Thor'sday Night - Paranormal Erotica

by Maria Isabel Pita

  ‘Do you like having my dick,’ he drives it into her, ‘in your ass, baby?’

  ‘Oh, yes!’ She is stunned by how good it feels.

  ‘Daddy’s little girl getting it up the ass on the second date, and loving it. If only he could see you now.’

  *

  Carmen is late for work the next morning.

  She has just finished getting dressed, and is quickly packing a lunch, when the fire alarm goes off in the building next to hers.

  Within minutes Salzedo is jammed with fire trucks and police cars. She can’t even think of getting her own car out until some of them leave, so she joins the curious spectators gathering on the lawn.

  ‘What’s going on?’ one of them asks everyone and no one, ‘I don’t see any flames.’

  ‘I heard it’s a gas leak,’ someone else volunteers.

  ‘A gas leak? Have they found it? The whole building could blow up!’

  No one seems to know.

  Carmen scans the group of police officers, disappointed but not surprised that Will isn’t one of them. They resemble a murder of crows conferring next to one of the squad cars as firemen in black rubber coats and boots enter and exit the dangerous building.

  Watching the firefighters, Carmen finds their cool attitudes and powerful darkness irresistibly sexy. Their thick suits make them look even taller and more impressively built than they really are as they bravely confront an invisible force. Their knowledge of what lies inside the building’s walls and floors also excites her in a strange way. Smiling to herself, she wonders if St George is the patron saint of firemen since they fight modern dragons all the time. She enjoys watching them, and imagining what it would be like to have two or three of them trying to put out her hottest fantasies.

  Nothing happens. There are no ominous explosions from inside the building, and the crowd disperses when one of the fire trucks leaves followed by the police cars. Carmen’s own car is no longer blocked, but she stays where she is, because some of the firefighters have begun stripping off their suits, exposing muscular bodies in tight black tank tops. One of them is wearing a gold cross around his neck that catches the soft morning light.

  She runs up to her apartment, grabs her purse and the bag with her lunch in it, then walks slowly back down the stairs.

  Six of the firefighters, their skin slick with sweat, are sitting on the grass in front of her building drinking bottled water. Others are still at work reeling in the long flat hoses that plump up when filled with water like snakes slipping back into their skins.

  She walks down the concrete path towards her car, and the ones gathered on the lawn turn their heads to watch her.

  ‘Good morning,’ she says with breathless respect.

  Two of them return her greeting politely while the rest of them just smile up at her, like the grass coming alive with serpents slipping excitingly between her heartbeats.

  ‘Have a nice day, miss,’ the one wearing the cross says.

  She smiles at him. ‘You too.’

  ‘Going to work?’ he asks, returning her smile.

  ‘Yes, and I’m already late.’

  ‘I’d like to make you even later.’

  She laughs happily.

  She is forty-five minutes late.

  Mike is already in the office.

  ‘Shit,’ she whispers, pouring herself a cup of the coffee he made for them. She quickly copies the faxes from the ships, and walks into his office.

  He looks up. ‘There you are.’ He doesn’t smile.

  She lays the faxes in his in-box. ‘I’m sorry I’m late, but the alarm went off in the building next to mine, and there were so many fire trucks and police cars I couldn’t get out of my parking spot.’

  ‘Really?’ He keeps his eyes on his notepad. ‘Was it bad?’

  ‘I think it was a gas leak, but they took care of it.’

  ‘That’s good.’

  Carmen returns to her desk in despair. She has been working for Mike long enough to sense the change in his tone of voice, and to notice that he avoided looking her in the eye.

  It doesn’t surprise her; she crossed a dangerous line yesterday. She broke the professional seal on their relationship, and now she’ll have to watch everything she says and does very carefully. She won’t be able to strike up a casual conversation with him for a long time, anymore than she would light a match in a building filled with invisible fumes – everything she felt when she slipped her hands into his open shirt, and whatever he felt when she caressed his chest.

  *

  The endorphins Carmen has been high on for over forty-eight hours are beginning to ebb and she is running out of energy. She can no longer actively dismiss what happened to her in the Grove, and what she let a man she barely knows do to her last night. The memories are sinking their teeth into her shocked brain and demanding to be dealt with. With a long, lazy evening stretching before her, she can no longer put off facing them.

  She turns off the air conditioner, opens the front door, and lies back across her couch so she can look out at the treetops through the screen. The setting sun caught in their branches is fervently trying to free itself, stabbing out with luminous shafts that forge themselves on her retina as she closes her eyes.

  I was almost raped.

  She stares straight at the memory of what happened to her in the Grove and all its ramifications. She could have been seriously hurt, maybe even killed. If she had survived the experience she would have had to live with the fear of getting Aids, not to mention the possible nightmare of an abortion. And those were only the physical consequences. Psychologically, the damage would have been much more subtle and far-reaching. God only knows how she would have felt about men afterwards, not to mention sex. If she had been younger and more inexperienced, her ability to enjoy her body might have been destroyed.

  She opens her eyes, and watches the sun struggling passionately in the tree’s arms.

  Sage is asleep with the kittens in their favorite corner. She doesn’t want to think about Jay. She already misses him much more than she should. She has never in her life let a man she hardly knows do such things to her. Part of her is sure he will never call her again, and the possibility fills her with despair. He is more than a little cold and arrogant, yet she wants more than anything in the world to see him again. This frightens her because she has no idea what is going on in his head, and, as her mother has been telling her for years, men are different. All she is sure of is that he isn’t thinking about her every minute of the day. She should never have let him go so far so fast. She knows perfectly well that she has never been able to separate her body from her emotions, which means he is already deep inside her soul and there is nothing she can do about it now.

  The issue of National Geographic is lying on her coffee table.

  She stretches her left arm out languidly, and picks up the heavy, glossy pages.

  Her apartment is at the far end of the top floor. She is not concerned about anyone walking by her door as she raises the magazine over her face and turns to the article on the Viking grave.

  Apparently, the find is unique in many ways, not the least of which is the provocative (shocking) position of the female skeleton. It is clear the grave belongs to a man, and that she was buried with him as part of his possessions. It is doubtful she was his wife. The position of the skeleton is suggestive of ritual sacrifice, and it was found surrounded by other desirable objects, a few yards from the remains of the warrior she was accompanying into the next world. One of the richest graves ever found in Norway, deep in a cave by the sea, the excavation is proceeding at a snail’s pace. Despite state-of-the-art environmental controls, the humidity has already turned the remains of the cloth found around the girl’s throat to dust. Only the bones, and solid gold grave goods, survive surrounded by mounds of decayed wood, which includes what archeologists speculate are the remains of a miniature Viking long ship, symbolically meant to transport the deceased into Valhalla.

  Carmen
snaps the magazine closed and tosses it back onto the coffee table. It skids across the ice-like glass as she sits up restlessly.

  She still can’t believe she slipped her hands into Mike Peterson’s shirt! Thank God he realized she wasn’t herself yesterday. Still, it won’t be easy to face him again on Monday.

  She lies down again and tries to think about dinner, but fresh memories of bare male chests are stimulating a different kind of appetite. It seems she won’t be able to distract herself in the kitchen.

  Sage raises her head and looks over at her with sleepy green eyes, strips of grass visible through her snowy fur…

  She wakes reluctantly, because it is still dark. Then suddenly it frightens her to realize that her legs are spread wide open and that her arms are stretched overhead. She remembers where she is when ropes cut into her wrists as she tries to move. Something must have gone terribly wrong. She was supposed to accompany him… A single torch is still burning, offering her a faint flicker of hope. Her soul didn’t cross over with his, which means she is still alive. Or perhaps she was not considered worthy and condemned to remain here in a shadowy netherworld…

  The surface beneath her feels cool and slightly rough as she slides her legs closed. The rope around her wrists feels frayed and old, as if she has been here a very long time. She shakes it off, and sits up cautiously…

  She is resting inside the jaws of a beast with gleaming yellow bloodstained teeth, on its soft dark tongue. The illusion lasts a terrifying second, before she understands that what she perceived as teeth are only half buried treasures surrounding the smoke-blackened leather skin on which they laid her. Then she sees him.

  He is lying on his back with his powerful arms crossed over his chest wearing his finest tunic and furs, dressed for divine pleasures rather than battle, but with his earthly sword still lying ready at his side.

  She falls forward onto her hands and knees and crawls towards him, enthralled by the golden phallus rising eternally erect from his lifeless body. She need take nothing else from him to live like a goddess. But only if she can bring herself to part with it, which already she knows she won’t be able to do, because selling his magical manhood will leave her own feelings destitute.

  His features look carved out of stone, and their solid white waves rising out of the ebbing and flowing shadows open spaces in her heart that fill with despair because she cannot look into his eyes. She touches the cold, grooved rocks of his clasped hands. His body is the rigid phallus mysteriously rising out of his soul as it enters all the unknown pleasures of a different world, where she was meant to be with him and serve him…

  She straddles him, and slowly stabs herself with his big golden cock. She cries out at how cold and hard it is, and because it leaves room for nothing else inside her except her heart, which beats faster and harder in rhythm with her hips moving up and down polishing his sacred shaft, the depth of her feeling for him glimmering in the torchlight. Because if she rides him passionately enough she might be able to catch up with him, or get his soul to look back and take her with him…

  His eyes open. ‘Carmen, what are you doing?’ He grabs her by the waist with both hands, and she holds on to the reigns of his arms as he slides her off his precious penis, then stabs her with it again, forcing her to take his full length over and over until the blood is crashing through her heart and ringing in her ears…

  She is lying across her couch on the verge of an orgasm that suddenly ebbs and leaves her feeling desolate.

  She forces herself to get up and answer the phone. ‘Hello?’ Her voice is husky.

  ‘Hello, Carmen… were you sleeping?’

  ‘Um, yes, I drifted off on the couch. Will?’

  ‘You’ve got that right. I’m sorry to wake you. How are you?’

  ‘Fine, although I was having the strangest dream…’

  ‘That’s not surprising, after what almost happened to you. Have you made any plans for tomorrow yet?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Then how about if I pick you up for breakfast and we go for a nice long walk on the beach. Afterwards I’ll buy you lunch, and after that, drinks and dinner. What do you say?’

  ‘I’d like that, Will.’

  ‘Great, I’ll pick you up at nine. I’m going to make it up to you, Carmen.’

  His words, and his deep, concerned voice are a heaven sent balm for the sickening knowledge that she actually liked it when Jay hit her. ‘I’ll be ready.’

  ‘I’d ask you out tonight, but I have to work.’

  ‘That’s okay, I’m pretty worn out.’

  ‘Enjoying a little catnap? What were you dreaming about?’

  ‘Never mind.’

  ‘Then why don’t you tell me what you’re wearing?’

  She falls into her chair. ‘Just an old T-shirt and panties.’

  ‘Is that all?’

  ‘Yes,’ she answers softly.

  He suggests quietly, ‘Why don’t you take them off for me?’

  ‘You want me to take them off?’

  ‘Yes, I do.’

  ‘Just a minute.’ She sets the receiver down, and quickly peels off her cozy white cottons. ‘Okay…’ She sits back down.

  ‘Where are you?’

  ‘In the living room.’

  ‘Go lie on your bed.’

  Smiling, she idly caresses one of her breasts. ‘Why?’

  ‘Because I want you on the bed, sweetheart, right now.’

  ‘Why?’ she teases, stoking her excitement.

  ‘Just get on the bed.’

  His voice is pitched so low she can almost feel it in her bones. She hurries into her bedroom. ‘All right,’ she positions herself comfortably against her pillows, ‘I’m on the bed, officer.’ Her eyes close from the thrill it gives her to address him this way.

  ‘Officer, is it? Have you been a bad girl?’

  She lightly caresses her clit with her fingertips. ‘Yes, officer,’ she presses down on it and rubs it hard, ‘I’ve been a very bad girl.’

  ‘Then I’ll have to slap some cuffs on you, sweetheart, and take you in.’

  ‘Oh, yes, officer…’ Her pussy is so wet from her dream that his penetratingly deep voice easily begins resurrecting the climax that died when she woke.

  ‘Are you going to confess?’

  ‘No,’ she whispers, her entire being focused on the orgasm cresting between the open shores of her thighs and getting ready to crash through her whole body.

  His voice is harsh. ‘You’re not going to cooperate with me?’

  ‘No.’ Her breath catches as her swollen knob starts melting like hot gold and flooding her veins with something much more wonderful than blood.

  ‘Then I’ll just have to work you over, won’t I?’

  ‘Oh, yes, officer…’

  ‘But first I think I’ll take my gun off and fuck you.’

  The receiver is pressed tight against her cheek, so he doesn’t miss a single soft breath or cry as she comes.

  ‘Interesting,’ he says quietly, ‘very interesting.’

  Chapter Four

  It is ten o’clock on Saturday morning and Carmen is sitting silently beside Officer Reed in his spacious car. She is filled with guilt and Cuban coffee and Cuban toast. She told the waitress to go light on the butter, which means the chunky middle-aged woman merely brushed half a cup of grease onto the crisp slices of bread. She should be at the gym now working off breakfast, and the fact that she isn’t doesn’t improve her mood. The brooding skyline doesn’t help much either.

  They are heading east on 836 straight towards a slate-colored ceiling of clouds suspended over a handful of skyscrapers starkly outlined against the horizon’s strangely menacing silver glow. Downtown Miami: banks, and more banks. Then suddenly a small and perfect sphere forms in the clouds and the sun’s rays pour through it in the shape of a pyramid encompassing the city.

  ‘Wow,’ she says.

  Will agrees in his deep, soothing voice. ‘Beautiful, and chalk-full of evil
scum.’

  She glances at him. ‘You would know.’

  ‘I hate to say it, but most people don’t give a damn about anyone except themselves, Carmen.’

  ‘Mm.’

  ‘And yet, don’t ask me why, I love being a cop. I love it so much I’m suspended half the time. How else do you think I managed to get Saturday off.’

  ‘You’re suspended? I thought you were just off duty?’

  ‘No. I’ve been suspended for almost three months now.’

  ‘Why?’ She stares at his profile as he concentrates on driving. In her opinion, he is the best police officer who ever lived.

  ‘Because I believe in what I do, ironically enough. I get involved, Carmen. If I see a shady looking character hanging around on a street corner, I get out and ask him what he’s doing there. Most cops these days just drive right by. They don’t care, or they don’t want to risk getting shot. Any creep can pull a gun on you.’

  Carmen observes that he hasn’t shaved in at least two days. The rough five o’clock shadow enhances his strong jaw, and brings out the blonde highlights in his hair.

  ‘Did you hear about that five-car accident a while back?’ he asks abruptly.

  ‘No, what about it?’

  ‘I’m responsible for it. I spotted two stolen cars racing each other and went after them. They ran a light at an intersection trying to get away, and three people were killed.’

  ‘But it wasn’t your fault, Will,’ she isn’t quite sure that’s true, but she wants to make him feel better, ‘you were just doing your job.’

  ‘If I hadn’t been chasing those cars, Carmen, they probably wouldn’t have run that light, and those people would still be alive.’

  She doesn’t know what to say as she wonders how he deals with guilt like that. Her feelings sympathetically walk the tightrope of his hard mouth trying to weave a net of reasons why he shouldn’t blame himself. ‘It’s a catch twenty-two, Will. If you don’t do your job people get hurt, yet when you do your job, well, they can still get hurt, but that’s not your fault.’