Best Laid Plans

by Stylo Fantome

  When she came, it was like an explosion. It had been so long since she’d had an orgasm, and goddamn, he’d fucked her so good. She screamed, her fingers clenching and unclenching, every muscle spasming, her whole body jerking around underneath him. And still, Marc didn’t stop moving. He slowed down, almost massaging her with his cock, but he didn’t stop. Not even when she was limp and gasping for air, one arm dangling off the bed.

  “That was … everything,” she managed to whisper. He laughed and kissed her behind her ear, then kissed a trail down the side of her neck.

  “Sweetheart, that was nothing.”

  He moved her onto all fours and made her put her hands flat against the wall while he pulled her hair hard, smacking her ass as he fucked her from behind. Then she was face down, ass up – every man’s fave. When they moved again and he laid down on his back, she took him by surprise and went down on him. A dick that could make her feel that good deserved her mouth, she figured, and she milked him for all she was worth. But before she could finish the job, he was wrenching her hair again. It was obvious that Marc didn’t know the meaning of “gentle touch”; the pain was sharp and real, forcing her to move away. He dragged her up his body, kissing her sloppily while he helped her shift around him, helped her take him inside of her.

  She bounced up and down on top of him. He propped himself up with one arm and leaned forward to suck on her nipples. His other hand held onto her ass, helping set an almost impossible speed. He was too deep, it was too much. He was made to hit her G-spot, it seemed.

  “Marc … you’re gonna make me come again,” she warned him, the shaking starting all over again.

  “Good, good,” he grunted.

  He beat her to the punch, letting out a yell as he came, surprising her. His arms went around her, his hands grabbing her shoulders and yanking her down so she was flush with his pelvis. She cried out, coming at the same time.

  Well. That escalated quickly.

  Of course, when she’d talked to him in that anteroom, she’d known they were going to have sex. She wasn’t shy about the act or her body, it just wasn’t something she got to do a lot. Marc had seemed like a good partner to help her get back into the swing of things.

  There’s an understatement.

  He helped her move off of him. While she collapsed into a sweaty mass on the mattress, too exhausted to even keep her eyes open, he wandered back into the bathroom. She could hear water sloshing around, then listened as he came back into the room, but she still didn’t open her eyes. After making a rustling noise, he joined her on the bed, stretching out next to her.

  “I usually save this for when I’m out of country,” he said, and she opened her eyes. He had a joint between his lips and was in the process of lighting it.

  “You get high in other countries?” she tried to clarify. He shook his head.

  “No. When I finish a job. My reward for getting out of whatever miserable country I’m in is smoking one of these. Want?” he asked, holding it out towards her. She pinched it between her fingers and took a hit.

  “Then why are you smoking it now?” she was curious, her voice hoarse as she held the smoke in her lungs. He took the joint back from her.

  “I definitely need to smoke something after what we just did.”

  She burst out laughing, coughing on the smoke.

  “Good point.”

  They chit chatted for a bit, lazing about on the bed. She’d always felt so comfortable with Marc. At the safe house, or even at her own hotel, she was always on edge. On guard. Ready to defend herself. With him, though, she felt like she didn’t need that edge. Didn’t need to defend herself.

  It was nice.

  “So what was the big commotion all about?” she remembered his entrance from earlier in the night.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Everyone was freaking out, you were bleeding, you looked pissed. Like you were gonna stomp on someone’s head,” she explained.

  “Probably because I just had.”

  “Intense.”

  “You have no idea.”

  “Give me the details. It’s been a boring month,” she demanded.

  He groaned and rolled onto his back, rubbing his hands over his eyes. She forced herself not to look down – Marc wasn’t shy about his body, either, and she wasn’t quite ready to get revved up again. Instead she focused on his arm, on where he’d been shot. Apparently his idea of “bandaging his arm” was to wrap duct tape around his bicep several times over.

  “I was hired to steal those diamonds. That’s what I’ve been doing all month, tracking the gang’s movements, getting the lay of their compound. I honestly thought it would be easy. Half of those guys are hooked on drugs I’ve never even heard of and the other half are more scared than anything else. They’ve got a bunch of shitty motorbikes and a bunch of shitty guns. Should’ve been an in-and-out job. Gone before they even knew I was there.

  “But it was all fucked up. The shit I saw in there, goddamn. I crawled in under a fence, wound up in a garage of sorts. I’d seen cars getting hauled in and out, could tell they were stripping them in there, and figured that’s all it was, just a garage. Wrong. They had bodies in there. People they were torturing. People they were killing. And I can handle that. I’ve tortured people, I’ve killed people. But god, they were butchering them. I mean, literally butchering them, like a cow. Preparing that shit to eat,” Marc’s voice went quite. Lily swallowed thickly.

  “Yeah, I’d read that some gangs do that here. Food isn’t exactly plentiful,” she said.

  “I’ll never be able to un-see that shit. I got out of that place as quick as fucking possible. Blew up an oil drum, and when everyone went to investigate, I set off an EMP device. Killed their vehicles, lights, everything. Everyone was scrambling around like ants, so I slipped in and got the diamonds.”

  “Sounds like a perfect operation.”

  “Right? Only as I’m going back under the fence, all fucking hell breaks loose. It’s like everyone spotted me at once. Usually on a theft job I can get out without firing a shot – I lost two guns and four clips on this job. I fucking ran through some old couple’s house, had to jump off a roof, nearly broke my leg. Got shot. I fucking hate getting shot, that means my blood is on a bullet somewhere,” Marc growled. Lily swallowed her laughter.

  “Well, I doubt there’s a ‘CSI: West Point, Monrovia’, so I think you’re good.”

  If Monrovia, Liberia was one of the worst cities on the planet, then the area of West Point was its epicenter of degradation. She considered herself a tough cookie, but even Lily didn’t go over there. Braving a Liberian gang’s compound, one that was inside West Point, made Marc either the bravest person she’d ever met, or the stupidest.

  “I just couldn’t fucking believe it. I couldn’t come back to the safe house until I knew I’d shook them, and it took me forever to be sure. I fucking ran all over that place. Laid under a dumpster for half an hour. Do you have any idea how many people I killed tonight? Insane. Took me hours just to get back. And I knew the longer it took the more pissed off Ivanov would be,” Marc added. Lily nodded in agreement. The Brigadier wasn’t known for his patience and thoughtfulness.

  “Sounds awful.”

  “You have no idea. I can’t stop seeing it all in my brain.”

  “Is that why you were so distracted?”

  “What do you mean? When?” he asked, finally glancing at her.

  “I’m not exactly a detective – it was awfully easy to follow you here,” she pointed out. He groaned and nodded.

  “I know. I’m a little embarrassed about that; the job was done, I had my money, I just wanted to get the fuck out of there. The mood I was in, I was almost hoping someone would follow me and fuck with me. They would’ve been sorry,” his voice lowered into a grumble, sounding evil and threatening. Lily swallowed thickly and quickly decided that she never wanted to see Marc truly angry.

  “Quite the night, Marcelle De Sant. Gangs, cannibals, d
iamonds, killings, running for your life. I’m surprised you had any stamina left for me,” she teased, deciding to lighten the mood. They both lived in darkness a majority of the time. She wanted to use their time together to make things seems shiny.

  “Sweetheart, if pussy is involved, then I’ll always find more stamina.”

  “Wish I’d known that a month ago.”

  “Me, too. God, look at me,” he grumbled, looking down the length of his chest. Lily looked as well, taking in the sheen of sweat that covered him. “Wanna take a shower?”

  “I saw your shower.”

  “And …?”

  “It’s not a shower. It’s a bucket with holes poked in the bottom that you have to keep refilling,” she pointed out. “The lady has to bring the water up to you and god knows where she gets it from. No thank you, I’ll wait till my hotel, where I have running water. Hot running water.”

  Marc leaned over and bit down on her shoulder, causing her to squeal.

  “I wanted to do this at your place, hence the whole ‘wait for me at the bar’ bit,” he reminded her.

  “Awfully confident.”

  “No, just not stupid.”

  “Cheeky.”

  His teeth kept moving, clamping down on her bottom lip hard enough to hurt. She cried out and pulled away from him, but he moved his hand to her neck, holding her in place. As his fingers pressed down around her windpipe, she raised her knees up, rubbing her thighs together.

  “Ready to play rough, princess?” he breathed against her lips. She smiled up at him.

  “I thought you’d never ask.”

  DAY ZERO

  Marc was a light sleeper and he heard movement at the edge of his bed. Before he even opened his eyes, he shot out his hand, grabbing at the person sneaking around him.

  “Going somewhere?” he managed to croak out, his voice hoarse. The were was a soft laugh, making him think of magical things, like heaven and breasts, and then the smell of lavender was surrounding him again.

  “Gotta go, lover boy,” Lily whispered, giving him a gentle kiss. He smiled and opened his eyes, watching as she stood upright.

  “I didn’t realize I fell asleep, sorry,” he yawned, scratching at his head as he sat up.

  “No worries. I just kept going,” she joked.

  “Nice. Shouldn’t you have at least waited till I woke back up?”

  “Probably. But you liked it.”

  “Probably. Why the rush? I have another hour, and more tricks to show you,” Marc offered, glancing at his watch.

  “I’m sure you do, but it’s like forty minutes to my hotel and Ivanov is supposed be meeting me in a little over an hour,” Lily explained. He nodded, pulling an ashtray down from his windowsill. The half smoked joint was still in there and he lit it up.

  “Wow, we’ve been at it that long?” he was surprised. He’d lost track of time, wandering around her lines and curves.

  “Geez, don’t sound so shocked,” she snorted at him as she crawled over his outstretched legs. He held the roll to her lips and she took a deep breath.

  “Not shocked. Sad it’s over – you’re a good tension reliever. So you’re off soon?”

  She blew a stream of smoke over his head.

  “Six-thirty,” she reminded him, then took another quick drag. “Ivanov is meeting me at six so we can discuss stuff, do the exchange.”

  “Ah, that’s right. Well then …,” he let his voice trail off. He wasn’t sure what to say.

  Thank you for a-fucking-mazing sex, and for having tits I’ll dream about for years. Perfect. Sounds just like poetry.

  “Marcelle De Sant,” she chanted off his full name as she moved to straddle his lap. “I think, just maybe, you’ll miss me.”

  He moved his hands to her ass, squeezing her tightly and forcing her up, forcing her closer, forcing her chest against his own. She was curvy in all the right places, pliable flesh just begging to be molded under his hands. And smooth, every inch of her, as he now knew.

  “I think I’ll miss this for a long time,” he whispered back, clenching his fingers. She wiggled against his hold.

  “Me, too. Thanks for making Africa bearable, Marc,” she said. Her voice was devoid of teasing – she sounded genuinely thankful, and even a little sad.

  “Where are you going after this?” he surprised himself by asking out loud. He never discussed ‘the after’, ever. With anybody. She smiled.

  “Where are you going after this?” she returned the question.

  “I don’t know. Crete. Mykonos. Somewhere nice,” he answered honestly.

  “Ooohhh, sounds nice. Maybe when I’m done I’ll come look you up, Mr. De Sant,” she offered.

  “Pack a bikini.”

  “But I like to sunbathe in the nude.”

  “God, you’re an amazing woman.”

  She gave him a kiss that had him wondering if she’d leave with his tonsils, then she crawled off of him. She was wearing everything but a shirt, and he remembered that he’d ripped hers off of her. She grabbed a t-shirt off the back of a chair and held it up for his inspection. He shrugged and she slipped it on, knotting the excess material at the base of her spine.

  “This was fun. I hope we get to do it again sometime,” she said, standing by the door as she pulled on her shoes.

  “Me, too.”

  “Take care of yourself, Marc.”

  “You, too.”

  “And …,” her voice faltered as she opened his door. She looked back over her shoulder at him. “And be careful out there.”

  He was touched by her concern. There was no one left to be concerned about him, or his well being. It was a novel experience.

  “Always careful, sweetheart. Take it easy out there, Africa isn’t kind,” he warned her. She turned away from him.

  “Neither am I.”

  Then the door slammed shut behind her.

  What a woman.

  Mark took his time finishing the joint, then moved to the edge of his bed. Scratched his fingers through his hair. He was high, and, if he was completely honest, a little dumb struck. It had been the best sex he’d had in a long time. His only regret was that he’d gone into their night already worn out. If she thought that had been good, then she might die if she saw him at his best.

  He finally got up, stretching so he was on his tiptoes. Then he pulled on some briefs and his pants, before heading over to his table. When he’d gotten back from the safe house, he’d grabbed a bucket of water on his way up, wanting to wash the night and the memories off his skin. He’d just stripped down and jumped in the tub.

  Now it was time to see exactly how big his “bonus” really was. He over turned the duffle bag he’d been given, and his surprise at even receiving a “bonus” turned to outright shock.

  It was beyond a bonus. Almost four times more than his agreed upon salary was in the bag. The money spilled out all over the floor, covering the ground between his bed and the beat up looking table.

  What THE FUCK is going on!?

  While he took in the bills, his ears picked up on a sound outside. A motorcycle was pulling up in front of the house; a dirt bike, with a whiny engine. Then another. Marc turned his head towards his window, but didn’t move his feet. Several more pulled up, all dirt bikes and mopeds. Then more. Even more. He lost count. As the last candle in his room flickered out, clarity blazed through his mind.

  That fucking bitch …

  DAY ONE

  Lily took a deep breath and glanced in her rear view mirror. No one was following her. She was on the very furthest outskirts of Monrovia. Pretty soon, she would be completely alone. There would be no one around, not for hundreds of miles.

  I can’t believe I’m here. I can’t believe I did it. All those years. I did it.

  She eased off the road and pulled up along side an ancient looking gas pump. As she climbed out of her car, a young boy came rushing out of a run down shack. He didn’t say a word, just grabbed a rag out of a bucket full of rancid looking water an
d began washing her windshield.

  “English?” Lily asked, pushing her sunglasses to the top of her head.

  “Yes, little English,” the boy replied. She reached her fingertips inside the top of her tank top, right where the neckline brushed against the uppermost part of her bra. She pulled out a U.S. fifty dollar bill.

  “You know what this is?” she held the bill between two fingers, allowing him to see it. The boy’s eyes got wide and he nodded.

  “Yes, I know.”

  “This is yours, if you promise not to touch my car,” she started. If possible, his eyes got wider, and he nodded again. “And if you promise not let anyone else touch my car.”

  “Yes, yes, no one will touch your car,” he immediately began reaching for the bill. She yanked it out of his reach.

  “Uh-uh, no way. After. If anyone touches my car, even looks at my car, you yell. Make a noise. Honk the horn. Light the building on fire. Something. Got it?”

  “Yes. No one. Make noise.”

  Lily leaned down close and stared him very directly in the eye.

  “If you mess around in my car, if you take anything from my car, I will know, and you will not like what happens,” she lowered her voice to almost a growl. The little boy swallowed thickly.

  “I promise, I won’t touch,” he assured her. She gave a tight lipped smile but kept her glare severe.

  “Good. No touching means lots of money.”

  She tucked the money back into her bra as she walked towards the shack that was serving as a gas station of sorts. There was a ripped up screen door at the entrance that fell off one of its hinges when she pushed on it.

  Inside wasn’t any better. A man with a cloudy eye and no teeth sat on a stool, watching a black and white television that had bunny ears. Lily looked around. It wasn’t exactly a seven-eleven, there weren’t aisles full of shiny processed foods.