Thor'sday Night - Paranormal Erotica

by Maria Isabel Pita

  ‘Are you finished?’

  ‘Yeah, I’m finished with her.’

  ‘Then I’ll take her home.’ His tone softens, ‘Come on, Carmen, let’s get out of here.’

  She willingly lets herself be led away by the strong current of his kindness. Until they turn onto the street where she was nearly raped, then she stops dead. ‘It’s okay, Carmen, I’m with you now, no one’s going to hurt you.’

  ‘How did you…?’

  ‘I live around here.’ He somehow grasps what she is trying to ask him. ‘I was on my way to grab a bite to eat. Fortunately, I was off duty tonight.’

  ‘Off duty?’

  ‘I’m a police officer, Carmen. I’ll see to it you get home safely.’

  Still she hesitates.

  He slips his hand into hers. ‘Come on,’ he urges, and starts ahead of her down the street, past the galaxy of broken glass where she was almost thrust into another, terrible world.

  ‘This is my car,’ she says faintly.

  ‘I’ll drive. I assume your keys are in here?’

  She realizes he’s still holding her purse; she had forgotten all about it.

  ‘Yes,’ she says, and disbelief hits her like a fist. ‘I can’t believe this! An off duty policeman just happened to be walking down the street exactly when I needed him?’ Her dry laugh hurts like a cough. ‘I thought things like that only happened in the movies!’

  ‘That’s usually the case,’ he replies, ‘a lot of other women haven’t been so lucky.’ He unlocks the passenger door for her, and she can’t seem to breathe until he slips in beside her. His silver bracelet glimmers in the corner of her eye as he thrusts the key into the ignition.

  ‘Thank you,’ she whispers.

  The engine purrs to life.

  ‘Thank you,’ she repeats fervently.

  He stares steadily back at her. ‘It’s all right now.’

  She looks away shyly, because she hadn’t really noticed until that moment how handsome he is.

  He accelerates down the street. ‘Where do you live, Carmen?’

  ‘In Coral Gables, between Miracle Mile and Lejeune, just off Ponce. I’ll tell you where to turn.’

  ‘Got it.’

  ‘You must be starving,’ she comments after a moment, remembering he said he was on his way to dinner when he stopped to save her life.

  ‘Rescuing a beautiful woman from a fate worse than death does rather stimulate the appetite,’ he admits.

  She wants only two things in the world right now: to be home safe, and not to let him out of her sight. ‘I have some chicken breasts in the freezer, and lots of wine,’ she offers hopefully. ‘Would you like to have dinner with me?’They are traveling down 32nd Avenue towards U.S.1 with a complete disregard for the speed limit, which she supposes is natural with cops.

  ‘How about if we stop somewhere? I can’t imagine you feel like cooking right now.’

  ‘No, please, I want to go home.’

  He glances at her. ‘Okay, I understand.’

  She isn’t sure whether or not he has accepted her invitation, but decides to assume he has because the hope sustains her.

  He manages to find a parking spot just a few yards from her building.

  She quickly gets out of the car before he can open the door for her; to show him she is feeling better.

  The sky is perfectly clear and yet lightning is flashing silently on the horizon.

  He hands her back her keys, then her purse, and asks very seriously, ‘Are you sure you want me to come in, Carmen?’ ‘Yes, please.’

  Large terracotta urns sit on either side of an archway leading into the central courtyard. She caresses wind-blown strands of hair out of her eyes as they enter the shelter of the building, and smiles tentatively back at him before starting up a narrow stairway. Her apartment is on the top floor.

  Her kittens are awake again and wreaking adorable havoc. In the time she was gone, they managed to knock over a plant and spill an impressive amount of dirt across the carpet.

  Sage promptly leaves a possessive sprinkling of white hairs on Officer Reed’s black jeans as she purrs passionately around his ankles.

  He closes the door behind him, and lifts her obligingly up into his arms.

  Carmen sets her purse and keys down on a wooden desk in the corner, then turns to face his tall, black-clad form standing in her small living room.

  ‘She’s a beautiful animal,’ he remarks, and Sage pours out of his arms like rich cream. ‘Look, Carmen, I think you should take a long hot shower then go to bed. You don’t have to cook us dinner. I’ll leave now.’

  She grips the edge of the desk behind her with both hands. ‘But I don’t even know your name.’ She hadn’t even thought to ask him!

  ‘William Reed, but please, call me Will.’

  ‘Will.’ She wants to offer him something. ‘Will…’ She just stares at him.

  He glances around the room, and spots her modest wine rack.

  Without asking her permission, he slips out a bottle, shoves it between his thighs, thrusts in the corkscrew, and pops out the cork. ‘You need a drink,’ he informs her, setting the bottle down on her café-style marble table before walking into her kitchen, where he finds a pair of wineglasses without even turning on the light. They chime against the stone, and she gravitates towards him as he fills them.

  ‘I know, I know,’ he says lightly, ‘you’re supposed to leave room to swirl the wine around and savor the bouquet,’ he hands her one of the glasses, ‘but tonight, I say to hell with it.’ His dark-blond hair is cut so short it makes her think of gold glimmering in sediment.

  ‘Thank you.’ She takes a long, grateful swig of the California Merlot. ‘I can’t seem to stop thanking you.’

  ‘I don’t mind.’

  His light-blue stare is so clear; all she can see in it is the fact that he saved her life.

  She takes the glass from him, sets it back down on the table along with hers, and walks into his arms.

  It has been a long time since she kissed a man so soon after meeting him, and the pure intensity of the experience is overwhelming.

  After a few minutes, as irresistibly as a dangerous undertow, he pushes her back against a wall. Cradling her face in both hands he gently parts her lips with his right thumb and slips it into her mouth.

  Moaning softly around it she sucks on his slightly rough and salty skin with a hunger that deepens almost painfully as he holds her eyes, intent on observing her expression as his other hand slowly raises her dress. Apparently the way she looks at him gives him the green light, because he empties her mouth and whips the dress off over her head. Then he falls to one knee before her and quickly pulls her panties down to her ankles.

  She steps out of them even as she takes a breath to protest. He is moving too fast, yet her reflexes feel strangely drugged, unable to resist him, and she says nothing. He straightens up, snaps her bra open in front, peels it off her, and tosses it away. He starts kissing her again then, possessing her mouth gently and gradually.

  Moaning, she grips the shirt over his chest. Part of her wants to pull him into her, his tongue, his cock, all of him. Another part of her wants to be safe and to be able to push him away. She is completely exposed and vulnerable, yet his hands cup her face and ignore her body as he concentrates on gently biting her lips and teasing the tip of her tongue with his. He kisses her with such breathtaking skill that he meets with no resistance when he suddenly thrusts his hand between her thighs and slips two of his fingers into her tight wet pussy. He withdraws them, and pushes them back in, flicking them roughly back and forth deep inside her.

  She wraps her arms around his neck and holds on to him as she did in the churchyard, because she can’t remember a man’s hand ever feeling so good. ‘Stop,’ she begs, even though it’s too late and she’ll never be able to resist him now.

  He takes her firmly by the arm and leads her over to the desk.

  She forces herself to ask, ‘Do you have a condom?�
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  He doesn’t answer. He shoves her purse aside, grabs her by the waist, and lifts her up onto the wooden surface. Then he pushes his jeans and his underpants down just far enough to free his erection, and it promises not to leave any room inside her for fear. She eagerly shoves his shirt up out of her way to caress his hard, hairless chest, and then pushes him away. ‘No, Will, not without protection.’

  He heaves an impatient sigh, ‘I don’t have one on me.’

  ‘I think I have some in the top drawer of my nightstand.’ It isn’t easy for him to get his tight jeans back up over his rigid penis, but he manages. ‘I’ll get one,’ he says, and walks stiffly into her dark bedroom.

  Feeling nothing as she waits for him to return, Carmen watches her kittens playing around her answering machine. Vaguely, she realizes its red light is pulsing with a message just as Buffy pounces on it.

  ‘Hello, Carmen, I’m sorry to call you so late,’ Jay Westgate’s relaxed and confident voice fills the small room, ‘but I’ve had one situation after another today.’ He pauses. ‘I guess you got tired of waiting.’

  Will pauses in the doorway.

  ‘I really wanted to see you tonight, Carmen. I’ll call you in the morning at the office… Goodnight.’

  ‘Your boyfriend?’ Will asks.

  ‘No,’ she can’t bring herself to lie to him, ‘I only met him this morning.’

  He pockets the condom, zips up his jeans, and walks over to her phone. ‘What’s the address here?’

  She gives it to him.

  While he orders a cab, she slips off the desk and picks her dress up off the floor.

  He slams the receiver down. ‘I’m really sorry about this, Carmen, I hope you can forgive me.’

  ‘This wasn’t your fault, Will, I—’

  ‘Yes, it was. I know you probably don’t trust me anymore, but I’d like to see you again. Would you consider giving me your number?’

  ‘Of course.’ She drops the dress and quickly scribbles it on a message pad she keeps by the phone.

  For the second time that day she hands a man a pink slip with her phone number on it.

  He pockets it, raises her chin with one finger, and very effectively punishes her for making him leave with another exquisitely slow, lingering kiss. Then he leaves.

  *

  ‘Damn!’ she exclaims, stamping her foot, and Sage purrs consolingly around her ankles.

  Every time the phone rings at work the next morning, Carmen snatches the receiver up hopefully. But they are all business calls.

  She knows she is leaving herself wide open to disappointment again, but her obsession with Jay Westgate helps take her mind off what happened in the Grove.

  She doesn’t want to think about Officer William Reed. He saved her from being raped, took advantage of her gratitude, and then rescued her again, from herself. The memory of his clear blue stare is a glass in which her feelings are mixed in an intoxicating way.

  Not until Mike walks into the office shortly after ten o’clock, laughing over his shoulder at someone’s joke, does Carmen realize how profoundly shaken she still is.

  ‘Good morning, Carmen.’ Mike is his usual smiling self again this morning. It takes a lot of problems all dumped on him at once to pollute his good nature.

  ‘Good morning.’ She gets up to pour him a cup of coffee, grateful for this excuse to follow him into his office. Her pulse is reacting to his appearance like a bird lost over a tumultuous ocean spotting an island. With her free hand she smooths down her sleeveless, thigh-length cotton jersey dress, exactly like the one she wore to the Grove last night, except that this one is black.

  Mike is standing behind his desk. ‘So, Carmen,’ he slips off his jacket and drapes it over the back of his chair, ‘did you have a hot date last night?’ He loosens his tie.

  ‘No,’ she sets his coffee cup down in the usual spot on his desk, ‘I didn’t.’

  ‘Really? I’m surprised.’ He snaps open his briefcase. ‘I would have called you right away.’

  ‘I went out by myself, to the Grove.’

  He picks up his coffee, sits down, and leans back in his chair. ‘Did you have a nice time?’ He takes a sip.

  ‘I was almost raped.’

  ‘What?’ He sits up so abruptly that a wave of hot black liquid breaks against his chest. ‘Jesus!’ He leaps to his feet.

  Carmen doesn’t think twice about running around his desk to him and ripping open his shirt. Buttons fly across the office, vanishing like seeds in the lush carpet. ‘God, Mike, I’m sorry!’

  He yanks his tie off so swiftly it cracks like a whip against his chair. ‘Did I hear you say you were almost raped, Carmen?’ He quickly shrugs off the ruined shirt.

  She wonders what possessed her to tell him. ‘Yes.’

  He tosses the wet cloth into a wastebasket. ‘Are you all right? You did say “almost”?’

  ‘Yes…’ She has to make a supreme effort to keep her eyes off his chest. It is as firm as she had imagined it would be, and covered with fine golden hairs that threaten to entangle her feelings in them.

  ‘Tell me what happened, Carmen.’

  The phone rings out at her desk.

  ‘Don’t worry about it.’ He presses a button. ‘Beatrice?’

  ‘Yes, Mike?’

  ‘Answer Carmen’s phone for a while.’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  He strides over to his door and closes it. ‘Sit down.’ His tone brooks no argument as he returns to his desk. He opens a bottom drawer and produces a light blue shirt still neatly folded in its plastic sack. He tears it open, pulls out the pins holding the arms down across the chest like a mummy’s, and wrestles his broad shoulders into the stiff folds.

  Watching him from a chair, she conceals her disappointment, but then almost smiles when she sees him realize he can’t tuck it in without unzipping his pants.

  It hangs open as he perches on the chair next to hers. ‘Now,’ he leans towards her, ‘tell me what happened.’

  Avoiding his eyes, Carmen finds it surprisingly easy to obey him. She feels a little awkward describing how Will drove her home, then embarrassed to admit that she insisted he accompany her up to her apartment, and that’s as far as she can go. She stares mutely down at her clenched hands.

  ‘My God,’ he says beneath his breath, ‘don’t tell me that cop took advantage…’

  ‘Oh, no… I mean, he stopped himself.’ She isn’t doing a very good job of ignoring his chest. Her eyes keep diving off the edges of his open shirt, and hitting the rocky bottom of his muscles.

  He asks quietly, ‘What did you say this officer’s name was?’

  She rises. ‘I didn’t.’

  He follows her up. ‘You should go home and get some rest.’

  He is standing so close she feels irresistibly caught in his orbit. ‘Okay,’ she says, and forces her body to turn away from him.

  He grasps one of her arms. ‘Carmen…’

  She cries out.

  He lets go of her as if she burned him. ‘You’re hurt,’ he whispers in disbelief.

  ‘Just a little bruised, that’s all. I’m okay, really.’

  He holds her eyes. ‘Are you sure?’ Lightly, casually, he caresses her arm all the way down to her wrist, and his fingers brush hers.

  Sparks flash between them…

  Suddenly his shirt fills her vision like the sky, the narrow path of flesh visible between its open folds a crack of lightning, and his warmth comes as a blessing.

  He asks quietly, ‘What are you doing, Carmen?’

  She quickly pulls her hands out of his shirt. ‘I don’t know… I feel strange, Mike.’

  He brushes the hair away from her forehead to rest his palm against it. ‘Should I call a doctor?’

  She stares longingly at the hard line of his mouth. ‘No, I’m fine.’

  He gruffly messes up her neatly combed bangs, the way he might a mischievous little girl’s. ‘Okay, no doctor. I don’t think you need one anyway. You’re just i
n shock. Go home and get some rest. That’s your assignment for the day. Got it?’

  ‘Got it.’ She heads for the door.

  ‘And Carmen,’ he says as she opens it, ‘if you tempt me like that again, I’ll do something we’ll both regret.’

  She can’t look at him.

  She goes to tell Beatrice she is leaving for the day.

  ‘Is everything okay, Carmen?’

  ‘Everything’s fine.’

  ‘Mike’s been eating a lot of people out lately…’

  ‘Well, he wasn’t eating me.’

  Bee laughs happily, and hands her a pink slip. ‘Some guy named Ray something called you. He really wants to get a hold of you, querida. He left three numbers.’

  Chapter Two

  A storm is coming. To the south the sky is an untroubled Caribbean sea, but dark clouds are rolling ominously in from the north like smoke from a fire.

  When Carmen turns right onto Flagler street, the encroaching darkness threatens her from the left, while to her right the lovely morning remains unaware of the atmospheric passion about to swallow it up. Lightning flashes in the corner of her left eye, and gusts of wind buffet her car, forcing her to keep a firm grip on the wheel.

  The mood of this impending storm differs from the summer’s constant low pressure, and the fact that it seems like a reflection of her own turbulent emotions thrills her.

  It is always a pleasure to enter Coral Gables, where beautiful old trees offer a welcome relief from the unbroken concrete plains and neon branches of Miami, which keeps spreading northwest like a manmade fungus.

  At this hour it is easy to find a parking spot in front of her building.

  In a courtyard across the street a cheap plaster statue of Venus looks strikingly authentic against the brooding sky.

  Strands of hair whip across her face as the wind gently shoves her from every direction, making her laugh; she finds the atmosphere’s invisible attention so exhilarating.

  Thunder drums across the sky as she unlocks her door.

  Sage is clearly surprised and pleased to see her again so soon.

  Carmen basks in her feline family’s purring devotion for a few minutes before falling into her favorite chair next to a window overlooking an avocado and a mango tree. Their branches are swaying with supple grace in the wind, but the black phone lines threaded through them don’t look as immune to the charged strumming of the wind.