Okay, Here's a teaser chapter for a new storyline line I'm contemplating. It doesn't start out Logan/Marie, but it will be.
Title: The Jailbait Is Not A Job Benefit
Disclaimer: The characters aren't mine - only the ideas for the naughty things I make them do.
Archive Rights: Mutual Admiration, League Of Their Own and any site with automatic rights.
Feedback: Would be greatly appreciated.
Summary: Hmm, this is hard to summarize without giving away too much. This chapter is about Logan meeting a mysterious blonde with a hidden agenda.
The collection of ramshackle buildings looked like a tornado had blown through and the residents were too lazy to rebuild. The place that had the audacity to call itself Laughlin City would never be in any danger of being the object of a campaign by the Department of Tourism.
The classy looking blonde cursed under her breath as she stepped in something she didn't want to identify. Her information better be correct about the Wolverine, and he was actually here, or she'd just trashed her favorite pair of Manolo Blahnik's for nothing. Walking into the smoky dive called the Lion's Den, she made her way to the bar and perched herself on one of the tacky vinyl barstools.
"I don't suppose you serve champagne?" She asked the grizzled bartender.
"I can piss in a glass and add some seltzer - it'd be about the same thing." He offered.
"Charming. Just give me a shot of your least watered down stuff."
The bartender slammed the shot glass down in front of her and she placed a ten-dollar bill on the bar. He didn't give her any change. The jerk must've figured her for a big tipper.
She turned her attention to the steel cage that dominated the place. A tall, devastatingly handsome man with the physique of a Greek god stood bare chested in the center of the cage, rolling his broad shoulders, as the man lying unconscious on the floor was dragged out by his ankles.
The man known on the fight circuit as Wolverine was in top form this evening, effortlessly dispatching one drunken challenger after another. He wasn't even breaking a sweat anymore, it was so ridiculously easy. The leggy blonde in the indecently short skirt and clingy top at the bar eyed him appreciatively, as did every other woman in the place under a hundred. The cage-fighting groupies were the most vocal in their appreciation of their *hero*. Between matches, Wolverine accepted the shots of whiskey offered by his *fans*, as they jockeyed for his attention. He was well known for taking a lucky girl or two back to his motel for a night of unforgettable copulation. The man's sexual prowess in the sack was as legendary as his fighting skills, and every woman past puberty wanted to be next. Wolverine watched the blonde intently, as he jerked his head sharply to the right, and effortlessly knocked out the latest moron stupid enough to think he had a shot at taking him down. The blonde parted her legs enough for Logan to discover that she hadn't bothered putting on any panties. How convenient.
"Tonight's winner and still King of the Cage - the Wolverine." The announcer said, as Wolverine stepped out of the metal cage, and pushing past the fawning groupies, sauntered over to the bar. Pulling a black T-shirt over his head as he sat down on a stool just three away from the blonde, Wolverine ordered a beer.
Glancing her way as he lit his cigar, he noticed her looking back. In fact, she was very obviously giving him the once over.
"Like what you see?" He asked her, as the beer was put in front of him and he downed it quickly.
"Do you?" She replied, wondering if he was as good in bed as his reputation suggested. A girl could have an orgasm just looking at him, so she could only imagine what actually rubbing up against him naked could do.
Looking at her up close, she reminded him of one of those models that graced the Sports Illustrated swimsuit edition. Yeah, she was a looker all right. He dragged on the cigar and blew out lazy smoke rings.
"Not bad." He informed her nonchalantly, skimming his eyes over her, before settling on one particular area of interest. He wondered if they were real or courtesy of a skilled surgeon, and if he would have the opportunity to find out.
"Why don't you take a picture, it'll last longer." She said, noticing exactly where his stare was focused.
"So, are they real?" He asked rudely.
"Yes, and they're magnificent." She replied, without a trace of embarrassment.
"Prove it." He challenged.
"Even if this dump was a strip club and tonight was amateur night, I'm not in the habit of showing my tits in public." She replied, calmly.
"I gotta room." He offered, piercing her with challenging eyes that even in the dim light of the bar, she could see were a mixture of green and brown with flecks of gold, and totally hypnotizing. The man was simply stunning and the blonde caught her breath.
"Well then, what are we waiting for? Let's go." She finally answered, standing up and sliding off the stool. Time to see if his reputation was well earned, she thought, as the anticipation made her quiver.
Oh, yeah, he thought, he was gonna get laid - as if there was any doubt.
Wolverine followed her out of the bar, much to the disappointment of the other women he'd passed over. Once outside, he walked over to his camper and got in on the driver's side. The blonde stood for a minute before realizing he wasn't going to open the passenger door for her. Oh, well, was she expecting him to be a gentleman?
Sliding into the passenger seat, the blonde wrinkled her nose distastefully at the rolling wreck that constituted the Wolverine's transportation.
"What was this thing in its former life, a garbage truck?" She sniffed.
"Hey, if you'd prefer the road." He said, insulted.
"No. It looks fine. It looks.. cozy." She replied, trying to appease him and hoping to stop him from dumping her on the side of the road.
Wolverine glared at her, his hazel eyes blazing. She'd better be a good fuck after all this aggravation, he thought.
"You don't have anything to eat do you? That cheap ass bar didn't even have any peanuts." She hadn't eaten anything since that pitiful excuse for a salad at lunchtime - stupid diet.
Logan reached over to the glove compartment, pulled out a bag of beef jerky and handed it to her.
"Ugh. The caviar of rednecks everywhere." She complained, as she returned the package to the glove box, preferring to starve to death if necessary, rather than struggle to gnaw through dried-up chewy cow parts.
"So don't fucking eat it, your highness." Wolverine snapped, contemplating if she was gonna be worth the effort after all. Hell, she was probably just gonna lay there and let him do all the work, anyway.
Luckily for her, they'd already reached the motel and Wolverine was too lazy to go back to the bar and pick up someone else.
Sensing his hostility and wanting very much to experience this magnificent male specimen, the blonde promised him, "It'll be worth it - you'll see."
"Yeah, I hope so, or no Egg McMuffin for you in the morning."
Once inside the room, the cool frosty society princess act quickly melted and she turned into a consummate slut with lots of energy. Wolverine screwed her seven ways to Sunday, finally collapsing hours later -- exhausted, even for him.
"You're a hellava fuck, darlin'." He informed her.
"I know." She said confidently, "I told you it would be worth it, and by the way, the name's Mystique."
So, what do you think so far?
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