#stack x pearline

Sexual Tension, Slow Burn, Cursing, Killing, Trauma

Previous : Ⅰ, Ⅱ

Stack’s arm burned from the steady rhythm — sawing, sanding, hauling, hammering — the kind of work that don’t leave your hands clean for long.

The fence line had been fighting him all afternoon but he’d finally got the fence base to settle right, but the steps were waiting on him next.

It shouldn’t have been a hard job, except the sun was working just as hard. By four, sweat had him good. His shirt was knotted— tied the same way he’d learned as a boy, watching men who never complained about heat. His real hat hanging off the porch swing. Dust caked his boots. His jeans were on their third life today, grass-stained and honest about it.

The house was quiet. Pearline left with Delilah while he was still working the gate—said she was riding down to see family which left Stack minding the house and the animals — same as always.

His phone vibrated in his back pocket, buzzing against sweat-warmed denim. He didn’t check the screen before answering.

“Stack, my nigga, where you been?” The voice burst through the speaker.

Stack set the phone down on the porch railing and put it on speaker, grabbing his hammer again. "Round the way,” he said, lining up the claw and testing the bite on a buried nail. “What’s up?”

Stack wedged the claw of the hammer under a nail, yanked. The board groaned but didn’t give. “Me and Anothny headin’ down to the track. Ain’t seen you out. You comin’ or what?”

Stack let the thought linger. Been a minute since he’d gone to the track for real — last time was fooling with his brother, racing just for fun. “Track, huh? Ain’t heard nothin’ ’bout it.”

“The crew started somethin'. Nothing crazy, just a lil fun"

“Something good,” he asked slowly, “or something that’ll have Smoke lookin’ at me sideways?”

The mah laughed. “Man, your brother a sheriff, not ya daddy.”

“Feel like both sometimes,” Stack muttered. “He already told me he ain’t savin’ me next time.”

“Man, I’d tell you the same. But nah — ain’t no mess. Just a little fun mid-week.”

“A’ight, lemme see if something shakes”. The line clicked dead.

He went back to the plank, but the last nail sat too deep for the hammer to grip. He stared at it, jaw tight, then straightened up. “Stubborn,” he muttered.

He walked toward the shed, sweat sliding down his back. He was looking for a pry bar — but his eyes landed on the crowbar Pearline had pointed out earlier.

He grabbed that instead.

“If you don’t wanna come out,” he murmured to the board on his way back, “I’ll just take the whole thing up.”

Back at the steps, he slid the crowbar under the stubborn board and eased up slow so he wouldn’t gouge the foundation. The wood creaked, and resisted before eventually giving in

“There you go", the board popped loose, and he worked it free with a firm tug. He tossed the old plank aside and reached for the new brown boards waiting on the porch. Laid them one by one, neat and straight like he liked things, then set four nails to each side — just enough to hold — and looped back around to finish them proper. His hammer thudded a steady beat and when he was done, he put his boot to the edge, testing for any wobble. Solid.

When he stepped back, a small smile tugged at his mouth. The color was a tad lighter than the house— not perfect. But it was sturdy.

He dusted his hands and reached for his bottle of hot water, that sun had turned it into tea, when a flash of familiar purple slid into view at the road. His mouth tipped up without him meaning to. He cleared off the porch path without thinking, moving the stray bucket and the crowbar so she could walk up clean.

Pearline's eyes narrowed like she needed to rub them and check the picture twice.

But the picture was right.

She killed the engine and swung her legs out. “Mighty hot out, huh?” she teased first thing.

“Maybe, just a little,” he said, voice easy.

She shut the door and came up slow, taking him in. Stack sat on the edge of the porch beside the new steps. Dark-washed jeans clung low on his hips, stained at the knees. Boots worn but strong. Bare chest smooth and broad — broader than his shirts ever suggested. Chocolate skin caught the late sun, scars tracing faint stories along his sides near his waist. He looked like a man who could carry two bales without losing breath and still laugh at somebody’s joke on the way.

“You enjoy ya' trip?” he asked before finishing his water.

Pearline caught herself before smiling too wide. “It was… nice. Heard more ‘remember when’ stories than I have in years.”

“Still can’t believe Delilah ya' cousin,” he added. “Kin come in all ways, huh?”

She laughed. “What? Me and Delilah ain’t all that different. I just flip my accent when I feel like it.”

He gave her a look. “Ain’t nobody like Delilah,” he laughed, tipping the headwrap back with two fingers. “Girl wilder than I ever been"

“And how wild is that, Elias?” She halted on the step, chin tilted.

He leaned back on his hands. “Nothin’ I can testify to right now," he grinned then paused. “Might've got into a little trouble once or twice.”

Pearline stood going back in forth in her mind whether she should push or not but Elias seemed like a person who didn't mind sharing or at least in her eyes. “You asked me where I’m from the other day,” she said, eyes on him. “But I still don’t know where you hail from...Born and raised?”

“Little bit o’ Texas in me,” he said, shoulder to the post, “but didn’t take long to find where I wanted to be.”

“You're so vague,” she shot back. “If you want me to feel safe with a man I don’t know, walking my parents’ property like it’s his," She said folding her arms “I’m gonna need more than a cowboy mystery.”

He chuckled. “Born in Cleveland,” he said, giving it plain. “Left when I was five, six for Texas ’til I got tall enough. Came back and stayed.”

“Daddy and Mama?”

“Mama still in Texas — her people down there. Daddy from here. He passed when me and my brother were nineteen.”

“I’m sorry.”

He shook his head gently. “Don’t be. Daddy lived good. Built what he wanted. Left happy and somethin' to pass down"

She studied him differently after that. “So, that a family ranch?”

“Forty years runnin’.”

“Both you and your brother work it?” the next question came quick but Elias didn't mind. “Nah. Mostly me. Smoke ain’t see his life in ranch work. Went on and became the sheriff instead.”

Pearline raised a brown, “You like the work?” she asked, echoing the way he’d asked her things before.

Stack’s mouth curved. He liked the way she noticed. “I love it. Ain’t never dreamed of doing nowhere else.”

“Mmm. Ever tried?” she wondered

He shook his head. "No, ma'am"

“Then how you know you not missing out on something?” Pearline’s curiosity was soft and almost as if she was searching for an answer beyond of what she asked

He looked at her—then really looked. “I’m always gon’ miss out on something,” he said, his accent thickened just a touch, smooth as honey. “A man can’t be everywhere at once, darlin’. I just chose where and what mattered most.”

She laughed softly. “We might be opposites.”

“How so?”

“I want see everything...Might be far-fetched but every place, every book, every movie, every restaurant...every country" She sighed. “I wish I could be everywhere all the time.”

He studied her like she was something complicated. “That life get busy tryin’ to live like that.”

“It does. But I love when the experience outweighs the stress.”

Stack went quiet a beat, eyes sliding to his truck, then to the fresh lumber stacked by the rail. “You stressed?”

Pearline squinted, taken off-guard by the sudden care in his voice. She shrugged. “A little.”

“Well,” he said, standing and rolling his shoulders, “I got an experience for you.”

“Out here?” Pearline’s eyes danced. He nodded. “Where you gon’ take me that I ain’t been? I grew up here too, you know.”

“You ain’t had this,” he said, grin going a touch softer now that she was close. “You put on some pants and boots, we can head out.” He thumbed toward the front door and stepped aside to make room

“I didn’t agree ye—” She caught herself when he straightened and asked it proper.

“Excuse me, Miss Pearline,” he said, voice dropping low and warm. “Would you like to take a ride with me?”

“Will I be informed of where?” she bargained, fighting the smile.

“I could tell you,” he said, playful, “but it ain’t much of a real place.”

“Try me.” She studied him

“It’s a track, way down past Fifth and Von,” he said, giving her something to hold. “Back behind the old grain barn.”

Pearline thought it through. Far as she remembered, Fifth and Von dead-ended near that ragged repair shop, and she couldn’t pull up a grain barn in her head. “Don’t sound too safe,” she said.

“Trust me — you’ll be safe with me,” he said, and it didn’t come out boastful, it came out true. “And you’ll be even safer with your boots on.”

“And what about you?” She flicked a look over him — dust, sweat, the whole sturdy frame. “If it’s so dangerous, what you gon’ do?”

Stack dropped his gaze to his hands and laughed under his breath. “I’m tough enough, Miss Pearline. Don’t worry ’bout me. And if it gets necessary, I got something I can throw on in the back of the truck.”

Pearline held him a second longer, then shifted her weight. “Alright. I’ll be right out.”

Stack nodded once. “Yes, ma’am.” He bent, gathered the loose nails and set them in the coffee can, wiped his palms on a rag so he wouldn’t leave dust on her doorknob, and watched the screen door hush behind her. The steps he’d laid held steady when he put his boot to them again, and that made him smile once again. Good work makes for a good feeling

He took his hat off the swing and shook the dust free, eyes already on the door she’d gone through, waiting.

“This somethin’ you do often?” Pearline asked, her gaze fixed out the passenger window as the road stretched thin and brown ahead of them.

Stack cut his eyes toward her, that easy, natural grin already settling onto his face like it belonged there. “What exactly?” he said amused.

“You know…” She shrugged lightly. “Ask people out. Go to the track and all that.”

He huffed a quiet laugh. “Thought I was just bein’ polite, askin’ you along. ‘Specially since I’m all up and through your property most days.” He eased the truck around a bend, then glanced back at her sideways. “Didn’t you say you wanted to get to know me a little better? For safekeepin’s sake.”

She turned from the window, eyes calm but thoughtful. “You answered my questions. I feel alright now.”

He waited a beat before responding, fingers tightening just slightly on the wheel. Normally, he’da said plain and simple that he just wanted her company — no ceremony, no overthinkin’. That had always been his way. But somethin’ about Pearline made him slow down. Whether she meant to or not, she carried herself like someone who didn’t move well through unsteady ground — like you had to be careful where you set her down. Felt a little too fragile to push and play with.

“It can be a stress reliever too,” he added after a moment. “My family found the place years back, while we was doin’ things we ain’t had no business doin’.” He shrugged. “It’s away from the city. Just dirt roads, no service, no law lurkin’. We go out there to let loose. Race. Fight. Do whatever’s on our minds that night.”

Pearline glanced at him then, noddin’ slowly. Not fully convinced— but interested enough. A stress reliever sounded like exactly what she needed. “So what’s the feelin’ today?” she asked.

He smiled, eyes back on the road. “Ain’t sure yet. Guess we’ll both find out when we get there.”

“When y’all find it?”

“‘Bout fourteen, fifteen.”

Her brows knit together. “That where you know my cousin from? The track?”

“Not from the track exactly,” he said. “But ‘round that time. Give or take.”

She tilted her head. “There you go bein’ vague again.” A small smile tugged at her lips. “That somethin’ better left in the past?”

“Ain’t really my past to tell.” Stack turned his head from the road, 'she knew smoke ‘fore she ever knew me.

She let that sit. “Your brother gonna be there too?”

He glanced over at her, amused. “Miss Pearline… you always ask this many questions?”

“Give or take,” she chuckled.

“I like it when you do that,” he said after a stretch of quiet. There was somethin’ softer in his tone now. “But I ain’t sure — haven’t been comin’ ‘round much lately.”

“Like what?” she asked, still watchin’ the trees slip by.

“I like the way you talk.” He said it plain, no hesitation. “Easy on the ears.”

She smiled faintly. “You can thank teachin’ for that. Can’t have an accent that—”

“Nah,” he cut in gently, grin crooked. “Ain’t that, darlin’. Your voice just pretty.” He paused, then added quieter, “Still hear home in ya, though. That part ain’t goin’ nowhere.”

Her lips pressed together, a small warmth blooming in her chest before she could stop it. “Why, thank you,” she said, accepting it even as she looked back out the window.

“My pleasure.”

The truck tires groaned as Stack eased them over the uneven stretch of dirt and gravel, the whole thing rattling beneath them before coming to a stop. Dust settled slow in the headlights. He cut the engine and stepped out almost immediately. “We here,” he announced casually, already moving around to Pearline’s side.

Pearline lingered a second, reaching down to pull her boots back on. She’d kicked them off earlier, feet aching. As soon as she finished, the passenger door opened and Stack was already reaching for her hand. She hesitated only a beat before taking it.

“Thank you,” she said quietly as she stepped down, boots hitting dirt. Stack closed the door behind her with a firm click. “Air sittin’ heavy,” he said, glancing up at the sky.

Pearline glanced too. The air indeed felt thick, heavy on her skin. She pulled one of her braids forward, rolling it between her fingers. “It’s humid,” she said. “Feels like it’s sticking to you.”

“Mm. Yeah. Bugs love it too.” He looked back at her. “You want a hat?”

She nodded a little fast. “Yes. Please.” That earned a small smile. “Aight.”

She followed him around to the back of the truck, keeping close without meaning to. He hopped up easily and lifted a silver lockbox bolted to the bed. Inside were a few folded shirts, a worn hunting hat, and a can of bug spray.

While Stack searched, Pearline looked around. Open land. Stretching farther than she was used to. The kind of quiet that wasn’t really quiet—you could hear insects, the wind brushing against dry grass, something distant she couldn’t place yet.

Stack dropped back down beside her. “Turn ‘round for me,” he said, shaking the can.

Pearline stiffened slightly but did as told, drawing in a breath and holding it. She kept her chin tucked as he began spraying, moving around her slow, careful. She could hear the soft hiss, smell the sharp bite of it.

“Still,” he murmured when she shifted. She nodded to herself and stayed put.

When he reached to title her chin up, she jumped just a little. He noticed. “Got you,” he said, lighter now, “ain’t gon’ spray ya face.” The spray touched her neck, then her forearms again. The scent settled around her, sharp and clean, mixing with the heat in the air.

For a second, neither of them moved after. Then he stepped back. “There you go.”

Pearline opened her eyes slowly. She didn’t turn right away, not until she felt the space between them again.

When she did, he was already placing the hat on her head, adjusting it slightly—fingers brushing the edge, making sure it sat right. She touched the brim instinctively. “Thank you.”

He nodded once, watching her for a second before turning the spray on himself — quick and careless compared to how he’d treated her —then slipped on the red-and-brown button-up without bothering to close it.

Pearline waited, hands tucked into each other, unsure where to stand. She didn’t have to wait long. “This really is… the middle of nowhere,” she said, half to herself.

“Yeah.” Stack followed her line of sight. Off to the side sat a grain mill, worn and still. Just past it, the glow of a gas station light. Cornfields stretching out behind everything. “Used to be emptier than this.”

She turned back to him. “You ready?”

He raised a brow. “You askin’ me?”

She smiled shyly and nodded.

It wasn’t far — she realized that quickly — because she could hear everything before she could see it.

At first, it was just the sound of their steps—boots against dirt, brushing through patches of dry grass. Then, low engines revving, music drifting quietly and messy through the trees, cheers, the dull and heavy sound of hooves striking dirt. The closer they got, the louder it became

“Sure is a lot,” Pearline murmured, staying half a step behind him.

Stack reached into his pocket and checked his phone as they walked. “Seven o’clock,” he muttered. “Ain’t even properly started yet.”

Pearline glanced around, taking everything in. Lawn chairs formed loose circles, parked trucks sat wide open with kids perched in the beds, legs swinging while music thumped low from someone’s speakers.

“So it’s just… a cookout?” she asked, unsure.

Before he could answer, something flew past them fast enough to steal the rest of the sentence right out her mouth. A horse blasted through, hooves tearing up dirt, its rider hollering loud enough to shake the trees.

“Woo!” came a shout, followed by a woman’s voice snapping quick and sharp. “Told that motherfucker to speed up— I’m losin’ money on this.

"Smoke here" Stack smiled, he nodded toward where the horses disappeared around the bend. “Watch next time they come ‘round.”

They stood still as the horses circled again, trees blocking most of the view but not enough to miss the difference — one pulling ahead, one scrambling to keep pace.

Which one?” she asked quietly.

“The black horse,” Stack said, bending just enough to bring his voice down with hers. “Braid hangin’ forward.”

“He a racer?” she asked.

Stack shrugged, mouth tugging into a cocky half‑smile. “We do a’ight.”

She blinked. “We?”.

“Stack!”. Both their heads turned.

“C’mon,” Stack said, already moving. “Lemme introduce you.” He greeted the shorter man waiting nearby with an easy dap and a close shoulder pull. “What took you so long?” the man complained. “We already runnin’.”

“Man, it ain’t even been an hour since you called me,” Stack shot back, brushing him off.

The man scoffed and nodded toward the track. “Smoke got here before you.”

Pearline’s mouth pressed into a thin line. She glanced away briefly, guilt flickering across her face.

Stack shifted aside. “Anyways — this Pearline.”

The man’s irritation vanished instantly. “Well damn,” he said, eyes lighting up. “Pleasure to meet you, beauty.” Webby maneuvered from stack to Pearline

"Nigga I said Pearline"

Pearline smiled politely, stepping forward just a bit. She reached out her hand. “Hi. Nice to meet you.”

The man looked down at her hand, then back up, amused. “Handshake, huh?, "You from around here?"

"Lil bit, why?"

"Just around here these what we usually give" Webby stepped closer arms starting to reach out until stack hand reached out first, "She gave you what she was comfortable with" Stack objected

"Damn," Webby stepped back, "ain't nothing but a little southern hospitality"

“She cool,” Stack said. “Don’t press her.”

“Damn, damn,” Webby laughed, stepping back. “I’m jokin’. Nice to meet you, Pearline.”

"You bettin' or ridin?' Webby asked as the three of them cut through the crowd, dust curling up around their boots on the way towards the start of the track

Stack glanced ahead first, slowly his eyes flickering over the horses and the people gathered near the rail. "Ain't sure yet," he said, "gotta scope the scene first"

Webby snorted. "Scope the scene—mean looking to see who ass is competition". He grinned wide. "Worried Smoke gon' tap that ass again?"

Stack let out a short laugh through his nose. "Now you know damn well I won last time"

"Five outta twenty don't give you braggin' rights nigga"

Stack shook his head, "Imma start talking impolite in front of the lady if you keep on." he nudged Webby with his shoulder, "And I handle mine when I need to"

Webby kaughed, sharp and loud, "Put ya money where ya mouth is. Smoke comin' back round' now"

Stack turned just as a ripple of cheers rolled through the crowd. "Ayy, Smoke" Webby called

"This nigga bouta' start something, Stack muttered under his breathe he turned fully. Pearline turned too, curiosity wanting to put a face to the name. Her eyes stunned, moving back and firth between the two men- Stack, then Smoke, then Stack again. Identical. Same face, same build it looked like. Only visible difference being the clothes they wore

"You seen what I just did" Smoke smiled upon seeing his brother as he descended from his horse. "Nigga couldn't even do two laps talking all that shit" he bragged stepping up as Stack did, embracing in a hug with his brother.

"Somebody else talking shit" Webby, egged shamelessly pointing at stack with a grin etched on his face.

Smoked eyebrows raised "You tryna get this shit too" he spoke calm, tugging on the riegn to pull his horse closer.

"Don't yo old ass got a shift to cover" Stack trash talked, blowing him off as well

"I wanna see it" Pearline tugged at the end of Stack shirt making him turn back "I'll be my first time new experience". Stack grew a smirk at Pearline way of words, "I though you seen every thing"

"I stand corrected" She admitted easily

"And might this be" Smoke asked walking up closer

"Ahh that's Miss Pearline" Webby answered for her

Smoke tunred his head a little, the name flicking a light, "Mr and Ms May, Pearline? he asked

"Much obliged" she answered

"Nice to finally put a name to the face. Ya daddy talks about you an awful lot" he tipped his hat, letting her in on a secret

"He still does I see" She sent a small smile

"How he doing by the way, I aint seen him come down to the office lately"

"My daddy be at the sherif office?"

"Yea, used to come pretty often, took a liken to blue," He pat the tall horse on the side, "then just started coming for coffee and talks. Nothing to be worried about" Elijah assured her

"Thank God but he's been doing his best from what mama tells me. He's in the hospital right now but looks like he shouldn't stay too much longer"

"Aww that awfully unfortunate, I send him my prayers, Annie does as well"

"Thank you. I'll make sure to call and tell her" She smiled, thankful for the thoughts and prayers.

"Ight now you ridin' or what" Webby cut in

Pearline let go of his shirt, in a way pushing him to go and find a horse to saddle onto. He saw and chucked at her, already moving towards the horses that stood lined up, some getting feed carrots and apples

"Where yo hourse at" Stack asked Webby.

"You aint ride with yours?"

"It look like I could ride my horse down here? Where ya damn horse at"

"She ain't rode yet today so just warning ya if she not warmed up. She by the first bench," he pointed over as stack turned to where his finger pointed

"Yall got money on it" Webby askes Smoke as Stack walked away.

"One day, Imma put you in a cell for illegal gambling, don't be trying commit crimes in front of me"

"Everybody round here family who gone snitch, now you want in or not" He held up his hat that he put money in first

Smoke shook his head as he maneuvered back toward his horse, moving with practiced ease as he swung himself up into the saddle. The black horse stood steady beneath him, solid as a tank. Its coat gleamed in the fallen sun—deep black threaded with warm brown, the kind of sheen that looked brushed in careful strokes. Its tail hung long and wavy, trimmed clean, hooves shining like they’d just been worked on. The mane flowed freely down its neck, except for two neat braids laid gently forward along its face.

Pearline watched, quiet curiosity pulling her closer. “Is that… a childhood horse?” she asked, while Webby worked his way through the crowd, passing the hat around again.

Smoke glanced down at her, a hint of pride crossing his face. “Childhood horse turned police horse,” he said.

Her eyes widened a little. “He’s big,” she breathed. “Can I touch him?”

“Yeah,” Smoke said, nodding toward the horse’s side. “Just don’t get too close to the stomach or back, sensitive right there"

Pearline stepped forward carefully, reaching out and laying her hand near its neck. The coat was just as soft as it looked. She smiled without meaning to. “It’s been ages since I actually touched a horse.”

“Don’t see much of that in Jackson?” Smoke asked.

“Life doesn’t really call for it,” she said lightly. “Not much a teacher can do to run into a horse and pet it.”

Smoke leaned down slightly, crossing his arms at the top of the saddle, his posture easing. “You know… if your parents ever need anything, you can call the department,” he said after a pause. “I’ve spent a good amount of time with Mr. May these past few years. It’s… hurtful, seein’ the cancer come back.”

Pearline’s smile faded, eyes dimming just a touch at the sympathy, even though no one had been lost yet.

“Yeah,” she said quietly. “It hurts when I think too hard on it. Mama says Daddy’s tryin’ to keep strong. He won’t say much about the treatment—stubborn like that.”

Smoke smiled knowingly. “I'm familiar with that stubborn.”

Pearline let out a small laugh. “Right? I’ve been tryin’ not to blow up that hospital phone, askin’ for the room number every five minutes.” She glanced down at her hand still resting on the horse. “But really… thank you. It means a lot knowin’ Mama and Daddy weren’t just livin’ out here alone.”

“I know,” Smoke said. Then his gaze shifted, landing on Stack as he mounted his horse farther down the line. “And my brother—if he gives you any trouble, you can always call me.”

Pearline followed his look, watching Stack for a moment before turning back. “Why?” she asked honestly. “He’s been a good guest, far as I can tell.”

Smoke’s expression faltered—confusion and surprise flickering across his face. He nodded slowly, choosing not to answer, letting the question hang where it was.

"The hat coming around one more time, you in" Webby announced circling around Smoke

Smoke leaned back up shaking his head before pushing the reigns and leaving the area, 'He gone wish he did it" Webby mumbled. "I want to" Pearline said unsurely making Webby glance up, smile showing on his face.

"Oh city girl, you in?" he teased placing the hat in front of her. Pearline smirked at the nickname, before placing 5 dollars in the hat

"I see first time, better to be a little cautious"

"How high are the stacks?".

"Between these two? He motioned between the twins as they circled at the beginning of the track people magically crowding them as each second passes. "High as hell.

"How it's high if stack only won 5 out of 20 times"

"That's when money was not on the plate. What Stack said earlier he was right about. Must be something about losing money that Stack just don't like" Webby shrugged

"How long has this been going on" Pearline pointed around

"Before I got here"

"You wasn't born here?"

Webby shook his head, "Good ole Birmingham, Alabama is my birthing place. Came down here on a job offer 5 years an ago"

"Really? What you do?"

"Believe it or not stack himself sent for me. Offered me a job as wrangler, been here ever since" he explained

The crowd had thickened without Pearline noticing.

One minute she was listening to Webby talk, nodding along, trying to follow his words—and the next, her attention slipped right out from under her, tugged somewhere else entirely.

Stack.

He was already looking at her.

Not in some loud, showy way either. Just… steady. Like he’d been waiting for the moment her eyes found his . The moonlight began to shine low around the track, voices blurred together, but that look cut straight through it all. Then he did it—nothing big or obvious but a small tilt of his chin, barely there.

Come here.

Pearline hesitated.

Her fingers curled at her sides, heart skipping for reasons she didn’t have words for. She glanced at Webby, who was already half-turned away, phone at his ear, conversation forgotten. So she took a breath and moved, slipping through the crowd careful-like, watching her steps over roots and dry branches, the ground uneven under her shoes.

Stack didn’t look away once.

The closer she got, the quieter everything felt. His horse shifted under him, leather creaking soft, the late sun catching the dust on his boots. When she stopped in front of him, he was smiling or more so smirking.

“Ms. Pearline,” he said, slow drawl curling easy around her name. “You gettin’ real acquainted real fast, ain’t you?”

She shrugged, a little bashful despite herself, eyes dipping before lifting back to his. “Just… gettin’ familiar,” she said. “Is that a problem?”

He studied her like he was tryin’ to place a feeling he hadn’t planned on. His gaze flicked past her briefly—Webby still distracted—then came back, warm and curious.

“Nah,” Stack murmured. “Just makin’ sure I ain’t missin’ nothin’.” Before she could ask what that meant, he reached up and took off his hat.

Pearline barely had time to react before he settled it gently on her head, fingers brushing her hair by accident—or maybe not. The brim dipped low, just enough that she had to tilt her chin up to see him clearly.

His voice dropped, softer now. “Keep that safe for me, yeah?”. Then, just as easy, he pulled back, gathering the reins. “I’ll be right back.” The horse stepped away, moving toward Smoke’s, hooves crunching against dirt.

Pearline stood there a second longer than she meant to, heart thudding. She lifted her hands to the hat, fingertips brushing the brim. It was soft. Worn in. Like it had stories tucked into the creases.

It reminded her of her daddy—how he used to collect hats, even the ones folk said didn’t look like much. Except for some reason he said they were, often said the more things looked worn the happier the person was about it.

A sudden truck horn blared, sharp and loud. Pearline jumped just as two horses tore past, close enough that the wind from them brushed her face.

“Whoa—back up, girl,” Webby called, grabbing her arm gently and steering her farther off the track. “You gotta watch where you standin’.”

She nodded, breath uneven, clutching the hat tighter. Around her, the crowd shifted. Aunties climbed outta lawn chairs, uncles dropped grill tongs where they stood, kids got pulled back with firm hands. Whatever this race was, it mattered.

"I got money on you nigga" Webby yelled into the air stress already crowing his face despite the race just starting.

Pearline turned back toward the track just as the horses burst free of the trees, reappearing in full view of the crowd. Dust still hung thick in the air from the start, swirling and glowing in the afternoon light, but enough had settled for her to make out the shapes clearly now.

Smoke was out front.

He was folded low over the saddle, chest nearly brushing the horse’s neck, his posture tight and controlled. Both hands were locked hard around the reins, knuckles white, his face carved into focus. For a horse that big, Smoke’s stallion moved unnaturally fast—long, powerful strides eating up ground like it was nothing.

Not far behind him—maybe a foot, maybe less—was Stack.

He sat steadier, looser somehow. One hand held the reins in a lazy loop, the other free, adjusting when he needed. There was a grin on his face, but it didn’t fool anyone. His brow was creased, eyes sharp, reading every movement ahead of him as he shifted his horse just enough to stay clean in Smoke’s wake.

They hit the turn, and the energy changed.

Smoke cut tight toward the inside, forcing Stack to hesitate—just for a heartbeat—to reposition.

“Damn it, Stack! What the hell you doin’?” Webby shouted, catching it immediately. “Lean into it—you too stiff!”

Smoke glanced back for half a second, watching his brother fight the turn. Maybe he thought about stretching the lead. Maybe he thought about teasing him. Whatever it was didn’t last.

Smoke drove his heel into the horse’s side, and the stallion surged forward like he’d been waiting for it.

But then—white. Pearline saw it at the same time Smoke did. First the nose. Then the snout. Then the full bobbing head, closing the gap with every stride.

Smoke’s stern focus cracked, eyebrows lifting in surprise. “That’s what the hell I’m talkin’ ’bout!” Webby hollered, voice cracking with excitement. “Just hold her steady—she’ll get you there!”

Pearline didn’t know the mechanics of racing, not really. She knew horses. She knew the Southern love of it. But watching this—watching how Stack shifted his weight, how his body and the horse’s movement became one—she understood something new.

This wasn’t just about the animal. It was about the rider.

Stack moved forward in the saddle, posture changing completely. His once‑relaxed frame leaned in, eyes locked straight ahead like the rest of the world had narrowed down to one point. Horse and rider tunneled together, driving hard for the finish.

“Shit,” someone muttered nearby. “I just bet two hundred—Marley ’bout to beat my ass.”

“Y’all should’ve known better,” Webby shot back, loud and proud. “Quit wishin’ losses on my boy.”

Pearline glanced around, smiling at the chaos. The shouting, the laughter, kids darting through the background. It was rowdy, sure but not club‑rowdy and she took liken to it

She turned back just in time. Stack blew past the finish, Smoke right on his heels—but not close enough to argue it.

Webby was already laughing before the horses even slowed, slapping his thigh as he started toward the track. “I’m takin’ yo ass on the road,” he called out. “I’m tellin’ you, boy.”

Pearline followed behind him, taking it all in. Stack was still mounted, easing his horse down, the white stallion tossing his head like he knew exactly what he’d just done. Stack’s grin was wide—wider than she’d seen yet—and Smoke wasn’t far behind him, breath heavy, adrenaline still burning through his veins.

“You finally learn some new tricks,” Smoke said as he pulled up alongside him, voice rough, “or somebody light a fire under you?”

Stack let out a short laugh, turning his horse back toward the start. “You thought your ass was untouchable. That’s the problem.”

Smoke shook his head, eyes narrowing like he’d clocked something he’d been watching for. “I see you, lil’ ass. Don’t think you slick.”

Stack didn’t answer. He guided the horse forward, heading toward Pearline—but Webby stepped in first, pointing at the hat perched on his head.

“You done made me some money.”

“Over five?” Stack asked, still riding high.

“Maybe 7” Webby said. “Folks thought Smoke was gone put fire to yo like last time.”

Stack waved it off. “Keep it.”

He swung down from the saddle, boots hitting dirt, and immediately reached up to pat the stallion’s neck. “She need some water.” His voice softened just a notch before he turned toward Pearline.

“Well,” she said, stepping closer, eyes bright, “that was… interesting. I didn’t know you raced.”

He shrugged, like it was nothing, but the confidence hadn’t quite settled yet. “From time to time. Only with my brother, though.” He nodded back toward Smoke.

“And what’s this score I keep hearin’ about?” Pearline asked, fingers getting ready to give the hat back to Stack “And why they say you down?”

“You hear wrong.” He caught her wrist gently and set the hat back in place, palm lingering just a second longer than necessary. “I win when I want to.” The smirk finally showed.

She tilted her head. “So what made you want to win today?”

Stack paused, like he was thinking up something clever—but then he shrugged again. “New face. Can’t make a bad impression.”

He tipped the hat lower, bringing it just close enough to shadow her eyes. Pearline smiled. “Aw. I’m worth makin’ a good impression over?”

He looked at her for a beat, then nodded once. “Gotta brag on somethin’.”

HI!! Hi, I'm not gone say I'm back I was just able to write without feeling convicted about it but just in case because my stories will have violence, kissing, and other sins in it. Every story will have a disclaimer on each chapter because again my worst fear is to lead someone astray due to my writing.

Baby Doll’s Sin

A/N: Here I am again, writing stuff that I’m not supposed to be working on. But y’all love me, so y’all will let me make it, right? 🤭 This was inspired by this post from @nahimjustfeelingit-writes who also helped with this filth. Thank you again, my baby! 💛

Characters: Elias “Stack” Moore, Sammie “Preacherboy” Moore, Pearline Jones

Warning(s): 18+, MDNI, Dirty talk, Oral (female receiving), Voyeurism, Stack being nasty ass Stack. This is nasty y’all.. Like, filth. Porn with a smidge of plot if you squint.

Word Count: 5.9K

Divider By: @steddiecameraroll-graphics

GIFs By: @oneiric-wanderlust

The juke joint hummed as folks from all over the Delta flocked to the opening night celebration. The infamous Smokestack Twins had returned home and opened their new joint, Club Juke, promising a night of freedom for their people after they’d worked tirelessly in the fields from sunup to sundown. Fresh catfish sizzled in hot oil while Irish beer, corn liquor, and Italian wine kept everyone loose and on the dance floor. Still, none of that mattered to Stack. His eyes were trained on one thing: Pearline Jones.

He’d been staring at the chocolate beauty since the moment Cornbread beckoned her in. He couldn’t get enough of how her dress hugged every inch of her body while her tight curls effortlessly framed her face. She was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen, and he’d seen his fair share of women from the Delta, to Chicago, and even overseas. None of them compared to her.

She moved like honey on warm cornbread. Slow, sweet, and just a little sinful. When she laughed, it curved through the air and settled right in his chest like smoke. He was familiar with her type, quiet but not timid, sweet, but not soft. The kind of woman who ain’t never had nobody tell her she deserved to be worshipped. Not properly, anyway.

And Lord, how he wanted to be the one to do it.

He watched her like a predator stalking prey as she moved deeper into the room, even ignoring the pointed stare Smoke was giving from his spot at the top of the stairs. Stack was on a mission, and if he played his cards right, it would end with his name on Pearline’s tongue. Unfortunately for him, he wasn’t the only suitor hoping for a shot with the ebony goddess.

“You made it,” he heard Preacherboy call out as she stepped into his line of vision. She didn’t respond immediately; instead, she looked around the building, taking in the atmosphere of the former sawmill.

“When they turn this place into a juke?”

“Did it today. My cousins own it, you know the Twins.”

“Heard of ‘em, of course. They your cousins? Y’all must be play cousins,” she says jokingly.

“Their daddy was my daddy big brother.”

“So y’all cousins through blood? But you seem like such a nice young man.”

“I ain’t always nice. Ain’t that young, either,” Preacherboy replies matter-of-factly. Pearline sends him a sly smirk before sauntering ahead of him.

“You gone play?” she asks, standing with her back against one of the wooden poles in the center of the juke.

“You gone sing?” Preacherboy replies coolly, causing her to shrug.

“We’ll see where the night takes us,” she said, coy and knowing.

Sammie tilted his head, the corner of his mouth curling.

“Your husband coming?”

Pearline shook her head no.

That was it.

That little gesture, that tiny nod, gave both men exactly what they needed. It cracked open the evening like a peach left out in the sun. Juicy, ripe, and ready for ruin.

Stack didn’t move. Not yet. He watched Sammie lick his lips, clearly ready to make his play when—

“Shit,” Sammie cursed low under his breath.

Stack followed his gaze to the front entrance, where a woman in a pink dress stood with her hands clutching her purse in front of her, scanning the crowd like a dog searching for its bone.

Mary.

Trouble.

Stack’s estranged lover with a memory like a ledger and a score to settle. She’d spotted him at the train station and must’ve come looking for blood.

“Hold on,” Sammie muttered, already half turned toward the door.

And just like that, Pearline was alone.

Stack rolled the toothpick in his mouth and slid out from behind the bar, smoothing a hand over the front of his vest. He moved slow, like a cat with a mouse already cornered. Pearline didn’t notice him at first. She was slowly winding her hips to the music, lips pursed in thought, eyes roaming the crowd without settling.

He stepped into her line of sight just as Delta Slim let out a moan that bent the whole room in half.

“You always leave men stammerin’ mid-sentence, or just the ones that think they special?” Stack asked, voice low and full of smoke.

Pearline looked up, surprise flickering across her features before her lips curled into something between amusement and intrigue.

“Depends who’s askin’,” she replied.

“I ain’t askin’ yet,” Stack said, pulling the empty chair beside her and settling into it without waiting for permission. “Just observin’.”

She arched one brow. “And what you observed so far?”

Stack smirked, leaning back. “That you too fine to be dancin’ alone.”

“Maybe I like it that way,” Pearline said, but her voice softened as her eyes dropped to his hands, his ring, the neat press of his collar. She wasn’t dismissing him. Not really.

“Nah,” he said. “You like to be chased.”

She laughed again, soft this time, almost to herself. “Then chase, Stack.”

There it was.

Invitation folded neatly inside a dare.

The tension pulled taut between them, thick as molasses. The crowd kept moving, oblivious to the game being played just off the dancefloor. Sweat rolled down Stack’s temple, but he didn’t wipe it. Didn’t blink. Just kept his eyes on Pearline, like if he looked away, she might vanish. Like some men had dreamt her into existence and woke up empty.

And with that, she was gone, sauntering deeper into the juke and disappearing in the sea of bodies. Stack smirked behind her, already plotting on how he’d have her wrecked by the end of the night. The crowd swayed as Delta Slim tickled the keys of the piano, pouring all of his heart, soul, and maybe some of the Irish beer he’d gotten from Stack earlier in the evening into the song. Once it was over, he took another swig, standing to the applause of the crowd.

“I been hearin’ about this one particular young man all day. He ‘posed to be a bad blues man. Preacherboy, where you at?”

The crowd cheered as Sammie made his way to the stage, his guitar in hand.

“That’s my lil cousin, y’all. Watch this,” Stack called, shooting a knowing glance at Pearline once their eyes locked. His gaze sent a chill down her spine. Sammie starts strumming the guitar before he’s interrupted by Slim.

“Hold up, hold up. Tell ‘em who you are, where you from.”

“I’m Sammie Moore,” he says between guitar riffs. “I’m a sharecropper from Sunflower Plantation. They call me Preacherboy on account of my daddy being a pastor. I wrote this song for him.”

The crowd whistled and cheered as Sammie began to sing.

Somethin' I been wanting to tell you for a long time

It might hurt you, hope you don't lose your mind

Well, I was just a boy, 'bout eight years old

You threw me a Bible on that Mississippi road

See, I love ya, papa, you did all you could do

They say the truth hurts, so I lie to you

Yes, I lied to you, I love the blues

What happened next could only be described as a spiritual experience. Not a performance, not a song, but a summoning. Sammie’s voice rolled out like thunder dipped in molasses, thick and slow, calling down something old and sacred from the rafters. It wasn’t just music, it was memory. His chords vibrated through the floorboards and shot straight up folks’ spines, rattling bone and blood like church on a stormy Sunday. The blues spilled from his throat like a prayer cracked open in a sinner’s mouth, and when he strummed his guitar, it sounded like a soul trying to claw its way outta the cotton fields.

And the people. Lord, the people answered.

Men stomped with their eyes closed, women lifted their arms like they were offering up their pain. It didn’t matter who you were or where you came from. Whether you were a field hand, bootlegger, or seamstress, you felt it. For a moment, Club Juke was holy ground.

And in the center of it all, Pearline danced.

Not like the others. Not with hurried hips or drunken sway. She moved like water pulled by the moon. Like spirit possessed her feet and told her to remember who she was before her name was Pearline. Before she was wife, woman, mortal. She danced like her bones still knew something ancient.

She didn’t blink. Didn’t smile. Didn’t break her gaze from Preacherboy, not even once. Her eyes stayed fixed on him, deep and dark and glittering like polished onyx under lamplight. Sammie saw it, too. The way her silhouette curved like a question mark God Himself didn’t have the answer to. The way she didn’t beg for attention but commanded it all the same. It was as if they were caught in their own time loop, something older than the juke, older than blues itself.

Pearline turned, arms out, and the hem of her dress caught the air like wings. When she lifted her arms to the ceiling and closed her eyes, Stack could’ve sworn the room dimmed everywhere but around her. Like the light had made a choice. She was beauty, but not the kind that belonged to man. She was the kind you worshipped. The kind you buried tokens for. The kind you wrote songs about and never survived loving.

The room was hers.

The juke was hers.

Even the music bent to her.

She was the holy spirit in a room full of sinners, and Stack was waiting for his moment to be baptized in her waters.

“Ohhhhh shiiiiiiit. Preacherboy,” Pearline moaned breathlessly as Sammie feasted from her center, licking her cooze like it was a scoop of ice cream from downtown. Just like Stack taught him. He rolled his tongue skillfully over her button, gently suckling it into his mouth like he was trying to savor her. Up and down slowly, followed by a few quick flicks against her pearl. It drove Pearline insane.

And just outside the door, Stack listened. Proud and unashamed.

“Boy found that button, didn’t he?” he muttered under his breath, voice low and begrudgingly impressed. Still, pride alone didn’t settle the ache building in him. His manhood strained against the fabric of his slacks, making every twitch of his pulse feel like a reminder of what he wasn’t getting.

It was supposed to be him in there, making her toes curl, her nails dig into the flesh of his back, her voice trembling when she said his name. But instead, it was Sammie. Sammie was the one getting her to gasp like the world might end if he stopped. Sammie was the one tasting the sweetness Stack wanted to claim as his own.

Stack’s jaw tightened, his hands flexing at his sides. He’d schooled Preacherboy, and now the boy was using that same knowledge on her.

Part of him wanted to kick that door open and remind them both who the real teacher was. The other part… the other part wanted to see if Sammie could keep her there. Wanted to know if Pearline’s cries for Preacherboy would match the ones she would give him once he got her alone.

The thought burned in his chest like liquor, half pride and half something darker.

“Hey, Smoke wants you.”

Grace.

The little Asian woman appeared just as Stack was about to force his way into the room, and if he were being honest, he thanked her for it. He knew all he needed was a little patience, and he’d have Pearline on her back before the sun came up.

“Check out my little cousin,” Stack called with a devilish grin before making his way to the upper deck. Grace pressed her ear against the closed door, moving it quickly once she realized what was taking place on the other side.

“Nasty ass,” she scolded silently, as she made her way back to the kitchen to help Annie with the next batch of catfish.

Pearline and Sammie adjusted their clothes before rejoining the crowd in Club Juke. They both silently prayed no one had noticed their absence, but fate wouldn’t be so kind.

“You know I taught him that, right?” Stack purred as his lips turned up into his signature smirk. Pearline hadn’t noticed him saunter next to her, skinning and grinning like the Cheshire Cat.

“Taught who what?” she asked with a raised eyebrow, cocoa skin glistening from heat that wasn’t from the juke joint.

“Preacherboy. I taught him how to lick cooze and find the button. Happens to be my specialty. I could show ya if ya want?”

Pearline thought long and hard before answering again.

“Show me, then.”

That was all it took.

Stack stepped forward slowly, that crooked, sly grin with a single dimple spread across his full lips. The low-hanging light swung above their heads, catching the shine on his gold tooth jewelry. That red fedora was tilted just so, but then he lifted one hand and removed it, slow and deliberate, like he was about to say grace before devouring a meal.

He licked his lips before speaking low and sultry.

“Oh, I’ma show you, alright, baby. Gon’ make you forget that old ass man you married. Ain’t no way he touchin’ all that right. I know he ain’t got a mouth like mine…”

He placed the fedora on a nearby crate, followed by his tailored, burgundy suit jacket. Then, Stack hooked his arms around her brown thighs and lifted her clean off the floor. Pearline’s breath hitched as he laid her out on top of the old yet sturdy wooden table against the wall. His imposing body loomed between her legs, those whiskey colored eyes raking down her frame like she was something decadent. And he had been starving for her ever since the train station.

“You thought you could let my lil’ cousin have some fun, then walk away like I wasn’t gon’ have mine?”

His hands landed on her knees. Pearline locked eyes with him, bottom lip dragging slowly between her teeth.

“Spread ‘em open, baby.”

It came out as a request, but it was really a command laced in sugar-sweet venom.

Pearline took her time, knees pulling into her chest as she spread herself achingly slow, teasing him. Stack leaned back a little, letting his eyes drag down Pearline’s body. Wide and deliberately open. Pliant thighs eagerly stretched. There it was. Glistening and messy from being worked over by Preacherboy’s hungry mouth not even 20 minutes prior. Stack hissed.

“Mmm…so this the pussy Sammie had his face buried in, huh? This the one had my lil cousin moanin’ like he tasting sum sweet?” He chuckles darkly, licking slow up her slit. “Bet he ain’t eat it like I’m bout to.”

Without warning, Stack pushed her thighs open further, as if she could spread wider than she already was.

“Mm, look how fuckin’ pretty it is. Sammie had his face buried in this? Lucky lil’ nigga…”

Stack leaned forward, bringing his face closer. His lips began peppering softly along her legs, traveling up. He savored each kiss, soft suck, and added tongue with deep groans.

“Bet he ain’t even know what to do wit’ it…but I do.”

Pearline shivered, goosebumps rising on her chocolate skin as Stack’s calloused hands and filthy words worked their magic. She could feel the heat of his breath on her most intimate places, making her ache with need.

“You sure talk a big game,” she purred, voice dripping with challenge and desire. “But can you back it up? Ya cousin might be a hard act to follow.”

The corner of Stack’s mouth twitched up in a smirk.

“Oh, baby doll, I ain’t just gon’ back it up. I’m bout to wreck this pussy and have you beggin’ for more. When I’m done, you won’t even remember that husband of yours’ name.”

With that, he leaned in, dragging his tongue along her slick folds in one slow, sensuous lick. Pearline gasped, her back arching off the table at the electric sensation. Stack chuckled darkly against her thigh.

“Mmm, you taste even sweeter than I imagined. Sammie did a good job gettin’ you nice and ready for me.”

He wasted no time, diving in and devouring her like a man starved. His tongue swirled around her button, flicking and suckling the sensitive bundle of nerves until Pearline was writhing and moaning shamelessly.

“O-Oh, Stack!” she moaned, heels digging deep into the top of his back. And he kept on feasting. Slow and precise licks, followed by quick flicks against her button.

“Fuck! Yes, right there!”

One thick, calloused finger slid inside her tight heat, curling to hit that magical spot that made her vision blur and tears tease the corners of her eyes. He pumped it in and out, fucking her slowly as his mouth worked wonders on that sensitive spot her husband always seemed to ignore.

“That’s it, baby,” he growled into her center. “Lemme hear how good I’m makin’ you feel.”

Another finger joined the first, stretching her deliciously as he picked up the pace. The obscene sound of her arousal filled the air, mixing with Pearline’s cries of pleasure.

“Don’t stop, don’t stop! I’m… I’m gonna…!”

“Hold it,” he growled, suddenly pulling away, causing Pearline to whimper at the loss of the sensation of his mouth on her heat.

Stack stared down at her deviously, watching the way her chest rose and fell with breathless pants.

“Aww baby doll, you thought I was gon’ let you off easy? Nah, ya pretty ass gotta work for this pleasure.”

“Work for it?” she asked cockily. “You wanted me, now I gotta work for my release?”

“You don’t got to,” he challenged, grinning wider. “You’re more than welcome to return to the party with a wet ass and throbbin’ cooze.”

She growled low in her throat, staring up at him with narrow eyes.

“What you want me to do?”

His reply was soft, but pointed.

“Beg.”

She glared up at him defiantly, debating on whether to tell him to fuck off or give in to see exactly what was on the other side of his challenge.

“You think I’m gonna beg?” she scoffed, though there was no real bite to it.

Stack shrugged, already moving to put his jacket back on. He knew what she wanted, and he knew it wouldn’t be long before she saw things his way.

"Fine,” she said, tone clipped. “If that's what you want."

She sat up slowly, sliding off the table to stand in front of him. Up close, she could see the hunger in his eyes. The way they roamed over her body like he was imagining all the dirty things he wanted to do to her. It made her shiver with anticipation.

"Please, Stack," she cooed, letting her voice go soft and needy. "I need you. I need your mouth on me, you inside me. Make me melt on your face until I'm screaming. Please, I'll do anything..."

She trailed off, biting her lip as she looked up at him from beneath her lashes. Her hands came to rest on his chest, feeling the hard muscle beneath his shirt.

"Anything you want, baby. Just...don't stop. I'll beg all night if I have to, but please, don't make me wait no longer."

“Now was that so hard?” he purred, gently pushing her to lie back on the table. His fingers found her center again, carefully stroking inside her folds like he was exploring a map.

He hovered over her, dress bunched around her waist as his thick fingers worked deep and slow inside her, knuckles glistening every time he pulled out. Pearline’s breath was ragged, her hips twitching and thighs quivering against his sides. Stack leaned down until his full lips brushed the shell of her ear, his voice dropping to that low, taunting drawl that always got under a woman’s skin.

“Mmm…you knew to beg for it, didn’t you? Knew to open them pretty thighs and ask real nice…like a good lil’ hussy.”

His fingers curled up into that spot that made her clench hard, his other hand gripping her jaw to keep her still.

“Yeah..that’s it. Take it. You like my fingers stuffin’ you like this, baby? Like I’m tunin’ you up for this thick, fucking pecker?”

Pearline whimpered. Pathetically. Her breath hitched. Stack smirked, his mouth brushing her cheek now.

“Tell me sum’…ever heard of the Smokestack Twins?”

His thumb pressed against her clit, rubbing it in slow, deliberate circles. Pearline bucked her hips and nodded her head rapidly in response.

“Mmm…you know who you beggin’ for right now? You even know who name you ‘bout to scream?”

He pressed harder, whispering darker now. Pearline gasped.

“This ain’t Sammie, Pearlie. This here Stack. And when I’m done wit’ ya pretty tail…you gon’ remember exactly who had you beggin’ like this…”

Stack’s fingers slid out slowly, slick clinging to his knuckles as he caught her chin with his free hand and tilted her head to face him.

“Open ‘em wider for me, Pearline.”

She hesitated for half a heartbeat, long enough for his grin to sharpen. He slapped her inner thigh just hard enough to make her gasp.

“Wider. Don’t make me ask twice.”

Pearline’s breath hitched as she obeyed, spreading herself more until she could feel the air against her heat. Stack’s eyes dropped between her thighs, greedy and mean all at once.

“Yeah…that’s it. Let me see all that. Nasty lil’ thing…the more I talk to you, the wetter you get, huh?”

Stack dipped his fingers back inside in one glide, slow at first, then driving them faster. Her wetness made it easy. Too easy.

“Gahdamn…tight as hell. That lousy old nigga of yours ain’t fillin’ you up right. Prolly just pokin’ at it, leavin’ you half–starved, baby.”

His fingers curled as he locked his intense gaze on her. Pearline chewed on her bottom lip, her eyes failing her. Her eyelids fluttered while her thighs trembled.

“Preacherboy sure as hell ain’t gon’ give you that stuffin’. That stretch. He just a boy playin’ wit’ somethin’ that don’t belong to ‘em.”

Stack thrust his fingers deeper, spreading them slightly just to feel her tighten around him.

“Mmm…I’m the only one who’s gon’ pack you proper, Pearline. Fill you so deep you feel me for days. Now tell me you want it.”

Her lips trembled, eyes fluttering shut for a second as his fingers stroked deep, curling into that spot until her hips jerked without her permission. Pearline’s toes curled in her heels. Stack watched the way her eyes crossed and rolled back, like she was possessed by the sensation of being finger–fucked.

“Mm…fuck. Look at you. Tryin’ so hard not to give me what I’m askin’ for. But this pussy talkin’ louder than you, baby. She tellin’ me you need it.”

He spread his fingers inside her just enough to make her gasp sharp, then pulled almost all the way out before sinking them back in to the base. He did this over and over, eyes locked on Pearline, tongue licking his bottom lip slowly.

“Go on. Say it. Beg me like you was beggin’ Sammie… only this time you beg for a man who knows how to use it.”

She shook her head, biting her lip, but the slick squelch between them betrayed her.

Stack grinned, voice dropping to a growl.

“You want that stretch, Pearline? That stuffin’ I was talkin’ ‘bout? Then say it. Tell me you want me to fill this pretty cooze up.”

Her voice came out in a trembling whisper.

“I…I want it.”

He chuckled darkly, curling his fingers harder, “Nah. That ain’t good enough. Say it like a good lil’ hussy.”

Her breath hitched again, cheeks flushing hot, but she let go, voice coming out soft and ragged.

“I want you to fill me up, Stack…please. Please make me feel full. Stretch me good, daddy!”

That did it. Those 5 letters lit him up like fireworks on the 4th of July. He slammed his fingers deep, thumb working her clit in rough circles until her moan turned into a choked cry.

“That’s my girl. Now you speakin’ like a trained doll.”

Her breath was coming fast now, each curl of his fingers dragging her closer to something she couldn’t hold back. His calloused thumb rolled tight circles over her clit, rough but knowing, pressing down just enough to make her see stars.

Stack purred low and seductively in her ear.

“Mmh…that’s it, baby. Let it happen. Give it to me.”

His free hand slid up her thigh, gripping the supple flesh hard enough to leave bruises, keeping her spread wide as she squirmed.

“Feel how deep I’m hittin’ with just my fingers? Ain’t nobody else touchin’ you like this. Not your old man…not Sammie…nobody.”

She whimpered, hips twitching against his hand, the wet sounds between them getting louder in the cramped space.

Stack grinned, goading.

“You hear that? That’s the sound of this pretty lil’ pussy givin’ up. Drippin’ for me. Beggin’ to be wrecked.”

He hooked his fingers just right, grinding the heel of his hand into her clit until she gasped—loud, shaky, broken.

“Mm…there she go. Let it go, Pearline. Make a mess on my hand. I wanna feel you grip me.”

She cried out, her body locking up around his fingers, wet heat spilling over his knuckles. Stack didn’t slow, not until her thighs trembled so hard she tried to close them. He forced them back apart, riding her through every last spasm. When she finally slumped back against the table, chest heaving, he pulled his fingers free, glistening in the low light. He held them up between them, grinning wickedly.

“Mm…you messy…messy girl. And that’s just my fingers. Now…” he unbuckled his belt, voice dropping even lower, “…let me give you that stretch I promised.”

Pearline’s eyes widened as his manhood sprang free from his trousers.

“Don’t worry, baby doll. You can take it all, I promise,” he coaxed, stroking himself slowly. He lined himself up with her center and sank all the way in in one fluid motion.

“Shiiiiiiiiit,” they moaned in unison.

Stack didn’t move immediately. He stayed still, allowing Pearline to feel each agonizing inch of him. She gasped as he filled her, all 9 inches of his length stretching her in the most delicious way. It almost hurt; he was so big, but the pleasure quickly overrode any discomfort. She could feel every ridge and vein of him pressed against her sensitive walls, making her toes curl.

“You’re so fuckin’ big, daddy,” she whimpered as Stack started to grind at a slow, steady pace. He rolled his hips slowly, allowing them both to savor how slick and wet she was.

“You like that, Pearlie?” he growled with a smirk. “You like this fat dick stretchin’ you? Like feelin’ me deep inside this sweet little cooze?”

She could only nod, words failing her as he began to pick up speed. He pulled out slowly until just the tip remained inside her, then slammed back in, making her cry out. He set a hard, fast pace, pounding into her with relentless precision. The table creaked beneath them with each thrust, but Stack didn't seem to care. His focus was entirely on her, on making her feel good.

"Shit, baby doll," he grunted, picking up speed. "This pussy grippin’ me. So tight and wet, like you were made for my dick."

His hips snapped forward, driving into her again and again. Pearline could only hold on for dear life, her body rocking with the force of his thrusts. She'd never been fucked like this before, so hard and deep. It was overwhelming in the best way possible.

"Yes, yes, yes!" she chanted mindlessly, meeting him thrust for thrust. "Don't stop, Stack! Fuck me harder!"

He complied eagerly, one hand gripping her throat while the other slid between their sweat-slicked bodies. His fingers found her button, rubbing in tight circles that sent jolts of electricity through her.

"Come on this dick, Pearlie," he urged, voice strained with effort. "I wanna feel you come apart for me."

His fingers worked in tandem with his pecker, pushing him over the edge with a loud, ragged cry of his name. Pleasure consumed her entire body as her orgasm crashed violently over her. Stack didn’t let up. He kept fucking her through it as he chased his own release. With a final, brutal thrust, he buried himself deep and came with a groan of her name.

They collapsed together on the table, panting and shaking in the aftermath. Pearline could barely think straight, her body still twitching with the aftershocks of her climax. She'd never had sex like that before, so intense and all-consuming. She knew she'd be feeling it for days.

Stack didn’t let her come down from her climax. His hand was still between her thighs, lazily circling, drawing out every shiver until Pearline was whimpering—half pleading, half delirious.

“Messy lil’ thing,” Stack whispered against her ear, lips grazing the shell of it, “can feel you still gripping me.”

Pearline’s breath was shallow, her nails dragging down his back. The heat between them was unbearable, slick, and raw. Stack pulled back just enough to look at her, eyes dark and daring.

“I could keep you like this all night. Split you open ‘til you forget your name.”

Her pulse jumped.

“Suck,” he commanded, catching her chin between his fingers, forcing her to look at him while she sucked his hand clean. She complied, eying him innocently through her lashes.

“Don’t play shy now,” he spoke low and dangerously, eyes dropping to her swollen lips around him. “You spread those pretty legs and begged me for it like a good lil’ hussy—now you gon’ take every bit I give you.”

Pearline’s thighs twitched as he pressed his other hand between them again, thick pecker sliding back inside her with no warning. She gasped, half from the intrusion, half from the slick squelch that echoed off the walls.

“Listen to you,” he taunted, working her with deliberate, punishing strokes. “Drippin’ down to my balls, twitchin’ like you don’t know what to do with yourself. That little husband of yours can’t work you like this—Sammie sure as hell can’t. But me?” He drove in deep, his lower abs grinding her clit, “I’ll keep you open ‘til you forget they even exist.”

Her head tipped back, eyes squeezing tightly shut, but he slapped her thigh sharply.

“Eyes on me,” he growled.

Stack’s grip tightened on her hips, dragging her right to the edge of the table until her ass hung off, legs spread wide. His stiff pecker slammed into her in deep, driving strokes that made the wood creak under them and scuff the floorboards.

“You hear me, Pearlie?” His voice was low, rough, words punching into her with each thrust. “Ain’t no creepin’ wit’ my lil’ cousin. You gon’ be in my bed…on my dick…with this wet cooze sittin’ on my tongue whenever I want it.”

Pearline gasped, nails clawing at his biceps as the rhythm turned punishing.

“Mmmnnn,” Stack groaned, drilling into her so deep her breath caught. “You think they can hear us over the blues?” His lips curved into a wicked smile, “Hope they can, baby doll. Let ‘em know you got the prettiest, chocolate cooze in all the Delta…sweetest, wettest thing I ever had.”

Her moans tangled with the music bleeding through the walls, but he didn’t let up.

“Say it,” Stack ordered, dark eyes locked on hers. “Say you mine. Say this body’s mine. If you need some nookie, you’ll come to big daddy.”

Pearline could only whimper, her pout trembling as she tried to form words, the table jolting with every thrust.

“Say…it.” He growled again, leaning in until their foreheads touched.

“I—”

Her voice broke into a moan, and he caught it with his mouth, pulling her into a sloppy, deep tongue kiss that swallowed every breath she had left. His hips never stopped moving, grinding her open, claiming every inch like he meant to keep her there forever.

Stack’s thrusts got heavier, deeper, each one jarring the table across the floor. Sweat dripped from his brow onto her chest, their bodies slick, locked in a rhythm that made her toes curl.

“You hear me, baby doll?” His voice was ragged, but laced with that dangerous hungry smirk, “I’m cummin’ in this cooze again. Fillin’ you so good you gon’ be walkin’ home wit’ me swimmin’ inside you.”

Pearline gasped, eyes wide, a strangled moan slipping past her lips.

“Yeah,” he rasped, hips grinding deeper, dragging every inch along her walls. “You gon’ go home, spread those pretty brown thighs in your mirror, and see what Daddy left behind for his baby doll. Watch it drip down that sweet little slit while you think about how only I fuck you like this.”

Stack picked her up as he slung his pecker, her head tipped back, fingers clawing into his shoulders, but he caught her chin, forcing her eyes on him.

“Say it,” he growled, “Say you mine. That body’s mine. That cooze is mine. And when you need it fucked, you’ll come to me.”

She whimpered, her pout trembling, the words caught in her throat.

He leaned in closer, lips brushing her ear, “Say it, Pearline. Or I’ll keep you here ‘til the sun comes up.”

Finally, she choked out, “I’m yours…all yours…Stack pleaseee I feel like I’m gon’ burst…”

His grin was slow and wicked. “That’s my girl.” Then he sealed her words with a deep, filthy tongue kiss, thrusting hard enough to push her another inch across the table, claiming her one last time before he spilled deep inside her, exactly like he promised.

Stack’s pace turned erratic, each thrust hitting deep, his breath breaking into sharp, guttural groans.

“Ahh—fuck—” he hissed through clenched teeth, hips snapping forward again and again. Pearline’s cries climbed with his, her voice catching on a needy.

“Mmm—ohhh—uhhh,” as her body fluttered tight around his thick length.

He shuddered, head dropping to her shoulder, moaning low and rough in her ear.

“Goddamn, baby doll—ahhh—mmm—fuck, you squeezin’ me so good—”

Her legs locked around his waist, heels pressing into his back, pulling him deeper until she was whimpering through her own release, clutching him as she pulsed around him.

“Yesss—” he groaned, his own climax hitting hard, his length throbbing deep inside her wetness, “Take it… take all that—ahhh—mmm—yeah…”

They stayed connected, breathing ragged, hips rocking slow as if neither wanted to let the other go. Pearline’s walls still quivered around him, milking every last drop, while his pulse thudded against her slick heat.

Their lips found each other again, a messy, panting kiss—tongues slow, mouths tasting of sweat and lust.

Then—three hard knocks on the door.

“Pearline?” Sammie’s voice came muffled from the other side, “You in there?”

Stack’s eyes opened, a slow grin tugging at his lips as he stayed buried inside her. Pearline’s breath hitched, panic flickering behind her eyes.

The blues hummed low from the other room, but all Stack could hear was the pounding of her heart against his chest…and Sammie’s voice calling for what was already his.

something about this songggg 😫

Sexual Tension, Slow Burn, Cursing, Killing, Trauma

Next: Ⅱ , Ⅲ

Synopsis: Pearline is blunt, self‑assured, and quietly guarded, rooted in the Mississippi Delta and certain she knows exactly what she wants as she moves between town life and the farmland beyond it. Stack, a cowboy with a smooth mouth and steady confidence, carries himself like someone shaped by long days, family ties, and a world that doesn’t slow down for anyone. What grows between them isn’t rushed or dramatic—it unfolds in lingering conversations, restrained attraction, and the tension between what’s said and what’s felt. In a place where the past has a long memory, Pearline and Stack find themselves choosing patience, intention, and a love that builds slowly—but deeply.

“I really don’t want to,” I said, folding my arms, not caring much for whatever Kelly was about to say next.

“That’s a strong phrase, don’t you think? It is your job, Ms. May.” She shrugged, clearly not picking up what I’d been laying down for the past ten minutes.

“It’s strong because I mean it. I’ve never seen another teacher asked to do this. Yet here I am—especially when I just got back from surgery. I don’t like this. At all.”

“It’s only for a week. The transfer is coming in soon. She had a few complications with her flight, one thing led to another, and honestly, it’s something we couldn’t have avoided.”

“You keep saying that,” I said, “but I’m not hearing what I'll gain from it. And don’t say experience—I’ve got enough of that already.”

Kelly sighed and leaned back in her chair, probably cursing me out internally, but that wasn’t my problem.

“I understand, you’re one of the few senior teachers we still have here—”

I cut in. Not to be rude, but to be clear. "And the fact that I've only been here seven years. That shouldn’t qualify anyone as senior.”

Things were going downhill fast, and I didn’t plan on being around long enough to watch the place crumble. If I left, I wanted my record clean—commendable. Not attached to a school that shut down because of bad management.

“…Yeah,” Kelly said finally. “Okay. I understand. I’ll see you Monday.”

I nodded, not wasting time trying to soften the blow. I already had a life. Responsibilities stacked high enough as it was.

“Alright, Kelly. Take it easy,” I said, lifting a hand as I closed her door.

“Mhm. They asked you to?” Brianna asked, sitting right outside the office.

“You eavesdropping?” I asked, half‑serious.

She rolled her eyes, sipping tea from her tumbler. “What, I’m supposed to walk past the door like I don’t got ears?” she shook her head as if I said the unreasonable thing.

“Can't do that, The school done got so quiet I almost started caring about ninth‑grader drama. It’s a shame they can’t keep any new teachers.”

“—School been out. You really stayed just to hear us?” I continued.

“Yes, girl. How many times you gone ask? And I’m glad I did. Kelly had me thinking I was the only one capable for the job.”

“Please,” I said. “They trying to find anyone. And didn’t even mention a pay increase, now that I think about it. She touched on more experience, breaks, parking spaces yet the most important thing—" I paused looking over at Brianna as our eyes met.

“Where the fuck the money at?” we said together, laughing.

“Nah, I’m serious,” I said. “You talking thirty‑nine kids instead of sixteen? I need to see the coin increase.” I slapped my palm.

“Maybe they’ll give your ass fifty cents for being a good sport,” Brianna scoffed, turning into her classroom.

“But don’t act like that ain’t twenty‑five cents more than the other schools in the district offering,” I shot back.

Deciding to be a teacher halfway through my sophomore year hadn’t been hard. I knew it was what I wanted—needed—to do. But lately, questions kept popping up. Was this job really as self‑sufficient as I thought it was a few years ago?

“I’m trying to retire at fifty,” I said, dropping into the plastic chair beside her. “But I’m struggling just trying to keep something in my Roth IRA. I’m not giving up teaching—but sooner or later, I’m definitely giving up this place.” I pointed around.

“You want real money?” Brianna said, pointing north. “You know exactly where to go. Them prestigious schools—white folks, black folks pretending to be white folks. Go on ahead. With that résumé, they’ll hand you a little hefty bag.”

“As much as I wish,” I said, shaking my head, “one summer up there killed that dream. Everything felt off.”

“That was your first experience—and that was five years ago. Try again. Or at least visit the schools that already sent you offers.”

“You talking big now,” I said. “I do want a new school. But that means everything else would be new too. I like Jackson. It’s home.”

“No,” Brianna said. “Clarksdale home to you. You already migrated once. Going up a couple states wouldn’t be that bad. Yeah, you’ll feel homesick—but every choice got its pros and cons.”

She opened her top drawer and pulled out a stack of drawings.

“Ain’t this a damn shame,” she said. “Told them kids to draw what they wanna be, and Tommy put himself in a bowl of cereal.”

I smiled, standing. “Tommy a good kid. Just got a big imagination.”

“I see that—and I see it all over the desks. I’m not bringing him in another desk if he keeps drawing on em.”

I chuckled, because if anyone had a soft spot for their kids, it was Brianna, no matter the attitude she gave.

“Alright, I’ll see you Sunday,” I said. “You still coming over, right?”

“Hell yeah I’m coming over,” she said, looking at me crazy. “I ain’t seen no new episodes of Love Island. We binging.”

“This problem would be solved if you just bought it.”

“And waste my money? I ain’t getting paid like you, good sis. Give me a few more years.”

I shook my head as I stepped out.

“Love you,” she shouted before I got too far.

“Love you too.”

Pearline walked into her loft apartment, grateful for the fact that she finally was going to be able to rest in her own bed. Work had been draining. Bills had been draining. Even her little boy toy had been draining—and it didn’t seem like any of it planned on letting up soon.

She dropped her bag by the door along with her shoes and sweater, rubbing her eyes as sleep crept in. That after‑school nap was calling her name, but there were things that still needed to be done.

Grading. Calling her mother. Dinner.

Realistically, grading was the only thing getting touched.

Her phone buzzed.

She sighed, then answered, putting it on speaker, filling the small space as she pulled her laptop from her bag.

“Hello?”

“Hey, baby. How was work?” Her mother’s familiar voice filled the small apartment.

“It was good, ma’am. I just walked through the door. You okay?”

“Could be better...I got a favor to ask baby"

"Why you should like that?" Pearline became suspicious slowing her movement

"Things haven't been so peachy lately. Your daddy was having trouble breathing. I took him to the clinic, and they said the cancer back.”

“What you mean, Mama? Daddy just texted me last week saying he was doing fine.”

“You know your daddy,” she said softly. “And I don’t know when it came back or if we caught it in time. He probably been coughing long before I noticed.”

“If you calling to ask me to come down—yeah. I’ll come. No problem. I’ll be there tomorrow.”

“That’s sweet of you, baby,” her mother said. “But I just need your help with the bills. The money is in the usual spot. I need you to drop it off.”

Pearline sat quietly, a hundred thoughts stacking up at once. How long had he been sick? How bad was it if her mama couldn’t leave his side?

"Anyway, I'm in the city and have been for a few weeks—where you want me to meet you" Pearline asked, already racing towards the door to put her shows back on

“No—stay where you are, you come tomorrow. If your daddy wanted you here right now, he wouldn’t have fibbed. And if anything changes, I’ll call. Promise.”

“How are you going to tell me to not come after you done said daddy back in treatment? That ain't fair mama”

“If it didn’t take this long, you wouldn’t have known at all. Me and your daddy know what we are doing. Get some rest. Call me when you head out.”

The line went dead.

“I feel like I’m raising my parents,” Pearline muttered, already opening her messages to text Brianna the update.

plans are cancelled. mama just called me and said I need to go back home. Daddy back in the hospital

he ok? didn't you just say pops was doing good.

i thought so too, but mama said he's back in treatment and has been for a while now. They didn't even want to tell me. I only know now 'cause they got to pay rent. smh

i'm sure he'll be fine, if they didn't tell you then everything must be going accordingly then.

Yeah I hope so, but they shouldn't have told me nothing now, I'm gone be calling everyday

I would too, what they going on, 62?

yea, but ill talk you later, if I get done early you can still probably come over and binge.

safe travels.

If I go now I can leave early in the morning.

Pearline considered it, looking out her window, the sun only now starting to soften. The thoughts wrestled with her — whether that nap was really that important, or if she can just make that two- something hour drive and get it out the way.

Not much time passed before she checked the time one more time and headed for the door, not giving her mind the rest it very much needed.

She moved with a purpose, trying to seem as busy as possible, because if she was home from work then the kids were definitely outside playing by now— and it was no time to be playing hopscotch with them.

Pearline went down the side steps of the brick-layered apartment and beelined straight for her car. She glanced over just in time to see a group of elementary kids turning their heads at the sound of the engine starting. It was no hope though— they all very well recognized that deep purple car that Pearline drove.

A little girl named April was the first to run after her, coming close to knock on the window that she barely stood taller then.

"Hey, Ms. May, where you going?" April asked, curiously placing her hands on the door and pulling herself up as Pearline rolled the window down.

"Hey! I thought we was gone play cops and robbers" another little girl, Onya, called out, her voice slightly pouty.

"First I got to head on out to the country for a while" Pearline said "And second, little miss— you said that not me. I'm sure Kaila and Noah won't mind playing with you" she nodded her heads towards the other kids who had already gone back to playing.

"That not fair. Today's Friday though" Onya said now fully pouting.

"Exactly," Pearline replied, a little firmer now. "So instead of getting sad you better gone head and play while your momma still let you" .

Onya huffed, crossing her amrs and slowly stepped away from the car.

"She ain't take her nap yet, and she missed lunch" April added glancing back at Onya, who now leaned against the red car parked next to them. "I told her she was gonna be fussy".

"I see" Pearline said, eyeing Onya "But gone on and let me leave. I'll be back some time tomorrow".

"You gone make it to church? I'm performing remember?" April reminded her, and Pearline finally smiled for the first time since getting home.

"Of course, I remember" she said. "I just hope I can come back in time to see it. And if I don't, have you mama send some pictures in— it'll be great for the memory wall in the classroom" Pearline suggested.

"Aww...alright, I guess" April saddened letting herself down as she loosened her grip on the car door. "Come on Onya—i got some more cuties in my lunch box.

As both girls skipped away. She finally backed the car out, pulling from the parking lot and beginning her drive.

Pearline lowered her window as she crossed over the county line, the scenery shifting almost immediately. Up ahead, a blue sign came into view—WELCOME TO CLEVELAND, MISSISSIPPI.

The white letters were a little sun‑faded, like they’d been there longer than most people stayed. The road stayed straight and flat, stretching forward, bordered by open fields and low trees just starting to change color this time of year.

The town eased into view slowly. A gas station on the right, only one truck at the pump. A billboard she’d passed plenty of times before, peeling at the corners.

The pavement changed just slightly, rougher, like it had been patched too many times. It was almost routine for Pearline, but she couldn't put her finger on it that something was different, and she definitely couldn't tell whether it was good or bad.

As she drove farther in, the buildings began to cluster—brick storefronts, a feed store, a diner that looked stuck in the ’80s, a couple of hand‑built houses, and a wood‑filled compound just off the road. She’d driven this street plenty of times, even recognized the dog sitting in front of one of the houses, like it was waiting on its owner to come back.

A red light stopped her, and she finally checked the time. 7:21 p.m.

Her body begged for sleep, but her stomach had other plans. It growled loud enough to make her groan as the light turned green and she pressed the gas.

She glanced back at the diner she’d just passed, considering lowering her standards for the night. Cooking was no longer in the plans.

Pearline stared at the dinner in her rearview mirror, before ultimately deciding to turn. She used the close by gas station to quickly turn and get on the other side of the street and being even quicker at entering the parking lot.

The engine shut off. She stepped out and walked toward the dimly lit diner. To her surprise, it was mildly packed—farmers at the group tables, a family by the window, and four teenage girls in the back laughing hard enough to shake the booth.

She scanned for a single seat and settled into one tucked in the corner. The menu didn’t impress her much—breakfast, meatloaf and potatoes, fried chicken, hamburger steak—but she scanned again anyway.

A tall young waitress came over with a service smile, her accent thick and slow, dipped in molasses.

“Evenin’. What can I get for you, ma’am?”.

Pearline smiled. “Hi. Can I get the catfish plate with hushpuppies and collard greens?”.

“No problem. You want somethin’ to drink with that?”.

“Just water and lemon.”.

"I got that coming right up, pretty lady" the young girl beamed, grabbed the menu as Pearline held it out.

As she walked away, Pearline turned toward the window, not really watching anything but taking it all in. A relieved sigh left her lips.

Truth was, she’d been scared. That phone call had put her on edge the entire drive, but now that she was here—only twenty minutes out instead of two or three hours—her shoulders relaxed.

Her gaze landed on the dog across the street, leaning against the building. It looked tired. Not hurt. Just worn down.

“Here you go, ma’am. If you need more lemon, just holler.” The waitress set the water and lemons down before grabbing a straw from her apron pocket. “Food’ll be right up.”

Pearline thanked her, sending her off and squeezed the lemons into her glass, but her eyes drifted back to the dog.

Th dinner had a soft hum to it— the customers, children laughing and the sound of a working kitchen— but the doorbell cut in sharply, unconsciously making her turn her head to see who it was that entered.

From where Pearline sat—A tall man stepped inside wearing denim jeans, cowboy boots, and an unbuttoned shirt. She nodded her head, not getting to see his face but in appreciation for his build. It wasn't hard to tell if a man did labor or not for work— He was no different.

“Evenin’,” he said, easy, to no one in particular, making a cook that could be seen through the window turn around

“Well I’ll be damned—Stack, you back already?” Larry laughed from the kitchen window. “We ain’t got no steak right now. Daniel runnin’ into town tryin’ to figure out that shipment.”

"Where— Jackson?" Stack asked spinning the chair around as he took his hat off for manners. That movement gave Pearline a clearer look.

She took a sip of water, visually studying him—Brown skin. A dimple that showed effortlessly when he spoke. A clean beard running along his cheek and chin. One look wasn’t enough.

“Yep. Found a real good deal, too—charg’n ’bout two‑thirds of what Mr. Lake was askin’.”

“Ain’t surprised, Stack said “That man stubborn as hell. Almost beat Smoke at somethin’ once.” He laughed. She smiled with him.

"Almost." Larry agreed.

“Where that hardheaded brother of yours at, anyway?”

“Had some business down in Coahoma County. Said an investigation gettin’ started. Ain’t tell me much, though.”

“Betcha its 'bout that young boy. It's a damn shame what happened to him” Larry said, shaking his head.

“Yeah. Folks talkin’ ’bout puttin’ together a memorial down by the county line. You comin’?”

“Wish I could. Gotta stay open late all month.”

The bell rang as a plate was set down.

The young lady dashed from the back upon hearing the bill, grabbing the plate. "Evening, Bug" The man greeted jokingly, "Aint hear you back der"

Pearline straightened as she snapped out of her staring, turning back toward the window just as the dog disappeared from view.

“I was finishin’ some homework,” the young waitress said, hands on her hips. “But I heard you. Anyone ever told you that your awfully loud sir?” Bug spoke bluntly, pushing open the swinging doors that reached her waist.

"I can't help it" He shrugged following Bug as she reached the table Pearline sat at.

"How you do on your phys—his voice became small as he watched the food get delivered to an unfamiliar yet beautiful face.

"Here you are. Enjoy" She spook placing the platter down in front along with her wrapped utensils.

Stack became struck, but 'managed' to pull away once Bug began walking over to him.

"Which exam?" she asked.

"Umm...I don't kn—umm your Physics. How did ya physic exam go?" He cleared his throat, trying his best to keep his eyes off the beauty that sat, breaking off pieces of catfish but his eyes drifted nonetheless.

“Still waitin’ on scores,” she said. “But I did better than last time. Thermodynamics easier to understand for me than macroscopics movement.” She paused, then side‑eyed him. “You gonna listen, or you gonna keep starin’ at her?”

Stack cleared his throat. “Who is she? I don't think I've seen her before"

“No clue. Drove in from somewhere, though—that purple Lexus hers.” Bug raised her chin in the direction

“Figured she ain’t from 'round here.”

"Why so curious?" Bug teased "She puurrtty? She exaggerated her words poking at his arm.

“Prettiest girl I seen in a minute,” he said, easy.

Bug let out a small scoff before placing her weight back on both feet to turn away and head behind the counter

"You gonna order somethin' or you just coming for the scenery" Bug asked hitting a button on the register

"I'm ok" He shook his head at Bug, once again catching a glimpse at the girl that sat near the window.

"You know— she sholl do look kind of familiar though" Bug said bending down. "For the love of God, I just can't put my finger on it"

"Don't stare now, it's rude" he said swiping at her arm

"Crazy for you to say" She huffed leaving to go in the back'

"Alright, Larry. It's bout time to head out. I'll see you later?" He asked picking back up his hat. "If yur coming to the rodeo, yeah" Larry replied.

"You betting?"

"No can do, old lady almost tore me a new one last time she found the ticket" Larry shook his head hurriedly.

Stack laughed, stealing one more glance from Pearline before heading outside..

Pearline, eyes drafted from her plate up to the door, too late to catch the handsome man stares, so instead she followed him with her eyes as he walked across the parking lot.

He came close to a dark—not sure what color—truck. It stood tall, looked real manly. He climbed inside, setting himself up before starting the engine.

She didn’t know if the windows were tinted, but even if they weren’t. In Pearline's eyes there wasn’t any harm in looking

She watched the car light come on, momentarily gleaming at her as he turned out of the parking lot onto the street.

She turned back towards her plate— no longer feeling hunger and opted to get a to go plate but the best parts were long gone so she decided against it. Scanning for the waitress, but finding no one, she just grabbed a twenty- and ten-dollar bill, hoping that covered everything and plus a tip.

Pearline got up and swiftly left the dinner, promptly now only thinking about a bed.

The drive lasted less than twenty minutes from the diner to her parents’ house.

Pearline unlocked the door and finally stepped inside, looking around even in the darkness, getting the sense that the house hadn’t heard a laugh or felt warmth in a while.

She wondered just how long her parents had actually been at the hospital.

She reached for the light by the front entrance, turning it on as she took off her shoes. The bulb buzzed and flickered before finally settling, lighting up a small patch of walking space. Using that light, she made her way down the hallway and pushed open the bathroom door, the small light inside already on but dim.

Pearline stepped in and wasted no time turning on the shower.

A bath would’ve been a dangerous choice—she felt far too close to closing her eyes right there. She checked the water, letting it warm to the temperature she liked, and while it did, she went to her bedroom.

Opening the drawers, she pulled out undergarments and a sleeping dress that had been left there one day. Next, she gathered her hair, bending forward to pull it into a quick bun. Opting out of a scarf, she headed back toward the bathroom, stopping only to grab a towel from the linen closet.

She brushed the bathroom door open and stripped, freeing her body from the clothes that only added weight to what she carried that day. Steam fogged the room, giving Pearline a sense of lightness as the water coated her skin, soft, involuntary moans slipping from her lips and filling the space.

A moment of peace followed.

A small, fragile moment of happiness.

A/N: Here is my second official series. After this I probably won't make any new ones until there at least 15 chapters in both, but I do have a little idea of a medieval one with both the twins and maybe paring with a princess or a Dutchess. Still in the planning area right now.