V

They were heading through the mountains with the top down on the Invicta.  Lyla was wearing as small a T-shirt as he could find, and a pair of drawstring pants with the bottoms rolled up.  She had her dread locks tied up the best she could manage in a pale, blue scarf Case had given her.  He was surprised how easily he could look at her wearing it.  It was a relic Kelly had left in her wake.

And an ill-fitting pair of aviator shades.  Those had been his and they seemed to cover half her face.

When he’d been looking for things she could wear as well as mask her appearance, she’d pointed out it was the first time she ever worried about being recognized in public.  It wasn’t something that happened often, but with news of the fire still getting near constant attention, so was she.

By now they’d confirmed everyone had gotten out.  They were calling it a miracle, and stories of the unknown hero who’d carried several people to safety were growing more grandiose every time one of the survivors got in front of a news camera.

The investigators had pieced together a few more details on what had happened with the back door, and determined someone had deliberately locked people inside.  As they regarded this alongside the club’s many fire code violations, the miracle of no one dying became even larger.  The nameless hero became that much more heroic, and the mysterious disappearance of the little known singer that much more mysterious.

They’d reported a massive upsurge in sales of Lyla’s music, and her face was being flashed in every report.  The lead fire investigator as well as her manager issued appeals to her to come forward and let the world know if she was all right.  They issued more appeals to the public to call in if anyone spotted her.

She wasn’t ready to deal with it, but she needed clothes.  She and Rawlins had had a long conversation whether or not to go out in public while it was all still at the center of the world’s attention.  Case had been cautious, but in the end, she told him she wasn’t going to go on walking around in the dumpy clothes she was borrowing out of his closet.

She’d sat quietly stoic through most of the long ride, but a smile crossed her face as soon as they pulled into the mall parking lot.

Case circled until he found a spot close to an entrance.  Lyla kept smiling.  She seemed completely unconcerned with walking into a massive public place crowded with people.  In his mind, Rawlins knew the odds of some random disaster striking were astronomical, but a knot of tension was forming in the pit of his stomach.  It was the first time they’d gone anywhere public since the fire.

Lyla reached across the seat and put her hand on his leg.  “I feel it, too,” she told him.  “But I swear, nothin’s gonna touch us but us.”

He put his hand on top of hers and studied what he could see of her face through the makeshift disguise.  She was all smile and cheekbones.

“There’re a lot of cars here,” he said.  “The more cars, the more people inside.  The more people, the more chance someone could recognize you.”

Her smile relaxed a brief moment and she nodded agreeably.  “But that’s not gonna happen.  Sometime, yeah.  But not today.  Remember how calm you were back in the shitstorm?”

Calm didn’t feel like the right word.  He remembered doing things he could never have done without a flood of adrenaline pouring through him.  He’d felt a clarity that faded in the aftermath – little more than his body going through motions his mind knew needed going through - but he didn’t open his mouth to contradict her.  He just nodded and listened.

“That’s how I feel now,” she told him.  “All kinds of shit can, and sooner or later will, probably blow up right in our faces…but today just ain’t gonna be the day.  Don’t ask me how I know.  Just do.”

He gave back the same look she’d given him, punctuating it with the same nod.

“Okay.  Long as you’re up for this, so am I.”

“Well I can’t keep on borrowing your clothes.  That shit just don’t work.”  They might have laughed, but there were too many other things to be thinking about.  “Besides,” Lyla finally added, “when was the last time you went clothes shopping with a woman?”

“That would be a very long time.”

“Somebody important.”  It was pure statement.  No hint of a question.

He nodded.  “How’d you know?”

“Oh please.  Men and women don’t go clothes shopping together unless there’s something real personal between them.”  She paused a beat or two and then asked what happened.

Rawlins thought back on the accident and highly publicized demolition of the relationship.  “Remember what you said before about not having to doubt what the person you’re with is made of?  There was another kind of fire for us, and no hero to carry anybody out.”

“Faith is a motherfucker,” she said.

Silence curled heavily around them.  “Is there somebody waiting for you?” he finally asked.

“Couple of businesspeople.  A band.  Hopefully.  These days that’s all I got.”

Rawlins was surprised, but he didn’t say so.  “Generally,” he said after a long moment, “people ask these kind of questions before getting close as you and I been.”

“You mean the fucking, I s’pose.”  She flashed a self-satisfied grin.

“Yeah, pretty much.”

“Generally,” she said with a soft chuckle.  “But walking through fire together has a way putting everything in its own context.”

He waited long enough for the subject to drift away.  “You ready?”

“Let’s go.”

As they left the car and headed for the entrance, Lyla slipped her hand inside his.  The gesture surprised him, but he liked it and turned a smile on her.  Then he started laughing, and she lowered her shades and raised a brow in question.

“That outfit is gonna get you looked at more than any news report.”

She snickered and squeezed his hand tighter.  “Just stay close.  We gotta keep this circle around us.”

“That sounds like faith.”

“It is.”

“Thought you said faith is a motherfucker.”

“Only when you don’t have it.”

When they got inside and started working their way through the mall, it didn’t take long before they started attracting curious glances.  Rawlins was a good foot taller than Lyla’s five-two, and his hair was a light enough shade of brown as to be almost blond.

They turned into a well-known department store, and Lyla floated through it until they were standing in the middle of a large ladies’ section.  She let go of his hand and scanned the area.  She seemed to drift away for a moment or two.  Then she turned to Rawlins briefly and reminded him to stay close.  He followed her from one rack to another while she pulled item after item down and piled them across his arm.

Before heading to the changing rooms, she took him on a detour to the men’s section and grabbed a shirt at random.

“That’s your ticket into the changing area,” she explained.

He was skeptical.

“Close, remember?” she added.  “I need you close.  Besides, you didn’t think I was just gonna take all this shit off the rack and not get a second opinion, did you?”

He couldn’t help rolling his eyes, but he followed her toward the changing rooms without saying anything.  She took her pile of choices out of his arms and stopped to let the attendant check her through.  The young, blonde attendant gave the singer a skeptical look, but he stepped up quickly to divert her attention and checked through with his single shirt.

About half the stalls were taken, but Lyla was waiting for him about two-thirds of the way down on the row to the right.  He stepped inside with her, discovering she’d already hung her selections on the brackets.  She pulled the door closed, shutting them into the small space.  The moment the door clicked shut he started to have deep misgivings about being there.  He was reluctant to say anything, feeling cautious about being overheard.

Lyla took off her shades and responded to his disapproving look with a broad smile.  Then she deftly flipped the scarf off her head and released her shoulder length locks.

“Shit,” Rawlins whispered intensely.  “Is this allowed?”

The singer’s grin widened even more as she shook her head.  “Call the fire department,” she whispered back.

Around them was the muted clicking of plastic hangers being put on or taken off metal brackets.  People in their own stalls trying out their choices.  Case rolled his eyes and sat on the small bench.  His presence was enough to make the small booth feel cramped, but Lyla had a way of making it seem there was plenty of room to move in whatever space she occupied.

In a few, quick moves, she pulled off the clothes she’d borrowed and stood naked within touching distance.  Her back was turned while she scanned through her selections.  The curve of her spine as it swept down to the firm spheres of her ass held Rawlins’ close attention despite his concerns about everything that could possibly go wrong.

There was no fighting the swarm of heat that swept between his legs.  He wanted to reach between hers and run his hand up the inside of her thigh, but she quickly bent over and started to pull on a pair of thin, grey yoga pants that hugged her tightly as her skin.  She then shrugged into a sleeveless blouse that was cropped just below her ribs.

She turned around to face him while she buttoned the blouse from the bottom up, slowly covering the swells of her breasts.  Then her hands shot out to each side in a what-do-you-think gesture.

Rawlins shook his head.  I definitely shouldn’t be in here, he told himself.  After a moment of staring, he rose off the bench and started to unbutton the blouse.  “This is a keeper,” he whispered as he pushed it off her shoulders and down her arms.

She leaned over and pushed the yoga pants back off.  Rawlins sat down again, and Lyla put one foot up on the bench beside him.  He slid his hand along her bare thigh to her pussy, catching her eyes as his fingers began stroking the folds of her slit.  The look on her face told him she had as many things to say to him as he had to her.

She reached out with both arms and braced herself against the walls while her pussy flushed around his searching fingers.  Her words echoed continually though his mind: nothin’s gonna touch us but us.

They were dream words, but they rang true even if only for the moment.  He repeated them over and over in his mind while he studied her face and felt her pussy lips grow thick and wet to the stroke of his fingers.  She looked back at him with the same intensity, her breasts beginning to heave as her breathing grew deeper.

Someone shuffled into the stall next to theirs.  She was clearly putting up a struggle to keep her breathing silent now.  He gripped one of her ass cheeks firmly in one hand and pressed the tips of two fingers into the yielding space between her pussy lips.

Her eyes widened and then hooded over as he pushed his fingers deeper, but she kept them trained on his face.  He pressed the tip of the middle finger from his other hand against the pucker of her rimhole and leaned over to lash her clit with his tongue.

Her hands moved off the walls to his shoulders, nails digging into the muscles that had smashed their way to freedom when everything around them had been on the verge of total collapse.

The person in the next stall unzipped something.  Then there was the light whisk of fabric.  But Rawlins began sliding his fingers in and out of her pussy.  He kept his tongue in steady motion over her swollen pearl along with the tight pressure of his finger against her starbud.

He knew Lyla had to be just as aware that someone was in the next stall, but she just kept pouring herself onto his tongue and fingers.  Her hips began rocking in a see-saw motion that started lightly, but then intensified along with the pressure of her nails in his shoulders.

She let an audible sigh escape.  It was soft as a whisper, but the pleasurable nature of it was unmistakable.  Consequences ceased mattering.  Rawlins’ cock was fully swollen in his pants, and he was driven to consume every drop of nectar Lyla’s body was pouring onto his hand and mouth.

Carrying her out of a burning building didn’t feel real anymore.  It might as well have happened to someone else.  It had barely felt real even while it was happening.  It had been little more than a long, protracted reflex he never thought about.  Pure action and reaction.  It could have been anyone in the right place at the right time, but because of their surreal circumstance, no one anywhere in the world could ever be who she was to him now.  He was bent on carrying her to wherever life exists.  If he could do that much, then maybe he would be able to find himself in such a place as well.

Her hip suddenly froze, but her body started to shake with tremors.  Rawlins lapped harder and faster at her clit, thrusting harder with his fingers until a soft whimper escaped her throat and her grip on his shoulders went slack.

When they slowly disengaged, she stepped back while he leaned against the wall.  Looking at her while her taste still clung to his lips made his cock ache harder.

There was another whimper of pleasure.  It didn’t come from Lyla, but from the neighboring stall, and it was distinctly feminine.  Whoever it was, she was making just enough noise to let them know they were affecting her.  It was almost as if she were joining them.

The naked singer cast a glance at the wall between them and their anonymous partner.  She reached between her thighs and slid her finger up into her pussy, then drew it back out and took the entire length of it into her mouth, sucking her own nectar from it with a calculated smack of her lips.  She was answered with a whimpering gasp that came light as a breeze.  They were keeping it all low enough to keep it private, but it was hard not to wonder if anyone in the area could hear their telltale lapses in the discretion.  Yet it was even harder to care.

When Lyla brought her attention back to Case, he quietly loosened his belt and unzipped his pants.  He pushed them down to his ankles and then openly stroked his rigid cock as he admired the singer.  Her eyes were trained on his calmly stroking fist.  Her tongue swept out and traced the inner circle of her lips, moistening them even though they were already damp.

The gesture looked so natural Rawlins couldn’t tell if it had been completely unconscious or if she were deliberately teasing.  Either way, it made his cock pulse with heat while a steady flow of precum seeped out of the head.

It felt strange to have her watch him, as if their natural roles were reversed.  The stifled moans and whimpers coming from the next stall were more than he could think about, but he felt every one of them.

“I’m gonna suck that big, bad cock dry,” Lyla whispered.  A soft moan came from the other stall in reply.

Rawlins knew she hadn’t said it only for him as he watched her smile and step closer.  His hands skimmed over the smooth warmth of her breasts as she leaned over and whispered only to him.

“Nothin’ but us.”

Then she sank down on the carpet at his feet and replaced the hand on his cock with hers.  She stroked his shaft and began licking the head, punctuating her tongue swipes with barely audible kisses.  His body pulled deeply for breath while her tongue curled around the ridge of his ripe dome just before enveloping him inside the wet heat of her mouth.

He wove his fingers into her locks, holding them back so he could watch her work the full length of his cock with her lips and hand stroking in tandem.  She made just enough noise to keep the line of whimpered communication open with their unseen companion.

Rawlins’ pulse was spiking.  He almost marveled at his own selfishness for wanting to tell Lyla she had never been more beautiful than she was at that very moment.  But he also knew it wasn’t true.  She was as naturally beautiful as the deepest night sky over his personal desert.  It was what she was from her core outward.

But that’s what beauty was.  Something that happens at the random intersection of natural forces.  It was unfathomable and untouchable.  It was a unity as seamless as mother and child in one body.

Whatever it was, it was Lyla.  It was the strangled whimper of release coming from a hidden stranger who’d happened into these moments belonging to them.

Case wanted to thrash and howl as he started to cum, but he only allowed himself a loud enough gasp to let their neighbor know she wasn’t cumming alone.  The force of his own restraint intensified the sensation of soft electricity shooting through his body.  Everything he was exploded and was swiftly sucked into Lyla’s spectacular mouth.

She made good on her promise to suck him dry, and when she finally released him, she sat back on her haunches and smiled.  There wasn’t a trace of cum anywhere on her mouth.

VI

He handed the shirt back to the attendant on his way back out.  Waiting for Lyla, he kept scanning the store and wondered if any of the women within eyeshot could be the one who’d been inside that changing booth.  One of them had to be.

When Lyla appeared a couple of minutes later, she was wearing the shades but not the scarf.  She was grinning, looking almost comical as she balanced the huge load of clothes in her arms.  The attendant made a move to help her, but she passed her off.

“Don’t worry.  I’ll take ‘em all,” she said without breaking stride.

The singer kept some distance from the checkout counter while Rawlins bought the entire haul.  She hadn’t even tried most of it on.

“You look like that guy on the news,” the cashier said as she scanned through the bar codes.  She looked like a round-faced college girl working a summer job.

Rawlins was taken by surprise.  He felt himself clench and hoped it didn’t show.

“What guy?”  It seemed impossible anyone could have recognized him.  It had been too many years since the minor league fame he’d given up.  His brief spate of major fame after Kelly’s accident felt like a distant nightmare now.   “I’m afraid I haven’t seen the news today,” he lied.

“Oh my god, didn’t you hear about that huge fire they had?  Some guy rescued all these people and then just disappeared.  They thought he might have gotten stuck inside, but they searched all morning and figured everybody got out okay.  Thanks to him, whoever he is.  It’s like the freak miracle of the century.”

“Huh.  Sounds pretty incredible.  But if this guy disappeared, how’d he end up on the news?”

“They had some of the people talk to one of those sketch artists like the cops have.  There’s all these people who want to thank him for saving their lives and such.  Anyway, you look a lot like the guy in the sketch.”

He forced an amused smile.  “That’s a good one.  'Fraid I’m no hero, though.  Unless carrying my wife’s shopping bags qualifies me.”

“In my book, definitely,” the girl chuckled.

“I’ll be sure to tell her that.”

The smile on his face faded the moment he turned to go.  He was relieved to get away from the cashier, but a whole new set of worries came down on his mind.  With multiple bags hanging from each hand, he met Lyla near the store’s exit into the mall.  She took a few of them off his hands and they started walking.

“There’s something I think we need to see,” he told her.

She nodded without a word and they made their way to a large electronics discount store.  Inside, they were confronted with a long bank of televisions all playing the same news report.  The fire was the topic of the day, and it likely would be for a few more.  It wasn’t long before the sketch the cashier had told him about flashed onto the twenty or thirty screens all at once.

Rawlins felt his blood go cold while Lyla grinned.

“You’re way better looking than that in person,” she remarked.  “No one’s ever gonna recognize you from that.”

“Someone almost did.”  He told her about his talk with the cashier.

“Almost,” she emphasized.  “And that’s as close as anyone’s gonna get until you’re ready to come forward.”

“I’m having trouble sharing your confidence.”

“Here’s how sure I am,” she said, and then she took off her shades and stuck them into the pocket of her ill-fitting, borrowed pants.

“We’ll never make it to the car with you showing your face like that.”

“Yes we will.  Best place to hide something’s in plain sight, right?  But we have one more stop to make first.”

She turned on her heel and marched toward the exit, back into the mall.  Every step she took, Rawlins was worried someone would spot her.  He understood her need to step back for a time, especially if she had the kind of enemy who’d locked a crowd of people into a flaming nightclub.  But she was a performer, and sooner or later she’d need to get back to her life and career.  They both had their own share of post-traumatic stress to get over, but for now, everything was intersecting.

He wasn’t paying attention to where they were going when Lyla turned into a lingerie shop.  It was a much shorter stop than the first one.  She seemed to know what she wanted, and the only thing that stanched her progress appeared to be color selection.

This time, she went with him to the counter and stood beside him looking as if she hadn’t a care in the universe.  The cashier was cordial, but otherwise acted as if she barely noticed them. Adding three more bags to their haul, they left the store, Lyla’s smug grin growing wider the closer they got to their exit.

The number of bags they were carrying between them filled the Invicta’s trunk.  When Rawlins shut the lid, he found Lyla staring pensively into space.  The grin she’d been wearing before had changed entirely.  It was clear she had something to say, but needed some time to say it.

He gave it to her and waited.

“I’m afraid of turning into a burden,” she said.  “I keep assuming all of this is okay.  It’s like I fell out of the sky and monopolized your world.  But everything’s got a shelf life.  Even me.  But if it weren’t for you I wouldn’t be alive right now.  You gave me my life, and all I’ve done ever since is just keep taking.

“I know you were trying to hide that part about the door being locked from me, too.  And I know you were doing it for me.  Protecting me from that much more ugly truth.

“Most people get to say hello first, but not you and me.  You just saved my life and took me away just ‘cuz I asked you to.  You are the hero they keep saying, and I’m stupid enough to not like you belonging to all those other people who are alive because of what you did.”

She paused, looked at him briefly and then back off across the tops of a small sea of cars.

“I just know I can’t go back.  Not yet.  And I keep thinking if I let you get more than ten feet away I’ll disappear.  Maybe I could just…”

He took her by the arm and pulled her close.  “I’m not any kind of hero at all, Lyla.  I don’t expect you to understand, but you’re the one who rescued me.  And the two people standing here now are different than the ones in that club last night.  Besides, I’m not sure what I’d do if you got more than ten feet away, either.”

“Damn, Case.  You’re ‘bout as fucked up as me.”

They smiled at each other and he pulled her into a hug.

“Nothin’ touches us but us.”

“In that case,” she said, “we gotta go back inside.  I’m gonna need a keyboard.  I got some songs need writing.”

When they got back to the desert house, Case parked the Invicta in the detached, double stall garage.  He opened the trunk and immediately started transferring the bags and keyboard gear into the dark blue SUV parked in the other stall.  Lyla watched him with a curious look on her face, but instead of asking questions, she walked to the rear end of the convertible and started handing him the last few bags.

“I just need a few minutes to close up the house.  With the news going the way it is, there’s a better place for us to stay.  I should have thought of it before.  I just didn’t know how far you really wanted to run away.”

“Okay.”

He couldn’t detect a shred of doubt in her tone.  “No one will find us where we’re going.  You’ll be able to decide when you’re ready to go back to the world.  If ever.  And I think you’re gonna like it there.”

He gave her a brief smile, and then walked out before she had a chance to respond.  If she had any misgivings, the time it would take to pull a few things together and close the house would give her a few minutes to think them over.

Having done it enough times, it didn’t take more than fifteen minutes for him to shut down the water and electric mains, and then throw his laptop and a few items into a backpack.  There was little need for much else since the other house had clothes, toiletries and food already laid in.

When he walked back into the garage, Lyla was already sitting in the passenger’s seat of the SUV.  She looked as calm as a woman sipping tea in her best friend’s living room.

Case put his pack on the back seat and got in.  Before starting the engine, he turned halfway on the seat to face her.

“This is an awful lot of trust to be putting in someone you haven’t known very long.”

She nodded briefly and turned to look at him.  “True.  Except for one thing.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.  I know the part that matters more than the rest.  I know who you are when the shitstorm breaks.  And I’m the only person alive who’s seen that man up close.  That’s kind of a rarity, wouldn’t you say?”

He turned on the seat to face forward and smiled to himself, even though he knew she could see it.  Then he started the truck.

After three hours of driving, the last half of it back on mountain roads again, Rawlins pulled down a long, gravel driveway.  Lyla had been trying to make out as much as she could in the glow of the headlights, but she never opened her mouth to ask where they were or where they were going.  Now that they were stopped, her gaze became more curious and intent.

Case got out and went ahead into the house.  Once he had the power and water turned on, he switched on the lights that illuminated the broad porch that ran along the front and one side of the two-story house.  He wished he could have been sitting beside her to see the look on her face when she saw it.  She wouldn’t really get the full picture of where they were until daylight, though.  The main thing for tonight was to get settled and comfortable for however long they’d be there.

He stopped and thought a while about the songs she was planning to write.  Although she would surely move on sooner or later, she’d turn whatever changes her heart and mind were going through now into songs he could listen to over and over.  He’d always have that much, and that was nothing small.

Finally, he went back outside and started pulling things out of the truck.  She got out to help, staying quiet until they got inside.  It was no mansion, but it had its own brand of fading grandeur, a different world from the spare ranch house in the desert.  She stopped and looked curiously around the spacious salon, which took up most of the ground floor.

Case had all but forgotten about the chandelier hanging down from the ceiling until Lyla looked up and took it in.  It had been there when he bought the place, and he’d never seen a reason to take it down.

“This is your place?”  She raised a brow along with the question.

“It is.”  He nodded, confirming.

She nodded once at him and then once more at the floor.  “You do something besides drive a taxi.”  It wasn’t a question.

“Used to.  But it doesn’t matter now.  Not for years.  I bought some property when I had the chance.  Houses.  A few apartments.  Most are rented.  Now you’ve seen the only two I keep for myself.  But we’ll have privacy here.  All you have to do is tell me when you’re ready to go back to the world and I’ll take you.  The only thing I need to ask is that you never tell anyone about this place.  Tomorrow, when I show you around the village you’ll understand why.”

She nodded, then walked a curious circle around the salon.  The place held an odd mix of things Rawlins had liked, but never thought about how it would all work together in one place.  He didn’t care.  It worked just fine for him.  Lyla was the second person to see the inside of the house since he’d filled it with carpets and furniture out of resale shops.  Most of it dated back to the fifties and sixties.  It was all in good shape, but none of it looked anything close to new.

“You did something you could get recognized over,” Lyla remarked.  “That’s why you got so nervous today about that sketch hitting the news.”

“It’s a chance.  Not a big one, but a chance.”

“Okay.  I guess you have your reasons for saving a bunch of people from burning alive and then just walking away before anyone could so much as say thanks, Mister.”

“Mhmm.  Not to mention the free publicity blitz you walked out on.  Think of how many people would be downloading your music.”

“The news said they are anyway.  All because of a fire in a run down juke.  Something about that feels…I dunno…fake.  I want people to like my music because they like my music.”

Case understood, but didn’t say anything.  He just picked up the bags at his feet and carried them upstairs.  He brought them to the master bedroom and set them on the floor at the foot of the bed.  Lyla was only a few paces behind him.

“You should find everything you need.  If not, there’s a little market in the village center we can hit up tomorrow.”

He took his pack and walked out, heading down the hall to the guest room.  There were clothes stashed there as well.  It was midnight and he was tired, but instead of falling straight into bed, he went across the hall and ran the shower.  He got undressed slowly, feeling a heaviness in his limbs as he stepped into the claw-foot tub and pushed his face into the spray.

The past twenty-four hours finally started to weigh on him.  He felt weakened by it all.  Scraped out by the adrenaline crash.  The brief talk they’d had downstairs brought the reality of who Lyla really was into vivid color.  Aside from the notoriety she was getting now, she was a tiny force of nature.  It was what she’d always been.

She was a woman with a voice that had the power of quiet nights of heartbreak.  She was no damsel sitting on a city curb, panties showing, on the fringes of a catastrophe.  She was the kind of spirit who could open her throat and howl like a wounded angel.

He wondered how many times she’d poured his life out like a bucket full of cheap excuses.  Lines she’d sung off in some studio, never knowing how someone like him could end up lying on the floor with the lights out, wishing the reality of his own sadness could be half as beautiful as she made it sound.

After Kelly, he’d vowed never to be involved with another famous woman.  And Lyla, because of the fire, was rapidly becoming more famous than she’d ever been.

His own brush with fame seemed so fleeting now.  His arc from the minors to the majors had been a matter of heated debate among sports journalists.  Some called him the rising prince of the bullpen.  Others said his heart just wasn’t in the game enough to push him over the edge.  He knew it was the latter group who were right.  But then…his relationship with Kelly had only brought the pot to a boil even faster.

Right up until the car crash.  Then it seemed as if everything crashed.

The plastic shower curtain suddenly pulled back.  “If you think you’re gonna stash me up in that big bed all by my lonesome you best just rearrange your mind,” she said, sidling naked up to his side.

His eyes remained closed, mind spiraling down roads that were still under construction.  Her breasts bunched against his arm while she began fondling his cock and balls with one hand, and massaging his ass with the other.

“Lyla…”

“Shut up, please.”

He wanted to tell her everything he’d been thinking just before she came in.  How she was everything she’d been before he knew her, before they’d walked away from Planet Earth and its untimely demise, their hearts covered in the ashes.  But he felt her cheek settle against his shoulder while his cock swelled to throbbing life in her hand.

She started stroking his shaft and he was soon rigid as stone while a finger from her other hand burrowed between the firmness of his ass cheeks and found his rim.  As she stroked him, the finger probed into his hole, insinuating itself deeper while she steadily jacked his shaft.

“I’m not gonna let you push me away just for being real,” she said.  “You’re gonna need a better reason.”

The harder and thicker his cock grew, the faster she pumped his straining flesh with her fist.  Her finger was gliding deeper into his ass, steadily fucking.  She seemed tireless, working him from both sides until his breath came ragged and his muscles started to clench and spasm.  The moment he started to cum, she quickly yanked her finger back from his ass.

He threw back his head, the spray hitting his throat as he groaned and fired hard jets of cum through her grinding fist.

She was still stroking him gently when he opened his eyes and looked at her.

“It’s just me, Case.  Nobody else.”  She didn’t stop fondling his cock, but a moment later she was holding a disposable, plastic razor in front of his face.  She was smiling that same smile she had that afternoon when they were leaving the mall.  “It’s just me, and my pussy happens to be due for a shave.  And since you’re the one who saved my life, that makes you responsible.”

He took the razor out of her hand.

“Okay.  Sit down then.  Spread your legs.  Wide.  I’ll need the room.  And get comfortable.  This could take a while.”

VII

“The sign says this road’s supposed to be closed.”

“Yeah.  That’s always there,” he half explained.

But he kept driving, and kept checking her face for reactions as much as he could.  The road was leafy and full of curves, and as he had known it would be, there was no sign of any problem or construction or any other reason a road would be closed.  Lyla was looking at it all like it was any other tree-lined mountain road.

“You okay?” he asked.

“Any reason I shouldn’t be?”

He smiled, reached over and touched her shoulder while he drove with one hand.

The village center was five blocks long and two blocks wide.  There was a diner, a bakery, a medium sized supermarket, a couple of upscale boutiques, restaurants and a hardware store.  Rawlins parked the truck a few yards from the entrance to the diner and waited a moment to see if Lyla would have a reaction to the other cars parked along the main street.  There were a couple of vintage muscle cars in pristine condition, a Jag, a Ferrari and half a dozen Mercedes sedans.

If she noticed anything odd, she didn’t let it show as she followed him into the diner.  They took a booth, and a few moments later a waitress was placing menus in front of them.

“Haven’t seen you in a while, Case.”  She was a tallish, intensely curvy brunette looking just on the pampered side of trashy.  “Guess you been busy down there in the middle of nowhere.”

“How you been, Shana?”

“Same old.  Ya know.”

“Sure.  Shana, this is…”

“Lyla Simon.  I know.  I think maybe there are a couple of bears up in Saskatchewan that haven’t seen the news.”

Lyla smiled but didn’t say anything.

“I never would’ve guessed that was you in that sketch on TV, but…”  She hesitated and then seemed to change her mind about whatever she was going to say next.

She pulled her order pad out of the pocket of the short apron tied around her uniform.  The uniform itself had a tailored look.  It was short and form hugging, with short sleeves and a button down front that looked designed to remain open around fully packed cleavage like Shana’s.

The locals might have guarded their privacy intensely, but they still enjoyed a few of the amenities of their former lives.

“So you know what you want or do you need a few minutes?”

Case could tell she was covering the tracks of a near slip.  He thought he knew what she was going to say, but he couldn’t be sure.

“But what, Shana?”  He folded his arms across his chest and shot her a serious look.

The bombastically curved waitress heaved a sigh.  “Okay.  It was Kelly who pegged you.  She came in yesterday afternoon.”

“She and Trevor?”

Shana just nodded.  “You realize there’s about a million people want to slap a medal on your ass.”

“How are the blueberries today?”

“Pffff.  You really gotta ask?”

He didn’t.  The place may have looked like any other little town diner in America, but everything they served was garden fresh and of gourmet standards.  That was what the locals were used to.  It was what they expected.

“Blueberry pancakes?” he looked at Lyla.

“Sure.”

“Two orders,” he told Shana.  “Double espressos and carrot juice.  And can you do that thing where you just spoon the steam off the milk onto the coffee?”

“Anything for the unsung hero.”  She turned away and went behind the counter, disappearing through the entry to the kitchen behind it.

“Shana can be a little sarcastic, but she wont say anything to anyone about our being here.  As long as you stay inside the village limits, you can move around freely.  You don’t have to worry about anyone sharing your business.”

The singer nodded thoughtfully.  “How long have you been fucking her?”

Case reared back in surprise.  He wasn’t sure whether to answer the question or ask how she could tell.  His relationship with Shana had been casual and ongoing.  For the most part.  She’d never been inside his house, nor he inside hers.  The relationship consisted mainly of sex in the diner after hours.  Together, they’d christened every tabletop and stool, the counter and even the floor.

Shana owned the place, and after Kelly and Trevor’s accident, she’d provided Case with the raw comfort he’d needed.  After a little more than four years, there were still no expectations between them.  He spent too much of his time in the desert for them to have much of a chance to become close in any other way.

Before he had a chance to reply, the door opened and a spindly, hunched back man in his late sixties walked in followed by two, much younger women.  The man’s hair was long and dyed in an attempt to hold onto its original color.  He was wearing small, round, retro-styled shades with wire rims, and when he spotted Case and Lyla he stopped in the middle of the room.

“The prodigal whatever returns,” he announced in a Birmingham accent, throwing his arms up dramatically and letting his cane dangle from his right hand.

            “Morning Izzy,” Case said without turning.  He kept his eye on Lyla. 

Her eyes were on Izzy Kilbourne, the rock star who’d once been known as much for his voracious consumption of drugs and alcohol as his outlandish behavior on and off stage.  He was one of the first celebrities to find peace and privacy in the obscure mountain village.  Word of the place had spread to others by word of mouth.  As more came and bought property, they filtered into the town council and organized, creating a system to keep their presence a closely guarded secret.

The village police force was three times the size of any comparably sized town.  That was how they had closed signs on all the roads leading into the official city limits, along with constant patrols to keep out the curious or any journalists who might catch rumors of the town’s existence.

About half the residents used the village as an occasional getaway from the stresses of fame.  The others had turned their backs on it entirely.  In Izzy’s case it had been a matter of survival.  His doctors had warned him he wouldn’t last a week if he ever took a step back into his old life.  Shana had once told Case he had his own dialysis machine in his house.

“How you been?” Case finally asked.

“High on life,” the doddering old rocker grinned.  “Which is bloody boring, of course.  But they say I should live longer.  I just don’t know longer than whom.”

Before he’d finished speaking, Kilbourne was hobbling on his cane to the chair at the table nearest to Case and Lyla’s booth.  He sat down with an exaggerated groan of strain.  He may have had a narrow escape from his own fame, but he would be an inveterate performer to his dying day.

Rawlins cast a glance at Lyla and caught her grinning at Kilbourne, amused.

“That was a bloody awful sketch of you on the telly, by the way, Case.  Bloody awful.  I’d never have guessed that was you who rescued the lovely canary.”

Izzy extended a shaky hand toward Lyla and opened his mouth to introduce himself.

“Izzy Kilbourne,” she said before he had a chance.  She took his hand and shook.  “I’m…”

“Lyla Simon, of course.”  He waited half a beat.  “Baby you never call my name…in the firelight of the morning after…oh ain’t that a cryin’ shame.”

He’d never been much of a singer even when he was healthy.  He’d pretty much screeched his way through his performing career, and now his voice was reduced to a gravelly croak.  It was nothing close to being musical, but it had more personality behind it than he’d ever had at his peak.

Lyla’s surprise at hearing him sing those lyrics from her first CD was all over her face.

“Don’t be shocked, darling,” he said.  “I’m as big a fan as your friend here.  Not that I’d rescue you from a fire.  In my day we lit them on purpose.”

“Izzy, if you’re gonna sing in here I’m gonna have to double your tab.”  Shana squeezed between Izzy’s seat and the booth and transferred the coffees and juices from the tray in her left hand to the table.  She left as quickly as she’d come.

“Bloody tart has no appreciation for art,” he retorted.  Then he turned his head, openly gazing at the rhythmic sway of Shana’s pneumatic ass until it disappeared behind the counter.  He turned back to Lyla with a wistful sigh.  “Forgive an old man.  It’s not often we encounter true artists around here.”

“I’m just a singer,” she said.  “Nothing big or bright.  Nothing like you.”

“What I was, dear girl.  Past tense.  And what I was was a bullshit artist with a band.  Fortunately, we live in a world in which bullshit, properly packaged, earns truckloads of money.”

Case caught Lyla’s glance.  He realized he was just as surprised as she seemed to discover she had fans as famous as Izzy.

“You’d be surprised who listens to you.  Avidly, I might add,” he went on.  “But your head must be spinning with the ordeal you’ve been through.”

“Actually, I’m feeling remarkably clear.  It’s been intense but…energizing.”

The old man pursed his lips sympathetically.  “Poor dear.  Clarity.  A sure sign of stress.”

Case responded to the retired rocker’s questioning glance with a shrug.  Lyla was doing just fine speaking for herself, even if he didn’t believe her any more than Izzy seemed to.

Shana then came back with their pancakes.  Two plates stacked high, giving off wisps of steam.  Lyla and Case started eating while Izzy and his companions ordered.

With food entering the equation, the conversation diminished into intermittent small talk.  By the time they were finishing, Izzy became noticeably pensive.

“I don’t suppose you know how long you’ll be gracing our fair city?” he directed at Lyla.

“A while.  That’s as close as I can say right now.”

Case stayed quiet and kept any response off his face.  He wanted Lyla to feel free to decide.  As easily trusting as she’d been, he didn’t imagine she was sure of very much right now.

“Long enough to write a few songs,” she added.

Izzy nodded.  “I like the sound of that.  Please do me the honor of taking some time to come tell me about them.  When you’re ready, of course.”  He then groaned his way off his chair and onto his feet.  His companions followed close behind.  Since walking in, neither of them had shown the slightest sign of interest in Lyla or even if they knew who she was.

Once the door slapped shut behind them, Lyla heaved a sigh that made it seem as if she’d been holding her breath since the moment they walked in.  Case couldn’t begin to guess which part of the last thirty-six hours she was musing over at the moment.  He was used to Izzy, but it had been so long since living a life that involved having fans, let alone famous ones, that he couldn’t remember what it was like.

She closed her eyes and took a slow, deep breath, then let it out even more slowly.  After, she opened her eyes and seemed perfectly calm.  Her lips broke into a smile and there was something serene about her, as if she were surrounded by an aura of whatever it was.  It was an untouched quality Case couldn’t reconcile with his vision of her in the middle of that flaming club.

It felt as many years away as miles now.

“This place is a little freaky,” she finally said quietly.  “But I think I like it.  So far, at least.  Funny, though.  After we got out, and then being at your other place, it started to feel like you’re really this anonymous mystery they say on the news.  No friends or attachments.  Like you just swooped in out of a vacuum just for me.  But there are pieces of your life here.”

“I haven’t been here in six months.  Don’t know when I’d have come back except for you.”

“I hope that’s a good thing.”

“I’ve already decided anything that has anything to do with you can’t be a bad thing.

Her smile stretched wider.  “Even manmade disasters?”

“Near disaster,” he corrected.  “It was only a shithole building.  All the people are okay.”

“Thanks to you.”

“Shhhhh…besides, that sketch doesn’t look like me, remember?  Gotta be somebody else.”

“Mhmm.”

The smile on her face turned feline as he felt her foot slide between his thighs under the table.  She’d slipped out of her sandal, and her toes traced the inside of his thigh until they were moving against his crotch.

A very small part of him wanted to tell her it was neither the time nor place, but being touched by her overpowered everything he knew.  Even the lightness of her fingers on his arm had the power to turn the air upside down.  And whenever she touched his cock he felt changed into something more than he really was.  Maybe it made him feel closer to what he imagined she thought he was.

She stared at his face from across the table and rubbed at his cock with her foot, the smile constant on her lips.  He didn’t know how long he could go without kissing her, and his cock was quick to ache and swell against her toes.

“You’ve got some interesting friends,” she said, keeping her foot in motion.  “I realized a few minutes ago why Shana looks so familiar.”

For a few months about five years before, Shana had had a burst of fame as widespread as any other resident of the village.  She’d already made a minor name for herself after performing in half a dozen porn videos, but the one that ended up with all the attention was the one no one was ever meant to see.

It had been a private video with her and Simon Lane, a handsome and charismatic televangelist.  The video had been leaked, and clips of Shana reducing Lane to filth-blithering mush with her mouth showed up everywhere on the internet.

Lane’s remorseful pleas to his followers for forgiveness only sent donations to his ministry spiraling.  Lane’s wife and former accountant had stood tearfully by, holding his hand while he laid all responsibility for his actions on Satan.

Shana had readily accepted an undisclosed sum to stay away from the press in the aftermath.  That was how she ended up in the village.

“I didn’t think I’d end up having professional competition,” the singer added.

Case reached under the table and grabbed her ankle, holding her leg in place while her foot traced the burgeoning shape of his cock through his pants.

“Nothing touches us but us.”  And he realized how badly he needed it to be true.

“This is the first time you really sound like you believe it.”

“Don’t you?”

“I think you know I do.”

He closed his eyes and gripped her more tightly, unaware of anything but the way her ankle felt flexing inside his hand, and the easy stroke of her foot along his shaft.  He was barely aware of Shana sliding into the other side of the booth until the sound of her voice made him open his eyes.

She was sitting beside Lyla with a calm but serious look.  The singer’s foot never stopped moving while her eyes made a lazy circuit between Rawlins’ face and Shana’s, but it was Shana who held her gaze.

The two women looked at each other with a mixture of curiosity and suspicion.  Lyla’s foot never stopped moving while an air of defiance filtered through her eyes.  Shana stared back impassively.  She was on home turf.  But then she uttered a long, deep sigh, as if she were breathing for all of them.

You were right to bring her here,” the brunette said, looking over at Case.  “This is the safest place for both of you now.”  She turned back to Lyla.  “Did he explain how our little community works?”

“No.  But I think I’m getting a pretty good idea.”

Shana nodded and smiled.  “That’s good.  Most of us here have been through our own fires.  Even Case.  We just didn’t have any heroes.”

“Not like mine,” the singer said.  “If you could’ve seen that place.  Those people inside.  The fear.”

“You’re right,” Shana admitted.  “Sorry.”

Case felt miles away from everything they were saying.  Lyla’s foot against his pulsing cock was like a tether to another part of himself no one could see but her.  His grip loosened and his finger traced the contours of her ankle.

Shana’s hand dipped below the table.  Case didn’t have to see to know she was touching the other woman’s bare leg, and in the skirt Lyla was wearing, Shana’s hand could have been anywhere.

Lyla’s expression softened.  Profoundly.  “Sorry,” she said.  “Wreckage is wreckage.”

The brunette nodded.  “Has Case told you about his?”

The singer looked at him and shook her head.  Nothing from the past had anything to do with anything.  He wished Shana hadn’t brought it up, but she was the one who’d been there for him when it all went down.  He knew she was being cautious – protective – and that surprised him as much as anything he’d been through in the past couple of days.

“Not that it would change anything, I’m sure,” she added.  “Love just seems to work that way.”

Lyla cast her eyes downward.  “It’s only been a couple of days.”

Shana laughed.  The movement of her arm became more pronounced, and Case knew she had to be working her hand higher up the singer’s leg until she was touching her pussy.  Lyla’s deep breath gave it away.

“What does that have to do with anything?  Love doesn’t have anything to do with time.  Relationships, sure.  But love?  Not a damn thing.”

Lyla hunkered slightly lower in her seat.  The pressure and angle of her foot between Case’s legs changed, but she kept her toes running over the length of the shaft battling his pants.

“I guess you love him, too.”

“Very much,” the brunette smiled.  “But not like you probably think.  Oh my god, sweetie, you’re just as smooth as a peach.  You love that pussy nice and smooth, don’t you, Case?  You always have.”

He frowned at Shana and ground his cock against Lyla’s foot.

“He better,” the singer grinned.   “He’s the one who took an hour shaving it like that.”

Shana looked at Case and released a sound from her throat that might’ve been a giggle but for sounding too husky and devilish.

“Well now…there’s something he’s never done for me,” the brunette said.  “But then again, I’ve never set foot inside his house, either.”

She kept her eyes on Rawlins’ face while her arm moved again.  Lyla leaned back against her seat and moaned, her eyes closing while her teeth raked over her bottom lip.

Case didn’t need to see below the table to realize Shana was slipping fingers into Lyla’s pussy.  She put the other arm around the singer’s shoulders and held her closely.  The haphazard encounters they’d had in the diner had always been after hours, after Shana set the sign to Closed and locked the door.  Now it was broad daylight, and anyone could walk in at any moment wanting one of Shana’s gourmet breakfasts.

But somehow he knew no one would.  After walking through fire with Lyla and seeing her walk naked around rattlesnake nests in the desert, he’d begun to believe her.  And if they turned out to be wrong, he was beyond the point of caring.

He put his other hand under the table and opened his pants, working around the constant movement of Lyla’s foot.  He needed contact – skin to skin – even if only with her toes.  When he had his pants open and his fully aroused cock jutting out, Lyla’s glazed eyes were trained on his.  Shana’s presence had almost ceased mattering.

Almost.

The brunette was holding Lyla’s body against the heavy breasts that were on the verge of pushing out through the wide opening in the front of her uniform.  She turned her eyes on Case, too, the movement of her hand against the other woman’s pussy growing in its force and intensity.

The singer’s foot trapped his cock against the bottom edge of his shirt and stroked up and down the ripe underside of his shaft.

He had always trusted Shana.  Now he was trusting her more than ever and was only beginning to understand why.  She could see more of what there was between Lyla and him than they could themselves.  He’d always liked the former porn star, maybe even loved her in some way, and he’d always recognized what a naturally sexual creature she was.  She wore it easily as she wore her deep olive tinted skin.

Case was sure Shana had spotted Lyla teasing him with her foot, and that she hadn’t come to sit with them, but among them.  To absorb the energy she’d recognized between them.

The brunette pulled her fingers out of the singer’s pussy and brought them up to her own mouth.  They were shining with the other woman’s honey.  With her eyes penetrating Rawlins’, she slid the dew coated fingers into her mouth and sucked off the juice as she slowly drew them back out.

“Mmm, sweet and juicy as a peach, too.”

Shana’s hand then dropped below the table again and went back to work fingering the singer’s pussy.  Precum was oozing from the tip of Case’s cock while Lyla dragged the slick smear along his shaft with her foot.  But he needed more than her foot.  He needed the entire substance of her body – the embrace of her heat and the whole force of her touch.  He needed her hands on him as if she were sculpting his form and showing him the edges of himself at the same time.

But her hands were clutching the edge of the table while she gave in to the unrelenting pump of the other woman’s fingers.

Case couldn’t help wondering if Lyla had ever been with another woman before.  It might’ve been a question for another time, but then he realized how little it mattered.

“Jesus, Lyla baby, do you get this wet for him?” Shana asked, keeping her eyes on Case.

The singer whimpered and nodded.  “God, yes.”

Shana’s foot then materialized next to Lyla’s between Rawlins’ thighs, each of them rubbing the length of his cock in contrary motion.

“You two are like this pair of untouchable angels,” she said.  “Walking out of one fire into another.  I’m touching you both and yet not touching you at all.  It’s like touching this whole other thing the two of you become.  A single thing.  You are the fire.  And after all the fucking, it’s like finally learning how to make love.”

Lyla’s eyes were hooded.  Her chest was heaving with breath, but she caught Rawlins’ eye and he gave her a barely perceptible nod.  One of her hands then released the edge of the table and disappeared below.  She reached between Shana’s thighs, and when the brunette gasped and released a moan, Case knew the singer’s fingers had found the other woman’s slit.

Knowing Shana, Case realized Lyla only had the scantest excuse for panties to work past to reach the lips of her pussy.  The brunette’s mouth dropped open around a hot rush of breath.  Case leaned against the cushioned bench seat and ground his cock at their steadily roaming feet while watching Lyla’s eyes close.  She tensed into the breathless gasping that overtook her whenever she came.

Shana’s eyes turned to the other woman to watch her soar over that crest of pleasure, bracing herself to follow.

Rawlins lost it watching Lyla cum from across the booth.  He groaned and surrendered to the hot pulsing of his cock as jets of cum spurted from the tip, wetting his shirt along with both of their feet at the same time.

As he began to catch his breath, he watched in a daze while Lyla pulled one of Shana’s breasts out of her uniform.  She twisted and pulled at the brunette’s nipple and fingered her until she arched her back and seemed to strangle on her own breath while her body shuddered through a long release.

Shana’s and Lyla’s feet wiggled against each other while Case’s cock finally began to relax and subside.  Their toes played against each other with his cum slicking them, until Shana drew hers away first.

“Welcome to Eagle Rock,” she told Lyla, who responded with a bleary eyed smile.

They sat together in silence a while, and Lyla’s foot finally drew back from between Case’s legs.  He tucked his cock back in his pants and zipped himself back inside.

A moment later, the door opened and a fit looking, middle-aged couple walked in and took a seat at the counter.  It was if they’d come in on cue.  Shana looked back and forth between Lyla and Case and grinned.

“Like I said…untouchable,” she said.  Then she slid out of the booth and walked back behind the counter to take care of the new customers.  Both her low-heeled sandals were back on her feet, and the toes of her left foot were still wet.

No one but the pair still sitting in the booth would ever have noticed.