The ten hour drive in Mac's old Ford was excruciating in the Mid-Western heat. Ansley could feel the agitation coursing through her, the heat setting fire to every last good nerve she had left. Her right index fingernail dug harshly into her left forearm, over and over.

"Stop that, Cupcake," Mac warned. Leaned back comfortably, he had one hand on the steering wheel and the other hanging freely out the window. The wind blowing his sweaty brown locks.

"It's so fucking hot!" Ansley gritted her teeth, using both her hands to wipe over her sweaty face. "You're a fucking mechanic...can't you fix the damn air conditioner in this thing?!" She dangled both her arms out of the passenger's side window, resting her forehead against the door.

Mac switched hands on the steering wheel, using his right to grab Ansley's bicep to jerk her upright, "You best watch your pretty little mouth, bitch."

Ansley jerked her arm away from his grasp, slamming the back of her head against the rear window glass, mumbling to herself "All the fucking eyes are watching me and I can't breathe!"

Mac looked back to the girl who had her eyes closed. She had been without heroin for over 3 days, was she tweaking? Or did it have to do with what Devon said about her being mentally ill?

"Cupcake, snap out of it!" he demanded angrily, smacking his hand against the seat.

"Yes, Master," she mocked, opening her eyes, returning focus to the skin she was picking off her arm.

Mac grasped the steering wheel tightly with both hands, trying to ignore the strong desire he had to hit her. You're softening up, Macky-boy, even his own inner monologue was beginning to mock him. Mac licked over his teeth, trying to find that last trace of meth left in their crevices, internally wishing he had brought the heroin with him.

Ansley looked over at him, he looked so...beautiful? How could you even use beautiful to describe him? She shook her head at her own thoughts, they weren't too clear lately, and she knew why. She gnawed her lip, still picking her arm without even realizing it as she never took her gaze away from Mac. He was upset with her, and that was something she couldn't stand. Surely he'd get rid of her, too.

"Papi, I'm sorry, I just don't feel right," she spoke quietly, sliding closer to him on the bench seat.

"I realize that," he huffed, never looking away from the road.

"Please don't leave me," she reached out to put a hand on his thigh, admiring the way he looked with the wind blowing over his face and through his hair.

"Leave ya?" Mac finally looked at her, her eyes gleaming with tears. He quickly looked back to the road.

"They always leave. Always get rid of me...they always do," she said, giving his thigh a squeeze. She saw his cock jerk under his jeans which automatically made her ready for him, just the way he trained her.

"Then quit bein' such a bitch," Mac snarled, remembering who he was. This sounded an awful lot like boyfriend talk, and Mac most certainly was not a boyfriend. He did not want to ask questions and find out more about her...her issues. That was just more bullshit he didn't need in his life. Gotta learn this bitch who's the boss.

"Yes, Papi," she breathed, leaning in close to him, burying her face in the crook of his neck, licking the sweat droplets there, still rubbing her hand up and down his thigh.

"What the fuck, I'm drivin'! You want us to have a fuckin' wreck? With over 1000 kilos of crank in the back?!" he said, shimmying his shoulder to end her assault on his neck.

"Then pull over and fuck me," Ansley said, grabbing Mac's left hand and putting it under the skirt of her dress, pressing his fingers into the warm, wet fabric of her panties. "Fuck me real hard," she sighed into his ear, pressing his fingers even harder against her wetness. "Punish me, Papi. For being a bitch," she moaned into his ear as she rubbed his fingers up and down over her underwear.

Gotta learn this bitch who's boss, Mac. You worryin' yourself over this girl too much. It don't make no sense, you don't love her. You could give two fucks if she died right now. You shoulda got rid of her after that first time like Devon told you to.

Mac sneered at the fact he even considered anything Devon told him to do. Mac was his own man, but his mind was right...Cupcake was doing something to him that he didn't like. Even though his dick was rock hard and ready to go, and he was practically salivating at the thought of pulling his Ford over, jerking her out of the cab, ripping her panties off, lifting that yellow dress up, and fucking her until she was incoherent, he looked over to her and shook his head. No. Pulling his hand away from Ansley, he felt his erection become painfully irritating. But, what's the fun if she wants it? What's the fun if she's not beggin' me to stop? He reached into his waistband and adjusted himself, trying to shut his mind off. You've fucked her a lot for her enjoyment here lately, Mac. That's not you. That's not you...even if her tight little pussy feels better than all the meth in the world.

Ansley slid back to the passenger's side, pressed against the door, not daring to speak another word. Even a drug and sex addict doesn't want you. You're nothing, Ans. Nothing.

Ansley had drifted off to sleep, she woke with a start as Mac slammed the Ford into park.

"We're here," he said, not looking at her, getting out of the truck.

Ansley rubbed her eyes. Her mouth felt dry and her skin still hot. The Mid-West sun had set, and the sky was a beautiful pink to black painting. Looking over the building in front of her, Las Cruces Motel blinking in bright blue neon letters. It looked like a sleazy joint, but was probably a mansion compared to Mac's obscene dwelling.

Mac came around the truck, pausing at her window, "Get your bag and c'mon," he ordered, walking over to a room door. Room 6B.
Ansley reached into the floorboard, retrieved her bag of clothes for the next few days, she reluctantly got out of the truck, following Mac to the room. It was just like the motel rooms you see on TV. Ugly brown carpets, drapes from the 70's, a squeaky ceiling fan, and a queen sized bed with a traditional wooden frame, cloaked in mustard yellow blankets and white sheets. The TV was small and outdated. Ansley glanced through an open door at the bathroom. It was small with a traditinal shower/tub combination, a small counter top, and leaky faucet. Ansley looked into oval mirror about the sink, not recognizing the girl who looked back at her, she quickly turned away. Mac laid across the bed on his back, stretching his arms above his head to where his red flannel shirt barely exposed his stomach, his jeans dirty and low on his hips. He closed his eyes. The drive had been long and tedious.

Ansley dropped her bag on the floor and sat on the bed beside Mac, still not speaking to him. She looked over to the bedside table, a digital clock read 2:18 AM in red glowing numerals.

Never opening his eyes he said, "You are not to leave this room unless I say so."

"Yes, Papi." Ansley laid beside him keeping just enough distance to wear they did not touch, closing her eyes also.

Mac start tweaking around 4 AM. He got up, breaking apart the alarm clock and trying to piece it together.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry." He repeated to himself.

Ansley laid still across the bed, pretending to be asleep. There was no reasoning with Mac when he was tweaking.

"I'm sorry for this. So sorry for it. I never meant to..." he ran his hands over his face repeatedly. "Never meant to."

Ansley shut her eyes tight, hoping that daylight would come quickly. And it did. When she opened them, it was 11:57. Mac must've fixed the clock. He laid sprawled across the floor, still in his dirty clothes from the day before. Ansley rose from across the bed, feeling the rough duvet sticking to her sweaty back. She remembered there was a working, clean shower. A bathtub. One of the luxuries that was few and far between at Mac's.

Tiptoeing around Mac, she made her way into the bathroom, running the tub a little more than half full. Stripping down her sundress, her panties and bra. She looked at herself again in the mirror. Who is this girl? Who is she? Not Ansley. Not Ansley Lom...Lom... You don't remember do you?

Ansley shook her head, clearing the thoughts away again. She stepped over into the tub, lowering herself down into the soothing lukewarm bath. She laid back, just her face sticking out from under the water. She stayed just like that for what felt like hours, finally submerging her face under. She felt a familiar hand on her knee, sliding it's way up the inside of her thigh. Raising up from the water, she wiped the droplets from around her eyes to see Mac kneeling at the tub.

"Mornin' Cupcake," he said, looking over her soaked naked body.

"Hi," she smiled, using her hands to slick her wet hair back.

Mac's hand rested underwater, right at the apex of her thigh. He licked his lips, "You look good enough to eat."

"Yeah?"

"Fuck yeah," he growled, taking his fingertip and sliding it over her slit, ignoring that mocking voice in his head. You want her so bad. You can't bear not having her. You're whipped. You're whipped. You pussy. She's supposed to be a toy, not your girl.

"Eat me up," she purred, sitting upright, shifting her hips, hoping he would slide his fingers inside of her.

"Later," he promised, removing his hand and getting up from his knees. "I gotta go talk business with them wetbacks."

Ansley laid back into the water, pouting, "Okay."

Mac reached into his shirt pocket, pulling out a cigarette, before putting it to his lips, he cautioned "You don't leave this fucking room. Nobody knows you're in here and it needs to stay that way. If I find out you do, there'll be hell to pay on your part, Cupcake."

"Yes, Papi," she said, placing her feet up on the wall.

Mac turned on his heel, once again sticking his hand down into his jeans to readjust his erection. Walking out the door he called behind him, "You know where the .38 is if you need it."

Ansley bopped her head against the wall, realizing this trip was not a vacation.