Sapphic Voices General Fiction

Damned Woman

Part One

This Story is rated 'Adults Only' for its graphic sexual situations, language, and violence.

The Texas wood was quiet, save for the chirping of crickets sprinkling the night. Jo tied a knot around the mouth of the fabric sack, her hands smelly and tainted with blood. Her aching muscles twitched in protest after a long night's work. It was a few minutes past midnight.

"What should I do with these livers boss?"

A young man of about thirteen looked up at her. His fine blonde hair and medium overbite made him seem younger than his actual years.

"Saddle them up in one of these bags and throw it all with the rest. I'll drive you back to your mother's, so hurry it up. It's way past your bedtime."

The dark haired woman removed her bloody apron and flung it in the sink, showering it with soap before scrubbing it furiously. Soon after, she splashed vast amounts of water on her slippery hands, in some attempt to tidy up before leaving the shop for the night. Either way, she thought, a shower was in order upon the arrival home. Shortly afterward, she and the boy drove off into the night.

……

Jo stepped out of the shower, toweling herself off. Her messy hair dripped as she patted it dry. It was rather dark inside the house; one lamp was on, and its light was quiet and sleepy, though for her, that was more than enough. Once in the kitchen, she pulled out a cold sandwich from the fridge and threw it in the oven. Slowly, the smell of beef and jalapeños enveloped her as she grabbed a beer from the freezer. Behind her, the sounds of the television were the only signs of life as she chopped onions and yellow peppers. She could see it all playing out in her mind: over muscled heroes, shootings and corpses left and right, filthy money switching between filthier hands, and the women; the women with their asses, and their breasts bouncing left and right as they danced, stripped, and whored themselves. Jo herself barely realized it, but it was a temptation she wasn’t well suited for. As she sat down before the large screen to devour the sizzling burger, she eyed them, from their painted faces to their slim waists and their feet, and in the back of her mind they seemed like an invitation. Their nudity fixated her eyes on them while she pictured in her mind various ways to bring them to their knees. It might have been too long since she had witnessed a similar creature squirm violently beneath her, half wincing, half in ecstasy. She longed for the shock, the ensuing struggle, the yelps of pain, and subsequent surrender; the delicious victory always for her to claim.

She swallowed the last of the burger, chugged some beer after it and looked on. By now the scene had switched, but the sight was still frozen in her mind. Minutes later, she switched off the television. It was already past one in the AM, and she'd be opening the shop the following day. It was a weekend, and customers kept pouring in as they usually did when the holidays neared. Without another thought, she got up and retired to her quarters.

……

The chicken's head fell a few inches away after the firm hack at the neck. Blood pooled about as Jo dismembered the bird, wing after wing. The stock room, beyond the surface she worked on, was pristine, with barely a sign of filth. Beside her, buckets of thawed poultry waited to be butchered and she could hear the bustle outside by the counter. She almost pitied John Boy and Marlena as they dealt with the influx of customers before she remembered it was her job alone to prepare the next day's deliveries, and she'd have to get started as soon as she had completed the day’s stock. It seemed her muscles would be twitching in protest tonight too.

The small town was at times surprisingly active, contrary to its true nature and outlook. There could not have been more than 130 living people in Saint Mary; distributed in spaced out wooden houses, too many of which were falling apart, night fall was more than a little frightening. And yet, during the day, things seemed peaceful, at worst, ghostly so. As least, Jo thought, they were still interested in shopping. Anything else would be bad for business.

A blonde girl burst in as Jo continued working. Fatigue was slightly evident in her gentle face as a drop of sweat poured down her brow.

"Miss Jo, couldja come out front?"

"What's going on Marlena?"

"That lady's here again, boss... She keeps askin' for ox tail, and me an' my brother keep telling 'er don't have anymore cattle comin' in 'till Monday morning. She's getting really difficult to deal with. I dunno what else to say to 'er.."

Jo sighed, knowing exactly whom the girl was referring to. She'd ran her butcher shop for over a year, and every so often the same woman would stop in, except there'd never be a time when she'd just come and leave without some kind of complaint. Annoyed, Jo washed her hands in the sink and wiped them on her apron. Outside, John Boy was waiting, looking somewhat tense. A handful of people stood behind the woman, whose adamant expression was more than enough to enrage Jo. She was slowing down business. Placing her hands in her pockets, Jo shot her a cold glance before addressing her.


"Can I help you?"

"What you need to do is make yourself useful and run this damn shop properly. I came here lookin' for ox tail, and those little bastards are telling me you're out of stock. What the hell kinda butcher shop doesn't have oxtail?!"

"I reckon both these kids informed you that we won’t have any cattle in ‘til Monday morning."

"I don't give a shit if you don't get what the hell 'till when the hell. I'm a paying customer, so you take your ass out back and fetch me what I'm lookin' to buy!"

Jo eyed the uppity woman for a second. She was a tall blonde who mockingly looked down at her from the tower of her heels. Her eyes were smoky yet sleepy, and the pout of her lips stained in dark red reminded her of the street walkers who were a sizable measure of Saint Mary's population. If Jo didn't know better, she'd guess she was one of the local prostitutes. Either way, she didn't much care for the entire ruckus.

"The set up here is real simple... I run this hovel an’ have been for over a year now. I’ve made it a point to let everyone know that if they’re looking to buy whatever kind of meat at a certain point, they either buy in advance or shop when we carry said stock... I’m sure you can read. It’s posted right outside m’ front window.”

"Did you just hear what I said?! I don't give a flippin' damn if—"

"The holidays are comin’ down on all of us, lady, and the only thing you’re doing is wastin’ everybody’s time. There’s other customers here, waiting for you to either buy some other meat or get the hell out. If you can’t make up your mind, stick around and think it over, for all I care. I close at 9:30 tonight. But don’t think you’ll stand there between my staff and the rest of my customers, you understand?”

The woman’s fury was evident, but she only turned to storm out of the shop without another word. She bumped into a few other people who all knew better than expect an apology from her. Jo’s young employees began their work once more as the woman carried herself back to the stock room. If nothing else, the butchering yet to be done would help her release some of her own annoyance.

……

That evening, Jo headed home after dropping off Marlena and Johnnie. She wasn’t up for staying in the house however, so after a shower and a change of clothes, she walked off to J’s Spot. It was a cold November night. She’d wondered if it was worth leaving her Chevy behind, but really, the distance to J’s was such that it was barely worth spending gas on. She sank her hands into her pockets as she exhaled, her breath stained grey thanks to the cigarette in her lips. The silence about the town was enveloping. There was little to be heard in the darkness save for the distant murmurs of mothers and sisters. Old men in their rocking chairs glanced calmly outside their windows as the crickets chirped. It was somehow heavenly, and an entirely different space to what Jo was used to.

Perhaps that had been the reason why she had chosen this small town of all places to retire to. Saint Mary radiated a strange blend of solemn and ominous, yet it was a place where she could begin her life anew, step by step, though, she knew better than anyone what an arduous journey it could be. Up ahead, the J’s Spot sign glowed neon green. Jo took a deep breath and hastened her step. She was in the mood for hard liquor.

The scene within the establishment was relaxed if somewhat crowded. Friday nights were generally busy, Jo knew. This was not her first visit. She walked herself over to a stool by the bar and lit another cigarette. She was expecting Janet to pop in at any second; after all, the woman always did when she came by. The thought annoyed her, for Janet wasn’t one for subtleties. She had been pestering her for months about a fling, an idea Jo wasn’t too keen on. The mere prospect of fucking around with a married woman was cumbersome, and she was already preoccupied enough with her efforts at staying out of trouble.

She opened her eyes, ending her reverie. Janet was standing across the counter from her, right on cue. A coquettish smile was painted on her alluring face as Jo looked back, solemn. She knew every word Janet was about to say down to the last sentence.

“Jo, baby… I haven’ seen you around these parts in some time… You been too busy gorin’ cattle to come visit me sugar?”

“Gimme a drink.”

“What’ll you have?”

“Doesn’t matter… Make it hard, serve it straight.”

The woman turned to face the side opposite from the counter and reached for a bottle on the top shelf. Jo’s eyebrow twitched slightly as she inhaled the fumes of her cigarette. Janet’s dress slid up slightly as she reached, just high enough to reveal what little she had on beneath. Truth be told, the dress was too small to begin with, a skin tight leather tube that snuggly enclosed the woman’s petite body, from her supple cleavage to the brutal slope of her hips. Jo wondered if she had done this intentionally. After all, Janet liked to make bold claims; that Jo was hers and hers alone, that she could smell her before she even set foot in her bar. She wouldn’t be surprised if she’d suddenly started baring her ass in under sized dresses on hunches alone.

“Here you go sugar… Whiskey, aged a dozen.”

“Salt and lemon.”

“Right here… I’m glad you finally stopped by. I’ve missed you.”

The woman held the green orbs in her hands then sliced them into halves with a knife, before handing them to Jo. At this, Jo squeezed the fruit into the amber drink, expressionless. Half of her annoyance wasn’t at Janet’s constant prodding. It was at the fact that she had to keep turning her down, when her desire was at anything but a premium.

“And the salt, baby… My, but you serious tonight... Long day at the shop?”

“T’was the usual shit of ever’day, ‘cept for some bitch strolling her ass in and causing problems.”

Jo swallowed the seasoned drink in one gulp, setting down the glass on the hardwood noisily. She met Janet’s eyes, which always seemed to be smiling, even when she was serious. She really was a beautiful woman, Jo thought. Her freckles and her red lips wouldn’t let anyone believe she was all of 36 years old.

“This town’s prostitutes are a pain, ah hear tell…”

“Fuckin’ whores ought to steer clear...”

“You’re all riled up love… Why don’cha come over to my place after I close down tonight? I’ll help you relax.”

“You don’t know when t’ quit do you.”

“Billy’s been gone for so long… Why won’t you just exploit the opportunity?”

“Forget about it.”

Her youthful smile shone again, this time with a tinge of mockery. She poured herself half a glass of vodka before looking back at Jo who was finishing her cigarette.

“Ah never knew you were such a yellow dog... If you weren’t so scared of my husband--

“I’m not scared of anybody’s husband. It’s just that getting my ass sent to the slammer is a steep price to pay for just one fuck.”

“How the hell do you jump to those conclu—“

“Come on. Your got a big brain, sugar tits. You know exactly what’s gonna happen if your sweetheart walks in right in the middle of me sinking my fist in your ass.”

Jo had meant the crass retort in jest, but upon exhaling the fumes of her vice she was met with the fascination creeping into Janet’s semblance. She had forgotten comments of that nature only seemed to pique the woman’s carnal interests.

“Baby, you know as well as I know that Billy ain’t gotta know about this…”

“Pour me another drink.”

“You don’t understand how long it’s been. Billy’s a trucker. Spends half his damn life on the road.”

“Yeah. That and he can’t get his dick up, the poor fuck.”

“Ah… I don’t know where the hell he got the ilk for that line o’ work, Jo... True, back when he was a welder we still had our problems… But now, he ain’t even around for us to throw dishes at each other like they’s game darts.”

Janet’s delicate hand enclosed the bottle of whiskey as she refilled Jo’s glass another round. Jo really didn’t give much of a damn about her marital problems, let alone Billy. Good old Billy. He was that aging fool who thought a beautiful creature like Janet could go on so long without a good fuck. It’s like he didn’t know his own wife, Jo thought. When she moved into Saint Mary three years ago, Janet had been among the first to welcome her, and while anyone else would have found the woman’s camaraderie and charm suspicious, Jo never once entertained the idea. She was too distracted by her ample tits to care about the way she came across, even if she swore off any likelihood of laying a finger on Mrs. Miller. In that lapse of time, she had seen Billy maybe twice. He was a bland man, with small hands, a growing gut, and shaggy blond hair that was starting to go white. There hadn’t ever been so much as a hello to cross between them, but already Jo knew he came short of satisfying the nymphomaniac in Janet; short, and not by an inch or two.

“You got so many marital shortcomings maybe you should find yourself a new husband, ‘stead of dumping all this shit on my lap…”

“But that’s just it baby… If it were a matter o’ of willy huntin’ it’d be over an’ done. I can smell the power in you sugar. You give off this aura about you, that you’re the one in control, that you’d know how to please a woman… I don’t get that vibe off anyone else here.”

“Well for your sake, I hope you do. My life is going just fine without you lacing yourself into it an’ that’s the way it’s going to stay.”

Janet fixed her eyes on hers and smiled. Her glass of vodka was already empty, as was Jo’s.

“You really know how to put the gin away baby…”

“I came here to get shit faced. I work too fuckin’ hard to not grant myself that luxury.”

“I’ll get you… Just you wait. One of these nights, I’ll have you drink so much you’re not gonna give a fuck who I am, then we’ll get down to business…”

“You keep dreaming.”

……

Jingling keys shattered the silence within the dark empty ranch. Jo slammed the door behind her, not really intending to, but her instability and blurred vision were considerable factors at the moment. Zigzagging to her living room, she switched on the light, and plummeted on the sofa, sluggishly trying to remove her sweater. After what seemed like a lifetime, she finally got it, leaving her chest exposed; it was a sight of hard muscle, just barely interrupted by breasts.

The room felt warm, like a welcoming embrace. Outside, the punishing chill was silent announcer of impending winter. Jo relished the ambient warmth that now matched the feeling in her chest and coursing through her veins. It was truly pleasant.

The minutes seemed to slip by between her tired blinks. Her cable box read 4:27, then 4:51 a split second later. Unconsciousness beckoned her sweetly.

Then she heard a rattle.

She sat up, suddenly alert. Her living room was lit, but the remainder of the house was enveloped in a darkness that crept through the corners. She perked her ears trying to figure out where it had come from.

More sounds. Clumsy rustling, then the loud crash of the garbage can outside. It was definitely on the first floor, just feet from her living room even.

Jo’s face morphed into rage as she reached under the kitchen counter for her shot gun. She’d bought the damn thing to be on the safe side. Saint Mary was all too infamous for its thieves and vagabonds and she hoped to never have to use it, but it looked like the time had come. She’d be damned if some motherfucker would waltz in and lay claim to the fruits of her labor.

With surprising lucidity, she cautiously approached the door leading to the fields. It was creaked open, but she hadn’t noticed in the darkness.

“Who the fuck is out there?!”

Silence. She hastened her step until she was outside. The overturned garbage can lied on the ramp, its odorous contents scattered across the wood. Gnashing her teeth, Jo fumbled for the light switch, illuminating the space. She cocked her gun; whoever it was they’d die tonight.

“You there! Put your fucking hands up and turn’round!!”

The intruder stood frozen in the middle of the vast field that still seemed green even shrouded in the early morning darkness. Jo carried herself unto the grass, standing close behind the stranger, drunk, but angry and lucid enough to ask again.

“I told you to turn’round motherfucker… Show your face.”

Jo’s voice echoed in the night. The stranger then turned to face the enraged woman and Jo was surprised to see that it wasn’t a he, but a she. What’s more, she knew the woman. The thief was none other than the blonde from the previous day.

“Calm down now… Don’t go shootin’ before asking questions…”

“Bitch, what the fuck are you doin’ on my property, stealin’ shit no less?”

“Times are tough…”

“Yeah, damn right they are. ‘Cept the rest of us are out there making a honest livin’, and you think you can just barge in and cash in on that effort?”

“Listen, I don’t want any trouble.”

“Like hell you don’t. You should’ve thought that thought before you thought of breaking in. What is that your hands? I bet it all belongs to me.”

The blonde woman gripped numerous bills. Several were slipping out of her tattered purse as it dangled flimsy across her shoulder. The daring prostitute looked disheveled, frightened. Her blonde hair was in dire need of a good combing, and her lips were now barely hinted of their usual bright red. Her feet sank into the grass, filthy and cold.

“Listen ah’ll return all this… I’m sorry, just don’t shoot—

“Shut your fucking mouth. Give it all back.”

“It’s been hard out these streets… Real hard… Don’t judge me so harshly.”

Cautious, the woman approached Jo and placed mounds of bills carefully in her free hand. Jo never removed the enraged glare from her face, and when the blonde had returned everything, she stepped back still facing the other woman, fearful she might shoot her in the back if she ran away.

“Is that all you took?”

“I was looking for jewelry, but couldn’t find none…”

“….If I find something, anything, missing, I will hunt you down and skin the hide off you like varmint... For your sake, you’d better be tellin’ the truth. Now, get your ass off my premises.”

“Maybe you can get yourself some oxtail with that money… You know, for the next time I come lookin’ for it.”

“Get, bitch!”

The blonde turned around, working a slow trot into a full sprint as she fled. Jo watched her until she disappeared into the night before she finally set down her shot gun. The bills in her hand made for a thick stack; there has to be at least 700 dollars encircled in her fist. The woman walked up the ramp, switched the light off and closed the door behind her, making sure it was locked. Come morning, she’d take to putting extra locks, maybe a second door. Perhaps she’d even get a safe, something more secure than a high kitchen cabinet to stash away her funds.

As she stumbled upstairs to her room, she remembered how exhausted she was, aside her drunken stupor. It was as if the adrenaline had completely cleared her eyes and her mind if only briefly. Or maybe it was the anger’s handiwork. She placed the stash on her bedside drawer and her shotgun carefully beneath the bed. She had confronted a thief, drunk and bare-chested. She was certain that if she cared, she would mull it over the following morning.

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