Part 129: What goes around . . . .
Sawyer continued to read his book. He had been focused on it for the past weeks, considering there was no bars to visit; no video store to provide rentals. He has never been so bored in his life. The more he thought about it the more he should have killed that boar. Even not for the meat, at least enough to relieve the boredom. Sawyer turned the page, then noticed a gorgeous set of legs at the side entrance to his tent. He looked up and nearly gasped when the brunette before him was not Kate. “Natasha Simmons.” She introduced herself immediately.
Sawyer tried to speak but all of a sudden found his lips not working. He knew this woman! Her features were what sung out in his brain the most. He coughed and then put the book down. “I’m Sawyer.” He smiled.
“That’s right, Sawyer,” Natasha snapped her fingers, “I knew I knew your name. I just couldn’t remember it.”
“Uh . .where did we meet?” he leaned forward.
“Chicago,” she said, sitting down, “Drake Hotel.”
“That’s right,” Sawyer grinned, “The smoking hot brunette who had just gotten stood up.”
“You seemed real eager to keep me company that night.” Natasha smiled.
“I aim to please, darlin,” he smiled.
“Yes, it would seem you are a unique gift . . .to be at the right place at the right time.” She grinned.
Sawyer wasn’t attempting to hide his arousal. His eyes quickly fell on her cleavage, gently poking through the dress shirt she converted to a blouse. Natasha smiled, enjoying the attention. “Uh . .Sawyer?” she giggled.
“Hmm?” he said, not averting his gaze.
“I’m up here.” She said, pointing to her face.
“OH!” he laughed, “Sorry, Natasha. Old habits die hard.”
“How hard?” she grinned.
“Want me to show you?” he said, flicking his eyebrows.
Then Kate showed up abruptly in the tent. She immediately paused when she noticed he wasn’t alone. Natasha looked at her in a friendly manner, but she quickly saw that Kate didn’t return the friendly look. Sawyer grunted heavily for four seconds, drooping his head. He hated being interrupted; especially then and ESPECIALLY by Kate. He then looked up to her. “Help you with something?” he asked.
Kate looked to Natasha then back to Sawyer. “What is going on here?” she asked.
“None of your business,” the southern man grunted, “That’s what’s going on.”
“Sawyer, have you returned that . . .item to Jack?”
“Oh, you mean THE GUN?” he said, bluntly.
“Sawyer, geez,” Kate hissed, wondering why he would tell that part to Natasha.
“No, I haven’t returned it and if it will quit your bitchin, I’ll do it right now, “Sawyer said, reaching over and pulling the gun out of his bag.
As the southern man stood up, so did Natasha, realizing he was leaving. Sawyer checked the safety of the gun and then pushed it into his back, under the belt line. He looked to Natasha and shrugged his arms. “Duty calls, Chicago,” he told her, “I got to go see our fearless leader and give him back his side arm. I hope we can pick this up later.”
“Sure thing, “ she smiled, “I’m not going anywhere.”
“I do hope you are not.” He grinned.
Sawyer then looked briefly at Kate, seeing her face completely filled with disapproval. He decided to play on it. He then twisted around and immediately planted a massive kiss on Natasha. The brunette let out of a surprised moan, then a soft moan saying how much she enjoyed it. Kate stared at them both, mouth gaping open. Natasha moaned a little bit more, feeling Sawyer’s tongue play with hers. Then as they parted, the woman caught her breath while the southern man licked his lips. “MMM. Mango,” he chuckled.
Natasha just giggled at his statement. Sawyer then walked over Kate. “So where is Jack-Ass?” he asked.
“In the jungle, chopping wood.” Kate hissed.
“Yeah, I’ll bet he is,” Sawyer said, “Later, Freckles.”
As he left, he quickly slapped Kate on the butt. She squeaked at what he just did. As she saw him walking away, she turned back to Natasha, assuming she was the reason for his sudden blunt behavior. Natasha just smiled, curling her hair with her finger. “He. . .uh . .seems to have a thing for nick-names.” She mentioned.
“More or less,” Kate grunted, turning around and walking out.
Natasha felt a weird giggling sensation wash over her from the fact that Kate seem to be jealous of the attention that Sawyer was giving her. It had been a long time but she could tell there was something between them, almost there but not quite. Natasha thought for a brief second; should she step away and let them bond?
Where is the fun in that? She thought as she left the southern man’s tent.
Sawyer continuing walking through the jungle. He kept his ears open for the sound of chopping wood but didn’t hear anything. He grunted over the fact that Kate continued to boss him around. The southern man was growing sick of it, and fast. Seeing Natasha again did bring him a slight bit of joy. He had a massive itch to scratch and it seemed since Kate was playing hard to get, perhaps the Chicago brunette would be willing to comply.
Sawyer then paused as he heard a coughing sound. He looked over into the distance and saw an old man leaning up against a tree with his eyes closed. He was coughing over and over again, holding his chest. The southern man remembered Taylor saying that the old man’s name was Sawyer as well. He looked like the right age, but the odds that this would be the exact same guy? Sawyer had to know for sure.
He walked up to the man, as he continued coughing with his eyes closed. Sawyer kneeled down and pulled out his last box of cigarettes. He tapped the old man on the arm, showing them to him. Cecil opened his eyes, saw the cigarettes, and then slowly pulled one out. “Much appreciated.” He said.
“Not a problem, old timer.” He said, holding out his lighter.
“Thanks, boy,” he said, taking in the drag from the cigarette, “Where you from?”
“Tennessee.” He replied.
“No crap? Southern boy. I am from Alabama.”
“What’s your name, Old man?” Sawyer asked him, pretending he didn’t know.
“Cecil Walker.” He said, extending his hand.
“Sawyer.” He shook it.
“Well, ain’t it a small world, name wise. My nickname is Sawyer, after my daddy.”
“Is that right?” the southern man’s eye twitched.
“None of these people here are from the south. It’d be nice to shoot the breeze with ya.”
Sawyer then smiled. “I’d like that, Cecil.”
“Bravo.” He said, puffing his smoke into the air.
“Tell you what, I got something I need to do,” Sawyer stood up, “But when I get back, how about we talk about home?”
“I’ll be right here, boy,” Cecil smirked, “You got any more cigarettes?”
“This is my last box,” he grinned, “but we’ll burn the last of them. Just us two rednecks.”
Cecil laughed, “I like your style, Sawyer.”
“Like wise, old man,” he said, walking away.
The moment Cecil couldn’t see his face, Sawyer’s smile quickly disappeared. He continued walk, fighting the urge to pull out the gun and shoot the old fool. He had the appropriate demeanor for the man he was looking for. Nevertheless, he vowed to be sure.
He already killed one man by mistake.
Sawyer tried to speak but all of a sudden found his lips not working. He knew this woman! Her features were what sung out in his brain the most. He coughed and then put the book down. “I’m Sawyer.” He smiled.
“That’s right, Sawyer,” Natasha snapped her fingers, “I knew I knew your name. I just couldn’t remember it.”
“Uh . .where did we meet?” he leaned forward.
“Chicago,” she said, sitting down, “Drake Hotel.”
“That’s right,” Sawyer grinned, “The smoking hot brunette who had just gotten stood up.”
“You seemed real eager to keep me company that night.” Natasha smiled.
“I aim to please, darlin,” he smiled.
“Yes, it would seem you are a unique gift . . .to be at the right place at the right time.” She grinned.
Sawyer wasn’t attempting to hide his arousal. His eyes quickly fell on her cleavage, gently poking through the dress shirt she converted to a blouse. Natasha smiled, enjoying the attention. “Uh . .Sawyer?” she giggled.
“Hmm?” he said, not averting his gaze.
“I’m up here.” She said, pointing to her face.
“OH!” he laughed, “Sorry, Natasha. Old habits die hard.”
“How hard?” she grinned.
“Want me to show you?” he said, flicking his eyebrows.
Then Kate showed up abruptly in the tent. She immediately paused when she noticed he wasn’t alone. Natasha looked at her in a friendly manner, but she quickly saw that Kate didn’t return the friendly look. Sawyer grunted heavily for four seconds, drooping his head. He hated being interrupted; especially then and ESPECIALLY by Kate. He then looked up to her. “Help you with something?” he asked.
Kate looked to Natasha then back to Sawyer. “What is going on here?” she asked.
“None of your business,” the southern man grunted, “That’s what’s going on.”
“Sawyer, have you returned that . . .item to Jack?”
“Oh, you mean THE GUN?” he said, bluntly.
“Sawyer, geez,” Kate hissed, wondering why he would tell that part to Natasha.
“No, I haven’t returned it and if it will quit your bitchin, I’ll do it right now, “Sawyer said, reaching over and pulling the gun out of his bag.
As the southern man stood up, so did Natasha, realizing he was leaving. Sawyer checked the safety of the gun and then pushed it into his back, under the belt line. He looked to Natasha and shrugged his arms. “Duty calls, Chicago,” he told her, “I got to go see our fearless leader and give him back his side arm. I hope we can pick this up later.”
“Sure thing, “ she smiled, “I’m not going anywhere.”
“I do hope you are not.” He grinned.
Sawyer then looked briefly at Kate, seeing her face completely filled with disapproval. He decided to play on it. He then twisted around and immediately planted a massive kiss on Natasha. The brunette let out of a surprised moan, then a soft moan saying how much she enjoyed it. Kate stared at them both, mouth gaping open. Natasha moaned a little bit more, feeling Sawyer’s tongue play with hers. Then as they parted, the woman caught her breath while the southern man licked his lips. “MMM. Mango,” he chuckled.
Natasha just giggled at his statement. Sawyer then walked over Kate. “So where is Jack-Ass?” he asked.
“In the jungle, chopping wood.” Kate hissed.
“Yeah, I’ll bet he is,” Sawyer said, “Later, Freckles.”
As he left, he quickly slapped Kate on the butt. She squeaked at what he just did. As she saw him walking away, she turned back to Natasha, assuming she was the reason for his sudden blunt behavior. Natasha just smiled, curling her hair with her finger. “He. . .uh . .seems to have a thing for nick-names.” She mentioned.
“More or less,” Kate grunted, turning around and walking out.
Natasha felt a weird giggling sensation wash over her from the fact that Kate seem to be jealous of the attention that Sawyer was giving her. It had been a long time but she could tell there was something between them, almost there but not quite. Natasha thought for a brief second; should she step away and let them bond?
Where is the fun in that? She thought as she left the southern man’s tent.
Sawyer continuing walking through the jungle. He kept his ears open for the sound of chopping wood but didn’t hear anything. He grunted over the fact that Kate continued to boss him around. The southern man was growing sick of it, and fast. Seeing Natasha again did bring him a slight bit of joy. He had a massive itch to scratch and it seemed since Kate was playing hard to get, perhaps the Chicago brunette would be willing to comply.
Sawyer then paused as he heard a coughing sound. He looked over into the distance and saw an old man leaning up against a tree with his eyes closed. He was coughing over and over again, holding his chest. The southern man remembered Taylor saying that the old man’s name was Sawyer as well. He looked like the right age, but the odds that this would be the exact same guy? Sawyer had to know for sure.
He walked up to the man, as he continued coughing with his eyes closed. Sawyer kneeled down and pulled out his last box of cigarettes. He tapped the old man on the arm, showing them to him. Cecil opened his eyes, saw the cigarettes, and then slowly pulled one out. “Much appreciated.” He said.
“Not a problem, old timer.” He said, holding out his lighter.
“Thanks, boy,” he said, taking in the drag from the cigarette, “Where you from?”
“Tennessee.” He replied.
“No crap? Southern boy. I am from Alabama.”
“What’s your name, Old man?” Sawyer asked him, pretending he didn’t know.
“Cecil Walker.” He said, extending his hand.
“Sawyer.” He shook it.
“Well, ain’t it a small world, name wise. My nickname is Sawyer, after my daddy.”
“Is that right?” the southern man’s eye twitched.
“None of these people here are from the south. It’d be nice to shoot the breeze with ya.”
Sawyer then smiled. “I’d like that, Cecil.”
“Bravo.” He said, puffing his smoke into the air.
“Tell you what, I got something I need to do,” Sawyer stood up, “But when I get back, how about we talk about home?”
“I’ll be right here, boy,” Cecil smirked, “You got any more cigarettes?”
“This is my last box,” he grinned, “but we’ll burn the last of them. Just us two rednecks.”
Cecil laughed, “I like your style, Sawyer.”
“Like wise, old man,” he said, walking away.
The moment Cecil couldn’t see his face, Sawyer’s smile quickly disappeared. He continued walk, fighting the urge to pull out the gun and shoot the old fool. He had the appropriate demeanor for the man he was looking for. Nevertheless, he vowed to be sure.
He already killed one man by mistake.
posted by Jason | 2:27 PM
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