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21 Miles East of Quartzsite

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Thanks to SlaveGirl70 for the help with editing. She suffered so you don't have to.

This is a romance in the shadow of betrayal and revenge.

**************************************

The star-filled Arizona sky was fixed in the windshield as the rest of the state raced past. There were no tail lights ahead and the nearest headlights had merged into a single point in the rearview mirror. Jack relished the clear views and long straight roads of desert driving. He knew that moonrise would soon mask the stars, so he peered over the steering wheel to take them in.

Ancient cinder cones approached on both sides of the road as his thoughts drifted to his now ex-wife. He flashed back to the afternoon he caught her in their bed with Peter. She said that it wasn't what it looked like and that she had done nothing wrong. She asked how he could not trust her after all these years and made it sound like the whole mess was his fault. Just thinking about it drove his blood pressure up and blocked the beauty of the night sky from his mind. He pushed the feelings of betrayal and anger aside, disengaged his mind, and simply drove.

Two dim tail lights emerged from the darkness at the roadside. One of the lights blinked, then blinked again. The deep yellow filament of a flashlight on its last gasp begged for his attention. He slowed to see a woman waving frantically as he passed. He stopped, then reversed to her car.

The woman ran to the passenger window. "Could you please help me?" she pleaded.

"I can't get the spare tire on. I'm sure it will be easy for you."

There was a desperation in her voice that Jack couldn't refuse. He backed his car behind hers so that his headlights lit the vacant rear passenger wheel well. Her car was an early Ford Falcon. It was in good shape for a car that was more than fifty years old, but apparently not in good enough shape.

Jack held the spare up to the studs. "This spare is from a different car, isn't it?"

"Is that a problem?" She looked over his shoulder as Jack showed her that the holes in the wheel were a half inch further apart than the studs on the brake drum.

He got his first look at her while she was illuminated by the headlights. She was wearing a vintage dress. Horn rimmed glasses framed her dark eyes, and deep red lipstick accented her lips. Her dark hair was styled like it belonged with her car and clothes in the early 1960s. The woman herself was young, probably in her mid twenties.

He looked up at her and said, "You need to put the good tire on the good wheel."

"My sister lives in Quartzsite, which is just down the road. Maybe I can do it there."

Jack checked his phone to find it had no signal. "We can't call her, but I can give you a ride if you want."

He turned off her car's parking lights while he waited for her to think. He made a habit of helping people. It was the right thing to do, and he liked the way it made him feel about himself.

She contemplated her situation. Jack was the only person that had stopped in the five hours she been at the roadside. His help was her only option.

"Please give me a lift." she said.

They put the flat, the spare and her bags in the back of his truck. Jack opened the passenger door and offered his hand to help her in.

"Please don't touch me," she said. She sat with her knees together and her hip pressed against the door. Her hands clutched her handbag, which she held tightly in her lap. She stared straight ahead.

"Where are you from?" Jack thought that maybe a conversation would help her relax.

"Chicago."

"Did you drive all the way from Chicago in that Falcon?"

"Yes."

After a couple more one-word answers he gave up on making conversation. They spent the next fifteen minutes listening to the sound of the road passing by.

Jack pulled off the highway at Quartzsite and into a truck stop for gas. "Do you want to give your sister a call?"

It was now after 11, she was at a truck stop in a strange town, and she was flat broke. Her mind grasped for options, but there were none; she'd been out of options since before she left Chicago. Desperation lead her to ask her sister for help and then her sister quit answering the phone. She didn't have to call to know her sister wouldn't answer now.

She dialed anyway, waited, then said, "She's not picking up."

In the light of the gas pumps Jack could see that her left eye was black and blue from a recent beating. There was a fading yellow bruise from an earlier beating on her right cheek. On her left arm was tattooed, "Fuck Yourself, Not Me" and on her right arm was, "Crucify Your Rapist."

She caught him looking and put her arms behind her back.

The signs of abuse made him even more sympathetic to her plight. "I can give you a ride to her house if you'd like."

Her sister lived in a double-wide about fifteen minutes south of town. She knocked on the door, but the lights were out and there was no answer.

Jack knocked on the trailer next door where an elderly snowbird was still watching TV. He asked if they knew anything about their neighbors.

"They moved out a few weeks ago. It's been a lot quieter since they left."

"Do you know where they went?"

"They didn't say. It's not like we were friendly, with those two fighting all the time."

There was no reason to stay, so they got back into Jack's truck and drove back into town.

Jack tried to figure out what he was going to do with this girl. He couldn't just dump her at the truck stop, and the town didn't look like a hotbed for social services. He pondered the tattoos on her arms and the hookers he'd seen on the street corners of Los Angeles. This girl was on a slippery slope that there was no easy way off.

He pulled into the McDonald's next to the truck stop.

"Do you want anything?" he asked.

She shook her head.

He bought two combos then joined her at a table. He ate a couple of bites of one burger then said, "I guess I'm not as hungry as I thought I was. Do you want this?" He pushed the tray with the other combo across the table.

She despised being patronised, but she was hungry and she knew he was trying to be kind. While eating, she studied her benefactor. He was in his late thirties. He was reasonably good looking and fairly fit. He wore a long sleeve shirt and cargo pants that must have come from the outdoor section of a sporting goods store. His truck was a well-worn SUV. It was packed for camping and was covered in dirt. She guessed he was on his way home from a camping trip, but who goes camping alone? She tried to figure what he would want for helping her. Even though he looked tame enough, he would want something, everyone wanted something.

After she finished eating he asked, "What's your plan?"

She used to have a plan. She was going to live with her sister for a couple of months, save some money, then move into an apartment of her own. Now she had a couple of bags of personal crap, a piece of shit car that was stranded twenty one miles east of town and two worthless tires. There was about $27 in her purse and some offensive tattoos on her arms.

"I think my only good option is to marry you."

He laughed. "I don't even know your name."

"I'm Cathryn," she said as she held out her hand.

Jack shook her hand and said, "I'm honored to be the one you'd like to resent for the rest of your life."

After they laughed he said, "Seriously, what are you going to do?"

"Do you mean tomorrow, or for the rest of my life?"

"Let's start with tonight. Where are you going to sleep?"

Her heart dropped at the question. It was getting late and it looked more and more like she was going to be sleeping with this stranger.

He went through a similar calculation. It was almost midnight. If he left now, it would be at least a quarter to four before he got home. He imagined himself staying awake by winding himself up with thoughts of his ex and his former friend, but he had suffered enough self abuse lately. He also felt obliged to help Cathryn. It wasn't that he owed her anything; it was that the task of helping her was only half done, and he needed to finish what he had started. She needed a place to sleep, so he needed to find a room.

There were only a few motels in town. The two they could see from the McDonald's had the 'No Vacancy' signs lit, but they went in to talk to one of the receptionists anyway.

Jack asked, "Do you know where we could get a room?"

"Sorry, we're full. The Gem Expo is this week, so everybody's full."

Jack searched the map on his phone for the closest town with a motel while the receptionist scrolled through something on her computer.

She said, "I have one room that might work. They checked out late, so housekeeping didn't clean it. I'll let you have it if you'll make the bed."

Jack said, "I guess we'll take it."

The receptionist checked them in then retrieved some sheets and towels. She gave the room keys to Jack and the towels and sheets to Cathryn.

Cathryn weighed the sheets, then asked, "How many beds are in the room?"

"Just one queen. Is that a problem?"

Cathryn gave Jack a panicked look.

Jack asked, "We're not married. Is there a cot one of us could sleep on?"

"I'm sorry, everything is out."

On the short walk from the lobby to the room Jack said, "Don't worry. I'll sleep on the sofa or the floor or something."

Cathryn wondered if this guy was for real. She knew there were lots of nice people in the world, but they never stopped on the highway after dark. She inspected the room then said, "We should both just sleep in the bed, but please don't touch me, alright?"

Jack consented. He crawled under the covers in his boxers and a t-shirt and was asleep moments later.

Cathryn wore a vintage nightgown that was sexy without being revealing. She laid under the covers and contemplated her financial situation, the whereabouts of her sister and the fate of her car. She went over everything she knew about Jack. Was he as nice as he seemed? He treated her like a damsel in distress, which was much better than being treated like the sleazy bitch she'd become in Chicago. She didn't want to be that person ever again.

The room heater gradually caught up with the chill in the room. Jack turned in his sleep and kicked off the covers as he rolled onto his back. A beam of moonlight slipped through a gap in the blinds to illuminate his erect penis poking through the gap in his boxers.

Cathryn flashed back to the last time she had seen a penis and the beating that had followed. Thoughts of her rape rose up from the grave she had tried to bury them in. She began to sweat, and her breathing became shallow as a wave of anxiety washed over her. She had to get out of the room. She quickly changed, grabbed her handbag and quietly closed the door.

Jack woke the next morning to find himself alone. Cathryn's luggage was still on the floor, her toiletries were still by the sink and her nightgown was draped over the chair. He slowly showered, shaved and dressed. He watched the local news from Phoenix and otherwise lingered in the room. He called the front desk for messages and checked the cash and cards in his wallet.

On his slow walk to breakfast he noticed that the Falcon's tires were still in the back of his truck. After breakfast he had the tires fixed and killed time in the motel room. At noon he loaded her stuff into his truck and checked out of the room. As he left, he asked the receptionist if she had seen a girl with offensive tattoos on her arms.

"No, but the police wanted to know if anyone was asking about a missing girl."

The police station was a sand-colored building in a sandy lot. Jack asked the officer behind the desk if he knew anything about Cathryn.

"Is that the girl with 'Fuck You' tattooed on her arm?"

"Yea, I suppose so."

"The judge thought she was a flight risk, so the bail is set pretty high."

Bail was just within reach of Jack's combined credit cards. "Holy crap. What are the charges?"

"Soliciting, possession of narcotics and resisting arrest."

Soliciting didn't fit with what Jack knew about Cathryn, but resisting arrest did. "What were the narcotics?"

"Pot. This isn't Colorado you know," said the cop.

Cathryn's mood was bleak. The crack-whore in the cell with her had provided a dismal foreshadowing of her future. She signed some paperwork and collected her handbag. She was surprised to see Jack, but happy he was still around.

They drove east to her car. She watched from inside his truck as he mounted the wheel, lowered the jack and put the tools in her trunk. She felt like she was crossing the finish line for a race that was long over. She got out of the truck and said, "We're wasting our time. I don't have enough money for gas and I don't have anywhere to go even if I did."

The sun was bright but the air was cool. Jack sat on his heels and rehashed what he had been thinking all morning. He said, "...and you don't trust me."

"No, it's not that I don't trust you. Your dick freed itself last night and I couldn't control my anxiety. I saw your erection and I had to get out of the room."

"So, what do you want to do?"

"Can I stay with you until I get my feet on the ground?"

Jack was relieved; he was afraid she would ask for money. He needed to get the bail money back, and this way he could keep an eye on her. He filled her tank in Quartzsite, then she followed him to his apartment in Los Angeles.

His apartment was smaller and less homey than she expected. Packed moving boxes filled the living room. The walls were bare and the refrigerator was nearly empty. She took a shower, then a nap and woke to the smell of soup and grilled cheese sandwiches.

"What's the story with your apartment?"

"I've only been divorced a couple of months. I haven't had a chance to get my shit together."

"How long were you married?"

"Seven years. I guess she'd been having an affair for the last two, so they kind of sucked, but it took me a while to figure out why."

"Did you know the guy?"

"Yea, he was a friend of mine."

"How did you find out?"

"I suspected something was going on. The clues piled up until I caught them in bed. I didn't want it to be true, but it was."

Jack swallowed a spoonful of soup then asked, "What's your story?"

She held out her arms. "Does this give you any clues?"

Jack reached out and held her arms. He ran his finger over the word 'rapist', then asked, "How old were you?"

"Much too young."

"So, this is before the bruises?"

Cathryn nodded.

"Do you have any family other than your sister?"

Cathryn shook her head, and Jack stopped asking questions.

Cathryn got a job as a waitress at a diner with a retro theme. She showed up at the interview looking the part and was hired on the spot. She worked as many shifts as she could and socked the money away. Jack set her room up with the essentials and installed a lock on her door. She insisted she didn't need it, but gave him a peck on the cheek once he'd finished. She hung up some art, unpacked some boxes and tried to make the house more of a home. Their schedules didn't mesh well, but when their time off aligned he showed her what he could of LA. They visited Venice Beach and the Getty Museum, saw the Hollywood sign and walked the Walk of Stars.

Deep down she sensed her ascent up the hierarchy of needs. She no longer worried about where she would sleep or what she would eat, and she wasn't apprehensive about her safety. She was even beginning to feel like she belonged. The girls at the diner accepted her as one of their own, and Jack treated her like feral cat that he was patiently domesticating. She realized that it would be very easy to take advantage of Jack. He let her live rent-free, kept food in the cupboard and didn't ask a lot of questions. In Chicago she might have been greedy, but that didn't feel right here and now. The bitterness that had once consumed her was abating. It was almost like she was happy.

They returned to Quartzsite the day before her trial. Her attorney suggested she plead guilty to the possession charges and innocent to soliciting and resisting. He advised her to wear a short sleeve shirt and pray for mercy from the court.

Cathryn had taken care of the reservations and checked them into the motel.

Jack said, "Hey, this is the same room we had the last time."

"It is."

"But there's only one bed."

Cathryn smiled and said, "...and I only have one night. I could be locked up tomorrow."

After Jack put the luggage down Cathryn turned to face him and said, "How come you've never tried to kiss me?"

"You told me you didn't want me to touch you."

"That was the first night. It's been almost two months. You've had plenty of opportunities."

"Do you want the real reason?"

"Tell me."

"It would be cheating. When you kiss me I want it to be because you want to kiss me, not because you owe me. I want you to be an independent woman, self sufficient and master of your own destiny. I want you to kiss me because of who I am, not what I've done for you."

She reached up and kissed his lips. "Don't you want to be the white knight that rescues the damsel and falls in love."

He slid his fingers through her hair and said, "No one can rescue you, but you."

"You don't think you rescued me that night?"

"I got you out of a jam." Jack reached down and took her hand. He lifted her arm and lightly brushed her tattoos. "This is your prison. All I can do is stand outside and hope you find a way to me."

She kissed him again. Her tongue breached his lips as he pulled her body tightly to his.

She push him away. "What if I never completely escape from my prison?"

He kissed her forehead. "I don't think you will ever be completely free of the emotional scars. But I don't want you to resent me in five years or seven years."

She undid the top button of his shirt. "I'm not the only person in the room with emotional scars, and I'm not willing to wait until the scars are fully healed."

Jack smiled and kissed her. Their tongues mingled in her mouth and then mingled in his. He pulled away and asked, "What happened the last time we were together in this room?"

"I didn't know you, and I wasn't ready."

"Are you ready now?"

"Almost, but I have some rules. You can't do anything that reminds me of my rapist. I want you to lie on the bed and let me take control. Don't touch me unless I tell you to touch me. Don't speak unless I speak to you, and don't moan, whatever you do, don't moan."

"No moaning. Got it."

Cathryn slowly undid the second button on his shirt. "Why did you stop for me that night?"

"It was the right thing to do."

"Yes but hundreds of people sped past. Why did you stop?"

She undid the next button while she waited for him to answer.

"I think it's because the man I aspire to be would stop. He's never in a hurry. He makes time for people. He always stops."

She undid the last button and slid his shirt off and slipped her fingers through the hair on his chest. "It would probably be easier to aspire to be an astronaut or the president."

"Yea, sometimes I get totally fucked."

She hooked her thumbs into his pants and pushed them down. "Well, you are going to get totally fucked tonight, that's for sure."

"I really hope you're being literal."

"Of course I am," she said as she pushed him until he fell onto the bed.

While he lay naked on the bed, she undressed and then slowly put on vintage lingerie. The bra pushed her tits into tight bullets and the panties went almost up to her navel. She took her time securing dark stockings to a garter belt.

She held up her arms and turned around for him to see. "Do you like?"

"Very much."

She sauntered into the bathroom and returned with her deep red lipstick. She casually applied the lipstick while looking in a mirror where he could watch. She touched up her hair and then inspected herself in the mirror. Once she was satisfied she put on a pair of long black gloves.

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