by Tiana Laveen
Surprise, surprise...
****
He was about to fall to the fucking floor and instead of punching that bastard in the throat, I helped him lie down...get comfy...like that is my damn man. I have lost my ever-loving mind. Then he kissed me, he fucking kissed me, and I didn’t want him to stop. I liked it...
Jayme stared up at the ceiling, fully convinced she was going crazy. The fact of the matter was that she knew, if she’d hurt him and did manage to get to the exit—if he caught her, things could have turned deadly. She needed a better plan than that for she was still on his turf and barely knew what lurked behind each and every twisted corner. She’d felt his strength as he gripped her tiny wrist earlier. She’d never felt strength like that before, it almost seemed inhuman. Yet, she sensed he wasn’t even using his full capacity. He was taking it easy on her, so she didn’t want to test him and find out what an actual assault felt like.
And now, here she was lying close to a cold, naked man with dog tags dangling around his neck while she curled up next to him, in her blue hearts fleece top and bottoms, along with a pair of thick white socks he’d purchased for her a few days ago. The thin stream of cobalt light settled on them, making the atmosphere beautiful and haunting. Before she knew it, he pushed back closer to her, his eyes like hers on the ceiling. After a few moments, his icy hand gently grasped hers, intertwining their fingers. She shuddered and heard him swallow.
She looked over at him, and he continued to glare up at the ceiling. So many questions filled her head. The world as she knew it no longer made sense, and he was to blame. But he wasn’t to blame for her growing attraction to him. She felt dirty, sickened with herself, but she couldn’t stop it.
She wondered if this was what happened with women attracted to men in prison for murder, if she, too, were suffering the same grotesque lure and ailment. The nagging feeling kept at her like a little dog at a mailman’s heels. He wasn’t your ordinary run of the mill murderer, and furthermore, she was technically a murderer as well. She had to kill two people in her line of duty. The first guy had raced toward her with a gun, a pimp high on crack and speed during one of her notorious prostitution busts, and the second, from a domestic violence call—the boyfriend held a knife to his girlfriend’s neck and began to slice... She’d had to do it without hesitation.
The part that disturbed her most was that she’d lost no sleep over the murders, especially the second one. She’d heard that she’d have nightmares, and things would never be the same, but honestly, she barely batted an eye. Maybe she and Xzion were more alike than she initially realized. That unanswered question now haunted her as she squeezed his fingers and fell asleep with her forehead against his chilly shoulder, recalling her dream from last night. It had caused her to wake up screaming. A sordid dream, and she couldn’t shake the imagery loose.
In it, they were making love. It had felt so real but to her horror, she’d relished every goddamn second of it and was sickened by the moisture soon running down her inner thigh...
****
One week later...
Jayme tried not to laugh. What the hell was she doing being amused? This man was crazy, and she was still trapped in the beast’s house...yet, her stomach knotted with joy. It was simply too funny and she was accepting that she was, in fact, going insane. She may as well enjoy the ride to crazy-ville, especially since it appeared to be a non-stop train with no exit in sight.
Must be fumes or drugs. He must be drugging me with all of that delicious food he cooks for me...
She shook her head and glanced in the mirror. He finished applying her lipstick, his tongue stuck out the side of his mouth like a child doing a crayon drawing that could earn him a gold star and an extra cherry lollipop. Occasionally, Xzion would look into her eyes, grin, then turn serious again. His tongue now slicked over his bottom lip as he went over her blush and checked her faux lashes.
“You’re shaking.” He looked down at her folded hands in her lap. “You’re laughing.” His expression instantly relaxed. “Hey, I never said I was an ar-teest.” He laughed lazily.
“Thank you, for this,” she said, studying his eyes more closely.
What the hell is going on with his eye? That is just...strange...but kind of cool. I want to ask him if it is real. Is that eye really that shiny or did something happen? Naw, it can’t be real. Don’t rock the boat right now...
“Well.” He shrugged. “It’s time you get some fresh air...” He picked up her wig and handed it to her. As she brushed it, she glanced at herself in the vanity mirror. She was actually impressed with his work. She almost didn’t recognize herself, inside or out.
She turned away from her reflection, fighting the urge to throw something at it. She’d been enjoying herself the last few days. They’d gone swimming in his pool, and they laughed. He told colorful stories, the kind children hang onto—only, the characters were adults and the themes slightly raunchy. Initially, she listened for clues, but soon found herself engrossed in the storytelling, forfeiting her investigation.
She had multiple banquets with him in his dining room, immersed in candlelight and soft music. They’d dress up, wearing gowns, suits and ties, as if they were in a posh restaurant...and she loved it. They’d lie around talking about things, all sorts of things, and she giggled at some of his corny jokes... Well, not all of them were corny; a couple were actually brilliant...
They’d played card games. He wasn’t sure what she was into, so he returned home with fifteen different games, and they’d played over half...beating peanuts, hard candies and crackerjacks.
And she kept staring at that damned eye... and they kept kissing, and the kisses grew longer...and he ran his fingers along her shoulders and back...and then they’d stop, regroup, and play their games again.
She no longer asked him what his intentions were. What did it matter? She was in another world now, so she could make the best of it...well, that was what she told herself. That she complied. But why did she have to smile so much?
Why did she ache when she wasn’t sure if he was in the house? Why had she woken up the night before, the crotch of her lilac pajama pants soaking wet once again? She knew why, and that was why she was sure she’d gone officially insane. Only, she was fighting her own personal brand of crazy. It felt too good to go toe to toe with; instead, she danced with that irrational bitch, looked for her when bits of sanity and clarity would try to come knocking. No, she much preferred being loony...because this variety of craziness felt like being in love...
****
Xzion drove and cursed under his breath. The stingy slice of moon gave just enough mood lighting as the smooth R&B music played on his car radio. He glanced at her on occasion, resisting the urge to say things that may force him to feel regret for the first time in his life. He knew she needed to exhale for things were getting out of control. Several times, the sexual tension had reached a boiling point...but he wanted her to really want it, so he’d pull back. His dick was pissed at him; they were no longer speaking. Xzion sighed and gripped the steering wheel, trying to get the image of seeing her dark brown nipple out of his mind, her writhing around under her sheets, moaning in sexual ecstasy, the evening prior.
The disturbance in her room woke him up, so he peered at the monitors, and saw her back arching off the bed while her fingers danced under the covers. He knew what she was doing...and he couldn’t turn away from that glorious sight. He watched her, ‘take her own damn self’, and yearned to be the one to touch her. Her nightgown strap had come down, exposing one of her breasts. He immediately zoomed in on the exposed tit, and thought he may lose it right then and there. Instead, he just laughed—a frustrated laugh—and lay back down on the air mattress. He’d blown off some steam earlier, took care of a guy that made Stalin look like an angel right after God’s very own heart, but this right here was damn near unfair.
He resisted the urge to look at her again, to violate her privacy any further. He could tell she was half asleep,
and though he kept the volume on, he never peeked until he heard her finish. He had even contemplated whipping his cock out and following suit, to masturbate with her from his room—but even that, to him, seemed unfair. No, it couldn’t be like that. He needed a willing participant. He’d fantasized about her so many times, he’d lost count, but he didn’t favor fantasies. He preferred the real world...though he hoped that her self-indulgence was fueled by images of him...
He switched to a different lane. He was taking her out for a late night meal a couple hours away from town. She was perfectly disguised and though he understood the risk involved, he knew that without risk, there would be no trust built between them. He understood his goal loud and clear; he wanted her to truly want him, and not be afraid. That wouldn’t be possible without more investment from his part, so here was an act of faith, something to help bind them together. He took the exit ramp and parked in the back of the Waffle House restaurant. No, it wasn’t fine dining, but it was all that was open at that hour. Regardless, she seemed quite appreciative as he grinned while he shut off the engine. Moments later, they were seated and looking over their ketchup stained menus.
“Is it okay if I ask you questions?” Jayme looked at him as she placed her menu on the table.
“We’ve been talking, why not? I won’t discuss my job with you though.”
“Okay, fair enough.”
He looked back down at the menu, irritated that there appeared to be no ice cream listed in the dessert section.
“Are your parents still alive?”
He hesitated for a moment, then slowly placed his menu down beside hers. He took a sip of his water with crushed ice, enjoying the cool sensation as it rolled down his throat.
“Yes. Yours?”
“Yeah. My parents are still married. Are yours?”
“Yes.” He coughed into a napkin then stared back at her.
“Do you have any brothers and sisters?”
“I have a sister.” He took another sip of water. “You?”
“A brother, Jayson.”
“Are you close to him?”
“Yes, very much so.” And there came the pain in her expression. He hadn’t seen it in a while, that genuine agony. She missed her brother. He had never missed anyone before, at least, not to the extent that he was currently witnessing. It made him his flesh crawl. Thankfully, he was saved by a much wanted interruption when the waitress took their orders.
What if she tries to signal someone in here, tell them I have her against her will? Well, that’s the chance I took.
He shrugged that off, surprised by his lackadaisical attitude, but he had to be this way to get what he wanted. She kept asking him all the weeks prior, what did he want, well, he knew he had to give something, to get something. That is how his world worked, and hers as well. They were making the deal she’d offered, only, she was a third party in the entire matter. The results would be clear. If she did try to escape or alert someone, he’d have to wipe everyone out, erase the Waffle House tape, well, at least the part where he killed ten or so people and simply go back home...and then Aton would know that he’d gotten himself involved with a woman. And that this was what had brought him down and the entire operation, just like the story of Adam and Eve.
“...And it wasn’t an apple. They didn’t even have that sort of fruit in that part of Africa at the time...and there were other humans there, too. My ancestors saw them.”
“Huh?”
Did I just say that shit out loud?!
He burst out laughing and waved at her, causing her to smile back at him.
“Oh, never mind. I was just thinking of something. Anyway, so tell me about your brother.”
But it was too late, the food came. A platter full of powdered waffles, fried bacon, sunny side up eggs and a bowl of...ice. The waitress gave Xzion a side-eye glance as she put it before him, asked if they had everything they needed then walked away. He noticed Jayme picking with her food. She showed more interest in his bowl of frozen water, and clearly fought her urge to stare but lost miserably.
“You sure like ice...” she said around a mouthful of syrupy waffles.
She took a sip of her coffee and watched the waitress return with a small bowl of vanilla ice cream.
“You’re in luck. We did have a little ice cream left.” She set it down in front of him, smiled, then walked away.
“You know, you have me looking like a drag queen.” Jayme laughed. “This make-up job you did is crazy. You blend eye shadow well though. The rest, well, don’t quit your day job, whatever that is.” She turned back toward her food, squirming in her booth seat.
“Yeah.” He cleared his throat and plunged his spoon into the bowl of creamy dessert. “Well, can’t have you being spotted.” He smiled weakly at her as they caught each other’s side glance.
Things were more awkward than he’d anticipated. She was more guarded, and appeared to be struggling with something—with what, he wasn’t sure. She kept opening up, then slamming the door closed, as if she were hiding something. It didn’t feel like her typical mind games…no, this was different.
“So, what’s it like in Colombia?”
“It’s beautiful. There is some poverty, as to be expected.” He re-lived his most recent visit there to paint the picture for her. “But there are also beautiful parts, like Villa de Leyva. It’s an old city that maintained it rustic charm—gorgeous.”
“What made you move away?”
Okay, you’re asking too many questions, Miss Officer. Ask me no secrets, I tell you no lies...
Instead, he opted to simply shake his head and smile, making it clear he was evading the question. She cocked her head to the side, her inquisitive nature to the fore. Her lips parted then closed again as she squelched the burning desire to keep on digging. He shook his head again, a friendly warning, and she grinned, took a sip of her coffee and nodded, understanding that he wasn’t going there with her.
“Okay, well, do you like it here?” She smiled wide, this time showing her teeth...all of them perfect but one that resided on the bottom row. It crowded a bit too closely to the others. He liked it, liked that she looked real, unlike the magazine spreads across his living room floor as a youth when he spent hours gleaming at Earth girls, but slightly disgusted with their uniform appearance. He had no idea they’d been airbrushed. When he’d actually arrived, he was pleasantly surprised to see that they were in fact flawed, even more so than his own people, and it warmed his heart.
“It’s okay, you know.” Taking a big scoop of ice-cream into his mouth, he felt slightly orgasmic as it slid down his throat. “Your food isn’t so healthy here, but it’s fine.” He wished he could say more, but then the floodgates would open. He enjoyed speaking with her, conversing, but it always led to somewhere uncomfortable, or to a kiss...a wet, tongue sliding against tongue kiss. His heart sometimes pounded so fast it was almost painful. Then, he reminded himself of his mission. No, not that one, the other one...the one with her. He gritted his teeth and pushed forward.
“I, uh, like some of the cars, too. I like the big houses here, especially the ones in California, next to the palm trees. I also like some of your clubs here,” he said sincerely. “American music is good. I like, what do they call it…” He scratched his head. “Neosoul, yes. And I like some of your R&B, but my favorite, I believe you call it grunge rock.” He rubbed his hands together. “Not the nicest name, but I like it.” She laughed lightly and he felt his face flush as he fidgeted, unsure where to rest his hands. “Um, and toilet seat covers.”
“Toilet seat covers?” Jayme burst out laughing. “What?”
“Yeah.” He tucked his hands under his armpits and rocked forward, laughing even harder.
I feel like I’m on a first date or somethin’. I read about this shit, like butterflies in my damn stomach, that’s what they call it—cheesy romantic stuff. Last week, too...when we played Candy Land...and she kissed me, pushed her breasts into my chest, damn, that made me
so horny, like a damn sixteen year old...
“Yeah, not every place has that. Sometimes, you have to go, you know? And it’s out in public, but you don’t want to sit your bare ass on the damned seat. Awesome invention. I don’t know if it is an American invention, but I’ve seen them available here the most.”
Jayme burst out laughing again and he could see his reflection in her big brown eyes. There it was, what he’d been waiting for...she was happy, truly happy. He had made her happy. He did it, and he enjoyed every moment. So he loosened up a bit, scoffed down his ice-cream and waited impatiently for her to finish her meal. He wanted to touch her for his erection rose, insistent, strangled under his jeans.
I guess we’re friends again, huh? Not right now, though. She isn’t quite ready. I’ll tell you when... and then the tent softened in his pants, slowly subsiding but not before giving him a resounding, ‘fuck you’ from his nether regions...
Now I’m having mental conversations with my dick and he just cursed me out.Jesus, I need to get out more...
****
“Wait, how does it go again?” The gleam of her smile lit the night as they walked arm in arm along the street. Her blond wig blew in the slight breeze, and a swirl of cool air escaped her lips, those perfect lips he kept longing to touch with his own.
“Okay, one more time—it goes like this, ‘Three little men in a flying saucer flew ’round the world one day. They looked left and right but they didn't like the sight, so one man flew away...’ and then it just keeps going until all the men are gone.”
