Kiss Me, Curse Me - By Kate Shay
Daren—the cover is amazing. You are truly talented.
Brittney—you are stunning indeed.
Janet—you are wonderful to work with! I’ll join you for some sweet tea next time I’m in the South.
Insiders—you guys are the best! Thanks Alisa!
“Kiss me,” he whispered.
“No, not here,” she said, inching away.
Ahanu grinned. Eager brown eyes taunting, he took Coreen’s delicate hand and whisked her back behind the old wooden cathouse anyway. He snuck a peck on her soft, white cheek.
“Give me your lips. I want lips.”
Quickly spinning her around as if to dance and catching her off balance, he tilted his blonde beauty back and leaned in slowly. Lip to lip, they enjoyed each other’s warmth and moisture on the very hot and dry desert day.
Swift graveled steps sounded from behind them.
“Don’t worry. I won’t tell if you won’t.” Betty was very entertained by the youths and couldn’t wipe the smile off her strikingly wicked face.
They huddled close together, his arms wrapped around his captured little thing fancied up in a modest, white sundress.
Betty leaned down, bosoms and all, to smooth out her scarlet petticoats after using the outhouse. “You should be more careful—plenty of folks hiding in places that you might not be aware of. Especially around here.” She took her finger and wrapped it around a dark curl, giving Ahanu a wink.
He looked away from Betty and down at his girl. Coreen was still in shock, having never actually seen one of them leave the heathen place, where only the drunken dam workers dared enter.
“Go on back to the fair, little daughter,” said Betty as she eyed Ahanu’s long, black ponytail. The thing ran over his broad shoulders and down his neat waist. His white t-shirt was tight and perfectly tucked into his jeans just enough to see his affects. She just wanted a tug—just one . . . well . . .
Betty swallowed and bit her lip, in need.
Coreen flashed the middle-aged prostitute a jealous glare.
“Oh, don’t you worry about him. I won’t bite.” Betty teased, wiggling her shoulders a bit.
“She’s right. You should go before they notice.” He leaned in close to her ear, and Coreen shuddered under his breath. “I’ll meet you tonight,” he whispered. It was a long-awaited night. Their last had been back at the cave, but they had been scared off too soon to enjoy what they really wanted to.
His blue-eyed girl gave him a big, beautiful, bright-white smile; they squeezed hands and regretfully parted, Coreen disappearing down the narrow dirt alley.
“An engineer’s daughter—you’re aiming high aren’t you, Indian boy?” chimed Betty.
Ahanu looked down.
“Best you not get caught. They’ll throw you off the dam, they will, or add you into the freshly poured concrete
“You’re just a whore,” he said, feeling his old spite boiling up. “What do you know?”
“Don’t you whore me, lad. I’m a step up from you.”
“No, you’re not. I’ve seen you serve mine as well.”
“Ha . . . your kind . . . They come in here like the salmon run the falls. I only aim to please,” she taunted, pausing again for a good look at what she thought was probably the best-looking thing around lately. “Would you like to come inside?” She gave him an open palm and an inappropriate curtsey.
Ignoring her gesture, Ahanu set out past the outhouse, through the long, yellow summer grasses, enjoying the hot breeze though it didn’t offer much in relief. He avoided the dark forest edge and went south for ten minutes until he hit the edge of the high cliff.
The half-built dam loomed below him in the distance, thousands and thousands of workers sweating it out in the unforgiving temperatures, with no breaks. Grand Carnee Dam was going to be built, come hell or high water, even if Franklin Delano Roosevelt himself had to come out and do it.
The wages were good, and Ahanu, being old enough, had stood in line for days to join the mass of men attempting to build the biggest dam in the world.
“Name?” the old white man had asked him, beholding him top to bottom.
“Daniel White,” answered Ahanu.
“Yes,” said Ahanu. “I really need the work. Come on. I’ve been in this line all day. I can work hard.” He held up his hands.
“A fool you are—eighteen. Take the money and run. That power money is coming. You don’t need to spend yourself here. No work,” the man said.
“I’m seventeen. I’m almost eighteen. Come on.”
The man said nothing and motioned the next in line.
Ahanu had known better at the time; the power