Ivy sipped her iced coffee and watched Vic standing over a crowded table writing down orders. It had been a couple of days since she confronted him at the warehouse. She didn't think he noticed her and she was relieved. Then she felt disappointed. Why hadn't he noticed her? I'm cracking up. I left him standing there...I threw his money back at him... I told him to leave me alone. That's what he is doing.

"Des I can't stop thinking about him."

"That why you dragged me here for lunch? We never come to this place. It's cause that Vic guy works here, huh?'"

Ivy nodded at her friend and put her head in her hands. "I don't know what I'm doing. I feel stupid for coming here…but…"

"You're either a stalker, a damn teenager looking for a prom date or a tease. Ivy this is not you." Désirée Meade was Ivy's best friend from high school. She still lived in town with her husband and toddler. At that moment, she was trying to be the voice of reason. She was well aware of the line in Surville.

Ivy actually felt shaky. Too much caffeine she tried to convince herself.

"Look, I've noticed him around too." Desiree continued. "He's the type of bad boy that every good woman should avoid. He's definitely what I like to call a fixer upper. I'm sure that any woman would love to help him and to take care of him. He's the perfect candidate: he's cute, he's moody, he has a nice body and he could definitely fuck a woman until she is comatose..."

Ivy raised her eyebrow.

"I'm guessing about that part okay."

"Well, yeah... look at him, the way he moves." Ivy put her face into her hands. "It's been a long time" she sighed "a really long time."

"So what Ivy? You gonna be his boot girl? Get your hair cut in a Chelsea? Start heil Hitlering?"

"No of course not."

"Ivy bottom line, he's one of them. He's in the Brotherhood. You can't. You can't even fuck him. You know that right?"

"Yeah, my dumb ass would definitely catch some feelings and end up being hurt by him."

"Hurt by him? Hurt by them. Jesus Ivy getting mixed up with Gall's guys is liable to get you killed. I'm serious. You're not one of them and they don't take kindly to that. Him too" She motioned to Lax. "What 'll they think of him being with a non-believer?"

"I know. You're right Des…you are. I don't think I could ignore that damn swastika I tattooed on his chest anymore. Every time I think about it, I do feel like it's wrong. It was always a symbol nothing more, but I'd never thought about being personal with anyone who wanted something like that."

"Ivy, he has the bolts outline tattoo."

Ivy knew that particular tattoo; just the outline of the SS symbol was earned for committing an act of violence, specifically a stabbing or shooting. Not murder. Not yet. That was the next step up the ladder.

"He is bad news Ivy. I can't even believe you are thinking this way."

Ivy chewed on her straw.

"Besides didn't he treat you like shit at the shop the other night?"

"One thing I miss about New York is good coffee," Ivy said changing the subject.

"I'm with you on that." Lax said suddenly standing over their table. "What I wouldn't give for a decent double espresso." Then he added "Get you anything else?"

"A cappuccino." Ivy had to smile a little. "With nutmeg. Ha ha."

Seeing her again reminded him of how cute she was and how calm she made him feel. It must have been hard for her to come here, but he wanted to know why she had after telling him to stay away from her.

Suddenly his stare was too much for Ivy and she felt that electricity from his presence. "Just the check, check…" Ivy blurted out suddenly feeling foolish for acting like a smitten teenager. He tore out their check and placed it on the table without another word. She knew it was wrong, but she had to talk to him. "I'll be right back, Des going to the ladies room."

"I'll meet you at the car."

"Hey, Vic?" Ivy said to Lax's back as he was putting on a fresh pot of coffee behind the counter. He turned and she found herself looking up into eyes that stared right through her. She started to talk, almost stuttering as she tried to come up with the right words. "I am really sorry. I shouldn't have run away from you like I did...shouldn't have made you take the money back or insulted you like that. Just want to apologize, set things straight." Her eyes dropped to the countertop with that admission. She ran out of things to say, her mouth was dry. She was nervous that he wouldn't speak to her or that he wouldn't have anything good to say if he did.

Then he cleared his throat. "I'm sorry too," he said quietly, and her eyes snapped back up to his, but she still couldn't speak. "I shouldn't have said what I did about you being a whore and a hypocrite."

"Thank you."

"So what do you want from me?" He asked. Ivy's stomach flipped and she felt that tingling electricity. Want? Want from him? She couldn't want anything. He smiled slightly at her perplexed expression. There was a silence that seemed incredibly long. Lax was desperate for her to say something, and still hoping despite his head trying to convince him it wasn't a possibility, that she might want more from him than just to talk.

"I wanted to say… I wish we could be friends. I wanted to see you again because I like talking to you. No one around here has anything intelligent to say."

She reached across the counter and touched his hand. He was shocked; not only that she had done it, but also at the reaction from his body. It felt amazing just having such a small amount of contact. It also made him want a lot more and was making his cock stir. She looked surprised, but she wasn't letting go of his hand. Ivy's glance fell on the SS outline tattoo on his forearm. Suddenly she choked up. "I have to go."

"Wait a sec…"

"No, I shouldn't have done that. Just forget it okay? I'm sorry. This is wrong."

"Don't be. I am who I am."

"Why? Why do you have to be one them?" Lax heard her voice crack. This girl was so open, so sweet so sexy. He couldn't help but respect her fight and wanted to tell her the truth, tell her he was as sickened by the Brotherhood as she was. He respected her fight because knew he was losing his own.

"Forget it okay?" She turned quickly, her voice was breathless. "Just forget everything."

"Fuck it." Lax kicked an empty milk crate into the wall. She was right. They couldn't do this.

.. .. … .. … … … … … … … … … … … … …. . … … … .. … … … .. … … … … … … .. … … … … .. .. .. .. .. ..

"You with us Vic?"

Lax was thinking about Ivy, what she'd said about being friends, touching his hand... he wanted to be pissed at her for acting like a tease, but he knew she was afraid.

"Vic, I said you with us?"

Lax looked up to see the faces of the other men around the table staring at him.

"Yeah, to the bone."

Gall nodded. "Well, there's a boot party planned for some in need of a beat down. Doug is heading the crew and I want you there, Vic. Time for you to make your bones, show us how hardcore you are."

Gall had plans for Vic, but he knew they were dependent on him showing the rest of the crew he was as committed to violence as they were. Blood in, blood out.

... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... .. ...

Lax walked. He walked as if the act of moving his feet could undo what he'd done with his fists earlier. He'd felt like he was in a surreal horror film version of West Side Story. The beat down was aimed at a supposed black crack dealer and his crew in the next town. It was a joke. None of those kids could have been more than sixteen. Lax had gotten his punches in; he'd had to maintain his image, at least until the rest of the guys got too involved to notice him hanging back. Now he felt sick. He didn't plan his destination but wasn't surprised when he walked toward the door of the tattoo shop.

She was sitting behind the counter drawing up a new design wearing a ripped, old, faded Rancid band t-shirt and a form-fitting lycra skirt. Just seeing her sent a calm vibration through him.

Ivy looked up as Lax entered the shop. She wasn't really surprised Vic had come even though she'd asked him not to. She hadn't seen him since the day at the diner.

"I think you should finish what you started."

Ivy wasn't sure what he meant until he added, "My tattoo."

"Its late, we're closing up."

"Won't take long just the shading. Got money…I...look I had a really shitty day.' His voice was almost pleading.

"Fine. Come on." She led him back to her room. "Jesse, lock the front door when you go," she called over her shoulder.

"So, how is it healing?" She asked closing the door behind them.

Lax made a move to remove his shirt in response, but Ivy stepped forward brushing his hand away. Vic produced that thrilling spark in her chest that she hadn't felt in so long, craved so desperately, never thought she'd find again... damn it, she wanted him. There were no two ways about it. Ivy couldn't get that dream out of her head. It was the pebble that felled a hollowed wall. Everything seemed to go out of focus. She was alone in a private haze of desire and as though she was sleepwalking she found herself reaching up and tugging the red suspenders off his shoulders. They fell and hung at his hips. "Braces down ready for a fight." She whispered huskily, sliding her hands under his t-shirt. She was running her fingers over his naked skin and all he could do was stand there letting her. She pushed the shirt off over his head. She kissed his chest avoiding looking at the swastika. When one of her hands snaked towards his jeans, he froze. He desperately wanted her to touch his hard dick but didn't dare ask. It was almost as though she could read his mind when she suddenly went for it and rubbed down the length through his jeans.

"Ivy, is this what you want?"

"It's why you came here isn't it?"

She started to undo the button and then the zip on his jeans. He was shaking and was having trouble staying upright, probably because all his blood was now in his crotch. His eyes were glazed, but he could still see her and her face was full of want, especially when she saw how hard he was. He was leaking so much precum that his boxers were already wet.

"Do you want this?" He groaned the question.

"I…I don't know…"

He grabbed her forearms making her gasp. As his grip became tighter on her arms, she winced at the pain. Then, he pressed his forehead against hers. Those enraged, intense blue eyes were burning into her.

"Then tell me to go." He rasped his voice thick with desire. When she didn't answer he growled louder. "Tell me to go Ivy."

She pulled her arm from his grasp and caught his hand. He entwined his fingers between hers, clearly not wanting to let even that small contact go. She noticed swollen scabbed knuckles. She looked up and he shook his head. There was a moment, which felt like a lifetime, before she leaned in, tilting her head, clearly coming in for a kiss. She swallowed nervously again but kept going, knowing she shouldn't want him. As their lips touched, very gently, she couldn't believe how it felt. She had never had a kiss, especially one so simple, do so much to her. She felt her guts tighten and her body vibrated at the contact. It didn't take long for the kiss to deepen. When her lips opened and his tongue slipped into play with hers, he groaned at her sighs. She wrapped one arm around his neck and moved the other up to his head to run her fingers through his slicked back hair. She sighed contentedly when his arms came around her, and the kiss got more heated as they embraced, lips and tongues moving together as they pressed their bodies as close as possible.

You know that this cannot happen, right? Her conscience informed her. He is part of a Neo-Nazi Skinhead hate group. They hate people who believe things you do. Ivy broke from the kiss but kept running her fingers through his hair. Oh my sweetness, she thought as she stared at him. He could cause me a bunch of trouble, but all he has to do is smile at me and I melt like butter. Lax roughly pushed her shirt up and she obliged by raising her arms allowing him to pull it over her head. Oh, my sweetness, girl, please don't tell me that you're getting wet for this man, her conscience chastised loudly as he placed his hand on her breast kneading it through her bra. She suddenly felt so embarrassed by what her conscience said that she tried to lower her head, to avoid his gaze, but he used his own head to force hers to stay up. Lax's voice had changed; it had gone deeper raspier.

"Ivy what do you want?" There was lust in his voice. It was very clear.

"I can't do this."

"Have you been thinking about me? Is that why you keep coming around to the warehouse and the diner? Thought you hated those guys, guys like me."

She wasn't able to answer his inquiry with an actual response so a breathy moan escaped her mouth. He slid his hands down her arms and he placed them firmly on her rounded hips. She clasped on his chest to maintain her balance. Her flesh felt like it was on fire. Her lungs were heavy and she was slightly light-headed. Oh, my sweetness her mind screamed as his hands traveled down to her ass cheeks and up under her skirt. His fingers kneaded and caressed her skin.

"Oh shit." She moaned low, under her breath. She reached out to feel the muscles in his biceps.

"Do you hate me?" His lips were hovering over hers. His lips were so close to hers that she felt sure they were sharing the same air.

"I have to hate you…" Ivy said weakly knowing how stupid that sounded.

"So you hate me..." he said with warmth in his eyes and anger in his voice. "Then why am I still here?" he growled. Both of his hands gave each of her ass cheeks a slap. She emitted out a guttural moan and he had taken advantage of that perfect opportunity. His mouth swallowed her moan and his tongue invaded her mouth again. Her fingers found their way back into his slicked back hair and her fingernails lightly scraped his scalp while his own slid inside her thong assessing her wetness. He pulled the piece of lingerie down her thighs and when it pooled at her ankles, Ivy stepped out of it grinding her pussy into his palm. There was a deep groan that seemed to have come from the depths of his soul. Then, without any warning, he lifted her up and she had to wrap her legs around his narrow waist to keep from falling. She gasped in shock while her lips were planted on his. By the time their lips parted, they were breathless and gasping for oxygen. The separation was required for the both of them they both needed to regroup. "Don't worry, I got you," he assured as his hands gripped her thighs and he pushed her back against the wall.

"I can't do this. Not with you…" Ivy put up her last ounce of fight. They fell into silence. Now quiet, they stared at each other.

"Can't tell me you haven't thought about it."

She swallowed. "Have you...thought about it… with me?"

"Fuck, it's all I can think about," He buried his face into her neck.

"Me too," Ivy whispered. "I've wanted you since we first met."

There were only the sounds of inhaling and exhaling. She stared down at him, her hands cradled his face. Her eyes raked over the few imperfections that he possessed and then her fingertips briefly touched them. "There is a line… I am crossing the line." She murmured as the soles of her fingertips grazed over the small, curved scar that hugged the outer corner of his eyebrow. Her fingers touched the small, moles that rested above his upper full lip. Then, her fingertips softly traced every feature on his face, as if she were committing them to memory.

"You like what you see?" he teased, breaking her out of the reverie.

"Yeah, I see plenty of things that I like," She stated, sounding sensuous, before planting a kiss on his lips." I surrender. She slipped her hand in between their bodies, past his tight abs, grabbed his engorged member and rubbed the tip against the crevice of her swollen pussy lips, coating him with her juices. His hands tightened their grip on her thighs and he groaned in pleasure. She rubbed against him a few more times and then she welcomed his cock into her warmth.

"Oh shit," She gasped. She underestimated his size and thickness. She had made a few attempts before she succeeded in slipping him inside. She wasn't halfway down his shaft when Lax decided to beat her to her to the punch. He pushed the rest of his thick member inside in one quick thrust. She cried out due to both pleasure and pain. It has been a year since she'd last had sex, so things were a bit tight. Plus, his dick was the biggest one that she'd ever dealt with.

"Shit, you're so fucking tight," he groaned, once his prick was situated deep inside of her. His thrusts were slow-paced but tapped every nerve ending that was inside of her. Unexpectedly in this position, she quickly surrendered to her first orgasm. He kept a firm grip on her as her body trembled in his arms.

"It's been a while," she reasoned, in a manner that sounded like a whimper. She heard the leather of his boots creak with each thrust of his cock. Holding her in his powerful arms, still wedged inside, he took hold of her legs and arranged them higher on his waist. Now aware that she hadn't been sexually active for quite some time, Lax was cautious and she deeply appreciated it. But, after a while of dealing with the slow and gentle strokes, she felt like she was being teased and cheated out of his best.

"Vic," she moaned, as she stared up at the ceiling mirror watching. She gazed at the reflection of his tattooed back and at her inked legs as they were draped around his muscled torso.

"Mmmm?" he groaned. His face rested on the curve of her neck while his mouth was leaving her with one hell of a hickey.

"Fuck me harder." She requested panting. He lifted his head just so he could stare into her brown eyes.

"You want me to fuck you harder?" he asked, with a mischievous smile on his face. She nodded her head frantically.

"How hard?" he asked with his hips still providing slow thrusts.

"W-w-what, what do you mean?" She asked, feeling confused by his question. Suddenly, he stopped moving and then he pulled his dick out. She had watched his hand stroke his cock a few times before he placed it on top of her pussy. She whimpered in protest when she tried to slide it back inside of her with a tilt of her pelvis and failed miserably.

"What I mean is how hard you want to be fucked?"

"Any fucking pace beside this one will work," She admitted, smiling. He pushed his lips into a smirk before reaching down to give her a passion-filled kiss. God, I love kissing him. As their lips caressed each other, she grabbed the base of his cock and slowly guided him back inside. Once he bottomed out, his hips rotated while his pelvis ground against her pussy. Both of their groans of pleasures had flooded the room. Lax's face had gone back to his resting place in the curve of her neck. The circular pelvic movements were conjuring moans and indecipherable words out of her. With the feeling of his cock's head nudging against her cervix and the way it had stretched her walls, it felt like he was at home inside her. Then, there was the rough texture of his pubic hair scraping up against her bare swollen lips and clit. A surge of pleasure that shot up from her crotch and up into her stomach making her tilt her hips up and tightened her legs around his waist, to maximize her pleasure. She gripped his forearms and her nails dug into his flesh.

"Oh, fuck," She whimpered.

"You like that?" he whispered into her ear, as he continued to grind his hips. A simple head nod and a moan were her answer. There was a chuckle and then he proceeded to rock her world off of its axis, by handing out shorter thrusts that were harsher and faster. The pleasure eventually became so intense that she gripped his hips to try to control the pace. Of course, the act was futile and her attempt to gain control did not go unnoticed. "There's no way, girl, that I am going to stop," he grunted. When increased the intensity behind his thrusts yet again she moaned out for him to continue. She clutched his shoulders and he pressed her body closer.

"Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me, fuck me,..." she moaned as if chanting a prayer and Vic was either the angel or the devil that had answered. This man and his actions had managed to gain the attention of all five of her senses. She smelled the sharp fragrance that belonged to the soap that he used, the acidic odor of his sweat and the slight smell of his deodorant. With every powerful thrust, she felt her womb contract and expand around his dick. She heard the sounds that their sweat-soaked bodies made when they rubbed against each other and his heavy panting. She felt the warmth from his breath on her face as her eyes drifted up to the ceiling, to gaze at their reflections. They looked beautiful together. She watched her hands trail down his back over the well-toned muscles. During her silent assessment, Ivy felt herself slip under that first impending wave of her next orgasm.

"I'm coming…Vic…I'm…" she moaned softly as the ache swelled.

"Yeah, that's it come with my cock in you," Lax growled into her ear unraveling her.

"Oh shit… fuck…I…," she gasped loudly as her body surrendered to the internal explosion of pleasure. At that moment, it felt like the concept of time no longer existed and this feeling, this intense sense of touch, would last for eternity. Ivy wanted him to stay inside of her forever until her last breath. At that moment, no one existed except for two people: Vic and herself. She was aware that his thrusts had lost their fluidity and they were sporadic. Lax was coming then and her insides were coated with his thick, hot come. The same thick nectar proceeded to spill out of her battered, sore pussy and dripped down her thighs. After his sexual release, Lax gently let her down on her shaking legs. He collapsed forward on top of her and shrouded her body like a blanket. His hard form felt heavy, hot and sweaty as it crushed her. Each of them experienced a post-coitus high before they reluctantly shifted their bodies apart.

"Are you okay?" He asked. She let out a trembling sigh for an answer so he went on, "How do you feel?" She touched his face and let her fingers linger on the moles. She kissed him softly, sadly as an answer.

"Shit, we didn't use a condom." Lax realized aloud.

"Well, I know I'm clean, and I'm on the pill."

"Sorry, I haven't fucked anybody it in ages, I'm clean too."

They stood in uncomfortable silence until she moved away with a limp that only great sex can create, She retrieved her shirt and bra from the floor. She let out another shaky sigh, a sign of disgust at herself, as a stream of his seminal fluid dripped down her legs. After she had dressed, she turned her head. "This can't happen again."

Lax pressed his lips together and winced. "Because of what I am, huh?"

"Yes. It's too dangerous. For both of us. I swore I'd never get involved with ...them...you…"

"I know. You're right." He stared at her with regret. Finally, he broke the silence. "At least now we don't have to wonder what it would be like." He pulled his shirt on over his head and adjusted his suspenders. "You're beautiful." He added, leaving Ivy with desolate inner loneliness.

Ivy sat on the stool, her head in her hands. Why did he have to be one of them? Why? She began to think of different notions of what Vic was doing with Gall's group, what he must have done in New York. She imagined horrible crimes she knew the Brotherhood committed. The contents of her stomach churned while a case of nausea caused the saliva inside of her mouth to thicken and her throat constrict. She stared at the door for a few seconds before she closed her eyes. No, no, he wouldn't have done those things, she said to herself. He's different, he's too smart. She swallowed hard and sighed. Come on girl, you know better than that. It's worse that he's intelligent because he believes the bullshit he should know better. Damn, he was a racist and he stood for everything she'd been taught to believe is wrong that she did believe was wrong. He is one of them. He's a neo-nazi. A white supremacist. If he wanted a relationship, how would it work for us? What's going to happen to us if his friends found out that he is dating me? I doubt they are going to accept me. I damn sure know that they are not going to invite me to annual barbecues. Vic couldn't simply cut his ties with them. It didn't work that way. His buddies won't give him a farewell party with a silk tie as a parting gift. A noose maybe, but definitely not a neck tie. Blood in and blood out. Besides who says he'd want out. She began to think about the possible repercussions that they'd face if they ever did date and his 'comrades' found out. All of her ideas ended with the same result, the both of them being slaughtered by a bunch of steel toed boot wearing, bald-headed psychos.

With the thoughts of murder and mutilation running through her mind, Ivy turned off the lights and headed out the back door. God, I'm such a fucking fool. Was the last thing she had said to herself before Doug was behind her in the parking lot.

"You ought to lock that back door Ivy. I seen you and that nigger loving Yankee. So we ain't good enough for you huh? But he gets in your pants huh?"

"Fuck off Doug."

He grabbed her arm and slammed her against the wall squeezing her throat tightly. "Listen, don't you ever fuckin' tell me what to do, you fuckin' nigger loving bitch!" Before Doug could finish pronouncing that vile word, she slapped him on the side of his face. She used so much velocity that his head had rocked to the side and he hand released her neck.

"Don't you ever speak to me that way again!" She shouted and slapped him a second time. "You are a racist piece of shit!"

"So's Vic, what's the difference? Fuck one, why not fuck 'em all." He managed to fend off her attack and kept pushing her back into the wall. He grabbed her throat again and lifted her off the ground this time. The tips of her toes were brushing the pavement. She stared down at his enraged face and tried to pry his hand off her throat by scratching at his wrist and forearm. Nothing was working, he was too goddamned strong.

"Let me go," She growled. "Let me fucking go, you racist asshole!" His grip on her neck became tighter. She managed a few more slaps, both of his cheeks had taken on a maroon color. "Let me go," She whimpered, feeling the first stages of losing consciousness as her stubbornness and fight weakened.

"Doug let her go, what the hell you doin?" JC came from around front.

"Puttin this bitch in her place."

"C'mon man leave her alone." JC never stood up to Doug, never sided against him on anything. But Ivy. "Its Ivy Doug, let up!"

"You know she just fucked that nigger loving Yankee. But the bitch is too good to fuck any of us. I think we ought to change that. Right now."

JC felt his gut clench at the mention of Ivy being with Vic, but he figured it was Doug being an asshole as usual.

"You been waiting since junior high. Now's your chance. C'mon bro, get in line."

"Doug, man let her go," JC argued. He'd been in love with Ivy all his life this was not how he would treat her. "It ain't worth it. Sean'll gut you if he finds out you done anything to her. You know it."

Doug's face was still twisting with rage when he let go of Ivy's neck. She was gasping for breath when he shoved his knee into her crotch painfully. She was still sore from Lax's treatment earlier and cried out sharply. "This time you get off easy. But remember I'm watching you. I'm gonna knock your stuck up ass down a few pegs. Just you wait."

"Don't threaten me."

"Just did sweetheart. I'm not done with you." Doug stepped back and headed to the road.

"Ivy, you okay?" JC asked sincerely. "Doug's an asshole, you know how he is…"

"I'm fine." She rubbed her neck. "Thanks to you Jimmy Carl." Ivy looked up and was eye level with the 'All Rise' tattoo she'd done on his neck many years ago. What happened to you? She wanted to ask. JC noticed in addition to the red choking marks on her neck, hickeys and beard chafing plain as day. Maybe she had ben with Vic. He felt his anger seethed.

"You want a ride anywhere?" Ivy asked.

"No. You best get home." He sounded short almost angry with her all of a sudden. "Did you?" He asked.

"No. Of course not." Ivy lied with a steady voice and a straight face. "Like you said, Doug's just being an ass trying to cause trouble." She lied to protect Vic as much as herself.

"You drop something?" JC bent down retrieving a pocket-sized spiral notebook from the ground. Ivy took it from him not knowing why but feeling she should say yes, even though she'd never seen it before. "Thanks."

"So I'll see you Friday night? You giving me my brand, right?"

"Yeah, see you then."

After he'd left, she sat in her car and casually flipped through the notebook. The names of the Brotherhood leaders were listed, their identifying features, who was in what rank, where to find them. Then the business card of an FBI agent fell into her lap.