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I just wanna let everybody know all about it…
You ain't nothin' but a hound dog
Been snoopin’ round my door
You ain't nothin' but a hound dog
Been snoopin’ round my door
You can wag your tail
But lord, I ain’t gonna feed you no more..


The growling contralto of Big Mama Thornton wailed from the jukebox in the corner of the bar. The sassy lyrics and the bluesy beat were punctuated variously by raucous laughter, low conversation and the clink of beer bottles and shot glasses.

Logan leaned nonchalantly against the wall, one long denim clad leg planted firmly on the dark, pitted wooden floor, the other drawn up resting on the equally pitted wall. His signature cowboy hat was drawn low over his brow. In one hand he casually held a beer, in the other a pool cue. His whisky colored eyes flitted around the room, taking in the scene.

Red Jack, the eponymous owner of the establishment, was serving drinks, telling off-color stories and keeping a gimlet eye on the place. Logan knew that under the bar was a double barrel shotgun and, of all things, a sledgehammer. Red Jack was a big brawny man with a head full of frizzy red hair and a face full of the same. And Logan well knew that Red Jack could heft that hammer as if it were light as a cloud. Nobody got out of line at Red Jack’s.

“Shit!”

Logan turned his attention to the pool table where he watched with deep masculine appreciation as his companion straightened from an almost full body stretch across the table. The white ball was spinning off harmlessly across the green felted top as the dark blue solid ball just missed the corner pocket.

Ororo flashed him a disgusted look as he lazily pushed himself away from the wall to take his turn.

“This table is warped.” She pouted, snagging the beer from his hand and taking a long pull as she mimicked his stance while watching him take aim at a green striped ball. With neat precision the green and white ball spiraled into a side pocket.

Logan raised a brow at her “You always say that. But it just ain’t the case, Darlin’. This table is sweet and true.”

Ororo shot him a sour look as he lined up his next ball. But she couldn’t be too upset. Truth was, this was exactly what she had needed. Thanksgiving had gone beautifully. The food had been spectacular and the company more than matched. For the rest of the weekend people tended to laze about, read or sit endlessly in front of the t.v. On this Saturday night before school resumed, Ororo had retired to her own room, intending to take a bath and get early to bed. But Logan had shown up at her door with a helmet in one hand and her leather jacket in another.

“Get your ass in gear, ‘Ro.” He’d said “We’re going to Red Jack’s.” Ororo hadn’t needed to be convinced. Red Jack’s with it’s wailing blues-and-honky tonk filled jukebox and its hard drinking, loud laughing regulars was exactly what she was in the mood for. Besides, she’d never beaten Logan at the table at Red Jack’s, she was due.

You told me you were high class,
but I can see through that
You told me you were high class,
but I can see through that
And daddy I know you ain't no real cool cat


“Hey sweetheart. How ‘bout you come and dance with ol’ Bear.” A deep voice rumbled in Ororo’s ear. She turned and looked way up into a pair of snapping black eyes in a broad handsome face that sat atop the body the size of a mountain.

Smiling lazily Ororo tipped her head toward Logan “Thanks Bear, but I am here with someone.”

Bear’s eyes didn’t leave Ororo. Instead they traveled leisurely over her, taking in the crystal blue eyes and the snow white hair piled artlessly on her head in a messy-sexy up-do. They dipped lower to take in the swell of her breasts in the deep vee of the clinging candy-red cashmere sweater. They then went lower still to the endless legs encased in a pair of soft leather pants. Finally his eyes tracked back up and landed back on her face.

“I been watching you all night. Your boyfriend’s more interested in his pool cue than in you, baby doll. Every other woman in this joint been out on the dance floor. You just been here proppin’ up the wall. It ain’t right.” He drawled leaning in closer “’Sides, you too much woman for him. But you’re just right for ol’ Bear.”

Despite herself, Ororo grinned at Bear’s cocky assurance. Encouraged Bear leaned in even closer.

“Your hair is mighty, mighty pretty. How ‘bout you let Ol’ Bear discover if that’s all Mother Nature.” He gifted Ororo with a surprisingly sweet smile, showing off straight, white teeth “Be awful disappointed if it’s Miss Clairol. But Bear’ll live.”

“Everything okay over here, Darlin’?” Logan’s voice cut in as he sauntered over. Ororo looked over to see that he had cleared the table. Damn, he won again.

Unhurriedly, Logan slipped an arm around Ororo and shot a challenging stare at the big man hovering over her.

“Ol’ Bear here thinks you’re spending too much time playing pool and not enough time playing with me.” Ororo drawled. “Why, you haven’t even danced with me all night.”

“Hnh,” Logan grunted, “Well let’s see what we can do about that.” Grabbing Ro’s hand, he set the beer down on a low ledge and maneuvered her onto the postage stamp sized dance floor.

Ororo gave a grunt of surprise as Logan plastered his body against hers, planting his hands firmly on her ass. Instinctively she wrapped her arms around his neck and started to move in rhythm to the song.

“Let’s give ol’ Bear something to dream about.” Logan murmured. Ororo just caught the wicked gleam in his eye before he lowered his head and caught her lips with his own.

The kiss was dark, deep and utterly delicious. Ororo was so flabbergasted that at first she didn’t respond. Logan teased her tongue with his, and just like that, Ororo allowed herself to sink into him. At her response, Logan’s hands tightened slightly on her rear and he dipped his head to get a better angle in her mouth.

This wasn’t the first time Ororo and Logan had shared a kiss. Usually it was a flagrantly passionate put on, designed to stave off one of Logan’s groupies. But for some reason this one seemed different to Ororo. Maybe because she now knew that she was in love with Logan. Or maybe it was because she hadn’t been intimate with anyone in a long time and her hormones were getting the better of her. Or maybe she was just a little drunk. Whatever it was it felt good.

Logan abruptly broke off the kiss and eased back a little. His body was still swaying to the music, but his lips had moved to nibble at her ear and his hands had moved to her waist.

You made me feel so blue,
You made me weep and moan
You made me feel so blue,
You made me weep and moan
You ain't looking for a woman,
Lord knows what you're looking for

“Is he looking?” His voice was a husky whisper in her ear.

For a minute Ororo was completely disoriented. It took a second to realize that Logan was talking about Bear. Get a grip! Ororo admonished herself. Trying to compose herself, Ro gave a discreet look around and saw Bear chatting up a frowsy blonde.

“I think he’s turned his attention to someone whose hair is undoubtedly the product of Miss Clairol.” Composed now, Ororo laughed huskily “Poor Bear is doomed to disappointment.”

The music on the jukebox had changed to the rock/blues of The Fabulous Thunderbirds. Logan now stepped almost completely away, his only contact with Ororo was one a light touch on her waist.

“I think we oughtta hit the road.” He said giving her a gentle squeeze “Meet me by the bike, I gotta make a pit stop.”

Ororo agreed and the two headed toward the front. Ororo grabbed her jacket and detoured to the bar to pay their tab.

Logan made his way to the narrow hall just before the men’s room and, once out of sight of the main room, he sagged abruptly against the wall.

He was hard as a rock.

Logan couldn’t believe it. First he’d gotten upset to see that big ass mountain man slobbering all over Ro. And then he’d decided to…what? Stake a claim? And now he had a hard on the size of fuckin’ Texas. Ro could’ve handled that guy all by herself without breaking a sweat. He didn’t know what had come over him. At first he was just playing a little bit. It was something he and Ro always did; The Ro and Lo show. It was a put-on to chase away clingy girlfriends or pushy assholes in bars. But as he leaned closer to her, her scent seemed to wrap around him and dig right into his senses. It was suddenly the most natural thing in the world to just…plunder her mouth.

And then she’d responded. She had just seemed to melt into him and that was when he felt his body take control. All he wanted to do was grip her ass even harder and grind her against his burgeoning erection. He wanted to wrap those mile long legs around his waist and plunge into her.

Gasping for breath , Logan dug the heels of his palms into his eyes. What the hell was he thinking? This was Ro. This wasn’t Jean or some girl he picked up in a bar. This was Ro, for crissake. He didn’t think of Ro that way. Well, he didn’t think of her that way any more. Back when he’d first met her, she’d starred in quite a few of his sweaty late night fantasies. But she’d become so much more than a face and body to whack off too. She was…well, she was Ro.

But she’d tasted so good. A little forbidden voice in the back of his head whispered. What the hell was his problem? Logan mentally kicked at himself. He hadn’t gotten laid in over a month so Ororo was fair game? Betsy makes a little comment and suddenly Logan is getting queer little feelings in his stomach?

But that’s just it -- what exactly did he feel? His was royally pissed at Jean, but he still loved her? Didn’t he? If he did then why did he suddenly want to peel off Ororo’s red sweater with his teeth?

Straightening up, Logan took a few deep breaths. Whatever the hell was going on with him wouldn’t be solved in the dingy hallway outside of Red Jack’s men’s room. And Ororo certainly didn’t need this shit from him. She was dealing with her fucked up feelings for Hank. She didn’t need Logan’s fucked up, confused feelings to deal with as well.

Well no more will I shop around now baby.
I know I got the best thing in town now baby.
I've seen all I want to see now baby.
Bring your lovin' straight to me now baby.
Wrap it up, I’ll take it
Wrap it up, I’ll take it

The music receded into the background as Logan let the door of Red Jack’s bang closed and walked out into the chilly night. Seeing Ro lounging patiently against the bike, Logan felt that strange little stir somewhere below his stomach.

Noticing him headed toward her way, Ro stood up straight and handed him his helmet.

“All set?” She questioned.

“Let’s saddle up, Darlin’” He gave her a wicked grin, ruthlessly tamping down those sudden, confusing feelings of lust and longing for his best friend. Logan slung his leg over the bike and Ororo settled in behind him, clasping him tightly as the bike thrummed to life beneath them. Without a backward glance, they roared away into the darkness.

From deep within the shadows near the back of the small parking lot, a small curl of cigarette smoke wafted over the air. It was the only outward sign of the lone figure that silently watched the taillights of the bike disappear into the distance, their mind awhirl with thoughts of warped love and revenge.





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