by C.G. Banks
Chapter 3: The Woman
Frederick pulled up to Missy’s apartment complex at 9:35 that evening. He'd been in Baton Rouge since two, making the rounds of several bars he frequented when he came in. When he'd telephoned her office from the gas station on Highland Road, the bitch on the other end made it painfully clear that Missy was out of pocket. Meeting my ass, Frederick thought, silently grinding his teeth. He'd talked to the little cunt several times before and she'd always been the same, regardless of the fact that he mentioned her shitty attitude to Missy every time it happened. Frederick didn't know what had pulled her chain, but aside from the heightened blood pressure, it was really no big deal. To kill the afternoon he'd eaten at College Station, and then popped by the Gold Club to get his motor primed. The drinks were weak but the girls were hot so he hung around. When he left the titty club, he headed for The Chimes at the gates of LSU, and the rest of the daylight hours slipped away.
Being self-employed had its perks.
He parked his car next to hers. He had an overnight bag stashed in the trunk but thought it better to test the water first. She was a real handful at times, a quick trigger when she got set on past transgressions.
He noticed her kitchen light glowing through the slightly-parted shades. Good. He lit a cigarette walking up, paused with his ear to the door before knocking. Through the cheap, press-wood door he heard the television. He already knew she dated some sort of traveling salesman, but she, obviously, wasn't satisfied to let her box cool down with daddy gone. And that's where Frederick came in. The other guy's name was Sam or Sampson, and occasionally she acted like she feared the two men meeting. As it stood, Frederick could care less.
Not many men scared him. He'd killed a few who thought they could.
He knocked and her familiar, husky voice drifted through the cheap door. "That you, Freddy?" He had texted ahead.
"The one and only," he said. He took a step back as she fumbled with the locks. Then the door opened and Frederick smiled.
"I got your message,” she said. “Kinda expected you a little earlier."
He didn't say anything as he walked inside. He simply grabbed around her waist and squeezed her ass. She had a great body, perfect for just about everything he was interested in. "I got caught up," he said, bending in close.
"Drinking."
"Indeed." He stepped back and looked at her like a kid in trouble. "You don't look that happy to see me."
She looked off to a corner of the apartment, cursing lightly under her breath before she came back to him again. "I know Freddy. You just always do this, showing up like a tomcat. You know if--"
Frederick put his finger to her lips. "I don't want to hear it. You worried about something?" He nuzzled his cheek into her neck. "You don’t think there's gonna be any trouble, do ya?"
She backed away and took a swipe at him. "You goddamn well know his name, Freddy. I really think you enjoy doing this to me."
"Well, you’re not expecting him tonight, are you?" he asked coyly. "That would just about ruin everything…”
"You know the answer to that you bastard," she whispered, and then laughed softly.
Frederick nudged the door closed with his foot, locking it with one hand as he kept a firm grip on her ass with the other. "I really missed you, baby," he breathed in her ear, walking her farther into the room.
"I missed you too."
His hands slid up to her neck and pushed away at the robe. It fell down her arms, revealing her ample breasts. The nipples already hard and erect. A faint red glow illuminated her skin as Frederick licked the nape of her neck. He felt her breath quicken as the robe ended up in a pile on the floor. She was completely naked underneath.
He worked his way carefully down her body, liking as she grab his hair as he kissed around her belly button. Her thighs started vibrating slightly. He pulled her to the floor and when she was flat on her back he parted her legs very slowly and trailed his tongue along a fine line from one ankle to her pussy. He could smell the perfume. He figured he should have gone with his instinct and brought the overnight bag in with him. He could already tell he wouldn't be going anywhere tonight.
After a while he lifted his face to look at her. Her breasts were swollen and red now, her face crimson. The fine sheen of sweat on her body reflected beautifully in the thin light drifting in through the kitchen window. He stood up and began removing his own clothing as she began a slow exploration of her own body, her eyes closed, completely unselfconscious. Within moments he was naked above her. Her fingers now deep inside and thrusting as he bent back down, guiding her free hand to his dick which she jerked to her crotch. Frederick groaned when she put him inside.
They went at it like animals for a good long while and just before he was about to pop he pulled out, and as if on cue, she grabbed his cock with both hands and met him on the way up. He convulsed into her mouth while she kept the rhythm going with her hands. Then he collapsed over her shoulders and back while she sucked him dry.
"Are you staying?" she asked him a short while later. She had put on her robe but Frederick still lounged around the apartment in only his jeans and socks. His shirt was lying across a cactus by the door. He stared at the cigarette in his hand.
"You want me to?"
"You already know the answer to that, Freddy."
He grinned at her through the smoke. She stuck her tongue out and blew a strand of hair out of her eyes. He walked over and looked into her eyes, hard.
"Yeah, I think I will," he said. "I've got a bag in the car.”
She slapped him lightly on the small of the back as he walked away. "You asshole," she said.
Frederick turned back to her after he opened the door and was backing outside. "But not just any asshole," he said, wagging a finger in her direction. "I'm your asshole." He listened to her laughter as he went out to the car. Opened the trunk and got his things out. On the way back he noticed the blinds were now shut and she’d turned off the light in the kitchen.
He went inside, shut the door and locked it. Then he watched her silently as he walked across the living room and set the bag down near the hallway to her bedroom. There was a fierce intensity in her eyes. The thing that kept him coming back. God knows she didn't have much else to offer.
She crushed out her cigarette as he eyed her from across the room, and swiveled her chair around to face him. She'd pulled the robe far back on her shoulders and her legs were spread. She slid forward in the chair, her eyes locking him in place.
"Why don't you come over here and eat this pussy?" she said. He didn’t have to be asked twice.
He was a light sleeper. Vietnam had done it to him; the nights he laid there in the jungle being eaten alive by mosquitoes the size of humming birds and Christ only knows what else; the nights when the moon plastered everything with a ghost-light and every breaking twig or rutting grunt caused the skin to gooseflesh.
The only ones who forgot were the ones beyond remembering: the insane and the dead. It was not a proud fraternity, but it was greatly and everlastingly stocked.
Now, far from dreams, he could hear Missy breathing lightly next to him, her shallow motion comforting and rhythmic. He blinked his eyes in the darkness, trying to identify the cause of his sudden wakefulness. There it was again, a faint noise, perched on the very edge of sound. “Shit,” he muttered, sitting up quickly. He already had the sheets back and was placing his feet on the floor when the bedroom door burst open.
This guy was much bigger than he'd imagined. Bigger and wilder, his eyes two pits of hate burning in the holes of his face. Frederick heard a startled, sleepy gasp escape Missy, but by that time he was all the way up, glad now he'd slept in his underwear. Surprise had frozen the newcomer in the doorway, his mouth a gaping O as he surveyed the room.
The familiar, bitter taste of adrenaline poured into Frederick's mouth. Beside the bed, he crouched into a ready position. He felt sure there would be little, if any, talking.
"YOU FUCKING
BITCH!!" the man bellowed. "I'LL FUCKING KILL BOTH OF YOU!"
And with that the wild man flung himself at Frederick. The first punch was completely ridiculous, going harmlessly over Frederick's head as he ducked and cocked back his own right arm. He hammered his own punch straight up with every bit of strength he could muster and felt the big man’s legs buckle. He grabbed hold of the big man’s coat with his left hand, pounding punches into the surprisingly soft stomach with his right. Even so, the guy stayed up.
He even charged in closer and lifted Frederick off the ground. Smashed up Missy’s dressing table as he slammed Frederick into the wall. Hard. But Frederick managed to slide out of the bigger man's grasp. Jack-hammered a fist into the big man's nuts, another to that soft stomach, and the salesman fell back with a groan.
Frederick was on him like a dog on a pork chop. He rained two more quick jabs into the grimacing, surprised face, relishing the sight of the salesman’s lips splitting away from his teeth. His nose was bleeding, squashed flat against his left cheek; he wouldn't be so pretty anymore. Frederick grabbed the big man and flung him across the bed, narrowly missing Missy who was involved in all manner of acrobatics in her attempt to vacate the room. The big man's leg caught underneath a chair by the closet, the force erupting it in a twisted tangle of cheap bamboo. The salesman tried to get back to his feet but Frederick was on him again, landing a solid kick to the man's chin. The salesman’s head flew back and punched a hole in the sheet rock, and with that everything suddenly got still. He slowly shrank into a puddle on the floor amid a swirl of wall board dust.
Frederick heard Missy fumbling around in the living room. From the hysteria punctuating every word, she was obviously on the phone with the police. Frederick quickly gathered up his clothing, flinging some into his overnight bag while wrestling into a shirt and pants. He looked around for his shoes, found them kicked underneath the bed and jammed his feet inside. Gave the unconscious and bloody man one more good jolt to the ribs for emphasis.
He had to get the hell out; there was no time to straighten this situation out now.
In the garish light draining out of the kitchen, Missy looked like an apparition from a horror movie. Shaking uncontrollably as she babbled into the phone, and when Frederick walked into the room she shrank back near the dishwasher. Actually held out her hand as if to ward him off. How about this shit, he thought. Her hair was a twisted mess and her eyes were wide, owl-like. There were nasty smears where her mascara had trailed down from her eyes into the corners of her mouth. "Please," she whispered, and Frederick couldn't tell if the plea was meant for him or the heat on the other end of the line.
There would be no talking right now, maybe never. Thank Christ he'd given her a false last name. He couldn't afford to hang around. Even if he was just defending himself, the liberties he'd taken would probably end him in the clink. And an overnight stay in jail was out of the question. He had the meeting tomorrow.
"Fuck it," he said. Time to get the hell out of Dodge. He moved quickly to the door and wrenched it open, looked outside. Not a soul. Luckily the only working light in the parking lot was far off in the back corner near the tennis courts.
He stepped outside, wondering how much noise the neighbors had heard, or were still hearing. Missy was sure getting wound up. He hurried over to his car, jammed the key in the lock and opened the door. Within seconds he was peeling out of the parking space in Reverse. Noticed that now the neighbor’s lights were beginning to come on.
He roared across the parking lot, narrowly missing a Yield sign that was bent out too close to the road. Spun out onto Jefferson Highway and headed underneath the overpass at almost seventy miles an hour. Within minutes he was on the I-10 loop curving back toward New Orleans.
