Deadline

by Zaheera Walker

  “I value your friendship, Shane. I’m honoured you feel this way about me. But if you encroach on my space it is going to drive us apart. This serial killer case won’t be forever. Trust me. Once he’s behind bars, I’m all yours.” She swept her fingers through his hair. Tasted his kiss. Glided her tongue into his mouth. Pressed her body into him. She did this to calm him down. The man who was behaving like a child.

  Shane held her away. “What did you find out from this woman? Did she give you anything solid?”

  “A lot. She’s married and has a family. Her situation is forcing her to sell her services for money.” She stopped to allow everything to sink in for him. “She is a sex worker.”

  “What? And you are fine socialising with such people? Please, babe. Don’t do this to us.” His fist landed hard on the glass table. It shattered into tiny shards; rained down on the Italian tiles like diamonds.

  “Such people? What do you mean? She’s a wife and a mother. Doing what has to be done to survive. The husband knows. She is not proud. Unless you want to help her, don’t classify her.” Her hands, too, were clenched.

  Shane was not prepared for this. He didn’t know there was such a side to Feriyal. The calm one who spoke with a soft voice. “Leave me alone. I’m going to bed.” Thud. He slammed the door closed.

  ***

  Feriyal crept out of the house before he awoke. She couldn’t handle another wicked showdown. The office was quiet at that time. She brewed a fresh pot of coffee and buttered two slices of toast. That was breakfast. Shane called her, but she rejected the calls. He sent her text messages.

  She ignored them.

  He was holed up in his office waiting for the right time to reach out to her. His bouquet of sunflowers was tossed aside. He wished he had the opportunity to scoop her in his arms, make love to her there and then, but that was crazy. He was an editor and couldn’t afford to taint his reputation.

  There were two assignments that day. Light-hearted pieces. An artist exhibiting his five-year project depicting a hundred years of the Durban July Handicap.

  “How did you manage to create this masterpiece? A hundred years is a lifetime. Yet you captured something from each year.” Feriyal couldn’t draw to save her life, but she had creative tastes.

  “I grew up on a farm and there weren’t many children around. I spent many hours playing with little toys. Wooden horses were my favourites. That gave me the idea to bring the racing event to life with my painting. There was a lot of research I had to do. It was painstaking too, but here it is.” He pointed to a giant frame resting against a wall, waiting to be mounted. “A hundred years!”

  Next, she went to a house in Durban North. Dana Beacon invited her to meet an unusual pair. They had just returned from a whirlwind tour across the continents. “Well, there they are. This is Jonty,” she said, pointing to a ginger bear. “This is Boner, his companion pup.”

  “You can’t be serious. How did you pull it off?” Feriyal was surprised.

  She had looked forward to something meaningful for a while now… and that it was.

  “You see, I make bears as a hobby. I use fabric, wool and buttons for my cuddly toys. A while ago, I decided it was time to do something different, and that is how the idea for Jonty and Boner was born. I sent them travelling to different countries through post mail. It took fourteen months. They went from home to home, then back to the post office for their next trip.”

  “You took a chance, right? Suppose they were misplaced. The way items become lost in the post. This would’ve been a wasted assignment then, wouldn’t it?”

  “Well, I suppose. But I planned ahead. I contacted several people in different countries. Asked them to assist with the pair’s travels. Eight hosts replied before I sent the two off on their voyage with a little diary and a travelling bag.” She stopped to scoop chocolate cake into her mouth. “The pair touched down in London, Australia, Indiana, Florida and Canada. They even survived the tornadoes in Florida. The worst ice storm in Canada. It was also recorded in the diary that they came close to being kidnapped in Indianapolis.”

  Sweet. Feriyal decided a bit of colour in the newspaper was needed at times.

  ***

  She dialled Shyla the moment she saw Shane approaching. With the receiver at her ear, he wasn’t going to interrupt. “Hi. How are you? I was wondering if we could meet again. I could use your guidance on something I’m researching.” She jotted down something in her notepad.

  “Great. See you in a bit.”

  She placed the receiver on the cradle. He was still there… waiting to speak to her.

  “I’m sorry about last night. Can we work through this like adults?”

  “Adults don’t behave the way you did, Shane. And right now I have work to do.” She brushed him off, because she didn’t want to be late.

  “I know I overreacted last night.” He felt like he was running out of things to say. “I didn’t mean to fly off the rails like that. It’s just that I’m scared. Maybe we can talk about it tonight.”

  “Maybe.”

  The moment he turned his back, she grabbed her bag and ran down the stairs.

  ***

  She took a bus to the beachfront. Rickshaws carried tourists up and down the road. Traders bargained with onlookers. Milky Lane made her feel safe. That was where she was going.

  “You’re on time. Nice to see you again, Feriyal.” Shyla pecked her on the cheek.

  “Thanks for seeing me at such short notice. How are things at home?”

  “My husband doesn’t know what happened to me. He doesn’t need to know. That’s just going to stress him out. The children are growing well. I’m blessed to have my family.” She felt around in her bag. “Just need to check if there are any messages.”

  “Go ahead. I’m not in a hurry today.” Feriyal didn’t want to go back to him. Not after last night.

  “So what did you want me to help with? You mentioned you were doing research of some sort.”

  “Yes. Yes. Research. This is a bit awkward. You don’t have to help if you’re uncomfortable. I wanted to know what happens when you’re with a client. How do you prepare yourself? I mean mentally; physically too?”

  “No, my girl. Don’t tell me you want to do this line of work. It’s not a safe industry. Stick to what you know.” She looked at Feriyal with pleading eyes.

  She threw back her head and laughed. “Sorry. It came out wrong. I need to write a story on what happens in the industry. I felt comfortable with you yesterday. Guess that’s why I called you first.” Her face flushed pink. A lie. A big lie.

  “Well, there’s no school to teach you what happens. Sex is sex. But if you want to learn the art of massaging, you’ll need someone to show you the technique. Sometimes men just want to talk. Lie with you. Every day is different. It can become rough. That’s why it’s better to work with someone.”

  “That’s not too bad. Do you ever go to your clients?” Feriyal was curious. She had to ask all the questions. This was going to help her decide what to do next. She was being careless, but she didn’t care.

  “Sometimes. But only the ones who are my regular clients. I cannot afford to walk into a trap.” Shyla was beautiful; painted onto canvas; displayed for the world to see. “I have performed sexual acts with another woman. Some

  men like this. I did it once. Didn’t like it much.”

  “Oh my God!” Feriyal gasped. “Sorry. I can’t picture you with a woman. So what did you do? Did you rehearse the scene or just go with the flow?”

  “There was no time. This was not a movie production. Just an act. The client was a businessman from Johannesburg. He offered good money and left after we were done.”

  They chatted for a long time. Feriyal was captivated by Shyla’s charm. She hung on every word; felt spellbound by the way well-formed lips took shape when she spoke and enthralled by how she twirled her tongue around the ice cream cone as she licked it. Vanilla ice cream coated Lady Shyla’s lips. Mesmerised,
her thoughts stopped abruptly.

  What the hell am I thinking?

  “I’d better get going. Thanks for the chat. Have to go home.” Feriyal was confused. Where was home? Could she go back after the drama?

  She had to go to him. They could work it out. Take their relationship off the shelf. Dust it. Move on.

  ***

  “Hey. I was sick with worry. You left without telling anyone where you were going. Why were you in such in a hurry? I couldn’t reach you. Where did you go?” He waited for an answer. There was none. “Come, let’s eat. The table is set.

  I’ve ordered pizzas. Didn’t feel like cooking today.”

  “It’s been a long day. And I don’t want to fight anymore.” She kicked off her shoes and lay down on the Chaise long. “I’m really hungry. Pizza is perfect. Thank you. You’re the best.”

  “I don’t want to fight with you either. We don’t get anywhere shouting and arguing about things we don’t understand.” He slipped behind her and massaged her aching shoulders with just the right amount of pressure. It was bliss.

  She knew he was the one. The one who could be part of her life. Her future. He made her feel safe. He could have any woman he wanted… but he wanted her. Only her. So why was she giving him a tough time?

  They sat opposite each other at the mahogany table, like old times. Wholesome food was served with warmth and drinks to complement the meal. Enriching conversation. Teasing. Flirting. Young lovers exploring a side unknown to them yet. Black olives. Dark and disgusting. They both hated them. She threw the first one at him. He aimed at her, but missed. Moved around to her side. Aimed another one. It landed midway between her breasts. Without thinking, his hand went down her blouse. Fingers brushed her nipple. Waves of fiery pleasure flowed through her. She remembered the meeting with Shyla. The whirlpool of lust stirring between her legs. She had been with him too long… sleeping under the same roof. Being so close, yet she allowed distance to separate them. A soft moan escaped her lips. She burnt for his touch.

  He felt it too. It was time to consummate the relationship. The one that hadn’t yet started. Hands gripped her waist. Pulled her to her feet. Everything was spinning in the room. His lips on her neck. A mix of gentle and rough. He bit down like an animal. Plugged her against the wall. Forced his hardness into her. It wasn’t enough. She wrapped herself around him. He lifted her. She wrapped her legs firmly around his waist. Lips wrestled. He moved to his bed. It was time.

  “Switch off the lights. Please.” It was her first time. Naked next to him. She didn’t know what to expect. Nerves made her coy. Just for a brief moment. Soon to feel like a woman. Excited and eager. There was no going back. This was the moment she wanted to remember forever.

  Her body shuddered when he placed her on the bed. “You have to tell me what to do.” Her breathing was rapid. “It’s my first time. I’ve read books. Watched movies. This. It’s the real deal.” Was she talking too much?

  “Ssssh. Relax. Just be natural. Let it happen. We can stop at any time. I want it to be special. For you and me.” He leant in and kissed her. He undressed her. Piece by piece. One more to go. “Can I take off your bra?”

  “Yes. Please.” Goosebumps covered her body. “I’m so nervous, but I don’t want you to stop. I want you so badly. Take it off now. Please.” She was begging for it.

  “You don’t have to tell me again.” Hands unclipped the hook and eye fastening. “Awesome. Your breasts are beautiful.” He took them in his mouth. His tongue flicked the hard, dark nipple. Warm and wet licking. Cool air settling in when he moved to the next.

  “Babe?” He wanted the green light.

  “Yes. I’m ready. We’ve waited long enough.”

  He rolled onto his back. “Sit on me. Control the movement. You call the shots. It’s your first time. I don’t want to be rough. You set the pace this time.”

  What did she know? “Okay. But you have to help me.”

  He gripped her hard. She saddled him. She felt it rigid. Waiting to probe virgin-land. She pushed down. Maybe too quickly for the first time. It pierced her. Tore her innocence. Inch by inch. A blinding pain. Her vision went dark. She didn’t want to disappoint him. There was intense pain. It shaded her. Took her breath away. “This feels like heaven.” Her words came out short and sharp. “Please get on top. It’s your turn now.”

  “With pleasure, babe.” She felt it pressing hard into her. “Relax. You’re too tense. Let yourself loose,” he whispered into her ears, reminding her to take him in; not to close herself off. “Yes. Keep going.” He could feel her lifting her hips. Meeting his thrusts.

  “It feels good. I’m wet.” She believed tiny stars were exploding in her mind. Many things were happening at once. It was a searing heat; a simmer that reached boiling point. Her heart hammered against her ribs. She was coming apart. Bit by bit. Piece by piece. Spasms rippled through her. Her body jerked. “Oh… oh... what’s happening to me? This feels so good.” She shuddered, then fell still, trying to recapture the heights of bliss. Play it back like a movie.

  “Beautiful, babe. You’re a natural.” He picked up his pace. There was no holding back. “I’m close now.” He grunted like an animal preparing to charge. “Ohhhh. This is heaven.” He came like a thunder shower. Flooding her like a river. Calling her name. His lover. His babe. His Feriyal. The one who took away his frustrations.

  Their first night together. Shane Black and Feriyal Adam.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  How was she going to break the news? When was the right time to explain she was going after the serial killer? It had to be soon.

  “Hey. You’re deep in thought.” Shane could sense the distance. He pulled her close, put a muscled leg over her and massaged her calves with his instep. Did she regret last night? “What’s on your mind?”

  “Too many things are happening. Too soon. I feel lost without my mother. Like I have nobody.” She shut her eyes to hold back the tears. A lump was forming in her throat. She was confused and vulnerable; a million miles from the real world. Shane listened. He wanted to take away the pain.

  “Why don’t we get married?” He weaved his fingers between hers. “Think of it this way. You’re the picture and I’m the frame. We need each other. Well, I know I need you.”

  Feriyal’s blood turned cold. Her heart raced faster than an eagle swooping down on its prey. Her eyebrows knitted. She took a deep breath, then searched for clear thought.

  The choice of words had to be right. It was time to tell him what she wanted. He had to know the truth.

  He had to hear it from her.

  “I want to go after the serial killer. It can be done. I’ve been doing my research. If we get married now, I won’t feel like I established myself as a reporter. I need to hold my own.” She saw the disappointment in his eyes. “I don’t want a rock on my finger now. It wouldn’t feel right. Not now. I need to go after him first. I know I can do it.” She waited for his high-voltage response. There was nothing. Why wouldn’t he say anything?

  “Remember the news briefing you asked me to attend? I asked if anyone escaped from the killer. Nobody could say for sure. You heard me tell Smith about this when we met in your office. I knew there was a chance this could turn out to be nothing more than an ordinary attempted rape. I just couldn’t give up.” She rested her head on his chest.

  “Did you find anything? I brought you into this by asking if you would help to track him down. I was a fool. Now I fear for your safety.” His finger traced patterns on Feriyal’s back. “I know I can’t talk you out of this. Let me help if I can. Did you meet the person who escaped?”

  “Yes. Smith was going to take me to her, but something came up. I went on my own. You and I had a screaming match that night. I didn’t complete my story. She’s a decent woman. Indian. Her husband’s legs were amputated after a freak accident, so he can’t work. The children are in school. Instead of begging, she is trying to put food on the table. I admire her courage.”

  �
�How does this tie in with the serial killer?” Shane was an intelligent man, but he couldn’t see the link.

  “It doesn’t. Not yet. But it could. I surfed the internet and read a case where an American woman escaped from her attacker. A seasoned detective took the chance and spoke to her. He studied the modus operandi. The type of women he killed. This woman who escaped actually broke free from the serial killer. Our policemen are swamped with work and it’s little details like this that go unnoticed.”

  Shane was awed. He was starting a relationship with a beautiful woman. Not just any woman, but one who committed herself to everything she did. The way she would dedicate herself to the marriage and the family too. “I’ll help you. I can see how much this means to you. Throughout my time in the industry, I’ve never come across such passion. You’re a brave woman. You have my support. We’ll do this together.”

  “Thank you for understanding me. If you don’t mind, I would like you to meet Shyla. When you are ready. Only if you want. But I think it is important for the two of you to know each other.” She didn’t want to push him for an answer. “I’m going to jump into the shower. Alone,” she warned as she wiggled herself out of bed. “Maybe later you’ll have the chance to sample some dessert. Only if you’re a good boy.” She loved teasing him.

  “I’m glad we spoke about the serial killer matter. Wouldn’t want you becoming involved in such a thing while I was in the dark. We are moving in the right direction.” Shane was on fire. He had it all. Well, nearly.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Focus. Feriyal knew she had to have her heart in the serial killer matter, but, to avoid suspicion in the office, she had to create a front by burying herself in routine stories too.

  “I can’t believe she’s dead. It doesn’t sound real. Princesses live forever. How can Lady Di lose her life?” Feriyal had heard on CNN that morning that the Queen of People’s Hearts had taken her last breath in France. She was being driven away from photographers when the vehicle had crashed in a tunnel.