Remember Me

by Rainwater, Priscilla Poole

  Clawing his buttocks harder than ever, she forced her throat muscles to relax, then deep-throated him as far as humanly possible, letting his hot, salty, fruity cum hit her throat, not wanting to lose one drop of his essence. Releasing his buttocks, she grabbed his testicles with both hands and marveled at how long she felt them pumping his seed inside her. Once that had subsided, she backed off a bit, then began swirling her tongue around his cock as if enjoying a popsicle. Slowly pulling him from her mouth, she was astounded to see he was getting hard again.

  Reaching down, he snatched her up rather roughly, pulling her to him almost violently.

  Looking up at him, she saw he was still panting hard, and not smiling. Fearing she had done something to anger him, she stammered, “Granger, I'm…did I do something wrong?”

  Peering at her intently, he grabbed a handful of her hair, then crushed her bosom to his and smothered her mouth with his, enjoying her taste and feel. Finally breaking the kiss, he took a deep breath. “Does that answer your question, love? You were wonderful. You've NEVER been so bold, so sure of yourself, not even before...well, you know. ” he replied, looking at her like he was seeing a new, amazing woman, and loving the woman she was becoming. “You're becoming a very sexy woman who's confident and sure of herself, and I plan on doing everything in my power to keep you forever!”

  Smiling sweetly, she wrapped her arms around his neck. “Just stand by my side and love me. No matter what life may throw at us, we can face it together. That's all you need to do to keep me.”

  Stepping out of the pants and underwear that was bunched around his ankles, he scooped her up in his arms. “I can, and will, do that. I'm going to love you like no woman has even been loved before, with all my heart, my mind, and right now, my body.” he said, then practically ran to the bedroom with her laughing and encouraging him every step of the way.

  ******************************

  “Attention, Delta Airlines Flight 632 to London is now boarding, all those who require assistance please come forward now.” the airline employee at the boarding ramp called over the intercom.

  Martina smiled as the young woman she had hired as a nurse wheeled her to the boarding ramp, thankful she had an excellent false ID, and passports. It was one of the few things that bumbling private detective they had killed had excelled in. That, coupled with an expensive, but amazing makeup job that made her look thirty years older, made her supremely confident she would be able to slip out of the country undetected. Frowning suddenly, she thought of her cousin Brett, who she was leaving behind. She had begged him repeatedly, for days on end, to leave the country with her, but it had been in vain. The man was locked on course, and nothing, or no one, it seemed, would stop him. Tears sprang to her eyes suddenly, and she wiped them away almost angrily. Goodbye Brett, my love, I'll miss you, we're the only family we have left. And goodbye Granger, at least for now. Well, at least I got away, and when I get back, the bitch and her brat will be six feet under. Then I'll make Granger the happiest man alive...she thought as an evil smile played on her red lips.

  Chapter 38

  Zihuatanejo Bay Mexico, the local jail and police station

  Reclining on the ragged wooden bench with one arm covering his eyes, Raidon thought about how quickly things had went from bad to worse. The stay in the jail had been miserable. He had been laying there for several hours, after kicking a belligerent drunk's ass, a drunk who apparently hated all Americans, especially of the Asian persuasion. The man wouldn't leave him alone, and when he had finally spit on him, he had gladly took all his sweaty frustration out on him.

  Now his stomach was rolling like thunder during a violent summer storm, from breathing in the awful smell of a backed up, overflowing toilet, the rank smell of piss, and the passed out drunk. He was thankful he hadn't eaten before they were arrested, or he would have already tossed his cookies, thus adding to the rancid stench. If they had jails this bad in the US, crime would drop by at least 99 percent… he thought as he pressed his arm against his nose, trying desperately to block out the smell.

  He thought about Cynne' for the hundredth time, and his stomach clenched even more painfully. The terrified look on her face as he was being led in the back to his cell, leaving her all alone with the captain and his men, and the fact he couldn't do anything to help her was nearly driving him insane. He tried, God knows he had, by demanding that he be allowed to call the American Embassy, in order to get an official to come aide her and try to get her released. The guard that had led him to his cell had merely laughed, then hit him in the stomach with his nightstick.

  At one point the precinct captain had paid him a brief visit, informing him it would probably be two weeks or more before he and Cynne' would be able to see the judge, then he had smiled and murmured sarcastically, “Don't worry my amigo, I will take care of the marr'on (brown) Goddess.”

  In desperation, he had lied and tried to convince the captain to release her, by telling him she was innocent, and that she had had no knowledge beforehand of his intent to trespass on private property. Of course the man hadn't believed a word of it, he had simply chuckled and clucked his tongue, then walked away muttering about naïve, smug Americans. Thinking about the way the captain had leered at Cynne' from the moment he first laid eyes on her, the same disturbing thought came back to haunt him. What horrible things could be happening to her? Lord, please don't let her get hurt because of me...he prayed silently, more frightened than he had ever been in his life.

  BANG!!BANG!! A loud clanging on the metal bars made him jump. Sitting up, he found himself glaring at the guard, the same one who had hit him with the nightstick.

  The scrawny Mexican man sneered, “Heyyyy, pretty boy! Get up!”

  “What do you want?” he demanded in a tone so belligerent that the guard actually took a step back, warily. I know your type well! Not so brave when a man's not cuffed, are you? He thought.

  Regaining his false bravado, the guard banged the bars with his nightstick again. “Get your ass up, Jett Lee! You move now, or you can stay here, don't matter to me. I don't care if you rot in here! But Captain Lopez said come get you! So I come get you!! NOW GET UP!” he demanded as he unlocked the cell door and swung it open, watching Raidon closely.

  Refusing to be rushed, he stood slowly and stretched his tired, aching muscles, then slowly walked out of the cell and stood in front of the guard. “Where is the woman who was arrested with me?” he asked, but a painful nudge to the stomach with the nightstick, and a curse, was his only reply.

  Feeling the American was treating him as if he was some sort of lackey, the guard grew even angrier. His curt voice lashed out, taunting, “Shut up! You don't need to worry about her, we know how to treat a woman like her.”

  Seeing red, he knew the bastard was implying that he and the other guards had either molested her, or intended to. “You piece of shit, I'll kill you all, and I'm going to start with YOU!” he snarled, a feral gleam in his eyes.

  The nasty sneer fell from the guards face quickly as he saw the burning rage in Raidon's eyes. Jumping back quickly, and out of the angry man's reach, he held up one hand and put the other on the old revolver that hung low in the holster on his hip. For years the gun had been the source of courage and confidence he needed, confidence that he needed now. “Don't make me shoot you amigo, it's no never mind to me. Up to me, I would leave you here to die. But the captain wants to see you, and if you come quiet, MAYBE you can see the senorita you keep whining about. Comprende?”

  Still glaring at the obviously frightened guard, he desperately wanted to rip the slimy bastard's head from his bony shoulders, but he knew attacking him would not only bring the other guards, but would get him no closer to seeing Cynne', “Ok, amigo, but this shit ain't over, Speedy Gonzales. You hear me?”

  “Move ass!” was the man's only reply as he stepped behind him and prodded him in the back with the nightstick, one hand still on his revolver.

  As he followed the man’s direc
tions on where to go, he cringed in fear (for Cynne') as he heard the sounds of boisterous talking, and what sounded like drunken laughter.

  ********************************

  Stepping inside the dimly lit, smoke filled room, Raidon stopped dead in his tracks, mouth agape. Blinking, he forced his watering eyes to focus for the second time on the scene before him.

  In the center of the room Cynne' was seated at a round table with the Captain, and what looked like several of his high ranking officers, and she was the center of attention. She was wearing a poncho, one side of it tossed over her shoulder much the same way Clint Eastwood wore his in his spaghetti westerns. Perched atop her head was the most God-awful, ugliest, most ridiculous red velvet sombrero he had ever laid eyes on. It was covered with rhinestones from front to back, top to bottom, and the colors nearly blinded him. She was singing some song in Spanish, off-key, of course, while she chomped a cigar from the corner of her mouth. In one hand she clutched a bottle of tequila, in the other, a fistful of playing cards. Watching her smiling, singing, and basically dazzling the hell out the men, he was suddenly not only furious, but jealous as well, which shocked him. Not knowing whether to feel relief or anger, he thought, Look at her! Playing cards, getting drunk, having a ball, while I've been stuck in that pissy-ass jail cell with a loud, obnoxious, belligerent drunk who hates Americans!

  Seething, he watched as she took the cigar out of her mouth, titled her head back, formed an 'O' with her full, sexy lips, then blew out a stream of smoke. Lowering her head, she brought her cards eye level, looked slyly at the men seated around the table, then took another puff of the cheap cigar. “My south-of -the-border brothers, as my Uncle John Earl used to say, you got to know when to hold 'em, and know when to say....PAY UP, boys!” she laughed merrily as she slapped a full-house, three jacks and two fives, down on the table.

  With a collective groan, every man seated tossed their cards down on the table, shaking their heads and looking at the amazingly lucky woman with frank admiration. Her luck seemed too good to be true, but the truth was, they were all too smitten with her to call her on it, the same way they would a man.

  Seeming very pleased with herself, she chuckled, removed the cigar from her mouth, then extinguished it in an ashtray that sat in the middle of the table, which was littered with cards, shot glasses, and personal items. “Well, my amigos, it's been fun, but since my partner has awakened from his beauty sleep, I should get him back to the hotel.” she crowed, giving the men a sunny smile, but not looking at Raidon, whom she correctly guessed was mightily pissed.

  Rising to his feet unsteadily, the Captain quickly made his way to her seat, then helped her out of her chair as gentlemanly as his befuddled wits would allow. “My Nubian Diosa (Goddess), send your little friend on his way, I'm sure he can manage to find his way back to the resort without you. Stay, and allow me show you what the sultry nights Zihustanejo Bay can offer two lovers.” he pleaded, then took one of her hands in his fat, sweaty one, and kissed the back of it.

  “Captain, I'm charmed, but a deal is a deal. You ARE a gentleman of your word, are you not?” she purred, with a contrived, wounded expression.

  “Of course, of course, senorita! Well, if you simply MUST leave, take my kiss with you.” he implored, then kissed the back of her hand again.

  “Nubian Goddess? Jesus, who are you, Spike Lee?” Raidon snorted in a jealous rage, infuriated by the way she had been flirting with the men. “Sensual Zihuatanejo night for two lovers?” he spat in a voice dripping with sarcasm. “That sounds like a cheesy line in some seventies porn flick, a really bad porn flick, at that. Man, do you need to update your lines! That Ricky Martin shit went out ten years ago.”

  Seeing the captain's face flush in anger, she quickly crooned, “Don't pay him any attention, sweetie. Listen, I'll take you up on that offer the next time I'm in town, ALONE!” Glancing at her companion as if he was a mere inconvenience, she frowned, then turned her attention back to the captain. Cupping the side of his whiskered face with one hand, she leaned towards the man's ear, as if about to indulge a secret, but instead, muttered loudly enough for everyone to hear. “I wish I could, but if I leave that retarded ape alone, he'll just get into more trouble, and in a way, I feel responsible for him. He's incompetent, how he solved ANY cases before, I'll never know. Maybe he just trips up on the bad guys by chance, kinda' like the Inspector in those old Pink Panther movies, or Leslie Nielson, in those 'Naked Gun' flicks.”

  Suddenly every man in the room, save for Raidon, was roaring with laughter, even the guard who had accompanied him to the room, the one who had hit him with his nightstick earlier.

  “Hey! I'm not incompetent! People all around the country praise my work! It wasn't until your scared ass tagged along that my game got messed up.” he sputtered indignantly.

  With an exaggerated, sarcastic nod, she nudged the captain with her elbow and gave him a knowing wink. “Yes, I have to admit he DOES come highly recommended, his Mommy thinks he's a great P.I. I think he should put that on his business cards, don't you? Or on a billboard? ” Holding both hands in the air as if showing that advertisement on the imaginary billboard, her eyes took on a mocking, dreamy look. “I can see it now, his picture, and big red letters reading, ' Hire me, my mom likes my work!' That line will be more famous than 'Where's the Beef!' ”

  Another round of laughter followed, as every man turned and pointed at him, clutching their stomachs.

  Raidon stood seething, and his glare promised retribution once they were alone.

  “Captain Lopez, I'll see you tomorrow.” she said as she gave him a chaste peck on the cheek, then glanced nervously at one of the guards as he sat back at the table, took another sip of tequila, and began examining the playing cards carefully. Even though the deck belonged to them, and not her, she decided not to press their luck. Quickly gathering all their belongings on the card table, she hurried to Raidon, shoving his things in his hands, then led the way to the door as calmly as she could without running. Glancing over her shoulder, she called, “Adios for now, guys! Thanks for the great time.”

  Following her outside, Raidon opened his wallet and was shocked to discover all his money and credit cards still there.

  Slowing down and waiting for him to catch up, she grabbed his arm and tugged, casting another worried glance over her shoulder. “Worry about that later, it's the least of our problems right now!” she hissed. “We need to get the hell out of here, and I mean like five minutes ago!” Stopping suddenly, she began waving her arms wildly, hailing a cab. Incredibly, the man spotted them immediately and stopped.

  *************************

  Safely seated in the cab and on their way back to the resort, Raidon turned to face Cynne'. “Alright, now suppose you tell me just what the hell is going on?” he demanded in a low voice.

  Giving him a wide-eyed look of innocence, she started to speak, but was interrupted.

  “Don't even act like you don't know what I'm talking about. You making fun of me in front of those south-of-the-border Keystone Cops, and the next thing I know, we're both running out of there like Bobby Brown dodging his probation officer. And another thing, how the hell did you get us out after just a few hours? I've been in a Mexican jail before, you don't get out without paying some biiig bucks!” he asked, suddenly afraid to hear the answer. As much as he hated to admit it, even to himself, he felt sick to his stomach at the thought she may have offered herself to one or more of the policemen.

  Giving him a smug smile, her brown eyes seemed to take on the color of molten copper. Doffing the loud, offensive sombrero, she shook her head, letting her braids tumble down around her shoulders. “What can I say, I'm irresistible!”

  “Cut the clowning, smart ass, and spill the beans,” he growled, in no mood for jokes.

  “Well, it's like this.” she sighed. “Captain Antonio Lopez has a big thing for sistas. And drinking. And gambling. So it was easy to get him to do what I wanted. And you can set your
mind at ease, my honor is still intact. All I did was smile and flirt with him and all the others. But especially him.” Giggling at the memory of the pudgy, middle-aged man tripping all over himself to accommodate her, she said, “We ate an amazing local dish, then had a few drinks. Once he was good and relaxed, I suggested that we pass the time playing cards. I knew he was enamored with me, so I proposed a little wager. You see, I'm a bit of a card shark.”

  Immensely relieved, he relaxed for the first time since leaving the resort on their ill-fated expedition to the hospital. “What was the wager?” he asked.

  Giggling again, she snuggled closer to him, his smell intoxicating her. “If I lost the game I would have to spend the weekend with him. The captain, I mean.” she stated in a matter-of-fact voice, then smirked as she felt his body tense.

  After a moment, he muttered, “Well, I guess you knew what you were doing.” Wrapping one arm around her shoulder possessively, he pulled her close, then smiled when she laid her head on his shoulder. Slowly stroking small circles on her shoulder, and unaware of the fact his hand was sending shivers of delight through her, he asked, “So, what did you get for winning? Was it...”