I'm not sure when it changed from a habit to an obsession.
I had started driving through the deserts of Nevada. I would leave the house before midnight and drive for hours. Windows down and the fraudulent enthusiasm of an AM radio preacher on the speakers.
There was something mythical about the drive. Endless blacktop with an unreachable horizon. My heart pacing itself with the dashed lines flying by in the darkness. It began innocently, I'd take off a few times a year and drive the desert through the night and getting home before dawn.
It was a habit that gradually changed once I found Rachel, Nevada. A small town near an alien lore rich Air Force base. This town had a run down road house called Patrick's. As I passed the bar one night, the sign caught my eye but I didn't stop.
I found myself passing Patrick's again a month later. I tell myself it was a coincidence, but I was drawn to it. This time I stopped for a drink. Bourbon, neat.
I took a drink and felt the place out. Immediately I see a woman at the other end of the s-shaped bar. She had a glass of brown liquor in front of her. She had the body of a knife and eyes deep enough to swim in. I didn't talk to her that first night. I couldn't think of a single way to approach her without my heart on my sleeve and tongue on the floor.
A month passed and I was back at Patrick's. Same glass of whiskey in front of me. Eyes again on the woman. The sultry minx. Occasionally someone braver than myself would approach. She would laugh and oh what a laugh it was! The type of laugh to make a bad night good.
She would turn them down, softly. Leaving the would be Romeo with a smile on his face but none the richer in her graces.
Monthly I made my pilgrimage to Patrick's. Watching this woman hold court at the bar. It was at this point that my habit had turned to compulsion. Maybe obsession. I didn't realize it then, but I do now.
Almost a year after my first stop at Patrick's, I was back for more. Sitting at the bar nursing a glass of Kentucky's finest, idly talking with the barkeep. I looked over at the woman. The woman with the body like a knife. She winked at me as she got up from her seat.
She passed behind me, dragging her nails across my back. Turning her head to make sure I was following, she lead me to a bathroom in the back.
Once inside, she pressed up against me. Pushed me against the wall. She put her left hand in my mouth and ran her other against my chest. She undid the buttons of my shirt and leaned close to my face. Expecting a kiss from her, I leaned in and instead she bit my neck letting out a fiendish little laugh.
Pressed against my head, her lips teased my ear. I took her scent in and weakened. She had the electric heat of an animal with bad intentions and still I wanted more. With one hand pressed against my throat and the other making it's way to my dick she whispered in my ear.
Eternities had passed since we first arrived and she finally graced me with the words:
"Eat my butt."
And I did.