Pump Two

by J. Cherry

“Call her a name other than the one on her name tag, and I will shove one of those gasoline pumps so far down your throat, you will bleed from the inside out,” Biker Guy snarls. All initial calmness has completely evaporated from his being. “You’ll never be able to look at a pump the same way again…or be physically capable of complaining about one.”

“Eleven-fifty, please. For the gas and drink.” He pulls out a twenty. “Oh, and I’m not keeping the change this time,” I say in a light joke to ease the tension between us. “Keep the change, Sweetness.” He’s called me that nickname again, and my stomach swarms with warmth. Definitely not mad at me. If he was, he wouldn’t have called me that, right? Unless I’m severely misjudging my social interactions. “No—” “I’ll make you keep the change whether you like it or not.” He makes a show of looking at my name tag by placing his hands on the counter and leaning forward. “Violet.” “I’d like to see you try,” I respond, trying hard not to show any reaction to the way he says my name. Are we arguing or flirting? Whatever it is, I like it. Love it, actually.

This is by no means a love-at-first-sight situation, but lust on the other hand? Maybe.

I’m almost tempted to ride more often so I can deplete my gas and use it as an excuse to go back to the station. I can’t believe I’m considering increasing the size of my ecological footprint just to have a reason to visit her.

I sit on the chair, removing my gloves and jacket in the process. Violet clutches her sketchpad to her chest like an old woman would clutch her pearls. Her eyes scan all over my upper body, unsure of where to look. “I’m taking off my jacket, not flashing you my dick. Relax,” I mumble, hoping that my tone is more flirtatious than crude. Violet’s eyes widen so much that if she’s not careful, they might roll out of her head. I feel like I’m fucking this up. Actually, I know I’m fucking this up. Her mouth opens, and nothing more than a silent choke escapes her lips. She clears her throat and straightens her posture, ready to try again. “You wouldn’t show me your dick, you can’t even show your face.” Damn, I didn’t know she had it in her. I let out a low whistle of surprise. She suddenly starts drawing, her slender fingers wrapped unusually tight around the pencil. It’s sweet that she’s trying her best to keep her cool. “Is that another challenge? Remember what happened last time?” I tip my head toward the counter. “I’m not wrong, though,” she says, a light flush painting her face. “You underestimate me. Hiding my face is foreplay, but we can skip that if you’d rather?”

“You’re very forward. Are you flirting or teasing?” she asks, her lips twitching as if she’s trying to restrain a smile. “Both, I think you’re cute.” “Cute?” Cute, beautiful, stunning, angelic. The only thing on my mind for the past week. Yeah, cute. Sure. “Yes, of course I think you’re cute. I’m not blind.” She purses her lips in thought at my answer. “You’re a bit too forward.” Definitely not the response I was expecting. I would be a little offended if I was trying to take it slow, but as always, I’m impatient. I ignore her and focus on what she’s doing.

“So? You get to know where I work, my name, and my face.” She sketches more aggressively whilst glaring at me. “Can I at least know your name?” “If I tell you, I die.” “Oh, shut up.”

“That commission will be two-hundred dollars.” She holds her hand out and purses her lips. I know she’s messing around, but I reach into my back pocket and take out my wallet. “Kidding,” she says quickly. Honestly, I’d pay her and she knows that. She could probably empty me of every penny I have and I’d say thank you.

“Why did you come here today?” she asks, walking behind the counter and grabbing some napkins to finish drying her hands with. Good question. Why did I come here? “To see you,” I reply honestly. “To see me? Seriously?” I nod and she looks unbelieving of my answer. “Seems like a waste of gas if you ask me. We’re in the middle of nowhere, so it probably costs you an entire tank just to come here,” she says, brushing off the fact that I came here to see her specifically. “Oh, thank god you work at a gas station.” I feign relief, and she forcefully slides a pencil across the counter at me with the obvious intention of hitting me with it. I catch it deftly in my palm, twirling it between my fingers. I can feel her watching my hand as I play with it.

“So, if you’re not showing your face, can you tell me about yourself, Biker Guy?” “Biker Guy? Creative. You couldn’t come up with something cooler?” Violet lets out a small huff. “Sorry, Mr. Pump Two. Your fault for not giving me your name and being too scared to take off your helmet. Makes it hard when I’m looking at my reflection every time we talk.” I ignore her terrible nickname and decide to let her in on why I’m hesitant to reveal my face. “This is what makes it fun. You have to admit, you would find it boring if you knew everything about me, including my face.” “Yeah, I guess it’s…entertaining,” she says, her eyes lingering on my body for what may be the hundredth time tonight.

“I’m sure you have other people who are more willing to go to a midnight race with you,” I say, trying to sound unbothered. “I don’t want to take anyone else, Violet. You’re the only person I want on the back of my bike.”

“Don’t hide your neck. You enjoy showing your artwork and I enjoy showing mine,” he murmurs against my throbbing skin.

“How was the ride?” he asks, green eyes sparking with interest. “Fine,” I respond, my voice hoarse. He lets out an amused huff and brings his face close to mine. “Just fine? I don’t like that answer.” I roll my eyes at his words. “You drive too fast. Maybe someone else here can take me on a ride whilst you race. Then I’ll let you know how much I enjoy riding a bike without a maniac in control.” I let out a laugh to let him know that I’m joking. He pauses, hand gripping his helmet so tight that I think it’ll crack. “Don’t mention getting on another man’s bike in front of me, Violet. You ride with me, you stay here with me and you leave with me.” I glower at his possessiveness; his direct words have me torn between running away from him and jumping him. “Stay next to that white van. Do not move and keep away from the track,” he warns, slipping on his helmet.

“I’m watching my boyfriend race. This is where the girlfriends stand, left of the van. Well, that’s what my man told me. Is your guy racing too?” Mari’s voice is soft and calming, a small sense of peace in this new, chaotic environment. “I’m Violet and no, I don’t have a boyfriend.” She looks confused and studies my face until her eyes land on my neck. Fuck. “Riiight,” she drawls, her glossed lips twitching. “How long have you been together?” “We’re not together,” I respond firmly. “Damn. This guy mauls your neck and trusts you to come to a race despite not being together? Strange relationship.” She scrutinizes me like I’m lying. “This is my second time here, and I’ve been with Isaac since middle school. He wouldn’t let me come to a race for years.”

My eyes zone in on one familiar biker who marches past Mari with his bike in tow, heading straight toward me. Mari smiles and gives me a thumbs-up. “Well done, Tino,” I say when he’s within hearing distance. I emphasize his name, and he pulls off his helmet to reveal the ski mask. “Wrong name, Sweetness.” Surely not. “What? You came third…right?” “I never lose, Violet,” he says as if it’s common knowledge. If he came first, then he would be… Dynamite Devon. “Devon,” I breathe. His eyes light up and then darken when I reach out to touch him.

“If this is how wet you get for a stranger, you must be drowning the men you know,” he says from between my legs. I want to tell him that there are no other men and that he’s the only person who makes me this wet, but my tight throat prevents my words from sounding.

I expect to feel embarrassed, even mortified. But I feel nothing of the sort. Instead, I feel a carnal longing—as if I want more. With or without the mask, I want Devon to ruin me in the best way possible.

“Good girl,” he praises. I guess I am a good girl. A good girl that went to an illegal bike race, engaged in a police chase, and enjoyed it when a stranger wrapped his hand around her throat. A good girl that also came all over his bike and licked up her own bodily fluid off the seat. I’m such a good girl.

Riding my bike is a great distraction, and it helps me get over things that would otherwise rest heavy on my mind. Bad day? I’ll ride my bike. Watching my favorite F1 team lose? No problem, riding my bike will make me feel better. Making Violet finish on the seat of my bike? Well, I thought riding would distract me…but I was wrong.

“You gonna stop with the small talk, Sweetness?” “I actually enjoy small talk. It’s what you do when you get to know someone.” She squints at me in judgment and juts her head forward. There it is, her little angry streak. “Well, we clearly have different approaches to getting to know someone,” I joke, partly referring to what we did in the forest. “Yeah, mine usually starts with a date and seeing the person’s face,” Violet counters. I wish I found Violet’s attitude off-putting, but it’s honestly really fucking hot when she talks back to me. “Fine, since you still seem convinced that I’m a stranger, let’s go on a date tomorrow.” I rest my forearms on my thighs and lean forward in my seat. She remains silent for a moment, her mouth contorted in a suppressed smile. If I’m not mistaken, there’s a hint of relief on her face. I think Violet is happy that I’ve asked her out. I also think I might be out of the stranger-zone.

“Oh, nice. I’m not familiar, is it local?” The lie slips out of my mouth before I can even attempt to stop it. “Depends on what you mean by local. Where do you live?” “Like an hour or so away from here,” I say, and her eyebrows raise in surprise. “You drive an hour to come here? There must be multiple, nicer gas stations closer to you.” “Yeah, but the clerk at this one lets me eat her pussy on the back of a bike.” Violet’s breathing hitches and causes her to choke on air. She sips from a mug to regain control of her coughs. “Let’s just move past what happened, okay?” she says, pressing a hand to her throat. Move past what happened? I think not. “You’re seriously asking me to move past that? The hottest thing I’ve ever done with a woman, and you want me to just move past it? You expect me to pretend that I’m not a changed man after that?” Violet turns crimson and buries her face into her hands. “Stop, Devon,” she mumbles into her palms. “Fine.” I laugh, itching to taste her on my tongue again.

I don’t bake, but her liking the dessert has me wanting to order every piece of baking equipment I can find just to learn.

That’s when I come to a sudden realization: I dislike absolutely nothing about Violet. From her talents and humor to her captivating looks. She is flawless to me. God, even I’m starting to doubt if it’s possible to like someone this fast—I’m not denying it because it feels so right. I wonder if this is how Violet feels too.

“You kept your promise…you asshole,” I whisper. He played me. He kept his promise knowing full well that he wasn’t going to show his face. “But I didn’t lie,” he says. “No mask.” “You’re an idiot.” He lets out a rumbling laugh. “Cute that you were looking for me all night, though.” “It wasn’t all night,” I argue, trying to squint and see Devon. It’s too dark, as usual. “You nearly passed out when you spotted my bike. I thought I’d have to run in and catch you before you fell.” How long was he watching me for? “Stalker,” I mumble. It’s the only comeback my brain can think of, and I shuffle on his lap, gasping when I feel an obvious hardness between his legs. I think I’ve been subconsciously conditioned to get turned on by both darkness and Devon, that being the stimulus and my arousal the response. “I can’t tell if that’s an insult or not. Last time you called me a name, you came all over my face.”

“Do you know how much I want you? There is no alternate universe where it wouldn’t be good. I can promise you that, Sweetness.”

“Hi Mari, I couldn’t help but overhear your little conversation with my sister here.” He slaps his hand on my shoulder like we’re best buddies. “I’m Ash. Ashton Lee, brother to Violet Lee. I apologize for my sister’s failure to introduce us. I don’t know who this Isaac guy is, but if you need a real man, I’m available.” Ash winks flirtatiously, and I shove him away from her. Mari lets out a musical laugh and shakes her head at my brother. “Ignore him. Ash, go outside for a second whilst I speak to Mari,” I say, shooing him toward the store exit. “Dogs are treated better than me,” he mumbles and says something under his breath about me buying him food as he strolls out of the store. The worker looks relieved when he leaves.

“So…Devon Blackstone, hm?” Mari perks up and I smile awkwardly. Devon Blackstone. His full name.

“You have never seen his face?! How did you only just find out his name at the race? Wait, so you don’t even know if he’s hot?” Some very good questions to which I have no reasonable answer for. “I don’t know, it just kind of happened. The whole anonymous thing was fun and we just…continued, I guess.” Mari looks at me in complete shock, her dark eyes wide and incredulous. “I don’t even know what to say.”

“All he has to do is take off his helmet…or mask, or whatever. This could’ve been done in the first meeting, how strange.” Mari giggles and I laugh along with her. It does sound odd when explaining it out loud. “And it’s only been a few weeks. You haven’t tried to search for him online or anything?” She looks at me in exasperation. “No! That’d ruin the reveal. Besides, you only just told me his last name,” I admit, winking at her. “Oh gosh, you didn’t even know his last name!” Mari throws her head back in a fit of laughter, her soft chuckles causing a few heads to briefly turn in our direction. “You know, you could’ve just searched Dynamite Devon. It’d probably just show images of him when he was a kid. You have good self-control, I would’ve found his extended family by now,” she says.

“Oh, Mari. Before we leave, I want to get some advice,” I say, toying with my car keys. “Sure, what’s up?” “Devon has an amazing personality, and we get on so well. A big factor in our friendship is that he hasn’t revealed his face. I know his mask shouldn’t make a difference, but I can’t help but wonder if things will just fizzle out once this is all over.” “Are you worried you won’t be attracted to him?” she asks. “I can assure you that I doubt that’d be a problem.” “No, it’s not that…it’s because this anonymity plays such an important part between us. I dunno, what would you do in my position?” “Oh, I see.” Mari ponders over my words for a moment, placing her tote bag on her shoulder as she stands up. “You’re overthinking it and approaching this way too pessimistically. I mean, why don’t you just ask him to show you his face next time you see him? The whole mask thing seems fun, but maybe as time goes on, you’re both realizing that the mask is becoming pointless. Communicate with him, Vi.” She’s so right. “You’re a genius,” I say, holding the cafe door open for her. “You could’ve totally come to that conclusion yourself.” She laughs softly as we approach my car. “I think you just wanted someone to validate your choices.” “Probably. I also just needed a verbal slap in the face to relax.” “Well, that’s what friends are for, right? One of us spirals about something minor, and the other makes them see sense. Or I could just feed into your delusions.” I let out a sharp laugh...

“Now that I think about it, I’ve changed my answer.” “Answer to what?” Violet places the uneaten half of the Baklava slice back into the box and dusts her hands together. “That time when you were asking me questions about myself. My favorite thing to eat isn’t Baklava, it’s you,” I say, stepping closer to the counter that separates us. “That’s cute.”

“Are you teasing me?” Anger and arousal swirl through me, and I’m contemplating throwing myself through the plastic partition. “Teasing you? Teasing would be someone saying they’d remove their mask if I begged and then not doing it.” She’s definitely teasing. “Yeah, that does sound like teasing, whoever did that must be an asshole.” I decide to walk slowly around the counter instead of destroying the plastic that separates us. “How could you ever forgive someone like that?” I ask mockingly.

“Remember, we’re at a gas station—not a forest, or a loud party where nobody can hear your moans and whimpers. I suggest you try and keep quiet…if you can. The radio is no match against your screams,” I remind her.

“Why was a girl looking for you at the party, and why were you sneaking around her the entire time?” His knife scrapes across his plate and it makes my teeth hurt. The high-pitch noise fills the void of silence in the room as I try to come up with an answer that doesn’t make me sound insane. “I wouldn’t call it sneaking,” I utter, cutting up my own food. “She asked me if I had seen you, and you stood behind her flapping your arms at me,” Kas grunts, shoveling eggs onto a slice of toast. “That’s because I had to be stealthy, we have an unconventional relationship.” Kas nods hesitantly. “Unconventional…right.” “She’s never seen my face,” I blurt out in a desperate attempt at trying to justify my actions. Kas stops chewing and looks at me like I’m an idiot. “Wait, is this who you’ve been seeing when you go for your night rides?” “Yep,” I chirp. I can’t help but smile. “And she’s never seen your face?” “Never took off my ski mask in front of her.”

“You guys enjoying your food?” Freya asks. It’s just me and this dude sitting right at the end of the table, so her question is obviously directed at us. “It’s great,” I reply, feeling the sickly syrup run down my throat. “Mhm, the sweetness is a little overpowering, though.” I almost give myself whiplash with the speed at which I lift my head. Sweetness. I’d recognize that voice anywhere. I pause with my fork halfway to my mouth and completely scrutinize the guy in front of me until recognition fills my body. He’s looking at me, the corner of his mouth tilted up slightly like he’s trying not to laugh.

“You look confused,” Devon says, speaking up suddenly. If I hadn’t already kissed those lips, I would question whether they even existed. Still in shock and staring at his face, I don’t respond. “It’s me, Violet,” he reassures. “Ask me questions only I’d know the answers to.” He leans back completely unbothered and smiles expectantly at me. He knows that I know it’s him. I place my fork onto my plate and lean back in my chair. “What pump do you always fill up at?” I ask. “Pump two,” he responds immediately. “What beverage do you buy at the gas station for—” “Coffee.” “What name did the angry customer call me before he left?” Devon hesitates, his eye twitching. “No comment.” We exchange a prolonged gaze, the hilarity of the situation sinking in as we stare at each other, trying to hold back our laughter. I break out into a giggle. Freya halts her conversation with someone next to her to fixate on me as if I am out of my mind. Then, she glances at Devon who is attempting to conceal his laughter by stuffing his face with French Toast.

“So...” he begins. “So…” “You like what you see?” he teases, reaching out to grab a strand of my hair. “Eh,” I respond, playfully rolling my eyes. He steps closer and yanks me into a kiss. I savor the feel of my palms on his face, and he squeezes me against him as if we might become one. I don’t know what I was expecting after seeing his face. Maybe a lessened attraction? A horrid realization that I don’t like him now that I’ve seen his face? What I feel is nothing different. In fact, I feel the exact same as I did when he kissed me every single time prior to this. Just as explosive, just as exciting, and just as obsessed as I was when I first met him.

“You’re killing me, Violet. What have you done to me?” “No, what have you done to me? I was perfectly okay to let you do things to me without seeing your face. Do you know how crazy that is?” The fire exit door opens suddenly. A chef bumbles out, briefly regarding us as he lights up a cigarette. Devon turns at the sound of the lighter, then quickly looks away from the nicotine-filled stick. “Crazy to us, but even crazier to other people. Kas thought the mask thing was stupid.” Devon smirks. “He saw me trailing you through the whole of Micah’s party.” “Mari pretty much said the same thing, she said I have a mask kink.” I whisper the last part of my sentence so the chef doesn’t hear. Devon bursts out laughing, resting his hand on his chest to calm himself. “You do,” he agrees. I give him a weak glare and look away from him in embarrassment. “When I saved you from that customer, I was like your very own Batman.” “Relax,” I snicker, looking toward the chef who is watching us skeptically with his cigarette hanging out of his mouth. “The mask was hot, so don’t be offended if I ask you to put it on again in the future.” “I won’t,” he promises. “But it does make it easier to kiss you now.” “This is the first time we’ve seen each other outside of, like, ten p.m. to seven a.m. too,” I point out.

“Are you having regrets?” Devon asks me, concern marring his features. “Because I don’t think anything will change, Violet.” “No, I’m not having any regrets. I was just curious about how you feel.” I pause momentarily. “Because I feel like it can only get better.” Devon pulls me back into him and kisses me again, groaning into my mouth. The chef tuts loudly from behind us and stomps back into the diner. “If it’s any consolation, I also think that it can only get better,” Devon replies.

“I’m pretty sure he was meant to judge if you were safe and potentially scare you off,” I say, placing the word ‘safe’ in an air quote. “He did a pretty bad job of it.” Devon chuckles, passing me a backpack and placing a helmet on my head. “He thinks you’re cool, so that’s probably enough for him. Where are we going anyway?” I drum my fingers on Devon’s shoulders as I sit behind him on the bike. “I’m glad you’re more eager in person than texting.” His shoulders hunch forward, and he pretends to silently sob. “What do you mean?! I was so excited to see your message,” I argue, swatting his back. “You responded with ‘yay’. No smiley face, just ‘yay’. Jeez, it’s like you hate me.” Devon turns to face me with his visor up, eyes crinkling at the corners. I shove him playfully. “You are so dramatic! Now, can you please tell me where we’re going? I’m so excited.” He bumps helmets with me, as if to substitute an affectionate peck on the cheek. “I’m taking you on a date. A proper date.”

“You do know that it’s not just your moans that turn me on. Not moaning would never stop me from wanting to completely devour you.” I struggle to swallow the Baklava after hearing Devon’s words, and I look into his heated gaze. “I know.” I jump when the birds swooping and soaring in the sky over the valley squawk loudly, interrupting our otherwise peaceful picnic. “Good, because as soon as you’ve finished eating, I’m going to completely ravage you,” he whispers. “Here?” I ask mid-chew. “Don’t ask stupid questions, Sweetness,” he warns. “We’ve done it in this forest before, and I’m more than happy to do it here again.” I’ve never eaten something so fast in my life because, true to his word, he ravages me. And just like the Baklava, it’s even better than before.

“The guy doing your tattoo was checking you out way too much,” he says, his voice low with annoyance. “He was doing his job.” I playfully smack Devon’s chest and he shrugs. “His job is to tattoo, not stare at my girl with goo-goo eyes whilst I’m in the room.” Heat fills my body at his possessiveness, and I can’t ignore that he called me his girl. “Your girl?” “Always have been, Sweetness,” he says as we walk up to his bike. Always have been. It reminds me of the nickname he gave me, which he’s been calling me since the second time we spoke. “Devon, why do you call me Sweetness?” “Because you were sweet from day one and everything about you is sweet. Your lips, your personality, your…” His eyes trail down my body, tongue pushed against the inside of his cheek. I can’t help the laughter that ensues as his eyes stop at my crotch and he motions toward it with his head. “You called me it the second time we met, though.” His green eyes watch me adoringly. “Sweet from day…two?” I smile up at him, my eyes searching his face for any trace of a lie. “If you keep looking at me like that, I’ll taste how sweet you are as soon as we get back to the studio.” “That’s exactly what I want, Devon,” I admit.

I take another deep breath, unable to quell my nerves for my first art exhibition. This town is so small that a few members of the community recognized my contributions to the old gas station. Now, it has its own section in the town’s new museum exhibition for public art.

I know we moved quite fast and there’s no way anything huge would’ve taken the same amount of time as my own tattoo. If this man has a tattooed portrait of me on him, I will run for the hills.

“You need to think before doing things,” I say, even though I feel downright giddy. “You think too much.” “But it’s so permanent.” “I know, that’s the point,” he says, buttoning up his dress shirt. “Well...I mean…” I stumble over my words. Devon rubs his hand over his head uncomfortably. “Do you hate it?” “I don’t hate it,” I reply truthfully. “It’s just a little extreme, I mean, we haven’t even been together a year yet.” “I’m an extreme guy,” he retorts. He really is, everything I’ve experienced with him has been extreme. “It’s caught me off guard, but I love it.” I reach out to touch his hand tenderly. Devon’s smile widens and he encases my hand in his. “Nothing’s changed then,” he says, his voice laced with humor. “Catching me off guard and going to the extreme? I’d be worried if you didn’t do that.” It’s true. I would be worried because it wouldn’t be Devon at all.

“I’m not beating the mask kink accusations, by the way,” I whisper to Devon. “It’s hard to beat accusations when the accusation is a stone cold fact. Now, smile.”

We pose for the photo and I relish in the comfort I feel with Devon. A feeling that is no longer foreign, but one of unspoken reassurance that the person I hope will stick around for a long, long time undoubtedly feels the same way about me too.