*Once again I state a warning and my Disclaimer: The racial slurs and ideologies expressed by some characters are included for realism. I don't mean to offend anyone and I do not hold or condone any of the beliefs. If you have seen the film, you are familiar, but it is still disturbing.

As always thanks to all who are reading, I appreciate you being here :)

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The humid night enveloped Lax as he headed outside immediately feeling the contrast between the air-conditioned tattoo shop. The sun had set but only relieved the heat a bit and the moist and heavy air clung to him. He walked the half mile back to the warehouse where he was staying with other members of the brotherhood. He moved slow noticing fireflies and the crickets that seemed too loud. He tried to focus on the sore, prickling burn the new tattoo was giving his chest wanting it to take feeling away from his dick. He was still hard and uncomfortable against his jeans from Ivy's arousal.

He entered the main floor of the warehouse to find a small group of guys sitting on ratty couches and armchairs shooting the shit and drinking beer. Moose, one of the skinheads, began a drunken sing a long:

"My eyes have seen the glory of the trampling at the zoo, we washed our hands in niggers blood and all the mongrels too. We're taking down the Zog machine jew by jew by jew, the white man marches on." *

There were some whoops and hollers as Lax passed by.

"Hey, Vic where you going? The party's here!"

"I'm beat, man."

"Yeah you always say that. What, you too good to hang out with us?" Doug, of course, got that jab in. "Yankee motherfucker?" He laughed, but his tone was not joking.

"Fuck no, just beat." Lax paused a minute then headed toward a vacant armchair. "Gimme a beer."

"You get that ink today?" JC asked. "Ivy take care of you?'

"Yeah, yeah." Lax answered settling into the dirty cushions. His cock twitched at the mention of her name. He grimaced. He'd finally rid himself of the erection. "She was great.' He pulled up his t-shirt and removed the bandage showing off the swastika.

Moose stood up unsteady on his feet and gave the Heil Hitler gesture. He fell back to the couch and started singing again, slurring and out of tune. "You know it...cause I show it like a barn-yard rooster I crow it! And the NAACP would sure like to get a-hold of nigger-hatin' me! You gotta be black to get a welfare check! And I'm broke...no joke I ain't got a nickel for a coke!" And I ain't black, you see so Uncle Sam won't help poor nigger-hatin' me.*

Lax felt sick inside, nausea bubbled up into his throat but he laughed and played along. He took a long pull on his beer. It was life or death.

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Finally when most of the other guys had passed out, Lax headed to his room but was stopped by Gall, who spotted him passing by his open office door. He was at his desk pouring over some documents.

"Vic, come here son."

Lax joined him, leaning against the wall, arms crossed over his chest thumbs hooked.

"You know that the average citizen, now he wishes and hopes that tall he American neo-nazis are rednecks with beer bellies and tattoos that barely escaped high school." He paused, rubbing his chin. "Maybe some be…but you...you're proof that ain't always the case, ain't you?"

"Yes, sir."

"I been doing some reading. Today, according to the latest U.S. census, only twenty-three percent of the American population under the age of eighteen is white. Already, four U.S. states are majority non-white, and ten percent of all counties in America are mostly non-white. World-wide, white women of child-bearing age form only three percent of the earth's population. Do these facts disturb you? They should."

"Hell yeah. I'm sick of being blamed for all the world's problems just cause I'm white. Right now America has an estimated twenty million illegal aliens that invaded our country so now basically three percent of the population, control eighty-five percent of the nation's wealth and jobs because they want a cheap, slave-like workforce where decent wages and benefits will be a thing of the past. All in the name of selfishness and greed. Every year, our white children's expected lifestyle is declining compared to the earlier generations. By 2025, we're looking at white America being a total minority in a nation that was once their birthright."

Gall's eyes lit up. "You know something boy, I just might need a new captain around here."

If this was a test, Lax had passed.

Lax nodded. I'd be honored sir."

"I'll be thinking on it.'

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Lax and been given the room of a member now serving a sentence in prison. He paced, looking at the Confederate flag on one wall and the swastika banner on the other interspersed with flyers for white power music festivals taped up on the dirty plaster left by its former resident. Lax was again trying to get ivy off of his mind, but every time she started to fade he'd think of her hands on his chest and his cock would stir again. He laid down on the mattress on the floor that served as his bed. The digital clock read 12:30 am. He was wide awake. The place reminded him of an artist's loft he'd lived in during college. The rooms had dividing walls, but no doors so there was limited privacy. Fuck it. Lax headed to the bathroom down the hall. He locked the door behind him and an anticipatory feeling took over as he remembered her hands lightly stroking and teasing his chest, her breath on his nipple, then her mouth. He unbuckled his belt with shaky hands and began to unzip his pants when his semi-hard cock nearly jumped out. Lax might not do this, let this girl get to him, but Vic would he rationalized as his cold hands grabbed onto to his warm swollen dick.

A vision of Ivy kneeling before him runs through his mind. Droplets of pre-cum leak from the tip of his cock as she opens her mouth. Muffled moans of "mmmm" are heard as she takes him in, tasting him. His cock is getting harder as she slowly moves her warm, moist lips and tongue around his sensitive head and shaft. Her small, soft fingers run down his cock followed by her wet mouth, taking in every inch of him. His breathing becomes staggered, eyes squeeze shut and toes clench in his boots. Releasing him from her mouth, she continues to stroke his cock as she flicks her tongue around his balls sending jolts of electricity through his body. He can barely take anymore so he grabs her by her hair, pulls her up, and throws her against the wall. She has done exactly what she intended to do: teased him to the point where he becomes something more animal, more primal. He rips her soaked panties off and runs his calloused fingers down her hips, over her soft thighs and slowly teases his way to her shaved pussy. He can feel the heat radiating off her as he slowly twirls and teases her clit. He wants so badly to taste her. He takes two fingers and opens her lips, sliding one finger inside her hot, wet pussy. With a slight grin, he shoves her face first against the wall before slowly pushing his throbbing cock inside her.

"They both moan as they feel each other. Slowly he slides in and out of her pussy while her smooth, soft ass bounces against his hips.

"Faster," she moans, "harder.."

The sound of their bodies colliding echoes in the bathroom as they become one and begin to fuck each other hungrily.

"Don't stop baby, harder.." She pants as her knees lock and her muscles tighten. He begins to rub her swollen clit faster.

"Right there, uh, right there... fuck Lax you're so good!"

"Vic, call me Vic." He drives his cock into her more forcefully with each thrust. She's close and he knows it. He grabs her by her hair and pulls her head back toward him, exposing her throat. She lets out a loud moan as he bites the back of her neck. The warm feel of his mouth and strength of his jaw send her over the edge. As her legs start to quiver, he can feel her pussy clench and her juices run down his cock and over his balls. She turns toward him and kisses him deeply for what seems like forever. She slowly drops to her knees, taking his cock into her hands and begins to lick tasting herself on him.

"Mmm," she moans as she engulfs him. Her eyes never leave his face. He takes his cock from her mouth, and, already slick with her spit, he begins to jerk off.

Looking up at him, she urges him on. "I wanna taste you Lax, I want you to come for me."

"Its Vic, damn it, you can't know about me...they'll kill us..." he manages to grunt. He starts off slowly, pumping his hand over his cock but speeds up knowing she's watching.

"Please Lax, I want it." She begs.

"Fuck...you stupid girl..." His cock begins to fill up and it now feels bigger than it ever has. "You'll get us killed you know that?" He moans, feeling his dick pulse along with his rapid heartbeat. Faster and harder, there is no stopping not that he wants to. It's coming and he strokes quickly as it builds and he can feel the milky white come surging. The rush of fluid escapes as the orgasm overwhelms him. It's as if there is nothing else in the world, just the pleasure. He grabs the back of her head which forces her mouth open as he slows his stroking to a mere tease and the come begins to drip out of his cock. Bigger drops hit her tongue and run out of her mouth onto he breasts. More spurts follow as the sight of her licking and swallowing his come turns him on like nothing else.

As he finishes, she takes his cock once again into her mouth and cleans every inch of him. Slowly tasting and savoring everything. His whole body is tight and tense. He has never come that hard before. When he opens his eyes and takes a breath, he realizes that it was all a dream. He has just jerked off at the thought of being with her. If she does that to him when she isn't there, what would it be like if she were…He leaned back against the wall breathing heavily. No, can't happen. I can't risk her finding out...can't get close... she can't know about me...they'll kill us both...

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'Infomercial, another infomercial, another infomercial, another one..."

The pad of Ivy's right thumb was starting to get numb from constantly being pressed against the rubber 'up arrow' button on the remote control. "A thousand channels and nothing on." She murmured.

It was 12:34 in the morning and Ivy had been channel surfing since getting home from work. Basically after moving back home her nights consisted of making dinner for her father, maybe a game of Scrabble or talking with him for a little while then after he was asleep, TV and ice cream. When she'd been at school in New York city, she had much more of a social life. Surville was an old tired town. She was feeling more like a failure every day and that she was wasting her life. She loved her father, but she couldn't shake the feeling that she was drowning in quicksand, in the sinkhole of her dead-end hometown.

She eventually came across a cable channel that aired old black-and-white movies. She tried to concentrate on Bette Davis on screen, but Vic kept invading her thoughts. Not just his attitude but the electricity she felt when she touched him, the trembling he caused in her thighs, the wetness he produced in her panties. As pissed off as she'd been at him, it was also the most alive she'd felt since moving back home. She sighed. It was wrong. There was a line she'd respected her whole life. The Us and Them structure of Surville. Crossing the line was wrong, it was dirty. He was a dirty, racist boot boy and she couldn't go there. She began to rub her thighs together without realizing she was desperate for the friction as the sweet ache began low in her belly. He was dangerous…but she wanted to pull those braces off his shoulders and slide her hands under his t-shirt, tracing the tattoo she'd just give him.

"Do you like it?" Ivy hears him ask. She can't see him, the room is too dark, but she can definitely feel him. She feels Vic's warm, hard body pressed against her bare one. His humid breath fans her face.

"Yes," She whispers.

"Do you want me to keep going?"

"Yes," She hears herself say, her voice trembling as if she were in a state of urgency. She caught a brief glimpse of what he was actually doing. It was as if she were watching from above. His hand caressed her inner thigh and his strong warm fingers were teasing her slit as his thumb slowly drew circles on her clit. There was a brief glimpse of his furrowed brow and his cobalt eyes as he stared at her. A second after she saw that wonderful image, she felt her body ignite with pleasure as if it had finally caught on to what was happening. A loud moan escaped and she felt his lips cover her own, swallowing the rest of her noises of pleasure while his fingers continued their exploration.

"Do you want me to go faster?" he asks, removing his lips from hers.

Ivy hears her breath escape in quick, light pants as his thumb picks up speed and adds pressure.

"More," She begs.

"You want more?"

"Yes." She moans.

"What do you want more of?"

"Please," She whimpered. "I can't say."

"Tell me."

"Oh God," she moaned into one of the couch cushions. She woke mid orgasm, laying face down on the couch riding out her spasms with her pelvis slightly raised, her fingers rubbing her pussy, as the final waves of the dream-induced climax subsided.

"Mmmm," she groaned feeling dazed. Damn, that shit felt good, she thought as her hips pressed back down on the couch. She rolled onto her back and gazed up at the ceiling realizing that she had fallen asleep while watching the movie, which led to the sex dream about Vic. Still feeling tiny aftershocks of her orgasm, his face flashed in her mind.

"Vic." She sighed, with a low whisper.

Her hands left her hips and went on their own journey. They found their way to the thin spaghetti straps of her slip and she pushed them off of her shoulders and pulled the garment down a little to free her breasts. She imagined that her fingertips were Vic's. He was playing with her nipples and his other hand that was trailing down to her seeping, aching pussy. As her arousal began to spike to a higher level, she closed her eyes and flashed back to her dream but the fantasy transformed into another one. In her mind's eye, Ivy wasn't surrounded by the darkness anymore, with the only comfort being the sound of Vic's voice. Instead, Vic and she were in her bedroom, on her queen-sized antique iron framed bed. Her face was turned halfway buried in a pillow. Vic was lying on top, his upper body hovering over hers and she felt his eyes staring as strongly as she felt every inch of his dick, as he thrust it and out of her pussy. One of his large hands gripped her small wrists pressing them down on the mattress, above her head and right against the scrolled iron headboard. Occasionally, he'd release her wrists so he could trace the large tattoo of a dragon on her left hip or to give it a hard slap.

In reality, she was on the verge of climaxing so she stopped playing with her breasts and added some more members below. As her right fingers frantically rubbed her clit, the left fingers had become a meager substitute for Vic's cock.

"Oh God, Vic fuck me" She murmured, still reveling in the fantasy, as she rode her fingers.

She felt the familiar duo sensations of tightness and tingling bubbling up to the surface. When she did come, she bit her bottom lip so hard that there was faint blood teasing her taste buds. Tiny earthquakes of intense pleasure tore through her body, which gradually turned into tremors that withered down to little jolts inside of her womb. As she slid back down from that small bit of heaven, she rolled onto her side and stared at the couch's backrest. She removed her fingers, coated with her nectar and brought them to her lips. Always sweet with a slight tang she concluded, as she absently sucked on her fingertips.

"Shit, I need to have one of those orgasms more often," she said aloud to herself, amused and panting after she came back down to Earth. Then she realized he was getting too far into her head. Vic. Goddamn, him. Ivy had a bad feeling about Vic being here and blurring the line.

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The next morning, Ivy pulled her old black Buick down the dirt road that led through Surville's industrial warehouse district. She passed custom auto body shops and the Surville fuel company finally parking in front of the to the Brotherhood's building.

She had only been here once before. She walked into the looming open recreation area.

"Well, if it aint Ivy Lee Pierce gracing us with her presence."

Ivy was feeling jumpy and she turned a little too quickly on her heel letting Doug see her discomfort.

"What are you doing here?" He asked gruffly.

"I don't like to explain myself."

"You don't belong here girl."

"I'm looking for someone."

"Doug snorted. "That so? Can't imagine a self-righteous princess like you having anything to do with us. Didn't you call us racist scumbags lower than shit on your boot heels."

"I'm looking for a guy named Vic. Is he here?"

"What you want with him?"

"Is he here?"

Before Doug could continue giving her a hard time, a booming voice echoed from the top of a metal stairwell in the corner of the room.

"Well, well. Is that Ivy Pierce?" Gall called down stepping outside of his second-floor office. He had an oddly smug look on his face as he descended the steps. "How's your daddy Ivy?" The question was menacing not friendly.

"Fine."

"Good. Good to know. Keep your friends close and your enemies closer ain't that what they say?"

She avoided his gaze and found her eyes landing on the Nazi flags and memorabilia in the room.

"What brings you all the way out here over the bridge Ivy?"

"I'm looking for somebody.'

"One of my boys? Whatchu want with one of my boys. Thought you couldn't stand us honey?"

"Vic his name is Vic. I…did a tattoo on him and he overpaid me. I'm here to give him his money back."

"Vic huh?"

"I didn't finish it so…"

"He's around here somewhere. Doug go get Vic tell him he got a visitor."

Doug grumbled but headed toward the residences. He was being treated more like an errand boy since that Yankee kiss ass got here and he wasn't happy about it.

"I can't do it anymore," Ivy said suddenly.

Gall raised his eyebrow.

"Tattoo your guys. It's not right, I don't feel right."

"Well that's a shame but we do have a deal. You're not forgetting about that now are you?"

"No. That's what I'm saying. It's over, deal and all."

"Who do you think you're talking to?"

Ivy looked away and Gall grabbed her arm. She wrenched it back.

"I think for the sake of your daddy's health and well-being you ain't gonna be breaking any deal. Your daddy's been doing fine right? Now you wouldn't want nothing to happen to him, would you?"

Ivy sighed. "No."

"Thought as much. Reminds me. I want to do something for my boys so I want you here for one of them tattoo parties Friday night. Gonna put you to work on a few new members who need the brand put on them. In fact, Vic is one of them."

Ivy knew the symbol well. She'd inked it on practically all Galls guys except for the ones that got the tattoo in prison. The official tattoo is a shamrock, the letters AB and three sixes. Only members of the AB are permitted to wear the "brand" of the gang; people found to be wearing the tattoo without the consent of the AB are subject to death. It's not a tattoo to take lightly.

"No way. The shop is one thing, but I'm not coming here…"

"I think for your daddy's sake you'll want you to. Friday night."

He turned and headed back upstairs to his office.

Shit. Ivy stepped outside for fresh air, feeling dizzy and angry.

"Hey, you wanted me?" Lax's voice came from behind.

She turned pushing her hair off her eyes. "Vic, yes. I…" She reached into her pocket for folded twenties and held them out to him."Take your money back."

"No. It's yours you earned it."

"I told you I'm an artist, not a whore."

"That really got to you huh?"

"Yes, so take the damn money and don't come back to the shop."

They both had residual feelings from the night before that made looking each other in the eye difficult. She noticed his boots had laddered red laces—arranged with the outside laces horizontal and parallel, resembling a ladder. They matched his red braces. She felt her gut churn. Sporting red laces and braces meant you were willing to kill for your race.

Finally, Lax caught her glance. "You mean that?"

"Yes, I do. Stay away from me Vic."

She dropped the money in the dirt and quickly headed to her car.

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*Johnny Rebel