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[Snowpocalypse] Date Knight (L 3.5)
To Lemma:
It's after the big meet-up with Hadden and his crew. You went back to your shop. Seatbelt took off once you doled everything out. Marmot has "some Dumpie shit" to deal with, so she heads out once you give her a thumbs up. Is she aware that you're moving the shop to the sub?
I imagine you're organizing things, right? Getting ready for the big move? Or is it time to sit down with the Sky Mote? Business has been slow after the weird volcano-lava thing. Did you ever go check that out?
It's late evening. You hear a snowmobile pull up to the shop, just one. There's a knock at the door, then it opens. It's Dubstep. She's wearing makeup...
"Hey," Dubstep says, looking around the shop, not looking directly at you.
It's after the big meet-up with Hadden and his crew. You went back to your shop. Seatbelt took off once you doled everything out. Marmot has "some Dumpie shit" to deal with, so she heads out once you give her a thumbs up. Is she aware that you're moving the shop to the sub?
I imagine you're organizing things, right? Getting ready for the big move? Or is it time to sit down with the Sky Mote? Business has been slow after the weird volcano-lava thing. Did you ever go check that out?
It's late evening. You hear a snowmobile pull up to the shop, just one. There's a knock at the door, then it opens. It's Dubstep. She's wearing makeup...
"Hey," Dubstep says, looking around the shop, not looking directly at you.
Comments
And that gives me time to work on the Sky Mote, which I'd been getting distracted from. I gave Hadden my copies of the Russian markings, and I have his scribbled translations spread out on my bench. ("'Not A Step'", "'power', or maybe 'electricity'?", "Well, this just says 'kamera', so maybe 'camera'?", "I don't know this one, but it's next to four different ways to say 'danger', so let's assume it's bad news.")
That gave me enough confidence to crack the outer casing in some places, but also showed that there were certain bits it would be a very bad idea to just crack open. I'm trying to figure out how I'm going to work around the radioactive core safely when Dubstep pulls up.
Even I can recognize that the jacket and the makeup are unusual. So's the shyness, actually.
I put down my ratchet wrench and reach for a grease cloth.
"Hey, Dubstep. What's up?"
Dubstep looks over at you, gives you a grin. "Wanted to come by, say hey and stuff. You still busy?" She comes over to lean against a bench near you, but not too close. She smells odd. Girlie, like what flowers supposedly smelled like. Have you ever smelled a real flower, Lemma?
"That situation got resolved pretty well, actually. I'm just..." I wave at the slow-motion explosion that the Sky Mote is turning into. "I guess there's always something to fix."
Dubstep nods, a little frown at the corner of her mouth. "Yeah. Always somethin to fix, yeah." She reaches into her jacket, pulls the flower out of her jacket, closes the distance between you, and puts it on your work bench. "Well, I'll let you get back to it, then." She gives you a nod, like "that's it" and turns to head out.
What do you do?
I pick up the flower, then snag her elbow as she turns.
"Hey... I can get a little wrapped up in this stuff, and it's not exactly a team sport. I could maybe use a break. What do you do when you want a night off?"
Dubstep pivots around to face you, her grin returns a bit. She nods, "Hell yeah, you need a break! You work too hard, Lemma. Need a night off, yeah." She leans back against the work bench, "When you can ride, the world's your oyster and whatnot. We could head up to Palmer's, take a dip in one of his shrimp tubs. He's got a couple he keeps clean, and he lets me skinny dip in them, the old perv. I just like the warm bubbly, you know. Or zip over to Monarch's and have some beers with the Skegs, that's always fun. Even losing poker to Hardbag is fun sometimes, because he's a fucken riot." She shrugs, "Or, you know, since you're all sciencey. We could go down to The Field, check out the lava and shit. Not so much my fun, but it is fucken warm, man. Feels awesome."
"Alright, bet." Dubstep replies, her confidence kicking back in. She heads for the door. "Don't have a spare helmet, but outside's pretty warmish, should be good. Wind in your hair and whatnot. Because lava. You need to lock up?"
Dubstep waits for you to lock up and then she starts up the snowmobile when you get on. "You good with a quick ride again, Lemma? I can take it slow, if you want it slow."
Dubstep grins like a madwoman, then pulls out of the lot, kicking the snowmobile into gear and zipping north to turn onto Roosevelt. The going is slow, since the side streets are littered with frozen cars. Once she gets up onto the northern highway, she really winds it out, laughing as the wind buffets you. No doubt, it is cold, but nowhere near as cold as it's been.
She hooks into a skidding right turn onto 290 and in moments, you're rocketing down an exit ramp into Inner City. The snowmobile engine is loud, the fuel injectors has her purring like a lion.
Dubstep takes turns like she's driven here a hundred times. Under the L tracks, past icicle row houses and huge buildings that stand in reverence of what was. She hangs a left on Michigan and speeds past Red Brick and Market, then past the Pier on the right.
Once she's past the Pier, she hangs right and heads for the lake. Instead of slowing down as she nears the docks, she speeds up. Quickly, her ride is clocking a hundred when she skates out onto the ice. The ride churns up the ice, which feels a bit looser than you've ever felt. Dubstep laughs as she notices it, too. "Whoah, you think the whole lake'll melt, Lemma?"
You see Monarchs up ahead, she'll be pulling the ride in soon.
I stop myself, laugh.
"It might get a little mushy around the edges, is all."
Dubstep slows down enough to look over her shoulder at you for a second, then turns back to the handlebars, "That's not so bad."
She brings the snowmobile up to park beside a few other rides. You've looked over these things enough to know which Skegs are inside: Hardbag, Japanoise, Sambass, Gabber and Terrorcore. Dubstep hops off the ride, waits for you before heading in.
What do you do?
Dubstep slows down for you, not taking her normal big steps. The girl moves fast, most times. She asks as you take the ladder up to the ship, "You been here before, Lemma?"
Regardless of the answer, she leads you into the well lit main area. There's some old bluesy tune playing over some tinny speakers on the radio stuck in the corner. Gabber and Terrorcore are playing cards with Japanoise and a couple of Roxy's girls. Sambass is sitting at the makeshift bar with Monarch and some old guy you've seen at the Pier. There are a few Pier folk strewn about at tables, drinking quietly. Hardbag isn't in here.
Monarch sees you both and calls, "Hoi Dubstep! Hey Lemma, welcome, welcome!" That announcement has the Skegs looking over. Japanoise is the one who smirks, the rest just, well, take note.
Dubstep pushes her way to the bar, expecting you're following, since you have been. "Two vodkas, Monarch." She offers you a stool, then sits beside you.
Monarch pours a couple drinks, puts them in front of you both, "How's things, Lemma?"
I shrug off the wave of attention and take the seat and the drink.
"Been a busy couple of weeks, Monarch."
"I hear you." Monarch says brightly. "Folks are thinking this place will be floating again soon, what with the lava and shit. I told them they're effed." He gives you a curious look, asks, "They're wrong, right? The lake won't melt... will it?"
Sambass chuckles at that, like he thinks Monarch is effed. Dubstep pauses, looking at you for the answer.
I down a mouthful of the vodka with only a little bit of a wince.
"I haven't actually seen the lava yet, though. It's not, like, pumping right onto the lake or anything, right? That would change things."
Sambass answers this one, with his usual cocky air, "Nah, it stopped about a block out from the stadium. Me and Gabber and Terror just back from it a bit ago. Crazy as fuck. But hey, couldn't happen to a nicer bunch o' assholes as the Soulja Boys."
Japanoise pipes up with her shrill voice, "We should have a contest on who can take the most of 'em down! Kick em while they're down! I hate those fuckers."
"You only hate Cappin," Gabber says with a grin. "And you sure as shit weren't saying that when you were ridin his jock." The Skegs all laugh and Japanoise punches his arm lightly.
It looks like Dubstep plans on chilling here, getting a little drunk. You down with that?
I'm mostly quiet, but I'll stay close Dubstep, watching her. I mean, I can usually keep the stare from getting too spooky intense unless I mean it. But I am getting a little drunk.
I just let it soak a bit. I don't do this enough, always on to the next project. It's nice not to be trying to fix anything.
After you get a nice buzz going, Dubstep's all smiles, and she's laughing and the nervousness from before is gone. She's sitting close and chatting about the fuel injectors. "I realized that the way you set it up, it would spike a little quick. You know? So I. Well, hell, I went in, played with the timin. You notice it? Smoother on the gears and shit. Still fast as ever. You notice it?" She uses the conversation to put a hand on your stool, right behind your butt.
How is your body language towards her, Lemma? Or do you even notice that kind of thing, even now?
"Oh, good, I was a little worried, since I never got to really test it out. That's great-- I'll have to look at what you did so I can work it in next time."
I actually do like chatting about the fuel injector, but, after a little while, I lean over, put a hand on the inside of her arm, and murmur, "What do you say we get out of here?
"Alright, bet," Dubstep says, her body reacting to your touch, her eyes drawn to you. "You wanna go see the lava? Or like... head back to my place?"
Monarch's sensing you two need private time, he moves over to check on the card game. Sambass just looks at his bottle, takes a big swig, then turns to ask, "Hey Dubbie, why don't you share? It's obvious you two are gonna bump uglies. Why don't you add some salsa to the mix, yeah? Take me with you. I got enough for both of ya."
Dubstep's eyes narrow, but she hesitates for a second. Maybe to see if that's what you want or something?
What do you do?
And when Sambass jumps in, I wait for a beat, cock my head, and start laughing. Starts as a quiet, shaking giggle before escalating to sort of a wheezing bark. I take Dubbie by the elbow, turn my back on Sambass, and head out the door, the laughing fit still tailing off.
That's enough for Dubstep. She backhand slaps Sambass's arm, for good measure, then lets you pull her out of there. The rest of the Skegs laugh at that, and then make a few vulgar comments as you two leave, like Japanoise says, "Don't get a neck cramp again, Dubbie!" Gabber gives you both a V salute, for victory, but then he wiggles his fingers and sticks his tongue between them, licking lewdly. They laugh and catcall.
Dubstep barks at them, "Fuck off, you assholes." But she's smiling, this is how they are together. Rude, crude and socially unacceptable.
You head out into the cold, towards her ride, and as you get close to the snowmobile, Dubstep suddenly reaches for your hips, turns you to face her, and dives in for a kiss. It's an about face from her earlier nerves and trepidation. Maybe she's showing off for the Skegs, who are probably watching through windows. Or perhaps your suggestion of going back to her place was what she needed.
How do you respond to that?
Dubstep is warm, so is her kiss. She grins like mad when you return her affections, and yeah, she glances up at the Skegs before she mounts the ride. She considers you a bit of a catch, it seems.
The ride across the lake to Dubstep's place is quick. She takes Lakeshore south to the edge of Inner Chi-Town, and once you see Shedd Aquarium off to your left, she winds west to end up pulling the snowmobile inside of what was once a noodle shop. It's been beat to hell, tables and chairs moved around or broken up, painted Skeg signs all around in here. Some tools, this must be her garage.
She pulls you upstairs, to "her pad", opens the door's padlock into this place:
Once you step inside, Dubstep says, "Want some more drinks, or wanna hop on the couch for, ah, for a while?" She smirks again, excited, but not wanting to freak you out.
Okay. This is a night for letting go. It's not like I'm not used to grimy environments.
I throw one of the cushions back onto the couch and pull her down next to me.
Dubstep's a little tipsy, not trashed, but she's sort of beyond talking and flirting now. She's quickly working your clothes off, kissing her way down your body as each bit of flesh is revealed. She gets down to business, making sure you enjoy things first.
How is this for you, this kind of hook up? When was the last time something like this happened? Have you ever had a, you know, committed relationship?
It's been a while since something like this happened, and it wasn't really this kind of hook-up. There was an intermittent friends-with-benefits situation with Holden, a trader. Good hands on him, but he pushed south a few months ago and hasn't been back.
And commitment, well, that goes even further back. Marlon, who I lost to the cold. Emotional distance saved me then, and it's been useful since. I remember what it was like, though.
It's not usually women, with me. Once or twice before, when they aggressively pursued it. Between that and a certain orgasm-induced languidness, I'm probably a little awkward returning certain favors, here. But I am feeling good and definitely willing.
She doesn't seem interested in letting you return any favors, actually. She's pretty focused on getting you off. Hell, you practically have to push her to take off her clothes.
Afterwards, you're spent, and she's lying partially on the couch, partially in your arms. She's quiet, like real quiet, for a while. You're about to fade off into a satisfied little slumber, when she asks quietly, "Hey... Lemma? Last time we hooked up, you said somethin about me not being broken. It's been in my head for like, forever. What did you mean? Do I, ah, act like I'm broken or fucked up or something?"
Dubstep listens, quietly reaching up to brush some of your hair away from your eyes. She's calm now, the booze, the release of sex, the lack of onlookers. When you say you like it, she grins. "Mag, Lemma. I really dig spending time with you. I'm not. Hrm, I'm not up for anything, you know, binding. But I like it when we're together. Does that make any kind of sense?"
Dubstep slides over to lie beside you on the couch, yawns, and lays her head down near yours. You both drift off to sleep.
--END SCENE--