Escape to Pleasure

by Sandy Lowe

  The car screeched to a halt along a curb and the driver popped out, grabbing a small backpack and her gun. She threw open Mae’s door and pulled her out over her shredded leather seat and remnants of window, clearly assessing her options and grasping her wrist so tight Mae’s fingers clenched.

  “We must find another car.”

  Mae felt cold all over. Her legs moved and her heart pounded, but all she could verbalize was the single track playing on repeat inside her head. “I killed a man.”

  Her companion huffed, exchanging Mae’s wrist for interlocking their arms. “He’d have killed you, me…” She steered Mae left and pushed her forward down a flight of metal stairs into a parking garage. “You did the world a favor. He was a bad guy.”

  The garage was half full. Mae was brought before a black Lexus; her Asian companion busted a window with the butt of her gun and unlocked it from the inside. She tossed her bag and weapon in the front seat.

  Anger suddenly flooded Mae’s chest. She was supposed to be on a plane, she should’ve been on her way home. “If they’re the bad guys, what does that make you?”

  Mae was ignored. The woman’s head disappeared into the car where plastic scraped, sparks spat, and the engine sputtered as it came to life. A moment later she’d pulled out of the parking space and paused, appraising Mae’s bewildered posture like she was a hot mess the morning after a frat party. Mae had never been to one of those; she was too grounded and conservative to put herself at risk for bouts of youthful stupidity. And although none of her good friends would ever accuse her of lying, she doubted anyone would believe the story of the girl in the taxicab. Car chases and gunfights only happened in the movies.

  “Get in.”

  Mae shook her head.

  “There were cameras all over that street.” She smacked her gum loudly, as if she were performing the most normal of activities. The sounds of another car echoed off the concrete walls, and she looked both right and left warily. “They’re looking for me, and now for you.”

  Mae blinked. The deep feeling of cold she’d felt earlier intensified down her back like someone had doused her in ice water. “Who?”

  “International arms dealers.”

  Mae swallowed hard. “And you are…?”

  Her eyes twinkled, her lips curling into a seductive smile. “I don’t deal, I shoot.” She seemed pleased with her answer but softened under Mae’s obvious anxiety. “I am Kiyoko. Get in the car.”

  Mae hesitated only a moment. Footsteps sounded in the large space, and Mae found herself trotting to the passenger’s side of the vehicle. She imagined masked felons hiding behind doors, hitmen perched on roofs—this was not a good place to hide.

  The scent of new car filled her nose and the seal of the door gave her an artificial sense of security. But as confident as she’d told herself she was to travel alone, now she felt like a mouse in a trap. The spring had been tripped and her tail had been caught, where every direction held the threat of death. This wasn’t in her tour book.

  Mae’s voice held all the strength of wet paper. “Where are we going?”

  They pulled out onto the street, Kiyoko rummaging one hand through her bag. Mae hadn’t noticed before, but Kiyoko’s leather jacket was ripped at the bicep and shined wetly when the sun streamed through the windshield. Pulling out a phone, Kiyoko dialed a number and spoke to someone on the other end in her hurried native tongue. The conversation was short, Akio the only word Mae could understand.

  Kiyoko sighed, hung up, chucked her hat out her open window, and stuck her gum in a pink wad to the dashboard. She stretched her arms against the wheel and gritted her teeth. “We have to wait. We’re going to a safe house. I’ll put you on your damn plane tomorrow.”

  For the first time Mae realized how young her companion was. She appeared somewhere between girl and woman, perhaps even younger than Mae. No wrinkles cracked her smooth face; no tint of gray betrayed her in the roots of her hair. But there was something hard about her—solid and sure—the kind of confidence Mae tried to exhibit despite secretly feeling meek. Her journey alone had been a test of her independence from family and friends, to rely only on herself, to shed the walls of security she’d built in her purposefully sheltered, limited world. She couldn’t help thinking that if Kiyoko had walls, she’d have either built them out of iron or pummeled them to ash ages ago. It took a special type of courage to face down the mad threat of death. Although unsure exactly where on the spectrum Kiyoko fell between good and evil, Mae still respected her ability to keep herself together.

  A quiet, two-hour car ride took them out of Tokyo and under the shadow of Mount Fuji. Forest replaced high-rise buildings and a sea of misty clouds surrounded the snow-capped summit, shimmering like glass below the setting sun. A small house greeted them in silence, its long gravel drive standing like a run-down, forgotten weed amid the natural landscape: dusty, cold, and completely empty as Kiyoko tugged Mae through the creaking door. Cardboard boxes had been stacked along the walls, dishes stood in the sink never washed, and every heavy curtain was drawn in the handful of small rooms within.

  “Go to the bathroom. See to your face.”

  Mae felt tired, achy, and emotionally drained. She’d forgotten a bullet winged her, but the discovery of crusty, dried blood on her fingers reminded her when she brought her hand to her cheek in the mirror. She turned her head and glanced at her beautiful captor-rescuer. “You’ve been hit too.”

  Kiyoko’s brow rose in surprise, the corner of her mouth cracking and revealing the pit of a dimple. “Dammit. I thought I felt something.”

  Kiyoko flipped a switch and flooded the bathroom with stale fluorescent light. She produced a first aid kit from the medicine cabinet above a rusty sink and stripped off her jacket, followed by the swift heave of her tight shirt over her head. She winced. Blood began to seep from a gash a bullet had cut over her upper arm.

  Mae grabbed some gauze. “Let me help you.”

  “You have a gentle touch,” Kiyoko said, watching her dab the wound clean.

  The air between them began to feel warm. Under Kiyoko’s eyes, Mae felt examined, studied, but more in the fashion of an expectant lover, not a stranger.

  Mae cleared her throat. “I’m studying nursing.”

  Kiyoko only nodded as she watched Mae unpack the materials she’d need to stitch the injury shut. Mae tried not to appreciate the small cups of Kiyoko’s breasts encased in her pretty lace bra, the smell of female sweat mixed with a flowery perfume, and the tangible heat that radiated from Kiyoko’s skin from their tight proximity. There should’ve been nothing sexual about it; Mae had helped numerous people before. But never a gun-wielding, carjacking, confidence-emitting, beautiful Asian woman.

  Kiyoko sat very still, laughing softly as the last stitch was knotted. “I could never have been a nurse.”

  Mae cleaned the scratch on her face and thought the comment strange. “How do you mean?”

  “I work for Interpol. I’m trained to search, find, acquire, fight, and kill. And I love to kill bad guys.” Kiyoko stood as Mae turned and closed the first aid kit. Approaching from behind, Kiyoko’s breasts grazed the fabric of Mae’s shirt, sending tingles down her spine. Her voice came in a whisper in Mae’s ear as she lifted the hair from the side of Mae’s head. “I loved how you pulled the trigger.”

  Mae’s stomach dropped. There was nothing positive about what she’d done. If it hadn’t been the man on the bike, it would’ve been her brains splattered like abstract art over the inside of the cab.

  Kiyoko ran her hands down Mae’s shoulders and rested her head in a familiar way along the curve of her neck. “You didn’t hesitate. You did what had to be done.”

  Mae felt Kiyoko’s hand slide over the flat of her stomach and awaken a flutter of warm butterflies. Her body was betraying her with increasing heat, trailing through her torso all the way to her toes trapped inside her boots.

  “Your timing was perfect.” Kiyoko’s breath was in her ear, speakin
g like a soft, gentle wind. Mae’s lips parted and her palms began to sweat. “Of all the people who could’ve made your mistake—crawled into my cab—I was lucky it was you.” Mae felt her lips brush against her earlobe; her eyes closed. “You are very brave.”

  Kiyoko kissed the soft skin under her ear and moved away. Mae heard her steps somewhere in the other room, leaving her to examine her tired, bruised body in the dirty mirror. Mae stood shell-shocked, hot, bothered, and confused.

  She didn’t feel brave. She’d retreated, kept her head down when bullets flew and traffic collided. And she’d frozen when given a weapon. Mae rubbed her temples and shook her head. She should’ve fought back, done something sooner, and maybe Akio would still be alive. But Mae had cowered, reacted too slowly, and waited too long. Only her imminent death had snapped her out of it. None of it felt real.

  She took several strides to a small room where Kiyoko was sorting through her bag. Mae spat her words with a flurry of emotion, her voice quaking. “What do they want? Why are they after you? Who was Akio?”

  Kiyoko held up a silver matte jump drive. “Akio died for this. He knew the risks. He was a decent partner and a good man.” She tossed the drive back into her bag. “He understood that there are things worth dying for.”

  Mae’s eyes welled with tears. “What’s on there?”

  “Files of bank statements, locations, and the names of every asshole supplier of weapons in Asia; all their middlemen, the deals they’ve made, and a dozen or so plans they intend to follow through with. Akio got inside. His sacrifice will save hundreds of lives.”

  A strange stillness filled Mae to the brim of her soul. She could’ve died in that cab, or maybe she’d die tomorrow. Stepping out her own front door was a risk, but living could be done no other way. Kiyoko and Akio worked to make the world better, doing things that mattered, whatever the cost.

  Mae felt her walls crumble. She didn’t need them anymore. She’d leave them right at her feet, next to the boots she kicked off and the socks she shucked in rapid succession. She couldn’t be small, timid, or meek anymore. She had to seize every moment for what it was with all its purpose, and feel what it meant to be alive.

  Mae closed the space and took Kiyoko’s face in her hands, pressing her lips hard against Kiyoko’s mouth. A moment of surprise quickly faded, and Kiyoko’s lips began to move with Mae’s in rabid unison, joined by passionate, exploring hands.

  “What are you doing?” Kiyoko breathed.

  Mae stared with a take-charge determination into Kiyoko’s eyes. “Making up for the trouble.”

  They fell upon the lone bed in the corner of the cramped room, dust rising into the air in a poofy cloud as the springs under them squeaked in protest. Mae gripped Kiyoko’s short hair and felt the pull of her arms wrapped like ropes around her back. A full body flush erupted over her skin, her lungs heaving with excitement, her body alight like a firecracker. She swooned when Kiyoko found her neck and licked her jaw to ear, and all control was lost in her fumbling of Kiyoko’s belt and the buttons of her fly.

  They rolled to the side and fell hard to the floor, Kiyoko’s voice ringing with childish laughter. She pulled Mae to her feet and grabbed the hem of her shirt, yanking it up and over her head in a well-practiced movement. “I like a woman who surprises me,” she whispered. She ran her finger between Mae’s shoulder and bra, pulling the strap down over her shoulder. “I like a woman who knows what she wants.”

  Kiyoko pushed Mae against the wall, pressing her back into the cold drape-covered window. She leaned in for a kiss but dodged Mae’s lips, diving instead for her neck again, nipping her nape with controlled pressure of her teeth. Goose bumps rose over Mae’s body from the intimate action, her thirst for more intensifying as she felt the clasp of her belt loosen and her slacks slump in a bunch to the floor.

  Kiyoko dipped her head and took one of Mae’s nipples, still in her bra, between her teeth before sucking it into her mouth. She let go the moment she felt Mae’s sharp intake of breath; crouching down, her hands trailed behind the line she drew with her tongue all the way to Mae’s navel. Kiyoko swirled around the divot with her tongue while her hands peeled the thin layer of Mae’s panties away from her skin.

  Mae reached for Kiyoko’s hair. It slid like silk through her fingers as Kiyoko’s breath scorched the thin layer of her panties. The fabric folded and her breath trailed lower still, Mae’s legs loosening, the gap of her knees widening, the soft push of a mouth falling upon her sex with eager appetite.

  Mae swooned. Kiyoko’s tongue tapped her stiff clit as her hands rounded over her backside. A single finger slid past her dampening center and explored the pathway to her rear, meandering in a slow caress until brushing the pucker of Mae’s anus. She moaned and threw her back tighter against the window, which rattled with resistance.

  Kiyoko’s tongue swirled over Mae’s clit while her thumb dipped into her slick entrance, her other, longer finger probing for Mae’s forbidden rear space. Shocks of electricity pulsed through Mae’s core when Kiyoko’s fingers slid in deep, stretched her, and met in the middle, rubbing together with gentle pressure.

  Mae’s voice rose, her breath quickening as fire spread through her in a slow crawl, her head thrashing wildly as she planted her feet firmly to the floor. Her back arched, and still Kiyoko worked, her tongue rotating tirelessly around Mae’s aching clit, her fingers sliding out and back to meet one another in endless rhythm. Mae could scarcely hold herself upright when her legs began to shake, her body releasing every moment of anxiety and uncertainty she’d ever had. Her heart thundered. Sighs of passion broke her lips, and wave after wave of euphoria took her.

  She’d become a heap on the floor. She felt Kiyoko’s body mold around her, lift her up, and crush their lips together. The tangy flavor of woman was on her tongue when Kiyoko kissed her mouth, lust still hot upon her skin.

  Mae pushed Kiyoko flat against the floor and yanked her bra from her chest. The clasp gave easily, and two small mounds of perfect femininity presented themselves with perky, round nipples. Mae rolled a peak between her fingers while she straddled Kiyoko’s body, scissoring their legs and squeezing Kiyoko’s thigh between her knees. Kiyoko squirmed, as needy in her desire as Mae felt, and she guided Mae’s hand into her pants, partially opened around her waist.

  Mae slipped the flat of her palm into the narrow space and followed the trimmed trail of soft hair till she found a damp pool of lust. Kiyoko began to move against her, grasping her face hard with her hand to the back of her neck, kissing her fiercely until the blockade of their teeth met. Her hips tilted skyward, her breath running laps, high-pitched noises building from the back of her throat. Mae dove in with her fingers and Kiyoko called out, her internal muscles spasming through their give and release, coating Mae in slippery, joyful passion.

  They lay there panting, kissing, and entwined for several minutes, laughing intermittently. She’d experienced a lot in Japan, but none of the attractions proved as breathtakingly astounding or unique as the mysterious, wild creature Mae clutched.

  ***

  Kiyoko shook Mae awake and kissed her forehead. “Time to go. The cavalry is on their way.”

  Mae pulled on her pants and shirt and searched for her socks and boots. She was ready to leave this behind her, board a plane, and go home. Maybe Kiyoko could visit. After all, Interpol was international.

  A strange rustling caught her attention. She stood up and followed the sound toward the front door and heard the murmurs of people.

  “You’re right,” Mae stated. “They’re here.”

  Bullets popped holes in the entrance, passing Mae’s eyes in a flash she could almost see.

  Kiyoko yelled from somewhere in the room. “Get down!”

  Hinges burst and wood splintered, the door of the old house crumbling like kindling. Three men entered, their guns drawn, faces raging. Mae twisted to the floor, heard the muffled wheeze of a silenced gunshot through air, followed by several, louder bangs in a frenz
y of sound. Furniture upended, glass shattered, bodies huffed, and punches were exchanged amid grunts, rapid breaths, and Kiyoko’s defeated battle cry.

  Strong hands lifted Mae from the ground and threw her against an overturned table, ringing her skull and momentarily blurring her vision. Two men bled on the floor, and Kiyoko was crawling, blood dripping from a wound on her head, desperately trying to reach her gun that had slid an arm’s length from Mae’s feet.

  The only man standing looked at Kiyoko with bitter venom, a dirty smile twisting a curve in his mouth. He shook his head, raised his gun, and spit. “Stupid woman.”

  Mae didn’t hesitate. She lunged toward the pistol. A heavy boot swung toward her and kicked her in the chin, sending her backward into the table again. Pain flooded her chest as the wind was knocked out of her, but she remained alert. She rolled to avoid a shot, narrowly missing the bullet. On her back, she caught the startled eyes of her attacker, a look of wonder frozen on his face when he saw the object in her hand. She pulled her trigger.

  Moments later more people swarmed into the house, their energy filling the space with words and quick movements as they turned from room to room, sweeping the area of all possible threat. Pulses were checked, even the man Mae had shot, lying slumped at an awkward angle across from her, his brains a mess of spaghetti splatter against peeling wallpaper.

  A suited woman helped Kiyoko to her feet, bowing politely and speaking in Japanese. Kiyoko handed her the jump drive and pointed to Mae when the woman began giving what looked like orders to others in the room. A medical box appeared, and strangers began assessing Mae’s minor injuries. She saw Kiyoko’s smile and sensed her relief from across the room as someone tended to her, streaks of blood painting her beautiful caramel skin.

  The adventure was over, but Mae’s heart still thundered. She felt alive, purposeful and, for the first time, anything but meek. She recognized the look in Kiyoko’s eyes she’d first seen in the cab—the look of mischief and chaos. Mae had tasted the spark of that, and she liked it.