TITLE: Untamed Love
AUTHOR: mmmh-Hot-Sauce
RATING: R ... Will become NC-17 later [b]This story contains elements that are extremely crude and may be offensive to some. If you are offended by vulgar language or do not prefer racial slurs, this story is most likely not for you.[/b]
DISCLAIMER: I don't own any of these characters, well, maybe one or two, but as for the rest of them, they are property of ME and Warner Bros. Pictures. Once again, Iown nothing. If I did, I would happily be relaxing somewhere nice and tropical. Preferably with a lot of hot women in skimpy clothing. But unfortunately, I don't. So I'm sitting in my nearly cleared out dorm room, with a laptop that is held together with duct tape because I can't afford to fix it, praying to any and every entity out there that no one decides to sue me.
SPOILERS: Completely AU
SUMMARY: The story takes place in Boise Idaho, mid 90's. Willow is kind of a slacker who idolizes Elvis and is a fanatic of all things rock-N-roll. Tara on the other hand has a demanding, unusual job.
FEEDBACK: I would be grateful for your comments.
NOTE 1: Thank you to my amazing Beta haha228 for helping me with some grammar issues and rearranging some of the sentences so they flowed together a little better. :grin
NOTE 2: A update will be posted every other Wednesday!
CHAPTER 1
"You're joking with me, right?" said a young hipster, as she flirted profusely in the hopes of picking up up the older women named Candice sitting at the bar next to her.
"I ain't joking," the women confirmed as she took a sip of her cocktail.
"In Jailhouse Rock he's everything rockabilly's about. I mean he is Rockabilly, baby! Mean, surly, nasty, and rude… he's got it all. In that movie he couldn't give a fuck about anything except rockin' and rollin'. Livin' life fast, dyin' young, and leaving behind a good-looking corpse, ya know." She paused for a second from her rant to take a sip of her own drink, a whiskey sour. Twisting her head back to look at the dancer who had just ended her shift. "I love that scene where after he's made it big he's throwing a big ass cocktail party, and all these big shots are there, and he's singing, 'Baby… Baby You're So Square... Baby, I Don't Care.'"
"Yeah that was a good scene," Candice admitted with a light faux smile. She took another sip of her drink and continued to listen to the younger women's rant.
"Now, they got him dressed like a fucking jock. He's wearing these stupid-lookin' sailor pants, this … this horrible checkered stripped sweater. Elvis ain't no sweater boy!" She said in outrage, slamming her drink down on the bar table. "To top it off, I even think they got him wearin' penny loafers … And despite all that shit, and all them goddamn fucking highbrows at the party, with that big ass house, and those ridiculous clothes, Elvis … he's still a rude-lookin' motherfucker." She raised her glass as a salute to the King, spilling half of the beverage on her hand and table before downing the liquor in a single long gulp.
"Amen sister," Candice said, feeling oddly charmed by the young women sitting on the stool besides her. "Do you mind?" she asked as she pulled a crumpled package of cigarettes out of her sweater pocket.
Shaking her head no, the Elvis fanatic continued on with her tirade. "I'd watch that hillbilly and I'd want to be him so bad." The girl admitted wholeheartedly. "Elvis looked good. I'm no dick licker, but Elvis was one good lookin' dude. He was fuckin' prettier than most women I've dated… most women. I always said if I ever had to fuck a guy... I mean had too 'cause my life depended on it... I'd fuck Elvis."
"I'd fuck Elvis, too." Candice admitted with a slight chuckle as she took a long drag from her cigarette.
"Really?" The hipster asked, her interest peaked. "You would?"
"Well, when he was alive," the stripper clarified. "I wouldn't fuck him now."
"I don't blame you," said the younger girl with a goofy grin as a soft laughter escaped Candice's lips. "So we'd both fuck Elvis. It's nice to meet other lesbians with common interests, isn't it?"
"You're funny kid," Candice laughed out as she dabbed her cigarette out in the ashtray.
"Well, enough about the King, how 'bout you?" she asked as she rotated the empty whiskey glass between her palms.
"How 'bout me what?" asked Candice with an arched eyebrow.
"How 'bout y-you go to the movies with me tonight?" The younger girl asked, a shy smile crossing her lips and her eyes looking everywhere but straight at Candice.
"What are we gonna see?" Candice asked frankly as she pulled another cigarette out of the carton.
"A George Miller triple feature. "Mad Max", "Mad Max Two: The Road Warrior", and "Mad Max Beyond Thunderdome," the girl added excitedly, obviously also a great fan of Mel Gibson.
"Who' the hell is Mel Givon? Candice asked with a quizzical look on her face.
"Mel Gibson," the girl corrected. " And he is, bar none, the greatest actor to come out of Australia and do a dystopian futuristic movie.
"You wanna take me to some fantasy sci-fi movie?" Candice said in complete shock, not believing that this was what the woman had planned to take her to see.
"Three, kick ass, sci-fi movies." The younger, and slightly more intoxicated women said as she held up three fingers.
Taking another drag from her cigarette, Candice replied, "I don't think so, not my cup of tea." With a laugh she swirled herself off of the red leather bar stool and walked towards the back entrance, waving goodbye to a colleague as she left.
The smell of weed weighed heavily in the small apartment and the dense fog wafting trough the back bedroom made it it hard to see. The sounds of city life could be heard flowing in through an open window in the living room. The incessant blaring of car horns, gunshots and noises of random acts of violence outside indicated that the apartment was located in a rundown and neglected part of town. Like the paint peeling off the walls in brittle flakes, the once green carpet now stained black indicated that the inside of the dwelling was in not much better condition than the outside.
On the bed in the back room, where the fog was rolling thick, a huge open suitcase filled with clear plastic bags of white powder sat on the rumpled mattress. Around the suitcase, several shotguns and hand pistols had been carelessly strewn about. The far wall boasted a large flat screen TV with the show "Sanford and Son" playing on mute.
To the left of the bed, by the front of the room, was a rectangular wooden table. Rack Bastien, a wigger drug dealer and his right hand man Forest Gates sat around the small table. Little empty plastic bags, a metal scale, neat lines of cocaine, and open baggies containing weed adorned the tables surface.
"Nigger please," Rack said off offhandedly to Forest. "Get outta my face with that bullshit."
"Naw man, he don't be doin' that shit" said Forest, pointing to the thin faced African American sitting across the table from them.
"That's bullshit." Rack said, his gangster accent showing through. "You're a fucking liar."
Just as the words left Rack's mouth, Nickolas Watson, a rather large, stout and mean looking black man entered the bedroom. As he walked towards the bed he held up two greasy brown paper bags in his hands, both full of hamburgers and french fries to assuage the hunger of the four men.
"Hell no man, that's some serious shit," the thin African American replied to Rack's earlier statement.
"Nigger, you lie like a big dog," Rack said, staring the man straight in the eyes.
"What the fuck are you all talkin' about?" Nickolas asked the men as he plopped his large frame down on the couch besides the thin black man.
"Cameron here say he don't be eatin' the pussy," Rack said with a snort, disbelief written all over his face.
"Shit, any nigger say he don't eat pussy is lying his fuckin' ass off," huffed out Nickolas as he took a giant bite out of his cheese burger.
"I heard that." laughed Rack.
"Hold on a sec, big Nick. You sayin' you eat pussy?" Cameron asked, turning his attention from the wannabe black man Rack, to the hefty man sitting to his left.
"Nigger, I eat everything." Nickolas admitted with a shit eating grin before taking an enormous bite out of his hamburger. "I eat pussy. I eat the butt. I eat every motherfuckin' thing in sit." With that said he took another rather large bite from his burger.
"Preach on, big N." Forest said from beside Rack, raising his fist into the air.
"Look here. If I ever did eat some pussy," Cameron started before pausing to grab himself some fries. After stuffing a handful of the oily potato strips into his mouth, he resumed with his train of thought "I would never eat any pussy…but, if I did eat some pussy, I sure as hell wouldn't tell no goddamn body. I'd be ashamed as a motherfucker."
"So you're telling me you won't eat pussy? Shit!" Big Nick exclaimed, throwing a crumpled up hamburger wrapper at Cameron's head. "Nigger, you smoke enough shrooms, your dumb ass'll do a lot ah crazy ass things. Motherfucker, you be so high you'd be up there sucking a niggers' dicks."
"Heard that," Rack said with a snarl as he bumped fists with Nicholas.
"Yeah, yeah, that's right. Laugh it up. It's so funny, oh it's so funny," Cameron said angrily as he took a hit of a joint that had been resting on the table. "There used to be a time when sisters didn't know shit about gettin' their pussy licked," He replaced the roach back onto the table before turning his attention back to the two drug dealers. "Then the sixties came and they started fuckin' around with white boys. And white boys are freaks for that shit."
"Because it's good!" Rack proclaimed with a sneer, dragging the word 'good' out longer then necessary.
"Then, after a while sisters start getting use to gettin' their little pussy eaten, licked, and play'd with. And it's all because of you white boys," he said, pointing directly at Rack's smirking face "had to make pigs out of yourselves, you fucked it up for every nigger in the world everywhere."
"Rack," Nickolas stepped in, cutting off the smaller man's rant. "On behalf of me and all the brothers who aren't here, I'd like to express our gratitude." At that, Rack, Forest, and Big Nick busted out in laughter causing Cameron's face to scrunch up in irritation.
"Go on ya pussy eaters... Laugh," Cameron grouched out as he picked up his half smoked blunt. Pointing the joint at Nickolas, "You look like you be eatin' pussy. You all got pussy eatin' faces. Now if a nigger wants to get his dick sucked, he's got to do a bunch of weird, fucked up shit."
"So you admit it, you do eat pussy!" Laughed out Forest as he reached over the small table, yanking the bud out of Cameron's hand.
"Hell no. Na, na!" Cameron protested, waving his hands in front of his face.
"You don't like it, but you eat that shit," remarked Nickolas with a chuckle. Looking at Rack and Forest, with a shake of his head, "he eats it."
"Damn skippy," Rack said as he puckered out his lips. "He like it, too."
"Me thinketh he doth protest too much," Big Nick said in a mock English accent as he stuck out his chest.
"Well fuck you guys then!" Cameron half yelled as he sat further back in his seat. "You guys are all fucked up!"
"Why you trippin' homeboy? We jus' fuckin' with ya. But I wanna ask you a question." Rack said, his face becoming serious. The sneer that was adorning his face moments before no longer there. "You with some fine bitch, I mean a full figure, a perfect ten, brick shit house bitch … I got it. You're with Lisa Bonet. You're with Lisa Bonet and you say "Bitch, suck my dick!"," Rack quipped, standing up from his seat with a flash. "And then Lisa Bonet says, "First things first, nigger, I ain't suckin' shit till you bring your ass over here and lick my bush!" Now, what do you say?"
"I tell Lisa Bonet, "Suck my dick or I'll beat your ass!" Cameron shot back with a proud smile. He was a real man, after all.
"Nigger, get real," remarked Big Nick with a wave of his hand. "You so much as lay one finger on Lisa Bonet, she'll have you ass in Wayne County so fast your head'll spin."
Who you kiddin', back off, you ain't beatin' shit. Now what would you do," Rack asked again, not satisfied with Cameron's answer.
"I'd say fuck it!" Cameron said, slamming his hand down onto the table.
Disgusted with the young man's answer, Rack, Forest, and Nick removed themselves from the table and walk away, leaving Cameron sitting all alone with a confused look on his face. "Ain't no man have to eat pussy!" Cameron yelled at their backs.
"Take that weak shit somewhere else," Big Nick said, not even looking at him, his full attention now turned to the big screen TV playing reruns of Sanford and Son.
Marching back and forth across the room in sheer aggravation, Rack asked furiously, "You tryin' to tell me you'd tell Lisa Bonet to fuck it?" .
"If it came down to who eats who, damn straight white boy," Cameron said as he looked into Rack's scarred up face.
"With that terrible mug of yours if Lisa Bonet told you to eat her pussy, shave her ass, suck her toes, and chow down on her shit, nigger, you'd aim to please." Rack spat out, his agitation showing through.
"I'm hip," Big Nick chirped in, not taking his eyes off of the TV.
"In fact, I'm gonna show you what I mean with a little demonstration," Rack said with a smile, as he shook his hands to limber up. "Big N, toss me that shotgun."
Without turning away from Sanford and Son, Nickolas picked up the shotgun laying next to him and tosses it to Rack.
"All right, check this out," Rack said to Cameron as he ran his right hand gently up and down the barrel of the shotgun, caressing the smooth metal. "Now, pretend this is the lovely Lisa Bonet. And … you're you." Then, in a blink of an eye, he aimed the barrel of the shotgun at Cameron's chest. Squeezing the trigger once, he watched as the bullet blew a hole the size of a dinner plate into the arrogant man's torso.
Jumping off of the bed, Big Nick spun towards Rack but he was shocked to see Forest's gun already waiting for him. Fired from across the room, the blast from the silent man's shotgun hit the bigger man in the upper right shoulder, spinning him around like a bottle top. Quickly making his way from Cameron's dead body sprawled out on the couch, Rack approached the newest victim writhing on the floor and fired again.
Once the man's incessant squirming stopped. Rack collected the brown suitcase full of cocaine and headed for the bedroom door, Forest following close behind him. As the two men reached the open door, Rack turned around, surveying the carnage left behind, hocked a lougie and walked out.