Venomous Snakes

A Writer's Cramp entry: Write a story in 24 hours that includes a variation of each word listed: Motorcycle, Spring, Blanket

Venomous Snakes

         Motorcycling through the back roads of Arizona can lead to adventures far beyond the norm. Such was the situation when I encountered Barbara and Zandor. I met them in a bar in Tucson. I don’t usually go up and introduce myself. I’m rather stand-offish by nature, but Barbara was flirting outrageously across the room, and Zandor tipped his hat.

         I glanced outside while considering the offer. A saguaro cactus was attempting to bloom. Its rounded tubes, shaped rather like large microphones, were cracking open at the tips. The beginnings of white and yellow blossoms were peaking through the points. It was amazing because the rest of the plant was nothing more than a spiny-needled porcupine.

         Through the window, I could also see someone’s car with a blanket of shifting sands all around and on top of it. The car’s paint job wouldn’t look like much soon, the way the wind was scouring it.

         I turned back and walked over to Zandor and Barbara, sliding into the booth when they indicated that I should join them. Zandor called out for more beers, and I'd finished mine, so I was ready for the fresh one the bartender slid onto the table. The peanuts he left went down well, too. I figured they’d have to tide me over until I found a decent steakhouse somewhere close by.

         Barbara was playing footsies under the table. I wasn’t sure how Zandor would feel about that, so I slid my boots down underneath me. Real shame. The lady was dripping with sexual tension. I’d have loved to help her out.

         She laughed, and Zandor gave her a quick look that told me that things weren’t going real well between them. I almost left when I saw that. Coming between a feuding couple is like teasing a brown bear. It just doesn’t make good sense.

         The two of them traded insults for a minute, while I tried to gulp my beer as fast as I could. I had just put down the finished glass when Barbara referred to Zandor as "Bro". That halted me.

         “You mean this is your brother?” I asked, pointing to a grinning Zandor. I was perched at the edge of the booth, ready for a quick get-a-way. When Zandor threw his hand against my back with an accompanying guffaw, he almost knocked me off the seat. But with confirmation of what I’d hoped, I sat back and eased my boots back Barbara’s way. Things were looking up.

         A moment later, she asked me to dance. I wasn’t an eager dancer, but I stood up when she did. She walked me out on the floor. I let her lead so I could get a feel for what she was offering. The springiness in her step told me she was fit as a Texas schoolgirl. It was pure pleasure to watch her bottom swaying to the Country music.

         I corralled that body with my arms. Then I scooped her close and set off to impress her. She matched my steps perfectly. Each time I leaned her back, she tossed her head and laughed, exposing a long, slender neck. I was itching to nibble it.

         When the music slowed, I pulled her even tighter. Her body molded to mine. Barbara was hot as August and felt just as fine.

         But throughout the dances, I kept one eye on Zandor. I couldn’t quite peg the guy. Why was he here with his sister? Why hadn’t he crossed the room and claimed one of the sweet, young things standing at the bar?

         My lips did some munching on Barbara’s neck. She was purring with interest. I pulled back long enough to ask her about her brother. She shrugged and shook her head that she didn't want to talk about him. Then she took my lips in hers. She was a good kisser. Her tongue lit fires that had been too long damped.

         “How about some dinner?” I asked her, thinking about a steak, and the delicious something that might come after. Barbara had a better idea. She slid her legs around me and rode me like a dog. After that, food wasn’t even on my mind.

         We slipped away without a word to Zandor. That made me a little uneasy, but I didn’t feel like asking permission for what I was intending to do with his sister. There was a hotel across the street from the bar. We headed to it. No words needed saying.

         But then outside the office, Barbara suddenly shied and insisted that I should book the room without her. Whatever. Inside, I signed the sheet, forked over the dough, and left with the key in hand. Barbara was waiting just where I’d left her, and we walked hand in hand towards our room.

         I don’t remember anymore than that. I woke with a lump on the back of my head and an ache worse than a hangover. Barbara was nowhere to be found, and, of course, my wallet was gone.

         The roads of Arizona are filled with rattlers. In the nighttime they come out and take in the heat of the asphalt road. One must be vigilent, for their bite can be fatal.

         Somewhere in Tucson or near, there are a couple of snakes far more venomous than any rattler. If you see them, don’t dance with Barbara...

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