Savior (Savages 3)

And couldn't concentrate enough to get a damn thing done all day.ThirteenPaineDrawing helps me focus. It lets my mind find what's important through all the bullshit that was always rolling around. Elsie had shifted away from me in her sleep and I had managed to get up without bothering her. A part of me had wanted to stay, to climb back, sleep in, wake up with plenty of time, and fuck her senseless before we both had to get off to work. But that was exactly the reason I needed to get my ass up, hit the gym, and get myself some perspective.

The sketch of the barbell was first. It was a simple explanation to where I went so she didn't wake up and freak out. It was also supposed to be the only one I left, but as soon as I put it down, the animated cutesy sushi came to me and I just started to draw it out. Obviously, it was something that was on my mind.

First, because it was a relatively new experience for me. I'd shared coffee with women, or drinks at a bar. I'd even taken a few out to an early morning breakfast after an all night fucking. But I never just... took a woman to dinner. For the fuck of it.

Second, because in doing so, I got to see Elsie. See past the pretty and the smart and the rich, all the things that assaulted you when you saw her. I got under that. I saw the funny and awkward and silly. I saw the way her eyes lit up when she talked about her sister. By all accounts, Elana seemed like her shit was whacked, she was all over the place. But it was clear that Elsie loved her fiercely and loyally. And, well, Elsie was a pretty level-headed chick. If she thought you were worthy of fierce and loyal love, then you must be, despite all the outward appearances of crazy.

As I plowed through a rough workout, I couldn't shake the question why. Why Elsie was different. Sure, she was drop dead gorgeous. But I'd bagged beautiful women before. She was smart. That was also something I'd known before. The rich thing, that meant nothing to me. It wasn't like I was the kind of man who would ever let a woman take care of him.

There was just a 'something', a thing I couldn't put my finger on, but she had it and I wanted a piece of it.

Maybe it was her contradictions. Sure she was pretty, but she vegged out in ugly sweats and wore giant glasses when her contacts were out. She was rich, but she worked her ass off to take care of herself despite the trust. She seemed to have her shit together, strong, independent... but there was also a hint of vulnerability about her that made any good man want to protect it at all costs. She cared about her body, but not in a way that made her deny good food when it was in front of her.

And, well, shit, that woman wore a sexually confident vibe that a man could sense a mile off. And it wasn't the sad, desperate vibe you found on lonely women in a bar. It was something else, something infinitely more attractive. It was something that said she owned her sexuality, she liked to have sex if and when she wanted it with whomever she chose and that she didn't let it define her or in any way lower her.

The sex? Off the fucking charts.

Sure, there had been women in the past that I hit it off with in bed and spent more than one night with. Some that I called whenever the mood struck, alone and horny and in need of some headboard breaking, no strings attached sex. But that was clearly all it was.

With Elsie, once I was inside her, I got this strange as fuck feeling like that was where I was supposed to be.

Factor in that she could take it as hard and fast as I gave it to her, the fact that she gave good head (though it got interrupted), that her pussy tasted like fucking candy... yeah, no way was I going to pass up the opportunity to explore that with her.

I showered and left the gym, texting Shoot and Breaker to meet me at the shop to talk about the Elana situation, see if either of them knew anything.

Breaker got his name because he was good at breaking things. Mainly, people. That was how he made his living, through intimidation, through beatings. Shooter, well, obviously he was good with a gun. Meaning, he was the best sniper and contract killer on the East coast. I came across Breaker when he was squatting in abandoned storefronts as a teen. There was a certain connection street-kids felt for one another. Me and Break, we got along straight off. A couple years later, Breaker took in a younger Shooter like a little lost puppy. Breaker was, outside the gang, the best friend I had. So, by extension, me and Shoot got tight as well. It helped that we all lived outside the law; we understood one another.