Chapter 19: Batted Down

“Just who the fuck are you?” a harsh female voice called out as the wooden bat struck the gravel parking lot with a reverberating thump. Willow had already snapped several pictures of Theroit’s from a distance. She’d been caught off guard as she internally deliberated whether she’d try to step into the bar, or merely captured exterior photos of Theroit’s and the houseboat Bridgette and Lenora called home.

Willow rolled onto her back, spread her legs for balance and pushed herself into a crouching position for balance. The single movement happened so quickly that the attacker stepped back waiting for an offensive attack. Willow whirled to face her attacker, stifling a scream of pain as her hand covered the butt of the .38, and she could feel a muscle tear in her hamstring. It had been so long since she’d had to move lithely, and her body wasn’t as flexible as she’d hoped. Still, when she turned to see the woman in front of her she realized that the bat-wielding attacker was taken aback.

Willow recognized the alluring blond standing in front of her. The woman’s tanned sundress matched Willow’s bat. The woman finally recognized Willow too and instinctively let the bat’s tip fall loosely to the ground. Though she wasn’t willing to let go of the grip. Lenora’s nipples poked through the thin material and were as hard as the expression covering her pretty face.

Willow took a deep breath and held out her hand. “Hey remember me? I’m Willow Lane and -”

“Why you taking pictures of me and my sister’s bar?”

Willow’s hand hung awkwardly between them. “Lenora right?”

The woman gripped the bat tighter. “How do you know my fucking name?”

“Like I said, we met yesterday. I came by for a drink, and ended up having four.” Willow laughed. He expression turning friendly, her demeanor reinforcing the smile on her pouty lips. “I should have had some of your down home cooking too before I drove to that motel. Their food sucked.”

“Still don’t explain why you taking pictures.” Lenora re-gripped the bat handle.

Willow shrugged. “I grew up in a town like this, close to the Mississippi. I just love the bayou. It’s beautiful, especially at night.” She gave Lenora a flirtatious smile. “In fact, the only thing prettier than that moon is you honey. Hey, do you mind if I take a picture of you?” Lenora said nothing, while Willow raised the camera. “Just one. For memory’s sake?”

“Take that picture and it’ll be the last fucking thing you ever do,” Lenora said. She lifted the bat into the air and hefted the head in Willow’s direction. The tip only inches from her nose.

“Don’t nobody think this here swamp is beautiful. I think you’re full of horseshit. You need to get your fucking ass into your little fucking car and get the fuck off my land.”

“Lenora, I didn’t mean any harm. I was just-”

“You were just fucking leaving,” Lenora finished as the door to the bar opened and Bridgette stepped out into the night.

“What the fuck is going on here Chere?” Bridgette wore a pink tank top, with frilly white lace along the lines of the sleeves. A pair of faded blue jeans shorts and open toed brown sandals capped off her ensemble.

“Caught her snooping around. Says she’s taking pictures of nature n’shit.”

“She alright dear sister,” Bridgette strutted over, her pants partly undone at the waist, and Willow could see she was without panties. She doubted the woman had worn any kind of underwear in years if ever.

“She one of them professional photographers, and was in here yesterday, taking shots of the bar.”

“Said she wanted to take one of me,”

“Then let her,” Bridgette draped an arm over Lenora’s shoulder. “Daddy always said his lil’ angels belong on the cover of a magazine.” Lenora still looked suspicious, despite the wide grin on Bridgette’s face.

“Go on and take your photo,” she said with a wink.

“Great,” Willow raised the camera, pointing it at the two sisters marveling at their beauty while a roll of clicks took a steady stream of photos.

“Lemme’ see Cherie,” Bridgette left her angry sister and stood close to Willow, gently taking the camera while her fragrance sent ripples of lust through Willow’s spine raising the thinnest of hairs along her back.

“You got a good eye,” Bridgette replied trailing her index finger along Willows as she handed the camera back.

“You know something about photography?” Willow asked substantially aroused.

“Why don’t you step inside and we can talk about what I know over some hot cherry pie.” Her lazy drawl made a promise hidden within Bridgette’s words.

“My favorite.”

“Oh please,” Lenora snapped holding out the bat. Willow reached out, but Lenora dropped it to the ground with a clunk in the gravel just before Willow could snatch it back.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Bridgette snapped at her sister.

“I got better things to do than watch you two tickle each other’s fancy.” Lenora turned and strutted away.

“Jealous green isn’t your color Chere.” Bridgette chided not taking her eyes off Willow who’s stomach growled loudly.

Bridgette laughed. “I guess we both hungry. Why don’t you come on inside and eat my pie?”

“Okay,” Willow replied her mouth dry as sand, while her pussy throbbed with lust. “Let me put my camera and bat away.”

“Of course Chere,” Willow could feel the sex oozing from the lithe brunette as Bridgette sashayed away and into the bar.

Willow walked to her car and stowed the bat. She sat the gun on the front passenger seat and spritzed on perfume she had hidden in her armrest. She pulled a piece of gum out after stowing the perfume and called her boss.

“Artie, I’m here. See what you can pull up on a Bridgette and Lenora Theroit. If anybody knows anything about what’s going on here, it’ll be them two. I’ll call you in an hour.”

Determined and more than a little horny, Willow walked into the bar. Her normally heightened skills lost a step as her feminine sexual endeavors took over. Lenora was gone. Bridgette, Willow hoped was loosening her jean shorts to the ground. And as she stepped onto the plank bridge linking Theroit’s from the gravel parking lot she never noticed the bloody hand reaching up from a fishing boat hidden under the bridge. She didn’t catch the faint voice, dried and swollen, trying to warn her of Bridgette. Two inches to her right and she would have stepped on Chase’s outstretched fingers. As it was, Willow stepped into Theroit’s moments later.