Chapter Three
Kate had not been alone in making observations. Since entering the bar, Merle had been making plenty of his own.
He'd been a regular at Dusty's for a couple of years now. It was sufficiently low rent to allow him to carry out his dealings with his suppliers, while not being so obviously criminal as to attract much attention from the cops. With all the shit going around about this virus, he'd told Daryl they were going up to the old hunting grounds near the quarry, wait till all this epidemic crap had blown over. Daryl had grunted his agreement and gone into work at the local garage, to pick up the last of his meager wages.
Not like he was gonna do anythin' else. Lil' pussy knew he needed ol' Merle to look out fer him.
Meanwhile Merle had taken what cash he had handy and made a run into Atlanta, picking up some more supplies before they went up into the hills. He hit their usual haunts, topping up their camping gear, food, even hunting supplies and ammo. Now he just needed to complete some business for more personal supplies before heading back.
That wasn't his only reason for rolling into Dusty's though. He could also admit to himself that in the last few months he'd been going through something of a dry spell on the pussy front, and he wanted to end it quick before he left town. He'd been waiting for another bout of the clap to clear up before looking around at his options but, now he and Daryl needed to get gone and fast, Merle was seriously considering making some moves on Cheryl. He wasn't exactly happy about it, used up bar-room queen that she was, but he didn't have time to play around. Anyway, pussy was pussy in the dark, so he was going to make an effort to hit that shit before he and Daryl packed up and headed off.
The place was pretty much empty when he walked in, with that sour smell of spilt beer, old sweat and tobacco that had seeped into the wood. It was all so familiar he barely bothered to scope the place anymore, either for cops or competition. He made sure he was the centre of Cheryl's attention when he came in, but as he approached her he was reminded why he hadn't made any real effort with before. He could tell she must have been a real beauty once, but the afternoon sun on her face showed the premature wrinkles round her mouth from a lifetime of smoking and disappointment, while her blonde hair was dry and broken from repeated bleaching.
Merle kept the suggestive smirk on his face as they spoke, but he was only just covering his dislike for the situation he found himself in.
Jesus! What a man's gotta do just ta get his rocks off! Bet there ain't a lot of tread left on her tires neither. This one's gonna take beer, brother…
Cheryl gave him a winning smile, revealing the slight tar stains on her teeth. In his mind, Merle sighed.
… fuckloads of beer.
...
However, once Cheryl had turned to fetch his drink, he noticed that there was one other person propping up the bar. A fuckin' female person, no less…
Almost anything was a more attractive proposition than Cheryl at this point, but even so this woman was actually fairly decent. She wasn't a beauty but she was pretty enough; come to think of it, better than he'd seen in a long time really.
Merle ran an assessing gaze over her quickly.
Damn Dixon! Jus' look at them long legs, an'… well shit! That was a fine set of titties right there! That brown hair ain't nothin' special, but i's long enough to work ya hands into. Pretty face, kinda pale, big dark eyes which…huh, would ya look at that? Which were checking him out!
Well, fuck me…
She definitely didn't look like the usual clientele of Dusty's, at least the female kind. For a moment he was suspicious as he considered the two most likely options – cop or whore. She had that clean and neat look of cops, but she wasn't ringing any internal alarm bells for him. Plus she didn't convey that subtle air of confident authority he expected from them. Bit too young mebbe? Not more'n mid-twenties – could be a rookie I s'pose, but somehow it jus' don't fit.
Which left working girl, though if she was a hooker she was pretty fuckin' bad at advertising. She was barely flashing her shit in that vest and shorts. An' girl has got some good shit to flash. New to tha game?
Based on her possible inexperience, Merle frowned slightly as he began to estimate what she might charge; then based on his considerable experience, he rapidly began to calculate how he could knock her down into his price range.
Her inspection apparently finished, she abruptly looked back to his face and their eyes caught. She seemed slightly startled, but flashed him a small smile before looking away. Hmm, tha's a nice face alright, an' he liked tha' smile on her… he started throwing in a few more bucks to the theoretical bid in his head before he noticed something odd.
Wha' tha… now she was fuckin' blushin'?! Ain't no-time, nowhere, no-how ya see a hooker blush. Don't care how little time they've spent turnin' tricks.
So that meant… his brain froze. That meant he was left with possibility that there was a young, attractive and apparently sober woman who was checking him out.
Well, fuck me twice…
Merle didn't do badly with women, but he knew that was because he played a narrow field. Sometimes he attracted women his age looking for a bit of street tough, the sense of danger they got from him maybe taking the edge of a dull marriage. He got women who were too drunk or high to care who they crawled into bed with. Occasionally he'd go for the well-travelled type like Cheryl, women who seen enough better days to be grateful for a quick tumble in an alleyway, and who thought you were a real gentleman if for the sake of privacy you at least found a dumpster to fuck behind. More often than not he'd pay for a hooker, though he normally preferred to just get blow jobs from them. Got tha clap often enough from women tha' weren't turning tricks, fuck knows wha' some old tom was carryin'.
So, the decision now was to either make a play for Cheryl, or mystery woman. Cheryl was the safer bet; he only had an hour or so to get off, get high and get out… but it would be damn shame to pass up a sweet piece like this. He smiled widely; Dixon's didn't back away from a challenge, they just fought harder. She looked back up to him, her eyes wide in that young face… Well hell, fuck Cheryl.
Or rather, not.
He made his play, and damn if she didn't respond. Woman's got a pretty fuckin' sexy smile when she flirts. Even laughed at his dick joke, which Merle considered a good sign; he liked it when bitches weren't uptight about every little fuckin' thing.
Her voice was quieter than he was used to, but it had a deep tone to it he liked. Nothin' worse than some shrill bitch squealin' in ya fuckin' ear while ya trying ta get off. Still, the way she talked hit his ear strangely, not harsh exactly but like there were too many 'r's rolling around in her mouth. He wasn't sure Cheryl was right when she called her a Yankee, and of course it turned out she wasn't.
Lucky he hadn't been plannin' to fuck Cheryl's brains out, bitch was barely copin' as it was.
He could feel the dislike coming off Cheryl, though he wasn't sure if that was because he'd been too obvious about thinking of fuckin' Cheryl before this girl came along, or if it was just one of them times when women got it into their heads to dislike each other. More likely on tha rag, he thought. Bitches, who'd live with 'em?
He decided it was best to try and get her away from Cheryl, and, fuckin' miracle of miracles, she agreed to come and sit with him. He studied her as she stood up and led him to a table near the window. She was taller than he'd thought an' he was still lovin' them long legs, though those hiking boots on tha end of 'em didn't do anything for him. He didn't mind the shorts though; tha rear view was almost as good as tha front. Yeah, he could imagine himself tapping that.
A Brit, huh? He was fairly sure he'd heard they were a bunch of limp-dicks and ice queens, though 'cept for wetbacks Merle hadn't met anyone who wasn't American since he left the fuckin' army.
Still, ol' Merle wasn't stupid. He wasn't going to look a gift horse in the mouth when he could stare at its tits instead.
...
Thanks for your reviews! I hope you're enjoying this initial encounter, since there is a little bit more of it to go before we return to the zombie apocalypse.
