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Disclaimer: Same as before.


I’ve got to dedicate this chapter to Tough Spirit, for without her enthusiasm, it wouldn’t even exist. So I raise my glass to you! M’ikosan, xx


Chapter.8.


Ororo ran down the granite steps of her building with the bundle of her things in an old black hold-all. It wasn’t all that much to show for an entire life, to be so easily packed into such a small space, but that didn’t matter anymore. Logan was waiting on the bike in front of the stoop, his backpack already secured tightly onto the back of the bike with several elaborately tied knots in two lengths of oil-stained white rope. He got off the bike as she neared him, kicking the stand into place and walking round to meet her at the last step.


“‘That everythin’?” He asked as he took the bag from her, simultaneously leaning down to give her a quick kiss. She nodded in reply to his inquiry as she pulled back and then looked over her shoulder at the building behind her that was now shrouded in darkness and neon yellow. One last look at the place she’d called ‘home’ since arriving. There was no regret or nostalgia that can sometimes take hold when even the most miserable circumstances are coming to an end. She would be glad to see the back of it and sincerely wouldn’t care if she never laid eyes on it again. “Come on, let’s get goin’.” Logan’s call startled Ororo out of her dawdling; she turned around with a slight smile and jogged lightly over to the bike that Logan had already remounted. He was holding out the black with the red stripe helmet to her and she took it. But she didn’t put it on until she’d given him an affectionate peck on the cheek. Climbing onto the back with ease, she pulled the rough black strap under her chin tightly, tucking the excess into the steel buckle, before wrapping her arms securely about Logan’s waist.


Feeling she was safely on, he turned the key and revved the bike, making the engine burst into life with an angry yet reassuring growl. They hadn’t talked about where in Canada they would be heading, leaving it more to chance; taking the risk on what life would throw up. And so they headed off for places unseen and un-thought of under the cover of night.


* * *


It had been five days of hard travelling but the pair where content. They were speeding along a wide curving road now that ran the length of a lake on the right side. The vast expanse of water looked like a sheet of beaten lead with its little chinks that caught the light, reflecting the silvers, greys and powder blues as they whizzed by. Patches of the lake mirrored the delicate pure-white clouds that drifted gracefully in the early evening sky, adding a slight shimmer to its surface. On either side, it was flanked by dense forestry; a thick, upright blanket of deep green fur trees that rose steeply and then was lost in the distance. The wind blew in the rider’s faces as they continued along the smooth winding road, moving from side to side with the grace and flow of the bike. At the moment Logan was at the helm but only an hour previous Ororo had literally been in the driving seat; taking them from Montréal through Joliette and past Mt Tremblant. Logan had taken over after they’d stopped for a day at Mont-Laurier and right now they were still on the path Northwards with the aim of getting to the province of Ontario within a day or so. And from there? Who knows?


The isolated path suddenly turned off from the lake and wound in an upward slope into the forest. Ororo clung tighter to Logan’s leather as they leaned into the swerve of the branching road. The density of the trees cut out the light even from above, creating an artificial darkness. There was a rusted orange and white sign up ahead on there left hand side, advertising McCormick’s gas station two miles up the road. Logan took his eyes from the road for a second, glancing down at the petrol metre. It was just under half full, but seen as how they didn’t know when the next opportunity to refuel would arise, it was better to stop of and get a full tank than risk running out of juice in the middle of nowhere.



*


They came to a clearing two miles up the road as indicated and nestled right at the back of it, almost undercover of the trees sat a somewhat dilapidated looking McCormick’s. It was positioned in such a way that if a driver had happened to be looking the other way as they were driving past, they would have missed it completely. Logan turned into the forecourt quickly, not reducing his speed until the last second; bringing the bike to a screeching halt at one of the three green and rusted petrol pumps that ran in a parallel line to the shop front. They both lurched forwards slightly as the bike stopped but Logan had a strong grip of the handlebars and Ororo still had a tight grip of him. They both got off the bike at the same time; Logan kicking the safety into place as Ororo removed her helmet and gave a quick shake of her head to loosen her hair. She hooked it onto the left handlebar as she idly looked around. It appeared it was a self-service station, in fact, nobody else seemed to be about at all. A breeze whistled through the trees, shaking their lofty tops before sweeping down and rustling some dry dirt from the caramel coloured ground into a mini sandstorm. Logan went around the bike and unhooked a pump; twisting off the black cap at the rear of the bike and slotting the curved steel pipe into the gas tank. Ororo was still looking around, turning in a slow circle with her hands tucked in the pockets of her leather jacket she’d ‘picked-up’ in a bar in Montréal. It was about two sizes too big and she didn’t care too much for the rather ‘charming’ leggy blonde design on the back but it was warm. She looked over at the shop front with its large dirty windows that were blocked by shelving and hoarded products that no-one was ever going to buy, their boxes half collapsed, damp or faded by the sun. There was a small decked porch that ran the length of the white washed shop front with three steps that led up to it. The screen door was open but brightly coloured tassels, like a shredded circus tent hung down in front of the opening instead. They were sucked into the shop and then blown out again as the wind went through the open door and then found its way back out again in a soft exhale, making a fluttering sound as they went. A small metal and wood wind-chime tinkled and clinked as it hung from the slopping roof of the porch adding a note of discordant music to the sound of the breeze flying through the trees.


“Do you want anythin’? Drink? Somethin’ ta eat?” Logan asked as he rattled the hose around in the tank to knock off the excess drips of fuel before hanging it back up on the pump.


“Pardon?...uh, no. I’m fine.” She replied, a little dazed; she’d been so lost in examining her surroundings because something caught her eye, pocking out from around the corner of the shop. “I’ll wait out here with the bike.”


Logan narrowed his eyes at her slightly as he wiped his hands on his jacket, rubbing off the greasy feel he’d gotten from the handle of the pump. He was only suspicious because she was still craning her neck back, looking at something that was around the back of the shop. “What’re you up to?” He asked with a note of playful caution that still managed to have a dark edge to it.


She looked back at him, her eyes wide and innocent. Shrugging her shoulders she shook her head, trying to appear as non-plus as possible, “Nothing.” She smiled at him and then walked over to the bike and leant against it, looking down at the ground as she absently kicked the dusty ground with her boot. Logan wasn’t at all convinced; he raised an eyebrow at her, shaking his head with a wry smile. She was so sneaky at times, he could never tell what she was planning. But at least he’d become aware of the signs. Just one more little detail that endeared her to him. He turned around and jogged up the steps, making a swathe in the door tassels with his hands and ducking in.


Ororo stood by the bike a couple of seconds more before heading off around the back; glancing back at the shop once before rounding the corner. The ground dipped slightly at the side revealing white mesh boards that blocked off the underside of the building. There was a shed doubling as a mechanics behind the main garage and just in front of it was parked a small, white domestic pick up truck; the back end of which Ororo had spied from the front. The garage seemed to be as deserted as the shop but various tools and oily rags were laid about as if someone had up and left in the middle of a job. A motorbike was standing half in and half out the wide open front, its post-mortem not yet finish; break linings and engine pistons on the dirt with the rags and tools. She first went to the front of the truck and peered into the cabin. Its seats were covered with garishly themed mohair blankets and the dashboard was littered with disposed toffee papers, crumpled receipts and lose change. Unusually, it was right-hand drive. Then she went slowly to the back of the truck, running her hand along its edge as she looked it over. As she walked along the right side she peered over into the back. At the bottom were four parallel ridges and the whole of it was covered with brick dust and long dried globs cement. Coming around to the back there was a latch on the side, hooked into a metal loop. Ororo fingered it in exploration before getting her thumb underneath it and lifting it off. The whole back panel came down with a noisy clang and then a muffled bang as it hit the ground, stirring up the dirt even more as it created a ramp. Ororo swept her hair back from her face as it whipped about in the wind and crouched down, balancing on the balls off her feet as she checked how sturdy the hinges were.


“It’s not fer sale.”


Ororo looked over her shoulder to see the owner of the dark husky voice; a portly man in grubby blue overalls coming towards her, rubbing his oily hands with an already blackened cloth. He had a baseball cap on, its peak steeping the top half of his face in shadow. As she looked at him Ororo couldn’t tell whether his five o’clock shadow was created by oil or lack of shaving. She stood up, bring the back up as she did so and swinging the latch back into place securely. The man walked straight past her and over to the bike, throwing his rag down and picking up one of the pistons, examining it like it were the most interesting object in the world. Ororo stood by the truck for a little while longer, noting the rusting on the arches above the wheels, in one spot so bad that it had eaten right through, creating a gaping whole over the left wheel at the back. It wasn’t exactly worth buying, but then again, who said anything about buying?


The mechanic paid Ororo no more attention as he was now fiddling with something inside the body of the bike. After a moment more (that was splattered with half muttered expletives) he stood up, throwing the piston down to the floor with a dull thud and took the bike by the handlebars, wheeling it into the dark cavernous space of the garage. As soon as he was out of sight, Ororo quickly unlatched the back again, supporting it as it came down so that it didn’t make an ungainly racket. Then she ran swiftly back up the incline.


*


Logan went straight to the counter, walking through the centre of two aisles of shelves that held all manner of mainly tinned foods and various motoring paraphernalia that were apparently mixed together with no rhyme or reason. Behind the counter was a large glass case that covered almost the entire wall. Inside were displayed at least fifty different forms of fire arms, mainly shotguns and semi automatics. In a smaller cabinet underneath all the bullets were kept. Hundreds and hundreds of boxes lined up; ready and waiting. Logan stood patiently for a moment, but that virtue was never his strong point. He wrapped on the counter a couple of times with his hard knuckles that were now red and cracked from riding without gloves. There was a brief sound of shuffling from somewhere behind the wall with the glass cabinet but then there was silence. Just as Logan was about to knock again the shuffling started up and from the arched doorway that was covered with the same red, green, blue and yellow strips as the main door, emerged a large, ambling woman. The floral dress she was wearing was more a smock and her grey and white hair was pulled up tight in a scruffy bun arrangement atop of her head. She continued to shuffle over to the counter, dragging her swollen slipper-clad feet across the red lino flooring. The scratching noise grated on Logan as he pulled his worn brown leather wallet from his left pocket; a sound like two pieces of rough sandpaper being scraped together incessantly.


“Pump one.” He said dryly and put down onto the hardboard counter the amount he’d just taken from his wallet.


The woman peered up at him over the top of her horn-rimmed glass, pulling them down her nose with her thumb and forefinger. Her face had worn a constant look of distain since she’d emerged from out back but now her look was positively hostile. She eyed Logan and then the money before checking her pump register and then the money again. In all that time Logan was becoming aware of a fusty, musty kind of smell. The shop had smelled damp when he’d come in but it was getting worse and it was then he realised the stench was coming from her. Without a word the sour looking old woman took the money from the counter and punched the amount into the till. It was an old fashioned large monster with the numbers that popped up on cards under a glass dome on top and it made a ringing noise as each type-writer style key was pressed; two old bells clanking together from somewhere inside the mechanism.


“Thanks.” He said with more than a hint of sarcasm as he turned and made his way to the door.


Now, as he stepped out into the breezy air he suddenly had to take in several different happenings at once, not quite having enough time to process them separately. Number one; the bike was gone, number two; Ororo was gone, number three; there was a sudden screeching of tires and revving of a clapped-out sounding engine and last of all, a white pick-up came hurtling around the corner and Ororo was in the driving seat.


“Hurry up, get in!” She hollered at him as she leant across to the passenger door and flung it open.


“What the hell! Wher---.”


“Just get in!” She shouted with a laughing tone and beaming smile. Logan shook his head and did what he was told, running over to the truck, taking note that the bike had been loaded onto the back. As he grabbed hold of the underside of the roof and the wide open door, Ororo shifted the gear, which made a terrible dragging and clanking noise and started to move off at full speed before he was properly inside. Once in, he took two attempts to slam the door shut behind him (its hinges were beyond rusty) and then they were off, going full throttle down the road, leaving a trail of dust behind them.


*


Ororo couldn’t stop laughing as they raced down the forest path, the adrenaline coursing through her. She never got tired of this buzz. They were about half a mile away by now but she hadn’t let up on the speed they were travelling at; whizzing around the bends and turns with an assurance that made it look like she’d been driving along these roads all her life.


By now Logan was laughing too, at the sheer gall of the woman if nothing else. For a person who was sailing pretty damn close to the wind, she didn’t care too much about getting into more trouble. “You’re freakin’ crazy, ya know that?!” He said as he turned to her; a half bewildered and half bemused look on his face. She glanced at him and then burst into robust laughter again, throwing her head back in the process, not giving two hoots about taking her eyes off the road. It hit Logan how incredibly beautiful she looked in this rhapsody. The danger, the adrenaline, the rush; it was like the first night they’d met. That fire hadn’t dimmed and right now it was suddenly raging. He leant over and began nuzzling at her neck, unable to help himself; pressing his lips against her hard. She responded immediately to his ravaging kisses, the heat of his raged breathing and the scratch of his stubble on her skin. Taking one hand from the wheel she ran her fingers into his hair, taking tight hold of it as his kisses became more insistent. She was finding it increasingly hard to concentrate on the road as he suddenly growled against her neck like he had a throat full of gravel, “Pull over.”


Just a few yards up the road, Ororo gathered herself together enough to notice a small muddy lay-by cut into the bank that led up to the dense pack trees that still lined the road on both sides. As he pushed his hand down the front of her top, grasping at her right breast, squeezing at it roughly and with little care, she swerved into the spot, bringing the truck to a jerking stop. The hand-break was quickly pulled up into place and no sooner had she done it than Logan was all over her. Kissing and biting hard at her neck and the top of her chest, he took his hand from her breast and pulled the oversized leather jacket from her; taking it off in a series of violent desperate yanks. Ororo in turn moved herself downwards and brought her legs up onto Logan’s seat as he moved to push between them. Her back was still half leaning on the door, the handle for the window digging uncomfortably into the space between her shoulder blades, as with fevered breathing she fumbled with the zip on her jeans and he struggled with his too. Finally, she had it down and Logan gave up on his own in his haste to uncover her; grabbing at the waistband and pulling them right down past her knees. She managed, with yet more struggle to peel them off completely with her feet; edging them to the end of her boots and then kicking out until they flung off; the zip clattering against the window. Getting one foot firmly on the dashboard, knocking off half the rubbish piled there in the process whilst she hooked her other foot over the back of the seat. She grabbed at his back, pulling him to her, desperately wanting the heat between her thighs to be satisfied. She groaned as she felt him hard against her, sending a spark through her entire body.


Logan had now got his jeans open and had quickly pulled out completely erect penis; his sizable member slapping against the inside of her trembling thigh. He kissed at her mouth savagely, making her lips feel raw as he grabbed at the half wound down window to lever his body up as his other hand guided his cock toward her sex.


“Ahh...yes...” Ororo moaned with a harsh whisper as she felt it pressing against her, eager for it to fill her. Then taking his hand to join his other on the window he used the grip to shunt forwards, entering her in one hard movement. She cried out with the pleasure and pain; her foot on the dash kicked out involuntarily, smashing into the windshield so forcefully it was a wonder it didn’t shatter. Quickly, he began to move against her; holding tight to the window he gave a gruff pant with every rut. Ororo couldn’t stop herself from screaming out even louder now as he fucked her, harder and harder, picking up pace so that the truck rocked slightly with the rhythm. She grasped at his hair, his jacket, the back of the seat and the window behind her, the steering wheel at her side; desperately needing to cling to something. Anybody could have driven past and seen them; given that they’d just stolen the vehicle and weren’t that far away from the crime scene, they were taking a pretty big risk. But that was half the fun...


He was perilously close now and so was she; the excitement of the situation making their blood course through their veins like wild fire. It was the type of illicit sex that couldn’t last for long. But it didn’t matter as the satisfaction was tenfold. Ororo could barely catch her breath now and her throat stung from the odd lungful of cold air she’d greedily taken in when she could do nothing but scream almost mournfully. Her mouth was barely open, her lips quivering as she screwed her eyes shut tight in the face of the coming tide. Her head and shoulders thumped in a swift motion against the door; the handle digging into her back more viciously. But she hardly felt the pain of it anymore as other sensations began to swallow her whole. The satisfaction had to come soon, it had to, it just had to...


Logan pumped into her faster as he moved one hand over to the dash board; gripping it until his sore, red knuckles turned white. An explosion of heat hit him from the back of his head, rapidly filling his skull and then racing down his throat, into his chest and then down the rest of his body; his muscular frame coming to a blistering halt. As he came inside her she was almost ready too, but not quite. She was forced to roll her hips against him for just a few seconds more before her orgasm racked her body into helpless spasm; her back arched as much as it could in the cramped conditions and her leg kicked out at the glass once more as they both heaved for breath. They held each other or rather, Ororo continued to grip at his jacket and the steering wheel whilst Logan still had his hands firmly of the dash and windows respectively.


As soon as she’d gained enough breath to, Ororo couldn’t help but chuckle. She slowly relinquished her grasp on the steering wheel and sunk her subtly trembling fingers into his hair. His head was still at her shoulder; his hot, bristly cheek pressed against her smooth one whilst the sound of his gravelly exhales filled her ear and was warm on it, like the flow of bath water. She tugged gently on his hair, urging him to pull his head put from her body whereupon she kissed him as if starved of affection; biting at his lips hungrily. “Do you think,” she gasped between kisses, “we’d better make a move?”


“Yeah.” He agreed merrily, but continuing to kiss her regardless, just as firm and cruelly and wildly as she was him. There was the sharp metalic taste of blood somewhere in that kiss, under the moist warmth. They both laughed as they kissed, neither wanting to move, content to stay whether someone happened to come by or not. After a while, Logan did pull back, withdrawing from her before taking hold of her arms at the elbow and bringing her upright with him. He ran his hands down her back, underneath her lose tussled hair, holding her body to his. Kissing her again as he wrapped his arms around her torso, he relished her body heat, the feel of her heart pounding against his chest, in time with his. The last thing he wanted was to let go.


* * *


Logan squeezed his stinging eyes shut briefly as he shifted in the driver’s seat and readjusted the one hand he had on the steering wheel; warding off the lethargy brought on by a monotonous driving route. Dusk had fallen and the road ahead was cloaked in navy blue, making the trees all around look black as coal. He tried to concentrate on the headlight beams that cut two wide conical shaped florescent yellow lines along the matted grey of the tar in order to stay awake after five hours of non-stop driving. Ororo nestled against his side, her eyelids heavy too, but she fought to stay awake as she rested her head on his shoulder with her arms lazily looped around him; enjoying the comforting pressure of his free arm draped over her left shoulder. The quiet of the countryside and the soft rumble of the engine attempted to lure her into slumber but she fought against it, shifting as he had, only to settle into the same comfy position as before. The night had turned distinctly cool and the windows had been drawn up, sealed tightly to block the cold wind.


Snuggling up to him again so that her hands were clasped about his right shoulder, she suggested sleepily, “Maybe we should stop---rest for a while.” Afterwards, she yawned, stretching her legs out against the underside of the dash, before dropping them back to the tinny metal of the truck floor.


“The next place we come to sweetheart, I promise.” He squeezed her to him as if for reassurance as two cars drove by in the opposite direction, dipping their bright beams as they flew past.


And so they drove on, ever Northwards in the burgeoning night. As Ororo rested on Logan, she found she couldn’t fight the urge to sleep any longer; her eyelids refusing to stay open as her mind felt as vacant and light as autumn air. It was not long until the heavy blanket had shrouded her completely and she drifted off into dreams. Logan could feel that she was sleeping the gently flow of her chest up and down, up and down, up and down, told him that much. The mellow sound of her rhythmic breathing made him feel at ease and the uncomfortable feeling he’d had from being back in Canada after so long passed...for a time at least. Concentrating on her made him forget all else. The years had flown by since he’d last set foot on the soil of his homeland; ten, perhaps twelve even. So much had happened that he’d lost track; old memories buried for the sake of his sanity if nothing else. Despite his misgiving that he could never talk to anyone about, even Ororo, (they had broken through a wall that much was true, but there was still a long road to travel) this felt like the right time to return home. But still, something nagged away at the back of his mind, a constant torment that ate away at his newfound ‘peace’. And the closer they edged towards it, the worse it became. He’d allowed himself to be distracted thus far and having her with him had helped. But even now, he couldn’t really open up to her, not truly. He supposed, as he drove along this dark road with only his thoughts for company, as he had been accustomed to for many years, that they’d always be a part of him that would forever be kept in the dark, even to those he allowed to get close to him, which was few and far between. Few and far between? Ororo was the first since...he didn’t want to dwell on it.


He glanced down at Ororo as he rounded the next bend; her white hair glowed in the navy of the early night. The sudden urge overcame him to plant a kiss on top of her head as she slept; the need to feel the silk of her tresses under his lips and have its soft scent close to his face. Logan drank this all in and strangely, things didn’t seem all that bad. But for how long that feeling would last, he knew not.


-TBC-

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