluetooth capability--so he could dial and talk through the stereo system rather than holding a phone up to his ear. It also had a detachable faceplate. It was one of a few amenities that he'd made to the vehicle.</span></span></span><br/>
<br/>
<span style="font-size: 26px"><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ff4d4d">W</span></span><span style="font-size: 15px"><span class="fixed-color" style="color:rgb(255, 128, 0)"><span style="font-family: 'Bad Script', 'cursive'">ith </span></span></span><span class="fixed-color" style="color:rgb(255, 128, 0)"><span style="font-family: 'Bad Script', 'cursive'">but a single twisting motion of the car key, it was similar to, albeit not exactly like, twisting the lid off of a sweating, ice-cold soda. A crisp revelation brought upon itself by that pungent aroma, by the likes of leather and Armor All; sparking memories, the retelling of history and experience. It was like a bad case of déjà vu. He leaned back in his leather-bound seat, hitting him as he was hitting the garage door opener casting light into the dark den, and those first glimmers of sunlight; warm and inviting just as the car had become. He revved that monstrous 427 big bloc. The pony car transformed into a bull on a dime, and each time 'lunged' forwards only to jerk back in place as the tires squalled and squealed in place leaving smoldering black streaks in its wake and a plume of thick bluish fumes from burning premium-only gas. It got the car a bit warmer for when Rose decided to come down into the garage.<br/>
</span></span><br/>
<i><span style="font-size: 26px"><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ff4d4d">T</span></span></i><span style="font-family: 'Bad Script', 'cursive'"><span class="fixed-color" style="color:rgb(255, 128, 0)">he garage. Another place of safety, if only what someone his size and girth could do to someone else with a torque wrench and a pair of gripper pliers. It was not in their father's best interest to EVER be near Jason's car. With that said he leaned his head back, shut his eyes and remembered. Remembered Rose's sweet, dulcet tones; mellifluous noises as she was sleeping. He wondered if she dreamed of him, like the way he often dreamt of her? It was more than likely a no. The ways he wanted to touch her, feel her, taste her; he could feel the flames of hell breaching the cement floor just to blister his feet. But, it didn't stop him from biting and raking his teeth across his lower lip, thoughtfully and with a terrible sin burning his inure heart away.</span></span><br/>
<br/>
<span style="font-size: 26px"><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ff4d4d">J</span></span><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ff8000"><span style="font-family: 'Bad Script', 'cursive'">ason's eyes shifted behind their closed lids; dancing as his imagination took full control with the ambient music in the background like a soundtrack to his daydreaming. His large hands were pressed flush against her thick, limber and lissome thighs. With his fingers curling against her hips, nails biting into her skin along her waist where the band of her black lace panties. His mouth hovering over her mound bristling with dark reddish hairs. As he peeled them back with deliberate slowness, leaving her aching for him, he granted her yearning a respite; his canines laving the corners of her hips. Dragging his teeth down as if biting deep into an apple. He would hear her gasp softly, groping his head, clenching handful after handful of his short, curly black tresses.<br/>
</span></span><br/>
<span style="font-size: 26px"><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ff4d4d">W</span></span><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ff8000"><span style="font-family: 'Bad Script', 'cursive'">hen he heard the door unlatch, his eyes opened slowly and reluctantly. Jason was not in the same candle-lit room he'd been in inside his fantasy. He wasn't in the worst place to be--he loved his car. But, that heated atmosphere, he needed it. He'd wanted it--yearned for it. But as his sister sat in the seat next to him, made to pucker her lips as she had put a fresh coat of cherry red lipstick, and smokey black eyeshadow--a thick outline of ebony trailed along her lashes. She was in a tank top that she seemed to almost want to burst free of--even though he'd recommended she dress warmer--and army pants with black tennis shoes. <br/>
</span></span><br/>
<span style="font-size: 26px"><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ff4d4d">R</span></span><span style="font-family: 'Bad Script', 'cursive'"><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ff8000">oslyn's sense of style was...something to be desired. But, if it made her happy then he'd not scold her until it became unbearably bad. Like the time she tried to wear her thong high up on her hips. Then he stepped in and lay the law down. He would see that she dressed at least somewhat modestly. No sister of his would dress like a tramp--even if it turned him on in secret.<br/>
</span><br/>
<span class="fixed-color" style="color:rgb(255, 204, 153)">"</span></span><span style="font-size: 26px"><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ff4d4d">R</span></span><span style="font-family: 'Bad Script', 'cursive'"><span class="fixed-color" style="color:rgb(255, 204, 153)">os..."</span><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ff8000"> Jason enunciated her abbreviated name very clearly. Never a good sign.</span><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ffcc99"> " I told you to dress warmly."</span><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ff8000"> He proclaimed. </span><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ffcc99">"It's going to really rain today, and hard."</span><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ff8000"> He told his younger sister. He'd always been very in tune with nature since as long as he could remember, so about 26-years now. </span><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ffcc99">"Why are you in that outfit of all the things you could have worn that would have kept you a bit warmer?"</span><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ff8000"> He questioned.<br/>
</span></span><br/>
<span style="font-size: 26px"><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ff4d4d">B</span></span><span style="font-family: 'Bad Script', 'cursive'"><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ff8000">efore she could throw out one of her excuses, he sighed, shook his head then told her </span><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ffcc99">"Fine, just take my Harley jacket when we get to school."</span><br/>
</span><br/>
<span style="font-size: 26px"><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ff4d4d">H</span></span><span style="font-family: 'Bad Script', 'cursive'"><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ff8000">e shifted gears as she put her seatbelt on. She'd know she only had a few seconds to fumble with the buckle--he liked to have launched the car into space-- backward he could muster that much thrust. The magnificence of the horsepower at work shot the car backward, up the incline that led down into their garage and out onto the street with a heavy 'thump' that had them bouncing around. He'd palmed the steering column the entire way up so that when then they hit the street, they were already erect and facing the direction they needed to go in. It was thrilling to be sure. One muscled arm extended forwards, adjusting the dial on the volume to go up when the song by Hozier called "Take me to Church" started to play. He then quickly shifted gears into park, revved the engine loudly, loud enough the neighbors could hear then hit first gear and took off like a bat outta hell.<br/>
</span><br/>
<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ffcc99">"My lover's got humour<br/>
<br/>
She's the giggle at a funeral<br/>
Knows everybody's disapproval<br/>
I should've worshipped her sooner<br/>
If the Heavens ever did speak<br/>
She is the last true mouthpiece<br/>
Every Sunday's getting more bleak<br/>
A fresh poison each week<br/>
'We were born sick, ' you heard them say it<br/>
My church offers no absolutes<br/>
She tells me 'worship in the bedroom'<br/>
The only heaven I'll be sent to<br/>
Is when I'm alone with you<br/>
I was born sick, but I love it<br/>
Command me to be well<br/>
Amen, Amen, Amen<br/>
{Chorus}<br/>
<br/>
Take me to church<br/>
I'll worship like a dog at the shrine of your lies<br/>
I'll tell you my sins and you can sharpen your knife<br/>
Offer me that deathless death<br/>
Good God, let me give you my life<br/>
<br/>
Take me to church<br/>
I'll worship like a dog at the shrine of your lies<br/>
I'll tell you my sins and you can sharpen your knife<br/>
Offer me that deathless death<br/>
Good God, let me give you my life</span><br/>
</span><br/>
<span style="font-size: 26px"><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ff4d4d">T</span></span><span style="font-family: 'Bad Script', 'cursive'"><span class="fixed-color" style="color:rgb(255, 128, 0)">hey sped past houses and homes, they were awash in the brilliance and majesty of the splitting sky. They were leaving before the busses could come--he did not like to slow down or stop unnecessarily. But they left early because she had cheer practice and he had football practice. He often took a detour route, driving down long, winding backroads. Cornfields whipped by as Roslyn's brother Jason tested the curves with precision and skill on a staggering skill. He mine as well have been a professional driver like the ones in the Indy 500 or NASCAR or even one of the European circuits.<br/>
</span><br/>
<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ffcc99">If I'm a pagan of the good times<br/>
My lover's the sunlight<br/>
To keep the Goddess on my side<br/>
She demands a sacrifice<br/>
To drain the whole sea<br/>
Get something shiny<br/>
Something meaty for the main course<br/>
That's a fine looking high horse<br/>
What you got in the stable?<br/>
We've a lot of starving faithful<br/>
That looks tasty<br/>
That looks plenty<br/>
This is hungry work<br/>
Take me to church<br/>
<br/>
I'll worship like a dog at the shrine of your lies<br/>
I'll tell you my sins and you can sharpen your knife<br/>
Offer me that deathless death<br/>
Good God, let me give you my life<br/>
<br/>
Take me to church<br/>
I'll worship like a dog at the shrine of your lies<br/>
I'll tell you my sins and you can sharpen your knife<br/>
Offer me that deathless death<br/>
Good God, let me give you my life</span></span><br/>
<br/>
<span style="font-size: 26px"><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ff4d4d">A</span></span><span class="fixed-color" style="color:rgb(255, 128, 0)"><span style="font-family: 'Bad Script', 'cursive'">s they pulled up to their school, the girls cheered and the jocks simply glared. Muttering "show off" as he pulled into an open parking lot with his engine rumbling particularly loud. Shutting off the car, Jason opened the door, stepped out of the car with his black boots stepping heavily over the asphalt. He grabbed his book bag from behind his seat as he left the car. He then shimmied out of his coat and tossed it to his sister. It smelled heavily of him, even more than his shirt had; had a black cherry cigar smell mixed with a liquor of Jim Beam's 'Devils Cut'. It mixed in with the odor of testosterone and perspiration as well as his flamboyant cologne and deodorant which mixed to give it that leathery, tobacco and sultry smoky hints that would forever tug at her senses. He then handed her his only umbrella.<br/>
</span></span><br/>
<span style="font-family: 'Bad Script', 'cursive'"><span class="fixed-color" style="color:rgb(255, 204, 153)">"</span></span><span style="font-size: 26px"><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ff4d4d">I</span></span><span style="font-family: 'Bad Script', 'cursive'"><span class="fixed-color" style="color:rgb(255, 204, 153)">f you get done before me, just wait inside. Once I get through practice at the end of today, I'll give you a ride home before work."</span></span><span class="fixed-color" style="color:rgb(255, 128, 0)"><span style="font-family: 'Bad Script', 'cursive'"> He said to Roslyn. his grey eyes shimmering even in the hazy skies above. </span></span><span style="font-family: 'Bad Script', 'cursive'"><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ffcc99">"Going to look at an apartment today, you want to come?" </span></span><br/>
<br/>
<span style="font-size: 26px"><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ff4d4d">N</span></span><span class="fixed-color" style="color:rgb(255, 128, 0)"><span style="font-family: 'Bad Script', 'cursive'">ormally, what would happen was he'd show up at school, drop her off, get called into his job as a volunteer firefighter, go do the drills then come back after school had closed and do football practice which started just as the cheerleaders were finishing up.  He practiced with the high schoolers to teach them and groom them. But to be honest, he was a one-man wrecking crew who had strength <i>and</i> speed. He could score touchdowns and run down a runner, and plow over a QB. After that, he'd work his fixed job as a skilled mechanic.<br/>
</span></span><br/>
<span style="font-size: 26px"><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ff4d4d">B</span></span><span class="fixed-color" style="color:rgb(255, 128, 0)"><span style="font-family: 'Bad Script', 'cursive'">ut all that was about to change. It started with a man called George--or was it Gregory? Who gave a fuck--he had his eyes on Jason's sister--he was going to learn the hard way what happens when you cross a line with Jason Alexander Black.<br/>
<br/>
</span></span>​</div>