Needs (An Erotic Pulsation)

Needs

An Erotic Pulsation

Scarlet Chill

Author’s Note: This is a work of erotic fiction.  The material contained herein is intended for readers over 18 years of age.

Delicious Freedom

With a shudder, Steel glanced over his shoulder at the wire fence as it
slowly became smaller in the distance.  Shoving his hands in the pockets of his torn stonewashed jeans, he headed towards the bus station.  With only $80 to his name and not a single family member to stand beside him, Steel had no idea where he would go.  But one thing was certain: he was getting the hell out of Oregon.  Ten years of false imprisonment for murder in the state’s most notorious men’s correctional institution had infused a vagabond longing in the 37 year old man.

Browsing the various destinations at the bus station, he selected a
route bound for Oakland, California.  He had never been to California but had spent countless hours in prison dreaming about the Golden State…and about its beautiful, tanned women.  Handing over a 5 dollar bill to the driver, Steel walked towards the back of the bus and took a window seat.   Immediately, he felt a pair of suspicious eyes boring into him from the side.  Steel knew he made an intimidating spectacle in his tattered old clothes that were too tight for his exquisitely defined muscles.  He scoffed under his breath, thinking how the old woman staring at him didn’t know what he had endured in the past decade.  Exercise, in the form of hours of punishing daily drills in his cell, had been his only release.

Steel stared out the window throughout the entire bus ride, grinning
crookedly when he saw a sign that said “Leaving Portland” and smiling from ear to ear as they crossed the border into California.  He drank in the sights as though he had spent the past 10 years as a blind man and finally received the gift of vision.  But the gnawing concerns of where he would sleep and how he would earn money were like new prison bars forming around his heart.

Wrestling his concern’s aside, Steel exhaled in relief as the bus pulled into the station.  Oakland wasn’t a pretty city, but it
also wasn’t his final destination.  On a particularly brutal day laboring in the prison yard, Steel had decided that he would go to the glorious wine country of Sonoma if he were ever set free.  That way, if he couldn’t find a job or a place to sleep, at least he could drink himself into oblivion with fine wine.

Steel boarded the connecting bus as his stomach rumbled.  He hadn’t enjoyed a good meal since the days before his
bogus murder trial.  During the trial for the homicide of his neighbor, he had been so stressed that he lost all appetite for food.  In prison, his appetite had returned with a vengeance, but he couldn’t stomach the moldy sandwiches and mystery meat, so he usually wolfed down a stack of protein bars from Commissary.

But tonight would be different.  Rubbing his hands together, he salivated at the thought of a thick steak marinated in its own juices and served alongside a pillow of mashed potatoes drowning in salty gravy.  A spicy bottle of Pinot Noir would go nicely with that meal.  So what if he would be flat broke after eating like a king?  He had been living like a pauper for too long and couldn’t endure another minute of it.

Spying an expensive steakhouse shortly after hopping off the bus, Steel began striding towards it and then stopped dead in his tracks.  Grimacing, he looked down at the rags he wore and touched a hand to his unshaven face.  His electric blue eyes shone with rage as he realized that he wouldn’t be seated in the restaurant without a jacket and tie.  So he improvised and plodded over to a national chain steakhouse and sat in the corner.  The meal might not be as tasty, but at least it would leave him with some money.  Then he could use the remainder of the funds to do a little tasting at a local winery.

The waitress who took his order wore a black apron and a swinging
auburn ponytail.  She was young and fresh and looked very appealing in his state of sensory deprivation.  But she was just a girl.  Not more than 18 or 19.  Steel needed a woman.  A woman who knew how to please a man and would be able to endure the ferocious desires that had been boiling in him since the day he had been locked in a cage.

Curtly, he gave the girl his order and tried to ignore the look of horror on her face as she appraised his attire.  Or maybe it was the vulture tattoo on his forearm that was unnerving her.  Whatever the reason, he wanted to eat his dinner and hurry out of the dim, suffocating place.  After only ten minutes in the joint, it already felt like the walls were closing in, and he needed
to reclaim his freedom.

Voraciously, Steel shoved the sirloin and spuds down his throat, barely chewing in his haste to consume the food.  He washed the meal down with
a mug of cheap beer and wiped his face on a napkin.  Hurrying over to the cash register, he paid and left a decent tip for the girl before shuffling out of the restaurant and into a majestic purple sunset.

Steel fought back an
ambush of tears at the sight of the sun disappearing over the horizon.  He had forgotten how beautiful a sunset could be.  The swirl of fiery and pastel colors in the sky was mesmerizing, and he stood on the curb for long minutes just staring heavenward.

Finally, Steel started walking again, heading south randomly and peeling his eyes for a winery.  A mile or so down the road, he spotted a sign for Lush Grape Winery.  Licking his lips in anticipation, he followed the sign until he reached the edge of a sprawling vineyard.  Inhaling the organic scents all
around him, Steel again battled to prevent himself from crying.  This first taste of freedom was simply overwhelming.

“May I help you?” A woman’s
sweet voice inquired.

Whirling around, Steel’s heart barreled against his sternum as he gazed at the
breathtaking woman.  Donning an ankle length, floral patterned dress with sling back sandals, the brunette was stunning.  He swallowed as his eyes couldn’t help taking the tour of her luscious curves tucked inside the feminine dress.  Her breasts looked ample and round, and her hips framed a delightfully slender waist.

Steel shifted his gaze nervously to the fertile ground, fearing that he wouldn’t be able to utter an intelligible word to this sensual woman.  She looked at him expectantly, but her features were absent of the judgment and disapproval he had seen plastered to so many others today.

“Sir, were you here to take a tour of the vineyard?  Or just wanted a little wine tasting?” She ventured, looking directly into his eyes.

Noticing that her eyes were a bewitching shade of brown, Steel tried to formulate a coherent reply.  “Uh, wine tasting,” he clipped, hating himself for the caveman reply.  But it was all he could manage as he struggled to keep his eyes on her face.  Even her face was a distraction, though.  Her cocoa brown eyes sparkled too brilliantly, and her lips curved too temptingly.

“Great!  I’m Mary Anne. I own this vineyard,” she informed as his eyes widened.

“Wow,” he said foolishly.  “I mean, impressive.  It’s very beautiful,” he drawled, though the only beauty he could notice now was hers.

“Thank you,” she replied, walking a few paces towards a tavern.

He cleared his throat and followed her, trying not to gawk at the sway of her hips or fantasize about clutching his hands over her
buttocks.  Silently, Mary Anne led him to the empty tavern.

“We usually have
a bigger crowd.  But you’ve come at an off hour.  People usually start pouring in later at night on a Saturday,” she explained, opening the door.

“It’s Saturday?” He mumbled without thinking.  Steel was no longer accustomed to keeping track of clocks and calendars.  His days had been painfully monotonous in prison, each night bleeding into another morning.  But with an excited shiver coursing through his body and a familiar throb in his groin, he felt that tonight would be extraordinary.

Regarding him quizzically, Mary Anne gestured for him to have a seat on a bar stool.  “What’s that you said?”

“Um nothing,” he hedged, afraid to make more of a fool of himself than he had already.

“Any favorites?” She queried, pointing to a long row of bottles.

“Pinot Noir,” he replied as she nodded and smiled.

“Good choice.  I know a lot of people say Oregon has the best Pinot Noir, but I would have to say that we do in California…” she trailed off, noting how the man flinched as soon as she said Oregon.  “Did I say something wrong?”

“Not at all.  I’m sure everything is better in California,” he replied with a sly wink.  It was his first attempt at flirting with the woman, and it felt exhilarating.

“I didn’t catch your name,” Mary Anne commented, selecting a trio of Pinot Noir bottles and setting them in front of him.

“Steel,” he answered, drawing in a sharp breath.

“Steal?” She echoed in surprise.  “As in ‘I’m going to steal your heart?’”

“No.  Steel.  As in hard as steel,” he replied firmly as her expression of surprise deepened.

“Is that your real name?” She asked doubtfully, pouring him his first taste.

“No, but it might as well be.  People have been calling me Steel for the past 10 years,” he declared, swishing the wine around in the glass.

“I see,” she mumbled.  “Anyway, this is our special house blend,” she informed, pointing to the glass.

“Aren’t you going to drink with me?” He asked, his eyes unblinking as they surveyed her face.

“Well, no.  I don’t drink with the customers,” she said uneasily, pushing a wisp of dark hair away from her brow.

“Could you make an exception?” He prodded.

“I don’t think so, sir…”

“Steel,” he corrected brusquely.  “Why not?  Wine is one of the finer things in life, and I haven’t had
anything fine in too damn long,” he revealed, curling his fingers around the stem of the glass.

“Uh, I don’t know what to say…” she faltered, looking down at the bar.  The man was unnerving her with his intense perusal and odd morsels of conversation.

Boldly, he took the bottle of wine from her hand and poured her a full glass.  “Cheers,” he offered, raising his glass to tap hers.

Hesitantly, Mary Anne picked up the glass and took a tentative sip.  “Are you from around here?” She asked, hoping to learn more about the enigmatic stranger.

“I’m a drifter,” he replied vaguely, sipping his own wine.  “Delicious,” he murmured while fixing his gaze on her wine-stained lips.

“Thank you,” she whispered, pressing her lips to the rim of the glass as he persisted to ogle her.

“I don’t mean to stare at you, but you are damn beautiful,” he muttered as his erection created a painful friction against the fabric of his jeans.

“Thank you.  No one’s said that to me in a very long time,” she admitted, taking a deeper swig of the red wine.

“You’ve gotta be kidding me,” he said in genuine disbelief.  On a rising note of curiosity, he probed, “No husband?  No boyfriend?”

“Just an ex-husband,” she answered bitterly.  “And 2
teenage children,” she added more brightly.

“
Teenage children?” He asked in disbelief.

“Yes,” she twisted her luscious lips into a smile as he struggled to keep his breathing calm.  “How old do you think I am?  And don’t try to flatter me.”

“Well if you’ve got teenage kids, you’ve got to be at least in your late 30’s, but I wouldn’t say any older than that,” he wagered honestly.

Her smile widened as she said proudly, “I’m 46.”

Steel winced in genuine astonishment.  “You know you look better than most women who are 26, right?  And by better, I mean hotter.  Sexier.  More desirable,” he said in a raw tone as her face flamed.

“Thank you,” she laughed
, though the intensity of his words jolted her.

“Don’t thank me,” he muttered.

Reaching across the bar, he dared to place a hand on her cheek and stroke the velvety soft skin.  His fingers trembled at this slight contact, and she peered at him in surprise.  Trying to rein in his pent up passions, he parted his lips and angled them towards hers.  A foot of space separated their faces as she opened her lips as well.  Confident that the intoxicating woman wanted to be kissed, Steel grabbed her face in his hands and fed off her pliant mouth ravenously.  The kiss quickly became reckless as their tongues touched, and he knocked over a wine glass with his elbow.

The glass crashed onto the hardwood floor as Mary Anne broke off the kiss and stood away from him.  “When was the last time you were near a woman?” She asked bluntly
, touching her fingertips to her bruised lips.

Steel knew he could fabricate any story he wanted, and Mary Anne would probably believe him.  Prison makes a man highly adept at weaving tangled webs.  But a long forgotten part of him felt compelled to tell her the truth.  Maybe she would turn him away and leave him starving, but he had to take that
chance.  So much of his life had been wasted in dubious prison friendships and palpable loneliness.

“10 years.  It’s been 10 years since I was near a woman.”

Suddenly, Mary Anne noticed the sinister vulture tattoo on his forearm and the shabby clothing he wore.  Her intuition told her that she had just kissed an ex-con, and the idea plagued her with shivers.  “Why?” She asked cautiously.

“Because I just got out of prison,” he confessed, confirming her suspicions.  As she backed away from him, he explained urgently, “
But I’m
not
a criminal!  I was just released today after being cleared of a crime I didn’t commit.  Some of us poor souls in prison really are innocent.  Most are scum, but some of us are in there for the wrong reasons.”