It had been an especially hot day, and the sweat running down her back drew a line through the checkered shirt. Raul watched the pooling of the liquid at the base of her spine, the fabric soaked through, forming a triangle of wetness where her shirt was tucked into her pants. It had gotten so bad that it was seeping into the rough denim of her pants and was shaping itself around the outline of her ass, which hadn't stopped moving since about seven that morning. Raul's eyes jerked back up to the checkered material and slowly moved back down the dark spot.
He wasn't sweating, much. What little skin he had left might have been damp but it was so little that it dried quickly. He didn't envy the boss her skin, at this point. She made it perfectly clear that she was miserable and hadn't let up her complaints for almost eight hours.
But they kept walking, because as tired and creaky as the ghoul was he knew that the boss was young and impetuous and very durable. She did not have a plan, other than exploring, and they'd been trudging up and down the hills around Lake Mead as a morning exercise. Said her thighs were getting heavy after too much drinking back in Vegas. All that walking...
Raul's eyes snapped back up to the middle of her back and he told himself there was nothing wrong with appreciating what all that walking could do to one's backside. She wasn't putting on a show, just moving. He'd been watching her moving for a few days, now, and had to admit he liked what he'd seen.
Courier Six, who told him she preferred being called "boss", couldn't remember her name. A lot of other things, she did remember, but not her name, so she settled with Lola.
"Lola," he said.
"Yep," she answered.
"Why Lola?" he asked.
"Listen," she retorted, "there's not much I can do about it, so why not?"
He scratched the skin around the middle of his face when she finally decided to stop at the top of a jutting ridge, and surveiled the distance with her binoculars. "Hot damn," she said. "There's a good skinny-dipping spot right there."
Raul adjusted the pack on his back―not full today, as it had been on other trips―and shrugged. "Sure, boss."
They trudged down to the edge of Lake Mead. Raul had his pistol out and ready before they even saw the Lakelurks, and helped her put down the creatures without much effort. Lola had gotten better every day. Sometimes, in camp, he caught her watching the distance with her scope, sighting in targets and making "bang-bang" noises.
The heat made the Lakelurks stink almost immediately, and she groaned. "Okay, let's get em out of here." She dragged the bodies one by one up the hillside, away from the spot she wanted to swim in. Raul put his pack on the ground and watched. She knew by now he wasn't all that great at hauling shit.
Once the bodies were far enough away she couldn't smell them, she turned to the lake and raised a hand above her eyes. "See anyone?" she asked, removing her Pip-Boy with a snap.
Raul's eyes moved from her ass again, and he chuckled. "Me, boss?"
She rolled her eyes. "I know you ain't blind," she said. "Quit staring at my ass and look out for critters."
"Whatever you say, boss," he responded, calmly. Inside he felt his blood rising, embarrassed.
While he was scanning the hillside and road, she disrobed and waded into the lake. He stood with his back to her. "You want next?" she called out, after ten minutes of splashing.
"Tempting, boss," Raul called back, "but being soaked through does terrible things to my complexion." A piece of dry yucca floated down the hill, then sank like a stone in the heat. He wouldn't mind being in the water, really, but he couldn't afford to go skinny-dipping anywhere near a naked woman, not even another ghoul. It would be too damn embarrassing.
A peek behind him revealed that she'd swum out some forty yards from the beach and was floating in the water, pale skin catching the rays of the sun. He looked back, quickly. All that walking ran through his head again. He wasn't a spring chicken, but he knew how it felt to be young and fit. His jealous knees gave a pang.
"How long is this bath gonna last?" he asked, out of curiosity. His ankles were sore.
"Until I'm clean," she called back.
"I don't think I'll live that long," he muttered. In the desert, you got sand up your ass the minute you stepped on dry land.
"You're being snarky, Raul," she called out. He heard splashing and then the creaking of the boards of the pier. His neck fought his shoulders not to turn and look.
"Forgive me. I'm an old man. We get testy, sometimes."
"C'mon, then," she said. "Turn around, let's have it."
"Have what, boss?" he asked, and refused to look. His head was already full of that ass, he didn't need the extra imagining to fluster him more.
"Get undressed and into the water," she said. "I won't look."
Some heady feeling rose up and he pushed it back down. "Sorry, but really, I don't need one."
"I don't smell like daisies," she said, "and neither do you. Get in there, Raul."
He shook his head. "I can't swim," he lied.
She made a choking noise and wrapped an arm around his chest, turning him to face the water. She'd pulled on her thin undershirt and pants while he wasn't paying attention. "We've been walking all day. I don't want to camp with you if you don't get some kind of bath. You stink like I did, sweat and blood and that weird shit smell that comes from the leather in your boots."
He stared at her little breasts, wet through the shirt, nipples at attention, and swallowed. "That ain't my boots, boss."
"Exactly," she said. "If you don't get a bath, I may as well dump a bucket of Brahmin piss on your head."
"Alright," he said. "But I don't want to offend your delicate sensibilities."
Lola snorted and spat a loogie to the side, and cocked an eyebrow at him. "In. Now. I'll help you peel out of that jumpsuit, if you want."
"No!" he said, a goofy smile etched onto his face. He made a breathy laugh. "No, boss. I've been getting myself dressed since I was four. I think I can manage it."
She smiled wickedly at him and ran a finger down his chest, her eyes following it, then hooked his zipper with a fingernail and pulled. He couldn't believe what she was doing, stood in a stunned silence.
"Madre de Dios," Raul finally said, under his breath. "Stop, Lola."
"Forgive me if I don't think you're moving fast enough," she said. She put her hand into his jumpsuit and slipped it off his shoulder. Raul grabbed her wrist and held it, firmly. Those grey eyes flicked up to his face, and she gave him a genuine smile. "What?" she asked. "I'm just curious." She removed her hand from his chest, entirely too soon for his liking. He knew better.
"It ain't happening," he said, with a hard voice. "So you can just be curious." He zipped up his jumpsuit and walked away, grabbing up the pack. "And you can deal with the smell, I'm sure," he added, planting his feet on the ground and waiting.
He would have jumped at this, if he were younger, but nothing good would have come of it. Nothing good would come of it now, either. He was far too old, she was too young, and they barely knew each other; Raul wasn't the type to hop into the sack with someone on a whim. He stared ahead and patiently watched as she shook out her checkered shirt, then dipped it into the lake and washed out the surface dirt.
"God forbid we try to lighten the mood 'round here," she muttered.
If I could, he sighed to himself. Lola wasn't a bad girl, or even a decent one; she was the epitome of good. Her actions these past few days had been nothing but aiding others, exploring and killing monsters. She was not the kind of girl who should be jumping a claim on a decaying old ghoul like himself, or even thinking those sort of thoughts, after only five days.
She crouched down by the lake, stirring the shirt in the water with a hand, then pulled off her undershirt and tossed it in, too. The bare skin of her back was crossed with scars, lines like whip marks. He ached to see that. It was one thing to whip cattle, quite another to whip people.
Lola turned around and saw him, leaned an elbow on her knee and sat up a little. "What's with the look?" she asked, turning slightly. He could see the rounded top of her breast, and averted his eyes.
"Nothing, boss," he said. "Just watching your back." Literally. He chuckled to himself.
Lola looked back to her shirts, stirred them a little more, lazily. "You've been through Arizona," she said, as if the statement included an explanation.
"I have," he replied. He knew what she was saying; Caesar's Legion did not have a high opinion of females, for all the security they provided.
A noise above the hilltop drew his attention, and he turned, his pistol out and ready. Might not be as sharp-eyed as he used to be, but his hearing was good. He stood, still and waiting. Nothing materialized over the hill. His hearing picked up the gentle humming of Lola behind him, the soft noises of the water as she stirred her shirts, the wind picking debris off the desert floor. It was relatively peaceful, and he was grateful for that.
"Would you rather get a bath in town?" she asked, wringing out her undershirt deftly. She shimmied into it as he turned around, and he could see everything she had to offer above the waist. His breath caught in his throat and he swore inside his head. Smoothskin, he thought, an appropriate term. Her front was not marred by scars at all, not even any freckles like the spattering across her face.
She shook out her hair, slapping it onto her back, then sighed. "Raul?"
He jerked out of his reverie, and felt his blood rising again. "Sorry, boss, it's awful hot."
She grinned, her cheeks dimpled by the action, and he felt his own mouth twitching in response. "You're just an old pervert," she laughed. "Getting all hot and bothered by the sight of a little skin."
"Don't think you ought to be showing it off," he mumbled, and looked away, but the grin remained. "Might get you in trouble."
She made a funny laugh. "Maybe you ain't a threat, and I don't mind showing a little more."
He felt his throat closing up, refusing to let him say what he wanted to. His grin faded, slowly. She wrung out the checkered shirt and draped it over a shoulder, then kicked off her pants, and began to stir them in the lake, too. Her boots rested against a rock nearby; she was practically naked in her thin undershirt and panties. All that walking had made her ass look real good in her underwear, and as she leaned forward he could see the dimples in the fat on her back.
"Be a mistake," he finally managed to say, "thinking I wasn't a threat."
"What, because you were a gunslinger?" she asked, ignoring the lull in the conversation.
"If you want to survive out here, you got to be a threat," he said. "Else you'll end up fertilizer."
"Live hard, die old," she said. "I get it. You ain't a threat to me, though, are ya?" She pulled the pants out and examined them, her eyes intent on the threadbare fabric around the knees.
"No," he said, casually. "But I am a man, and you are a woman, and things happen."
She whipped her head around at him, and her mouth gaped open. Raul enjoyed the feeling he got from surprising her, let a small grin creep onto his face. "Well, now!" she said, but her eyes were smiling. "Guess if I dish it out, I gotta take it, huh?"
He laughed. "Law of the land, boss."
Lola nodded, turned her now-serious eyes back to the pants, and laid them onto the boards of the pier. "If you don't want me to touch you, I won't," she said, quietly. "I'm not real familiar with ghouls, you know, and sometimes I get a little carried away. Like with Benny."
He recalled the incident in the Tops, with the man who'd shot her in the head. Patiently, he'd waited outside the suite on the thirteenth floor as she'd taken Benny inside. A few hours later, when she'd returned, she was covered in blood and panting. Raul's eyes had picked out the freckles among the brain matter smeared onto her face. For her, he supposed, the revenge killing was a matter of pleasure. She'd certainly looked pleased.
Lola sat on the end of the pier, now. She leaned back on her hands and arched her back, letting those perky breasts under her shirt catch the sun.
"Gonna get a sunburn, boss," he grumbled. Not that he didn't enjoy the sight.
"I could use a better tan," she said, and looked back at him, her blonde hair stuck to her cheek. "Don't you ever just enjoy the feel of the sun on your... skin?" she asked, faltering on the last word.
Raul chuckled, and put down the pack, ambling out to the end of the pier. He lowered himself slowly to the boards, sitting a good five feet away from her. "What skin I have, I'd like to keep."
"Guess it comes off on it's own, huh." She pushed a hair behind her ear. It was nearly dry already, as was she. He regretted that, somewhat. She looked good when she was wet, either sweating or covered in water.
Raul sat and looked out over the water, dangling a foot over the edge of the boards and bringing the other foot up to rest on his knee. He leaned forward and put his hands in his lap.
"This is nice," she said, after a minute or two.
"Yeah," he grunted.
"Wish the wind would pick up," she added.
He felt the air on his face. Short, hot bursts of wind, like a puffing train across the land. "Might storm," he said, and looked up to the sky. "We should make sure we're near shelter."
"I'm not as familiar with the desert here as I was in Arizona," she said, looking at him. "Where's your shack at, anyway? You mentioned it before, but I never asked."
Raul gestured to the northeast of their position. "'Round there," he said, stiffly. "About an hour, walking."
Lola turned around, onto her knees, and pushed up off the pier, striding down to her pants, and pulled them on. "Ugh," she muttered. "Ain't no fun trying to jam your pedals into wet denim."
Raul smiled, and took his time getting up off the boards. More walking, he thought, but the idea didn't tire him as it might have, before.
About an hour and a half later, definitely more tired and somewhat dirtier, Raul pointed up the hill at the tiny shack he called home. Lola looked up at the heavy clouds and her eyebrows creased in worry. "Will it withstand this shit?" she asked, eyeing the metal roof dubiously.
"You hurt my pride," he said.
"Wha-oh, damn. I'm sorry, Raul, it's just, this storm..." She gestured behind her at the gray, rolling clouds and a streak of lightning looked like it struck into her palm as she held it out. The sight was amusing, and he smiled gently.
"Wouldn't be the first storm I weathered," he said. She ducked into the shack after him and put her pack near the door. Raul swept some junk off the workbench and put his pack down. "Home, sweet home," he said.
Lola's eyes swept over the small shack and calculatedly determined the situation. "Guess we're holding our pee," she muttered. "Did you grab that old rifle back in the hills, like I asked?"
"Of course, boss," he said, and fished it out of the pack, handing it over.
She sat down on the mattress with a thump and began disassembling the rifle, pulling out the pieces and laying them on the floor beside her. Raul sat down at his workbench, turned on the lamp, and stared blankly at the tabletop, cataloging the items he had laying around.
After a minute, the air inside the shack grew hotter than the day itself had been, and Lola swore. "Fuck it," she announced. "Stare all you want." She stripped out of her checkered shirt and pants, kicking her boots under his feet.
Raul looked down at the boots, then followed their path up to the woman sitting on his bed. She paused, grabbing the hem of her undershirt, and rolled her eyes. He smiled again, slowly. "Well," he said, "you did say..."
"Whatever, man," was all she answered with, and the undershirt was dropped onto the growing pile of clothes.
How long had it been since he'd seen a woman sitting on his bed, mostly naked and sweating in the humidity? Too long, he told himself, as the air thickened even more. Lola flicked her hair back and the grabbed it, twisting it into a knot behind her head. Raul watched her breasts jiggling with her motions, and reminded himself to enjoy the view. This one would get herself shot, likely enough, sooner than he might. And even if he was tagging along, he wouldn't let himself get shot for what was essentially a stranger.
She played with the pieces of the old gun and took her own rifle apart, replacing some of the springs. Raul sat back and watched her, watched her hands nimbly moving through the rifle parts and the sweat dripping down her collarbone to run in a thin line between her breasts. She grabbed her undershirt and wiped herself off, periodically. He clamped his tongue between his teeth and felt his jumpsuit get uncomfortably tight.
"You got a radio, right?" she asked, breaking the spell. "Will it pick up a signal in the storm?" She didn't look up from the rifle.
"Your Pip-Boy might do better," he answered, "but if you want music, I'd gladly sing for you, boss."
She laughed, and those cool eyes swept back up to him, over his face, taking in his expression. "I don't know enough Spanish," she said.
"La Pequeña Arañita can be understood in any language," he chuckled, "and the only song I can remember right now."
Lola slid the bolt back, looked through the opening, then closed it and held the rifle out to him. "Take this, please," she asked. She looked around the floor, not noticing or caring how far away he was.
With a "whumph" noise, he stood and removed the rifle from her hand, putting it on a counter nearby. As soon as her hand was free she swept the rest of the bits into a pile and gestured at her pack near the door. Raul retrieved it for her. "This is revenge for the Lakelurks, ain't it?" he grumbled.
She looked up at him in confusion, then parted her mouth in an "oh" expression. "No," she said, and before she could speak again, a crack of thunder shook the metal of the shack. Rifle parts scattered everywhere as she bolted upright, trembling. "Christ!" she cried.
The rain hit, then, hard and unrelenting. Raul looked up at the roof and adjusted a bucket with his shoe, hearing the pattering smacks turn to plunking as the rain leaked through a hole. He looked back to her and down at the springs all over the floor. "Better pick this mess up, boss," he said, calmly.
She just stared at the roof, her whole body shaking. Raul took the sight in, watching the sweat dripping from her navel into her underwear, seeing the goosebumps rise on her skin. He felt himself harden even more, a twitch under the rough fabric covering him. He swore, and bent down on a knee to gather the pieces.
After a minute of hard rain, the clouds let up and dulled to gentle plinking sounds on the roof. Raul scooped the springs into her pack and looked at her ankles, then up her calves. She had great muscles in those legs.
"Hey?" he asked her, pushing himself upwards. "You alright?"
Her eyes were wide open, her mouth parted and she was breathing heavily. "It never gets any easier," she whispered.
"What does?" he asked, gently, and put her pack by the door again. Lola shivered in the air, cooling now that the humidity had broken.
A hand came up and covered her eyes, pulling her face down. She sighed. "The sound-" she sputtered out, and above her fingers, the skin of her brow drew together. "Fuck Benny."
He gathered she had issues with certain things, now that she'd survived a shot to the head. She didn't like the sound of clicking, and would become enraged around ants. Her aim was a bit worse for the anger, but Raul had picked up the slack. He looked back up at the roof and wondered if the rain was scaring her.
She moved to his side then, and drew the fabric around his hips forward with both hands, mashing her face into his shoulder. A thin sound keened from her lips, and Raul looked down at her scarred shoulders, wondering if he should pat her back or push her away.
"You gonna make it, boss?" he settled. "I could make some food, get you a beer, turn on the radio, whatever you want."
Lola pulled on the fabric tighter and rubbed her forehead against his shoulder. He sighed internally, and laid a hand on her shoulder, feeling the smoothness against his ragged hand. "Lola, boss, c'mon." She pressed herself into his clothes like he was the most comfortable thing in the world, and he could feel her nipples jabbing him through the polyester. "You said you wouldn't," he added, even though he really didn't want her to let go.
"When will it stop?" she asked, her voice small.
"I don't know," he said, and tightened his hand on her shoulder. "Maybe an hour or two. Maybe a day."
She made a noise and sniffled, and slowly released his hips, but didn't move away. "Let me hold you?" she asked, turning her head to the side. "Please?"
Raul looked at her unbrushed blonde head and wondered why she would want him following her, why she was so determined to touch him. She didn't need for company, with an ass like that. It was surprising, and suspicious.
"No, Lola," he said, and backed up a little. She fell forward slightly, but caught herself. She shivered in the cool air. "You need to get dressed." He looked over at her clothes and pushed her toward it.
Lola obediently allowed herself to be moved to the mattress, but instead of grabbing her outfit, or collapsing onto the bed, she stopped fully and wound her fingers around his own, on her shoulder. "Raul," she said, slowly.
"Get dressed, Lola," he said. "Please."
She didn't answer, but bent forward slightly and backed her ass into his crotch, which did nothing to help his composure. He grunted, exhaled a little puff of air against the back of her neck, and her hair tumbled down from the loose bun to cover the skin. Before he could begin to understand what she was trying to do, she stood straighter and put her arms up over her head, running her fingers through her hair.
"Dammit," he muttered. His erection was becoming painful, now.
"Raul," she said, huskily, and leaned back on him. The nipples that had been poking him were tightening up against the air. Lola ran her hands up and down her chest, and gave a small moan. One hand jerked backward and pulled his zipper closer, bringing it down on his chest. He was very tempted to grab her by both breasts and grind into her, but he wasn't stupid and he knew how to reign in his desires.
The thunder sounded again, farther away, but loud enough to cause her to tense against him, her ass cheeks squeezing together over the fabric around his crotch. He made an audible groan, and steadied her shoulders with both hands. "Mierda," he breathed, and moved his lower half backwards. "Don't do this, boss."
She looked up at the roof again and listened to the rain. With wide eyes, she turned her head, and looked at him and he saw the fear in her eyes. "I need the distraction," she murmured, looking directly at him.
Raul's eyes were tired, his body dirty and itchy from the hot trek across the wasteland. He hadn't had a bath like she had, and his knees felt weak in this moment with her gray eyes eating him up like a steak dinner. He could feel the aching in his stomach, the painful bulge against his jumpsuit, the need for tension to be released fighting against the utter exhaustion he faced.
"I am not ready to do that for you," he muttered.
She moved her hand around behind her and brushed against his crotch. This time, he didn't move away, but pushed forward into her hand, and put his head down on her shoulder, groaning again. It felt good, and he really didn't want her to stop. But he couldn't do this; it was wrong to get involved so quickly, without a care to the contrary.
Lola gripped him, through the fabric, her nimble fingers seeking him out. She squeezed him, and moved her hand up and down, rough against the jumpsuit. He nipped at her neck, biting softly, stifling the noises he wanted to make and trying hard not to tighten his hands on her shoulders.
"No, Lola," he said, breathing in her ear.
"Please," she whispered back, and brushed her lips against the side of his head. The feeling was electric, hot currents running down his head and into his spine. He stiffened and moved his head away from her shoulder. She made a sad noise, a whimper, and he closed his eyes for a moment, trying to ignore the warning klaxon that banged away in his head. Don't do it, don't risk it, don't be stupid.
His hands moved down her biceps, slipping off her arms and onto her ribs, feeling the bones through the skin. He paused, took a deep breath. She tightened her grip on his bulge and he ground his teeth, fighting an urge to throw her down onto the mattress.
Just let go, he thought. Let go of her skin, remove your hands from her.
But he couldn't.
His hands moved inward and upward, cupping her cold breasts, feeling the rough texture around the nipples. He played with them gently, trying to relax the pinky-sized tips, but it only made it worse. He breathed hotly down her neck, making her shudder.
"Tease," she sighed. She removed her hands from him, turning, and pulled the zipper all the way to the bottom. For a moment, he paused, his hands still cupped around the air where her breasts had been. She pushed the jumpsuit off his collarbone, as far as she could manage, and ran those skinny fingers over his chest, exploring the texture. He rested his hands on her shoulders again, watching her eyes travelling over his upper body.
She looked a lot like he imagined he had, earlier, staring at her. He smiled a little, and felt her fingertips brushing against the bumps and dips in his exposed muscles.
"It's not that bad," she murmured. "You acted like it was so awful, earlier."
"Boss," he said, "I ain't got much to be proud of. Not like you." He moved a hand down to her hip and brushed a rough hand over the dimples and scars on her lower back. She sighed, a good sigh, and bumped his arm away from her, sliding off his jumpsuit sleeve. The other side came off in a moment, and she ran her fingertips up and down his arms, reveling in the feeling.
For a time he felt like a specimen under a microscope, being examined like that. It wasn't exactly pleasant. But she must have found what she was looking for, because in a quick motion, she put her mouth on his chest and he felt the heat, flushing out from a rough area on his upper muscles. She kissed him gently, across the width of his chest.
He felt the blood in his dick flooding outwards, a deep heat moving through his stomach and to his head. It was a strange feeling and it kept going, up through his neck and into his face, finally settling in his brain. It felt like a bomb exploding inside his skull, and before he realized what he was doing, he'd actually pushed her backwards onto the mattress and was biting on her neck like an animal.
She yelped and laughed, and wrapped her legs around his hips, pulling him closer. Their bodies met where the most heat was, and he thought he might not make it to the end of whatever this was. He leaned forward, and adjusted himself swiftly, moving his head downwards toward those wonderful little mounds of flesh on her chest.
The most rewarding part of that was the moan she gave as he ran a roughened tongue around the tightened nipples, a full-throated and blissful one. It spurred him onward, kissing down the trail that her sweat had made, earlier, coming to a rest on her navel. It struck him that she had been completely naked earlier, yet he'd not seen anything other than her top half.
She rested a light hand on the back of his head and stroked his skull, breathing light and shallow. "Raul," she moaned, and he felt that explosion in his brain come back. When he regained his senses, he'd pulled her underwear off in a jerky motion and had his hands on his jumpsuit, staring down at her.
No, he thought, loosening his thumbs from the fabric. Not that fast. He looked down at the rolling hill of her sex below him and placed his right hand on her stomach.
"Lola," he said, looking at her, "I don't want to hurt you."
"You won't," she said, tilting her head towards him. "I trust you."
That was decided, then, and he placed a thumb onto her mound, moving inward to find the button that he desperately wanted to push at that moment. She jerked against his touch, her back arching, mouth parted, making a wonderful noise, and a smile played on his lips. "Damn," he said. "It's not that exciting." He pushed her down onto the mattress with his other hand, still on her stomach, and moved his knees into a better position. They cracked a little and he tried not to think about it.
His thumb played over her clit, while he concentrated, listening to the sounds she was making. Either she was easily keyed up, or he was doing well; he doubted the latter. She squirmed under his palm, but he didn't remove it or let up the pressure. He didn't want her to interrupt him with her own attentions until he was certain he remembered how it was supposed to go. She seemed to be enjoying the "distraction".
On a whim, he brushed two fingers downward into her, pushing in against the silky feeling. She was hot, almost boiling, inside. She moaned and writhed as he moved in and out of her, while running his thumb along the nub.
He watched her moving, and smiled. Will small wonders never cease, he thought. She arched upwards against his hands and her own grabbed at the mattress, looking for something to hold onto, while her legs with those magnificent calf muscles dug heels in and strained.
And, while he watched, quick as a flash, she came. A low, deep moan exited her throat, rising in pitch as it went on, and she shuddered, bucking her hips against him. She relaxed under his hands after a few powerful jerks, and lowered her hips to the mattress. He gave an experimental flick of his thumb and was satisfied to see her curl up and shudder.
Raul removed his hands and sat on his behind, staring at the quivering mess of blonde hair and pink flesh. She ran her hands along her face and flipped the hair out of her eyes, then flopped arms and legs down onto the mattress.
"Thank you," she uttered, and Raul chuckled.
"Geez, boss," he said, resting his arms on his knees, looking through them at her. "If that's just a distraction, I'd hate to see what you do for full-time fun."
She laughed, her relaxed demeanor leaking into it, and moaned as she shifted onto her side, the remnants of her orgasm catching her. "I'll show you, when I catch my breath."
Raul still felt the painful tightness of the jumpsuit around him, and nodded to himself before realizing what he had gotten into. Mierda, he thought. This woman, she's loco.
No tiene dos dedos de frente, he told himself.
Fortunately, for both of them, the exertion coupled with the relief of nervous tension had knocked her out. Once Raul realized she was sleeping, and not just resting after a good time, he pulled himself to rights and dealt with his own problem.
Had been a long time, he thought, since he'd been that hard. It was awful, in a way, but at least he had earned it. He leaned against the rock wall and breathed deeply, afterwards, and gave himself a moment to recover. The rain was little more than a mist at this point.
What to do about Lola? It couldn't happen again, he knew. If she started to expect this sort of behavior from him, he'd be more than exhausted at the end of every day. Might not ever catch up to her youthful enthusiasm for hiking about mountaintops and cock-teasing. She'd baited him by the lake, and he'd ended up with conflicting feelings; he knew he wanted it, wanted it badly even, but he didn't want to get attached. Nothing ever went right with the women in his life. Not even that bat-shit mutant Tabitha.
Raul sighed, zipped up his jumpsuit and entered the shack again, quietly. He locked the door behind him, and sat down at his workbench. Working on a wind-up clock would wind him down, he thought.
A quiet hour passed before she stirred on the bed, stretching herself out and making small moaning noises. Raul hazarded a quick look and felt his pants tighten again, cursing mentally. She was so damn tempting. He turned away and kept his eyes on the workbench.
"Did it stop raining?" she asked, first thing.
"About thirty minutes ago," he said, carefully placing a gear into the clock.
She made a noise and he felt her hands on his shoulders. A warm body leaned against his back and he tried to ignore it. She moved her hands down his front and put her mouth to his ear, breathing gently on it.
"Boss, I'm kinda busy," he said, pausing his hands over the clock.
She nipped at his skin and he felt the flush feeling moving up his skull again. "Raul," she said, softly. "I owe you."
"I'm sure you'll repay the favor," he answered, "but not right now."
Lola made a huffing noise and squeezed his head back against her chest. "You'll have to let me know when," she said, lightly. She moved away from him and he looked back, watching her bend over to pick up her pants from the floor. The sight was amazing.
All that walking!