I'm back!

The thing that turned me on most about Heather, I think, was the screaming.

She was pretty enough, sure, with those piercing grey eyes and model’s smile, pointy, upturned nose, and lips like crushed velvet, soft and warm against my skin. And that body! Man, I know women who’d have killed for a body like Heather’s. Thin, but not too thin, and curvy in all the right places. Her tits were probably fake, though.

But when she opened those perfect lips and let out one of those high-pitched, glass-shattering, soul-rattling screams...that is what did it for me every, single time.

I'm not talkin' about those little, muffled whimpers you hear from some gals. You know, where they’re all weak and inhibited, afraid to let you know how they really feel. Afraid to feel at all, if you ask me.

But not Heather.

Christ, she would just let herself go. It was totally wild, her hair thrashing back and forth, her chest heaving with the effort, those perky boobs jiggling up and down and left and right. It was almost enough for me to cream my shorts without even trying.

The best part, you know, the part that really got me going, was when she’d beg for me to stop, like she'd had enough. It'd start out as this quiet, cute, almost-schoolgirl-innocent plea, "N-n-n-no...no more, please," which was a nice touch, you know? Maybe I can get her to dress up like a naughty schoolgirl for Halloween...

Inevitably, though, she’d return to the screaming, and I'd get hard all over again.

Do women realize, you think, the power they have over us guys? The way they walk, talk, dress, cook, clean, suck, fuck, scream...somewhere, there's a guy who's into the way they do all of it, no matter how bizarre or pedestrian, and if they're both really lucky, they'll find each other in this crazy, fucked-up world of ours.

Like me and Heather.

Every once in a while some fellas come around lookin' for her. They want to take her away from me, I know. They think I'm a bad influence or something. What do they know? They wouldn't know love if it wrapped its lips around their weak cocks and bit 'em off. Heather's into me. She came on to me, know what I'm sayin'?

God, I can remember the first night we met. It was like fate or somethin'. She was a waitress at this titty joint downtown, and when she'd bring me a new drink, she'd linger, just a little, at my table, slyly running a hand across my hand, or my arm, before moving on to the boozehounds that surrounded the stage, drooling like retarded children at the barely-clad-cowgirl inexpertly twirling her lasso.

I knew what she wanted. I could tell. I’d seen the signs before. The club, though, had a policy about the girls hooking up with customers, so Heather couldn't come right out and say it, y'know? Stupid, I know, but what are ya gonna do? But, boy, was she good at dropping hints.

Closing time came around and Heather asked if I wanted one for the road. I told her "no, thanks" and dropped a twenty on her tray; she'd been working hard all night. She squeezed my shoulder and flashed me one of those great smiles I mentioned earlier. I knew where she was going with this.

The club closed up and the girls started leaving, headin' home to their boyfriends or whatever. I had sat myself down on a bench across the rain-slicked street, to stay out of the way. I didn't want any of the other girls to know that Heather was involved in a customer. She eventually came out of the joint, waved to her co-workers, and started up the street; towards her apartment, I would soon discover.

Nervous, I got up and started to follow her. She knew I was there, of course. Her signals in the bar were pretty darn clear, you ask me.

We walked past alley after alley, rain thumping down in hard, heavy drops. I did my best to stay a discreet distance back, in case any of her co-workers lived in this area, too.

"Spare a dolla', miss?" Fucking bums. They were everywhere in this shithole of a town, and now one of 'em was accosting Heather. Rage bubbled up from within like I had never felt before. So this must be what love feels like, I remember thinking.

I hung back, my heart racing, waiting for Heather to get out of earshot. Before the bum could get the word "spare" out of his mouth, I shoved him to the pavement. "You stay the fuck away from her," I spat, and kicked him in the ribs. He moaned, and tried to mumble something, an apology, maybe. I didn’t want to hear any of it. I kicked him again. Harder. And again. Fucking bums! Get a job! Stay away from our good and decent women!

Shit! Where was Heather? In my haste to protect her honor, I lost sight of her. I quickly, but quietly, jogged up the street, leaving the battered and bloody bum crumpled in the alleyway, scanning the street for Heather's silhouette. I knew she'd never forgive me for ditching her, even if it was to keep her safe. She was probably shaking, scared out of her wits by that damned, worthless piece of garbage. Anger began to well up inside me again, and I had to fight the urge to go back and kick the bum again. I had to find Heather.

There she is! Thank God. I caught up to her just as she was opening the front door of her building, a rundown, decrepit place. She lives here? I thought as I slowly crossed the street. I turned around and looking up and down the street, making sure no one would see me go inside. I didn't want Heather to get in trouble back at work.

There was no elevator, and when I pulled open the door to the stairwell, I could hear Heather's heels clicking on the wooden slats above me. I'd hate to lose her now that I was so close. I stepped slowly, carefully, on each wooden board, trying not to make a sound. I didn't want to wake the neighbors or anything.

I heard a door open a floor above me, so I quickened my pace, taking the stairs two at a time. In my haste, my excitement, I tripped, slamming my knee against the wood. I stifled a cry, and tried to keep still, my ears straining to hear if Heather had heard me.

"H-hello? I-is someone there?" Her voice was muffled through the door, and I could hear the rattling of keys. I had to hurry, or she'd get inside her apartment and I wouldn’t know which one it was.

I made my way to the fourth floor landing and slowly pulled open the door, just a crack. The few bare light bulbs that hung from the ceiling flickered, barely giving off enough light, but I managed, seeing Heather a few doors down on the left side of the hallway, fumbling with her keys. I could tell she was shaking. That damned bum must have frightened her more than I thought.

Quietly, I slipped into the hallway and made my way towards her. I didn't want to rattle her any more than she already was. I promised myself that I'd kill that bum for scaring Heather like this.

Her head was down, her thin, delicate fingers still trying to fit the right key into the lock. I walked up beside her just as she was able to unlock the door. My heart was pounding so hard in my chest, I was sure she could hear it.

"Heather," I whispered, "I'm here."

That's when I heard her amazing scream for the first time.

That's when I knew I was in love with her.