by Haywood, RR
Nails dig into my arm with vicious strength and we leave the bar, stripping and staggering through the double doors and into the lobby. ‘There’s a fit hooker in there,’ I call out to the woman. ‘My wife and I are gonna play with her later.’
‘Stop it!’
The woman shows no reaction and like the barman, she just watches us carefully. There’s a fine line in running a place like this which appeals to the lower dregs of society. There will be violence, threats, damage and worse. They don’t want the police here so they tolerate what they can and show no reaction, hoping to hell the violence happens to someone else.
I get dragged up the stairs and try for another swig of the vodka before it’s pulled roughly from my hands. ‘You’ve had enough,’ she snaps, ‘never in my life have I been so…so…’
‘Worked though,’ I muse quietly and earn a very sharp look in the process. ‘They’ll remember us.’
Realisation dawns on her face but mixed with a big dollop of suspicion. ‘Are you drunk or not?’
‘Pissed off my fucking face,’ I grin, ‘but not fucking so stupid that I can’t do my fucking job when I have to fucking…er…do it?’
We get to the room and she works the key, pushes the door open and stands to one side as I crash through and aim a leap at the bed, but somebody moves it and I miss, landing with a heavy crash on the floor instead. ‘The bed moved,’ I wail, ‘someone in here.’
‘There’s no one in here,’ she shoes the door shut and presses the latch down on the lock. ‘Get up, Mike,’ she sighs heavily.
‘Can’t,’ I slur, ‘think I’m stuck.’
‘I’m going for a wee. Please don’t listen.’
‘Huh? How’s that then?’ I roll over onto my back. ‘How does someone not listen?’
‘Whistle or something,’ she says from the bathroom.
I purse my lips to form a whistle but don’t quite manage it properly and blow a raspberry instead. ‘S’hard you know.’
‘What is?’
‘Whistling!’ I say as though it should be obvious. ‘Are you going now?’
‘No, I can’t.’
‘How about now?’
‘Stop asking me!’
‘Turn the tap on.’
The tap turns on which causes a cacophony of sound from pipes banging and clanging but somewhere in the middle of the plumbing symphony I hear the unmistakable sound of wee hitting the water in the pan. I burst out laughing and descend into a fit of giggles. ‘I can hear you.’
‘Grow up.’
‘Haha, I can hear you doing a wee wee.’
‘Jesus wept. I’ve finished.’ Her voice is closer so I crane my head up to see her standing in the doorway of the bathroom with the light bright behind her. Long hair cascades down her shoulders and the top button of her jeans is undone revealing the top of a something white and mysterious. I blink heavily at her curves and drop my head with a big sigh.
‘Cat got your tongue?’ She asks icily.
‘Sommit like that.’
‘Come on,’ she steps closer and bends down, ‘get up. You need a shower.’
‘Do I?’
‘Yes, Mike.’
I sniff my armpits in turn, ‘nah, I’m alright.’
‘Take a shower.’
‘You take the shower,’ I giggle.
‘You first,’ she grabs my arm and starts pulling me up.
‘I know!’ I stare at her.
‘No.’
‘Eh? You don’t know what I’m gonna say yet.’
‘Yes I do, you’re going to say why don’t we shower together and save water.’
‘Wow,’ I stare mystified at her mind reading abilities, ‘it would have been a joke,’ I mutter quickly, ‘I didn’t mean it.’
‘Okay.’
‘Seriously,’ I get to my feet and shake my head, ‘you’re very gorgeous but like…’ I shrug, ‘I’m a mess. I won’t do anything.’ Something in my tone softens her.
‘Okay,’ she smiles gently, ‘come on,’ she motions to the shower.
‘I’m alright.’ I walk with a sway into the bathroom and plonk down on the toilet while she turns the nozzle to get the shower warmed up.
‘Need a hand?’ She looks down to see me struggling with my boots.
‘Nah,’ I clumsily untie my laces and tug the boots off. Then my socks and finally I grip the bottom of my t shirt and pull it up over my head.
‘Jesus,’ she whispers.
‘What?’ I glance up to see her eyes locked on my torso. Shame floods through me and I drop my head and swallow. I know what she’s looking at and I feel disgusted by it. Every muscle in my upper body is visible. Striations across my chest and shoulders, stomach muscles that poke out from the skin. I look like a freak. Not like a model or some Adonis ready to adorn the cover of a fitness magazine but a freak. It doesn't suit me, I know that. The bearded haggard look and my messy hair. It’s the disparity that shocks her. Hours in the gym pushing my body to the extent it hurts more than anything I can imagine but that pain doesn't ever match the loathing I have for myself. So I push harder. I run faster. I lift and sweat and curse my feeble body for not giving me enough energy to keep going.
I feel dirty and weird. A freak that shouldn’t be here. This dingy room. This dingy place. I’ve killed tonight and my thoughts quickly roll back a couple of hours to the face of De Smet as he first choked out then drowned from the bleach. Then my mind goes back further to the face of the girl as De Smet, Williams and the other one tortured her tiny body again and again. My mind keeps going back, to every bad deed I have ever done. To the deaths I gave out, to the suffering. I think back to when John Williams taunted me in that fucking place surrounded by cameras and I remember how I beat him senseless and stood over his battered body when the first marked police vehicle turned up. At the looks of shock on their faces. At the ambulance that came to give him aid. At being arrested, locked up and interviewed.
Tears drip from my ears to fall into my beard but I don’t sob and nor do I give voice to the sobs trying to tear me apart. I lock them down but the one thing I can’t control are the tears and they fall again and again.
‘Mike,’ a hand reaches out to gently touch me on the arm. She wants to comfort me, to give me peace but I am undeserving. Without looking at her I unbuckle my jeans and push them off. She stays where she is, unsure whether to leave me in peace or stay close. The tears stream faster and harder but I refuse to weep audibly. I clench my teeth and swallow the sobs as I turn round, push my boxers off and step into the shower. I don’t care if she sees me naked. I am nothing. Worthless and pitiful.
I hold my head under the flow and let the hot water scald my skin. It burns and I fight the urge to decrease the temperature.
‘Mike.’ She reaches past me to twist the shower valve. ‘You’ll scald.’ The sense of her body leaves but comes back within a few seconds. ‘Here,’ she holds a tube of shower gel out. I take it and start scrubbing, still with my back to her but the fucking tears won’t stop. They’ll never stop. The pressure inside builds to a point I think I’ll die. I want to die. I don’t want to be here anymore. I’m frightened. Terrified of what I can do.
‘Let me,’ she reaches past to take the shower gel from my hand. Her hands touch my back, soft at first as they rub the foamy bubbles into my skin. She goes slow and steady, gradually increasing the pressure with a massage to my shoulders and neck. She moves closer and only then do I realise she’s naked as I feel the press of her body against mine.
I know she’s getting off on the fact I killed someone. I saw that in her face in the bar. She wants the lure of being with a monster. A dangerous man that kills then weeps. A haggard man unkempt and abusive yet one who feels the sorrow of a life ruined.
Fuck it. I don’t deserve the comfort but right now I’ll take anything I can to ease this pain so I turn round and stare into her blue eyes. The motion startles her, like she was safe being behind me. I feel myself start to harden but I refuse to look away fro
m her eyes. She steps closer and glides her wet body over mine. Physically perfect and mind numbingly attractive. She takes my hands and guides them to her breasts. Firm and yielding. The nipples stand on end to push into my palms. She groans and moves in to kiss me but I tilt my head away. She looks puzzled for a second but then a challenged, almost competitive look flushes over her face. Her hands drop to my cock. She starts stroking which makes me stiffen with an almost painful hardness. She watches me suggestively, leeringly, like I’m a pet to be toyed with. She strokes harder then grabbing my cock with a tight grip she pulls me from the shower and into the bedroom. She walks backwards, guiding me as she falls back and pulls me down on top. Her legs already open and ready. She shuffles up higher and still we stare into the other’s eyes. No kissing. No tenderness. She is warmth and beauty but colder than ice on the inside.
She guides me inside and gasps a tiny exhalation of air when I push deep. My face flushes with lust. She arches her back while reaching up to grab my backside and pull it in harder. Her breasts fall naturally to the sides and as she spots me looking, so her hands reach up and pull my head down to her nipples. I start to kiss them softly but she pulls my head harder. I suck but she pulls harder still. When I give little bites she groans instantly and lifts her groin into mine.
I go harder. She groans louder. I start thrusting deep and powerful and her hands snake over my arms, shoulders and down my stomach. I bite her nipples and she pushes into me.
Then I stop thrusting and move my head up from her breasts to the base of her neck. She goes still as though confused. I kiss gently and move slowly. She grips my backside, urging me start thrusting again but I’m a stubborn bastard and even though I know I’m kissing an empty vessel, I close my eyes and imagine it’s someone who loves me.
The change is instant and my hands now move gently over her body. I kiss and savour the taste and feel of her skin. The shape of her shoulders, defined and slim. The tops of her arms so soft and warm. The sides of her waist and up to the swell of her breasts. I imagine this woman loves and cares for me. I imagine none of the fucked up parts of my life ever happened. I imagine we’re in our home, a place full of light and laughter. I imagine everything that isn’t dark and twisted. My eyes stay closed and I imagine Tessa.
The fucking becomes tender. It becomes a thing of beauty instead of carnal pleasure. We kiss. Soft and teasing at first but deeper as time goes by. Tongues that flicker at each other, teeth that nibble gently at lips. We breathe into each other’s ears and stroke each other’s skin with the tips of our fingers. She comes. Soft but powerful. Her body pulses with pleasure as she wraps her arms round my neck and pulls me down for a long slow kiss. I can’t hold back and feel my own pulsing orgasm flood my body and the kiss just makes it that more tender.
The best thing. The most amazing thing is that we stay locked together. Still inside her, still kissing, still holding.
Still imagining.
Eight
‘Ssshhh,’ she waves a hand at me, ‘I’m listening.’ She tilts her head as the waiter heads over to turn the volume on the radio up. In a café off the Markt Square and we’re drinking coffee and eating pastries. I light another cigarette and stare out to the people passing by. The café staff gather round the radio listening intently to the news broadcast and the place falls quiet as the customers crane their necks to hear.
I nod at the waiter and lift my mug to show I want another one. He nods and shows me two fingers which I hope means he’ll be two minutes rather than signalling that I should fuck off.
This morning I woke up spooning Elizabeth. She was curled up into me with my left arm draped almost protectively over her. Sunlight poured through the threadbare curtains and the contrast between her perfect form and the dingy room wasn’t missed. For a few minutes I remained unmoving, too afraid to shift position and wake her up and truth be told, I would have sacrificed a whole lot to just stay there forever.
Eventually she started to stir and I braced myself for the inevitable awkwardness. I was prepared to roll over and let her use the bathroom in peace then pretend I had a raging hangover so as to prevent stilted conversation. Instead she snuggled further into me, pushing her backside against my groin and pulling my arm into a tighter embrace. She sighed a few times and eventually rolled onto her back with a playful shove to get me onto mine. From there she shuffled lower so her head could rest on my chest. I looped my arm over and stroked her shoulder. She sighed again and dozed off.
I didn’t want it to end and I even tilted my head down to inhale the fragrance of her hair. A strange woman I held in my arms. Beautiful without question and with an obvious intelligence yet she was turned on at the thought of the killing. She was cold, ice cold and seemed intent on playing with me like I was a toy. Then she thawed and became someone genuinely warm, loving almost.
She owns the company. A semi-militarised company that picks up the contracts the police and other services can no longer afford to run. A dedicated professional at the top of her game in an ever evolving market. Yet she’s here, with me, in this fucking dump. Why? To commit murder and give vengeance on those that destroyed her innocence.
‘I need the toilet,’ she murmured and wriggled.
‘Go then.’
‘Too comfy,’ she yawned and kissed my chest before finally looking up at me with a sleepy smile, ‘how you feeling?’
‘Alright,’ I replied, ‘I think.’
‘Last night,’ she started, paused and kissed my chest again, ‘last night was fucking weird,’ she laughed coyly, ‘I mean really weird. Nice though,’ she added quickly, ‘really nice. There’s a lot more to you than meets the eye, Mr Humber.’
‘Same with everyone,’ I said.
‘Guess so.’ She flicked her eyebrows up. ‘You’re not weirded out are you?’
‘Why? Because I slept with my employer on the first day of meeting her? Nah, why would that be weird?’
‘Employer?’ she asked with a smile. ‘Am I?’
‘I don’t know, are you? I responded to an advert in the paper. You kidnapped me, forced me to drink coffee and made me beat up one of your guards then sent me over here. Yeah actually,’ I glanced down at her, ‘we never discussed salary.’
‘Oh,’ she said with humour, ‘is now a good time for you?’
‘I’m not cheap,’ I said matter of fact, ‘and I demand a workplace pension, I want health benefits, a company car and a pretty secretary called Doris.’
‘Doris?’ she snorted with a giggle, ‘no way.’ She gripped me harder with her arms. ‘I’m not letting Doris anywhere near you. As for salary….let me think…does it have to be money or can we come to some other arrangement?’
‘I’m not a prostitute,’ I said archly then remembered the girl in the bar the previous night. ‘Yeah fuck it, you can pay me in sex.’
‘Really?’ she asked with an intoxicating tilt of her head. ‘I want that signed in a contract and witnessed by my teams of lawyers.’ She started stretching while speaking, rolling onto her back and pushing her arms high above her head. ‘Oh that’s nice.’ She groaned in pleasure and looked up to catch me looking at her naked body in display from the covers being pushed down. ‘Nice view?’
‘Very nice.’
‘Mike!’
‘Huh?’ I snap out of the memory of this morning and stare across the table at Elizabeth. ‘Sorry,’ I shake my head and smile.
‘What were you thinking about?’ she asks with her own smile.
‘Nothing,’ I shrug.
‘This morning or last night?’
‘This morning,’ I admit ruefully.
‘It was nice,’ she sighs, ‘waking up like that. Why didn’t we have sex this morning?’ she asks suddenly.
‘Eh? Fuck…er…I think you needed the toilet and…’
‘Oh yeah,’ she nods, ‘anyway,’ she brings the topic back to the point in hand, ‘it’s all over the news. They’re saying it looks like a gangland slaying, or a contract killing… some
thing to do with his work as a detective.’
‘Great.’ I nod thanks at the waiter delivering another round of coffees.
‘They’re appealing for witnesses.’ She leans forward to speak quietly. ‘They’re saying anyone who heard the gunshots should get in contact.’
I sip the fresh coffee and nod. The day is warm and sunny and I’m sitting in a pretty European street café with a beautiful woman that I made love with last night. And we’re talking about the man I murdered and set fire to. Weird.
‘Which one next?’ she asks seriously.
‘Not Williams,’ I reply. ‘He comes last.’
‘Any reason? Isn’t there a risk of flight?’ she says with the manner of the serious business person. ‘If he hears the other two have been killed he’ll run.’
She’s right but I want Williams to be last. I want him to be scared that something nasty is coming his way. I want that fear and confusion. Unless we do them both at the same time. Get them together somehow and go for a double.
‘Is there a way of getting them together?’ I ask. ‘I mean, with the contacts and information you have?’
She raises her eyebrows in thought as she sits back and sips at her coffee. ‘Good idea,’ she muses, ‘they’ll be in contact anyway,’ she says, ‘with De Smet being killed,’ she adds.
‘Yeah by phone or text. We need them together in person. Do you have their addresses?’
‘No,’ she says slowly, ‘you were meant to get them from De Smet.’
‘Fuck it,’ I curse quietly, ‘I forgot.’
‘Forgot?’ she asks archly. ‘How do you forget something like that?’
‘Oh you know, I was a bit busy with the whole act of murder.’
She sighs and looks away deep in thought.
‘You tracked his credit card,’ I pipe up, ‘so, find the address it’s registered to.’
She pulls a face and tugs her phone from the pocket of her jeans. ‘It’s not that easy.’
