Thor'sday Night - Paranormal Erotica

by Maria Isabel Pita

  She says softly, exposing her soul, ‘Leaving isn’t an option anymore.’

  He doesn’t respond.

  The Miami skyline glimmers like the jewelry boxes of a vain and pleasure loving goddess.

  ‘Carmen?’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘Were you fantasizing this afternoon when you said I was the one who killed you?’

  ‘No, Jay, I saw it.’

  ‘You saw what exactly?’

  ‘The ritual you described. But I didn’t just see it, I mean, it felt as real as a memory.’

  ‘After I conveniently described it to you,’ he points out.

  ‘Look, I can hardly explain it to myself – all I know is that it felt real. I can tell the difference between my memories and my fantasies, and this felt like a memory, like a memory I had tried my best to forget.’

  ‘Don’t worry, I think I believe you.’

  ‘Then why are you interrogating me?’

  ‘Because I’m frightened for you,’ he replies bluntly.

  ‘Why?’

  ‘I think it’s fairly obvious why, because history has a nasty tendency to repeat itself.’

  ‘It almost repeated itself already that night in the Grove.’

  ‘You have no idea how tempting you are, Carmen. Everything about you makes me want to hurt you.’

  ‘You can do whatever you want with me as long as you love me,’ she answers softly.

  He turns away. ‘I need another drink.’

  She follows him back inside.

  ‘What can I get you,’ he asks, ‘besides two other men?’

  She ignores the barb. ‘I’ve had more than enough to drink already tonight, thank you.’

  ‘You wouldn’t like a decaff cappuccino with homemade whip cream?’

  ‘Oh, actually, I’d love one.’

  He heads for the kitchen. ‘Then come help me whip the cream, woman.’

  She follows him as eagerly as Sage, and then winces at how bright the overhead light seems after standing outside in the dark.

  ‘There are certain things worth working for in life,’ Jay comments as he opens a black side-by-side refrigerator she immediately envies, ‘and real homemade whipped cream is one of them.’

  ‘You mean you weren’t joking about whipping the cream?’

  ‘I never joke about whipping, baby,’ he hands her a carton, ‘or creaming.’ He opens a drawer, and tosses her a wire whisk. ‘You’ll find some mixing bowls in the cabinet over the sink.’

  ‘All neatly organized by Miriam?’

  ‘She’s a great cook.’

  ‘She cooks for you too?’

  ‘Sometimes, if she’s in the mood.’

  ‘What gets her in the mood?’

  ‘What gets every red-blooded woman in the mood to cook – a good fuck.’

  She slams a plastic bowl down on the counter.

  ‘She’s married, and very much in love with her husband, Alejandro.’

  ‘She’d better be! How much should I pour in here?’

  ‘I thought you liked to cook.’

  ‘I do, but I’ve never made whipped cream before. God, I hate you, Jay. Look at this kitchen! A real black granite counter, a brand new gas stove, a huge refrigerator, everything a gourmet cook could possibly desire!’

  ‘Consider it yours.’ He starts on the coffee.

  ‘Oh, so you expect me to start cooking for you too?’ The cream in the bowl remains a liquid despite her vigorous efforts.

  ‘I’d like you to move in with me.’

  She stops whipping. ‘What did you just say?’

  He takes the whisk from her. ‘Let me show you how it’s done, baby. Angle the bowl slightly, like this, relax your wrist, and pump it, like this, as fast as you can.’

  ‘Would you mind repeating what you just said, Jay.’

  ‘I said angle the bowl slightly…’

  She grabs his wrist. ‘Before that… did you ask me to move in with you?’

  ‘Yes, and I’m not going to repeat myself. It was hard enough getting the words out the first time.’ He hands her back the bowl and whisk and pulls two white cups and saucers from another black cabinet.

  ‘But what about Sage?’

  ‘Can’t your mother keep her for you?’

  ‘But… for how long?’

  ‘Well, I don’t know, Carmen,’ he says patiently. ‘I have no idea how old Sage is, and how long female cats generally live.’ The cappuccino machine begins emitting urgent choking sounds. ‘Keep whipping,’ he commands.

  Her soul feels like a tongue getting its first taste of an indescribable sweetness.

  ‘Well?’ He glances back at her.

  ‘I’ll miss her.’

  He begins pouring out the coffee while she keeps whipping the cream, as if nothing momentous has just been decided.

  ‘How about if we add a little cognac to these for good measure?’

  ‘Okay,’ she says, dazed.

  ‘I thought you’d had enough alcohol for one night.’

  ‘I changed my mind.’

  ‘That’s the only reason women have minds,’ he fishes a bottle of brandy out of yet another cabinet, ‘so they can keep changing them.’

  ‘Ha ha.’

  ‘You realize, of course,’ he pours a generous dash of the dark gold liquid into each cup, ‘that I’m never letting you go back to Seaside.’

  She sets the bowl down on the counter. ‘But Jay,’ she places the whisk in the sink, ‘I have—’

  ‘No, you don’t. You’re moving in with me, you don’t need to work anymore for a while. You can go back to school and get your Masters in history, or something. You have to stop wasting the incredible mind you’re hiding behind that beautiful face and highly fuckable body, Carmen. You’re too good to be making coffee for bastards like Mike Peterson. Is that cream ready yet?’

  Chapter Ten

  It has been years since Carmen suffered the unsettling sensation of returning home after sunrise. Sage’s hoarse meow! expresses hurt, confusion and relief all in one passionate syllable.

  Carmen picks her up and drapes her over one shoulder like a baby. ‘I’m so sorry, sweetie! Mami’s so sorry!’ She is apologizing not for staying out all night but for the fact that, in a sense, she is going to abandon her. ‘I’ll visit you almost everyday,’ she promises, blinking tears out of her eyes. ‘You know I’ll always love you, sweetie, you know that!’

  Sage stops purring abruptly, as if sensing danger on the clear path of her contentment, and Carmen sets her down gently to pet her kittens. Their love is as sharply demanding as it is adorably soft. Their claws are forming, their teeth are coming in, they are getting bigger by the day, and she doesn’t know how on earth she is going to bring herself to give them away.

  It doesn’t seem fair that her happiness at finally meeting a man she wants to be with is tainted by the sorrow of having to abandon her other warm, loving companion. Sage follows her into the bedroom now, and joins her dress on the bed.

  Carmen walks into her closet.

  Her cat isn’t the only thing she has to give up to be with Jay. She also has to leave Seaside, and Mike Peterson.

  She sifts impatiently through her clothes. She is searching for something at once elegant and sexy, modest but provocative.

  She told Jay she was going to call in her resignation. It was easier than trying to explain to him that she absolutely has to go back to Seaside one last time. She has to clean out her desk, for one thing. She also has to say goodbye to Beatrice, and a few other people there.

  And she has to see Mike at least one last time.

  She settles for a long-sleeved black dress made of clingy rayon that falls just slightly below mid-thigh.

  She has to see Mike. She can’t just walk away from what happened between them. She has to find some sort of closure with him, or she’ll go crazy remembering what he did to her, and how good it felt.

  Even as she opens her lingerie drawer she knows she shouldn’t. A lacy black push-up b
ra, a matching garter belt, and black stockings are not the sort of things she should be wearing to the office. The knee-high black leather boots she chooses to complete the ensemble are not very corporate either, but she doesn’t give a damn. On go her Thor’s hammer earrings, followed by the coiling snake amulet Jay bought her last night. She wonders if Mike will recognize his wife’s work. If he does, it will probably make him angry to see it on her. Wearing it in his presence is adding insult to injury, and tempting him to…

  To what?

  To anything, as long as she tempts him to something! Because he can’t just dismiss her from his life after what he made her feel yesterday.

  Which is why she deliberately doesn’t put on any panties.

  ‘Dios mio!’ Beatrice says when she catches sight of her. ‘Do you have a hot date after work, or what?’

  ‘Is Mike in yet?’

  ‘No, and he’s not coming in.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘He called about five minutes ago,’ Beatrice’s eyes shine like little black pebbles as her suspicion crystallizes into certainty, ‘and said he wouldn’t be in today. Sorry.’

  ‘But I’m giving my notice today,’ Carmen exclaims in quiet desperation, ‘he has to come in!’

  Bee sets her coffee cup down, gets up, and drags Carmen by the arm into the privacy of the vice president’s suite. ‘Okay, girl, out with it. What’s going on? Why was that guy from D.E.R.M. here yesterday asking for you? Is he trying to uncover something Mike and Seaside did? And then that cop insists on seeing you. Are you in some kind of trouble? Is Mike in trouble? Did his wife find out about you? Has Seaside violated some major environmental taboo? Do I need to look for a new job?’

  ‘Calm down, Bee,’ Carmen laughs. ‘Seaside isn’t in any kind of trouble.’ She glances longingly at Mike’s dark office as she drops her purse on her desk. ‘The guy from

  D.E.R.M. is my boyfriend, Jay Westgate, and the cop… he’s also a friend of mine.’ A friend she won’t be able to see again if she moves in with Jay.

  Beatrice crosses her hands over her heart as if in prayer. ‘You’re sleeping with all of them?’

  ‘I’d like to.’

  ‘You’re so bad, girl! I was right; you and Mike are having an affair. That’s why you’re quitting.’

  Carmen has begun going through her drawers, and piling everything she plans to take home with her on her chair. ‘Bee, I’m quitting because I’m moving in with Jay and he wants me to go back to school.’

  ‘This guy’s offering to support you?’

  ‘As long as I agree to be his slave.’

  ‘Very funny.’

  ‘I’m not joking. Do you have a bag I can put all this stuff in?’

  ‘You mean you’re really not coming back? You’re not giving Mike any notice? You two did have something going on or you wouldn’t be running away like this. You can’t leave without telling me, Carmen, I won’t let you.’

  ‘Okay, Bee, we almost did, but he stopped himself because he loves his wife. There’s no way I can keep working here anymore though.’

  ‘I’d better start calling some temp agencies,’ she agrees. ‘You need a bag for all that?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘I think I have one in my desk. I’ll check.’

  ‘Thanks, Bee.’

  Waiting for her to return, she wanders restlessly into Mike’s dark office.

  She is having serious second thoughts about moving in with Jay, yet she can’t even begin to fight the powerful current of his personality. She lost her balance the second she looked into his eyes, and whatever direction he steers her in seems to be just where she wants to go. How eager she is to surrender her willpower to him disturbs her, yet not as much as it excites her. The only thing that makes her want to fight his mastery over her is the fear of losing her handsome police officer, and her boss.

  She walks reluctantly out of Mike’s office.

  Her morals feel like dangerously weak, burning timbers about to crash down over several heads, but she makes no effort to do the right thing and attempt to dampen her desires.

  She is desperate to see Mike again, and the fact that he might be avoiding her makes her furious.

  ‘Here you go,’ Bee waves a white plastic bag at her like a huge handkerchief, ‘I think you can fit everything in here.’

  Carmen keeps her head lowered to hide the tears in her eyes as she fills the bag with paperback books, magazines, an expensive tube of hand lotion, her emergency powder compact and lipstick, a picture of Sage with her mom, and an unopened box of tissues.

  ‘I’m sorry, Carmen.’

  She is ready to go. ‘Take care, Bee.’

  ‘Hey,’ she gives Carmen an awkward little hug, ‘you too! Stay out of trouble girl, okay?’

  ‘I’ll e-mail Mike my letter of resignation. Tell him that if he calls.’

  ‘Oh, God, I’ll tell Louise to tell him!’

  ‘Whatever.’

  Carmen doesn’t bother to buckle up as she skids out of Seaside’s parking lot.

  She speeds down Flagler Street telling herself it was for the best that Mike wasn’t in the office. Yet at the same time she consoles herself with the possibility that he will be dropping by her apartment later, presumably to pick out a kitten for his wife.

  She doesn’t notice the flashing lights until their electric blue wave crests inside her rearview mirror, and she realizes a police car is attempting to pull her over.

  She hits the break. ‘Shit!’ She had no idea she was going so fast.

  A small parking lot opens conveniently up on her right, and she quickly turns into it.

  The police car follows, and backs into the parking space just behind hers.

  She quickly searches the mess of papers in her glove compartment for her insurance card and registration, then dutifully rolls down her window and through her side view mirror watches slender black hips approaching her.

  ‘I need your license and registration.’

  A relieved laugh dies in her throat when she sees his eyes. She hands him the papers, her heart suddenly beating so fast she feels like a cat purring against her will.

  He gives them a cursory glance, and hands them back. ‘Get out of the car.’

  She stows the papers back in her glove compartment, shuts off the engine, drops her keys into her purse and unlocks her door.

  He opens it, grabs her arm, and pulls her to her feet. They are in the parking lot of what a heart-shaped neon sign tells her is a cheap motel, the kind that rents rooms by the hour.

  He slams her door closed, and his fingers dig painfully into her arm as he leads her towards the building.

  ‘Are you arresting me for speeding, Will?’

  ‘No, just finishing what I started.’ He plucks a key out of his shirt pocket, unlocks a door, and shoves her into the room.

  She walks over to the nightstand, and sets her purse down on it as he kicks the door closed behind them.

  Only a dim light filters in between the closed blinds as she turns to face him, and her throat constricts with feelings as she watches him remove the belt holding all his weapons, and set it on a small table. There are mirrors on the walls and ceiling, and her mind is suddenly as blank as the glass through which he approaches her from every possible direction.

  His voice is cold, ‘Raise your arms over your head.’

  She obeys him gracefully.

  He lifts her dress off, and lets it fall to the floor as he steps back to take her in. ‘God,’ he mutters, ‘look at you.’ He moves close again, and shoves her across the bed. He pulls her legs up by the ankles and pins them against his chest with one muscular arm as he unzips his pants. He pushes them down just far enough, and the sight of his magnificent erection affects her like a revelation. This is the serpent that tempted Eve with the desire for full and thrilling knowledge of herself, the determined serpent she couldn’t possibly argue with…

  Her gasp of pleasure laced with pain merges with the rush of traffic outside as he
breaks through her labia’s gentle defenses and rams his dick inside her. ‘I knew I should’ve fucked you that night,’ his balls slam against her vulva in rhythm with his angry thrusts, ‘like I’m fucking you now!’

  She glimpses a beautiful girl trapped inside the ceiling’s slab of ice before the black cloud of his uniform obscures her view as he leans into her, letting her legs fall around him so he can brace himself. His light eyes glimmer like sunlit water above the impersonal horizon of his mouth, which grows harder the harder he fucks her, yet she is wet and deep enough to take his abuse, and love it. Lying perfectly still beneath him she absorbs his aggressive fucking, which darkens the edges of her vision as her sensual endurance is pushed to the limit. But like the first time Jay fucked her, the pleasure she takes in his assault verges on the profound, as if it has much more to do with her soul than with her finite flesh.

  He straightens up and pulls out of her in one cruel motion. ‘Roll over.’

  It takes her a moment to get her stunned body to comply.

  Standing behind her, he gives her ass a hard smack, pulls her roughly up onto her hands and knees, and drives his dick deep into her cunt again.

  She hangs her head so her long hair hides her face as she moans shamefully beneath his vigorous strokes.

  ‘How many men are you fucking, Carmen?’ He spanks her again. ‘Answer me!’

  She is so open to him; it doesn’t even occur to her that she can lie. ‘Three!’

  ‘Oh, is that all, just three? You love having a dick inside you, don’t you? You live for it, don’t you?’

  ‘Yes!’ There seems no point in denying the obvious. ‘And yours is the best!’

  ‘You like my dick the best, baby? Why do you like my dick the best?’

  ‘Because I love you!’

  ‘What?’ He pulls out.

  She falls across the bed and buries her features in the cheap red coverlet. She balls it up into her fists as though in one hand she is holding Jay and in the other Will, because there is no way she can choose between them without tearing herself apart.

  ‘Look at me, Carmen.’

  She rolls over onto her back, bending one leg up and letting it fall over her other thigh as she gazes up at him.

  His shirt is partially draped over his erection, like a magician’s black handkerchief offering her body impossibly wonderful sensations, and in that moment she acknowledges just how much she loves believing in a man’s power over her, just how much she loves letting it fool her senses into achieving magical heights.