Here it is Chapter 8. Sorry it took so long. Things have been happening at home.
My dog, Milo has been diagnosed with diabetes. He's been put on a strict diet and has to have insulin injections twice a day. He doesn't feel it, but I've got a severe needle phobia. I still give him the injections I just hate it.
Anyway enjoy.
CHAPTER 8
The car pulled up outside Lonnie's house. Joyce felt her stomach clench in fear. It had been two weeks since that fateful night, and now she was here to confront Lonnie, alone. She'd considered bringing Hopper along but that would have been a bad idea. Last time the two men had been in same room together, Hopper trashed his office and nearly punched a hole through the wall. Put them together again and violence was inevitable. And things would only get worse.
Also, her and Hopper, alone in the car, together for the long journey. She'd be dragging him into the bathroom of the first gas station they came to. She shook her head to try and dispel those thoughts. She needed to focus on dealing with Lonnie, not imagining the things she could do to Hopper in a locked toilet cubicle.
She climbed out of the car, walked determinedly up to the door and knocked loudly. No answer. Someone was in, she could hear the sound of a baseball game, Lonnie shouting. She pounded on the door.
"LONNIE! GET YOUR LAZY ASS OUT HERE!"
Everything went quiet, muffled cursing then the door was yanked open. Lonnie stood there carrying a can of beer in his hand.
"Joyce. To what do I owe this pleasure?" he asked as if he hadn't tried to rape her the last time they met.
"You know exactly why I'm here."
He leaned against the door jamb and took a mouthful of his beer. "I see Jimmy Boy told you about our conversation."
"I'd hardly call blackmail a conversation"
Lonnie just shrugged. "Potato, potahto! What did you want anyway?"
Looking at him. The man she had married, the man she had promised to love, honour and obey, the man she once thought herself so in love with. She wondered how she could have been so stupid.
"I want you to leave Hopper alone. Stop with the threats and the blackmail. I don't understand why you did that anyway. You don't care about me. You don't care about the kids. You never did! You've made that pretty obvious"
The familiar expression of anger changed Lonnie's face. He threw away the can, and grabbed Joyce forcing his face close to hers.
"I'll tell you why I threatened your precious Hopper." he said in an dangerous whisper. "Because I could. Because he's such a sap. He'd do anything to protect you. I did it, because you're mine. No one else is having you. That wimp Bob the Brain wasn't worth the effort. But Hopper, I'm not letting him touch what is mine. I had you first. I put a claim on you. We may be divorced but this" He roughly grabbed her crotch. "will always belong to me. I will have it whenever I want. You got that?"
An eerie calm seemed to settle over Joyce. "Yeah. I got it" she breathed.
Her knee came up and caught Lonnie right in the balls. He collapsed on the porch, moaning in agony holding his hands protectively over his crotch. Joyce aimed another kick at his stomach. He made a sound like 'ooff" and started coughing winded. She kicked him in the ribs which were still sore from two weeks ago. As he lay there curled up in a ball, whimpering in pain, she grabbed his hair and brought his face up to look at her.
"You listen to me, you piece of shit" she hissed. "If you ever come near me or my family again. If you so much as mention any of our names. I will kill you. And don't think I won't do it. I'm not scared of you any more Lonnie. You can't control me. You understand me?"
When he didn't answer she tightened her grip on his hair and shook him. "Do you understand me?
"Yes" he whispered.
"Good" she said firmly. She straightened up and walked back to the car, leaving her past behind her in a pathetic little ball on his own front porch, and looking toward the future.
Hopper stared at the paperwork on the desk in front of him but he didn't see it. His mind was on what happened in the Byers' kitchen earlier. It was the third time that he and Joyce had ended up all over each other when alone. Whipped cream, just a can of whipped cream, his brain dropped into his trousers and he couldn't control himself. He'd jerked off twice and he was still hard, he couldn't go again, last time he nearly ripped his dick off.
The thing his mind couldn't seem to quite grasp was that Joyce had been thinking along the same lines in her kitchen. It was in her eyes. What happened wasn't down to trauma or stress. She'd wanted him, as badly as he wanted her. It answered a question he'd been ignoring for the past year. Were Joyce's feelings for him more than friendship?
The question had first popped into his mind when Joyce and Bob found him in those tunnels. After saving him, she'd taken his face in her hands and looked at him, in that moment, like he was the only person in the universe that mattered. Movement from Bob drew his attention and he pushed the thought away.
He'd managed to keep the question safely locked up somewhere in his mind, after Bob died, it seemed so unimportant. But then it started to pop up the more time he spent with Joyce. Silly little things brought it to the front of his mind. Their arms brushing against each other at the dinner table, their fingers touching as they shared a cigarette, the way she would cuddle into him when she fell asleep on the sofa watching TV, the warm smile she gave him.
Every time, he pushed the question, telling his heart to stop being stupid. They helped and supported each other, through her grief over Bob, the trials of introducing El into civilisation. To Joyce he was a friend and nothing more. He'd learned to be content with that.
The incident in the kitchen proved him wrong. She clearly felt something for him, was attracted to him at least. But what happened now?
The door burst open and Joyce marched in as if conjured by his thoughts. She seemed intense and sort of angry.
"Is something wrong? Is it the boys?" he asked worried.
She said nothing, just locked the door and marched up to him. He opened his mouth to ask another question when suddenly her lips were on his.
It was almost a repeat of earlier. Joyce moaned and whimpered as she practically attacked Hopper. Pushing her body against him, forcing him down into his chair. She straddled his lap continuing her assault for want of a better word (please don't judge me). He wasn't passive, he returned her passionate kisses with his own, his all over her body, the parts he could reach, pushing them under her clothes caressing her skin. They might have continued forever if not for the need to breathe.
They gasped for breath, Joyce resting her forehead against Hoppers.
"What?" he managed to get out.
"Come over tonight" she said breathlessly. "Will's out"
His cock throbbed at her words, what she was saying. But he coudn't give in to his desires just yet. He had to be certain.
"But.." he started.
She put a finger on his lips. "Just come" she breathed sliding off his lap and he very nearly did.
She straightened her clothes before opening the door. He just about gathered enough to say her name.
"Joyce?"
"I'll see you tonight" And she was gone.
Hopper stared at the door for a few seconds then reached over with his right hand and pinched the back of his left hand.
"Not dreaming."
End of Chapter 8
This is the last choice you'll have to make in this story. It could be easy or it could be one of the hardest decisions you've ever made. The Big Date? How should it go? Talking then Hot Sex. Or Hot Sex then the Talking. You know what to do.